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TWENTY-SIX: On That Road Again

When all of us awoke the next morning, our hopes were not very high in leaving the bed and breakfast due to the storm that stubbornly continued to roar outside. For the majority of the morning Sam had his laptop perched on his lap and looking over any local news in search of a case, but was left empty-handed. Jack was sitting at the table by the window, anxiously tapping his foot and staring out of the glass that was mugged with condensation.

Though I knew I should have shared the same cabin fever as the others, I couldn't bring myself to do so. While trapped in the little room, I would notice how Dean would bring up the stupidest small talk, such as asking what I felt like watching on TV, how I felt about the weather, and whether I was warm enough(ha). Every word he spoke to me was layered in a thick tone of discreet apology, and though it was obvious both of us were still disconcerted, I could still see him trying, and I was very grateful.

However, as happy as I was at my rebuilding relationship with Dean, I was soon facing another problem; it had been little more than three days since my time at the hospital, and my thirst was already getting the better of me. The lack of feeding was mainly due to my inane denial that there needed to be any feeding in the first place, but my father hadn't overlooked this. When Sam and Dean were off to gather us some lunch, my father took his chance to strike up the uncomfortable conversation.

"Listen, Kat. You remember what Miriam said, don't you?"

"Mmm?"

I looked up reproachfully from the television which was stationed on a truly dull cooking program, though it seemed tremendously more satisfying that reciting anything that had occurred in Miriam's heated little hut.

Dad sat beside me on the bed, resting a tender hand on my knee and I stared blankly back.

"I know it's hard, but you have to come to terms with the fact that you have other needs than us," he started slowly, and a bit awkwardly. It was a bit like undergoing a second sex talk. "You need to be honest with me when you're—when you're hungry. Don't cope with it; remember Miriam said it was important that you feed."

Feed. It was such an ugly term. Like I was some caged-in dog that had to be fed slabs of meat by my keepers.

"Are you . . . hungry, at all?" my father continued gently, not looking reassured by my lack of response.

"No," I lied lightly before I could stop myself.

My father's eyebrows fell suspiciously over his eyes.

"Kat, if what you say is true and that the hunger is worst at the full moon, you don't want to be on an empty stomach when it comes."

"And where exactly would I be able to find someone willing to give out their blood and heart, huh?" I said acidly. "Go out into the forest and hunt like an animal?" Almost at once I regretted my sharp tone as my father's eyes flashed, but he waved aside the hurt almost at once.

"Would you rather hurt a human?" he asked quietly.

I took a beat before answering. "No."

"So stop pretending you are one." I looked up at him, eyebrows narrowing at this abrupt display of harshness. "Don't look at me like that. I'd bet half my life that you're still partly convinced that you're human. I don't like it, Kat, but not facing the facts is dangerous, and so is pretending. Believe me; I'd love to go on like everything is normal and happy, but I love you too much to do that to you."

I didn't answer.

For the rest of the day all four of us planned out where our next destination would be when the storm finally passed. Sam and Dean were adamant about finding another case and even I found myself oddly craving a good monster hunt. The irony was almost painful.

But my father had other ideas.

"Jo and Ellen," he said slowly.

"Jo and who?" I questioned, thinking that my confusion would be shared with the brothers, but they looked to be considering this.

"We asked Ash to keep a look out for anymore psychics," said Sam. "Maybe he has another lead."

Jack studied him tentatively. "Yeah, Bobby told me all about that." And before Sam could say anything: "The Roadhouse will be a good place to be for next week."

"Who are they?" I asked.

"Hunters," Dad replied.

"And you think that these people will be fine with with keeping a raging Cor Comedenti locked up in their house on the full moon?" I asked, my voice high with skepticism.

"They'll certainly be able to help," said Jack absently.

"Do they—does Ellen even know about . . . everything?" said Dean stiffly with a small glance toward me.

"I phoned her a couple months back to tell her to keep an eye out for you," said Jack, his eyes fixed on me and causing me to shift guiltily. "But I didn't tell her why, just that you ran off."

"And we just stop by and drop that kind of bomb on them?" asked Dean. "What a memorable reunion."

"I wouldn't normally consider it, but Ellen, uh, owes me a bit of a favor," said Jack, eyes landing thoughtfully on the window.

Both Sam, Dean, and I all raised our eyebrows.

"Favor?" Sam repeated.

"What kind of favor?" I asked.

"Her daughter, Jo, got in a bit of sticky situation one time. Look, Kat, we still have six days until the full moon which is more than enough to explain everything to them if we leave tomorrow. We can trust them," he added at my look of uncertainty. "They were friends with John, too. And you two already met them?" he asked of the brothers.

