A/N: Many thanks and much love to NattyA (Check out her Wish You Were Here for something truly special. I envy her creativity for coming up with such an original idea!) for pointing out that Kait deserves to have her backstory told. I will. I promise. For now, I've added a few details that I hope will help answer some questions.

Thank you to my friend and con-conspirator stephaniew for betaing. You would not be reading this if it wasn't for all Steph's encouragement (not to mention getting me to watch and write for Supernatural in the first place!). Look her up and be sure you have a fire hose or ice handy...she likes to turn up the heat!

Got Twitter? I'm MaliBearsBuddy. I've had hashtags for some of my previous stories and it's been lots of fun...#MonsterMondays anyone? ;)

Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural or Don't You Wanna Stay...both are borrowed in good fun and without profit.

Chapter 2: Don't You Wanna Stay

It's about 3 o'clock in the afternoon. They sit around the table in Sam's room. They've been at it for hours. Pouring over old books and internet articles, reading everything they can find.

Finally, Sam slams his book. "Are we gonna talk about last night?" he asks. Dean sets his book down and Kaitlyn stops pacing. Neither says a word. He knows what they're avoiding. Knows why they're avoiding it. "Dean?"

"I got nothin'," his brother responds, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms.

Kaitlyn lets out the breath no one realized she was holding. She worries her lip with her teeth. She's not going to make Sam do the dirty work. "Babe," she says, walking over to Dean, her eyes filled with sadness. "You know you're out for this one."

"What?" he says, looking at her as though she's lost it.

Sam shakes his head. "Kait's right," he quickly agrees. "You've been made, Dean. We can't risk it. We don't know for sure that this Heather person isn't a member of the coven we're after. All the facts line up. The symbols match and..."

"Come on," Dean says. "I didn't see her last night. And besides, when has that stopped us before?"

Kait tries to touch him, to soothe the hurt and smooth things over. "Dean," she says seriously. "Get over it. You're out. We've never dealt with anything quite like this before. It's a fertility ritual to expand the bloodline of the coven. This is some pretty freaky stuff. Human sacrifice..."

"All the more reason you need my help," he says, getting to his feet. "Last night scared the hell out of me," he confesses. "I wanna get this done so we can just move on and..."

"Do you think it didn't scare me?" she yells. "You think that I wasn't worried about you?" She paces again, chewing on her thumbnail. She stops and glares at him. "It's not worth the risk." When he remains unconvinced, she gestures to to the way he bears slightly more weight on his right foot. "Jesus Christ, Dean, look at your leg. You put yourself at risk and..."

"And I'd do it again," he growls at her, getting in her face.

"You always forget I'm not some helpless cocktail waitress!" she bites back. "I've been doing this almost as long as you have. I did it alone for more than eight years after my parents died. I don't need to be coddled," she snaps in a harsh but level tone as she pokes his chest firmly. "I'm tired of having this same goddamn fight over and over again. I thought we were past it. I thought we'd..."

"We said we'd have each other's backs. That we'd protect each other," he hisses, pointing his finger at the floor as he outlines their agreement. "Cutting me out doesn't..."

"Damn it, Dean," Sam interrupts getting in between them. "Don't you get it? We're trying to protect you." Taking a deep breath, he lays out his plan of attack. "They're looking for a couple. We'll go in undercover, take it out from the inside. It'll be quick and we can get back..."

"No, Sam," he says angrily. "What you're talking about is...it's insane." He grabs his car keys and raises a hand. His lip quivers in a snarl and he shakes his head. "I'm not doing this. I'm not going to watch you use her as bait. How could you, Sammy? How could you even think about this? You're my brother..."

He storms out, the door rattling against the frame as he slams it. They hear the roar of the Impala in the parking lot, gravel crunching beneath its tires.

Kaitlyn flinches as though she's been struck. Emotionally she has.

"We can take a break," Sam offers.

She pulls herself together. "No," she says. "We've got work to do. We've got to figure out as much as we can so that we're prepared. I can't worry about him right now. I..." she turns her head up to the ceiling, trying to will her eyes to stay dry. Trying to hold everything back.

