"We could use all the good ink we can get!"

Katherine's gaze is more cool and analytical than Sam or Dean's. If there's one thing she knew how to do, it's hold a grudge, and she is holding it against the owner of the mystery spot, Dan Carpiak, for something he did yesterday. Er...didn't do?

Every time she looks at his face, his wide grin, all she can see is his deer-in-the-headlights expression when he put a two and a half inch shell in Dean's lung. She doesn't like his greasy hair, his bushy eyebrows, his deep-set blue eyes. He gives her the creeps.

"How long have you owned the place, Mr. Carpiak?" Sam asks, much more forgiving than Katherine could ever dream of being. And Dean is his brother!

"My family's been guarding the secrets here since you don't want to know when." Dean and Katherine trade awkward, puzzled glances. What the fuck?

"So you'd know if anything strange happened?" Sam asks. 

The smile drops from Carpiak's face. "Strange? Strange happens here all the time. It's a mystery spot."

"Cue X-Files theme," Katherine mutters. Carpiak frowns at her. "What does that even mean, exactly?"

"Well, uh..." he chuckles, holding his hand out, palm up. "It's where the laws of physics—" he flips his palm over. "Have no meaning."

"Okay, like how?" She asks, frustration obvious not only in her tone, but her gesturing her hands. 

And Carpiak, the seedy little shit, leans forward with a smile. "Take the tour."

Katherine raises an eyebrow at him. "Dexter Hasselback take the tour?"

"Who?"

"The guy who went missing," Dean chirps. 

He laughs a little. "Now hold on a minute...what kind of article is this?"

"Just answer the question," Katherine presses.

"The police scoured every inch of this place—they couldn't find him, and I'd never seen him before." He looks over his shoulder and starts to speak. "We're a family establishment—"

"Listen to me," Katherine snarls, taking two quick steps towards Carpiak. Dean glances to his brother, surprised he's letting it ride as long as he is. "There's something weird going on here. Do you know anything about it, or are you as oblivious as you seem?"

Carpiak swallows, glancing to Dean first, then Sam. Once he realizes he's not getting saved from his emasculation, he looks back to Katherine. "Okay look," he whispers. "I bought the joint at a foreclosure auction last March. All right? I used to sell bail bonds." He seems angry he was forced to reveal that secret.

"Maybe you should just give up on that 'family secret' thing or whatever," Katherine says. "Property purchases are easy to find and exploit."

"O-kay." Sam taps Katherine's elbow. "Let's blow this popsicle stand."

"Popsicle stand?" Carpiak scoffs. "Get the hell out of here, all three of you!" Katherine's blue eyes rake the smarmy owner up and down before she turns on her heel and starts away. 

It's just past lunch time. It's windy and cold, nipping at Katherine's nose, but it'll be colder once the sun goes down.

"I thought Florida was always hot?" Dean asks, blinking moisture into his contacts.

"We're not impervious to the influences of mother nature," Katherine retorts. "Can we stop for lunch? I'm starved."

Sam and Katherine made sure Dean took smaller bites of his cheeseburger to avoid choking, and no one said a word. Katherine said she'd stick her fingers down Dean's throat to clear any blockage he may have, but would like to avoid it if at all possible.

"So let me get this straight," Dean sighs. They're walking down the street back to the impala from the diner they found. Not Doris'. Sam thinks if he had to look at the inside of that place one more time today he'd stab himself in the eye with a fork. "Every day I die."

"Yeah," Sam replies. 

"And that's when you two wake up again, right?" Dean asks.

Sam shrugs. "Yeah." He looks to Katherine, who shrugs and nods. 

"So let's just make sure I don't die."

Katherine blinks at him. "Well what the hell do you think we've been doing all day, Dean, playing Secret Service for nothing?" Dean pushes his hand over her mouth, and she smacks his arm, then his head before pointing at him. "Keep your hands away from my face. You know I hate that shit." A deep-seated fear. Suffocation, strangulation.

"What I was saying, smartass," Dean continues. "Is if I make it to tomorrow, then maybe the loop stops and we can figure all of this out."

It wasn't a half-bad idea. 

"So we're going back to the motel," Katherine says. "And we're laying low until midnight."

Dean nods once. "Wait, what about dinner?" He asks.

"I'll grab Chinese or something," she mutters, starting for the Impala. Overhead, something cracks, then smashes on the ground behind her. When she turns, Dean's boots and a massive blood spatter are all over the concrete. She looks up at Sam, wide-eyed and pissed. "Fuck!"

Heat of the moment—

Sam sits up from his bed like a zombie. Katherine is sitting at the edge of his bed, cross-legged and staring at Dean with laser focus. 

