The days of travel that followed were exactly as Sam and Dean had predicted—long, boring stretches of grassy prairies beneath the hot sun or the cool moon. They had to stop more often than they would have liked to since the horses needed to rest. The only nice aspect of that was how in the morning, both of the brothers would be rested and they could talk to each other at great length. Their relationship was growing quite close.

There came a turn in the terrain eventually. First came a heavy fog. It engulfed the area and made it difficult to see what was in front of them. Dean thought it might have been a low cloud (something that happened every so often back when he lived in the plains with his pack) but it was too large and still to be a natural force.

This fog masked the sun and made it difficult to tell how far along in the day they were. All that could be seen was an eerie greenish light that made the entire swath of fog glow, regardless of the sun's placement. For a man like Dean, who relied so much on the subtle cues of nature, this was terribly disorienting.

Next, there was a devastating absence of life. While they had traveled through the grasslands, small critters were endless. Sam and Dean had been able to hunt for food and be well fed, but now there was nothing of the sort. No plants, either. The ground slowly turned into gravel and pebbles with larger rocks occasionally dotting the hazy landscape. Sam noted that they were progressively getting higher. He had a feeling that beyond the fog, there were large mountains.

Dean's sleep grew restless. He would toss and turn constantly, unable to get much more than a few minutes of being asleep. Every time he finally settled, those bright yellow eyes of Azazel would startle him awake. He didn't tell Sam.

A final change to the scenery occurred when they came into a small town. The bottom of the fog lifted just enough that they could navigate the area with somewhat ease, resting on the rooftops like a heavy, foreboding blanket.

The town was quite large with many houses, inns, workshops and farm spaces. Carts lined the streets and everything appeared to be well populated except for one thing—it was covered in a sticky, cobweb like mold. Nothing moved. All was silent.

The men stopped their wagon in the middle of the town and got off to explore. Sam warned Dean not to touch the mold since they didn't know what it was or what it could do.

"It's everywhere," said Sam.

"Oh, jeez," said Dean, "Look at that." He pointed to a skeleton that was trapped between a layer of mold and a house. He felt a sick twinge in his legs when he saw there were tiny, thin bones on the back that would be the perfect frame work for wings. "They're fairies."

"We must be in Avalon," said Sam. Dean had expected him to be more horrified, since the fairies were the closest thing he had to parents, but instead his face was stoic and he walked back to the wagon. "We need to rest."

"Is it safe to do that here?" asked Dean.

"Do we have any other choice?"

"Yeah, fair enough. Okay."

Dean hesitated but then got into the wagon. They made up their nests and did their best to settle and sleep. The sun was somewhere far away and the infected town was mostly dark. Sam fell asleep instantly but Dean was not as lucky; he closed his eyes, heart pounding, but turned over several times. His back ached. He could hear the horses whinny softly as they went to sleep, too. The town was creepily quiet. His head was too heavy and hot. He turned again and let out a grunt of despair, but then he yawned and eventually sleep overtook him.

"Dean, Dean, Dean…"

"Huh?!"

Dean saw the yellow eyes staring at him. There was a voice, too. It was icy.

"Good of you to stop by," it said, amused by something evil no doubt.

Dean flexed his fingers and moved his arms. It felt as if he were awake, though he knew in his heart that he was still asleep in the wagon. He tried to blink his eyes and look away from the yellow ones. A room appeared around him. It was small and made of stone.

"Glad you made it close enough," the creepy voice continued. Dean looked right at it and saw that the yellow eyes had a body now—just a man. He was older, well dressed and sitting back in a chair. A grin sat beneath the glowing yellow eyes.

"Lord Azazel, I presume?"

"Smart kid," said Azazel. He stood up and Dean held his breath. "Relax. You aren't really in my lair. It's just telepathy."

"Just what?"

Azazel sighed. "Guess he's not that smart after all."

"What!"

"Enough."

"What's the point of this?"

