"Sam, I swear, his eyes were black. He went with that guy - Crowley. He came back." Sam crossed his arms, pacing around Dean's room with her following in his wake.

"It makes sense. The Mark brought him back. He's been fighting it for so long, but maybe that's what saved him."

"Well we have to get Dean back. We get him back and we figure out how to get rid of the demon. It's not going to be a normal exorcism, that's for sure. The Mark is too strong for that," she thought aloud. "We need to track him down, and I… I'll try to summon Crowley and get an answer from him. If anyone knows how to get rid of the demon, it ought to be the King of Hell, right?"

"How many times have you tried to call him?"

"Like seven. He's not going to answer. I'll keep trying while you're on the road, but there's got to be some way we can… I'll see if I can manage a tracking spell. I've never tried one, but it wouldn't hurt. You can try to ping his phone. But we need to find him and bring him home."

Sam agreed, telling her to be careful while he was out. "If Dean comes back, do whatever you can to lock him up. You might want to call some of the other hunters - the ones we can really trust - and get an APB out on him. I don't want everyone knowing just yet," he told her as she followed him to his own room and watched him begin to pack. "If we could get a few good sets of eyes out there, it might help."

Leaving in a hurry, Sam took off for town. He'd start by scouring Lebanon to see if Dean was nearby, and then start hunting down leads. Grace made a few phone calls as she pulled books from the library. Jody Mills, one of her favorite hunters, promised she'd have officers out looking too.

It was dark when Grace sat down with her books and all of her materials. Summoning Crowley was one thing. He didn't have to show up if he didn't want to. But the spell she was working on would force him to appear, and if he didn't, it would allow her to speak to him no matter where he was. Before she started, she tried Dean's phone one last time. "Please leave a message at the -" The recording was cut off, Dean clearing his throat before he spoke.

"Gracie, don't come after me. I don't want to hurt you. I've been fighting it all day, but I need blood. If you or Sam or Cas or whoever comes after me, I'm gonna have a real tough time not slitting your throat. I'll stay out of the bunker, but you need to stay away from me." He spoke quickly, not letting her get a word in. "Don't come after me, Gracie."

"Dean, let us help you."

"I'm beyond helping. Just stay away from me. I don't want to hurt you." The line went dead, Grace left to stare at the materials she had assembled before her.

One fresh bone (from the chicken she'd cooked a few days before). Sprig of mint. A bat wing (courtesy of the Men of Letters' collection). Blood. You need blood. Double-checking the warding on the doors, she began. She ground everything together, slicing her finger open and adding a couple of drops of blood. "Ostende mihi domus atque in latebras daemonium absconsionem."

She closed her eyes, waiting. Something felt off. The room was spinning. Opening her eyes to be sure she got the wording right, Grace saw nothing. The entire bunker had turned pitch black, and she still felt like she was spinning. Seconds later she appeared in a dark room, one that looked a lot more like a traditional dungeon than the one they had in the bunker. It was eerily silent, light streaming in from barred windows her only indicator that it was daytime wherever she was. Clearly this wasn't supposed to happen.

Checking her pockets, Grace realized she had nothing but her phone on her. Sure enough, there was no cell reception. So much for that. So she started walking, down the hall and past massive gargoyles and pillars of marble. Screams carried down the hall from several offshoots, all of which she avoided. As she rounded the corner, a woman stood in front of her, almost dropping a pile of papers. "Oh, sorry." She was about to scurry away when Grace stopped her.

"Excuse me, but where am I?"

"You must not be from this department! I got lost when I first got through training too. They didn't give you a map? Well, Crowley's had so many additions built onto this place that it's hardly the Hell I used to know," the woman laughed. "Anyway, you're in Soul Registry. Down that way is the Hall of Alastair, the torture chambers. Looks like you just came through the throne room. If you take a right up that way," she gestured with her chin, trying not to drop the stack of files she was carrying, "you'll get to the elevator. Go up for Transfers, Crossroads Assignments, Artifact registry, and topside stuff in general. Go down if you need Hellhound Services or HR, not that they do anything. Just don't go too far down."

"What's too far down?"

