"Who's the hotter psychic—Jennifer Love-Hewitt, Sam Winchester, or you?"

Katherine scoffs, staring up at the twinkling of Christmas lights on her ceiling. "Definitely me," she says. On the other end of the line, Dean laughs.

The ceiling is decorated with tiny warm white Christmas lights, and light pink, thin muslin is draped and pinched along the ceiling, casting a soft glow about the room. The walls are white—there was nothing that could be done about that, as the space is rented. Her comforter is white, too. Splashes of pastel color are littered across the room, either in drapes for the window or a bedskirt, painted wardrobe. Photographs litter one wall specifically, the one directly across from her bed.

Which reminds her...bah. She'll inquire about it later.

"How's that asylum treating you?" She asks, twisting her braid around her finger.

"Oh, you know," Dean sighs, leaning back in his chair. It's a crappy motel room the Winchesters are holed up in. Questionable stains and smells everywhere. Then again, almost all of the motels they stay in are crappy. But maybe he just didn't notice it because Katherine distracted him. "We found some crazy stuff. Lobotomies, electroshock...instruction manuals."

"Because God forbid instructions." Katherine hums. Dean chuckles.

"Yeah, well."

"Did you find anyone there?" She asks.

Dean sighs. "No sign of your dad or mine. But obviously one—or both—of them wanted us here. And here we are...and there you are."

"Here I am," Katherine murmurs, glancing down to her pajamas. Still shorts and a tank top—the same ones from the photograph, just in powder blue—because she can't bear to sleep in anything else. Hell, she never bothered with pants until she hit the road with the brothers.

"How's everything up there?"

"Cold. There?"

Dean nods. "Cold," he echoes after a moment. "Everything okay with Sophia?"

"Yeah," Katherine says in a sigh, her stomach knotting. "Yeah, she's okay. Emergency BFF meeting and all."

Dean grimaces. "Gross." Katherine laughs. "Well since everything's fine..."

"I'm staying for a few more days," Katherine says. After he sighs, she can practically see his exasperated expression all the way in Illinois. "She's my best friend, Dean, and she needs me right now."

"Well maybe we need you more." He says, twisting his pen between his fingers.

Katherine grins, rolling onto her side. "I'm sorry, but did I just hear Dean Winchester beginning to beg?" Her voice is a low murmur, the dips in her voice still evident underneath the coating of sweet, thick honey. Dean smiles a bit, sitting up in his chair.

"Darlin'," he begins. "I don't beg."

Katherine's smile widens. Darlin'. He never used that with the girls at the bars. And if he did, Katherine didn't know about it.

Sweetheart, darlin', her subconscious trills. It's all the same! Business, KD.

"I think you could," she murmurs, rolling back to look up at the ceiling. "I think you'd be pretty good at it, too."

Just staring at the wall, Dean can practically see, up close, the way her full lips would move to form those soft words. The tip of her tongue sweeping over her lower lip to pull it between her teeth. "Dogs beg," he deadpans, looking to the table, hellbent on steering this ship elsewhere. He can't afford to tango with a girl like her. Nineteen. A coworker. "I'm not a dog."

Katherine snorts. "Dean's not a very good dog name, is it?"

"Well neither is Kat."

She hums. "I appreciate that."

"You're welcome."

Katherine chuckles, staring up at the ceiling for a little while longer. Then she closes her eyes. "What did y'all get done today?"

"Well...we think there's something up with the south wing of the place. Seems like that's where the majority of violence occurred, y'know? Sam's going to check out a Doctor James Ellicott tomorrow." Dean tilts his head to the side. "He's a psychiatrist."

"Interesting," Katherine hums. "How'd you find him?"

"Son of Sanford Ellicott. Apparently, he was a chief of staff at Roosevelt. Found his nameplate today, figured it might be worth looking into."

"Mhm."

Dean frowns. "What time's it over there anyway?" He inquires.

"Uh..." Katherine looks to her alarm clock. "Just past midnight," she murmurs. Then she smiles.

Dean frowns a bit. "What?"

"What, what?"

"What're you smiling' about?

"How do you know I'm smiling?"

"Heard it."

She chuckles. "You heard me smile."

"Uh-huh."

"I didn't say anything, though."

"No, but I heard—" Dean sighs. "Drop it."

