"I thought you said this was some boarded-up factory town?" Katherine asks, pulling her leather jacket over the white thin-strapped tank top she wears. Her jeans are black, resting atop the crest of her hips, exposing a thin stripe of tan skin. The button snap on the collar of her jacket rests at the hollow of her throat.

She's a tall drink of water. Dean is parched. 

He tears his burning eyes away.

"It is," Sam says, glancing to his right. A redhead at the wooden handrail is eyeballing his party. "Supposed to be, anyway."

This place is crawling with women. Most are dressed similarly to Katherine, some in less.

"Well what are we waitin' for?" Dean hums. "Let's do some research."

Katherine rolls her eyes and starts down the street, glancing around at the activity with the smallest of smiles. Run Through the Jungle is blasting through the speakers of the neighboring bars. This place definitely isn't dead. There's energy here, laughter in the streets...amongst other things. Escorts waiting in cars, doors open and long legs on show. Multicolored umbrellas for to-go drinks.

"Seems kinda fun," Katherine says, a lopsided smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. Then her leg starts bouncing.

Dean smiles a little, watching her eyes brighten as she takes the place in. "You wanna dance?"

She looks at him in amusement. "Absolutely not," she chuckles.

"Oh, come on," he purrs.

Over Dean's shoulder, Katherine catches a glimpse of a bright pink shirt. She gasps, leaning away from Dean with a smirk. "Richie, Richie, Richie," she tuts.

"Look at you!" Dean enthuses. "Bringing satin back, huh?"

"Oh, you like this?" Richie asks, glancing to Katherine with a smile. "Try Thai silk." He rolls his shoulders, his smile growing. "Canal street. You have to pay three hundred dollars for threads like these, easy. Cost to me—forget about it."

"How much is 'forget about it'?" Sam wonders.

"Forget about it," Richie says, and Sam and Katherine laugh with him. Richie gestures between Katherine and Dean. "That's Trotter over there." Katherine turns, glancing into the back corner.

Three men.

"Black suit guy?"

"Uh-huh," Richie says, nodding. "He sits there all night. Can't touch 'em."

"So what do we do?" Sam asks.

Richie glances between the Winchesters. "Boys! You've got a perfectly good weapon right here." He gestures to Katherine.

She scoffs. "And what should I do? If he's got security, I can't slip holy water in his drink. I start speaking Latin, it's friggin all bets off."

"Whatever. You three figure it out." Katherine follows Richie's intense gaze over to the bartender reaching up to the cabinets. She's got shoulder-length dark hair and fair skin with a bit of a tan, wears a red shirt and tight black jeans.

"You got a thing for the bartender?"

"Yeah, we got a little somethin' lined up for later."

"Yeah right," Dean scoffs.

"Stings, doesn't it?" Richie sighs. Katherine shakes her head and runs a hand through her hair.

"I'm getting a drink," she says, turning on the leather soles of her boots. "You boys want anything?"

Dean reaches into his pocket for his wallet and pulls a few tens. "Whiskey, straight up," he says. Katherine nods, glancing to Sam, then Richie, and after receiving no answer, she turns around again and heads for the bar.

Richie lets out a low, annoyingly-long whistle. "Tell you what," he says. "If neither of you are tappin' that, I might have to cancel my plans with the bartender."

Dean laughs. "Good luck with that one," he scoffs.

Richie frowns at him. "What, you don't think I could do it?"

"Katherine's not really a hugger," Dean explains. "And the minute she looks like she's responding to all that buttering up you're giving her, she gives you a nice view of her ass as she walks away."

Richie ponderously nods. "You speakin' from experience?"

Dean gives a half-answer. "The only man she hasn't turned down is Sammy. I do believe he's been friend-zoned."

Sam rolls his eyes. "I don't hit on her, Dean."

"I don't care what either of you say," Richie mutters. "You could fit that ass on a nickel."

"Unbelievably tacky," Sam scoffs.

"Anyway, I've gotta hit the head—release the hostages." As he turns away from the Winchesters, they both chuckle under their breath and shake their heads.

"Richie's not gonna get the job done," Dean mutters, turning to the bar. "All play and no work."

"Sounds like someone else I know."

Dean gawks in mock-offense. "I take my job very seriously."

Sam's brow quirks. "You know, I never did understand what Katherine sees in you."

"Now I'm really offended."

"Seriously! I mean, the constant pick-up lines and her shutting the door in your face as a response should kind of be indicative."

Dean smirks. "You see, Sammy, there's hard-to-get and then there's disinterest. I've got Kat on a hook."

Sam manages a laugh.

Does he, though? She's...pretty set on Charlie. Aren't they celebrating two years soon?

