Something had changed within Dean. He did everything just as he normally did; that was the crux of it. The normality of his movements and actions were betrayed by the silence that came after them. It was a stagnant gap of air. Something in the way his eyes moved, like a teen driver eyeing their surroundings with the utmost of caution and finding danger in everything.

It was like he kept a secret, and he did. That secret was the severity of his desire to save Kat. What Crowley had said scared him more than he'd care to admit. As the days passed into weeks, what held him back from telling Kat was her utter apathy. She worked tirelessly on translations but it seemed like she refused to acknowledge the threat to her own life. Every day was approached with a blasé attitude. It was unclear whether or not she did so out of fear, but Dean matched it, hoping that the uniformity would bring her comfort. Kat did not do it on purpose, in fact, she shut herself off from everything, not just Dean. She couldn't reconcile her selfish desire to survive at whatever cost. She wanted to spare Dean as much pain as possible but at the end of the day, she was not selfless. It was a quality she hated most about herself. So she had avoided looking deeply into the green eyes she knew wanted her life to stay within his own more than anything. It was because she didn't know if she could guarantee it.

They stood on opposite sides of the bedroom that had become theirs.

The argument they were having had been going on since Mark had called them the day before with a location on Rowena's warehouse in Boston. Kat had tried talking logically, but they were both undeterred; she had pleaded, and now her defensive side was showing itself in the form of childish defiance. It was wearing Dean's patience thin.

She hadn't been sleeping, which was why she was always so exhausted. She'd started working herself up to the point of nausea, which stopped her from eating, which then stopped her from getting energy, which circled right back to the sleeplessness.

Dean packed carefully and meticulously avoiding eye contact with Kat as she readied for work. She was walking around in nothing but a pair of tights and a jersey t-shirt, which fell perfectly on her figure. 'Eyes front,' Dean told himself. When she turned around he snuck a look at her legs that were all that was visible after she bent the top half of her body into the closet in search of shoes.

She re-emerged with a pair of boots and she knew Dean was looking at her. Taking advantage of this, she went to the desk and took out a small piece of string and began tying it around her forefinger.

"What are you doing?" Dean questioned dryly, unable to resist his curiosity.

"You know how people tie a piece of string around their finger so that every time they see it, they remember something?" she said innocently.

"Yeah?"

"Well, this one is to remind me to punch you in the face."

"Ok, Kat, enough with the dramatics. We have to go," Dean said throwing up his hands, frustrated that he'd fallen for her latest trick.

"No Dean, It's been six weeks since we got the spear and we know nothing about how it works other than it giving me massive heartburn. You get a call from Mark and you're just gonna run off to fight Rowena without a weapon?"

"We're bringing the caldron as a bargaining chip. She's smart, she won't be able to move on us if she knows we have something valuable to her. Sam's negotiated with her before like we told you. We've been doing this a long time Kat," he said condescendingly as he returned to his packing. The sock he was pairing shook slightly. The movement made him realize it was his hand that was quivering with anger.

"But that was when it was just you guys looking out for each other. Now I'm here and I wanna protect you too. We've gotta plan. Something…I don't know…" Kat begged, grasping at nothing hoping the perfect argument would just fall in her lap.

"There's no time to study. We might not get another chance like this," Dean shut down, yet again.

"Ok, Ok, I'm just—" Kat stopped in the middle of her sentence. Her throat, which had been getting smaller and smaller as her tension and panic grew seemed to burst open. Her body functioned on autopilot and she ran out of the room; past Dean, who was looking over his shoulder at her. The gagging noise she made caused him to spin around to face the door but he was too late and saw only her ankle disappearing from the frame.

Kat slid on her knees to the toilet after slamming the door in Dean's angry face. She vomited violently, holding her hair back. With the release of the bile, she felt her anxiety leave her body on its coattails.

"Kat, Kat you good?" Dean growled concernedly through the door and he pounded one fist against it.

"I'm fine," she snapped back, spitting her excess saliva into the bowl. "My stress always messes with my body and it's your fault you know," she called spitefully, knowing it was an untrue statement but said it nonetheless.

