Breakfast in the Winchester house is a must. No stops, every morning, just as constant as they all ate dinner together every night. 

Dean, God bless him, usually takes command of the stove. An the oven. And the grill. Which leaves Katherine little to do but watch, or peel oranges, or helping the kids ready, depending on the day...and who decides to throw a tantrum.

"Twins!" The patriarch hollers. "Breakfast!" Katherine corrals the puppy out to the backyard. "Good boy, Duke!" Dean calls. 

If there's anything Katherine likes better than Dean in plaid, it's Dean in a dress shirt. He's got on a little bowtie, too. His hair is longer, with a part in it. It seems darker, too. He seems older than the twenty-eight year old she went into the warehouse with...a memory that's growing foggier and fainter with every passing minute. As far as she's concerned, it was some dark and twisted dream.

This is her normal. Chaos, scrambled eggs, bacon and sausage links, english muffins, orange juice.

"Twins!" Dean calls again. "Babe, can you—" He turns as Katherine brushes by him to start fixing plates. Then he stops, catching sight of the kids standing at the bottom of the stairs with blankets over their heads. Then he smirks and continues forward. "Hon, you seen the kids this morning?"

"Nope," she chirps, setting their plates on the table. "But I guess if they don't come down soon, we're gonna have to give their breakfast to Duke."

"Guess so," he tuts, picking his coffee cup up from the bar. "What say you, Nora?" The baby giggles and Dean mimics her.

"OoooOoooo" is sounded from the staircase. Katherine stiffens and glances to Dean, dropping the silverware. He gawks at her with a similar expression.

"Did—" he stops. "Did you hear that?"

Katherine nods.

"OoooOoooo"

"What, is that a ghost?" She whispers, and one of the kids does it again. Connor. Grace giggles shortly and Connor punches her in the arm.

"Ouch!"

"Shh," he hisses.

"Are they talking?" Dean asks.

"Do ghosts talk?" Katherine speculatively returns. He shrugs. Then Katherine nods over his shoulder. "Are those ghosts?" Dean slowly turns to look at the kids with the blankets over their heads.

"Well what do we do?"

"I don't know, but they're coming for us," Katherine says, backing from the island. "They look pretty mean, huh?" Dean lets out a cry as one of the kids—Connor, judging by the shoes—runs forward.

"It's attacking me—Katherine help—! Oh my God, it's a ghost!" Connor's got Dean on the floor now. "It's a ghost aaaaAAAHHWWW, Connor, man," he says, yanking the blanket off of his head. "You scared me!" The little boy laughs, laying over Dean's stomach. "And you're gonna scare all the girls away if you go to school with your hair like that. Let's go fix it."

"I scared you, daddy," he giggles.

"Yeah, you did," Dean agrees, picking Connor up, and moves for the downstairs bathroom. "Don't you know what a comb is, you heathen?"

Katherine chuckles, staring down at a wide-eyed Grace. "Boo," the little girl says. Katherine flinches, and Grace giggles. "Mommy, do you remember when you and daddy couldn't see me and Connor for a whole hour?"

"I sure do," Katherine says. And she does. "We were worried sick! We didn't know if you'd run away!"

"I would never run away, momma," Grace says, resting her head on Katherine's hip.

"Good," Katherine says, rubbing Gracie's back. "Because your dad and I would be very sad. We would've had to've drain the pool, too," she muses.

"Not the pool!" Grace cries.

"The pool!" Connor shouts from the bathroom.

"The pool!" Dean echoes.

"The pool!"

Everyone in the house is making some sort of noise. The dog is barking.

It's a standard Winchester morning.

Dad, Katherine muses to herself, glancing over the table as Gracie babbles to Dean about a boy in her grade who's kinda cute and kinda nice to her.

Katherine's brow furrows, and her bobbing foot stops as she gives pause to the thought. Dean's a dad?

"Well don't let him anywhere near you, you got me?" Dean says. "Boys are bad news."

"Are girls bad news?" Connor asks, sweeping a bite of egg into his mouth.

"Yes," Katherine and Dean chorus. "All of them," Katherine continues. "Until you're...thirty." Connor laughs, sitting back in his chair.

