"Cass?" Dean called out into the empty parking lot. "Cass, are you there? Could really use your help, buddy. I don't know if you can even hear me. I don't know if you've got your mojo back or what but... I just need you. I've called; I've left messages. I don't know what else to do. I'm sorry..."

When only silence answered, Dean groaned internally and started back toward the room he shared with just Liv, since Sam had left on his meaningless quest. Dean stopped at the door and rubbed his palm across his mouth, wishing he didn't feel such apprehension about going inside. When he pushed the door open, though, he was pleasantly surprised to find Cass inside, his trench-coated arms wrapped tightly around Liv, who was returning the embrace.

"Cass," Dean said. "Good to see you got my messages."

Cass stepped away from Liv with a wide grin and nodded. "I did. I'm sorry I didn't call back."

Dean frowned. "So, you didn't hear me just now? How did you get here?"

Cass stepped away from Liv and shook his head. "No. I just arrived in what I believe is a Cadillac DeVille. It's nice but... I don't much enjoy the color."

Dean waved away Cass' explanation. He was amazed that the angel appeared so comfortable with Liv; he didn't seem alarmed by the drastic change in her appearance at all.

"He scared me," Liv said in an accusing but playful tone.

"I apologize," Cass said.

Liv shrugged. "I'm just glad you're here. Maybe you can help."

The angel's expression turned serious and he scrutinized Liv, from the top of her head to the tips of her toes. "Yes, I can see how you might have some questions. Namely, how and why are you alive, yes?"

"And what the hell's happening to her?" Dean added.

"All excellent questions," Cass answered. "I'm afraid I might not be much help, but I'm certainly eager to try."

Liv looked disappointed, but Dean wasn't willing to give up.

"Anything you can tell us would be great. We're going on nothing, here," he said, desperately. Calling Cass had been a last resort attempt at getting to the bottom of Liv's troubles, and the idea that even his ethereal friend couldn't help was crushing.

"Your eyes," Cass said, gazing intently at Liv's face. "They're black, but not like a demon's. It's your iris's that have darkened. You complexion has lightened, considerably. Your hair is darker, and has lost all of its texture."

Dean remembered the scars, those brutal marks that bore his name. "There's more," he said. "Show him." He motioned toward her stomach, which was covered by a black t-shirt.

Liv reluctantly lifted her shirt, exposing the smooth expanse of her pale flesh.

"I see nothing," Cass said, perplexed.

"Exactly. She used to have scars." Dean sat on the bed and rested his elbows on his knees. He smiled at Liv as she lowered her shirt, wondering all the while if it was really her inside that foreign body.

"Have all of her scars vanished?"

Liv nodded. "And my tattoos. Freckles, birth marks, everything…"

"Odd," was Cass's only response. He said nothing for several minutes, but paced the length of the room, nibbling on his lower lip.

Dean watched the angel as he passed the bed once, twice… eventually he stopped counting. He turned his attention to Liv, who was anxiously running her fingers through her dark locks. This was a habit he remembered, although it had been considerably more difficult in the past. Now, her fingers slipped right through the thick, silky strands. Her hair was so dark, a midnight black that almost seemed to disappear at night when he turned off the lights. There were no shades of blue or brown… only that deep, endless black - the same unnerving color as her eyes.

"I'd like to try something, if you consent," Cass said, suddenly. Dean glanced up sharply; he could hear the trepidation in Cass's voice. Whatever he was about to suggest wouldn't be pleasant.

"Um… okay. If you think it'll help, you can do whatever," Liv said, shrugging her shoulders.

"Hold up," Dean said, jumping up from the bed. "What exactly are you going to do?"

Cass's eyebrows knitted together and he grimaced. "I'd like to check on the condition of her soul."

Dean paled, remembering Sam's expression of agony as Cass had forced his hand into Sam's chest, searching for a soul that was chillingly absent.

"Is that really necessary?" he demanded, although he already thought it must be. Sam was brought back, missing his soul. Liv didn't show any of the same symptoms, but he didn't know enough to be certain their circumstances were entirely different.

