SYNOPSIS: The apocalypse hadn't been all it was cracked up to be. And then, Sam got out of the Cage, with Cas' help. But Sam was different. The lack of a soul, for one thing. But it came back. The soul, that is. And when it did, Sam found himself in the depths of Hell. He didn't know what he did while he was soulless, but he better find out fast, because apparently, all of Hell is loyal to one Sam Winchester. Even way back when, when he was first told he was the boy king of Hell, that'd never happened, there were always factions. How had he earned their respect, and why was Dean so damn hard to find?
TW: Swearing, blood, death,
SHIPS: None except some background implied Destiel
--
Sam opened his eyes. For a split second, he didn't know where he was. But he realized quickly. The place was built for him, after all. The thought made him shiver, but it was true. Or was it? Either way, it was the same place.
Hell.
A darkly lit throne room, with a sort of reddish theme with banners and stained glass windows, empty but for him, and he was sat on the throne, what felt like a crown on his head. He choked on air for a moment as he realized what he was wearing, where he was. How'd he even get here...?
He stood up, uncomfortable with the throne's implications, still trying to piece together what very little information he had. It was like putting together a million piece puzzle, but then you open the box, and there's only two pieces. He decided to focus on what he knew and work his way out from that.
His hair was longer than he remembered, but not by too much. Long enough for a short ponytail, if he really put an effort to it. Sort of unkept.
He had a crown. He slowly lifted it off of his head to get a good look at it. It was made up of jagged black spikes, and hell, if it didn't look awesome. He carefully placed it back on his head, unsure what else to do with it.
There was a giant set of double doors at the front of the room. Sam was really hoping they wouldn't open.
Now, onto the harder bits.
He was in Hell.
Dean wasn't there, there was no way Sam would wish that he was. But he did wish that he himself wasn't here, and that he was with Dean, or at least that he knew what was happening.
And then the giant double doors opened, a demon walking through.
"Sir? Sorry to interrupt your, uh, planning session, but Crowley's surfaced."
And new puzzle pieces were dropped into his lap- Fragments of memories, but mostly... Unbearable rage.
--
When Cas had first came to Dean and said 'Sam is alive,' Dean had a hard time believing it. He'd spent so long lying to himself saying that Sam would be back, and now he really would be back. He was ecstatic.
Until Cas had finished the sentence, 'But there's something very wrong with him.'
Cas had been torn up, bleeding and limping and all that. He'd said that Sam had done it to him. That Sam had no soul. You think you'd remember to grab a little thing like that out of the pit, but Dean didn't hold it against Cas. And thus began the search for Sammy Winchester.
It had been a demon hunt, when Dean found out the first part of the truth.
"Alright, listen to me, black-eyes. You're going to tell me where my brother is."
"I don't think you know demons very well, then."
"If you don't want to tell me, I will reinforce the devil's trap, and leave you here to rot. But not before I show you some tricks I learned from Alistair."
