"That. Is. Ridiculous." Kat burst out, removing her head from the refrigerator. They trio had driven the seven hours from St. Louis to Lebanon Kansas and the entire time Kat had felt like an angsty teen being forced to spend her summer on her grandparents farm.
"We just brought you to a live- in library and you're worried about the contents of its fridge?" Dean ridiculed, coming up behind her.
"Just because I like books, does not mean I am willing to forgo my basic human functions for them. We need food. I have to make you guys dinner or something. Isn't that what people do for other people that save their lives…? Make a casserole?" she said sarcastically as she scratched her head cartoonishly.
"We'll make a run." Dean said placating. "Come on, let's get your stuff."
They made their way back out into the foyer and Dean noticed how little Kat had brought with her. He knew she'd had enough time to grab her things before the fire, so it was strange that the only items before him were: a suitcase of clothes, a box of books, her records and a tattered guitar case. It was both intriguing to him that she seemed to value so little. She was so self-sufficient, maybe streamlining her attachments was the most efficient way to live her life. She was an enigma to him, but something about the defense she meticulously built seemed so….familiar.
He carried the books and records as she grabbed the clothes and guitar. He led her down the hall that held him and Sam's rooms but turned left, giving her one of the rooms in the next corridor. It occurred to him that they'd never actually lived with a woman before. They need…space right? He thought to himself as he shoved open the door with his elbow. He hoped that this room would work, but trying to work through all of her possible reactions was giving Dean a headache. He dropped the boxes on the floor with a soft thud. "Need help?" he offered.
"Nah…I don't have much." Kat shrugged.
An hour later Kat was wandering around the bunker. She had left her room but found no one but silence so, she walked. Every step felt as if she was getting closer to her own version of the wardrobe to Narnia; like she was a Pevensie and this unstable, changing life was about to become an adventure.
She lightly pushed open a door and found herself in a strangely modern looking gun range. The fluorescent lighting reminded her of a classroom but the air wasn't as stuffy. She flitted, graceful as a dancer, from case to case. When she got to the large array of knives hung deliberately in a pattern on the wall she heard the door open behind her. Kat did not turn however; she just kept looking at the gleaming weapons before her. They looked like a prism, refracting light off their sharp edges and forming random geometric shapes. "A kaleidoscope of killing" she thought to herself.
"Quite the collection." She remarked as Dean stood next to her, folding his arms across his chest.
"They were here when we found the place. Those are-" Dean started, pointing at a pair of stiletto thin blades with ornate hand guard at the hilt.
"Are 17th century Parrying Daggers. French I'd say, invented to use in close combat with rapiers." She finished to Dean's astonishment. "Then you've got Sai's associated with Japanese martial arts but were probably invented in China…" She continued pointing at knives calling out their names. "Mark 1 Trench knife, World War I. Ka-Bar Military knife. Standard issue since 1942. But this one…" She lingered on a curved, slashing blade with a wooden handle carved with something that seemed like an apocalypse scene. "Very interesting. A Kukri. Nepalese. Used by farmers, adapted for war." She finally finished, leaving Dean in awe, but he didn't show it.
He simply turned to look at her, asking "What are you?"
She looked back at him quizzically. "A Pisces with asthma." she answered sweetly.
Dean burst out laughing, "Asthma? Really?"
"It's a very common affliction!" Kat defended, laughing along with him. They quieted and Dean shot his thumb over his shoulder gesturing at the door, stepping backwards towards it as he did.
"Sam and I were thinking food…you wanna come with me to grab the stuff for whatever concoction it is you're making us?"
"Absolutely." Kat said excitedly.
Dean was standing next to the shopping cart, surly expression on his face eyeing the bulbous purple vegetable Kat had placed in the cart.
He had been on board with the pasta she'd grabbed and the cans of tomatoes. He'd been skeptical of the red wine but allowed it. Vegetables were another matter entirely.
"What's that?" he asked childishly
"Eggplant." Kat answered without looking back.
"And that?" he continued, practically turning his nose up at the green rod in Kat's hands. She looked back then. The edges of his mouth were pulled so far down in distaste that he looked like a bulldog. She moved her hand closer to him to place the vegetable in the cart and he visibly recoiled.
"A zucchini. It's not gonna burn you Dean." She scoffed lightheartedly.
