Author's/Underhill's Note: Hello again! It's chapter 14 time! As usual, I hope it doesn't suck to bad and whatnot. And again, thank you for reviews! Virtual cupcakes (storebought kind because I so cannot bake) for you! Disclaimers disclaimers I own nothing from Supernatural and only the original plot in this fic. Have I missed stuff... I'm a little jumpy/distracted, sorry, not sure why. Hmmmm... Oh, if it hasn't become clear by now, I am obsessed with horror movies, hence horror greats replacing music idols on IDs. In fact, I think I'll go watch a horror movie right now, yeeees, yeeeeessss. So, enjoy (hopefully), and if you have comments, questions, suggestions, let me know! Yaaay!

Chapter 14

"How'd you learn all this, anyway?" Dean asks her. They've been moving constantly since he escaped his chains and Bela found him (he thinks it's been a few days but it's kind of hard to tell in Hell), only now just settling in a new hidey-hole. She's warding the walls in Enochian with their blood.

"Time, Dean. I've been here a long time. More than a century. I've picked up a few things."

"Like how to ward off demons?"

Bela snorts. "That's easy, and not what you need to worry about. It's the angels we have to look out for."

"Angels?"

Bela makes a squiggle in blood to finish off a sigil. "Angels. Alistair, your Yellow-Eyes. They're not demons, Dean. They're fallen angels."

"What are you talking about?"

"Lucifer's not the only angel who fell. He started a rebellion, Dean, got other angels to rally to his cause. When he was cast out so were they, and they became the first 'demons.' But they were never human, not like our garden variety. Hence," she says, gesturing at the large Enochian symbols in front of them, "the angel warding. Demons aren't worth the bother."

Dean looks skeptical. "So the most powerful demons?"

"Aren't demons at all, correct. Except for that bitch, Lillith, but that's an entirely different story there." She spoke of Lillith with a mix of bitterness and vindication. "Power like those 'demons' wield? It's not something a regular human soul can generate. When it comes down to it? The most dangerous beings in Hell are from Heaven."

Feb 11, 9 PM, Montana

"What's your answer, Dean?" He says it in Cas's voice which isn't fair at all, Dean thinks. He wants… He's weak. He was weak in Hell his first time and he's weak now. But God, he just wants some comfort, wants the blood and fire and the cutting to stop. He wants to feel loved - - he wants to pretend everything is like before, when he thought Cas cared about him. He wants…

"Yes."

Freeze. Dean groans. Again?

"Yeah, well," the voice says, apparently having heard him, "you know if you didn't have these freaking sigils carved all over you and inside of you and fucking all over your psyche then having this conversation would be MUCH easier."

Dean's snark cuts through the fuzziness of the dream. "Yeah, well I don't like dicks who walk in my dreams." He frowns. "Why are you here? What are you?" A million questions but he'll settle for those.

"I'm here because you gave me some good advice a while back, believe it or not, and because this time? My brother went too far. He shouldn't have done this to you, Dean."

"Holy fuck, you're an angel. You can't be in here. There's no way you can be in here!"

The voice, somehow despite being incorporeal, looks sheepish.

"Yeah, I'm not exactly all angel anymore. Your little spells and sigils are annoying, but I can get around them with enough time."

"And I can't see you WHY?"

"Ugh. Another one of those kinks I haven't quite worked out. You kids really went all out on the warding, didn't you?"

"Apparently not well enough. Shit. How much more shit are we gonna have to carve on each other to get you assholes to leave us alone?"

"You know better than that, Dean. They won't leave you alone. It might take time, but they WILL find you, and they WON'T be nice when they do."

Dean crosses his arms. "So what do you propose?"

"I need you to find me. It might be a problem."

"A problem to find you? What the hell? Can't you just tell me?" Not that he would meet whoever this was.

"Uh, see, the thing is, I don't really know where I am right now…"

This is too ridiculous to be real, Dean thinks, and what is going on, where's Cas, the demon said he'd give him Cas if he just said yes - -

"Goddamnit, Dean, I need your help, don't you DARE - - "

Dean jumps awake. He's in the passenger seat of a rental car, Bela in the driver's seat taking her turn driving while he rests for a while. She notices his jump and asks, "You alright?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm okay." It wasn't exactly a lie, because for once he's not convinced he's covered in blood and he didn't wake up screaming. But these freaking dreams, what is with them? Sure it's a nice break from Hellfire and meat hooks and - - he cuts off that line of thought immediately - - but it's confusing as hell. And the voice is so familiar and it's KILLING him that he can't place it.

And it's an angel. God. He should tell Bela.

