This hunt had not gone according to plan. Kat had never gone up against a wendigo before, but she'd thought they'd had a good shot. It was three to one, right? Sure, wendigos were fast, with super strength and sharpened hunting skills, but the three of them had a decent amount of experience under their belts.

Oh how wrong she'd been.

Now, hanging from her wrists in some abandoned bear cave in Wisconsin, she'd wished she'd done a little more reading. She was sure that Sam and Dean would find her. It was more a question of how soon. Three days and she'd be dead from dehydration. And that was if she didn't suffocate first.

Summoning her strength, Kat pulled herself up. She took a few deep breaths, as many as she could before her arms gave out again. Then she had to slowly let herself down again. It was excruciating, but she had to be careful. The only thing that could make this worse would be dislocating her arms being hasty.

A low growl echoed from deep in the cave.

Correction: the only thing that could make this worse would be being eaten.

Something was shuffling down the cave. Kat hoisted herself up for another deep breath, preparing to fight. Her brain kicked into overdrive. No matter how many times she thought it over, she couldn't think of a single scenario where she came out on top in this fight. She said a quick prayer, hoping Castiel might swoop into the rescue. But it didn't come to that.

The shuffling something came close enough for her eyes to make out in the dark. Kat sighed in relief.

"Thank fuck."

"No. Thank Dean."

"Fuck you."

"Nice to see you too, princess."

He was covered in dirt and scratches. He still managed to smirk as he hurried over to her, pulling his pocket knife from his pocket.

"A little gratitude wouldn't hurt, you know," he offered as he got to work on her bindings. "A little 'Hi, honey, how was your day?'"

"Oh, bite me."

Another growl echoed from the cave's depths, making both of them pause.

"Probably not a good choice of words," said Dean.

"Go! Go, go, go, go…"

"I'm going! I'm going!"

Dean sawed vigorously at her restraints, and with a few more cuts, Kat fell free. She collapsed heavily into Dean's arms. She wanted to stand on her own, but her legs only buckled beneath her.

"Hey, hey, you good?" Dean pushed her hair out of her face. "You okay?"

"I'll live," Kat groaned, "assuming we make it out of here."

"Can you walk?"

"I don't think so."

"Okay, can you shoot?"

"Probably not."

"Fine," Dean sighed. "Hold on tight, Daphne."

"What—Dean, no!"

Kat whined in protest as Dean scooped her up into his arms. Unfortunately, she was still too weak to fight back.

"Yeah, I know," he grunted, heading toward the mouth of the cave. "You're no damsel, you can take care of yourself, whatever. You can kick the crap out of me later."

A guttural roar cut off Kat's snappy reply. She twisted to look over Dean's shoulder, desperately scanning the shadows for movement. But there was nothing. The way wendigos moved, by the time she found it they'd probably already be dead.

"Dean?" Sam's voice echoed down to them.

"I got her!" Dean called back. "Little help?"

Sam's footsteps were growing closer. But so was something else.

Kat caught the slightest glimpse of motion out of the corner of her eye.

"Dean…"

"Sammy!"

"Get down!"

Dean dropped, diving to the side of the cave and shielding Kat's body with his own. Kat heard the roar of flames, and then an ear-splitting shriek. Dean rolled off of her before the show was over. Sam was wielding a homemade flamethrower, still spraying fire at the wendigo. It thrashed back and forth, its flesh disintegrating into embers. It finally collapsed in a smoldering pile. Its screams echoed eerily through the cave even after it was dead.

Sam dropped the flamethrower back to his side, breathing heavily. Dean couldn't resist a grin.

"Yippee ki yay, motherfucker."

"No," Kat snorted. "You do not get to say that."

"Excuse me?"

"You didn't fucking kill it! If anyone's John McClane, it's Sam."

"Oh—Oh my God. Did you actually understand that reference?" Dean's jaw dropped, and he laid a hand on his chest. "Sweetheart. I am so proud of you."

Kat kicked him. Hard.

"Ow! Ha, well, her legs are working."

"You two okay?" asked Sam.

He bent down, helping Kat to her feet. She was still unsteady, but he wrapped an arm around her waist to support her. Kat cradled her arms against her chest and rubbed at her wrists.

"All good," Dean assured, hopping back to his feet. He pouted thoughtfully at the burning carcass. "Was the flare gun cooler? I feel like the flare gun was cooler."

"Definitely," Sam agreed. "But it's also easier to miss."

"Eh. I guess. But the light, and the sparks! It just makes it so –"

"Can we discuss this later?" Kat pleaded. "Preferably away from the smell of barbecued wendigo?"

Dean mocked her, but picked up her discarded backpack. The side had been torn open by the wendigo's claws, the contents in danger of falling out. Juggling her wounded pack with his own weapons bag, he led the way out of the cave.

