It's late morning when Katherine wakes up. She doesn't have any missed calls or texts—except Sophia.

She felt the baby move.

As Katherine took her time getting dressed, she called Sophia and heard everything that's happened in the past couple of days.

"So what's gonna happen with him anyway?" Katherine asks, pulling a baby pink ribbed camisole over her head. She's wearing black jeans and black flat ankle boots—not the ones she usually wears. These have a rubber sole entirely. "I mean, is he gonna be a 'Rowe' or 'Flanders'?"

"Rowe," Sophia scoffs. Katherine chuckles, pulling a few cardigans from her bag. While in New Haven, she and Sophia shopped around for a wardrobe revamp. The pink top is a newer article. Katherine holds up a camel-colored blazer, stares at it for a moment, and nods, dropping it back onto her bed. "Nah...he'll be a Flanders. I just don't know what to call him."

"Well do you have any idea?" Katherine asks, folding the other garments back into her bag.

"No," Sophia sighs. "I mean...I'm spitballing. I still have what, three months?"

Katherine laughs. "You really procrastinate everything, don't you? Telling your best friend she's gonna be an aunt—"

"Okay, are you really holding that against me?!"

"No," Katherine chuckles. "I'm just teasing you, Sophia."

"Well, I was thinking of calling him 'Kit.' You know, like I used to call you before we got an apartment."

"Too weird."

"Yeeaaahh," Sophia sighs. "Blake?"

Katherine tilts her head to the side. "Not horrible." She undoes her hair from its braid and does it all over again in two rows. Sophia is still prattling off names when there's a knock at the door.

It's Dean.

He hesitates, glancing over Katherine with a bit of anxiousness in his eyes, his gestures, the way his weight tilts him forward a bit. Then he glances at the phone in her hand. "Hang on, Soph," she says, then presses the phone into her shirt. The chill of the morning air makes her reconsider the blazer. "Are you okay?" Katherine quietly asks, cautiously glancing over him. Her palms are suddenly slick with nerves, because Dean is never awkward.

But you made him like this yesterday. Ten points to KD.

"Yeah," Dean says, nodding. He sounds relatively normal. "Uh...Cassie called. She said there was another accident. It's her boss, Jimmy Anderson."

After a moment, Katherine blinks, bringing her out of her little blame-fest, then nods. "Sophia, I really hate to do this to you, but...can I call you back?"

"Oh, yeah! I'm probably stealing you from those beautiful brothers, aren't I? Have fun!"

Katherine rolls her eyes and snaps her phone shut. "You can ride with us," Dean says, moving back for his room. "No sense in wasting gas."

Sam and Dean talk to the mayor while Katherine analyzes the crash site, hands tucked into her trench coat pockets.

"There's one set of tire tracks," the mayor said. "One. It doesn't point to foul play."

Cassie raised hell. "Mayor, the police and townspeople take their cues from you. If you're indifferent about what's—"

"Indifferent?" The old man grunted.

"Would you close the road if the victims were white?" She asked, crossing her arms.

"You're suggesting I'm racist, Cassie? I'm the last person you should talk to like that."

"And why is that?"

"Why don't you ask your mother?"

Cassie watches Dean and Katherine stand beside Jimmy Anderson's car. "She's a police officer?" Cassie asks Sam, shoving her hands into her jeans pockets.

After a moment, Sam shakes his head. "Nah. She's a graduating med school student. We just...have a ton of fake badges so we can get what we need and get the job done."

Cassie nods. "And you just...carry them around?"

"Well, she probably flashed them her feds badge," Sam hums, glancing over to his brother and their companion.

"Have you worked together for a long time?"

"No, actually," Sam tells her. "Dean found her in November."

Cassie raises a brow. "Found her? What does that mean?"

Sam chuckles. "It's a long story."

"She seems kinda young."

"She's almost twenty," Sam says with a shrug. "Acts like she's fifty. It's comforting to have her on the road. Then I know I'd win almost every argument with Dean." Cassie chuckles.

"She takes your side?"

"Nearly all the time," Sam tells her, nodding with a smile.

"And you're just friends?"

Ah. There it is. Sam's smile fades a little bit. "Yeah," he hums. "But she's more like the sister I never had."

Cassie smiles a bit. "That's nice," she says.

But there's longing in her gaze. Sam can tell. He's watched her watch the other two. It happened at the house, at the newspaper office, and it's happening now. Is she gauging their interaction? Sam starts to as well. There's nothing in particular about Katherine's expression that would indicate something other than her usual working mood. Her expression is neutral, brow almost furrowed as she speaks to Dean, and Sam imagines he's looking something similar to it.

"Can we talk?" Dean quietly asks.

