Is anyone else frolicking through the snow? :D It's freezing where I am. Anyway, I hope I didn't scare any of you off with the last chapter hehe I'll admit it wasn't one of my best, and the concept of having Kat not human at all was a bit of a risk, but . . . I hope you continue to enjoy :)

Thanks to all who have been leaving their awesome reviews!

TWENTY-FIVE: Eye of the Storm

"What do you think?"

Dean peered towards Sam, studying him with narrowed brows before fixing his eyes back onto the road.

"About?"

"About everything that that woman said. About Kat." Sam was chewing anxiously on his cheek, shifting restlessly in his seat and staring at the black Jeep driving a small distance ahead. Dean was reluctant to talk about the events that had just taken place, or merely just reluctant to talk at all. He didn't want to talk about Kat, he didn't want to try and figure out what to do. It was straining on his health and energy and the concept that Kat wasn't human hadn't even sunk in yet.

"I don't know," Dean said flatly.

He pretended not to he notice the small frown his younger brother looked at him with. Evidently deciding Dean was not going to elaborate, Sam spoke again.

"You've gotta think something," he said with a hollow chuckle.

"What am I supposed to think?" Dean asked, sounding a little more defensive then he intended. "I mean, hell, Sammy. The girl that I've known since before she could walk turns out to be a heart-eating demon who melt rocks with her blood. It's not like I'm skipping around all zippity-doo-dah."

"How long are you going to keep up with this?"

"With what?" Dean demanded.

"It seems like you're always considering whether you're going to stay by Kat's side or not. You can't honestly think that we're—you're going to leave her, are you?"

"Well sorry if registering through this is going to take some time," said Dean acidly.

"That's not really answering the question," said Sam slowly.

Dean said nothing. He knew what Sam was implying and he didn't have the strength to consider the answer. Stick by Kat's side despite his feelings and all uncertainty that had built up within him? Why wouldn't he? Because she was a demon? The statement itself made sense, but when he thought about Kat, she didn't act like a supernatural being.

As though reading his mind, Sam said, "She's not like the others. You know that."

Dean stared out onto the road without seeing it, his fingers grasping the steering wheel a bit tighter and swallowing. His gaze twitched onto the back window of the Jeep where he could make out Kat's head in the passenger seat.

"Yeah," he said quietly. "I know."

.

It was twenty minutes later that Dean was pulling into the parking lot of a small restaurant that was placed on the docks. It was raining hard and all four of them were soaked before they could even get through the entrance. They all received a nasty look from a waitress whose eyes were fixed upon the puddles they were leaving.

Stripping off their wet jackets, they all settled themselves in a booth that was furthest away from anyone. Out of the foggy window, Dean could just barely make out the view of the ocean water that was splashing around furiously against the dock polls.

"Storm's coming," murmured Jack, scrubbing his fingers through his shaggy, graying hair. "Should ask where the nearest motel is."

Dean watched as Kat sitting opposite him, pushed her sodden hair out of her face and released a small breath. He noticed her complexion was an unhealthy ivory color, completely lacking any flush. Purple bruises hung heavily under her eyes which were steely and sad. He didn't know if he'd ever seen her in such a worse condition. Sensing his stare, she looked at him. They stared at each other for a few moments before a waitress came and stole each of their attention away.

She was tall, slender, with a fire-red pixie haircut and a small smile that shined with a small applicant of lip gloss. She was the type of girl Dean wouldn't hesitate in hitting on, but for once in his life, he wasn't in the mood.

"How can I help you?" she asked the table at large, though her pale green eyes were fixing upon Kat.

They all ordered their food quietly, the air still slightly stiff since coming back from Miriam's. Dean didn't feel like meeting anyone's eyes so he busied himself in adding liberal amounts of sugar to his coffee that he had ordered. He was shivering slightly, holding the mug of his hot beverage for a source of warmth. In fact, all of them seemed to be extremely chilled apart from Kat who was sipping some iced tea.

