Katherine Louise stares at a half-naked man, confusion knotting in her stomach.

Well...she didn't sleep with him. Willingly, anyway. She's clothed, he's in another bed...

As she flits for the bathroom, she wonders where the hell these pajamas came from. This duffle is hers. The clothing looks like hers. We're about to find out. She pulls on a pair of jeans and a black t-shirt, and layers a soft blue flannel over it. She grabs the tan courduroy jacket and throws it over her leg as she rifles through her bag in search of her weapons. 

None.

So she packed her weapons bag.

Katherine rises to her full height and pulls the jacket on before opening the door in relative silence. The man in the bed across the room is snoring. Not loudly, but enough to know she has some grace when it comes to making noise.

She spots her bag at the foot of the bed she crawled out of and moves towards it to pul her boots on. With one last glance to the stranger, she swings her two bags over her shoulders and moves for the door. She closes it quietly behind her, staring at the man between the cracks until it's shut.

Katherine wonders what in the hell she was doing with him.

She finds her phone buried deep in her clothes bag and starts searching for her keys, all the while glancing up to look for her car.

There are ten here, and none of them are hers.

She sighs, hanging her head, and reluctantly opens her phone to dial her father.

This is Clay Donovan and I'm unavailable. If it's an emergency, call my daughter Katherine—360-357-4438.

Katherine's brow furrows, wondering when he changed his voicemail, and why, but the beep prompts her to start talking. "It's me," she begins, voice aloof and sharp. " What the hell's up with your voicemail?" She rubs her forehead and sighs. "Call me back as soon as you can. I have no damn clue where I am and I can't find my car. So...call me back." She hangs up and stuffs her phone into her back pocket before swinging her bags over her shoulders. She ventures to the edge of the parking lot, looks both ways, and goes right. 

The air is good. Thin, crisp, but not cold enough to prompt snow. They're at least somewhere hilly, judging by the rolling blacktop ahead. Mountains. Colorado?

It's maybe a quarter of a mile before she runs into civilization. A small, inviting diner with big glass windows to look at the trees outside. A cup of hot chocolate warms her belly in all of the right ways. She could fall asleep in this booth right now. 

Her waiter slides a plate of steaming steak and eggs onto the table, along with her sides, and then he's gone. Katherine's mouth waters as she surveys at the two plates before her. Steak and eggs first, or hashbrowns and sausage first? She goes for a sausage link.

Heaven.

Her phone vibrates after three more bites. She flips it open and squirts some ketchup on her hashbrowns. They have spicy ketchup now?

"Oh, Jesus," she whispers. "Hello?"

"Where are you?" It's a gruff voice, low in register. Not quite annoyed, but there's a hint of worry. It isn't her father's voice. It's not Bobby. Check the damn caller ID, idiot. 

Long lost hunter contact? Even then, why the hell is he talking to her like that?

Katherine frowns, looking up from her plate, and swallows. "Who's this?"

"Very funny," the man scoffs. "We're worried sick over here—"

"Yeah, all right, I'm gonna stop you there. Wrong number." Katherine snaps her phone shut and reaches for her fork and knife. Then her phone buzzes again. She lets it. She isn't going to waste her hot breakfast on a demanding stranger. Maybe he'll look at his call log and figure out he really did dial the wrong number. 

Katherine sets her napkin on the table and looks at her check as she fishes a few bills from her wallet. Two chairs scrape against the floor across from her. With a lowered head, she lifts her eyes and runs her tongue over her teeth.

"Morning," she cooly greets, lifting her chin. They're dressed similarly, but not identical. Canvas jackets over button-down shirts, one flannel and one plaid, undershirts. One has dark brown hair, the other has golden brown. The lighter-haired one's stare is harder than the other's. After a few seconds, she furrows her brow and leans forward. There's something familiar about him.

Katherine reaches for the knife at her hip, sheathed in leather.

"What the hell's your deal?" The one with lighter hair asks, glancing to the empty plate before her. She places his voice to be the one from the phone call about twenty minutes ago, but that's not all...she knows his face. "Pack your bags without a word, leave without a note? And you get food without us?" He frowns at her. "What the hell'd you do to your hair, anyway?"

"I like it," the other mutters.

