Raised in Hell

THREE

NOW

(although not directly now in supernatural)

In hell it's cold. So cold it burns. It's like dry ice reacting to your skin. Add a little salt to that and that's how it feels. The torturous moans of the dead and dying echo through the halls like a lullaby your mother never sang. I guess they should have known what they were gonna get themselves into. All those humans, all those deals. Their minds are so intricate yet they choose a sense of stupidity. I was never human, I never had a soul until now. But I still don't understand why a human would want something so bad that they would literally sell their soul.

In the mourns of hell those dealers lay. Those regretful humans. The ones who will never understand the true extent of their deal until it's too late. Those souls I pity. Their loss of pain I envy. And their continuous hope of something to save them? That I laugh at. God will never return. Or rather he'll never return to his 'children.' He's surely forgotten about this world and moved on. He's like a disappointed father. He may return one day but not now. But,no, not in any time we'll be here to see. The way we've all corrupted society, makes even me sick. So sick that if I was God, I'd simply leave through the back door.

But I can't. Because I'm not god, and although I may become the singular most powerful being aside from him, and possibly Lucifer, I can't. And so I'm left here. Left in hell. A place of joy to me. A place of bliss. But that bliss will never cover my hatred in hell. While my father's left in hell. In a cage. HE should be ruler. But instead he's like a wild animal. I suppose he always was, but this. This is the reality of what happens to wild animals. So I need to become someone I never was. Become something I never could be. Become Asterax, the nephalem.

So now I'm here, beside a cage, speaking with Lucifer, because now, I have sympathy for the devil.

"So... your wings, how are those?" He awkwardly says leaning against the wall of his cage.

"Umm, I mean they're cool in all, but they won't actually, like, go away. You know? Like yours." I said cooly in response.

"Oh, yeah, thought that might happen. Well, you see, mine are stuck with my 'true' form, but yours? I'm pretty sure that since you can't change vessels they're kinda just stuck to you." He says in a tone that seemed oh so similar to a caring school teacher.

"Oh..." I state simply. Over the past year or so, I've gotten to know Lucifer quite well. But, the devil in his details. I truly can't ever say he really became a true father figure. But, he's trained me. Unlike a nephilim, I can simply use my powers at will. They usually need to triggered by some force of emotion. But me? I have no human left in me to stall any flow. Through my veins pumps the joined blood of the first fallen angel, and a corrupted first demon. Or rather a knight of hell, as Lucifer told me. So since my mixed 'pure' blood is so potent, I work just like a demon or angel. But, given that my father is Lucifer, I have even more power than your average angel. And given that I could be that powerful, I'm a little shaky at my usage.

"Oh! You know what? I think I have a solution for that!" He exclaims in surprising happiness. My eyes grow wide with with hunger for knowledge.

"Really?" I say in a surprised and beckoning manner.

"Yeah, there's a witch, at least I think she's a witch. Name's Rowena, the 'king' of hell's mommy dearest. Find her and she'll probably help you. I mean given, you tell her who you are." He replies to my simple question. His voice seems slightly joyous and comical as always.

"Thanks, I'll find her. Bye." I pause and smirk for a moment before saying one last word. "Dad." I can see him smirk through the darkness and wave good bye. I begin to walk until he says one more thing.

"Oh and Asterax... Do you know the winchesters?" he says from behind me in a serious tone shrouded by a deep hatred.

It resounds in my brain. A deep meaning swells. Winchesters. I've heard it before. I stop dead in my tracks and turn to face him once more.

"The hunters?" I ask dully.

"Yeah, Sam and Dean." He states back with an even more serious and angered tone.

"Yeah, I know 'em. They tried to hunt me once, poor soulless bastards couldn't do a thing." I say back in a wondrous tone.

"Watch them. Get on their good side." He says. I now realize he's pushed his body against the bars. His still peeling hand is wrapped around the narrow cylinder. The small light of his eyes illuminates his horrifying face. His serious look, that comes at a rate of barely ever , shines.

"Alright." I say back, biting my dry tongue in wonder. With that I take three more solemn steps and fling myself into the air. The wind from the beating of my wings crowds my face. Making my dark brown hair flies ahead of me. A feeling I've grown all too accustomed to. Once I reach a far wall where a lone light shines through I stop.

And then I see him. Dressed in all black. Dapper attire really. I go closer to him, and see his dark hair slightly glisten in the light of the torches. His stubble wears thin on his full face. Suddenly a smile appears on his face. I instantly recognize him. His face turns toward me and his eyebrows furrow.

"What the hell?" He expresses in a deep rooted accented voice.

Crowley.