A week passed. Charlie and Sophia were worried as ever. Rick called to make sure everything was all right. But it wasn't.

Katherine and Dean did everything they could to find Sam, and it still wasn't enough. They traced all of his phones, checked all over the midwest, but he wasn't anywhere to be found.

And on the ninth day, Sam called Dean from some obscure town in Wisconsin.

"What ever happened in Milwaukee?" Katherine asks, rubbing her lower lip as she stares out at the pouring rain. "You never got to that part."

"It was a shape shifter," Dean replies. "It stirred up trouble, posed as an old lady who robbed a jewelry store, then got a guy at a bank. Ronald found out— "

"Ronald," Katherine says. "The one who was killed."

Dean nods. "He didn't exactly go about it in the best way. He got the bank locked down."

"So how did you end up on the seven o'clock news with a rifle in your hand?"

"Couldn't let Ron go down like that."

"Well he did anyway," she says. "And now you've got the government on your back, and Sophia and Charlie won't stop hounding me—"

"Sophia and Charlie are not my problem—"

Katherine gawks, then growls and rolls her eyes. "You would see it that way," she mutters, shaking her head. "How do I explain to them that it actually wasn't the two guys I was with for six and a half months?"

"You don't."

"Oh, so I just let them ask questions," she nods. "Emotional distance may work for you, Dean, but it doesn't work for me."

"Whoa—Great Lakes motel, right?"

"What?"

"Where Sam's staying—!"

"Yes!" Katherine cries, shaking her head, and Dean pulls a quick right into the parking lot. "Quit yelling at me. I don't understand half-sentences, Dean!" She throws her seatbelt off and jumps out of the car, moving quickly for the front desk. "Excuse me," she calls, running through the rain to the window. "Have you seen a big guy 'round here? Above six feet, brown hair—?"

"Yes."

"He's my boyfriend and I'm really worried about him. Could you tell me what room he's in?"

The man looks through his book. "109. Is everything—"

"Perfect." Katherine slips away and into the building, using the directories on the walls to help her move from the four hundreds to the one hundreds. "109, 109, 109..." Dean follows behind her, glancing on either side of the hallway before he runs into her still frame. She knocks on the door. "Sam? It's Katherine and Dean." She hits the side of her fist on the door. "Sam?" Dean reaches beside her and tries the doorknob.

"Sam?" He asks, and Katherine follows him inside.

He's sitting on the edge of one of two beds, staring down at his hands. His hair is longer. "Hey," Dean says.

"Hey, Dean," Sam murmurs.

"You're bleeding." Dean looks to Katherine, silently asking for her help, and she moves forward, sinking to her knees before Sam. His eyes flit to hers, and he smiles a bit, eyes tearful.

"Katherine," he breathes.

"Hiya, Sam," she says. "What happened?" She nods to the blood on his shirt.

"I tried to wash it off," he whispers, watching her fingers unbutton his shirt. "I don't think it's mine."

"Then whose is it?" Dean asks. Katherine lifts his undershirt anyway. Though blood has stained his skin, there aren't any open wounds.

"I don't know."

"Sam, what the hell happened?"

"Guys," Sam murmurs. "I don't remember anything."

Katherine wraps her fingers around Sam's wrist. His skin is cool, his pulse is thrumming. She rises to her feet and nods Dean to the side. "I think he could be going into shock," she murmurs.

"That explains the amnesia?"

She shrugs. "If something was traumatic enough, the brain could be working to protect itself."

"So what do we do?"

"Get him decent. He needs to relax. Food."

Dean glances to his brother and nods. "And then what?"

"And then we figure out what happened." She rubs her temples and lets out a heavy sigh.

"I've got the food covered," Dean says. "You keep an eye on him."

"Yeah." Sam watches after his brother. "Sam, let's get you cleaned up, all right?" He looks to her and slowly nods. She helps him up from the bed and leads him into the bathroom. Katherine sits on the edge of the bed, waiting for one of the two brothers to emerge.

Sam is first.

He's dressed in clean clothes now, a blue button-down and some jeans. "You seem different," Sam says to her. Katherine looks up from her cellphone with a slight smile.

"Do I?" Sam nods. "Well you're different, too. Your hair's longer." He chuckles softly, sitting down across the table from her. "Eight months can change a person."

"No. I meant...older." Sam shrugs. "For some reason, you just seem...different. As a whole." She smiles, crossing her arms a bit. "Why'd you leave, Katherine?"

Katherine frowns a little. "Dean...didn't tell you?" She asks.

He shrugs, shaking his head, but seems a little uncomfortable. "He said you just took off, said you told him to not bother tracking you down."

