(Hey!! Aftermath of torture and slightly better descriptions of torture are in this chap so skip/don't read if that's not your thing!!!)
Azazel woke with a start, a faint burning sensation filling his lungs. He never did get used to the air on Earth, taking a deep breath before a sharp cough invaded his lungs. Small specks of soot were quickly brushed off of his hand and onto the ground of the alley. Good, the boys hadn't found him. That means he'd have time to get back to the house and question the demon about Meg. Then he could hightail it out of this hellscape and get back to actual Hell. John had to have noticed that the demon was in for more than he bargained for since he'd been gone so long, but the prince figured he wouldn't mind. The hunter had nothing to do other than wait around for his return so Azazel may as well take his time. The demon stretched and yawned before standing, legs a little wobbly from being on the ground in the alley. He stumbled out of the area and looked around, making sure the Winchesters weren't out and about as they so often tended to do. Seeing no impala, Azazel figured that he was safe enough to walk out into the general public like he hadn't been running for his life just yesterday. John could never know that had happened or he'd be teased for the rest of eternity. The prince stepped out onto the main sidewalk, almost knocking into a pair of pedestrians while trying to look for a place to pick up a phone book. He'd need to know where the boys were staying in order to make it out of this town without returning to the pit. Or even worse, the Empty. Azazel shuddered at the thought before spotting a familiar car. Good! That meant he could just teleport straight to the house and back before anyone noticed. They made this far too easy for him.
In an instant, Azazel had disappeared from the barely crowded street and reappeared in the run-down house he had been in before. The smell of sulfur lingered in the air, guiding him right to the back of the house into a secluded room. He checked for traps but found none. Only a girl with her head slumped forward as if she was sleeping tied to a chair in the middle of the room. Always traditional with hunters, he supposed.
"Howdy sister," he chuckled, watching the demon raise her head, pitch-black eyes visible for anyone to see. Her soul was crackling now, much different than it had been the previous night. Her meatsuit had been through the usual hunter techniques of throwing salt and holy water at their subject, along with some bruising on her face and body as well. Dark hair stuck to her face as black eyes met Azazel's, a grin plastered onto her face. The prince pulled a chair from the kitchen up to the demon, flashing his eyes at her before sitting down.
"You know of a girl named Meg Masters running around here? She's of great importance to me and I think we can help each other here." He had no intention of helping her, but she had to believe he did. What would she do otherwise? Not help someone who, as far as she knew, was the King of Hell? She had no choice even if she did sense that he was lying. His chair was hastily pushed away from the girl before he could figure out why. She motioned up to the ceiling where a Devil's trap had been spray-painted on. Of course. If he couldn't see one on the floor, there had to be one elsewhere.
"What do you wanna know?" Her voice cracked and all but knocked the wind out of her as she spoke, body lurching forward as a series of coughs interrupted her. Azazel's eyes scanned the room as he leaned in, voice almost at a whisper.
"I wanna know her status. Is she alive? Do you know where she is?" He tried not to sound too urgent. Sounding like he was desperate for information might lead this demon to lie to him.
"Thought I saw her the other day but couldn't get close enough to make sure." Good. Meg was still alive at least. She was probably four states over by now if that was the case. That meant that he could get through to her using their bowls! The ex-ruler smiled and thanked the girl, turning to walk away before snapping his fingers, the ropes holding her down no longer tied.
"They'll be back soon. Get outta here before the Winchesters come back." The girl nodded and ran out of the building, disappearing into the trees. Azazel deemed this a great time to also get out of the Winchester's hiding place. He'd already freed the demon they were torturing and let himself get spotted by the boys all in under 24 hours. While the demon was up top, he may as well look around and make sure everything's going to plan. The prince skipped out of the house, taking the main road back into town while smiling ear-to-ear as he watched the impala race past him.
