Shrill screams, pained guttural cries, raw anguish. Red, red, red. Those two cursed ochre eyes that asked him with a sickly smile, ‘when will you give up?’ Dean remembers his time in Hell. When he was on the recieving end and vice versa. Unforgiving, Unrelenting guilt weighed down his conscience.

You are a demon. A well-informed one. The crackling flames of damnation are the equivalent of a cozy fireplace back home for you. You’re an alliance of Ruby—and thereby a ‘help’ to Sam Winchester. There’s something you know that little Sammy doesn’t know.

You tortured his brother.

You know everything he did. You inflicted pain on that pretty lil’ face and then inflicted pain with him. Watching the twisted downfall of your victims was nothing new, but Dean’s crushing guilt and self hatred evolving into even delighting in the torture was by far some of the most delicious you’d ever seen.

You were witness to a certain angel gripping Dean tight and raising him from perdition. Undeserved, You think bitterly. Maybe it was selfish—you wanted someone to be depraved with you. But…what are demons, if not selfish?

“Dean just trust me—You gotta trust me. They can help.” You hear Sam say —convinced whole-heartedly— from the other side of the closed door, “A demon? C’mon Sammy, you’re a lot of things but you ain’t gullible.” Dean snaps back, you would say otherwise…

“Just…keep an open mind?” Sam says, “We gotta figure out who pulled you out of Hell, they know.”

The door slowly creaks open. You stand arms crossed in anticipation, trying to mask the exhilarating excitement on your face. Dean’s expression turns to one of horror.

“You sick son of a bitch….” He whispers and his jaw clenches, Sam seems confused.

“Sam you- they—“ He takes a deep breath but it’s more like a wary gasp, “They’re one of those evil bastards who-…who….” His lip curls in disgust, features twisting into a scowl of hatred…more for himself than you. There’s your pitiful little Dean.

He can hardly look at you.