Cass nodded, slowly. "I wouldn't have suggested it if I didn't think it was essential, Dean."

Dean's hand immediately rose up to his mouth, again. "Alright," he said, scowling. "Just try to be gentle. I mean, can you even still do this?"

Cass shrugged. "I'm not sure. I believe so."

Liv's eyes widened and she shifted her gaze from Cass to Dean and then back to Cass. "Is it going to hurt?" she asked, timidly.

"I'm afraid it will be quite painful," Cass said, with true regret in his tone. "But it will be quick, I promise."

Dean hurried to her side and slipped his arm around her waist, realizing that it was the first time he'd done so in days. She felt just the same as she always had, a reassuring realization.

Cass knelt before them and placed his left hand on Liv's right knee.

"You'll be alright," he said. "Just try to relax."

Dean watched Cass press his right palm against Liv's chest, just above her breasts. Her eyes widened even further as a bright, white light began to emanate from the meeting point. As his hand pushed forward, and was enveloped inside her torso, her expression contorted into a grimace of pure anguish and she shrieked. Dean pressed his forehead against her temple, his eyes closed tightly. He wanted to block out the sound of her pain but he forced himself to listen, to experience it with her.

Cass dug inside of her chest, his eyes focused and determined. It went on for far too long, Dean thought. Tears poured from Liv's eyes as Cass's arm disappeared, past his elbow. Dean was certain it could only mean one thing; Liv's soul must have been gone, just as Sam's had.

After what felt like hours, but in truth could only have been a minute or less, Cass slowly withdrew his hand. He didn't move for several seconds, and only watched as Liv's chest heaved and Dean tucked her into his arm, against him. When her breathing steadied, and the tears stopped, Cass stood and took a step back.

"Well?" Dean commanded. "What did you find?" He was sure that the answer would be a resolute nothing, that Liv's soul was missing, but Cass smiled.

"It's there, in perfect condition."

Dean let out a long breath. "You're sure? Like, really sure?"

Cass nodded. "I'm entirely sure. Liv's soul is clean, undamaged, and in excellent condition. I'm not sure what has happened to her, what brought her back or caused such colossal physical changes, but she is still most definitely herself."

"Can you tell if there's something or someone else inside her?" Dean asked. "Some kind of possession we haven't seen before?"

The angel shook his head. "I would have found it, if there was another presence residing inside of her body. There is nothing."

Dean glanced down at Liv, who had been quiet throughout the entire exchange. She still didn't speak, but she looked up at him, hopefully.

"So, it's her," Dean said. "Just her."

"It's her," Cass agreed.

Dean was elated to hear that Liv had returned whole. Different, but whole. It didn't change the fact that something was happening to her, something they still had to research, but it was a relief.

"So, what do we do now?" Dean asked. He hoped that Cass would have some idea, some direction to point him in.

Cass bent down to hug Liv before moving toward the door. When Dean jumped up to follow him, he rested a hand firmly on Dean's shoulder.

"Just be grateful. I'll look into this; I have infinite research materiel. I'll come back as soon as I've found out what's happening. But, for now… be grateful to have her back.

Dean followed him to the door and watched him crawl into an enormous, vomit-brown Cadillac. The angel didn't seem entirely comfortable backing the long, boat sized vehicle out of the spot, but he made it with minimal effort.

Dean turned back to Liv, who still sat on the bed, her hands pressed against her chest where Cass had forced his way inside. She gazed back at him, and her expression softened when he smiled at her.

The bar was oddly crowded for a Tuesday night. Liv stood on the dance floor, letting her body move with the music. A man had asked her to dance, and she'd accepted, earning an angry scowl from Dean. She decided not to feel guilty. He'd refused each of her requests to dance and she didn't intend to spend the evening sitting at the bar. Besides, it was just a dance and Dean was right there, watching.

