Title credit - When We Are Together by the 1975
Prompts for this were the song When We Are Together by the 1975 for laila's 500 follower celebration on tumblr, "It terrifies me what you would do for me" for jacklesversebingo on tumblr, and hurt/comfort for alphabetquest on tumblr
Summary: As Dean struggles to bear the Mark of Cain, Katrina seems to have a grounding effect... but Dean worries at what cost
Warnings: Mentions of canon level violence/gore. Established relationship. Cursing. Angst. Hurt/comfort. Mild/implied sexual content? Some fluff. Themes of self-loathing. Mark of Cain Dean... if I missed any, please let me know
Thank you to JustWhisperingFantasies for being my beta and for all your support on this! ❤️
Original Posting Date: 2/26/25
At thirty-six years old, Dean Winchester had seen enough shit to know that love was a dangerous thing.
He'd seen the depths of grief it drove his dad and his brother to. He knew the crazy things it had pushed him to do. He'd lived through having his own loved ones used against him as leverage more than once. And worse than all of that, he'd seen firsthand the damage that loving him wrought on people's lives.
It was why he'd stayed away from Katrina as long as he had.
Because how he'd felt about Katrina had never been the issue. And it had taken him longer to realize it wasn't one sided, but once he had, it wasn't like how she felt about him had been the issue either. It was all the damn complications of what happens if we give this a shot and how dangerous relationships were when paired with the kind of lives both of them led.
In the end, however, the pull he felt towards her had been too strong, and once they'd taken that leap, in a fit of absolute insanity, he'd thrown himself into it with everything he had.
The crazier part was that it didn't immediately blow up in his face. Dean had been convinced it would. He was pretty sure Katrina had been too. But somehow, they'd managed to buck the odds and it had been pretty smooth sailing - at least by their standards, anyway.
It wasn't until they'd been together a little over a year that some of Dean's old worries started to creep back.
He was no stranger to a fight. White hot rage and the instinct to kill or be killed had been his companions for so long he couldn't imagine his life without them. But as Magnus' head rolled across the floor, and Dean stood there, his arm practically vibrating with the power that seemed to flow through him from contact with the blade, the feeling flooding his system was decidedly different.
The anger was there. The need to kill something was there. But they were at a level of intensity Dean had never felt before, and mixed with a sense of calm that was almost jarring for how… at odds it was with the other two. It was almost like an out of body experience. Sam, Katrina, and Crowley all faded away. The room they were all in faded away. The whole crazy ass building with its zoo and collection of oddities did too. He stopped hearing the crackling of the fire… the distant hum of machinery.
All that was left was his heart pounding in his ears and a screaming need for more bloodshed. Dimly he heard what he thought might have been Sam's voice, but it was faraway and muffled… almost like if he were underwater.
Then there was a warm touch to his arm, and gentle fingers coming up to cradle his face. It took a second, but it was like a spell being broken, and suddenly everything started rushing back.
"Baby, look at me. Please. I'm right here."
Dean's eyes automatically swiveled down to meet Katrina's, something easing and tightening in his chest all at once. She looked concerned, worried in a way he didn't often see. Not scared though. God forbid she be afraid. His girl was fucking fearless - something he both loved and found terrifying.
The hand she had on his arm clenched just a bit tighter, and his eyes caught the flesh of her bottom lip trapped beneath her teeth. And as the world continued to come back to him, he could feel the anxiety rolling off her in waves.
"C'mon, Dean," she continued to coax. "I'm right here. Sam's right here. It's over. You can drop the blade."
His fingers fought to unfurl, his instincts to listen to her at war with whatever force had taken hold of his mind. When they finally did, the hunk of bone clattered to the floor and the last of the haze cleared. Dean took in a gasp of air, his eyes darting around all on their own before landing back on Katrina. He was sure he looked like a cornered, wild animal, but she didn't so much as flinch.
"Kat," he breathed. At the sound of his voice, some of the worry seemed to clear from her eyes and she gave him a gentle smile, her thumb smoothing over his jawline.
"Hey," she soothed. And then she was pushing up on her toes at the same time she was guiding him down to her. Their lips brushed, only briefly but enough to ground him further.
"It's okay," she murmured against him, quiet enough only he could hear. "I'm right here. I love you, you're okay."
He kissed her again, this time his arms winding around her waist and pulling her against him. The mark burned on his arm but he pushed the feeling away, focusing on the warmth of her body and the sense of peace having her so close always brought him.