"What a chick flick moment," Katherine hums. "Dean Winchester, are you trying to be warm and fuzzy?"

"Shuddit." Katherine grins. "Why you talkin' like that?"

"Like what?"

"That. All..." he waves his free hand around. "Quiet." He narrows his eyes. "Katherine Donovan, are you trying to seduce me?"

"I'm caught," she hums. "I'm actually trying to not wake Sophia, so...we've gotta be sneaky teenagers."

"Sneaky teens," Dean sighs. "I bet you've not a rebellious bone in your body." He rises to his feet and moves towards his bed.

"Do so," she mutters.

"Katherine, you're nineteen years old and you have a self-imposed curfew."

"I run credit card scams," she deadpans. "That's illegal."

Dean shrugs after a moment. "Eh, I'll give it to you." She grins. Dean crosses his ankles and stares at the opposite wall. "What else?" He asks after a moment.

"Whaddaya mean?"

"Credit card scams are run of the mill for hunters," Dean tells her. "I'm talkin' teenage rebellion."

She chuckles. "Well, Dean, I'm not exactly like other teenagers."

"It's occurred to me. Far too mature for nineteen."

"Almost twenty."

"Damn, you're getting old."

"You're twenty-seven."

Dean lets out a heavy sigh. "What can I say? You make me feel young."

She snorts. "I dunno...I mean...rebellion isn't really my style."

"Oh, right, because you're a good little girl."

"The best," she murmurs, and Dean closes his eyes. Katherine's heart hammers in her throat, and Dean's goes dry. "I was looking through some pictures today," she softly tells him.

"Yeah?"

"I found one of me that could be taken in a particularly explicit light," she hums with a raised brow. Dean knows that tone, and he immediately pairs it with her expression currently. "I'm in bed." Dean swallows thickly. "And the angle isn't provocative. But the photograph is."

"I cant say I know what you're referring to," Dean murmurs.

"Oh, I think you do. You took this picture," Katherine quietly informs him. "I'm in my usual. Tank top and shorts. Standard."

"Mhm."

"And I think, just by the way the sheets on the other side of the bed lay," she murmurs, voice husky and a hundred different flavors of delicious. Dean's eyes remain shut. He can see her sitting on his lap, legs on either side of his hips. Her fingertips on his chest, lips dragging against his cheek with her voice right in his ear. "I think you were next to me. You see, Sophia thinks I'm sleeping with one of you."

"I mean, technically, you are."

She smiles a bit. "Technically, I suppose," she hums. "Anyway, I just wanted to see if you knew anything about it."

Dean's eyes open and he shakes his head. "Nope. Can't say I do."

"Mhm."

"When are you coming back, by the way?"

Katherine smiles wider. "Maybe another day or two. Miss me?"

"You make a wonderful pillow."

"I bet I do," she hums. "I'll let you go."

"What?"

"Need all the rest you can get. Try not to sound too disappointed." She hangs up with a hot flush in her cheeks and bitten-lip smile. A few moments later, a text from Dean appears on her screen.

You suck.

Katherine grins and quickly types out her reply.

You bet I do.

Dean grunts, snapping his phone shut, and drops it onto the nightstand.

Katherine receives no reply after that, so she hitches her phone on the charger and tucks her arms underneath her pillows.

But Dean has that photograph, almost a replica of the one in Katherine's stack of photos, between his fingers now, staring at the lines of her pale olive leg and stretch of exposed shoulder and midriff.

Maybe it's creepy.

Katherine smiles, nestling into his side. He can feel the smile on his face, too. Barely-there, something in the morning, content. Her fingertips probe into his skin, lingering just as long as he'd like them to. Her lips are on his chest, sponging soft kisses to his flesh. It's a different kind of warm than the sun. The sun is hot, but good. She is soothing. Comfort. All the way up his neck, the softest parts underneath his jaw. He feels the softest touch against his cheek—she's smiling. And then she rolls away from him, turning to face the other way.