"A while back," answered Dean

I fell silent. I wasn't sure how I felt about letting even more people in on my little secret, especially hunters who could potentially have the same viewpoint as Angel. However, if Dean, Sam, and my father were on board with the plan, I felt a little more reassured. Though a moment later Dean proved not to be as in on the plan as I had assumed.

"I don't know. You really think spreading the word about Kat is the best way to go about this?" he said, knitting his fingers together in front of him as he seated himself on the end of one of the beds. "This isn't exactly a light subject."

"I think it's a good idea if they can help us," answered Jack quietly. "Do you really think that any old friend of mine would hurt my daughter if three of us were there to back her up?"

"Plus, Dean," said Sam with a small sigh. "What are we gonna do in six days time? Stay in a motel room while Kat changes? I don't know about you but I'm pretty sure that wouldn't go well with the manager when it sounds as if a rabid tiger has been let loose. Sorry," he added hastily as I shifted uncomfortably.

Dean paused, scratching the back of his neck and looking as though he was considering the logic of his brother's words. Obviously failing to come up with another problem, he said with a serious look at me, "What do you think?"

I peered at him, wishing I wasn't as surprised as I was that he was asking for my opinion.

"I think that both of you have points," I replied. "I mean, I think showing up on someone's doorstep and greeting them with 'Hey, care to spare some hospitality to a blood-drinking demon' would be a poor first impression, but if you know them . . ." I drifted off uncertainly. Dean's eyebrows had risen slightly at my hospitality comment.

"How exactly are we going to go about tellin' them?" Dean asked of Jack. "I don't suppose writing a strongly-worded letter would suffice?"

"Ellen trusts me—for the most part," said Jack, but there was something in his tone that suggested he was trying to convince himself of this factor. He cleared his throat awkwardly. "I know she'll listen to me first before doing anything brash. So is it settled? Do we all agree to head to Ellen and Jo's tomorrow?"

Sam, Dean and I all glanced shortly at each other. They seemed to be looking to me to give the thumbs up, so when I nodded slowly they followed in suit.

"Good," said Jack.

.

As it turned out, the storm had faltered by the next morning, but the sky remained an abysmal, dense screen of prominent gray. As we left the bed and breakfast early in the morning, a thick cloud of fog hovered a few feet above the ground, drifting ominously through the rainy city. I only had one regret about leaving; the rain had made the air pleasantly cool and brought down my temperature considerably, which proved to be an appreciable relief.

The unwelcome and all-too familiar feeling of foreboding began creeping up within me as my father and I drove down the highway. After I assumed that I had told my secret to almost everyone who mattered, there seemed to always be a next person in line and I was getting sick of bearing the portentous feeling. I felt contaminated, as though I was carrying some deadly disease.

I trusted my father, but I wasn't entirely sure how any hunter friends of his could help me, especially when it was asking a lot from them.

Even if the drive was well over ten hours, it appeared much too soon when I felt my father prodding my shoulder gently. I looked through the windshield, gazing at a tall, wooden building with bold letters reading 'The Roadhouse' above the entrance. The sun was just setting, its final orange rays casting over the corn field that was placed a small distance from the establishment.

There was a terrible pounding reverberating through my throat that had nothing to do with thirst. As I exited the Jeep, I casted a nervous glance towards Sam and Dean who were just climbing out of the Impala. Both were looking at me concernedly, yet none of us spoke as we walked up to the front door with Jack leading the way. With only the smallest of pauses, he opened the door.

I found myself in a dimly lit, nearly-empty bar which had a perfect southern perk to it. There was a pool table in the far back, a dart board, poker table, and several old-school arcade games that were placed in a shadowed corner. There was only one person in the large room; a woman who was standing behind the bar, tapping the buttons of a calculator and looking up as all four of us entered. She couldn't have been any older than my father. Her brown eyes fixed on him immediately, her features shifting slightly.

"Well I'll be a son of a gun," she said quietly. "Jack Thornton. When's the last time you haunted my doorstep?"

"Hey, Ellen," said Jack tenderly with a small smile. "Not sure. Few years?" I noticed that there was a small twinkle in his eyes.

"And not one of those few years did you think of maybe picking up a phone?" said Ellen shrewdly, though she too was smiling. Her eyes drifted from my father to the Winchesters, then to me. Her smile faltered slightly.

"This is my daughter, Kat," said Jack, a little breathlessly as he caught sight of her gaze. Though something from the way she was staring at me told me that she knew exactly who she was looking at. I stared back uncertainly, catching sight of Sam next to me who was giving me a condoling expression. I tried to smile to show my appreciation, but it felt stiff and awkward.

Ellen opened her mouth to respond but before she could say anything, someone walked in from the back, stuffing a wad of cash into her front pocket. She was on the short-ish side, petite, with locks of silky blonde hair that hung along her face.

