Chapter 12 – Someone stole the starlight

Candlemass – Witches

"May I just address the elephant in the room… or rather car?" Alla spoke up a little after they had crossed the Kansas border, unable to keep her thoughts to herself anymore.

They'd been quiet and on edge for about an hour now, ever since Ivy had lost touch with reality from the fever and the pain, first mumbling semi-incoherent – but far from subdued – pleas for them to make it all stop then shutting down completely. They were still almost two hours away from the Motel 6 on Route 400 at the eastern outskirts of Wichita that was their destination, so they really needed a distraction of sorts right about now. Might as well be mindless chatter.

"What do you mean?" Sam paid her a quick glance before returning his attention to the road.

"Isn't it a bit ironic that we are meeting a witch in Kansas of all places?" the Ukrainian girl mused out loud, propping her head in her palm, elbow comfortably resting on the edge of the window sill as she watched dirt road after dirt road leading to farms swish past them. The sun was slowly starting to set in front of them, painting the sky in purplish orange hues, granting an almost romantic tinge to their setting.

"What made you think we are meeting a witch?" the younger hunter quipped with a tiny smile. Alla's ability to see through everything never ceased to amaze him. Always quick on the uptake. He liked that.

"Come on, Sam. Pure logic. Who would know more about spells and hexes and that sort of stuff than someone who is practicing it? Call it a witch, warlock, wizard, sorcerer or whatever you may," the girl cast a condemning glare at Sam for the stupidity of his question before quietly stifling a sneeze into her right shoulder. She was past denying the presence of her cold to herself, though fortunately, it seemed like a mild one at that, so she wasn't going to draw attention to it voluntarily. They had bigger problems to contend with. "So about that wicked witch in Kansas…"

"Wait till you realize Oz is real," Dean decided to add his two cents, way too amused by the turn of this conversation to keep from butting in.

"Oz is real?" Alla whirled backward faster than lightning, searching Dean's face to see whether he was pulling her leg or not. Even though not knowing him for long, she came to the understanding that he was notorious for verbal teasing.

Folklore and mythical creatures were one thing, but fantasy books too? Or maybe just the one, the writer unable to resist jotting down his experiences with the supernatural in ink on paper. Sifting through everything she had ever known, and deciding what was pure fiction and what had even an inkling of truth to it would be her next big project it seemed. Good thing the Bunker had a near endless supply of reference books on the supernatural. Or so she had heard.

"Yup," the older Winchester quipped, enunciating the p sound with a pop of his mouth. His eyes were hard set in a scowl as the memory of Charlie's first death resurfaced in his mind, unbidden. With that also came multiple layers of guilt. For letting an angel possess Sam without his knowledge or real consent among other things, though at that particular moment in the past they would have lost Charlie even sooner than they had in the end, had Gadreel – masquerading as Ezekiel – not been present. So in a sense, he couldn't come to regret that decision. It had also saved Sam in the long run, even if months of distrust and brotherly quarrel were the immediate results of his actions once it had come to light.

"So we are actually meeting the Wicked Witch of the West?" the blonde asked for clarification, glancing between the brothers as she slid back into her seat, still floored by that revelation.

"Well, we are meeting a witch who is quite wicked in my opinion, but no, the Wicked Witch of the West is thoroughly dead," Sam replied with a small smile.

"Has anyone told you before that your lives are weird?" the Ukrainian girl shook her head in amazement. She had a feeling that the brothers' story would fill several volumes of books if it was ever written down. The Winchester Saga. Or Chronicles. Or even Gospel, she supposed, if one wanted to put a religious spin on it.

"Tell me 'bout it," Dean huffed with a roll of his eyes. And the girl didn't even know a fraction of it yet.

"Does this witch have a name?" she got back on topic, trying to find out everything about this mysterious person who was supposed to cure Ivy.

"Rowena," Sam supplied tersely, gripping the steering wheel a little tighter.

Alla noted the obvious tension present on Sam's face at the mention of the woman, but she decided to file that information away for later examination. At the moment, she didn't really care what history he and Dean might have had with the witch. The name in itself was much more fascinating due to the hardcore fandom-y and nostalgic feelings bubbling up inside her at a book series that had provided her a much need comfort and escape in her early teens.

