Katherine Louise met Pamela maybe ten years ago during a haunting she made Bobby take her to.

And by made, she hid in the trunk of his car for about an hour until she decided it was getting too stuffy, then punched out the back seat to get out of the trunk. By then, it was too late to turn around.

Boy, was he pissed.

Pamela looks the same, but by now she must be in her mid to late forties. Jacked. Hair so dark it could be black, icy blue eyes powdered with a similar-colored shadow, lined in thick black. An oval face, with fine lines at the corners of her eyes and smile lines around her mouth. A huge, thin sliver of mother of pearl is suspended from her neck by a leather cord, and silver-strapped turquoise around either of her wrists. A Ramones t-shirt has been cut into a tank-top, and like the rest of the group, even in the heat of the day, has opted for blue jeans.

Her smile is fond as her gaze settles on Katherine. "You got taller," she says. "Hate that you're still tied up in all of this business." Pamela nods her head to Bobby. 

"I tried to get out," Katherine says. "Didn't seem to stick."

"Eh, well, then you didn't try hard enough." Katherine raises her eyebrows at Pamela, who acknowledges the dog at her side with a glance, then looks to the two men over her shoulder. 

I thought Bobby said this lady was cool? Russell asks, annoyance coloring his tone. Even his hackles are a little raised. 

Katherine doesn't have a response.

"Who're these guys?" Pamela asks. Katherine frowns as her eyes run down Dean like they're in a damn speed zone. Her cast presses hard into her knuckles, and she forces herself to breathe. 

"Sam, Dean," Bobby begins. "This is Pamela Barnes—best damn psychic in the state." As the Winchesters chorus their polite greetings, Pamela looks to Bobby with raised brows.

"Mmm, mm, mm." Katherine clears her throat, and everyone looks at her. "So," Pamela begins, eyes still pinned on Katherine. "Dean Winchester...out of the fire and into the frying pan." Finally, those icy eyes slink to Dean over her shoulder. "Makes you a rare individual."

"If you say so," Dean replies.

How the hell does she know anything about Dean? Russell wonders, shifting his weight beside Katherine.

She's a psychic, Katherine bitterly remarks. Who knows how they know anything?

"Come on in," Pamela invites, opening her front door. Bobby walks in first. As Katherine and Russell enter the psychic's home, her eyes stay trained on Russell.

You think she can sense something? Russell asks.

If she doesn't, I'm not eager to give anything away. 

"You hear anything?" Bobby asks.

"Well," Pamela sighs. "I ouija'd my way through a dozen spirits. No one seems to know who popped your boy out, or why." She closes the door behind her and crosses her arms. Icy eyes slink to Katherine. 

Why's she keep looking at us? Russell asks.

Katherine holds her stare. Maybe she can sense something. She is supernatural-adjacent.

"You don't know anything?" Pamela asks. Katherine turns so hot she feels cold, and everyone looks at her in surprise. 

"Why do you think I know anything?" Katherine asks. 

Way to not seem defensive, Russell sighs.

Well what the fuck is this lady's game?

Pamela, smiling a little, shrugs. "I hear a lot about you these days...I do some check-ins on a couple people of interest. But this summer, everything went dark." 

"Haven't exactly had a summer worth writing about," Katherine shortly replies. 

Sam glances between Katherine and Bobby. "Katherine, if you know something—"

"I would've already said it," she snaps. 

"All right," Dean sighs. "If anyone had anything to do with bringing me back, we're about to find out anyway."

"How do you figure?" Bobby asks.

"Well I imagine a séance is next," Dean replies, looking to Pamela. The woman nods.

"That's what I was thinking," she hums. "See if we can see what—or who—did the deed."

Bobby gives his old friend a skeptical look. "You're not gonna summon the damn thing here, are you?"

Pamela laughs a little, pushing her way through the crowd of newcomers. "Nah—just wanna get a peek at it. Like a crystal ball, without the crystal."

Russell's dark eyes look Pamela up and down. I could bite her, he offers. I've never done it before, but I could.

Without looking down at him, Katherine's fingers scratch between his ears. No one's offered to bite someone else for me before, she muses, somehow managing to find some humor in all of this.

Russell's tail lightly hits the back of her knees in reply. 

Everyone in the foyer looks at each other. "I'm game," Dean says with a shrug. Bobby sighs. "What?"

"The last séance we were part of, he puked," Katherine says. Bobby exhales through his nose at her. She shrugs. 

"I'm not the one you should be angry with," he says.

Katherine frowns. "Who said I was angry?" Everyone levels her with a look. "Damn. Fine."

Pamela's living room is just how she fuzzily recalls it. Dark, moody, rock vibe. Pamela sets a sheet over the wood table and goes digging through some cabinets. Bobby draws the curtains, isolating the light in the room to a single artificial source overhead. 

Pamela returns with five pillar candles that have started to tunnel. She sets them on the table cloth in no particular pattern. Katherine is still trying to make sense of the print on the cloth. A five-pointed star within a five-sided polygon; foreign characters at each of the connecting points of the star and the polygon within the star is another polygon, and then another star, echoing in on itself until it's just a white dot in the middle of the black cloth.

Funnily, but not in a ha-ha way, there are five people. Well, six, if Russell is counted, but...he's a dog at the moment.

Pamela lights the candles and takes a seat at one of the star's points. "Dean, if you'll sit on my right," she says, eyes flitting up to him as he moves to sit beside Katherine—on Pamela's left. So Dean sits at Pamela's right, Bobby to her immediate right, which leaves Sam between Katherine and Dean. Her fingers curl against her jeans. "Everyone join hands." 

