Dean rolled over on the bed and forget where he was. He saw the wood paneling on the wall and felt a chill run through him and he realized the space next to him was vacant but still warm.

He got up and went to the kitchen. It really just consisted of an inlet in the wall, a foot of counter space a stove and fridge, which probably hadn't been updated since 1953. It somehow managed to be very Kat. A percolator coffee pot sat on the stove releasing a steam. Dean froze for a moment as a dark spot on the refrigerator caught his eye. It was a glossy photograph and inside the amorphous darkness was the face of his kid.

He stared at it for a moment and cocked his head to the side. The realness of the situation crashed down on him. He reached up to gently touch the photo as if it would connect Dean to him somehow, but quickly recoiled, poured himself a cup of coffee and made his way outside.

He walked a few minutes towards the sound of crashing ocean waves in the damp morning air. Kat sat thirty feet away, a large bumpy blanket around her shoulders. His rib cage swelled with an unnameable intensity as he looked at her.

"Should you be wandering around on your own?" Dean called.

"I've been 'wandering around on my own' for seven months Dean." A smile wormed its way into her voice.

"What have you been doing for those months anyway? I can't see you just sitting around…laying low," he teased as he approached.

"I taught myself how to crochet, so that's cool," Kat shrugged as he sat down. She kept looking eagerly out in front of her.

"Sexy," Dean joked. He sat flush to Kat but he moved slowly as if he was approaching a wounded animal. She didn't move away so he ducked and leaned his head into her neck, placing a soft kiss there. His forehead rested on her jaw line and his chin sat on her shoulder. She timidly leaned into him as she spoke.

"Yeah, they said my blood pressure was too high and that sometimes a tedious hobby helps even it out if you're feeling stressed. I made a scarf," she explained casually.

"Are you okay? Isn't that bad for babies or something?"

"It's better now," she shrugged, "I also bought a camera. Don't know what for but I figured people with babies have cameras. But I've really eonly taken pictures of them." Kat lifted the modest digital camera and fiddled with its zoom. She aimed at something Dean couldn't yet see, and he lifted his head to look closer.

"Wha—?" he began, but then he saw them. A large fox had snuck out of a patch of reeds and behind her to smaller ones followed. They were timid at first, wary of their surroundings but then the siblings began play fighting and rustling around kicking up sand as their mother watched.

Kat raised the camera and started snapping pictures. "Aren't they cool? So out of place on a beach,"

"Yeah," Dean said enthralled. "So hey, listen," he continued over the sound of the shutter, "I know that this is not normal, by any means. I was raised on the road, building guns. I don't know what in the hell the point of little league is and I will definitely not have anything to contribute to the science fair other than backwoods spellwork. I'm not father material, but I, uh, can try if you want that," Dean said gruffly.

Kat looked at him for the first time and cackled at him. Her laughter was probably hideous to anyone else but Dean was just happy he'd been able to make her laugh at all.

"Let's…never do that?" Kat said incredulously. "Dude, our kid can play bass guitar and make out under the bleachers. He should know how to build guns because that's awesome. I don't think I was meant for normal. I was meant for Winchester weird," she said with confidence.

Dean beamed at her. "So no Wonder bread pb&j?" He said falsely downtrodden.

"Nah, Rebels eat…ricotta on pumpernickel," she said returning to her camera for a second. "Speaking of food, I'm in the mood for breakfast. There's a diner up the road…they have pie…." She looked at him sideways, slyly.

"I am not eating that. I am not eating apple pie with cheddar cheese on the top. That's…un-american." Dean turned his nose up in disgust as the waitress walked away after placing the steaming plate down in front of him.

"Do it, or I'll do something ridiculous to embarrass you," Kat challenged with a malicious gleam in her eyes. She smiled devilishly as Dean lifted the fork, staring her down intently the whole time.

Kat's smile got wider as he chewed. "Alright. I can't even pretend I don't like this," he conceded.

Kat then grabbed her own fork and started picking at the crust like a chicken with its feed. Dean continued to inhale the slice.

