Author's Note: This is just a little snipit that's been gathering dust on my computer for years. Xal is an OC from my Criminal Minds/Supernatural crossover series titled The Best of Kansas, and I was pretty fond of him, so I wrote him into a little oneshot. Enjoy!

Billy Joel was wrong.

If he had ever been to Hell, he never would have said he preferred to laugh with the sinners than cry with the saints. Nobody laughed in Hell. It was fire and blood and death—perpetual, recurrent, eternal death—and when you just couldn't take it anymore, you were plunged into dark, cold nothingness. You existed there, unable to move, to breathe, to see, to speak, to feel, to cry, to scream, to beg and plead, to do anything but float in an endless void until you were silently begging to go back to the molten lava and branding irons. So, back you went, and the cycle repeated, and it never ended, and it was Hell.

Real Hell.

Humanity had cheapened the word over the course of its existence. They used it flippantly, when confused or hurt or angry, and they had no concept of what they were really saying. They even used it when happy—which confused him to no end—and some claimed to welcome the presence of the word and the place alike.

Hot as Hell? Not even close.

Hurt like Hell? Haha, good one.

Go to Hell? Wouldn't wish it on his worst enemy.

Hell on Earth? Every disaster in history happening at once would be preferable.

Hell, yeah? Hell, no.

And Xal would do anything not to go back.

"Please, please, just listen for a second. Okay? Okay, just listenahh—!"

Latin words rang in his ears, his essence tearing apart at the seams as it clung to the body it had called home for six months. Like claws in his skin, the ritual dragged him from the fleshy vessel on the chair one agonizing atom at a time. It burned through every last cell, every last atom, picking apart the pieces of his already fractured, deranged soul and stitching them back together to suit its purposes.

Then it stopped.

"Sam, knock it off! Let me finish—"

"Dean, be honest, when have you ever heard a demon beg?"

Xal fell forward in his chair, panting heavily, thankful for the reprieve.

"Yeah, I've never seen a demon jump out of a birthday cake in a bikini, either, but if one did, it wouldn't stop me from sending it right back to Hell where it belongs."

"Let's just—let's just think about this for a second, okay?"

"Okay, fine." Pause. "We're gonna waste him."

Xal cringed, and with what little slack he had, he tried to curl in on himself. "Please," he wheezed, throat raw from the holy water and hours of screaming. "Please, no…"

Xal threw his head back and screamed, pain ripping through his core again. If he had any shame left at all, it would have been obliterated by the screech, by the pained and terrified wail of a helpless creature in over its head, that came out of his mouth.

Suddenly, Xal could breathe again, and the arguing continued.

"Sam, what the hell?"

Xal shuddered, his thoughts tumbling headlong into abject terror. Hell? No. No, no, no, please. I don't want to go back. I don't want to go back, please.

"Look, I have gone along with a lot of your monster-loving hoo-hah, but this is a demon. You remember those? Possess people, destroy lives, black eyes, bringing on the apocalypse—any of this ringing a bell?"

"It's not like he's going anywhere. We could at least talk to him."

"We've been talking to him for two days. He's not saying anything."

"We've been interrogating him for two days, and we never let him go off-topic."

"Yeah, and in those two days, no one else has died."

"It's not like people were dying every day before we caught him!"

There was a slight pause in conversation, and Xal somehow gathered enough strength to lift his head. He only got it high enough to see jeans, shoes, and the chalk pattern around him, and then it fell back down, but he tried to interact nonetheless.

"Please… please, I haven't hurt anyone…"

Dean snorted. "Yeah, you mentioned that."

"But I—"

"Hey!" Dean interrupted, and Xal tried to lift his head again. "Shut up."

Sam exhaled sharply. "See? You won't let him say anything."

"Really, Sammy? What, is he gonna be the next Ruby? You gonna screw him, too?"

"Dean." There was a pause, and Sam's voice was nearly inaudible when he spoke again. "If we listen, he might…" mumbling, "…reveal something we..." also inaudible, "…information without even realizing. There's no downside to this. We should at least listen to him."

Dean sighed heavily. "Unbelievable."

Xal heard a bitter laugh and the hard close of a thick book.

"Un-freaking-believable."

Xal hesitantly tried to lift his head again, the pain receding a little more with every second that passed without spoken Latin.

"I swear," Xal started softly, "I haven't hurt anyone. I—I don't know who's killing the people in this town, but it's not me. I came because I was summoned, maybe by the real culprit, maybe a family member of a victim, I don't know." He wet his lips and swallowed hard, pain raking down the insides of his throat. "But I haven't hurt a single person since I got out of Hell."

