"Lex got Jason fired?!"

Panic. "Katherine!"

She tossed the remote to the side and bolted down the stairs, her beretta in hand. Unharmed, Sophia stood in front of the television, gawking at the screen with Julien in her arms. "What's wrong?"

Sophia goes pale. "Oh my God, you have a gun."

"You screamed!" Katherine defended, switching the safety on.

"Yeah—! You remember those guys you went on a months-long road trip with?! The family friends?"

Katherine hesitated. "Yes?"

"Is that them?" Sophia points to the television. 

Katherine swayed a bit as Dean Winchester's face was blown up on the screen.

Bank robbery in Milwaukee. He had a gun.

Dean.

Can't be. Can't. Dead. Dead dead dead dead dead—

She felt faint. Her head spun, and she lost her footing, just a bit. "No." Sophia looked to Katherine in disbelief as the younger girl sat down on the sofa. 

"That looks like Dean," Sophia protests.

Katherine shook her head, hands trembling. "It's not. It...it can't be."

Sophia's brows shot up."Well does he have a twin? A doppelgänger?"

"No."

Katherine called Dean's cell over and over again, but there was nothing. Not for days. Sketches of the three—three—perpetrators were released. Sam and Dean were definite matches. The third one, though, Katherine didn't recognize—a Ronald Reznik. And apparently, he had died already. Shot on the scene by an FBI agent.

It's early Monday morning. The sun has just barely risen. Katherine went out for a run and started making breakfast when her phone rang on the island.

She gets calls from unsaved numbers all the time. Old hunter connections sniffing around for cases, which she fielded from time to time, misdials, things of that nature.

"Hello?" She answers, moving back to the stove. There's silence on the other end for a moment...almost like static. She waits for a moment. "Hello?" Not static. Rain. Traffic. She's been in a car long enough to know the sound. 

And she's heard his voice often enough to know who this is. "Katherine?"

"Dean," she breathes. Her heart is in her stomach, her skin is on fire, her lungs are stuck and her head is spinning. He's never sounded like this before. So worried. So terrified, on the brink of sobs if he wasn't there already.

"Dean?" She whispers, tears welling in her eyes. She's gripping the countertop to hold her up. I knew it was him on the lawn.

"Yeah," he croaks. "Yeah, it's me."

She has half a mind to ensure Sophia, Charlie, or Chris aren't around. "Dean...what's wrong?" Dread pools in her stomach and threatens to explode. "I saw—I saw what happened in Wisconsin—"

"Sam's missing."

Her legs go numb. "Sam," she croaks. "When—"

"Have you heard form him? Is he with you?"

"No." She glances to her car keys hanging by the door. It's a split second. No debates. "Dean, where are you?"

"Abilene. Kat, if you've heard anything—"

"I haven't," she says. She chews on her lip for a moment. "I'm coming to you."

"What? No! No, just stay—stay in Florida—"

Knew it was you, you bastard. "Hell no," she snaps, moving for the stairs. "I'm going to the airport in half an hour. Don't move, you hear me? If you hear anything from Sam, you've gotta call me, all right? I'll get the next flight to Dallas, I'll call you, just—Dean, you have to come get me."

"Katherine—"

"I'm helping you find him," she insists, opening the door to her room. Charlie, face-down on the bed, opens one eye to see her duck under the bed to grab her duffle. She starts throwing shirts into her bag. "Be at the airport or I swear I'll kill you." She hangs up and tosses her phone to the side before moving for the dresser to grab a few pairs of jeans. Charlie sits up now, rubbing his eyes. 

"What's going on?" He asks.

"Sam's missing," she says, thrusting a few pairs of jeans into her bag. She grabs some shorts, too.

"Who's Sam?"

Katherine hesitates, lifting her eyes from the floor to look at the man in her bed. "My brother," she answers, zipping her bag up.

"Whoa, brother? I thought—"

"He's not a blood relative," Katherine interrupts, shaking her head. She grabs her phone charger and jams it into her bag before pacing around the room, looking for anything else she may need. She crawls under her bed, searching for her hard-side container, and pulls her beretta from the side of her bed. Charlie stares at it before slowly moving his eyes to her. His posture goes a little straighter.