"The black buttons. Some of them are closed-off chambers, some of them are unused tunnels to get topside, and some of them are rooms we don't go in. Like, Lucifer kind of rooms," she whispered. "I'm Bereth, by the way. Chief Records Clerk in Soul Registry. If you need anything, just find me. I know orientation didn't help me much, so I asked a lot of people a lot of questions."

"Thanks," Grace smiled. "Uh, I've got to get going if I want to get enough done today. I'm sure I'll see you later. I'm in Transfers, so we deal with you guys a lot."

Bereth smiled, saying, "Great! I'll see you around."

Grace took off for the elevator, finally exhaling when she got inside. That spell didn't take Hell to me. It took me to Hell. Well shit. How does a human get out of Hell? And how do I blend in? Bereth's busy, she would've noticed something was off if I stayed for too long. No cell service, and I don't know anyone down here. Shit. A couple of other demons got into the elevator, Grace practically gluing herself to the wall and letting them get off before she did. Not paying any attention, she stepped out onto a random floor.

It was even quieter here, if that was possible. The sunlight - hellfire light? - was gone, replaced by a dark blue glow that seemed to emanate from everywhere. More than anything, Grace wished she had a map with her. Well, there were only a few doors to choose from. The one at the hallway was made of onyx, a solid stone slab that looked foreboding at best. Another one, an old wooden door, seemed to be calling her. As she got closer, she realized that it was literally calling to her.

You look lost, dear.

"Who are you?" There was no real voice there, some sort of disembodied sound coming from the door.

I can get you out of here.

"Who are you?" Grace repeated her question.

I need a body. You need a way out. They'll kill you if they see a human walking through Hell. They'll make you wish they had just killed you. Humans don't just break in, little witch. Oh, you've got some powers on you, but you don't know how to use them. I was a witch once too. I ended up here, and they tortured me until I tortured someone else.

Standing in front of the door now, Grace hesitantly reached out. The hinges creaked as she opened it, stepping inside an empty room. The walls glowed red with energy, pulsing and writhing like they were made of blood. "What's your name?"

Miczael. The Warrioress of Hell. They don't let me out unless they have a big problem on their hands. I command the armies of Hell when they really need commanding. Not just a phalanx of demons, the whole damn thing. My old vessel, she was destroyed in the Crusades. I was just trying to hide out, enjoy my time on Earth. They hadn't needed me for millennia. No big battles like we used to have. Sure, I'd get summoned by some king who needed demon help in battle, and I'd help him, but nothing fantastic. We'd get his soul when he was killed, though. You know MacBeth? He was the last big one to make a deal. There were some people I just refused to deal with, like the Thule. Anyway, I need a vessel, and you need to get topside before you get discovered.

"Why do you need to get out?" Grace asked, trying to figure out where the voice was coming from. It felt like she was in a surround-sound movie theater. It came from all sides, keeping her spinning.

Oh, I want to stretch my legs. Walk the Earth a bit. It's no fun being stuck down here with Lucy for hundreds of years.

"Lucy?"

Lucifer. His cage is down the hall. We talk sometimes, but I miss the outside world. He's not allowed to leave, but I am. My vessels just keep breaking down. At first I thought it was from battle, but apparently being Crowley's right-hand woman makes me too powerful for most vessels.

"How do I know you won't disintegrate me too?"

Bridget Bishop. Your great-something grandma? She was my friend. They hanged her. Sge was the first one of them, a powerful witch. She would've been a good vessel. I was a witch too, a long time ago. Not as wise as she was, and that's what landed me here. We've both got magical blood. And you, you're meant for big things. It's like a blood transfusion. Sometimes you've got demons and vessels who are the same blood type, and they transfer just fine, The human can wield their power. But sometimes, very rarely, there's the perfect vessel, just like angels have their perfect vessels. You're a perfect vessel.

"And how do I know you're not lying to get out of here?"

You don't. But I can get you out, and that's what you want, isn't it?

Grace thought it over, backtracking a bit. "You said you were Crowley's right-hand woman. That means he listens to you, and you know how to find him."

Occasionally. Mostly it means I can command an army of demons.

"Could you use your power to tell every demon on Earth to look out for one person?"

It's possible. Do you need to hunt someone down?

"Kind of. I'm missing a demon."

Ooh, curious.