He stopped just outside the alley he had stayed in the night before, fingers fiddling with John's wallet as he sped into a diner. It wasn't very full. A few teenagers sat at a booth and the occasional couple sprinkled in at various tables. The demon sat down, pulling John's wallet out before skimming over the menu. Nothing like taking yourself out on a "date" with your "enemy's" money. Azazel smiled to himself after placing his order, moving the salt shaker far away from him to prevent an accidental sizzling sound. The demon made quick work of the meal while planning out what to do with the rest of his time. Nothing that would make others suspicious of him or John. Nothing that would alert other demons of where he was. Nothing fun. Azazel shrugged and paid, leaving a generous tip for the young waitress before leaving the diner. He remembered why he didn't like life up on Earth. It was too mundane for him. People milling about the streets, talking to and about people who thought they had all the time in the world. Half of them would become like him. Well, not exactly like him, but they'd be in the same Hell he had grown up in. It was too much for the man to think about, so he turned his thoughts to finding his daughter. That's what he was up here to do. Not pretend to blend in with humanity only to want to leave the second he remembered what he was. The demon strolled down the sidewalk, trying to focus on places where she could be. She had to have found a new meatsuit, one that would blend in more with the modern crazes of the surface. Her soul would likely be the same, bright orange and swirling around itself. Azazel's eyes widened as an idea came to mind. Maybe he could find out where she was from the records in Hell! The prince ducked into an alley and made sure no one was around before placing his arms on his shoulders, a circle of flame appearing around him as two figures rounded the corner. By the time the boys got to him, the demon prince had already disappeared.
Azazel smiled and hugged himself as the familiar warmth of hellfire washed over the room he and John shared. He looked around to see if anything had changed while he was gone, only noticing a few things had been reorganized on the shelf. But where was John? He couldn't feel the hunter's soul in the room, but he wouldn't have had anywhere else to go. The prince expected to be met with something from the hunter. At the very least, a half-hearted hello, but not a disappearing act. He heard something shift from the back of the room, the sounds of chains clanging on the floor sending a shiver down his spine. No. He hadn't been gone that long, had he? The demon turned to face the being that had made the noise, eyes widening at the state he was in. Hooks placed just below the skin to hold John up on the rack. Large, deep cuts had been carved into his flesh, blood running down every limb and plopping into a puddle on the floor. These were fresh. That's not what made the demon afraid, though. It was John's soul. It cracked and popped as if it was trapped, swirling with rage at the torment its human had undergone. If Azazel had been a little faster he could have stopped this. If Azazel had taken John with him, this never would have happened. His legs shook as they carried him across the room, hands carefully resting on John's cheeks as if he may be the one to finally break the hunter.
"Johnny?" His voice cracked as he spoke, yellow eyes watching the hunter lift his head, unwilling to open his own eyes. Maybe he wasn't a demon just yet. There could still be time to save him. Time to reverse this. John pressed his head to Azazel's shoulder, unable to keep it upright in his current condition. A quick flick of the prince's wrist and everything was gone. No more chains holding the hunter up, no more hooks to remind him that this was still Hell. Only the wounds Azazel wasn't able to fix right now. The prince practically scooped the hunter into his arms, looking over his wounds to see what could eventually be fixed. John shuddered in his grasp, eyes still screwed closed even though he knew he'd be safe for now. His torturer could come back any minute and he wasn't about to be caught off guard again. He could hear the demon before him start to hum, voice and body shaky from the sight before them.
"Welcome home," he finally muttered, pulling Azazel closer to him to feel his warmth. To feel him. The hunter hadn't seen a demon who didn't have the intention to hurt him in what felt like years. It was a nice refresher. The door to their room squealed against its hinges as it opened, a familiar tune slithering its way into the room. Azazel's head perked up at the song, his grip on John getting more protective as a shiver ran up his spine. He knew that voice. The prince stood and turned towards the source of the sound, yellow eyes narrowing with rage at the figure. Of course he'd be the one to strip John of his humanity. No one other than Hell's self-proclaimed finest torturer would take on the task of converting a Winchester. The prince watched as Alastair sauntered over to the pair, a smile widely plastered over his face.
"Ah, Azazel! Pleasure to meet you again old friend," the white-eyed demon went to place his hand on the other's shoulder and instead was met with his body being slammed into the wall. A chuckle slipped from his lips as the smaller demon walked towards him, taking his time to give John a chance to watch the show that was about to happen.