"Alright, I'll be the one to say it," said Dean abruptly, making all of them look at him. "What are we supposed to do now?"

Jack eyed him speculatively from over his cup of coffee, taking a thoughtful sip before answering.

"What we do next is entirely up to you, Dean," he said slowly. "I think I got the gist that you're following in your father's footsteps, hunting down the demon that killed your mother?" Dean and Sam exchanged a look, then both nodded. "Well, we're more than able to go our separate ways." He spoke as though he didn't think much of this prospect.

At his words, Kat rounded on him.

"Leave each other?" she said sharply, darting a quick look at the brothers before staring down her father. "After all that's happened . . . ?"

Dean too couldn't imagine splitting up with the Thorntons after the recent events. Finding out Kat's true nature only to leave her felt as though it would leave one too many things unresolved, and Dean didn't think he'd ever be able to get over that. There were also many other various reasons why he would be unwilling to leave them—her.

As he glanced towards Sam, he saw the probability that his feelings were shared. He was frowning at both Kat and Jack with dubiety.

"I don't think much of it, either," said Jack to his daughter with a glance towards Dean. "Yet the entire reason we all know each other is because John asked for my aid nearly twenty-three years ago. We don't have much business dragging you down and I'm not sure how much help we can offer."

"What, so you're just going to leave?" asked Dean as their food arrived, the steam of his bacon cheeseburger beckoning his growling stomach.

"No, Dean," said Jack, sounding tired. "But what with—the current condition . . ." he peered at Kat whose jaw tightened as she closed her eyes. "We'll probably be weighing you down."

Dean looked at Kat, then at Sam who was about to speak.

"We're going to need all the help we can get," he said.

"And I want to help," said Kat defiantly, registering the brothers. "If you're going back to old cases of saving people and hunting demons—I want things to go back to the way they used to be. Don't you agree?"

Although her question was intended for both of the brothers, Dean didn't miss how her eyes inevitably twitched over him. For a moment, he allowed them to prolong their eye-contact until it felt too uncomfortable and looked away. He nodded slowly, pursing his lips together as he glanced momentarily out of the window.

"Yeah, I do," he answered, tugging his plate of food toward him. There was a brief pause in which Dean took an astronomical bite out of his burger, trying to ignore the vague display of surprise on Kat's face. He tried to speak but only a few flecks of food came out so he gave a large swallow and tried again. "When we eventually find this thing, facin' it is gonna be a right pain in our asses. I'm—I'm not going to be pretend everything is alright, but I'm going to want you . . . you know . . ." he coughed awkwardly, rubbing his chest and staring adamantly down at his food.

Kat was steadily watching his struggle but said nothing. She took a quiet bite of her steak, looking as though she was using a great amount of willpower not to say what was on her mind. Dean was also unwillingly aware of the awkward stares he had earned from Jack and Sam. Bracing himself, he met Kat's eyes with a small breath.

"I want you to be around when the big bad comes," he said throatily.

Kat's eyelids fluttered as she gazed at him, her lips parted a small amount. Her fingers gripped her drink uncertainly, a single dark eyebrow lifting in vague astonishment while she absently stirred her tea with a spoon.

"Thank you, Dean," she said quietly, looking up at him through her eyelashes as she rested her palm on the side of her neck. "I want to be there."

Another small silence ensued. Dean noticed that Jack was watching him closely but could not decipher his expression. When he looked at Sam however, he found that his brother was giving him a look of encouragement. Dean ran his hands over his face before taking another casual bite from his food.

Making peace with Kat was one of his main priorities, and he was dimly hoping he could casually work around his uncertainties, confusion, and anger. Accepting Kat as this creature was proving to be one of the more difficult challenges, though he had had a few days to let the information settle in. He accepted of how hard it would be for her to confess something like this to him; he had no idea what he would have done if put in the same position, and yet he couldn't completely beat down the stubborn emotion of betrayal. It especially hurt when for the majority of the time Sam had been in on it, even if it had been on 'accident', like both of them claimed it to be.

