Dean lets out a heavy sigh, unwilling to even look at the freshly-installed radio in the Impala. The moment he agreed to it, he regretted it. His Baby...disfigured at the hands of a girl who just batted her eyelashes and asked "pretty please," and he let her. He let her.

Katherine pats his shoulder. "Give him some time," she murmurs to Sam.

"I swear," he grumbles, shaking his head. "You two..."

"She's not disfigured, right?" Dean murmurs, still unwilling to open his eyes.

"Nah, nah." Katherine shakes her head. "Baby's as beautiful as ever. But there ain't no way in Hell I was leaving mine in a ditch somewhere and I'm not being taken out of the loop."

After a moment, Dean nods. He opens his eyes, quickly turning away from the dash. He might throw up if he looks at the fresh installment. "You said you got somethin'."

"Yeah," Katherine answers. "I think it's another rawhead."

Dean frowns. "This far north?"

Katherine shrugs, leaning against the Impala. "There was that wendigo in Colorado. Why can't there be a boogeyman in Indiana?" Dean lets out a heavy sigh. "There's no heavy lifting on this one. I've already found a place I think it's holed up in. It's not far from here, maybe fifteen minutes west of that corn field we passed. We can go after dark."

Dean nods, staring at the walkie system just installed in the car. "You could just put 2.0 in a lockup. Ride with us."

Katherine gazes plainly at him. "You did not just call Her 2.0"

Dean grins, gazing at her glistening face. It's warm in Missouri. Warm enough to have Katherine in a tank top and Daisy Dukes—thank God for those. So they worked on their cars, shared tools and swapped those that they had an excess of. Katherine noticed he had four of the same kind of wrench. Dean definitely didn't need four of the same wrench. But she had a spare lug wrench, Dean had just lost his, so they called it a fair trade.

It was neat, watching her work on her car. She played her own music from her radio. Still tolerable, nothing too drastic from what Dean would normally play, but then some. A few songs he hadn't heard since he still listened to the radio as a kid. Janet Jackson, namely. He laughed when she started nodding about the parking lot, dancing on her way to and from the trunk of her car to the front as she sang What Have You Done For Me Lately? What a sight, seeing her curly ponytail bounce, some parts of it slicked with oil, her face getting pinker as the sun rose and the heat went up. She even had a smear of oil on her cheekbone. Any man's dream, that's for sure. And she knew what she was doing.

Part of Dean just wanted her to ask for help. She wouldn't do it, of course, even if she really did need help. Spiting him seemed to be her whole purpose in life these days, with her pretty, teasing smile and her big blue eyes that glittered like jewels in the sun.

Katherine sighs, shakes her head, and wipes her hands on a dirty blue rag. "I'm taking a shower," she chirps, starting back into her motel room. "And that's not an invitation," she calls over her shoulder.

Dean grins. "Well what about a kiss?" He asks her. "I've been good."

Katherine laughs, opening her door. "You just told me to abandon my one true love! Imagine if I told you to leave Baby in some dodgy garage." Dean sighs. "Yeah. Try again later."

And there's a crumb.

"Challenge accepted."

She smiles and shuts the door behind her.

Dean sighs again, grabbing his beer from the sidewalk. Despite the quality time spent with the hunter, Katherine remained impervious to his advances. One thing Dean knew for sure about the girl: she had a will of iron. Stubborn. A straight shooter. She would always smile and sit back and let him talk for a while, let him think he was working his charm, before she would turn around and get back to whatever she was doing.

It was unnerving.

Katherine nudges his arm now, nodding to the tasers in Dean's hands. "What're those amped up to?"

"Hundred thousand volts," he says, passing one to Sam. "Yours?"

She frowns. "Fifty."

"Thousand?"

Katherine rolls her eyes, closing the Impala's trunk. "A little faith, please," she lowly requests, turning to the sketchy house. She feels strange looking at it; her gut clenches. Her eyes barely flit over the dark landscape of the empty field behind the house. "I'm not a total moron. What do you want yours that high for anyway?"

