TRIGGER WARNING: This chapter contains depictions of torture and violence, as displayed in Supernatural 4.16 "On the Head of a Pin." Please proceed with caution.
"Damn it!"
Kat jumped at Sam's yell. She spun around, but—Dean was gone. The angels were gone. It was just the two of them, standing alone in the motel room, lost again.
She cursed under her breath, but that was all the time she allowed herself. The next moment, she was storming to her bed, grabbing her boots and tugging them on over her sweatpants.
"Kat?" Sam was watching her in confusion. "Kat, what—where are you going?"
"My car. We've gotta find him, right? Let's move it."
"Woah, just—slow down, Kat. We don't even know where they are!"
"So?" she asked. She nearly toppled over trying to force her foot into the shoe.
"So they're angels! They could've taken him anywhere! He could be in Jerusalem for all we know, or Antarctica!"
"Well, we gotta start somewhere. Come on."
She grabbed her car keys and hoisted a half-packed bag onto her shoulder. But Sam stepped between her and the door.
"Seriously?" she snapped. "He's your brother, Sam. Why am I the one leading the charge?"
"I want to find him," Sam said carefully. "I do, but we need to have a plan. I mean, what are you gonna do, Kat? Hop on the interstate and wait for a sign?"
"It's better than sitting here and waiting! I know you got to contribute to the last hunt, but I am done with sitting around with my fingers crossed. I need to do something. So yeah, let's get on the road and go find something. Let's drive to a church, or get Bobby. Something's gotta be able to track Dean."
"Something can track Dean," Sam agreed. "Just let me make a phone call."
Kat stopped, staring up at him in confusion. When her brain caught up, she shoved him in the chest.
"No! Don't you fucking dare, Sam!"
"Kat, you said it yourself. We need to find him. This is the fastest way."
"Well find another way," she growled. "I'm not working with your fuck-buddy ever again."
She pushed him out of the way, rummaging through her go bag.
"You know, Ruby's never done anything to you." It was incredible that Sam was still trying to argue with her, laughing dryly as she moved around the room. "I know you two don't get along, but she's been tracking demons to keep you safe. She's been sticking her neck out. She's trying to be nice!"
"Nice and good aren't the same thing, Sam. Just cause she's nice to you doesn't mean I have to trust her. And I'm not going to."
"Even though she saved my life."
"Yeah, Sam. And the angels saved Dean. You wanna invite them on the road trip?"
Sam glowered instead of answering her. It was hard to hide a satisfied smile. Sometimes, the Winchesters made it all too easy to argue. They used the same points over and over again. It was getting to the point that she could predict a whole argument in her head before she even opened her mouth.
Kat stuffed a few extra guns into her bag, along with her holy water pistol. It wouldn't be as effective as the demon knife, but she'd already given that back to Dean. If the angels planned on having him carve up Alastair, she was certain that toy was no longer at her disposal.
She twirled her keys around her finger, but before she could make it to the door, Sam spoke up again.
"Is this about Ruby? Or is this about me?"
It made her stop with her hand on the doorknob. Leave it to a Winchester to twist an argument with a guilt trip.
Her hand slid off the door. "Sam…"
"You thought I wouldn't notice?" His voice was weak, and he almost chuckled. "Kat, you haven't looked at me straight in two days."
"Don't put this on me," she said, rounding on him. "You've been avoiding me just as much."
"Yeah, because I know you're terrified! I know that! Because I used to be terrified, Kat. I know how scary these powers are, because I'm the one who's got them. And maybe I should have told you, maybe I shouldn't have lied, but…can you please try to understand why I've been putting this off?"
Kat closed her eyes and sighed. She tried to keep Dean's words in mind, Pamela's advice. Admonishing Sam wasn't going to accomplish anything. No matter how tangled his logic was, he wasn't going to see reason any other way. She couldn't push him, even if that meant she had to swallow the truth.
But when she opened her eyes, she was surprised. Whatever she was bracing herself to see, it wasn't there. Sam was—his eyes pleading, the heartbreak clear on his face. But it was just Sam. Sam who had sparred with her at the gym, who'd given her piggyback rides and forced her to see Dracula. Sam who'd sat with her and cried in front of Jess's grave. So maybe his logic was tangled. It was still him.
"I do understand." Kat dropped her bag, walking further into the room. She held his gaze in earnest. "Sam, you…you saved me. And I can't thank you enough, really. But using your powers…"
"I had to, Kat."
"I know. I know, Lana was a lot more powerful than last time. There was no telling what she could…"
"No, not because of Lana. Because of Jess."
Kat stopped short. She looked at Sam with mounting alarm. The puppy dog eyes were only getting worse, but he quickly dropped her gaze. Kat couldn't remember him being so shaken since she'd first found out about Ruby.