The far away look says she's fronting. They've been friends for too long and he knows her better than she likes to think. He wraps an arm around her, pulling her into a quiet hug. She leans against him and he hears her sigh. When she pulls away, he pretends he doesn't see the tears. Pretends he doesn't know how badly she's been hurt.

~ ~ ~ ~ Supernatural ~ ~ ~ ~

They're sitting in a corner booth having drinks at Whiskey River. Kait looks at the door for the fifth time in 20 minutes before turning back to Sam. "I don't think he's coming," she says sadly. "This whole thing...I..." She downs the shot of whisky in front of her quickly and wipes the back of her knuckles over her lips. "Maybe he's right Sam. Maybe we're in over our heads..."

Sam reaches across the table and takes her hands in his larger ones. He's got to get the situation under control - with or without Dean. If he doesn't, everything Dean's afraid of will happen. Kaitlyn won't be safe. "We can do this, Kait. Before you know it, you'll be back home and y'all will finish your vacation. Everything will be fine. He'll get over it," he tells her. "He always does."

"Will he?" she asks, her eyes falling to the table. Pulling her hands away, she reaches for the empty shot glass in front of her. "We've fought before - hell, we've even walked out on each other - but I've never seen him like that," she lets out a frustrated little growl. "Ugh, I can't take this. It wasn't supposed to be like this and now... Now, I just..." She gets up from the table. "I'll be back," she says. "I just need one more drink."

Sam watches her walk to the bar. He slams his fist into the table and leans his head back. The situation sucked. Huge. He doesn't know what to do. How to handle it. More appropriately, how to handle her. How to take care of her for Dean. Sure, they've looked out for each other. He knows she's got his back - in fact, after Dean there wasn't anyone he trusted more. But this? This is different. He doesn't like being between them. It isn't right.

Dean enters the bar. He makes his way toward the table and slides in across from his brother. He doesn't say anything and, for a moment, Sam just stares at him.

Finally, Sam breaks the silence. "Where the hell have you been?"

Dean shakes his head. "I needed to think," he answers. His eyes drift to where Kait stands at the bar. They travel over the tight blue jeans that mold to her long legs and smooth over her hair as she tosses it over her shoulder.

"So, tell me," Sam says, disapproval flickering in his eyes, "What'd you accomplish by leaving this time, huh, Dean? Besides making us worry you'd gone off and done something stupid."

Dean watches as her as she leans against the bar and waits. Watches the little tells - how she rubs her hands against her legs, tucks her hair behind her ears. She's nervous, uncomfortable. She fidgets when she's upset - playing with her mother's ring or her hair, smoothing out wrinkles that aren't there with sweaty palms. Turning back to the man across from him, he says, "It doesn't matter."

Sam shakes his head. "Like hell it doesn't," he scoffs, "She almost gave up. She was willing to back down because you weren't comfortable with the situation." Both brothers look at the woman in question. "You're ridiculous," Sam fumes, leaning back against the leather seat and resting his hands on his thighs. "She's the best damn thing that ever happened to you - hell, to both of us - and you seem determined to fuck it up."

Dean's eyes go wide and he scowls. "Shut your cake hole," he says abruptly. "You both know how I feel about her."

"Then act like it," Sam bites back. "Quit running out on her and stop acting like she can't take care of herself." Sam's eyes flicker back to the bar. When it comes to Dean, Kait can't hide her feelings. He can read them in her eyes. She looks at Dean the way Jessica used to look at him. "She loves you," he says longingly. "Don't waste it."

Dean looks down. He knows Sam is right. He and Kait have had this fight time and again and he hasn't listened to her. Hearing it from his brother changes things. It makes it sink in.

"Look who finally decided to show up," she says, handing each of the boys a beer as she takes a seat next to Dean. "It's crowded, huh?" she attempts casually, watching the look at passes between the brothers. Nervous at the silence, she takes a gulp from her bottle. "I can leave if two you are having one of your moments," she teases in effort to break the tension.

Sam covers with a small smile and settles back in his seat. He takes the beer and stares down at the label. "So, we don't have a ton of time before we'll need to get going," he reminds them.

