Chapter 2

Sleep could not come, but Dean let his thoughts wonder as he waited for the demon to return and begin torturing him again. He tried to count the minutes, the hours, but lost track of where he was and gave it up. Muffled screams made their way into the room and Dean knew his fate was the fate of so many souls that died or made deals. Most definitely belonged here, but there were others he was sure did not. Each wail grated on his nerves, making him twitch and tense knowing it would not be long before he was one of the tortured ones.

There was no way of knowing if it was night or day in the windowless room. Dean remained strapped to the rack endlessly waiting which was almost worse than the torture itself. A different demon came back, and he was more creative than the other one.

The first thing he did was blind Dean so he could not see what was happening. Dean flinched and jerked and grunted in pain as his finger nails were ripped from his fingers and then were broken one by one, his toes were cut off, and sharp spikes were jammed into his body, missing vital organs so he did not die too quickly from the wounds. He felt a knife nicking him as his jeans were cut away and then his briefs leaving him naked and bleeding on the rack.

Dean could not help himself when he cried out with the pain as his kneecaps and ankles were broken with a large hammer. The demon proceeded to break the bones in his arms and then went to work on his ribs and started to smash his head but saw Dean had already died. He removed the straps holding the ravaged body and let it slide to the floor in a pool of blood.

"George, clean up on aisle two," the demon yelled through the door. "This one needs hosing down for the next time." With a disgusted snort, he left the room to attend to other matters and other souls to torture.

spn

Hours later, consciousness came slowly back to Dean as the curtain of darkness fell away. He did not know what happened to him when he died, it was blankness and no sense of being until Hell remade his body and he woke. He winched and opened his eyes into slits as he looked at the bloodstained floor he was laying on. He could tell his body was back in one piece again but did not have the energy to try and get up. Tears welled in his eyes as he forced his mind not to think about what he had gone through. He had to be strong. He had to think. There had to be a way out of this hell hole; he just needed to find it.

Dean finally pushed himself up to a sitting position to find he was still naked and covered in streaks of dried blood. He looked to the table sitting across the room and tried to stand but his legs would not support him. He started to crawl toward it hoping maybe to get a weapon that he could defend himself with. Before he could reach up to grab the edge of the table to hoist himself up, strong hands grabbed him from behind and threw him back against the wall. Dean collided with a hard thump against the concrete wall, almost knocking him unconscious.

"Now, now, can't have you playing with sharp objects," the demon sneered. He took his time walking over to Dean and grabbed a wrist and pulled it upward, bringing Dean's body with it. A metal cuff at the end of a chain was locked around his wrist and the demon did the same with the other. He went to the wall and cranked the chain higher, pulling Dean upward until he was on the balls of his feet, swinging slightly in the air. "There, I'll be back to have a little fun."

"Screw you!" Dean replied with as much venom in his voice as he could muster as he glared at the demon with hatred and wanting to kill him.

"Don't worry, there are ones who'll be happy to do that to you until you beg for them to stop, give it time, you pathetic weakling," he laughed before leaving him hanging.

Dean bit back his response and tried to steady his body to keep it from swinging and putting more stress on his arms. He grunted in pain as his foot cramped and tried to stand on one foot to relieve the tight muscle in his other foot. He could only hold it for a moment before pressing it back to the floor.

After hours of hanging there, it felt like Dean's shoulders were coming out of their sockets. He tried to move them and pulled up on the chain with his hands but could not hold it long. His head jerked around when he heard noises behind him.

"Well, well, another Winchester to have fun with," a deep voice spoke as a new demon came into view. "I had the pleasure of working on your father while he was down here. Oh, how he would beg for it to end," he laughed. "Let's see how you hold up."

Dean did not answer him as he twisted enough to try and see him. He arched forward and sucked in a sharp breath as the leather ends of a whip bit into his back breaking his skin. Before he could get a breath, the whip landed again sending shock waves down his body as his other pains were forgotten. His back was torn to shreds with each strike, making blood run down over his bottom and legs to pool at his feet. Dean was almost to the point of passing out when a bucket of ice cold water was tossed in his face bringing him back.