"Are you sure everything's all right?" He carefully asks.

"He's missing, Charlie!"

"Right, but do you need the gun?"

Katherine stops to stare at him.

In that moment, her heart hurts. The past few days haven't been easy for him, either. She's been too closed off, not the smiling young woman he's known over the past several months. She's quiet, distant. And it hurts because she can't share anything with him. The biggest part of her life.

Katherine swallows and leans over, grabbing his face, and kisses him. Charlie reaches up, his fingers wrapping around her wrist, and pulls away from her. "You're scaring me," he murmurs.

"I promise I'll explain everything when I get back," she tells him, resting her forehead on his. "But right now, I really need to get to the airport."

"Let me take you," he says, moving from the bed.

"Charlie, you've got work—"

"I can afford to be late," he says, hurrying towards the bathroom.

Because that's the kind of man he is. He doesn't know who this Sam guy is, but if he's important to Katherine, he's important to him, too. 

Katherine continues to pack, locking her gun in the case and stuffing her ammunition in one of her bags. She fishes her wallet, a thin leather thing, out of her purse, and tucks it into her back pocket after ensuring her driver's license is in place.

"I need to swing by the office," Katherine says, glancing over her shoulder as Charlie pulls his shirt over his head.

"It's on the way," he tells her, nodding, and swipes his cell phone from the table. Katherine swings her bag over her shoulder and runs down the hallway. Downstairs, Sophia eyes the black gun case in her hand.

"Whoa," she says, watching the two rush around the house. "What's going on?"

"Sam's missing," Katherine says. Her tan canvas jacket is thrown on over her baby blue dry-fit t-shirt and dark blue leggings, blonde hair swept into a ponytail. She probably hasn't stopped sweating from her run yet, and she's rushing out of the door. Sophia wondered why the stove was on.

Here's the reason.

"Sam," Sophia repeats. "Sam Winchester? One of the guys who had that stickup at the bank—"

"It wasn't him!" Katherine cries. It's silent for a moment. "I know everything is really confusing and I haven't been myself for the past few days, but I can't explain right now. I'll call if I can. I don't know when I'll be back." She briefly hugs Sophia before running out to Charlie's truck. Sophia raises her eyebrows at him, throwing her arms out, and after he shrugs, Charlie runs after Katherine.

Explaining to her boss that her brother has gone missing qualifies as "immediate relief from work," and he lets her go without any other question. She didn't pause to so much as glance at Quinn.

"So are you gonna explain to me what's going on?" Charlie asks, speeding down the 295.

Katherine rubs her temples, shaking her head. "This isn't how it was supposed to happen," she whispers. "I don't think it would be wise if I told you right this minute." Charlie clenches his jaw. "But I promise I will tell you everything when I get back."

"Fine. Who's Sam Winchester?" He glances to her.

"A friend," she says. "He's my best friend."

"How come I haven't heard of him?"

"Because we didn't exactly part on the best terms, Charlie." She stares out at the rainy highway. "It was before graduation. Before I even came back to Haley."

"Was he the boyfriend?" Charlie asks. There's some kind of simmering anger in his tone.

"No," she quietly replies. "No, it's his brother." 

After a moment, she reaches over to hold Charlie's hand. To her relief, he returns the pressure. He kissed her goodbye at the airport, and she booked the next flight to Dallas.

"Are you checking any bags today?" The man at the counter asks.

"And a gun," she says, setting her bag on the scale, and drops the hard case on the counter top. She holds the key up and swiftly unlocks it, allows the agent to inspect it, ensure there is no ammunition. Katherine locks it again, stuffs the key in her wallet, and waits for her ticket. Going through security is fast enough—she just had to remove her shoes and jacket. It's the hour and a half wait for her flight that killed, and then the plane ride, and then waiting for her bag to come up from the carousel.

"Dean," Katherine says, staring out at the rain. "I'm in Dallas—"

"I'm pulling up to the airport now. What terminal?"

