Katherine jumps as someone beats on the door with an urgency she's never heard before. She pokes her head out of the bathroom, toothbrush stuck in her mouth, and steps outside just as Dean's opening up the door. "She turned," Sam breathes.

"Wot?" Katherine asks around her toothpaste, pulling the blue plastic toothbrush from her mouth. White foam lingers around her lips.

"I couldn't grab her in time—"

"We'll find her, Sammy," Dean assures him. Katherine rushes to the bathroom, rinses her mouth out, and grabs her jacket before following the brothers outside and down the stairs.

"I already called Bobby," Sam says. "He doesn't know anything, except he knew severing the bloodline wouldn't work. I asked everyone—they all said it's impossible to reverse it."

"Well how come she didn't turn last night?" Katherine wonders.

"Maybe she's got to be asleep," Dean suggests.

Sam wants to rip his hair out. "What the hell does it matter, guys? We've got to find some way to help her, some legend we missed."

"Even if there was, don't you think one of your contacts would've known?" Katherine asks. "Everyone I know would've said the same thing—you can't do anything."

"Well we've got to look harder until we find something," Sam presses.

"Maybe we don't have a choice anymore," Katherine stresses.

He pulls himself to his full height, glowering at the smaller hunter. Katherine bows up in response; shoulders rigid, jaw set, blue eyes like stones. "What?"

Dean gently tugs on Katherine's elbow, shouldering himself between Sam and Katherine. "Sam, I'm with Katherine. She's a sweet girl, but there's part of her that's—"

There's something ironic about Sam's wry smirk. "Evil?"

"Yeah."

"That's what they say about me, Dean," Sam spits. "So me, neither of you will kill, but you're willing to just blow her away?" Katherine opens her mouth to retort, but Sam's cellphone rings. Katherine shoves her hands into her jacket pockets and starts pacing the tremors from her legs. Her fingers tremble against each other. "Madison, where are you?" He rushes for the car, and Katherine and Dean follow after him. "Well do you see any street signs? Okay—hang on, Maddie, we're coming to get you."

It was a very long, very awkward, drive to get Madison, and from where she was to her house. Sam sat in the backseat with her. Nobody spoke still. Not until they got to the kitchen.

"I don't remember anything," Madison says. "I probably killed someone last night, didn't I?"

"We don't know that," Katherine hums.

"Is there something else we can try to make it go away?"

"We'll find something," Sam says. Katherine shoots him a hard look, but he isn't paying attention to her. "There's got to be some answer, somewhere."

"That's not entirely true," Katherine interjects, and Madison turns to her. "Look, we've scoured every source. I did some digging last night. There's no cure."

Madison glances between the brothers. "Is she right?" 

Katherine's eyes narrow, and she almost scoffs. What the hell?

She rubs her forehead, allowing her vexations to be forgotten nearly immediately, and looks between Sam and Madison.

"We could lock you up at night," Dean says. "But when you bust out—and you will—someone else dies."

Katherine's phone rings, and she quickly excuses herself to the hall. "Hello?" She croaks, pinching the bridge of her nose.

"Kit?" Charlie asks. "Are you okay?"

"Hi," she says, forcing herself to smile. It always made her voice lighter. "Yeah, yeah I'm fine. It's just...it's a little early, I guess."

"Where are you?"

"San Francisco," she murmurs. "Um...Charlie, I can't—I can't talk right now."

He waits a moment. Katherine feels a tug in her gut. Remorse. He doesn't deserve this. "On a hunt?" 

"Yeah," she whispers.

"Maybe I should just stop calling you and wait for you to call me," he chuckles. Katherine almost smiles, licking her lips, and glances to the door.

Sam and Dean could do it without her. She hasn't spoken to Charlie in over a week. And whatever conclusion they fall to, she could follow them. Because if it was Katherine in Sam's shoes, and Charlie was in Madison's, she'd do everything in her power to find something. 

But what if something isn't there.

"You know what," she hums, starting down the stairs. "The boys've got it."

"Katherine—"

"No, no, it's fine. What's been going on? I miss you."