Sam took a deep breath, walking away to perch on the edge of the bed.
"You…You remember when we went to the park? The first time we were catching up, and I told you about my old visions?"
"Yeah," she said apprehensively. "What about it?"
"I didn't know they were visions at first. You know, I just thought they were nightmares. I used to have them all the time, and…I used to have one about Jess. The way she died…I'd been dreaming about it for weeks."
Kat's jaw clenched. Before she could find the proper reaction, Sam rushed on.
"I didn't know," he begged her. "I mean, I had no reason to think they would come true. You know? I—I thought they were just normal, fucked up nightmares about family trauma and running from my past, and—and I blamed myself for years, and I still do but…"
"Sam," she said firmly, her voice trembling. "Why are you telling me this?"
"Because…Because I couldn't save her."
Sam stared down at the carpet. He'd gone from shaking to being unnaturally still. His mind was someplace else, somewhere it couldn't make his body react.
"You said it yourself," he said. "I tried to forget who I was, and that's what got her killed. I tried to ignore my powers, and Jessica died. I don't want to do that this time. Not when I can save you."
He looked up at her, and his gaze was so intense that Kat almost stepped back. She floundered for a few moments, trying to shake her head.
"O-Okay, well, you saved me. So, mission accomplished."
"No. Not yet." Sam stood up from the bed, composed and resolute. "I can do this, Kat. I can break Alastair, and find a way to keep you safe."
"What? No!" This time, she didn't bother trying to control her voice. "Have you listened to a fucking word I've said? No, Sam!"
"Kat, I know it's scary, but I know my limits. Using my powers is a way more effective way to get him to talk than using Dean, and this way…"
"No! Just stop talking! Why do either of you need to torture him, okay? I don't want you to!"
"Kat, this is your life and…"
"I know it's my life, thanks," she snapped, jabbing him in the chest. "And I know my odds. Now Alastair is a demon thousands of years old. If the angels can't break him, with all the toys in their toy chest, then it is not going to come down to one of you. You're supposed to be the smart one, so I know you know that. So stop using me as a fucking excuse and help me find your brother."
They stared at each other, trapped in a standoff. Sam might have towered over her, but Kat's glare was twice as strong. But they were equally stubborn, and equally sure they were right. It might have been hours before one of them moved. But Kat's phone went off in her pocket, breaking the silence. She hung her head. One more shot, and she was done.
"Don't call her, Sam. Please."
Sam squared off his shoulders, and looked down on her in defiance.
"Call me when you hear from Bobby," he said. "I'll let you know if I find something."
Kat knew that he wouldn't. But she also knew there was no point in arguing. So she collected her things, and she left alone.
She tried to keep a level head as she walked. She checked out at the front desk in a clipped voice. She walked a little faster than she needed to, and threw her bag into the back with more force than she'd meant. When her stereo turned on with the engine, she slammed her hand so hard on the power button that it didn't even register. She had to do it three more times to get it right. Then she sat in the silence, and glared at the steering wheel.
She screamed, just because she could. It was a guttural sound, and it tore at her throat, straining her temples and making her head pound. It made the following silence that much stronger.
Kat took a deep breath, and pulled out onto the road.
She called Bobby first. There was no answer, which was unusual enough. But even Bobby had to sleep, she supposed. Hopefully that's all it was. Her next call would have been Ellen, or Jo, but something held her back. Neither of them knew about what Dean had done in Hell. Neither of them knew the full extent of Sam's affinity for demons. She had no idea how she would even begin to explain her predicament without bringing them on board. It put her in an awkward position. She didn't want to lie to them, even by omission, but it also wasn't her baggage to share. Ellen and Jo didn't know enough to help, and knew too much to ask without suspicion.
Kat typed in a more familiar number and waited.
"Hello?"
"Hey, Mom. It's me."
"Thank God," her mother sighed, her voice full of relief. "I know it's only been a few days, but I still get so worried when you don't call. When you didn't pick up before, I thought…"
"I'm fine, Mom. Promise."
She stared at the road in front of her, wondering about the last time that had even been true.
"Are you wrapping up another case?"
"Yeah. We saved a seal in Wyoming. Actually, Sam and Dean did most of the work. I was kind of on the bench."
"They benched you?" It was almost amusing how offended she sounded. "They benched the only person with a positive track record?"
"I didn't like it either," Kat said with a grin. "But they said there were too many demons around. Didn't want to take any chances."
"Oh, well in that case, I agree with them. You were being very reckless trying to help, and I'm eternally thankful for the Winchester boys."
"Right. I'm sure you are."
"How are they? Still fighting like divorcees?"
Kat hesitated. She had called for help, after all. The truth was on the tip of her tongue.
