There are two diners in this town within a block of each other. One of them advertised all-day breakfast, so naturally, that's the one Dean picked.

And Dean picked because he'd been dead for four months.

Katherine tilts her buzzing phone to peer at the screen. "Bobby texted."

"He knows how to do that?" Dean mutters, rubbing a hand over his hair.

She wryly chuckles at that. "Pamela's stable, but they're going to hold her in the ICU." She sets her phone down and sighs. "He's headed back this way now."

There's something weird in the air here. It could be particularly somber because...well, because they saw someone's eyeballs get burned out of her head. But it doesn't seem that way.

"She's blind because of us," Dean says.

"And we still have no idea what we're dealing with," Katherine mutters.

"Thank you, Katherine Obvious," Sam says. It was meant to be funny. She just looks at him.

"Sam, it wasn't funny the first time you said it, and it isn't funny now."

He shrugs. "It's a little funny, in the realm of witty plays on words."

Katherine rolls her eyes. It's a little funny, in that sense, Russell agrees.

You want your pot roast or not? She asks. He says nothing in return.

"Well, that's not entirely true," Dean says after a moment. "Not knowing what we're dealing with." Katherine and Sam raise their eyebrows at him. "I mean, we got a name. Castiel. With the right mumbo jumbo, we could summon the sum'bitch right to us."

Katherine scoffs. "After it blinded Pamela? No thank you."

"I did say 'with the right mumbo jumbo'," Dean reminds her, turning his green eyes to her. It still sends a shock down her spine, having those eyes looking at her again after she thought she'd seem them for the last time...pinned on the ceiling, wide in horror, bloodshot.

Katherine swallows. I shouldn't tell them it was talking to me, should I?

I...don't know, Russell admits. My first inclination is 'no.'

"Katherine's right," Sam says. "Pam took a peek at it, and it burned her eyes out of her skull—and you want to have a face to face?"

"You got a better idea?" Dean sighs.

"Yeah, as a matter of fact, I do." Dean raises his eyebrows in questioning. "I followed some demons to town, remember?"

Katherine shrugs a shoulder. "And?"

"And we should go find them," Sam finishes. She scoffs. "Someone's got to know something about something."

Their waitress approaches with two plates on one arm, and a single plate in her left hand. Pancakes and side bacon for Dean, an omelette for Sam. She returns with two plates of pot roast and mashed potatoes for Katherine. Without hesitating, Katherine sets one of the plates on the floor, and Russell goes to town.

"Real healthy for him?" Dean asks.

Katherine frowns at him. "As opposed to kibble pumped full of chemicals and God-knows-what-else? Yeah." Their waitress sits down in front of her, between Sam and Dean.

Dean blinks at her. "Uh..."

The woman looks between all three of them. "I'm sorry...I thought you were looking for us." She blinks, and black coats her eyes like a reptile's.

Katherine grips her fork with her left hand, though cheap metal won't do anything. Out of the corner of her eye, she notices the men in the kitchen have all turned to look at them. Every patron—all three of them, outside of the hunter's party—have turned to look at them.

Russ.

He lifts his head, tongue lapping gravy from his mouth. What the fuuuuck?

His eyes follow the blue-collar worker to the door, where he flips the deadbolt.

Fuck.

Their waitress sets her chin in her hand and sighs with a smile. "Dean," she purrs. "To Hell and back. Aren't you a lucky duck?"

"That's me," Dean chirps, flat-faced.

"So...you just get to stroll out of the pit, huh?" The waitress—demon—sits up and crosses her arms. "What makes you so special?"

"Oh. I like to think it's because of my perky nipples."

Katherine nods. "They are unusually perky."

Dean frowns at her. "Don't talk about my nipples that way."

She frowns in return. "You started it."

"Okay," the demon sighs.

Katherine looks at her with a sigh of her own. "He's being modest. He was sexually assaulted earlier—kind of a touchy subject."

"Are you questioning my manhood?" Dean asks.

"Dean, you know I would never do that."

Is this what you guys normally do? Russell quietly asks, ears flat against his skull.

Nope. Well, maybe. We're kind of in a pickle. Her pulse hammers in her neck.

"Are you sure you don't know how you got out?" The demon asks, smiling strangely at Dean.

He takes a bite of pancake. "Positive."

The demon cocks her head. "Lying's a sin, you know."

"What sin did you commit?" Katherine wonders, starting in on her pot roast and potatoes. "Sex before marriage?"

The demon turns its snarl to her, and she offers a grin in return.

