AN: lol whoops, now you get to see how fucked up I am! So yeah, seven chapters done so far. Like, two more after that and then it should be all good. But yeah. I'm sorry. There is no redemption for Dean or Cas in this fic, sorry! Just good 'ole demonic love story.


This soul was... different.

It radiated Other; practically glowed with power. Such a soul was definitely rare in Hell, since most supernatural baddies went to Purgatory after death. Only vengeful spirits (of humans, that is) could go downstairs or upstairs.

The upstairs part was a guess more than an alternative option. Only the white-eyes and the higher-up red-eyes seemed to know anything these days, and Crowley was a little too secretive for Dean's liking.

Really, Dean didn't question too much - that was probably his saving grace. Well, besides the fact that he was Alistair's favorite toy at the time. He was practically next in line for Head Torturer - a job that he was surprisingly okay with.

Back to newbie. This soul definitely differed from the others Dean had seen in his five or so years of torture - then again, it had only been five years. Maybe there were some really fucked up souls that he'd get to play with if he stayed long enough. The soul looked normal enough: a mess of brown-and-black hair, flopping into bright, unearthly blue eyes. The man (he assumed it was a man, but honestly souls were really hard to distinguish down below) was a little on the pale side, but not too much so. Maybe he was just a normal soul. After death, they had all sorts of extremities added on to their iridescent bodies.

Although, Alistair had never mentioned souls having wings before, either. Oh well. Just meant that Dean had more canvas to work on. With a malicious grin, he picked up one gleaming, silver knife and twirled it expertly in one hand. "Hey there, angelface," he smirked as he sauntered over to the enraged soul's rack. "mind answering a question for me?"

At its surprising silence, Dean continued - still managing the facade of a perfectly mannered young man. "I just want to know your name, is all..." He tilted his head down to look at his bare toes; his eyes flickering to a milky grey color. Not a demon yet, but getting there. Enough to frighten the newer souls. "So that I can scream it out after I've fucked you dry." He looked up to see the winged soul's eyes widen with curiosity. Definitely a newbie, if he really was as confused as he looked.

"Dean Winchester?" The soul asked, its eyes alighting with dull hope. Smoky tendrils that curled around Dean's feet swirled up his bare legs with a hyper buzz, and his eyes brightened as he heard the familiar name. Who was this soul? Why did he know Dean's name?

"All right," Dean growled, letting his slowly rotting soul shift and form into something more threatening - well, his eyes flickered smoky grey again, and his teeth lengthened and sharpened into vicious fangs, but that was about all he could change at the moment. Eventually, when he became a full demon, he could change whatever aspect of himself that he wished. "what the hell do you want with me?"

The soul grunted softly and stared into Dean's eyes. "I wish to raise you from Perdition, Dean," it said at last - and boy, was his voice something Dean wouldn't mind fucking. "but it appears that I am, well -" One long, tapered finger reached up to pluck at a thin golden chain around his throat. "- bound here."

Dean slithered over to the soul's side, noting the sheen of magic pulsating off of it. Upon closer inspection, the soul's wings were ratty and matted with blood and sweat. Huh. He reached out to take hold of a few golden feathers, and grinned as the soul's breathing hitched and his entire body tensed up in fear. "Interesting," the near-demon murmured softly as he ran his hand through a few feathers, "I've never known a soul's extra odds and ends to actually feel anything." He took a step back and inspected the bound soul once more. "You're not human, are you?"

"He's definitely not, Deano," His master's voice rang throughout the torture chambers, letting everyone know Alistair was back from his previous plans. The winged soul looked up and bared his teeth in a feral snarl at the master torturer. Dean got a good look at those pearly whites - perhaps they wouldn't be so pearly or white after he had a chance to really look at 'em. "C'mon, I've got some news for you," Alistair purred as he grabbed Dean by the bicep and pulled him away.

After finding a reclusive spot in the chambers, Alistair grinned and spread his arms out wide. "What... did you do?" Dean asked cautiously, tilting his head to the side briefly as he waited for an answer. Alistair nearly pouted at his obvious lack of knowledge.

"That, my dear boy, is an honest-to-God angel." The accented lisp Alistair usually only slightly frightened Dean these days, but this time it managed to cover him in a blanket of fear. "Wings and all."

"What're you gonna do with it?" Dean had to ask - it was the only thing he could do. Either the master torturer was insane, or he was incredibly cunning. Dean liked to think it was a strange mix of both wonderful qualities. Alistair gave him a dry look with his eyes as white as snow, and chuckled darkly.

"Why, I'm giving him to my best student." The master torturer supplied with a crooked smile. At Dean's shocked silence, he continued. "That would be you, you know." Dean nodded in utter silence as the full brunt of Alistair's statement hit him.

He was going to get to keep an angel? Make him sleep in the same bed every night; fuck the living daylights out of him? Maybe, if he got lucky, he could even convince the angel to turn over. Sex was so much more wonderful when both people - or more, Dean wasn't picky these days - were consenting and wanting it. Just taking it with raw force may have made him feel powerful, but he really didn't need that feeling. He could just as easily find some low class demon whore and have his way with them.

He gave his appreciation to Alistair and went back to the angel who waited patiently on the rack. The chains used to tie him down were heavy and definitely supernaturally enhanced. Dean noticed the - was that Enochian? - scars burned and cut into the angel's skin. Blood rushed through him as he stepped just a little closer, taking its head in his hands. "Hey there, angelface," Dean greeted, his words oozing like black slime, "you're coming home with me. Doesn't that make you all tingly inside?" He grinned maliciously at this; his head tilted to the side and his eyes flickering between smoky grey and sparkling hazel. He leaned in to the angel's side, letting his hot breath waft over the ears of the angel. "We're going to have so much fun."