The next morning I got up and sleepily made my way into the kitchen. The smells were intoxicating. I blearily looked and found Kat cooking dozens of dishes, and stashing them in the freezer when she was done. In between slicing steak and pulling out baked potatoes, she downed a sip of beer.
"Isn't it kind of early for that?" I asked, leaning against the door frame. She jumped a little and glanced my way.
"Thought you were Dean," she muttered. "And no…I've been up for a while."
"Do you always have nightmares?" I couldn't help but ask.
"Yes. Every night." There was no emotion in the way she said it. It was like she was talking about the weather.
"I get bad ones too, sometimes," I said, feeling the need to empathize with her.
"I'm sure after what both of you have been through, there are bound to be nightmares." She said kindly.
"How do you deal with them?" I asked, wanting some sort of advice.
"I don't," she whispered. "I draw out everything I can, all my fears all my doubts…but they still come back."
"I still dream about Jess sometimes," I confessed. "I don't tell Dean because he doesn't need anything else to worry about." Her shoulders tensed and her breathing was harsh for a minute.
"They don't stop. Don't expect them too," She said slowly. "Your brother has a lot of responsibility…but he'll want to know that about you. You both need each other."
"I just can't imagine doing this my whole life. Having these dreams…having them get worse."
"There isn't a choice anymore, Sam, it was thinking like that that led you to Ruby," she said boldly, finally turning to look at me. Her eyes were haunted and bleak.
I couldn't speak. I didn't know how she knew…but Bobby probably told her. She knew I was a monster. The monster.
"I do not blame you for what you have done," she started, "But you must start to think through your decisions. They could harm more people than you can ever imagine."
"What would you know about that?" It was mean. And a low blow. I didn't know anything about her…I had no idea how the question would affect her.
"Too much," she whispered. She turned her back and went back to cooking. I slumped into a chair.
"I'm sorry. I always say stupid things like that."
"It's okay." Her voice was soft and I wondered how the hell she managed to get into this life.
"We'll probably leave around ten, okay?" I changed the subject. She nodded a little and packed up another dish in a plastic container.
"Well. This doesn't look like an awkward conversation at all," came Dean's deep voice. I watched Kat's back relax at the sound of his voice and then the shake of her head. As if she was frustrated with herself for having that reaction to him. She turned back around to face him, but in that instant, her hand glided across the counter and glanced off a knife poking out of the sink. It had a small russet colored stain on it.
Her body went stiff again, but this time not of her accord. Her eyes glowed a beautiful bright blue and landed on the knife. They went to a band-aid on Dean's thumb a second later. A non-existent breeze blew her dark hair behind her shoulders, making it snarl around her face. Then, Dean and I watched as through her shirt, her spine began to shift and move under her skin. We could see the swaying movement, just under the fabric. Her mouth had opened in a silent scream of agony and her whole body was shaking.
Dean ran across the kitchen and removed her small hand from the knife. When the contact was broken, her body slumped downward. Dean only held on long enough to be sure she wasn't hurt, and then let her rest on the cool tile floor. Her eyes had closed and I was both relieved and disappointed. They were both beautiful and frightening, like some alien force.
Dean's face was annoyingly calm; he just moved away from her and rested against the counter. She slowly blinked her eyes open, now their usual, but still vibrant, blue. She unsteadily wobbled up onto her feet.
"I'm sorry," she whispered, like a child who disappointed their parents.
"No no no, don't be sorry," Dean said softly. I winced, it had been years since he'd talked to me in that voice. "What happened?"
"I don't know. That's only the second time…I…I don't know." Her eyes flitted around the room, like a caged animal.
"What brought it on the first time?" I asked, so curious as always.
"Uh…I touched something…I don't remember what. Can we just forget about this for now?" She asked, her voice growing stronger.
"Uh, do you think that's safe?" I asked.
"Just until we finish this. Please?" She turned and gave me puppy dog eyes. I caved instantly. I don't even think mine are that bad.
"Okay…but only until then," I said with as much force as I could. She nodded gently and went back to cooking. Dean moved to help her, but settled on packing away the already cooked meals. I watched as they moved around each other, unconsciously allowing the other space and orienting themselves to the other person. I had never seen people do that.
"Morning. You making all this for me?"
"No. The bi-polar tooth fairy that lives in your panic room," she said sarcastically. Bobby's eyes widened.
"How does that damn thing keep gettin' in there?" He asked himself gruffly. Kat giggled to herself and shrugged, and Bobby got that proud look on his face that told us that he meant to make her laugh. She inclined her head to him and her hair fell in front of her face. Dean looked like he wanted to move it, but knew that she wouldn't like him to touch her. So instead he finished packing up a baked chicken and putting it in the fridge.
"We'll be leaving after breakfast," I told him, beginning to load up the plate Kat had set aside for me.
We all ate and I could tell that Bobby was really sad to see her go. I looked at Kat and noticed that she'd hardly eaten anything. She just picked absently at the bacon and drank her water.
"Are you not going to eat?" I asked, confused. Why would she cook so much…if she wasn't hungry?
"Oh, I'm not hungry," she said looking over her small plate. She looked back up at me and eyed my half-empty plate. "You should finish yours though, you need your strength. C'mon, eat up."
I don't ever remember having anyone aside from Dean tell me something like that. I went back to eating gladly. Dean gave her a curious look and I figured he noticed too. Bobby gave her an approving nod and she inclined her head in response. She finished her small meal and stood up.
"I'm going to get my stuff and say goodbye to my baby," she said walking into the other room. A few minutes later she came back down with her two duffels and her sketch book. We saw her out the window, laying her hand on her bike, stroking it affectionately. I saw her mouth moving and I knew on some instinct that she was talking to it. Promising it she would come back. I saw Dean smile brightly, probably because it was another thing they had in common.