"I'm not lying," Dean says. His eyes snake down her throat, to her name tag, and back to her face. "But if you know something...Flo...I'd like you to enlighten me."

"Do you know something?" Sam asks. "Flo?"

This is nuts, why are we taunting a demon? Russell asks.

Just sit still.

"Watch your tone with me, boy," Flo says. "Or I'll drag you back to Hell myself." She turns her gaze to Katherine. "And you. Why don't you ask your little guardian for some insight, huh? He know anything?"

Katherine pushes her food around her mouth, shrugging. "I have no idea what you're talking about, Flo."

"Oh, really?" She grins. "Why don't we ask him?" Her eyes meet Russell's, hovering just above the line of the table. His ears perk, and his tail sits high. Everyone else looks at him. Katherine gets ready to launch her fork at the demon.

You might want to get ready to bite, Katherine prompts.

"You don't know who cut me loose, do you?" Dean asks. "And you're just as spooked as we are. And you're looking for answers."

Katherine angles her head at the demon, but her eyes are on Sam. She watches his fingers clench into a fist over and over again...like he's contemplating something.

"Maybe it was some supercharged spirit," Dean hums.

"Godzilla?" Katherine asks.

Dean loosely points a finger at her, a small, cocky smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Godzilla," he hums in approval. "Either way, I'm guessing your paygrade?" He looks at Flo. "They don't tell you shit. And whoever it is, they want me out, and they're a lot stronger than you." Dean sits up with a raised brow. "So go ahead—send me back. But don't come crawlin' to me when they're at your doorstep with some vaseline and a blowtorch." He grins at her.

"I'm gonna reach down your throat and rip out your lungs," the demon whispers.

Dean, still grinning, leans forward. "Triple dog dare ya." She doesn't make to move. "That's what I thought." He looks to Katherine and nods his head to the door. Sam watches them carefully, nostrils flared, before he looks back to the demon. She's staring where Katherine was sitting just moments ago, who is somehow holding a plate in her right hand and a plate in her left. She makes kissy noises, and the shepherd-esque dog makes to follow her.

Dean reaches into his wallet, pulls a ten dollar bill out, and sets it on the table. "The pie was dry," he says, and moves for the door.

Katherine is standing there first, staring at the blue-collar worker. His name badge says Phil. "Phil, would you be a doll and open up the door for me? My hands are full."

Phil unlocks the door but doesn't open it for her. Katherine sighs, shifting her weight onto her left hip, then looks down at her dog. "Men ain't what they used to be, bub."

Dean opens the door for her, and she quickly slips between the narrow opening.

Her throat goes dry.

Sam quickly catches up to them across the street.

"Jesus fucking Christ," Katherine mutters, sinking onto her butt behind the Impala.

"That was close," Dean exhales.

Close?! Russell squawks. She just gestures to the pot roast.

Try really, really hard to be a dog. For the love of God.

Apprehensively, Russell approaches the plate he started in on.

"We're not just gonna leave 'em in there, are we, Dean?" Sam asks in a quiet panic.

Can we please fucking leave them in there? Russell flatly asks.

Katherine looks up at Sam. "Sam, we've got one knife between the three of us, and that place is crawlin' with 'em."

"I've been killing a lot more demons than what's in that place lately," he growls.

She makes a mocking face at him. "Good for you!"

Sam rolls his eyes. "They're dangerous. We've got to take 'em and you both know it."

Dean shakes his head, planting his hands on his hips. "They're scared of whatever had the juice to yank me out."

Katherine nods in agreement. "They would've killed us in half a second if they weren't," she says. "Whatever this is, it's a bad motherfucker."

There wasn't much else to do but return to their motel and wait for Bobby. Dean was planning on being on Sam's computer all night looking for an answer.

Katherine sat in the back with Russell, half of his body strewn across her lap, and she mindlessly ran her fingers through his hair...fur...

Is this hair or fur?

Russell shrugs one lupine shoulder. Dunno, but that feels nice. She smiles a little. I'll pay you back for dinner when we get to where we're goin'.

You can't buy me food all the time.

He lifts his head from her lap and twists to look up at her. Wanna bet?

She smiles and pushes his head down. 

It didn't matter how dog he acted, though. Fucking Flo made a point to say something was up with her dog, and both of the brothers heard it loud and clear. 

Should we tell them the truth? Russell asks.

No, she quickly replies. Not right now. Too much is going on.

That settles it, then.

