Alistair walked around, staring at the souls being tortured. Supervising, almost. There were those who took to torturing naturally, and those who had to be poked and prodded.

Alistair sighed. He missed Dean.

Dean had been a lot of fun to torture. Breaking him apart in so many ways just to put him back together and do it all over again. He was a defiant little shit, stubborn to the very end. He hurled back insults and taunts to Alistair, matching each one of his. It was fun. Very few souls had the balls to stand up to him like that.

But once Dean broke and picked up the blade, it was so much better.

Alistair could sit and watch for days, taking pride in every slice Dean made. Every time Dean smiled at the soul he was torturing, it made Alistair smile. Most times, he just stood back and admired the former hunter. He had hopes that Dean would be as feared as himself.

Once, only once, as Dean stood back to enjoy the screaming agony of one of his victims, Alistair touched him. He wrapped his arms around him, pressing against Dean's back. Dean melted into the embrace, and laid his head on the demon's shoulder. Alistair is still not sure, but he still swears he saw those green eyes turn black for a split second.

"You make me so proud." Alistair muttered, placing a very soft, barely there kiss on Dean's neck. Dean smiled, reaching out to the soul on the rack. With Alistair wrapped around his body, he carefully cut the soul's eyelids off. Dean held up his bloody hand, and Alistair licked a long stripe, savoring the blood.

"Like I said, very proud." He muttered again. Dean turned to look at him. Alistair could read his face, his eyes, his soul. Dean parted his lips, and leaned forward ever so slightly.

And that's when the shit hit the fan.

Panicked screaming filled the air. Demons began rushing by them, shouting.

"What the fuck?" Dean whispered, looking to where the commotion was coming from. Alistair stepped away as pure white light assaulted his eyes. He closed his eyes for just a second. The light disappeared, and so did Dean.

There was still scrambling and shouting, but Dean was gone. Alistair grabbed a demon as she breezed past him.

"What the fuck just happened?" He shouted at her. She shrunk into herself a bit.

"It was angels." She said. "They took Dean." Alistair released her.

He was now alone. Alone without his protégé.

He resumed torturing the soul Dean was working on.

A few years passed, and Alistair was getting restless. He needed to go topside. He needed to find Dean, and drag him back.

He didn't want to be alone anymore.