Dean looks at Kait, touches her face before taking her hand. "Could you give us a minute, Sammy?" he asks, his eyes falling to Kait's lap.

"Yeah, sure," he says, scrambling to get up. "I'll just..." he points off to the side, dipping his head low and moving quickly away when they ignore him.

Dean raises his eyes to look at her.

"I'm sorry," they say in unison.

"Kait, I just..." he starts.

"Dean, I..." she begins.

He hushes her with a finger to her lips. She watches as his tongue slips out to moisten his own. "I'm sorry I walked out. You're right. You can take care of yourself...and I need to learn to respect that."

She sighs, squeezing his fingers. "But I was wrong, too. Y'all mean everything to me. Sam's like a brother and you..." her voice trails off and she looks down at their joined hands. "I never thought I could feel this way about anyone..."

He tilts her chin up so he can look into her eyes. "You think we'll ever figure it out?" A slow song comes on the old jukebox and Dean's lips hover over hers. "Dance with me," he murmurs.

Their eyes meet and she feels his hand tighten around hers. "Dean?"

"Dance with me," he repeats. Suddenly, he needs to hold her in his arms. To feel her head resting on his chest.

The words grip his heart. I really hate to let this moment go. Touchin' your skin and your hair fallin' slow. He doesn't want to let her go. He wants to hold her, to feel her skin beneath his hands. To feel her warmth in his arms.

She stands up and lets him guide her to the floor. They sway together. She's close enough that he can feel the hammering of her heart. As he breathes in the soft scent of her shampoo, he wonders why he hasn't done this more often. He thinks about all the opportunities he's missed. In a voice soft and low, he sings along and feels her draw closer. "Don't you wanna stay here a little while? Don't you wanna hold each other tight? Don't you wanna fall asleep with me tonight?"

The though of kissing her good-bye and watching her walk away - even temporarily - is unbearable. She feels perfect in his arms and all he wants to do is curl up with her, hold her and block out the world. He wishes things were that easy. That they could be normal. That they could have forever. His lips brush feather-light over hers. His fingers slip into her hair. "Come back to me," he whispers softly against her lips.

As the music fades out, other couples leave the floor. She's reluctant to be out of his arms, but she knows she and Sam need to be on their way. "Dean," she says softly, "The music's stopped."

He leans down and fuses his lips to hers. His hand caresses her face as he pulls away. "I don't need music," he tells her. "I've got you."

"Dean, I've gotta go," she says, her eyes sad as their hands find each other.

"I know," he says softly, pressing one last kiss to her forehead. "Be safe," he reminds her. As they reach Sam, he grabs his brother's arm. "Take care of her, Sammy," his tone is commanding, but his eyes hold a silent plea. Sam nods.

Kait kisses Dean's cheek and trails her fingers down his arm. "Wait up for me," she whispers softly.

~ ~ ~ ~ Supernatural ~ ~ ~ ~

Sam steers the Charger onto an old dirt road partially hidden from view by towering oaks and thick brush. "Okay," he says, wanting to pull her away from gazing out the window and remind her of the case. "So, we've decided this appears to be part of some mating or fertility ritual, right?"

She rubs her finger, suddenly wishing she had worn her mother's ring. Nodding, she adds, "Only instead of choosing a couple to sacrifice, they use a pair of singles, forcing them together with the use of hypnotic herbs before piercing them through their hearts at the height of their climax."

"Stay close," he tells her, taking her hand as the walk toward the entry. "I don't want to end up separated."

She smiles. She knows the drill. Knows that getting separated here could be fatal. She bites back a snarky comment and, instead, winks at him. "Sugar, there's no way I'm lettin' you outta my sight," she drawls, bumping her shoulder into his arm.

"You ready for this?" he whispers, his mouth in a tight smile as his brows furrow.

"Are we ever really ready?" she answers. Being without Dean feels wrong, but she doesn't have to say that. Sam knows. She can see it in his posture.

He sees a man sitting at a banquet table, a woman nearly pouring wine down his throat. The male half of the sacrificial pair has been chosen. Only the female half remains.