"Oh, yeah?" Dean hovered outside the demon trap on Xal's left, staring with nothing but hatred in his eyes. "Pretty sure that guy never asked to be a skinsuit."

Xal shook his head, desperate. "No, no, there was a car accident. I possessed him right at the moment of death. He's dead—I mean, he was."

"You have a pulse," Sam interjected. "You might be able to animate a body and keep it warm, but a human is still a human. If it dies, it won't have a pulse."

Dean sighed and reopened the book. "Well, that's two minutes of my life I'll never get back."

"No, no, wait, listen. I said the moment of death, not the moment after. He was—he was on life support, and I waited. I waited until they were going to pull the plug, I swear." Xal squirmed, a sick feeling forming in his stomach at the very sight of the book of Latin. "Just—just look it up!" Xal looked desperately to Sam, whose expression was guarded but not quite cold. "Adam Stallworth. Look it up, look up his family. His parents, his siblings. They're fine. I didn't hurt them. I—I didn't know how he acted before he was dead, but I did my best, and any personality changes have been attributed to the brain damage from the accident. I—" a harsh gasp cut him off, fear cutting into his chest at the slightest movement from the book-wielding Dean. "I swear to you, he is brain dead and can't breathe without a machine. His pulse is all he has. He will die the second I leave. There is no soul or consciousness of his left, I swear."

"Sam, don't ev—"

"We can look it up, Dean."

"You can't be serious."

Xal looked at Dean, heart pounding in his chest, trying to think of something that might appeal to the older brother. "I—I can help you," he blurted out.

Dean and Sam both looked at him with eyebrows raised, disbelief evident on both faces.

"I don't know who's killing these people, but I can help you find out. It's a demon, so I'll know them as soon as I see them, even if it's from a distance. I'll notice patterns a human wouldn't, and I'll be able to exploit weaknesses you can't." Xal swallowed, speaking a little faster and hoping against hope that he might be getting somewhere. "I can teach you things. I know a bit about—about Castiel and some of the other angels. I know a bit about the apocalypse. It's—I was always told they were just stories, but… but there's truth in every legend, you know?" He swallowed again, glancing down. "I can teach you how to make better demon traps."

Dean smirked. "Yeah, looks like the one we have now works pretty good, but thanks."

"It works on me, but there are demons out there more powerful than me. You know th—that they are." His voice cracked, but he pressed a little further. "You need the kind of traps the angels use. Enochian. Ancient. Perfected."

Sam and Dean glanced at each other and then looked at Xal. They didn't seem convinced—in fact, they seemed a little mad—but they didn't continue the exorcism, either. Xal took a breath and held it, shoulders hunching and knees lifting slightly in another attempt to make a ball of himself.

"Please," he whispered. "I will do anything you want me to. Use me as bait, for my blood, for my power—anything. Just don't send me back." He inhaled shakily, and there were tears on his cheeks by the time he let the air out. "I don't wanna go back. Please, please, don't send me back there."

"What do you know about breaking seals?"

"Sam—"

Xal tried not to shiver and failed. "What—what kind of seals?"

Dean grabbed a bottle of holy water and splashed Xal's face. "You know what seals!"

Xal yelped and flinched back, steam rising from his features as the burn spread across his face. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" He screwed his eyes shut. "You're right, I do know, I was trying to lie." Something he couldn't afford to do, apparently. "It was wrong. I won't do it again. I promise."

"That means an awful lot of nothing to me," Dean spat. "You wanna stay here, don't trying kissing up, start talking. Now."

Xal only nodded, another shiver traveling down his spine. "Okay. Right. Lilith. Seals. I know what a lot of them are, but…" He shook his head. "I don't know which ones she'll break, or in what order. I would guess… the easiest and quickest… and the furthest away from you two. If you want to stop her, staying in the same place for any period of time is a bad plan. It'll just give her a radius to intentionally work outside of, and you won't catch wind of what she's up to until it's too late. You have to keep moving, lay low but stay active, make sure she doesn't know when and where it's safe to act."

"And you're just the friendly neighborhood demon, here to lend a helping hand." Dean snorted, a sarcastic smile twisting his features. "I'm getting really sick of this trope."

Xal actually glared at that, a flicker of anger forming in his chest. "I want to stay out of Hell. I will do anything." He lifted his head and somehow managed to meet Dean's eyes, blood freezing in his veins. "I've seen you work, Dean."

