"Shapeshifter?"

Katherine shakes her head, leaning back against the sink as she crosses her arms. "No camera flare," she whispers, keeping her gaze on the wall. Dean stares at her, though, expecting that defiant eye contact sometime.

They've long since fled the scene of the crime. Sam's just gone to sleep, and they've left the lights off, snuck to the bathroom of their motel room so they wouldn't wake him. The door is cracked just a bit, and the window offers a straight shot for the moon to shine in. They didn't need the noisy overhead light. And though neither soul would care to admit it, they know each others presences like the back of their hands. Whether they can hear the sound around their bodies or sense their shadows, they always know where the other is.

Even in the dark.

"Look, we know it wasn't Sam—like really Sam." There her eyes are. What was once the deepest, richest blue he'd seen is now black, with cuts of ice in the sideways slant that hits her face. Still just as large as he remembers. And she isn't defiant in the way she looks at him. Her eyes hold a strange tenderness to them, and he recalls how she looked at him like that last spring. "He said for the past few weeks, he's had violent feelings, right? Rage, hatred. I mean, what if Sam's right? What if this has something to do with that yellow-eyed demon you two keep talking about? And what's this about the demon turning children like Sam into killers?"

Dean rolls his eyes. Whether it's flat-out denial or unwillingness to acknowledge, he isn't sure. "Katherine—"

"I mean, we seriously have to think about this, Dean," she whispers. "Your brother handed you a gun and told you to pull the trigger."

"I'd never to that to him," he seethes, shaking his head. "Never."

"I know," Katherine nods, appeasing. "But if Sam is so scared about becoming a killer, like those other kids he was talking about, don't you think we should keep a closer eye on him? I mean, what if he goes off by himself and does it?"

The light flips on and the door is nudged open. Sam leans against the doorframe with reddened eyes that settle upon the two. Dean instinctively moves away from Katherine and she crosses her arms, glancing to Sam as she rubs her eyes from the sudden light. "You don't have to hide from me," Sam croaks.

"We didn't want to wake you," Katherine says. Then she frowns, standing up straighter, and glances to Dean. "Wait—nothing was—"

"Absolutely nothing—" Dean begins, shaking his head.

Katherine scratches at her temple. "I don't think hiding in the bathroom with the lights off is helping our case, so I'm gonna get some sleep." She starts out of the bathroom and almost makes it across the threshold.

Sam hit her in the temple with the butt of a pistol.

Dean's eyes blow wide and he lurches forward, eyes locked on Sam, but the younger brother swung his arm around and hit Dean in the forehead, sending him back into the cabinets.

And then Sam was gone.

That was in the top five of Katherine's 'How Hard Have I Been Hit' list, as it put her out for several hours. When she came to, it was because of the incessant beating on the front door.

Her head aches. She supposes it's worse than a hangover, though she hasn't exactly experienced one of those. Concussion is entirely plausible. She can feel the blood rushing around her swollen head, through her ears and her eyes...everything has a synchronized, palpable pulse.

She groans, holding her fingers to a sensitive spot on her temple. Judging by the twinge of pain so abhorrent it actually blinds her, there's an open wound there. She pushes herself to her knees and sits there for a minute, eyes closed as she processes that loud sound again. Who the hell is hitting the door like that? She turns around, squinting as the manager pushes through the doorway.

He glances about the room, she watches his lips move, and he exits.

She pushes herself to her feet and glances around the room for Dean. The last thing she remembers, she was walking out of the bathroom and Sam—

Sam must've hit her in the head.

"Dean?" She croaks. There's a groan from inside the bathroom, and she twists to peek inside. Dean is pulling himself up from the ground, wincing.

The manager left the door open. Katherine sighs and trudges forward, holding a hand to her head, and notices he's lingering in the hallway. "What?" She asks.

"It's past your checkout time," he says. "I've got a couple who needs your room."

Katherine's eyes narrow and she glances down the hallway. A bleach-blonde woman with too much self tanner stands before a man in a suit. She wears a low cut short purple dress, her hands on her hips as she glances over the state of Katherine in her form-fitting t-shirt, jacket, jeans and sneakers. Her ponytail is rumpled just a bit.

"Yeah, I'll bet they do," Katherine mutters. "What time is it?"

"12:30."

Katherine glances to her watch to double check. "And the other guy, the one we came looking for?" She asks. "You see him?"

"Yeah—he left at dawn in your car, and you two should've gone with him, 'cause now I'm gonna have to charge you extra."