After Cass had left, the air inside the motel room had turned stagnant and awkward. She could see some of the tension in Dean's shoulders drop but the unease was slow to dissipate. She'd appreciated his support during Cass's exploration of her soul, but the comfort of Dean's embrace had vanished with the angel's departure. After several minutes of stilted small talk, Liv suggested they go out for a drink and Dean had hastily agreed.

They had only been at the bar a few minutes when the first man had approached and asked Liv to dance. Dean had cleared his throat and shot a murderous glare in the man's direction, which had motivated the man to hurry away before Liv could even answer.

"Are you ever going to dance with me?" she'd demanded, after Dean had finished his third beer.

"You know I don't dance," he reminded her, sternly, and ordered another lager.

Liv sipped at her wine and, when she'd been propositioned again, she jumped up before Dean had a chance to say a word and disappeared into the crowd with the gentleman.

He wore a cowboy hat, a blue and white checkered shirt, and leather cowboy boots. Liv quickly realized he wasn't much of a dancer, after he'd stepped on her black, wedge sandals multiple times. Her toes were sore but she quickly learned to be light on her feet and move them often. As they danced, she watched a series of young women approach Dean. A few moved away, with sullen expressions, after just a few seconds. Two or three stayed to chat, mistaking Dean's surly demeanor for playful flirting.

Liv wasn't jealous. She smiled to herself, as waves of familiarity rolled over her. She'd been to hundreds of bars and watched hundreds of women flirt with her man. The only difference was the absence of Sam; he had always garnered his fair share of attention. But tonight, Dean had no competition, and the women were prowling.

When the song ended, Liv pulled away from the cowboy and offered him a friendly smile. He tipped his hat and sauntered away, his own face lit up by a wide grin. Before Liv could make her way back to the bar, the first man stepped in front of her.

"How about now?" he asked. He was a huge man, taller than Sam and as wide as a linebacker. He smiled at her and raised his eyebrows. Liv glanced around him and saw the female bartender, a pretty blonde in an artfully torn tank top, learning over the bar toward Dean. They were both smiling, her quite a bit more excitedly. As Liv watched, the woman reached up and fingered the collar of Dean's dark blue, denim shirt.

"Sure!" Liv said, and reached out to take the man's hand.

Back on the dance floor, the man introduced himself as Wayne. After she told him her name, their conversation was stilted by the music.

Liv felt like a doll in his arms; he towered over her by far more than a foot. He was firmly built, heavy and dense with muscle and mass. The music from the jukebox was primarily 70's rock and they danced through several songs, some fast and some slow. Their pace never changed though, and his plate sized hand never left the small of her back. She didn't like the way his fingers worked their way beneath the hem of her maroon, lace crop top, or below the waistband of her tight, black jeans. His friendly smile had become a lecherous leer and she found herself pulling away from him, only to be tugged back into place against his rotund but solid belly. When the music stopped, and didn't immediately start again, Liv took advantage of the quiet.

"I should get back," she said with a polite smile. "He's probably wondering if I got lost."

"Don't look like he's wondering anything," Wayne said. He motioned toward the bar, where the bartender had abandoned her duties and was sitting on the stool next to Dean, her legs crossed toward him.

Mildly annoyed, but still not resentful, Liv shrugged her shoulders and tried to step away, but he wouldn't release her.

"One more dance," he said, grinning lewdly.

Liv shook her head but he easily pulled her back against him. His fingers wrapped tightly around her wrist; his other hand went to her waist but quickly slid lower until he was gripping her ass and squeezed. Liv pushed against his chest with her free hand and protested but the music had started again and she couldn't even hear her own voice over Aerosmith blasting from the speakers.

The man's hand tightened on her bottom, clutching it painfully. He had shrewdly positioned them in the corner of the dance floor them so that his back was to the room and she was almost completely hidden behind his massive frame. Liv struggled to pull her hand out of his grip, fighting to wrench her body free. He smirked down at her and his fingers twisted her wrist backward. Liv abruptly raised her knee, remembering the self-defense lessons Dean had given her. Unfortunately, her legs were far too short for her knee to reach anywhere near his groin and it hit only empty air. Still, she was astonished to see the man's smile vanish and his mouth formed a perfect O of shock.