Dean's eyes went cold, and he reached for the demon knife.

"I'm not taunting you, please!" Xal stared at Dean, desperate, imploring. "You left a part of you in Hell, and that means—that means no matter what you want me to do, if I do it right, there—there is an assurance of some kind of mercy. If I go back, there is no such assurance. It won't end, and it won't matter how hard I work or how much I beg, they'll just keep hurting me. You know that, Dean, you understand that more than Sam ever could, Dean, please!" Beyond any semblance of shame, Xal cried openly, shrinking back when he saw movement through his tears. "Please," he whispered. "I don't want to go back. Please."

What else could he say?

"Can you hold contracts?"

Xal blinked rapidly and let his gaze flicker to Sam. "I—what?"

Sam stared him down. "Can you hold contracts, or is it only Lilith?"

Xal shook his head slowly, confused, looking between the two brothers fearfully. "No, it's… it's not just Lilith. I can hold them. I don't deal… in souls, I trade services, but…" His heart pounded in his chest, fear escalating. "You want to make a deal?"

"Sam—"

"We'll keep you with us," Sam started, "and we won't send you back to Hell as long as we're both alive. Deal?"

Xal swallowed hard, a mixture of indignation and helplessness swimming in his eyes.

Sam was blatantly cheating him. If Xal took the deal, they had no obligation to protect him or keep him out of Hell, only to refrain from sending him there themselves, and in return he had to submit to their authority and keep both of them alive. It wasn't a fair trade by any means, but the alternative was a non-refundable, one-way ticket to Hell, effective immediately.

Xal looked Sam over very carefully. "It's… a little more permanent than a crossroads deal… you won't be able to change your mind, and you can't make another deal to get out of this. Exorcise me, and the deal will rebound and kill you." He swallowed hard, teeth grinding as he considered his future.

It's not Hell. It's not Hell. It's not Hell.

"Deal?" Sam pressed.

"Sam!" Dean objected.

"Deal," Xal resigned.

Sam smirked. "Please tell me I don't have to kiss you."

Xal managed a ghost of a smile, and then he nodded to his right hand. "We just have to shake on it."

"Sam, are you out of your mind?" Dean grabbed Sam's shoulder, but Sam pulled away.

"Probably." Sam stepped into the trap and unfasted the restraints on Xal's right hand, holding out his own for a handshake.

"Sam!"

But it was too late. Xal had grabbed Sam's hand, and he clung to it like a lifeline. Purple flames formed over their hands, circling their point of contact and forming intricate patterns up and down the skin of their forearms before fading away.

"Well," Xal started softly, pulling his hand back toward himself. "'Til death do us part, Sam Winchester."

Before Xal knew what was happening, Dean closed the short distance between them and grabbed him by the head. There was pain, and then there was darkness.

He was out cold.

"Easy there, Demonicus Deathacus."

Xal inhaled sharply, a quiet moan rising in his throat. He tried to move, but a hand buried in his hair kept his head pressed against the floor. He went still and blinked slowly, trying to look around and spying a brown jacket sleeve and half of Dean's body.

"Don't get all twitchy on me, Blackeyes."

Xal coughed a few times and stilled himself again. "Sorry," he rasped. "Hurts."

Dean pressed down on Xal's back, a sharp pain cutting into the center a moment later.

"Haa…" Xal hissed softly and closed his eyes. "Where… are we still…?"

"Yeah, you're still in the trap." Dean grunted, there was the sound of metal on flesh, and Xal let out a soft whine. "Keep your pants on, there's only one more after this."

Xal said nothing but still shuddered when he heard the sound of metal scraping against wood, the crackling of a nearby fire suddenly deafening. Just branding. Not Hell. Still not Hell.

"You aren't asking any questions." It was Sam's voice, coming from somewhere overhead, and the hand on Xal's neck squeezed slightly.

"Don't have any." Xal stiffened when the hot iron touched him, and he slowly exhaled through the pain to keep himself still and semi-relaxed. "I know—ah—what you're doing. Makes sense. I'd do it tah, haa… ahhh…"

"Well, at least he sees reason."

Xal panted softly, curling his fingers through the dirt and clutching a fistful of nothing. I don't know how much longer I can do this.

He had spent so many years clawing his way toward the surface, toward the doors, and even once they were opened, it wasn't easy getting out. It was a fight, and he had taken several blows. It took him a week and a half to find a body he could inhabit without drawing any unnecessary attention, and trying to stay away from hunters and demons alike in the following months had wiped him out yet again.