She swallowed it.
"Someone's always fighting," she said, letting out a weak laugh. "I guess we just take it in turns to be stuck in the middle."
"Well tell Sam it's his turn next. If they don't switch it up soon, I'm worried they'll kill each other. Or you'll snap and do it before they can manage."
"Rapidly approaching door number two."
"Just try and practice the serenity prayer. And remember, nothing is permanent. Not even this."
"Yeah, I know… Thanks, Mom."
"Anytime, baby," she assured. The grin in her voice had the curious effect of making Kat want to cry. "You already have another case, or do you finally get some downtime?"
"No, uh—uh Dean's working on something," said Kat, hiding her sniffle. "I'm trying to find something to help."
"Anything I can do?"
"No…no, I don't think so. I just wanted to hear your voice."
Her mother paused doubtfully on the other end.
"Are you sure you're alright, honey?"
"Yeah, I just…I'm tired. I gotta go, though. I have to make a few more calls."
"Katherine Diana…"
"Seriously, Mom," she said with a smile. "I'll call you when I get the chance."
"Alright. But be safe, okay? You come before the rest of the world."
"Got it."
"And there's always someone ready to listen to you. I know you can't always call me, but if the boys are getting on your nerves, you've got a whole bunch of other hunter friends who know the score. And your on-again-off-again angel friend. And whatever other angels you've met by now."
"Utilize your support system, I got it."
"And also…remember I love you."
"Yeah. I love you too, Mom."
Kat ended the call, and tossed the phone onto her passenger seat. She wasn't sure if she felt any better. A little less volatile, maybe, but her homesickness was almost as distracting as her rage. She didn't want to be fighting with the Winchesters, arguing with angels and torturing demons. She just wanted to go home to her mom, and Harley, and the gym. She missed the simple gratification of it all.
It was a tempting thought that she had to shake off. Nothing was permanent. She would go back to California later. Maybe much later. But right now, the present required her full attention. And her mother's advice had given her another bad idea for help.
She drove a little further down the interstate, trying to find a spot safe to go off-road. That wasn't an easy job for a Prius, but she and Scotty managed it. She pulled onto the shoulder, and when she was sure there were no approaching cars, drove through the grass to a patch of trees. She wanted to be thoroughly out of sight. The last thing she needed was an interruption.
Once she was sure the car wouldn't be seen, Kat bundled up in an extra sweatshirt and started walking away from the road. She wasn't entirely sure her plan was going to work. There was a good chance it wouldn't, in which case the only downside would be feeling like an idiot. If it did, though, she didn't want to risk her car getting damaged. She preferred her windows all intact.
She walked about a mile out into the tall grass. It was close enough that she could still see her car, far enough that she'd been an unidentifiable speck from the road. She spun on the spot, checking her conditions like she knew what she was looking for. When she couldn't put it off any longer, she let her hands fall to her sides. Her eyes fluttered closed, and she tipped her head back toward the sky.
"Castiel?"
The name died in the air, nothing for the sound to bounce back off of. Kat peeked one eye open. She watched the fog of her breath disappear in the air. Her eyes squeezed tighter, she tried again.
"Castiel, please. It's Kat. I…I don't know where you are, and I'm not positive that this works. But you said you'd always be with me so…I figured I'd give it a shot. Do…Do you wanna pick up?"
The night sky did not answer her. Kat's lip curled as she glared up at it.
"Fine," she grumbled. "Fuck you, you pretentious, lying bastard."
She probably should have tried again, but she was already starting to shiver uncontrollably. She tried to rub some feeling back into her cheeks, hopping up and down on the spot. Working up the courage for Plan B, she tried to find the right words.
"This is so stupid. This is…fuck. Okay, um…Anna…if you're still going by that name. Shit, I don't even know if this works if I don't know what the angels call you. Do I have to use your like God-given name? Whatever, uh…Anna, I don't know if you can hear me, but it's Kat. Katherine Moore. I don't exactly know how praying works, and I know you're supposed to be in hiding, but if you can hear me, we really need help. The angels have Dean. They took him somewhere, I can't find him, and…I don't know who else to ask."
Kat held her breath. She knew prayer wasn't instant, but it should've been pretty quick, right? They were telepathic, ethereal beings. How hard could it be to send a quick brain message or a text?
Still, she waited longer than she had for Castiel. He was the one who had taken Dean in the first place. Even if he could hear her, it wasn't like he was going to change his mind. At least Anna had better excuses. Maybe she couldn't answer. Maybe the other angels had caught up and she was dead. Maybe she'd left for a different Earth that was easier to protect. Maybe she was just out of range. Maybe…
"You shouldn't be so careless with your prayers."
