"So honey, about that nightmare?"

The words lingered in the air as Azazel fell silent. Where would he even begin? So much had happened in a short span of time that Azazel was still processing that John had restrained him. And had called him honey. And that the prince was currently blushing like a kid who just realized they had a crush. All of that aside, John was still leaning over him. So very close to his face. The demon tried to look away, but a hand on his cheek turned his eyes back towards the hunter. The blush grew to his ears, making them a bright red. If John was good at one thing, it was being blissfully unaware of the emotions of others. Azazel took a shaky breath, closing his eyes before speaking.

"I may leave out some details, for my sake."

A small nod from John and the demon kept his eyes closed, unable to open them out of fear he may still be in the nightmare. If John hadn't put him on this table, Azazel may not believe that he was safe in Hell. Safe on a solid surface. He shook his head a little to clear his mind before starting to speak.

"I wasn't always down here in Hades. I used to be up there with the big leagues," Azazel smirked, tapping his hands on the leather table before continuing, "not on the surface, up in Heaven." The demon felt his hunter's hands shift on the table, moving from the sides of Azazel's head to rest near his arm. He peeked over at the other man for a moment before a small smile spread across his face.

"Not much to do up top but follow Lucifer around like a puppy. Every so often I got to flap my wings, they were a nice bright yellow y'know!" He giggled, eyes swirling as the memories of Heaven came flooding back. All of the memories. He shook his head again as John moved to place a warm hand on his chest. It was comforting in a way.

"When he fell, so did I," The demon's lip quivered a bit as he spoke, but he continued despite this, "It was terrifying. Like falling in an endless void but you know where you're ending up. And it's painful John, so very painful." He was shaking now. His mind racing as all the details it had tried to suppress came overflowing to the surface. The belts holding him down were the only thing keeping the demon from curling into a ball. Tears threatened to spill from his eyes as he moved them away from John, unable to meet the hunter's gaze. Speaking of the hunter, he had taken hold of Azazel's hand while the other was speaking, squeezing it as if it would break. The man watched as the trembling form in front of him turned away, fingers loosely intertwined with the other's.

"You can stop if it's gonna make you shaky," John rubbed his thumb over the prince's, trying to soothe the restrained man. Even though he hated Azazel, he was still going to try to pretend he didn't. That was the only way he'd be able to get anything out of the other. Pretending. That always ended well for him. The demon shook his head, taking a few shaky breaths before speaking again.

"I haven't thought about this in a while, and you're the first I've told." A short chuckle escaped Azazel's lips while he debated continuing. On one hand, it was a great bonding experience for the two. On the other hand, John probably didn't want to think about Mary, especially since her killer was currently restrained on a torture table. Defenseless. Waiting for things to go south. One look at John, however, calmed him enough into a sense of security. He was still in the room. He was still in Hell. The demon craned his neck to look over at the shelf full of tools just for a change of scenery. An idea popped into this mind, a twisted smile spreading across his lips.

"Y'know, being turned into a Prince of Hell hurt me less than falling. After a while, these flames feel like a nice campfire, but only if you stay here long enough. Endure the torture, become immune to some things, rule Hell. It was so fun Johnny!" A tray of various blades was slowly being wiggled out of its place on the shelf as Azazel spoke, eyes trained on John the whole time.

"What was your favorite part, oh unholy ruler?" The hunter's question was garnished with both sarcasm and genuine curiosity. Oh, how naive.

"Collecting my children, what else could compare?"

At the mention of this, John's expression changed from one of fake sympathy to unmistakable rage. The hunter moved his hand to grasp the demon's shoulder, hand almost trembling from the grip. A chuckle escaped Azazel's lips, yellow eyes sparking as it turned into a laugh. John smirked, getting up to walk out of the other's view. There was no way he was going to bond with John over this without having at least a little fight with the man. It was all he knew about torture. Seek to anger your opponent. Well, the only way he knew how to anger his current opponent was to mention his family. The demon could go into detail about Mary's death. About the way she checked into the room thinking he was John. How naive she was. She knew the terms and conditions and still intervened. It brought a smile to the demon's lips, an expression that quickly turned into him biting his lip from a sudden burst of pain. The sting of something being rubbed and scattered across his skin broke the prince out of his thoughts. So that's what the hunter was doing. Getting supplies. A light was shone into the restrained prince's eyes, making him squint as ashes began to fall around him. How the hell did he build up an immunity to holy water but not salt? Well, he knew why but that was a topic for a different time. Azazel shook his head to clear his mind, the ashes being thrown onto the floor as he did so. He'd have to win back John's sympathies before trying to get anything out of the hunter. The demon's eyes glanced up at John, a pout present on his face.

"Not gonna work this time Azzy," His voice was stern as if talking to a small child. The tray that was previously on the shelf was now on an easily portable table and in the perfect position for Azazel to see it. Which meant he could annoy John even more with his nifty telekinesis. He moved his fingers towards the table, making it move back just a subtle amount. The wheels squeaked from the movement, causing the hunter to glance towards the demon before shaking his finger. The blade in John's hand was small, nothing more than a typical scalpel, but Azazel knew it was still something to be feared. Well, to be more specific, Azazel's memory knew it was something to be feared. Once you get tortured by Hell's self-proclaimed number one torturer, you learn a few tricks.