"Rise and shine, Sammy!"

Katherine turns to Sam, blue eyes hard like sapphires and nostrils flared. "He ain't fuckin' dying again today, Sam."

Dean blinks at her, tugging his pant leg down. "What?"

"You're on a security detail for the rest of the day," Katherine says. "You need to go to the bathroom? Sam's going with you. Need some water? We're using straws. And we are not gargling mouthwash!"

Dean grew tired of their hawk-eyed stares by the time they reached the diner, which they walked to, and Dean was sandwiched between the both of them. They exercised a ridiculous amount of caution crossing the street, checking both ways at least three times before grabbing his hand and towing him along like a mother and her small child. 

"Well," Dean sighs, leaning back in the booth, and looks between the two. Katherine is cross-armed in the corner of the booth and window, angled towards the brothers, and Sam is sitting up ramrod straight. "I still think you're both nuts, but...whatever this is, we're going to figure it out."

Katherine thinks the trauma of Dean dying has been taken away. It's been three times now. At this point, it's the exhaustion of repeating the same day over and over again. 

"So if you're stuck in Groundhog Day, why?" Dean asks.

"I've been asking myself that," Katherine admits, gnawing on her lower lip. "First we thought it was the mystery spot, now I'm not so sure." Sam nods in agreement. 

"So what do we do?" Dean asks.

"Try to keep you breathing," Sam scoffs. "Make it to tomorrow."

"We should've stayed in the motel room," Katherine says. "Throw the mattresses against the wall, order in all day."

"That doesn't sound half bad," Dean hums. "So...you two freaks say I order the same thing every day, right?" Sam nods, and Dean looks to Doris. "'Scuse me, sweetheart?" He calls, and Doris turns around. "Can I get sausage instead of bacon?"

"Sure thing, hon."

Dean looks to Sam and Katherine with a grin. "See? Different day already." Katherine sighs, massaging her forehead with her fingertips, elbow propped up on the table. "See, if we decide I'm not gonna die, then I'm not gonna die."

Katherine hums sarcastically. "Yeah, Dean, we've watched you die, like, three times now and neither of us can ever stop it." She rubs her eyes and yawns. 

In less than five minutes, Dean is choking on his side of sausage. 

Heat of the moment—

"You mean we can't even go out for breakfast?!" Dean calls from the bathroom. 

"You'll thank me when it's Wednesday!" Katherine furiously shouts. She looks at Sam with flared nostrils, shaking her head. "I'm going nuts, Sam."

There's a squeak, then a massive thud that comes from the bathroom.

Heat of the moment—

Sam throws the alarm clock against the wall. Katherine is staring at Dean, who is sat on the edge of his bed like a pouty toddler, as she's on the phone ordering delivery. 

"She said we can't go out for breakfast," Dean grumbles. 

"Did she say why?"

"Something about choking." He shrugs. 

Sam groans, flopping onto his back, and stares at the ceiling. "We need bubble wrap," he sighs. 

They made it to lunch time, when Dean said his tacos tasted funny. 

Heat of the moment—

Electrocuted.

Heat of the moment—

Katherine got her baseball bat and they marched their asses down to the mystery spot, duct taped Carpiak's mouth and sat him in a chair, and he watched as she and Sam went to town on the Mystery Spot's walls. 

"Sammy?" Dean asks. "Maybe we should, uh...but the axe and the bat down and let the nice man go." Carpiak nods quickly. 

"Don't touch my bat," Katherine says, pointing a finger at Dean, and goes back to busting the walls up. 

"Something's going on here," Sam says, shrugging out of his jacket. "I intend to find out what."

Dean sighs. "Sammy, that's enough. Give me the axe." He pushes himself up and starts for Sam. 

Katherine stops. "Dean, no—"

"Stop it—"

"Dean—"

Dean's throat is sliced ear to ear.

Heat of the moment—

There was no use in keeping Dean from anything. They can't stop it. So on they went to the diner.

Sam brushes past Mr. Pickett and swipes his keys. Katherine is scanning the place as she sits down in the booth, in the corner. Sam throws the keys onto the table.

"What are those?" She asks.

"The old man's," Sam tiredly replies. She chuckles, but the smile doesn't reach her exhausted eyes. 

"We're trying, Sam," she murmurs. 

"Yeah, I know."

"You jacked some old guy's keys?" Dean asks. 

"You don't want him behind the wheel," Sam murmurs. Katherine sits in her corner and crosses her arms. She presses her lips together in a sorry attempt at a smile as Doris approaches them. 

