The click of Katherine's boots is nothing more than a soft echo down the sewer pipe. The heel is rubber, sole is leather—easy for pivoting. The heel only brought her an inch higher, which is rather comical.

She really should be seeming quite tall, but she doesn't feel it.

Rats squeak and scurry with the hunters' footsteps and flashlights. One darts right across the footpath and Katherine gasps, stepping backwards into Sam. He smiles, putting a hand on the back of her shoulders. "You're afraid of rats?"

"I'm not afraid of them, I just think they're disgusting and I don't want fleas...or anything else they carry." He chuckles and Katherine starts forward again, moving towards a slightly amused Dean Winchester up ahead.

"I think we're close to its lair," he says.

"Why do you say that?" Katherine wonders, glancing around the top of the sewer. After receiving no response, she turns to Dean. He's grimacing, staring nearly at her.

"Because there's another puke-inducing pile right next to your hair."

Katherine leaps away immediately, pulling her ponytail over her shoulder to inspect. "Is there anything—"

"You're fine," he tells her, staring at the sludge on the pipes with disgust. Katherine creeps over to the other side of the walkway and crouches down before a pile of gross.

"Looks like it's been here for a while," she says, staring at the shedded goop with a sour expression. "Is that...mold growing on it, or...?" 

"Who knows how many murders it's gotten away with? Katherine!"

She barely sees a blur of anything as she turns before she's thrown against the pipes on the other side, shoving Dean into the wall with her shoulder, and Sam fires down the corridor.

Her head throbs as she struggles to right herself in her tipping world. "Well go get the sonuva bitch!" She cries, gripping the pipes for stability. Sam and Dean run after the thing, and she follows suit, watching for any yuck piles.

Sam reaches down the manhole, grips her hands, and pulls her up onto the ground. She's seemed to regain most of her balance, and there's a small cut onthe side of her forehead. Katherine lets out a deep sigh, wincing as she wipes the blood away from her head.

Dean's shoulder is hurt—his left one. She can tell by the way he's holding his arm against his chest.

"We should split up," Sam says. Katherine nods in agreement, staring out at the dark downtown area.

Had they really been underground all night?

Her stomach is on the verge of growling, a testament to her lack of food since that morning.

"Just promise me one thing," she says. "We get food later."

"Oh, God, I'm starving," Dean groans, tilting his head back.

Sam chuckles and nods. "Sounds great."

"Okay, go," she murmurs, waving away from the two boys.

Forty-five minutes of scouring back alleys and common streets, small shops and dark places—all nothing.

Katherine had just grabbed a burrito from a food truck when Dean found her, looking a little too...content. A creature had just escaped. Normally, he'd be all shades of brooding.

"You find anything?" He asks.

"Besides a burrito and several stray dogs? No." She turns on her toes and starts forward. "Did you?"

"Nope," Dean says. Katherine sighs and hangs left.

"If we cut through here, it'll be faster," she tells him. "Sam's headed back to the car—"

A swift hit to the temple was all it took to knock the hunter out cold. The shifter leans over and picks her up, pulling an arm over his shoulder.

Underneath the sweat and angst is a hint of oranges and vanilla, a sweet relief from the stench of the sewers.

It's easy enough to tie the girl up. Before long, he's back on the street and looking for Sam.

Katherine stirs at the sound of something being dragged. Her head aches on both sides. She's tied up to something cold and hard, pressing harshly into her spine. It almost hurts to move. Her fingers are numb—but at least she's sitting down.

She looks up just as Dean walks beside her. Judging by the way it looks at her, it's the shifter. She straightens out, jaw set, and stares coldly at him as he crosses over to her. He crouches to eye level, leaning forward with his hands on either side of her, palms resting against the platform she's sat on. She tilts her head away from him ever so slightly, and a small smirk tugs at his lips.

It certainly looks like Dean.

"Where is Dean?" She demands through her teeth.

"I wouldn't worry about him," he quietly replies, tucking her parted fringe. She leans even further away from him. "Aw, don't be like that. We could have some fun."

She doesn't look at him. "I have a curfew."

"We'd be quick."

"I think," she snarls, jerking her leg from his grip. She looks at him now, eyes hardened to ice. "I'm a little too young for that."

It makes him smile. "You are spirited."

"Where's Dean?"

"I am Dean."

"And I'm the fuckin' Easter Bunny," she snarls with a curled lip. "Where is Dean?"

"You know," he sighs, leaning a little closer. "If you knew what he really thought about you, I'd doubt you'd care much for his whereabouts." Her expression gives nothing away. He grins and Katherine turns away from him. "Take you somewhere no one would find you...tie you down and leave you there...you're a freak, like me. And he don't like freaks."

"I am nothing like you," she laughs.

He almost laughs. "He's afraid of you." He tilts her chin so she's looking right at him. "But see...I'm not afraid of you. Look at you, you're so little. What could you possibly do?"

"How about you untie me and we find out," she whispers.