"Why thirty, momma?" He asks. "That's old."

"That's not old," Katherine protests.

"Your mom's turning thirty in a couple'a days," Dean says to the little boy. I'm thirty?

Connor shifts his glance between his parents, tilting his head, too. "I thought you were twenty-two."

Katherine coughs. "I was twenty-two when I had you," she corrects.

I was?

"Could you imagine?" Dean asks. "Twenty-two with a couple'a seven year olds." Katherine's brows shoot up.

"Don't give them any ideas," she warns him.

"I have an idea," Connor volunteers.

"It better include finishing your breakfast in the next century," Dean tells him. "We've gotta get you to school, kid. Your sister's already finished."

"I don't have to go to school," Connor says.

Katherine scoffs. "Then I don't have to go to work," she reasons.

"Okay," he chirps, and Dean and Katherine laugh.

Her day is curiously familiar. There is a bouqet of white calla and orange poppy on her desk when she gets to her office. It's Monday, eight o'clock.

Every other Monday she gets flowers delivered to her practice at eight AM on the dot.

There are follow-up appointments that day, check-ups, listening to hearts and lungs and coordinating with radiadiology and oncology departments of treatment centers, adjusting the dosage of some medications.

A long Friday indeed.

Katherine watches as Dean pads into their bedroom, quietly shutting the door behind him. He slides into bed beside her—slides, doesn't flop—and pulls the thick comforter over the both of them with a decent amount of flare to compensate for the lack of obnoxious flopping. Katherine giggles, turning onto her side to face him. "Nora's asleep?"

"Finally," he sighs, closing his eyes. "Man, she didn't want me to put her down."

Katherine smiles. "I fear we have another daddy's girl on our hands."

"Mmm, yeah. Gracie's such a jealous little thing," he murmurs, reaching out to wrap his fingers around Katherine's palm. He pulls her hand towards him and rests his lips against her fingertips. "Your mother is Wonder Woman for taking the three of them this next week."

"She's a saint," Katherine sighs, not putting much thought to his words. In this dream world, with all of these memories she doesn't have in the real world, she saw her mother only last weekend for lunch. She smelled her perfume and felt her warm skin and hugged her strong shoulders.

Dean reaches over her back and gently pulls at the blonde length of her hair, running his fingers through the soft strands. "In twenty-four hours, we'll be out of the country," he hums.

"Aren't you at least just a little nervous?" Katherine chuckles, reaching up to wrap her fingers around his wrist. "Leaving the kids for a whole week? We've hardly left them for a weekend before."

"I think a little separation anxiety is healthy," Dean tells her, pulling her close to him by her waist. "You've been dying to go to Bora Bora for, like, ever."

"I know, I know. I'm not backing out, I'm just..."

"Nervous." She smiles a bit. "There's nothing to worry about. Connor knows how to stab himself in the thigh if he eats something he's not supposed to." Katherine grins. "Gracie's too smart for her seven years, so we don't have to worry about her. And Nora's just a baby. She won't even remember we were gone."

"I wish I could so easily adopt your mindset," Katherine hums, running the tip of her finger down the length of his arm.

"Something else is bothering you," he murmurs, and she shakes her head. "Yes there is. There's that little wrinkle between your eyebrows." Dean stares at her for a moment. "You're having second thoughts about the trip."

"No—no, no, no!" Katherine protests, shaking her head. "I didn't spend three hours packing to get cold feet. No. No second thoughts."

"What, then?"

She lets out a heavy sigh. It's dark in the room, so the hesitation in her features is at least somewhat concealed. "Do you remember...the other day, you and I were hunting that djinn?"

Dean frowns. "What are you talking about?"

Katherine rubs her brow, closing her eyes. "A djinn. Arabic mythology."

He laughs after a moment. "I still don't know what you're talking about. Is this code for something? Is it, like, something you heard in the office? I mean, I work in a high school, so I guess I assumed I'd be more privy to—"

"Never mind," Katherine murmurs, pressing her face up against his warm chest. She drags her hand down his stomach, over his waist, and snuggles closer, feeling that warmth and smelling his skin. Leather and cinnamon. Earthy. It's odd, considering his work environment. But then she realizes that's how Dean smells in her real world.