" . . . and that's where I prove to those suckers that I don't live up to the blonde stereotype," she was saying gleefully. She didn't notice the crowd of us huddled at the entrance until she planted her hands upon the bar counter and turned. Her eyes trailed curiously on me, then upon the brothers. "Oh," she said casually. "Hey, boys."

"Hey, Jo," Dean greeted.

"Kat, this is Ellen's daughter, Jo. Jo, this is my daughter, Kat," my father introduced.

Jo looked up at him, a large, slightly forced smile tugging the corners of her lips. "Jack," she said, taking a small step forward. "How's it been goin'?"

"Fine," said Jack warmly. "How've you been?"

"Good," said Jo, with another glance at me before looking over her shoulder at her mother. Ellen's eyes were also fixed on me, chewing on her cheek absently.

"What brings you all here today?" said Ellen in a slightly unconvincing hearty voice. "And when did you lock teams with the Winchesters again? I thought you guys split up years ago. That was what John told me, anyhow."

"We reunited a little while ago," said Jack distractedly. "Listen, Ellen. Can I talk to you for a moment? In private?"

Ellen watched me for a few moments before looking back at Jack, giving a single, very short nod. My father gave me a reassuring smile before walking off with Ellen to the back of the room where the pool table was. I stared after them, keening my ears to listen in but Jo took away my attention.

"So you're another hunter?" she asked curiously.

"Yeah," I replied automatically.

"And your Dad commends that?" she asked with a bitter laugh.

Reluctantly, I looked away from my father and Ellen who were talking in low tones and looked at the blonde.

"I don't know about commend," I said awkwardly. "But I guess he just, uh. Has trust?" I wished I could have had a more interesting answer, but I was too preoccupied listening in on Jack and Ellen's conversation.

" . . . how long?" Ellen was whispering.

"Technically, her entire life. But nothing—kicked in until a little more than a year ago," my father replied. There was a short pause. "What else did John tell you?"

"Not much," admitted Ellen. "He didn't exactly give me a cover to back explanation on it. He did mention that you would eventually come around at some point. Jack, you know me. I'm willing to help on all degrees, but I have a daughter of my own to look after."

"You're talking as if Kat might hurt you," said Jack with cold indifference. "She's still my daughter, and she always will be. She tries in every angle she can to stay human and I don't think anyone is more scared of her than she is. We just need a safe, secure place in five days. You have to know of a place, El."

"You're talking about locking her up and say that she's safe?" Ellen said in a harsher whisper.

"Do you think I would have brought her here if I thought otherwise?" Jack retorted.

"I think that when it comes to family, you have a blind spot, and that's how everyone should be. We all would risk anything for our loved ones, but I just hope you understand the situation of Kat completely."

"Ellen," Jack breathed exasperatedly, casting a nervous glance at me and then taking her hand and leading them out of view, but it did little to make it harder to hear. "She's not the demon you're thinking of, and if John told you anything of the truth, you'd know she is harmless."

"The hear-eating bit kind of sets me off from the word 'harmless'," said Ellen dryly. There was a tense pause. "I know a place, but she's not staying here and I'm going to keep an eye on her."

Evidently accepting this was the best he was going to get, Jack said in a voice that suggested he had something caught in the back of his throat, "Understood."

I looked feverishly away, feeling my insides go glacial. So John had already told Ellen all about me? What caused him to do that? Hopes that Ellen would understand better if given a heads up years beforehand? If so, he had been mistaken. She was reacting almost exactly how I feared she would; acting as if I was an untamed rabid wolf who was likely to lash out to the hand that fed me. I decided I would remain as little as I could out of her hair and hopefully gain a bit of trust. I was wary about this place she had in mind, but was more assured if it would keep me from harming anyone.

"Kat?"

I looked up only to find Sam, Dean, and Jo all gazing at me.

"Huh?" I said stupidly.

"Did you hear me? I asked if you wanted a beer?" Jo said.

"Oh," I said faintly, grateful for her offer of kindness, but then again, maybe Ellen hadn't told her about me yet. Though I wasn't about to turn down my favored ice-cold beverage. "Sure, thanks."

Jo led us to the bar counter where we sat down and and she popped open four Bourbons. I drank a little too eagerly, my eyes nervously following Ellen who had positioned herself behind the bar with her daughter, not looking at me.

My father nodded his answer to my questioning glance, saying that all was well, yet my stomach wouldn't stop squirming. I half-wished that I hadn't overheard Ellen and Jack's talk; the knots in my gut would certainly be a lot less tight.

I hadn't felt a tinge bit of intoxicated by the time I reached the bottom of the bottle, which made sense but was still a shame. After all, I had digested an entire bottle of vodka and little less than half of whiskey and had sobered up within twenty minutes of drinking both.