"So I think there's a case here. Well, I know there's a case here because witches have been catching up to me for a few months now. So, there's always something which is why I wouldn't stay somewhere for more than two weeks," she explained through a mouthful of pie.

"So what changed?"

"Well, there is one coven that I know of, they set up shop in a florist's downtown."

"Rowena's been mind controlling witches and sending them around looking for you. We've been taking them out, throwing them off your trail and stuff," he explained.

"Well, thanks for that. But this time, it's different. It's not just the witches that are dying. A few civilians too, they weren't like normal Winchester kills either—"

"Winchester kills? Seriously?"

"Shut up. The coroner said they had massive decomp. Like they'd been dead and buried for fifty years but they'd only died hours before."

"Sounds like our kind of deal," Dean agreed.

"So the people, I get but, I mean the witches? They're bent on killing me, I might add. Why are you gonna save them?"

"Because not all of them deserve it,"

"Ok." Kat saw in his eyes that this was something he'd thought on and she trusted him wholly.

"First things first I guess, I'll check the flower shop and you and Sam research." Dean delegated, but it took a lot for him to think about not being able to be within ten feet of Kat. After months of looking, they'd finally found her. But Dean understood the fragility of it, and he had grown. He knew that he couldn't force her to stay. She stayed because she chose to; because she loved him enough to.

Sam and Kat sat on the outdated couch they'd bought at a thrift store hours earlier. Before they dug into research they'd realized there was only one chair in Kat's little apartment. So, they bought a small couch and a large backed TV from 1993.

They justified this because staying in Maine, unnoticed was safer than returning to the bunker. Cas had called to tell them he'd found multiple patches of Fomori sprouting around parts of Kansas.

The hallowed ground would keep them safe enough, and here they'd be able to step outside without the threat of being looked for.

It was hard, for Dean to revert to the nomadic lifestyle. He'd adjusted so easily to having a home and hurried about making it one that the instability of having it possibly compromised was going to be an adjustment for sure.

It was temporary. But, Sam and Kat enjoyed themselves by picking out the ugliest couch in the thrift store they could find, because if there is one thing they were going to do, it was make the best of their situation.

They had broken out the books and laptops and settled into a pseudo-normal routine when Dean opened the door.

They were sitting mouths agape watching a female praying mantis devour a male. Sometime while he'd been gone, they'd become distracted by basic cable and settled on the animal channel. Sam's hand was spread out on the couch, like he was reaching out for moral support and Kat's was clutched to his shoulder pure disgust and horror etched on her face. A serene voice came through the crackly speakers.

"Usually, the male will ply the female with food beforehand, to distract her. This male was not so lucky."

"What'd he do?" asked Dean tentatively.

"He tried to knock her up," Kat said as she turned around to face him. "Dangerous business…" she smirked as she raised her eyebrows.

Sam laughed loudly at Dean's expense.

"Well in that case…" he threw the beat up looking collection of sunflowers he was holding, onto Kat's lap.

"That is just so, so, sweet of you darling. How kind of you to go out of your way to think of me," she said dripping with sarcasm. Dean knew she appreciated them all the same.

"Well I had to buy something otherwise they would've gotten suspicious. Good news is, they have no idea we're here."

Kat chose not to call Dean out on the fact that he'd chosen her favorite flower.

"And how'd it go?" asked Sam as he pulled himself from the screen.

"Well, they don't just sell carnations, I'll tell ya that. Serious spellwork stuff. Yarrow, St. John's Wort, Thistle, Rowen berries…" he listed.

"Well, we found a legend that might be our creature. Definitely, something that Rowena would want to use to her advantage," Sam supplemented.

"But why is she killing her own people?" Kat jumped in.

"Don't know, maybe insubordinance? A weird punishment thing?" suggested Sam.

"Maybe, what's the monster?" Dean directed.

"It's called a Gancanagh. It disguises itself as a man and secretes like love potion from its skin, makes women think they've fallen in love with him and then he leaves. When they don't have the toxin anymore, they literally sit and pine for him until they wither away, which would explain the decomposition. Some women were even known to fight to the death over him," said Kat.