"Hey, Doris?" Sam asks. "What I'd like for you to do is log some more hours at the archery range. You're a terrible shot."

Doris gawks. "How'd you know?"

"Lucky guess."

Dean looks to Katherine as she massages her browbone. "Can you just...can I get a coffee, some whiskey and a pancake, please?" She asks. "Just one."

Doris blinks at her. "Uh...we don't have whiskey, honey."

Katherine sighs, sitting up straight, looking utterly exhausted. forward-rounded shoulders, sagging posture, dull eyes. "The coffee will be fine on its own." Doris leaves, and Katherine opens Dean's jacket up.

"Whoa, hey—"

She paws around until she finds his flask of peanut butter whiskey. She takes a pull of it before screwing the cap on.

Dean blinks at her. "Jesus Christ, it's eight forty-five."

She turns her eyes on him and shakes her head. "Shhh."

"Okay, so you think you're caught in some...what, again?"

"Time loop," Sam tiredly repeats. Dean opens his mouth.

"Yes, exactly like Groundhog Day," Katherine sighs. The whiskey is a nice burn in her throat. "Anyway, there's no way to stop it."

"Jeez, aren't you grumpy?"

Katherine's nostrils flare and she looks to Sam, but speaks to Dean. "I will shove a fork in your eye," she promises. "And we'll start this bitch over for the one hundredth time."

Dean scoffs. "We have not—"

Katherine turns on him. "This is the one hundredth Tuesday in a row we've been through, and it never stops." 

"The same stupid song," Sam whispers. "The same diner, the same people." He blinks. "Hot sauce."

Dean frowns. "What—"

"Two coffees, some hot sauce for the—" Dean watches the hot sauce fall off of Doris' platter. Sam catches it without looking and slams it on the table. "Thanks!"

Dean blinks. "Have you seen—"

"I knew it was going to happen," Sam flatly interrupts. "I know everything that's going to happen."

Dean scoffs. "You don't know everything—"

"Oh, yes he does," Katherine sings, dumping whiskey into her coffee. Dean snatches the flask back.

"Yeah right," he grunts, and Sam says it at the same time. Dean looks at his brother with narrowed eyes. "Nice guess." Dean sits up in astonishment.

"It wasn't a guess," Sam says with a smart ass smirk. 

"Right, you're a mindreader," they chorus. Katherine sighs, stirs her coffee, and starts to chug. Down the hatch. "Cut it out Sam. Sam." The brothers lean towards each other at the same time. "You think you're being funny but you're being really, really childish. Sam Winchester wears makeup! Sam Winchester cries his way through sex. Sam Winchester keeps a ruler by the bed, and every morning when he wakes up—"

"All right!" Dean throws his hands up and leans away from Sam. He looks at Katherine, who snuggles into her corner. "So what do you got?"

Katherine nods her head up front. "Randy, the cashier, is skimming from the register. Judge Meyers—" She juts her chin to the old man in the gray suit. "He puts on a fuzzy bunny outfit every night." Judge Meyers drops his smoothie, and she makes a taunting face at him. "Scrubby dude over there, Cal? He's gonna rob Tony the mechanic on the way home." Katherine leans towards him, peanut butter whiskey ripe. "We have lived through every possible Tuesday, watched you die every possible way. We have ripped apart the Mystery Spot, burned it down, tried literally everything to save your life, and we. can't." She sits back in her corner. "No matter what, you die. We wake up, it's Tuesday again.The same stupid. fucking. song." Her nostrils flare, and she burps. "Sorry. I drank my coffee too fast." She holds a hand over her stomach. "No, Dean, I'm not pregnant."

Dean frowns. "I wasn't gonna—"

"Yes you were. You did." Katherine crosses her arms. 

"Well have you taken a test?" He childishly retorts. She stomps on his foot. 

Sam marks everything down Ferris Street for Dean before it happens. Barking golden retriever, Mr. Pickett's "where's my damn keys," and Katherine narrowly dodging the rushing blonde woman.

Katherine stops and turns around, watching her brave the wind as she hurries down the sidewalk. "Miss?" Katherine calls, and jogs after her.

Sam blinks. This one hasn't happened yet.

"What about this?" Dean asks. Sam shakes his head and moves to follow Katherine. Dean sighs, looking to the growling dog. "Hey, buddy. Need a friend?"

Heat of the moment—

Katherine is crying, sat on the edge of Dean's bed with her face in her hands. Dean's arm is around her, but he isn't quite sure what to do, because she isn't making any sense.

"I'm—Kat, I'm not dead, I'm right here."

