𝐃𝐎𝐍𝐎𝐕𝐀𝐍

𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐘-𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐑

Dean lets out a heavy sigh, unwilling to even look at the freshly-installed radio in the Impala. The moment he agreed to it, he regretted it. His Baby...disfigured at the hands of a girl who just batted her eyelashes and asked "pretty please," and he let her. He let her.

Katherine pats his shoulder. "Give him some time," she murmurs to Sam.

"I swear," he grumbles, shaking his head. "You two..."

"She's not disfigured, right?" Dean murmurs, still unwilling to open his eyes.

"Nah, nah." Katherine shakes her head. "Baby's as beautiful as ever. But there ain't no way in Hell I was leaving mine in a ditch somewhere and I'm not being taken out of the loop."

After a moment, Dean nods. He opens his eyes, quickly turning away from the dash. He might throw up if he looks at the fresh installment. "You said you got somethin'."

"Yeah," Katherine answers. "I think it's another rawhead."

Dean frowns. "This far north?"

Katherine shrugs, leaning against the Impala. "There was that wendigo in Colorado. Why can't there be a boogeyman in Indiana?" Dean lets out a heavy sigh. "There's no heavy lifting on this one. I've already found a place I think it's holed up in. It's not far from here, maybe fifteen minutes west of that corn field we passed. We can go after dark."

Dean nods, staring at the walkie system just installed in the car. "You could just put 2.0 in a lockup. Ride with us."

Katherine gazes plainly at him. "You did not just call Her 2.0"

Dean grins, gazing at her glistening face. It's warm in Missouri. Warm enough to have Katherine in a tank top and Daisy Dukes—thank God for those. So they worked on their cars, shared tools and swapped those that they had an excess of. Katherine noticed he had four of the same kind of wrench. Dean definitely didn't need four of the same wrench. But she had a spare lug wrench, Dean had just lost his, so they called it a fair trade.

It was neat, watching her work on her car. She played her own music from her radio. Still tolerable, nothing too drastic from what Dean would normally play, but then some. A few songs he hadn't heard since he still listened to the radio as a kid. Janet Jackson, namely. He laughed when she started nodding about the parking lot, dancing on her way to and from the trunk of her car to the front as she sang What Have You Done For Me Lately? What a sight, seeing her curly ponytail bounce, some parts of it slicked with oil, her face getting pinker as the sun rose and the heat went up. She even had a smear of oil on her cheekbone. Any man's dream, that's for sure. And she knew what she was doing.

Part of Dean just wanted her to ask for help. She wouldn't do it, of course, even if she really did need help. Spiting him seemed to be her whole purpose in life these days, with her pretty, teasing smile and her big blue eyes that glittered like jewels in the sun.

Katherine sighs, shakes her head, and wipes her hands on a dirty blue rag. "I'm taking a shower," she chirps, starting back into her motel room. "And that's not an invitation," she calls over her shoulder.

Dean grins. "Well what about a kiss?" He asks her. "I've been good."

Katherine laughs, opening her door. "You just told me to abandon my one true love! Imagine if I told you to leave Baby in some dodgy garage." Dean sighs. "Yeah. Try again later."

And there's a crumb.

"Challenge accepted."

She smiles and shuts the door behind her.

Dean sighs again, grabbing his beer from the sidewalk. Despite the quality time spent with the hunter, Katherine remained impervious to his advances. One thing Dean knew for sure about the girl: she had a will of iron. Stubborn. A straight shooter. She would always smile and sit back and let him talk for a while, let him think he was working his charm, before she would turn around and get back to whatever she was doing.