Katherine scoffs, shaking her head. "That's not what happened," she says, feeling rage boil in her blood.

"So what did happen?"

She chews on the inside of her cheek, twisting her ring around her finger. "Dean and I were together, Sam," she murmurs. "Not for a long time, but..."

"He told me as much," Sam says.

Katherine sucks in a deep breath, looking down to her hands. "Anyway, after those daevas came after us, when your father left, I could...sense that something wasn't right with him. He's an open book, whether he wants to believe it or not. A couple days later, he said it was about to get ugly...that it wasn't my fight...and told me to go start a life." She shrugs. "Dean said he would call until it was resolved, this thing with your family...but he never did, and I assumed the worst." Katherine slouches in her chair. "I saw him outside my house a couple weeks ago. And then I saw your guys' mug shots on my TV. A robbery in Milwaukee. I figured it wasn't you guys, that it couldn't be, because...because you were dead. Sophia flipped." Katherine shakes her head. "Dean said it was a shifter."

"Yeah, it was," Sam murmurs. "Katherine...you leaving hit us pretty hard." She looks up at him with a slightly raised brow. "I mean...Dean especially. I don't know what he did or didn't tell you, but...he really does care about you."

A soft, sad smile tugs at the corner of her mouth. "Well I guess he was more honest with you than he was me." The motel door opens, and Dean steps into the room with a bag of food and a liter of root beer.

Dean starts over to the two, appraising their less-than-comfortable posture. "You checked in two days ago under the name 'Richard Sambora,'" Dean tells Sam, opening up the bag of food. "I think the scariest part about this whole thing is you're a Bon Jovi fan."

Katherine grimaces. "What's wrong with Bon Jovi?" She questions.

"Dean—" Sam begins in that tone that Katherine knows so well.

"The room's been quiet, Sam," Dean explains with a shrug. "Nobody's noticed anything unusual."

Sam angrily licks his lips and his eyes flit to his hands. "You mean nobody saw me walking around covered in blood?"

"I don't see how that's a bad thing either," Katherine says, watching as Sam pushes himself up from the table in frustration.

"How the hell did I get here? What happened to me?"

"We can figure that out later," Katherine explains, standing up, and raises her hands to appease him. "All that matters is you're safe—"

"That's not all that matters. What if I hurt someone? Or worse—"

"Then we'll figure it out!" Katherine cries, glancing between the brothers. "I don't know why it's a field day on Katherine Donovan, but I came out here to help you, all right? I get that you're upset, Sam, but going at each other's throats isn't the way we're gonna get things done."

"Actually, Katherine Louise, I was thinking I'd take you to the airport tomorrow," Dean says.

Katherine stares at him. It isn't quite a glare, but it's a hard look. "Don't call me that," she seethes. "I'm staying here until we figure out what happened to Sam, whether you like it or not. And maybe I'm not family to you, but you're all I got left."

"You have a life, Katherine. A life that I took you from—"

"Oh, stop playing the self-pity card!" Katherine cries. "I'm here to help you, Dean. So both of you knock it off and saddle up, because I'm not going to be shoved off anymore!" She lets out a breath, releasing all the agitation with it. "You can be as cruel to me as you want, Dean, but I still won't go anywhere until this is fixed." She crosses her arms and sits on the edge of the table. "Sam, what's the last thing you remember?"

"Me and Dean, in a motel room...West Texas. We went out to grab some burgers—"

Dean frowns. "West Texas? That's over a week ago."

After a moment, Sam shrugs. "That's it. Next thing I knew, I was sitting here, bloody." Sam purses his lips. "It felt like I had been asleep for a month."

"The manager said you left yesterday at noon and never saw you come back," Dean says.

"Window?" Katherine asks. Dean crosses the room and points to a bloody latch. "Well that explains why no one saw the blood on you," she says, glancing to Sam, and starts for the window. She pushes it open, carefully avoiding the bloody prints, and glances around before launching herself out of the window.

"What are you doing?" Dean calls down to her.

"Retracing his steps! Get down here." Dean sighs, glancing behind him, and carefully lowers himself to the ground, Sam following after. Since it's a dead end to her left, Katherine goes right, out to the parking lot. "Anything look familiar?" She asks, jamming her hands into her jacket pockets. She's still cold from the rain, though it's passed, leaving an overcast sky and a chill in the air.

"Not really," Sam says, glancing around at the outside of the motel, and stops. "Wait." Katherine pauses and turns on the toes of her sneakers. They're standing in a sketchy back alley that reeks of garbage and sewage system. "I was here."

"You remember it?" She asks, her nose scrunching as the wind picks up and blows the stench of rotting food right to her.

