Author's Note: So pacing of the story, as you may have noticed, goes back and forth between slow and fast. The reason is that obviously Ember follows the story line fairly close to canon, with a few things AU, and I don't want to simply "repeat" scenes from Supernatural if Ember doesn't change them significantly. (I did "repeat" a few things, just because they were funny or I wanted to put a certain spin on them, however.) I also don't want to just assume that the reader has categorically memorized every single thing that happened in 12 seasons of Supernatural, either, so I have to summarize a bit of the plotline, even if Ember doesn't change it, for those of you that don't live and breathe Supernatural. So anyway, sorry about the pacing.

This scene with Alastair was such a fantastic scene with such good acting by Jensen and Chris Heyerdahl that I just had to slow the pace down a little for this one. Let me know if you think I've got it right, because there are several key moments in this chapter and the next.

Oh, and finally, Pamela was just too frickin easy to save. Saving her saves me the trouble of having to find other psychics and doctors to perform astral projection later, too, so that decision was pretty easy to make.

I don't own Supernatural. Super excited - it starts Thursday!

***Ember POV***

March 20, Afternoon

After Alastair's appearance in the graveyard, this particular hunting trip hadn't been all that eventful, Ember thought. Not for her anyway – not like it was for Sam and Dean. Lore revealed that the likeliest scenario had been that two reapers had been kidnapped to break another seal: "Basically, you kill a reaper under the solstice moon – tomorrow night, by the way – you got yourself a broken seal," Sam stated.

At that point, the brothers had decided that to go looking for the reapers, they would need to perform astral projection. Therefore, Pamela was brought back from Illinois to put them into a deep, deathly sleep. Ember's job was to protect Pamela. This turned out to be difficult, but not incredibly. A demon had snuck in, of course, but not the one Ember was worried about. Ember had exorcised the man, and first Sam and then Dean had been brought back from their trance safely. Pamela had sworn never to see the boys again and demanded to be taken back the next morning, which Ember supposed was fair. It was common-place, by now, for Ember to use her powers to fight off low-level demons, but she doubted Pamela would have survived if she hadn't been there.

Unfortunately, Dean's mood had taken a nose-dive after seeing Alastair. Neither brother would tell Ember how Dean knew Alastair. Sam told her that it was "Dean's secret to tell." Ember had given up on asking Dean, because it typically made him unconsciously palm the nearest weapon and brood for an extended period of time. Ember had never thought that hunting would be glamorous, but she'd also never thought it would be like this: one brother brooding over his time in Hell and out for vengeance, and another secretly guzzling demon blood.

Perhaps most worrying was the comment about Lilith having plans for her, but bringing that up with the brothers would have required bringing up Alastair again, and she only made that mistake once. "I swear to God, as soon as I find out where the angels are keeping him, I'll kill that mother fucker," Dean said. Then he'd downed so much alcohol at one time that Ember hadn't needed Sam's pleading look to know it was time to be quiet.

Still, they had saved a seal, so that was something. Dean wasn't particularly happy about this either, however. He returned from his astral projection with the news that Castiel and Uriel had manipulated the entire thing. Apparently, the angels had been banned from the building housing the kidnapped reapers due to angel proofing, "And so they had us do their dirty work instead!" Dean shouted angrily.

"Dean, we'd have helped them anyway," Ember responded patiently. The comment only earned her a scathing look from Dean and a pleading look from Sam.

The biggest surprise came, however, upon arriving in their hotel room in Illinois after dropping off Pamela.

Uriel and Castiel were waiting for them in their hotel room with a new job for them to do… specifically, a new job for Dean to do.

Dean was not happy to see them. "Stop pushing us around like chess pieces for five freaking minutes!" he exclaimed.

"We raised you out of Hell for our purposes," Uriel responded.

"Yeah, and what were those again?" Dean asked. "What exactly do you want from me?"

"Start with gratitude," the angel said slyly.

"Dean, we know this is difficult to understand," Castiel started.

"And we… don't… care,´ Uriel added. Ember hated him.