"A." She only had to wait a few minutes before that rain-beaded glossy black Impala pulled up to the curb. Dean got out of the driver's seat, looking the same as she last saw him. It's an awkward moment of the two just staring at each other. Only when she sees his stony expression fracture does she move for him and pull him into a hug. 

"Thank you," he whispers, tightening his grip around her shoulders. 

"He's my brother, too," she quietly returns. Dean pulls away from her with a nod, unlocks the trunk, and helps her stow her things. With that, she loaded herself into the front seat of the Impala, and Dean started away. 

For a few minutes, it was a struggle to think of where to start. She got a few places in her mind on the flight over, how she planned this conversation to go. Hold off on the angry screams, the curses, the tears. 

Finding Sam is the objective. Therapy comes later.

"Have you heard anything?"

"No. I've been calling everyone I know. Bobby hasn't heard from him, Ellen—"

"Bobby Singer?" Katherine questions. "And Ellen Harvelle?"

Dean frowns a little. "How do you know Ellen?"

"Old contact," She dismissively replies. Dean pulled into a hotel a town or two over to evade the mile-high prices of hotels near airports. Katherine called every hunter in her journal.

None of them had heard from or seen Sam Winchester, but they would keep their noses in the air for her.

Soon, their work efforts came to a halt. It had been a long, emotional day, and they're exhausted, sitting on the sofa and the edge of their beds, staring at nothing.

"You want a drink?" Dean asks, slowly pushing himself off the terrible mattress. Katherine grunts for a reply. Dean grabs to paper cups from the bathroom and pours whatever is in his flask.

He can feel the laser beams on the back of his head.

"I think the intensity of your death gear has gotten stronger," Dean notes as he turns around. As he predicted, Katherine's pretty face is turned up and sour, icy gaze locked right on him. "I know I have a lot of explaining to do—"

"You think?" She snaps. He sighs, handing her one cup. She downs the shot without so much as a grimace. 

"Jesus."

"Oh, you're gonna wish," she mutters, getting to her feet. "What the fuck, Dean?!" He drops his head in exasperation.

"Can we—can we not do the yelling right now? It's been a long—"

"For eight months I thought you were dead! I called every phone number I had for you two and never got a call back! Or even a text telling me to buzz off!" She puts her hands on her hips, blue eyes blazing as she bores into his soul. "I thought you were dead," she whispers again.

"I kind of was," he grunts. Katherine's brows knit together. "Only for a little while." She grits her teeth.

"Were you outside my house last week?"

He hesitates, glancing across the room. "Yes."

"Why did you run?" When he doesn't answer, Katherine grabs his chin and turns it to her. 

"Because I didn't want to ruin it," he answers. "You got out. I mean, look at you." He gestures to her. "You're a doctor now, you got a house, you live with Sophia, you guys have boyfriends..."

She shakes her head, fuming. "I know you'd like to think I do whatever you say, Dean, but I still hunted." He looks down to his shoes for a moment.

"Past-tense?"

Katherine shrugs, unwilling to admit it was Charlie who pulled her from it all. Then she sits on the edge of her bed and sighs.

"So what happened?" She finally asks. "After what you said in that parking lot, I didn't expect you to be lurking outside of my house ever again."

Dean nods, jaw tightening. "Yeah," he agrees with a thick voice. "After what happened in Chicago...I got scared." Katherine glances to her right as Dean leans against the counter in the kitchenette. "I couldn't live with myself if I got you hurt like that again. Or...if you died."

"Dean, I really wasn't hurt that badly," she scoffs.

"It seemed like it, though," he hums. "It scared the hell out of me, carrying you out of that hotel room with the daevas...and it was my fault. I dragged you into this mess. And I knew if I just asked you to lay low without us, you wouldn't do it."

"So you chose to be cruel and push me away instead of telling me how you felt and letting it blow over." Katherine nods. "Guess that kind of fits your M.O."

"I guess I deserve that," he murmurs.

