A few hours outside Chicago, somewhere in northern Indiana, Dean pulls into a motel; two connected rooms for the three hunters.

Katherine can walk now, but her legs feel like Jell-O. Her blood is still laced with panic and dread, wondering what it is that Dean's thinking that's got them both so wound up.

Nobody spoke as they unpacked the car. Rather, the brothers said nothing. Dean immediately hauled Katherine to the other room and the Winchesters unpacked the car—weapons bags, one bag of clothes for each hunter.

She carefully shrugs out of her bloodied flannel before she holds it up, examining the shredded blood-soaked fabric. Then she tosses it into the trash. She turns around and stares at her back in the vanity mirror. The straps of her tank top and bra have been snipped from the claws of the daeva, so support isn't likely. The only salvageable article of clothing she wears is her jeans. She peels her bra out from underneath her semi-functional top, and someone knocks against the wall.

"Need some help?" Dean asks. Katherine anxiously glances at him. He's leant against the doorway, holding a couple of rags in his hand, some water. He's decent. Not bloody, like she saw him just ten minutes ago. Katherine has managed to clean her face, bandaged it appropriately. Her neck isn't as bad as everyone thought. Superficial scratches, nothing too gory.

After a moment, she nods.

Katherine turns around and pulls the back of her top over her head, pressing her lips together the whole way to keep from making noise. She leans her palms against the sink, and Dean starts over to her. Even when he thinks of her, now, he can only think of the heartbreak. He knows she can sense it, too.

The faint olive expanse of her back is decorated with moles and three long claw marks, stretching from her shoulder to the middle of her back. "That happen in the hotel?" He asks her, setting the glass of water to the side. He glances to her face in the mirror, then back to her marred back.

"Warehouse," Katherine corrects, shaking her head. "You know how to clean it up?"

Dean gazes at the supplies in the first aid kit on the countertop. "Yeah." He picks up the saline solution and flips the cap. "This is gonna sting."

She chuckles. "You forget you're talking to a seasoned hunter," she says. "I'll be fine." Dean soaks a patch of gauze in the stuff and carefully cleans around the wounds first, noticing the way her muscles contract periodically, as if it would somehow help block the pain out. "I, um...salted the doors and the windows."

Dean nods. "I saw. Sam sealed up the front door."

"Is he all right?"

"Yeah. I envy how easy it is for him to fall asleep." Katherine chuckles, then winces as Dean starts in on her wound with a fresh patch of gauze.

"We need to lay low for a few days," she says, fingertips curled around the edge of the cheap countertop. "Heal and all that."

Dean nods. "I was thinking the same thing."

"Can you tell me what else you're thinking?" She softly requests. Dean watches her fingertips tap against the sink. "Why your dad left, maybe?"

"Because it wasn't safe for any of us," he tells her, grabbing a new patch of gauze. She winces as the cool saline touches right over her wound. "We're all vulnerable when we're around each other."

Tears prick at her eyes, but not from the pain. That's mostly subsided, all that's left now is the superficial sting of the cleaning agent. Her wounds themselves aren't deep. No muscle injury. She doesn't want to ask the question that's eating away at her brain. It's tearing her up inside. But if she mentions it, would the whole thing come crashing down on her far earlier than any of them expected?

It's all a means to an end, right?

Dean carefully pulls her top down around her freshly-bandaged wounds. She hasn't met his eyes the duration of her treatment. She stared down at the granite, tears flooding her eyes, but never falling. "You okay?" He asks her, only just now catching sight of her eyes. "Katherine—" She leans up and kisses him. It's urgent and hard, needy, but she's gentle. He's mindful of his hands, carefully rests them on her hips. Her fingers grip the waistband of his jeans and she pulls him forward until her knees hit the bed. After which, she carefully lowers herself to the comforter, taking him with her— "Kat..."

"What?" She whispers, pulling at his shirt.

"You're hurt," he says. "You're tired. You need to rest."

"I don't want to rest." Her lips brush against his as she speaks. "And I don't think you want me to either."

"I'm not gonna pretend," Dean chuckles. "But it's been a long night."

