The moldy town that Sam, Dean and now Bela were traveling through ended up being more of a city. Beneath the heavy fog, the rotten houses extended as far as they could see. Streets, alleys and a billion different pathways had once cut between the buildings, but the mold covered all of those roads and the only way that remained was the trodden path their wagon continued on. Even by the time they settled for the evening, there was no end to the village in sight.

Sam and Dean were suspicious of Bela, understandably so. They built a small fire and gave the horses some hay while they made a sad dinner for themselves. Still no sign of game to hunt or vegetation to forage. Dean attempted to stew dried meat with a bit of spices. It smelled bland. He stirred it with a wooden spoon and sighed continuously.

"It's not going to taste any better if you keep acting like that," said Sam, smiling just slightly. He was seating with his legs crossed and hands against the fire. The world had grown quite cold at night.

"Yeah, I know, but…" Dean's eyes fell to Bela, who was sitting a good distance away from them and eating who knows what from a sack. "Should we ask her if she wants to use the fire?"

Sam frowned. "Can we trust her to get that close?"

"Only one way to find out. Watch the stew."

Dean kept his sword handy as he got up and wandered over to the woman. "Hey, do you uh, wanna come sit by the fire with us?"

Bela perked up and stared at Dean, eyes wide and clearly surprised by his offer. "Oh? Really?"

"Yeah, sure. Come on over."

"Thank so very much!"

She picked up her things and followed Dean back, where she then took a seat on the dusty grown and opened her hands to the fire. "Ah, it's nice and warm."

"Yep."

The brothers exchanged a watchful glance, silently telling each other to keep their guards up.

"So, Bela," Sam began, stirring the stew casually, "Do you know how far from Azazel's lair we are?"

"A day or two, I think," she said. Her nostrils flared. "Mm. That smells incredible."

Sam found that hard to believe. It was a crappy stew with hardly any substance to it. Then it occurred to him that she might not have had proper food for a long time. His face softened at the thought.

"Do you want some?"

Bela gasped. "Really?"

Dean let out a small laugh and picked out three bowls from their supplies. "Sure!" he chortled. "We can't save it and there's probably too much. Is it almost done, Sam?"

"Yeah."

A few more stirs and Sam then took great portions of the stew in his spoon and dished it out into the bowls. Dean handed the first one to Bela, who was overly excited to be served.

"My goodness!" she exclaimed. "This is incredible! I am truly grateful for your hospitality."

"Ah, it's nothin'," said Dean. He had his bowl now and casually sat back to sip from it. Unfortunately, it didn't taste as good as Bela made it out to.

"When was the last time you had a warm meal?" Sam asked her now, speaking in a soft voice. He tried to hide his dissatisfaction with the food.

"Weeks," said Bela. She gave a heavy sigh. "I haven't had anything but seeds and grains in the longest time."

"Eat up," said Dean.

"Thank you so much, the two of you men," Bela said with a smile. She slurped down more stew then served herself some more. Sam and Dean were hesitant for seconds. "Don't let me eat it all. You need your strength to face Lord Azazel."

Dean grimaced at the thought. Right…Azazel.

"Bela," he started, shifting uneasily, "Do you think, maybe…do you know anything about—"

He paused in the middle of this sentence as his face froze, staring just over the woman's shoulder. Sam looked at Dean. "What? What is it?"

Dean's eyes, wide and startled, remained fixed. "Don't…know…" he whispered.

There was movement within the mold behind them. It was covering the porch of an old house. Dean could see two figures shuffling about beneath it. Bela snapped her head around to stare at it, and she immediately put her stew down and stood up.

"What is it?" Sam asked again, quite desperate for answers at this point.

"Demons, I think," Bela said.

"Demons?!"

As if summoned by the word, the mold ripped open and two people jumped out. They were dressed in rugged rags and furs, with messy hair and crooked teeth. All in all, they looked like normal people, except their eyes were solid black. They charged the campfire like rabid dogs. Dean jumped up and grabbed his sword, as did Sam. He took a swing at one of the demons as it neared him, but it dodged out of the way. They tried this several more times. The demons moved faster than a human could.

