Chapter Text
If you're reading this, you're in Hell.
Congratulations!
Now, I've never been one to assume. And far be it from me to accuse you of anything. But given the usual calibre of souls that tend to get dragged through the Gates, I don't think I'm all that far out on a limb when I speculate this is most likely the best thing to ever happen to you. In fact, I don't think I've even left the tree trunk. Or the ground.
Hence, congratulations, and welcome to the rest of your afterlife.
Perhaps you made a deal with a handsome red-eyed stranger roughly a decade ago. Perhaps you applied the unfortunate combination of both sin and non-piety to your life. Perhaps you served a customer the wrong order without realizing they had a fancy pair of wings to match that entitled attitude, because trust me, engaging with angels gums up one's plans for the future in the absolute worst way, they're quite a lot like feisty blondes in that respect. The method of your damnation hardly matters, because you're here, you're here to stay, and it would make everything much smoother on everyone if you'd skip the wailing and gnashing of teeth and start making some peace with the idea.
Now, the infernal intake department was recently downsized, something which we can assume all members were utterly joyous about because none of them are left to say otherwise, so allow me to address the usual and not-at-all obnoxiously repetitious FAQs.
Q: Am I dead?
A: You…do know how winding up in Hell works, correct? Why don't you go ahead and try taking your pulse, Edison. See if you can't answer that question for yourself.
Q: Why am I here?
A: You know why.
Go ahead, think about it. I'll give you a minute.
…
There you go. Yes, that's why.
Yes, it counted, and yes, we know about it. Obviously. Can we move on?
Q: I don't belong here. There's been a mistake.
Did you hear that? Sounded a bit like, "Whinge whinge but-I'm-the-main-character-of-the-universe wah wah cry whinge."
Get over yourself. You're not tall enough to be a main character.
If there was a mistake made, though, which is entirely possible, no worries. You'll have plenty of opportunities to vent your spleen soon.
I'm not a subscriber to the Judeo-Christian faith. Why am I here?
Because, regretful as I am to be the bearer of this news, your own belief system falls just a tad short in the still-actually-existing department. So sorry. If it's any consolation, our God is even more disappointing than yours.
I am a lawyer and I would like to attempt to argue my way out of my contract/eternal damnation.
Not to worry, Barrister, we've got a very special place for those in your profession. They're probably warming the acid to a lovely rolling boil as we speak, and I've no doubt the grater's been kept very sharp with you in mind.
Are you Satan?
No, I'm not, fuck you very much. I'd thank God for that blessing, but as previously mentioned, He's worse than useless, so I'll thank myself.
I am Crowley, First King of Hell, Returning Champion of Throne and Crown, and lord and sovereign of all demons past, present, and future. In layman's terms, very much the boss of you.
I'd suggest working your way into a loyal, obedient mindset now, because you will be bending the knee. Whether you bend it yourself or it's done for you, forcibly and in an anatomically-inadvisable direction, is up to you.
Can I -
And that's all the patience we have! I do apologize. It's not that I'm unsympathetic to your plight, it's just that you are mind-bogglingly unimportant and also I don't care at all. We have a lot more to get through, so come along.
It does seem to take a while to sink in for most, so I'm going to restate it yet again: You are in Hell. That's an established fact. So what can you expect out of your eternal stay?
Well, I'm pleased to inform you that Hell has a lot to offer! It would be a billion-dollar tourist attraction if it were not mind-shreddingly horrifying and if almost everyone here didn't despise it with a foaming, inhuman, auto-cannibalistic passion. I can promise a large variety of positive features, including:
- Nine breathtaking Circles! On a good day. The number does fluctuate. "Circle" is also less accurate a term than "bleeding eight-dimensional rhombicosidodecahedron," but we sacrifice a few things for adherence to a theme.
- An active and diverse community!
- Numerous and engaging activities, including Hellhound training and bone splintering!
- A wide range of landmarks and scenery! Please ignore the screaming.
- Lucifer is finally gone! Again. And he will absolutely not be coming back! Again. But do note it is a non-optional royal decree that all demons keep all fingers crossed at all times, no matter how much it may burn or contribute to early-onset arthritis, just because you can never be too careful.
You're speechless! Unsurprising, of course you are. And I know what you're thinking: Why, aren't I lucky to have landed here rather than the vapid, flickering wasteland of Heaven! Let me answer that for you: Yes, yes you are. But these fabulous features aren't all.
Understand your journey is just beginning. And allow me to get the biggest shock out of the way and let you know where it will end.
You see, contrary to popular mythology, demons are not fallen angels. We are born out of corrupted human souls. Those who sign themselves away pass through the Gates, grow a pair of horns, and then travel back to Earth to drag more down as they themselves were. You can call it an endless cycle of torment if you want; I do tend to prefer the term "excellent business strategy," though.
I understand this is a universe-altering revelation for you and, as such, may be a little uncomfortable. If it isn't, because you already knew this, then hello, Sam, Dean, and/or rotating stock cast of various associates thereof. I'm sure your chaperone will be here any minute to sock you back into your stitched-up corpse. In the meantime, please exit into the room at left, try not to break any of the teeth, and feel free to enjoy the complimentary twenty-three-year-old Travel + Leisure issues while you wait. Or the complimentary coffee, also twenty-three years old.
Additionally, if you'd like your anus to remain at the opposite end of your body from your mouth, fucking don't dogear my book. Sam.
With that out of the way, let me return to the rest of you lot, aka all those extravagantly fortunate enough not to have been either born a Winchester or to have swapped bodily fluids with one. You see all those black eyes around you, looking at you like the scrap of discount supermarket stew meat you are? Look back. What you see in them, that's your future.
The marrow that runs with rivers of rot. The flesh that ripples with howling mouths. The vast red galaxies of pain, the endless ticking gears of madness and suffering, greased with liquefied viscerae, that grind the universe ever closer to violent collapse, the horns that bear up the crushing canopy of fragile little matchstick animals that bite and screw and stab and sell and betray each other to ragged pieces in those few brief seconds before decay pulls them writhing into the dirt.
This is you, quivering, weeping, bleeding. You, as all of us, are the final heir to all human misery, and the original architect of all human malice.
So exciting, isn't it?
Shall we delve deeper?