𝐃𝐎𝐍𝐎𝐕𝐀𝐍

𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐘-𝐒𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍

Breakfast in the Winchester house is a must. No stops, every morning, just as constant as they all ate dinner together every night. 

Dean, God bless him, usually takes command of the stove. An the oven. And the grill. Which leaves Katherine little to do but watch, or peel oranges, or helping the kids ready, depending on the day...and who decides to throw a tantrum.

"Twins!" The patriarch hollers. "Breakfast!" Katherine corrals the puppy out to the backyard. "Good boy, Duke!" Dean calls. 

If there's anything Katherine likes better than Dean in plaid, it's Dean in a dress shirt. He's got on a little bowtie, too. His hair is longer, with a part in it. It seems darker, too. He seems older than the twenty-eight year old she went into the warehouse with...a memory that's growing foggier and fainter with every passing minute. As far as she's concerned, it was some dark and twisted dream.

This is her normal. Chaos, scrambled eggs, bacon and sausage links, english muffins, orange juice.

"Twins!" Dean calls again. "Babe, can you—" He turns as Katherine brushes by him to start fixing plates. Then he stops, catching sight of the kids standing at the bottom of the stairs with blankets over their heads. Then he smirks and continues forward. "Hon, you seen the kids this morning?"

"Nope," she chirps, setting their plates on the table. "But I guess if they don't come down soon, we're gonna have to give their breakfast to Duke."

"Guess so," he tuts, picking his coffee cup up from the bar. "What say you, Nora?" The baby giggles and Dean mimics her.

"OoooOoooo" is sounded from the staircase. Katherine stiffens and glances to Dean, dropping the silverware. He gawks at her with a similar expression.

"Did—" he stops. "Did you hear that?"

Katherine nods.

"OoooOoooo"

"What, is that a ghost?" She whispers, and one of the kids does it again. Connor. Grace giggles shortly and Connor punches her in the arm.

"Ouch!"

"Shh," he hisses.

"Are they talking?" Dean asks.

"Do ghosts talk?" Katherine speculatively returns. He shrugs. Then Katherine nods over his shoulder. "Are those ghosts?" Dean slowly turns to look at the kids with the blankets over their heads.

"Well what do we do?"

"I don't know, but they're coming for us," Katherine says, backing from the island. "They look pretty mean, huh?" Dean lets out a cry as one of the kids—Connor, judging by the shoes—runs forward.

"It's attacking me—Katherine help—! Oh my God, it's a ghost!" Connor's got Dean on the floor now. "It's a ghost aaaaAAAHHWWW, Connor, man," he says, yanking the blanket off of his head. "You scared me!" The little boy laughs, laying over Dean's stomach. "And you're gonna scare all the girls away if you go to school with your hair like that. Let's go fix it."

"I scared you, daddy," he giggles.

"Yeah, you did," Dean agrees, picking Connor up, and moves for the downstairs bathroom. "Don't you know what a comb is, you heathen?"

Katherine chuckles, staring down at a wide-eyed Grace. "Boo," the little girl says. Katherine flinches, and Grace giggles. "Mommy, do you remember when you and daddy couldn't see me and Connor for a whole hour?"

"I sure do," Katherine says. And she does. "We were worried sick! We didn't know if you'd run away!"

"I would never run away, momma," Grace says, resting her head on Katherine's hip.