He was in hell. This thought was horrific and terrifying, more than actually being in hell. He was screaming over and over again, begging for help, crying out for mercy. There was so much pain; he could taste his own blood in his mouth.

"Sam!" he cried again and again. But he knew there was no help coming, no one to save him from this fate. No one to free him from hell.

"Sam!" Screaming was useless he knew, but it eased him somehow. To him it was his way of not giving up, his way of continuing the fight. But his hope was fading, there was still that little voice in the back of him mind letting him know that this was his purpose for the rest of eternity, to be a chew toy for demons.

"Sam!"

There was a light. He blinked, hope rising, there was no light in hell. Only darkness and misery, where was this light coming from? Was it Sam? Had Sam found some way to pull him from this darkness? Hope continued rising from his stomach and up into his heart, he couldn't stop it. He knew that if this was only a trick from the demons, another sick form of torture that they instilled upon him every day that it would shatter any remnants of hope and faith that he had left in his body. But he couldn't help himself. The light was growing, getting brighter and brighter with each second, it was coming towards him.

Then he heard it. A fierce growling around him, the light was flickering, as if the hell demons had just realized it was there and were fighting it off.

"He is ours," he heard the demons around him growl. "You cannot have him."

"NO!" Dean cried as his hope began to shatter.

The light continued to flicker, the growling getting louder until the light burst and utterly consumed him, and the growling turned into a painful whimper. Dean felt a hand upon his arm and it burned, burned deep down beneath the skin to the bone making him let out a sharp cry, but soon the burn turned to a warmth. Strong arms wrapped themselves around him, the pain dissipating immediately as he felt his body began to float, the sound of wings flapping filling his ears. There was warmth and light and peace as whatever it was, held him in its arms gently. He began to cry as he realized he was being saved, being taken to someplace better than this.

"It's okay, Dean," he heard a sweet voice whisper in his ear. "You don't deserve to be here. I will put you back in your rightful place."

Dean laid in the unseen beings arms in shock. Was this really happening? Or was this a dream, a place his mind retreated to, to find a safe haven away from the demons and pain. He opened his mouth to question it, but there was another pain suddenly, one that ripped through his whole body and made him scream again. It burned like hot lava and felt like he was being tossed full speed at a brick wall. He was screaming, louder than he ever had before as he was being pulled through the gate of hell.

Then the pain was gone.

"Breathe, Dean," the velvet voice said again. "Just breathe."

Dean hesitated. Life in his grasp, all he had to do was breathe. Just breathe.

He inhaled deeply, life flowing through his body like cool water. He took a deep breath, then another and another, until his body picked up the rhythm. He gave a low sigh and opened his eyes, panic suddenly filling his body as he realized he was surrounded in darkness, thick wood encasing his body.

He was in a coffin.