"There you are! Can't have you checking out on me yet. You're as tough as your old man, right?" The demon suddenly backhanded him, snapping his head to the side, splitting his lip, and making his nose bleed. He picked up a straight edge razor and opened it, checking the sharpness on his finger. With a swift, strong stroke, he cut into his chest until he severed Dean's jugular artery in his neck and watched him bleed out in mere seconds. His body hung limply as he breathed his last.

"Playtime is over," he shrugged dropping the blade back onto the table and walking away. "See you tomorrow."

spn

Days turned into weeks, weeks into months, months into years as each day started with torture and ended the same, with Dean's death. The past year was different for some reason. The demons would leave him alive, broken and bleeding for days so he would suffer more. There were times he would drown in his own blood or succumb to his injuries without the demons killing him.

Dean's body was tortured in every way that was possible, trying to wear him down, and make him ready for their boss. He needed something from Dean and wanted him pliable when he made his play. Alastair waited until Dean was in Hell and had been tortured for ten years by his other minions before he made an appearance.

"Hello Dean," a soft spoken man greeted him.

Dean barely looked at him through half opened eyes but did not respond. He had been strapped to the rack once again. He could feel his resistance starting to give way and seemed to feel a change happening in him, in the deep recesses of his soul. He still fought hard to keep his sanity through all his suffering. He would not give up. He kept telling himself there was a way out of here, he just needed to find it. Dean had learned to go to a safe place inside his mind when the demons started their endless torture on his body. He would go to a beach and sit in the sand to watch the waves lap at the shoreline and the sun to slowly sink toward the horizon. He would stay there until he died in real life and would suddenly be swept away into darkness until he awoke once again.

Alastair walked around the rack observing Dean for several minutes before stopping at his side.

"I just wanted to congratulate you," he started. "Today, you have been our guest for ten years." He watched Dean's response to his statement and smirked when he saw the disbelief in his eyes. "I thought I would give you a choice today Dean. One I think you will like. You can come down off the rack and not be tortured anymore…You will only have to do one thing…" he paused letting what he said sink in. "Just pick up a knife and torture a soul. Simple, something I think you will excel at…Given a little time. You could be my best apprentice yet. Look deep inside of yourself Dean, see who you really are…"

Dean's eyes widened in shock as he let what the demon was saying penetrate his muddled mind. His torture would stop if he would do this to another soul. How could this demon ever thing that he would do that after all he had been subjected to by the demons the past ten years. To do that would make him a monster and he would not let himself become that.

"Never!" Dean gasped as loud as he could. "Never, you black eyed bastard!"

"It's your choice Dean. I had hoped for more from you. Shall we begin?" Alastair sighed turning to the table to look over the weapons. He picked up several different ones before deciding on an odd shaped blade. He turned back to Dean and let his eyes roam over his body. "Oh, and my eyes are not black," he offered as his eyes turned white.

Dean frowned and blinked rapidly to be sure he was seeing things right. He had not seen a white eyed demon before and was not sure what to make of it. Did that mean this one was stronger than the others or superior to them?

"I do like a clean canvas; where should I begin?" The knife buried into Dean's chest deflating his lung and making him begin to wheeze. It was twisted back and forth several times before being pulled out. Alastair stuck the tip of the knife into Dean's bicep and ran it slowly down the underside of his arm to his wrist leaving a trail of blood. He continued to carve into his skin and strip it from Dean's body, piece by piece. He sneered happily when Dean grunted and clenched his jaw trying to keep from crying out from the immense pain radiating through his entire body. "It was fun, but I have other commitments I must see to. I will see you again tomorrow Dean. Oh, I have a few surprises in store for you." Alastair took the knife and nicked Dean's artery so he would slowly bleed out. He tossed the knife on the table and strolled away as he pulled a handkerchief from a pocket and wiped his hands.

It was not long before Dean wheezed one final time and died once again as he had nearly every day over the past ten years.

A/N: Ten years have passed in Hell and Dean is trying to hold on to the small piece of humanity he has left. Thank you for taking this journey with me. I hope you enjoyed the read. Reviews would make my day. NC