Ariel and Dean walked through that door together, Dean pushing the cart of tools in front of him as Ariel walked two paces behind his left shoulder. Ariel, feeling the terror swell inside of her at the thought of facing the torture master of Hell once more, closed her eyes for a moment. In body, she was still with Dean in that room. In spirit, she was inside of her mind. Before her stood a carbon copy of herself, only the copy bore an evil smirk and black eyes. This was Afriel, the demon born from Ariel in Hell. She was the one that everyone assumed was still trapped inside of her wrapped under layers of imprisonment sigils, but instead was truly working beside her day to day.

"So, angel buddy." Afriel stood straight and looked at Ariel. "Can I come out and play now?"

"Of course, Afri. Besides, you always wanted to get your blade into Alastair. Well, now you have your chance." Ariel surrendered her body unto Afriel and she opened her eyes once again and looked towards their target. Alastair was bound inside of an Old Enochian devil's trap; Castiel had done a good job with it. He was further immobilized with solid iron chains to a Star of David, leaving him both physically and metaphysically bound in place. He was going nowhere, as long as the trap held.

He was singing a song that she recognized as "Cheek to Cheek"; it was the song he picked up in the Dirty Thirties that he would hum during her torture to bait the 'patient', as he referred to them, into madness and screams. As soon as he spotted the both of them, he began his little ditty. "Heaven... I'm in heaven..." He was playing with them already. She looked to Dean; he was as emotionless as Castiel had become. It was a good sign, for he would need to be to get out of here in the same condition as when he came in. "And my heart beats so that I can hardly speak... when I seem to find the happiness I seek... when we're out together..." Dean looked up at him before unveiling the tools. Afriel walked over and took a look. There was holy water, salt from the Red Sea, crosses, but there were also knives of all varieties, hypodermic syringes, and other tools. She quivered at the sight. There were even scalpels; she could use those. However, Alastair was a high-level demon, one of the original Fallen; he would not break so easily.

In that, she was looking forward to see just how far it would take to break him. Dean might be on a schedule to get the information, but she wasn't. Afriel closed her eyes for a moment and a brief smile came across her face, one that neither of the males in the room saw. It would probably take a long time, but then? She had nothing but time to spare. Afriel, for a single moment, looked inside and simply stared at Ariel standing in the middle of their shared mind. The angel nodded; they had no more souls to save. Their souls were damned either way. No way was Ariel going to be able to save Dean when he didn't want to be saved. After this long, she knew when a cause was lost. Now, it was time for some fun. Afriel came out of her musing and back into the present moment.

The sight of the trolley did not stop Alastair from his song. "...dancing cheek to cheek!" He looked at them both, his greatest pupils. They were the only two to last the longest in hell, lasting as long as they could take before they broke. They were impressive notches on his belt. As was expected, he looked down at the tools and began to chuckle. He stopped after a minute, saying, "I'm sorry. This is a very serious, very emotional situation with you. I shouldn't laugh, but I mean, are they serious?" He looked from Afriel to Dean with that ever-present mocking tone in his voice, that condescending tone that made you want to throttle him if only he was not armed to the teeth."They sent you two to torture me?"

Dean looked up at him, his face as calm as a still lake. "You got one chance... one." Alastair looked at him as if he had no idea about what he was talking about. "Tell me who's killing the angels. I want a name." His voice was detached from his emotions. Afriel looked at her charge and at her old inquisitor, still hiding from Dean which of the entities in this vessel was present.

Alastair did not take the bait, though. "You think I'll see all your scary tools, and spill my guts?" Afriel chuckled on the side; true, simply asking him would go nowhere. But it was worth a shot.

Dean still seemed calm as he nonchalantly replied, "Oh, you'll spill your guts, all right. I just didn't want to ruin my shoes." She chuckled. Taking off her jacket and draping it over the side of the cart, she turned her back to Alastair and began to experiment with the tools before her. She wanted Alastair to see what he had done to her in Hell, although she was positive he had not forgotten. I mean, it was not every day that he got to torture an angel for four hundred mortal years. Dean turned serious, saying, "Now answer the question."

Alastair was unmoved by the motion. "Or what, you'll work me over?" Afriel perked her ear and cocked her head to one side as she picked up a hunting knife; she could do that. Tossing it in the air and catching it by the point, she flipped the blade to catch it by the hilt and turned back to face Alastair. "Or will you let your little angel bitch here do it for you? I mean, Dean, she does have more experience than you do."