"I was this rawhead extra crispy." Dean shrugs in defense. "Remember you only get one shot with these things."

"I remember." She skillfully twirls her flashlight and clicks it on, leading the charge into the building. Her footsteps are near silent and calculated, movements precise and alert, as she lowers herself into the basement. In the darkness, something clatters. It's easy for her to pinpoint the source of the noise. Her flashlight, along with Dean's, swings to the wardrobe in the darkest part of the basement. They glance to each other before footing forward and stopping just before the wardrobe. Memories of their first boogeyman case flood her mind.

The last time she heard a noise like this on a case like this, Dean was knocked out cold and there were two terrified children hiding underneath a table.

Katherine nods Sam over and he stands between the two, just as sure as the both of them, with the stun gun pointed at the crack between the doors.

"On three," Dean whispers, and Sam trades places with Katherine. "One...two...three." She tenses as the brothers rush the closet and yank the doors open. Two small children, a boy and a girl, let out a collective shriek, their eyes squinting in the bright flashlight beams. She lowers her weapon arm and creeps forward.

"Is it still here?" Sam whispers to them. The girl nods.

"Grab your sister's hand," Dean says to the boy, gently pulling him up. "We're gonna get you out of here. Katherine?"

"Got it," she sighs, standing behind the kids. "Go upstairs—hurry." She follows quickly after them, her hands secure on their shoulders as they charge up the steps. Behind Katherine, Sam is jerked down the stairs, and the little girl screams.

"Sam!" Katherine shouts.

"Get those kids out!"

Katherine scoops one up and pulls the other outside, and Sam follows her, leaving Dean alone in the basement.

Unease churns in the pit of her stomach. "Is Dean still in there?" She asks, tucking the children in the backseat of the impala. Sam nods. "Stay with them."

"Kat—

"Something's not right," she calls back to him, sprinting up the steps of the house. "Dean?" She shouts, hurrying down the basement stairs, poised to squeeze the trigger of her stun gun with her flashlight in her other hand. After a quick sweep, she finds him under the stairs in a pool of still water. The rawhead is just before him, motionless on the ground.

Again.

"Dean!" She surges forward and stops short upon seeing the discharged gun at Dean's side. Her eyes follow the glistening wire from the gun to the hooks lodged in the boogeyman's body. "Dean!" She tucks her gun into the back of her jeans and grips his shirt collar, dragging him from the water without touching it herself. She shakes his shoulders. "Hey, Dean?" She presses her fingers to the inside of his neck and pauses, her own heart hammering in her chest. She's breathless as she speaks. "C'mon, Dean, c'mon."

The girl releases a bit of a whimper, rolling back onto her feet. No way she'd be able to tow a hundred-seventy-pound-plus guy up the stairs. Two hundred? "Sam!" She shouts. It doesn't sound as panicked as she is. It's loud and authoritative. "Sam, Dean's hurt!" Within moments, Sam is running down the stairs. He didn't hear what it was she said, but he heard her screaming.

"What happened to him?" Sam barks.

"Questions later," she dismisses, sliding her hand underneath Dean's shoulder. "Help me carry him." It's a difficult feat, getting the three upstairs, but Katherine leads since she's the smallest, and doesn't really have to support much in the event Dean slips backwards. The three of them are angled in the narrow passage of the stairs, moving as quickly as possible without losing their footing.

Sam is in the backseat with the kids as she speeds to the nearest hospital.

Hours later, once Dean is in a room and stabilized, Sam is called away by the doctors, leaving Katherine alone with the leader of their hunting trio.

"Stop staring at me like that."

Katherine glances down to her hands, picking at her relatively fresh manicure. "Like what?" she quietly asks.

"Like I'm a wounded animal."

Her eyebrows knit together as she looks up at Dean. "You are wounded. You—" She bites her lip, her shoulders hitching. "Dean, you're twenty-seven years old and you had a heart attack."

"Cest la vay."

"It's 'seh la vee,' dumbass." He manages a weak smile. "Jesus, Dean, you look horrible."