It's another Tuesday. Sam and Katherine have become so impossibly frustrated, so exhausted, with the situation that they've stopped paying attention to the millings about the diner. Pickett gets his keys taken from him again, Cal orders a coffee again, Judge Meyers is sitting at the bar top again and three seats down is that same older gentleman with white hair and a tartan suit, who Sam and Katherine still have no idea who he is. 

Sam didn't give a shit. It bugged Katherine. 

She stares at the back of his head, watches his posture, as Sam talks about the missing man, Dexter Hasselback.

"The man runs a blog?" Dean scoffs.

"It's kind of interesting," Katherine hums. She throws back the last of her whiskey coffee and watches Tartan Suit Man get up from the bar. "He writes about tourist attractions. Mystery Spots, UFO crash sites, that kind of thing." She clears her throat, amplifying the burn of the whiskey, and watches him walk out of the door. "He gets his kicks debunking the places, already put four out of business." Sam turns his computer around to Dean.

"'Dexter Hasselback: Truth Warrior'?" Dean reads. "More like 'pompous schmuck' if you ask me."

"He must've weighed a ton, the guy's so full of himself," Sam agrees. 

"When'd you have time to do all of this research?" Dean asks.

"Oh, don't worry about that," Katherine chirps. Sam packs up his laptop as Dean pulls cash from his wallet to pay for breakfast, and they all get to their feet. Dean laughs a little. "What?" Katherine asks, letting him help her out of the booth. 

"It's just funny," he says, tugging her up. They're inches apart, and it's almost magnetic. Green eyes sweep over her face, the closest they've been since she changed her last name. "The guy spends his whole life shitting all over mystery spots, then he disappears into one." 

Dean would like to lick the whiskey right off her lips. 

"Kind of poetic, you know?" He murmurs. "Like just deserts."

Katherine's dark blue eyes flit all over his face, and the pink flush drains from her cheeks. 

She continues to function, and he continues to struggle to breathe. It's how it's always been, he supposes. He doesn't know why he continues to think otherwise. Maybe for little moments like these that seem secret, but aren't. They're in a diner full of people, Sam two feet away from them, and Dean hasn't moved back so much as six inches. Her fingers are gripping his forearm, they're toe to toe, and she's thinking about something that isn't how close they are.

Katherine looks to the vacant space at the bar. The half-eaten pancake that's drowning in strawberry syrup.

Strawberry.

"It's changed," she whispers.

Dean, the love-struck idiot, doesn't know what she's talking about, and his heart falls. Again. 

"Sam," Katherine says, relinquishing Dean of her hold. "Sam, that guy's had maple syrup the past million Tuesdays and today he has strawberry?" Sam looks at the bar with a frown so deeply etched into his face, it may as well have been there the day he was born. 

Dean blinks. "It's a free country," he lamely offers. "A man can't choose his own syrup?"

"Not in this diner, today," Sam murmurs. 

"'Just deserts'," Katherine says. Then she points at Dean. "Going after assholes?" She moves her finger to Sam's computer bag.

Then his eyes widen, and he's opening them again to Heat of the Moment, staring at the ceiling of the motel room.

He sits up with hatred burning in his belly. Katherine is sitting at the edge of the bed with crossed legs, staring at the floor with flared nostrils.

"Syrup guy," she says.

"Syrup guy."

Dean watches them watch Syrup Guy. He has maple today.

"Little fucker," Katherine mutters, and takes two more gulps of coffee. 

Dean watches her hands shake as she sets her cup down. "Kit, maybe you should eat something," he suggests. "You're, like, all cracked out."

"I'm fine."

"So you think you're caught in some kind of what again?"

"Eat your breakfast," Sam tells him. 

Dean gives it a moment of pause, but keeps eating.

Katherine spares a glance to his hands, remembering how they helped her out of the booth yesterday. An hour ago. 

Syrup Guy leaves the diner. Sam pushes himself up, rustling a paper bag. Dean frowns, craning his neck to watch his little brother stalk towards the door. "What's in the bag?" He asks. Katherine stands up in the booth and steps over Dean before following Sam. "Ah shit." Dean scrambles for a couple of bills for Doris and jogs after her.

"Give it to me," Katherine mutters.

"No." Sam shoves her away, and Dean's eyebrows knit together. Katherine roughly shoves Sam in the shoulder, but they continue down the sidewalk, stupid hair blowing in the wind as they stalk up to Syrup Guy. Katherine trips him and shoves him into the fence.

"Kat!" Dean shouts. Sam presses a dark piece of wood into the man's throat. "Sam!"

"Oh my God!"

"We know who you are," Katherine snarls.

