This is a bit messed up btw, I kinda threw away any concept of grace in season 4-12 and improvised. I kinda like it tho.

Also, some dark nothings in here. I had to practice torture for 2 months and get creative, so read at your own risk.

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He had to give the humans some credit, they weren't that far off.

I'm the many, many, many depictions of Hell hed seen over the years, he had to admit they were actually pretty accurate. The only thing he could actually say they'd gotten wrong, in fact, was the noises.

It was quiet down there. But then again, that might just be his cell. That's if it could really be called that. In reality, it was just a tight black box. It was dark, so dark he couldnt see anything but himself.

That was the complicated part. When he exploded, his angel grace and soul were supposed to go to wherever Angel's went when they died, but they hadn't. Hed been trapped.

He could still remember the feeling of being dragged under. In his true form, his wings had caught and tangled with the net. His trench coat remained, but all other clothes were gone and changed into divine attire.

He remembered being pressed against the gates as they forcefully dragged him down into the pit. His skin had glowed and tingled, and a few demons nearby had disintegrated. But the one next to him had seemed unaffected, despite his continuous shrieks and screams.

He'd clawed at the metal angel-proof net until the wires cut into his arms and he bled bright blue grace. But it didnt affect him. In his true form, losing grace was almost impossible.

He hasnt given up struggling until they trapped him in his cell. He hadn't even given up then, letting out large waves of grace to push against the walls. He was sure that any poor demons walking by a 4-mile radius had exploded.

Then they'd realized he wasn't any normal angel. Being possessed by Lucifer and coming into contact with Chuck had messed with his soul, and he had handfuls and handfuls of power in him that wasnt his. He just couldn't release it in his vessel.

So they'd chained him to the wall. Grace-sucking cuffs and he could slowly feel himself weakening. But he didnt loose hope. The handcuffs might weaken him, but they didn't take any of his power. Gabriel had nearly died making sure of that.

Back to the present time, he banged his chains around the walls, screaming loudly. If he couldnt make them release him, he was sure gonna give his attackers one hell of a headache. It was something Dean had taught him and he was gonna stick to it.

Huffing, he leaned back against the wall. It was one thing to chain someone to a wall where they coudlnt move. It was another thing to chain them with their arms and legs spread out like a freaking prostitute. Hed tried yanking at his bonds, but all that had done was give him sore wrists and an even bigger headache.

Another problem. He had a headache. How, exactly? He couldnt tell you. Angel's couldnt get headaches, but maybe it was another one of the human attributes hed gained from being around the Winchesters so much?

He grit his teeth as the chains tightened around his wrists again, digging into his skin and pulling him further into the wall. King of Hell my ass he thought the only thing that bitch's really king of is uncomfortable positions.

He shifted again, shivering at the cold air. He couldnt really feel it, being in his true form and all, but that didnt stop him from shivering from time to time. He supposed it was a sort of habit. Even if it didnt really affect him, he could still feel his skin pressing against the cold wall and moved uncomfortably against it. The trench coat did some to help, but not much.

Then, for the first time in what felt like years (it was), he heard footsteps storming down towards him. He stiffened against the wall, only making his aching muscles ache even more.

The door swung open, and out stepped...a man he had never in his life seen before. Even from the other end of the room, Cas could feel the power coming off him in waves. If he had any energy left, he would have laughed out loud. Naturally, he gets kidnapped by a super powerful celestial being who he had never met or heard of.

Oh chuck, he was getting the infamous Winchester Luck.

The being stopped directly in front of him, so close if he had the space to lean forwards, they would be kissing. Luckily, the chains were pulling him tight against the wall and away from the offending creature.

But that was what troubled Castiel the most. With most creatures, he could see their souls and, by the colour, determine if they were a demon, angel, mortal or anything in between. But this guy was pure darkness. His sould was pitch black, void of any light colours but for one, minuscule white dot at the edge.