Katherine leans forward with a grin. Dean knows it well. This is her face before she goes for the jugular. Shark-like grin, furrowed brows. Lethal. Try me and see where that gets you. He's seen it twice before. One time when the days were early, some guy mouthed off to her and she started a bar brawl. The other time was during a hunt. Demons.

Buckets of crazy.

"Do we know each other?" She still can't place it.

Sam and Dean exchange a look. "This is her, right?" Dean whispers.

"One hundred percent," Sam returns, hushed. "Those are her bags, too."

Katherine sighs and grabs her bags from the floor. Dean slides to his feet, tucking his hands into his jacket pockets, and stands right in front of her. Her eyes turn to stones as she glares up at him. 

She's a little shorter than what he's used to. Her voice is higher, her cheeks are fuller.

"Touch me and I scream," she threatens. Dean's brows furrow. 

"Quit playing around, Katherine, we don't have time for this."

That gives her some pause. He knows her name. Did something actually happen last night?

No shot.

Katherine looks him over, running her tongue over her teeth. "You should really ask for some ID before you get a girl to go to a motel with you," she says. 

He almost laughs as he holds a finger up. "First of all." He points between the two of them. "Nothing happened. Sam patched you up and we all went to sleep." He gestures to the tall one. Katherine's gaze flits back to the man in front of her, so annoyingly familiar she almost wants to ask questions. "Anyway, you're getting married next week. I have standards." Katherine just stares at him. "Second of all, can you knock this shit off? This is about to be a scene, and we may need to talk to these people about the preserve. Professionally."

Katherine side-steps him and begins to walk away. Dean grabs her wrist, and she swings, clocking him right in the cheek. Everyone stops to look at them.

"Keep your hands off of me," she snarls through her teeth. She adjusts her bag and starts for the door, eyeballing the tall one. Sam. "Don't you get any ideas either, pal." Katherine pushes out of the diner.

"Hey!"

"You know—" Katherine drops her bags and turns on her heels before tugging up on her sleeves. Then she stalks the two men in front of her. "—you really don't know the meaning of leave me alone, do you?" 

"It's Dean!" The golden-haired one says, raising his hands. "Dean Winchester! That's Sam." Katherine plants her feet, staring Dean hard in the face.

"Jesus," Sam breathes.

"Winchester," Katherine repeats. Dean quickly nods. 

That's how she knows him. Philadelphia, last year.

"Substitute teacher," she says, snapping her fingers. "You ditched me in the middle of a hunt."

Dean grimaces. "What? No. No—" He scoffs. "Katherine, we've known each other since we were kids."

After a moment, she nods. "Yeah. Yeah, that's right. You tormented me." 

He scoffs again. "I wouldn't say tormented—" She punches him in the stomach and turns to collect her bags.

"Jesus Christ," Dean croaks, leaning against the brick wall. "Is she stronger?"

✕

Upon further questioning in the motel room, Dean discovered a few strange things. For starters, no injuries whatsoever. No scratches, no busted knees, no halfway-decent patch job in Katherine's left side.

"The last thing I remember, I'm in Wyoming with my Dad hunting Vo'estanehesono—"

Dean frowns. "What?"

Katherine turns her eyes up to him, sass dial turned all the way on high, and lets out a heavy breath. "Vo'estanehesono," she impatiently repeats. "A race of violent people about as tall as your knee. Their name literally means little people." Dean blinks. "It's a Cheyenne thing. Anyway. Then when I wake up, I'm in here with your sorry ass and no damn car."

Sam emerges from the bathroom in a suit and tie. "Welld on't you clean up nice," Katherine dryly mutters.  

"Don't go hittin' on my brother," Dean says, adjusting his sleeve.

She smirks, rolling her eyes at Dean, before turning her attention to Sam. "Where are you going?"

"To get some answers," Sam tells her, then he looks to Dean. "You'll call me if anything changes?"

"Yeah." Sam nods, and the other two watch him leave. Katherine turns her chin to Dean.

"Okay, obviously you have a thing for me," Katherine says. "And I'm marrying someone else? The plot thickens." She takes a sip of her water. "How old am I again?"

"Twenty-one."

"Too young to get married," she scoffs.

"I'll say," Dean mutters. "We're lucky your fricken fiancé hasn't called yet. I have no idea what to tell him."

