𝐃𝐎𝐍𝐎𝐕𝐀𝐍

𝐅𝐈𝐅𝐓𝐘-𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄

Dean lay awake for another forty-five minutes before he got dressed and started to wander. First he went up, searched the corridors and closets, and scoured each floor, the stairs, the lobby. Nothing. Not even the clerk had seen her.

Katherine Louise was a ghost.

Maybe she just went around the block, he thought to himself. And you're worrying for nothing.

That was three days ago.

Dean and Sam sit in the Impala now, pulling up on a diner in a rainy South Dakota. Something to do before they spin the hamster wheel out of their brains.  

"Don't forget the extra onions this time, huh?" Dean requests, handing Sam a few bills.

"I'm the one who has to ride in the car with your extra onions," Sam retorts, opening up the passenger door with a set jaw. Dean smiles in an answer. Then he remembers, and his eyes widen.

"Oh—see if they got any pie!"

Sam balks at him. "Dude."

Dean frowns as Sam stalks through the mud. "Pie!"

Katherine.

"Come on, Kat," Dean sighs, looking down to his hands, and chews on his lip. "Where are ya, ol' girl?" He drums his fingertips against the steering wheel...and the hamster wheel is turning again. Katherine had vanished without a trace. Ellen hadn't heard anything. They're heading to Bobby's, having spent a day or two waiting in some old motel for Katherine to turn up, soaked with rain and shivering. The midwest got a much-needed bout of storms this past week.

Dean hasn't told anyone from home yet. They'd lose their minds. Charlie might kill him.

A few more days, he convinced himself. I'll tell them in a few more days.

And he lets that hamster wheel spin some more.

She chases the straws of her drinks with her tongue, holds it between her teeth when she smiles.  Her groans of frustration sitting in the back seat of the car for too long. Her sighs in her sleep. 

Feeling cold and empty—the worst combination—Dean turns the heat on and crosses his arms tightly over his chest. The legos in the air vents rattle. It's oddly comforting. Katherine would sometimes fall asleep to the thrum of them against the framework. She thought it was strange Dean didn't pull the things out when he's doing his usual upkeep of the car, or even when he rebuilt it from the ground up after the accident. She still noticed that green plastic soldier in the ashtray in the backseat.

Dean closes his eyes and rests his head against the seat, letting himself think about her some more. Her presence, her strong maternal force. How she can be all play one second and strictly business another. And her temper. Heaven and Hell help whoever was on the receiving end of that temper. The way she manages to project impatience with a dose of menace is hot as hell. How she oozes sex appeal without trying. He still found it hard to tell if she was flirting on purpose. And even after all the confirmation he's had, the way she looks at him like her whole world fits into his six feet, he still doesn't know. He's still so unsure. So afraid.

Because she would have said something more by now...right?

Maybe she's just as conflicted as you are, idiot. Just because you decided to catch up with the rest of the world and profess your undying love for her—if that's what this is called—doesn't mean she drops everything and comes running back to you. Not after what you did. Not if she has someone like Charlie. Someone so right for her.