"If the next thing you are going to tell me that it's Rowena Ravenclaw coming to our rescue, I'll honest to god lose my shit," the blonde looked between the brothers in mock-seriousness, settling on the older Winchester since he seemed like he was about to say something.

"Who?" Dean asked in confusion instead, apparently not getting the reference, while Sam laughed out loud, the hostility he felt earlier evaporating in an instant.

"Harry Potter is not real as far as we know… Though there was Hitler who had made a soul cache similar to Horcruxes back in the day…" the younger brother explained, still chuckling, pleasantly amused by the mental association Alla had made.

He was eagerly anticipating the long talks they were inevitably going to have, picking her brain about ideas he never dared to bring up with his brother. He dismissed most attempts at anything remotely philosophical.

"By the way, I killed Hitler," the older hunter perked back up, cutting in again, looking quite damn pleased with himself for that feat.

"Good for you…" Alla absentmindedly acknowledged his deed, her brows drawn in confusion at how that was possible before turning back to Sam. "So this Rowena… is she going to be able to help?"

"Able? Probably. Willing? That will depend on whether she sees something in it for herself," Sam turned grim again as he remembered the numerous double-crosses the redhead had pulled on them in regards to Lucifer, Amara, the Book of the Damned and countless others.

"She's an evil bitch and let's just leave it at that," Dean grunted, having his own issues with the woman in relation to Crowley and what not. Rowena had tried getting them killed or turn on each other on more than one occasion. Not that he harbored any particular sense of loyalty to the demon, just the fact the redhead tried to play them against each other was enough to warrant the animosity.

"The evil witch bitch… I can roll with that," the girl shrugged nonchalantly after testing the phrase, eliciting a small chuckle from Sam.

All humor ceased in the car when Ivy shifted uncomfortably in Dean's lap, looking around with slight panic.

"Dean… did someone steal the starlight?" the brunette asked quietly, her eyes darting everywhere, unable to focus on a single thing.

"What do you mean, princess?" he asked confusedly. It wasn't even dark enough yet for the stars to start appearing in the sky – with civil twilight just about beginning – let alone them disappearing for some reason. He wanted to chalk this up as another one of her delirious ramblings, but he had a feeling that the situation had become much more dire than that.

"I can't see. Everything is black," she stated weakly, her alarm swallowed up by the general exhaustion that she was feeling. All she could do was close her eyes again to counter the disorientation her lack of sight had caused.

Without any prompting, Sam floored the gas pedal. He figured he could cut the remaining hour and a half drive down to maybe one with a bit of luck and daring. He just hoped that no police chase would ensue due to his speeding. That would be a complication utterly unwelcome at the moment.

A national motel chain that advertised having the lowest price of them all necessarily invoked the need for standardization thus… well… looking the same and boring as hell, donning the crème and orange color scheme everywhere. This particular Motel 6 the Winchesters and the two girls were pulling into had an unusual accessory near its reception entrance though.

A petite framed redhead stood up from the steps where she had been sitting – sulking, based on the look on her face – when she spotted the unmistakable black '67 Chevy Impala roll into the parking space right in front of her. Her dress stood out like a sore thumb in a run-down place like this. A royal blue gown more fitting for a ball than the side of the road, covered only by a long black cloak. With the vintage square suitcase by her feet, the woman honestly resembled the witches and wizards waiting to board the Hogwarts Express at platform 9 ¾. Really the only thing missing was a pointy hat on the top of her ginger curls to complete the look. Alla assumed the image Rowena projected was deliberate because she was about as far from blending in as Baby would in a supermarket parking lot, in a sea of Priuses.

"Stay in the car," Sam instructed in a no-nonsense manner. The blonde still wanted to argue, despite the look on his face, afraid to be abandoned in the Impala without so much as an explanation and be kept in the dark about what was going to happen. "With Ivy, just until Dean and I sort out a room and make sure Rowena isn't going to hex us into next Tuesday, okay?"

Alla reluctantly nodded in concession, glancing wearily between the brothers, then she climbed over the back of her seat to the brunette as Dean clambered out of the car along with Sam.