"Yeah. I need to find him. It's kind of important. Now if I say yes, you'll let me drive? No taking over," Grace outlined, feeling foolish as she spoke to the wall. "You help me. If Crowley needs us to lead a real army, then we can talk, but until then, I'm in control. If you try anything, I kill us both. If perfect vessels are really that rare, then I know you won't be able to survive long if anything happens to me."

You're serious about him, then.

"I never said -"

I'm a demon and I'm a witch. It's not a stretch to think I can read minds.

"Well?"

You're in charge.

"Then yes."

The walls glowed, turning black as a trail of red smoke hit her. Grace dropped to her knees, desperately trying to catch her breath. It felt like inhaling cotton, like her lungs were filled with water, like she was drowning. And then she was fine. She stood, uniquely aware of the power that coursed through her veins. Instinctively, she knew how to get out. There was no voice in her head driving her, just a little nudge telling ehr where to go.

As she stood in the elevator, a young-looking demon gave her a strange look. "What is it?"

"Ma'am?" he asked, his voice trembling. "What's going on? You don't leave your room unless… should I be worried? Is there going to be a demon draft again? We haven't had one of those since, since forever ago."

"No. I'm on a special assignment. You shouldn't worry just yet." Grace's voice was hardly her own as Miczael told the demon what he needed to hear. "Now, if I were you, I wouldn't mention seeing me at all. It might worry the others. And I haven't had the chance to smite anyone since 1450, so I'd avoid becoming my first kill in a while."

He nodded, scurrying out of the elevator as soon as they reached his floor. Grace stood silently until they reached one of the tunnels, Miczael guiding her out into the sunlight. Somehow, she knew to snap her fingers and end up back at the bunker. Thinking the warding would be a problem, Grace hesitated, but then she realized that something as powerful as the demon she was carrying wouldn't be stopped with the measures they had taken. If Crowley could make it past the warding, so could she.

Sitting in the bunker, she tried to flex her new powers. Along with the demon came some of the magic that Miczael had been able to do, so all Grace had to do was snap her fingers, a bottle of water flying in from the kitchen. "That's cool."

So you're home. Who are we finding?

"Dean. He's turned into a demon, and I need to find him."

Winchester? He was one of Alastair's favorites. I was his favorite student, of course, but I'd graduated long before he showed up. The things that man could do with a knife… exquisite.

"What happened to you knowing how to hunt down a demon?"

You ready? Snap your fingers and I can take you to him.

Grace stood, taking a deep breath. She looked around the room, slowly lifting her hand and getting ready to be zapped somewhere else. She ended up standing in the middle of a seedy hotel room. Empty beer bottles were everywhere, takeout containers littering the dresser. Someone was singing in the shower, the tune carrying out to her despite the TV blaring in the background. "I was made for lovin' you, baby... " It stopped suddenly as the man wondered, "Why do I know that?"

The shower turned off, Grace busy looking through the contents of the nightstand. Phone, keys, wallet. Wallet. She flipped it open, finding a series of fake IDs, all of them Dean's. Miczael had taken her to the right place after all. She sent a quick text to Sam, telling him she had a lead and sharing her location with him as Dean walked out of the bathroom in a cloud of steam.

He stopped dead, looking her up and down. "You're not supposed to be here," he said defensively, wrapping his towel tighter around his waist. "Sam's been looking everywhere for you. You've been missing for months. Hell, he even called me."

"Months?" Grace blinked, her eyes flickering black. Miczael's voice came through when she spoke. "Grace isn't home right now. Try again."

Dean's eyes turned black as he approached her. "What did she do?" he grinned, reaching out for the demon in front of him. Grace felt Miczael retreating in her head, letting her drive again. Her eyes stayed black, but the demon was honoring her deal. "That's kind of hot, though." He pulled her in for a rough kiss, pushing Grace back on the bed. "I've been all over the States, but I missed you the most. I dreamed about this a lot, pinning you down and -"

"Dean -"

He blinked, his eyes back to their normal color. She could tell the sliver of his soul that was left was fighting for control. "Grace, whatever you did, we can fix it. Just run."

"Dean -"

"Run."

She didn't need to be told again. Jumping up, she vaulted over a case of beer and dashed into the hallway. She was sitting in the lobby when Sam got there, her eyes back to normal. "I don't know how you did it, but thank you. Let's go get my brother."