"Oh—oh, no, no, no," Katherine forces a smile. "Please. Med school graduate, crippling student debt. We're leaving. Just—one minute." She shuts the door and hurries to her bag, searching for her toothbrush. "Dean," she says.

"Yeah," he grunts, holding himself up on the table. She squirts a bit of her toothpaste onto his toothbrush and hands it to him.

"Sam took off with the car," she says, moving to wet her toothbrush in the sink, and starts brushing her teeth.

"Son of a bitch."

"Up by your bootstraps and let's go." She swings her bag over her shoulder and moves for the door again. The manager frowns at her. Sticking her toothbrush into her cheek, she pulls another painful smile and forces herself to speak as non-slurred as she can.  "Could I borrow your computer?"

He has a flat, skeptical expression in response. "Why would I let you borrow my computer?"

Katherine leans against the doorframe and cocks her hip, resting her forearm at the hitch of her waist. "Because I asked nicely? It's a real emergency, mister." She grabs the blue handle of her toothbrush and gets to work. He glances to the cut on the side of her head, to Dean in the room, and back to Katherine. His brows raise as he looks back at that cut. Katherine catches on and slowly leans forward. "I'm trying to get away from him," she whispers, and starts brushing her teeth again. "He's my ex, went crazy because I found my boyfriend—"

The manager nods. "Yeah, sure."

"Dean," she calls, pushing out of the room, and moves down the hall. He's about even with her as they walk down the corridor. "Dude said I could use his computer. You can track Sam's cell." She shakes her head. "I swear, we're gonna have to put LoJack on your car."

She waits patiently for Dean to do his tracking, and she cleans that cut of hers with what she has in her bag—a small compact mirror and a couple of makeup wipes.

"He's in Minnesota," Dean says, hanging the phone up.

"What the hell is it with you Winchesters and the midwest?" Katherine grumbles. "Seriously, it's never sunny! It's a wonder you're so tan."

Dean glances to her as she pulls her phone out. "Who you calling?"

"I don't have to answer that," she murmurs, holding her phone to her ear as she picks her bag up. "Thanks, mister," she calls over her shoulder, starting ahead of Dean, and the line on her cellphone clicks.

"There she is!"

"Hey, Handsome," Katherine greet, a small smile tugging at her mouth. She imagines Charlie's smiling, too. She can tell by the tone of his voice.

Dean glowers.

✕

Sam Winchester stares at Joanna Harvelle. She's on the other side of the bar top she runs in Duluth. She looks a little older compared to the last memory he has of her. Maybe it's the hair.

"So what are you doing here, Sam?" Jo questions. "I mean, we didn't exactly part on the best of terms."

"Right. That's...kind of why I'm here." He shrugs out of his jacket and sets it off to his side. "I wanted to see if we could square things, y'know?"

Jo nods to the angry red welt on his forearm, partially hidden by his shirtsleeve. "That looks like it hurts."

"No," Sam chuckles, tugging at his sleeve. "No, I just had a run-in with a hot stove."

Jo shifts her weight and crosses her arms, carefully eyeing him. "So you were saying something about squaring things?"

"Yeah." Sam rubs the back of his neck. "Uh...look, I know how you feel about my dad...and I can't say I blame you. He was obsessed," Sam scoffs. "Consumed with hunting. And he didn't care who got caught in the crossfire...and I guess that included your dad. But that was my father. That's not me."

Jo purses her lips a bit. "What about Dean?"

Sam's brows knit together. "Well...Dean's more like my father than I am, but—" he stops, watching as Jo's gaze shifts to the side. Then he scoffs, shaking his head, and rage bubbles in his gut. That's the second time she's asked about Dean. "Boy," he begins. "You're really carrying a torch for him, aren't you?" Jo scoffs. "I'll take that as a yes. It's too bad." Jo starts for her tables again. Anything to get away from Sam's harsh gaze. "'Cause see, Dean likes you, sure, but not in the way you'd want." Jo barely glances to Sam and starts back to the bar. "Maybe as kind of a...little sister...but romance? That's just out of the question." Sam scoffs. "I mean, especially now that Katherine's back." He grins, but then sobers a bit.

"Katherine?" Jo asks, crossing her arms. "Donovan?"

"I'm not trying to hurt you, Jo," Sam murmurs. "I'm telling you 'cause I care."

She nods sarcastically. "That's real kind of you, Sam."

"I mean it," he says, reaching for her hand. "I care about you a lot."

She tugs her hand back, but Sam's grip is steadfast. "Sam, what's going on?" Her eyes flit to his ironclad hold on her wrist, and she catches a good luck at that "run-in with a hot stove."

Hot stoves don't leave marks like that.