"What you are," Sam revises. 

"Please don't kill me!" The man pleads.

"Uh, guys?" Dean asks, giving the two a stern look. Neither of them turn to look at him. They're ruled with anger, frustration. Animals. 

"There's only one creature powerful enough to do all of this," Katherine says. "Going after the assholes, giving them their just deserts? Make reality out of nothing, sticking people in time loops!" Her grip on his shirt tightens, and he whimpers.

"Please, just put down the stake!"

"Sam—"

"No!" Sam shouts. Dean's jaw tightens.

"Mister," the man whines. "My name is Ed Coleman. My wife's name's Amelia I've got two kids...for crying out loud, I sell ad space!"

"Don't lie!" Katherine snarls. "We've killed one of you before!"

Sam's grip loosens ever so slightly on his stake as Ed Coleman's face changes into one he thought they got rid of.

Brown hair, pudgy, smug, very mushable face. The kind you just want to shove into the sidewalk. 

Loki.

"Actually, bucko," he says. "You didn't."

"Why are you doing this?" Sam snarls.

"Who cares, Sam, just stab him," Katherine growls.

"Are you kidding me?" The trickster scoffs. "Why wouldn't I do this? You chuckleheads tried to kill me last time."

"What about Hasselback?" Dean asks.

"That putz? He said he didn't believe in wormholes, so...I dropped him in one." Katherine drops her hand from his shoulder and steps away, rubbing her head. Then she turns on a dime and swings, knuckles colliding with the trickster's jaw, who winces and follows it with a laugh. "K.O. for K.D.! Or is it K.T. now?"

Katherine flexes her jaw and fingers. "So you're going after Dean again," she says. 

"Well...yeah. It's fun, first of all. Secondly, this is so not about killing Dean. Everything's always about Dean. Blah, blah, blah, blah, blah." Dean flashes his eyebrows in mock surprise. "What about you, Katherine? Or you, Sam?"

"What about us?" Sam snarls.

"This joke is on you," the trickster says. "You, Sam, get to watch your brother die every day. And you, Daughter Number One, get to watch the love of your life die every single day. Forever."

"You son of a bitch," Sam whispers.

"How long will it take either of you to realize you can't save Dean?"

"You know what I say?" Katherine asks. "Sam kills you right now, this all ends."

The trickster laughs, but it's cut off by Sam driving the tip of the stake deeper into the trickster's flesh. "Heywhoakay," he chokes out. "Look, I was just playin around. You can't take a joke? Fine. It'll be Wednesday when you wake up tomorrow. Swear it." Hazel eyes flit to Katherine, whose eyes narrow in return. 

"You're lying," she accuses through her teeth.

"If I am," the trickster hums. "You know where to find me...having pancakes at the diner."

Sam looks to Dean, Katherine, then Loki. "No," he decides. "Easier just to kill you."

"Sorry, kiddo. Can't have that."

But you better promise me I'll be back in time—

Sam opens his eyes again. No Asia.

"No Asia," he breathes, pushing himself up. His heart is pounding with adrenaline. 

Katherine is laid on the bed beside him, watching Dean with careful eyes. Just like a cat would.

"I know," Dean says, standing in the bathroom doorway. "No Asia. This station sucks."

Sam looks to the alarm clock. Wednesday. "It's Wednesday!" He looks to Katherine, who hasn't looked away from Dean. "He kept his promise."

"We're not out of the woods yet," Katherine grumbles, swinging her legs from bed. 

Her cell phone rings on the nightstand.

"Hey, babe."

"Jeez," Dean grumbles, looking away from Katherine. Sam quickly pulls on a shirt from the foot of his bed. "How many Tuesdays did you have? She looks pissed."

"Wait, you remember?" Sam asks with a laugh. "What do you remember?"

"Uh, well...you two were pretty whacked out of it...then I remember running into the trickster." Dean sidesteps Katherine as she moves for the bathroom, phone wedged between her shoulder and ear as she unties her shorts. "But, uh...that's about it."

"All right." Sam's grin is wide. "Pack your shit, we're getting the hell out of here. Now."

Dean frowns. "Wha—no breakfast?"

"No breakfast!" Sam snaps. 

Katherine comes out of the bathroom a few minutes later, still talking to Charlie, albeit rather flatly. "No, we're comin' back up. Had a rough couple of days down here, sucked ass." She stands up straight with a frown. "No, we've been here for two days, Charlie. Yes, we left on Sunday, and now it's Wednesday." She grabs her clothes for the day and starts back into the bathroom.

