Kat sat alone in the great room of the bunker. The last two days had become consumed by the act researching, rather than actually getting to the answers. Words flew off the papers that were spread around her and Kat felt like they garbled together creating static in her brain. The cauldron still sat in its place on the long wooden table but Kat ignored its overwhelming presence.
She held her guitar, and allowed her fingers to revisit her favorite chords. The tall ceilings reverberated the sound beautifully. For a moment, she was blissfully unaware of her surroundings.
"That's nice." A gruff voice said from behind her. She jumped involuntarily and her hands shook so that a dissonance rang out. She spun in her chair and saw Castiel standing about 15 feet away, looking sheepish.
"Dean said you'd be coming. Sorry to disappoint but I don't have work today. So you've…flown here for nothing." Kat said apologetically.
The angel stepped forward and shook his head. "I wouldn't say that. I just spoke to Dean and they'll be back soon, I have news from Heaven that is of some importance."
"Oh." Kat shrugged. She started to get up, holding the instrument by its neck.
"Don't stop on my account. I actually quite like music, although I don't know much about it." He confessed.
She regarded him with pity, getting the impression that he didn't know much about anything outside of damage control. What did angels do in their spare time...if they had any? Did they purely exist, waiting for catastrophe?
"I've always enjoyed the way a simple melody could bring humans together. No matter what, music is always the infallible thread." He continued.
She wasn't surprised by how profound he was. She was embarrassed that she had nothing at that caliber to offer him back. So, she held out the old guitar.
"I could teach you." Kat offered.
"I would like that very much." Castiel said.
Two hours later Castiel had been able to pluck out Knockin' on Heaven's Door by Bob Dylan. Albeit, it was a simplified version, so that just the tune was noticeable. For the grand finale—after about thirty seconds of repositioning his fingers—he strummed a full chord.
Castiel smiled proudly and Kat graciously applauded. The door at the top of the stairs swung open to Sam carrying two duffle bags and Dean, a stack of books.
"You brought me home a souvenir, how thoughtful." Kat called out to Dean, who looked morose but allowed a smirk at her comment.
Cas stood up and announced, "I have news from Heaven." He was clutching the guitar in one hand and Dean eyed it suspiciously.
"What are you doing with that Cas?" Sam asked.
"Oh, Katherine taught me how to play Bob Dylan." He said plainly.
"Which song?" interrogated Dean. The brothers had made their way down the stairs and placed their belongings on the table.
"Knockin' on Heaven's Door." Kat said, hoping the irony wouldn't be lost on them like it had been on Cas.
"That's awesome." Said Dean and Kat giggled proudly.
"I thought so." She added
Sam began laying out the books in smaller piles, Kat assumed by genre or something similar. "What's the news from on high Cas?" he asked, redirecting the conversation.
"Well it's not good, I'm afraid. The angels are refusing to enter the fight against Rowena. They say this is a pagan war and it is not their place. I tried, but my word only carries so far after all that has happened."
"Try again. The witch told us that this is more or less all about revenge on Crowley. The demons are bound to start fighting at some time, and that's what you guys do best, right? Smite?" explained Sam.
"Rowena has these goons working for her. The witch called them Fomori." Added Dean.
"They're nasty pieces of work. Balor creates them, they're essentially human husks that are reclaimed by the nature they're born from. They look kind of like trees. But, like, the ones with yellow eyes in cartoons that scared the crap out of me as a kid. They were there at the bar" Kat supplied.
"Balor…like the guy you told us Kat is descended from Cas?" Sam broached.
"The very same." Confirmed Cas. The brothers shared an understanding look.
It didn't go unnoticed by Kat. "What?" she asked.
It was Dean that stepped closer and took a set across from her. "The witch also told us that Rowena needs you for something, we don't know what, but it's because of your lineage. So that's why she didn't just kill you all those times. She needs you."
"Ohhhhhhhh." Groaned Kat as she momentarily placed her head in her hands, rubbed her face, then pointed her right at the cauldron. Her left she balanced on her knee and rested her head in the bend of her hand and wrist.
