Catherine came to suddenly, she quickly took in the fact that she was lying on something soft. She looked up at the unfamiliar ceiling and tried to remember what had happened. She had argued with Dean and in a fit of anger had left the Impala. She remembered that much, what she didn't remember was where she was or how she had gotten here.
As her eyes moved around the room, she quickly gathered that she was in some type of bedroom. She was curled up on her side, facing a fire that was blazing in the hearth. She started to send out a feeler for Dean, before she remembered that her power wasn't working well lately. The cold that she had been fighting for the last week had given her such a bad headache that she wasn't able to locate Dean, she quickly tried to find Sam and ended up with an even worse headache.
Catherine knew that she couldn't stay here. She wasn't safe; she had no idea how she had gotten here, or even where here was. However, if anything was a constant in her life it was that nothing good ever happened. Not unless she made it happen, she had to move, she had to get to Bobby, she'd promised.
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Dean was torn, part of him wanted to be with Sam searching the roadway for Catherine. The other part though knew that he needed to get the Impala off the roadway, before the snow grew deep.
He quickly put the car in drive and swung out onto the highway. He passed by Sam and quickly found the road with the sign, reading "Wayfarers Inn". He made the right and saw the lot to his right. The Inn was an old Victorian house. The lot was empty but there was light shining thru the windows. Dean parked, pulled his coat out of the trunk along with a pair of gloves and his flashlight. He started jogging back to the highway, his mind going over and over again the fact that Catherine had been wearing nothing but a pair of jeans and one of Dean's old button down shirts. He knew she would quickly freeze to death in this cold.
As he moved along the highway, he kept his head down on the lookout for any tracks or even tire marks that could give an indication of where Catherine had disappeared to. He saw Sam up ahead flashlight reflecting the snow and moved towards him.
"What's up, Sammy, did you find anything?" Dean asked, panic creeping into his voice. He shone his light to join in with Sam's and noted what seemed to be a set of footprints. Dean quickly recognized the tread left by Catherine's boots. The footprints just stopped as if she was lifted off her feet.
Sammy took the light and looked over the embankment carefully, trying not to disturb any prints that might be there. "Dean, it's like she just disappeared. I wasn't able to find anything, no tire prints, no other shoe prints, hell not even animal prints."
As Dean studied the area he realized that he could see the back of the Inn clear as day from here and it wasn't too far. "Let's go check out the Inn, maybe she made it there. If not..." Dean's voice suddenly trailed off.
Sam saw the pain on Dean's face and put a hand on his shoulder. Sam nodded and the two men moved off, jogging down the embankment and across the open field. They moved in unison both scanning the field for some sign that Catherine had passed this way.
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Catherine rose from the bed, a little shakily. Her fever seemed worse and the chills that were starting to wrack her body were weakening her. She looked down to notice that she wore only a thick terry cloth robe, slightly too big for her bearing the ornate initials WFI. She looked around the room but found no sign of the clothes she had been wearing. She felt herself start to panic when she realized that she didn't have the silver blade that she always kept on herself. She in fact had nothing, not even a bit of holy water or salt. She was completely unprotected.
She moved toward the door noticing that the room was in good shape. Everything was clean and neat; she relaxed slightly and thought, that at least had to be in her favor. Axe wielding maniacs were rarely good housekeepers. Come to think of it dressing their victims in monogrammed bathrobes also seemed a bit unusual. Maybe this time everything would work out, Catherine snorted at this thought and prepared herself for the worse.
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As Sam and Dean approached the building, their strides quickly eating up the distance, they realized just how beautiful the building was. They moved around the front entrance, both noticing the vibrant blue paint on the door and a shining brass knocker. Dean reached out and knocked on the big wooden door
The door opened slowly and the brothers saw a tiny, wrinkled man in front of them. "Hello, young fellows," he said, opening the door fully. "Well, come on in, you're only going to get colder standing out there." The man gestured for the brothers to enter.
As Dean entered the house he realized just how beautiful it was. The entry gave off a feeling of warmth and contentment. The man in front of him was old, very old. He wasn't quite as short as Dean had thought, it was simply that he was so hunched over that he had lost almost half of his height. Dean followed the man into a large spacious room with a fire blazing in the corner. "Excuse me, we're actually, looking for someone. A woman, she has long brown hair, blue eyes and was wearing jeans and a blue button down shirt," Dean asked, the man as following him towards the fire.