Even though the Ukrainian girl was crouched down in the footwell as she checked Ivy over, she could clearly hear the conversation going on outside.

"Yer late," Rowena complained with indignation to Dean, casting a quick glance after Sam as he went to the front office to secure a room for themselves. Possibly two. Staying the night was practically inevitable at this point, no matter how close they were to the Bunker. He had a feeling Ivy's case wouldn't be a quick fix.

"Well, excuse us, Your Royal Highness. Having a cursed and sick girl in the back seat does come with unexpected stops to be made," Dean quipped back sardonically, crossing his arms. They had given her a general rundown of their problem over the phone, so she was aware of the gravity of the situation. No need to get testy.

The witch regarded him with narrowed eyes for a good few minutes just out of spite, right until she heard Sam's unmistakable and approaching footsteps.

"No time to waste 'en, reit? Shall we?" she declared in a thick Scottish accent as she spun around her heels, grabbing one of the room keys from Sam's hand, and sauntered off towards the right direction with her luggage in hand.

Sam just shook his head slightly at the theatricality, while Dean scowled at her retreating form. The younger Winchester went to the back door of the car, opening it for the girls.

"So… a Scottish witch. Are you still claiming Hogwarts has nothing to do with this?" Alla tried for some levity even though she was worried out of her mind, and it showed on her face too.

Ivy was positively burning up and unconscious, but at least she was still breathing. The Ukrainian girl got out the car and shivered in the cold weather, rubbing her arms while Dean leaned inside to gather the prone frame of the other girl into his arms.

The blonde offered to help Sam with their gear while Dean headed straight for the room.

"Hey, are you okay?" the younger Winchester asked Alla when she subtly sneezed again for the umpteenth time that day.

"Yeah…" Alla cleared her throat, deciding to admit to the truth since she was confronted. "Khm, just a bit under the weather I guess."

"Why didn't you say something?" Sam gently admonished, cupping her cheeks to make her look at him. The girl leaned into his touch, welcoming the warmth his large hands provided.

"I think we have enough to worry about as is," she said sternly. Her cold was the last thing on her mind honestly.

"Doesn't mean you have to hide if you're getting sick," he leaned in and kissed her forehead, inconspicuously checking for fever. He was happy to find none.

"I wasn't hiding, just not openly publicizing it," the girl muttered half-heartedly. Hard to hide when locked in a car with three other people for twelve hours.

"Yeah, you were," Sam countered with a teasing smile as he got their duffels out, handing the lightest one to the girl on her insistence to carry something.

Alla sighed, not at all amused. "I didn't deny it when you asked."

"Yeah, you didn't, and I'm glad for that. You're already a better patient than Dean," the hunter conceded, closing the trunk shut and placing his free arm across her shoulder, simultaneously drawing her closer and providing some warmth as they walked towards the room too.

Shopping for warm clothes. First priority once Ivy was out of the woods, Sam decided. In the meantime, he was going to keep on eye on Alla, maybe sneak an Advil or two her way, along with tea and tissues whenever he could.

In the motel room, Ivy had already been placed on one of the beds, Rowena busy checking the runes that were disguised as a birthmark on the brunette's right shoulder.

"It's Don's work alreit," the witch commented with a huff as she straightened after having ascertained what they were dealing with, giving Alla a long assessing look as she and Sam entered, making the girl shudder.

Whereas Sam's ability to see the very essence of her being filled her with warmth, Rowena's penetrating gaze lacked anything gentle or caring. Everything this woman did was self-serving, charged with an angle or agenda. Alla almost didn't want to know what the witch had seen or made of her, but staying in the dark could potentially be dangerous in the long run.

The redhead glanced at Sam then back at the girl with a calculative smirk on her face as if she had just figured out something crucial and possibly blackmail worthy.

"Yer looking a bit peely-wally there, darling," Rowena greeted Alla with an (un)healthy dose of sickly sweet, false politeness and concern. "Do sit afore ye fall ower."

