Author's/Underhill's Note: Oh. Dear. God. Sorry this took me so long to write! I've been exhausted the past week and sleeping either too little or too much. A coworker is taking time off and I'm pretty much covering her work in addition to mine and a few other projects that have gotten thrown at me. And Christmas decorations are out in retail stores, guys. Christmas decorations. If the store starts playing holiday music soon, I might have to flee the country. But anyways... Disclaimers, disclaimers, I don't own any of Supernatural except the original plot in this story, also I've been using bits and pieces of episode script from time to time in the flashbacks. Also: THANK YOU reviewers! And man, I wish O'Hara's was The Roadhouse too. I miss that bar and I miss Jo and Ellen. Sometimes I want to smack the writers for killing them off because man! Jo was awesome! ...I digress. So, this is chapter 17 and I haven't had much of a chance to go through it so it might be kind of... well I hope it doesn't suck. Good god I'm rambling and so tired and why am I so tired? I'm... gonna go sleep. After I write a little more of chapter 18. Yes. Yes, sleep. Sleeeeepzzzzzzzzz.

Castiel can understand Dean's reticence at killing the boy Jesse, but the angel knows what needs to be done. Jesse is a danger to all those around him, and Castiel can't let him live.

"What is going on in this town, it's what happens when this thing is happy. You cannot imagine what it will do if it's angry."

At their disbelieving looks, Castiel wants to shake them. He wants to grab hold of them and zap them back to Sioux Falls where they'll be safe., far far away from this child. He needs to kill the antichrist before it hurts De - - the Winchesters. Before it hurts the brothers, both of them.

He listens to Sam's half-baked plan and barely resists slapping him. Sam is making this, somehow, all about Sam. The younger Hunter thinks if he can somehow save this child, he can redeem himself, but that's not the way this works. Castiel wants to tell Sam to stop being selfish, but it won't make a difference.

"…And I can't take that chance."

Castiel will take care of this himself.

February 12, 5 PM, Montana

"What the hell are we going to do?"

Bela spoons some more sugar into her tea. "Relax, Dean. It'll be fine."

"We're not actually going to kill him. …Right?" Bela takes a sip of her mug. "Bela, right?"

She rolls her eyes. "Of course not. I'm a negotiator. We'll work something out."

Dean gives her a bemused look. "Bels. This is a Hunter. They don't negotiate."

"You never know. Some of them are reasonable." Dean gives her a look. "Okay, they rarely are. But we can do what you do best."

"…Drink?"

"Lie."

"Oh, that. Yeah, that I can do."

They're back in the diner from earlier, and Dean's a jittery mess - - has been for hours. The Hunter may not be Sam, but it's a HUNTER, and they're all part of a network. Bela can see his brain whirring with all kinds of worst case scenarios and drags his coffee away from him. Dean makes a face and tries to grab it back, but Bela says, "No more caffeine, Dean. I'm cutting you off."

"Bels, I stopped drinking for you. I'm not giving up coffee." It's true, he hasn't had more than a handful of drinks since they've gotten topside.

Bela reaches across the table to pat his hand, but still keeps the mug. "Darling, don't worry. He won't recognize you."

"You don't know that. I'm pretty awesome. He might've heard of me."

"Dean."

"…I jump started the Apocalypse. He's GOT to have heard of me. Plus, the awesome thing."

"Yes, I'm sure he's got your countenance engraved on his personal effects and prays to the Great Dean Winchester every night before he goes to bed, all because of the whole 'awesome thing.'"

"See? Totally true."

She sighs. "You'll be fine. You can stand behind me."

"Yeah, whatever. Real question is: how do we find the guy?"

"Maybe," a voice says from over Dean's shoulder, "he'll find you."

It takes Bela a moment to place the man who slides into the booth across from them (Bela and Dean are sitting on one side of the table in the back corner to watch the windows and entrance). The Hunter is tall, with pale skin and deep lines on his face, though he's clearly only in his twenties. He's clean shaven and almost handsome and Bela is sure she would remember him, but she's drawing a blank. Then she blinks.