"Well I guess that settles that," said Jack gruffly, clearing his throat.

"Everything going okay over here?" asked Pixie-waitress, a large smile perching on her small face as she approached their table.

"Yes, thank you," said Jack.

"You folks got somewhere you can get to soon?" she asked, glancing outside of the window where the storm was picking up, the wind thrashing violently through the tall trees. "S'one heckuva storm out there."

"Where's the nearest motel?" asked Jack.

Her lips pursed out in consideration.

"Wellll, my Daddy runs a little bed an' breakfast that's just down the street," she said. "It's probably your best option since the news says the weather isn't going to be dying down anytime soon. It's called Spinney's Bed an' Wake."

"Thanks, er . . ."

"Belle," she chirped. "Glad I could help. You folks stay safe, you hear me?"

So after they finished their meal, all four of them darted for their vehicles out in the parking lot and speedily made their way down the deserted, flash-flooded road until coming across the properly labeled building. It was a tall, Victorian-styled building with a beige paint job, yet looked particularly ominous when a crack of lightning flashed across the sky behind it.

Inside the strong odor of artificial vanilla welcomed them and Dean shook his head, trying to rid himself of the excess water. The man behind the counter peered disdainfully at the crowd of them as they treaded over the white rug and leaving wet footprints.

"One room, two queens," said Dean robotically, digging his hand into his jean pocket to reclaim his wallet. The man lifted a curly brow, his beady little eyes scanning over their group.

Giving a small head shake, he muttered, "I'm not one to judge . . ." As Dean raised his eyebrows, the man said a little louder, "For the one night?"

"Um, yeah. Assuming the storm lets up by tomorrow."

"Name?"

"Albert Quinn."

"Seventy dollars and fifty-two cents."

After accepting Dean's visa card, he handed him two keys.

"Room 237. Second floor. Please enjoy your stay, and please avoid from wandering too often at night."

There was a small pause as Dean pocketed the keys, frowning.

"Why, does Norman Bates make his rounds then?" he asked placidly.

The man's white toothbrush mustache ruffled as he let out a small, indignant breath.

"The owner's mother spends her time at night around the premises and he would prefer if she remained undisturbed. I'm sure you can understand."

"Right," said Dean with uncertain look at the others over his shoulder.

"Dogs are extra," the clerk added unexpectedly, looking at Dean with pompous disapproval.

"We don't have any dogs," said Sam.

The man lifted another skeptical eyebrow.

"It smells like wet dog. You aren't hiding one?"

"You wanna frisk us?" Dean asked irritably.

"No," the clerk snooted, eyes swiveling over Kat. He watched her for several moments, frowning slightly as his lips exceeded to an even thinner shape. He looked back at Dean and nodded once. "Enjoy your stay, sir."

"Sure," Dean was saying as they exited into the main hall and up the wooden staircase.

"He does kind of give off that 'the butler did it' vibe," chuckled Sam as they reached the top floor.

"All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy," murmured Dean, unlocking their room door and sighing as he threw his things at the foot of the closer bed. He stripped off his wet jacket and gave an involuntary shiver. He didn't like the idea of sleeping on the floor tonight, but seeing as Sam drove most of the way to Seattle he wasn't bothered by letting it slide.

"Is everyone as happy as I am for an early night?" asked Kat, wringing out her sweater sleeves and walking to the window where the rain was pounding like miniature grenades down upon the glass.

"Turn on the TV, Sam," said Jack wearily. Sam, who was closest to the remote, picked it up and flicked on the television. It opened to a soap opera show but Sam quickly changed it to the news. All four of them crowded around the TV, watching as the female news reporter stood in front of the weather board.

" . . . but of course, up here in Seattle things aren't doing so well. We're having severe cases of flash flooding and power outage. Everyone is severely advised to stay indoors unless absolutely necessary. For more safety tips about dealing with lightning storms, please visit .com. Let's check in with Eddy and see how things are doing out there. How is it out there, Eddy?"