Being a Cor Comedenti sucks ass.

I wanted desperately to ask what sort of confinement I would be facing in five days, but whenever I opened my mouth, only a feeble breath escaped my lips. Even so, I didn't want to inquire such a thing in front of Jo who I was not sure even knew about me.

After several more beers, I distracted myself by diving in conversation with Sam who was brave enough to ask what a Cor Comdenti's senses were like. Strangely enough, I had no problem discussing the topic with Sam and even if a bit unwilling, I ended getting a bit into the explanation of how much more acute everything seemed to be.

I didn't look away from Sam until I noticed how awkward Dean was looking, and when he suddenly got to his feet to join Jo on the other side of the bar and offered her a small smile as he started talking to her, I found my fondness for my talk with Sam softly die and was suddenly undergoing an extremely unfamiliar feeling that rested somewhere in the heart of my stomach. It was slightly sickening, and made me irrevocably realize Jo's pretty oval face, slender body, deep dark eyes, and soft curtains of untangled platinum hair, and how much it irritated me. I touched my own hair that was shaggy, unkempt, and sticking out at odd angles. I combed my hair through it, wondering why I was suddenly fussing over my features when the last time I had ever cared was when I was with Angel, and even then the desire was low.

Sam, who had followed my stare, looked back at me with a maddeningly knowing smirk. He took an innocent sip from his beer as I frowned at him, fighting the gnarls at the ends of my hair.

"What?" I said sharply.

"Nothing," he said quickly.

I glared at him suspiciously.

"No, you have 'something face'," I countered, a little annoyed when Sam's grin widened. The irritation that I felt for him did not mingle well with the new clawing sensation I felt when seeing Dean and Jo talking. "Stop smirking at me like that . . ."

"I'm not smirking," said Sam, though I saw his struggle to adopt a straight face. "You and Dean make up, then?" he added quickly.

"I think so," I said slowly, my eyes unable to resist wavering over Dean and Jo, who were evidently laughing at a joke he had just made. Edgily, I met Sam's eyes again. "But obviously there's still a lot of confusion."

"He'll come around when he's ready," said Sam knowledgeably. I narrowed my eyes a little at this comment. The situation suggested he was talking about Dean and I making up, but there was a small hint in his tone that suggested he was speaking of something else.

"What are you—" but before I could get the question out, my father rested a gentle hand on my shoulder and I cut myself off, glancing at him.

"Time to go," he said with a small look towards Ellen who was tending to some late-night customers. And he added in lower tone, "We can talk in the car."

"Don't you guys want to stay for dinner?" said Jo, noticing Sam and I getting to our feet.

With a wary glance at Ellen, Jack replied, "Not tonight, Jo. We have to go over some things. See you soon." I assumed by 'soon', he meant the full moon, and my heart jumped uncomfortably at the thought. "Thanks for everything, El."

Ellen looked up, her eyes drifting from Jack to me. She gave a small sigh and nodded. "Sure, Jack. Thanks for stopping by and see you soon."

"Nice meeting you, Kat," said Jo with a kind smile.

It was against my personality not to return the smile, but something within me—something to do with her pretty eyes, or the high cheekbones that defined them—made it hard to reciprocate. I merely gave a short nod and followed the others out of the building.

It was a warm, summer night and the clouds were a striking, pinkish-purplish color due to the sun that was now almost completely set in the horizon. I listened to the gravel crunching beneath our feet, or the crickets chirping merrily as we all walked silently to our cars and drove off.

"Ellen knows," said Jack before he even started the engine.

"I know," I said. He looked at me, eyebrows slightly raised. "I, er, overheard you and her talking."

"Ah," said Jack, with what seemed an irrevocable smirk. "Still not used to that."

"Why do you think John told her?" I asked as he started the car and we took off before Dean and Sam and down the dirt road.

"He probably thought we would need her help in the future and thought it would be easier if he explained everything."

"I guess it's true," I said quietly. "Though 'El' doesn't seem that interested in trusting me."

"She's worried," Jack said stiffly. "Ever since the incident with her husband—well, anything supernatural is bound to set her off more likely than others. She's just being cautious."

"And where is she going to lock me up?" I asked flatly.

"She didn't say, but I trust that it's suitable. Don't worry too much, Kat. Did you like Jo?"

"Sure," I said with only the smallest of hesitations, feeling as though I was returning from my first day of kindergarten and undergoing questions by my anxious parent. "She was nice."

"She's a good kid. It'd be great if you two could get along."

I knew it was one of my father's many desires to give me a normal life as he could permit, and having a friend that's girl around my age gave the illusion of normality.

Yet I knew distinctly that 'normality' would forever and always remain just that; an illusion.

Hope you enjoyed this chapter! The tables are turning a little bite for who is jealous at this point.

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