"I didn't find any voodoo, hoodoo, or hex bags," she tells him, moving away from the car. "If they take the car to the impound lot, I can check the brake lines or something, but I don't see anything freaky—"

"Katherine."

"Is now really the time?" Katherine whispers. "We're working, Dean. Cassie's watching us, Sam's watching us—"

"You think I care?"

After a moment, she rubs her temple and glances back to the wreckage. "I think we should find Jimmy Anderson's friends. Find out if he was seeing that black truck Cassie's father was talking about." After a moment of hesitation, both physically and verbally, she moves away from the scene.

Just by looking at his expression, the hard jaw, Sam can tell Dean is upset. "You find anything?" Sam asks Katherine.

She shakes her head, dropping her badge into her jacket. That's when Cassie caught an eyeful of the diamond ring she always wears. "No, but I managed to get one of the guys to talk to me about the other accidents. Said it all looked the same." Katherine shrugs. "What if Jimmy saw that same black truck Cassie's father did?"

"He didn't say anything about it to me," Cassie says, fiddling with a necklace hanging at her sternum.

"Did he have friends?" Katherine asks. "People he was often with?" Cassie nods. "We're gonna need names. Maybe a place where they could usually be found."

"Ron Stubbins," Cassie immediately says, glancing over Katherine's shoulder as Dean approaches the three. "Uh...try the fishing dock. If you follow this road into town, it should take you right to it."

So that was that. At the motel, Katherine unruffled her braids and pulled her hair into a sleek ponytail, fringe left untouched. Lilac button-down tucked into black slacks and black pumps. She's shrugging on her blazer when one of the brothers knocks on her door. She suppresses her sigh as she glances over Dean. "Your tie is too loose," she tells him, stepping out of her room, and locks the door behind her.

She stares out into the road ahead, skies overcast and ground gray. It was a short and silent drive. Nobody spoke. And for a moment, Katherine felt almost guilty. She'd done this. She knew something was going to change that night at the bar.

And here they are. The tension is tangible.

The dock is cold as the hunters strut up and down the length of it, asking around for Ron Stubbins. The sun is beginning to set now, the temperature dropping with it.

"Excuse me," Katherine calls, and two men look up from the table. This is where she was directed from the last group of men. "Are you Ron Stubbins?" The white man on the right nods. "Friends with Jimmy Anderson?"

"Who are you?" He asks, not answering her question.

"We're from Mr. Anderson's insurance company," says Dean. "Just here to dot some 'I's and cross some 't's."

"Had he mentioned any unusual recent experiences before he passed away?" Katherine asks.

Ron appraises her for a moment. There's nothing strange about it. Perhaps he's gauging her young face. "What do you mean 'unusual'?" He could've spoken a little kinder to her. It only adds to her vexation.

"Visions, hallucinations?" Dean pipes in. "It's all part of a medical examination kind of—"

"What company you say you were from?" Ron questions.

"All National Mutual," Dean supplies, barely producing a folded piece of paper from the inside of his jacket. It's nothing to do with insurance, just a bit of research from an old case. "Did he ever mention seeing a big black truck?"

"The hell you talking about? You even speaking English?"

"Son, this—this truck," the other one pipes up. "A big, scary, monster-lookin thing?"

"We think so," Katherine says.

He nods sagely. "I've heard of a truck like that."

"Where?"

"Not where, when. Back in the 60s, there was a string of deaths—black men. Story goes, they disappeared into a big, nasty black truck."

"They ever catch who did it?" Dean asks.

"Never found 'em. Hell," he scoffs. "Not sure they even really looked. There was a time when this town wasn't too friendly with all its citizens."

Katherine smiles a little tightly. "Gentlemen, thank you." She turns on her heel and starts away. Even in the heels, she's a few inches shy of Dean's height. "'Truck' keeps comin' up," she mutters, moving to jam her hand in her pocket.

"You heard of the Flying Dutchman?" Dean asks her.

"Yeah," Katherine says with a shrug. "A ghost ship infused with the evil spirit of the captain. It was basically a part of him."

"Yeah. So what if we're dealing with the same kind of thing?" Dean murmurs. "Phantom truck that's the extension of some bastard ghost, reenacting past crimes."

"The victims have all been black men," she says, nodding.

"But what if it's more than that?"

"How do you mean?" Katherine asks, coming to a slow stop on the dock.

"The vics are all connected to Cassie's family."

After a moment, Katherine nods and continues forward. "All right. Well, you work that angle. Go talk to her."