It wasn't until later, after Crowley had slipped out of their grasp and they were back in the car with Sam that the full reality of what had happened hit him. His eyes found hers in the rearview mirror and something about the trust reflected back in them made his heart stutter.
Even if it had been short lived, he hadn't been in his right mind from the moment that son of a bitch had put the blade in his hand. And Katrina hadn't so much as hesitated to put herself in the line of fire. What the fuck had she been thinking? She may have helped pull him back, but it had been a hell of a gamble approaching him the way she did. He could have hurt her, could have stayed in whatever trance that thing had snapped him into. Hell, for all he knew, he could have killed her.
That was the first time he found himself grappling with the fact that he was both a risk to the woman he loved and that being around her was possibly the only thing that would make him better.
The second time didn't come long after.
That time, he at least tried to keep her out of harm's way. If he were being honest with himself, his motivations for giving her and Sam the slip were a little more complex than that, and something he didn't really want to pick at - but keeping them both away from him and safe was part of it.
But they'd found him anyway. And Sam and Crowley had watched while Katrina moved across the room without a thought, sinking down behind him and grabbing the arm that had been brutally stabbing and slashing into the corpse that had contained Abaddon moments before.
It was the same as the first time - as if there was something almost magical about the skin-to-skin contact. As soon as her hand met his arm, the fog broke and he came crashing back to himself. Letting go of the blade was easier that time, and even though he was splattered with blood, his hand and arm practically dripping with it, Katrina automatically folded him into an embrace, nuzzling into his neck and placing a gentle kiss near his collarbone.
The look on Sam's face, and more unnervingly Crowley's, told Dean he wasn't the only one that considered it significant. Even if he wasn't ready to confront Katrina about it.
He told himself it was because they had bigger things to worry about - that handling the fallen angels and dealing with the Metatron situation took precedence. Then there'd been the whole turning into a demon thing, which had been its own issue to sort through. Dean had been sure she'd leave him - sure enough that he thought about saving her the trouble before Sam and Cas had knocked some sense into him. That hadn't meant, though, that it had been easy, and they'd had a lot to work through in the aftermath.
It was finally the massacre in Pontiac, IL that pushed him over the edge. There'd been little moments here and there, where Kat had pushed past the bounds of what Dean felt comfortable with, but they'd been small, and even he couldn't deny the difference he felt when she was around. With her by his side, he could still feel the pull of the damn mark, but she called the man he'd been back to the surface too… made carrying the burden more manageable… made fighting off the effects of the curse possible… even if it was only temporary.
It shouldn't have been surprising, really. Katrina had always been somewhat of a beacon for him… reason enough all on her own for him to want to do better, be better. He'd known early on that she was out of his league, that he shouldn't have had a chance with her. She deserved better and he knew it. But she'd wanted him anyway, and so he had decided that the least he could do was put everything he had into trying to be the best he could.
Katrina was worth it. That had never been a question to Dean.
But after Pontiac, he couldn't ignore what was happening anymore.
She'd rushed back in first, had found him while he was still slashing into one of the men. He'd been so absorbed, he hadn't even registered her arrival. But then just like all the other times, she'd run for him, reached for him as though he weren't a bloodthirsty monster, as dangerous as the shit they hunted. He'd frozen, and, that time, she'd pulled the blade from his grip.
That time, he was still coming back to himself when both her hands came up to grasp his face, her eyes searching. And once again it was concern, not fear, in them. Dean was still blinking in surprise, noticing that some of the blood he'd spilled had already transferred to her - flecks of it spattered across her clothes and her face… more of it smeared on her arms - when she surged forward and kissed him.
It was more desperate than normal, as if she needed reassurance that he was still there. Dean managed to kiss her back, his arms going around her slowly, but he'd been in a daze. It was the most intensely he'd gone under since his eyes had turned black all those months ago. And that fucking terrified him.
By then, Cain's story had been rattling around in his head for some time. How he'd managed to pull back under control because of Colette. After months of bearing the mark himself, Dean thought he understood.
It was what Katrina did for him. The only time he was maybe better was when they were together.
But Colette had ended up dead. And Dean wasn't about to let Katrina pay for his darkness with her life. It was too great a price.
He was quiet on the way back to the bunker, and quiet in the day or two that followed. Claire had been inconsolable, and even though it wasn't like he was close with the kid, it had only managed to add to the guilt churning in his gut.
