"So, I was looking in the trunk." Katherine's blue eyes shift questioningly to Dean at her left. "Any reason in particular you have that bat?"

"Leave the bat alone," she grumbles, adjusting her jacket, and trots down the stairs of the second-level motel.

Mike Gunther is elbow-deep in some new car's hood when Dean and Katherine arrive at the auto shop. He's friendly enough, offering smiles to the hunters, leading them back to his work as they talk. "You and John Winchester owned this garage?" Dean questions.

"Used to," Mike answers with a nod, toweling his greased hand off. "Long time ago. Must be...twenty years since John disappeared," he elaborates with a shrug. "Why are the cops interested all of the sudden?"

"We're reopening some of our unsolved cases," Dean tells him. "The Winchester disappearance is one of 'em."

"Uh-huh. Well whaddaya wanna know about John?"

"Whatever you remember. Whatever sticks out in your mind."

Katherine's eyes flit to a shower of sparks over Mike's shoulder, spat from the underneath of a car. Mike glances to the pretty girl on the right, observing how young she looks. She could be the other man's age, just going off of the way she carries herself. Straight spine, shoulders held back and chin held high. But the eyes...something in the eyes is younger. Bigger, somehow a bit more innocent. Those eyes shift to Mike as she awaits his recollection of John Winchester—the wait is no more than a second.

"Well," Mike sighs, putting his hands on his hips. "He was a stubborn bastard, I remember that. And...whatever the game, he hated to lose, y'know? It was that whole Marine thing. But he sure loved Mary." Out of the corner of her eye, Katherine notices Dean's jaw tighten a bit. "Doted on those kids."

"That was before the fire?" Katherine asks. Mike nods. "Did he ever talk about that night?"

"No, not at first. I think he was in shock."

Her brow quirks. "What did he say about it?"

"Oh, he wasn't thinking straight," Mike dismissively tells her, and chuckles. "He said something caused that fire and killed Mary."

"Ever say what did it?" Dean asks.

Mike gazes at him, a bit puzzled. "Nothing did it," he says. "It was an accident. An electrical short in the walls or somethin'. I begged him to get some help, but...it just got worse and worse." The blonde young woman nods a bit, a gesture for him to continue. "Started reading some strange old books. Even went to a palm reader in town."

"You got a name?" Katherine asks.

"No," Mike scoffs.

She nods a little. "Well if that's all you have for us, we'll be on our way. Thanks for your time." She raises a hand at him, backing away with Dean at her side. "Should we swing by and grab Sam?" She asks, walking close to him, but not unusually so. "Check out some of the psychics and whatnot in town?" Dean nods. As she sits in the car, gazing at the garage, she wonders what could have been, had that fire not happened. Where would the boys be in their lives?

Hers wouldn't be so dramatically different. She only met the Winchesters the one time a decade ago. But now?

Perhaps she'd still be looking for a way to worm out of a residency.

"There are a few psychics and palm readers in town," Katherine says, sitting up on the hood of the Impala with a phone book in her lap. She kicks her feet a little.

Sam chuckles leaning over into her space to get a look at the list. "The Mysterious Mister Fortinsky."

She smiles, a simple tug of the corner of her mouth, but enough to dimple her cheek. "Missouri Moseley," she says. "I like that alliteration. Uh, there's—"

"Wait," Dean says, leaning over her shoulder to peer at the thin pages of the phone book. "Missouri Moseley?"

Katherine's eyes move upwards, her lashes tangling with her fair feathered fringe. "Uhhyeah."

"That's a psychic?"

"Well it says it right here, Dean—" She sighs, watching him move for the back of the car, walking away from her as she talks. "I hate when he does that," she grumbles, mostly to herself, but Sam chuckles, twisting with her to eyeball his brother.

"Dad's journal," Dean says to the other two, reaching into the backseat, and holds up the old brown leather thing. He moves to the other two, opening the book up. "First page, first sentence." He thrusts the journal between Katherine and Sam, holding it so they can read.

"'I went to Missouri and I learned the truth,'" Katherine hums. "Well I'm guessing he doesn't mean the state."

"Guess not."