"Let's get this all in the car, yeah?" Dean asks with a sigh. Sam hauls Katherine's bag over his shoulder and starts outside with Dean. "Ah, crap. Left the weapons bag." Dean reaches into his jacket pocket and hands Sam the motel keys. "Be a doll and check out for us, yeah?" 

Relief floods Sam's body as he walks to the front desk. Finally leaving, finally leaving, finally leaving fuck Florida!

Dean jogs inside their room. Katherine is zipping her jeans up, phone on the bed. She looks up as Dean walks in. "Sorry." Quickly, he averts his eyes.

"'S fine." She pulls her shirt down over her waistband. 

Dean scans the floor for his weapons bag, then moves for it on the other side of the room. "Ever consider sizing up?" He asks.

Katherine frowns at him. "...What?"

"Concealed carry and all that," he says, swinging his bag over his shoulder, and moves for the door.

"Oh." Katherine sits down to pull her shoes on. 

"Easier to move around?"

"I can move around just fine."

Dean smirks. "Yeah. Your jeans will split right up the ass next time, you watch." 

"Dean, you just cursed me!" She cries. He walks out of the room and closes the door with an evil laugh. Dean moves for the trunk of the car and swings the weapons bag inside. A tall figure with dark hair comes up beside him. "Sam, you really think we should just leave the trickster?" 

He turns around, and Cal is in front of him with a gun. Not Sam. He would feel much better about the situation if it was Sam with a gun. Dean looks up at Cal's face.

"Give me your wallet," he says.

Dean slowly moves his hands up. "Just relax, buddy."

"I am relaxed!"

"Okay." Dean nods. "All right. Nobody wants this to end the wrong way, so...let's talk about it for a second."

Katherine sweeps the bathroom one more time before shutting off the light. Dean left his razor once and he was pissed he had to buy a new one, so best no one endure that situation again.

A gunshot sounds just outside the motel room. Dean just had the weapons bag. No, no, no. Adrenaline immediately releases into Katherine's bloodstream, like one of Pavlov's stupid dogs, and she bolts for the door. "Dean?!"

She throws the door open and bounds for the Impala. Dean's boots are peeking out form the rear tire. Her shoes slide against the wet concrete, and her knee scrapes against it, ripping the denim and her flesh. 

He's bleeding from one wound in his chest. He's holding a hand to it, pushing, but his face is already ashen.

"Sorry," he groans. 

"Hmm-mm." Katherine pulls his jacket off and lays him flat before pushing the fabric into his chest. "Hmm-mm." She shakes her head, feeling sick to her stomach. "This wasn't supposed to happen. This wasn't supposed to happen!" She roars.

Sam steps out of the front office as she screams.

"Yeah, well, it's here," Dean pants. 

She nods. "Okay. Okay, okay." She closes her eyes and even hums the stupid song that wakes Sam up every morning. It isn't how she starts her day. Usually Dean bumped into the dresser and grunted "fuck!". So she taps her toe and waits.

"Katherine?" Sam breathes, sinking to his knees beside her.  

"Just give it a minute," she murmurs. Her hands are shaking. "Hold that?" Sam presses his hands where Katherine's were. Fear seeps into her stomach. It's not working. 

"It's not working," Dean groans.

"Dean, don't you fuckin' flutter those eyes at me."

"You're just so gosh darn pretty," he pants. "It's, uh..." Dean coughs, and blood flies onto Katherine's arm. "Gettin' kinda cold." She looks away from him as his blinking grows slower. "No, no, look at me."

"No, I need to call an ambulance." Sam hands his phone to her when she can't find her own. Dean doesn't stop looking at her for a second. Katherine runs her hand through her hair and takes a calming breath. 

When she turns around in the middle of her call, Sam's panicked hazel eyes flit to hers, face crumpled, and he shakes his head.

"No," Katherine says. "No..."

I'm gonna wake up. Dean is gonna bitch about his bruised hip, and the clock will wake Sam up—

She watches Dean's hand slip from Sam's elbow, and he sobs. 

Katherine closes her eyes and exhales through pursed lips, trying to calm the nausea in her stomach. 

The clock...

Sam cycles through his voicemails again. One from Bobby. 

"Sam," Katherine sighs. "Please call me. I haven't seen you since before my kid was born and I'm itchin' for something to take my mind off it all."

Katherine had a baby. He was born two months early. Sam called to check on them after Charlie called and told him the news. 

"He's supposed to come home in a week, so...that's when the real thing starts." Katherine sighs again. "Sam, just come see me, okay?"

The line goes dead, and Sam tosses his phone onto the bed. 