As she wondered how she'd actually hurt him, without even touching him, the man was abruptly jerked backwards. Liv was tugged forward and she nearly fell over before he released her wrist. He staggered sideways and she saw Dean, looking more terrifyingly furious than she'd ever seen him. He grabbed the man by his filthy collar and threw a solid punch that connected directly with the man's nose. Blood spurted onto the ground, splashing the ground at their feet. Another blow hit the man's gut and he doubled over; a second later, he fell backward as Dean's knee slammed into his jaw.

A wide circled had formed around the trio as the other dancing couples backed away. Liv scurried around the man, toward Dean. He took her hand and glared down at the man, who was writhing on the ground. Blood continued to trickle from his nose.

"You okay?" Dean asked her. She nodded and stepped closer to him. Another bartender, not the woman who had been flirty with Dean but a man who exuded an authoritative air, approached. Liv prepared herself for another argument and then, most likely, to be kicked out of the bar.

"Was he bothering you?" the bartender asked, pointing at the man on the ground.

Liv nodded, again.

"Dammit…" the bartender groaned. "Alright, Wayne, you're out." He bent down to help Wayne to his feet. "You two can stay. Sorry about Wayne," he said as he pushed Wayne toward the back exit. "Just keep an eye on her, alright?"

Dean nodded and slid an arm around Liv's waist.

"Sorry," she mumbled. He guided them back to the bar, where their drinks and jackets waited. He had ordered her another glass of wine, and himself a shot of whiskey.

"For what?" he growled. "He was the dick."

"I shouldn't have danced with him," she said.

He only shrugged and down his shot, grimacing. "I'll be right back," he said. "Don't move."

Liv watched him stalk toward the restroom. She sipped her wine, without moving from her seat. The female bartender, the pretty blonde, stopped in front of her with Dean's second shot. She didn't say a word but the glower she shot at Liv spoke for itself. Liv barely noticed when an achingly familiar song began to play, filling the room with nostalgia.

"So, you wanna dance or what?" he whispered into her ear, his deep, growly voice filled with phony irritation. Liv couldn't contain her smile and, as Journey's 'Faithfully' continued to play, he led her onto the dance floor.

There was no awkward adjusting or positioning; her arms immediately went around his neck and his slipped around her waist. Even in the platform sandals, she couldn't quite reach all the way so he bent forward and she rose up on her toes. His palms pressed against the bare skin of her back and held her tightly against him and, after a moment, she rested her cheek on his chest. It was so natural for her; she didn't even realize it was happening at first. Her lips brushed against his neck and he gasped softly, his fingertips digging into her flesh.

Liv tilted her head to look up at him and, suddenly, he was kissing her. His lips ground against hers with a fervency she hadn't experienced since before she lost him at SucroCorp. She slid her fingers through his short hair, gripping the locks and holding him against her. When he finally pulled away, her teeth caught his lower lip, reluctant to break the kiss.

"Let's go," he growled, and pulled her away from the dance floor. As he stalked past the bar, he tossed a hundred dollar bill onto the polished formica and grabbed both of their jackets.

Liv hurried to keep up with him, their hands clasped together.

The bar was only across the street from the motel, so there was no need to drive. He tugged her over the asphalt, stopping only to let a single car pass and glowering impatiently. At the door, he deftly slid the key into the lock and pushed it open in one smooth motion. Liv felt herself be pulled into the room and, a second later, her back was against the wall and he was pressed against her. He lifted her up, wrapping her legs around his waist, and kissed her again.

As if in a dream, Liv watched her fingers struggle with the buttons of his shirt. They wouldn't open fast enough and, eventually, he simply pulled it up over his head, along with the black t-shirt he wore underneath. Liv ran her hands over his smooth, hard chest, marveling at how perfect he actually was, until he pulled her shirt up, forcing her arms up into the air.