It's the red hair and freckles that confirm it for her. "Hamish!" Bela says, clearly surprised. "I thought you died in Boston."

"No such luck," Hamish says. He looks anything but pleased to see her. "I'm alive." Bela hears a pistol cock and knows the man is holding a gun on her under the table. "And kicking."

"Bels, what did you do to this guy?" Dean asks. He manages to keep the exasperation out of his tone. Here he was thinking HIS past was going to get them in trouble.

"Well…"

"She left me in a den of vampires."

"They were friendly vampires," she protests.

"FRIENDLY?" the man whisper-yells. "There is no such thing as a FRIENDLY vampire!"

"They let you go, didn't they?"

"I escaped."

Bela leans over to Dean. "They let him go," she says in an undertone, as if imparting some piece of valuable wisdom, and Dean snorts.

The Hunter pounds his fist on the table and Dean and Bela snap back to attention.

"Now ya know how I'm alive," Hamish says. "How 'bout you Bela? Ain't you supposed ta be in Hell?" He asks like he's laughing at her, and Dean growls. Bela takes it calmly though.

She inspects her nails. Unconcerned: "I had some help from Below."

Dean snorts at her ambiguity and Bela kicks him under the table. Hamish seems to misinterpret this by the narrowed eyes he shoots in Dean's direction.

"Consorting with demons, Bela?" he accuses. "Wouldn'ta thought even you would steep so low."

Bela almost chokes on a laugh bubbling up inside her. How did the man jump from Dean being a fellow escapee to a demon? Hunters, she swears.

"So, why're you here, Hell-bitch?" Hamish asks, and besides her Dean snarls again. Bela grabs his elbow and pulls him back into his seat before he's even halfway up.

"Calm, D - -" She cuts herself off and Dean freezes. They'd never discussed what his first name would be. How had they never discussed what his fake first name would be?

Hamish shoots a suspicious look between them. "Are you going to introduce me to your partner?"

"Steele," Bela says at the same time Dean says, "Barton." Bela settles on: "Barton Steele. He's my…"

"Business partner and body guard."

"Yes, business partner, body guard." As soon as Hamish turns to flag a waitress, Bela mouths, 'Barton? Really?' Dean shrugs. 'It's a real name, right? …Right?!. Bela sighs and turns back to see Hamish order a coffee. When the waitress walks off, Hamish continues.

"Sure. He's your demon business partner. Right," Hamish says, obviously not believing that's the half of it. Dean squeezes her hand under the table and she calms. Dean's not angry. He's not judging her. In fact, she can feels waves of, 'The guy's a douche and I woulda left him to die too,' emanating from him. She coughs delicately to cover a laugh.

"Now, I'll ask ya again: what on God's green earth are ya doing here?"

"Enjoying the scenery. Taking in the sights. Doing a little business. The usual. How about you, Hamish?" she asks. "Doing a little business in the area yourself?"

"I've made a few friends, yeah." Hamish's grin makes Bela's stomach turn. Dear God, this guy is just as mad as he was in Boston.

"Would any of them happen to be skin walkers?"

"You always were quick, Bela. But what's it to you?"

"They something I want," she tells Hamish. "And they won't give it to me unless I assure that you've left the area…"

"I will."

"…with them still alive."

"Ah. Well, that I can't promise."

"Why are you even after them?" Dean asks. "Hell, how did you even find them? There's nothing in the papers or the news about freaky deaths besides what looks like your damage."

"I've been following 'em. Happened upon 'em by chance. Saw one shift while I was on a job a few towns over and I followed them here."

"So they haven't actually killed anyone?" Dean asks. "Why get involved when they aren't even causing trouble?"

Hamish shrugs. "They're monsters. They'll kill eventually."

Years ago, before his last decade in Hell, Dean would have agreed with him. Dean had a hatred for all things supernatural drilled into him since he was four years old by his dad. If it wasn't human, it was a monster, if it was a monster you killed it. Bela knows this, but she also knows that that hatred? It doesn't burn in Dean anymore. It's hard to hate after…

It's just hard to hate.