"So why not end it with a bang?" Her eyebrows raise at her double entendre. It actually makes Dean blush. "I'm not as busted up as you think I am. A couple of wussy scratches. Seriously, a nerf gun has done more damage than that daeva."

"I'd like to see what the hell kind of nerf gun you're messing around with," Dean mutters. "Aren't you in pain?"

"No," she hums, her fingertips barely tracing along the skin immediately above his jeans. Then she lets out a heavy sigh. "Do I really need to present a scientific argument for sex to Dean Winchester?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means I know you've been eyeballing me since we first met." Katherine waits for a moment, then sighs. "There's this chemical called oxytocin—"

"No science talk," Dean says, shaking his head.

"Fine. But you said it was my decision." Her fingertips gently probe at his jawline, and in response, he tilts his chin into her hand and presses a kiss to the heel of her palm. "I've decided."

"Isn't...virginity...kind of an important thing for you?"

She stares at his eyelashes, barely catching the moonlight of the room, and her pulse hammers in her neck. "That's kind of why I'm trusting you," she murmurs. "Because you're kind of an important person in my life."

"Only 'kind of'?" Dean hums, moving to rest his head above hers. "Miss Donovan, you mistake me for some back-alley Sally." Katherine lets out a quiet giggle, his lips tickling the side of her throat.

"Well," she murmurs. "You're one of the most important people in my life."

"I'm at the top of that list, right?" Katherine grins, but he sighs. "I want you to be sure—"

"You have a thing for finding me when I'm particularly damsely," she says. "Why won't you do anything about it this time?"

"Because it's a big deal."

"For you or me?"

"Both of us," he answers with a shrug. "I don't want you to make that decision on a whim—"

"It's not a whim," she whispers, her lips brushing against his. "This is the furthest thing from a whim."

"So it's carefully calculated. Are you a succubus?"

"I've been found," Katherine hums, smiling. "But you're not sleeping. So no. I am not a demon who sleeps with...sleeping men." She closes her eyes as Dean leans down to kiss her once more. Her fingers grip the waistband of his jeans. "What happened to being game whenever?"

"Oh, darlin', I still am," he chuckles. "But after a fight like that, is that such a great idea?"

"I think it's a wonderful idea," Katherine hums, wrapping her legs around Dean's hips. She smiles, noticing his breath hitching, and she finds it strange to witness him so affected by her. "Blow off steam...experience wonderful healing benefits. What's not to like?"

"What's not to like," Dean echoes in a murmur.

"Now that you've effectively killed the mood," Katherine mutters, eyes narrowing a bit. "Can we stop talking and rekindle the aforementioned mood? I'm...kind of hot and bothered."

"You aren't the only one."

He's explored her skin plenty of times in early morning hours. Felt her skin warm up as the sun rose, watched goosebumps rise in the wake of his touch. Every successive touch felt more intimate than the last, but this...there's nothing beyond this.

And it's a little scary. He doesn't know if he'd rather be staring a monster down right now.

He's kissed this skin before. It's familiar. It's home. It's Katherine, who he'd imagined being with dozens of times. It shouldn't feel insurmountable. Two weeks ago, she wouldn't have to ask twice, and here he is, questioning the gift that had been presented to him.

If he has guilt about this, maybe he wasn't such a dirtball after all. But if he does through with it...

Katherine's blue eyes glimmer, waiting, wanting. So he leans down and kisses her again, deciding that if this is what she's going to ask of him, he'll damn well do it.

Also...he couldn't stand the thought of someone else being her first. He knows they'd never do it like he could because they wouldn't know her like he does.

Maybe it's selfish. He's okay with selfish if it means he gets to hold her for a little while longer, especially like this.

Dean starts to kiss the soft underneath her jaw, down her throat. His nose trails just behind his mouth, a soft touch that's more of a tickle than anything. He noses the soft of her breast through her top, just barely catches the raised tip between his teeth, and slides his hands underneath her shirt to remove it. Katherine shivers at the warmth of his palms, somehow soft enough through all the years of hunting did to roughen them. There's just enough pressure for it to feel good. She moans a little, but Dean is left unfazed.

He knows just what she likes.