"Not really. Just feels familiar, y'know?"

Katherine turns to her right, staring at closed garage spaces, and shrugs. She starts forward and points to the first space. Sam shakes his head, so she takes a few long steps to the next one, looking to Sam with an adorably expectant expression. He missed those mannerisms. After a moment, Sam nods. She smiles a bit and grips the handle, tugging up on the garage door with a puff. "This ain't comin' up," she grunts.

"Yeah, well maybe you're rusty," Dean says, starting forward to assist her. Katherine glowers.

"Maybe because someone wanted me out of the picture."

Sam fiddles with the key in his pocket and holds it out to Katherine. Her glare settles on Dean, nostrils flared, before she reaches out to pluck the old key from Sam's fingers. She huffs, her eyes fixing on the padlock off to the left, and pushes past Dean to unlock the garage. Then he yanks up on the door.

Inside is a rusty old car. A Beetle. "Please tell me you didn't steal this," Dean sighs. Katherine ventures forward and opens up the driver's door. She plops down on the seat and reaches forward with her legs—she doesn't even come close to touching any of the pedals.

"This is adjusted to the height of a person who must be half giant," she says, eyes scanning the dash. "There's more blood on the steering wheel." She twists around, scanning the back seat, and her eyes settle on a knife on the floor. Katherine lets out a sigh and pries the sticky thing from the floor, holding it up for the brothers to see.

"You think I used that on someone?" Sam whispers, staring at the knife from the other side of the car. Katherine sighs once more, draping her arm across the back of the driver's seat.

"I'm not thinking anything," she tells him, wiping the handle off on her jacket. "Partially because there's a half a pack of smokes on the passenger floorboards. You don't smoke, Sam. Couldn't've been you."

"Gas receipt," Sam says, holding it up for her to see, and Dean peers around the windshield to look at it. "A few towns over."

"Ten gallons at pump number two," Katherine hums. "Let's go check it out."

It's a thirty-five minute drive of awkward silence. Katherine sits in the back, picking at her manicured fingernails, and pretends to not notice Dean's gaze on her through the rearview mirror every few minutes.

She peers around at the gas station as Dean goes about surveying Sam, asking if anything looks familiar, to which Sam replies 'no.'

"He paid with cash," Katherine says, her eyes settling on the cashier through the window. "Maybe someone inside will remember him." She plucks the receipt from Dean's fingers and quickly exits the car. Dean grits his teeth.

"How is she still so fast?" He questions. Sam just stares at him and follows after Katherine.

He's right behind Katherine as she steps into the gas station. The cashier doesn't have a very kind reaction.

"You," he snarls, eyes locked on Sam. "Out of here, now. I'm calling the cops."

Katherine gestures over her shoulder, bewildered. "Him?"

"Yeah, him," he says, picking the phone up. Katherine raises her brows.

"Why?"

"The jerk comes in yesterday stinking drunk, grabs a 40 from the fridge and starts chuggin' it!"

"This guy?" Katherine asks, brows furrowed in disbelief as she turns on her toes to look at Sam. "You're drinking malt liquor now?" She questions just as Dean steps inside.

"Not after he whipped the bottle at my friggin' head," the cashier says. Katherine nods, the corners of her mouth turning down almost as if she's silently communicating "impressive."

"You're sure it was this guy?" She asks.

The cashier gawks at her. "What, am I speaking Urdu?"

"I'm really sorry if I did anything—" Sam begins.

"Tell your story walking, pal, okay? Po-po'll be here in five."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Katherine says, holding a hand up. "He's leaving. Put the phone down." She glances over her shoulder and nods Sam outside. "You should wait in the car."

"Wha—Katherine—"

"In the car," she repeats. Sam glances between Katherine, his brother, and the cashier before turning on his toes and heading for the car.

He just got mom'd.

"We just wanna talk to you," Dean says to the cashier. After a moment, he sets the phone on the cradle. "When he took off yesterday, which way did he go?"

"Why don't you ask him?"

"Because I'm asking you."

Katherine lets out a quiet breath and steps halfway in front of Dean. "Ethan?" She asks, glancing to his name tag, and looks up to his eyes. "Look, I'm really sorry for what he did yesterday. He's got a seriously addictive personality and we think he could have something going on upstairs that isn't quite right."

"Addictive personality, huh?" Ethan asks, and Katherine nods. Dean rolls his eyes. "And...mental..." Katherine nods again. "Well that would explain the pack of smokes."

Her brows shoot up. "He took cigarettes?"

"Yeah," Ethan scoffs. Katherine reaches into her back pocket and searches through the pocket for a couple of bills, enough money to cover a bottle of whiskey and a pack of cigarettes.