"I know. I know. But I don't need your sympathy." Katherine rolls her eyes and crosses her legs, sitting in the window sill of the room. She's stiff-arming him. "Kat...I'm sorry."

"What are you apologizing for?" She asks, almost scoffs, as she shakes her head.

"Sorry I didn't find your dad. I know I promised I would." The teenager frowns, not speaking. "But you and Sammy are gonna take care of it. I know it. You just...you gotta make sure he's all right."

"Could you not talk like that?" She croaks, shaking her head. "We're not leaving you here."

It's like Dean isn't even listening to her. Or he's ignoring what she said. She can't decide which is more infuriating. "You better make sure he takes care of that car. I swear, I'll haunt both of your asses."

Katherine gazes plainly at him before starting across the room. "That's not funny."

He smiles weakly. "Yeah it is."

"Not to me," she rebuts, plopping down in the chair at his bedside.

"Well it is to me."

Katherine rolls her eyes, leaning back. "You can't leave, you know."

"I don't think I have much of a choice," Dean sighs. "I drew the short straw."

"No. You can't leave," she says, turning her crystally gaze to Dean. "You can't leave Sam alone. Do you...do you know how much it sucks being by yourself?" She lets out a quiet, sad chuckle, eyes brimming with tears. "Without anyone else in the world for you? It—" She rubs her mouth, looking down to her lap.

"Listen, kid—"

"Stop calling me that," she strains through her teeth.

"I'm gonna die," Dean sighs. "Can't get around that."

Silence falls between the two for a few moments. "I knew something was going to happen," she whispers.

"Yeah. That wacky women's intuition thing—"

"No, it's different." Katherine shakes her head a bit. "The other one. I could've...if I stayed down there with you, maybe..."

"Then you'd be the nineteen year old girl who suffered a major heart attack." Dean shrugs a bit. "Maybe."

"Maybe," Katherine agrees, nodding a bit. "Something tells me it wouldn't matter all that much."

Dean frowns at her, tilting his head a little to get a better look at her. She's sad, that much is obvious. Dean doesn't know if it's a situational thing or more perpetual. Sometimes he thought he saw flashes of it, in the eyes, where everyone was vulnerable. Then again, only someone who was sad like him could see it in another person. A kindred spirit.  One leg is pulled into the seat with her, arm draped over her knee as she picks at her fingernail polish. She's retreating into herself. She's not even trying to mask her distress. It's worrisome. She's never in distress. It was annoying. It was too much like him.

"How can you say something like that?" He croaks. He doesn't know if his feelings are hurt. Why would they be? But then, why would he feel like this if they weren't? Is it heartbreak? No, he's felt that...maybe this kind is just different.

Katherine still doesn't look at him. "Because it's true. I think it would be easier."

He doesn't get it. He's a little angry, come to think of it. "How can you tell me I'm not allowed to talk about dying, but you're free to?"

She smiles a bit, but it doesn't reach her glistening eyes. "Because I'm prettier."

Dean chuckles a bit. "Damn straight." Katherine grins this time, looking down to her ankles. "Hey...since I'm dying, can I get that kiss?"

Her smile dampens a little, lips pressed into a dimpled line as her eyes sweep up to meet his. He feels a flutter in his tummy like he always does when she looks at him like this.

"You're very funny."

Dean shrugs a little. "That's what they say."

Katherine snorts, shaking her head. "Sam and I are gonna find something, you know," she promise. "Maybe you can ask me again in a few days." Her voice is thicker.

"You're always pushing me off."

"Well..." She raises an eyebrow at him. "Just like you said you ain't kissin' me unless I'm conscious, I ain't kissin' you until that heart of yours is fully functioning."

Dean stares at her for a moment, lips pressed together as he considers his thoughts. "Even if I really wanted you to?"

His voice is soft and strangely vulnerable.

She smiles a little, a single crystal tear spilling over the apple of her cheek and right onto the leg of her jeans. "Sorry," she whispers, shaking her head as her shoulders hitch. "Rules are rules."

Dean takes a deep, painful breath, and tries again. "Well could you at least c'mere?"