He leans down to kiss her chest, full and soft, nosing flesh, nipping, licking. The hair on the back of his neck stands and a shiver rolls down his spine as Katherine's fingers move from the back of his neck and into his hair.

"You okay?" He asks.

"Yeah," she whispers, looking at him with that soft look she's adopted lately. It usually made him feel like he won the lottery.

Right now...he's trying to feel that. Like a lucky son of a bitch. And he is, really. But the guilt and anxiety crushing him are almost too much to work through.

Stop being selfish, he chastises. She asked nicely.

"You smell nice," he says, pressing another kiss to her skin again. She laughs, turning her head to watch him pop the button of her jeans. He smiles, looking almost sheepish.

"You don't have to lie," Katherine mumbles. "We just got our asses handed to us by invisible demons in an abandoned warehouse."

"And you still smell like vanilla," he murmurs into the skin of her belly, and starts to tug her jeans down. "A damn treat, if you ask me." He makes quick work of removing her boots and socks. While he's at the foot of the bed, he removes his shirt and tosses it to the side. Katherine's ankles are crossed and she's propped up on one elbow, arms held close to her chest. Shy. Shocker.

Dean stands up and flicks open his belt, keeping his eyes on Katherine. His heart is beating faster now that he's acknowledged those big blue eyes on him. Maybe it's nerves, maybe it's wanton, but her teeth are gently gnawing on her lower lip, and those eyes he'd wished never stopped looking at him are moving south, watching his hands and fingers work to remove the belt. Then the button is undone, and his pants are on the ground. Dean reaches for the legs of her pants and tugs. She goes with them, and she starts giggling.

"Okay, wait, you're gonna have to lift," he says. "I really wanted this to be a little more graceful."

"Okay, okay, ready?"

"Yeah, yeah, go."

Who knew taking off a pair of pants would be such an ordeal?

Dean leans over her again, soft bellies pressed together. Katherine smiles up at him, leaning into his touch, and he runs his thumb along her cheekbone.

"Hey, beautiful."

"Hi," she whispers, tilting her chin up, and he leans down to kiss her again, down that same path as before, until he gets to the lace-waisted baby pink underwear.

"Last obstacle," he hums.

She narrows her eyes. "You sound like you wanna bail."

"No, no," Dean chirps, shaking his head. "I guess I'm just among sure you're still—"

"Dean, consent king," she sighs. "Until I explicitly state otherwise, I'm very much fine with it."

"Hey," he chuckles. "I'm nothing if not respectful." She laughs. "Okay, fine, I'm just nervous."

"Me too," Katherine murmurs. "But I trust you."

So he can brave it. The point of no return. Kind of.

Maybe all of your talking and inner monologue is killing the mood, dude.

Dean's mouth somehow seems warmer than the flesh of her belly as he presses soft, wet kisses there, fingers looping into the soft pink fabric, and he pulls it down in a fell swoop before tossing it to the side. She doesn't feel quite so bare, so studied, for long. Dean's lips quickly find her skin again, teeth gently nipping, tongue soothing, all the way up her thigh.

And then he's there.

"You smell so good," he whispers. Katherine melts into the comforter, eyes closing, at the warmth of his breath so near. Every other part of her feels so cold.

"What did I say about lying?" Katherine murmurs.

"I'm not," Dean chuckles. "But if you want me to apologize, I guess here's as good a place to start as any." The movements of his lips were enough to tickle, but the full feeling of his tongue on her is unlike anything else. A breathy gasp pulls from her lungs, fingers splaying, and his hand finds her at her side while the other wraps underneath her leg and grabs at her hip, keeping her pinned. He almost pulls her towards her, deepening his touch, as he gets lost in the feeling of her on his lips, the taste on his tongue. The involuntary moan that's pulled out of him sends another thrill through Katherine, and her fingers are in his hair, running over his scalp and tugging at his hair. It sends a shiver down his spine.

He never thought he'd hear these sounds before. He hoped. He'd imagined them, how'd she would sound, what she would say. He didn't know if she would be loud or quiet, which he'd like best. But this...her soft sighs and hilted breaths...anything other than this wouldn't do any kind of justice.