Kat hadn't even noticed that she'd stopped shivering. Wind was whipping the grass, and yet she felt perfectly at ease. She opened her eyes, staring directly into the bright light over her. She recognized Anna at once. Not by her face or her voice. She didn't have her vessel anymore. But something in the abstract swirl was so easy for Kat to identify.
Her eyes watered, and she swayed on the spot.
"Close your eyes."
"No, I—I don't have to."
"I know you don't." The words were only inside her head, but she could feel the amusement behind them. "But it will be easier."
Reluctantly, Kat complied. She was relieved to find that she still felt warm.
"You need to be more careful," Anna warned. "Prayers are not always a secure way to communicate. They are easily intercepted by higher powers."
"I thought you were the higher power," said Kat. "That's why no one came after you."
"Castiel and Uriel did not. But there are others who will."
"I'm sorry. I know you were hiding, but…"
"No. This is important. Katherine, what happened to Dean?"
"He's—He's gone." Kat shivered again, not from the cold. "We saved a seal in Wyoming, and the angels were able to trap Alastair. But Cas said that there are angels dying, angels from your garrison. They want Dean to question Alastair for information. To torture him."
She felt the wave of angelic fury in her chest, like a powerful subwoofer in a club.
"When?"
"About an hour ago. Uriel and Castiel were there. Dean said no, but…"
"They would not have given him a choice. Not with something like this."
"Do you know where they are?" Kat begged. "Can you find them?"
"I can. I'll speak to them, Kat. Don't worry."
Kat felt the wind dying down. Panic seized her, and her eyes shot open.
"Wait! No, wait! Take me with you!"
She felt Anna's confusion in her own forehead, as if it were her eyebrows that were knitting together in concern.
"Please," said Kat. "This—They're fighting about it because of me. Cas told Dean that if he tortured Alastair, he could find out why the demons are looking for me, what they want me for. If he listens to him—I have to do something!"
"Kat," Anna's presence seemed to sigh, "if Alastair and his associates are looking for you, that is all the more reason to stay away. You would not be safe there."
"None of them are safe there! If Alastair gets out, or if someone comes looking for him…"
"Then Dean and Castiel will have enough trouble on their hands without trying to protect you."
Kat knew that this was true. Still, she ground her teeth, staring defiantly into the light above her. The vague notion of a face seemed to soften, or maybe that was the light. Either way, it was a gentler message she got next.
"I know how hard this is, Kat. But I cannot put you in harm's way. I will talk to Castiel, get Dean out if I can. You need to stay hidden. Stay with Sam."
The laugh that clawed out of Kat's throat was broken. She could feel her eyes watering again.
"Yeah, wish that I could." She felt Anna's confusion, but didn't give her a chance to ask. "Look, I know the last time we had the band together, you were Team Ruby, but Sam's working with her again. He's using his powers again. He wants to take on Alastair so Dean doesn't have to."
"No."
Anna's voice was strong. It wasn't quite the same feeling as her fury though. It almost felt like fear.
"Anna, please. Just let me come and…"
"No, Kat. Stay here. Stay hidden. I will send word when I can."
The light was gone before she could form a better argument.
Kat fell to her knees in the grass. She screamed, and cursed, and slammed her hands into the ground. There was no way to tell if it was an instinctual response to Anna, or her own rage. She hoped it was the latter. Inconvenient as emotions were, she preferred to own her feelings than be out of control.
Cold was quick to set in. For a while she just curled into a ball, letting the grass scratch her face. It was easier than getting to her feet. But then her fingers began to go numb, and her teeth began to chatter. When the chill turned to pain, she forced herself off of the ground. She trudged back to her car—angry, sore, and defeated.
Much as she hated to admit it, being in the car was a comfort. She blasted the heat as soon as she started it up. While there wasn't immediately any hot air, it was better that the frosty breeze outside. She pulled her hood up, and burrowed back into the seat. Then all she had to figure out was what she was going to do next.
She checked her phone to no success. Bobby hadn't called her back, and she hadn't called anyone else for help. She scrolled through her texts for a message from Sam, but no dice. Not that she'd been expecting a real update anyway. The first thing Ruby probably told him was to leave Kat out of it to keep her safe. Demonic bitch.
On a hopeful whim, she opened a new message.
"Don't know if you've got your phone. If you do, please don't do this. Sending help, and we'll find you soon. Hang in there."
The text sat there under Dean's name. It was pathetically simple, and criminally unhelpful. Even if Dean held out, she was sure the angels had other ways to persuade him. Uriel was probably kicking the crap out of him right now. Or laying some angel mind tricks on him. Otherwise they'd go back to their threats, like they had with Anna. Of course, they couldn't threaten to throw Dean back into the Pit when they needed him. They just wanted him to relieve Hell on Earth.