The man turned slowly. "Is this your girlfriend, Son?" He gestured at Dean and Sam to stand by the fire.
Dean held his hands out towards the warmth of the fire stalling for time. He knew what he felt for Catherine, but he still felt stupid calling her something as general as a girlfriend. And yet what else could he call her. "Um, yeah, we were up on the highway and now I can't find her," Dean said, looking into the eyes of the older man.
The man started pulling Sam's jacket from his shoulders all the while pushing the younger man towards an upholstered red chair. "You fellows don't have to worry, I'm sure your friend is fine. Why I bet Gracie has her. She'll be just fine."
As Sam sat in the chair a wave of relief rolling over him, he looked to where Dean was wrestling with the man, trying to keep his jacket on without actually hurting the persistent old man. "Do you know where she is? Can you take us to her? She's not feeling well and we need to see her," Dean said, as he finally relinquished his coat.
"First things First, Young Man, how about you and your young friend here make yourselves comfortable. I'll see about bringing the two of you some food and drinks, and then we'll get you a room." He started for the door, stopping at the last moment. "Oh, and forgive me for not introducing myself, Gracie's always saying that I can't keep a thought in my head." The little man rambled on "my name is George. Gracie and I have owned the Wayfarer for the past forty-two years. Welcome and merry Christmas Eve." With that George disappeared walking out of the door they had entered.
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Catherine moved through the house carefully and quietly, she relaxed more and more as she moved from room to room. The house was beautiful and well appointed. Everything was lovingly maintained and Catherine quickly realized that she was in some type of Inn. It was the only thing that made sense. She remembered seeing the sign for an Inn and thinking how much she wanted to be able to go to the Inn and find peace.
She finally decided that there was nothing to be learned on the second floor and made her way to the stairs. As she descended she thought for a moment that she heard male voices floating up the stairs. In fact for a moment, she thought she heard Dean's voice. She paused listening hard but heard nothing again. As she neared the end of the stairs and moved into the living room she noticed a large stone fireplace in the corner. She suddenly felt herself drawn toward the fire that was burning in the hearth. Her headache eased up a bit and she suddenly felt safer, more sure of herself. She found herself feeling like she did when Dean was around.
Catherine shook off the feeling and moved across the living room noting how beautiful it was. As she left the room behind her moving toward what looked like the kitchen she suddenly felt inexplicably sad. As if she had left something important behind.
She was moving into the kitchen when she saw a tiny bird of a woman standing at the stove placing a teakettle on one of the burners. She was small and delicate. She had thick glasses on and wore her hair in a set of tiny curls; she was wearing a simple housedress and slippers on her feet.
"Well, Dear, hello. It's good to see you back on your feet. You gave those young men of yours quite a scare," The tiny woman said, in a bird like voice.
Catherine moved across the kitchen in a hurry, and asked, "Dean and Sam, they're here? Where are they?"
The woman smiled, and said, "My name is Grace, darling. And this is my Inn, the Wayfarer. My husband, George and I have run it for the past forty-two years. Your young men are fine, why they're with George right now."
Catherine breathed a sigh of relief. At least something was finally going right. She suddenly put her hand to her head and swayed. "My name's Catherine, It's a pleasure to meet you."
Grace moved around the counter toward Catherine. "Now dear you're going to pass out if you keep this up. You need rest. You head on back up toward you're room and lay down. I'll make tea and bring it up to you. You really don't look well."
Catherine felt lightheaded again. She just couldn't seem to focus her thoughts past the pounding in her head. She nodded, and said, "Thanks, I don't need tea, but I will go up to my room. If you don't mind would you let the boys know where I am?"
Grace nodded and returned to making tea. As Catherine headed back to her room she again was pulled to the fireplace in the corner of the room. As she stood there she actually thought she felt Dean, there in the back of her head. The feeling quickly passed though and Catherine's headache became even worse.
She moved slowly toward the stairs and returned to her room, as she lay in bed waiting for Dean, and her last thought as she drifted away was how much she missed his warmth by her side.