In the motel parking lot, Dean moves to grab one of Katherine's duffles. "Two duffles, KD?" He asks. 

She frowns, taking it from his shoulder, and grabs her other with her left hand. "A girl has to have her things." 

He smiles, hand resting on the trunk. She smiles back, just a little. "It's really good to see you," he whispers. 

He'd be able to see the tears in her eyes if it weren't for the bill of her hat. "Ditto," she murmurs. 

"Look...I'm not...I don't wanna be that guy, but...you should probably stay with one of us tonight," he says. "If demons are sniffing around us."

"Demons are sniffing around you," she corrects, moving away from the trunk.

"Kat?" He calls after her. She spins around, duffles hitting her knees. "That demon, in the diner...and Pam...are you...are you sure you don't know anything?"

Katherine blinks at him, heart pounding in her throat. "I don't know anything, Dean."

He nods, then closes the trunk. "Would you try to get the room next to Sam's, then?" He asks.

She shrugs. "We'll see what's available."

God, I feel so itchy, Russell sighs, trotting for the front door. Please hurry, I need to shower.

Who knew you were such a prima donna?

You try being a dog for... He huffs as he thinks, physically looking up at the sky. It's only been a day. Goddammit.

It's been a very long day, Katherine agrees. 

She waits on the bed as Russell un-dogs. She knows the moment he does it because he groans in the bathroom as loud as he can.

"Are you trying to have them knocking on the door?" She asks, wiping her nose on her sleeve, and lies back on the bed. 

"I don't even know how to move my mouth anymore," Russell says, opening the bathroom door. "Why are you still dressed?"

Katherine rolls to her feet. "So sorry, sir," she chirps. "Thought you'd want some alone time. Oh, you're naked." She looks up at the ceiling as he starts towards her. Lamely, she extends her right arm to him. He chuckles, helping her arm out of its sleeve. 

"How're you holding up?" Russell asks, helping with the other side. "Lots of jokes coming from you today."

Katherine bobs her head from side to side. "I think I'm okay." She sighs. "Actually, I think it's shock."

"Shock is okay. Normal, even, if you were to...talk to someone who had been dead for four months." 

She lowers her eyes from the ceiling to his. "It's good to see your face," she murmurs. "I missed it." Russell takes her hat off and kisses her forehead. "You said earlier today that you had a really bad experience with weed?"

Russell frowns at her for a few seconds, then laughs. "Oh, I forgot about that. It was terrible. never went near the stuff again." He grabs the hem of her shirt and raises his eyebrows at her before tugging it overhead. Naturally, it catches on the end of her cast. His eyes stick on it.

"I hate this thing," she pronounces. "I always wanted to have one as a kid."

He frowns at her. "Why?"

Katherine shrugs a shoulder. "To be cool."

Russell shakes his head. "You need help with your pants?" She presses her lips together and nods pitifully. "No you don't."

"Please help me take my pants off, good sir," she implores. Russell pops the button and draws the zipper down. "Yeah—what kind of gentleman doesn't remove a woman's pants when she asks?" She holds onto his shoulder and steps out of her jeans.

"You're on crack," Russell says. 

"Are you gonna tell me the weed story or not?" Katherine presses.

"All right, all right," he says. She starts on her sports bra. 

"Can you get the shower hot? Sheesh, what is this, amateur hour?"

Russell holds his hands up in surrender and starts for the bathroom. "Russ, help me with my jacket. Russ, tell me the weed story. Russ, my jeans. Russ, get the shower." He cranks the knob.

"Do you want me to shower with you or not?"

"Don't forget to bag your arm," he says. 

"When have I ever forgotten to bag my arm."

"Night one," he says, turning to look at her as she enters the bathroom with the grocery bag designated as the shower bag. "You had to hold your arm up the whole time."

"Oh, jeez, one time." She sticks her arm out, grocery bag between her fingers, and flashes him a full smile. 

He can't help the small one on his lips. "You seem like you're feeling better," he says. "Finally."

"Finally," she agrees, nodding. "Still very congested, but I don't feel so weak anymore. Actually still very hungry."

"Even after that pot roast?"

"Alas, even after the roast."

"Get in the shower, you weirdo."

She pouts at him. "I left my hair stuff in my duffle." Russell sighs, kisses her forehead, and walks out to the room. "Aren't you so glad to be on two legs, though?" Katherine calls after him. 

The TV static woke Dean up from a deep and—from what he can immediately recall—dreamless sleep. 