To think, after all the time and effort spent maintaining normalcy in the name of hiding, he wound up with two hunters anyhow.

"You alright?"

Xal couldn't quite manage words, so he simply hummed and tried to nod his head. He was so tired, and every second he spent forcing himself to function… well, it was getting harder and harder.

"So, tell us about the seals."

It was Dean who spoke, and Xal cleared his throat—a painful mistake—to reply.

"She's broken thirty-seven so far. There are a few she hasn't done yet, but they're very simple. I can't—ah! I can't… imagine why… they wouldn't. I can… look into it. There's a ritual involving the sacrifice of six virgins during the full moon in June."

Dean opened his mouth like he was gonna say something, closed it, and then sighed. "Do you hear yourself?"

Xal tensed, afraid. "I don't understand."

"You're slurring. Hardcore." Dean paused, and there was something almost sympathetic in his voice. "You were practically dead before we even got here, weren't you?"

Xal blinked slowly and tried to stay dismissive. "That's a strong term. Just… had a little wear and tear, that's all."

Sam—at least, Xal assumed Sam was the one holding his head—lightened his hold just a bit, a few strands of reddish brown hair slipping free. "That's why it was so easy to catch you. You were out of it."

Xal swallowed hard and stayed still, sparing a glance at Dean before fixing his vacant eyes dead ahead. He inhaled slowly, trying not to stretch the skin of his back and failing miserably.

"Hang tight, Blackeyes. We gotta disinfect everything." Dean picked up a bottle of fluid, and the cap twisted off with a grainy sound. "This is gonna hurt like hell."

Xal braced himself, but it didn't matter. Disinfectant poured over his skin, sliding down his ribs to the stone floor, and for one blissful moment, the cool liquid brought some relief.

And then it burned.

It burned like acid, foaming white as it coated everything from burned-on brands to carved-in seals. Xal screamed—open-mouthed and wet, tears stinging the backs of his eyes, stomach churning—and then he closed his teeth around his knuckles, biting down hard. All it did was muffle his screams, forcing them through a smaller gap and quieting them as a result. His throat objected, the pain of the rougher screams amplified by the damage already done.

Then, mercifully, it stared to fade. It took its time, reluctantly leaving its victim behind, and then Xal could breathe again. Short, pained gasps at first, but still enough to talk through.

"You lied," he rasped, a faint smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth. "That was… nothing… compared to Hell… and you know it…"

Dean was quiet for a moment, and then he snorted. "Geeze, you're a pain."

Xal mimicked his snort and made a face. "It's in the job description."

Dean had a mixture of threat and amusement in his voice when he spoke again. "You know, just because we can't exorcise you, it doesn't mean we can't kill you."

Xal frowned and tried to turn his head a little more, but Sam pressed him down again. "You can't kill me. That would send me back."

"What?" the brothers replied in unison.

Sam tightened his hold on Xal yet again, tugging his head a little so he could look into the demon's eyes.

"What do you mean you go back to Hell?" Sam looked more than a little angry, the muscles in his jaw clenched tight. "If it's the same thing, what's the point?"

Xal understood their confusion immediately. "If you exorcise a demon, it can come back. If you kill a demon, it's in Hell for good. Not even a deal or a summoning can get you out. I thought you knew that." He frowned again, some of his earlier bewilderment returning. "What did you think happened?"

Sam's mouth moved for a few seconds as he tried to find words. "That it—I don't know, ceased to exist?"

Xal arched a brow. "We're sentient beings. We have souls. Deranged, psychotic souls maybe, but souls. You can't just… obliterate a soul. You can't make it into nothing. It has to go somewhere. Heaven or Hell."

Sam half released, half threw Xal's head to the floor, standing up. "That's not—" He exhaled sharply, walking where Xal couldn't see but not leaving the room.

"Huh." Dean grabbed several pads of gauze and a roll of medical tape. "Earning your keep already. Look at you go."

Xal would have replied with something humorous or, at the very least, content, but he didn't like the sound of Sam pacing less than five feet away from his head.

"This isn't a good thing, Dean."

"Why not? Either way, they can't come back." Dean put the last piece of tape on the first bandage and gave it a light pat, sending sparks of pain up Xal's spine.

"But they aren't—they aren't gone. That doesn't bother you?"

"Nope. They're gone enough for me."

Xal squinted, pushing himself up enough to turn and look at Sam. "Are you really surprised to find Ruby lied to you?"