She glared at the dashboard, continuing to shiver even as the car became stiflingly hot. Thick fog formed on her windows, blocking the outside world. Every few minutes, she'd press the lock button on the door again. There was nothing safe about a locked car abandoned on the side of the interstate in the middle of nowhere, but it made her feel a little more secure. Even if it wouldn't stop the hoard of demons on her ass.
With nothing better to do, she dug her case notebook out of her bag. She finished off a few basic details from the Greybull case. They'd saved the seal, and sent Cole Griffith's soul to the other side. The other non-victims had passed on too, their wounds magically reopening and their cancer coming back two-fold. It wasn't a happy case to write down.
She made an entry about reapers as well, chronicling the few things Sam and Dean had told her. They weren't spirits, per se, but they only existed beyond the veil. To kill them you needed a special weapon—Death's scythe, if Alastair had been telling the truth. They didn't like questions, and they didn't make decisions. Souls had to decide for themselves when they were ready to go into the light. No one had the power to force them.
Kat looked down at the entry, seeming out of place next to the addresses and names of the human victims. She wished she had a better way to organize everything without typing. But maybe organization wasn't everything.
Her thoughts drifted back to John's journal, and the snippets she'd read in the motel room. She'd tried her best not to absorb the private details, but it'd been clear that John was trying to work things out after his wife's death. He was looking for answers, recounting each day in hopes that the right details might end up on the page. It was a great coping exercise, one they'd taught in about every kind of therapy she'd ever tried. She hadn't done it in years…
She put her case notebook aside. Reaching into her duffle, she pulled out a fresh one instead. She tucked her legs up underneath her in the driver's seat, giving her room to lean the pad on her knee. The pen hovered over the paper, and she bit her lip. The blank space was more intimidating than anything. She had no idea where to even begin. She had to keep reminding herself that the beginning wasn't what mattered. It didn't need to be neat, or organized. She just had to get it out onto the page.
Kat took a deep breath, and started to write.
Hunting with the Winchesters sucks ass.
Every case is an anomaly. Some famous ghost or a crazy creature that only shows up once every thousand years. Or of course the angels, and demons, and literal end of the world. Half the time there's so much going on I can barely think straight. The other half I'm on the bench because I don't know enough and things are too dangerous for me.
Honestly, I don't even know why I'm out here. When I left the Roadhouse, it seemed like the right thing to do. Fight the good fight, stop the Apocalypse, make the most of a bad situation. Now I'm not so sure. Every day is another fucking battle, either with a monster or with Sam and Dean. We're all constantly at each other's throats, and I know I don't make things easier on them. They're stuck babysitting me because I wanted to do some good, but then they end up doing all the work anyway because it's too risky to let me near demons. If I can't even help save the seals, what is the goddamn point?
I've thought about taking Cas's offer about the safe house. I don't know if he'd let me take Mom with me. She'd probably be so relieved to see me that she wouldn't mind living in the angels' witness protection for the rest of her life. I'm afraid I'd go stir crazy if I was locked up somewhere. But I'd be about as useful as I am now. Which is no fucking use at all.
She continued to write, complete stream of consciousness. She wrote about not getting through to Sam. She wrote about arguing with Dean, and his relentless immaturity. She wrote about Bobby and Ellen and Jo and Pamela and everyone else she'd met over the past four months. She wrote and wrote and wrote, until a sound made her pause.
Air rushed through the Prius, like the sound of wings. Kat's head shot up, but not fast enough. She didn't see the hand that reached for her head. Only the empty air where her passenger seat had been a moment before.
Kat looked around wildly. She was no longer in her car. Instead she was in some kind of warehouse, rusty walls of corrugated metal all around her. She was perched on an old folding chair, at an empty table, in an empty room. At least, it looked empty to her.
"Katherine?"
Her head snapped around. Standing behind her, looking positively alarmed, was Castiel. Kat hated how much it relieved her to see him. She didn't want to feel safe around him. She wanted to feel pissed.
Before either of them could say anything, another sound rang out through the room. It was a terrible gurgling—screams muffled by pain and walls and liquid she knew for certain was blood. Her eyes shot to the rusty door on the other end of the table. She could see movement through the small window at the top, but the glass was too filthy to make anything out from a distance.
Kat shot out of her chair. At least, she tried to, but she'd been sitting for so long that her legs had trouble unfolding. But the time she'd gotten her knees to cooperate and she felt secure putting weight on them, Castiel had stepped into her path.
"How did you even get here?" he asked, his voice scolding.
"Get out of my way."
"Katherine, you cannot be here. It's not safe."
"I said get out of my way."
"Who sent you…?"
"Move!"
