Chapter 2

Ruby smirked as Sam gnawed at her arm like a dog with a bone, sucking lasciviously at the blood pouring from the wound.

Almost fondly, she recalled how the first times, after she'd convinced him that developing his powers was the only way to rescue Dean from Hell, Sam had needed to be cajoled into cutting her flesh and lapping at the blood.

However, experience had taught him that no matter how cruelly he bit and bruised her body, it was inconsequential, for the wounds quickly healed to perfection.

For all his intelligence and experience, Sam didn't realize how thoroughly he was being played by the master manipulator currently wearing the meat suit of a dead woman.

Of course, once the addiction to the demon blood set in, Ruby's task became far easier. Sam craved the high that the drug delivered, making it child's pay for Ruby to control him by making him wait for the next dose until he was out of his mind with need.

The blood also had an aphrodisiacal component to it, and after Sam had drunk his fill, the sex that followed was animalistic and brutal.

That held no fear for the demon, on the contrary, Ruby was looking forward to it, anticipating the sexual prowess of Sam Winchester.

He made love like a savage. The blood upped his sexuality of course, but Sam had to be naturally passionate for it to affect him so violently.

After everything she'd suffered in Hell before being chosen to work on the younger Winchester, Ruby had no problem with whatever Sam did to her during the blood-driven sex, even egging him on to be more brutal.

She had to admit that he was a very attractive man, and she reflected smugly, that she couldn't have asked for a better assignment.

:

Almost as if Sam had been privy to her thoughts, he paused in his frenzied drinking to glance up at her with glazed hazel eyes. She merely smiled and pushed his head back down onto her arm. "Just a little bit more, Sam. Then we can have some fun."

Sam's response was a mix between a growl and a grunt but he obediently returned to pulling at the flesh of her arm, gorging himself on the demon blood.

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Dean was busy cutting and skinning his victim, the howls of the shredded souls no more than background noise to him now.

What did make him pay attention though, was the far-off echoes of what seemed like a battle, the clashing of steel against steel.

He could hear screams and curses reverberating through Hell. A part of him was curious as to what could be going on, but Dean had learned that it was better to shut the fuck up and ignore anything around him which didn't apply to the soul he was torturing.

In any case, Alastair would surely show up sooner or later.

The demon had the hots for Dean and would take any opportunity to slither his body against him like the revolting snake he was.

What gave Dean the strength to carry on was the vengeance he carefully fuelled in his belly.

One day he'd rise through the ranks of Hell and become the ruler of this place.

Then his vengeance on those who had tortured him would be implacable. At least that's what he repeated continually to himself as he cut and sliced. Moreover, the thirst for revenge kept him grounded.

To give in mindlessly to the horrors around him would twist and corrupt his mind and Dean didn't want that to happen. He needed to hang onto at least a sliver of his humanity even if it was almost impossible to do.

Torturing souls in continuation took a toll on one's sanity and Dean didn't want to turn into ….well…Alastair!

:

As Dean had foreseen, after some time when the mysterious noises could no longer be heard, Alastair put in an appearance.

With the attitude of a simpering college professor, he inspected the work Dean was doing on the soul.

"Impressive, Dean. With time you will be vying with me as a Master Torturer. By the way, did you by chance notice anything strange going on?"

Dean knew better than to admit he'd heard weird sounds, so he shook his head. " No. All I've been hearing are the howls of this soul. "

Alastair took a step into Dean's personal space, cupping his chin and turning Dean's face towards his. "You are extraordinarily pretty, Dean. I find myself continually wishing you were still on the rack. I so enjoyed using your body for my pleasure."

Dean resisted the urge to sink the knife he was holding into Alastair's arm.

Strange to believe, even a pit of despair like Hell had its rules and regulations, one being that a Master Torturer could no longer use violence or sexually abuse his student once he was taken off the rack, but if Alasdair so desired, he could allow another demon to do so in his place.

And having another demon fuck or torture him while Alastair got his rocks off watching, wasn't something Dean ever wanted to experience.

So he merely stood there while Alastair looked his fill.

:

"Well, I must leave you now, Dean. There are some things I need to attend to. Truth be told we had some…problems…earlier. Hell was being attacked but we managed to push the invaders back out the Gates."

Dean remained silent but his curiosity peaked.

Hell was being attacked? What did that mean? Who could be stupid enough to want to enter Hell? And for what reason?

"They were looking for someone," Alastair continued nonchalantly, running a stroking hand down Dean's back to cup his ass, a habit he'd come to embrace anytime he came to visit! "But we don't want to lose a single soul. Each one is precious to us, " he said with a wink.

At that, Alastair flounced off, leaving Dean bewildered. What the fuck was going on? And why had Alastair even mentioned the incursion to him at all?

Dean was a very insignificant cog in the wheels of Hell. No one was ever going to rescue him. Not today, not ever. All he possessed to help him survive Hell were his own stubbornness and determination.