"You know what I've always wondered?"

"No."

"If you have to present a passport if you drive into Alaska." Katherine turns to look at Dean with a dramatically raised brow, multi-toned hair whipping in the wind as the Impala speeds down the two-lane faded blacktop. "It's a fair question," she says in defense, witnessing his flat expression. "Besides, Alaska would be way better than middle-of-nowhere Wisconsin."

"Alaska is middle-of-nowhere."

"Is not," Katherine protests, reaching for the window lever.

"It's the attic child of America."

She gasps, whipping around to face him. "You take that back!"

"Guys?" Sam chirps from the back seat. "Still hungry back here."

Katherine crosses her arms and gazes out of the windshield. "There's an exit half a mile up," she says to Dean, gazing at a road sign for food.

"And?"

"And? Sam and I are starved."

Dean pushes his lips out, as if he's really debating if they should stop for food. He's always game for food. "I could go for some grub," he decides after a moment.

"And you need sleep," Katherine adds. "You won't let either of us drive and you've been going for eleven hours."

"What's your point?"

"That maybe we should stop for a while."

"She's right," Sam pipes, his head resting against the backseat.

Katherine gingerly ties her hair up, wincing as her hairline is tugged. She isn't as banged up from that wendigo as she could've been, that's for sure, and she's also sure she's had worse.

Much, much worse.

Grub first. It's half past eleven AM, so lunch is in order. She swipes a newspaper from the stand outside the neighboring inn and joins the Winchesters inside, where one—or both—of them is already being swarmed by a busty blonde waitress in a low-cut t-shirt and jeans.

Katherine slides into the booth beside Dean with ease, orders a rootbeer and a burger. She'll have to find an avocado later to soothe her hankering. Katherine flips the newspaper over and over, searching for anything that could be a case, crossing out articles and circling potentials.

The girl, Wendy, swings by frequently to check on drinks, and even after the trio already has their food she lingers. It's easy to understand why, but that doesn't mean it's any less frustrating for Katherine. Sam would chuckle every time the girl dramatically rolled her eyes and made a point of chewing for long periods of time.

"Boom," Katherine mutters, sliding the newspaper to Dean. "Brad Pitt." She points to the crossword with a smirk and tosses a french fry into her mouth. From her backpack beside her, her phone trills obscenely loudly, and she scrambles to answer it. "Just a sec," she says, pressing her phone to her ear, and swiftly moves from the table with the Winchesters watching curiously after her. "Hello?" She stands outside the diner, squinting in the afternoon sun.

"Heyo," Sophia chirps.

A grin instantly splits across Katherine's face. "Soph. How you enjoying the snow?"

"Oh, it's great," Sophia says. Katherine pictures her gazing out of the window with a flat expression and a glass of wine in hand. "Yeah. Except I can't fucking go anywhere. Nobody's shoveling! It's a disaster! And they expect me to go to class?!" Katherine laughs. "Story of my life. Anyway, how're you? You sound like you're somewhere sunny."

"Hmm...sunny. Yeah." Katherine leans against the brick wall. "Wisconsin."

"It's not snowing?"

"Naw, it's just a little cold. We're in southwest Wisconsin."

"Experiencing cheese?"

Katherine grins. "I'll put it on the to-do list."

"My mom called yesterday and asked what she should wear to your commencement--in May. I don't know if I should be happy she treats you like a sister I never had, or jealous that she gives you so much attention."

"We both know I'm the golden child of that apartment."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever." Sophia sips at the last of her wine and makes a noise at the back of her throat. "God, that was dry."

"What was it?"

"A gift from a dude I went on a date with last week."

"How thoughtful," Katherine hums, smiling a bit. "You've gotta tell me all about it when I get back."

Sophia purses her lips, frowning as she stares out at the snow. "You know, it's really weird to take a road trip when the northern half of the country is covered in eight hundred feet of snow."

Katherine chuckles. "Well, these guys...they're not exactly conventional," she murmurs, turning to look at them through the window.

"So am I gonna get to meet these not-exactly-conventional old family friends of yours?"

Katherine smiles a bit. "Depends if you're home or not when they kick me to the curb."

"When is that gonna be? I'm sick of drinking this stuff by myself. I'm gonna get a cat to fill the void you left."