That looks like a brand.

"I could be more to you, Jo."

"Jeeeez," Dean drawls, shaking his head as Katherine and Charlie stop talking. Katherine smirks, glancing to him with a raised brow. "You two sure do talk a lot."

"Yeah, well, that's what a healthy relationship is like."

"I highly doubt talking that much is good for your health," Dean scoffs. "What about cell phone frequencies interfering with our brains?"

She laughs, crossing her arms, and stops, her gaze settling on a familiar sleek black car parked underneath a streetlight. "Dean, the Impala!" His head snaps to the right, gazing out of her window, and he swerves into the empty lot of a saloon. He barely has time to cut the engine before Katherine is out of the car and switching the safety of her beretta. She tosses Dean her extra flask of holy water and barrels into the saloon.

Sam is inside and has a young blonde girl tied up to a post. "Sam!" Katherine shouts, aiming her sights right at Sam's shoulder.

"I begged you two to stop me!" He shouts. It's definitely not Sam. He's never yelled like that. Never looked so angry. But he's also distressed. It's in the eyes. She's seen this look before, in the eyes of people struggling to stay on the surface, to keep from succumbing to the heavy blackness of possession.

And she has a rock in her gut.

"Put the knife down," she gently coaxes.

"I told you, I can't fight it!"

"Put the knife down, dammit!"

"My head feels like it's on fire!" Sam barrels on, holding that small girl to the post by the shoulder. "One of you," he says, glancing between his brother and Katherine. "Kill me before I kill her."

Katherine glances to the girl. She doesn't recognize her yet. "Sam, buddy, this ain't you talkin'," she says.

"Please," Sam says. "You'd be doing me a favor."

"Katherine, don't you do it," Dean threatens.

"I'm not!" She cries. In the heat of the moment, she can't focus on how hurt, enraged, she is that Dean would assume she'd shoot Sam. That she'd hurt him.

"Shoot me," Sam pleads. When neither of the hunters move, he throws his arms out on either side of him, leaving his chest wide open. "Shoot me!"

Jo twists around to look at the other two, and Katherine has to do a double-take. She recognizes it's Jo, but she doesn't acknowledge her. Instead, her jaw tightens and she looks to Sam.

"C'mon, Sammy," Dean says, shaking his head. After a moment, he drops his gun and turns. Katherine's nerves ramp up a bit, but she remembers he has the holy water in his jacket. Besides...if Sam caught Dean off-guard (fat chance), she could clip Sam's arm. It would distract him, and she'd be willing to live with Dean's scorn.

"What the hell's wrong with you, Dean?! Are you that scared of being alone that you'd rather let Jo die?!"

Dean whirls around, splashing the contents of Katherine's flask onto Sam's skin. "That's holy water, you demonic son of a bitch!"

Sam charges at Dean, but that only results in more holy water on his flesh. Katherine quickly moves for Jo, pulling a knife from the strap around her thigh, and cuts at the rope. Sam rushes past her, knocking Katherine over onto the ground, and bursts through the window.

Katherine pushes herself up from the ground and stops, catching sight of blood staining her knife and the floor. There's a slit in her t-shirt with a red stain blooming on the white fabric. She must've fallen on her knife, but she didn't feel a thing.

"He was possessed?!" Jo cries, but Katherine's already scooped her knife and gun up and made a move for the window. Dean follows after her. "Dean!"

"Katherine, you stay with Jo!" Dean shouts. She's already halfway up the dock, running faster than he's seen her before. Maybe she's not as rusty as he thought she would be. She doesn't even answer him, just continues where she saw Sam run to.

A warehouse.

She slows, pulling her gun from the back of her jeans, and pulls back on the hammer. Dean does the same—at least she had the decency to wait for him. The two pause to regroup, and on Katherine's cue, they creep into the building in silent harmony.

Katherine's gun immediately tracks a tall shadow moving behind a stack of crates. She nods her head to the side and Dean follows her direction, the two of them moving quickly and quietly through the warehouse.

Dean pushes his spine up to a support column as Sam peeks over the top of a bunch of crates, and Katherine takes her cue, backing up beside Dean, her arm pressed up right against his. Dean glances down to her and notices the blood on her palms, the growing stain on her t-shirt. His eyes widen, but Katherine nudges him, jaw hard, and he looks back in the direction of Sam.

"Who are you?" She calls, staring at the floor, willing her eyes to be better in the dim lighting. She's waiting for shadows. Some indication of any movement Sam makes.

Then the warehouse seems to lighten the smallest bit.