Kat pounded her fists into his chest. She pushed at him and kicked at his shins. It was very rude of him, she thought, to not react. He caught both of her wrists in one of his large hands, and backed her away from the door without the slightest bit of effort.
"Oh, fuck you, Cas," she growled, trying to wrestle her hands back.
"Katherine, how did you get here?" he asked again.
"I don't fucking know, okay? One minute I was sitting in my car, the next I was sitting here. I was waiting for Anna to get back to me about…"
"Anna?" he demanded. "You're the one who called Anna?"
"Of course I am! I needed someone who could find you! I needed to find you!"
"Katherine, this is serious," Castiel said gravely. "If Anna sent you here…"
"Then she's clearly the only one who's listening to me! I went with Sam and Dean to protect the seals. I'm tired of sitting on the sidelines! And don't give me this bullshit about staying safe," she added when Cas opened his mouth to argue, "because in Belle Fourche you marched me right into the line of fire. I'm useful, Cas. So let me help!"
"You can't. This is something only Dean can accomplish."
"That's not true, and you know it. You already tried torturing him. So let's use something that could throw Alastair off his game. If I interrogate him, he'll be so busy bragging and trying to scare me that he might…"
"Absolutely not!" Castiel barked in outrage. "Katherine, it's too dangerous. If Alastair were to…"
"To what? Break free? Cas, if you're worried about that, then Dean shouldn't be in there. No one should!"
Castiel shook his head, the way he always did when their arguments didn't go according to his plan. But he stowed his outrage away. When he looked up at her, he was composed and cold.
"You cannot be here, Katherine. I'm sorry."
He raised his hand toward her, and Kat leapt back.
"No! Cas, please! Just listen to me! If Anna sent me here, it's because she knows we can get through to you. Because she knows you don't want this any more than we do. I know you care, Castiel. So let's find another way!"
"Calling Anna was foolish," Castiel scolded. "I would not listen to her advice any more than I would take orders from a demon. Anna is not someone to be emulated. She fell, willingly became an abomination, a…"
"She became human," Kat snarled. "That's an abomination to you? What? She's a failure because she has empathy? Because she cares about people? About us?"
"Yes."
It hit her like a slap in the face. He'd answered so emphatically. And yet his face was completely passive. A blank mask devoid of any emotion or concern.
Kat smacked him. The sound echoed in the empty room. It hurt her more than it'd hurt him. God, it felt like her hand was broken. But she didn't care. It didn't matter. None of it mattered.
"I'm taking Dean."
She pushed him out of her way and stormed toward the door. She only made it a few paces before he rematerialized in front of her.
"I can't let you do that," he said evenly.
"Oh, but you can let Dean do that?" she barked, brandishing a finger at the door. "What is he doing in there, Castiel?"
"You know what he's doing in there."
"No! You fucking—how could you possibly make him do this?"
"Katherine, I am not making Dean do anything," Castiel said earnestly. "Dean chose to walk through that door. He's doing this for you."
"I don't want him to!" she screeched. "I don't—why aren't any of you listening to me? I don't want this! I don't care! Just get him out of there!"
She made another dash for the door. Castiel was ready for her. This time he caught her in his arms, holding her firmly against his chest no matter how hard she pushed against him. She tried with all her might to shove him out of the way, to push him back into the door, even to gain an inch. But Castiel wouldn't budge.
Kat ripped herself back, glaring at him through tears of fury.
"Do you even expect this to work?" she demanded. "Alastair is thousands of years old! Dean's been a torture expert for—what? A couple months? A few years by Hell's standards? How can you possibly think that compares to all the knowledge in Heaven? What happened to the 'warriors of God'?"
"We tried everything we could…"
"Then try harder! Because you and I both know Dean is not going to break Alastair! You are not going to get your precious information. All you're going to do is push Dean to a breaking point. And once he hits it, he's not going to be able to help you, or me, or himself. If he's so important to you as a weapon, why don't you think about that?"
Castiel just watched her scream. His fervor was gone. He seemed tired, deflated. If she hadn't known he was a soulless bastard, she might even have said he looked sympathetic.
"I am thinking about that," he assured her weakly. "And I don't want Dean in there anymore than you do. But I have my orders. And that's what I have to follow."
Kat nodded. She walked up to him slowly, glaring at every inch of him one fraction at a time. Chest to chest, she glowered into his face.
"Screw your orders," she hissed.
She stepped around him, marching for the door. She yanked it open before anyone could stop her and stormed inside.
"Dean, stop, we're going…"
The words died in her mouth, and she stopped dead.
