Kat's sleep was so dark and silent she believed she wasn't dreaming. Then came the whispers accompanied by a faint light.
"Katherine….Kat…?" purred a painfully familiar voice.
Kate stirred slightly. Slowly taking in the room around her. It looked exactly like hers except it was bare. Her bed was all that remained. It was pristine, like it had never been slept in. As she stared around the room her eyes fell on a figure that she knew entirely too well.
Her chest became tight with sadness as she opened her mouth to speak. "Why are you here?" she asked bluntly, too happy to see that face again to care about politeness.
"I am here for you, Kat." Explained the apparition.
Not satisfied with the answer, Kat pressed, "But why…why are you here for me? I'm fine…I" Kat abandoned her sentence knowing that she was lying to someone who could see past it.
The ghost of her uncle smiled. "I want you to come with me."
"Uncle Mike, I can't do that." Kat whispered pitifully.
Her uncle shrugged and made to walk out of the bedroom door, just as he crossed the threshold he turned back to her. "I'll see you soon." He promised.
As soon and he exited Kat awoke with a start. Left with only chills running up and down her spine; and her memories.
It was seven o'clock in the morning as Kat sat in the diner a few blocks from her apartment. The ceramic dishware that was universal to every diner was clutched in her hand. Its smooth surface brought her comfort, and reminded her of home. The ringing of her cell phone pulled her from her reverie. She jumped and started fishing around in her bag for it. The caller ID read Sam and she answered.
"Are you boycotting sleep too?" she remarked.
"I'm just an early riser." Sam began until he was interrupted by a groan from Kat, "I knew I didn't trust you." She grumbled sarcastically.
She could hear the smile in Sam's voice as he continued, "Listen, I emailed you the stuff we have so far on omens. Maybe you could give them a once over, brainstorm a bit, and when Dean gets there with the books you can see if any of them match creatures that Rowena would be likely to use as pawns." Kat heard a distant grunt in the background on Sam's end as he finished.
"Can do. Was that Dean?" Kat asked taking the last sip of her coffee and relinquishing the comfort of the mug and waved to the waitress for her check.
"Yeah, why?" Sam prodded.
"Tell him I don't get out of my last lecture until seven, so I'll leave the key to my apartment under the mat so he doesn't have to bring a stack of books to a motel, then back to my place" ordered Kat, who was now making her way down the front steps and back to her car.
"Sure thing," replied Sam "Talk to you soon." And the phone line turned to static.
Just as Kat passed a large tree a strong gust of wind kicked up and a flock of birds flew from its branches. The large squawking crows had been completely hidden even in the sunlight, which Kat found...off. They twisted and turned, flying together forming mangled shapes with their black bodies against the background of pale blue. Kat turned away, and began driving.
The sight of the crows had haunted her all day through her lectures. She had been distracted all day as hard as she tried not to be. The feeling that she was being watched pervaded her every step as she walked across campus to the faculty parking lot. In the clumps of students leaving their evening classes she thought she saw the shadow of her uncle between them, but every time she whipped her head in the direction her peripheral vision was, she saw nothing.
She was going crazy; or the stress of what had happened in the days prior was finally catching up to her as she suspected it would. Everything would be fine. If only she could make herself believe that. Kat was a little ashamed at the thought of Dean trickling into her mind. She was a little comforted that he'd be there even if it were just for a short time.
She pulled up to her curb and saw that there was no sleek black car waiting for her. Slightly disheartened she made her way inside. She went to the kitchen grabbed a beer took a swig and immediately started the shower, hoping the steam would clear her head. Just before she got in she turned on her record player, listening to its intimate crackle. She placed an ancient, off-kilter Ella Fitzgerald record on and returned to the shower.
Dean knocked on Kat's door before immediately reaching for the key he knew was waiting for him. He saw her car, but was slightly worried when he didn't get an answer at the door. He got the key from under the mat hand reaching instinctively for the gun tucked into the back of his jeans.
His suspicions were lifted when he took a few steps inside and heard the shower running. He saw an open beer on the table and the record spinning on its turn table. He smiled nostalgically at it, thinking of his own. In between the flow of the water he heard a quiet but strong voice, echoing the song being played. He stood still, so he could hear Kat more clearly.
"I'm talking to the shadows, 1 o'clock to 4, and lord how slow the moments go when all I do is pour…black coffee." Kat crooned deeply.
He was by surprised by how deep a tone could come from someone so small and how competent she was. The sound wasn't perfect but it was relaxing nonetheless. Dean pulled himself away from the sound. He made his way back to the door to get the books from the car, leaving Kat to another few minutes of privacy.
Kat stepped out of the shower feeling a little better, and happy to get back to the beer she'd left outside. She stepped out of the bathroom in tattered pajama bottoms and a tank top, to see Dean sitting at her table with his laptop and an open beer next to him.
"Help yourself." She muttered as she immediately went for her own neglected beer.
Dean smirked, charming as ever and teased, "I thought I deserved it after listening to you sing."
Kat was suddenly aware of how vulnerable she was in front of this man. When she had first met him she thought she would never see him again. Now she was intimately acquainted with him but in a position where she needed to back track. She felt like she needed to get to know him. She felt her damp, stringy hair seeping the horded water from her hair onto the straps of the tank top. She pulled it out of the way and took a long sip of her beer. "I will not apologize for a free show." She defended.
Dean looked at her and felt like he barely knew her. He could tell she was slightly embarrassed, but she did have a decent poker face. The longer-than-normal sip she took from her beer did not go unnoticed by him. Is she nervous? Dean asked himself, and the thought her being nervous made him wonder if he should be. He didn't feel it though, strangely enough he felt very comfortable. "Maybe if you had a better set list you wouldn't have to. Ella Fitzgerald is a bit outdated isn't she?" Dean quipped.