In the world she doesn't know the fate of, why it changed.

It's a constant in this strange environment. It's comfortable.

"You sure you're okay?" Dean asks, resting his chin on her head.

"Do you think wishes can come true?" She whispers, staring over his arm at the darkness of the pale wall.

Dean cracks a smile. "Well, with enough hard work—"

"No." Katherine lets out a soft chuckle. "I mean, like, genies and stuff."

He smirks. "You've definitely been drinking on the job."

Her thoughts carry her far from what he's saying, though, towards memories she'd almost forgotten about.

"Hey, Dean?" She murmurs. She isn't so sure he's still awake.

"Hmm."

"When you were little...was there ever a fire at your house, in Kansas?"

"No," he slowly answers. He pulls away, frowning. "Katherine, what's going on?"

"Nothing," she says, pulling his hand from her face. "Nothing. I've just...had some strange dreams lately. Felt...real." Dean kisses the top of her head and she quickly turns onto her stomach, her head tilted towards him. "But have you ever...been awake and thought that perhaps you were dreaming?"

Dean lets out a heavy, disappointed breath. "One of my students hit on me. I thought I was dreaming." Katherine's brow quirks. "Not like—wow, that came out wrong. I meant—"

"No, I know what you meant," she chuckles. "Is that the craziest thing that's ever happened to you?" She wonders.

"One of them. Definitely pretty bizarre. A kid threw a pair of scissors across the room once. It wasn't even a dissection day." She lets out a laugh. "But I think the craziest thing to happen to me...was at an airport."

"Oh?"

Dean nods, turning onto his stomach, and turns his head towards her. "Yeah," he sighs. "It was my first year of teaching, straight out of college. I was in Chicago, heading home from a conference put on by some doctor prodigy...and I'm running through the terminals, trying to not miss this flight. And I've got my class bag on me, I've got a backpack, my suitcase...and my school bag falls off of my shoulder. All of my students' tests fall out, going all over the floor. And I know people are staring at me, so I'm kneeling there, trying to get my stuff together, wondering if I'm gonna miss my flight...and another pair of hands comes down and picks my bag up, jams every paper she picked up into that bag. When I stood up and went to thank her, I was instantly taken."

"Instantly," Katherine hums.

"Oh, yeah. I mean like that." He snaps his fingers. "She had these big blue eyes and a real cute smile and said, "It looks like you've got a lot of baggage." And I said, "Well, is that metaphorical baggage?" And then the girl just smiles and she says, "They just called for a 'Dean Winchester' over the P.A. system," and she handed my ticket to me. I didn't even realize I had dropped it. I didn't even hear when they called my name over the speaker."

"She was that interesting, huh?"

"Interesting?" Dean scoffs. "She was beautiful. So then she slings my bag over her shoulder and says, "Run."

"How come you just let her take off with your bag?"

"'Cause I like a good chase."

"Well did she give you one?"

"The best of my life," Dean hums. "She ran with me all the way to my gate, then sat next to me...and we started talking. She was crazy enough to give a guy like me her phone number. Anyway, a couple of months later, I moved down to Florida to be with her. I think she was pretty surprised."

"Well when you show up at a girl's door out of no where, it's bound to be pretty shocking," she hums.

Dean nods. "Yeah, but...well, I was just surprised she agreed to marry me."

"Maybe it was for your looks."

"Why else would she have stayed with me at the airport?" Dean muses.

Katherine smiles. "Perhaps she believes in love at first sight."

"I definitely do," he murmurs. "Anyway, it was a little strange breaking up with my girlfriend at the time. How do you tell her you met your wife at an airport, huh?"

"Yeah," Katherine sighs, closing her eyes, and her brow knits together. "That does sound like a crazy experience."

"What about you?" Dean asks, and she purses her lips, eyes still closed.

"There was this one time...I must've been twenty years old...I'd been dating a guy a couple years older than me and some people said he was in it for the wrong reasons."

"All males?"