"Who goes to Missouri for anything, y'know?" She continues. "I mean, the only thing they have going for them is that gooey butter cake—" Her eyes flit from an amused Sam to an impatient Dean, and she cuts herself off, her shoulders slumping as she deflates. "So, I...guess we're going to Missouri." She shuts the book and hands it to Dean, looking a little defeated and sheepish. One eye is shut, the other squinting, in the sun. Her nose is wrinkled, lips shifted to the side. "Sorry."

✕

It was nearly an hour wait for the psychic named Missouri. Dean was shifting in his seat, anxious and agitated, and Sam curiously thumbed through a magazine while Katherine hummed to herself. Dean glared at her once for it, and she just stared at him, humming still. Louder too, perhaps, just to annoy him.

Like a little sister.

"—your wife is crazy about you!" The hunters look up to the left as a middle-aged woman escorts an older man out of the front of the home. She lets out a sigh, shutting the door, and looks to the three. "Poor bastard," she says, leaning her hand up against the frame, and starts away. "That woman is cold-banging the gardener."

Dean is only somewhat amused. "Why didn't you tell him?"

"People don't come here for the truth," she tells him, but glances to all three hunters. "They come for good news." She starts away again, stops, and turns around. "Well? Sam and Dean, I ain't got all day, and neither does that pretty flower next to you." Missouri starts into the back of the house as the brothers look to Katherine, whose lips are moving with words that just won't form. She looks to Sam, then Dean.

"Wuh—I, uh..." Katherine taps her fingers on the armrests, clears her throat, and quickly follows after Missouri.

"Well let me look at you boys!" The Winchesters are suddenly in front of Katherine, and what with their height, you wouldn't even know the blonde girl was behind them. She sighs, sidestepping to fit around Sam's right. "Oh, you boys grew up handsome!" She points to Dean. "And you were one goofy-lookin' kid, too!" Katherine contains a snort and looks down to the toes of her boots. "Sam," the woman sighs, taking his hand. Her brow furrows. "Oh, honey—I'm sorry about your girlfriend." Sam's smile drops. It's almost as if Katherine can sense it when it does. She looks up, even-faced, at Sam, then Missouri. "And your father...he's missing?"

Katherine blinks quickly and leans forward a bit. "How'd you know that?" She asks.

"Well he was thinking it, just now."

Katherine is astounded. Her head jerks back a bit and her eyes open a bit wider than usual, more questions raised than answered with Missouri's response. Dean has different inquiries, though. "Where is he? Is he okay?"

"I don't know," Missouri tells him.

"Don't know? Well you're supposed to be a psychic, right?"

"I don't think it works like that," Katherine mildly hums, but Missouri's high voice overpowers hers.

"Boy, you see me sawin' some bony tramp in half?! You think I'm a magician? I may be able to sense thoughts and energies in a room, but I can't just pull facts out of thin air."

In classic Katherine fashion, she thrives off of Dean's discomfort. Her arms are crossed behind her back as she rolls her lips into her mouth, hiding her smile as she looks to the eldest Winchester brother. Sam isn't short of her amusement either. Anything—anyone—who gives Dean a good check is good in his book, so long as it's in good spirit.

"Sit, please." The boys move first. Sam's arm winds behind Katherine, ushering her forward. "Oh, oh, oh, let me get a look at Miss Katherine Louise."

A finger is felt underneath Katherine's chin, pulling it upwards, and she's faced with two large brown eyes staring deep into her own. "Uh...Katherine'll suffice," she hums, putting on her most endearing dimpled smile.

"Aren't you just the sweetest peach," Missouri says. "Your father is missing, too?"

Katherine is taken aback. She wasn't even thinking of her circumstance. "Iwuuh—yes."

Missouri Moseley sighs and nods her to the sofa. Katherine smiles and looks to Dean with raised brows as she tucks in beside him. "The sweetest peach," she says. Dean rolls his eyes and her grin widens. It's broken, though, when Missouri's high voice rips through the air in a quick trill.

"Boy, you put your foot on my coffee table, I'm gon' whack you with a spoon!"

She's looking at Dean. Katherine turns to her right, too, lips parted in preparation to scold him. Or maybe it's disbelief, too. He may have been raised a hunter, but even hunters have manners.

