Chapter 4: Interactions of the Strange Kind

The morning came way too early for my liking. We'd been up late, trying to find an apartment that would let us immediately rent month-to-month. We'd found one in the run-down part of town, and it had a couple of mattresses in the single room, a bathroom, and a kitchenette. It was basically a long-term motel for us.

But good God, we'd been up so late getting bed, bathroom, and kitchen supplies; why did we need to be making sounds so early? I groaned and rolled over in bed when frequent clanging and sizzling didn't stop.

"Mornin'!" Dean greeted me cheerily.

I peeled my eyes open to see him grinning and cooking in the kitchenette. What the hell? I fumbled for my phone on the floor and clicked a button for the time: 6:15. "Dean. What the hell."

"Couldn't sleep," Dean declared, slightly bashful. Smiling, he flipped a pancake with a fork.

Dean was cheerily making pancakes at six in the morning? What alternate universe had I just stepped into?

I looked over at Sam; he was still snoring on the other bed. I threw a pillow at him, and he jolted awake. He gave me an insulted, questioning look, and I gave him a meaningful point towards the kitchen area.

Sam turned and took a moment to take in the sight. "Uh, Dean?"

"Mornin', Sammy!" Dean smiled cheerily at him and flipped a pancake onto a paper plate. He plopped a circle of batter onto the pan and probed it with an enthusiastic fork.

Sam looked back to me for answers, and I held up my hands in defense. "Hey, if whatever is happening in Dean's head gets us pancakes, I say we don't question it."

"Flapjacks are up!" Dean tossed one into the air and let it sizzle on the pan. He pointed at the towering plate of pancakes and grinned. "Come get 'em!"

Tentatively, Sam and I walked into the kitchen area and took seats at the stools. Paper plates and plastic silverware were already laid out for us. This was really freaking weird, but I was going to make the most of it. I plopped two pancakes onto my plate and snatched up the maple syrup.

"Dean, are you… feeling OK?" Sam asked. He was still staring at our brother, not concerned about the food.

"Never better." Dean grinned. He caught sight of me drenching the flapjacks in syrup and reached over to take it away. "Eeeeeasy there, tiger. Can't have you dropping into a sugar coma at six in the morning." He frowned slightly and slid the bottle away from me.

"I wouldn't mind." I shrugged and stabbed at the sugar-soaked pancakes greedily.

"Eat up, Sammy!" Dean encouraged as he shoved a flapjack into his own mouth. "We got a big day ahead of us."

Sam tentatively added a pancake to his plate, and I asked around a cake, "What's happening today?"

"Relaxation." Dean stretched his hands across the air, saying the word in a dreamy voice.

I scrunched my face at him while Sam asked, "What happened to finding out who's targeting us?"

Dean waved it off and went after another pancake. "I figured that could wait since we've really got nothin' to go on anyways."

Uh… "Dean—"

"Maybe we could head to a lake?" Dean suggested, raising his eyebrows in excitement. "Go fishing and bask in the God-given sun?" He pointed at Sam with a pancake. "You were the number one catcher last time we went, remember?" He shoved the pancake into his endless pit of a mouth.

"Yeah, I guess," Sam said, still confused and slowly eating his first pancake. "But I don't think we should really be dropping—"

"We're not dropping anything," Dean assured him. "I think we should just have a day off from all the crazy before delving right in. We came here for a little vacation, didn't we?"

Personally, I wanted to find out who was after us as much as Sam did. But, considering I had just escaped death by fire last night, I wouldn't mind a little day of R-and-R before we revived the research. I shrugged. "I wouldn't mind fish for dinner."

"That's what I'm talkin' about," Dean praised me with a smile. A timer beeped, and Dean ducked a few feet away to check on something in the oven.

With a furrowed brow, Sam leaned towards me and softly demanded, "What are you doing?"

I stared up at him. "Sam, we can spend one day of our vacation actually vacationing."

"Someone is trying to kill us, Kate. I don't think this is a good time for fishing."

I rolled my eyes. "I know. But, honestly? Look how happy our brother is. We can let him have a day." We both looked over at our brother tending to the oven and humming ACDC.