"Naturally. The girls were psyched." Dean chuckles. "Even if he was a high school anatomy teacher. Everyone really liked him, though. He was charming and witty...and at a fourth of July barbecue, he stood up on the deck on the back porch of my best friend Sophia's house. It was also an engagement party, you see." Dean nods. "So. My boyfriend of the time stood up on that deck and worked everyone over with his stupid smile and his jokes and stories about his best friend, Chris, who also happened to be the groom at this party. And then he started talking about the time he met the love of his life in O'Hare International after he'd so clumsily dropped his files with his students' midterms in them. She'd helped pick them up and she ran all the way to the other side of the airport with him, and at the gate, she slipped her phone number into the pocket of his slacks. At this point I'm freaking out, right?"

"Right."

"Because who randomly starts talking about the time he met their girlfriend at an engagement party?"

"So wacky."

She's grinning now. "So then he turns to me and says, "Katherine Louise Donovan..." Very serious."

"Well sure."

"Katherine Louise Donovan," she begins again. "I have loved you since the moment after I realized you weren't gonna steal my students' midterms. And I would be the luckiest man on the face of the earth if you agreed to be my wife." And then a huge firework shot off into the sky, and my boyfriend turned around and shouted at that friend of his, Chris, that he was supposed to wait until after I said yes."

"And did you?"

"Hell yeah." Katherine slides her left hand underneath her pillow and shows her ring to Dean. "Have you seen this rock?" Dean laughs softly.

"That's the craziest thing that ever happened to you?"

"The craziest," she hums. "Because here was this guy, perfect in all of the ways that mattered, and he wanted to spend the rest of his life with me."

"Well maybe he's shocked you agreed to it," Dean tells her. "I mean, you did get the short end of the stick."

"I am the better-looking one," Katherine agrees, nodding. He laughs softly. "So in two days' time, we'll be married...ten years now, innit?"

"Mhm."

"Time really does fly, huh?"

"Especially when you're spoiled rotten," Dean accuses. Katherine beams.

"You turned me into this," she hums. "Don't you dare blame me for the monster you created."

"Ten years in two days," Dean murmurs. "Thirty years in ten days."

"Don't say that," Katherine groans. "I'm holding onto my twenties until that very last minute." Dean chuckles, his hand slipping over her shoulders and down her back. "What are you doing?" She quietly asks. His face reeks of mock ignorance.

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"That's your hand on my ass, ain't it?"

"Maybe."

"Dean Winchester, you are insatiable."

◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤

"You're actually starting to convince me with this whole civilian thing," Katherine chirps, staring at Dean. The twenty-eight year old smiles in a way that is intended to be a bashful 'oh stop you' but it's the exact opposite. She snorts. "You've mowed a lawn—"

"No thanks to you."

"I can't move things like you can," she hums, staring at a picture of Dean and Sam in the living room of his mother's home. "You know that. So, mowed the lawn."

"Mom made a kick ass sandwich."

"Uh-huh. You did the stupid neighbor-wave thing that nobody actually ever does."

"I've seen it in the movies."

The blonde glances over her shoulder and straightens out. "Oh, so because it's in a movie, we'll just believe everything, huh?" Dean glowers. "So Sam wears polos now. And he's engaged to Jess! Life's good?"

"Life's good."

"Well what about Katherine?"

"I already told you," Dean huffs. "She's better off without me."

"You don't honestly believe that," she hums. "And it's your mother's birthday! Wouldyalookatthat," she says, sitting down on the arm of the chair. "And you manage to totally make the after-dinner thing totally awkward."

"Well how was I supposed to know Sam and I don't talk?" Dean grunts, loosening his tie. "You know what, maybe this isn't everything I thought it would be." Katherine's brow quirks. "'We don't have anything in common?' We have everything in common!"

"Not the humor," Katherine says, pointing briefly. "Sam isn't quite as dry."

"Okay, well, the food."

She shakes her head. "Too greasy. And he doesn't think pie is necessarily a nutritious breakfast."

Dean puts his hands on his hips. "We hunt. That's what keeps us together. And we're brothers."