Dean is perplexed. "I didn't do anything."

"But you were thinking about it!"

Sam is in love with this psychic.

Katherine nudges him. "Okay," Sam says, leaning forward as he gazes at Missouri. "So...our Dad. When did you first meet him?"

"He came for a reading a few days after the fire," Missouri says. "I just told him what was really out there, in the dark. I guess you could say I drew back the curtains for him."

"What about the fire?" Dean inquires. "Do you know about what killed our Mom?"

"A little," she answers after a moment. "Your daddy took me to the house. He was hoping I could sense the...echoes...the fingerprints of this thing—"Missouri almost shudders. "Whatever it was, it was...evil." She takes a deep breath and sits back in her chair, appraising each of the young hunters for what they are, and mulls over the situation. "So you think there's something back in that house."

Without telling the woman of Sam's dream—which she probably knows about from reading his mind—she sure did hit the nail on the head.

"Definitely," Sam answers.

"I don't understand."

"What?" The hunters chorus.

"I haven't been back inside, but I've been keeping an eye on the place. It's been quiet. No sudden deaths, no freak accidents. Why is it acting up now?"

"I don't know," Sam says, glancing to the other two. "But Dad going missing and Jessica dying, and now this house...it all happening at once...it feels like something's starting."

"There's a comforting thought," Dean hums.

"Maybe it would be good to have you walk through the house," Katherine says to Missouri. "Maybe you could sense whatever's there, if it's there."

After a moment, Missouri nods.

She's quiet as she walks around the house, surveying it, mentally placing objects where they were when John Winchester brought her here. And then there's the east-facing bedroom on the second floor. "If there's a dark energy hiding somewhere in this house, it would be here," she says, glancing about the blue paint of the room. It reminds Katherine of Olivia's room.

"Why?" Katherine asks, glancing about the decoration. This must be Sari's room. There isn't anything special about it. It's just a bedroom.

"This used to be Sam's nursery," Missouri says. "This is where it all happened." The brothers' eyes shift upward, but Katherine is fighting to keep her gaze level. She can practically feel the distress radiating from Dean, the anxiety from Sam. Dean pulls the EMF detector from his pocket and switches it on, staring at the bulbs to distract himself. "That an EMF?"

"Yeah," he replies after a moment.

"Amateur."

It's easy to sense his glower. Katherine puts a hand on his back, rubs for a moment, and drops her hand. Dean watches her step forward and turn, gazing about the room. He wonders if she's utilizing the Special Intuition.

She isn't.

"I don't know if you boys should be disappointed or relieved," Missouri says as the EMF picks up a reading. "But this ain't the thing that took your Mom."

"Are you sure?" Sam asks. Missouri nods. "How do you know?"

"It isn't the same energy I felt the last time I was here. It's something different."

Katherine watches her move to the closet. "Do you know what it is?"

"Not it," Missouri says, opening up the doors. "Them." She turns to the hunters with a frown. "There's more than one spirit in this place."

"Well what are they doing here?" The young woman presses, turning to the closet.

"They're here because of what happened to the Winchesters," Missouri replies, moving for the three. "You see, all those years ago, real evil came to you. That kind of evil leaves wounds, and sometimes wounds get infected." Katherine's brows briefly shoot up and she rocks back on her heels a bit.

She knows all about that.

"So it's a magnet," Katherine says, then thinks for a moment. "A poltergeist?"

"A nasty one," Missouri confirms. Dean watches Katherine's jaw tighten a bit. "And it won't rest until Jenny and her babies are dead."

"You said there was more than one spirit," Katherine prompts.

"There is." Missouri's gaze moves back to the closet. "I just can't quite make out the second one."

"Well, one thing's for damn sure," Dean says. "No one else is dying in this house, not ever again. So whatever's here, how do we stop it?" The Winchesters look to Katherine, having been the only person in the room to most recently deal with a poltergeist—Jerry Panowski, Airline Jerry—but the teenager looks right to Missouri Moseley.

And they get to work.

"How did you get rid of Jerry's poltergeist?" Dean asks Katherine. The teenager chews on her lip for a moment as she thinks, tucking a bit of Angelica root into a small velvet satchel.