He didn't anticipate falling asleep so quickly, so hard.

The radio alarm clock switches on. Dean rubs his eye and yawns.

The TV and the radio are on.

And his ears are ringing. 

Adrenaline floods his system, cold in his chest, and he reaches for the shotgun loaded with salt rounds at his side. His eyes scour the relative darkness around him, the room illuminated only by a single lamp from Sam's empty bed.

The bathroom light is off.

Where the fuck did he go?

Dean's jaw hardens, and he moves his aim between the TV, the door, and the radio. 

The ringing quickly grows in pitch, and the windows and mirror embedded in the ceiling splinter. It just gets louder. Even covering his ears doesn't drown it out—it just persists. Louder and louder, until the glass shatters and the mirror splinters.

The doorknob jiggles. "Dean?" He can barely hear Katherine on the other side. 

The mirror drops on him, and it's so loud it's almost quiet. Is this what it's like to stand next to a jet engine?

The door flies open, and Katherine almost instantly makes for Dean in the middle of the room. He sees the doorknob rolling on the ground near the entryway as she drags him up from his knees and outside. 

She must've kicked the door in. Dean looks down at her, holding his ears still. Her hair is damp and wavy in all the strange spots, like she fell asleep with it wet. She's in a gray sweatshirt and sapphire satin shorts...and her boots from today.

Pajamas and boots. She came running.

How did she know?

Bobby is just now approaching, looking rather confused. "The hell is going on?"

Katherine doesn't say anything. She just looks at Dean, blue eyes hard, and pries his hands from his ears. 

"I don't—" Dean shakes his head. "I don't know." He could cry.

"Hey—hey, you're okay." Her hands are on either side of his face. They're wet. She offers him a small, reassuring smile. "You're okay. Ears are bleedin' a little, though."

He can barely hear her. He wraps his arms around her, tight, and sighs into her neck.

"I don't know," he whispers. 

Katherine looks over his shoulder at Bobby, eyes hard. He nods.

"I'll be in the car," he says, and starts down the hallway. 

Katherine doesn't pull away from Dean. She lets him let go when he's ready. 

"Where's Sam?" She asks.

The tinnitus has settled some. Some sounds are hard to pick up on. "I don't know," Dean says again. His arms slacken around her, and he steps away, looking more pissed off than fearful.

"We're summoning this thing," Katherine says. "With or without him. C'mon."

She tugs Dean towards her room. She hesitates, for the shortest of moments, before opening the door. It's curious, the way she looked inside. Like she was checking something.

Maybe it isn't all that strange, considering what just happened in Dean's room. 

"Rob Zombie tell you somethin' was up?" He asks, closing the door behind him. The shepherdy dog is in the middle of the bed, ears alert. 

"Yeah, he was actin' funny," Katherine replies, moving for the duffles at the foot of the bed. She's quick to shove her towel over one of them. 

"Hey...you remember that dog you saw, leaving Bobby's house before we tracked Lilith?"

Katherine sits back on her feels with a contemplative frown. "Oh...oh, yeah. Why?"

Dean shrugs, staring at her dog still. "He kinda looks like that dog."

Katherine looks at Rob Zombie in consideration. Then she smiles a little. "You know, I think you're right. Kinda shepherdy, kinda not."

Dean's never seen a dog like this before, but he does look more malinois or shepherd than not. It's the fur...he doesn't have the typical markings of either breed. While his fur is short and he has some kind of malinois mask on the face, the rest of his coat is positively the color of a chocolate lab.

Katherine moves into the bathroom to change. Dean sits in the chair by the door. Rob Zombie puts his head down, but doesn't stop looking at Dean.

Katherine emerges in a white t-shirt and a pair of blue jeans. A tan canvas jacket is unbuttoned at the cuff and pushed up over her baby blue cast. A few names are written on it. 

The first one Dean sees is "Russell".

Katherine extends the gray hoodie she was wearing to him. "This was yours," she says. Dean frowns at it a little, contemplating whether he should take it or not. 

"Thanks," he murmurs.

"We should go—Bobby's waiting." She hands him a clean washcloth. "Unless you wanna clean up first."

Dean wipes at the side of his face and pulls the white cloth back to look—it's smeared with blood.

"Nah." He shakes his head and angles for the door. "Let's go." He turns around at the low thud he heard from the bed, and is surprised to see Katherine's dog approaching them. She looks at him with raised brows. "You lettin' him come?"

She shrugs. "He goes where I go. Also, he'd tear the room up if I left him alone."