"It's unholy." Dean responded quickly.
Kat moved swiftly, poking Dean with the rounded edge of the zucchini. Each time she did she chose a new destination so, as he was pulling back from the previous hit, she had chosen a new spot. "Does that hurt?" she mocked. Kat continued to poke Dean as he got visibly more annoyed. "Is. It. Searing. Your. Flesh?" she emphasized each word with a soft thrust in his direction.
"Knock it off psycho!" he exclaimed exasperated. He flung his arms round in wild circles attempting to stave off the next attack by covering all possible surface areas. Kat guffawed unattractively and covered her mouth, embarrassed. His errant hand hit the zucchini with a smack and it landed on the floor. Kat gasped falsely and looked around in mock shock.
She stifled a laugh and murmured "If you strike me down, I shall become more powerful than you can possibly imagine." Her voice deepened as low as it would go and she imitated the gravelly tone of Alec Guinness.
"Is that a threat Obi-Wan?" Dean asked with a playful edge in his voice. He had been surly and irritable the entire shopping trip. Finally, he took the bait and let a smile sneak onto his face. Kat caught him looking at her out of the corner of his eye and immediately lunged for her weapon.
Before Dean could get to the racks containing the arsenal of vegetables, Kat had grabbed her zucchini brandished it wildly and stabbed it into Dean's abdomen. He threw up his arms and grunted in frustration.
"ARGH! Bad form!" He cried, eliciting a glare from the mother of two standing 15 feet away from them. She grabbed her child's shoulders and pulled him closer pursing her lips, and continued to stare as she pushed her cart away from them.
Kat and Dean however, were blissfully unaware of scrutiny. Dean was magnetized by the loss of his inhibition. Kat knew very well how to be alive. Dean knew that despite hardship she would never lose her spark. But, not much of his own life involved living. The small things that most people forget are a luxury were often lost in its telling; but Dean was happy in that moment.
Kat bobbed in and out of the cart like a chicken plucking its feed. Dean added candy bars onto the conveyer belt. Every time she saw him add a new one she shot him a daring look with one eyebrow cocked but said nothing. As Kat was handing the clerk the money, she was caught by the news story flashing on the TV behind him. 32 hospitalized in small Nebraska town. She was intrigued and blindly reached for the money to the clerk was giving back to her. She pocketed it and she moved closer to the screen reading the closed captions running at the bottom of the newscasters. What is believed to be an unknown strain of the flu, has residents fighting for their lives in Beatrice Nebraska. The CDC has no answers for victims in light of the panic that has begun to rise.
"Real nice, leave me with the cart" grumbled Dean as he came up behind Kat.
She paid his comment no attention, but simply pointed at the screen and said "Look like your kind of deal?"
Sam and Dean sat at the kitchen table while steam rose from a pot of pasta Kat was boiling. Inside the oven, the eggplant roasted and the smell of garlic wafted around the kitchen. The cork gave a full-bodied pop as it separated from the bottle, and Kat poured a hefty helping of wine into the sauce that was bubbling like lava in a small saucepan. She turned to Sam and Dean who were pecking away at their computer's keyboard. They had beer, but Kat shook the wine at them by way of offering. Both shook their heads no and Kat took a sip straight from the bottle.
"Classy." Said Dean looking up at her through his eyelashes.
"Just means I won't have to wash a glass." Kat shrugged. "So, what's the deal with the mystery disease?"
"Definitely a case. I don't think its Croatoan though Dean, they're just sick, and stay that way. Until they die." Sam said, with a crease between his brows. Kat ignored his reference to 'Croatoan' not having the energy to sit through an explanation if Sam thought it was irrelevant.
"I'm thinking a witch, probably low level. It's close to here though, so maybe Rowena has some idea where we are and is trying to draw us out." Offered Dean.
"Definitely a witch. There's no physical evidence in the coroners reports I'm reading to suggest that it's a monster. No point of entry, no rashes, nothing. Like a—"
Sam was cut off by Dean who said raucously, "Hex bag." He slammed shut his computer and went to the fridge for another beer.
"If it is Rowena, we're gonna need back up. We'll give Mark a call in the morning before we head out." Said Sam.
Dean nodded in ascent and looked to Kat who had gone back to the pot of pasta and emptied its contents. "You're not coming."