"Do you want me to keep talking through this or are you just gonna rub salt on me for an hour?" The sharp pain of the blade against his bicep made the demon wince, head falling back onto the hard wood under it. So that was the reason for the salt. A smart move on the man's part. He already knew that holy water wasn't going to do anything but the reaction he got before was definitely some indication that salt worked.

"Oh sorry, did I hurt you?" The mocking tone in John's voice was hidden by a laugh as the demon bit his lip to avoid another whimper from escaping. Though he would never admit it, John wasn't going to do much beyond this. Give the ruler a taste of his own medicine.

"You're so mean to me and I simply don't know why," Azazel lied, knowing exactly why. He wiggled in his place, hand motioning towards the tray to make it move out of the hunter's way while he circled the table. He giggled, imagining the man tripping over it while trying to act like he was in charge. The prince was lucky that the sigils carved into the leather of the straps didn't do much to him. Maybe it had a larger effect on the average demons and souls that were put on these, but the most they did to him was prevent him from getting out. Even that was a stretch since he could still use-

The sound of bubbles rapidly popping caught the demon's attention. Hidden up on top of the shelf was a small wooden bowl, almost shaking from the urgency of the message coming from it. The two exchanged a look while John moved to grab it, setting the bowl on the table. To him, all that was heard were bubbles. To Azazel, his daughter's voice. A sense of ease washed over him as his mind finally calmed, now knowing that at least one of his children was safe for now. Meg was just making a status report, updating Azazel on the Winchester's locations and the state of the surface. It was ironic to call her call a miracle, seeming as the prince thought she had been sent to the Empty. Her voice sounded different, as if she had found a different meatsuit. Her report turned into rambling, rambling into giving her location. A broken-down house with no humans or hunters in sight. There would be a monster every so often, but they never stayed long. Good, she was still actively helping his cause. Meg was silent for a moment, as if trying to think about her words.

The hunter stayed silent, allowing the demon to talk to the bubbles while he studied the room for possible escapes. Chains rattled in the distance, signaling that others were present within the area. Good, they weren't entirely alone. Screams in the distance caught his attention. They sounded oddly familiar. John shook his head, eyes glancing over to check on Azazel only to be met with a cold stare. The man cocked his head to the side in confusion. He left the other alone for one minute and now he gets a death stare? It must be the bubbles. John watched as the demon flicked his fingers towards the hunter, pulling him over to the table with little effort. Interesting. As he got closer, the hunter leaned down to be over the demon. Azazel's eyes were flickering, the hellfire within them almost desperate to escape as the prince narrowed his eyes.

"Thank you Meg, I'll be sure to tell him." The bubbles stopped after that. The rolling table was sent across the room causing the bowl to go with it, spilling its contents over the floor. It didn't take much for John to understand the situation. Especially since Azazel wasn't one to keep him waiting.

"Your boys are somethin' else Johnny, did a really good job raising them." sarcasm dripped from the demon's lips as he spoke, watching the hunter shift from a position of power to one of rage. Good, that was still something he could hold over the man. A smile crept onto Azazel's lips, watching John move over to the fallen table to put it back on its wheels, gathering all the blades as he stayed silent.

"So much so, that they sent my boy to the Empty." A pause. John turned to look over his shoulder, placing the blades on the table before rolling it over to the demon.

"Pardon me while I sob for your loss," the hunter chuckled, once again moving to stand over the demon. He was used to his games by now. Get John riled up, have a little fight, kiss and make up, and repeat. The man would be lying if he said it wasn't fun. He got to learn what makes the other tick and get revenge on the creature that killed his wife at the same time.

"That's not all, it seems little Sammy won my game after all." Azazel couldn't believe he had forgotten to mention this to John. After all, who wouldn't be proud of their child winning a game where the odds were unknowingly stacked in their favor. The demon chose his next words carefully. Any wrong step over the line and he'd never get off of this table. Not that it wouldn't be interesting to see what John was capable of, but he had other things to attend to. A wide smile grew across Azazel's lips as he locked eyes with John, small white ashes falling to collect on the floor.

"Such a shame that he died before it could happen though. I was rooting for him!"

John took a step back, turning around so he wouldn't be able to see Azazel's stare. The hunter's mind jumped between different scenarios, each one ending in his son's death. Each one showing that there was something he could have done to prevent it. Sam couldn't be dead, right? Dean wouldn't let that happen, not after they started hunting together again. It had to be a lie. He shook his head, ashes falling from his hair as he turned back to face the menace before him. Anger filled his voice as the hunter spoke, not bothering to restrain himself.

"If he's dead, how did he win?"

"He has a very good older brother, you should be proud. Could even tell him yourself in about a decade." Azazel moved the tray towards John, silently telling him to pick up the tools. The hunter paused, mind going blank as he took in the statement. A decade, only ten years? Why that specific?

"Don't worry, the demons won't hurt him too much," the demon smirked, eyes locking with the other's before continuing, "Hellhounds, on the other hand, will not be holding back." John's shoulders tensed at the mention of the creatures. Luckily, the demon had spared him of any kind of torment from the hellhounds. He didn't want to imagine what would happen to Dean. And yet, the images flooded his mind like he went through the exact same thing while Azazel smiled. The demon watched as John's eyes bubbled with rage, lips just barely trembling as the man began to slash at the prince with wild abandon. He'd finally broken the hunter down.