Katrina had taken charge, working with Sam and Cas to clean up the scene and get Claire at least situated. Sam had driven them back to the bunker, while Cas took Claire in his own car, and when they arrived back, Dean had immediately retreated to his and Kat's room.
There was evidence of their shared life everywhere. Her favorite green blanket draped haphazardly over the foot of their bed. His vinyl interspersed with her books on one of the shelves. Photos of them both and of their families scattered throughout the room. Her perfume sitting atop the dresser next to a watch of his that needed the batteries replaced.
Dean let himself drown in their bed, sinking into the memory foam mattress he'd been so fucking excited to buy them. Katrina let him, often staying by his side but knowing him well enough to respect his silence. She brought him food, curled up into his side and let him hold her when he started getting antsy, raked her fingers through his hair and over his scalp when he had trouble sleeping… and as always, she seemed to have an innate ability to sense when he needed space, slipping away to somewhere else in the bunker with nothing more than a gentle kiss to his cheek and a squeeze to his hand.
When she came in the one day to find the mirror cracked and him sitting on the bed holding his bloodied hand, there was no judgment, no scolding. She just went about cleaning up the glass as if on autopilot before coming over and wordlessly pulling his hand into hers so she could take care of the cuts.
"You don't have to -" he began, but Katrina cut him off, pausing just long enough to look up and lean in for a kiss.
"Yeah, I know," she muttered as she pulled away and turned her attention back to his hand, "I don't have to do shit. Just like you don't have to help me unfuck my back when I come home hurting, or make me soup when I'm sick, or -"
"Don't," he cut her off. "This ain't the same."
Katrina, of course, rolled her eyes.
"The hell it isn't. And if you think I'm gonna sit around and let you face this by yourself, you've got another thing coming, Winchester. So don't start with me."
He wanted to argue with her, but he didn't have the energy, and more than that, he didn't want to risk straying too close to that anger again. So he pursed his lips and let her work, grudgingly relishing the feel of her touch.
It was when he finally, eventually ventured out from their room that Dean realized just how… pressing… the conversation was that they needed to have.
He could tell as he approached that Sam and Cas were talking about what he'd done in Pontiac. It didn't bother him - not any more than he was already bothered by what had happened, anyway. Sam's hesitation to call him out was unnecessary. Dean was ready to call himself out. He was on a dark path, and he knew it.
But before he could make his presence known, Katrina's voice entered the fray - fierce and defensive, in a way that somehow managed to make him feel even worse.
"Oh no! Don't you dare try and act like Dean killing those men is some sort of - of… sign or something! They may have been human, but I've met monsters with more morality than that scum! Dean's fine."
"Trina, he slaughtered them. I mean, c'mon… he's my brother, I love him too… but - but -"
"It was a massacre," Dean finished for Sam, finally stepping into the room. Three sets of eyes swiveled to him, but he only had trouble looking back at one of them. "That's what it was, you can say it."
The conversation that followed was less than pleasant, and Katrina got so pissed off with all of them that she stormed out, ducking away when he tried to reach out as she passed by. Eventually it was just him and Sam left, and Dean arched an eyebrow in his brother's direction when he realized he was being fucking studied.
"What?" he asked. Sam looked surprised at being challenged, but schooled his features quickly, shaking his head.
"Nothing, man. You just… you got that look on your face again."
Dean tried not to glare, but still felt his jaw clench. "What look?"
Sam's eyes darted towards the doorway Katrina had left through a few minutes before, betraying where his thoughts were if Dean hadn't already been able to guess.
"The bad look," Sam answered bluntly. "The one that says you're gonna do something really stupid. You're not back to thinking about leaving her, are you?"
The truth was, he wasn't. Not really, anyway. He couldn't bring himself to. The only time he had any hopes of getting better was when they were together. But the fact that he couldn't bring himself to cut bait?
That was fucking killing him.
"Tell me how staying is not the most selfish thing I could possibly do? I mean, really, Sam. I am a danger to her. I know it, you know it. Hell, Kat probably knows it somewhere, even if she doesn't wanna fucking admit it. So how can I justify staying?"
Sam didn't argue, which in and of itself spoke volumes, and gave him a sympathetic look for good measure.
"She loves you, Dean, and it's not just your decision to make. Trina's not an idiot, and whether you like it or not, she's in just as deep as we are at this point. She can figure out for herself what risks she wants to take. Same as you. Same as me. And god help you if you think she'll let you get away with trying to make that choice for her. Mark or not, she'll kick your ass."