Katherine jokingly offers her index finger to Bobby. He smiles and interlocks his finger with hers. Katherine swallows, staring at the table cloth, and glances to her left as Sam extends his hand. He's even offered her a small smile with it. She rolls her tongue over her teeth and loosely sets her hand in his palm. Warm, dry skin. 

"And I need to touch something our mystery monster touched," Pamela says. Katherine looks up in time to see Dean jump, his knee hitting the edge of the table, and Pamela withdraws her hand from wherever she placed it...under the table.

"Well he didn't touch me there," Dean yelps. His face is ashen, pupils needlepoints. Katherine, wondering if what she thinks happened did indeed happen, looks to Pamela. Who laughs.

"My mistake."

"I can see how that's funny," Katherine says, voice like ice. Her eyes slide to Dean, who still looks like a deer in the headlights. She looks back at Pamela. "Touch what you need to."

Pamela tilts her head. "I was only—"

"Would you have done that if it were me?" Katherine challenges. "Or any other girl?"

"I'm okay," Dean says. "Katherine, I'm okay."

Her teeth gnash, jaw clenches, as her eyes stay on Pamela. Dean shrugs his left shoulder from his flannel and rolls the sleeve to his light green shirt, revealing a massive, angry red welt in the shape of a handprint. Katherine can't help but look at it. Over the candlelight, Dean watches the anger dissolve from her face, and her lips even part a little. In shock...horror...

It's grotesque, and everyone's face confirms it.

He looks down at the table for a moment. When he lifts them again, Katherine's dark blue eyes are brimming with tears. 

What the fuck is that? Russell whispers.

I've never seen something like it before, Katherine returns, equally as soft. 

Pamela rests her hand on the mark. It doesn't even come close to being of similar size. 

"I invoke, conjure, and command you appear unto me before this circle," Pamela says, voice steady and clear and firm. Everyone closes their eyes.

Everyone but Katherine, whose are locked firmly on Pamela's hand. 

No opening remarks? Russell asks. His eyes just barely peer over the table, settled on Dean Winchester. 

Pamela repeats her words.

Katherine's right ear starts to ring. Dean pops an eye open, wildly looking at Pamela, at the rest of the table, to see if everyone else closed their eyes. Katherine is staring at the candles with vacant eyes. Both of his open, and he starts making faces in the hopes she'll see in her periphery.  After several moments of feeling like an idiot, she finally looks up at him. Initially, her brows furrow in confusion. He smiles at her...then just stares. She offers him a small smile in return. 

Her dog's head is resting on the table, dark eyes wildly looking between everyone. For a split second, they widen in alarm and snap to Dean, and his head lowers to where it was before. 

Dean blinks at it. Did that dog just look at me like that?

He fuckin' saw you do whatever you just did, Katherine hisses to him.

I'm sorry, Russell replies in exasperation. Being a dog is new to me.

The television clicks on in the corner of the room, and Dean's eyes snap to it. To the black and white screen. The static that fills the air.

"Castiel?" Pamela says. The table starts to shake. "No. Sorry, Castiel—I don't scare easy."

"Castiel?" Dean asks.

"Its name," Pamela replies.

Well it's not a demon, Russell muses, turning to look at the TV. A demon wouldn't give its name up so easy.

Then what the fuck is it? Katherine mutters. 

Russell sits down and looks over his shoulder at her, but she isn't looking behind her. Pat might've had the right idea...angels.

A chill runs down Katherine's spine. A trigger word for memories she doesn't know how to get to. It's just a foggy void where there should be weight.

"It's warning me to turn back," Pamela continues.

A voice echoes in Katherine's head. Not Russell's, but a familiar one, for reasons she doesn't know. Tell her she should heed my warning, the voice says. 

"Show me your face," Pamela demands. 

Warn her, the voice says. She listens not.

Katherine's eyes bug, and she looks over her shoulder at Russell, who is none the wiser to the voice in her head. Russ, did you hear that?

Uh...no.

"I conjure and command you, show me your face!"

Dean tilts his head, grimacing, as if that'll get rid of the ringing in his ears growing in pitch. 

None of them can hear me, the voice says. Warn them. Warn her.

"I-I think you should stop," Katherine bleats. 

"No," Pamela scoffs. "No, I've got it right here."

"My brain's 'bout to explode," Dean grits out. 

"I command you! Show me your face!"

"Pam," Katherine warns, beginning to stand.

She's been warned, the voice says. 

"No!" Katherine cries. The candle flames shoot up into twelve-inch columns, and Pamela starts to scream. It's a miracle they don't fall over, the way the table is bouncing. Dean jumps away from Pamela, watching in horror as her eyes are engulfed in blue-white flame. Katherine staggers back, gripping the top of her chair.

Pamela wordlessly, soundlessly, collapses onto the ground, and the flames return to their half-inch height. The table isn't shaking anymore.

It seems Bobby is the only one who still has his head on straight. "Call 911!" He shouts, moving to the floor for Pamela.

"And say what?!" Katherine shrieks. 

It seems she's seriously lost her touch.

But seriously—what the hell do you do for burned eyeballs?

Sam runs for the kitchen. 

"I can't see," Pamela sobs. "I can't see!"

"What the fuck," Katherine mutters, her hands moving to rest on top of her head. 

She was warned.