The dense woods had seemed intimidating when they'd first arrived. Now that the hunt was over, Kat could appreciate her surroundings a bit more. She tilted her head back, allowing Sam to guide her as she looked up at the trees. California didn't get foliage like this. She might've hated the cold, but she could understand why people liked living up north.

She was so busy looking up that she managed to trip herself on a tree root.

"Whoa," Sam grunted, his arm tightening around her waist. "You sure you're okay, Kat?"

"Yeah, sorry. I was just looking around. You know, without the five-hundred-year-old cannibal creature, this place is pretty beautiful."

Dean laughed, and looked over his shoulder with a cheeky grin. "You know what else is beautiful?"

"Dude," Sam snorted, shaking his head.

"Vegas, baby!" Dean whooped and began gleefully weaving back and forth between the trees. "Make the drive in two days, we'll be just in time for the weekend rush."

"No way," said Kat. "I'm not going to Vegas."

"Aw, come on, Kat. We deserve a break. What've you got against Vegas?"

"I've got nothing against Vegas. I just don't want to go to Vegas with you."

"Please," Dean scoffed. "I'll have you know that in Vegas, I behave with the utmost style and class."

"And only in Vegas? That explains a lot."

Dean flipped her off without pausing his stride, making Kat snicker.

"I don't think Vegas is a good idea," said Sam.

"Sammy," Dean groaned. "You're killing me, smalls. I knew Kat was gonna be a buzzkill, but not you."

"It's not safe, Dean. We're supposed to be keeping an eye on Kat. Vegas has way too many people. Anyone could get to her."

"Counterpoint," Dean offered, "more people means it's easier for us to blend in. Demons can't catch her if they can't find her."

"Yeah, or we won't be able to find her, and someone could get hurt."

"Meh. I'm willing to take that chance."

Sam and Kat gave him equally withering looks, and he huffed.

"Fine, whatever. Our last trip to Vegas was a bust, anyway."

"Like you lost a lot of money?" asked Kat. "Or like you got married by Elvis?"

"You know, it's actually not as bad as it sounds. Some of those chapels are straight up ritzy."

Kat tripped over her own feet, and Sam had to steady her again. She bit back a groan, hoping that no one had noticed. But no dice. Dean was already looking over his shoulder, all kinds of smug.

"Don't worry, sweetheart. I was a witness, not a groom. Wonder how Al and Chantelle are doin' these days."

Kat glowered. It was probably safer if she focused on her footing for the rest of the hike.

They managed to make it back to the cars without adding insult to injury. Kat had insisted on taking her own car, even when the Winchesters reminded her that it wasn't necessary. Now that she was faced with the long drive, she was regretting her stubbornness. Her arms felt ready to detach at the shoulders.

Thankfully, the boys seemed to read her mind. Sam walked her right around to the passenger side and opened the door for her.

"Hey Dean, do you have…?"

"Keys," he confirmed, pulling the Prius keys out of her bag. "Yeah, I got 'em. I can drive her."

"Ha," Sam laughed. "Nice try, dude."

Dean stopped short, looking shifty. "Excuse me?"

"You're not driving Kat," said Sam. "You take her car, make a break for Nevada, she can't stop you cause she's hurt and I can't stop you cause I'm in the Impala."

"For the record, that was not even remotely on my mind."

"Sure. Just give me the keys, man."

Dean pouted, but handed them over. He trudged over to the Impala, grumbling something about how their last trip to Vegas had been a bust anyway.

Kat had trouble getting settled in the passenger seat. It was a production to fasten her seatbelt without hurting her sore arms. Sam wasn't having much better luck. The Prius was small, and his knees were painfully cradling the steering wheel. Kat enjoyed watching him struggle to move the seat back. She was still watching in amusement as he pulled jerkily onto the road.

"What?" Sam asked, once he'd familiarized himself with the controls.

"Nothing," said Kat. "I mean, it's not that big a deal if we go to Vegas, you know."

"Oh, what? Now you wanna go?"

"God, no. I've never gone to Vegas voluntarily. But Dean's right. It's been a weird couple weeks, we deserve a break. If you two need to—I don't know—blow off steam, then I get it."

"Kat," Sam sighed. "I was serious about what I said before. Your safety…"

"Comes first, I know," she finished. "I just don't know how much good these safety precautions are really doing anyone."

"Wha…? Excuse me?"

Sam gaped at her, already well past affronted. Kat pursed her lips, trying to find words to explain without offending him any further.

"Look, I get that you're worried about me. I'm worried too. But the tattoo and the hex bags take care of the demons. And the angels are gonna find me one way or another. That's just a matter of time. I don't think there's anything we can do about that."

"Yeah," said Sam, "but that doesn't mean you should run around making it easier for them."

"Well I don't want to stop living my life in the meantime."

"Right, cause that's you living your life," he chuckled. "You in Vegas."

Kat grinned, staring out the window. It was true. She'd never been a Vegas girl. She'd been dragged into the city a handful of times—bachelorette party, girls night, concerts. She was never really interested in what Vegas had to offer. For Kat, it was about the people you made the trip with.