"DAMN IT!" Dean cursed. "HOW DO WE—WHAT DO WE—"

"Zamran qting coronzon!"

Bela's voice was loud and clear. She spoke in an unrecognizable tongue, slapping her palm over one of the demon's faces. It froze in its tracks and suddenly a great cloud of black burst from its mouth, shooting high into the air where it quickly disappeared into the thick fog above them. Sam and Dean stopped. Bela knew what she was doing.

"Zamran qting coronzon!"

Again, with the second demon, she repeated her actions and another black cloud went into the sky. She then sat down, exhausted.

"What the hell just happened?" Dean asked, putting his sword away. He went to Bela's side. "You okay?"

"I'm quite fine, thank you," said Bela. She gave Dean a small smile. "And those were demons. Servants of Azazel. You won't be able to kill them with any ordinary blade, but that spell takes care of them."

Dean looked over his shoulder at Sam and nodded. His brother returned the gesture.

"Maybe we misjudged you," said Dean. "You definitely know what you're doing here. If we hadn't found you, we might be dead. You don't have to tail behind us anymore. Why don't you join our wagon?"

Bela smirked. "A kind and great honor," she said. "It's much appreciated."

So Bela joined the men in their wagon. She tied her horse to the front and put her belongings in the back, setting up a nest for herself with a few blankets. The encounter with the demons certainly changed Sam and Dean's perspective on the journey, especially Dean. Now, as night fell, he was scared to sleep. They were so close to Azazel's lair. What sort of visions or dreams could he have now?

"What's the matter, Dean?" Bela asked. Sam was steering the wagon alone while Dean originally intended to get sleep, but his running mind was making it impossible.

"It's just…this whole thing is finally going to happen. I'm gonna face Azazel. It's kinda freaking me out. Can't sleep."

"Oh, I understand," said Bela. "You know, I have something that will help you fall asleep. Would you like to try it?"

Dean narrowed his eyes. "What, like an herb?"

"Mm. Exactly." She fumbled into her supply bag and brought out a small leather pouch. "It's safe. Do you want to try?"

"I'm pretty desperate at this point. Sure."

Bela smiled bigger and took a pinch of powder from the bag. It was so fine that Dean could barely even see it. "Here, Dean, come here."

He leaned over to her hand, and she thrust the powder up his nose. It immediately choked him and he coughed loudly. "D-Damn! What the he-ell is thi-is?!" But before he could really get an idea of what was happening, he fell backwards into the blankets, fast asleep.

"Excellent," Bela whispered to herself. She stood up and walked through the wagon until she reached the front, where she grabbed another, bigger pinch of powder and slowly went behind Sam. Careful to stay quiet, she waited for the perfect moment to thrust her arms around him and toss the powder into his face.

"WHAA!"

Sam gasped, startling at first, but then he passed out. The horses kept going and Bela grabbed the reigns. "Sleep for now," she whispered.

"Uhh…"

Sam's head was pounding. His lips were dry. His body was cold. The wagon was gone and he was resting on his back upon a stone floor. Sitting up and looking around, the room was too dark to see any details.

"Hello?"

His voice barely travelled, so it must have been fairly small. He got on his hands and knees and crawled the perimeter. Yes, it was indeed a small room. The walls were also stone, just as cold and lonely as the floor. He used one to stand up and was glad that the ceiling was high enough that he could.

"Hello?" he called again. "Dean? Bela?"

Thinking fast, he deduced that if he had somehow gotten into the room, then it was certainly possible to get out. He began searching for a door. None of the four walls provided any sort of distinguishing feature, so tried reaching up to the ceiling. Lucky for him, he was a very tall man and his arms were just barely long enough to touch the overhead stone. He started in one corner and, keeping his arms high, slowly scanned along the ceiling for any changes.

When he reached what felt like the center, he found a few small bumps. Standing on his toes, he could push them in. The bumps could not have been stone. He wasn't sure how they were there, but they were somewhat soft and could be pressed. This made a clicking sound.