"Who is he?"

"Name's Charlie. Works in construction."

Katherine sinks into her seat. "I always knew blue collar was the road I was headed for." She opens one eye at him. "Stop looking at me, it's weird."

"No, you know what's weird? You're seventeen! Your hair is different, and your voice is different, but the words you say are so you—"

"Obsession isn't a good look on you, Dean."

Dean scoffs. "You're the one who's obsessed with me."

Katherine nods. "It would be in my usual suspects list. You know, the narcissistic ones."

Dean glowers. "I'm not a narcissist."

"I don't know why I'd be obsessed with you," Katherine chuckles. "All you've done is boss me around."

Dean runs his hands down his face. "God, I am so glad I didn't know you when you were seventeen."

"Yeah, whatever," Katherine sighs. "So we were a thing. And now we're not. And I'm engaged. But you're still in love with me."

Dean huffs. "I've learned the hard way that it isn't just a switch you can flip. So...stop making fun of me."

She purses her lips and glances away from him. "Must've done something pretty fucked up to earn it, with a face like that," she mutters.

"You can't talk to me like that, you're a minor." She grunts, waving a dismissive hand at him. 

"So I've been de-aged," she sighs, looking at her engagement ring on the table. "That's fun."

"Not really," Dean tells her. "Because if you can de-age to a mindset when you don't remember us, then maybe you can de-age out of existence."

"Deep," Katherine whispers, slowly nodding as she twists the ring. "Why didn't you go with Sam?"

"To make sure nothing happened to you," Dean says. Then his name is shouted through his phone. Bobby had to put his phone down to answer one of his "government" lines. Dean picks his device up and takes it off speaker. "Yeah, Bobby, I hear you, I hear you!" He moves to the window, pointing between Katherine and a pile of chocolate. "Sit there, eat that, don't move." She gives him a two-fingered salute.

"Run it by me again, son," Bobby says. "You said she's how old?"

"Seventeen," Dean answers. "She's seventeen with a bad attitude and I am not cut out for this," he growls. He barely glances over his shoulder to make sure Katherine didn't hear him. She's oddly quiet.

"Well how the hell did it happen?!"

"We're working a case in North Carolina. Some hikers come outta there, well...not how people remembered. They're years younger, Bobby. Sam and I went and talked to some of those people and they're children now! Major fountain of youth action."

"And that all happened in the woods you went to?"

"Yeah."

Bobby lets out a heavy sigh. "I'll find something. Call you when I do." I'll find something. Not, I'll try. I will. 

The line goes dead before Dean can answer. He groans and turns around.

A little girl sits on at the kitchen table now. Sandy brown hair, very light at the ends. She's little. No older than eight. She's sitting in a pair of jeans and the black shirt and the jacket—

"Katherine?"

"Uh-huh?" She swings her feet a little.

Dean blinks and slowly sits on the window sill. "Oh, shit. Shit, shit, shit. Wait! You didn't hear that!" He rubs his eyes, blinks, then squints at her. Still a kid. "Katherine?"

She blinks at him. "What?" She looks just like she did when they first met.

Dean immediately calls Bobby back.

"What?"

"She's a child," Dean hisses.

Bobby sighs. "Dean, I had to deal with your teenage bullshit, Sam's teenage bullshit, and her teenage bullshit. For all of it. You can put up with it for a couple of hours while I look—"

"No, Bobby, a child," he whispers, moving into the kitchenette. "A literal eight year old."

Dead silence. 

"Bobby?"

The old hunter growls out a swear. "Let me make some calls." The line goes dead. Dean turns around, and he's faced with an even smaller Katherine Louise.

"Oh. Oh, oh, oh. Sa-Saaaaam!"

He finally gets a hold of his brother in the nearest grocery store, looking for baby clothes.

"Big problem."

"What?" Sam asks.

"Katherine is four. And she's calling me Dada."

Sam snorts. "Guess it's your dream come true."

Dean gawks into nothingness. "That is profoundly disturbing—"

Sam winces. "Yeah, I know. Sorry. Wrong, uh...wrong time."

"Why is everyone picking on me today?" Dean grumbles, glancing to the toddler wrapped up in his zipped leather jacket. "Bobby has nothing, so you better have something because I am shopping for diapers. I'm not wiping this girl's butt!"