"Wait," Katherine says, and he stops. It pains him, but he stops. She's right there, and he knows it. "Come up here." He does as he's told, and her hands move to his face, pulling him right to her mouth, before they move to his briefs and discard them. "I need you," she whispers. Dean swallows and nods, moving as fast as he ever has to obey a request. "What—"

"Protection," he croaks, leaning away from her. "Don't be silly, wrap your willy...all that."

She furrows her brow. "You wear it all the time?"

"Uh, yeah. I'm horny, not cruisin' for an infection."

"I'm on the pill," she says.

Dean wants to melt. "Oh, thank fuck." He's kissing her again harder and more urgent than before. Any nerves or guilt he had before seem to be forgotten, for the time. Katherine fidgets until Dean pulls away from her, brows furrowed. "What?"

"I'm cold," she says, pulling up on the blanket. "So you can get under or not."

Admittedly, it is a lot nicer under the comforter, which is the cleanest-looking one he's seen in a while. He decides to trust it.

One last glance to her, a silent request for affirmation. Blue eyes twinkle at him as she nods. He hitches her knee around his hip, gripping there as he slowly eases in.

It's that first moment that's always the best. When it's only just barely begun and everything is close and pushing and tight, when that bliss is felt everywhere. He has enough wherewithal to look at Katherine, watch her head tilt and mouth open. Dean, ever the opportunist, leans down to kiss her, and she whines into his lips.

"Pop," he mutters. Just because he can't help himself. Katherine's laugh starts as a snort, her grip on his wrist loosening as she relaxes. She tenses right back up again as he moves against that slick, wet heat, and she groans, fingers around his wrist again.

"Holy—"

"Yeah," he pants. "Okay. Okay, let's just...let's hang out here for a second or I'm gonna blow and no one's gonna be happy." Katherine giggles. He manages a smile through the tense feeling of everything. Her hand moves to his jaw, thumb running across his glistening lower lip. He kisses her palm. "Hi."

"Hi," she whispers.

"So." He clears his throat. "You can go ahead and throw your dildo away. You don't need it anymore, I'm...I'm right here."

She's laughing again. Good. She's comfortable. "I don't have a dildo," she says.

"You don't," Dean parrots, mostly in disbelief.

"Well. Not with me," she corrects. His jaw drops more, and she giggles. "What?"

"So what, you've been...celibate the whole time we've been on the road? I mean, I can think of several occasions where I've just gotta go clean the pipes real quick—"

She laughs, tilting her head back again. And because he really can't help himself, he drops onto his elbow to kiss her jaw. "I have hands," she says. "Maybe they weren't yours, but...they did the job."

Dean's eyes lock on hers. A shy smile pulls at Katherine's reddened lips. "You thought about me?"

She grins. "Who else would I think about?"

He sighs. "Well, the list could be really long, Katherine Louise."

Katherine giggles. "Nope. Short list. One name." She stretches her neck to kiss him. "So can you move yet, or...is this the main event?"

Dean puffs out a laugh. "You insult me." He can damn well try.

Ooouuttt, iiiiin. He's holding his breath, trying to feel less, trying to watch her face, trying to do a good job. Her hand is gripping his, not giving any indication that she's letting go any time soon. Dean doesn't mind. He likes it, even, feeling her grip on his hand tighten and her legs lock around his back.

If he could feel one thing for the rest of his life, he'd like it to be this. The velvet of her thighs, the softness of her belly against his, the gentle drag of her skin on his.

He wants the memory on a loop. The feeling of her all around him, a slick, tight heat. Her fingers wrapped around his arm, her face turning into his neck as he tries to keep a steady pace. Slower is easier. Slower is better. It gives him more time to see things, to commit them to memory. Every soft sound, every unexpected, strangled moan. Every time she whispered his name, he just wanted to lie there and hold her.

The best part...the best part...was watching her unravel. He pulled away to watch, kept steady pace and tried his damndest to fend off his own release. It's that tilt of the head again, the parting of her lips, her eyebrows screwing up and her face losing all tension.