He remembers finding out she was pregnant. It was a month after Dean died, and she and Sam were walking down the sidewalk and she got a whiff of chicken from a nearby restaurant, and she threw up in the gutter right there. 

Three pregnancy tests, all the same result. Charlie made her come home then. 

He never thought the solo life was for him, but it's all he thought about. Hunting. Looking for the trickster, looking for demons...since Katherine is out of commission, who else can realistically do the job well enough?

You want it done right, you do it yourself.

Katherine told Sam he could stay with her and Charlie as long as he needed. Sam didn't want to, though. Hunting felt good. Even if that meant digging all of the slugs out of his own body, sewing up his own wounds...at least Katherine was at home with her baby and her husband. Safe. Whatever that meant anymore.

Bobby left another message as he listened to Katherine's again. 

He found the Trickster.

Sam walks into the Mystery Spot, feeling surprisingly numb. Bobby's on his knees, moving candles around a chalk circle. 

"Sam," Bobby murmurs. He pushes himself off of the ground and pulls Sam in for a hug. Stiff as a board. Numb. Cold.

"What are we doing here?" Sam asks.

"This is the last place that bastard worked his magic, for sure. Found a summoning ritual the other day. We can bring him here."

Sam looks at the chalk circle, then Bobby. "What do we need?"

"Blood."

"How much?"

"A gallon. Fresh."

"That'll bleed someone dry."

"It has to be tonight, Sam, or not for another fifty years." 

Slowly, Sam nods. "Let's go get some." He turns on his heel, but Bobby doesn't move an inch. Sam raises his eyebrows at Bobby. 

"You break my heart, kid," Bobby murmurs.

Sam's face wrinkles. "What?"

"I'm not gonna let you murder an innocent man."

Sam scoffs. "Then why'd you bring me here?"

"Why?" Bobby repeats. "'Cause it was the only way you'd see me! I haven't seen you in three months, and Katherine can't get you to come see her for the life of her. Because someone has to knock some sense into you! Because I thought you'd back down from killing a man!" Bobby advances on Sam. "You know what she named her little boy?"

"I don't care, Bobby," Sam sighs. "And you thought wrong." Bobby narrows his eyes at Sam. 

"She named him after you, you know."

Sam expected that exactly never. Not naming a kid after Dean made sense. It made obvious sense. But Sam?

It hit him in an achey place.

"Leave the stuff," Sam coldly replies. "I'll do it myself."

"I told you," Bobby begins. "I'm not gonna let you kill anyone."

"It's none of your damn business what I do!" Sam roars. 

Bobby takes a step back, watching Sam's nostrils flare. "You want your brother back so bad," he murmurs. "Fine." He turns to a leather duffle and pulls a black kris blade from it before extending it to Sam. 

"What are you talking about?" Sam spits.

"Better me than a civilian."

Sam's stomach drops. Not far, but it does.

"I'm not killing you, Bobby," Sam murmurs. 

"Oh," Bobby scoffs. "Now I'm the crazy one." Sam stares at Bobby with hard eyes, mixed emotions. Katherine's kid keeps popping up in his mind. Why'd she name him after me? "Look, kid...I'm old. Coming to the end of my trail. You can keep fighting, saving folk...but you need your brother, so...let me give him back to you." Bobby sighs and pats Sam on the shoulder. "Just...don't tell Katherine Louise, all right?" He turns around, and Sam shakes his head.

"Bobby—"

"Sam, I want to do this." Bobby gets on his knees and groans. "For the love of God, just make it quick."

Annoying tears sting at Sam's eyes. He's suppressed everything for six months. Now it's all...there. The possibility of seeing his brother again. Katherine's baby...

"Do it, son."

It's all there.

Sam pulls the stake from his jacket and drives it through the Trickster's back, right into his heart. "You're not Bobby," he snarls.  

Sam stands up, waiting for the Trickster's body to change. And he waits. And he waits.

But it doesn't.

It's another nightmare come true. Panic rises in his throat. Bile. Shit. "Bobby?" He watches the pool of blood grow underneath the old man. "Bobby!"

Tears come before the bile does. 

Then the body vanishes, and the stake drops to the ground. No blood. Nothing.

The stake whizzes past Sam's head, back into the hand of the Trickster, ten feet behind him. "You're right," the smug creature chuckles. "I was just screwin' with ya. Pretty good though, Sam! Pretty smart! But lemme tell ya...whoever said Dean was the dysfunctional one?" The Trickster scoffs, beginning to circle Sam. "Has never seen you with a sharp object in your hands."

"Bring him back."

It wasn't an aggressive demand. It was the plea of a broken man.

