Stolas had taken Dean deep into the annals of the factory set-up. Dean really was -- inconsequential to the whole thing. The point of the matter was that Stolas wanted to test a new toy. It had taken him some time and effort to come up with, but he'd done it, and all he needed was the right bait to make sure that it worked. And, boy was it a masterpiece.

Dean smacked against the cement wall of the room and cried out as he felt a rib crack. He wasn't sure how long he'd been in there, but it had been enough for Stolas to beat him up pretty well. The room had some kind of enchantment on it, and any abilities he would have had to defend himself were gone. He was practically human again, and he really, really didn't like that feeling. But there wasn't much he could do about it, and while he had done his best to fight back in the beginning -- he still had all those years of practice and training at his disposal -- Stolas had worn him out relatively quickly. He had the practice, but he was out of it.

The room seemed fairly normal-looking, aside from four lines across the front of the door: salt for demons, your basic white line for a trap for a reaper, goofer dust for hellhounds, and one mixture that was a bit of something new, intended to ward against human with a little demon in the cocktail. He had the bait, he had the trap -- now he just had to see if it worked.