The place is completely deserted except for the woman in the throne. Various tables and chairs stand about, and chains hang from the walls, but it's just a miscellaneous assortment of items. There's no telling how much of it is even in use. The torchlight all around is reflected in the various small puddles gathered on the floor. The place is, to say the least, not impressive.

The woman seems to have relaxed a bit upon seeing him, as she probably would've with anyone who wasn't Crowley, if he were to hazard a guess. He creeps forward, not quite standing at his full height, looking around, taking in the details of the room.

"Yes?" she asks after a long lull, sounding annoyed. "Did you have something to tell me?"

She has a Scottish accent.

He looks her up and down, and all the while she's just glaring at him in disdain. Finally he ventures to ask, "Rowena?"

She quirks an eyebrow. "And you are?"

Already she seems very much like the type of self-seeking bitch who would keep any development of any kind to herself to come up with the best ways to exploit it for her own gain before dreaming of telling anyone else. She also seems like she's probably good at picking up on deceit. So he feels it is very much his safest option to candidly respond, "My name's Dean Winchester."

Her eyes widen, and she stands up—revealing herself to be even more petite than he'd thought. "You're Dean Winchester?" she asks, surveying him from head to toe as he was just doing with her.

"The one and only."

She looks at him askance, or at least pretends to. "The king's been looking for you."

He cocks his head, a light smirk playing at his lips. "The king, your son?"

She narrows her eyes, clearly uncertain of what he's hinting at. "That's the one."

He's gotta play this carefully. He shakes his head, the picture of casualness. "Yeah, not a huge fan of him, gotta say. Insanely clingy. Can't even imagine what it must be like to be his mother. How is it that he ever leaves your side?"

Her eyes are still just as narrow, her brow furrowed. She's not biting. "What're you playing at?" she asks slowly.

Dean holds up his hands. "Nothing. I'm just saying, the guy's needy. Lonely, I guess. Kinda pathetic. I swear, when I left his employ it was like the breakup scene in a friggin' rom com. Although, let me tell you, I don't see the traditionally inevitable 'getting back together' happening this time."

She raises an eyebrow. "So then what are you doing here?"

Fortunately she seems utterly unaffected by his jabs at her son. He didn't feel like he was taking much of a risk with that. "He has something of mine. Or at least he knows where it is. I'm here to get it back."

A slight smirk finally graces her lips, lifting the perpetually suspicious look she's been wearing. "And you think he's going to hand it over?"

He shrugs. "If he knows what's good for him." And he waits. He's taking a huge risk with this, and he's realizing that more and more with each passing second. He knows what he wants from her. He's just not sure if there's anything that she'll want from him.

Rowena surveys him for a long, long moment, tilting her head and pursing her lips in thoughtfulness. "What is it that he took from you?"

A little bit of discretion here can't hurt. "A weapon. A very special weapon, that very much belongs to me."

She nods, her expression not changing, for another long stretch. Finally, she leans back against the throne and says, "Well, Dean Winchester, the king is my son, and he'd very much like to know where you are."

He scowls. "Like I said: clingy."

"And I ought to alert him quite immediately of your presence here," she continues.

He opens his arms in a gesture meant to be disarming. "Look, I got no beef with you, lady." Maybe he's being too easygoing. Why would he waltz in here and have such an open conversation with her if he weren't planning something? "But if you make a move to do that, I will rip your heart out through your throat."

He needs an impassive reaction, and thank goodness that's exactly what he gets. "Ooh, I believe you." There's that pensive expression again as she evaluates him. And after several seconds, she pushes herself back to a fully upright position and begins to close the distance between them. "But you won't."

He quirks an eyebrow. "I won't?"

She smiles. "No. I'm not going to call my son, Dean Winchester, because you are going to stay right here and greet him when he comes back."

He frowns. That was the fake plan anyway.

But she's not finished. "And you are going to beg to be let back into his service."

He blinks. He's not sure what he expected, but it certainly wasn't that. "Um… yeah, and why exactly would I do that?"

"Because," and her smile deepens, as she reaches forward to smooth over a ruffle on the shoulder of his shirt, just to show how unafraid she is, "I can find what you're looking for."

Bingo.

But it's in his best interest to act surprised, so again he blinks, expression dropping off his face, and just stares at her. Giving her plenty of silence to fill with more words.

After another smirk she steps away, beginning to circle him slowly to continue her evaluation. He stands still as she drawls, "I'm a witch, darling. A locating spell? Piece of cake. Now, it might take some time, but I can get you what you're looking for, and you'll never have to ask my son direct."

Admittedly, he's still not quite following. "And the thing you want in exchange is… for me to work for him?"

"No." She comes to stand in front of him again, and fixes him with an intense stare. "The thing I want in exchange is for you to betray him."

He barely manages to stop himself from laughing out loud. Oh, this just got interesting. He gives her a long sidelong look. "You're as much a fan of him as I am, I gather?"

She places her hand over her heart in an affronted gesture that he's not sure whether or not is meant to be sarcastic. "Oh, exactly the opposite! You are right, he is far too preoccupied with finding you, and I worry for him. If you come back to him, if you're genuine enough, he will welcome you back. It will take emotional subterfuge to finally get him to refocus himself, and stop being so distracted."

Dean is slowly beginning to understand that her obvious attempts to insinuate herself into Crowley's circle of trust… have not been as successful as she might've hoped. She wants him to drive her son straight into her arms.

Like that demon said… a manipulative bitch.

Absolutely perfect.

"So, one betrayal for one locating spell," he summarizes.

"You keep up the ruse of working for him for as long as it takes me to prepare the spell. Then I perform the spell, you stab him in the back, and I give you the location on your way out."

He cocks his head. "How literal stabbing are we talking here?"

"Not at all," she says, tone suddenly severe. "You are not to harm him. Emotionally, sure. But killing him is not part of this plan."

"Right." He can't keep the note of disappointment out of his voice.

She fixes him with a stern look. "Swear you won't kill him. Swear on something that matters."

Dean gives it about one second of thought before shaking his head. "Nothing matters. All I can give you is my word."

"Hm." She considers him for a long moment, and finally nods solemnly. "I like your style."

His own voice echoes in his head, from when he spoke to the demon who told him about this woman: "So I tell you what: if you help me… I will kill him. Guarantee it."

Well, he is officially lying to someone. He guesses he'll figure out who eventually.

"So I take it we've got a deal?" Rowena asks, holding out her small hand.

He looks down at it, thinking only how this is such a better deal than some others he's made that he could mention, and takes it in his own hand, grinning. "Pleasure to do business with you."