With her legs still locked around him, he carried her to the bed and they both collapsed on top of it. His kisses became more and more aggressive, traveling down her throat and between her breasts. He stopped, briefly, at her navel to unbutton her jeans and peel them off of her. She reached down for him, pulling him back up so that their lips met, again. As she slid her hands down his chest and stomach, to struggle open and push down his jeans, she had a moment to wonder what had changed; what had shifted so drastically that it had entirely shifted the nature of their relationship, but it was only a moment and then she could think of nothing but him.

Dean woke to the sound of a voice, loudly whispering his name. He opened his eyes and the first thing he saw was a cascade of shiny, black hair. Dim light streamed in through the break in the curtains; it was early, before dawn, and the room was mostly dark. Liv was still asleep, in his arms, with her back to him. The sheet covered them to their waists and, when Dean realized it was Cass trying so desperately to catch his attention, he tugged it up to cover her torso as well.

"What the hell, Cass?" Dean whispered, just as loudly. Liv murmured softly in her sleep but didn't wake.

Realizing that he was completely nude beneath the sheet, Dean grabbed his jeans from the floor and tugged them on before switching on the bedside lamp.

"Dean, I need to speak to you. It's urgent," Cass said. He was standing by the door of the motel room and, even bathed in shadows, Dean could see the concern on his face.

"What's wrong? Is it Sam?" Dean stood quickly, and stalked toward Cass.

"It's not Sam; it's Liv."

The angel pulled open the door and stepped outside; Dean grabbed his t-shirt and followed, pulling it on as he closed the door behind them. He wished he'd had time to put on his boots; the concrete was freezing, but he hadn't seen Cass so distraught about something in months.

"Alright, what? What is it? You said she was okay."

Cass nodded, but his anxious expression didn't falter. "She is okay, Dean. But, I think I know what's going on and… I'm afraid."

Dean's eyebrows furrowed together. "Afraid? What are you afraid of?"

Cass looked up at him, his eyes graven apprehension.

"Dean, have you ever heard of the Keres?"

Dean shook his head, confused. "What's that? Is that the name of a person?"

"No, no. It's a race of beings. Sometimes called the Tenebrae," Cass said. He leaned back against the Impala, which was parked just outside the door.

Dean rubbed his arms, trying to fend off the chill of the early morning darkness.

"I've never heard of either of those," he said. "What are they?"

Cass frowned.

"I don't know much. They mythology, Greek by the way, doesn't offer much information. I know that they're rare, they're always women… They're powerful, beyond powerful, actually. They were once human."

"Hold on a second," Dean interrupted him. "Are you saying you think Liv is one of these… these Karens or Carols or whatever."

"Keres," Cass answered, nodding. "And yes, I'm almost certain she is."

Dean held up his hands. "Okay, and? Why are you so freaked out?"

Cass ran a hand through his hair. "Because this is bad, Dean. This is very bad."

"Why?" Dean scowled. He was growing impatient with the angel's hesitation.

"Because the Keres are also called the Goddesses of Death," Cas said. Dean felt a chill begin to travel upwards form his feet, all the way through his body.

"You're saying she's a Goddess? That's ridiculous, Cass!" he snarled.

Cass shook his head. "No, the translation is shoddy, at best. She isn't a Goddess… but she's still quite dangerous, and probably has been for as long as you've known her. If I'm correct, she would be able to control death. She would… what is it?"

Dean had frozen in place, remembering the zombies and their inexplicable reaction to Liv's commands. He hadn't thought to mention it to Cass the night before, but it was exactly as the angel described.

"I've seen her do it," he said, quickly. "I've watched her control the dead."

"Explain," Cass said, shortly. Dean went through the night after Liv had arrived, down to every detail. As he spoke, Cass's face fell.

"Then it's true," he said, darkly.

"Now, wait. What's so bad about it? I mean, if she can control the dead, it's no big deal. I mean… it's a big deal but she can control it, for Christ's sake!"

Cass shook his head. "It's not just that, Dean. The dead are drawn to her. Imagine all the creatures you've battled, the zombies and ghouls, even demons. They'll all be attracted to her."