Dean looks after her for a moment. "Katherine——"

"Dude," she mutters, turning around. "Look, I'm sorry for opening my mouth, all right? I'm sorry about whatever it was that happened the other night. It's already screwed everything up, so can we just put it behind us?" Dean just stares. She lets out a heavy sigh, her warm breath billowing in the frigid air as she shifts her weight and starts back for the car. "Go talk to Cassie, all right?"

"Why does it feel like you're pushing me away?" Dean asks, following after her. "It's not your usual move. You're all hearts and butterflies—"

"I am not hearts and butterflies—"

"Still. Being emotionally aloof isn't a good look for ya."

She laughs. "Oh, God," she groans, shaking her head. "Look at what it's done. I don't want to talk about anything and you're wanting to talk about everything." Dean huffs at her. "Dean. Forget about it, all right? It was a mistake. People make mistakes. So let's just get the job done. Go talk to Cassie, I'll call Sam, we'll do some digging."

"I can take you back to the motel—"

"I don't think that's in either of our best interests," she says to him, barely glancing his way, and starts past the car.

Sam stares at her, tapping his fingers awkwardly against the steering wheel. Her cheeks are raw and pink from the cold, but the heater is on full blast. All of her hair is now up in a bun at the top of her head. She glances sideways at him. "Why are you staring at me like that?" she asks.

"Staring? I'm not staring."

"It's a fleeing stare," she says. "You look away when you think I'm going to look at you, then you look at me using your peripheries, then you tilt your head a little when I'm not looking." She twists her head to him. "I know you, Sam."

"Yeah, and I know you," he says, turning to face her.

"Eyes on the road!"

He sighs, facing forward. She's just as protective over a hunk of metal as Dean is. "What's going on?"

"I'm tired, I'm hungry, and I'm cold. Humans are generally cranky with one. And here I am, only a little cranky with all three. I'm a damn blessing." She's smiling now.

"Yeah, but...Dean..." Sam sighs, shaking his head. "Never mind. That's not what I was going to say."

"Well what were you going to say?" Katherine asks.

Sam glances to her. "That I finished reading The Hero with a Thousand Faces."

Katherine laughs. "That's not what you were going to say."

"No, but you remind me of it." She's frowning now, confused. "The monomyth, anyway. Campbell explained it." He pulls his book from underneath the driver's seat and hands it to Katherine. "Look for the first highlight."

"A hero ventures forth from the world of common day into a region of supernatural wonder: fabulous forces are there encountered and a decisive victory is won: the hero comes back from this mysterious adventure with the power to bestow boons on his fellow man."

Katherine reads over it a few times. "Why does this remind you of me?"

"Well," Sam shrugs. "The hero starts in an ordinary world, receives a call to adventure. If the hero accepts the call to enter this strange world, the hero must face trials and tribulations, and may have to face these trials alone, or may have assistance. Maybe even the hero must survive a severe challenge. If the hero does, he may receive a great gift, which often results in the discovery of important self-knowledge."

Katherine chuckles. "I don't think that's me at all, Sam," she hums. "I'm just doing my job."

"And isn't that what makes you a hero?" He asks her. "Doing it for the good? Not for greed or want?" He keeps his eyes on the road. "You're a hero in my book, anyway." With a soft smile, she looks out her window. "So what does the hero want for dinner?"

"God, I'd kill for a steak."

So he treats her. She changes back into her street clothes at the motel, swapping her trench coat for her blazer, and he takes her to a steakhouse in town. They swap college stories, embarrassing or not—surprisingly, Katherine has many hysterical stories to share.

Sam is still laughing as she unlocks her motel room door. "I can't believe you did that." Katherine grins wickedly. "You seriously—"

"He was asking for it!" She defends.

"Well he's a real dick," Sam tells her. "And he doesn't deserve you."

"Sam Winchester," she hums, shaking her head. "Maybe I'll beat you to that proposal." Sam laughs, jamming his hands into his pockets. "Hey—if you find anything, let me know."

"Yeah," he nods, heading for his room. "'Night, Katherine." She smiles and shuts the door behind her and heads straight for the shower.

The water is nice and hot against her cold skin. For a little while, it distracts her, too. When she gets out of the shower, she's too warm for pants, so she wears her usual teal camisole and shorts. Just as she's scrunching her hair in her towel, there's a knock on the door. She tosses her towel to the side and opens up the door, already asking Sam if he found anything.

Dean's brow furrows a bit. "Oh," she murmurs.

His brow is stern and jaw is set. As per usual. "Expecting someone else?"

"Just the hunter next door," she says, nodding. "He said he was gonna start looking into the archives, but I told him...never mind what I told him." Dean glances over her figure. Halfway hidden behind the door, tanned skin littered with goosebumps. Her hair is damp. "Well are you coming in, or do you intend to freeze me out?"