Dean exhaled heavily and ran a hand down his face, his eyes looking anywhere but at Sam. He knew his brother was right, but that didn't make it any easier… didn't do anything to ease the fear that had been slowly consuming him.
"I don't wanna hurt her, Sammy," he admitted, his voice almost a whisper. Sam heard though, and even from the corner of his eye, Dean saw the understanding in there… caught the slight nod of Sam's head.
"Yeah, I get that. Y'know, she's not exactly some delicate flower."
Dean huffed out a humorless, almost bitter laugh.
"Yeah, well she's not exactly indestructible either."
The rest of the sentence, the even though she thinks she is, went without saying, but they both knew it was true. Silence stretched between them, and then Sam was sighing, finally catching Dean's eye again.
"You gotta talk to her, man."
And Dean knew his brother was right about that too.
Of course, Katrina was so pissed off she didn't talk to any of them for the rest of the day. Dean wasn't surprised. He figured she'd been bottling things up the same way he had - about how he was doing, how they were doing, what was happening in their lives… and Kat bottling things up almost always ended in fits of anger disproportionate to whatever thing she actually let herself get worked up over.
Normally he'd have tried to have it out with her - picking a fight with Katrina was usually the fastest way to get her to accidentally spill whatever was really bothering her, and making up sure as hell had its perks. But this time Dean let her have her space. He couldn't afford to go there right now, didn't trust himself to go toe to toe with her the way they had so many times before. Not when anger was such an accelerant on the flames feeding that monster inside him… not when Katrina was the only thing that seemed to pull him back.
It wasn't until the next day that the ice started to thaw. He slept in one of the extra rooms he'd been slowly pulling together as his own sort of den before everything had gone to shit… he thought he might call it the Dean-cave or something like that when it was done. If it was ever done. There wasn't much in it yet - he really wanted a TV - but there was at least a couch and a recliner he'd managed to salvage from a nearby moving sale or some shit like that.
He thought he'd timed it perfectly to slip in and grab a change of clothes while she was in the shower. It wasn't that he was trying to avoid her… he'd just figured it would be best to let her come find him when she was ready.
Best laid plans and all, though - he was still sifting through the dresser looking for what he wanted when he heard the shower turn off.
She stepped out into their room just as he straightened up, already dressed in jeans and an old t-shirt he was almost sure she'd stolen from him. Her fingers were working her wet hair into a braid and she froze when she spotted him, blinking in surprise.
"Sorry, I uh, didn't mean to…" he trailed off, not sure exactly what he was going to say, but Katrina gave him half a smile and made a gesture with her hand.
"It's your room too," she pointed out. Her voice, he noted, was lacking the bite from before, and the silence that fell over them was decidedly more awkward than tense the way it had been the day before. "I didn't mean to chase you out."
Dean quickly shook his head. "You didn't. I, uh, I just thought -"
This time, Katrina's lips twitched into a familiar smirk. "It's okay, you can admit I was being a raging bitch."
And just like that, both the awkwardness and the last lingering bit of tension broke, and Dean let out a short laugh. Taking a step forward, he reached out an arm and pulled her close, dropping a kiss to her forehead as her free hand came up around his middle.
"Aw sweetheart, even I'm not that stupid," he teased, and he felt as much as he heard the chuckle it earned him. Her head fell against his chest and he smoothed a hand over her back.
"You're definitely that stupid," she argued, "you just let me get away with murder."
It was just a saying, one she probably hadn't even thought about, but the second the words were out of her mouth they both quieted, a heaviness settling over the room. Dean ran his hand up and down her back, pressing one more kiss to the top of her head before finally releasing her.
"You'd know something about that, wouldn't you?"
Katrina stepped back, narrowing her eyes warily in his direction while she finally tied off the braid she'd been working on before.
"I still meant what I said yesterday," she told him quietly, though her voice was still firm. "I think you're all overblowing the situation."
"And I think you're cracked." They stared at each other for a beat and then Dean sighed, throwing a hand into the air before dropping it. "Katrina," he began again, "c'mon, baby. You know what I did was not okay."
"Those men tried to hurt Claire. They tried to -"
"Hey, I'm not saying they didn't have something coming," Dean quickly cut over her, and he was relieved when she deflated. "You've got no argument from me there. But not that. Not what I did. That was murder, Kat. Plain and simple."
Katrina folded her arms over her chest, but Dean didn't back down, not even when her nostrils flared.
"Disagree," she managed, but Dean scoffed.
"Tough. C'mon, we need to talk. We both know it."