She pursed her lips, looking out to the horizon.

"I wish I could visit Marcus."

"Kat," Sam sighed.

"I know I can't," she assured him. "Even if there weren't angels and demons waiting for me at his house, there'd probably be cops. I just wish that I could."

Sam relaxed and nodded in sympathy.

"Did he go into the city a lot?"

"Ha. No. Marcus hated people, and there are way too many of them in Vegas. All of them depressed addicts and desperate wannabes."

"Harsh," Sam chuckled.

"Yeah, that was Marcus. But he dragged me in a couple times, after a hunt or something."

"To remind you what you were saving," Sam finished sagely.

"Uh, no. For buffet food and good booze."

They laughed. Kat stretched her sore muscles, trying to make herself more comfortable in the seat and her predicament.

"Look, I may not like it, but I know that Vegas is like a hunter's paradise. Gambling, alcohol, sleazy motels. I can make some money on poker, and you and Dean can get laid."

Sam cleared his throat, suddenly looking shifty. "I don't need to get laid, thank you."

"Oh." Kat slyly looked out the corner of her eye. "So things are going well with Ruby, I take it."

It would have been worth it even if Sam crashed the car. His head snapped toward her so fast that he must've pulled something in his neck. He yelped, and clapped one hand to his head while the other fumbled with the steering wheel. Kat just snickered, even as the car swerved and she grabbed the handle above the window.

"That—That is not what I meant," Sam insisted.

"Relax, Sam. I do know how to joke."

Sam chuckled, but it was the wheezy, nervous kind that betrayed that he didn't believe her. Kat waited for him to rush into some half-assed explanation or excuse. When he didn't, she pushed on.

"Can I ask you a question?" she asked. "Do you two go on like, real dates? Or is it just missions, training sessions and sex?"

"I am so not answering that," Sam said dryly.

"I'm not trying to judge. I'm just curious. I mean, is Ruby even her real name?"

"Katherine," Sam sighed.

"No, seriously," Kat interrupted. "I want to know. Is it just the name of the first vessel she took? Is it something remembers from being human? Is it shortened from her demonic name? Did she just throw a dart and choose? Come on!"

"We are so not having this conversation."

Sam grimaced and turned on the stereo, effectively drowning out her protests.

It was a relief to get back to her motel room. Kat stripped and immediately got in the shower. The hot water soothed her aching muscles, and it was good to feel clean after so many hours hiking in the woods. She was thoroughly exhausted. All she wanted to do was pour herself a drink, climb into bed, and pass the fuck out.

But her life, as always, seemed to have other plans.

She'd just fished the whiskey out of her bag when there was a knock on her door. Kat peeked out the door and deflated. Winchesters always had impeccable timing.

"What do you want, Sam?"

She only opened the door a few inches, but he somehow managed to squeeze his massive body inside anyway. He smiled at her, looked around the room, stuffed his hands in his pockets, all a little too quickly to be casual.

"Hey, so—so what are you up to?"

"Well, I was going to go sleep," Kat said flatly, "but I have a feeling that's no longer an option."

Sam grimaced.

"Dean called. He went to go pick up dinner and the card declined. So we gotta go, like, now."

"Oh, come on," she groaned. "Sam, I got kidnapped today. Is it that much to ask that I get to sleep on a mattress?"

"Sorry. Better safe than sorry."

He picked up her bag and car keys without invitation and walked back into the hall. Kat held her tongue, but stomped her feet in frustration. Without much of a choice, she collected her things and stormed off after him.

Sam insisted of driving again, something that only annoyed Kat even more. He and Dean had agreed on the coordinates of an acceptable clearing where they could spend the night. Kat wasn't looking forward to it. But, as Sam had reminded her, the Prius would be more comfortable than a jail cell when they got busted for using a fake credit card.

"You know," she huffed, once they'd finally joined Dean on the lake shoreline. "There's no reason for me to run from the cops. I paid for my room with real money. I should be able to go back and sleep on a real bed."

Sam gave her an exasperated look of disappointment. Dean, on the other hand, just laughed.

"Sweetheart, if I get arrested, I am absolutely bringing you down with me."

"I'm not the one with the bum card, Dean."

"Yeah, well you ain't trying to stop me from using it, are you? That's conspiracy to commit fraud. Of course, that's on top of aiding and abetting two known fugitives. I'm sure you'd get a couple years for that, at least."

"And they wonder what happened to chivalry," Kat scoffed.

"Hey," he said, with his best charming smile. "I paid for dinner, right?"

He opened the back door of the Impala with a flourish, and began pulling out brown paper bags. It looked like too much food for three people. Kat had to keep reminding herself that Sam and Dean were essentially bottomless pits.

Sam peered inside one of the bags Dean passed to him.

"Is this…potato salad?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. "Macaroni salad, coleslaw—lemonade?"