"Fine, Kat, whatever," Dean responded hopelessly as he walked away from the door.

Goodbyes had been an awkward affair. Sam, was not spared Kat's rage and moodiness the past week either so the three of them stood apart, blank-faced and silent. Hoping that with their eyes they could express everything that was not being said.

The boys jerkily made their way to their respective car doors; Dean put the key in the ignition and the Impala roared to life. Above the noise, they boths noticed a song coming from the radio. Sam knew it was the first track on a highly sarcastic, nostalgic-of-the-80's, mixtape Kat had gone out of her way to put on a cassette so that it could be played in the Impala's original tape deck.

"We must leave to where it's hot, we stole too much to gain. It's the end of the world," crooned the singer over brooding instrumentals reminiscent of 1970's indie rock. Kat had chosen the song for that very reason, knowing Dean wouldn't be automatically averse to it just because it was produced in this decade. Dean believed it to be because of her love for The Doors, which is who the song reminded him of.

It didn't matter why at the moment to Dean, just that it wasn't there to remind him of all that was at stake; so he ripped the tape from the deck and threw it in the backseat as he sped away from the garage. Sam looked back and saw that Kat had not watched them go, but returned to the safety of the bunker.

The drive had gone smoothly enough. A smooth as a twenty-four-hour car ride can go. They stopped halfway through to rest and continued, in a rush to have the closest they had come to Rowena over with. They had talked generally about using the caldron to bargain for Kat's freedom, and if they could, getting enough information out of her to then plan how to use the spear against her. They knew this fight was only just beginning and that talking to her was bound to not work out in their favor.

They hid the Impala in a parking garage on the opposite side of the city, so they had a means of escape.

They didn't say much as they made their way back towards the shipyards which were bustling with activity.

They said even less as they got further in and everything around them became silent also.

Abandoned ships rose like Victorian mansions out of the gloom. An outsider would call it insane that they continued walking deeper into the shadows. Dean with his gun held high, twitched at any flicker of light, Sam followed closely behind carrying the caldron, mirroring Dean's footsteps.

A few more minutes of this they came upon the dilapidated ship and its adjoining warehouse Mark had described. The butt of the ship had been parked halfway into the loading dock of the building. The rest of it sat on the pavement and housed some old offices and storage. Algae and barnacles had started to creep up the steel of the cargo ship but there was a light in the topmost level's window. Dean held up his hand to stop Sam and without speaking, he pointed upwards to it.

Everything seemed to happen simultaneously. Sam grunted and the caldron clattered to the ground. Dean spun and shot six rounds into the abyss. A dozen pair of yellow eyes appeared. Blackness.

"Hello, Dean." The statement came from a few feet away from him, and as his eyes began to adjust he found himself tied to a chair. The cabin was once white, but now rust had overtaken its walls.

"Rowena," Dean greeted relying on his cocky grin.

"It is just wonderful to see you again Dean. I apologize for the rudeness, a girl has to take precautions after all," she fretted falsely. "I am surprised you didn't bring Katherine though."

"We brought your precious caldron, isn't that good enough?"

"Dean, I have had the inscriptions off of it for months, thanks to the codex translating them was a breeze," Rowena grinned salaciously.

"Why would you leave those tree mooks there then? Felt like starting a little community garden?" Dean gibed.

"They stayed because I hoped you'd be stupid enough to show yourself with her. And you did…well, she did," Rowena elaborated as she moved from the wall to stand in the spotlight that dangled on a wire a few feets above their heads. its harshness hurt Dean's eyes and he squinted against it.

"Yeah, she's stubborn like that," said Dean, thinking for the first time of Kat and how painfully right she'd been.

"As are you, Dean. I am not laboring under the delusion that you're going to give me what I want easily," Rowena started dangerously.

"Well…that depends on what you want," Dean countered with a cocky grin.

"I want…the world." The sentence finished and her immediate departure acted as its punctuation, marking the finality of her stance.