"Yeah, whatever. Don't buy that cat on a whim."

"I don't buy anything unless it's a whim."

Katherine laughs. "Good point. I'll holler atcha later. We're just stopped for lunch."

"Later, gator." Katherine hangs up and waltzes back into the diner, where Wendy is putting her cleavage on advertisement—and Dean is totally feeding into it.

"Can I get you anything else?"

"Just the check, please," Katherine says, sliding in beside Dean with a smile, and rests her head on his shoulder. Wendy nods once, still staring Dean down. The man sighs, hanging his head low after she has retreated. Katherine snickers, picking her glass up.

"We are allowed to have fun every once in a while, Katherine Louise." He gestures to the retreating waitress. "That is fun."

"I'm fun," Katherine protests. "I just kicked your ass at crosswords." Dean gazes flatly at her and she smirks. "Oh, come on. I can be loads of fun."

"Not that kind of fun."

She frowns now. "Well what makes you think so?"

Dean sighs and shakes his head. "I think I got somethin'." He shoves the newspaper sideways at Katherine, and Sam rounds the corner. She flashes him a brief smile and looks back down at the paper. "Lake Manitoc, Wisconsin. Sophie Carlton, 18, walks into the lake, doesn't walk out. Authorities dragged the lake—nothing. That's the third Lake Manitoc drowning this year, and none of the other bodies were found either. They had a funeral two days ago."

"Funeral?" Sam asks, frowning a bit.

"You don't have to have a body to have the sentiment," Katherine quietly murmurs, sucking down the rest of her root beer. "How far to Lake Manitoc?" When Dean doesn't answer, she turns her eyes sideways to look at him. "Hey." She snaps her fingers in front of his face and his attention snaps from a passing Wendy to her.

"Huh?"

Katherine huffs, setting her cup down. "Lake Manitoc?"

"What about it?"

Katherine lets out a loud groan, grabbing her backpack, and sets down a five and some ones. "I'll be in the car," she says, starting outside as she stares down at her phone. "Can I drive?" She asks, backpedaling a few steps, and gazes at Dean with a hopeful expression. He purses his lips and reaches into his pocket, pulling the keys from the denim, and stares at them. He flicks them over Sam's head and Katherine easily catches them. She looks like a kid in a candy store. "I'm not gonna get pranked for this, am I?"

"Go, before I change my mind."

Katherine's grin slips into a small smile, and she hustles out into the parking lot. "You're evil to her," Sam remarks, smiling a little.

"I am not," Dean protests. "I'm letting her drive. I tell you what, though, making her happy is like having a dog."

"What do you know about having a dog?"

Dean shrugs. "Feed it, scratch the ears every once in a while." Sam chuckles, shaking his head. "It's true enough. Giving the kid a milkshake is like sticking a pacifier in a baby's mouth."

"She's not a kid, Dean," Sam says. "She'll be twenty in a few months and she's a better hunter than either of us were at her age."

"I beg to differ," Dean mutters. "She's all right."

"You know that's not true. If she was just "all right" you would've let her go before we even tied up the case in Jericho. And you wouldn't have went and got her if you knew she was just all right.'"

Dean's eyebrows humorously tilt. "You got a crush on her or somethin'?"

"No," Sam says, rising with Dean. "I just think she deserves a little more credit than you're giving her."

In the car, Katherine is anxiously gnawing on her lower lip, phone held to her ear, and her free arm crossed over her chest. Her sunglasses sit on the bridge of her nose, shielding her eyes from the sun glaring off of the neighboring vehicles. "Okay, well...if he calls again, tell him to call me. Love you too." Sam's eyes narrow as she slides into the back seat.

"I feel betrayed."

"Oh, don't take it to heart, Sam," she says with a smirk. "He means nothing to me."

"Who was that?" Dean asks, shutting the passenger door behind him.

"Soph."

"Roommate 'Sophia'?" Katherine nods, and Dean waits.

"She said my Dad called and asked where I was."

"And?"

"Well, she told him what I told her--that I'm on a road trip with some old family friends." She rubs her temple. "It pisses me off he won't just call me."

"Well at least he's safe, right?" Dean asks. "Safe enough to call?"

She shifts gears. "Where to?"