"Hey," he murmurs in protest. He knows—he doesn't know how he does, it just is—the window across the room faces east. It's mid-morning, judging by the warmth that hits his arm as he winds it around Katherine's waist and pulls her smaller body into his. Her skin is bare, exposing the freckles or moles, whichever, on her olive-complected back. He presses his lips to his favorite spot on the inferior end of her left shoulder blade, a collection of three freckles in the shape of a small triangle. Then the soft between her shoulder blades. He notices her muscles contract underneath his touch at her waist. He smiles, kissing up her spine and neck, into her hairline, and rolls his shoulders into her back, resting his cheek on her head. Her fingers curl up and hold onto his with the lightest grip.

Then she hums, light and content.

"What?"

"You're stretching my back," she whispers. "It's nice."

Dean twists at her shoulders so she's on her front. He can see the smile on her cheek as he sweeps her hair out of the way and sits up, legs on either side of her. And his palms start at the base of her neck, thumbs working on either side of her spine. Her chest compresses as she exhales in relief. Tense muscles warm and loosen underneath his heavy hands, pushing and kneading down her spine and around her ribs. He slips his hands underneath her hips, fingertips hooking into the soft blue fabric, and he kisses down her spine as he pulls down on her shorts.

"Dean."

There's no Katherine. No warmth. Just pillows, tense shoulders, and hedgehog hair. And Sam staring at him from across the room.

Dean rolls onto his back and lets out a heavy sigh. "What?" He grunts.

"I'm leaving, for the fifth time," Sam says, shrugging his jacket on.

Dean rubs his forehead. "Want me to take you?"

"No. Go ahead and sleep, I guess. I'll call you when I'm done with Ellicott." Dean nods, barely, and Sam exits their motel room.

Dean lets out a deep sigh, slowly opening his eyes, and he stares up at the stained ceiling with a sour expression.

The room he was in with Katherine wasn't this shoddy. Or maybe it was, and he just doesn't notice when she's around.

He pulls himself up and moves for the shower. A nice, cold shower.

Katherine smiles as Sophia emerges from the hallway, halfway dressed and fully grumpy. "Well aren't you just a ray of sunshine," Katherine jests.

"I need food," Sophia replies. "And we don't have anything. So I'm going to KBT. You're welcome to join."

"All right, sour puss," Katherine says with a nod. "I shall join thee to break our fast."

"Shut up, you nerd."

"Says the biomed engineer," Katherine mutters, flipping through a magazine. Then she gasps. "Chad Michael Murray and Sophia Bush split?!"

"Tragic, right?!" Sophia calls from down the hall.

Katherine holds a hand over her heart. "And why is Lindsay Lohan the face of Louis Vuitton?!"

"Beats me," Sophia scoffs. Katherine groans and shuts her magazine, resting her palms on the counter.

She wonders what the Winchesters are doing, if they've gotten their day started. New Haven is only an hour ahead, so it's eight AM there.

Sophia emerges from the hallway, dressed appropriately for the weather. Leggings, long sleeves, down vest, unzipped and still a bit big on her, and a scarf. Sophia tugs a hat onto her head and nods to the door. Katherine follows quickly after her roommate, snagging her keys from her hook, and locks the door after them.

Sophia didn't have class on Wednesdays this semester. Last semester, the two would go on walks together if the weather was nice and they weren't busy. They'd lay down in the parks around campus, go to KBT, or just walk around campus to people watch.

Walking through the medical campus, it's strange to see so many familiar faces and have them all smile and wave and ask where she's been lately. "I thought you dropped out!" One said. Sophia crossed her arms rather indignantly and said Katherine Louise would get her diploma three times before you graduated once.

It's true. Kent Frasier has been working at his bachelor's for seven years.

Though it's chilly outside, the sun is nice and warm. No wind. Breakfast and a surprising cup of coffee for Katherine, usual for Sophia.

And then she asked about the Winchesters. Dean in particular.

Katherine releases a breath from between her lips, tracing the rim of her mug with her index finger. "Well...Dean is...Dean. Like any other guy, I guess." She tilts her head to the side. "Has a chick-flick guilty pleasure. Loves Ghost Whisperer."

"No."

"Yes," Katherine says, grinning as she nods. "But if you ever ask him about it, he'll deny it and kill me in my sleep."

Sophia smiles. "If I ever ask him?" She questions. "Like...I'll get to meet him one day?"

"Hopefully," she says, nodding. "I mean, graduation is right around the corner."

"And your birthday," Sophia mumbles. "I have no idea what to get you this year."