"But get this, all the vic's had the same 'boyfriend'. Or so say their family and friends. Guy named Yates McKee. He teaches art history at a university a little while away," Sam added. Kat looked at Dean hintingly.

"No, no, no wait," he began.

"You can't come, it'll look suspicious. You'll wait in the car and I'll just meet with him over something completely unrelated, Degas, or whatever. See if I can grab any info from him. Technically I'm still a Ph.D. candidate so I can fake it." Kat's ardor was incredibly convincing.

Dean just sighed knowing he would never be able to dissuade her.

Kat had made it through the meeting with Yates McKee without fumbling too much over technicalities. She'd been charming enough as she had glossed over the fake thesis and vague enough as she referenced the little she knew about the intricacies of French Impressionism.

Yates McKee was charming too. He wasn't blindingly attractive, a shaved head with pressed khakis, wire-rimmed glasses and sweater vest shouldn't have been alluring but he somehow made it that way. He was smooth, kind, and highly intelligent and Kat didn't trust it for a moment.

It was everything that the Gancanagh was supposed to be. She'd been visually searching the office for anything out of the ordinary. There were stacks of books and posters of art, obviously, but the only one she saw that was in any way related was a book on Celtic cave drawings.

"Professor McKee—"

"Call me Yates, please."

"Yates," Kat smiled sweetly, "To be quite honest the reason I was drawn here is because I read your piece about the physicality and discipline of his dancers. I would like to focus my thesis on Degas' vantage points. Would you happen to have an uncut draft of the article that I could credit in my paper?" Kat crossed her arms demurely over her lap and smiled expectantly.

"I thought you'd never ask. I believe I have a hard copy in my files in the front office. Excuse me," he said as he stood and crossed to the door.

As soon as it closed Kat started rifling through the papers on the desk. His phone slipped from between the manila folders and she snatched it up, thanking whatever benevolent higher power watching her that it didn't have a passcode.

Her thumb deftly went to the message button and she flicked towards the bottom. There, were five text boxes that were headed by the names of each of the victims. Her breath quickened as she clicked on them individually. Her heart thumped louder as each conversation led to the same address, seemingly his apartment. Kat knew that the girls had never made it there and each was found along the road.

The realization had Kat's hackles raised and she almost jumped out of the seat as the phone vibrated in her hands. It was a new text, from a girl named Katie.

It read, 'Can't wait to see you later tonight! Send me your address when you can!'

Kat knew that this girl was bound to the same fate as the others, but this time, Sam and Dean would be waiting.

She had just placed the phone back in its exact place when the door handle clicked behind her.

She stood uneasily to her feet, her stomach throwing her off balance for a moment. Yates' hand settled under her elbow steadying her. When she turned to look at him she was met with a serene smile.

"Thank you so much for this invaluable information, I won't take up any more of your time."

He continued smiling blithely and held the door for Kat as she left.

A familiar voice met him when it closed.

"You did well Yates," said the man named Crowley.

"You didn't tell me she was pregnant," Yates said bitingly.

"You didn't bat an eye at killing innocent twenty-somethings just to get the Winchester's attention did you? You wanted out of your deal, this is how you get it," Crowley responded with even more venom. "I expect you at 9:00 sharp tonight, McKee. Don't be late."

He disappeared, leaving Yates in silence. He reached for a crystal decanter he kept on his desk. Pouring himself a healthy glass he sipped; wondering with each one how he could have become such a jaded and selfish individual. Turmoil rushed into him as he drank. He wondered, if he were to be saved from Hell, how he could continue living.

Kat had relayed her info onto Sam and Dean. It was not a question of whether or not they were going to hunt the monster, it was how they would. They had resigned to call Cas for backup and he would go with Dean to the stretch of road where all the victims were found, in an attempt to stop her from meeting with him. They would take the girls car and go to his house and take him out by surprise. Sam would stay with Kat.

The plan was simple enough, but if they'd learn anything it was that nothing ever went as planned and they were essentially waiting for a twist of the knife.

Dean went outside to greet Cas and Kat was fiddling with the radio.

"How'd you even find this place?" Sam said, trying to make conversation.

"You'd be surprised how many abandoned churches there are in the country," Kat said.

