A/N: Part of this is due to a discussion I had with SciFiTxNut about Dean's amulet. What she said poked at that damn muse of mine, and this is what came out. Thanks!
Summary: He went from being a future prince of hell to just another screwed up kid. Dean down in Hell.
POV: He Who Shall Remain Nameless
Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural. This is for entertainment (we're a sick bunch, aren't we?) and not for profit.
Heard a lot of bitching and complaining when that Dean Winchester kid came down. Even more so than when his Daddy showed up on our doorstep. Damn near everybody wanted a piece of that kid, claimed they wanted payback for being sent down here by him and his family. They weren't fooling me. I knew it was simpler than that. They were after him because he was beautiful, and the ban had been lifted.
What ban? Oh, that's right. You were out of the loop. I always come down here to talk to you, Papa, when I got things on my mind. You listen to me now; you didn't before. If I'd known cutting your head off and keeping it in a jar was the way to get your attention, I would have done it years ago. And I know you're not gonna tell anyone. No one can hear us in this room, and besides, I ripped your tongue out too.
Now, where was I? Oh yeah. The ban on the eldest Winchester kid. You think a demon wouldn't want to hit that? Come on now. A meat puppet with a face and a body like that could do a lot of damage topside. Think about it: his Dad's been possessed, and so has his brother. Why wasn't he? And please, don't say Winchester was protected by that protection amulet around his neck. If that damn thing really worked he wouldn't have died and gone to hell in the first place, now would he?
I know why no one ever jumped into that kid's meatsuit. It wasn't because of that piece of metal around his neck. Wasn't because of those feathered fucks his momma kept claiming were watching over him, either. Angels had nothing to do with this. Orders to lay off the kid came from Down Low, not High Up. He wasn't to be tainted or interfered with in any way.
The purer, the better. Hey, pure as the driven slush is still way ahead of the curve down here. You know that.
The first day I stood in the background while Alastair carved him up. I just came around to see what all the hubbub was about.
For once the hype was justified. The boy is beautiful, better looking in person. I started to ask Alastair if he could carve out those green eyes, let me keep them as a souvenir. I started to, but I didn't. Everyone else was hounding him about wanting to work on the boy, and Alastair gets a little touchy when you crowd him. Just ask Nhumoen. He made the mistake of pestering ol' Allie about something else the day before Winchester arrived, something entirely unrelated to Dean Winchester, and Allie gutted him with his favorite knife and chewed on his intestines for a while.
That first day Alastair cut, and Dean cursed. He bucked against the straps holding him down on the rack, all wild-eyed with pain, defiant. Called Alastair everything but a child of God. Heh.
I didn't stay long. I had other things to do. I run things down here, behind the scenes. I guess you could say I'm the go-to guy down here. They need me. At least, I make them think they do. On Earth I was one of the quiet ones, the one you never noticed until it was way too late. That's how I took your head as a trophy, Daddy Dearest.
By the way, Mom says "Hi."
I can tell by that glazed look in your eyes that you don't remember what I tell you each time I come down here. That's okay. I got enough patience for both of us. Now stop mumbling to yourself. I want you to look at me and shut up. Or do I have to bite off your eyelids too?
I gotta admit, I didn't pay any more attention to Winchester after that. He was just another damned soul until then. Nothing remarkable. Yeah, I'd heard that stuff about 'the righteous man breaking the first seal.' Big whoop. Do you know how many times I've heard all these grand plans about the start of the apocalypse? I can count them on the fingers of all eight hands of mine. I used to get excited about it when I was younger. Not any more. Used to say that I'd believe it when I saw it.
Well, I saw it. Winchester got off the rack and started tearing into every damned soul they put in front of him. He looked even more striking like that, covered in blood, those green eyes of his glowing so darkly they looked almost black. He was a genius with knives, eager and cheerful. He cracked jokes and ripped out spleens with his bare hands, turned those souls inside out.
That same day Winchester gave himself to Alastair, started sharing his bed…and everything else, for that matter. Some might say that it wasn't like the boy had a choice. I know better. I can see it now: Kid's standing there working on some poor schlump on the rack, and Alistair is rubbing up against him from behind, purring into one ear, running his hands up and down that broad back. I bet Alastair didn't have to ask too many times. It was Hell, after all, and the kid figured no one in their right mind was going to come save him. So in his own way, he saved himself, made his unlife easier.
It makes sense. I'm not one to judge.
He was Alastair's pet from then on. For ten damn years.
We were right in the core of Hell, didn't notice the siege all that much. The wards were holding, and there was no way Heaven was going to breach the walls. We lost some demons, but they lost even more. The air overhead was black with singed feathers. Did my heart good to see all that.
I was really surprised the day she showed up.
Why the hell anyone would want to sneak back into this place was beyond me. She was out in the world, topside, free and clear. She never did like Hell. When she was down here the dumb bitch just sat around complaining about any and everything. She never could find anything to occupy her time when she was down here, and that's the key. You know what they say about idle minds.
Thing was, last time she was down here she found out about some ah, indiscretions I made. Okay, I fucked up, all right? Big time. Fucked up so badly that I would have gotten tossed into the deepest level of the Pit if anyone found out. The stuff the others found out about was just the tip of the iceberg. I put the blame on some of my own people, and they took the weight. Let's just say it got messy and let it go at that.
She knew. Wasn't a damn thing I could do, either.
So she talked, and I listened. At one point she pulled out this silver knife; nasty looking thing with jagged edges. Said she wanted to see Winchester, express her appreciation for the good work he was doing, and I told her there was fat chance of that. Alastair was always around the kid. It was like they were joined at the hip and then some. She didn't like it, but there was no way she was gonna force that issue. She wasn't welcome down here, and we both knew Alastair wouldn't have let her anywhere near his pet while he was on the rack.
There wasn't any negotiation on my part. She told me what she wanted, and then she left.
I knew folks on the front lines. Had dirt on some of them. They owed me favors, and I picked the ones I could trust (hah! That's a laugh!) the ones who had the most to lose if they ratted me out.
We had to make it look convincing, not too easy. Had to sell it, and that wasn't hard. Came the day there was a breach in the walls, just big enough for that bastard Castiel to come in and snatch Alastair's pet boy right out from under his nose.
I tried not to laugh when I saw Allie afterwards. He looked like someone had just stomped his pet kitten flat. Well, in a way, they had.
Winchester's topside now, all guilt ridden over what he did, over what he became while he was with us. Idiot. Guilt's a waste of time. There's nothing wrong with a man enjoying his work.
He went from being a future prince of hell to just another fucked up kid.
The way things were going, if I hadn't arranged for that little hole to open up, Dean Winchester would still be slicing and dicing folks on the rack, and keeping Alastair's bed warm at night. She couldn't get to him here, so ol' Deano got a return trip back to the land of the living.
Heaven wanted him back on earth, but they weren't the only ones.
Azazel's daughter's had many names over the years. The one I remember is Meg.
A/N: Paraphrased from "Devour": "He went from being a future prince of hell to just another fucked up kid."