You sold your soul in exchange for your mothers life.... Now Crowley saves a special spot for you in hell as his puppet. It's your 3rd year living in the hellhole, cleaning after innocent souls are tortured and following orders from the king himself...
"Who the hell are you and where am I?" He said swiftly turning around to face you. You stood up from your chair not bothering to approach him as he was standing in a battle stance, ready for anything that came towards him. "My name is (y/n), this is my room." He furrowed his eyebrows. "No duh Sherlock, but where!?" You sighed. "Y-you're still in hell." He looked down, suddenly his expression changed to disappointment. "I-if I'm still in hell, then why I'm I here." He looked around, a hint of fear visible in his eyes.
"Isn't it obvious? I saved you." He still looked confused. "I'm sorry sweets, but who exactly are you because I don't think a demon would do something like this, unless this is just another way of torturing me." You took a deep breath, an annoyed look forming on your lips. "You are correct, I'm not a Demon. I live here." He puckered his lips into a skeptical look. "Wait you're human?" You steped closer to him but still keeping your distance. "Right again." You took a few steps forward. "Um, I'm sorry this is just very-." He trailed off for a moment. "What are you doing here? I mean doesn't everyone who gets here go strait to the torture table?"
You sighed once again. "It's sort of a long story. You're just gonna have to trust me, there are just to many things to explain. Here take these." You went to the bathroom grabbing his clothes and throwing them at him. A surprised look formed on his expression as he caught them "No one knows you're here so try to keep it down. I'm kinda breaking the rules here." He gave you a small nod as he began to slide his clothes on. Who the hell is this girl?
You went to your bathroom while he changed, taking the time to process what just happened. What the hell am I doing? The guy whose name was still unknown to you walked up to the restroom, knocking on the open door. "Why did you take me out of there? What are you trying to do?" You thought for a moment, knowing that you had to at least tell him something. "Well, lets just say I'm a slave here, and I either have to choose between staying here forever or being thrown with the rest of the people that are being tortured. And I don't want to do any of those things so I'm trying to escape." You said shrugging your shoulders. "What does any of that have to do with me?" He eyed you from head to toe. "What does it have to do with you?" You walked out of the restroom, the man following close behind. "Nothing, but I mean if you want I can just turn you in and I can leave by myself." He was suddenly in front of you now, his hands on your shoulders and a look of horror in his face." "No no, please I'm sorry, it's just- You don't know all the hell I've been through these past few weeks."
You looked down for a moment, bitting your lip. "Believe me, I know." As the words came out, there was a spark of hope in his eyes. Both of your eyes locked for a moment, a small shiver running down your spine.
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You hadn't payed much attention to his eyes before. They were a beautiful forest green color with a hint of honey in them. Eyes that were filled with pain and longing but at the same time ones that were hard to read.
You suddenly broke the silence."What is your name anyway?" He shook his head, your eyes separating. "Oh sorry, I'm Dean, Dean Winchester." He half smiled. "Dean huh?" You shook his hand. "I guess I kind of already told you my name but, I'm (y/n), just (y/n)." "Got it." He nodded.
"So Dean, if you don't mind me asking, why are you here?" His smile slowly faded as he looked down at the floor. "I'm sorry you don't have to tell me, it was a mistake." He shook his head. "I sold my soul to save someone." He said a serious look on his face. He sold his soul for the same reason I did. I knew he was a good person. "What about you?" You snapped out of though. "Huh? Oh Crowley just took me in as his slave." You shrugged as you slid your hands inside your back pockets. "Crowley? Whose Crowley?" Dean said furrowing his eyebrows. "Well, he's the one who runs this place. I guess you can call him the king of hell."