The blonde saw right through the pretenses, but the older hunter cut in before she had a chance to respond. Not that she really wanted to say anything. Rowena made her skin crawl with distrust and alarm. She swore she could feel the magic crackling in the air of the room, rubbing up against her, pricking and prodding.

"Hey, eyes over here. Focus on the task at hand," Dean snapped at the witch, then cast a quick, wary look to Allie, already regretting bringing her into this. The notion was evidently shared by Sam as well if his frown at Rowena's sudden interest in his girlfriend was anything to go by.

They should have just set the blond girl up in the adjacent room that they had also booked for the night. Though they had a feeling staying put there was not something she would have agreed to, and they couldn't very well lock her inside. That would have been the very definition of undue stress for someone struggling with the sense of being trapped.

The redheaded witch's face fell, the spurious smile melting away, and she gave the older Winchester an annoyed look, but she did turn her attention back to the patient before her.

"I suppose I can whip up a concoction 'at will dull th' curse's effects on 'er," she shrugged noncommittally, rolling her eyes. "But I'll need ye to fetch some ingredients I don't have at haind."

"What do you need?" the younger hunter instantly got a pen and paper out of his pocket, ready to jot down the list.

"Lit me see," Rowena ostentatiously gathered her thoughts on what she needed before speaking up. "Verbena…"

"Seriously? You can get that like in any herbal shop," Dean interjected with a raised brow. He had been around enough witchy stuff, spells and such to know that much. Not exactly a specialty item.

"Mah usual spells don't require it, an' am not in th' habit of carryin' mince I don't need," the redhead explained derogatorily like it was something self-evident.

Alla had a feeling Rowena was a person who took almost any comment made to her like a personal offense. Like she was better than everyone and even making conversation with the lowly "commoners" was below her.

"Translation: normally she is not in the business of healing people, hence the lack of need for medicinal herbs," Alla pointed out acerbically, realizing a moment too late that drawing attention to herself was not in her best interest. She had a feeling that big mouth of hers was going to get her in a lot of trouble one of these days.

As expected, a split second later every eye in the room was on her, for varying reasons. Sam wasn't even that surprised anymore that the blonde had something of value to input, but couldn't help to smile a bit at her observation. She had hit the nail right on the head. Dean was flabbergasted and almost questioned the girl on what and how she knew of witchcraft. Rowena, on the other hand, was steadily growing interested in her for more reasons than one, but she smartly kept that tidbit to herself.

The witch could only imagine the overprotective and accusatory reaction Sam would have if she had said anything about the irregularities she sensed from the girl's aura for instance. That is if the way he hung close to her was any clue as to how he felt about the blonde.

"What? We have herbal tea at home. I read ingredients," the Ukrainian girl innocently offered as an explanation.

No one said a word, but they were still intently looking at her. It was getting disconcerting. Alla looked to Sam for support, but despite the small, resigned smile and shrug she got in return, she decided that she better shut up from here on out. The blonde hugged herself tightly, and sat down on the other bed, intent on being just an onlooker from now on.

"Anyhoo…" the redhead cut the silence, deciding to get back to business. "I'll need thyme, groundsel, aconite… celandine, alkanit, althea, hydrangea… hyssop an' lily beside that. Better split that up 'n' git oan it. Chop, chop."

With a twirl of her hands, designed to usher the Winchesters out, the witch considered her orders given, and began rummaging through her luggage, setting up a bowl and the supplies that she needed.

Sam was visibly uncomfortable with the idea of leaving Alla all alone with Rowena, but patently time was of the essence. He had no idea how much longer Ivy could hold on before the curse fever consumed her. And they would actually get done much faster if he hot-wired a car and visited their hunter connection in town for the rarer items, while Dean snagged the ones he could from an herbalist or something because those – given how common they were – wouldn't be in their friend's inventory. Or vice versa. Sam didn't care. He didn't say anything though, letting his brother make that call if necessary.

"That's all?" Dean inquired incredulously. Didn't exactly sound like a convoluted spell so far. Which made him extremely distrustful of the solution they would be given.

"Thir's plenty ithers needed, but I hae those in mah personal collection," Rowena assured him conceitedly, patting her suitcase.

The brothers shared a look and one of their silent conversations, seemingly agreeing to indeed split up and get this over with faster.

