TWO: Bacon
I was never taught to shy away at the concept of fear. Fear was meant to be understood and recognized, not ignored. What I was taught was to not let the fear overcome me, for out of every demon and evil spirit out there, fear has been proven to be man's greatest and worst enemy.
But what I was not taught, however, was what to do when I fear myself.
I awoke to a smell that was similar to burning barbeque. My eyes fluttered open with some trepidation, landing on my open window where unwelcome rays of morning sunshine were streaming in. I glanced around my bedroom, temporarily confused about my location. I shifted into a sitting position, yawning and running my fingers through my hair. I uncovered myself from the sheets and set foot on the cedar flooring.
I stumbled my way into my bedroom, my eyes squinting slightly in the sudden morning brightness. I yawned again, and leaned down to turn on the faucet and splashed my face with cool water. When I rose again, I met my reflection's gaze and frowned. I half assumed the eyes would flash black again as it did the previous night, but they remained their brownish hazel. I left the bathroom, feeling no reassurance.
As I opened my bedroom door, a distinct crackling noise was heard from the kitchen area. I looked toward the living room and saw that the pull out couch was minus a Dean and the blankets were tossed carelessly onto the floor.
I proceeded to the kitchen and peered around the corner. Dean's back was to me as he faced the oven top where he was apparently flipping something within the skillet. There was a dim trace of smoke hanging in the air as the burning stench increased. I also noted with some amusement that he was completely lacking a shirt.
"Shit!" Dean swore, who had evidently burned himself from the hot oil. He swung around to suddenly look at me, sucking on his burnt pinky. He looked surprised to see me. "Kat. What are you doing here?"
"I live here," I said. "And also I think it'd be best if I stopped you from burning the house to the ground."
I walked to the window and cracked it open, where immediately some of the clouds of smoke leaked out of. I glanced into the frying pan. There were only a few pieces of shriveled up bacon that had been burnt coal-black lying in the skillet in a pool of olive oil. I only knew it was bacon because I saw the open package sitting on the counter beside the oven.
I met Dean's face with a slightly dubious smile.
"You're not used taking care of yourself are you, Dean?" I asked as someone might of a child trying to learn a difficult task. He scowled.
"I was hungry," he pouted.
"And also hot," I said before I could stop myself. I felt my cheeks redden slightly at the look he gave me. "I meant as in—that you don't have—is it written somewhere that guys can't sleep with a shirt on?"
My flustered babbling earned me another pair of raised eyebrows from him. He turned to poke the bacon crisps with the spatula as if in attempt to restore their quality, but it was in vain.
" I'm not the one wearing Snoopy pajama pants," he shot back childishly. The corners of my lips twitched. My eyes drifted for a second upon on the pentagon tattoo plastered upon Dean's chest before moving to the skillet.
" Don't talk down on my Snoopy. He's my homie," I said.
"Whatever you say, Kit-Kat," Dean said.
Dean seemed to have given up completely as he now slumped his arms to his side and stared mournfully into the pan. I rolled my eyes, grinning, and bumped my hip into his, making him move aside as I scooped out the burnt bacon and threw it in the trashcan. I added four pieces of the pork into the pan and turned the oven down.
"Alright, you damsel in distress," I muttered. "And if you don't wipe that Cheshire cat grin off your face, I'm going to hit you."
He raised his hands up in gesture of surrender.
"Girls are so violent."
I rolled my eyes.
"Where's Sam, anyway?"
"He went to get some coffee. Should be back in a few minutes."
I shifted a very surprised look on my face.
"You let him take your precious Chevy?"
"What can I say? Sam knows that if he so much lets a leaf touch the paint, I will hunt him down and flay him alive."
"Brotherly love at its finest," I laughed. "Do you want three or four pieces?"
"Four."
There was a slight pause as I flipped the bacon in the pan and walked to the fridge and took out a carton of eggs. I cracked two on the counter edge and poured the insides into the skillet.
"By the by, last I checked, you were a strict vegetarian. Now I can barely find a stick of celery in the fridge. What's that about?" Dean inquired as I placed the bacon onto two different plates.
I met Dean's gaze as I pushed his plate into his hands.