"That's my girl," he murmurs. She whimpers, fingers digging into his arm as he tries to carry her through it as long as he can. "A good girl..."

"Dean," she mewls, eyes opening to find him, and that is his undoing. His face buried in her neck, hips still moving, milking every little bit of this feeling before it's all over.

All over.

There was only enough time to clean her up before she was out like a light. He thinks it's the best sleep he's had in a long time.

Her head rests in the crook of his shoulder, one of her arms resting across his middle, her fingers curled at his bare chest. Her whole body is pressed against him, and she's warm like the sun. She's soft. He isn't likely to forget this, ever. Her scent, sweet and musky, is so deeply ingrained in his brain, associated with "Katherine."

Now he knows what she tastes like.

Suck on that, Nick.

Subconsciously, Dean's arm barely tightens around her waist. A simple muscle twitch. A soft smile pulls at her lips, felt against the side of Dean's chest, and he looks away from the wrinkled bandages on her back to her face. She seems so pleased with herself, the weasel. Content. Her soft smile and relaxed forehead, the loose waves of her long, blonde hair. So beautiful and at peace.

Dean barely stretches his arm to reach the nightstand. Taking the photograph is easy enough. One of Katherine's eyes opens and she looks from the camera spitting film to Dean with a displeased expression.

"What?" He defends, setting the camera down, and plucks the film from it. He rests the developing thing on the table and twists his head back to her. "I'd like to save the moment."

"Camera shutters and nudity don't exactly spark feelings of trust between people, you know," she hums, closing her eyes once more, and settles into Dean's side. "How do I know you won't use that for blackmail?"

"Blackmail," he chuckles. "If anything, it's to remind me of how beautiful you are. When you're not scowling, of course." Katherine grins and lightly pushes at his ribs. He stares at the developing marks on her own. Now, his fingertips brush down her side and over the faint discolorations from the hunt. She flinches. "Did I hurt you?"

"No," Katherine whispers, smiling as she presses her face into the side of his chest. "No, that just tickled." His hand continues down her back and across the expanse of her hips, over the curve of her backside, and underneath her thigh, where he hitches her leg across his lap. Katherine grins, eyes opening, and looks up at Dean. "I was trying to enjoy a rare relaxed morning," she hums.

"Oh, believe me, I'm enjoying it."

"How wonderful for you," she dryly says, staring up at him with a soft smile. After a moment, Dean glances down at her.

"Oh, stop looking at me like that."

"Like what?"

"Like I'm your favorite person in the world."

Katherine smiles, pulling herself up a bit, and kisses his cheek. "You are, though."

"I'm willing to bet a Miss Rowe would be quite disheartened to hear."

"What she doesn't know won't kill her," Katherine murmurs. Her voice is low and soft, but gravelly and warm at the same time. A small smile tugs at Dean's lips.

"What have I done?" He murmurs. "Katherine Donovan is trying to seduce me."

"Is it working?"

"An incurable monster Miss Donovan has revealed herself to be," Dean continues, staring at the wall across the room. Then he glances to her, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Of course it's working." She smiles against his skin, her thumb grazing across the stubble on his jaw.

"Have I ever told you," she begins, pulling the sheets up around her as she sits across his lap. Dean's hands rest just above either of her knees. Look at her face, he keeps telling himself. It isn't hard to do that, even with that chain around her neck leading to the center of her chest.

He put it on her this morning, and immediately felt like an asshole. It's his ring on the end of his dad's tags chain. A bottle opener, more than anything. And he felt weak in the moment he did it, damn sentimentalism.

She looks beautiful now more than ever, smiling that secret smile of hers, dimples just barely greeting him. "That in the mornings, you uncannily resemble a hedgehog?" Her fingertips graze his jaw once more.

"Maybe once or twice," he hums.

Staring at her smile, her bright eyes, he only feels worse.

A few days pass, most of their time spent cooped up in that motel room. Katherine heals the fastest of them all. Turns out, those marks on her back were just slightly more than superficial. Everyone itches to hell, though.

The days leading up to commencement are spent with her refining her speech, twisting her arm in anxiousness. Sam helped out a lot. She paced and recited it over and over. Dean could say it in his sleep if he wanted to.