"Hamish, listen to me," Bela says. This isn't about the fetish anymore. Okay, it's a bit about the fetish, but now it's more that this Hunter is about to kill innocents, and while that doesn't sit well with Bela she knows it will sit even worse with Dean. Deans a Winchester and a do-gooder, a horrible self-sacrificing mix that Bela wishes she could smack out of him sometimes, but endears him to her all the same. "You don't need to kill these people - -"

"- - Monsters. And when did ya get so warm an' cuddly?"

"Since you're about to kill people - -" She stresses the word. "- - that have done nothing wrong. Plus," she adds, because she has to, "if you kill them I'll never get what I came for. If you let them live, we could pay you."

Hamish snorts. "I don't need your money."

"Fifty thousand dollars, Hamish. That's not a sum to laugh about."

Hamish looks thoughtful. Bela holds her breath. "I'll think about it," he says, and gets up, discreetly pocketing his gun. "I'll give it a day or two and let you know."

His coffee arrives but Hamish is already walking away.

"Well."

"Yeah," Dean agrees.

"At least we won't have to kill him?"

"…You probably could have gotten him with twenty five."

"Darling, shut it," Bela says, patting his shoulder fondly. She does so because she's worried. There's something wrong with how quickly Hamish gave up. She has a bad feeling that this isn't over, and that it will cost much more than fifty thousand. With Hamish? This could end in blood or fire.

February 12, 8 PM, a highway near Pennsylvania

Sam's been driving non-stop for hours. He's going too fast, the windows are down, and he's got Dean's music blaring from the speakers. He'll be in Pennsylvania sometime tomorrow night.

Sam is not doing alright.

He can practically hear Dean, as if he were in the front seat with him, saying, "Sammy, if you're listening to my music instead of that girly crap you like? Well, I'm worried about you, man."

"Shut up, Dean," he mutters, and great, he thinks, now he's talking to himself.

God, I really need a drink.

Adam's in Hell for approximately five minutes - - five fucking horrible minutes - - before he's zapped away. Where he ends up… Well, it's not Hell, but it's not Heaven either. It's an empty room with green walls.

"You're welcome, by the way."

Adam jumps. "Who is that?" he asks. "Zachariah?"

"Man, fuck that guy," the Voice says. "He's a dick. I'm your one and only savior. Call me L."

Adam is beyond being surprised by anything at this point; he simply accepts the situation and moves on. Anonymous, disembodied voice? Okay, he's on board.

"Alright, 'L'," Adam says only a little sarcastically. "Where am I? Because last I checked this 'angel of the Lord' called Zachariah yanked me out of Heaven and…" Adam gulps before finishing the sentence. "… and took me to what I'm pretty sure was Hell."

"It was," L confirms. "Sorry it took me so long to get you." Even though it was five minutes, five minutes in Hell is too long for any mortal soul.

Adam takes a few steps further into the room. "Where are we anyway?" he asks, non-subtely changing the subject.

"It's a safe room," L says. "It belongs to my brothers. It's not in use right now, so you should be safe. For the time being."

"That's reassuring."

"Hey, I'm not hearing much in the way of gratitude from you, kiddo. I just ripped myself from my vessel to drag you from the Pit. They had you under pretty tight guard."

"Why?"

"You're a Winchester, kid, so you better stop asking stupid questions like 'why'." L doesn't sound sorry for him; Adam gets the feeling the Voice has seen a lot worse.

"So why'd you save me if it nearly killed you?" Adam asked.

L is quiet for a few minutes, and Adam starts to think he's left. Until: "I owed your brother a favor."

Adam makes a face. "Brothers. Right." The ghouls had told him all about them.

"Hey, take it easy. The moron duo didn't even know you existed until you were dead, and when they heard about you they went charging half-cocked in your direction. Nearly got eaten by the things that got you."

Adam shudders. He doesn't like thinking about those last few hours.

"But anyway, I owed Dean a favor. And you? You're far too valuable a chess piece to leave lying on the board anyway. Angels and demons are gonna be looking for you, kid. I'm here to make sure that doesn't happen."

"So I don't have a say in this at all, do I?" Adam asks.

"Nope," L says cheerfully. "Not at all."