"Relax, Dean. I'm working on it."

"Give me a tight definition of "working on it," because she was twenty-one when we went to bed last night, seventeen when I woke up this morning, and now she's two!" Dean runs his hand through his hair. "This is going way too fast, man. Way too fast." De-age out of existence...

Sam lets out a heavy sigh. "Two of those people are gone. The first couple. A friend of theirs said they just...disappeared. I went into their house. It's a mess."

"Like a toddler mess?"

"I guess."

"See? I was right. Eventually this thing just takes your clock so far back you never existed!" Katherine's brow wrinkles. "Don't you start crying," he says in a warning, pointing a gentle finger at her. "Just—meet me at the room, okay?" Dean hangs up and adjusts his grip on the leather-swaddled baby. She's tugging on the necklace Sam gave him one Christmas. Dean lets out a sigh and reaches for the nearest pack of diapers.

"She's a cutie," a woman says to his left. Katherine turns her head around, resting it in Dean's chest as she continues to pull his necklace.

"Thanks?" Dean hums, a small, uncomfortable smile pulling at the corner of his mouth.

"Is she yours?"

"Uh..." Dean looks down at the blonde head. "Yeah."

"How old is she?"

"Three or four, I think." The woman chuckles, her brow furrowed a bit, as she looks to Katherine. "Can you say hi?" Dean says, gently bouncing the little girl on his arm. Her little fist just scratches at his chest, wide blue eyes staring at the woman before her.

"She's so expressive," the woman hums. "It's adorable."

"Oh, don't let that face fool you. She could kill you if she wanted to," Dean promises. The woman smiles a bit uncomfortably and shuffles past him.

All the way to the register, women crane their necks to get a look at him carrying the leather-clad baby.

"Well this is something not everyone gets to do," Dean hums, slapping a diaper on Katherine. "Change the diaper of your future...whatever. Who'd'a thunk?" He sighs, zipping his jacket back up around the toddler, and gives her his car keys to play with.

Sam enters the room like he was carried on a wind. "I think I got something," he says, shutting the door behind him. "I talked to one of the victims—Charlotte Walker." Sam glances over at Katherine. Baby Katherine. He starts a bit, glancing back to Dean, and starts shrugging out of his jacket. "Jesus."

"This is probably the most traumatizing thing I've ever bore witness to," Dean says. "If not the most, one of them."

"Uh..." Sam nods once and looks at Dean. Forget about the baby. "She said when she was hiking with her husband in those woods, she suddenly found herself in a different time. 1902, to be exact. There was an old man there who called himself Kairoi. He had white hair, the beard—the whole nine. He took her in, gave her food and shelter, and when she tried to leave, they got into an altercation, and he cut her with a scythe he had."

Dean frowns a bit. "How old is she?"

"Twenty-two."

"How old was she?"

"Thirty."

"Can't be mad about that," Dean hums. "When was this?"

"She got lost last week," Sam answers, glancing back to Katherine. "I can't believe you drove her without a car seat."

Dean gawks at his brother. "Well what the hell was I supposed to do, Sam? This is a temporary thing, all right?"

"Yeah, yeah. Can she talk?"

"Can she—no, Sam! She's a baby!"

"Well, is she feral?"

Dean crosses his arms. "If she remembers any of this, she's going to kill you in your sleep."

"Yeah, I know," Sam says, picking Katherine up with a smile. "She's kinda cute."

"She's cuter than you were when you were a baby. You were friggin' cute." Sam sits down on the bed with a heavy sigh, resting Katherine on his knee. He takes her hand and turns her chubby arm a bit. Then he unzips the jacket and looks at her side.

"So since she's de-aging, she's losing the things we know her to have."

"Except the attitude."

"The cuts," Sam hums. "They're gone."

"Yeah, they were gone when she was seventeen. Now she literally has baby skin. Not a pimple in sight." Dean pushes at the one on his cheekbone.

"That cut was pretty deep, right?" Sam asks.

"Yeah. Why?"

"Charlotte's wasn't very deep. She said it bled, but it wasn't oozing, y'know? Not like Katherine's."

Dean shifts his weight. "So what are you saying?"