Sam didn't dare ask Alla if she was alright with the arrangement, the fact that he cared about her was already painfully too obvious, and he didn't want to give any more proof of that to the redhead. So he just gave a terse nod to her, lips in a thin line with worry as they turned to exit the room.

"Don't let her do anything funny," Dean ordered Allie with a stern look and warning gesture towards Rowena. The blonde wanted to huff in disbelief at that. As if there was anything she could do to stop a powerful and not strictly trustworthy witch if that particular witch decided to turn on them. But she refrained from voicing those concerns or showing emotion on her face to play along in case this was a bluff on Dean's part or something.

Funnily enough, the redhead did cast a wary glance her way at Dean's words. Alla got a distinct feeling that there was something she was missing. Why on Earth would Rowena feel the need to size her up? Or maybe the witch just feared the Winchester retribution if she did anything to harm the two girls who were seemingly under the protection of the hunters.

The shutting of the door brought the Ukrainian girl back from her reverie. There was so much she was ignorant of, especially about the history present between the boys and Rowena. But this was not the place nor was the redhead the person to ask these questions from. Not with the undoubted pressure to share something in return if she were to engage in conversation with Rowena.

Instead of giving the witch a chance to initiate a conversation – and possibly extort information out of her – Alla sprung from her place, heading to the bathroom for a cool washcloth to put on Ivy's forehead. Keeping busy was an excellent way to deal with stress.

By the time she returned, Rowena was already fiddling with her ingredients on the table, sorting vials and pouches of all kinds of herbs and other – less innocent looking – components like rat's tails and eyes of newt. How very cliché. And Shakespearean. You could almost picture the orange wall behind the beds as the luminesce of dancing flames under a bubbling cauldron. Though she supposed Macbeth had nothing on this. Rowena was unlike any literary witch Alla had ever encountered.

They worked in silence for a while, Alla fussing over her friend, adjusting and readjusting the blankets and the small towel on her forehead over and over again to distract herself from her own discomfort and the occasional curious glances the witch had been throwing her way. Rowena was dutifully mixing the ingredients she already had, seemingly respecting the girl's boundaries and leaving her alone. Right until she decided to break that silence that is.

"Yer a peculiar one, aren't ye," the witch droned on seemingly innocently, casting a sideways glance at the blonde, though the girl knew better than to engage. "I bet Th' Sisters o' th' Three Auroras would murdurr to git thair han's on ye."

Despite her best efforts, that statement gave Alla a pause. She had no idea what the bloody hell The Sisters of the Three Auroras were, but just the mere fact that someone would kill to have her chilled her to the bone. And that had nothing to do with the low-grade fever she had possibly developed over the last half an hour or so.

"Perhaps they already 'ave…" Rowena trailed off with a devilish smile as something occurred to her, taunting the girl. The blonde's increasing dread threatened to boil over, making her hands shake slightly, only quelled by her firm grip on the edge of the bed. She was wondering if it was time yet to scream and leave this fucking place.

Before Alla could react, a key was shoved into the hole of the door, the Winchester brothers entering. She almost sighed in relief. The girl wasn't sure how much longer she could have kept her walls up against Rowena and resist asking what she had been talking about. Or to pretend that she didn't care or was already aware of everything the witch could tell her. Though she supposed, now she had to put up another front, hiding just how rattled she was from Sam.

"Here's everything you asked for," Dean said, placing a bag full of little boxes stuffed with different herbs down on the desk. "Now, can you heal her?"

"Heal her?" the witch scoffed disdainfully. "That's outwith mah remit am afraid."

"What? You said if you have all this stuff…" the older Winchester accused furiously, just about beyond himself with worry. Alla's head swiveled to the conversation too, her own woes and problems instantly forgotten in favor of focusing on Ivy.

"Na na na, I said I will mak' a potion that will dull th' curse's effects," Rowena corrected him with a wiggle of her index finger.

"Which are what exactly?" Sam interrupted the quickly escalating shouting match. They had a vague idea based on symptoms and deductions they had made, but a confirmation would have been nice.

