Sam in Hell...
imagine.. Sam in Hell, Lucifer ripping his flesh clean off his bones, piece by piece. Sam being awake for everything, feeling the cold blade of a knife cut into his skin, the blood pouring down his strung up body, Lucifer's cold fingers caressing the bloodied muscles before yanking it out. Sam is screaming loud and coarse, until his throat ruptures. His screams echo not just within the walls of the cage but through out Hell. And when Sam screams, it's music to every demon's ears.
Once the Boyking, Azazel's executioner and Lucifer's true vessel, now reduced to a screaming, snivelling mess. There are times when they can hear him call for Dean. The cry anguished and sorrowful but the demon laugh and cackle. The Winchester got what was coming to him. Sometimes they place bets on long he would last. Not that they have anything other than their freedom to bet on. But these days he starts screaming right away. Defiance crushed. They sing praise for Alastair, Hell's most skilled torturer, who died at the hands of Sam, whose torture pales in comparison to his mentor Lucifer. They sing for him, for Lilith, for Ruby, for all fallen demons.
After decades of screaming, there are whispers seeping from the cracks in the walls. The voices of the angels -one fallen, the other righteous- are loud. They talk of Sam's soul that's just as abused as his body is. They say a soul shines brighter than the Sun, but Sam's soul can barely light a candle. It's stretched, ripped, shredded and muddy. Like a dirty, rotten rag cloth. Demons know Hell is Hell even for their kind but at least they are not in Lucifer's cage like Sam. Sam is in a special kind of Hell, one that is personally crafted for him by Lucifer.