"Seven angels have been murdered," began Uriel. "All of them from our garrison. The last one was killed tonight."

"Demons?" Dean asked, and Ember moved so that she could see both Dean and the angel. "How are they doing it?"

"We don't know," Uriel answered.

"I'm sorry, but what do you want us to do about it?" asked Sam. "I mean, a demon with the juice to ice angels has to be out of our league, right?"

"We can handle the demons, thank you very much," said Uriel, with a scathing look toward Ember.

"Don't you look at her like that," Dean snapped at him.

"But first, we have to find whoever is killing them," Castiel said, cutting Dean off.

"Don't you have Alastair?" Ember spoke up.

"He should be able to name your triggerman," Dean added.

"But he won't talk," Castiel said. "Alastair's will is very strong. We've arrived at an impasse."

"Yeah, well, he's like a black belt in torture. You guys are out of your league," Dean taunted.

"That's why we've come to his student," Uriel said.

Dean froze. The look he shot at Ember, in that moment – a look of pure fear and shame – broke her heart.

"You happen to be the most qualified interrogator we've got," Uriel said.

"Dean… you're our best hope," Castiel said.

All at once, everything clicked together in Ember's mind. "I thought I was going back to Hell the next day! Do you know what Hell is like?... The only thing I could think about was how the angels were probably gonna drag my ass back to Hell the next day, and you have no fucking idea what that's like!"

And Ember knew, too, how demons were made. She knew demons were formed by humans who had been tortured for years in Hell. To be honest, she had suspected for some time that Dean was farther on his way to becoming a demon himself than he was willing to admit. She knew there was normal human attraction between them (an awful lot, to be honest), but she had also suspected for some time that their attraction was related in some small part to the permanent tarnish on his soul.

Now she knew for sure. "Dean," she whispered.

He took a long look at her, and she could tell by the look on his face that she'd been right about his attraction to her, and he knew it, too. No wonder he hadn't wanted to be in a relationship… Dean truly was a good man.

"No. No way," he answered. "You can't ask me to do this, Cas, not this."

"Who said anything," Uriel said, "about asking?" And then Dean and the angels disappeared.

***Dean POV***

March 20, Afternoon

How many times in Hell had he fantasized about torturing Alastair? A million? A trillion? But never, never once, had it occurred to him that he might actually have the chance. Was this luck, or was it something else?

The irony of the situation was that now that he finally had the chance, he was 100% sure with all of his being that he didn't want to. He would never, ever forgive himself for the things he'd done in Hell. The look on Ember's face when she had realized what he had done in Hell played in his minds' eye as he wheeled out the torture instruments. She would never forgive him now, not now that she understood the true nature of his attraction to her. He knew he couldn't realistically blame all of his attraction to her on his time in Hell, or even 50%... but even attributing a small amount of this attraction to her "demonic attraction issues" was too much. She must hate him.

Or perhaps she didn't, and she pitied him instead. He wasn't sure which was worse. It was a shame… things had been going so well with her, lately. He'd almost thought, for a second, that he could really love her, and be loved in return. But, if she ever forgave him for what he'd done in Hell, and for not telling her about it, she'd certainly never forgive him for this.

He was like Alastair now, he thought miserably. He was a half demon, or part demon, like Ember. And his "special skill" was torture. That's why they had called him to torture: the angels knew it, too. In desperation, and facing a torture session, Dean turned his mind to anger before Alastair had a chance to read his emotions. He remembered the look on Ember's face when Alastair had come to her house that night, though neither of them had known it was Alastair at the time. Castiel's words from that night came back to him: She killed some demons. She's very upset about it. She prayed to me. She asked me to kill her. Anger flared through him, until finally his keenly trained instincts kicked in. He felt the serene calm of the on-coming job flare within him, a feeling he knew well. He faced Alastair with an impassive smile. Yes, this would be an interesting torture session.

As Dean had expected, Alastair began to laugh when he realized the angels' plan. "Are they serious? They sent you to torture me?"