"I've got lots of names," his voice says. It's more distant now, and the two hunters silently move forward to catch him.

"You've been in Sam since he disappeared, haven't you?" Dean questions. Katherine glances around the pillar she's pressed up against, just barely. She catches sight of Sam's dark hair moving against the faded green crates and pulls back into shelter.

That cut of hers is starting to sting. She wipes her still hands on her jeans, ridding them of the slick from her wound, and adjusts her grip on her gun.

"You should've seen your face when you thought he murdered that guy," the demon taunts, eyes raking over the tops of the crate stacks. Katherine slips into a crouch and starts behind a line of boxes. Dean follows after her. "Pathetic."

"Why didn't you kill me?" Dean asks. "You had a dozen chances."

Sam reaches for a weight and tosses it to the side, rolling it up the pathway made from the various objects stored in this boathouse. The hunters take the bait and look to their left, and Sam rushes down the boathouse further. Katherine heard his gun scrape against something metallic, though, and immediately launched to her right, crossing Dean to catch his brother.

"Naw, that would've been too easy," Sam says, crouching so his arms are just above the top of a small rowboat. Katherine halts behind the metal sheet she stands behind, trying her damnedest to control her breathing through her nose. "See, this was a test. I wanted to see if I could push you are enough to waste Sam. Bringing a Donovan into it was a surprise." He laughs. "We've certainly been waiting for one of her family for a long time." Katherine's brows knit together. "But I should've known neither of you had the sack. Anyway...fun's over now."

"Well I hope you got your kicks," Katherine muses, her voice laced with her usual taunting bravado. "'Cause you're gonna pay hell for this. I'll make sure of that."

Sam laughs. "Your little Donovan 'my word is my bond' thing doesn't mean anything," he spits, shaking his head. "The Donovans aren't nearly what they were. And you can't hurt me without hurting Sam—you'd never hurt Sam. Either of you. See...I think you're both gonna die. You and every other hunter I find, starting with that Donovan whore." Katherine grits her teeth. "Your family's worked up quite the reputation—not many can say they torture demons for a living." Katherine's eyes flit to the swaying back door. Dean tucks his gun away and pulls out the flask of holy water.

"Cover me," he murmurs in her ear as he passes her. Katherine nods once, then grips his shirt, pulling back on it. She reaches into her jacket, glancing to the door, and hands her flask to him before nodding him forward. She jogs on her toes before him, carefully opening up the door and peering around the corner of another building.

They're standing on the dock now, and there's no sight of Sam. She moves to the edge of the dock, tucking her beretta into the hidden holster in the waist of her jeans, and peers over the edge, looking for anything moving in the dark waters. She turns to look at Dean, opening her mouth to share her findings of zilch. At the last moment, she catches sight of Sam standing some yards off, with his gun aimed at one of them. Katherine moves to push Dean out of the way, but Sam's already fired.

It seems Dean had the same idea as Katherine, slightly modified.

His fingers gripped her jacket with the intention of pulling her behind him, but the bullets hit, and the force of it sent the both of them over the edge and into the water.

Dean pulls her up by the opening of her jacket, and the two resurface quietly. Katherine gnaws on her lower lip to keep quiet, but her shoulder hurts to high Heaven. The sting of the dirty water definitely isn't helping her chances of shutting up, or fighting an infection. Dean pulls the both of them underneath the dock and he stares up through the planks, wrapping Katherine's uninjured arm over his shoulder, and he grips a support beam to hold the both of them up.

As soon as Sam's gone, Dean swims for the nearest ramp up into the boat house. "Dean?!"

Katherine pushes herself away from Dean as he crawls up onto the ramp. "We should take our clothes off," he groans. "To keep warm, you know?" Katherine rolls her eyes, pushing herself up with her uninjured side.

"Charming as ever, aren't you?" She grunts, climbing to her feet as Jo rushes for them.

"Oh my God," she says, glancing over the two of them.

Katherine waves a hand at her. "Told you, the name's Katherine."

"You're bleeding pretty bad," Jo says, staring primarily at the wound in Katherine's stomach.

"I just need some stitches," Katherine dismisses, shaking her head, and starts up the ramp. "Did you see Sam?"

"No, I've been looking for the two of you." Katherine starts shivering immediately. That water is colder than Connecticut snow, and right now, in the wind, she feels like she's turning into a block of ice. Dean scoops her up and she yelps, gripping her shoulder.

"Stop being such a baby," Dean mutters. Katherine blows water from her lips and curls into his body heat. Dean pretends to not enjoy it.

And Jo follows behind them.

"We've gotta find Sam," Katherine says, shivering.