"I think I like you just where you are," he hums, lifting her up by the thighs, and leans forward. Katherine twists away from him desperately. "Come on, sweetheart. It could be fun."

"I'll pass." He doesn't quite kiss her before she headbutts him pretty hard. It's enough to make him drop her and stumble back a step or two. Before she can blink, she's hit across the cheek with the back of his hand so hard it almost makes her head spin. She suppresses a cry, only squeezing her eyes shut and clenching her teeth.

"I think I'll try my luck with Sam's little friend. Becky, was it?"

And with that, he's gone.

Katherine rests her head back against the beam, relief calming any anxieties like cold water over a burn. Her heart hammers in her chest.

You're okay.

A soft sob escapes her lips—she doesn't know where it came from, or why. Some suppressed fear of what could have happened. "Katherine?"

She sits up, sniffing. "Sam? Oh, God, Sam?"

"Yeah, it's me," he grunts. He's somewhere behind her—to the left. "Where is he?"

"I don't know where Dean is, but the shifter just left wearing his face." Katherine ignores the throb on her cheek. "Sam, try getting free—I can't find my knives or anything." Her fingers grasp thin air in search of a knot. How much did he hear?

Sam stares at the wall, fingers digging up his sleeve for a stiletto knife. The two work silently for what feels like hours.

"Son of a bitch," Katherine mutters, rubbing the rope against the pillar behind her. It's been catching on something—she hopes it's sharp. It sounds like it is.

"You called?"

She jumps, her head whipping to the right. She stares carefully at Dean, subconsciously leaning away from him.

"Dean?" Sam calls.

He doesn't look like the shifter. No flannel button-down over his gray shirt. His hair looks messier than the shifter's. Almost hedgehog hair. There's dirt all over him.

Katherine watches him carefully as Dean crouches down to untie her ropes. "Yeah, it's me," Dean says. "How'd he grab you two?"

"Doesn't matter," Katherine mumbles, looking down to her knees. "He left a little while ago looking like you, went to Rebecca's."

Dean drops her ropes to the ground and she stands quickly, moving towards Sam. "He's probably there already," Sam grunts.

"Probably," Katherine agrees, crouching to pull at Sam's knots. Within five minutes, the three hunters are sprinting through the sewer system and crawling through the vents. Dean is right behind her. She's more aware of that now than ever.

"We've gotta find a phone and call the police," Sam says.

"Then the APB is gonna be on Dean," Katherine points out.

"Sorry," Sam says after a moment, starting down the alley.

Katherine stumbles into the phone booth, digging in her pockets for any change. Sam jams two quarters in, and Katherine picks the phone up, her thumb pressing the buttons 9-1-1. "What's the address?" She asks.

"1342 Cherry Creek Road," Sam answers. "Over in West End."

"911, what is your emergency?"

"There's an armed man in my friend's home. It's in West End, 1342 Cherry Creek road. I don't know how long he's been there, but her life is in danger—"

"Ma'am, calm down. Authorities are on their way now—"

"He's dangerous—"

"Are you able to speak with your friend?"

"No, but her name's Rebecca. Hurry, please." Katherine hangs up and turns towards the Winchesters, clearing her throat.

"You didn't describe him," Sam points out.

"I'm not throwing Dean under the bus if the shifter's already gone," she says, shutting the door to the booth behind her, and motions for the two boys to start away. She walks on the other side of Sam. "We could be all the way across downtown by now," she mumbles, glancing around at the unfamiliar buildings.

Only when the buildings are starting to seem familiar do they stop to look for the time. A manhunt is being conducted, and a sketch of Dean is circulating around the news.

"He said attempted murder," Sam says. "At least we know—"

"I didn't do anything," Dean argues.

"I'll call Rebecca in the morning, see if she's all right."

"First I want to find that handsome devil and kick the Holy Crap out of him," Dean mutters.

"We don't have any weapons," Katherine says. "No silver bullets—"

"Katherine, the thing is walking around with my face! It's a little personal. I want to find him."

"I—argh!" Her fingers hook in frustration as she cries out. She turns on her heel and starts forward again, too frustrated for words. The brothers stare at each other in confusion. "You don't think I know that?" She calls over her shoulder. "I was just saying we're kind of at a disadvantage!"

"Where are you going?"

"I don't know," she snaps, turning around, and puts her hands on her hips. "You wanna find him, fine. He's on the run, he's on foot—maybe he went back to the sewers. But we don't have anything we can use against him. Sam's height, maybe. What about the car?"

"I'm willing to bet he drove," Dean says.

"So if he escaped on foot, it could still be parked outside her house," Sam agrees, nodding.

"If that's the case, Dean can't come," Katherine says. "The police are probably still there."

"Oh, the thought of him driving my car—"

"Calm," Sam says to his brother, patting his shoulder, and starts forward.

"It's killing me!"

"Let it go."