"And?" Dean challenged, still unloading the car. "What, you got something against lemonade?"

"No," Sam laughed. "Guess I'm just waiting for the checkered blanket and picnic basket."

"First off, it's pic-a-nic basket. Did Yogi Bear teach you nothing? Second, what's so wrong with a picnic?"

"Nothing," said Sam. He still look bemused. "I'm fine with picnics, just…lemonade, dude?"

"Relax. You can spike it with vodka. We got beer, wine, whatever."

"Wine?" Kat fished a bottle out of one of the bags, smirking. "Gee, what's the occasion?"

"No occasion," Dean said innocently. "I just thought we'd try something a little different. We got sandwiches. We got booze, a gorgeous lake, good tunes. And since we're not allowed to go to Vegas…"

He reached into his pocket, pulling out a fresh deck of cards.

"I'm bringing Vegas to us. Couldn't snag Siegfried and Roy, though."

"Oh, uh…" Kat eyed the deck of cards. "I don't know about that."

"What?" Dean asked with a smirk. "Afraid you'll lose?"

"No," she replied stoutly. "I'm just thinking that gambling might be a bad idea for you two. We just had to ditch our motel because your card is broke."

"How do you think I bought dinner? I've keep a stash of emergency cash just for times like these."

"So you can lose at poker?"

Dean laughed at her determination. He passed the last dinner bag to Sam, who was setting up space for them to eat. Dean closed up the car, then eased the wine bottle out of Kat's hands. He leaned in shamelessly to taunt her.

"Dinner first. It's only polite, since I'm about to beat your ass."

And with an infuriating wink, he turned to join Sam by the water. Kat stared after him, floundering. It took her a few seconds to regain her composure. She was not going to give Dean Winchester the upper hand.

Despite Sam's reservations, dinner was actually really nice. Kat fished a blanket out of the back of the Prius so they could all sit on the ground—a real traditional picnic. Dean must've swept the shelves of an entire deli with all the food he'd brought. Chips and cookies and deli salads, on top of about eight different kinds of sandwiches. Kat savored her turkey club with honey mustard, humming along to the music Dean had pumping from the Impala. She looked out over the lake, enjoying the breeze in her hair. If she closed her eyes, she could almost pretend she was at the beach. It almost felt like being home.

They ate and talked until the sun set. Then Sam broke out a camping lantern he found in the trunk of the Impala, and Dean tore into his fresh deck of cards.

Jo had warned Kat that all hunters knew how to play poker. And since Sam and Dean had grown up in the life, it came as no surprise that they were good at it. Like, really good.

Kat played it overly safe for the first several rounds. She wanted to hang back and get a feel for how the Winchesters played the game. She knew Sam was doing the same. He was the kind of guy who could calculate the odds, memorize hands. He folded more often than not, and only played through when he knew he could win. And when he won, he won big. Which meant, for the most part, the money was just flowing back and forth between him and Dean.

Dean played a little more fast and loose. Again, not a big surprise. He liked taking risks and making big bets, just to see what he could get out of the game. He was a shit talker too, just like in every other aspect of his life. He threw insults left and right, boasted constantly about his own skills, and left the music blasting in his car. It was grating, but Kat kept her poker face set. She knew he was doing it to distract her, trying to annoy her into making a mistake. But she wasn't going to let him.

They played for hours, all of them still drinking. Sam had gone through a six pack on his own, and Kat had drained the bottle of wine. Dean was drinking lemonade, though to his credit, he'd spiked it with vodka. The more they drank, the higher the stakes got, and the more annoying Dean seemed to get.

After one particularly bad round for Sam, Dean ragged on him so much that Sam decided he was done playing.

"What?" Dean demanded. "Dude, you've still got money!"

"Yeah," Sam scoffed. "And I'd like to keep it, thanks."

"No. No way. You play until you're broke. Thems the rules."

"Dean, we split everything anyway. I'm tired, and you're being a dick."

"He's not wrong," Kat agreed.

Dean mocked her with a pissy face, and grumbled into his drink. "Whatever, losers."

Sam rolled his eyes. He must've had a higher tolerance for Dean's attitude, because he collected the cards and began shuffling the deck.

"I'll deal for Kat," he said flatly. "One round, and then I'm going to bed."

And that's what had landed Kat here—tipsy on a lake shore, playing poker in the dark, staring blankly at the three of hearts and the seven of clubs. For all intents and purposes, she was fucked.

Dean sat across from her, looking down his nose at his cards. The dark was working in his favor. It was hard to sus out any flaws in his poker face. He looked at Kat a bit longer than he had in the previous hands. When he lowered his hand, it was with an unaffected shrug.

"Knock to the lady," he said, tapping on the blanket.

If Kat had been any less of a professional, she would've raised an eyebrow. Dean had spent the whole night betting everything he had to his name. Doing nothing was more of a tell than anything else.

She nodded to Sam, who began laying cards out on the blanket. One face down and then—four of diamonds, six of spades, and five of diamonds.