"Like I said; times change."
Dean raised his eyebrows once more.
I led him to the front patio where there was a four-seater table placed on the wooden deck. From here, the little pond could be clearly seen. A tall and handsome willow tree sat on its surface, its wispy braches grazing the surface of the water.
"Louisiana: The state where the mosquitoes bite harder than the demons," said Dean, swatting one on his neck as he sat down. I had to push a heap of junk off of the surface of the table so as to have any use for it. Dean watched me slowly. "Things been kind of slow around here, yeah?"
"Yeah," was all I said.
We ate in silence for a few moments, watching the sun rise higher in the sky, or watch the pond where occasionally a bullfrog emitted from the cattails and disturbed the water's still surface. I glanced at Dean whose gaze was fixed upon the willow tree.
The silence felt odd between us. Growing up I considered the Winchester boys and myself three peas in a pod, or the three Musketeers. Or hell, even the three stooges. But I couldn't possibly assume that after six years everything could be exactly the same as it was before, could I?
True, Dean was still his arrogant and cocky self and Sam remained kind and considerate. Yet obviously recent events had shattered whatever innocence that remained within them. Not that Dean had much to begin with, anyway. I would have my time to lament over the unexpected news of John Winchester's death, but now I had to deal with his two remaining sons. And by deal, I mean keep what knowledge I recently gained a secret from them.
"So, Kat. Tell me more about this argument you had with Jack," said Dean suddenly.
My eyebrows pushed together slightly as I tried to think of a response. I focused my gaze instead upon the tall grass where the cicadas were making a prominent buzzing noise.
"Why do you want to know?" I said quietly.
"Because I want a legitimate reason for why you ran off on your dad like that. You and him were close; it would take a lot for you to be so angry that you would move all the way down to the redneck region."
I suppressed the urge to relieve a dry and sarcastic laugh.
"To be perfectly frank, Dean, it's none of your business," I said, turning to look at Dean with an unchanging expression.
"Great excuse. What are you trying to hide?"
"I'm not trying to hide anything," I said firmly, looking away again; the pressure of his green gaze was becoming overbearing. "It has nothing to do with you, so why would you be interested?"
Dean looked puzzled for a moment and continued to stare out into the open ground. There was another few slow moments where the only sound was the buzzing bugs or call of a bird within the far off swamp area.
"I could—you know. Just, uh . . . listen?" he started awkwardly. I looked at him.
"What?" I asked blankly.
He cleared his throat in a dignified manner and gave a noncommittal shrug, leaning forward slightly in his chair.
"That thing you girls do? Talking and listening? I can give it a shot."
There was a slight pause as we looked at each other. Then I burst out laughing.
"What?" said Dean suddenly, looking at me with apprehension and confusion. "What is so funny?"
"You," I giggled, clutching my stomach. "You're trying to do the whole 'sensitive guy' thing. It's funny."
Dean was still for a few moments before staring at me in disbelief.
"Women," he muttered under his breath. "I will never understand. I get it. I'll stick to my sly and sarcastic comments if it bugs you so much."
I shrugged, still grinning.
"It doesn't bug me. It's cute."
He glanced at me as if I had uttered a disgusting swear word.
"Never, and I mean never, tell a macho guy that he is 'cute'. Not in that sense, anyway," he added, pointing his fork importantly at me.
I snorted.
"Macho?" I said skeptically. "You can't even make yourself breakfast. How are you macho if you can't take care of yourself?"
"Do you hear something? Sounds like this loud, annoying buzzing," Dean said in a matter of fact sort of tone. He shot me a sideways smile. I gave him an appalled look.
"You bitch," I said, laughing as I stood up. "You haven't changed at all, have you? You still have your head shoved up your ass."
"So what are you going to do about it?" provoked Dean with a smirk spread over his face. I gave him another look before I leaned over quickly and swiped away the remaining piece of his bacon.
"I'm going to take your last piece," I said, dangling it in front of his face and swiping it away as he made a grab for it.
He looked at me in horror.
"You wouldn't," he said quietly.
I grinned.
"Watch me."
I let out a sort of laugh-scream as Dean got suddenly to his feet and chased me down the porch and through the grass that lead to the edge of the pond.