Sam huffed a breath of defeat. "Fine. But tomorrow, we get to the bottom of this."

"I agree."

"Who wants bacon?" Dean called, happily pulling a sheet of bacon out of the oven.

I gave Sam a superior look. This whole Dean's-on-ecstasy thing was benefiting everybody.

We had just hit up a roadside tackle shop when my phone started ringing.

"Um… Tammy?" A woman asked when I picked up. "Tammy Yorke…?"

"Speaking," I confirmed my working name.

"This is Caroline from yesterday at the store," she said. "I know that you might not have really meant it when you said that I could call, but I just—"

"It's fine, Caroline," I assured her. My brothers indicated for me to get back into the Impala, but I held up a one-minute finger and turned away. "What's up?"

"I just… I was wondering if you could maybe give me some pointers."

OK, today is just chock-full of wacky. "On what?"

"H-how to… gain confidence, I suppose," she said softly.

"Um, OK, I guess," I said. This was weird, and her appearance coincided with some weird crap, but Caroline seemed relatively harmless.

She breathed out a faint sigh of relief. "If, if you could come over, I could give you money, and—"

"That's not necessary, Caroline." The poor woman was just wanting to hold her own. I could relate. "When are you free?"

"Well, as soon as you can, preferably."

I glanced over at my impatient brothers and debated. "I'll be by within the hour. Text me your address." She thanked me profusely as I signed off on the call and snapped the phone shut.

"Who was that?" Sam inquired as I walked up to the car.

I ran a hand through my hair. "Some sad woman that I met yesterday. I told her I would help her out with some stuff, so I'm going to have to bail on family-bonding today." I grimaced meekly. "Sorry."

"What?!" Dean jumped out of the driver's seat and stood to look at me.

I shrugged apologetically. "Could you drop me off at her house? I'll join you guys when I can."

Dean scoffed. "No way!"

I gave him a weird look. "Look, I'm sorry I'm gonna miss out on fishing, but I suck at it anyways. This thing with Caroline really shouldn't take that long."

"What does she need?" Sam asked casually.

I shrugged again. "I think she's having a hard time socially, and I think just needs somebody to talk to, honestly."

"That's really nice of you," Sam said at the same time Dean ground out, "Absolutely not!"

Sam and I turned to our brother. "Dean, what's up with you?"

Dean dramatically waved in my direction. "You don't even know this chick! She could be the hex-bag bitch for all we know!"

I rolled my eyes. "I really don't think Caroline Jenkins is capable of anything heinous, Dean."

"You don't know her!"

"Text us with regular updates," Sam accommodated, sliding into the passenger's seat.

Dean gaped in disbelief. "You think she can just go? No! I'm not taking you to—"

"For God's sake!" I shot back. "I'll just borrow someone's car!" Annoyed, I stomped off towards a parking lot littered with cars.

"Kate!" I ignored Dean. "Kate, come on!" He caught up to me, and I whirled around.

"I'll meet up with you guys later," I snapped with a glare.

"No, I'm sorry." Dean ran a hand down his face. "I'm sorry, OK? I just worry about you. I'll take you to see this freaking witch if you're that hell-bent on going, alright?"

I grudgingly followed him back to the car and protested, "She's not a witch." I buckled myself into the backseat.

"Yeah, whatever," Dean said, looking back to me in the rear-view mirror. "Just spout me an address."

When my brothers had dropped me off at Caroline's house (and by house, I definitely meant three-story, gigantic, one-hell-of-a mansion), Dean had made me promise to text in with regular updates. I had to literally walk away from his pleas so I could go and ring the doorbell.

"Oh, you're here!" Caroline was pleasantly surprised when she opened the door for me. Does she really have that little confidence in others' follow-through?

"Woman of my word." I grinned and followed her into the marble-floored entryway.

"Sorry, I haven't dusted in a while," she said, waving nervously around the space.

"Believe me, this is a lot nicer than I'm used to," I assured her. From crappy motels to the backseat of old cars, this home was a dream.

She smiled and led me to sit down on a cream-colored couch in a sitting room.

"Caroline, I'll be honest," I said, "I don't know exactly what you want me to do for you."