If she hadn't been able to identify the movement from outside, she certainly could now. There was a large rig in the center of the room, iron shaped into a six pointed star. It was draped in bloody chains and straps. But the chains and straps were empty. Instead, Dean was pressed back against the structure, beaten and bruised. He was suspended in the air, face turning purple, only held aloft by one hand around his throat. The man holding him turned around slowly. The fresh blood that soaked his clothes and skin didn't seem to be bothering him much. His face split into a wide smile, showing red-stained teeth to compliment his blank white eyes.
"Katherine," he greeted in a wheezy voice. "So glad you could make it."
Kat didn't have time to think.
She grabbed the first thing she found and rushed forward. Alastair threw her aside with a lazy flick of his fingers. Kat collided with a support column, her body screaming in pain, and she slid to the floor.
"I'm sorry, Dean," Alastair tutted, turning back to him. "Could you hold please?"
He released his grip on Dean's throat, sending his body crumpling to the floor. Kat tried to crawl over, but a force knocked her onto her back. Just like at the graveyard, she was pinned down. She gasped for breath, wide eyes fixed on the ceiling, and Alastair ducked into her field of vision.
"What a pretty kitty," he sang. She could feel his fingers leaving a trail of blood along her jaw. She would have shuddered if she could. There was no telling if it was his own blood or Dean's. "And all gift wrapped for me. I'll have to send a thank you to the angel. Mm, I can smell him on you…"
Alastair vanished abruptly, knocked to the side by the blur of an overcoat. The power restraining Kat broke, but she was so frightened that she still couldn't move. She could hear Castiel and Alastair fighting, only feet away. And all she could do was tremble and stare up at the ceiling.
"Kat!" Castiel barked. "Dean! Now!"
The command spurred her into action. She scrambled to her feet, narrowly dodging the battle as Alastair charged Castiel into the other room. Her path clear, she skittered across the floor, falling to her knees at Dean's side.
He was in bad shape. That was an understatement, but the best her brain could do. His skin was still purple from being choked. Or maybe it was purple from all the bruises and blood. She had no idea how bad it was or what injuries were causing what. Purple veins lined his face between rivers of blood. At a glance she could identify the split skin on his nose, his cheek, his lips. Some of them had to be broken, or fractured at the very least.
"Dean?" She shook him from his chest, desperate to wake him but afraid to make the damage any worse. "Dean, come on, wake up. Please—fuck, please wake up! You fucking asshole, get up!"
She'd started crying again. She moved to shaking fingers to his throat. The whole thing seemed be swollen, she might not even be able to find it—but there. He still had a pulse, at least. She could feel him moving under her hand as his body fought for air.
"Okay," she sighed in relief. "Okay, God, uh…Dean? Can you hear me?"
He did not move or respond in any way.
Before she could think of what to do next, silence startled her from the other room. The screams and grunts had stopped. That was not good.
Kat looked at the door, unable to see anything on the other side. Then she looked back at Dean, unresponsive on the ground.
"Okay, uh…you're good, right? You can wait like two seconds? Okay? Okay."
She patted him on the chest and jumped to her feet. The demon knife lay abandoned a few feet away, covered in blood and salt. She scooped it up and bolted back into the other room.
Alastair had Castiel pinned to a column. He was muttering in Latin, the same kind of incantation he'd attempted at the barn. Kat saw the bright blue light beginning to shine from behind Castiel's eyes. His mouth gaped open, blinding rays creeping through. She ran.
The knife sunk into Alastair's back. Right along his spine, and down to the hilt. It made a satisfactory sizzle under her hand, lighting up orange and yellow and flame white. And then it stopped.
Her hands fell from the blade as Alastair turned around. He was pouting, not in the slightest amount of visible pain.
Kat stumbled back.
"I'm not mad, Katherine," he sighed, shaking his head. "Just disappointed."
He thrust his hand out, and just like the barn, she went flying across the room. This time she hit the ground before the wall, and slid several feet on bruised limbs. But she rolled out of it, forcing herself onto her feet even though at least one of her ankles was sprained. She wasn't going to let him kill Castiel. She couldn't let him do it.
She took several limping steps forward. Alastair just laughed.
"Oh, catty, catty, pussycat. You just don't give up, do you?"
"Okay," Kat groaned, "if you're gonna torture me, can we just skip to the waterboarding and endless pain? Cause I've heard a lot of cat jokes in my life, and comedy is not your calling."
Alastair's stained grin stretched wider.
"Oh! You mean pain like this?"
He raised his hand, and Kat collapsed back to her knees. He wasn't choking her, not like he had last time. Instead it felt as though every one of her vital organs was in a vice grip, being squeezed tighter and tighter until they threatened to split in two. She could feel something forcing its way up her throat—saliva, bile, blood, it could have been her entire esophagus for all she knew. Every atom felt like it was being torn apart from the next…
"No!"