"You don't have to get me anything, Soph. Seriously. You know birthdays make me feel awkward."

"Okay, but you didn't deny you love presents."

"Who doesn't love presents?" Katherine asks, and Sophia grins.

"Anyway—Dean."

"Dean," Katherine hums. She stares at the table and sifts through every small, perhaps insignificant detail she's collected about him over the course of the past few months. Perhaps things that Sophia doesn't need to know, like how he always sleeps with a weapon under his pillow.

"He's protective," she finally says. "And loyal. Sam's his whole world. He'd do anything for his brother." Katherine taps her finger against the side of her mug. "He's funny. Has a weird affinity for pie and his car. He's the biggest flirt on the block." She's smiling. "He can do the most useless bar tricks, but I guess that's what gets him the attention." Her brow furrows now. "He's nice, even though he pretends he isn't. He's done a lot to make sure I'm all right. Comfortable, despite the circumstances. And he's really smart. He made an E—" Katherine halts herself. He made an EMF detector out of an old walkman. "He likes sports. He'll watch some MMA fights on pay-per-view if there's one on." She shrugs and lifts her coffee mug to her lips. "He's just a guy."

"And you're in love with him."

Katherine chokes on her drink. She sets her mug down and holds a hand over her mouth and chest, air snorting through her nose. Sophia grins, tipping her cup up to her mouth. "Just sit there whilst I meet my end," Katherine weakly says through her coughing. "I don't love him. Love isn't for me. Yeah, no. Last time I tried a boyfriend, it ended in a fiasco."

"Well you at least like him," Sophia retorts. "A lot." Katherine rolls her eyes. "Oh, come on. I know that look when I see it." Katherine watches as Sophia holds up one of her polaroids—the one from Valentine's day. Katherine huffs and snatches the photograph from between her fingers. Sophia giggles.

"Even if I did like him, Dean doesn't like me," she says.

"Why wouldn't he? You're beautiful, you're a genius, you're nice—"

"Because I'm a whopping seven years younger than him...and it would just be...messy."

"Messy," Sophia hums.

"Would you be serious for five minutes, please?" Katherine scoffs, unable to suppress her smile as she tucks the photograph into her back pocket. "I swear, you two would get along famously."

"Well if you're not gonna have him, you should at least introduce me." Katherine glares at her and Sophia smiles. "My, my, you are possessive."

"There's nothing to be possessive of," she murmurs, sitting back in her chair.

But she does like him. She likes him a lot. She doesn't know if it's the constant flirting that did it or what. But how does she get Sophia to understand that it wouldn't work? Hunters don't date other hunters. Hell, hunters don't date. So how does she explain to her closest confidante that because of her job, she can't have him? Because that's not what he wants, either. Dean's in his twenties still. Running wild, acting...well, like a guy in his twenties. You would think Sam is the oldest.

How does she tell her best friend that she realized she was in deep trouble the night of the bloodybones case? When Dean told her to come to the other bed with him.

And she went. So, so willingly.

It felt nice. Better than nice. Safe and warm. Comforting. The most comfortable she's been since the house fire.

Katherine lets out a heavy sigh and picks up her coffee cup. I'm so screwed.

"Okay, so I was thinking...that apartment we have in Florida, right?" Sophia asks. They're shopping now, in some store for moms and babies. Katherine nods. "That has three bedrooms. So instead of using the last one as a guest room, we use it as a nursery. I mean, how many times do we actually have people stay over anyway?"

"Yeah," Katherine murmurs. The mention of the apartment they're leasing sent fire up her spine. She totally forgot about it.

She didn't know how long this Winchester case would take, but this is definitely the longest. Finding John Winchester is a huge pain in the ass...but she sort of asked for it. But that doesn't mean she expected it to go on as long as it has.

Before Dean Winchester showed up the night of October twenty-ninth, she and Sophia were looking at apartments in Florida. That was the big plan. Sophia's family lives outside of Jacksonville, not far from Haley Falls. At first, Katherine was uncomfortable with the idea of moving back home, but she's got to face it some time. Besides, it's her favorite place in America. It's got everything. Beaches, the sun, slight weather fluctuations. No state taxes.

The only thing it doesn't have is the Winchesters.

But before that...

"Dude."

Katherine looks up from her shoes and right up to Sophia, looking like a deer in the headlights. "What?"