"Right now, I'm concerned with keeping you from going into shock," Dean tells her.

She scoffs out a laugh. "Shock," she muses through chattering teeth. "Ka-Katherine D-Donovan doesn't go into shock." Jo opens up the door to the saloon. "Nothing shocks me. 'M-m un sh-h-ockable."

"Jo, could you get to the car outside and grab the bags?" Dean requests. After a moment, Jo nods and hurries outside. "Your lips are blue," Dean says. "I could kiss them pink again." Katherine barely snorts. It hurts her throat. Dean shrugs. "What? I'm sure Charlie wouldn't mind, in the faith of keeping you warm."

"Nice try," she murmurs, shaking her head. Dean sighs.

"Don't say I didn't offer." He slides his fingers underneath her jacket and carefully pries the soaking material from her shoulders, then down her arms. "I'm gonna get that slug first," he tells her, moving for the bar top.

"I can get it—"

"Oh, don't even," he scoffs, grabbing a bottle of whiskey from the back. Jo walks back into the saloon. "Hey, you got some pliers, or—"

"Something less medieval?" Katherine cuts in, holding her arms tight to her silhouette.

"Yeah," Jo chuckles, glancing between the two, and drops the bags near the table Katherine is sat at. She moves behind the bar and helps Dean find what he needs.

"Katherine," Dean calls. "Dental floss or cloth?"

"Dental floss," she answers. "I like my wounds to be minty fresh." Dean smirks. "If you've got a first aid kit, there should be nylon and needles in there." Jo picks the white box up from underneath the cabinet, and she and Dean start over to Katherine. Dean drops everything from his arms onto the table and digs in his bag for a heavier jacket to drape around Katherine's uninjured shoulder and her front. He grabs one of hers, too, and puts that on first, followed by his thicker one. She smiles in thanks. Her wet hair is wrung out and twisted into a bun. "Could you be quick about it?"

"Shaddup," Dean mutters, pulling a chair up to Katherine. She smirks and he takes the bottle of whiskey and starts pouring. She stiffens, holding completely still—a sharp contrast to the near-convulsing—but grunts through her teeth.

"Nice to see you again, Jo," she says, glancing up to the older blonde.

Jo flashes her a smile. "Seems like every time we see each other, you're in need of getting patched up."

Dean speaks without looking up from Katherine's bleeding shoulder. "What's that mean?" Dean asks, reaching for a rag, and folds it up before pressing it into Katherine's shoulder.

"Ouch," she snarls.

"Stop moving," he snaps. "And hold this to your other one." Katherine takes the rag from him and pushes it against the wound on her stomach.

"Well, Katherine stumbled into the Roadhouse last summer after a nasty fight with a vampire," Jo chuckles, sitting down across from the two.

"It was dark outside, thanks," Katherine sourly grumbles. "And that wasn't even the start of it. First off, I had to deal with a shifter, right? Tell you what, the weirdest thing is shooting yourself in the head with a silver bullet."

"I would love to know how that feels," Dean sourly says. "Stop shivering."

"I have a fully-functioning foot attached to a very long leg." Dean glowers at her. She quirks a brow. "And a gun. I can hurt your favorite appendage in a matter of seconds."

"Shut up."

"Anyway," she sighs. Her chest caves in, changing the line of pull. Dean sits back and glowers, unnoticed by a freezing Katherine Louise. "So I killed...me...and got a flat on the way back to the Roadhouse." Katherine shrugs without thinking and winces, slowly lowering her shoulder. "The bloodsucker tried to make a move—several, actually—then I took his head clean off his shoulders. I should play baseball, I tell ya." Jo chuckles, shaking her head.

Dean grits his teeth. "Why aren't you holding that cloth—"

"'Cause it's not bleeding anymore," Katherine says, tossing the wet pink rag onto the table. 

"I'm about to let you bleed out," Dean warns.

Her gaze is like ice. "Could you just get the damn thing out of my shoulder so we can find Sam?"

"You can't do that if you're bleeding to death," Jo says.

"Thanks, Jo," Dean hums. Katherine rolls her eyes. "Drink," he orders, pushing the whiskey towards her. "You're gonna want to." Then he stops. "Have you ever been shot before?" Katherine stares at him for a moment before grabbing the whiskey and downing a bit. She coughs, pulling away from the lip with a grimace. Dean chuckles. "That's what I thought. Gimme the bottle, greenhorn."

"You can't call me that," Katherine says, handing the bottle to him. Dean waits a moment before pouring a bit more whiskey over the wound.