Now, for the guys appearance. Being stuck to a wall for years, Castiel was pretty tired and his vision was not at its greatest. But he could still make out every horrifying feature that made up the beings body.

First was its skull. It was a big, bulging thing that seemed to move and turn under its skin, switching to different positions every time. Its skin was black and thin, stretched out tight around its bone structure, like it had been made out of leftover pieces, which it probably had.

It stood with a stick, but Castiek notice the long silver sword protruding out of its tip. As of now, the sword was sunk deep into the squishy, bloody ground. But Castuel didnt want to think of what could happen if it wasn't.

"First," the creature rasped in a deep, scratchy voice that seemed to recreate from deep in its throat. "I'm going to ask you some questions. You are going to answer these questions, then we are going to see how it goes from there."

"No." He replied automatically, without hesitation.

A muscle blushed under its left eye, and it seemed to be struggling to keep itself together. "What did you just say?"

"I said n-" Castiel cut himself off with a cry as one of the chains was jmyanked backwards, shattering his wrist.

His breaths came in short gasps as his mind dogged up with pain. No, he could not give up. The man hadn't even started. His arm burned everytime he put his weight on it. But in his current position, that was always.

He cried out again as his other wrist was forced against the wall, but a but slower this time. So he could feel every blood vessel burst individually, feel the bones strain and crack under pressure. He badly wanted to stay silent, not to give the man the satisfaction of seeing him in pain, but that was rather hard as his arms were connected by skin and metal fused together under pressure.

He stayed there, breathing heavily, waiting for one of his ankles to follow the same treatment. He wasn't disappointed. Another cry was ripped out of him as his ankle cracked and bled. The metal didnt stop, it seemed like it wanted to rip his foot straight off. Then everything stilled.

The man eyed his last ankle, finger hovering in the air and Castiel knew he was trying to get him to crack. He knew he was going to break his ankle, and the anticipation was almost as bad as the pain itself.

"Ready to talk?" He asked again, the side of his lips inching up slightly. He found this amusing. The bastard actually found the whole thing amusing.

"N-no..." he croaked. His throat felt sore, and he hadn't even screamed that much.

"So defiant." The man muttered, fingers brushing ever so slightly over Castiels side. "So strong, full of passion." He licked his lips. "I just love destroying a hopeful soul."

Castiel screamed again. The fourth limb wasnt even that painful, but that didnt stop tears from pricking at his eyes. He knew that, had he been in his human form, the walls would be stained and dripping with blood.

Then the man ripped the sword out of the ground and thrust it straight at his chest. Castiel screwed his eyes shut, awaiting impact, but none came. The blade hovered just over his chest, so much that as he took a breath his skin grazed over the tip.

"Last chance, birdy." He muttered, looking up at him with raised eyebrows.

Castiel stated back defuantly. He shook his head, not havig the energy to answer. The man shrugged his shoulders.

"I gave you 3 chances." He muttered, then pushed forwards.

You know the one thing worst than getting stabbed with an angel sword? (Besides getting stabbed with an angel sword while sporting 4 shattered limbs). I'll tell you: getting stabbed with an angel sword slowly.

The man sure took his time, letting the blade sink a few centimetres deep before twisting it harshly. He pulled it out and cut again diagonally, then moved to another place. Between all the screaming and shaking, Castiel noticed that the stab wounds were shaped in diagonal crosses, packed together to spell something. He couldnt for the life of him remember what.

Then the man pulled the stick out. The blade stayed there, buried deep into his left side but the rest of it fell of as the man turned around to go, calling out behind him.

"Rethink your answer. I'm going out for a while."

Castiel just didnt stop screaming.

•×•

I cried writing this. For those of you that watched season 13, do you think this is better or worse than the empty? For those of you that havent, sorry. I warned you I was evil, didn't I?

mishalovesdestiel , this is your fault. Revenge for what you did to Castiel and Dean in Comfort Lane MWAHAHAHA.

Ah, I'd almost forgotten how good it felt to torture my readers.