She felt removed from the rest of them, like she was on her own island and they were talking to each other through paper cups attached by string. Words disappeared into the nether, were lost in translation, as her mind took all of the information she had gathered in the last few days and glued it together.
"I couldn't figure it out. There are two runes next to each other on the rim. You see? That one's Rowen and the other is Alder. They're ogham's, part of the Celtic Zodiac system but I looked further into them individually and in the Celtic creation myth, Rowen created the first woman and Alder the first man. I couldn't get past why they were both there and yet the utmost of opposite. Now, I know what she's doing." Kat vocalized.
"What, what's she doing?" pressed Dean, who never removed his green eyes from her brown.
"She's trying to take in more power. She must think I know the whereabouts of any males left in my family. There are none, not since my uncle died. But if she combines one part man one part woman, i.e. Rowen and Alder she'll be able to absorb the 'powers' of whichever man she chooses. She's looking for a male from my family because as Cas pointed out, I'm apparently descended from Balor, or whatever. In myth his grandson Lugh, killed him. She's using Balor's army but is probably trying to cut out the middle man and to kill him she needs a male from my bloodline." Kat sat back in the chair and covered her eyes with her small hand, mind reeling.
She felt slightly out of breath after speaking with such fervor for so long. "This sucks." She added.
"We've got a good start. We'll figure this out." Assured Sam.
By the end of the day, they had ironed out the rest of legend and pieced more on to where they could.
Out of frustration and the pressure that had suddenly fallen on her shoulder, Kat retreated to the kitchen. She put together a simple meal and brought it back out to Sam and Dean. She placed her forefinger in her mouth, absentmindedly remembering it had been burnt by steam from the stove.
"What's up?" asked Dean eyeing her intently.
"Nothing? Oh. I burnt my finger, its fine." She brushed off his concern quickly.
"It's not fine. Grab some beer and take five. Go watch a movie or something." Dean commanded, and Kat knew it was not a request.
She did as he said, and Dean watched her walk away, part of him wishing she'd stay.
Kat had drunk through six of the seven beers she'd grabbed. It wasn't her intention, but the realization that fate was at work in her life had taxed her confidence. Over the noise of the television she heard a firm rap on the door.
"Come in." she said as she swung her legs around and sat Indian-style on the bed. A loose tank top ran parallel to her slouched shoulders and Dean entered the room.
"How you doing?" he said tentatively, sitting on the desk chair.
"Better," she shrugged and smirked, liberal in her movements because of the alcohol. "Little drunk." She pinched her forefinger and thumb together and her eyes squinted along with the motion.
Dean smiled at her, he found her exuberance adorable. He realized he had remained silent for thirty seconds too long and broke eye contact. He ran his hands along the arms of the chair and readied himself to stand. Then he recognized the song coming from the television.
"Dirty Dancing….really?" he gibed.
"Roadhouse is on next. Dance with me." Kat replied. She placed her beer on the nightstand and moved on all fours to the edge of the bed. She kept her eyes on Dean—who looked slightly shocked—and swiftly pushed her legs off the bed to stand. He reached his hand out for hers as if he was afraid she'd fall. Instead, her fingers firmly took hold of it and pulled him upright.
"No. No. No. No. No." Dean repeated melodically. But Kat wrapped her thin arms around his waist and bit her bottom lip, laughing at how ridiculous he looked. He was forced side to side by her arms but he stared at the ceiling with exasperation.
"Ok, then sway with me. Like we're at an 80's prom." She compromised.
His face turned downward as she moved her hands from his waist to his shoulders. It was strange for Dean to be the victim. The prey to Kat's predator. But he allowed her hand to pull his face to hers, and kissed back. Knowing full well he'd been beguiled.
The pair weren't concerned with how much time had gone by. Dean laying on his back with one arm under his head and Kat on her stomach, with both arms crossed under her cheek. The sheets lay in disarray half on the floor and half on the bed, delicately draped across them both.
"Are you ever gonna fall asleep…? I've been waiting here so I can sneak out." Dean joked.