"It's certainly something to be said about theology," Kat laughed.

"It is good to see you again Katherine. It is strange that I am saying goodbye as I say hello," Cas said.

"Hello, goodbye," Kat retorted, clutching him into a short hug. He vanished seconds later leaving her alone with Dean as Sam went to put extra munitions in the trunk, stifling a chuckle.

"Don't do anything stupid," Kat admonished.

"Me? Never," Dean smiled confidently and kissed her on the forehead. He pulled away with the same force that he would a magnet; he didn't look back. Immediately, he went outside and immediately went to the river's side. He glanced back at his brother,

"I'm trusting you, Sammy," Dean declared, making eye contact.

"I'll keep her safe Dean." Sam came back with an affirmation, one that Dean didn't ignore.

An hour had gone by and Dean and Cas had seen nothing on the road back and forth towards Yates McKee's apartment. As they turned around, a white pattern appeared on the highway. The Impala skidded to a halt and they stepped out hesitantly, a gun raised. The pattern became clearer with each step. It said: Crowley – 2 Winchester – 1.

"Crowley, 2? How does he have two?" Dean asked, frustrated.

A man emerged from the tree line, holding a very frightened looking woman by the scruff of her neck. She was pretty even with tears streaming down her face.

"Help! Help me!" she called out to them. It couldn't be heard through the Impala's roar as the brakes screeched to a halt in front of the pair of them. In a swift movement, Dean jumped from the car and stepped forward, but the man (who he could only assume was the Gancanagh) lifted a knife to her throat and made a tsk sound.

Cas had disappeared from the front seat and Dean hoped he had something up his sleeve so this could be over with little to no bloodshed.

"Let her go!" Dean commanded. He placed one foot in front of him and braced himself against attack.

"I don't think so Winchester." The man's eyes flashed black and Dean's muscles tensed harder against the threat before him.

"So this is a trap? Let me guess, there is no Gancanagh?" Dean asked, keeping the demon's attention on him.

"Crowley decided to kill two birds with one stone tonight. I got the lucky job of watching the prize fight go down," the demon barked.

"Lucky, huh?" said Dean pointing behind them with his gun.

The demon held onto the girl but craned his neck just in time to see Castiel reach out his hand and place it on his forehead. The girl shrieked as the demon exploded and the body crumpled to the ground. She started to run away but Cas made it to her first and mimicked his motion, this time, placing her in a deep sleep. He brought her to the Impala and placed her in the back seat.

"Son of a bitch said we're expecting company. We've gotta get her out of here," Dean barked jumping back into the front seat.

"It seems none of us are going anywhere Dean," said Rowena.

She had appeared in the second it took for him to open his car door. Dean's skin crawled and he immediately raised his gun. "Long time, no see Rowena."

"I know, I've been terribly busy as of late. I am left to wonder after our host, however…" she trailed off as she looked gracefully from side to side, but somehow never losing Dean and Cas in her periphery.

"Look, Rowena, this isn't a game of Clue. Crowley sent us here to kill each other, end of story. And that's what I'm gonna do." Dean resolved himself as he aimed the gun loaded with witch killing bullets at her forehead.

"If you think it'll be that easy, you are sorely mistaken." Rowena's arms flew upwards, sure and strong in their motions. Dean was captivated by their grace and the gun was ripped from his hands. An invisible force thrust him backward. His elbows caught his fall and he was met with the sharp sting of pavement breaking through fabric.

Cas sprung into action, calling forth his power and lighting the road so that the mist on the ground reflected the white light so that it looked like fresh snow had fallen.

"Go!" Cas commanded.

Dean, under cover of Cas's force, made it to the Impala, still with the girl knocked out in the backseat and skidded away. He turned back to see Rowena harnessing the opposite power from Cas, surrounding herself in darkness. The opaque pitch-blackness met Cas's light with a crash and Dean shielded his eyes from the rear-view window reflexively.

The fact that he'd been forced to look away pulled him back to the scene behind him with a renewed sense of immediacy.