"… Is that classical music playing?"

Bela's grin is smug. "Why yes. Very soothing, isn't it? Much better than your AC/CD."

"AC/DC. You've learned nothing from me, have you?" He reaches out to change the radio but Bela's gloved hand smacks him across the back of the hand.

"No. I have to deal with snow, you can deal with some good music for a change." At his groan she says, "Relax. Soak up the culture, Dean. It's good for you."

Dean cuts back his retort. He should tell her, but she actually seems happy at the moment.. After the trip, he tells himself. When they get back to the loft he'll tell her. "How close are we?" he says instead.

"Half an hour out. We'll be there shortly. I've called ahead for a room." They would be sharing one of course, because since they've left Hell they haven't been more than a few yards apart from each other.

Dean straightens in his seat. "So who are we posing as?" he asks eagerly.

"Antiquities dealers."

"…What?"

"We're going as ourselves. There's no reason to lie; we are here on legitimate business."

"But, but," he protests. "That's so boring!"

An indulgent smile plays on her lips. "Aww, poor Dean. That's so sweet, wanting to play dress up."

"Shut up, Bels."

"How about I promise that the next job we use one of your fake badges?"

"Will you be the Bree Abbott to my Jeff Combs?"

"You are utterly ridiculous, Dean Winchester."

"Is that a yes? I think that's a yes."

"That's a yes. Now shut up and let me focus on driving. I'd rather not crash when we're nearly there."

The hotel room Bela arranged for turned out to be a motel room - - something Dean is, of course, used to, but Bela is not. She wrinkles her nose

"This? This is awful."

"Home sweet home!" Dean says, dropping his bag with a thump.

"It is disgusting that you used to be accustomed to living in these conditions."

He flops down on the bed in response then groans.

"Ugh, you're right. The thread count on these sheets? Terrible. Can't wait until we actually get home."

Bela ruffles his hair in response; she likes that he considers New York and the loft home already.

"Are you ready?" she asks.

Dean lifts himself up on his elbows.

"Always." He bounces to his feet. "Let's go.

They decide to scout out the local bar first - - see what's going on around town, if there's anything they need to worry about. While Bela says it's unnecessary ("This isn't a hunt, Dean"), it's force of habit for the former Hunter. Turns out it's a good idea.

Bela is at one end of the bar chatting up a man who turns out to be an off-duty cop while Dean talks with the night shift bartender.

"Yeah," the man says, turning in his seat. "Weird cases lately. People turning up dead - - almost looks like they've been tortured. Knife wounds that look like burns." The cop takes a swig from his beer and attempts to put an arm around Bela but she swings away. The man frowns.

"Really now?" she says. "Do you think they're connected? Did the victims know each other?" She blinks guilelessly at him and smiles.

"Maybe. And yeah, some of them knew each other. Local guys, worked down at the mill. Found all the bodies pretty close to a local bar, O'Hara's." He gives her what he thinks a charming smile that turns out as more of a leer. "Say, wanna get out of here?" He attempts to put his arm around her again but Dean is suddenly there, pulling him away.

"She's not interested, buddy," he says, and puts himself between the man and Bela. Bela hops off the stool, slaps a twenty on the bar, and starts walking for the door.

"Aw, sorry man, didn't know she was spoken for," the man says, putting his palms up in defense. "No harm no foul, right?"

Dean rolls his eyes and follows Bela out of the bar. She's waiting for him outside.

"If you say 'I told you so,' Winchester…"

"Would I do that?" Silence. "Okay, I totally would. Think something supernatural's up in this town?"

Bela huffs out a resigned sigh. "Most likely."

"And with our luck, it has to do with the case."

"Undoubtedly," she confirms. "Well, let us head to O'Hara's. We'll see."

Dean claps his hands together eagerly.

"Good! I could use another beer."

Feb 12, 12:30 AM, in the Impala

Sam's behind the wheel again; he's been in no mood to sleep lately, too jumpy, too worried, too everything. He's trying to keep it together for Cas and Bobby, but truth is he's not doing so hot.

Cas is really scaring him. Outwardly, the angel seems fine, but Cas's hiding something. He hits his hand against the wheel. "Damn it!"

He needs something to do, but he's finished with the case Cas and Bobby fished up for him in record time and it's too early in the morning to find a paper to search for another. He's just going to drive. If he keeps driving…

But there's no Dean in the driver's seat. Sam's not riding shotgun. It's just him and the Impala, and it feels wrong. Dean's in Hell. Cas is broken. Bobby's not saying anything. And Sam?

Sam is REALLY trying to hold it all together.