The pit in Katherine's stomach never went away. It only got worse, really. That guilt, the fear, she felt the other day intensified. She knew that feeling belonged to Dean. He rarely hung around her like he did before what happened with the daevas. He stayed in his room. He didn't hold her hand. He didn't kiss her, so there was definitely no more sex. All she had was the memory and his ring around her neck. It's the only one she's wearing now.

Kind of feels like a mixed signal.

Katherine shoves her clothes into her duffle bag, glancing up as Dean leans against her doorway. "Hi," she says, folding up one of her shirts, and drops it on top of the purple tank top in her duffle. "Sophia's excited to meet you."

"Katherine, we need to talk."

She slows only slightly, and her throat tightens just a bit.

She knew this was coming. She should have seen it long before now, anyway. Maybe he was trying to tell her the other night, when he kept asking if she was okay, if she wanted to stop. And she didn't listen because she's a doe-eyed idiot. She always falls for his type. She makes herself too available, too vulnerable, and they do this to her. Except now, she feels more bare, more stripped and hollow than ever.

She gave him something she can never get back.

"About how you've been avoiding me?" Katherine quietly asks. Dean drops his gaze to the floor, and she continues folding. It's a nervous thing. "You've been acting strange all week." She zips her bag up and throws it over her shoulder, starting for the door. She doesn't say anything as she passes him, and she notices Sam isn't in the boys' room. Outside, the Impala is gone. The space beside Katherine's car is vacant. "Where's Sam?"

"Getting ammo," Dean replies, crossing the threshold after her.

"At seven in the morning?"

"Our guy said he's open for business." Katherine opens her trunk and sets her bags down on top of her weapons compartment. She shuts the trunk and sits down, staring out at the river with crossed arms. Dean slowly moves to sit beside her, and anxiety toils in her gut. Katherine waits a few moments before speaking around the lump of terror in her throat.

"If you're going to tell me what happened was a mistake, your behavior kind of spoke for you already." She tried to sound angry, but all she sounded was wounded. The opposite of a woman scorned. Desperate.

Dean stares at the toes of his boots. "It was a mistake."

Tears that had been waiting in her throat flooded her eyes. And there was nothing she could do to stop it. The last time she tried to stop something, or at least acknowledged what was coming, she and Dean shared a night more intimate than she'd ever been with someone. Of course, it had been her own fault. She convinced him, she didn't listen to what he was really trying to say when he asked, "Are you sure?"

Katherine stares at the sunrise across the lake, fingers clasped in her lap.

If Dean looks at her now, he'd be ruined. He would never forgive himself. He doesn't think he will, even if what he's doing is in Katherine's best interest. For her, he keeps saying to himself. For her, for her, for her. But looking at her would only make him renege everything he's told himself the past few days. It would put her in jeopardy. So he stares across the horizon, knowing he'd never look at one the same way again.

"I never meant for any of this to happen. There was a plan...I just needed to get my dad back."

Katherine almost flinches. It's like a boulder in her stomach. I just needed to get my dad back.

"So...what?" She questions, eyes burning. "This plan of yours...obviously I wasn't part of it in this way, right?"

"No."

"And I was just a means to an end. It didn't matter what happened, as long as you convinced me to come along for the ride."

"I told you," Dean says. "My dad instructed me to find you. You agreed to help me find him, and we did."

"I don't see him," Katherine says, shaking her head. They're staring at the same ridge across the river.

"It's gotten too dangerous," Dean tells her. "The other day, I almost got you killed."

"Dean, that wasn't—"

"Don't say it wasn't my fault," he quietly seethes. "It was. Every time you've been hurt, every time you've been an inch away from death, ever since our first hunt with you in Jericho—it's all been my fault."

"'Danger' is kind of in the job description," Katherine snarls. Good. She's angry. It makes it a lot easier for him. "Don't act like this is all on you, Dean. I've been in a lot more binding situations in my life, not just in the past six months. So say what we both know you've been waiting to say since Chicago."

Dean swallows. "I think it would be best if you left." Her lips tremble as she stares out at the rising sun. The orange and gold rays are nearly blinding. "You and I have gotten way out of hand. I never meant for it to happen."