At that remark, Dean looked over at Ariel to see how she would react. His heart stopped for a moment when he saw the black eyes staring out at Alastair, that grip on the knife like an old friend. Cocking her head, she walked up to Alastair and decked him under the jaw, cracking his head back to hit the trap. She was smiling the entire time, that catlike demonic smile riddling her face. In a moment's flash, he had seen what she had explained to him. That must have been Afriel, Alastair's greatest apprentice and the other half of her soul. But hadn't Ariel told him that the demon was imprisoned, never to come out again?

Afriel normalized back into Ariel and she continued to stand there nonchalantly. "Well, Alastair, you did teach us after all. Surely, you would know best." She looked at Dean for a moment. "Dean, Afriel and I have been working together for little over half a thousand years. Don't worry; she tells me to tell you that she is looking forward to working with you on him."

Then Alastair realized something and ignored his old pupil, turning his attention back to Dean. "Or, maybe you don't want to do the deed. Maybe, you're all scared to." He chuckled a little before leaning back against the trap.

Dean smiled back, and Ariel looked over to him. "We're here, aren't we?"

Alastair was getting irritated now. "I'm terrified. But you left part of yourself back in the Pit." Looking over to Ariel, he smirked. "She was the only one to get out whole, but that was because her Daddy rescued her." Turning back to Dean, he sneered, "We'll see if we can get the two of you back together."

Dean shrugged out of his jacket and turned away for a moment. "You're gonna be disappointed." Ariel was silent through this latter part of the entire exchange, for there was nothing else for her to add to Dean's little dialogue.

Alastair smiled and stood straight against the trap. "You haven't disappointed me yet." As Dean ignored him for a moment, Alastair seemed to get desperate. "Come on, you gotta want a little payback for everything I did to you, for all the pokes and prods." Dean continued to ignore him, but Ariel saw something flicker in his eyes. "No? Then how about... all the things I did to your daddy?

Ariel flicked her eyes over to Dean. He looked up at the wall; Alastair had hit a nerve and he knew it; so he did what he did best: manipulated it. "I had your dad on my rack for close to a century."

Dean tried to keep his hands busy, but Ariel cocked her head as if she was interested in what the demon had to say. "Can't stall forever."

Alastair ignored him completely, going down his little trip of memory lane. "John Winchester made quite a name for himself. A hundred years; very impressive for a mortal. After each session I'd make him the same offer I made you: I'd put down my blade if he picked one up..."

Dean's voice raised ever so slightly. "Just give me the demon's name, Alastair."

Alastair continued to ignore him, too engrossed in reliving his conquest. ".. but he said Nein, each and every time ... I couldn't break him. Pulled out all the stops. But John, he was made of something unique, the stuff of heroes. And then came Dean. Dean Winchester. I thought I was up against it again. But, daddy's little girl, he broke. He broke in thirty. Ah, just not the man your daddy wanted you to be, huh, Dean?" Ariel could feel the air begin to charge.

Alastair continued to talk. "Although, neither of your Winchester boys would compare to little Ariel here. Four hundred mortal years on my rack, Dean: forty eight thousand years in Hell to break her. She must have had her Wheaties that morning before coming down to my Pit. However, Afriel left her mark on Hell. She would have become the next me if her dear little Daddy hadn't busted her loose and undid all my precious hard work." Ariel looked over to Dean: he was taking a swig from the whiskey bottle on the tray, but his hands were still calm.

That was the thing, though. Father hadn't undone anything about her. Going through that banishment, service, whatever you call it? It taught her, truly, only one thing: that it was survival of the fittest. Sure, she could try her best to save souls, and she did save many. But how many more died? Afri had counseled her on it, gotten her used to the idea of death being beyond her control. Plus, making those that enjoyed other's suffering face their own torment was, quite frankly, rewarding in many ways. As long as she saved their soul before they died, they counted towards the impossible tally that Father had given her.

Dean finally was ready, and she shook her head to bring herself back into the moment. Taking up a chalice, he opened up a jug of holy water and began to pour it out. Alastair was impressed. "Now we're getting somewhere." For a moment, he didn't comprehend Dean's plan, but he just saw the water and grew immediately disappointed. "Holy water? Come on. Grasshopper, you're gonna have to get creative to impress me."

Ariel came around behind Dean and let Afriel take her over once more. Getting a better hold on the knife, she entered the Devil's Trap and drew its tip along Alastair's sleeve, beginning to slowly cut open the veins of his arm; she knew that now that she was inside of the trap, that she was not getting out of it. Dean got his turn to speak now. "You know something, Alastair? I could still dream, even in Hell. And over and over and over, you know what I dreamt? I dreamt of this moment. And believe me I've got a few ideas." He prepped a hypodermic syringe and filled it completely with the holy water. Expelling the air bubbles, Dean turned to his old mentor. "Let's get started."