It was odd, Dean thought. Although Alastair looked different than the demon who had tortured him for so many years, it was easy to connect the demon inside the meat suit with the hateful feelings and the nightmares that had plagued Dean for almost a year now. He could feel that it was Alastair. "You got one chance," he said. "One. Tell me who is killing the angels. I want a name."

"You think I'll see all your scary toys and spill my guts?"

"Oh, you'll spill your guts one way or another. I just didn't want to ruin my shoes." It was a classic Alastair line, Dean thought. He was good at this – he was a natural, and he knew it. But Alastair had been his teacher. Dean knew better than to hope he would break any time in the next few hours, if not days… if at all. Ultimately, it depended on how determined Alastair was to keep his information a secret. If he was especially determined, Alastair may never break. For now, both of them were just warming up. "Now answer the question."

"Or what?" Alastair taunted. "You'll work me over? But then… maybe… you don't want to. Maybe you're a-ha-ha scared to."

Dean smiled. "I'm here, aren't I?"

"Not entirely. You left part of yourself in the pit. Let's see if we can get the two of you back together again, shall we?"

Dean had forgotten just how good at this Alastair was. Truthfully, he was scared, even now. It was as he had told Cas… "If you ask me to open that door and walk through it… you will not like what walks back out." Still, with Alastair here in front of him, and the thought of the torture in Hell flaring in his mind, he did not let the other man see his fear. He felt the quiet calm of torture settle in his mind, a sereneness Alastair had taught him well. "You're gonna be disappointed," he said.

"You have not disappointed me so far," Alastair said. "Come on… you gotta want a little payback for everything I did to you… for all the pokes and prods?"

Dean remained impassive. This was the first thing he'd thought Alastair would taunt him with, and he more than expected it.

"No? Then… how about all the things I did to your Daddy? 'Had your pop on my rack for most of a century."

Apparently Alastair had decided he hadn't hit any nails on the head with his discussion of Dean's Hell-related weaknesses. Now he had gone for another of Dean's old sore spots, which was also expected. "Can't stall forever," Dean said.

"John Winchester made quite a name for himself. A hundred years. And after each session, I'd make him the same offer I made you. I'd put down my blade if he picked one up."

Dean smiled to himself. He knew what was coming. "Just give me the demon's name, Alastair."

"But, he said 'nein'… each and every time. Damned if I couldn't break him. Pulled out all the stops… but John, he was made of something unique. The stuff of heroes." Dean knew what was coming next: taunting about how easily he had broken. Those feelings were to be dealt with outside of this room, however. Instead, he felt a surge of pride for his father.

"And then came Dean. Dean Winchester." Yes, Dean thought, here it came. Alastair was nothing if not predictable. "I thought I was up against it again. But Daddy's little girl… he broked. He broked in 30. Just not the man your Daddy wanted you to be, huh Dean?"

And just when Dean thought he had control, he lost it, just for a second. A second of weakness, and he knew Alastair had seen it. "Now we're getting somewhere," he said.

Dean still had the instruments, he reminded himself. He still had control.

"Holy water!" Alastair shouted as he saw what Dean was doing. "Come on! Grasshopper, you're gonna have to get creative to impress me!"

Time to take control back. "You know something, Alastair?" Dean said. "I could still dream, even in Hell. And over and over and over, you know what I dreamt? I dreamt of this moment. And believe me… I got a few ideas." And, out of the corner of his eye, before Alastair could hide it, Dean saw just a sliver of fear. "Let's get started," he said.

***Ember POV***

March 20, Evening

Ember had never been so happy to see a demon in her life as she was when Ruby walked through the doors to their motel room.

It was short-lived, however.

"He can't do it," Sam said.

"Look, I get it," said Ruby. "You don't want him going all torture-master again…"

"No, I mean he can't do it," said Sam. "He can't get the job done. Something happened to him downstairs, Ruby." He shot Ember a look of apology. Ember knew he had meant to let Dean tell her about his time in Hell… but there simply wasn't time for that anymore. "He's not what he used to be. He's not strong enough."

"And you are?" Ruby asked.

"I will be," Sam answered.