✕

"I'm definitely thinking it's Nessie," Katherine pronounces, slinging her bag over her shoulder. "By the way." She looks up at Dean with a smirk. "'Kids are the best'?"

"I love kids," he defends.

"No you don't," Sam scoffs. Dean frowns. "Fine. Name three children you even know."

Dean huffs, and in a brief moment, he's smiling again like he's just won a medal. "Katherine Donovan." Katherine swings, but Dean pushes her forearm from him, turning her fist away from him. "Nice kitty," he says. Katherine turns on her heel and storms away. "Oh, come on, it was funny!"

"Thanks for the set up," she growls to Sam, marching to her own room. Sam smirks a bit.

"She really doesn't like you," he says to Dean.

"Of course she does," Dean refutes. "I'm adorable."

A few minutes after settling in, Sam and Dean move down the hall to Katherine's room. "It's open!"

"You shouldn't leave that unlocked, you know," Dean chastises.

"Watch your feet, you freaking gorilla!" The two brothers halt, not knowing which she's speaking to, or where she is. She turns around the corner, shrugging out of her jacket; her t-shirt clings to the inner material, lifting the thin fabric of her light blue shirt up, and revealing the angry red six-inch gash on the side of her toned tummy. Katherine squirms, tugging her shirt down with a frown.

"Who's the gorilla?" Dean inquires.

"You," she snaps, moving her eyes to his feet.

The toes of his boots are barely touching a semi-circle of salt around the door. "At least you're keeping one kind of crazy out," Dean sighs, shutting the door. "Sammy did some digging."

"Good boy," Katherine taunts. Sam sinks down into a chair at the table by the door and opens up his laptop.

"There were six more drownings before the three this year," the younger brother begins. "Over the past thirty-five years, that is."

"Well that's not much," Katherine hums, tying her multi-toned blonde hair up. "If there is something out there, it's picking up the pace, yeah?"

"Nessie getting a bit of an appetite?" Dean adds.

"Well is there any link between the vics?" Katherine asks, crossing over to Sam. She leans easily behind him, hands on the back of his chair as she peers at his computer screen. "Wait, 'Bar,'" she hums. "Christopher Bar, the victim in May—"

"Like Andrea Bar? Lucas' mom?" Sam clicks on the hyperlink and is taken to another article; Andrea's boy Lucas is the subject of the first photograph, wrapped in a blanket, soaked to the bone, and caught totally off guard. Katherine wonders why in the hell any mother would give permission for a photo like this to be published in anything. Protection of minors and all, too.

"Christopher Bar was Andrea's husband and Lucas' father," Sam confirms. "Apparently, he took Lucas out swimming. Lucas was floating on a wooden platform when Christopher died. Took two hours for the kid to get rescued."

"No wonder he was so freaked out," Dean murmurs. "Watching one of your parents die isn't something you just get over."

Neither of the boys noticed how Katherine rocked on her toes after Dean's words. Faster than she can close that door, images of her childhood home aflame rip through her mind. Then she forces that door shut and turns away from Sam's computer.

"I say we go find Lucas and have a chat."

"Dean, the last time you said anything to him, the kid looked at you like you had shark teeth," Katherine quips, gathering her jacket once more. "I'll talk to him."

It was easy enough to find the Bars—Andrea had said they were going to the park at three. Here it was, ten past, and there she is, sitting on a bench.

"I'm here with my son."

Andrea's sentence was definitely a rejection to "mind if we join you?" if there ever was one. Katherine smiled, though, and suggested she go entertain the little boy. Dean followed after her. "Remember what I said about the shark teeth?" Katherine quietly asks.

"I won't smile."

"Then you look mean."

Dean frowns. "I'm not mean."

"You sure look it when you look like that," the teenager quips, large eyes darting across his features before she turns away and focuses on Lucas. He's sitting on the mulch with several pieces of paper before him, crayons scattered and box torn and bent. Little green toy soldiers are lined up beside his elbow, weapons pointed in arbitrary directions. She hasn't seen those things in years. She smiles a bit, jamming her hands into her pockets. "Hi, Lucas," she greets, slowly sinking onto the ground on the opposite side of the bench. "My name's Kat. This is my friend Dean. You mind if we sit with you?" The little boy keeps coloring, not even glancing up to acknowledge them.