"Oh," she says with a nod, remembering the case. "Well, we figured out who the spirit was. Salt and burn, baby."

"Ever heard of this?" Dean asks, nodding to the ingredients on the table.

"Yes," she answers. "Once. I could never find someone who would sell van van oil, not even in Louisiana." A small smile tugs at Katherine's mouth, just the slightest hint of white teeth revealed by the pull of her pink lips. "But...Jerry was a freak about the whole thing. So we ripped out the doorways and windowsills, lined the framework with salt and iron. The damn thing is safer than a devil's trap. You'd have to rip the house apart—"

"Devil's trap?"

Katherine deflates a bit, releasing a breath through her pursed lips so her fringe poofs a bit. "Oh, honey," she sighs. You sweet, naive little boy.

"What's in this stuff anyway?" Dean questions, grabbing a square of cloth, and rests it before him as Katherine has.

"Angelica root," Katherine replies, sliding the glass jar to him, followed by the oil. "Van van oil, crossroad dirt—" her fingers collect smaller jars and push them towards him. "Amongst other tiny essentials."

"And what do we do with it?"

"Put them inside the waaalls..?" Her tone tips up at the end, questioning, as she looks up to Missouri for confirmation. The older woman nods, and Katherine smiles.

"North, south, east, and west corners on each floor of the house," Missouri tells the hunters.

"Punching holes in the drywall," Dean dryly hums. "Jenny's gonna love that."

"If it keeps her kids safe, and the holes aren't too big, I think she'll be just fine," Katherine murmurs through her concentration. Dean peers at her out of the corner of his eye.

Katherine carefully releases a bit of dirt from her fingertips, rubs them together to free the remnants, and starts to tie the square up.

Her dirty blonde fringe, freshly trimmed, sits nice and feathered, ruffled from her breath, just at her brow. Her cheekbones are high and have a sheen to them. Her cheeks are a pale olive and slightly pink, not quite the color of her lips. Her lashes seem longer from the side, reaching up to tangle with her bangs.

He admires her, more than he cares to admit to himself at this point. She knows more than he did at nineteen—hell, she knows more than he does now. About anything and everything. But she's not afraid to admit what she doesn't know. She listens. Learns. She's crazy smart. He has yet to see her really spar on a hunt, so there's still that element of surprise. He's sure she can hold her own, perhaps even more than that.

So much he knows about her, yet he feels like he's only scratching the surface. And she's kind. She's warm. Even with her annoying puns and jokes, she's hilarious.

Katherine Donovan is a girl he would take to meet his mother.

"These will destroy the spirits?" Sam questions, pulling Dean from his distracted reverie. Katherine noticed his hands stopped moving; she looks to him with a small smile. He blinks a bit, reveling in the shy, soft tenderness of her smile.

"It should purify the house completely," Missouri says, nodding. Curiously, Dean picks up a bit of crossroad dirt and stares at it. Katherine's eyes narrow as she watches him bring his fingers to his lips. "We'll each take a floor, but we have to work fast." Katherine grabs Dean's wrist and lowers his hand from his mouth a firm, but gentle, hold, and waits until he releases the crossroad dirt to let go of him. Her right brow quirks in amusement and he shrugs. "Once those spirits realize what we're up to, things are gonna get bad."

"There isn't an attic, so I'll hop around," Katherine hums, starting on another satchel. "Or...Missouri takes basement, Winchesters on one, Donovan on top." She winks, standing up from her chair, and the brothers look to each other.

Sometimes, they don't even know if she's making these double entendres on purpose.

Once Jenny and her kids are out of the house, everyone gets to work, starting at the same time. Dean sets off to the kitchen and Sam remains at the front of the house, gently tapping against the bottoms of the walls to look for a hollow, some place as inconspicuous as possible. He uses the bottom of handle of the hammer to punch a hole into the wall. Just as he reaches the bag and his fingers through the hole of the plaster, something yanks him back by the shirt collar and throws him up against the opposite wall. "Dean!" He calls, struggling against the unseen force. He leans forward with all of his weight. There's a dangerous-sounding clatter, and he twists his head to the kitchen to get a better look. He can't see Dean on the floor, tipping the table over to shield himself from flying pointy cutlery.