"Oh?"

Then came a strange, low grinding noise, like rock being slid over another. He froze, hoping that nothing was going to crush him. Instead, a slot of light appeared right above him and gradually got longer and longer. A door overhead was opening. Since he had been in the dark for some time now, it was incredibly blinding. Either way, he jumped up, grabbed the ledge and pulled himself out.

Once his eyes adjusted, he found himself in a long hallway. Torches here and there kept it lit. He was able to close the door behind him by dragging it in place, then he set off in one direction to find some answers.

As he walked, he realized that there were more variations in the stone floor just like the door he had crawled out of. He wondered if others were trapped down there. Maybe Dean? The circumstances were so mysterious that he couldn't leave without checking.

There were five stone doors. Four were empty, including his own, but when he reached the last one, a voice called out.

"H-Hello…?"

It was faint and weak, like an elderly woman. Sam looked down into the cell but couldn't see very well. He took one of the torches from the wall and shone the light into it.

"Aah!"

The voice cried out when the light entered the cell, but it was good for Sam since he could see where they were. She was an old, starving woman huddled in one corner.

"Who are you?" Sam called down.

"I don't know anymore…"

Sam decided to jump down there. She cowered more from the light.

"Wh-who are you?" she asked.

"My name is Sam. I don't know where I am or how I got here. Do you know?"

"Lord Azazel's lair," the woman explained, shaking. Her head turned to Sam weakly and he saw that her eyes were mostly blind. "He keeps prisoners here sometimes, but…for me? It has been most of my life."

"Then let's get you out of here."

"No, no!"

"What? Why not?"

"My legs won't work anymore."

"I'll carry you."

"Where will you take me?"

"I don't know," Sam sighed. "Where do you need to go? Where are you from?"

"I can't remember anymore. It has been too long."

Sam's heart was breaking. It seemed there was little he could do.

"My good man," the woman said now, showing a small smile, "Please do not worry. I have been rotting down here for a long time. It's comfort enough that someone has tried."

"I…but, still."

"No, please do not worry," she reassured him. "Are you here to destroy Azazel?"

"My brother, but I don't know where he is now."

"Then…then you can find the dark lord, I am sure. You know, there is but one way to destroy him."

"We were actually wondering about that," Sam said, speaking softer now as if someone might overhear.

"There is a mirror hidden in his chambers. He won't want anyone to find it, but…that mirror has the ability to send him back to the dimension that he came from."

Sam's eyes widened. "The what?"

"The dimension that he came from."

"How do you know all of this?"

The old woman coughed. "I have been here long enough to hear small pieces of information…but go, now. Time is of the essence. Do not worry of me."

Sam hesitated. He couldn't stand the idea of leaving a sick, old woman to die alone, but he had no other choice. If Dean was around anywhere, he would have to be found and be told about the mirror!

Sam climbed out of the cell, slid the door shut and went on his way. He left the torch in the hall so he wouldn't be seen as well.

Outside of the initial chamber, Sam found himself in a stairwell. It was darker than dark with no torches to see, but he groped around and managed to ascend the stairs. How would he find the dark lord? How would he find Dean? There was certainly a way, he just had to figure it out.

Another lucky streak, as the stairs took him to a high floor. There were windows. He looked out of one and saw nothing but fog, but there was enough light that he could see the rooms around him. He was standing in another hall. It was lined with open windows and a chill breeze blew across the floor. At the end of the hallway stood the only exit; double doors that nearly called out to him. He approached with caution. The closer he got, he could hear voices. Dean's voice!

"This was a fuckin' set up!" his brother cursed from within. "All of it was a damned trap!"

Was it the best tactic to go straight through the doors? Dean was in trouble, no doubt, but Sam might want a stealthier way of getting in. He took a deep breath and looked out the last window, closest to the doors. He could see that the room beyond the doors must have been round, since the wall arched out and ran close to the window. There was a ledge along it, too, with windows that went into the room where Dean now was.

