Title: Introductions

Author: Fenikkusu Ai

Claim: Alastair/Dean

Table: DIY

Prompt: #1 Cold

Rating: M

Summary: It wasn't supposed to be this cold in hell.

Word Count: 709

It wasn't supposed to be this cold in hell. Hell was supposed to be hot. Even that couldn't be counted on.

"Sam!" he screamed into the void for what could have been the thousandth time. There was no answer of course. Sam was somewhere above in the world of the living.

The icy winds whipped around Dean's defenseless body; rattling the chains that bound him hand and foot. He was helpless. For the first time in his life, he was helpless.

He was the fly caught in the spider's magnificent web. Like the ripe fruit hooked onto a tree limb waiting to be picked. He was the Hanged Man swinging from a rope.

In time, the spider came.

"Ooh, is this for me?"

Dean looked up to see a tall demon leering at him from above. The being's unusual flame white eyes appraised him wickedly. This demon was old. Ancient. He didn't need Sammy's research to confirm that.

"Am I yours? Your new little bitch?" Dean croaked.

The demon grinned sadistically. "Now, what do you think?"

Dean found himself strapped horizontally down to a table. The demon was chaining him down, and Dean didn't even bother struggling. He was too weak. Too drained.

"My name is Alastair, and I will be your torturer for eternity," it said in its nauseating lisp.

He closed his eyes and waited. He knew what was coming next. The unending agony.

"Open those peepers, Dean," the being crooned.

Dean choked back a scream when his mind registered the silver sickle.

"Shiny," he manages.

The demon fondled it fondly. "Isn't it? It's my favorite. Delicate for the smallest of cuts yet rougher when it needs to be. Yanks through the flesh like butter."

Alastair lowered the knife out of view. "Now, Dean, you're what is considered...a special case. You're not like every other evil shitbag who waltzes in the gate that deserves what's coming to them. You sold your soul to save your brother. A righteous man." He smiled as if these words in particular were amusing.

"So? What's your big sales pitch?" Dean quipped; the chains biting into his wrists.

Alastair leaned in closer. "Stand beside me. Take my blade so I don't have to use it on you. Punish other souls."

It was far a far worse fate than he had imagined. Dean shivered in his chains. The cold was filling his very soul.

Become a monster?

"No thanks."

The demon's "nice" act disappeared with a flash of bared teeth. "Think you're acting so brave, boy?"

In one sharp movement, the cold sickle invaded Dean's stomach. Dots danced in front of his eyes as the pain manifested. He grunted slightly. The demon didn't seem very surprised and instead sighed dramatically.

"Hmm. You're going to be a tough nut to crack, aren't you? Like your daddy?

Dean jerked his head up in interest; ignoring the pain. "My dad? How...-"

Alastair brandished the sickle before bringing it up close to Dean's face. "I ask the questions here, Deano. You'll learn that soon enough."

The ensuing torture forced Dean into silence. The knife skimmed through his skin like a shark. Dean endured it; jaw locked tight. He wouldn't give this sonofabitch the satisfaction of screaming.

"Your resolve is impressive, but let's face it, Dean." Alastair's voice dropped to a whisper. "Everyone has their limit."

And Alastair tried his best to find it. Cutting, slicing, and filleting until Dean's world became pure pain. His vision eventually grew dark, and he had a precious moment of peace before he was blinking up at his torturer yet again.

"Welcome back, Dean. Are you surprised to be whole again?"

He licked his lips. Felt his stomach sink. "I can't die."

"You are dead after all, dear boy. And, I can keep bringing you back to life. Want to test me? Keep saying no. Now, will you take my most generous offer?"

He twisted in his chains. "Fuck you," Dean spat.

"You're going to be a fun one, Dean." It sounded like a promise.

Dean felt the sickle enter his flesh again.

The blade was cold.