The pressure vanished. Alastair went flying into the wall, but he was not followed by a blurred overcoat. He wasn't followed by anything. With tremendous effort, Kat lifted her head, looking around for the source.
Sam had finally found them. He had his hand out like Alastair's, holding the demon to the wall from twenty feet away. He looked unnervingly calm. It was the same unaffected expression he'd worn when Kat stormed out of the motel room.
Alastair groaned, and spat on the ground.
"Stupid pet tricks…"
"Who's murdering the angels?" asked Sam. "How are they doing it?"
"You think I'm gonna tell you?" Alastair chuckled.
"Yeah. I do."
Sam twisted his hand, clenching his fingers around something invisible. Alastair stiffened against the wall, his whole body shaking. He gagged and gurgled, just like Kat had heard when he was being tortured by Dean.
But Sam was quickly losing his cool composure.
"How are the demons killing angels?" he roared, tightening his fist even further.
"I—I…don't…k-know!"
"Right."
Sam clenched his fist closed, and Alastair grunted in pain. It sounded like he was choking on his own tongue. Sam kept going, his lips curling into a sinister sneer.
"It's…n-not…us! We're…n-not doing it!"
"I don't believe you."
"Ah! Guh-uh…L-Lilith…is not behind this…ack…she wouldn't kill seven angels. She'd kill a hundred…a thousand…"
Sam lowered his arm. Alastair sagged forward, gasping in the fresh air, clutching at his throat. Even Sam's chest was heaving, just from the effort. He looked down on Alastair in disdain.
"And what about Kat? Why do you need her?"
"Aha! Oh…oh ho, we don't…"
"What?" Sam's eyes widened, and he raised his hand again in threat. "Then why have you been hunting her? You said you had plans for her!"
"Oh, we do," Alastair wheezed in deranged glee. "But…it doesn't have to be Katherine. We just…want her…"
His body was slammed back into the wall. Sam thrust his fist forward, and Alastair's eyes bulged like a terrifying children's toy. Still he was smiling, spittle flying in all directions as he laughed.
"We are going—oh, we are going to break her! We're going to break her up inside and out, and then send her home to you in a litter box! Break the kitten…and you break the Winchesters…"
"Shut up!"
Blood was seeping from every orifice of Alastair's face. Even his human eyes were dyed red. He spat out a wad of bile, and fixed Sam with a defiant grin.
"Oh, go ahead. Send me back…if you can…"
"I'm stronger than that now," Sam said. He was smiling too. "Now I can kill."
"Sam, no!"
But it was too late. He raised his hand, closed his eyes, and Sam was gone.
Alastair let out a guttural scream. His jaw dropped open wide, and his skin began to flicker with golden light. Kat could see his skull, his ribs, his whole skeleton lit up from the inside out. In a matter of seconds, Sam managed to do what the knife could not. Alastair's eyes bugged wide, and he slumped against the wall. His legs gave out beneath him. There was an awful scraping sound, the hilt of the knife against the brick as the demon slid down to the floor. Then his body fell to the side, dead.
For several seconds, none of them moved. Kat could only watch as Sam stood there panting. He lowered his hand, flexing and stretching his fingers as though he'd just written a very long essay. He used the same hand to push his hair out of his face. There was still the ghost of a smile, a look of pride.
It was gone by the time he turned to her. He just looked concerned, drained, shaken. Kat wished she could believe they were real.
"Dean?" he asked.
Kat pointed to the door. Sam rushed past her, and she couldn't help but shrink out of his way. She wasn't sure that he even noticed.
"Katherine…"
She turned around to find a battle-torn Castiel at her shoulder. She reached out to steady him on instinct, even though he didn't seem off balance.
"Cas, are you…?"
"I'm fine," he assured her. "My vessel will need time to heal, but there will be no lasting damage. Are you alright?"
"I'm fine." She felt more like she was repeating the words than speaking them for himself. "Alastair's powers…I mean, it hurt like hell, but I don't think…"
"That's not what I meant."
Kat looked up at him. Castiel's mask of indifference was gone. His blue eyes were boring into hers, the blue that felt like rain, not steel. Every inch of his face was lined with concern, and despite everything he'd said in their argument, she knew that it was genuine.
"What Alastair said…" he started lowly.
"Nothing we didn't already know."
She needed to shut the conversation down. It had been disturbing enough to hear the first time. After everything that had happened, she wasn't ready to relive it just yet.
"Look, we can worry about me later," she sighed. "Just help Dean. Please."
Castiel nodded wordlessly. He followed after Sam, leaving Kat alone in the cavernous room.
She carded her hands through her hair, dismayed to find that she could still feel them trembling. But she could only focus on one thing at a time. She'd asked for a piece of the action, and that's what she'd gotten. Now she just had to find a way to deal with it.