"Setting the bar a bit high for yourself, huh?" Dean called after her. A man in his mid-thirties entered with jet black, slick hair. He was carrying a sack, that looked like it was made of ancient leather. He stood directly in front of Dean and served a punch directly to his abdomen, causing Dean to gasp for air. The man took this moment to grab Dean's face and empty the contents of the leather sack into his mouth. The gooey translucent black substance burned his esophagus viciously but he couldn't feel it throughout his body. It remained there, cutting his oxygen intake in half and seeming to rip his throat to shreds.

Over the next twelve hours, Dean could only think of Kat. At first, it was just what he thought she'd do when she realized he and Sam were missing. After a day and a half of no contact, she was going to call Cas, or drink, or both.

As the hours progressed, however, Dean began to think specifically on Kat's location. He tried to fight and knew it was probably the slop they'd forced down his throat but he couldn't help it. He thought about the library. About the day, Kat's crap Focus had broken down and he'd picked her up. The way her curls looked framed by the sunlight spilling over the top of the building as she ran down to the stairs to the Impala.

There was no telling if Rowena could see the effect her potion was having on him mentally so Dean had to assume she now knew about the library.

He was drawn back from thinking logically to the day he and Kat had just walked around downtown Lebanon and Kat had been amazed at the fact that a small ice cream parlor actually had blackberry crème, which was her favorite flavor.

So Rowena knew about the shop they frequented.

Dean knew at that point it wouldn't be difficult for her to get a general location. Dean would have been panicked that Kat had been right and them going had put her in danger; except he couldn't find the right emotion. He felt empty. Even as he looked back upon the images he knew he should feel love and instead felt nothing.

He pulled on his bindings futilely knowing he couldn't break them but hoping in some way it would awaken him from the complacency that had washed over him because of the spell work.

The door creaked and he snapped to attention. His refusal to show that the spell was having an effect on him solidified that fact to Rowena.

She slid into the room in a vibrant green evening gown. Curiously she left the door open. Dean eyed it hungrily. His body tensed like a trapped animal and his lip curled up in disgust as he looked at the witch.

"Oh, room service…nice. I'll take a bottle of your finest champagne," spat Dean.

"Tell me where she is."

"Why," he demanded.

"Her presence is required for a little spellwork. The fine print really."

"Oh well, in that case, I think we should have a lawyer present," Dean snarled, using every last ounce of energy to defy her. It was becoming increasingly difficult to take an opposite stance; in fact, he was having trouble remembering why he even cared.

"Dean, I am going to make this simple, tell me where I can find Katherine or something unfortunate will happen to Samuel," Dean didn't speak, just stared at her with daggers in his eyes. "He really does have it coming. We have a rocky history Samuel and I. And you, Dean, were at the center of it. Since you were integral in my incarceration it's only fitting that you aid in my liberation. With as much personal trauma as possible of course." Rowena paced in front of him. Her body was trying to remain as aloof as possible and she was plucking lazy at her fingernails with hooded eyes. She was failing, as her excitement was palpable.

"Oh yeah? How so?" Dean challenged.

"By giving up, Katherine's location."

In the distance, Dean heard skin collide with skin and Sam grunt in pain. Its proximity was enough to partially wake Dean from his stupor and pull up his arms hard, dragging the chair a half an inch forward.

"She's really something else. I'd like to take her on as an apprentice. Her understanding of warding is unprecedented. Sadly, I just need her to read an incantation and take a smidge of blood," repeated Rowena, clearly tiring of Dean's resilience.

"Hate to break it to you, she's more stubborn than I am."

"But I will break you both eventually.

And when I do I will harness the ingredient I need and I will use every bit I can."

"You know the 'every part of the buffalo' attitude isn't admirable when you're talking about human beings," snapped Dean

"I will have the magic that resides in her blood Dean Winchester and you will give it to me!" she screamed. At that same moment, Sam let out a yell as something that sounded like metal came in contact with the chair.

Another hit thudded against skin, his face probably and Dean felt fury rise like bile in his throat.

Another hit, and another. With each one, Dean felt his resolve crumble. His thoughts jumped from Kat's removed danger to Sam's immediate.