~ ~ ~ ~ Supernatural ~ ~ ~ ~

Sitting alone in the booth was unnerving, so he moved to the bar when they left. Shifting to the bar also meant shifting drinks. Now he's drinking whiskey and he can't seem to down it fast enough.

He'd seen the worry in both pairs of eyes when they walked out. He'd to bite back the urge to beg her not to go. To suggest Sam could handle it and they'd back him up from a distance. He slings back the bourbon and stares into the empty glass. He looks at his watch wondering how long they'll be, eager to have her in his arms again.

"Well, hello again, Tiger," he hears the voice before he sees her and attempts to plaster a friendly look on his face. It's the blonde from yesterday. "Saw your girl leave with another guy." She sits down on the stool beside him and crosses her legs, the movement causing her tiny skirt to ride up.

He doesn't know why he feels the need to justify to a stranger, but he does anyway. Giving her a lopsided grin, he says to her, "That was my brother, sweetheart. They're working."

She leans on the bar and bats her eyes at him, flashing an ample amount of cleavage as she rests her chin on her hand. "What do y'all do?" she asks.

He gives her a stock answer, "We're investigators." He smiles as the bartender refills his glass.

"And you're like the Three Musketeers or something?" she asks, her bubbly voice beginning to grate on him. It frays the last nerve he has.

"Something like that," he says, taking a slug of his drink.

"Lucky me, it's your night off," she giggles, stroking a hand over his forearm. She scratches at him slowly, lightly. The color of her eyes has begun to deepen. She sticks out her lower lip in a pout. "But not so lucky for you I'm afraid..."

He takes a step away from her, a hand scrubbing over his face. He feels himself start to drift, his legs wobble like they're made of Jell-O. The tone of her voice levels out. "They aren't working tonight," she says. "They abandoned you on purpose. To be alone." She takes a step toward him and leans in close to his ear. "It's been their plan all along, Dean. If you don't believe me, you should go and see for yourself..."

The words that fall from her parted lips send him running for the door. Running for the Impala. The roar of the engine fills the air as he guns it. Pedal to the floor, he feels the back tires skidding as he races out of the lot. Hurrying to find answers. Praying that she's wrong. But most of all, hoping. Hoping that he's not too late.

~ ~ ~ ~ Supernatural ~ ~ ~ ~

When he arrives at the barn, he watches them from the shadows. He hates more than anything that he's been forced to sit this one out. That he's watching his brother and his girlfriend work together. Without him.

They find a spot, dancing and twirling with the other patrons. They dance across the sawdust and straw covered floor. Twirl. Side-step. Shuffle. Step, step. Twist. Sam dips Kait and they both laugh.

As Dean watches her he can't help but smile. Her movements are fluid and graceful. He looks at Sam. Watches the way his brother's hands stay - as always - right where they should.

The two of them dancing is nothing new. They dance all the time. In fact, he enjoys seeing the freedom that spreads across their faces when they glide together. He loves seeing her so carefree. Loves seeing Sam smile. Loves that for a few moments the strain of hunting is lifted from them. It's something he cherishes - seeing the two people he loves most in the world at peace.

It's always like this - something upbeat and fast moving. Sam has often joked that the difference of almost a foot in height makes her a fun dance partner for some of the more active dances - like swing. But she always saves the slow ones for him. He regrets that it took Sam pointing it out, that he couldn't see it for himself. That he didn't hold her all the times she needed to be held.

The music changes. The soft strains of a country love song he doesn't recognize hit his ears. His smile fades. Shock and disappointment fill his chest when Sam reaches for her hand as she moves away. He watches her smile. It's the one that makes him weak in the knees. The one that lights her entire face and shines from her eyes. The smile that, until now, he thought was just for him.

He's even more stunned when Sam spins Kaitlyn into his arms and crushes his lips over hers. Instead of pulling away she sighs, a hand coming up to cup his cheek. Sam's hands slide all too easily into the back pockets of her fitted blue jeans, dragging her closer.

Disgusted, he turns away. Unwilling to see what would happen next. Unable to watch their betrayal any longer.