There's something sincere and vulnerable about his voice and the look in his eye that makes her comply. She moves her chair closer to the bed and leans her elbows forward, smiling a little as she props her cheekbone against her fingers. Dean sighs shallowly and reaches forward, lifting the pale ends of her wavy hair between his fingers. "You weren't always blonde." His eyes flit to the light brown roots of her hair.

She chuckles. "Guess I needed a change," Katherine murmurs. As she speaks, he notices the glistening tear trail down her cheek. He reaches forward and wipes it away with the pad of his thumb, and she smiles. It's not her usual one. It's shy and sweet, maybe a little embarrassed, as her eyes move away from him. She reaches up with her other hand and wraps her fingers around his palm. "You can't die, you know," Katherine whispers, brows knitting together. "You promised you'd come to my graduation."

"Hey, I still will."

He wishes he hadn't said it. If he didn't, then maybe he wouldn't have had to watch her eyes break in front of him. Shatter as her mouth fell open, just slightly, as she realized what he meant. That either way, dead or alive, he'd be there.

"Katherine?" That's Sam's voice at the door, calling her away from his brother. She glances to him, her hand falling away from her cheek. "We're all set up."

She nods after a moment. "I'll be right there," she tells him. Sam nods, glances to Dean, and moves back into the hallway. Katherine's eyes shift back to Dean.

"Last chance," Dean hums, like she's missing out on something. Your loss is what his tone says.

"You're not gonna die. Sam and I are gonna find something."

"It's okay if you don't," he tells her. Katherine shakes her head. "Katherine." She looks up to him with big, watery blue eyes, rubbing her hands on the legs of her jeans. "It's okay if you don't."

"No it isn't," she whispers. "Because if there's nothing...then what do we do? What do we do when you aren't around anymore?"

"What you did before I came along and stole you both away," he murmurs. Seeing her cry isn't something he can handle, it's not something he's accustomed to. He's only seen it once before. "You're gonna...graduate. Be the best doctor in the world." She closes her eyes, shaking her head. "You're gonna...find someone, someone good for you...have a family—"

"But what's any of that worth?"

Dean frowns. "It's a life, Katherine," he hisses. "It's what you could've had if I didn't show up."

She leans back in her chair and sniffs. And it's silent for a moment. "Well just because..." She shakes her head, trying to find the words. It's difficult. She doesn't know how much she's willing to say, how much he's willing to hear. She doesn't want to be the idiot who just blurts her feelings when it gets hard. "Just because you want something to go back to the way it was doesn't mean it will. That it can." Her eyes are rimmed with red now, a brighter shade of blue with just the smallest green in there. "Because how am I supposed to live with myself knowing—"

"It's not your fault."

Katherine lets out a shaky breath, staring down at her hands. "I wasn't gonna blame myself," she whispers.

"Then what?"

She almost confesses. The look on his face is almost enough. But the threat of heartbreak, or embarrassment, is too great. Because if they don't find something...then she has to live with the fact that there might've been something between them...and maybe she'd never forgive herself if he died and she never did anything.

So she pushes it all away and shuts down. She runs away, like the little girl she tries so hard not to be.

Katherine shakes her head. Then she rises to her feet, her lips pressing into a thin line, and she leans over to press those lips to his cheek, very near to the corner of his mouth. "We'll be back." And then she leaves.

Filling her vacancy is the scent of her shampoo. Oranges and vanilla. It's Katherine. It's enough to ease Dean into a peaceful, morphine-assisted sleep.

✕

Katherine Donovan rubs the medallions on her tight-fitting necklace as John Winchester's voicemail is barely heard through Sam's phone. "Hey, Dad," he sighs. "It's Sam...you probably won't even get this, but uh...it's Dean. He's sick, and...the doctors say there's nothing they can do. But they don't know the things we do, right?" He laughs uneasily, glancing to Katherine Louise as she continues to brush the silver across her slender neck, gazing unobtrusively at the articles she's printed.  "So don't worry, 'cause...Katherine and I are gonna do something. We'll find something. Whatever it takes to make him better. Uh...just wanted you to know." He promptly hangs up and sighs heavily, massaging his temples.

