Russell wakes up in his own bed for the first time all summer, and one of Katherine's legs is thrown over his.

Turning his head to the right, he catches a rare glimpse of her asleep soundly. She's on her back, arms tucked under her pillow, blonde hair still mostly twisted into two ropes. 

He props himself up on his elbows and drags himself into a seated position, looking over Katherine's leg underneath the duvet, following it to the rest of her body, and up to her face. Peaceful, but she slept like a tornado.

Her lips are parted slightly, forehead free of puckering, eyelids perfectly still...and then they twitch. She's dreaming.

He doesn't remember seeing her dreams last night. She slept well, then. 

Russell leans down to press a kiss to the inside of her elbow, then gently slides out of bed. It's just before seven. He'll wake her soon to get on the road to Georgia. 

After a brief trip to the bathroom and an involuntary reminisce of last night's sexcapade, he ventures to the kitchen and turns two burners on. The morning calls for eggs, bacon, and sausage. He doesn't understand Katherine's adamance for sausage links over breakfast sausage, or even bacon, but he respects it. 

He's long stopped reaching for the stereo on the counter—he's actually forgotten where he's put it—and instead reached for his iPod and his headphones. One out, so he isn't scared shitless if Katherine shows up out of nowhere, and so he can mind the stove. 

While he's waiting for the pans to heat, he turns on ESPN to watch the highlights of yesterday's events. Katherine made fun of him because he never sat down to watch them. She's imitated him a time or two. Standing, scratching his chest, blank stare at the TV.

When he meanders back into the kitchen, he hits shuffle and cranks the music. Give Me One Reason, Tracy Chapman.

Russell smiles in approval. "Can't go wrong with that," he hums, and reaches into the refrigerator. A bright pad of green sticky notes on the counter reminds him.

Assuming she is also very okay with not having a kid soon, he writes:

PLAN B

He smacks it up on the refrigerator and continues with breakfast. But the idea of children intrigues him, and occupies his mind.

What would Anna be like now? Or Katherine's baby? Well, it would be a baby. Dumbass.

A grandfather clock strikes nearby.

Katherine lifts her head from her hands and studies her environment. A big, dark house, with dark furniture. Instantly, her veins turn to ice.

"No," she whimpers. 

Dean moves to stand before her, offering a tight smile, but the worry is overflowing his eyes. "Come here, darlin'."

Somehow, she gets up from the wall. Teary-eyed, arms frozen, she moves towards him and sobs. "No," Katherine wails. 

"Easy does it, old girl," he murmurs into her hair. Having his arms around him is a blessed feeling she's forgotten. It feels so nice, so contrasting with this nightmare. 

"I can't do this again," Katherine whispers. His neck feels so real, wetted by her own tears. "I can't do this again. I can't do this again." Dean shushes her. 

The hounds bay.

Her stomach twists. "No, please!"

In the kitchen, Russell's mind has drifted to grandfather clocks and dogs. An odd optimism fills his chest. 

Even if Katherine's aunt isn't a practicing witch, she has knowledge...right? Maybe she can explain to him how this whole thing works.

"You can see them?" Dean whispers.

"I'm so sorry," Katherine sobs. 

"Ruby, you have to save her." It's a cold, frantic command. 

She's shoved into a room, and she watches Dean spread goofer dust over the threshold. "Your deal went through!" He accuses. "And now it's both of us!" Tears are in his eyes. "It's both of us!" He roars. 

Hands move behind his head, an arm locks around his throat, and he's thrown into the floor.

Blonde hair pulled back into a braid is thrown over her shoulder, and she stands up to her full height before blazing yellow eyes settle on her.

"I've missed you, Kitty," Yellow Eyes purrs. 

A scream rips from Katherine's throat, and the sight of the demon in her body, after so long, paralyzes her. 

Russell jumps at least a foot off of the floor at the sudden shriek in his room. He shoves the pan off of the burner, grabs the butcher knife from the sink, and runs. 

Katherine is pressed up against the wall, five feet in the air, clawing at her throat. 

Russell has no fucking clue what to do. Terror has him frozen. This can't be fucking happening again. Not again. But he can't even see what it is!

Against better judgement, he lunges for Katherine, grabbing at her waist. "Katherine!" Her eyes fly open, and she drops onto him. In his attempt to catch her, he throws his shoulder into the wall. "Are you okay?!" She's hysterical, holding a hand to her throat, eyes searching the room for...whatever. She pushes away from him, "No, no," sobbing. He grabs her by the elbow and pulls her to the doorway, slamming the door shut behind both of them.

She presses her face into his chest and sobs, fingers clutching his arms with unrelenting, abnormal pressure. "No, no, no," she cries. 

✕

Katherine stares out at the two-lane they're taking across Wyoming. If it was up to her, they'd be on the damn highway and not dealing with all of this winding backroad bullshit. 

Russell and his fucking scenic route golden retriever shit.

At least he agreed to take her car. At a meager 13 miles per gallon on a good day, it still beat his truck by at least three gallons. 

And she has a backseat. 

"I levitated?" Katherine asks again.