"Yeah," he chuckles. "Yeah, I miss you too. I swung by the house yesterday. Sophia misses you a lot. Julien's gotten bigger since I saw him last. Hard to believe, since it was just last week."

"I know, he grows like a weed," Katherine murmurs, leaning her head against the wall. 

Something tugs at her gut. For half a second, her mind flits to Sam. Something's up. She glances up the stairs, gnawing on her lip. 

It almost felt like the werewolf case in Tampa. Almost.

"What's the latest?" Charlie asks. "And when are you gonna be back on the east coast?"

Katherine grins. "We're hunting a werewolf," she hums. Then she clicks her tongue. "Well...not anymore I guess. We found out who it was, but the problem is, Sam's infatuated with her."

"Werewolves can be girls?" Charlie asks.

She laughs. "Werewolves can be anyone. Chris could be a werewolf."

There's a beat of silence. "He always did have a big smile." Katherine lets out another loud laugh. "So when are you coming home?"

Home.

The word did something to her. Made her eyelids flutter and her stomach fill with butterflies. Home. Charlie. Being in the same room as him, wearing his hoodies, smelling his cologne, She must've moaned a little.

"Yeah?" Charlie asks. She can hear the smile in his voice. A small one tugs at the corner of her lips.

"I miss you," she murmurs. "I'll try to come soon."

Another pause. "Are you by yourself?"

Katherine chuckles. "I'm on a front porch. Dirty talk is to be kept to a minimum."

"I like to do my dirty talking in person anyway," he hums. 

A chill runs down Katherine's spine, and she feels a flutter between her legs. 

"So when are you coming home?"

Katherine leans her head on the banister again. "Hopefully in a week," she murmurs. 

She's been around the block a few times. She knows what a gun sounds like; rifle, pistol, silenced. Her ears are tuned to hear this kind of thing without even realizing she's looking fro a threat, even on the phone with her boyfriend. 

She heard a silenced shot. Not knowing where it was coming from, she dropped her body down to the wooden deck, and a hot flash ran up her spine before she remembered. 

Tampa.

"You okay?" Charlie asks.

"Ch-Charlie, I have to call you back," she says, glancing to the door, and heaves herself up. She doesn't wait for his reply before ending the phone call and sprinting for the door. "Dean!" She yells. "Sam!" Katherine double-times it up the stairs before running straight into Sam's chest. "Sam—"

He's sobbing, red-faced, running his fingers through his hair. The first thing he does is crush her to his chest, and Katherine isn't able to do much but let herself be squished. 

"What—" The rest of her sentence is choked off and silenced once she sees Madiosn's body on the sofa, blood spattering the fabric. Katherine's arms immediately wind around Sam's waist. Wide blue eyes stare vacantly at the woman's body across the room. 

She's numb.

"Sam," she whispers. He wails into her. "D-Dean. Dean! Sam, let's go. Sam, we have to go!" 

Dean comes around the corner with a cloth, stony-faced, wiping down surfaces they may have touched. One look at Katherine, and she can see he's hurting, too. She doesn't think it's because of Madison's sudden death, but who is she to guess anymore? 

But she didn't call Charlie back. Not that day. It wasn't even that week. It was after the hunters showed up in Hollywood for a well-deserved break.

Charlie was the one who broke and called her. Again. He asked about what happened, but she couldn't tell him. She promised herself to never involve him in what she does more than she has to. So he doesn't need to know the gritty case details, or their lasting effects on the hunters' psyche.

Katherine swings her leg a bit, glancing around the set the trolley is driving through. She tuned out the overly-chirpy tour guide at the front a long time ago, after they swung around the set of Smallville, which was undoubtedly the only important part of this mini vacation Dean suggested on taking before they actually careened right into the mystery on stage nine.

"—Stars Hollow—"

And then Sam is leaping off of the cart, beckoning Dean and Katherine with him. "What's the matter with Gilmore Girls?" Dean asks.

"Ugh," Katherine mutters, jamming her hands into her jeans pockets. "Can't stand it."