Katherine rises to her feet and moves to the cooler on the ground. She slides the top away and grabs two brown bottles from the ice, moves back to the table, and slides one bottle to Sam. He chuckles, watching her shove the top up with her thumb. "You too, huh?" He asks.

She raises her brow and tilts her head as if to say yeah and lifts her bottle to her lips. "We don't have anything stronger."

Sam lets out a quiet sigh, analyzing the teenager before him. "So you graduate in a month."

"Bring your nicest shirt," she chirps, pointing a finger at him as she slides an article to the side. Sam smiles a bit. "Purple looks good on you. I'll find you a purple shirt."

"What about Yale Blue?"

Katherine shrugs, looking up to him. "Well I go there and my hood is green." She smiles a little. "Wear whatever you want, Sam." She looks back to her articles, and Sam appraises her in silence for a few moments. "What?" She asks, not removing her gaze from her papers.

"You, uh..." Sam hesitates, trying to configure the wording. "I saw how you were with Dean." She looks up at him slowly. "I just...hadn't seen him like that before. And I was wondering if you're—"

"I'm not talking about this with you," she chuckles, picking her bottle up again.

Sam frowns. "Why?"

"Because you're his brother, that's why."

Sam raises a brow. "And?" Katherine shrugs noncommittally. "Katherine, I don't care if you like him—"

"Sam, ohmygod—"

"I really don't mind it, actually—"

"I swear I'm gonna—"

"—think it'll be good for him—"

"—melt your face with a blowtorch—"

"Look, I've noticed it for months, all right?" Sam says. She sighs, sinking lower into her chair. "You look at him when he's not looking...he checks you out when you look away." He's smiling now. "It's just an...interesting observation...in an interestingly observational way."

"Yeah, well, your "interesting observation" is interestingly incorrect."

There's a knock at the door. Sam and Katherine both look to each other, but she gets to her feet first, swiping her gun from the tabletop. She switches the safety off and pushes the body of her gun forward—it's less strenuous to push the body rather than pull the slide. Katherine straightens her tank top out and reaches for the doorknob, the muzzle of her gun right up against the door as she pulls it towards her.

Dean Winchester leans against the frame with a smile, looking pale and terrifyingly sick. His heart beats a little too quickly when he sees his favorite skeptical face. "Well aren't you two just a match made in Heaven." Then he loses his balance...maybe the increased heart rate isn't good for his low blood pressure. "Whoa." Avert the eyes, mustn't look at pretty lady—

"What the hell are you doing here?" Katherine asks, effectively ignoring his comment as she winds her arm around his back. Through the gray hoodie he wears, she can feel how cool his skin is. "Jesus, you're cold."

He feels like some lovesick puppy, the way he's taking in the feel of her arms around him.

"I checked myself out," the eldest Winchester replies. His comment is enough to earn one of Katherine's famous dimpled smiles.

Sam saw it, plain as day. It's like a bright flash of light in a dark room—you can't help but look.

"Are you crazy?" She asks Dean.

"Well," he sighs, trying his damnedest to support his own weight as Katherine leads him to one of the beds. He has a different idea though—shockingly—and points to the table. "I'm not gonna die in a hospital where the nurses aren't even hot. You, however, are a hot doctor, and I'm totally fine dying right here."

Katherine grins. "Not technically doctor yet," she says, lowering him into one of the chairs. He sighs as he sits down, beaming up at her like this really is the last thing he's going to see in this lifetime.

He thinks he'd be okay with it. Looking at her face just before his candle got snuffed. Die a happy man and all that.

"This whole 'I laugh in the face of death thing'," Sam begins waving a finger at Dean. His eyes snap too his younger brother. "It's crap. I can see right through it. Both of us can."

Katherine rises, crossing her arms with a raised brow. "Yeah, whatever dude," Dean sighs. "Have you two slept? You look worse than me."