She touched her hair timidly. "I, I just admired you yesterday. And, I'll be truthful—I haven't had someone over in a fairly long time. I suppose I just wanted some human interaction."

Wow. You flip one brother the bird, and you suddenly have a fan club. "Caroline, I'm flattered. But, I don't think—"

"Do you want some coffee?" she interrupted me, jumping up and heading into the other room.

I sighed and rubbed my face. Whatever. I could be a friend. I could be a kind, female shoulder to lean on.

My phone buzzed with a text from Dean: whats happening

I rolled my eyes and replied back. I'm making friends. We're about to braid each other's hair, so I need you to go away.

His reply took a bit. funny. keep me posted

Caroline came back into the room, carrying a tea tray with all the fixings. The ceramic dishes rattled as her hands shook slightly. She placed it on the coffee table in between us and smiled at me.

"Thanks," I said. I grabbed a cup and dumped cream and sugar in a cup of coffee until it was about to overfill. I gave a polite smile to Caroline's stare and stirred the sugar-infused concoction. I took a delicious sip. Mmm. You can taste the diabetes.

Caroline lazily stirred her coffee and thoughtfully stared at the plush carpet. "Tammy, I just want to be as strong as you. But I don't know how."

I bit the inside of my lip. This was weird. How do you coach someone to do what you were inherently doing? "Um… Well, I guess you could start by looking at end goals. What do you want out of life?"

Caroline's gaze snapped up to me nervously. "I feel a little… stifled, I suppose. I'm not certain that—"

My phone's ringing cut her off. Giving her an apologetic smile, I excused myself to the other room to answer Sam's call. "I know you said frequent updates, but I texted Dean maybe three minutes ago."

Sam gave an annoyed huff. "Yeah, I know. But Dean is insisting on driving and texting to check up on you. I offered to call so he would stop putting our lives at risk."

I heard a distant "Put her on speaker!"

"Hold on," Sam said as he fiddled with the phone.

"Katie?" Dean asked, worry smothering his tone.

"What, Dean?" I snapped. Why did he never believe that I could handle myself? I'd made it this far, hadn't I?

"Woah, no need for the teenage angst," he reprimanded innocently. "How're things with the witch?"

"They're fine. Just like I said they were three minutes ago."

"Look, I wanted to keep the check-ins on the down-low with a text, but Sammy here insisted we call you," Dean said.

"You were going to kill us!" Sam protested.

"Alright, I'm fine, and I'm going to remain fine unless I tell you otherwise." A resounding crash happened in the other room, drawing my attention away.

"What was that?" Dean demanded.

I peeked into the other room as Dean repeated my name anxiously.

"Calm down," I murmured back as I watched Caroline on her knees, picking up shattered ceramic. "Caroline dropped a tray of mugs."

"Oh."

"Look, I'll call you guys when I'm done here," I said.

"You said you'd check in with frequent updates!" Dean griped.

Oh, please. "Dean, I think we're out of the woods on this one. I'll call you guys later." I snapped the phone shut before he could object further.

I hurried into the sitting room to help Caroline pick pieces of ceramic out of the coffee-soaked carpet.

"Sorry," she apologized instantly. "I, I dropped the tray." I noticed her hands shook as she gathered the last pieces of ceramic.

"It's OK," I assured her. "Do you have carpet cleaner? I've been known to be capable of getting out some gnarly stains in my day." They may have been blood stains, but they were stains, nonetheless.

She smiled gratefully and directed me to underneath her bathroom sink for the chemical and rags.

After scrubbing the stains away and cleaning up the pieces, Caroline became an apologizing, grateful mess.

This poor woman is a frazzled disaster. She needs a distraction. "Caroline, what are your favorite hobbies?"

She looked taken aback. "I don't really have any hobbies anymore."

She didn't seem the sporty type. Artsy? "Do you like writing?"

She scrunched her nose and shook her head. "Not unless I have to."

"What about painting?"

She thought about it. "I think we still keep some paints up in the attic."

I helped her locate the acrylic paints, some available canvases, brushes, and aprons.

My phone buzzed with a text from Dean: u ok

Yes, I responded and put the phone away.