"I can't believe I'm going to do this," Sam thought. He swallowed all of his fear and, ever so carefully, hopped onto the windowsill. He then leaned over and grabbed a hold of the ledge. He had to use all of his upper body strength to pull himself up, but thankfully he was able to keep his feet on the first window. The fog masked how far of a fall he would have if he slipped, and he had a feeling that he wouldn't survive it.

Once he pulled up onto the ledge, he was able to get inside the next window. He feared that it might go straight into the heart of danger, but he got lucky—again—and was in a tiny, vacant chamber. It was dark except for the light from the window.

There was a thin door on the opposite wall, cluttered by many crates and bins of all sorts of crap. Sam stepped around it carefully. Stacks of paintings were propped up against the walls. This seemed to be a storing room. Sure to make no sound, Sam looked around and investigated everything he could. There was one sole painting up against the wall, and it visually stuck out at him, so he went over to it and moved it to the side. Surprise, surprise, yet another door was behind it. Taking the risk, he opened it and pressed on through.

This room was bizarre. One side was a wall and the other was a curtain. The room was quite narrow. Sam walked down it carefully. The curtain was a little taller than him. "What could this be?" he thought to himself. Then, halfway through the room, he figured it out.

Against the wall was a mirror.

"You son of a bitch!"

Dean's voice yelled again. Sam must have been inside the main room, only behind the curtain. He wondered what that big room looked like.

"Very clever, Dean. Very clever." It was Azazel's voice. Though Sam didn't recognize it, he could assume.

"He thinks he's smart."

Sam froze. A tingling sensation went up his spine. That was Bela's voice. They had been tricked!

"Yeah, well, joke's on you, buddy!" Dean called out now. "'Cause I know your secret and I'll kick your ass!"

"My secret?" Azazel laughed. "What secret?"

"This!"

There was a slapping sound, and Dean yelled, "Zamran qting coronzon!"

Then it all fell quiet. Sam tried to focus on the mirror and not the conversation outside. He ran his fingers along the golden frame, wondering if there was a trick to open the dimension.

"WAAAHAAHAH!" Azazel's laughter filled the room, piercing Sam's ears. "You fucking idiot! That doesn't kill demons, it just exorcizes them! And you can't exorcize me, you moron!"

Then, the sound of physical combat. Dean grunted and groaned as swords clinked. There were thuds and thumps, clatters and shatters. Then a loud smash and Dean cried out in agony. Sam couldn't bare it anymore. He had to jump in!

He leaped through the curtain and straight into the main room. It was cold and small, with a nasty-looking throne on one side. Bela stood next to it, but Azazel was on the other side, near the doors. Dean was on the floor, bleeding from the face.

"STOP!" Sam called out. Both Bela and Azazel turned immediately, completely shocked by the brother's appearance.

"What?!" Bela gasped. "How!"

"I thought you locked him away," Azazel hissed to Bela.

"I did!"

Sam folded his arms. "You did," He said, smirking, "But you forgot how tall I am."

"Blast!"

Azazel shook his head. "Don't worry, this is easily solved." He picked up Dean's sword, which had fallen to the floor, and suddenly charged Sam with it.

"Heeey!" Sam yelled. He dashed out of the way, but also closer to where the mirror was behind the curtain.

"Oh, clever boy!" Azazel taunted. "Don't worry, I can keep this up all day!"

He charged again and Sam ducked. Azazel swung and he dodged. They played like this for a few minutes, all the while Dean watched in great agony. But then, just as they were lining up with the mirror, Azazel swung the sword and managed to get a hit. He jabbed Sam in the side.

"SAM!" Dean called out.

Sam sputtered. He fell to his knees.

"Easy," said Azazel. "Too easy."

"SAM!"

Through his pain, he managed to get up and run to Azazel. Fire burned in his eyes.

"NOT MY BROTHER!" he yelled.

He pushed Azazel so hard that the opening in the curtains parted and he went right for the mirror. Instead of hitting the glass, he was swallowed up. A vacuum was suddenly created and Dean, too, was pulled in. He was able to grab Sam's arm and drag him into the suction, too.