"Sam!" He hollers. "You okay?!"

"A little indisposed," he calls back. "Fine! Go check on—" Dean bolts for the stairs before Sam can finish.

He finds Katherine in the master bedroom, heels of her boots scraping against the floorboards as she struggles with an electrical cord around her neck. She's beginning to turn just a bit blue, mainly in her lips. Her dirty blonde hair is turning a little red near the crown—she's bleeding from somewhere on her scalp. In her half-conscious state, she heard the heavy footsteps racing up the hallway and tilted her head back, gasping for breath. "Kat!"

She wheezes, eyes opening a bit more as he slides onto his knees beside her. His fingers, much larger than her own, loop over the two rounds of cord around her neck and he tugs hard—no give, but a whole lotta lift from her. He did also manage to break the clasps of her necklaces.

Bigger fish.

"Bag," she wheezes, veins in her neck thick and protruding from her skin from the struggle. Dean scrambles for the little bag, scoops it up from beside her shoes, and throws it into the hole she made near the floor of the wall. A bright blue light erupted from thin air, blinding the two in the room. Katherine saw the blue-white light from behind her closed lids.

As soon as the light vanishes, Dean dives forward and lifts Katherine from the floor, struggling to remove the knotted cord from her marred throat. She coughs and wheezes, gasps for breath as her head rests against his.

"You're okay," he tells her, his thumb rubbing against the side of her face. She forces her heavy lids open, the back of her mind processing the sensation of his arms around her.

"You're fixing my necklaces," she tells him through a strained voice. He doesn't respond, but instead climbs to his feet, scooping the thin gold chains one hand and helping her up with the other, and tucks the straps into his jeans pocket.

Her throat, so long and slender, seems oddly bare without all of those chains around it. Only one necklace remains—the gold crucifix.

Downstairs, Missouri is helping Sam finish the ritual. The house is in an apocalyptic state. The kitchen table is overturned, impaled with knives, and the contents of Jenny's fridge are thrown everywhere. It looks like a murder scene. Katherine and Dean assist with the few remaining bags, walking into the kitchen just as Missouri and Sam are talking amongst themselves.

And then Jenny arrives. The worst thing was the kitchen, which Missouri promised Dean would clean.

Missouri and Sam follow Jenny and the children upstairs to explain to the mother what happened at the house. Katherine grabs the mop and hands Dean an empty bucket with a small, closed-lipped smile. He sighs and moves to the kitchen sink, dumps a bit of soap in the bucket, and cranks on the hot water. She sweeps up the solid bits first—the glass, a few broken bananas, bruising and busted apples.

"Thanks," Katherine says, wringing the mop out. Dean looks up from the bucket with a frown.

"For what?"

"You saved my life half an hour ago," she says. "Again." Then she purses her lips. "Kinda feeling a little damsely, if I'm honest." Dean cracks a small smile.

"Well, I like when you're damsely," he tells her, leaning against the wall. "Makes me feel like I can take care of you, even if you can take care of yourself."

A little smile pulls at the corner of her mouth. She extends her arm, the mop with it, to Dean. He sighs and snatches it from her hold. "You ever think maybe—bear with me here, because this may sound radical to you—" Dean looks up from the messy floor to her "—maybe, I could save your life for a change? Just once?"

Dean smirks. "Darlin', I'm never gonna need to be saved."

"Oh, right," Katherine scoffs, nodding as she leans against the wall with crossed arms. "Because you're that good."

"I'm damn good."

The Winchesters stuck around for another few hours, sitting in the Impala and staring at the dark house. Sam insisted that something didn't feel right, and maybe if they stayed a few hours it'd help him feel at ease. Katherine tucked herself into the front seat, arms crossed tightly with her head bowed over the top of the seat, bruised neck exposed, and drifted off not long after plopping down. Missouri had left about that time.

Dean glances over to her as she shifts, her frame shrinking into his side as she seeks out warmth from the chill of the late evening Kansas air.

"You wanna tell me what we're still doing here?" He asks, tearing his gaze from the top of Katherine's head. He shifts his eyes to the rearview mirror, where Sam is sitting in the back and staring at the house.

"Still have a bad feeling," Sam briefly explains.