There was a certain understanding between both Sam and Ember, now. Ember had fought Sam tooth and nail on the demon blood issue. She had drug him out into a field in the middle of the night, and sent him sprawling across said field just to prove that she could. She had given him scathing looks, threatened him with tattling to his brother, and treated him like the plague. But now, with Dean's life (and, more importantly, his soul) in question, she had no argument.

"Ruby, it's been weeks," Sam said. "I need it."

"You don't seem too happy about it," Ruby commented.

"You think I want to do this?" Sam asked. "This is the last thing I…" He sighed, and sent Ember a look which was pleading, yet defiant. "I need to be strong enough."

"Wait," Ember said, and Sam looked at her defiantly. A thought had struck her, suddenly, and she needed the answer before things went further.

"Ruby, how come… how come some demons can control themselves? How come you've never tried anything… with me?"

Ruby laughed, and sent Ember a scathing look. "What, you think you're the only being with demon blood who can delay gratification? How do you control your demon instincts?"

Ember was stunned. "So… if demons can control themselves… why don't they?"

Ruby shrugged. "It's no fun. Being a demon is all about doing whatever you want and not caring. But not all of us are like that." She stared at Ember seriously. "And Sam, like yourself, is not a full demon. He can make a choice to walk away, demon blood or no demon blood. So give him a break, will you? He's not going to hurt you." She smiled. "Besides," she added, climbing onto Sam's lap on the bed. Sam gave Ember a resigned, uncomfortable look, clearly begging her to leave. "He has me for that kind of thing."

Ember rolled her eyes. "I'm gonna wait outside," she said. "Sam, if you go anywhere without me, I'll kill you myself. Tell me when everybody's done."

***Dean POV***

March 21, Early morning

It had been hours. Alastair was sweating and bloody, and Dean still had the upper hand, which included a lock on his own mind. He hadn't been lying – he had thought of several good ideas while in Hell. He'd had to improvise a few things, but between his time in Hell and his hunting days, he had a pretty good idea what demons found painful. As it turned out, he'd been right.

He'd done better than he'd thought he would, if he was honest. He hadn't thought he would get this far. He could tell Alastair would break soon, assuming the secret he was keeping wasn't of great magnitude. And Dean doubted that the name of another demon would be worth much more of Alastair's time.

Dean knew, however, that Alastair still had a few cards up his sleeve. Dean could think of one in particular that he knew Alastair would play before he finally broke.

"Let's talk about your little girlfriend," Alastair said finally.

And there it was. Dean braced himself. His personal torture, his weakness, and the comparison to his father had all been covered all the way back in Hell. This was new territory – Alastair had saved the best for last, like Dean had known he would.

"Word on the street says, she's into you," Alastair continued. "But you're too… honorable."

Dean remained impassive. "She doesn't know yet, does she?" Alastair asked. "She doesn't know just how much your soul is actually tarnished, and why you really like her so much."

She did now, Dean thought. Thanks to you.

"Being… honorable is such a shame," Alastair said, "When you're so into her." Alastair thought for a second. "I'd like to be into her," he continued. Dean had been waiting for that one, but it didn't make him any less angry to finally hear it. "She got the better of me though, when I didn't expect it. Knifed her own client all to hell. I'll admit it, I underestimated her."

Dean was happy to hear it, but he knew Alastair wouldn't end there: the taunting would continue. "I've never met anyone with quite so much…" but he stopped to groan, as Dean had sent another bout of holy water through his veins.

It was five minutes before he picked up that train of thought again. "Look, Dean, your girl is hot. The things I would do to that girl…" Dean felt his blood boil. He couldn't show a response. Poker face. Poker face, and he'd break soon. "It's a shame Lilith won't give me the chance."

Dean looked up, surprised, and stopped the torture for the first time in minutes. "As a matter of fact, Alastair, I've been meaning to ask you about that. What did you mean when you told Ember that Lilith is interested in her?" He smiled. "Start talking about that, and I won't even pick up a knife until you run out of things to talk about."

