It was dark down in the pit. The flames of Hell couldn't reach this far down, so all the poor souls that ended up here were cursed to rely on their dwindling wits and dulled senses. The brave ones fought each other to race up towards the dancing warmth of hellfire. Most were sent crashing back down into the freezing oblivion of the pit only to begin the treacherous climb once again. Some souls got stuck in this loop, most stopped after their third attempt, but some never tried to escape. John was one of the few souls content with staying in the eternal void, knowing why he was there in the first place. He had sold his soul for his boy, and while he was expecting torture, this seemed more fitting for him. The smell of sulfur and smoke had become too familiar for his liking, the way they mixed no longer made him nauseous as he would breathe in. John had no idea how long he had been in the pit. If he was being honest with himself, he didn't care. There was no one for him to risk climbing out for since both of his boys were alive and Mary was in…
A loud thud followed by the shocked gasp of a few nearby demons broke him out of his thoughts. From the darkness, a shadowy figure had landed somewhat close to John. It lay still, curling in on itself as if it was a child hiding from the boogeyman in its closet. The Hunter leaned forward to see if he could make out anything familiar about the figure, but it was a fruitless task. He knew who this was the second the figure opened his eyes. Those damned eyes that John could remember staring through the night of Mary's death. They seemed to hold the flames of Hell itself within them, glowing just as brightly. John could pinpoint this demon from a mile away, right down to the smell of smoke and sulfur that he had thought to be a familiar scent. The two made eye contact as Yellow Eyes glanced around the pit, the sickening snap of his fingers echoing throughout the vast expanse as a familiar glow shown from his fingertips. The flame exposed his off-putting smile, far too wide to be human, as he sat up, crossing his legs while resting his elbow on his knee while cupping his cheek with his free hand.
"Welcome home, you son of a bitch." John stared at the yellow-eyed demon before him with a glare that could rival the flames of Hell.
"It's good to see you again, Johnny boy~" Azazel taunted, leaning forward to get a better view of the poor soul that John had signed away in the hospital. The flame in his hand curled in the air in the absence of walls to climb up. It somehow looked more passive than the flames that surrounded both Mary and John that night. The two stared at each other for a few moments, a mutual hatred present between them. The tension was so known that the surrounding demons retreated away from the flame, leaving the two alone in their section of the pit.
"Y'know, now that I'm getting a good look at your soul, you're pretty similar to us demons already."
The comment from his wife's killer sent shivers down John's spine and through his arms. In response, the hunter backed away from the demon which only resulted in Azazel moving closer. John sighed, continuing to glare at the source of his desire for revenge. Small flicks of fire trickled off of the flame at Azazel's fingertips like sparks on an open wire. The demon risked moving closer to his former possession but was stopped at the sight of John chuckling to himself.
"What got you sent here Yellow Eyes? A lil' run-in with the Colt?" John said with a child-like sense of amusement. Surely he hadn't thought that it would be put into good hands after it was surrendered. Azazel went silent, and John's chuckles became laughs as the demon averted his eyes.
"Who knew that Dean was so good with that gun? I certainly didn't. That is, until he used one of the bullets on my boy. Imagine my surprise when he used it on me!" Yellow Eyes flashed a wicked smile before continuing, his voice musing over each word as he made the light around them grow to get a good look at John's reaction, "It's a shame that little Sammy had to die first though."
John's eyes widened in surprise as his laughter ceased. It wasn't possible, was it? Sam couldn't be… No. This was just a way to get John riled up and angry judging by the smile on his tormenter's face, but damn did it work. The demon knew very well that the easiest way to get deep into John's psyche was to mention his boys. It was something he had picked up on while possessing the hunter. Sam meant a lot to him, that was a given since the boy was younger, more vulnerable to monster attacks. Dean though, that was a whole burning bridge in itself. John didn't outright hate the boy, but their relationship was obviously different than the one with Sam. They were more like a drill sergeant and a hardened soldier. Azazel shook his head, turning his attention back to the angered hunter. His face was glowing red to the point where Azazel couldn't tell if it was from anger or the flame itself. Wrath had its way with John, wrapping around his soul and blinding his mind.
"If this was how John got at the mere mention of his boys," Azazel stopped pondering to take in the view of the angered Winchester, putting every little detail, such as the way his flames danced over John's ever-present glare, safely away in his memory. With a flick of his wrist, the pit was doused into midnight once again, save for the glow of the fallen ruler's haunting yellow eyes.