"Yeah," Sam quietly hums. "Guess it's kinda obvious."

Dean looks to his brother in a bit of a confused panic. "What's obvious?"

"Well, if she's still giving you the time of day, she's obviously waiting for something else." Sam shrugs and jams his hands into his front pockets. "Maybe she's waiting for you to step up to the plate and do somethin' about it."

"How are you so sure?"

Sam chuckles. He's picked up on several things in the months he's been around Katherine. Marginally, Katherine was better at staring without drawing attention. Better at doing it, better at hiding it, better at playing it off—better at lying. Surprisingly better than Dean. Sam caught her staring at his brother a few times.

He never brought it up. Something like if he chooses to ignore it, maybe it'll go away.

"No reason." Sam purses his lips.

"I have tried to do something about it, you know," Dean hums. "But...it's not really fair to ask all these things of her when I've only got less than a year left, huh?"

That sets off a dreadful sense of urgency in Sam Winchester.

A redhead stumbles into Katherine and clings to her shoulders. "Hey!"

"Hey." Katherine's brows are knit together as she keeps herself and the redhead upright. She recognizes this one from that spot when they walked in. Her eyes float to that spot, the group of friends she abandoned. They're all gazing over at her, wild grins and bright eyes. Once they notice her gaze, they turn back to their drinks. One guy continues to stare, picking up his glass and tilting it back. It was probably something that should have been attractive.

"So, uh—" the redhead reaches up to ruffle Katherine's parted fringe. Katherine's eyes follow her fingers. Some alarm is going off inside her, but she doesn't know which one. Why the hell is she touching me? "You don't look like you're from around here."

"Wanderer," Katherine says with a nod, and angles her head back.

"You got a name, Wanderer?" The redhead asks, smiling a bit as she draws her lower lip between her teeth.

The huntress smiles a bit. "Katherine," she answers. "What's yours?"

"Diane."

"Diane, you have lovely eyes." Diane beams. "Say—your friends put you up to this?"

Her green eyes widen. "Oh—what gave it away?"

"They're staring," Katherine whispers, leaning down a bit to reach the young woman's ear. Dean watches carefully, eyes curious.

"What the hell's going on?" Sam asks, focusing on Katherine's hand slipping around the redhead's back.

"Maybe she slipped," Dean suggests.

"Oh," Diane murmurs, cheeks turning just as red as her hair. "Well—I saw you on the street, and...when you came in, they got a little too excited."

"Mmm. Bet money?"

"Five bucks each says I wouldn't walk away with a phone number." Diane pouts. "Help a girl out?" Katherine smiles, standing tall. "This leather jacket really does do you good," Diane says, tracing the beginning of Katherine's collar bone. The huntress leans away a bit. "God, I have no idea how to flirt."

"I'd say you're doing just fine," Katherine says. "It's not you, it's me. Promise."

Diane stands up and crosses her arms. "Everyone always says that."

"Well, it actually is me."

Diane's green eyes grow wide after a moment. "Who broke your heart?"

Katherine laughs. "No, no. I have a boyfriend back home. His name is Charlie, he's very sweet."

"Oh." Diane starts to turn the color of her hair. "Oh I'm so sorry—"

"Don't worry about it," Katherine murmurs. "Say—you help me, I'll help you." Cautiously, Diane nods. "Do you know anyone around here who...kind of had an attitude makeover? Really nice, really good, then one day it was just..." Katherine shrugs.

"What, different?" Katherine nods. "No. No, unless you count that bitch Cindy Dawkins." The huntress raises a brow. "Oh, you wouldn't know her. She's just a two-faced cow, that's all."

"How's that?"

"You ever think you've got a good one? And then she turns around and stabs you in the back?"

Katherine chuckles. "I've, uh...never been good at making friends." She rocks on her toes. "Gimme your phone." Diane's eyebrows knit together in confusion. "Well, you don't want to walk away empty-handed, do you?" Diane smiles and hands her phone on over to Katherine. After thinking for a moment, she puts one of the burners into the contact book, and hands the phone back to Diane. "Good luck with back-stabbing cows, huh?" Katherine grins in a send-off, and Diane turns back to her friends with proud shoulders.

The act of kindness is something Dean would've done.

"I knew you would find your way here."

Katherine jumps at the familiarly-unfamiliar voice behind her, and she turns. 

"They all do."

Her brows knit together in confusion. "Father Gil?" Her bartender returns with her drinks, and Katherine hands over the cash from Dean. "No offense, but...what are you doing here?"

"Like it or not, you go where your flock is." He offers her a dimpled smile and picks up his empty glass.

"Plus, the clergy drinks for free." A different bartender in a red top pours an ounce of whiskey into Father Gil's glass. 