"Didn't anyone tell you that John Winchester was off-limits?" Azazel's voice was filled to the brim with rage. It was something he had learned from John, how to make himself appear angry when he was furious underneath his guise. He didn't give Alastair the chance to lift his head off the wall before clenching his hand into a fist. The prince watched the demon clench his teeth with a smile, never once taking his eyes off of the form approaching him.
"Oh they did, but someone left him unattended~" his sing-song voice didn't do anything but help Azazel's blood boil, but he let the demon continue, "I just thought I'd step in and help!" Despite the prince being much shorter than Alastair, he towered over him now, in this moment. How dare he try to justify hurting, no, torturing his hunter.
"If I wanted your help, I would have called," deep scratches started crawling over the white-eyed demon's skin. By this point, John had found the strength to stand up and shuffle his way towards Azazel, half wanting to watch his tormenter be tormented and half to keep the prince in line. He wrapped his arms around the form before him, resting his head on the other's shoulder while glaring at the man pinned to the wall. The prince snapped his fingers and a bright burst of fire washed over Alastair, much to his displeasure. He was just doing his job and now he was being reprimanded? By a former "friend", of all demons? Azazel had brought his other hand up to John's cheek, thumb rubbing over one of the cuts to heal it. The flames had died down, leaving the borderline growling demon still pinned to the wall as the pair drew closer, picking up a vial of holy water and a small bag of salt. Azazel could feel his soul crackling now, pure wrath snaking its way through his limbs as he lashed out on the taller demon. The prince took the vial and bag, carefully drawing a semicircle around the demon in case he had to let Alastair down at some point and flicking the holy water towards him before stepping back again to admire his work. Hell would be down to one torturer after today.
The hunter felt, no, looked numb, emotionless even, mind not able to process what was happening before his very eyes. Azazel was protecting him, his torturer was getting his ass handed to him, and yet he felt nothing. John could see them differently now, though. He could see the prince's corrupted soul brimming with pure, unbridled rage and the other's swirling to escape the flames. It was torture in its purest form. The hunter forced his feet forward, hand resting on Azazel's shoulder as another swirl of hellfire met its target. This wasn't what he wanted. This wasn't what he needed. If he could just- John's body fell into the demon's back, catching him off guard as the shorter man struggled to support them both. Alastiar let out a string of laughs, unable to take the scene seriously anymore.
"Did you really think I'd pass up this opportunity Azzy?" The torturer grinned at the glare he received from the prince, faking a shudder to give himself a sense of power again. He had never seen Azazel angry, much less wrathful. It was borderline intoxicating. Alastair had to resist though. It wouldn't do anyone any good for the head torturer to be taken off of his pedestal. It was a good refresher, though. The white-eyed demon hadn't felt the rush of hellfire in such a long time, it was almost as if a wave of nostalgia had washed over him. Azazel's eyes were narrowed towards him now, ashes and sulfur gathered around him.
"Someone's getting upset~" He sang, roars of laughter falling from his lips as another wave of fire met his flesh, "Y'know I remember when it was you on this wall." Maybe he could keep this up for another day or so. Him trespassing on this domain may have been the demon's greatest feat yet! It was a rare opportunity to be able to torture a hunter like John Winchester, of all people. The pair before him had fallen back now. Alastair must have stopped paying attention at some point because he didn't remember feeling the burn of the holy water running down his limbs; didn't remember the salt being rubbed into his burns. Alastair watched the prince raise his hands, preparing for another flash of flames but instead was met with darkness as the sound of a snap echoed around him.
Azazel sank to his knees, pulling John down with him as he checked over the hunter once again. He mumbled as he ran his hand across the wounds in an attempt to heal them. Nothing. He'd used too much of his powers on the white-eyed nuisance. The demon stood and sped over to the shelf, picking up what was left of the holy water and a roll of bandages. Some demons must have come by to restock it after Alastair took over. Azazel didn't have time to think about the new additions, he had a hunter to wrap up. John hadn't moved from his spot on the tarnished floor, eyes cast down and away from the prince. A hand was placed under his chin, lifting it up to look the demon in the eyes.