"I wasn't asking to. Going after the cauldron was enough for me. I'll stay here, where it safe, and warm and you guys can go chase the students of Hogwarts. But, if I did want to, you couldn't stop me if you tried." Kat said over her shoulder, as she pulled out the tray of eggplant and placed a serving onto each plate.
Once it was finished she brought them to the table. She sat, and Sam started eating immediately.
Dean looked at the plate and back up at Kat, and asked "Where's the meat?"
After about twenty minutes of arguing with Kat, Dean ate the meal. He did like it, but he'd never give her the satisfaction. They went into their separate rooms, acting more annoyed than they actually were, for show.
Dean had finally begun to fall asleep when a faint hum slipped under his door and into his room. He tried to ignore the noise at first but now that he was aware of it, he couldn't help but hear it. H pushed himself up out of bed begrudgingly and slumped down the hall in the direction it was coming from. He arrived at Kat's door, it was open a crack and he could see her moving around inside. Her pajama bottoms were so long they dusted the floor as she walked, and her baggy t-shirt hung limply around her waist. She had braided her mid-length hair into two braids which fought to tame her curls. They curved slightly upwards under her ears and didn't move at all when she moved her head. She brought her records to the center of her floor and had begun to lay them out, when Dean said, "If you don't quiet down, I may be forced to call the police."
She jumped and snapped her head up looking for the body that belonged to the voice. "I'm sorry! I'm the worst neighbor, I'm used to living by myself. I forgot where I was for a second." She rushed to the desk where she'd placed the turn table and spun the volume dial. She moved so quickly, and spoke with such earnest, that Dean almost felt sorry for disrupting her. He forgot, after everything, that she was new to this environment, and must feel some degree of awkwardness.
"You forgot where you were?" questioned Dean. The way Kat's mind worked made no sense to him. It was like she constantly thought of everything he'd never thought of in his life. Everything that came out of her mouth seemed completely original.
"Yeah? You've never done that? Just let go for a minute, get involved in other stuff?" She answered the question with a question, pushing the spotlight back on Dean. She had a way of doing that, he noticed; a way of tricking people into talking about themselves and taking any attention from herself.
He answered anyway, thinking it would end her interest in the line of questioning. "No. I prefer to live in a world that's real."
Kat laughed the unattractive laugh again. But Dean didn't care because of the way it made her eyes flash with excitement. "Yeah the real world," she snorted "where you live in a fortress, slay monsters, and rescue the innocent. You are aware of how ridiculous that sounds right?"
"You got me there." Dean conceded. He straightened up a bit, not having anything else to say so he made to leave.
"Dean, come here and lay down." She said, straightfaced.
"Why?" he answered skeptically, knowing their minds were not in the same place.
"Just trust me."
If asked, he wouldn't have been able to defend why he went and laid on the bed; why he did trust her. But he did.
She put on a record Dean had never heard. The classic four piece band began an intro and a young voice, reminiscent of 90's garage rock, sang above it. He felt the bed depress as Kat laid down next to him, and he looked over at her. His eyes implored her to tell him what she was doing but she just made herself comfy, snuggling into the mattress on top of the covers. She exhaled loudly and intertwined her fingers and laid her hands on her stomach.
"Close your eyes" she commanded.
He did, and immediately felt out of control. He felt like he should put his hands over his chest, because laying face up towards the ceiling made him uneasy. Like he was vulnerable.
"Who is this?" he asked, trying to get her talking, in the hope she'd get up.
"The Orwells. Just listen, don't think." She responded curtly.
He listened to her breathing, and how it went in time with the song that was playing. A song that started off grotesque. Talking about death coming for the inhabitants of a house. As it progressed and became purely instrumental, Dean couldn't help but think on his own experience with Reapers. Even Death himself.
He wasn't sure how much time had gone by when Kat interrupted his thoughts. The song had changed.
"Forget where you are yet?" she asked quietly. Her voice deep but also soft and patient.
"I'm laying here, next to you, like an idiot." He quipped never opening his eyes.
A/N: I am so sorry for the hideously long period in between updates. Finals kicked my ass. A bit of a slow one again, but I needed to develop Dean/Kat before diving right into the main plot. Big stuff up next chapter, friends. If you are reading please Rate and Review, so I know what direction you guys might like to go with this! Thanks to MD for being my brain. -Kelly