Alastair smiled. "I'll tell you that one for free, grasshopper," he said. "Your girl could be powerful, far more powerful than she is now – far more powerful than I am, even, if she ever succumbed to her demon side. She's holding back… but with a little nudge, she could be the most powerful being, currently, to walk the Earth."

Dean gave Alastair a fake apologetic look. "Too much talk, not enough information," he said, picking up the syringe again.

"Lilith has big plans for her," Alastair continued, not bothering to speed up his drawling voice. "Maybe she'll even be Lucifer's queen."

"Lucifer's queen?" Dean said incredulously, but he stalled the syringe just the same.

Alastair shrugged, as best he was able in the manacles. "Everyone needs someone to walk through life with. Maybe she'll be his queen… maybe the commander of his army. She's powerful enough to be either one. But I've got to warn you Dean, not all demons are as nice as I am… not all demons care what Lilith's got to say…"

Dean went over to the table and grabbed a funnel and some holy water and hot coals. Alastair gave an involuntary twitch, though his face remained impassive. "All the demons know who your little girlfriend is, now, even the ones that don't care for Lilith. That's a bad position for your pretty little girlfriend to be in, trust me. I'd put my hands on her… before someone else does." Alastair grinned a wide, insane grin. "And maybe after, too, if she's still around."

Dean kept his face impassive, with great effort. "Break time's over then," he said, and poured the coals down Alastair's throat."

***Ember POV***

March 21, Early morning

Ten minutes later, Sam joined Ember outside of the motel. He stopped when he saw her, and Ember could see him struggle for control for a quick second.

"You good?" she asked him.

"Yeah, I'm good," he said. "Let's go."

And off they went.

***Dean POV***

March 21, Early morning

"Something caught in my throat," Alastair said. "I think it's my throat!"

"Well, strap in," said Dean, "'Cause I'm just starting to have fun." It was a nice sentiment, but they both knew the torture session was ending quickly. Dean wouldn't have risked the coals down the throat if it wasn't: too many more of those, and Alastair wouldn't be able to talk at all, thus defeating the purpose of this exercise. Dean knew he could handle a few more doses and still be able to communicate, though, if he needed. Alastair was getting desperate. He was so close, and it had taken far less time than Dean had imagined.

"You know," Alastair said, "It was supposed to be your father."

Seriously? Alastair was going back to that topic again? They had covered that only a few hours ago – hell, they had covered that back in Hell.

"He was supposed to bring it on. But in the end, it was you," Alastair continued.

Dean was only halfway listening as he poured salt on the demon knife. "Bring what on?"

"Every night, the same offer, remember? Same as your father. And finally, you said, 'sign me up.' The first time you picked up my razor, the first time you sliced into that weeping bitch… that was the first seal."

And Dean lost it. All the control he had worked for, so hard, for the past several hours… gone, in a second. He was scattered on the inside, his heart pumping out of control, his grip on the knife tightening. He tried his best to maintain, however, forcing his face into a smirk. "You're lying," he said.

Alastair was not fooled. "And it is written that the first seal shall be broken when a righteous man sheds blood in Hell." And as he spoke, Alastair seemed to grow taller, even on the rack, even now in this withered, dying body that was so much less fitting than the demon Dean knew from Hell. "As he breaks, so shall it break."

Dean had lost control completely, and turned away before Alastair could see, though he knew it wouldn't help. "We had to break the first seal before any others. Only way to get the dominos to fall right. Topple the one at the front of the line. When we win… when we bring on the apocalypse and burn this Earth down, we'll owe it all to you… Dean Winchester. Believe me son… I wouldn't lie about this. It's kind of a… religious sort of thing for me."

All shreds of control were completely gone. Gone was the thought of the dying angels, of Sam, of Ember, and of his father. There was only the demon knife, and Alastair, and death. "No. I don't think you are lying," Dean admitted. He took another look at his knife, knowing he was failing the angels, and simply not giving a damn. "But even if the demons do win… you won't be there to see it."

But when he turned around, Alastair was standing right behind him. "You should talk to your plumber about the pipes," he said, and before Dean could think, before he could even react, he knew no more.