Reaching for Grace

Chapter One

Flashes of red. An awful stink of burning flesh. Screaming and crying. And then there was the pain, oh my god the pain was making him wish he hadn't woke up this time. Dean Winchester sat up quickly on the, cold, metal table, making sure he was fully awake this time, he didn't want the pleasant surprise of a blade in his side before he even had the chance to open his eyes, again. This was the fifth time just today that he had passed out from the pain, he wished he would just freaking die already, but he wouldn't, he was already dead.

He spun his head around in both directions checking his surroundings, he was absolutely alone this time . Usually when he woke up, the demon Alastair would be there, standing in the shadowed corner, with some special kind of blade in his hand and a grim smile on his face. See, Alastair wasn't your normal run-of-the-mill demon. He was the teacher to all of the young demons who were in charge of torturing the souls that ended up in hell, he was the King of finding ways to shake people to their very core, and for some reason Dean was his very favorite, Alastair used to say that Dean was his canvas and a razor was his paintbrush.

But Alastair wasn't here right now. And Dean didn't believe how grateful he was for that. Pushing his thoughts aside, Dean quickly sweeped his feet off the table and jumped off, trying to stay as quite as he could. He walked over to Alastair's "utensil" table and grabbed the first knife he saw, sticking it in his jacket pocket which was already ripped to shreds and covered in blood from the hell hound attack years ago, and I guess someone thought it would be hilarious if people had to stay in hell clothed in whatever they died in. Dean loved the feeling of having a knife with him again, it had been forever since he had the chance to even hold one

The room around Dean was styled like a 15th century cathedral, equipped with the musky smell and the extremly creepy gargoyles, it was very dim and had the occasional set of claw scratches up the stone wall.  Comforting. It was so dark and misty that Dean could barely see a thing, hell, maybe he didn't want to, but the dark wasn't what bugged him so much, he had worked in the dark his whole life, but the heat made it hard to even breathe. Or maybe that was the god awful smell of burning flesh.

Dean carefully made his was over to the archway that lead out to the hallway, keeping one hand inside of his jacket pocket. He walked into the hallway and kept a slow steady pace, continuously checking his surrounding for danger. As he continued down the corridor he passed many cells with souls of people inside, just waiting for their daily dose of torture . He passed a certain cell on his right and heard a very faint, weak, call for help, he turned his head slightly to see, still cautious of the many dangers in Hell. Standing in the cell was a girl looking to be in her mid 20s, she was crying very hard, her hair was in knots and her clothes were ripped and stained in blood, she was reaching her arm out through the bars of the cell, reaching toward Dean.

"Pl-please help..me..," the girl whispered so quietly it was hard for Dean to hear her. Dean scanned the corridor once again, making sure she was talking to him. He wasn't really fond of the idea of approaching her, especially here.

"Please I, I won't hurt you. I promise. I just want out," She cried

"Sorry blondie, but in case you didn't notice you're in the frying pan, and last time I checked, only the twisted ones end up here," Dean replied in a whisper, not wanting to get caught, he gave the girl a sympathetic wave and turned to continue walking.

"Wait! if only the twisted ones are down here, then why are you here?" she called after him causing him to stop in his tracks. He spun around on his heels to face her.

"Oh sweetheart, trust me, I'm a little twisted," Dean said looking at her, "But, uh what got you thrown in here anyway?"

"I was a witch, back in my time... but I didn't hurt anyone! I only used the black magic to get back at my abusive ex-husband.." the girl whispered finally calming down slightly.

        Dean considered his options, leave this poor girl here, or help out and take the risk of her being some blood thristy demon. The part of him that was still human gave in.

"You're right, you don't deserve this," Dean said walking over to her cell door.

Dean told the girl to step back, and she did, but was confused on what he was about to do. Dean brought his leg up level with the lock and then kicked it as hard as he could, the lock instantly broke and the door swung open, leaving the girl ecstatic that she was actually free. Dean grabbed her wrist and led her out into the dark corridor, she looked around at where she was with out saying anything, and then suddenly she jumped up and hugged Dean, screaming thank you.

"Alright that's enough," Dean smirked pushing her away gently, "So uh, you have a name? Or am I just going to have to call you Blondie" Dean asked as he continued walking with the girl trailing behind.

"Abigail," the girl said quietly.

"I'm Dean," he replied, not looking back.

"So Dean, what are you in here for?" Abigail asked.

"Look Abby, no offense but I'm not really the 'sharing and caring type'," Dean replied blowing off her question.

She sighed and continued to walk in silence humming the occasional tune whenever she got to bored. They continued down the hallway for a very long time, it seemed like it went on forever. As they kept walking, Abby kept asking questions about Dean's personal life when he was on Earth, he was getting quite annoyed with it and just ignored her every time she asked.

"So Uh, do you actually have a plan?, " Abby asked looking towards Dean with a concerned look on her face.

" Nope. No clue what we're gonna do. Just kinda hoping to figure it out along the way.. "

" Perfect."

"So Abby, how long you been down here?"

"I couldn't remember if I tried, you?"

"I think about...forty years but it's real hard to keep track down here," Dean replied looking down at his boots which were covered in dirt and blood. After this they walked in silence for a while, not wanted to strick up any unwanted conversation. 

        As they kept walking, something changed, it was very unnerving to Dean. It had gotten deathly quite all through the corridor, no voices, no feet moving, no screaming, no crying, nothing. Dean stopped his foot steps immediatly and reached his arm out towards Abby, warning her to stop. She looked up at him awfully confused,

"What?!" She snipped 

"Shh! Shh.." Dean whispered sticking a hand out in front of him ready to fight if the need arose.

        Dean signled for Abby to stay back as he slowly made his way up to the point where two hallways crossed. He inched his way around the corner, only to be met with a fist in his face.