"That should cover it, right?" She asks. After a moment, Ethan nods. "Could you tell us where he went after he left?"

"North on the 71. Straight out of town."

Katherine flashes one of her infamous lethal smiles and pats the counter. "Thanks for your help. Sorry about the heist." She turns on her heel and heads for the door.

"You can't just do that to people," Dean says to her. "It's immoral, playin' with someone's emotions like that."

"You would know a lot about that emotional playground, wouldn't you?" Katherine flatly hums. "You went north," she calls to Sam. He nods, lowering himself into the car, and she sits in the back. It's a relative quiet drive, and for a while, there's nothing but the setting sun. "You okay, Sam?" Katherine asks. He doesn't answer, so she leans forward and rests her arms on the top of the bench seat. "I mean...smoking and throwing bottles at people sounds more Dean than Sam."

"I don't smoke," Dean protests.

"So you admit to a drinking problem," Katherine chirps.

"Oh, don't start with the—"

"Wait," Sam says. "Wait, wait—guys, wait! Here, turn down that road!" Katherine looks out of Sam's window and Dean starts to pull off of the blacktop.

"This is so sketchy," Katherine quietly murmurs, glancing around the hidden road. It's not even properly marked...and they're driving on gravel for a bit, until it turns back into faded concrete, and motion-sensing lights kick on, leading up to a white two-story house. No lights are on. It doesn't seem to be an old structure.

Katherine climbs out of the car with the brothers, and the second another light kicks on above them, she looks up and spots a security camera. "What the hell?" Sam pulls her in front of him, and she walks between the two Winchester brothers. Like she couldn't protect herself if she needed to.

"Should we knock?" Dean asks. Katherine reaches forward and raps her knuckles against the wood. Dean stands beside her, and Sam walks down the length of the wraparound porch with a flashlight in hand.

"Guys?" Sam says. He waves them over, and Katherine sidesteps to walk towards him.

The window is broken, the purple curtains nearly billowing out of the hole in the wall. Glass fragments are scattered along the window sill and underneath the hunters' shoes. "I'm surprised the cops didn't show," Dean says. "With a place like this, you figure they'd have an alarm." Katherine glances to her left as Sam continues down the porch. He sighs, reaching up to the wall.

"Yeah, you would," he dryly says. "Power box was open, wires cut."

"Let's get in there, yeah?" Katherine suggests. She takes Dean's flashlight and lifts herself in. Dean grips her forearm, to which she answers with a frown and yanks her arm back. "Ladies first," she says with a furrowed brow, and drops to her feet. Dean follows quickly after her, peering over her shoulder as she walks on the toes of her sneakers around the glass. 

Nobody says a word. Sam explores part of the house on his own, with his own flashlight, and Dean hovers near Katherine. It's a bit suffocating, since he isn't exactly a small presence.

Katherine turns the corner, the beam of her flashlight shining on the shoulder of a body on the ground. She nudges her elbow into Dean and nods her head to the room ahead. Dean turns around and snaps his fingers, catching Sam's attention, and Dean waves his younger brother to them. Katherine has already continued into the room, assessing the surroundings, before she crouches behind the man on the ground and holds two fingers to his throat. She notices there's a shiny black patch on the carpet...and the man has no pulse. She uses the end of the flashlight to push into the man's shoulder to roll him onto his back, and the carpet squelches.

The man's throat has been cut from ear to ear. And that black patch? His blood.

Katherine lurches just a bit, nose wrinkling as the stench of decay wafts towards her nose. "Gaw," she mutters, moving away from the body.

"I did this," Sam says.

"We don't know that," Dean and Katherine chorus.

"What else do you need? How else do you explain the car, the knife, the blood?"

"I don't know, man!" Dean cries. "Why don't you tell me?" Sam looks away from Dean, shaking his head. "Look, even if you did do this, it had to be for a reason. Self defense. He was a bad son of a bitch—something!"

Katherine starts looking through the desk, hiding her fingers in the sleeve of her jacket as she pulls the drawers open, to look for some sort of I.D.

"I need your lock pick," Sam says, looking straight at the closet. Katherine glances up.

"Why?" Dean asks.

"Just—lock pick." Dean hands it over, and once the closet door is open, Katherine turns her whole body to look at the small armory hidden behind those doors.

"Well he could supply a small village with this kind of stuff," she muses, glancing at the sketches and maps that are pinned up on the walls. "So Sam killed a copycat terrorist or he killed a hunter."

"We don't know he did anything," Dean says. Katherine points up into the corner behind her, and Dean follows her finger.

It's a surveillance camera.

"Let's find out, shall we?"