"Worse than I," Katherine corrects.

"Smartass."

She winks. "We've been scouring the internet for the last three days. Called nearly every contact in your dad's journal, too."

Dean almost scowls. "For what?"

"For a way to help you," Sam scoffs. "One of dad's friends, Joshua, called me back and told me about a specialist in Nebraska."

Dean eyes the two. "You're not gonna let me die in peace, are you?"

"You aren't dying period," Sam replies with a smile. "We're going." Dean lets out a prolonged heavy sigh, tilting his head back. "What are you doing?"

"Trying to die." Katherine lightly kicks his shin and turns around, moving for the bathroom. "Very funny. Doctors are supposed to help people, Katherine Louise, not inflict pain!" She grins, shutting the door behind her.

It takes her and Sam a whole five minutes to pack, and they're on the road for twelve hours after that. Dean constantly radios in, drawling "sure do miss your face" every once in a while.

"Seriously," Sam would say. "Ditch your car and relieve me."

"Fat chance," she'd reply. "I've seen how a Sore Dean is. Don't really wanna deal with Dying Dean's whining."

Dean sighs now, collapsing on his back on the bed beside her. "What do you think you're doing?" Katherine asks.

"Trying to get some sleep," Dean answers. "What do you think you're doing?"

"Wondering why you're sleeping in my bed. I'm in the other room for a reason, Dean," she says with a smile, eyes closed. "I don't want to hear you hacking up a lung all night."

He glowers at the ceiling, muttering about how he doesn't hack. A few minutes of silence pass, but Katherine isn't anywhere close to drifting to sleep. She's too aware of Dean behind her. She can feel his gaze on the back of her head, studying the way the moonlight turns her hair flaxen. Then his eyes land on that little freckle-mole-triangle on her left shoulder blade. Before he can stop himself, he's reaching forward and touching the tip of his finger to that unconnected triangle, and it disappears beneath his flesh. He hasn't touched her like this before. With no rhyme or reason, just because he wanted to. He notices the hitch in her breath, looks up at the back of her head. But she doesn't move. Maybe she's only letting him 'cause he's dying. Any other night, she'd kung-fu grip his wrist and break it.

"I thought you were trying to sleep?" She whispers. Dean pulls himself into a sitting position and crosses his ankles.

"I lied...sort of," he murmurs. "I wanted to talk to you."

Katherine sits up herself without much of a grumble, pulling her blanket around her shoulders. "What's wrong?"

Dean purses his lips. "You don't think this really gonna work, do you?" Now she lets out a heavy sigh.

"Dean—"

"You shouldn't get your hopes up," he continues.

"They're not...up," she murmurs, shaking her head. "But they're not down either. Sam and I are gonna do everything we can."

"But—"

"Because you would do the same for him," she says, a little louder than their whispers. "All right? Because if it had been Sam in that basement and not you...you and I would be doing the same thing he and I are doing. So don't walk around and talk about how you're okay with dying. Because even if you are, we aren't." Her eyes glitter in the dim lamp light. "Okay? Not yet. You're not dying because of some stupid boogeyman, all right? When you go out...it's gonna be epic."

A sad smile tugs at the corner of Dean's lips. "Epic, huh?"

"Like...frikken Genesis epic."

"Which part?"

She sighs. "The whole 'God made the Earth' bit."

"How eloquent."

"Laymen's terms," she says with a shrug. "You're gonna die...when you're eighty years old. In your sleep, because that's peaceful, or so it's said. Because I said so. And my word is law."

"Oh, yeah. I'm quaking in my boots."

Katherine shoves his shoulder and leans up against the headboard, arms crossed underneath her blanket.

"I wouldn't just do it for Sam, you know," he quietly hums. Katherine turns her head to face Dean. "I'd do it for you, too. Turn over every stone."

"So why won't you let us do it?" She asks. When he as no answer, even after a few minutes, she sinks back down onto her blanket and rests her head on her pillow. Then she reaches up and wraps her fingers around his palm. To her surprise, he sinks down on the bed too, and his fingers slot between hers.