Luckily, they aren't far from Rebecca's—about a mile and a half, tops. "Oh," Dean sighs, staring at the glistening black paint of the Impala. "There she is. Finally, something—"

"Don't say it," Katherine whispers. "Something bad always happens—" A squad car's siren trills at the end of the alley, bright blue and red lights illuminating the trellises. "When you say that," she finishes. "Back, back—go back!" There's another car there, too. "Holy Hell."

"You two go," Sam says. "Over the fence."

"What?!"

"Go!"

"What about you?"

"They can't hold me," Sam says, shaking his head. "Katherine, you've gotta watch out for Dean—"

"Yeah, yeah," she mutters, running after Dean. She jumps up onto the fence, using mostly upper body strength to throw herself over the top, and the two run through a few yards before they're in some back alleys. "The sun'll be up in about an hour," Katherine says to him. "All of the keys for the motel are in the car, so until we get there, we're gonna be dirty." She lets out a heavy sigh. "Man, I just got my burrito, too."

"What are you talking about?"

"When fake-you nabbed me," she says. "I had just bought a burrito." Dean laughs. "It's not funny! It's been almost a full twenty-four hours since I've eaten. And I smell like rats." She glances down at her dirtied white t-shirt with another sigh. "There are guns in the car. We can get into the sewers after we grab 'em."

Dean nods, jamming his hands into his pockets as he feels around for his keys.

They move cautiously around the car, overly-alert, and practically sprint back to the sewers. They're quick and silent, airing more on the side of caution than they usually would as they creep back towards the shifter's lair.

Fragments of rope, lit candles, piles of gross gunk, miscellaneous belongings.

They're in the right place.

Katherine nudges Dean and nods to a figure covered in tarp. Dean raises his gun and Katherine silently creeps forward before pulling the tarp from the figure.

"Rebecca?"

"Katherine? What are you—"

"Are you hurt?" She and Dean start at Rebecca's confines. "What happened?"

"I was walking home," Rebecca stutters. "Everything just went white. Someone hit me over the head, and I wound up here, just in time to see that thing turn into me. I don't know—how is that even possible?"

Katherine lets out a heavy sigh. "It's a long story," she says, tossing the ropes from Rebecca's wrists. "You're okay, though. Can you walk?" Rebecca nods, and Katherine pulls her to her feet. "Okay—we've gotta hurry. Sam went to see you a while ago."

"We don't have any more silver," Dean says.

"I know a guy," Katherine tells him. "He's not far."

It's nightfall once more. Dean dropped Katherine two blocks from Vincent's.

"Katherine!" Vincent enthuses, a wide smile on his face. "Good to see you—"

"Yeah, you too, Vin," she breathes.

"You look like hell."

"Hunting a shifter," she says. "You, uh...seen the news?"

"Oh, yeah! The manhunt's crazy, right?"

"That's right," Katherine says, nodding. "Vinny, I need a hundred rounds of silver." She taps her knuckles against the glass casing. "9mil."

Vincent nods. "Yeah, of course. Come on." He waves her to the back. "You and your old man huntin' somethin'?"

"I'm with the Winchesters," she says. Vincent stares at her, and she nods.

"They're here?"

Katherine doesn't know if he's asking that out of awe or mockery. After all, it's John who's got the good reputation. No one really mentions the brothers—just that they follow their dad around, do as his bids them.

"In trouble," she answers. "The shifter we're going after is wearing Dean's face and we've gotta find Sam. The news about the manhunt?"

"That...that's what Dean looks like?"

Katherine shrugs. "Give or take."

Vincent nods. "Man. Deep shit."

"Yeah. So don't go blabbin' to anyone, all right?"

"Katherine, I'd never."

"Yeah, I know—just a precaution." She rocks onto her toes as Vincent digs through his ammunition.

"A shapeshifter, huh?" Katherine nods. "Man. If you need my help—"

"Nah, we've got it, Vinny." He sighs and hands her a box of silver rounds. "Thanks, man." She passes him a one hundred dollar bill and makes quick work of getting back to the Impala. As Dean drives, she replaces their rounds with silver ones and fills backup magazines.

They pull around the back of the house. It seems quiet. "Stay in the car, Rebecca," Katherine says, and shuts her door. She and Dean move quickly into the house. Just as they open the back door, there's a clatter in the other room. Dean leads the two through the kitchen and into the living room, where the shifter is strangling Sam, both of them on the floor.

"Hey!" Dean shouts. The shifter moves off of Sam quickly, and once there's an open shot, Dean takes it. Katherine holsters her gun and moves towards Sam.

"Sam." She shakes his shoulder. His eyes open, thankfully, and she prods carefully around his throat to check for any breakages. "You're okay?" He nods and Katherine pulls him into a sitting position. His face is bloodied, and he may bruise, but he's fine otherwise.

"Can I get anyone a beer?"

They all turn to see Rebecca leaning against the wall, stunned. Katherine is the first to laugh, and she shakes her head.

"I'm gonna take you up on it this time," she says.