"Maybe Kairoi's the dick behind all of this," Sam suggests. "Maybe Katherine got hit with the scythe...what if how deep you get cut has to do with how many years you lose?"

"Then the common denominators with Charlotte and Katherine are the location and the injuries." Dean rolls his tongue over his teeth. "We go out first thing in the morning," Dean says.

Dean falls asleep while Sam researches. It doesn't take long for him to find results. He turns back to the spare bed, too tired to move to his own room, and stops.

Little Katherine is resting on her belly on Dean's chest, his arms behind his head, both of them fast asleep. Strange circumstances aside, it's...a bit comforting for Sam.

"Well...this is never gonna fuckin' happen again." Sam pulls the polaroid camera out of Katherine's bag and lets out a sigh, taking a picture of the sight before him. "I'm going to hell." He sets the film on the desk, along with the camera, and flops face-down into the spare mattress.

In the morning, Katherine is even smaller, and Dean, fresh out of the shower, is already on the phone with Bobby.

"Yeah," the old man drones. "It sounds like you're dealing with a time demon."

Dean's brows shoot up. "Time demon."

"Yeah. One of Father Time's henchman. Old guy with a beard, scythe. Anyway, I figured out how to kill him."

Dean is still stuck on Father Time. "Father Time is, like, a God."

"And this is one of his messengers." Bobby lets out a heavy sigh. "Let me know when you're done whining so we can get Katherine back."

Dean stares at the wall. "Tell me."

"You're gonna need his scythe, the blood of one of his victims, and the sands of time. Now, I talked to Rufus. He thinks you've gotta dip the scythe in the blood, then the sand."

"Sands of—Bobby, where the hell am I gonna get magic dust?!"

"Go back to where you found her! His presence is usually marked with this purple substance, like sand. It's iridescent, almost."

"Iridescent purple dust. In the middle of the woods. Great, no fucking worries." He turns around to see Sam waking up, rubbing his eyes.

"This is important, Dean," Bobby says. "Did you see any cuts on her when you found her?"

"Yeah, she had one that was bleeding so bad, she put the great flood to shame."

"Maybe Katherine got cut with that scythe," Bobby suggests.

"Yeah, Sam and I thought about that last night." Dean nods "morning" to Sam. "Mornin', Sammy. Bobby's got a little bit of info. He says it's Father Time."

"Yeah, I...figured that out last night," Sam grunts, sitting up on his elbows, and yawns. "After you went to sleep. We, uh...Need blood from one of his victims, his scythe, and—"

"Magic fairy dust he's calling the sands of time."

Sam tiredly nods. "Sands of Time."

"Well...Charlotte Wilson and Katherine are two only two victims still on the face of the earth," Dean says. "And Katherine's a baby."

"You think Charlotte Wilson would be willing to spare some blood for the sake of someone else's life?" Bobby asks.

"Who can say no to that face?" Dean asks, looking over at Katherine. She's laying against one of the pillows, her cheek smushed. "Let's go ask the woman. No harm in asking, right?"

"Boys," Bobby says. "A word of caution, if you manage to get this done, you best get back to our time fast. Once Father Time's dead, you probably only have a few minutes to get back...and I ain't explaining to her fiancé why she ain't at her own wedding."

"Thanks, Bobby." Dean shuts his phone and turns to his brother. "What'd you find last night?"

"Kairos," Sam says.

"Huh?"

"Kairos. It's Greek, meaning something like "the opportune moment." There were two words for time in Greek: chronos and kairos. And Kairoi means times. Weather. So Chronos is actually Roman—"

"Okay, nerd."

Dean found out very quickly that you can basically get whatever you want if you have a cute baby. The other vic, Charlotte Wilson, absolutely fell in love with the Katherine and automatically agreed to the blood donation. After all, it would help her, too. Even if it did take her out of her twenties.

Finding the exact place where Katherine disappeared proved to be a challenge. Remembering which trail they took, which tree they circled, which shortcut they found. Sam found some of her blood on a bush, but here was nothing else around that would indicate some sort of direction. Then Dean noticed a little shimmer in the air, and reached for it.

His hand disappeared, something that clearly pleased Katherine. Or mystified her, anyway. The now-six-month-old can't stop wiggling her head.

"This might be it," Dean says. 

"I'll go. You stay with her."

"Well what if you don't come back?"