Russell sighs, left hand gripping the steering wheel. White-knuckling. "Yeah, and it was fucking terrifying," he says, not meeting her gaze. Her eyes trail down his arm, where a red mark in the shape of her thumb is turning darker by the minute. 

She hurt him, and she doesn't even remember it.

"I thought..." Russell clears his throat. "I thought it was all happening again, but...with something else."

Katherine looks away from him. "I'm sorry," she murmurs. "You know how to deal with demons, right?"

Russell gives her a wild look. "I don't go anywhere near a fucking demon."

"Fair enough."

"Why are we talking about demons?"

"The Donovan Family Special, remember?" Katherine hums. "It wouldn't hurt to know how to deal with one, since you're, uh...not planning on leaving me." She looks at him with furrowed brows. "You're still not planning on leaving me, right?"

Russell throws her a dry look, and she smiles in return. 

"You know the one thing I just can't do?" She asks.

"What's that?" He asks, mildly humored. 

"Cockroaches." Russell laughs. "They fuckin' freak me out, man." Katherine tightly crosses her arms over her chest. "Thinking about one makes me nauseas!"

"What would you do if one of your nightmares had cockroaches?"

Katherine groans, rolling her head back. "I might die in my sleep," she decides. 

"I know CPR," he hums, reaching for her knee with his freehand. "How'd you come across this hunk of metal anyway?" 

"She isn't a hunk of metal," Katherine admonishes, and reaches over to pet the dashboard. "She's a lovely young lady. And she was my mom's. Her dad's before that. I never knew him. He died a few years after he came back from Vietnam."

"That's tragic."

"Eh." She picks at her thumbnail. "Well, yes, of course. But he went to "get a pack of smokes" and got hit by a car."

"What's with the air quotes?" 

"I mean, he had his birth certificate and his social security card and a wallet full of cash." Katherine shrugs. "He was making a run for it."

"Was he sick?"

"Probably, all that fuckin' Agent Orange bullshit," she hums. 

"You have the most tragic backstory," Russell sighs.

She sighs, too, thumping her head against the headrest. "I deserve a fuckin' break, right?"

"Right." He carefully slaps his hand on her thigh, and with each following word. "That's why we retired."

Katherine squints at him. "You don't retire from demons. You know that, right?"

Russell looks at her greenly. "Fan-fuckin-tastic."

Driving through Wyoming was a catastrophic bore, aside from the ever-marvel of the presence of mountains. No music, no signs to play an alphabet game. 

Katherine's knees bounce as she stares at the stereo. In one quick movement, she turns the volume knob and sits back in her chair, like Russell didn't see her move. He stares at her wildly, the sound of music coming from the stereo totally foreign.

"Eyes on the road!" Katherine cries. Russell snaps his eyes forward. "Stop. I can feel you judging."

"I just..." Russell shrugs. "Did not think you'd be one to listen to Dokken."

Katherine turns a sour expression towards him. "What about me suggests I didn't listen to Dokken?"

A smile twitches at the corner of his mouth. "I'm just...trying to picture you head banging."

"Yeah? How's that goin for ya?"

"I might need a demonstration."

At just after nine hours on the road, they're only in fucking Nebraska. Katherine took over just outside Kearney, and realized grimly that there was still a whole twenty hours of road time before they got to Georgia. 

Road tripping with Russell isn't so bad. It's kind of the best. He isn't pressing to make good time on the drive like she feels pressure to do, he's cracking jokes, rolling with her punches, singing. He woke up singing to the song on the radio somewhere in Illinois, when they switched again.

"Last switch before we get a hotel room, KT," Russell said. 

They pass familiar exits along the stretch of highway she and the Winchesters paraded countless times. Carbondale, Evansville...Cape Girardeau.

She remembers Cassie, an old flame of Dean's, and wonders what she's up to now. Hopefully, still sticking it to powerful men. 

They stop just over the Kentucky border for much-needed time in a bed. She almost forgot how tiresome it is, driving for hours on end. Force of the car on the road, force of the road on the car, into your body...blah, blah, blah.

"We should've just flown," Katherine mutters, resting her head on the pillow.

"Can't say I don't agree with you," Russell sighs, welcoming the feeling of Katherine shifting closer to him. Her fingertips curl into a loose fist over his stomach, careful to keep her hands from his healing side. 

"Did I say how simultaneously hot and disgusting it is that your side's all stitched up?" She asks into his skin. A deep chuckle rumbles in his chest, and she cracks a grin. "Scars are hot. But I know how to get rid of 'em if they're not your thing."

"If you think it's sexy, why would I want to get rid of it?"

She hums. "Maybe you have body image issues."

Russell scoffs. "I do not have body image issues."

"Well excuse the fuck out of me, Mister Secure-In-My-Own-Body."

He frowns in the darkness. "Are you not?"

"Being a collegiate athlete at a young age...seriously had detrimental effects on my development." She throws her leg around one of his. "So no, I wasn't. But then I liked looking strong. It made me a better hunter."

Russell kisses her head and sighs. "I'm glad you told me." Then he frowns. "You were a collegiate athlete?"

"Can we talk about my college life in the car tomorrow?"