Disclaimer: Nope, still don't own it.

Again please excuse my grammar and spelling mistakes. I never know what to do with all the commas.

AN: I like to thank you guys for the reviews and the story alerts. It really made my day. This story is still in what I call the "backstory" part. So please bear with me for now. Well, here's Chapter 2. Enjoy!

Thirteen months later...

Dean trudged down the sidewalk slowly, doing his best to remain nondescript as the Queen Bitch did not tolerate sloppy work. Keeping a low profile, especially now, was crucial as there was a new enemy for the demons to be worried about. Lilith's plan was to remain inconspicuous and Dean had no intention of getting on her bad side. Though he had grown to enjoy Hell in his time down under, too many trips back into the Pit did nothing for a demon's overall mental well-being. No wonder some of them were beginning to crack under all the pressure.

A few demons had even made desperate bids for freedom. Alastair was highly concerned with rounding up all the escapees and "teaching the youngsters a thing or two about loyalty." Dean certainly didn't envy the deserters, knowing that the white eyed demon undoubtedly had something nasty planned for the lot of them. Those cowards wouldn't get far. Dean would make sure of that. And that was the reason why he was even in this old rundown dingy wreck of a town in the first place. Dean's current job was to confirm or refute the existence of a fugitive demon nest in town.

Four broken windows, one collapsed building, and three dead bodies later, Dean discovered, to his extreme annoyance, that town did have demons at one point but since all of them had moved on a while ago his little field trip to Nowhereville, USA was rendered useless. The traces of sulfur he found were old and aside from himself, there was not a single demon within a 10 mile radius of the town. "Fucking cowards," he muttered under his breath, irritated.

Though he knew that his next course of action should've been to immediately check any neighboring cities or the outskirts of town, he found himself sinking down on a park bench suddenly wanting some time to himself. Dean could have punched himself for sounding so sappy, but what he wanted the most was some time to think.

Time flowed differently in Pit. Dean had spent over a century in Hell but found to his surprise that barely a year had passed since he died. He had, with extreme difficulty, managed to get his old body back. It had been a fairly long process which involved buying up a few souls as a favor to Crowley aka "Lucky the Leprechaun", persuading Alastair to pull a few strings, and a several more things that he was not so keen on discussing at all.

Dean was pleasantly surprised upon realizing his body had been buried, not salted and burned in a traditional hunter's pyre. He would probably have to thank Sam for that as he wasn't sure if a meatsuit could be regenerated after cremation; most demons didn't go to the trouble of getting their old bodies back, though a few of the more sentimental ones had.

Nostalgia wasn't Dean's reason for wanting his body back though. He couldn't care less about that. It just happened to be the one most convenient to his needs. His old body was the one he could fight the best in as it was the one that Dean felt the most comfortable in. It was the best possible option, being the body he was already used to, as he didn't have the time to break in a brand new meatsuit. Time was a luxury the demons didn't have.

Meatsuits were sort of like shoes. Some fit well, others were too tight, some didn't fit at all, some needed breaking in, some just looked ridiculous, and some wore out easily. Dean remembered idly of the time Rick, a fellow demon, had managed to burn through 18 of them in just one month.

Often a demon would abandon a host body if there was severe damage, such as a loss of a limb, or several limbs, or even a head. Some demons would get bored with their meatsuits and switch to another, usually after making sure the body had sustained fatal injuries. It was much easier to leave a dead body behind rather than a panicking screaming human.

Dean thought back to the first time he'd been topside after going to Hell. Only one year had passed then; though everything was exactly the same, it seemed like a foreign world. Being incorporeal was odd, existing only as a cloud of pitch black smoke, sensing everything around him but not being able to see or feel anything at all simply because he had no body to see or feel with. The sensation was odd, not uncomfortable, just odd because it was so different from anything thing else he ever had experienced. Apparently it was something you got used to.

Eager to get away from the foreign sensation, he chose the first human he could find for a meatsuit. He saw the fear and confusion in the man's eyes as he saw the thick black smoke coiling angrily around him, getting closer and closer until Dean was looking through his eyes.

Dean was abruptly blasted with a surge of information. The man's name was Eric Brenden, his wife's name was Michelle, his kids' names were Kayla and Peter, he was a teacher at the local university, he was supposed to be picking the kids up from school today, he had over thirty student papers to grade, and he had no idea what the hell was going on. All the while he was screaming "Get out! Get out! Get out!" silently as the unseen force took over his body.

Dean fought briefly with the human for a millisecond, easily subduing him as he gained the upper hand in their struggle for control. He paused, trying to get the "feel" of the body as the man's eyes turned pitch black. Completely in control now, Dean looked around while simultaneously trying to adjust to yet another unfamiliar feeling.

Dean broke suddenly from his reverie. Checking his watch, he realized, to his relief that only eight minutes had passed since he first sat down. He still had a job to finish, with the group of fugitive demons still at large. Time was quite literally of the essence.

Though this particular job was dull, practically a milk run, it was a hell of a lot better than helping Lilith break the 66 seals to pop Lucifer from the box. Last time, he got roped into helping Drew, another fairly dim demon, organize a mass sacrifice to break a seal and Dean very narrowly avoided getting fried by an angel.

"Dicks," he snorted to no one in particular. "Just dicks with wings. That's all they are." Dean learned fairly quickly that the angels were just as bad as demons, some of them even worse. That didn't mean they weren't dangerous though. Most of the other demons organizing the sacrifice didn't walk away, and Dean had no desire to tangle with the angels so soon after that. He was content to let the higher level demons handle the breaking of the seals.

Randomly, he wondered how Sam was doing. He knew Sam was still alive due to the demons' gossip. Dean also knew that Ruby was with him as almost all the demons in Hell were looking for the bitch so they could turn her in. Dean included. Though Ruby had helped them at one point, he had no love for the black eyed bitch. Apparently, the little slut was also helping Sam hone his freaky psychic powers. Word got around fast in Hell as some of the demons gossip like old women. Though he still had a job to finish, he was suddenly torn between wanting to see Sam and making sure that whore got what she deserved.

Emotions were hard to map out as a demon. Hell changed a person, twisted them into something unrecognizable. Any feelings a person had when they were alive would be inevitably distorted in Hell, which accounted for some demons' bipolar behavior. Dean was surprised to find that he hadn't changed very much at all. He was almost exactly the same person as before. Except for one thing. He didn't care about anything. Not anymore. Before, he practically cared too much. Now, he couldn't care less.

Dean pushed the thought aside, remembering that he still had a job to finish. He ceased his musings while pulling out a map of the town from his back pocket, wanting to finish the odious job as soon as possible. Five minutes later, along with some very quick research, he narrowed the list of possible hiding places to an old abandoned warehouse 25 miles west of here. Back on track with the task at hand, Dean readied himself for what he was about to do as he walked back down the street.

First he was going to annihilate the nest of runaway demons and send their pathetic sorry asses back to Hell where Alastair would make them pay. And then he was going to pay a visit to his little brother.

Smirking, Dean rounded the corner of the block and promptly vanished into thin air.

Well, we're almost at the interesting part now. Hang in there! Please, please, please review. They really make my day.