"I used to love these things," Dean muses, reaching over to pick up one of the green toys. Katherine hides her smile as Dean imitates explosions and gunfire, but he eventually stops when Lucas still doesn't bite. "So crayons is more your thing. S'okay. Chicks dig artists."

Katherine shakes her head. "Mind if I draw with you?" She asks, propping her head on the heel of her palm. Lucas doesn't look away from his drawing. She carefully swipes a few sheets of paper and rests it on Lucas' other side. Dean steals one of hers and sits down on the bench. Katherine hands him a crayon but pauses, glancing over Lucas' other drawings. Her eyes cautiously move to Lucas. "These are pretty good," she says, testing. He doesn't answer, and she purses her lips. "I think you can hear me," Katherine quietly continues, voice not at all threatening. She picks up a blue crayon and starts to draw. At first, she doesn't even know what her brain is instructing her hand to do. "But you don't want to talk. now, I don't know exactly what happened to your Dad, but I know it was somethin' real bad." She looks up at Lucas. He's still wrapped up in his drawing. "I think I know how you feel," Katherine continues, and gnaws on the inside of her cheek as she recalls Dean's words in her motel room.

Watching one of your parents die isn't something you can just get over.

"When I was your age--well...a lot older than you are now, actually...I saw something, too." Dean looks up from the green paper he stole from Katherine. Her eyes are focused on the white piece of paper before her, fringe mingling with the tips of her long, long eyelashes. "And maybe...maybe you don't think anyone'll listen to you, or...believe you," she softly continues, continuing the light curve of her mother's face. Even after only a few years, it's hard to remember what she looked like...like looking through a veil.

She remembers certain things, like the way her fair hair looked in the summer sun, or what her perfume smelled like. The sound of her laugh.

"But we will. We're not so different, the three of us." She presses her lips together and lifts her eyes to Lucas. "You don't have to say anything," Katherine suggests, carefully shaping her mother's large, round eyes. They were blue, just like her own. "You could...draw a picture of what you saw that day--with your dad, on the lake. How you felt." Katherine's lips purse to the side and she turns her quick sketch to face Lucas.

It's a very pretty drawing for having been sketched in five minutes. Dean wonders if she had always been so artistic. He remembers that gentle smile of Julia—Jules—Donovan. The brightness of her kind, blue eyes. It's easy to see her in Katherine, too.

"That's my mother," Katherine quietly says to Lucas. "Here—it's for you." She slides the paper to him with a soft smile and rises to her feet, dusting her jeans off. "Bye, Lucas." She turns on her heel and starts away, Dean following after her. Neither of them says anything. Katherine's brow is furrowed, her mind sorting those drawing she looked at.

And Lucas is staring at her drawing.

"Do you remember what your mother looked like?" Katherine quietly asks. After a moment, Dean nods. She lets out a sad, soft chuckle. "See, I can't...I can't piece it all together. I can only see parts. Like looking at someone in a dream. It's soft."

"What happened to her?"

Katherine presses her lips together. "She died, like everything good in the world does." She turns at the gentle tug of her coat.

Lucas is staring down at the ground but holding a colored piece of paper up between her and Dean.

"Oh," Katherine chirps, taking the drawing from him. It looks like a house, or a cabin. Perhaps his. "Thanks, Lucas." Before she can say much else, Lucas turns around and starts back to his bench. "Like I said." She looks up at Dean. "Shark teeth."

The rest of the afternoon passes relatively uneventfully. Dean announces he's going just outside of town to the nearest bar, and Sam and Katherine stayed behind to talk about nerd things, or so Dean presumed.

"Katherine?" Sam asks, turning away from the door with a box of pizza in his hand. She looks up from her book and pushes her glasses up her nose. They're thin, with oversized rims and tortoise shell temples. With her hair flowing freely down her shoulders and fringe parted down the middle and swept to the sides, she looks a older than her nineteen years, and...cuddly.

In his two weeks with the girl, she never seemed cuddly. Bubbly, sure. Charismatic, and on the flip of a dime, perhaps the most dangerous creature he's ever been around. But now, she looks absolutely harmless, and soft.

"You can see the stars," he says. "And there's a bench out front. You wanna sit?"

