Almost twelve years ago, I started a journey that would shape my life, and everything has changed since then. I came out, transitioned, fell in love, and got my heart broken. I went through hell and came out the other side. I got engaged… Three times. This one seems to have stuck, however.
And through it all, I wrote. In one way or another, I wrote it all down; my pain, my trauma, my euphoria and my realizations. And this… This was the start of it all. The first thing I ever finished, and my first fanfic. So now here it is again, almost twelve years to the day. I would link the original - it still exists, for posterity - but I'm more than a little embarrassed of my writing back then, even though it's truly amazing to see how my skills have grown.
So here it is - the one that started my love affair with the written word.
Salvation - also known as the time Demon!Dean was given a 'pet'.
Oh, and of course; I don't own supernatural, though more is the shame.

A year. Twelve months, almost to the day, of putting innocent people in pain to save myself.
I held out as long as I could, I reminded myself reluctantly, wincing as the screams pierced my disassociation, tugging me toward the present without consent. Six years is longer than most.
The trembling form on my rack today was still in the stage of begging, asking for forgiveness, reprieve and reconsideration, intermittently interspersed with curses and promises of agony 'unlike anything I'd ever seen'.
I bared my teeth in a wry smile, trying to look intimidating. "Your threats don't scare me, mortal," I hissed under my breath as the edge of my knife worked its way under the exposed muscles of his back. His words faded once more, allowing me another brief reprieve into my own mind.
I'd long stopped asking why they were down here. It was never an answer I wanted to hear. Nobody deserved the things that happened here - not even the worst of the worst - but it felt worse to be torturing those with relatively minor transgressions; taking it easy on them wasn't an option, either. At least, not one that worked out well for either of us.
And then there were the real dicks, the ones you curse to Hell when you're alive and know no better. The rapists, murderers, child abusers. Those individuals I began to fall upon with relish, telling myself that it was them or me - and really, don't they deserve it more? - but the day I released I was enjoying it, getting satisfaction from their agony… Well, that was the last day I asked after the sins of my victims.

My concentration was shattered again by a persistent, nasal cough coming from the entryway, and I threw my knife down with a snarl, sending tools clattering to the ground, punctuated by the sobs of thanks from the agonized soul, seemingly thinking his begging had moved me to cessation.
Alastair lent against the wall, one eyebrow raised in amusement. "Now, now, Winchester. No need to have a tantrum."
"What do you want?" I hissed, eyes narrowing with venom. I just tried to get through each day, to block out as much of it as I could and act on impulse until my shift was up - but that was impossible with constant interruption, and I momentarily considered reapplying my expertise and replacing the soul with Alastair's.
A tiny smile tugged at the corner of my lips. Now that… That would be satisfying.
"Crowley has a gift for you," Alastair explained, his smug expression making my blood boil. "If you'd deign to come with me."
I rolled my eyes, gesturing absently with a bloodied hand toward the soul, now weeping silently to a backing of macabre dripping and distant screams. "Hasn't he graced me with enough gifts? I'm busy."
The demon's face darkened into a scowl before he turned his back on me. "Now, Winchester. Someone else can finish up here."
I winced and sighed, offering a half-glance toward my abandoned victim. I didn't go easy on the souls I was allocated - I'd learned that lesson the hard way - but I was far from the worst demon in Hell. My brother himself had earned more of a reputation than I had, while I was reluctantly settled in my very middle-of-the-pack ranking.
I allowed myself a heartbeat of hope for this new soul, asking whatever God looked over this perverse part of the universe to give him to someone who would be kinder on him - and scowled as I caught myself, spitting the taste of blood from my teeth.
There is no God here.