"Th' mark is… is lik' a soul binding… designed tae mak' her dependent oan th' bearer," the redhead began to explain with wild hand gesticulations. "Th' bearer's capable o' affecting her physically thro' thair own emotions an' thoughts. Also, tae hae a sense o' wher she is, tae assert thair will. Simply put tis aboot control 'n' punishment."

"He can tell exactly where she is?" Dean's head snapped up at that, glancing at Sam. They were woefully exposed in a motel room like this then. They hadn't even laid down their customary wards yet. Aaron could be anywhere, free to ambush them, take Ivy hostage. Though he supposed in a sense that was already the case. Though at least the fucking asshole wasn't aware of the brothers' involvement yet, or so Dean hoped. That gave them an edge at least.

"General direction 'n' distance, not a locator spell," Rowena corrected, to which Sam nodded, having guessed that much already. He didn't like that he was right though. They were still findable by triangulation if Ivy's husband got close enough.

"You realize, Aaron had practically commissioned a supernatural version of Munchausen syndrome by proxy?" Alla chimed in, horror and disbelief on her face as she turned to Sam and Dean. How could someone do this to another person? "Ivy had told me that they would fight sometimes, or she would go out to meet friends, and then when she would inevitably get ill, her husband would swoop in, take care of her, and everything would be suddenly all fine and well between them. Meanwhile blaming it on 'multiple chemical sensitivity syndrome.'"

"Her guidman haed this put oan her? Ferr impossible. It haes bin oan her fur at least..." the witch shook her head in confusion, making her accent even pronounced. The girl was too young to have been married that long.

"Twenty years, yeah. They had been childhood friends. Apparently, the bastard was afraid she would find someone better and more deserving if she wasn't crippled by constant illness, thus making her undesirable. So he got his uncle to put a curse on her when she was less than ten years old. That's when all her symptoms started. Then later, when she was older, he stepped in as someone who was willing to take her despite her poor health, gaining everyone's sympathies," the blonde explained with pure contempt for the man. She wasn't a violent person by nature, but strangling the living daylight out of Aaron seemed like a lovely idea right about now.

"Well, damn right she could've. Practically anyone would be more deserving than that son of a bitch," Dean agreed, though he wasn't entirely sure he would make that list with the things he had done in his life.

"So you can't lift the curse?" Sam asked grimly, just for clarification. Rowena was the most powerful witch they had ever known. If even she wasn't able to do anything then who would? Angels? Cas? He could heal her temporarily for sure, but actually remove the mark?

"Tis a quite complex an' unique spell. I'd need Don's grimoire…" the redhead began to explain, looking quite innocent in the request.

"Ah, a grimoire. Should've guessed…" Dean huffed with a shake of his head, frowning. They should've known. This was Rowena's angle. Though if they hadn't mentioned Don Stark's possible involvement over the phone, the witch might not have come to help at all. There was a certain appeal to getting to see the work of an 800-year-old rival witch.

"Weel I don' believe Don wid be willing tae lift it fur ye, sin 'twas his nephew he did a favur for…" Rowena trailed off as she supplied another solution to their problem that was not really an option. This they agreed on.

Don Stark would never willingly remove this curse. Not with the circumstances involved and his history with the Winchesters. Not to mention they had no way of finding him either. Though given that Rowena wanted his grimoire badly, surely she knew a method or two to get his location if she put her mind to it.

"There's gotta be another way…" Sam pleaded, deploying his puppy dog eyes.

Rowena sighed. Even she wasn't entirely immune to the younger Winchester's charms. "I suppose killing th' bearer wid annul th' effects too…" she admitted unwillingly.

"Wouldn't that kill her too? Since they are 'soulbound' or what?" Dean inquired skeptically. Not that he was above ganking a human, especially since the bastard was well enough tangled with the supernatural in malicious ways to justify it. He just wasn't that willing to put Ivy's life in even more danger to do it. No matter how tempting the option was.

"That's a risk you'd hae tae taeke," the witch shrugged indifferently and turned back to finish the concoction she was commissioned to make. Grimoire or no grimoire, this little trip of hers was already promising to be worth it. The Winchesters owed her a favor, for one. A big one at that if the way Dean was looking at the brunette was anything to go by. Oh, and running into the curious little blonde was an unexpected but much-welcomed surprise too. She wasn't quite sure what the girl was yet. But she had a pretty good guess, and she intended to find out for certain soon enough.