"I used to be really good at this," Caroline admitted bashfully as she swept her blue brush over the canvas. "A few of the paintings in the house are my pieces." She motioned around the room.

Landscapes and still-life portraits were on the walls. Wow. She's really talented. I tossed some black paint onto my canvas and squinted at it. "I've always been a Pollock-impersonator, myself."

She grinned.

I glanced around as I painted. Caroline seriously knew what she was doing. Among the paintings were photographed portraits of Caroline and a man her age, mid-forties. With a glance at her, I noticed she wore a gold wedding band. I pointed towards the pictures with my brush. "You guys are a good couple."

Caroline blinked up in surprise and looked where I was pointing. She relaxed slightly and nodded. "Yes, that's my husband Gregory. He… passed unexpectedly last year."

Yikes. I gave her a sympathetic look as we went back to our paintings. "I'm sorry."

Her lips pressed tightly together, and she gave an accepting nod. Poor woman. She was all alone and afraid of the world.

My phone vibrated again with another Dean text: when u done

Ugh, why was he being so smothering today? Soonish.

We were able to paint for about ten more minutes before my phone buzzed again. I decided to ignore it. Ten more minutes passed in small talk and painting, and my phone buzzed again. And again.

For God's sake—whatever. I'm done with painting anyways. Splattered colors covered my canvas because, let's face it, I couldn't imitate life with a brush if the world depended on it.

"Well, I'm gonna call it," I announced, putting down my brush and tugging off my apron. "I need to head back to my brothers."

Caroline's calm face became startled. "Oh."

I looked over at her partially done landscape piece and complimented it. It was seriously good.

My phone buzzed again as I asked Caroline if she could give me a ride to the nearby lake.

"Oh, the one off the interstate?" she probed anxiously. I nodded. "I… I don't think I can. I, um, had that scare there last week, and I just…"

I assured her that it was fine and that I could call my brother to swing by.

"Take one of the cars!" she insisted. "I have a few, so it would be no trouble."

I squinted at her in confusion. She wanted me to… take a car? "What?"

She smiled at me. "I insist. And you can bring it back the next time I see you."

This is weird. This is slightly creepy. But, free car. I accepted gratefully, bid her adieu, and hit the road.

"What?" I demanded after dialing Dean back.

"Where the hell have you been?" he demanded impatiently.

Oh. My. God. "You know where the hell I've been! God, put Sam on the line."

"When are you coming here?"

"Let me talk to Sam."

"Kate."

What the hell is with him?! "Now! I'm heading there as we speak! Put Sam on the phone!"

He grumbled an acceptance, and Sam came onto the line.

"What is wrong with Dean?" I demanded.

Sam huffed an annoyed sigh. "I have no idea. He's been like this ever since we dropped you off."

God, poor Sam. "You're a saint. I'm almost there."

"Caroline gave you a ride?"

"Er, not exactly…" I said. "I'll explain when I get there."

When I pulled into the lake's parking lot in a cream, 1953 Cadillac Coupe de Ville, my brothers stared at me in awe.

"I know," I confirmed their thoughts. "Caroline let me borrow it."

Dean booked it towards me, and I could see tension melting out of him. He grabbed me in a brief hug before inspecting the car greedily.

Sam strolled up, eyeing the car incredulously. "She just let you… borrow it?"

I waved towards it with a shake of my head. "You give and you get, I guess. Karma and all that."

Sam raised his eyebrows as Dean moved around the car with a worshiping adoration.

"He's seriously been weird all day?" I asked quietly.

Sam gave a disbelieving shake of his head. "Ever since we woke up. He's been insanely antsy the whole time you were at Caroline's. Speaking of, what happened there that you can start borrowing classic Cadillacs now?"

I shrugged. "She's lonely. She just needed a friend, I guess. I'm thinking that this car is some kind of insurance to keep that friendship."

Sam scoffed. "Wish I had friends like that."

"Too bad no one likes you," I told him with a sympathetic grin. He glared at me, and I hurried towards where my brothers had their fishing stuff set up. "Dean! Are we fishing or what?!"

Dean looked up dreamily from the car to me. "This is a '53 Cadillac!"

Sam and I rolled our eyes and gave him a moment alone with the automobile.