The camera cut to a stout man that was covered head to foot in banana yellow rain-proof attire. He was clutching his hat in attempt to keep it from blowing away and practically shouting into his microphone.

"Things are just getting rougher out here, Rachel!" he said. "We've got a phone poll that's threatening to knock over just by Waters Ave, which could be a serious threat for electrocution. We're having some men work on it now."

The camera showed the main road which resembled a building river. Dean watched as Kat's eyebrows rose and quickly turned his attention back to the broadcast. A newsman was now seen sitting behind his desk and fondling a bundle of papers in front of him.

"Undoubtedly one of the worst storms Washington's seen for a long time. It's best to—"

But with a bwink, the TV screen went black and the room was suddenly encased in darkness as the lamps flickered off.

"Peachy," muttered Dean as he got to his feet. Now the only sound that remained was the storm that was raging outside like an army of furious tyrants. The open curtains did little to illuminate the cozy bedroom, either; the gray clouds were much too dense for any rays of sunlight to sneak through.

"Like Kat said; we should get an early night anyway," said Jack, rubbing his chin thoughtfully as he gazed out of the window.

"Where are we planning on going tomorrow, assuming that the storm ends by then?" asked Sam.

Jack paused.

"That depends," he said. "If we're sticking together, I suppose we'll keep on keepin' on what we've been doing since you all were kids. Taking cases until we find a lead on—what was his name? Azazel. Also, we need to find a good stopping point for next week when the full moon's up and how we're going to handle it."

Kat glanced up from the process of wringing her fingers, eyebrows pulling together.

"Well, I hope you have a better way of 'handling' it than me," she said flatly, getting to her feet and tying her sodden hair up in a high bun before folding her arms lightly across her chest.

"What did you do?" Jack asked and Dean looked up. Predictably, Kat looked uncomfortable at the concept of speaking anything that related to her demon genes.

She shifted on the spot, but said, "I chained myself in the basement every month."

Jack's face stiffened. "You never escaped?"

"Once or twice. I never hurt anyone," she added hastily, eyes concernedly running over Dean who had found great interest in looking at the pictures decorated along the peach walls.

Noting his daughter's discomfort, Jack sighed, "Alright, honey. We'll find out what to do when it comes. Miriam also gave us several drinks that can help you." For a moment, Dean witnessed a moment in which Kat and Jack shared an expression of uncertainty and fear, but it was quickly swiped away when Jack stood up and held Kat close, pressing a firm kiss to her head.

A few minutes later, Kat and Dean were making their flat beds on the floor and trying in vain to give it enough padding so as to make it comfortable. As there was a blaring clap of thunder, from the corner of his eye Dean saw Kat flinching. He glanced at her, wondering whether or not to say anything. But as she rested herself on the lumpy cushioning and pulled the covers over her, he remained silent and mirrored her actions.

As he lay in the darkness that was only disrupted by the occasional crack of white lightning, Dean tried to envision how traveling with Kat for however long it took for them to find Yellow Eyes. He tried to imagine how every month they would be preparing for Kat's alteration, and on whether or not he would ever get used to it. Thinking about next week made it feel like a bucket of ice had just been poured into his stomach.

He shifted to his side, punching his pillow into a more comfortable position and trying to let the heavy rain lure him into a slumber. Out of nowhere, he was suddenly reminded of when he found Kat at the bottom of the hill, drenched in her own blood. He remembered painfully his state of blood-seething panic and desperation and how he thought he'd never see her eyes open again. In those moments, he was prepared to bet everything he had on the fact that he would have done just about anything to keep her alive.

Then how, he wondered, would the simple information that Kat was a supernatural creature change that?

.

My eyes jerked open to the sound of lightning rattling in my eardrums. The more accurate description would be it sounded like fifty men with cymbals were surrounding me. Though I could hardly say I was still scared of storms, the acute hearing was still something to get used to. It was more disturbing than useful; from one of the bedrooms below us I could hear the scratching of a pen on paper and the encasing snores of the person whoever slept beside the writer.