"True," he chirps. "And a certain bartender owes me a confession."

Utterly confused, Katherine's gray eyes flit between the two. Dean can see something of a smile on her lips. But confused. Shocked. Flabbergasted? She looks over at him like she has the ultimate gossip and pockets the change from her bartender. 

"Hey." Sam smacks Dean's shoulder and points to the pool tables. 

A guy with a gun.

Katherine watches Dean's face morph before the gun goes off.

Everyone screams. It's chaos, fighting the sea of people rushing the exit. Her eyes are scanning, looking everywhere for the threat. Who did it?

She can't see Sam anymore, she can't see Dean. She can't breathe. I love you, I love you, I love you.

She pushes through and stands up on a table.

"Somebody call 911!" Sam shouts, getting to his feet. Katherine's chest eases a little. 

The men in the corner are watching Sam. Trotter.

Within minutes, the police arrive, and just after that is the ambulance. 

"There are too many cops here," Sam says. "I say we roll."

Katherine nods, keeping her eyes off of Dean. Her hands are shaking.

"Just stay cool," Dean murmurs. No hitch. No shaking hands. Cool.

Stay cool.

He's watching the shooter get escorted out of the bar. "Poor bastard," he says. "Only thing possessing him was a sixer of Pabst."

He killed his wife's lover. "So what's the deal, then?" Katherine asks, drawing her leg up into her seat as she leans back against the bar. "Are the people in this town getting possessed or not?" Her stomach is still turning. 

"Maybe it is what it is," Dean suggests. "A town full of scumbags."

"You kids ready for your mugshots?" An officer asks, crossing over to the hunters. The boys noticeably tense. "The photographer's gonna be here in a few, take your picture for the local paper."

"It would be an honor," Dean says with a soft smile. The second the man turns his back, he slaps the backs of their arms and hurries for the door. 

Katherine waves at Diane on her way out, not pausing for a second.

"Wait, wait," Dean says, grabbing the crook of her elbow. She stares at him for a moment, watching him scan the bar. "Where's Richie?"

"Didn't he say he had plans with the bartender?" Sam asks. "C'mon, before we can't leave."

Katherine tugs at his sleeve and nods to the door. "Please?" Dean nods and ushers her along.

She let a hot shower melt the tension from her shoulders, ease her roiled gut. It's still relatively early...Charlie should still be up. 

She sways from the bathroom in little silk shorts and a thin tank top, blonde hair wrapped up in a towel. "What are you watching?" She asks, peering at the TV, and looks over at Dean, shirtless, arms behind his head and blanket pulled up to his waist.

"Rosemary's Baby," he answers, not taking his eyes from the screen.

"Charming," Katherine hums.

His eyes flit to her. "Ever seen it?"

"Some," she answers. "Where's Sam?"

"He got hungry. He would've waited to ask, but you were taking forever, so he's getting you a bacon cheeseburger." Dean's eyes travel in a straight, horizontal line from the television to the left, across that God-awful green wallpaper, to Katherine. Her curves underneath the thin material of those pajamas. 

"Oh."

He looks back at the television. Truthfully, he hasn't known what's going on since Katherine walked into the bathroom. 

Katherine lets her hair down from the towel and starts wiggling her fingers through it. Then she runs two steps from the bathroom and catapults onto Dean's bed. He laughs a little as she scoots up beside him. A healthy distance. He can't feel warmth radiating off of her arm.

"Who was that redhead in the bar?" He asks. 

"Her name's Diane," Katherine answers. "She was hitting on me."

"Oh, well, I saw that," he nods. "It was strange—I'd never seen that before."

She grins. "You're not the only one who can pull some, Dean."

He chuckles. "What, it's happened before?"

Katherine nods. "First time, I was sitting in a coffee shop in New Haven, my first semester at Yale. An older gal sits across from me and starts chatting me up, saying she's heard about me in the student paper." Katherine shrugs. "Doesn't happen often, but it happens. What about you? Ever been hit on by a guy?"

Dean's brow furrows a little. "I...don't believe so." Katherine chuckles.

"Hey—I saw Father Gil at the bar tonight," she hums. "Thought that was strange."

"Oh, yeah. Sam and I did, too." A quiet lulls over the two. "You really didn't see Richie after you went to the bar?"

She shakes her head. "No. I'm serious, I think he went home with the bartender."

"Yeah—Casey."

"She's the brunette, right?" Dean nods. "We can call him tomorrow if you're still worried," she murmurs through a yawn. "I'd better call Charlie before I fall asleep."

"Yeah," Dean sighs. "You do that. I'll go shower."

Katherine waits for the water to turn on before she dials him.