After another moment, Dean slides into her room and she shuts the door behind him, her pulse hammering in her neck. "We didn't know when you'd be back, so we brought some steak back for you," she says. "It's in the refrigerator. In your room." Dean nods. Suddenly very aware of her lack of clothing, Katherine delicately crosses her arms over her tender chest. "Did you...find anything out from Cassie?"

"No. We're going to the paper tomorrow to see if there's anything published from then." Katherine slowly nods. "Why is it we can't have half of a conversation now?" Katherine swallows.

"I already told you I'm over it."

"Well I'm not," Dean says. "You haven't given me much of a chance to say anything, actually."

"All you've done is ask questions, Dean, and I don't know why, but you're not happy with my answers."

"Because what you said hurts." She stares at him. The furrowed brow, hard jaw and eyes with just a hint of confusion. "Why, all of the sudden, are you pushing me away?"

"I don't like feeling what I do, Dean," she says to him. "I know it's stupid and illogical—" she cuts herself off and runs her fingers through her hair. "Because it was one morning. That's it."

"It wasn't, though," he tells her, looming closely, chin tilted down to look at her. "It was months. Right off the bat, I was waiting for you to look at me the right way so I knew. And dammit, you're hard to figure out."

"Yeah, well, you aren't exactly a crystal clear pool," she says.

"What was I supposed to do? Half of the time, I didn't know if you were serious or you were kidding!"

"You did the same thing!"

"And that's why I didn't know!" Dean shrugs. "Because you're too much like me. And sometimes I don't even know what I want." Katherine crosses her arms. "I do know that I want you, though. That's...probably...the only thing that I do know." A brief silence. "And what happened in Nebraska wasn't nothing, it was everything. That morning was the best thing that's ever happened to me! Made me realize that I want to do that for...a really long time."

They're close now, just a few inches away, like some force of gravity. Neither can remember stepping forward. "Well how long is a really long time in Dean measurements?" She whispers. His hand is warm on her arm. "Like, two weeks?"

"Should I be insulted?" His lips brush against hers—but they're not kissing. Not yet, anyway.

"I didn't realize you had such a thin skin." The tip of her tongue brushes, just barely, along his upper lip. His hands push at her hips, separating the two a bit, and he shakes his head.

"No, I'm not doing that again," he says. "I need verbalization that this is what you want."

"Depends on what you mean," Katherine murmurs. "But if that's this...us...then yeah." She smiles a bit. "For a long time."

And then everything all at once. Firm kisses, but not hard. Not crazed. She wishes his hands on her flesh would leave marks only she could see, so she could look over them in the morning. So she memorizes the pressure of each caress, each touch of his lips. His hands in her hair, thumb on her chin. His lips moving down her neck, down, down, down, fingers gathering the silky material of her shirt at her waist, moving around her body and her tender chest, before finally, her hand reached out and wrapped around his wrist. "Maybe," she pants. "Tonight isn't the best for that." He stares at her for a moment and moves his weight to his palms resting on either side of her.

"I'd much rather pull you out of some denim," he quietly agrees. Katherine chuckles, her cheeks turning pink, and she reaches up to kiss him. Her smile is contagious. He flips the two of them over, pulling her into his lap, and hooks his fingertips around hers. "So now that I have you, how am I supposed to keep myself occupied during drives? I can't very well grab Sam's thigh, can I?"

Katherine smiles, the fingers of her right hand coming up to rearrange the disturbed strands of his hair. "You don't grab my thigh anyway." And then Dean's hands are on the back of her legs, fingertips pressing into the innermost part of her thighs. It steals her breath, ignites fire all over her body, and she tries to disguise it with a smile.

Dean tilts his head towards her. "Can I compel you to leave your car somewhere safe?"

"Well, you can do a whole lot of attempting to compel," she says, leaning forward onto his chest. His heart is strong underneath her hand, the heat of his skin radiates through his t-shirt. "But I'm just now getting reacquainted with her." Her lips slowly press to the side of his throat, and Dean tilts his chin to the side, just a bit.

"And what if I want to get acquainted with you?" He asks.

She smiles, her lips dragging across his cheek. "Well, there are plenty of opportunities for that," she hums, resting her lips right over his. As she speaks now, they brush against his own. "None of which are when either of us is operating heavy machinery."

"You're no fun."

"I'm plenty of fun," Katherine lowly disagrees.

"Yeah, for a kid."

Her eyes turn cold and her jaw hardens as she leans away from him. "No more kid jokes! I'll be twenty next week, for Christ's sake."

"No more old jokes."

Her jaw drops and her eyes blow wide. "I've made, like, two, and I wasn't even talking about—" her expression crumples and she huffs. "You're awful."