Kat didn't even blink. Inside, she was screaming. There were dozens of angels and demons who were hunting her down, but she must've had someone on her side. She might actually be able to pull this off after all.

Dean was watching her, his face equally blank. They stared at each other. Neither of them moved, neither of them spoke. Eventually Sam had to clear his throat, looking between them.

"Uh, Dean? Bet?"

Dean pursed his lips. He shook his fist loosely, jingling his handful of bullets. Then he shrugged, and tossed one next to the cards.

"Five."

Oh, Dean, Dean, Dean. Kat kept her smile on lockdown. Dean was a big better. The only reason for him to stay so quiet and start so small would be to ensure a bigger win. Which meant he was confident he could get a bigger win. But unless the game was fixed, she doubted he had anything better than she did.

Kat frowned, and tossed a bullet next to Dean's. "I'll see that."

"Oh wow," Dean shot, rolling his eyes. "You're a real risk taker, huh? Thanks so much."

Kat glared at him, and dropped another bullet into the pile. Dean grinned, and dropped in two more. Kat paused, weighing her own bullets in her hand, and giving Dean time to grin.

"Come on, Kit Kat," he offered. "Fifteen bucks. It's like, one bottle of wine."

Playing up her reluctance, she dropped one more bullet into the pile.

"See?" said Dean, still grinning. "You just gotta loosen up. Poker can be fun."

Kat chose not respond. She nodded to Sam, who placed the next cards down. One face down, and the ace of spades.

Dean stayed frozen, which told Kat all she needed to know. He was probably freaking out on the inside, and scared to tip her off. Chances were he had two aces, which was a good hand. But it wouldn't be enough to beat her straight.

True to form, Dean dropped a shotgun shell into the pile.

"Raise twenty."

Kat didn't move. She stared at the cards, and even let her eyes flick back to the remaining deck in Sam's hands. Dean took it as a good sign.

"God," he groaned, letting his head drop against his chest. "I said I wanted to go to Vegas, Kat. Not a Chucky Cheese."

"And what is that supposed to mean?" she snapped.

"It means this is child's play. Thirty-five dollars and you ground out at first. Keep playing like this and I'll bleed you dry one twenty at a time."

"Shut the fuck up. And can you turn down the music? I'm trying to concentrate."

"No," he shot back. "It's thirty-five dollars, Kat. What happened to 'I pay with real money cause I have a real job'?"

"Fine!" She threw two shot gun rounds into the pot. "Match and raise ten."

"Twenty."

"Thirty!"

Dean smiled, adding to the pile. "What do you say we just make it an even hundred, huh?"

"Dean," Sam warned.

"Shut up, Sam," Kat spat. "Fine. A hundred."

"That was pretty quick," said Dean. "Impending Apocalypse got you feeling gutsy?"

"No, but my salary does," Kat replied. "You're right. I've got a real job, and you scam credit card companies for a living. So you can bet all the money you want. Cause even out here, I'm still making a paycheck."

He considered her for a moment, his smug smile still in place. He ran a thumb along the edge of his cards. With his other hand, he rolled around his remaining ammunition.

"You know, Tink, you got a point," he sighed. "Money's not an issue for you. So how about we raise the stakes with something else?"

A genuine look of panic flitted across Kat's face before she could stop it.

"I'm not taking off my clothes," she said firmly, and he laughed.

"Hey, I've got other interests in my life than naked women. What do you say I raise you fifty more, and if I win, you have to wash my car?"

"…that's it?"

"Hey, it's an intensive process," he assured her. "You've gotta wash, polish, wax, shine. Get the wheels, clean the seats and floors…"

"Yeah, I know how to clean, Dean."

"Are you sure? Cause your car usually looks like crap."

"Whatever," she huffed as she dropped in the bullets. "You win, I'll wash the Impala."

"And I get to watch, of course."

Kat glowered at his self-satisfied smirk. "In your dreams."

"All the time," he chuckled. "But if you think you're touching my car without supervision, then you're the one who's dreaming."

Kat looked over the cards again. A straight was good, but it wasn't perfect. But as far as she could see, the only way Dean could beat her was if the next card was an ace, and the chances of that were…well, she didn't know the exact probability, but she knew it wasn't good. Unless she'd read him wrong with the aces, in which case it could be any other duplicate too. She'd seen Dean bluff before, but she'd also seen him pretend to bluff when he knew he had it in the bag. She didn't want to underestimate him and end up like Sam.

"Come on, Kat," Dean taunted. "Shoot your shot."

Kat looked out over the water again and bit her lip.

"Alright," she said. "You win, I will wash the Impala while you watch. But if I win, you have to go for a swim."

Dean cocked an eyebrow, following her gaze to the lake.

"Why? You think I'm afraid of a little water?"

"No. But I think it's gonna be cold as hell, and you're not gonna have your jacket."

The bastard didn't even have to consider it.