"I just wanted to get a good look at you," said the lord. He eyed Dean from top to bottom. "I think, after you come and try to fight me and I obviously win, I'll turn your skin into a rug. What do you think about that?"

Dean tightened his jaw. "I think I'm gonna kick your ass!"

Azazel laughed. He laughed so hard that he had to hold his stomach. "Damn, Dean! You're a regular comedian!"

"A what?!"

"Aah, never mind. Listen. I'll cut you a deal."

"Never," Dean hissed.

"Really? Don't you at least want to hear what it is first?"

"No. Fuck yourself. Get out of my head."

Azazel gave a short sigh. "Suit yourself."

POP!

Dean heard a loud noise in his ears and he shot awake, sweat dripping down his head and his heart racing a mile a minute.

"You okay, man?"

"What! Oh, it's just you. Sorry."

Sam looked at his brother suspiciously. "Bad dream?" he asked.

"Y-yeah, real bad. But don't worry about it. Any idea how long we slept?"

"A full night. I think."

Dean raised his eyebrows. "No kidding?"

"Fog's lighter now so I'd say that sun is coming up."

"Holy crap."

Dean was impressed at how long he was out, but that also made him wonder how long Lord Azazel was in.

"Here."

Sam tossed his brother a small chunk of dried meat. Their rations were starting to run low since there was nothing to hunt or forage anymore. They hadn't addressed their overwhelming anxiety about it.

"Maybe now would be a good time to look through King Ash's supply bag," said Sam.

"Yeah, and we might want to get suited up for whatever might happen next."

"That makes sense."

After eating, the men got out of the wagon and took a few moments to get into their fairy armor. Dean struggled at first but then Sam was able to help, leaving the eldest to wonder how Sam knew about donning armor. Now wasn't the time to worry about such things, though, so he shrugged it off and attached his scabbard to his waist.

"Herbs to send light beacons, remember?" Sam asked Dean, taking out a few small bags. "We should each hold onto some, just in case."

"Sure," said Dean. He took a handful and put them in a pack beneath his armor. Sam lifted the clay urn from their supplies.

"Oil to keep the evil spirits away. Do you suppose there are evil spirits here?"

Dean shrugged. "I don't think anything is alive here. Not even ghosts."

Sam thinned his lips. He wanted to point out how stupid that sounded, but once more, now wasn't the time.

"Let's just be safe," Sam declared. He poured some oil onto his fingers and dabbed it on his neck. Dean did the same. It had a fresh, cool sensation to it but nothing more.

"Excuse me!"

Suddenly, the brothers heard a woman's voice and they both jumped, immediately drawing their weapons and turning towards the source of the sound. There came a lady with shabby clothes and many marks of a hard travel. Her brown hair was messy and full of twigs.

"Who are you!?" Dean shouted, showing his sword.

"Just a hunter," the woman sighed. She had a smooth accent to her voice. "Who are you?"

Dean and Sam exchanged a cautious look.

"Travelers," said Sam. He relaxed the grip on his blade somewhat though Dean remained on the defensive. "What's a hunter doing here?"

"Lord Azazel took the rest of my pack," said the woman, looking hurt. "I was the lucky one, and I'm going to save the rest of my people."

"Damn," said Dean. "I didn't know he kidnapped folks."

"He does everything," the woman continued, walking closer now and speaking in a softer voice as if Azazel could hear. "He's on a mad rampage for all kinds of creatures. You two had better be careful!"

"Well, actually," Dean began, trying to pump himself up to look courageous, "We're going to kill him."

"Kill him?" the woman whispered. "You can't kill him!"

"Sure we can. And I'm gonna."

"But you don't know about…do you…do you know how?"

Dean shrugged. "We'll figure it out."

"Oh, but there's only one way! Do you know?"

"It sounds like you do. What is it?"

The woman cleared her throat. "It's not safe to talk about that here. But if we're both going to find him, we should travel together."