"Because God forbid Dean Winchester actually care about someone," she scoffs. "You're scared, Dean, but don't pretend it's for my life."

"I am, though. And I won't drag you along anymore. This is a lot bigger than we initially thought, and I can't worry about you and Sam and myself when we're on hunts—"

"You aren't dragging me—" she begins, standing up, and faces him with fury burning bright in those red-rimmed baby blues. Dean rises to his feet at the same time.

"I don't want you here," Dean says. Katherine stares. "And this isn't your fight. It never has been, and it never will be. Winchester exclusive." Slowly, Katherine nods.

"You do realize, Dean, that you wouldn't stand for it if I told you to get lost and my father was in trouble."

"Well the difference is, it's my father and not yours. Our work can't interfere with the two of us. It makes things messy. And I don't want anything coming after you thinking it could get something from me." Katherine takes a faltering step back. Ouch. "I'm sorry I gave you the wrong impression, but it's for the best if you leave now. Don't come after us. If you hear anything about us, you look the other way." Dean shifts his weight. "I can't give you what you want, Katherine, and I don't think I want to."

"You're lying," she says, shaking her head. "I know you are."

"Guess you don't know me as well as you thought you did. I won't come looking for you again. Don't try to find me or Sam. And if you see my dad..."

"Got it," Katherine croaks, nodding once. "Let me apologize for being such an inconvenience, then." She pulls her keys from her front pocket. "I'm sorry, Dean Winchester, for making you realize that you can have at least half a good life. I'm sorry you can't hide behind the excuse of being a hunter. I don't know what's happened in your life to make you think you don't deserve to be happy, but I'm sorry for that too. But most of all, I am sorry for myself for thinking you would change for me." Dean turns on his heel and starts back for the room. "Answer me one thing, Dean," she calls. He stops, and after a moment, he turns to face her.

Her cheeks are tinged pink, blue eyes rimmed with red, and tears slip down either side of her face. The wind blows her wavy blonde hair from her braid, and she tucks it behind her ear, holding his gaze with burning eyes.

"Saint Louis," she says, voice wavering. "When I left to visit Sophia, you were terrified that something horrible would happen. You were so scared you were willing to get on a flight with me to go to Connecticut. But it wasn't your behavior that caught my attention, Dean, it was what you said." He stares at her in silence. "You said, "I promised him that I would protect you." Katherine's nose twitches slightly as she rocks back on her heels, and her voice breaks with her next question. "Were you talking about my father?"

Dean swallows once. "Yes," he says. She looses a breath, a tear falling as she closes her eyes. "I lied to you when we first met at Yale. I did talk to your father. I went on a hunt with him and my dad in Oxford. Then we split. After I got that voicemail from my dad, Clay called me and told me to protect you."

"So this is your version of protecting me," Katherine states. "Pushing me away, lying about how you feel?"

"I'm not lying."

"Bull!" She cries. It echoes through the vacant parking lot. "You're a good liar, Dean, but I'm better, and I can see through every front you try to put up. I know you better than you think I do. But if you want me gone so bad, you don't have to say it twice." She gets into her car and shuts the door behind her.

"I'll call in a few weeks," Dean tells her. "Just to make sure you're safe." His voice is half lost over the groan of the Charger's engine. "We're...probably going to be tracking my dad...and whatever killed my mom. But if you don't hear from us, then I guess we're dead, and I would be right about sending you away."

Katherine shakes her head. "If you're so worried about what you think is coming, splitting up isn't the answer." She isn't pleading. She's stating fact.

It's difficult to hear her be so indifferent, so cold.

"Promise me something?" Dean asks. She stares at him through half-clouded vision. She can't see the tears in his eyes. "Promise me that you'll keep your head down...look after yourself. No more hunting." Katherine watches as he steps away from her car and moves back into their hotel room.

Sam returns just after she pulls out of the lot.

𝐈. 𝐃𝐎𝐍𝐎𝐕𝐀𝐍

𝐈𝐈. 𝐕𝐀𝐆𝐀𝐁𝐎𝐍𝐃