"Would you have left your number on a napkin at least?" Kat asked in jest.
"Not a chance." He replied, without remorse.
"Scoundrel!" Kat exclaimed in mock rage as she leaned in for one more kiss. She pulled back and rested on her elbows. "I've never been much of a sleeper. I like silence, but, like, when it's supposed to be, you know? I can't tell if I like the purity of it in the early morning or very late at night better. This might sound weird, but they're different. To me at least." She confessed, with a quick shrug of her shoulders.
"I'd pick night, I guess. When things were simpler, before—hell, before the boatload of crazy that's been our lives the past couple of years—Sam and I used to lay on the hood of the Impala for hours just looking at the stars." Dean said.
The statement wasn't a confession because he felt so weirdly comfortable telling Kat things. She seemed just as lost now as he had felt all his life; only, under different circumstances. But all of the explanations he could make to himself didn't matter. Talking to each other was quite possibly the one thing Dean—or Kat for that matter—didn't have to waste energy thinking on.
"What has happened to you two?" Kat sighed.
Dean grinned flatly and sighed, "I'm almost tempted to tell you to read the books." However, he pulled Kat closer, and shared some of their experiences, in his own way.
After they'd both fallen asleep, Dean awoke unexpectedly. It was like his body woke him up out of reflex. He wasn't allowed to relax, not completely anyway. Gingerly, he slid off the bed. Kat had faced the other way but curled her back into his side. Her hair was splayed out across the sheets. It looked like the contrast of shadow puppets on a white wall, sticking up in random places. The alarm clock on the bedside table read 3:13. He rubbed his eyes. As he was going to pull the blanket further up to cover Kat he noticed a small shadow above her heart. It fit perfectly under one of her tattoos. The shape of it looked like a child had colored outside the lines of the Celtic knot symbol that was inked on her sternum. It must be a birthmark, so faint he hadn't noticed it before. The shape looked oddly familiar to him, but Dean pushed it away for the moment and placed a light kiss on Kat's forehead before he left. Just because he was alone.
As he went to the kitchen he was surprised to see both Sam and Cas still awake in the great room. Their work looked like it had come to a stopping point, and they were talking in hushed tones.
Sam looked up and waved a hand in greeting. "Took a while." He said passively
Cas looked at Sam quizzically and before Dean could deliver his witty retort he said bluntly, "I think we all know Dean was fornicating Sam."
Dean stopped short, looked at him hopelessly and continued to walk towards them again as he said, "Nice Cas. Very delicate. Did you find anything else?"
"No, just all the legends corroborating everything we realized earlier tonight." Sam said in one breath.
Dean slouched in a chair, his posture lacking. The three of them sat for a moment in their own minds. It was probably the lateness of the hour, which kept them from real conversation.
"You should brand her ribs like you did ours, Cas." Dean suggested, tiredly.
"I will. But first I will relay this news to Heaven. Hopefully they will see things differently." And with a whooshing noise he was gone.
The door to Rowena's audience chamber in the sticky warehouse creaked open dramatically. The room, was situated above the warehouse, accessible only by a small metal staircase. It had three cement walls and a glass one, overlooking the action down below. It was similar to watching ants move around the vertical tanks with built-in mazes for them to climb. Everything ran smoothly. All of Rowena's followers knew their place and objective and worked, some without orders at all.
"There's been an event, ma'am." Said the intruder's voice.
Rowena did not turn to face whomever it was. She held out one dainty finger and cleared her throat.
"Madam," the voice amended, "The witch you placed in Nebraska has been terminated."
"Let me guess….the Winchesters… Jeanine was hardly competent but it's high time I stopped underestimating those boys. Release Cernnunos. He will probably fail to remove Samuel from the picture. We just need him to have his…effect...on Dean" Rowena ordered with a wicked smile.
A/N: Little bit of a short one. Very talky, and developmental, but this is a love story after all. I hope everyone is enjoying my interpretation of Dean actually experiencing love...under the lens of my microscope. Again, all I own is Kat. Rate and Review please!