Writing's on the Wall Destiel

Chapter 1

Dean opened his eyes, his blurry vision clearing as he recognized where he had been for the last thirty years. He remembered being dragged here, by hellhounds, feeling a knife cut into him for the first time. He shifted his manacled wrists gently and craned his head to loom around, hoping to God that his nightmare hadn't come yet.

Memories began sifting through his mind. Being clawed by hellhounds, Lilith dying, Sam shouting his name as he was clawed to death. Then he had woke up here and had been here ever since.

He struggled to sit comfortably, trying not to rustle the chains in fear of his torture starting earlier than usual.

Suddenly a whip cracked and it began. Hours and hours of hot, sweaty, bloody torture. Blood streamed down the sides of his shackles and down his wrists. Sweat mixed with blood dripped down his body. His white shirt was stained with crimson. Agonizing screams erupted from his mouth as the blade cut deeper into his side. "Stop! Alistair, please! Stop!"

The torturer daintily wiped the blood off of his blade on the shirt. "Aw, look at that. The great Dean Winchester, asking for help. It isn't everyday someone gets to see that."

Dean sagged against the post, his cuffed wrists the only thing keeping him upright. His back was a bloody slab of meat. "Please, don't do this. Let me go."

The answer was not spoken, but rather an action. The blade jabbed his shoulder, making him scream out in pain as a fresh puddle of crimson  began forming around him.

Alistair grinned as he watched his victim struggle with pain tolerance, the cries seeming to fuel him. "You know I can't do that. Oh, Dean, I wish there was some way I could kill you. But all I can do...is hurt you until you give up."

"You know I won't."

"Dean, Dean, Dean. It's for the best, you know. You get to see Sammy again-"

"Don't call him that."

"Sam, again and you won't have to do this anymore, " continued Alistair, gesturing towards the torture devices. "No more pain, no more knives, happy life, don't you think?"

"I am not going to put souls on and torture them for no reason! I'm not a killer, Alistair!"

"You know you're lying. You are exactly like me."

"Shut your pie hole." Dean glowered at Alistair. "I am nothing like you."

"You say that," drawled Alistair as he drew a thin line of blood on Dean's neck, "but you know. We're out for revenge, out for blood. Don't tell me no. You know the feeling, when you kill something, the feeling of bloodlust."

"No." Dean began shaking his chains. "No!"

He grabbed Dean's face, forcing him to look at him. "I ask again, stay on the rack or put souls on the rack?"

Dean glared at him tiredly through blood, sweat and tears. "You know my answer. No."

He let out a sigh of temporary relief as Alistair released him, but that was immediately cut short as salt water was thrown onto his wounds. A white hot pain spread over his body, making him scream.

"Poor Dean. Still hasn't learned his lesson. Don't you ever know what happened to your daddy?"

"Let him go, you son of a bitch."

"If only he could hear you now...."

"Dean!" Dean raised his head as he heard his father call his name. "Dad!"

"No, no, none of that."

Dean suddenly felt a cloth being tied around his mouth, muffling any further screams he might have. He tried yelling out his father's name, but he knew it was to no avail. He was truly at Alistair's mercy.

Alistair's eyes flickered black as he cut into Dean's back, making various cuts wherever he wished.

"I'll see you back in class, Monday morning," he stated as he made the final cut.

As he laid the tools down, he suddenly threw out a fist and hit the side of Dean's head, making it snap to the side.

Dean was swimming in pain and exhaustion, almost beginning to black out. Just as he couldn't keep his eyes open any longer, he heard a soft male voice say, "It's alright, Dean. You're safe with me."

He opened his eyes and found himself looking into blue eyes before a blinding light broke his chains and enveloped him.