Her grin is wide and bright, all dimples and genuine. She closes her book and swings her long legs off of her bed and bounds over to him in her pajamas—a tank top and shorts with one of her Yale hoodies pulled over her shoulders. She snatches the pizza box from him, lips pressing together in a cheeky smile, and she hurries out into the night. Sam grabs the room key from the desk and shuts the door behind him, joining Katherine up on the wooden table. She's already on her back and staring up at the clear sky, ankles crossed, with the pizza box on her stomach. Sam tries his best to mimic her position. His legs dangle far more than hers do.

"So, med school," he begins, stealing a slice of pizza from the box, topped with any red meat you could imagine.

"Med school," Katherine hums. "Whadda bitch." Sam chuckles. "You know, I only went to Yale because it was the furthest thing away from home." Sam looks at her curiously. Her big eyes are trained on the stars, reflected in the lenses of her glasses. She seems more childlike, more innocent, than ever. She slowly chews her pizza. "I thought I could run away from everything. Guess it always catches up to you, sooner or later."

Sam purses his lips. "I haven't heard you talk about your family."

"Not much to say," Katherine hums. "They died when I was fourteen. Well...Olivia and Dylan...no one's found them."

"I don't remember Dylan."

"He wasn't born when we met," Katherine simply explains.

"What happened?"

"House fire," she answers. "Demons."

Sam cranes his neck to stare at her. "Demons?"

She nods. "I guess it was a matter of time. Donovans are real good at hunting demons. Kind of like a specialty. We've sent 'em back to hell for centuries, exorcised them...hell, we even torture 'em. But it sucks when they decide to kick the family in the balls in your generation, huh?" Sam quietly nods in agreement. "I was at USF at the time. Transferred to Yale...they offered me a full ride when I applied there for undergrad."

"So what followed you?"

"Demons, naturally," she chuckles. "Man, if I could hear the demon radio, I'd be willing to bet they still talk about us." Katherine swallows her last bite of pizza and reaches for another slice. "You wanna know what worries me, Sam?" He glances to her. "I've just been...thinkin' about my dad. Yours, too. I just...why would he say to find me?" Katherine speculatively questions. "Why not my dad, or any other hunter he trusted? Why me?"

"Because somehow he knew you were capable to help us."

She doesn't sound convinced. "Sam...the last I heard from my dad, he was working with yours on a werewolf case in Washington state." Katherine frowns. "Now I don't know what happened, but...maybe he said to track me down because I'm the only one left."

"You can't think like that," Sam tells her. "Sophia said he called earlier, right?"

"Yeah, but she's never met my dad," she murmurs. "And...demons can mimic humans." Katherine gazes up at the sky before she slides the pizza box off of her and rolls onto her stomach. "He doesn't have much of a right to have my worries, but I do anyway," she tells him, resting her chin in her hand. Then, after a few moments, she reaches forward and gestures to a red, raised lump on his temple. "I have just the thing for that."

Dean returns around midnight, hair disheveled. He'd already been in the room he shared with Sam. Upon discovering he wasn't in there, he moved to Katherine's room. "Next time I call one of you," he says, shutting the door. "Please pick up." He turns around and stops, analyzing the two before him. Sam and Katherine are sat at the table with two slices of pizza still in the box. The strange thing is the stuff on their faces—a textured green goop. Sam's hair is held back by Katherine's bright pink headband. "What...are you doing?" He slowly pronounces.

"Enjoying a minty face mask and talking about our feelings," Katherine answers.

"Gross," Dean mutters with a grimace.

"It's good for the complexion."

"I'll pass." He shifts his weight, glancing between the two. "This is why neither of you could answer your phones?"

"Uh...well, Dean, you seemed like you wouldn't be back for the evening, so we didn't have our phones on us," Sam explains.

"Why are you back?" Katherine skeptically questions.

"Cuddling," he says, pointing a finger.

Katherine snorts, swiping the bottle of Coke from the table. "Not the cuddles," she jests.

"Not with one-nighters," Dean says, pulling a chair out, and sits at the table with the other two. "But I am a world-class cuddler."

"I'll take your word for it," Katherine hums with a smirk. Sam sighs, shifting his attention to Dean. "Seriously—the mask is life-changing."

"Pass."

"Suit yourself," she says with a shrug, and rises to her feet. "Don't come crying to me when you're thirty lookin' fifty."