"Is that any way to talk about the First Lady of Swing?" Kat raised her eyebrows daring him to continue. "What would you prefer?" She asked.
"Something with more guitar." He suggested. Taking this cue she walked to the record player and grabbed a musty sleeve from the basket on the floor.
"Led Zeppelin." Kat stated as she removed Ella and placed her back into her spot.
Dean's eyes lit up as he said, "There we go!" excitedly. He went back to his computer as "Good Times, Bad Times" played forcefully in the background. Kat went to the fridge for another beer and offered one to Dean. He picked up his bottle and gauged its fullness. He nodded, internally ridiculing himself for even thinking he wasn't going to drink another. Feeling he should continue the conversation he said, "What got you into old music?"
"Bunch of things I guess. My mom was a lounge singer so I grew up listening to her old recordings. My uncle was into classic rock, so that's always what would be playing around the house. Then, as always, there are a few favorites you get to stumble upon by yourself." She explained passively. It was then she noticed the books in two small piles at Dean's feet.
The first three titles she noticed were: Common Threads in the Pagan Tapestry, A Collective of Witch-Sanctioned Spells, and Useful Properties in Warding. On top, sat a leather bound journal. There were paperclips holding extra pages or notes and the edges fraying from frequent use. Its wear and tear is exactly what drew Kat to it. She reached out a hand to pick it up but saw Dean's almost imperceptible flinch and stopped.
"Is this yours?" she tentatively asked.
Dean didn't mean to react that way. It had been so long since John's death but he still felt a protectiveness over the journal. "It was my dad's. You should probably take a look at it. It might catch you up to speed on a few things." He offered.
Sensing that it was privilege that he allowed her to do that, she said "Ok."
A few hours went by, talking and going over the omens circling densely populated cities. Nothing was huge enough to attribute to the Darkness so they'd hit a wall. Frustration was clear in the air as Kat slammed her computer shut and ran her hands through her hair. It had air dried so it was wild and the curls bounced into her face, obscuring her vision. She thought she saw Dean smirk through the tendrils.
"I'm going to bed." She announced. Kat dragged her feet to her bed without waiting for a response and fell immediately asleep.
The dream came again but swifter than the first time. Kat did not have to question where she was or take in her surroundings. She did notice however that the apparition of her uncle had moved. He was now standing halfway between where he had the night before and the edge of her bed.
Their conversation continued the same way it had previously. Kat was forced awake, breathing heavily. She felt her uncle's voice still hanging in the air somehow transcending the dream world into reality.
In an attempt to clear her head she padded silently into the next room, looking at Dean sprawled out on the couch. He inhaled softly, it was hard to accept this state of safe, innocence because he was usually so guarded. She wondered who in the world had ever seen that side of him that she was the secret voyeur of right now. Sam, maybe? The father, who had clearly meant so much to him? She doubted there were countless women he allowed that close but she knew there had to be a few.
She opened the fridge and the light spilled out onto the walls. Kat filled her glass halfway with water and closed it almost as quickly as she'd opened it.
In the instant the light disappeared she saw a shadow. Her uncle that so far had existed only in dream or memory stood in her periphery. This was different somehow. Instead of being translucent, it seemed to occupy physical space. The fact that it was corporeal is what startled Kat. She gasped loudly and jumped so that her glass shattered to the floor. The loud crash had Dean standing, gun cocked, laser sharp glare locked on Kat.
"I saw- I'm sorry- I saw something. I had this dream…and I saw my uncle in it and I swear he was just standing there." Kat confessed breathily. Dean said nothing but moved with a surgical precision to turn on the light and clear the room, never dropping his gun.
He turned on Kat who stood isolated feeling like a child being chided by their parent. She didn't know why she felt guilty, she knew what she'd seen. There was something about his stare, so cold and businesslike that she missed the innocence she'd witnessed moments ago.
"Who was it?" He looked up at the ceiling in something resembling disappointment and amended, "…What was it?"
Stunned, Kat rasped "M-my uncle. He died last year and I dreamt of him last night and then I had the same dream just now. I thought I was just stressed so it was affecting me more. But, that…that looked real. Am I going crazy?" she finished incredulously.
"In our line of work crazy is relative." Dean said with as much sympathy as he could muster. He took pity in the lost look she had in her eyes. "Just sit down and tell me about it. What happened today since having that dream, until I got here? Kat recounting her day in excruciating detail not wanting to miss any shred of information that might be helpful.
They sat side by side. Dean listened to Kat as he looked around the room, making a mental inventory of all the monster proofing him and Sam had done days prior.
"Well, good news is, it's gone for now. Bad news is, this is probably something supernatural." He stated matter-of-factly.
"Perfect." Kat huffed and she reached for the remote. "You can take my bed, I'm not sleeping."
"I'll stay. Misery loves company." Dean joked flippantly.
Kat settled on a black and white western and was comforted by its grandiose simplicity and Dean sitting inches away from her already engrossed in the movie.
With Dean distracted, and losing sight of propriety she leaned her head very delicately on his upper arm. He didn't move his head. But his eyes darted to the mess of curls he could see out of the corner of his eye. He raised an eyebrow and continued to look at the small head, confused by her forwardness. It wasn't a welcome gesture but he accepted it. It was like she was barely there but, her proximity was grounding. He turned his eyes back to the movie and focused on the pistols onscreen firing rapidly as synapses in a brain.