𝐃𝐎𝐍𝐎𝐕𝐀𝐍

𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐘-𝐎𝐍𝐄

Katherine lets out a low moan, a little pained, as the heels of Dean's palms dig into her shoulders. "Ouch! Too hard!"

"You said go harder," he argues with a frown.

"Yeah, just don't dig into my freaking pressure points," she grumbles, gently moving her shoulders from his grasp.

"Stop being a brat," Dean retorts, tugging her back in place. She closes her eyes once more and winces. "Why do you have so many knots?"

Her eyes fly open and her jaw clenches. "Oh-ho-ho, I would love to see what kind of crap you'd invent after being kidnapped!" Dean pushes her head into the pillow. She snorts, a wide grin tugging at both sides of her mouth. Then cries out as his hands move to her spine, her shoulders and every other muscle in her body contracting.

"And I'm the baby?"

"Men in general are wusses," she states.

Dean ignores her. Instead, he focuses on the warmth of her pliable flesh, the hardness of it in other areas. His fingers against her ribs, her shoulders, arms and low back. He stares at the angry ligature marks around her throat, the red flesh from where the electrical cord chaffed, the blue and purple where the cord pressed. He's already fixed the clasps of her necklaces—used a pair of pliers and a bit of handiwork. It was done in three minutes.

After another minute or so, Dean releases her and stands up. He smirks, leans over again, and presses down hard on her spine, satisfied as the vertebrae crack underneath his palms. Katherine cries out in surprise, freezing.

"I hate you," she groans, curling up onto her knees.

"Well your back feels better, doesn't it?"

She frowns, sitting up a little, and looks like a distressed five year old. "You could've told me you were gonna throttle my spine," she grumbles, rolling her neck a bit.

"I can take care of that, too," he informs her.

"I don't trust you with my neck," she says, glowering up at him. "Hell, I don't trust myself with my neck. It's never been popped and it never will be."

"Really?" Dean asks, gawking. She shrugs. "Turn around."

"No!"

"Come on. I'm insulted, really, that you think I would kill you when I've gone through the trouble of saving your ass—"

"Accidents happen!"

"You're such a puss."

Katherine's jaw tightens and she turns around. Dean grins and sits behind her. "I swear—"

"Relax, I've done this a ton of times."

She releases a heavy sigh as Dean positions his hands at her left jaw and right side of her head. "Wait, to yourself or other women—" Then he twists, gently. Katherine's head is at about seventy degrees when she speaks, eyes bugging. "Dean—"

He presses his lips together, shooting her an annoyed look. "Katherine, relax—"

"I think you're gonna break my neck—"

"I'm not gonna—"

"Dean—"

"Straighten your back out—"

"What in the hell are you doing?" Sam asks, watching from the doorway of the connecting room. "Because it looks like you're trying to kill Katherine."

"Thank you, Sam—" Katherine begins. Dean sighs and quickly jerks his hands, tilting Katherine's head straight and to the side, and Katherine's neck cracks. She slowly gasps, and Dean moves his hands from her head in an almost surrendered gesture. She hilariously moves her head back into position by pushing on her temple. Then she whirls around and socks Dean in the shoulder. "No more chiropractic exercises!"