𝐃𝐎𝐍𝐎𝐕𝐀𝐍

𝐒𝐈𝐗𝐓𝐘-𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄

These days, it wasn't unusal for Katherine to wake without nightmares. More often than not, when she closed her eyes for the night, two yellow ones stared back at her. 

Weeks. It went on for weeks. Maybe that's why neither of the brothers thought anything about it when they heard Katherine moving through the room in the middle of the night and close the bathroom door. She'd been doing that the past few nights especially.

"I wanna come home."

That snapped Dean out of whatever state of half-sleep he was. He stayed perfectly still, eyes locked on the door ahead. She's crying. Sobbing.

"No," she wails. "No—nothing happened, nothing happened." She's hysterical. Panicking. 

Sam sits up at the same time Dean does. 

She can't catch her breath. 

"I'm f-fine, I j—I just want to be with you." 

And Dean's heart shatters. As the shards break away from each other, his feet move towards the closed bathroom door. There's a towel stuffed into the crack to block her noises.

"I'll get on a plane or something," she quickly says. "Just pick me up. Just pick me up. Please, Charlie, please—"

Dean opens the door. Katherine's head snaps up. Those small pieces of his heart have been ground into dust. It's gone. It's obliterated. his chest is empty and his skin is cold.

She's terrified. Her blue eyes and her face are reddened, her blonde hair is in a mess, and the eye makeup she forgot to wash off last night runs in black streams around her eyes, down her cheeks. He can see her hands shaking, one of them gripping her phone so tightly that her fingers are blanched. 

Her lip quivers.

"Katherine?" He whispers, sinking onto his knees in front of her.

A sob echoes in the bathroom. "He got me," she cries. "He got me again, Dean, and he had everyone—he had everyone—"

He hears Charlie's voice, nothing more than a garbled murmur, but he made out his name. 

"No, Dean's here," she sobs. "Dean's here. Sam's—Sam's okay. I just—" Heavy, uncontrolled breath. Charlie's voice. Katherine's eyes flit to Dean, and her chest stutters. "Okay." She extends the phone to him. 

"Hey," he says.

"Dean." Charlie sounds exhausted, but alert. "What happened?"

"Nothing. Nothing happened." Katherine chokes back a sob and drops her head into her arms. Instinctually, Dean reaches for her knee and gives it a squeeze. "I think it was a nightmare." She nods. "It was a nightmare." He stares at her hard. Yellow Eyes. 

She's been having nightmares every night the last week. Dean looks at his watch.

It's 2:15. Almost the same time Yellow Eyes possessed Katherine in the hotel gym.

Every night around this time for the past week. Is part of Yellow Eyes still in her? Did the Colt not work?

Katherine absently rubs at her chest, almost as if she's thinking about the same thing. The bullet that killed her, the bullet Dean shot.

"We're leaving now," Dean says. "I'll bring her home."

It hurt him to say. Katherine, through her hysterics, seemed shocked too.

"Thank you."

It would be at least a full day before they even crossed the Florida border, but it's a trip Dean was willing to make. Ultimately, Katherine was right, as she usually seemed to be.

It's not fair of him to ask her to leave Charlie for him. For a year.

Maybe this is the first step to moving forward. The first step to his last year. Less than, now.

She sat silently in the back for the greater part of the first day. Dean realized when Sam took over somewhere between Lafayette and New Orleans that Katherine had fallen asleep, curled up in the back with Charlie's hoodie between her crossed arms. Her brow was pinched together like she was thinking too hard about something, and her headphones were all tied in knots near her throat. Dean carefully removed them and paused her music. 

"How're you holding up?" Sam asks.

"I'm tired," Dean grumbles, crossing his arms and leaning back in his seat. "That's why I asked you to take over."

It did cross Sam's mind that Dean rarely let him drive, even if it meant they'd get to their destination faster. He wonders why his older brother is so eager to get her back to Charlie. So willing to expedite their long journey, so willing to give up another night of pretending she isn't someone else's. 

An ultimate sacrifice, in a way. A big one, anyway, for his selfish big brother. 

"You know what I meant."

Dean grunts. Then he takes a big breath and lets it out in a single huff. "She's not mine, Sammy," he murmurs. "If she wants Charlie, who am I to keep her from that?"

Charlie had just gotten off work when they pulled up to his house. He was sitting on the tailgate of his white Ford F-100, swinging his long legs. His beige t-shirt is sweat-stained and has hand-swipes of dirt. His dark brown boots are caked in mud. And his smile is absolutely brilliant when he sees that glossy black Impala, knowing who's inside. 

It makes Dean a little happy. He turns to look at her, seatbelt already unfastened and door open before the car's stopped. 

"Jeez." Sam hits the brakes and Katherine's foot is on pavement, and then she's running to him. Running to Charlie. He slides off the tailgate and she crashes into him. With unsteady balance, he winds his arms around her shoulders, fingers sliding through her hair, and kisses the side of her head. Dean can see her tremble. 

He swallows the lump in his throat and gets out of the car to retrieve her bag. Charlie smiles a thank you at him, slings it over his shoulder, and leads Katherine inside. 

Dean thought she looked over Charlie's arm at him before the door closed. 

Chris was more than happy to have the brothers back in the house for at least a few days. The first thing he did was crack a beer for ear of them and corral the two into the living room. It wasn't until Sophia suggested they might be tired that Chris turned pink and offered profuse apologies.

Sam didn't care one bit. He liked it. Something about this place felt normal. 

Like home.

He wondered if he managed to get his brother out of this shitty demonic deal, this could be the rest of their lives.