Hell was, well, Hell. Dean had sold his soul to bring Sam back, and his year had been up. In an agonizing, bloody mess, he was dragged to Hell, the way he knew he was going to be. And now he had a price to pay. Every day, Alistair gave him a choice to torture or be tortured, and every day, he chose to be tortured. All he could do was scream for Sam until his voice gave out. Sam never pulled through for him.

3 months later, Armand was struggling. He’d made a deal so long ago. He was still pretty much a kid, and he was desperate. There were only two people he knew he could count on to look after the twins now that his own time was up, and Dean wasn’t answering. Which left Bobby. He didn’t give Bobby much to go off of, but told him that he’d been diagnosed with something fatal, and wanted to secure them with a home. Once Bobby agreed, he said his goodbyes, and separated himself. He was prepared, and accepted his fate. The twins were alive and well, and they had a second chance. It was worth it. He made sure that he was too intoxicated to feel it when the Hellhounds came for him.

What he didn’t expect was to arrive on the day that Dean could take his torture no longer. Finally, he caved, and told Alistair he would do the torturing. And Armand was the first one up. A fresh, new soul. He almost changed his mind, but he couldn’t. He did what he had to do. He tortured his friend. And then he tortured other souls, and got a real taste for it. He hated himself for it. It was Hell.

---

The next thing they both knew, they were crawling out of the dirt in some field. Together. They both remembered what had happened in Hell, but neither wanted to talk about it. They were just going to ignore that about each other. How could they confront each other about it anyway? How could Armand question the torture Dean handed out? And how could Dean even begin to apologize? 

They inspected themselves, trying to figure out how this was possible, but all they got in return was some unbearable, terrifying, glass-shattering noise. They had to get to the bottom of things, and that meant turning to Sam. Which meant Dean had to find Sam. And eventually, he did.

The two showed up at Sam’s door, and Dean knocked hard. 

supernatural women week / day two - alternate universe

The past twelve years were the worst Hell that Armand could imagine. Though his siblings had died on his watch when he was twelve, and his parents had never truly forgiven him, he’d managed to get through that. But when he was 16 and Papa died, his entire life had fallen apart right in front of him. His mother blamed him and kicked him out. He was homeless and desperate, doing his best to survive. He’d been arrested, rejected by his mother, and sent to a reform home. His stay was ended abruptly with the news of his mother’s suicide, and he was then bounced from one abusive foster family to another. By 17, he was on the run for the murder of his roommate which he didn’t remember committing. He numbed himself and got by with drugs, alcohol, and acts he certainly wasn’t proud of.  

After finding out that he’d been possessed, and that demons and monsters truly existed, he started on a path that led straight to a hunter lifestyle. He was hellbent on killing the demon that had destroyed his life. 

At 18, stricken with grief and loss for far too long, he made an impulse decision at a crossroads. Young and desperate, he sold his soul to bring back his twin siblings. The last ten years had been a struggle, but Armand wouldn’t change it for the world. Though he knew what was coming for him, he’d raised the two toddlers and given him the best life that he could, even through his struggles with addiction, and constant running from the law and hunting. He’d taught them everything he knew about hunting, so they could always protect themselves, and secured them with a hunter when the hounds of Hell came barking.

His ten years were up, and he only pretended to accept it gracefully. Once he said his goodbyes to his now twelve year old brother and sister, he locked himself in his shitty motel room and numbed himself the best he could. He prayed to God for help, though the prayers fell on deaf ears as Hellhounds ripped him to shreds.

When he awoke, the smell of blood and flesh overwhelmed him. He could hear the screams, and he knew he’d just entered eternal damnation at only 28 years old.

@a-smile-dat-spreads-like-buttah

Armand wasn't exactly a stranger to the things that lurked in the night. He'd found it out the hard way years ago, and every now and then, he'd witnessed it in the streets after he ran from the Refuge. He knew how to protect himself and Charlie; he did everything right. Almost everything. He was learning now that there were creatures that no salt or sigils or spells were going to keep out; vampires, among who knew what else?

The moment she had come home bloody, he reached out to his old Refuge buddy; a hunter named Dean. While he waited for a response, he did his best to keep her safe, but she was turning and he didn't know how to stop it. He couldn't lose her, too! As far as he was concerned, she was his daughter. They were all they had in the world.

---

When Dean got the message, he made his way back to New York as quickly as he could. He packed his bags and mounted his horse, and he hoped he'd get there in time. He didn't bother with a response back. It would take too long.

He rode into town and tied his horse up outside the address Armand had given, and let himself in. He hoped to see his buddy still alive and well, and he hoped the girl hadn't fed yet.

Winters were tough when you were homeless. It had been a year since Armand's mother had kicked him out, and he was back where he started; on the street. His time at Sonny's had been a lucky break. He could've ended up behind bars, and he knew that that was what could happen this time. But Sonny's was great, and he'd even made a friend on the farm. But those days were long gone and he was alone now. There was no going back to Sonny's now that he was in the foster system. He had to keep a low profile or they'd send him back to those awful people! He'd rather die than go back there. They were worse to him than even his parents.

But old habits died hard and Armand was a survivor. Even if it was wrong or dangerous, he knew what helped him cope, and he knew what kept him going. The drugs kept him warm and confident enough to keep from getting caught most of the time. The stealing kept his belly full enough to see another day.

So he did what any other kid failed by the system would do; he scoped out the best dressed people and picked their pockets. He'd successfully taken two wallets already, and now he was aiming big. He targeted a pretty redhead, snatched her purse, and made a run for it. The ice didn't really help in his escape plan, but the teen was determined.

Haven’t chosen which of those houses belong to Armand, but here’s the best reference I can give for Hurleyville. The old looking one is across the street. There’s no bar, there, but Nardi’s is an Italian Restaurant, so it’ll have to do. Hurleyville Market is actually a cafe. 

(fully aware it's a touchy subject for Dean, and also fully aware [and accepting] Dean may have done some terrible things to him)

Armand couldn't believe this was happening. After all the things he had done, he was being arrested for a crime he didn't actually commit. But the police had said there was hard evidence; a video of him committing the crime. As far as he could tell, the situation was hopeless. But it didn't make sense. He knew he hadn't done it, not even under the influence!

All he could think about was the boy he'd met as a teenager, when his troubles first started. The boy had secrets, and had helped him once before. He hoped to God, he'd help again.