"Well not in this world," Katherine scoffs. "In this world, we're Joe Shmoe. We don't hunt werewolves, or vampires, or ghosts, or djinns." She ticks them off on her fingers. "We didn't save those people on that airplane! The shtriga, in Wisconsin? Never saved those kids. That little girl you saved from drowning in Connecticut? She's dead!"

"I know!"

"Life isn't good, Dean!"

"I know! But what can I do about it, huh?!"

"You can go to Illinois and hunt the damn thing that did this to us!" Katherine cries.

"All I've done, my whole life, is sacrifice my happiness so other people can live! So they can have what matters to them. But at what point can I quit, huh? When can I start thinking about myself? Why is it my job to save these people?!"

She takes a few steps closer and puts her hands so very carefully on the side of his face. For a moment, he can smell the faintest trace of oranges. He flinched at just how gingerly she touched him. But there's no warmth. And he's reminded that this isn't really Katherine he's arguing with. It's himself. A strange projection of some part of his mind. "Dean," she murmurs, her thumbs wiping the tears from his cheeks. Her blue eyes are impossibly wide, the darkest blue he's ever seen them. "There's nothing I can tell you that you don't already know." After a moment, he nods. "That happiness you want, that you see other people have? It's not in some alternate reality in a strange place with people you don't know. It's with your brother and that girl. And you know that. But the question is, are you willing to fight for it?" Her hands drop suddenly, and she turns to the dark hallway by the bedroom.

"What is it?" He whispers.

"Someone's here." And like that, she disappears, like ripples in still water. Dean's head snaps to the dark hallway. He grabs his guitar from the stand and waits around the corner.

A smaller frame stands on the other side of that wall, her hearing so unnaturally well that she can hear the slide of his clothes against the wall. She waits for him to come to her.

That guitar swings out in front of Dean and she grips the neck of it, holding the guitar firmly in its place, and twists his arm around his back, throwing the instrument to the side. Dean turns, wrapping his arm around the shoulders of the blurry figure, but she grips his wrists and kicks his legs out from underneath him. She's got him flat on his back now, and there's the sharp edge of a knife pressed right up underneath his jaw.

Her expression is hard, the contours of her body severe. Streamlined. Her blonde hair, sandy roots showing through, is pulled up into a long ponytail at the back of her head and hangs over her shoulder. Dean's huffing and puffing, but her blood pressure hasn't so much as jumped.

"Katherine?" He breathes.

She stares at him with the smallest wrinkle between her brows. "Dean Winchester?" He nods after a moment, but the knife presses against his throat.

"I—oh, God."

"How do you know who I am? Have you been following me?"

"Wha—no! Can you get that thing away from me?!" He slaps her wrist away from him.

"Wow," Phantom Katherine hums, leaning against the wall. Dean glowers. "You let the girl get the jump on you. I even warned you!"

"How do you know who I am?" Katherine repeats. She hasn't moved from her crouched position over him. Dean lets out a heavy sigh.

"This isn't gonna make a lick of sense."

Her eyes narrow in that challenging way. "I think you'd be surprised."

When he's finished explaining, she's sitting back on the sofa with crossed arms and legs. "That's her skeptical look," Phantom Katherine says from behind Dean. He ignores it.

He didn't mention anything about the extent of their relationship. Just what happened the other day.

"Joliet, Illinois, you say?" She asks.

"So you don't think I'm nuts?"

Katherine shrugs, rising to her feet. "I've heard crazier things."

"Yeah? Like what?"

She snorts. "I couldn't even tell ya. So come on."

"Wait, what?"

"Let's go hunt this thing down. I've got silver in my trunk."

Dean grabs his jacket and follows the blonde without further contest. "I want to talk to my brother first."

"He won't believe you," Katherine monotonously drones, hopping down the stairs. "If everything you've said is right, he doesn't remember the hunting. He'll think you're nuts, like everyone else does."

Dean frowns, following after her. "I still want to at least tell him."

"Fine," she says.

Dean glances over her attire. It seems very Katherine. Despite the chilly winter Kansas weather, she wears a gray tee with a green unbuttoned flannel, sleeves rolled up to just below her elbows. Her usual dark Levis, hugging every curve of her lower limbs like a glove. Those familiar brown leather ankle boots with the rubber sole. She shakes her wavy blonde hair from the low ponytail and tucks the hairband into her front pocket.