"You shouldn't take those painkillers with alcohol anyway," Dean quietly tells her. "Or did they not teach you that at Yale?"

"I still have full function in my right arm, too," Katherine quips with a distant gaze, brow quirked. "You know, the one I use to punch people."

Jo glances between the two, her smile fading a bit as Sam's words ring in her head. Especially now that Katherine's back, he said.

So either A, the two were an item before, or B, Katherine doesn't know Dean actually likes her. In which case, she's the dumbest and luckiest girl alive.

Jo's quick. She figured Dean and Katherine were something right after Sam said what he did. Why else would he have said it like he did? Now that Katherine's back. It had a deeper meaning.

"Would you stop flinching?"

"You're goin' at my arm like frikkin' Bamm-Bamm!" Katherine cries. "Just ease up, all right? Please."

So what was so special about Katherine Louise Donovan? Sure, she's beautiful. Tall, charismatic and charming. Sometimes her wit goes straight over your head. She's a genius. But why is Jo the little sister? She's got Katherine by a year and a couple of weeks.

Katherine wads the rag up and wipes the scum from her hairline, going tenderly around her reddened temple from the wound Sam inflicted the night before.

"Ow-uh!"

"It's out," Dean grumbles, dropping the bloody slug into an empty shot glass. Katherine grimaces, reaching for the whiskey. "Easy there, cowgirl," he says, shifting his eyes back to her shoulder. "Last time you were drunk around me, you couldn't walk in a straight line. That was only after a couple of beers."

"You are hardly the one to talk to me about my drinking habits," she mutters around the lip of the bottle.

Dean shrugs. "I am a responsible drinker. I know my limits. You obviously don't. Hold that." She presses her hand onto the patch of gauze he held against her shoulder.

"How did you know Sam was possessed?" Jo asks, glancing to Dean.

"I didn't," he says. "Katherine did." Jo's dark eyes shift to Katherine.

The younger girl smiles a little. "Demons are my specialty, remember?" She hums. "There's no way it could've been Sam." She flexes her fingers as Dean stretches some stiff white tape over the edge of the gauze and her shoulder.

Jo watches the muscles in her neck contract as she grits her teeth. She twiddles her thumbs, watching Dean continue his work on Katherine. "All right, stand up," he says. "Or lay on the table, whichever."

Katherine stands up and carefully shrugs out of her ruined t-shirt. Dean's pulse quickens and he glances away from her after a moment, pretending to not have noticed the light lavender color of her bra. Jo noticed his gauged reaction. Katherine sticks her arms through the sleeves of her gray zip-up and pulls Dean's jacket over that before she moves the left side out of the way, giving Dean clear access to the pink-stained wet section of her toned tummy. Dean sighs, grabs the rag, and dries her off. Katherine notices a slit in the shoulder of his shirt. With narrowed eyes, she reaches over his head and pulls at the seam. Dean quickly smacks her hand away, eyes and jaw sharp. Like always, Katherine is unaffected by his harsh glare. "You didn't say you got clipped."

Dean shrugs. "It's a scratch," he says, grabbing the needle from the first aid kit. "I'll be fine."

"Dean, your shoulder's split open." He doesn't say anything in response.

"Hey, KD?" Jo asks, and the younger girl looks across the table at her. "I know demons lie, but do they tell the truth, too?"

"Sometimes, I suppose," Katherine hums, reaching for the whiskey. "If they think it'll mess with your head." Dean steals the whiskey from Katherine's fingertips, and she glowers.

Jo glances between the two of them. She supposes she could see it, though her burning gut hates to admit it. They're both equally beautiful. They're both skilled hunters. She does admit, they look like a pretty badass pair. Maybe it's a no-brainer, the attraction between the two of them. Beautiful, powerful people tend to gravitate toward one another, right?

Jo's eyes settle on watching Dean's hands carefully, steadily, work at Katherine's toned stomach. It's a sizable gash, spanning a few inches. Katherine is carefully critiquing him, instructing him on the placement of his sutures, and he actually takes her pointers.

"Do you have any idea where Sam went?" Jo asks in a trivial attempt to break up their interaction. To make her presence known, too.

"So far, he's been going after the nearest hunter," Dean says. "The closest one I know is in South Dakota."

Katherine frowns. "How did you put that together already?" She asks. "I didn't even see the pattern..." Her frown deepens. "Wait, Bobby?"

"Yeah—"

"Aw, hell, Dean!" Katherine lunges and reaches for another needle and more thread.

"Hey—easy!" Dean cries, moving his hand towards her as she moves away from him to keep from yanking on her skin. Katherine quickly threads her needle and pulls Dean's shirtsleeve back. He's gawking at her.