"You got yourself a deal. Sammy, hit it."

Sam seemed to have caught on to what was happening. He gave his brother a pitying look, and laid out the last two cards: face down, king of hearts.

Kat relaxed. No duplicates, no tripled suits. She was almost certainly in the clear.

Dean took a handful of shotgun shells and threw them into the pile. Kat snorted.

"I thought this wasn't about money anymore."

"It's not," he said. "But so long as you've got such a cushioned bank account, I might as well make it worth my while."

"Uh huh." Kat pushed in a slightly larger pile of ammunition. "Well, I hate to take advantage of your non-existent bank account, but I'm sure you understand."

"Of course," Dean agreed with mock sincerity.

"Kat," Sam tried this time. "I don't think—"

"Let the woman place her bet, Sammy," Dean interrupted. "If she thinks she can beat a Winchester at poker, then I say let her try!"

"Try?" Kat echoed derisively.

"Hey, it's no shame, sweetheart. I've been playing this game a lot longer than you have."

"You don't know that."

"Oh, right. I'm sure your mother, the retired nurse, is a real shark."

"Don't bring my mother into this!"

"You're right, I'm—I'm sorry. Your mother is genuinely terrifying. I'm sure she's better at poker than you are."

Dean winked at her again, and Kat's jaw dropped. He really wanted to go out with a bang.

Well. If he wanted a big finish, she'd give him a big finish.

"Hey, Dean?" she asked innocently. "How long would you say it takes to clean the Impala?"

"At least an hour. For you, I'll make it two."

"Well, then it only seems fair that you should be in the water for just as long."

"Seriously?" Dean laughed in disbelief. "Fine. You have to wash the car in a bikini."

"Then you have to swim naked."

"Guys!" Sam raised his hands, ignoring their protests. "Just take it down a notch, okay? That water is probably close to freezing. Dean goes in for three minutes. And there will be no bathing suits."

"I'll take that action," Dean agreed. "Kat?"

Kat pursed her lips. Then she pushed in all her bullets. "All in."

Dean gave her a wolfish smile, and followed suit. "All in."

"Wow." Sam shook his head, amused grin beginning to show. "Okay. Show 'em."

Dean threw his cards down on the blanket. Kat had been right—ace of hearts and ace of clubs.

"Triple aces! Bang, bang and bang!"

He threw his arms out in victory, tilting his head back and laughing into the sky. Kat just shook her head. She looked over her cards one last time, savoring the suspense.

"Aw, don't be mad, Kat." Dean was already starting to sweep the ammunition to his side of the blanket. "I know Sammy said no bathing suit, but you can wear Daisy Dukes if you want."

"I'm not mad, Dean," said Kat. She finally allowed herself to smile. "Just disappointed."

She laid her cards flat. Sam laughed, giving her a slow clap as Dean stopped chasing bullets. He looked down at her cards, perplexed.

"What are you talking about?"

"Straight shooting. Hope Baby's heater is working alright."

Dean stared down at the cards. He sat up very quickly, snatching her cards and sifting through the flop between them. He did a double take at the first three. It looked like reality was finally setting in.

"You're joking."

"Nope," Kat said happily. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but I do believe I just beat a Winchester at poker."

"Sorry, Dean," Sam chuckled. "She's not wrong."

"No," Dean demanded. "No, no, what she is, is lucky. That's dumb luck. I want a rematch."

"Hey, no arguments here," Kat agreed. "I'd be happy to rematch another day, but a deal's a deal. Let me know how the water is."

She beamed, collecting the bullets and beginning to sort them into piles.

Dean was fuming. He looked out over the lake, the reality of his agreement finally setting in. He shuddered in advance of the cold, only dragging himself to his feet after several seconds of mental preparation.

"Fine," he grumbled. "You two suck anyway. You think I can't handle a little cold water? I just got hit by a minivan. I just got out of Hell. Fuck your water."

He shrugged out of his leather jacket, and began buttoning up his flannel. Kat cleared her throat.

"What exactly do you think you're doing?"

"Getting ready to jump in this stupid lake! What does it look like I'm doing?"

"It looks like you're still wearing clothes."

"Obviously I'm still wearing my clothes. You said no jacket."

"I said naked."

Dean gaped at her. "Wha—No! No, I never agreed to that!"

"Sure you did."

"No, cause Sam said—"

"The only detraction Sam made was that you could only go in for three minutes. He didn't say anything against you being naked."

"Yeah! That's because it was never on the table in the first place!"

Kat turned to Sam for confirmation, but he was already holding up his hands.

"Oh no, I—I don't wanna be in the middle of this."

"Wimp," Kat accused, rolling her eyes. "Fine, how about this? You go in naked, I knock thirty seconds off your time."

"No! What do you think I—? I don't want to—just no!"

"Sixty seconds," Kat offered. "You go in for one minute, and I get bragging rights."