"What about you?" Dean asks.

"What about me?" She grunts.

She's more like Dean is in the real world than she is herself. No smiles, no fuss. "I mean...are you a hunter?"

Katherine snorts. "What kinda question's that?" She asks, glancing over her shoulder as she pushes the apartment building's front door open. "I didn't track your ass for kicks. I thought you might've been a demon or somethin', trying to lure me into a trap."

"And you walked right into it."

"No, I made sure you were a real person and broke into your apartment, where you proceeded to assault me with a guitar."

Dean's eye blow wide. "You broke into my apartment!"

After a moment, she tilts her head to the side in a brief acknowledgement. "Fair enough," she hums, crossing the street to her sleek black Charger.

Dean pulls a face. "You parked in the front of the building?"

Katherine shrugs. "It's Lawrence, Kansas," she snorts.

"Tell me about yourself," Dean says, sitting in the front seat beside her. "What your life is like in this world."

Katherine glances curiously at him. "It's...how it's always been." She shrugs.

"College?"

Her eyes narrow. "Yale."

"And then?"

She almost laughs, twisting the key in the ignition. "And then nothing. I hunt."

"Well...what about your dad?"

Katherine's eyes turn to stones. "What about him?"

"Well...from where I know you...we're kind of...well not really any more, but we were trying to find him."

"He's missing?" Dean nods. Katherine shifts uneasily in her seat and shifts her car into drive. "I haven't seen him in three years," she says. "I left school to go find him, but...I don't bother looking for him anymore. If he really wanted to see me, he could easily find me." She rests back in her seat. "Go on. Ask another, I know you want to. I can see it on your face."

"Does the name 'Charlie Taylor' mean anything to you? Like, is he your boyfriend?"

"Are you sure you're not some kind of super stalker?"

"No," Dean quietly answers. "I just...where I know you, he's your boyfriend."

"Yeah," she murmurs. "Yeah, he is."

"But you're a hunter."

"I don't see how these spheres overlap."

"And your mom," he says. "Is she around?"

"No," Katherine answers. "She died a while ago." She glances to Dean. "Are you normally this inquisitive?"

"No, actually. It's you."

She looks to be in disbelief, eyebrows raised high and surprise genuine in her face. "Me."

"Oh, yeah," Dean scoffs. "Vigor for life and innocent blue eyes, wanna see the world." Dean nods. "You're...bubbly."

Katherine grimaces. "Sounds awful."

"It's kind of endearing."

"Right," she drawls, shaking her head.

"Tell me," Dean says. "Take a left." She does. "Does Charlie make you happy?"

Katherine glances to Dean for a moment, her gaze shifting back and forth from the road to him. "That's kind of personal, don'tcha think?"

"Sorry," he amends. "I just—we're close, where I'm from."

"Right," she says, nodding. "We...spill our guts to each other?"

Dean laughs. "Sometimes," he tells her. "Usually, it's like you're trying to pull teeth with me. At least, that's what you say, anyway. You're the emotional one."

"Are you sayin' that 'cause I'm a girl?"

"No," Dean says. "No, it's just...you. You're kind of an empath."

Maybe this is what other hunters see when they look at Katherine Donovan. The hunter, a wall between her and the clientele, the coworkers. If she has any coworkers. An aloof huntress who has yet to crack a smile. But Dean sees her in a totally different light, and nothing would ever change that. Nothing.

"You can, uh...wait in here," Dean says. "I won't be long."

"We're going with or without him, right?" Katherine asks, shutting her car off. Dean nods, shuts the door, and starts across his mother's lawn.

A few minutes later, Dean returns, alone, and sits in the car.

"Who is that tree?" Katherine wonders, twisting around to watch Sam round the back of Katherine's car, and he sits down in the back, sliding into the middle. He stares at Katherine. "Hi," she greets. It's dry. No smile.

"Hi," he says. "Sam."

"Katherine."

"Sam, what are you doing?" Dean demands.

"I'm going with you."

"No, you're not," Dean argues. "This is dangerous, and you could get hurt."

"So could you," Sam retorts.