Sam clenched his fists, taking a step forward as if to kick but stopping short, his face tight with anger. "Shut up."

Dean's voice came from behind, and Xal decided he hated being unable to see them both at the same time. "I mean, he's right, Sam. Are you surprised? Because I kinda thought you were smarter than that."

Xal flinched back violently, not wanting to face the repercussions of Dean's words.

"She wants to stop the apocalypse, not start it."

"Really, now?" Dean stood up and stepped over Xal, standing toe-to-toe with Sam. "How do you know that? You see her around lately?"

Xal pressed his lips together and tried to push himself onto his knees, the argument escalating far too close for comfort. Dean didn't know—doesn't know. He glanced over his shoulder and saw all but one mark had been bandaged; it was good enough. Taking a side could be deadly. I need to get out of their way. He tried to get up again, but his body dropped him back to the floor.

These seals… He looked over his shoulder again, trying to make out the details of the one he could still see. That's just a binding seal. I figured they would do that to keep me from grabbing other bodies. But that didn't tell him what they had done to sap what little energy he had left.

Or maybe I'm just that weak.

Xal blinked slowly, the edge of his vision blurring. He looked back to the argument, which had grown into a fight, and saw it had come to blows. He was weak and tired, and he knew it wouldn't take much to knock him out.

He was right.

Xal saw a blurry outline of a boot flying into his field of vision, and then it all went black; Dean Winchester knocked Xal out for the second time that day.

Dean clapped Xal on the shoulder and squeezed much harder than necessary. "Welcome to the gang, Blackeyes."

Xal winced under the hold, but he didn't complain or try to pull away. He didn't dare to, not after they let him stay. His body was burning and aching, he was still soaked with holy water, and he had absolutely no idea what was in his future, but he wasn't going back to Hell, so he wouldn't complain.

"Where… are we going?" Xal swallowed, his own saliva feeling like glass shards in his throat.

"That's for us to know and you to find out," Dean replied, pulling Xal to his feet none-too-gently and pushing him toward the door.

Xal glanced down as he passed over the edge of the trap, realizing it must have been broken somewhere before they woke up him. They must have untied me then, too…

Xal was shoved out the door and stumbled down the steps, barely catching himself before he ran into the infamous Impala. Briefly, he wondered if the Winchesters knew their car was considered a bad omen by demons, regardless of who was driving it.

"Come on, back seat."

Sam opened the door and gave Xal the faintest of smiles, like he wasn't sure of his own idea to keep Xal around.

Because it was most certainly more Sam's idea than Dean's.

Xal got in the car without question or acknowledgement of anything around him, focused entirely on not ticking either brother off until they were far, far away from the trap. If he ticked them off somewhere else, at least he would have time to try and escape while they got the necessary things together.

"So." Dean slid into his seat and shut the door, starting the Impala and pulling out onto the road. "You got a name?"

"Xochiquetzal."

There was no hesitation in the unanimous reply.

"We're not calling you that."

Xal shrugged his shoulders, sinking into the seat. "I go by Xal."

"Good enough for me." Dean leaned back and rested his arm on the door. "So, we know you're not our guy."

Sam turned in his seat to explain. "There was another victim last night, while you were very much unconscious in the warehouse."

Xal nodded slowly, figuring the murder, along with any other research they did while he was out, had everything to do with them keeping him around.

"So, now, we investigate." Sam offered another flickering smile. "We'll be there in ten minutes."

Xal offered a slight nod. "Yes, sir."

"Sam. Seriously, don't… don't do the sir thing."

Xal inhaled quietly and tried again. "Yes, Sam."

"We'll work on it."

Xal had no idea what he had said wrong, but he wasn't about to ask. He wouldn't speak unless spoken to, wouldn't complain or sigh or roll his eyes, wouldn't do anything to jeopardize his extended stay in the wonderful, blessed sunlight of an open sky.

"This is freakin' weird, man."

"Yeah. Yeah, this is definitely a new one."

Xal frowned slightly, realizing he had to say one thing before entering into silence. He cleared his throat, keeping his eyes downcast. "Thank you."

Neither brother said anything. Xal was fine with that, as long as they weren't mad.

Xal was fine with anything, really, as long as it wasn't Hell.

"Seriously, what kind of name is Zakkaqueckinzal?"

Author's Note: If you like my writing style, you may be interested to know I am working on a book. It's in the final stages, but it may be a little while before I can actually get it published. If you're interested, message me, and I'll notify you once it's available!