Cas was sinking. By the time Dean looked back his ankles were trapped in the pavement. The solid ground had been transformed into a tar-like liquid. In a matter of seconds Cas had sunk to his waist. Dean did not slow the Impala as he sank further, with each inch his light disappeared with him.

Dean couldn't afford to mourn for Cas. Hands on the wheel, he gunned it, like he always did, towards another way. He didn't know where Rowena had sent him, or what she'd done, but they'd figure it out later.

Was it curiosity that drew Kat to the door that night; or maybe the prospect of their far too early pizza delivery? Either way, she went. She'd been on the run so long and when Sam and Dean had come back into her life she'd sprang into action. But when they'd settled in she'd let herself grow lax, sleep, because she knew she had strength in numbers.

"That'll be $7.99."

The voice was surprisingly familiar. But all pizza boys bore some sort of anonymity didn't they? Kat looked up into a face that was new to her catalog but not easily forgettable.

"Something tells me you're not really Yates McKee," she snapped.

"I am and I'm not," he evaded, "But then again you're not actively working on your thesis are you? Professor of ancient languages working on…a Degas piece?"

"I'm proud that you saw through it," Kat lied.

"Please," he looked immensely sad, "please don't pretend like this is going the way you planned."

"And make your life easier? I think not," Kat growled defensively.

"Hey is the pizza—" Sam entered and froze.

"Its not pizza."

"Hallowed ground. You're a pagan creature, you can't come in here," commanded Sam

"I'm a human, that can go wherever my deal dictates." Yates entered with a trembling leg over the threshold of the church. Sam immediately snapped into action. He grabbed the gun lying helpless on the counter but Yates had already held his own weapon up and pointed at Sam. He jerked it slightly to the left, indicating he wanted Sam to move away from his own.

His face didn't hold malice. He acted as if he was weighed down by an immense pressure. His movements labored like a puppet on a string.

"Well, well, well. Moose the guard dog. Won't brother dearest be disappointed when he learns you've failed to keep your charge safe?" Crowley sneered as he speared in the doorway. Sam was immediately thrown back against the wall by an invisible force. Kat was frozen, desperately running through scenarios in her head. No weapon. Not fast enough. The phrases repeated like a mantra as her eyes darted around for any way to distract the demon and his pet.

"Yates, if you please." The man lowered his weapon slightly and pulled out a knife. He went to each of the sigils Kat had arduously painted weeks ago and broke them. With each scratch of the knife against he wood and paint Kat felt her resolve fading with it.

Sweat beaded up on her brow and she moved her foot slightly using Yates' preoccupation as a chance. Before she could get anywhere the last sigil was broken and Crowley appeared directly in front of her.

"Where do you think you're going Katherine?"

"Don't touch her Crowley. Killing her won't stop Rowena and you know it!" Sam bellowed.

"I don't see any other way to keep her from getting her hands on the most deadly weapon in the history of witchcraft. This goes back millennia Sam. You thought Azazel gave you untapped powers? I don't even want to know what's growing in there," Crowley pointed with disgust at Kat's stomach.

She felt vulnerable. Like her skin was made of tissue paper and she was so immensely small. She couldn't even muster up the strength to speak, but she knew it wouldn't do any good. There was no reasoning with the inhuman figure standing in front of her.

Fight or flight. Neither was the best option. Crowley's hot breath was on her now and Kat backed up slowly towards the wall. Her heel hit against the heavy umbrella stand next to the door.

It had been there when she'd found the church, she never bothered with it. But the image of it became clear in her mind. As if her heightened senses took her memories through a microscope. Before her back was flush against the wall she swerved to the side. Despite her short reach, she was able to grab Crowley by the scruff of the neck and force his torso downward, impaling his shoulder with what she hoped was the iron umbrella stand.

His wail of pain echoed through the tiny apartment and she ran towards the knife and Sam who had been freed from the intangible hands holding him. He, however, ran to Crowley and landed a right hook to his jaw. Crowley spat out blood and a tooth and stumbled back onto the fraying rug.

"You will never stop this Moose. I am declaring it, destiny!" Crowley barked.

Kat felt unwieldy as she hobbled to the knife and spun to brandish it at Yates McKee. He halted, holding his own weapon aloft but didn't move. The hesitance had returned, and it gave Kat a window.