After a moment, Sam nods. Might as well have all the help he can. If none of them come back, then Charlie can't kill either of the brothers...even though they probably deserve it.

Sam and Dean stare ahead at a cabin covered in leaves. It seems to be late autumn. The leaves are dead, and there's a chill in the air. Katherine coos, and Dean holds a hand over her mouth.

"Shh," he whispers. She keeps babbling behind his hand. Her hair is fine and blonde, her eyes are the bluest he's ever seen. "Let's work fast," he says to Sam. "I don't think we have a lot of time here." His brother nods, and they both head for the cabin.

No one seems to be home. They search the whole place before Dean sighs and turns towards the window in the back, where Katherine is looking.

There's a small shed there.

"Over there?" Dean hums.

He moves outside quickly, only to find there's a series of heavy padlocks on the door. Dean sets Katherine on the ground on the side of the shed and throws his elbow into the window before crawling through.

He switches on his flashlight and carefully scans the place. There are little jars of a glowing blue-white substance. It sort of reminds him of the stars. Not sand. Dean's shoe cracks something underneath him, and he carefully lifts his boot from the mess.

Shattered glass, splintered wood, and glittery purple sand.

"Worth a shot," Dean hums, and looks up to see if there's a scythe in the shed.

It's in the back.

He rushes for it, pulling the little bottle of Charlotte Wilson's blood from his jacket, and dumps the sticky substance over the blade, on either side. Then he sticks the bloodied blade right into the sand, trying to use everything he can find.

Dean carefully climbs out of the shed through the window, dropping to his feet just beside where he left Katherine.

Where she should have been.

Instead, he saw just a bit of his jacket crawl into the cabin.

"Kat!" He hisses, running after her. He has just enough time to pick her up and turn around to see the old man standing in front of him, features twisted with rage and eyes blacker than night.

Dean quickly, awkwardly, swings the scythe at Kairoi. A time demon. Father Time's messenger. Whatever the hell that meant.

Shit, did Dean's life go down the tubes. He has to kill Time.

On the tail end of Dean's swing, Kairoi pushes on the back of the scythe, lodging the blade into the wood. Dean has time to set Katherine down before he's tackled, head pushed into the wood. Dean slaps at Kairoi's arms, buckling the elbows, and manages to turn the both of them over. Dean quickly rises to his feet, pulling Kairoi with him, and shoves him out of the cabin, down the steps and into the mud. Kairoi fumbles, swinging his leg to trip Dean at the knees, and the old man grabs Dean's knife from the belt of his jeans. Kairoi raises his hand above his head and plunges down. Dean grips the old man's wrist and pushes back. But gods are strong, no matter how frail they look.

Dean pulls the machete from his hip and sticks the blade between Kairoi's ribs. It's enough to shock him, and to shock him gives Dean the opportunity to throw the knife-wielding demon off of him.

The hunter sprints back to the cabin, grips the scythe shaft with both hands and pulls with all the strength in his body. It comes out of the wood like a hot knife in butter. The blood and magic fairy dust is still on the blade.

"Come and get me, you son of a bitch."

Kairoi charges, more blind with rage than ever, and Dean swings, severing the demon's head from his neck. Dean snaps the scythe in half and throws the two pieces in the river.

"Sam!" Dean shouts. "Katherine!"

He turns back to the cabin to find the huntress pulling herself to her feet, blonde hair a mess. Dean's leather jacket around her is zipped all the way up, hiding everything better than a potato sack. With a flat expression, she holds the diaper up. 

"Really?" She asks.

Dean shrugs. "Hey. The younger you are and the older you are, your incontinence increases." He approaches the stairs and holds his arms out before picking her up to carry her over the mud.

"Sammy?" Dean calls. His brother is slumped against a tree, pushing himself to his feet. "The old man getcha?"

"I think," Sam grunts, wiping at the blood on his forehead. "Is KD all right?"

"Yeah, she's legal. C'mon—we've gotta get out of here before we're stuck." The Winchesters start back for the rip in space. 

"First of all, I cannot believe we just killed time."

"I'm—I'm sorry," Dean starts, scoffing a bit. "Who killed time?"

Katherine lets out a heavy sigh, but it's Sam who says. "Technically it wasn't Father Time, it was one of his demons."