Katherine glances between the brothers. "So you told him?"

"Not everything," Dean says.

Katherine sighs, looking back to Sam. "Whatever stupid thing you're about to do, you're not gonna do it alone," he says to Dean.

"I've got Katherine." He gestures to her with his thumb.

"Apparently we're all coworkers," she informs the younger brother. "I'd trust me if I were you. Your brother's not gonna get hurt." Sam shakes his head, stubbornly remaining in place.

"Why are you doing this?" Dean asks Sam.

Sam lets out a heavy sigh. "Because you're still my brother."

Dean nods. "Bitch."

Sam gawks. Katherine frowns. "Why are you calling me a bitch?" Sam asks.

"You're supposed to say 'jerk'."

"What?"

Katherine faces forward, shaking her head, and twists the key in the ignition. "Buckle your seat belts," she says in a sigh, and starts down the road.

A few hours into the drive, Sam leans forward and stares down at a brown paper bag sitting in the middle of the bench seat between Katherine and Dean. "What's in the bag?"

"Nothing," Katherine says.

Sam's eyebrows shoot into his hairline. "Nothing?"

"Yeah, nothing. Do you normally ask people about the contents of their cars?" She asks. "You're kind of nosy."

"You're kind of being secretive."

Katherine lets out a heavy sigh, and Sam plucks the bag from the seat. "Dude, your brother is about to be roadkill," she growls. "If you spill any of that—"

"Re-lax," Sam hums, opening the bag up.

"You don't want to do that," Dean warns.

"Oh, really?" Sam's smirk fades as he pulls a sealed jar of red stuff from inside the bag. "What the hell is this?"

"Blood," Katherine answers, grinning for the first time that evening.

Dean looks at her with a twinkle in his eye, marveling. What a sadistic little thing.

"Yeah, I can see that it's blood—Dean, who is this chick?! Why do you have blood—?!"

"Oh, shaddup," Katherine scoffs, and Dean pries the container away from Sam, very carefully. "I didn't get that from a person, so you can relax."

This doesn't do anything to appease Sam. It could be from a blood bank and technically, she wouldn't have lied. It would've come from a refrigerator. "Why do you have blood in your car?!"

"You don't wanna know," she sings.

Sam scoffs. "No, I really, really wanna know."

The huntress purses her lips. "We need a bit of silver dipped in lamb's blood."

"You need a bit of silver dipped in lamb's blood," Sam echoes. Katherine nods once, tapping her fingers against her steering wheel to the beat of Foreigner's Feels Like The First Time. "Why?"

"There's a thing called a djinn that we're hunting. Dean says it dropped him in this warped reality. I am a hunter who hunts monsters. I help people who need help. Dean needs help. It's a win-win. And apparently, we were all a lot more tolerable in that other reality that only Dean seems to remember."

"Unless it doesn't work," Dean says.

"It'll work," she promises.

"Okay. Um..." Sam swallows. "Stop the car."

"Sorry. No can do," Katherine says.

"It's true, Sam," Dean tells him. "There are bad things, nightmare things, out there in the dark. Katherine and I were attacked by this thing, and we're gonna make it right."

"We did tell you that you didn't want to come," she reminds Sam with a glance in her rearview mirror.

"I want to help you. I really, really do. But you're having some kind of mental break—"

Katherine makes a buzzer sound. "Wrong. This is reality, Samuel."

"Sam."

"Whatever." She glances into her rearview mirror as Sam starts dialing on his phone. Katherine nudges Dean and nods her head towards Sam. Dean twists around to look at him before rolling his window down, snatching the phone from Sam, and tossing it out of the window.

"What the hell was that?!" Sam cries.

"Your phone," Katherine answers.

"I know! Why did you throw it?!"

"I didn't," she corrects. "Dean did. And anyway, I'm not sitting in a padded room with a straight jacket any time in my life, all right? So just sit tight and try not to get us killed. I've gone too long to get screwed up by a kid in a tracksuit." The car rolls to a stop at a red light, and she twists around to look at him. Sam glances down to his clothes.

"What's wrong with my clothes?" He squeaks.

She purses her lips downward. "What? Nothing."