Dean huffed, his hands clenching into fists. For several seconds, he looked back and forth between her predatory grin and the cold, unforgiving water. He glanced at Sam only to find that his brother was still pointedly ignoring the conversation happening around him. He wouldn't push Dean into it, but he definitely wasn't giving any support.

"You know," said Dean, with a half-hearted smile, "if you wanted to see me naked, all you had to do was ask."

Kat raised her eyebrows, but her smirk never faltered. Dean withered, and after a few more seconds of pouting, finally relented.

"Sixty seconds?" he confirmed.

"Sixty seconds," Kat agreed.

"From the moment I drop my drawers."

"From the moment you hit the water."

Dean stamped, wiping a hand down his face. "You're one cold-hearted bitch, you know that?"

"Actually, I believe you're the one who's about to be cold," she countered. "Less complaining. More stripping."

Dean shifted uncomfortably. It actually looked like he might be self-conscious. Then he unbuttoned his flannel, cursing under his breath.

Kat watched with a carefully composed face as Dean ripped off the flannel, as he grabbed his T-shirt and tugged it over his head. He tossed them both carelessly on the ground, angrier than he was concerned about keeping them clean. He toed off his shoes, peeled off his socks. When he started working on his belt, she had to look away.

She hadn't spoken about their time at Sandover. She hadn't even written about it in her journal. Putting down her thoughts in any concrete form seemed like a terrible, terrible idea. If Kat did that, she'd have to solidify them, and make a decision about the vague memories and ideas that had been swirling around her head.

Her go-to defense was that it hadn't really been them. She and Dean hadn't flirted for three weeks and set up a dinner date. Katherine Marlin and Dean Smith had. Katherine Marlin had been an advanced track student who graduated early, gone to UCLA for undergrad and done an NBA at Stanford. That definitely wasn't Kat. Dean Smith had enjoyed golf, watched Project Runway, and abstained from carbs. That most definitely wasn't Dean.

The angels had dropped them in a different world with different histories and totally different circumstances. Anything she might've felt in that life…well, it might have been real…but it didn't translate to her real life.

…and yet…

Images shot through her head like a montage. Dean in his undershirt, arms bare. Katherine rolling up his sleeves. Dean stammering to ask her out. Katherine kissing his cheek and suppressing her own shivers in the rain…

Dean's belt jingled as his jeans hit the ground. Kat grabbed her phone, desperate for something to keep her busy.

"Hey!" Dean barked. "Uh-uh. No. You don't get to take any pictures."

"Relax, prude. I have to time you."

Kat chanced a glance up. Sam was looking resolutely into his lap, his hands up like blinders even as he laughed at his brother's expense. Dean was down to his boxer briefs. His hands hesitated at the elastic, his eyes shooting between Kat and the water.

Kat swallowed her thoughts and feelings. She threw Dean an easy smile, and tilted her head toward the lake.

"Come on, Dean," she taunted. "Shoot your shot."

Dean rolled his eyes and dropped his hands.

"I'm taking these off over there," he argued, pointing to the shoreline. "You ain't getting an eyeful for free."

Kat snickered, holding up her hands in surrender. Dean marched to the shoreline, which was separated from the grass by a metal barrier. It made him stop again. Hands on the railing, he bounced on the balls of his feet.

Sam turned around to look at his brother's silhouette, smirking.

"I can't believe you got him to do this."

"A man's pride is a delicate thing," Kat sighed. "You best hope you never lose to me, Sam."

"Oh, trust me. I'm smarter than that."

"Good. You got your camera ready?"

"What?" Sam wrinkled his nose. "Why the hell would I want a picture of this?"

"Proof? Blackmail? Christmas card? Anyway, Dean said I couldn't take pictures. Not you."

Sam shook his head at her. He may have been exasperated, but he still pulled out his phone.

"Dean's right. You are one cold-hearted bitch."

"Don't call women bitches, Sam," Kat scolded. She turned back to the lake. "Hey, bitch! Get moving!"

Dean flipped her off without turning around. She watched his shoulders heave as he took a deep breath. As Dean went for his underwear, she clamped her eyes shut. Still she could hear him muttering.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck…"

SPLASH!

Kat started the timer. She sprang out of her seat, running to the barrier just as Dean resurfaced. The water was shallow, but it was still dark enough for him to preserve his modesty. His vulgarity was another story.

"Motherfucker!" he screeched into the sky, arms wrapped tight around his torso. "Oh, motherfucker that's cold! Fuck! Holy fucking shit!"

"Let it out, Dean!" Kat called. "It'll keep you focused!"

"Oh no! You just shut your trap, you fucking bitch! I—Oh holy shit, I am going—I am going to get you b-back for this—shhhit!"

"Uh-huh," she said, glancing at her phone. "I'm sure you will. Forty seconds."

"F-Forty? You've gotta be—towel! Is there—? Can somebody get a towel ready for when I get out?"

"I got you, dude," said Sam. He lifted the towel up in one hand for Dean to see. In the other, he was holding up his cell phone.