She stared into his eyes, without blinking; hoping that her desperation would speak to the human part of him. "Please," she said.

He didn't respond but his mouth parted slightly. He seemed to be at war with himself.

"Yates? I'd like for you to tell me the difference between dying and never existing." Crowley's voice, though labored, rang out clear from across the room. He had Sam pinned under his forearm and he was turning increasingly purple. "You have lived Yates McKee. You have felt anger, and joy, You have a basis for comparison my dear friend. And let me tell you, of all of the happiness and satisfaction you have felt in your life will pale in comparison to the horrors you will face in Hell." His sentence was cut short by Sam smashing him over the head with a lamp he'd managed to grab and Crowley tumbled sideways.

Yates took a step forward but Kat held up her arms and began to speak. "But you made the deal. You made that deal knowing that whatever you did up here was worth that end. I don't blame you for trying o save your own life. I blame you for trying to take an innocent's to do it. I don't even care about me, Yates. If I live or die, in the end, it's inconsequential. But this child never knew what you did, never got to feel happy. And wouldn't taking that away from someone make being alive, just as bad as Hell?" Kat was desperate as she heard Sam and Crowley continue to struggle against each other.

"She'd have made a good lawyer," Crowley remarked as his eyes went red and he managed to momentarily stare at Yates with an icy intensity. Sam reached for his gun that landed on the floor when he was thrown backward by Crowley. and cracked Crowley on the temple with the butt. The eyes closed, and Yates looked back at Kat with a renewed purpose.

Again, fight or flight. Kat knew she wouldn't be as quick with a knife as she normally was, but if she could get away Sam could take him down.

"Sam!" she called as she tossed the demon knife through the air. His gun was still raised but he caught it by the handle and plunged it into Crowley's shoulder, pinning him to the floor. He fired a hasty round into Yates' leg. As a result, the attacker screamed and dropped the gun held weakly in his hand, but kept gunning for Kat who had just reached the door to her room.

Time was moving at a glacial pace. Everything was painfully slow, and yet, still happening simultaneously. Sam and Yates' steps fell at the same time.

Kat felt pressure around her wrist and was yanked backward, just as Sam fired another shot. The bullet pierced Yates' shoulder as he jerked back to avoid the guns trajectory. It did not cause him to loosen his grip. Kat fought back as hard as she could but her asymmetric form threw her off balance and she staggered closer to Yates.

Just as Sam's last shot lodged itself in his chest, Yates McKee's knife plunged into Kat's back. He'd pulled it out of his belt in a vain attempt to finish his mission, and therefore securing his bargain.

Yates slumped and Kat couldn't help but feel pity for the man. She couldn't feel the pain, so she had to supplement it with something right? Feel something rather than loss. She knelt on the ground and clutched at her back to staunch the waterfall of blood. Sam moved in and out of her vision which was rapidly fading. She did see him grab a can of spray paint and quickly draw up a devil's trap over Crowley's limp body.

When he got to her, she couldn't hear anything. Nothing but the noise of her own voice reading aloud. She couldn't be sure if it was from a memory but the words impacted her just the same. Instead of noise, there was harmony; it was the music of her present.

Sam had no idea what to do. He knew what he should do, but he couldn't remove himself from the grisly image before him. Kat lying across the backseat of her Focus. "You're gonna be okay alright? Just stay awake." No response. "You don't have to say anything Kat, just stay awake for me." His words rebounded off a lifeless body but he kept throwing them at her.

He burst through the doors with her in his arms and gave her up, knowing that maybe the nurses could do what he had been unable to.

Sam left a bloody thumbprint on his phone as he dialed Dean's number.

A/N: Many gracious apologies my dear readers. I wish I had a worthy enough excuse for the long wait for this chapter. It may have had something to do with Daredevil season two... I hope that you'll forgive me and enjoy reading! I also forgot to mention that my song-spiration for last chapter was Nights in White Satin by the Moody Blues, a very Winchester song. As always, I implore you to give some sort of feedback. What do you like, dislike, want more or less of? I'd love to hear. -Kelly