A/N: I apologize for the extreme delay. Things have been a little crazy lately and I haven't had the time to write that I hoped I would. I'm in the process of a large move (moving out of the country), so the updates may not be as regular as I would like, but I'll do my best.

Dean flung himself against his bonds like a madman. He screamed. He begged. He threatened. Nothing stopped the steady cutting of the demon before him. At some point in his work the gag had fallen to the ground and Lisa's screams filled the chamber. They echoed of the cavern walls to join fresh screams ripping from her throat in a cacophony that reminded Dean of the racks in Hell. The demon never flinched; his white eyes never left the pattern he was carefully carving into her beautiful face.

A small smile played at the edge of the demon's mouth as he stepped away from his masterpiece for a moment and allowed Lisa to topple to the floor on her side. Her face was a crisscross of bloody lines that seemed to hold no real pattern at all, despite the precision with which he had made each cut. She huddled on the floor and sobbed wretchedly. The demon took a white handkerchief from his pocket and wiped the knife with a delicate grace, then turned his gaze to Dean.

"Why are you doing this?" Dean's voice was a harsh rasp. "What do you want from me?"

Dean was shocked when the demon threw back his head and laughed. It was a hearty laugh, but cold and without any real mirth. "Want from you?" He shook his head and stepped over Lisa to be closer to Dean. One hand snaked into Dean's hair and pulled his head back painfully, the other he sat gently on the ragged remains of his stomach. "I want you to suffer!" The first real emotion, white-hot rage, crossed the demon's face as he pressed hard into the wound. Dean screamed.

The demon put his mouth to Dean's ear and whispered to him. His voice was soft now, one hand still fisted painfully in Dean's hair and while his other hand pressed firmly to Dean's stomach; a bitter mockery of a lover's embrace. "For what you have done," the demon crooned, "you shall pay as no soul has ever paid or will pay again." With a final tug of Dean's hair and press of his wounds, the demon stepped away and retreated into the darkness.

Dean hung for a moment, gasping for breath, and tried to calm his trembling body. It had been a very long time since Dean Winchester had truly felt fear for himself. For Sammy, sure, he was always afraid of harm coming to his little brother, but Dean rarely felt the fear of death for himself these days. Lisa whimpered on the floor and the sound brought out the protector in Dean. His needs came last. He had a life to save.

With all of his strength, he wrenched at his bonds. Once. Twice. Something tore in his shoulder. A third time he jerked and white hot pain flew from his wrist up to his fingertips and down to his elbow. One hand slipped free of the chains above him.

Sam leapt from the demon and threw himself at his duffel bag, which had fallen to the floor in the scuffle. In seconds, the Ruby dagger was in his hand and he turned to face the monster before him, ignoring his nakedness and ready to strike.

The demon rose gracefully from the floor and turned to face him, brushing imaginary dust from herself as she did so.

"What do you want?" Sam growled. He held the knife in front of him threateningly.

"Relax hot stuff. I didn't come here to fight with you." She eyed him up and down approvingly. "Though if you want to roll around on the floor some more I can't say I'd complain." Sam glared at her and she let out a disappointed little huff. "Fine, have it your way. At least put some pants on, you're just too yummy for me to concentrate. Crowley sent me with some information on the thing that has your brother."

Sam relaxed slightly and grabbed a pair of boxers off the floor. He kept the knife in one hand and slid them on with the other, never taking his eyes off the demon. "Crowley sent you? Why? I thought all I was getting were the coordinates."

She shrugged. "Heck if I know. I just do as I'm told." She scooped a pair of his jeans off the floor at her feet and threw them at him. "Put some pants on gorgeous and I'll tell you what I do know. Okay?"

He snagged the jeans out of the air and tugged them on, still one handed. He wasn't about to let this creature get the drop on him. He certainly wasn't going to relax because she was flirting while wearing some poor girl as a meat suit. "There. Pants are on. Now, what did Crowley tell you to tell me?"

"All business, huh? Alright fine. Have it your way. Crowley sent me to give you some information on Malleaphar." She shivered a little at the name. Sam nodded and motioned for her to continue. "Malleaphar is a high level demon, white eyes, you get the picture."

Sam's blood went cold, but he managed to keep the fear out of his voice. "I've killed two white eyed demons already. I can handle this one. What else you got?"

The demon laughed. "I know that story Sam Winchester. Don't try to bullshit me. You were so high on demon blood when you fought Lilith that you almost turned into one of us." She flashed black eyes at him. "It won't be that simple this time. You don't know Malleaphar." She reached into her pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper. It was old and yellowed. "Crowley told me to give you this. No idea where he got it, but it was sure terrifying news to me. There's not much general knowledge about the white-eyes in the lower ranks. I wish I didn't know what that told me. Personally, I'm going to pretend I never looked at it and get as far from you and yours as possible. I'd recommend you do the same, but you Winchesters are too stupid for your own good by all accounts." She handed him the paper, which he recognized as a scrap of parchment. One edge was tattered as if it had been ripped from a book, a very old book by the look of it.

"Thanks."

She shrugged. "Don't thank me yet, you haven't seen it. Mind if I go now?" She waved at the door behind him.

"Oh, yeah. Sure." Sam stepped between the two beds, out of her way.

She started to cross the room, headed to the door, but stopped when she came level with him. "One word of advice Sam, though I know you won't take it, just give up on this one."

Sam looked at her, her eyes human once again and full of fear. "He's my brother." He said simply. The demon nodded and walked out of the room, not pausing again or looking back.

Once she was gone Sam allowed himself to sink heavily to the bed. He placed the Ruby dagger beside him and gently unfolded the parchment. A slip of modern paper fell out and he placed it on the nightstand, focusing on the parchment first. On it was a picture of six angels. Five of them were at the bottom in a pit of flames, with the sixth in flight above them holding a massive sword. The angels in the pit were screaming. The one holding the sword seemed to be driving them down into the pit. Under the picture was a short description in ancient Greek. "'The Descent into Hell' The Archangel Michael drives Lucifer and his angels into the abyss."

Sam turned to the slip of paper that had been folded into the parchment. It was a note from Crowley.

"Moose-

Thought you'd like to know what you're up against.

-Crowley"

Sam looked at the parchment again, trying to decipher Crowley's message. That was when he noticed that someone had scratched names on the angels in the picture. The one in the air had "Michael" written in fine print on his wing. In the pit were "Lucifer", in the center, with "Sandreel" and "Mickhal" on his left. Sam gasped as he read the names of the angels on Lucifer's right, "Malleaphar" and "Alastair".