A few minutes later Rowena faced them again with a tiny vial in her hands with a dark green liquid inside.

"This will block th' effects directed at her physically, 'n' locating her wid be muckle mair pernickety tae. Not perfect, bit it wid cloak her fairly," she announced proudly.

Dean regarded the potion with a healthy dose of skepticism and distrust. None of the ingredients they had brought had any harmful effects as far as they knew, but they had no idea what else Rowena had mixed in there from her "personal collection."

"Tis perfectly safe I assure ye. Th' Winchesters owing me a favur is tae guid an offer tae screw ye ower," she gave her assurances, handing over the container to Dean for inspection. "One o' this a day 'n' she will be healthy as a horse 'til ye decide oan th' mair permanent solution. I've prepared seven doses forby this one."

"So basically, we have a week," the older hunter rolled his eyes as he sniffed the contents of the bottle. Not that he would be able to tell if there was anything wrong with it. But this bargain just seemed like too good of an offer to be true, and that made him even warier.

Not that they had much of an option but to trust Rowena on her word. Ivy was visibly fading fast, her breathing shallower by the minute. Something had to be done now, or they might not have a chance to try anything else. So based on an instinctual decision, he strode over to the brunette's side, lifting her head up and pouring the concoction into her mouth.

The effect was almost instantaneous. Ivy opened her eyes, coughing a little at the weird taste in her mouth, but she was conscious again, and even a bit of color returned to her cheeks. Naturally, she got her sight back as well.

"What…? Where are we?" she struggled to sit up, only a tiny bit reassured by the fact that Alla, Sam, and Dean were all there, relief flooding their features at her recovery. She had no idea how she got to the place she was at, and a redheaded stranger was standing to the left side of her bed, looking way too smug for comfort.

"Ye'd better just caw canny, dear. Sleep it aff," the woman murmured insincerely with a wink, turning to pack away all her supplies.

Ivy glanced back at Dean in confusion, wanting to ask for an explanation, but before she had a chance, Rowena twirled around again, luggage in hand.

"Ye know how tae find me," the witch sauntered towards the door, clearly leaving.

"Where do you think you are going?" Dean snapped at her. There was so much to be dealt with still.

"Ye cannae honestly expect me tae bade in a dump lik' this?" Rowena offered as explanation, scandalized by even the assumption that she would be caught dead sleeping in a place like this motel. No, she deserved luxurious sheets and room service, for crying out loud. With that, she left, not waiting for anyone's permission.

Alla exhaled a breath she didn't even realize she was holding. Sam looked at her quizzically, wanting to know the reason behind her reaction.

"I'm so tired. Can we just go to sleep now?" the blonde asked pleadingly, rubbing her eyes. She was exhausted, it wasn't a lie. She just wasn't ready to deal with Rowena's cryptic message yet. Her head was about to explode with how overwhelmed she felt and the weight of her cold too.

"Sure," Sam gave her a small smile, intent on also checking her over once they were alone. He turned to Dean. "You guys gonna be fine here?"

"Yeah," his older Winchester nodded after a quick glance at Ivy. She seemed wide awake now, probably due to the many questions she had swirling in her head, but he had the feeling they would be crashing soon too. He gave a suggestive wink to his brother. "Go have fun, kids."

Sam shook his head at Dean's shenanigans. As if. Even if Alla had been physically up to… well… anything physical, this was not the time. Contrary to Dean, Sam preferred his privacy, and the thin wall separating their rooms was not nearly up to the task of muting the sounds of the antics he wished to have with the girl. He took the blonde by the hand, grabbing their stuff with the other, heading out to claim the motel room next door for some much-needed rest after the day they had had.

A/N: The Sisters of the Three Auroras are a coven of witches originally from Poland, invented by Kevin Hearne for his Iron Druid Chronicles book series. I do not own them, but damn they came in handy for this plotline. I personally don't consider this a crossover despite this.