"Dean….DEAN! Don't give her up for me ok? Don't lose what makes you good cause of me" Sam called out through his pain, in the hope that Dean would be able to hear him at all.

She snapped her fingers and the barrage of punches stopped and Sam gasped and sputtered shortly.

"You know Dean, misfortune does really follow you around. It's pitiful, and if I cared about anything I would feel very sorry for you. But I will give you this small piece of consolation. I am not out to kill Katherine. She will live out the rest of her life as my prisoner. But she will see no pain or suffering and she will live," she said sweetly.

"I don't think she'll see being a witch's chew toy that way," retorted Dean who averted his eyes because he couldn't bring himself to look at Rowena any longer. Despite his drugged state he still couldn't stand the malice in her eyes.

"Not a chew toy. She is incredibly valuable. She's sitting on centuries of old magic, passed down from generations. She isn't a natural witch but she can be manipulated to harness the root power of ancient druids. And you know what they say, power is a girl's best friend."

"Balor's power you mean? Kat's kind of an expert on the subject," Rowena's eyes widened for a millisecond, spurring Dean onward, "Oh, yeah she knows all about him and the legends. It wasn't hard for her to make an educated guess as to what you were doing,"

"Oh so then she'll know I intend to take her descendants power. I trust she's studied? So reading the incantation in primitive Celtic should be simple work for her." Rowena turned her surprise into something beneficial in this statement, covering her tracks.

There was small metallic rap at the door and Dean took the opportunity to focus on something other than the russet colored walls which had begun to dance around his vision.

Rowena opened it with a flick of her forefinger, and behind it stood a young girl no older than 16. Dean immediately felt pity for her on top of all else. He wondered if she was here of her own will or was trapped like he was and was praying for someone to care enough to rescue her.

"Ma'am. The Fomori spotted someone on the perimeter. They believe it to be a woman," she said timidly.

"Well, I wonder what a woman would be doing here all by herself. I wonder who she'd have to protect," Rowena cooed as she eyed Dean pointedly.

Dean felt dread wash over him; above the effects of the potion, beyond even his worry for Sam, was Kat. He felt fury and torrential fear clash together inside him, seeming to rip his heart in half. All of this was contained in his chest because the effects of the draft that Rowena had forced down his throat reclaimed control and he was left with an aching and a sense that the wideness of the world had crashed downward into this second in time.

Rowena practically skipped from the room almost cackling with glee. Dean sat, tied to the chair feeling like he was listening to a cacophony of sirens through a window rushing to some unseen accident. Feeling sorrow for the tragedy he did not know; the window acting as a sieve to sift out the emotion and make him far-removed.

Five hours earlier, Kat paced in the great room, absentmindedly nibbling on the collar of a hideous sweater. They had gone for pizza one night, and Kat noticed it in a thrift shop window. It was mustard yellow and cable knit. Dean purchased it and forced her to wear it because of how hilarious they'd found its hideousness. Now she wore it freely, feeling closer to him while inside its unusual exterior. Where there once was disdain for it, there was now comfort in it, as she waited for Castiel's return.

"Well, you were right. Rowena has them," he confessed as he appeared simultaneously.

"Perfect." Kat dropped her arms and went to the table and began to snatch at twigs, herbs and flowers she had collected for this very purpose.

"What are you doing?" Cas asked sorrowfully.

"We're going to counteract the herbs listed on the caldron, so that just maybe it will make whatever she's brewing in it, powerless. Even if it's for a minute. It's a long shot, I don't even know if magic works like that, which is why I didn't suggest it to Sam and Dean. Now, we have no choice but to try," she said frantically crushing a yellow flower that looked like the spindles of a firework were protruding from it.

"I fear you would make an excellent witch," said Cas with a hint of amusement in his tone.

"No," laughed Kat, "I'm just good at adapting to survive."

"Alright Captain Badass, " he saluted casually, using Dean's affectionate nickname for her, "what's the plan?"

A/N: Alrighty dear readers, we're getting into all the drama and intrigue. So, that's cool. I would love to hear what you have to say, so any feedback would be great (I'm actually desperate for some reassurance, no biggie lol) -Later, Kelly