Releasing a small huff of indignation, I leaned my head upward and saw the upside-down view of Dean's little pad vacant. I glanced toward the bed where the figures of Sam and my father were sleeping soundly. Getting silently to my feet, I rubbed my throat absently and wondered where I could glass of water. If that was indeed what I was thirsty for.

Creeping as quietly as I could towards the door, I opened it and slipped into the dark hallway. The scent of inauthentic vanilla bean nipped at my nose, making me scrunch it as I made my way down the staircase and into the deserted lobby. I wondered the hallways uncertainly, following the smell of meat and hoping it would lead me to the kitchen. It didn't. I found myself in a room that could be none other than the library. Every inch of wall was concealed by a heavily polished bookshelf with numerous arrays of multi-colored books. There was a dying fire in the modest fireplace, though the red embers were still crackling sleepily. It wasn't the fire I was looking at, however. When I noticed that the lamp next to the red velvet loveseat was on, a head peered around from the top of the seat and a pair of green eyes landed on me.

"Hey," said Dean slowly.

"Hi," I said.

"Can't sleep?"

Too nervous to trek past the doorway, I hung back and allowed my gaze to curiously inspect the small room.

"No," I said absentmindedly. "And I'm guessing you didn't come here for a bit of bed-time reading?"

A smile almost flickered along his lips.

"Got hungry," he muttered, holding up a platter of leftover sausages. I smirked against my will; it was so typical of Dean that my stomach almost twinged in sweet familiarity.

A small silence hung in the air in which I dared myself to take a step forward and peek through the white curtains from the nearby window. I watched as the rain continued to pour ever harder down upon the roads and listened to the ocean waves whip around fiercely from a not-too-far distance away. I looked over my shoulder at Dean who quickly gave the sausages his full attention. Frowning slightly, I made to step forward, but hesitated.

I didn't want to bring up any unwanted subjects because for the first time in the past few days, Dean was able to make eye-contact with me without showing bold displays of hurt and confusion. Yet I wasn't sure how much longer I could go on with this uncertainty hanging in the air. I needed to know everything was going to be alright between us, and that Dean truly wasn't going to resent having me with him while he sought out to find his mother and father's killer.

But to my immense and utter incredulity, before I could even take a breath to say anything, Dean said, "Can we talk?"

He was leaning forward in the loveseat with his hands folded in front of him and meeting my eyes placidly with an undecipherable expression. Biting back on my breath, I gave a short nod without thinking. Scratching the back of his neck awkwardly, he shifted ever so slightly to the right and I took this into meaning that he was silently inviting me to sit down. I did, seating my rear down upon the cushion so gingerly it was as if I was afraid it might break.

I gazed down at my crossed ankles, watching from my peripheral vision as Dean settled himself further into the couch, releasing a short sigh as he rubbed his eyes tiredly. I wondered how he was going to start this conversation, and more so if he was going to talk about on what I thought he was.

"Can you start from the beginning?" Dean said abruptly. I looked at him. His eyes caught mine, and they were filled with the desperate desire to understand, and almost a slice of sacrifice. I continued to study him for a steady few moments until leaning back in the seat without breaking our stare.

"The beginning," I repeated slowly, wetting my lips nervously. "Of what?"

"Everything," he said with a small head shake. "I've been trying to understand everything on my own but too many pieces are missing. I haven't exactly given you a chance to explain anything . . ." he drifted off.

"That's because you're so thick-skulled," I remarked. He gave a short nod, pursing his lips together.

"Yeah, I guess that's true, too."

I took a deep breath, ensnaring my fingers in my loose hair that was curled from being in a bun for a few hours.

The beginning? I suppose that started the night of the first full moon that I changed. I started off explaining slowly, scared of making him too uneasy with the gory details of the morning I woke up in the forest by the deer. But Dean listened quietly, nodding his head slowly whenever I paused. I told him about leaving my father and heading to the smallest town I could pinpoint on the map and the plan I had about living the rest of my days alone. I explained everything about the previous year and what it was like living on your own with only the horrid recently gained information for company. It hurt to recall any moments of my life in those times, but I was adamant about making Dean understand. I spoke of how many times I was tempted to pick up the phone and call him just for a check up, but how I was too terrified about him and Sam coming to look for me only to find me in that state.