The elder brother lets out a heavy sigh and slouches in his seat, taking Katherine with him. A few minutes of silence pass, Dean's breathing leveling out a bit, almost at an even pace with Katherine's. Sam peers at the back of their heads, Katherine's wheat hair, still dirtied with blood, glistening in the moonlight. He shifts his gaze back to the house and sees something alarming.

Jenny, beating her fists up against the window of her bedroom, screaming for help. Just like in his dream. "Guys," he says, moving for the door. "Guys!" That jerks them both awake, and they turn to watch Sam clamber out of the car. Katherine looks to the window, sees Jenny, and moves for her own handle, practically throwing the door open, and she bolts after Sam.

"Grab the kids!" Katherine shouts to him, her voice still hoarse from the evening's strangulation. "Dean, get Jenny!" She leaps over the threshold and bounds up the stairs after Sam, Dean just a few paces behind her. Sam ducks in to get Richie, Katherine skids around the corner for Sari. She yelps, clinging to the doorway as intense heat licks her way.

A flamed figure, shaped like a person, is standing in the middle of Sari's bedroom, and the little girl is wailing for help. The figure is turned right to Sari, Katherine remaining unnoticed. She creeps along the wall, eyes kept on the figure with her hand stretched out to Sari. "C'mere," she croaks, wiggling her fingers. "Don't look at it—don't look." She scoops Sari up and breaks for downstairs, skidding around corners and flying down the wooden steps. Something grabs a hold of her ankle—she can feel it through her jeans—but she's running too fast to let Sari go. Instead, when she falls, Sari is taken with her. Katherine releases her fast enough. "Sari, run!" The little girl gawks with wide eyes, but does as she's told, barely witnessing Katherine get sucked into the recently-tidied kitchen. She smashes right into the stacked chairs, probably giving her legs a good bruising, because who doesn't need one of those every once in a while?

"Where's Katherine?" Sam asks, watching Sari break through the darkness.

"She's still in the house," Sari says, remarkably composed, but obviously distressed. "Something grabbed her—" Sam broke away, darting back into the house. Just as he did, the door slammed shut behind him.

"Sam!" Dean hollers. He moves for the trunk of the car and gathers his sawn-off and a few extra rounds of rock salt, an axe, and runs for the house. The neighbors are beginning to emerge from their homes.

Sam moves right to Katherine. Once she catches sight of him, she quickly shakes her head. "No, Sam—!" The moment he enters the kitchen, he's thrown across the room and into the drying rack of dishes. He's pinned up against the china cabinet, and Katherine pushes against the cupboards to propel herself free. It doesn't work. It's like their both stuck, secured with gorilla glue and a few thousand pounds of weight on every limb.

A panel from the front door is hacked open. "Sam!" Dean hollers. "Katherine!"

She lets out a shaky breath, watching the fiery figure appear from around the corner—the same one from Sari's bedroom. She isn't hesitant or afraid of it. It's actually sort of comforting in the warm way.

"Guys?!"

Dean rounds the corner of the kitchen, getting an eyeful of Sam and Katherine staring at the same blazing figure. He doesn't hesitate to lift his gun.

"No, no, no!" Katherine squalls, glancing quickly from Dean to the figure.

"Why?!"

"She's not bad," Katherine says, struggling against the other force. When she looks up from the floor, the fire has gone, leaving Mary Winchester's spirit before the three hunters.

Nightgown. Pale skin, blonde hair. Soft blue eyes.

The second Dean dropped his gun, everyone went still. "Mom?"

The woman smiles, looking just like she did in one of the photographs Katherine gazed upon just the other day. "Dean," she hums. Her voice is low and sweet. Comforting. "Sam...I'm sorry."

Katherine watches, a little mystified, and turns her gaze to the front of the house. It's like whatever is unseen has eyes, and she can just feel them on her. Her fingertips hook as she pushes herself up from the ground, not getting very far, until Mary commands it to.

She commanded the hold on Sam "and his friend" to be released. And it was, almost instantly. And she was gone in a brilliant burst of flame.

Sam pulls Katherine from the floor, the three of them gazing about for any sign of...well, anything. Mary in particular.

But there was none. It's peaceful in the house.