The Trickster looks at Sam with a grin. "Who, Dean?" The grin fades into an expression of confusion. "Didn't my girl send you flowers? Katherine got 'em...Dean's dead. He ain't comin' back." Sam closes his eyes and shakes his head. "His soul's downstairs doing the Hellfire Rumba as we speak."

"Just...take us back to that Tuesday," Sam murmurs. "Or Wednesday. Whenever it all started. Please. We won't come after you, I swear."

The Trickster scoffs. "You swear?"

"Yes!" Sam quickly answers.

"I dunno...That dog of yours, KD? She's rabid, Sam. She holds a grudge worse than my brothers, all right?! Maybe I like her right where she is. With a baby and a husband...distracted. There's a lot coming her way, you know, and I think...I think this way is the best way to just keep it all from happening."

"What? What are you talking about?" Sam shakes his head. "I'll convince her, I swear it."

The Trickster sighs. "Someone really needs to put you guys on the mailing list. I mean, this is so old news."

"What?" Sam demands. 

The creature hums. "She should be in the room, don't you think? I hate talking about people behind their backs." He scratches his head with the stake. "Oh, yeah. Sam, there's a lesson that I've been trying to drill into that freakish cro-magnun skull of yours, dude."

"What lesson?"

"This obsession to save Dean!" The Trickster erupts. "The way you two keep sacrificing yourselves for each—the three of you keep sacrificing yourselves for wach other!"

"What are you talking about?"

The Trickster huffs and puts his hands on his hips. "Stupid little KD, she ran off and tried to make a deal with a demon. Again!"

Sam's stomach drops. "What?"

"I mean, obviously it didn't work. I had sources in the room when they axed the deal."

"What are you talking about?"

The Trickster points the stake to the ceiling. "Catch my drift?"

Sam shakes his head. 

"Look. Sometimes...you just gotta let people go, all right? It may be better for the whole freakin planet." The Trickster shrugs. 

"He's my brother," Sam pleads. 

"Yes," the Trickster agrees. "And like it or not, this is what life without him is gonna be like."

"Please," Sam whispers. "Just...keep Katherine with her kid and Charlie. Just please bring Dean back. Please. It...that'll be better for her anyway. She can stop tearing herself in two, but...I need my brother."

Sam watches the creature purse his lips. "It's like talking to a brick wall," he pronounces. Then he groans, throwing the stake down. "This all stopped being fun months ago, anyway. Domestic Katherine is so boring. Terminator Sam is so boring. I'm over it."

"Meaning what?" Sam asks.

"That's for me to know and you to find out," the Trickster grumbles. Then he snaps his fingers.

But you better promise me I'll be back in time—

"What, are you gonna sleep all day?" Dean asks.

Sam's eyes snap open and he sits up quickly. 

Dean—Dean—is standing in the bathroom door of the ugly ass motel room in Broward County. He's in the same denim shirt and gray t-shirt with a cup of mouthwash in his fingers. 

Katherine is laid on the bed beside him, watching Dean with careful eyes. Just like a cat would.

"I know," Dean says, standing in the bathroom doorway. "No Asia. This station sucks."

Sam looks to the alarm clock. Wednesday. "It's Wednesday," he whispers. He looks to Katherine, who hasn't looked away from Dean. 

"We're not out of the woods yet," she grumbles.

Sam pushes himself up and walks straight to his brother before bear hugging him. Dean blinks in surprise and pats Sam on the back. Then it keeps going. And it keeps going. Dean frowns at Katherine, who shrugs, and pulls herself up from bed.

"Dude," Dean grunts. "How many Tuesdays did you have?"

"Enough," Sam whispers. 

Katherine sighs and wraps her arms around the Winchesters, too. Sam quickly pulls away and looks at Dean. 

"What do you remember?" He asks.

"You two were pretty whacked out yesterday," Dean replies, eyes darting to Katherine. Sam looks to her, too.

"Syrup guy," is all she says.

"Can we leave?" Sam whispers.

"No breakfast?" Dean whines.

"No breakfast," Sam chuckles, reaching up to wipe at his eyes.

Dean sighs, throwing his mouthwash up in the sink. "All right. I'll pack the car."

"No!" Sam quickly shakes his head. Katherine jumps at the sudden volume of his voice, then shoves him.

"In my ear," she whines, moving for the bathroom, and closes the door behind her.

"Dude, you don't look so good," Dean murmurs. "Somethin' else happen?"

Sam zips his bag up and rolls his tongue over his teeth, fighting back tears of exhaustion. "Just had a really weird dream," he croaks. 

Dean nods. "Clowns or midgets?"