"I don't understand your idea of protection and safety, though," she says. "Usually, 'safety in numbers' holds to be true. Why send me off on my own, push me away like that, if your feelings of getting too close weren't factored into that? I know how you get with emotional intimacy."

"All right, fine. I admit it, I was scared of..." He grimaces. "Emotional intimacy. Whatever. I don't exactly have a great track record, all right? Cassie—" Katherine groans. "What?"

"I'm just sick of the excuses," Katherine sighs, rubbing her forehead.

Dean grits his teeth. "Look, just 'cause of what I said...it doesn't mean it was true, Katherine." His voice has softened a bit, but Katherine isn't biting. He sighs, glancing out of the window, and crosses over to her. "If you had to get me as far away from you as possible because you thought it would protect me, you can't look me in the eye and say you wouldn't have done the same thing."

After a moment, Katherine nods, looking away from him. "Guess I never saw it that way before," she murmurs. "But still." Death glare is back on him. "Eight months of radio silence. And to say that if I didn't hear from you, it was because you were dead?" There's scorn in her eyes. But she's also tearful. "What do you think that did to me? I mean...how did you think I was going to react?" She shakes her head.

"I checked on you every month," Dean says. "Fourth of July...Labor Day...Halloween, Christmas." He shrugs. "I was pretty careful."

She actually smirks. "Until last week."

Dean lets out a soft chuckle. "Until last week," he says, nodding. "How did you see me, anyway?"

"I have an eye for detail," Katherine hums in response. Then she lets out a heavy sigh, holding her hand out. Dean passes her his flask, and she takes a swig from it. "So what happened after I had left? Was it as big and tragic as you thought it would be?"

"The thing that killed my mom was a demon," Dean tells her. "Legend has it that Samuel Colt made a gun that could kill anything. My dad got his hands on it, and we tried to go after the thing. There was this whole...spurt of demons coming up outta Hell. Dad said there were more demons among us now than ever before. He was possessed by Yellow Eyes—"

"Yellow Eyes?" 

"The demon," he says. "It has yellow eyes." After a moment of mental processing, Katherine nods. Dean knows that look, though.

She knows more than she's saying.

"There was an accident," he quietly continues. "A semi t-boned the Impala, put me and my dad in the hospital. And I guess I was so far gone, the doctors didn't think anything could be done to save me." Dean rubs his fingertips together. "But, uh...I think my dad made some kind of deal with Yellow Eyes. Me for him." After a moment, Katherine looks to Dean. "Whatever deal was made, ain't nothin' wrong with me now. Physically, anyway. Can't even tell I had a heart attack." A wry smile tugs at his lips.

"Dean," she murmurs. "I'm sorry."

He shakes his head. "Before he died, he told me somethin' weird." He glances to Katherine, electrified by her blue eyes on him again. It's a tragedy, going from having those eyes on you every day to not at all. For months. "He said I had to save Sam. And if I couldn't, then I'd have to kill him."

Katherine's brows shoot up. "Kill...kill Sam." Dean nods. "Why would you have to kill Sam?"

"The demon has plans for Sam, and anyone else like him. We just don't know what. Sam freaked, took off...I had to hunt him down. Found him in Indiana. This hunter, Gordon, was after him."

"Why?"

Dean lets out a sigh. "Gordon said he was hunting a demon when it told him about some dark army that named Sam was a part of. He thought killing Sam would've solved that problem." Katherine looks to the door, brows knit together. "And there were a whole bunch of clowns and circuses in between."

Katherine chuckles. "Clowns and circuses," she says, nodding. "Planes?"

"Nah. No, no planes." Dean glances sideways, but she's smiling still, looking away from him.

She seems well-rested. Those circles under her eyes aren't as vivid as they were when he knew her.

It's a different Katherine Donovan, he realizes. She's gone domestic, and because of his weakness, he might've ruined it. In that moment, his heart aches almost as badly as it did the days after his last boogeyman hunt, after the heart attack. He wishes it could be different. Him and Katherine. His life.

But he made his choice, and he has to live with it...and have the horrible hope that her boyfriend royally screws it up.