"You're not even paying attention," Sophia huffs.

"Sorry," Katherine murmurs. "Just thinkin'."

Sophia gives her a wary look, lowering newborn outfits from her face. "We are still moving out there...right?"

"Of course," Katherine weakly muses, nodding. "Yeah, why wouldn't we?" Katherine takes a deep breath. "Well what about Tony? I mean...if he wants to have some relationship with the spawn."

Sophia laughs. "Glad to know you're referring to your niece as 'spawn.'" Katherine grins and shrugs. "I dunno," Sophia sighs. "I'm still going to Florida regardless. He can follow or he can make the drive down."

"How is it you're almost four months and you haven't told him yet?"

"Well, I was kind of able to ignore it until my jeans started hurting me," Sophia sighs. "God, I really don't want to get into maternity clothes."

"Soph, just go up a few sizes in jeans," Katherine chuckles. "You don't have to do maternity clothes until you're too uncomfortable."

"Maybe you should have this baby."

Katherine barks out a laugh. "Right, because I'm such a role model."

"You are. You're a respectable young woman."

"Sophia, I'm not taking your kid."

Sophia lets out a dramatic sigh and the two girls giggle. "Is it strange that I'm actually kind of excited?" Katherine glances over to her. "I mean...I know I called the other day in full-on freakout mode, but...now it's like I just...can't wait to be there. On a beach with my kid and my best friend."

Katherine smiles, but there's a hint of sadness there. Some sort of longing. She wants that, too. but she's a hunter. And whatever follows her would go straight to Sophia and that baby. A weakness. And who knows how long John decides to evade his sons?

"I like the blue one, by the way," Katherine hums, plucking the little outfit from the rack, and shoves it in Sophia's face.

"How courteous of you," Sophia mutters. "I'm going back in a few weeks to find out if the she is a she."

"The she," Katherine repeats in amusement.

Dean lets out a heavy sigh, surveying the gas station around him.

Their father called just a few hours ago with another hunt in Indiana, and they were told to stop looking for him.

So here they are, somewhere in the middle of nowhere, filling up the car and stocking up on food because Katherine had to take her backpack with her. All of the snacks, gone.

He'd have to get a different backpack. One for snacks strictly.

A glistening gold thing catches his eye, hanging up by the refrigerator of six-packs. Dean starts forward, shifting the basket to his other hand, and stares at the little thing.

It's a bottle opener. But that's not what makes him chuckle. It's the script. You earned it.

"Aren't you a little young to be drinking?" He asked out of spite. She'd just pointed a gun at his junk. Granted, he was the one who turned up unannounced in a hunter's den.

Then she looked at him with the flattest expression yet. "My life was just threatened," said the huntress, picking her wine glass up, and her brows moved underneath the cover of her fringe. "I believe I earned this."

With a smile, Dean plucks the bottle opener from the hanger and moves to the checkout counter.

"Shouldn't you be asleep?" Katherine asks, shuffling into the kitchen. It's the middle of the night, and after hearing rustling in the kitchen, she moved in with her gun—of course. Katherine holds her hands behind her back and leans against the doorway, watching Sophia work in the dim refrigerator light.

"I'm starving," she pronounces.

"It's two AM," Katherine murmurs.

Sophia barely glances to her. "And you're still in jeans. What the hell?"

"Indeed, 'what the hell,'" Katherine murmurs. "I fell asleep and your loud ass woke me up."

"I'm carrying a baby. Leave me alone."

Katherine snorts and takes a step back from the war zone. "I'll leave you to it, then," she murmurs, retreating into the dark hallway. She stashes her gun underneath her pillow, to the holster taped to the bed post nearest to the wall. Easy access in case something goes bump in the night without being obvious.

The teenager sighs, staring at her calendar hanging up on the wall as she shrugs out of her button-down shirt. Just over a month and a half before she's graduating. And a commencement speech to deliver.

She's just discarded her jeans and reached for her tank top when her phone buzzes on her nightstand, anchored to her charger. Katherine frowns and moves towards it cautiously, like it has teeth, and her blood is cold. She's half-expecting Dean to call with an awful something that happened. But it's a text message. And it's not from Dean. It isn't from anyone in her phonebook.

Coordinates.