Whiskey River

Chapter 2

The torturing of Dean went on for days. Sometimes it was just the two of you, his emerald eyes void of any emotion as he stared your way. Many of the times you had your eyes closed, not wanting to see the talented hunter torn down a peg.

Each and every night Alistair would greet you as you left, smiling gleefully at the blood covering you and your torture devices. Making you tell him every little detail, clapping his hands together with the news.

"I think you have broken the famous hunter," he exclaimed. "Soon, he will become the torturer beside you."

A part of you hoped that wasn't the case. You wanted him to resist no matter what you did to him. You wanted him to fight, to show you that steel backbone you knew he had.

Walking past Alistair, you made your way to your tiny little room, knowing that tomorrow would be exactly the same as today.

With the smell of sulfur stronger than ever, you made your way down the hallway. Things seemed more frantic than normal, screams louder against your ears. "There's something in the air," one of the Demons muttered as he walked past, and you had to agree. Something was going to happen today, but you weren't sure what.

Alistair was nowhere to be seen, and you were relieved. Taking the blade from the stand, you quietly walked into Dean's torture chamber. He was already hanging on the rack, dark circles under his eyes, his shoulders slumped. "Hello Dean," you spoke, the blade hanging heavily in your hand. "How are you feeling?"

"Like you care," he mumbled, never looking up.

"Dean...," you started, not sure what you wanted to say. You were a Demon. You should be laughing in his face, ready to stick the knife through his blades, feeling the warmth of his blood against your fingers. But there was something about him that had you hesitating.

"Dean, I know you don't trust me. And I don't blame you. I've tortured you, every way I could think of. But that's because I have no other choice," you tried telling him.

He finally looked up, his emerald eyes rimmed in red, full of distrust and hatred. "I call bullshit. You always have a choice."

You continued on as if you hadn't heard him in the first place. "There's something different with today. I don't know what, but we can all feel it. Do you feel it?"

"Yes," he answered, dropping his head back down. "I have no idea what it means."

"I think it has something to do with you," you admitted, laying the blade down on the ground before gently grasping his chin and tilting his head up. At first he fought your touch, trying to pull away. But when you made no move to hurt him, he stilled, his eyes searching your face. "I think there's some powerful being that is mad that you're down here."

"I don't know anyone powerful," he grumbled.

"But you do have a reputation," you insisted.

"So what if they're coming? You know, and you'll stop them before they get very far."

"What if I don't?" You thought out loud. "What if I make sure they can make it through to you?"

"Why would you do that? You've tortured me every day. You've used my Dad and my Brother against me. This is just another trick of yours, and I'm not going to fall for it. So pick up that blade, and do your worst."

"No, I don't think so," you told him. "Alistair's gone, and he's been the one ordering me. Today we will watch. And wait. For what, I do not know. But something big is going to happen."

Leaving the blade on the ground in front of Dean, you went back towards the door. The air current was so thick it almost crackled with electricity. The brimstone and sulfur burnt at your nose. Souls screamed for forgiveness, to be saved, even louder than normal. Demons ran back and forth, lost and confused. Nothing was like normal, and even you felt the pull of chaos.