Dean looked over at Sam, who was shaking his head. He didn't need Sam to tell him that it was foolish to trust a stranger in a dangerous land, but it helped to reassure him.

"Sorry," said Dean. "Can't take any risks here."

"But I'm a hunter!"

"Yeah, and?"

The woman folded her arms. "Could I at least follow you? Is there any possibility that I can prove myself to you?"

Dean looked at his brother again. He shrugged.

"Okay, fine," said Dean. He rolled his eyes. "You can follow us. And if you can 'prove yourself' we'll allow you to join us."

"Oh, I will! Don't worry about that." The woman smiled brightly now. She called behind her and a rich, auburn horse came from behind one of the moldy houses. She mounted him and lined up with the wagon. "What are your names, by the way?" she called.

"I'm Dean and this is Sam."

"Nice to meet you two. Call me Bela."

Back in the forest of Arkhmoor, Cas had been struggling to deal with his partner leaving. The angel baby had grown quite fussy since Dean had gone and that did not help the situation.

"Shh, it's okay, please…"

Cas was standing outside of Ruby's house in the middle of the day with the baby in his arms. The infant cried and cried no matter what Cas did. He wouldn't nurse, he wouldn't sleep.

"Hey, Cas, having trouble?"

Meg came up to him with a smile on her face. It wasn't unusual for her and Charlie to spend most of the day at Ruby's house. Everyone had eggs or babies so they could share the burden easily.

"Yes," Cas mumbled, staring at the baby in his arms. "He hasn't stopped. I can barely tolerate it."

"Sorry to hear that," said Meg. "We're lucky that ours are still eggs. Heh heh."

"Mmh."

It was hard for Cas to show any emotions other than exhausted and irritated. There were dark circles beneath his eyes and he hunched slightly around the baby.

"Where are your eggs?" Meg asked.

"Ruby is with them," Cas grouched.

"Ah, lighten up, Cas. Everything's gonna be all right."

Cas sighed. "I don't know. I can't say that for sure."

Meg opened her arms. "Want me to hold him? I'll try."

"Thank you."

He handed the bundle of winged baby over to the alpha female then exhaled in relief. Though he wouldn't take his eyes off of Meg, simply being away from the baby made him feel better.

"It's not that I don't love my baby—I do—but…on top of Dean and everything else, it's almost impossible."

"I get it."

Meg rocked the baby gently, though it did no good. He kept crying and crying. His little face was all scrunched up and bright red. Cas tightened his jaw.

"Isn't there fairy magic for this?"

"Prob'ly," said Meg. "I'll go ask Charlie. Do you want him back?"

"We can go together."

"Sure."

They walked down one of the toe paths in the forest and wound around to the house that Meg and Charlie were building. Right now it was little more than a stack of logs with a roof made of woven reeds. Charlie was sitting in a nest with the eggs in her lap.

"Hi!" she called out when her mate came back. "Oh, Cas' baby? What's wrong?"

Meg and Cas came into the makeshift house with the crying baby. Cas touched a finger to his forehead and rubbed in the hopes of stopping his apparent headache. It did no good.

"Is there anything your folk know about that can help the baby not cry?" Meg asked.

"Er, yeah. Of course. Hold on…"

Charlie stood up carefully and went to a wooden chest they had against one of the walls. She opened one drawer and pawed through several small bags of herbs, then reached into one and rubbed the dried plant between her palms. Meg came closer with the baby.

"Try this," said Charlie. She dabbed her index finger in the crushed herbs then touched it to the center of the baby's forehead. His crying continued momentarily but drastically weakened. He was able to open his eyes and the redness left his skin.

"Oh!" Cas exclaimed, smiling at last. "It really helped!"

Meg gave a chuckle and handed the baby back to his mother, who received him happily. He kissed his face and snuggled him close.

"Don't be afraid to ask, okay?" Meg said, smirking.