"Oh, check it out!" Dean hisses, following quickly after Sam. "It's Matt Damon."

"Pretty sure that's not Matt Damon," Sam says.

"If either of you see a 'Jensen Ackles' around, hold him and call me," Katherine says. Dean frowns.

"Who?"

She blinks. "Stage 9's to the left," Katherine says instead.

"Let's keep going this way," Dean suggests.

"Dude, we've gotta work," Katherine tells him.

He groans. "Go-lly."

"You're the one who wanted to come to L.A."

"You agreed to it!" He squawks.

"Because I thought I'd see someone from Smallville, and so far, I've got caput!"

"I don't understand your obsession with that show," Dean hums.

"You haven't seen one episode," Katherine retorts. "It's a beautifully infuriating version of early Clark Kent."

Dean is still glowering. "Who comes to L.A. to work?"

"Literally everyone in this joint."

"Okay, but the swimming pools and the movie stars—!"

"Does this seem like swimming pool weather to you?" Sam asks, gesturing to the overcast sky.

"It's practically Canadian," Katherine mutters.

"Yeah, well, I just figured after everything that happened with Madison—" Katherine's eyes blow wide and she glances to Sam. "—you could use a little R&R."

"Well maybe I want to work, Dean," Sam retorts. "Maybe it keeps my mind off things."

"All right, all right," Dean acquiesces. "So this crew guy—what, he died on set?"

"Yeah. Rumors are spreading like wildfire online. They're saying the set's haunted."

"Like Poltergeist?" Dean's jovially inquisitive tone makes Katherine laugh. It's so easy to intrigue him.

"Could be a poltergeist," Sam says with a shrug.

"No, no," Dean shakes his head. "The movie Poltergeist." Sam's brows shoot up. "You know nothing of your cultural heritage, do you?" Katherine snorts and lets Dean talk about his obsession. She doesn't know what he's going on about, either, so it could be a learning experience. "It's rumored that the set of Poltergeist was cursed, that they used real human bones as props."

"That's kind of disgusting," Katherine says with a frown. "And morbid."

"At least three of the actors died in it," Dean continues. "So this crew guy—what's his name?"

"Frank Jaffe," she answers.

"You got a death certificate or coroner's report?"

"No, but it's L.A.," Katherine scoffs. "Might not even be his real name."

"But the girl who found him said she saw a vanishing figure," Sam interjects.

"What's the girl's name?" Dean asks.

"Tara Benchley."

"Whoa." Dean turns on his heels. "Tara Benchley? From FeardotCom and Ghostship, Tara Benchley?"

Katherine snorts, shaking her head. "So now you're suddenly on board?"

"Hell yeah!"

She laughs, facing forward, and her expression drops. "Aw, hell."

"What?" Dean twists around to look at her.

"Uh...Jensen, one o-clock." Dean's brows furrow and he looks slightly to the right.

"Who?"

"I'm just gonna go have a chat—I'll catch up!" She quickly starts forward, waving the brothers into the warehouse, and turns around with a grin.

It wasn't Jensen. It was his stunt double.

✕

"Hey, uh—blondie! 'Scuse me! Yo! P.A.!" Katherine turns her head, brows furrowed. A tall man in a suit with shaggy brown hair grins and waves her over. She glances to Sam and Dean off to the side, who she was approaching, and after a moment, moves to the middle-aged man standing with two others. Maybe sound guys. "Could I get a smoothie from craft?"

Katherine frowns. "What?"

The man just stares at her. "A smoothie from craft. You are a P.A. This is what you do...?"

"Yes!" She feels Sam's hands on her shoulders, and she glances up at his stupid apologetic smile. "First day, she's kind of out of it." Sam turns her around and pulls at her shoulders.

"What's a P.A.?" Dean quietly asks.

"I think they're kinda like slaves," Sam whispers.

"I am not gonna be anyone's bitch," Katherine declares.

"Cool it, Sparky," Dean tells her. "Maybe they trade gossip about what happened. This is a good thing."