I told Dean about Sam finding me in that basement and how many times he told me to tell him, and how I was too scared to. I even tried to get around all of the details I knew about my mother, even if the amount was very minimal.

The time I took explaining everything prolonged into a very long, very exhausting hour and in that time each of us had mellowed out considerably. I didn't stop talking until I reached the part at our first night at Bobby's, at which I found my words suddenly fail me.

Dean was watching me with a softened gaze that still held a hint of disarray, but even from the way the air was lifted, I could tell at long last that I had finally gotten somewhere with him. And although his face still remained slightly troubled, I knew that he was going to think very hard on my story and maybe, just maybe, he would understand.

"I should have told you," I whispered with my head leaning on the back of the loveseat and my legs curled up against my chest. "I was going to, I swear I was. But I was so scared of what you would think of me, and you can understand why."

Dean frowned briefly at the flowery design along the couch. I wasn't sure if he was aware that his fingers were absently playing with the ends of my hair, but I did nothing to stop him. I watched his face closely, blinking sleepily as my heart soared with high hopes at the thought of things getting back to normal.

"I just—want you to be alright," said Dean unexpectedly, meeting my gaze again with his olive eyes filling generously with a quiver of sadness. "I don't know what's happening or what being what you are does to you, but I thought I was going to lose you back at the hospital. I don't ever—" he shook his head, staring around the room as if hoping the answer would pop out from one of the books, then looked at me again and sighed, "I don't ever want to feel that feeling again. I'm scared, Kat. I feel like something's going to happen and that sonofabitch is going to get his hands on you and I feel like a freakin' idiot that I'm spending all my time staying mad at you when there's someone out there that wants to hurt you. I don't think I could ever live through losing you if all I did is act like a jackass."

"Dean," I said quickly. "Stop beating yourself up over this. You had every right and then some of why you should have been angry with me. I don't think that I . . ."

But I was shaking my head, smiling a little as I rested my hand over his. He looked up at me, his eyebrows twitching into a small frown as I squeezed a little tighter.

"I don't think that I ever expected you to forgive me," I finished quietly. He stared at me, and I at him. I moved forward, wrapping my arms around his back and pulling him into a tight embrace with my face buried in his neck. This time for the first time in longer than my memory could reach, Dean did not freeze beneath my touch, and I revered in that thought.

As we retracted with our foreheads almost touching, his thumb smoothed over my cheek and I smiled again, if a bit sadly. In all honesty, I probably would have kissed him if I didn't believe that it would spark up more trouble. I stood by my decision in believing that starting anything so recently after him finding out what I was was just bound to stir up more problems than not. Or would it? How was I to know anything? I had little experience in romance and from knowledge I did gain, it was from a six foot five raving psychopath who was out for my head.

The moment was there, I knew it. I could have taken it; I had everything in my power to charge the initiation, and man was I tempted to. I knew that the frightening pull that I've been feeling for the last three weeks was no illusion to either my feelings, or Dean's.

So why the hesitation?

For the same damn reason that was why I never told my secret to Dean any sooner; I was scared.

So I smiled again, withdrew before anything could happen, and intertwined my fingers in his. Looking a little whip-lashed, Dean stared down at our embracing hands, his lips giving a small tug upward before meeting my eyes.

And so, hand in hand, we left the library and walked back up to the room where no claps of thunder could disturb my slumber.

Welllll? Did you like? Are you glad at last that Dean and Kat seem to be regaining a bit of what was lost? I'm very much looking forward to what you have to say and what you think may happen next. I'm hoping I'm progressing their relationship alright, and do make sure to tell me is so!

Reviews are like ice cream, but low fat, so obviously superior. Thanks for reading!