Dean's pained face became even more panicked.

"Is that—? No! Turn it off! Turn it off, you son of a bitch!"

"Say hi!" Kat sang, and waved into the camera. "This is Dean paying the price for being an overconfident jackass!"

"How you feeling, Dean?" Sam called.

"Cold, you fucking traitor! Cold and angry!"

"Aw," Kat said with a pout. "He's upset."

"Goddamnit Kat! When I get out of here I'm g-gonna skin you and w-wear you as a fucking coat!"

"Yikes. Not very friendly. Ten seconds!"

"Oh, th-thank god. Turn around!"

"No way," Kat argued.

"Turn around!" Dean ordered. "I'm not letting you watch me get out!"

"Embarrassed? We know it's cold, buddy."

"Gross," Sam groaned. He grabbed Kat by the shoulder and turned her to face the cars, then confiscated her phone. "And…time!"

There was more frantic splashing as Dean fought to get out of the lake as fast as he could. Sam hurried over to give him the towel—but not before taking Kat's hand and forcibly covering her eyes. Completely unnecessary, since Kat had no real plans to sneak a peek. But she left her hand there to give them some peace of mind.

She could hear Dean muttering broken curses under his breath as Sam helped him back onto the grass.

"You good, man?" asked Sam, and he clapped Dean on the back.

"No!" Dean barked back. "Gimme those. And where the fuck are my pants?"

"Can I look yet?" Kat called over her shoulder.

"No!" the boys shouted in unison.

Kat rolled her eyes behind their lids, sinking into her hip. "Well can you get dressed a little faster? You're not the only one who's cold."

There was a scuffle off to her right, but Sam must've caught Dean before he could charge her.

"Dude, relax. Just put on your damn pants."

Dean huffed, but marched off to get his clothes. She could hear his belt jingle furiously as he swiped up his jeans.

Sam's heavy footsteps made their way over to her again. He caught her hand before she could lower it from her eyes.

"Uh, no. Not yet."

"Seriously?" Kat groaned. "You guys are no fun."

"Right," Sam scoffed. "Kat, do you hear yourself? You have gotta be…so drunk."

"Please. I have been way more drunk than this in my life."

"Not exactly a good thing."

Kat flipped him off with her free hand, making him laugh.

"You know Dean is actually going to get you back for this, right?" he asked her.

"He's not allowed to," said Kat. "I won this, fair and square."

"Kat, this is Dean we're talking about. He doesn't exactly play by the book."

"Well then, I guess you're just gonna have to email me that video you took, huh?"

"Oh, no," said Sam. "Like I said, I am not getting in the middle of—Dean, no!"

But Sam was too late.

An icy shower fell down on Kat, frigid water coursing down her hair and dripping down her back. She shrieked, whirling around in half-blind fury. Dean was standing behind her. He'd put on his jeans but was still shirtless, and he was holding the sopping towel he'd just dipped in the lake and wrung out over her head.

"Sorry," he offered, with an unapologetic smirk. "You were saying something about being cold?"

"You…fucker!"

Kat shoved Dean in the chest. The bastard only rocked back a step or two, laughing loudly. So she shoved him again. This time he caught her wrists and wrestled her to a standstill.

"Oh man," he wheezed, his eyes starting to water. "You should see your face! You—ha!"

Kat stiffened. She wasn't entirely sure what it was that had hit her. Maybe it was the water waking her up. Maybe it was the careful way Dean's hands were closed around her wrists. Maybe it was the skin of her palm, still stinging from the contact with Dean's bare chest.

She ripped herself out of his grasp, shivering.

"Very funny," she spat. "Screw you, Dean."

"Come on, Kat," Sam sighed over his brother's laughter. "He—He was just joking around!"

"Forget it, Sam. You're right. I'm drunk, I'm tired, and I'm going to bed. Actually, I can't even go to bed since you idiots fucked up the hotel reservation. So now I'm gonna go pass out in my car. Goodnight."

She stormed past him toward the Prius, suddenly desperate to get away from it all. But no matter how fast she walked, she could still feel their eyes following her. She could feel the water slowly soaking through to her skin. And she could still feel that stupid, nagging burn in her hands.

A/N: I want to give a huge thank you to my friend Lee for helping me write this chapter, as I know little to nothing about poker. Thank you for your advice and patience, and I'm sorry for dragging out the slow burn. Love you!

Just so everyone is prepared, I may not post for the next few weeks. My job is opening up after quarantine, and between that, my writing job, and my Harry Potter story, I fell behind in writing. I'm going to do my absolute best to keep the schedule up, but I didn't want to go radio silent without warning. Thank you all for understanding!

That being said, this month I finally began publishing Provenance, my Harry Potter fanfiction! So if that's interesting to anyone, you can find a new chapter on my page every Friday.

Thank you all so much for reading, and your reviews. They bring me immense joy.

-Brittney