Katherine's brow raises. "Well if it's so great then you can do it. Now what the hell's 'craft'?" She rubs the back of her neck and goes off in search of it. Sam breaks off from Dean, and Dean finds Katherine just as she's about to get into a fist fight with the poor young woman on the other side of the table.

"What's gotten into you?" Dean asks, swiping the tray of smoothies from Katherine. She simply rolls her eyes and starts forward. "You're so aggravated when you're confused." Katherine swipes a cookie off of the table, and like that, her mood disappears.

"Who even was that guy?" She asks.

"Don't know, don't care."

Katherine sighs, stepping out of the tent, and moves back into the stage with Dean trailing behind her. Then she stops, staring up at the high arc of the ceiling. "What?" Dean asks.

"Didn't whats-her-face say she saw something disappear in the rafters?"

Dean looks up. "Yeah." Katherine starts for the stairs to the left and carefully hauls herself up. He sighs, glancing around, and sets the smoothies on the ledge before following her up. Then thelights go dark. "Kat?" He hisses.

"Chill out," she chuckles, and somewhere nearby, a bell rings.

"Why don't we take it from 'come on, it'll be fun'?" A voice calls. Katherine starts forward again, smirking down at a very confused Dean Winchester, and looks down at her EMF meter. Katherine glances down onto the set and shakes her head, continuing upwards.

"Don't you have a heights thing?" Dean asks.

"Trying not to think about that. Stop talking." She gets all the way to the top, only lingers for a brief moment, and then goes right back downstairs.

"Blondie!" The same man from before shouts at her.

"Smoothie," she sighs, swiping the tray from the ledge, and sets forward.

She and Dean spend the next half hour running around for whoever, doing whatever, searching for EMF or other signs of...well, anything.

"Did you find anything?" Sam asks.

Katherine shakes her head. "No EMF anywhere."

"Great," he sighs. "So what are you thinking?"

"I think being a P.A. friggin' sucks," she grumbles, crossing her arms.

"Look at the food these people get," Dean hisses. "Look at these things!" He holds up his new favorite thing. "They're, like, miniature Philly cheesesteak sandwiches—they're delicious." He offers it to Sam and he shakes his head.

"Maybe later," Sam sighs.

Dean shrugs and devours half of it. "What'd you find out about the dead crew guy?" 

"Uh...Frank Jaffe was just filling in for the day," Sam answers. "Nobody here knew him or where he lived or anything."

"Oh, great," Katherine mutters. "So you found out just as much as we did. Dean, do you have to chew quite so messily." The three hunters stiffen as someone from crew wanders over to the table, snags one of those sandwiches, and quickly ducks away.

"I did dig up some stuff on stage 9's history," Sam offers. "Four people died messy here over the past eighty years. Two suicides and two fatal accidents." Dean offers Katherine a sandwich, which she accepts. Sam glances between the two, brows furrowed. "Have you actually been working?"

"I'm insulted," Katherine scoffs. Dean starts away without another word. "Wha—Dean." And then Sam's leaving. "Sam." Katherine lets out a huff.

"Hey, Blondie!"

"It's Katherine," she snaps, but starts towards the Suit.

She's given a headset and a clipboard, and she has no idea what to do with either of 'em. Douchebag In A Suit finally goes off to make a phone call, leaving Katherine alone for a while enough to watch the cast act out a scene they've been filming for hours. She leans against the table with a pensive expression, watching them work.

She was obsessed with the profession when she was younger.

Katherine turns to the table, quickly grabbing the last of those Philly cheesesteaks, and tosses it into her mouth. She nearly chokes, though, because one of the actresses lets out a blood-curdling scream. Frowning and puffy-cheeked, she checks her script.

That's definitely not there.

Katherine rushes to set and gawks. Douchebag In A Suit is hanging by a length of rope in the middle of the whole thing, came in through the ceiling. She pulls her knife from her pocket and bounds onto the stage, climbing on top of props to cut the man down. The table breaks under her weight just as the guy drops to the ground. Ignoring the screams around her, she checks pulse and breathing, but it's all useless.

His neck is snapped.