"Keep working," she tells him, pouring a bit of whiskey over his shoulder.

"Ouch—"

"Shut up. You know that didn't hurt." Katherine quickly starts her stitches, maneuvering steadily even as Dean's shoulder is moving.

"Great," Jo says, popping up to her feet once Dean and Katherine are both finished with each other's sutures. "Can we go now?"

Dean almost laughs. "You're not coming."

Jo frowns. "The hell I'm not. I'm part of this now."

"I can't say it more plain than this," Dean says. "You try and follow us, I'll tie you right back to that post. This is my fight."

Jo gapes, throwing her hand to the younger blonde. "What about Katherine?"

"Katherine's a pain in my ass," Dean says. "And we're not talking about her right now."

"I'm in better shape than she is—!"

"Way to throw me under the bus," Katherine mutters, zipping her gray hoodie up.

"Way to come to my defense," Jo retorts.

"Having Dean breathing down your neck isn't very fun," Katherine says to the older blonde. "I'm actually doing you a favor."

"I find that hard to believe," Jo scoffs under her breath.

Katherine sighs, unbuttoning her jeans. "Whoa," Dean says. "Here, seriously?"

"Nobody said you had to look," Katherine mutters, reaching for a pair of leggings. She changes her sneakers, too, and Dean swings their bags over his shoulders. "We'll call you later," Katherine promises Jo, calling over her shoulder, but barely turns around to say goodbye.

"Wait," Jo says, picking up one of the prescription bottles. Katherine and Dean turn at the same time. "Take these—they'll help with the pain."

Katherine smiles, pushing the door open with her back. "I've got an arsenal of painkillers. Thanks, Jo." As soon as they're both in the car, Dean changes his clothes, and they hit the road. "Sioux Falls is six hours out," Katherine says, cranking the heat on. "How long were we with Jo?"

"I don't know, but we were in that water for a while."

Katherine shrugs out of Dean's jacket and pulls it over the back of his shoulders the best she can, and gets back to looking at her map. "Then Sam could have a pretty good lead on us," she murmurs, digging for her phone in the console. She has Bobby Singer's number memorized.

"Calling this late at night, you'd better be on your death bed," he grunts.

Katherine grins. "Old age hasn't treated you well, Uncle Bobby," she hums. Then her expression turns pensive. "How can it be the grumpiest drunk I know is grumpier? I take that back..Dean's pretty bad. You're, what, twenty-seven still?" She asks Dean. He glowers.

There's a pause. "Who is this?"

"I'm offended," she chuckles. "It's KD."

He laughs. "Well damn...It's been a good few years, kid."

"Hell yeah," she murmurs. "But we can talk about that later. Kind of got an emergency on our hands. I'm with Dean Winchester, and he thinks Sam's headed your way. It ain't Sam, Bobby. There's a demon in him, and whoever it is is hunting hunters. So." She frowns. "Heads up. Dean and I are coming as fast as we can."

"Sam's possessed?"

"Yep. We'll be there in a couple hours, Bobby, but just in case Dean and I aren't there before Sam is...get ready."

"Yeah. Yeah, thanks, kid."

"We'll see you." After a moment, she hangs up.

"I'm not grumpy," Dean says.

"You are so."

The hunters arrive at Bobby's place just after dawn. The old man meets the hunters outside, and it's a short-lived reunion for Katherine and Bobby. They hadn't seen in each other in what must've been two or three years.

Inside, Sam is tied up to a chair, and Bobby's painted a devil's trap on the ceiling; while Katherine was gone, the Winchesters had learned as much as they could about demons, including utilizing a devil's trap. Sam stares at the hunters with pitch black eyes.

"Dean," he sighs. "Back from the dead. Getting to be a regular thing for you, isn't it? Like a cockroach."

Katherine rolls her eyes. "You didn't hit him, you hit me," she lies, picking up one of the large metal pails Bobby provided. "Maybe you should stick to that little eye trick. You seem to be good at that." She tilts the pail over, splashing Sam right in the face with the holy water. He screams, writhing against his confines as his skin sizzles from the water. Sam's physical body isn't affected, just the demon inside him. "Demons are also good at talking." She crouches down to eye level, her hands on her knees.

"I'll bite his tongue off," the demon threatens, glowering at Katherine from underneath the dark brown fringe on his forehead.

She smiles. "Naw," she murmurs, shaking her head. "You won't be in him long enough." She stands straight up and starts reciting the Latin she's had memorized since she was a girl. When Sam starts lashing out, Bobby pulls Katherine back a few feet. But Dean stays right in front of Sam, speaking words that Katherine can't hear over herself.