At first he thought she was going to fight him on it - he saw that fire creeping back into her eyes. But then she sagged, rubbing her lips together as she looked to the floor, her arms loosening just a bit. And with a muttered fine, she moved towards the bed.
They each settled in, Dean on the edge towards the middle, angling himself to face her, while Katrina situated herself towards the top, leaning back against the headboard and pulling her knees to her chest. Somehow, despite everything that had happened the last nearly year at that point, despite everything she'd born witness to, this was the first time he caught her eyeing him with something akin to fear. It was almost comical.
And even though he knew they needed to talk, that they'd needed to talk for a while, Dean had no idea how to start. Of course, the longer the silence stretched, the more Katrina's anxiety seemed to ramp up, and ultimately it was her who broke first.
"You gonna try and kick me to the curb?" she asked, unable to look him in the eye, the puff of air she let out stirring a wisp of hair she hadn't caught in the braid. Dean felt his heart clench at the pain in her voice, but she kept on, picking at the seam of her jeans on the side of her knee. "I know it was a little rough after… when you got home… but I thought we were doing better."
Dean tried to catch her eye but she was resolute, and finally he sighed.
"No, Kat. Not unless you wanna go. I love you, and I'm in this. I promise."
That got her attention, and her head swiveled back towards him, her expression betraying her surprise.
"Really?" she asked, not even trying to hide her skepticism. "You've been so… guarded, lately. I figured for sure you were -"
"Don't get me wrong, I feel like the most selfish bastard in the world for staying, and I think you'd be smarter to leave my ass, but I don't want to split up. What this thing, this goddamn mark on my arm is doing to me… fuck, I'm doing my best to keep it in check but it's changing me, I can feel it… And… I cannot go dark side again, Katrina, I just can't. Being with you, though…"
The words started to fail him and Katrina softened. Her arms unlocked from where they'd been wrapped around her legs, and she reached out a hand to loosely catch his fingers with hers.
"Being with me what, Dean?" she coaxed, and Dean let out a long breath, trying to force himself to keep going.
It wasn't a secret how they felt about each other - he wasn't shy about reminding her that he loved her, made sure to tell her often… but it was less common that they got into the heavy stuff. He knew he could, it just wasn't an instinct for either of them. Both their default was to push everything down and down, hoping it would just go away. This wasn't one of those times though. Pushing things down hadn't gotten them anywhere with this.
"The only time I feel like I got a chance of getting better is when we're together," he admitted, "and that scares the shit out of me."
Katrina frowned and dropped his hand. Before he could question it, though, she was running her fingers along the line of his jaw, guiding him to look at her. The fear from before was already gone, replaced with that quiet confidence he was used to seeing in her gaze, even if it was mixed with a certain amount of concern. He tried to ignore the stinging in his own eyes, refusing to acknowledge how difficult this was.
"Why?" Dean closed his eyes, but he could still feel her watching him. "Why's that gotta be a bad thing? That's what this is supposed to be, partners. I have your back and you have mine. You make me stronger, why can't you let me do the same for you?"
"Because Kat," he groaned, his eyes snapping open again, a thread of frustration working its way into the emotional turmoil and giving him the push he needed. "This isn't some family drama, or a regular case we're talking about here. It's big, and it's bad. And it terrifies me what you would do for me."
"Dean -"
But now that he'd started, Dean found he couldn't stop.
"I'm being serious, here! I mean, you don't even hesitate to put yourself in the line of fire."
"Oh please," Katrina scoffed. "Like you've got any fucking room to talk. Besides, my complete lack of regard for my own safety started way before I met you. You think that makes you special?"
Dean glared. "This isn't funny, Katrina! Do you have any idea what it would do to me if something happened to you? If I hurt you?"
"I'm not joking!" she cried back, before gentling again. "Dean, baby, I'm not worried about you hurting me."
"You're kinda proving my point here, sweetheart," he said, arching an eyebrow. Katrina huffed but leaned in, pressing her lips against his in a tender kiss. She was impossible to resist, always had been, and he found himself responding, the tension lifting from his body at least a bit. Her tongue dipped past the seam of his lips, tasting, soothing, and he lost himself in the familiar dance. And when she pulled back his eyes felt clearer, and he let her lean her forehead against his.
"I'm not worried about you hurting me because you, Dean Winchester, could never hurt me."
"I tried to kill Sam."
Katrina nodded. "Yeah, as a demon. And even as a demon, all you did was lock me up."