Dean's eyes widened. "That son of a bitch knew!" he shouted.

"Who?"

"Crowley! He knew and that's why he wanted her!" Dean's hands clenched into tight fists.

"She might have been better off with him," Cass said. "If he knew, he could have trained her, or at least told her what to expect. She'll have powers, Dean, abilities we can't understand."

"We'll research it," Dean insisted. "We'll find out more about these Keres things. We'll help her learn to control it."

Cass looked up at him with a forlorn smile. "There's more."

Dean closed his eyes and struggled to breathe deeply. "Okay, what else?"

"The dead are attracted to her now," Cass began. "You've seen it. But, not just the dead. Anyone who has been touched by death. When she died, and came back, this was intensified. That's why you saw the zombies. But, it didn't start then. It started when she was born."

Dean glowered at the angel. "I don't follow what you're getting at here, Cass. Just fucking spit it out. What are you telling me?"

Cass sighed. "I'm telling you that your attraction to Liv… it most likely isn't natural. You don't love her for her. You love her because you've been touched by death. I don't think it could even be considered love. It's just… magnetism. Think about it Dean… how many times have you actually died?"

Dean couldn't even begin to consider the answer. He knew of three, at least. Did his deaths at the hands of the trickster count? If so, the number would be in the hundreds.

"She has control over you, Dean. Absolute control. If anyone has been touched by death, it's you. You've been touched by death a thousand times or more, and each instance has made you more susceptible to her appeal. She doesn't do it intentionally but Dean, I don't think you'd be able to say no to her, even if you wanted to," Cass continued. "I don't think it's safe for you to be around her. You have to send her away."

Dean closed his eyes, unwilling to process what Cass was telling him and even more unwilling to admit that the angel was probably right.

"Liv, I want you to do something. It's going to sound… unorthodox. Just trust me."

Liv nodded, still groggy with sleep. They'd given her enough time to slip into one of Dean's t-shirts and a pair of cotton shorts, but nothing else. She wanted to brush her teeth and make coffee but Dean wouldn't let her.

Cass glanced back and forth between Liv and Dean, apprehensively. "Alright, tell Dean to do something."

Liv frowned. "To do what? Why?"

Cass shook his head. "Just trust me."

"This is stupid, Cass. Why are we doing this?" Liv scowled. "You know Dean doesn't do anything he doesn't want to do."

"Just do it," Dean growled.

Liv glared at him. She was tried, cranky, and hungry, and she had no patience for their games. "Alright, fine, go fuck yourself."

Dean turned to Cass, his eyebrows raised.

Cass eyed him suspiciously. "No, that doesn't work. He can't physically do that. Something else."

Liv narrowed her eyes. "Okay, then. Punch Cass in the face."

"Now, wait -" Cass began, but was immediately silenced when Dean popped him in the nose. It was a short punch, without the full force of his formidable strength, but Cass still staggered backward a step.

"What the hell? Why did you do that?!" Liv shouted. She jumped up and rushed to Cass's side, inspecting his nose for damage.

"I… I don't know," Dean said, dumbfounded. "Because you told me to, I guess."

"So, what? If I told you to jump off a cliff, would you do that too?" Liv slapped Dean on the shoulder.

Cass gingerly squeezed the bridge of his nose and sniffed. "I'm afraid he would, Liv. That was the intention of this experiment."

"Maybe he just wanted to punch you," Liv said, stubbornly. "I've certainly wanted to punch you since you woke me up at 4 freakin' AM."

Cass turned to Dean, who shook his head. "I don't think that's the case."

Liv began to pace through the room, her arms crossed over her chest. "Alright, say you're right. What does that mean? What does it have to do with what's been happening to me?"

"I'll tell you everything I know," Cass said. "But first, I think it would be a good idea for Dean to leave."

Liv looked up, alarmed. "No. Why?"

"For his own safety," Cass answered, cryptically.

Liv scowled and turned to Dean, expecting him to disagree. She was sorely mistaken though, and felt a wave of panic roil through her body when he wouldn't even meet her gaze.