Sam starts laughing. "You really think that's what this is about?" He asks. Dean motions for Katherine to stop. She runs her tongue over her teeth and shifts her weight, moving her eyes to the malicious grin on Sam's face. "The master plan? I don't give a rat's ass about the master plan." And then he starts speaking Latin. Dean looks to Katherine, dumbfounded, and Katherine wears almost a mirror expression.

None of the demons she's come across have said those words. The house begins to tremble and the fire in the hearth grows.

"What the hell's going on?" Dean asks, nudging Katherine. Her eyes settle on Sam's exposed forearm, on a mark she hadn't seen at first. She leaps forward and pulls his sleeve back. He doesn't respond, too preoccupied with his incantation.

A circle with a half slash through it is burned onto Sam's flesh, like a brand. "It's a binding link!" She shouts over the tremors of the cluttered home. Dean doesn't understand. "It's like a lock! It's locked itself inside Sam's body, so anything I throw at it won't work!"

"Then what the hell do we do?!"

"I don't know!" The ceiling cracks, breaking the devil's trap on the ceiling and severing the elements that contain the demon and its abilities.

And then everything stops. The fire goes out, the quaking stops. Katherine's brain rattles in her skull, concussion not pleased in the least.

"There," Sam murmurs. "That's better." Bobby flies into the corner first. And then Dean, and then Katherine. Dean's lost his holy water, but Katherine has hers tucked into her jacket. She watches with double vision as the demon moves for Dean. "You know when people want to describe the worst possible thing...they say it's like Hell." Sam kneels before his older brother, and Katherine carefully pulls herself up from her feet, glancing around for something that would hurt the demon more than some holy water. "There's a reason for that." Dean tries to push at Sam's shoulders after the first blow to the face.

The fire poker was knocked over and into the fire. She can see the tip of the poker was just over the logs. Katherine glances over her shoulder and moves for Sam as fast as she can.

She grips him by the hair and yanks his head back before forcing the contents of her flask down Sam's throat. Through his screaming, he writhes, his arm swinging around to hit Katherine in her sensitive middle, and again over her fresh wound. The force of Sam's thrashing sends both of them onto their backs, and Katherine quickly winds her leg over one of Sam's arms and the other over his waist. "Bobby, the poker!" She shouts. "Fireplace!" Sam throws his head back into Katherine's ribs, and the immediate pain of it tells her no less than one rib is at least bruised from the events of the past few days. She throws her flask to the side and grips Sam's hand, exposing his forearm. "Burn him!"

"What?!"

"Break the seal, Bobby!" He presses the hot end of the poker to Sam's skin, and like that, the impossible resistance goes lax, and a cloud of black shoots from Sam's mouth. After a few moments of Sam being dead weight, he scrambles off of Katherine and she cries out, causing him to jump and look behind him. Katherine is on her back, one knee in the air, and she's not moving. Her tight-eyed grimace suggests a decent amount of pain.

"Katherine?" He pants.

"Hi," she growls through her teeth. Sam glances to Dean, his bloody nose and clutched shoulder, and a wary Bobby Singer. Bobby throws the poker back to the fireplace and moves to help Katherine up. She winces, barely able to curl up on her own. She settles for resting on her shins.

"Did I miss anything?" Sam asks.

Katherine swings, punching Sam in the jaw, and she grunts, her hand moving to her ribs as she climbs to her feet. "No, I think we've got it covered," she pants.

"Let's get you some ice, kid," Bobby says, carefully leading Katherine into the kitchen.

"Ice ain't gonna help my ribs, Bobby," she strains, managing to smile a bit. "'Sides...I think my spleen is still defrosting."

Bobby sighs, moving to the freezer and ignoring her protests. He hands her a rag filled with ice and instructs her to hold it to that rib she hurt, and went on his way to help Sam. The eldest Winchester walks into the kitchen then, appraising the young doctor. "You okay?"

"Peachy," she croaks. "How's the nose?"

"Well, it's not broken." He pulls out a chair and sits beside her.

"Where's Sam?"

"Working up the courage to come apologize to you." Dean smiles a bit. Bobby starts into the kitchen with Sam behind him.

"You kids take these," he says, sliding two small silver discs onto the table. Katherine frowns, picking it up, and stares at the silver symbol.

"What is it?" Dean asks.

"Warding," Katherine hums. "Anti-possession." She smiles, looking up to the grunt of a hunter. "Thanks, Bobby."