"Look at you, Johnny. I leave for two seconds and you're already getting tortured by someone else." He wasn't trying to be angry at John but that didn't stop the growl that came from his throat at the thought of him in this state. The hunter could have fended for himself if it was any other torturer, but luck never favored the Winchesters. Azazel shook his head, making sure the bandages were wrapped tightly around the wounds. He had to learn one way or another to not let the other demons trample him, didn't he? Maybe this would be a good example so it would never happen again. John winced at how tight his bandages were, glaring at the prince as a low growl left his throat.
"Not like it was my fault, you're the one who left me here!" The hunter could feel his blood boiling now. So Azazel was fired up about something out of his control? He didn't even know what happened or how long it had been happening! John bit his lip to keep from shouting, willing to let the demon finish wrapping his wounds before staring at him with vacant eyes.
"I thought one of the most feared hunters in the world would be able to handle himself. Obviously I was wrong." The sentence had barely left Azazel's lips before John was pinning him to the ground in a fury. He could hear the other yelling, but he couldn't process the words coming out of his mouth. The only thing the prince could focus on were John's pretty brown eyes being consumed by oily wells. Pitch black eyes that showed his yellow ones staring right back at him in disbelief. The hunter's grip tightened on his wrists but for once it didn't snap the demon out of his thoughts, it only made them swirl in his mind. For once in his long, eternal life, Azazel felt terrified. He closed his eyes and turned away, not wanting to see his eyes widened with fear or John's anger above him. It was too much. A thumb on his cheek made him open his eyes again, the hand it belonged to forcing the demon to look at the figure above him.
"You're… crying?" John moved his hands to cup the prince's face but was met with frantic hands pushing him away. When the flailing didn't work, the hunter was pushed across the room with one swift motion, the other demon planting himself against the opposite wall in a tight ball. He didn't know was mad or He didn't know whether Azazel had just been embarrassed or if the price was genuinely sad. Hell, he could have been pissed at the hunter just for glaring at him. That wouldn't have made sense though, he'd glared at the demon countless times before, why was this time different? Maybe he really was upset that john had been tortured while in Hell like it was something that could have been avoided. Whatever the reason, the hunter wouldn't know about it until the other was willing to tell him. It'd be better to not bring it up for a while. The prince in question had moved his eyes to stare at John from across the room, watching his movements like he was expecting another attack. His vision was still a bit blurry from the tears making their way down his cheeks, but it was enough to where he could still make out the figure across from him. The demon sighed, moving across the floor to sit in front of John, bringing a small razor and a strap of leather with him.
"You're gonna want something to bite onto while I do this." Azazel placed the leather to John's lips as he readied the razor on his shoulder, making sure none of the bandages would be ripped in the process. Tiny flickers of flame danced around the pair, making John glance frantically around the room. Confusion graced the hunter's face before he felt a sharp, searing pain spread through his left shoulder. It crept its way down his arm, a tingling feeling resting in his fingers as they curled around the demon's arm and thigh. He was doing it slowly, making sure John would remember this moment so it would never have to be repeated. Azazel glanced at the hunter once he felt fingernails digging their way into his thigh, shaking his head in response. Slow, deliberate strokes etched out the prince's sigil, a mark to let others know that John Winchester was not to be harmed without consequences following soon after. He took the leather from the other, throwing it to the side as he moved the hunter's hand from his thigh to give him the blade. It was ripped from his grasp as a now angry hunter gave him a similar treatment, slowly carving his initials into Azazel's right shoulder. The demon winced when John threw the razor, hating the way it clanked against the floor like the chains that once held the hunter captive. It wasn't like him. But then again, there wasn't much of John left. He felt arms try to wrap around his own but they were pushed away. Azazel couldn't look at the other, not for the moment, at least. He slinked back into the corner of the room, watching the hunter from afar. His golden eyes seemed to glow around the shadows that concealed him the same way they reflected in John's oily eyes. The prince put his head down and screwed his eyes shut, desperate not to see their glow anymore. The flames died out and left the two in an uneasy silence. For once, neither knew what to do to atone for the events.