Dean breathed in deeply, trying to gather his thoughts. She wasn't wrong. Even when he'd been that dark and twisted, devoid of his humanity and left with only base instincts, there'd been something in him that just froze with Kat. He hadn't wanted to be anywhere near her, but he hadn't been able to bring himself to totally cut her away either. His instinct to protect her hadn't been overridden by the need to destroy reminders of his old life, of the humanity he'd lost, like it had when he'd been faced with Sam.
They'd argued. He'd been rough with her. He'd done plenty to hurt her with his words. But when push had come to shove, he hadn't been able to do her actual, physical harm. Something about her proximity called him back, same way it did that first time he'd killed with the blade and all the other times that followed.
Her fingers began to comb through his hair and Dean exhaled, trying to keep his wits about him but finding himself falling deeper and deeper under the trance her touch put him into. She tilted her head, brushing her lips against his again, just briefly this time before settling back the way they'd been.
"You don't fight fair, Black," he complained, though there was no heat in his voice. Katrina laughed lightly, the sound filling the air like music.
"Never claimed to," she quipped back. Dean groaned and went to pull her into his lap. God forbid Katrina let him just call the shots though. She let him guide her but then at the last minute pushed him onto his back, hovering over him as she kissed him deeply. Despite the fact that he dwarfed her, the warmth of her body fell over him like a blanket and his hands found purchase on her hips, holding her steady. Water was still dripping at infrequent intervals from the end of her braid, the droplets almost like cold pinpricks to his shoulder as they fell, but Dean didn't care. He was too caught up in the way she was rolling her tongue against his, in savoring the way he could still taste her underneath the peppermint flavoring from her toothpaste, in the feel of her curves against the hard planes of his body, and in the sound of their mingled breath as they sought some sort of solace in each other.
When she pulled away that time they were both breathing heavier. Katrina looked down at him with bright eyes, her bottom lip caught under her teeth, looking almost nervous. Dean brought one of his hands up, gently pushing that wisp of hair behind her ear before cradling her face, his thumb running over her cheek as he met her stare.
Fuck he didn't deserve her. But he'd have to be the dumbest son of a bitch to let her go too.
"I love you," he murmured, and her lips twitched into a smile.
"I love you too."
He smiled back and smoothed his thumb over her skin again, drinking in the sight of her. Part of him wished he could freeze the image in his head. The way she looked at him was a drug all of its own - he wasn't sure anyone had ever looked at him with that much love before, and that spark in her eyes always threatened to ignite something within him. She was silhouetted by the overhead light, making it almost look like there was a halo around her… something otherworldly for sure. And to him, she was.
"Baby, I need you to promise me something," he said. She considered him for a moment, tilting her head, and then looked back very seriously.
"Whatever you're going to ask me, is it a promise you'd be willing to make? If the roles were flipped, I mean."
Dean paused, surprised by the question as much as he was by how genuinely she'd asked it. It was different from her usual approach, and the gears in his brain began turning without his permission. He wanted her to promise she'd be more careful, that she'd think twice before putting herself in the middle of his warpath and prepare herself for the possibility that he might be beyond redemption. And that if he was, he needed to be stopped by whatever means necessary before he became that thing again.
But if the roles were reversed? If Katrina were the one struggling, bearing the effects of the mark?
He knew the answer. There was no way in hell he'd do what he wanted to ask of her. No matter what she said, he'd do everything he could, till his dying breath if that's what it took, to try and save her, and there wasn't anything or anyone that would be able to convince him to walk away. To not stand by her through it.
Katrina knew the answer too, and read his silence easily. It was the snort that caught his attention again, and his eyes flicked back in time to catch her smiling fondly at him, shaking her head. He raised his eyebrows anyway.
"That ain't fair, either."
Katrina's smile widened, and she ran her hands up his chest, settling them on his shoulders. She turned her head, pressing a kiss to the palm of his hand still settled against her cheek before turning back to look at him.
"Yeah, well, we'll talk about it when you're whole again," she muttered. "Till then, you can consider this my official notice that I'm not going anywhere, whether you like it or not. Though hopefully, you like it. I know there's no where I'd rather be, mark or not."
And even though he'd avoided the blow out fight they'd have normally had, the perks of making up still applied.
Dean lost himself in the union that followed, his mind slowly tuning out the rest of the world and everything hanging over his head as they came together.
Love was a dangerous thing, but it was powerful too. And maybe this time he could let it lend him the strength he needed until he could find it again on his own.
After all, the only time he felt he might get better was when they were together.