"This is probably the evilest thing I can imagine anyone doing," said Dean as he advanced on me. I gave him another smile as I bit the very end of the bacon piece. "And I have seen a lot of evil crap."
I shot him another smile. Dean charged forward. I felt him come in contact with me and my legs suddenly leave the ground. He had swung me over his shoulder and was shaking me in a playful manner.
"Where is my bacon?" he demanded. "Give me my bacon!"
"No!" I laughed. I had dropped it a long time ago, but I was caught up in the moment. I had completely forgotten what it was like to be around him. Many of the times, Dean was often shut off and closed from everyone else. Occasionally, so was I. But I found myself able to open up being the presence of the Winchesters. With them I found peace and a sense of home like no one else could.
We fell to the ground, not a few feet from the water's edge, both of us still laughing. His weight pressed against mine as he held me playfully to the ground, still smirking triumphantly. I was aware of the slight sweat that emitted from his pores of his bare chest, causing an aroma of strong masculinity. I smiled up into his eyes as his own studied my face, his smile faltering slightly. I wasn't sure if he was aware that he brushed a few of my stray hairs aside.
"Do you remember how much we used to wrestle as kids?" he inquired steadily as he grasp over my wrists loosened slightly, but he didn't move from his hovering position over me.
"You mean do I remember all of the times I kicked your ass at wrestling?" I said.
A smile flickered over his face but it soon went away.
"I really have missed you," I whispered, giving another attempt to smile. "I thought about contacting you . . . but I heard Sam went to college and I knew how John would take that. I thought it best to stay out of the way and give you boys some space."
Dean looked like he was also having a hard time trying to put on a happy face.
He looked deep in thought, his eyes trailing over mine and then shifting his position upward. The sudden defined space between us sent both of our gazes to look awkwardly astray.
I let out my breath, rolled my eyes and shifting to my side.
"What?" Dean said, noticing my discomfort.
I didn't answer immediately but shifted to sitting on my bottom, absentmindedly ripping out the grass and silently shredding it.
"I've almost forgotten," I said with a dry laugh. In answer to his confused expression I added: "Whenever you start having a close or . . . intimate conversation with someone, you block yourself off. You can't stand being known."
He looked affronted.
"Not true," he retorted childishly.
"Dean, I've known you my entire life and you're still afraid to be close. Whenever you get close to it, you go on lockdown mode. Your feelings won't hurt you, you know."
"Yeah, well. Not in my experience. We should go back," he added quickly, getting to his feet.
I was about to protest, but there was a sound of rustling brush and Sam materialized. I would have given him a friendly greeting if it weren't for his anxious expression.
"We have a problem," he said,
Dean looked at him.
"Problem being?" he asked.
"I was just down at the supermarket and, uh, heard of these reoccurring killings of animals that happened in the past year."
My heart seemed to fail.
"Animal killings?" questioned Dean, frowning at his brother. "What, like creepy black magic mojo?"
"Maybe," said Sam with a shrug. "Animal killings are traditional used for demon sacrifices and rituals. But get this: not only were the animals dead, but each one of them was completely drained of blood."
Dean's eyebrows continued to rise. I sat there, petrified as I stared with terror into Sam's face.
"Worth checking out," said Sam.
"Right," said Dean absently. He glanced at me. "Feel like joining us on a little side mission? You can be our trusty sidekick."
I got to my feet suddenly, so quick that each of the brothers flinched slightly. My eyebrows were narrowed and my expression was of stone.
"Kat?" inquired Sam nervously.
I tore my gaze away, trying to steady my heartbeat.
"Nothing," I said.
"Then let's go," said Dean.
I held back a couple of seconds before following the brothers back through the grass and toward the black Chevy, my footsteps slow and reluctant. Dean carelessly threw on a gray T-shirt and got in the driver side of his car while Sam took passenger and I sat in the back.
As we drove down the road, I couldn't help but thinking over and over, I have to get them out of here. I have to get them out of here. I have to get them out of here.
I have to get them out of here before they find out.
Hello my fellow readers. Gracias for partaking in the reading this fanfic. Reviews would be positively fabulous. I am curious as your thoughts so far.
