Author's/Underhill's Note: Chapter 9, yaaay! First off, thank you reviewers! NamelesslyNightlock, Fulminata, and erinmorgan, it is very much appreciated; you guys rock! I did not understand how awesome reviews were till I started writing this, and now I find myself... craving them... Also, if you catch any discrepancies or have any suggestions, let me know. Now, disclaimers, disclaimers, I own nothing but original plot, I used some dialogue from Swap Meat, disclaimers, disclaimers, disclaimers. Hooray!

Chapter 9

He isn't quite sure what had just happened, how he escaped. A loose chain, a missing bolt, a moment of inattention. Now he's running, red everywhere, fire.

"WINCHESTER!"

He clamps his jaw so tight his teeth ground. He can't afford to scream. There, caves ahead. He just needs to get into the dark, needs to hide.

"WINCHESTER! WHERE ARE YOU? WE'RE NOT DONE PLAYING YET!"

He trips, gets back up, almost to the caves, but something is behind him. God, they're following, what is he going to do if they catch him, he won't go back, can't go back—

"Take my hand." There's a face ahead in the darkness of the caves and a small, delicate palm outstretched to take his. The voice is familiar and accented. It's—

"Take my hand, Dean."

He doesn't think after that. He dives forward to the caves and locks their hands. When he feels her fingers weave through his, he feels, for the first time in six years, almost safe.

January 17, New York City, New York

"I still think my name shoulda been listed first." Dean is being fitted for a suit and he is not happy about it.

"And I still can't believe you gave yourself an alias based off Barbara Steele."

He shrugs. "She was hot. Way hotter than Boris Karloff, that's for sure," he mutters.

Bela rolls her eyes and looks back down at her laptop. She's seated across from where Dean is standing and the tailor is circling him, taking measurements. She smirks when she hears, "Hey, not happening, buddy," and sees Dean bat the man's hand away from his inseam from the corner of her eye.

With one last click she finds what she's looking for. "Aha! Here!" she exclaims, turning the laptop around to face Dean. He squints at the enlarged picture of a goat-man holding a horn aloft and tries not to laugh.

"Get your mind out of the gutter, Dean. It's the Cornucopia. It's the perfect take to show people we're back in the game.

"Okay, so how do we get it?"

"It's being held by a group of witches in Idaho, followers of the demon Achelous."

"Never heard of the guy."

"Because he's ancient; there are arguments as to whether he existed or not in the first place. He was worshipped as a river god in ancient Greece."

"Wow, he had them fooled. A god, really?"

She shrugs. "There were gods for everything then. Every forest, every valley, every river housed a deity. Anyways, supposedly the hero Heracles fought with him and tore off one of his horns." Dean snickers. "Dean, be serious. It's pricey, one of a kind, and relatively harmless. If we get ahold of it we'll be back on the map."

"What does it do?" He winces as a pin 'accidentally' pricks him; he has his suspicions. He's pretty sure the tailor doesn't like him.

"It is supposed to provide 'unending nourishment.' What it really does is supply a never-ending source of Greek wine."

"…we're selling this? Can it make beer?"

"We're selling it. It's worth a fortune."

"Done," the man with the measuring tape says. Dean looks down at himself and grimaces.

"You're seriously going to make me wear this," he says - - not asks because he knows she's serious, he just wishes otherwise.

"Yes," Bela agrees. She looks him up and down, assessing the work; then she grins. "You look smashing."

Dean glances at the bill and chokes. "This costs more than I spend on clothes in a year."

Bela snorts. "This outfit costs more than you've spent on clothes in your life. You're in a serious business now, Winchester. You have to look the part."

"I don't like it."

She pats him on the shoulder comfortingly. "There, there, Dean." She hands the front desk her new credit card.

"You suck."

"Endearments, how sweet. And you love me, darling."

Weird thing is, he does.

In Hell, they'd talked about a lot of things. Dean had explained about the angels and the demons and Yellow Eyes' end game. How Ruby had screwed them over, how Lillith was dead ("I heard") and just how, exactly, he'd broken the first seal.

He didn't - - couldn't - - ask for forgiveness, but she forgave him anyway. That's just Bela.

"When'd you get so nice?" he asks, desperate for something, anything.

She gives him a small smile. "Hell changes people, Dean. You know this. I did a lot of unsavory things to break free and even worse to stay so. In your place, I would have done the same thing - - I was just never given the choice."

Dean's quiet. "You're not so bad, you know?"

"No, I am. You just like me anyway."

Jan 18, Housatonic, Massachusetts

Sam wakes up tied to a chair this time. The two stupid teens are arguing over the body he's wearing and he has to resist the urge to roll his eyes. He's totally screwed, but it doesn't change the fact that this situation is utterly ridiculous.

When the demon inhabits the girl, Sam knows it immediately.

"Don't touch her!"

Trevor reaches out to touch her. "Nora, you okay?" When she turns he recoils.

With black eyes, she responds, "Oh yeah. I'm peachy." She straightens out. "So, what'd you call me here for, skippy? Unless… It's dinnertime?"

"What? I-I n-no. Uh, we have Sam Winchester's body."

Nora suddenly looks interested. "You do? Where?"

"Trevor, keep your mouth shut!"

Nora turns, cocks her head. "Sam? Is that you in there?" She frowns at Trevor. "If that's Sam's soul, kid, where's his meat suit?"

"Uh, it's being inhabited…"

Sam wishes he had his hands free so he could slap the kid upside the head. He still can't believe Gary took off with his body. It's no surprise the kid took off first chance he had; Gary's life was no picnic. The gluten thing alone...

"…By a powerful warlock named Gary."

Nora starts laughing. "Oh, this is going to be fun. Don't you think, Sam?" Seeing Sam's face, she quiets a little, but still looks amused. "Poor, poor Sam. You don't even know, do you?"

"Know what?" Sam wants to keep her talking. If he has a little more time, maybe he can get out of these ties (God, this kid must be an Eagle Scout or something), or give Bobby time to find him.

She tilts her head like she's listening to something. "No dice, Sam. Seems the boss doesn't want you to know. Wants you focused, no distractions. Doesn't matter now, anyway. Once we get that nice body of yours…"

"Uh," Trevor says. "Isn't there a reward?"

Sam doesn't resist rolling his eyes this time. This kid is a moron.