"We're Troy's uncles—I'm Dean, this is Sammy. This is my girlfriend, Kat." For emphasis, Dean threw his arm over Katherine's shoulders and tugged the girl closer to him. She plastered a smile on her face rather quickly, an arm winding around his back. Sam glared at the mention of the old nickname, and Katherine threw him a sympathetic smile. He smiled himself and shook his head.

"He never mentioned you to me," Amy says, starting up the street with a quick suspicious glance over the Winchesters. 

"Well, that's Troy, I guess," Dean tells her. "We're up in Modesto—"

"So we're looking for him too," Sam cuts in, moving in front of Dean and Katherine to wedge himself before Amy. "And we're kind of asking around." Katherine's eyes settle on an approaching girl, wearing an expression of concern. "Would you mind if we asked a couple of questions?"

"Are you all right?" The approaching girl asks.

"Yeah," Amy says to her. Then she looks to the three hunters and nods. "This is my friend Amber. We can go in here," he says, gesturing to the door beside them. Dean leads Katherine to the door after Amy and her friend, dropping his arm from her shoulders. She tauntingly rolls her shoulders at the lack of weight, smiling over her shoulder a little. and he rolls his eyes.

The group orders coffee for themselves.

"When is the last you heard from Troy?" Sam asks.

"He was driving," Amy answers, tearing open a small container of creamer. "He said he'd call right back, but...he never did." She stirs the beverage briefly before wrapping both hands around the mug.

"Did he say anything strange or out of the ordinary?"

"No," the redhead says, shaking her head. "Nothing that I can remember."

"Here's the deal, ladies," Dean says. "The way Troy disappeared—something ain't right. So if you've heard anything..."

The two girls opposite the hunters glance to each other. "What?" Katherine asks.

"Well, it's just..." Amber shrugs. "With all these guys going missing, people talk."

"What do they talk about?" The three hunters chorus. Katherine's lip purse, almost cracking a grin, but she stays focused on the friend.

Amber looks to her hands, lips parted, as if she's trying to find the words. "It's kind of...like a local legend," she describes, eyes lifting to the men. "This one girl, she got murdered out on Centennial, like, decades ago. Well supposedly, she's still out there. She hitchhikes, and whoever picks her up...well, they disappear forever." 

"So you think that's what could have happened to Troy?" Sam asks. The two girls shrug. 

"Thanks for your help," Dean says, moving to stand, and Katherine follows after him. "We'll be in touch if we find something."

"Girl murdered on the highway," Katherine hums, jamming her hands into her pockets as she walks up the street with the Winchesters. "Anyone know where a directory is?"

"The highway is that-a-way," Dean says, pointing east.

"No, I need to find a library." 

"I think I saw one just around the block," Sam volunteers. Katherine beams and slides into the backseat of the Impala, waiting for Dean to turn the key in the ignition.

The hunters settle at the only computer available in the back, and Dean being the child he is races the other two to the computer without them knowing it. 

Katherine pulls a chair up beside Dean and sits down with crossed arms, Sam mimicking her posture. 

One incorrect search attempt, fine. Two, her skin was starting to itch. Three, she reached over to take over the keyboard. "Let me try," she begins.

"I'm fine," Dean says, flicking Katherine's hand.

She grits her teeth together, and Dean's fingers go to work on the keyboard. "Sam, do you hear that?"

"What?"

"The sound of failure," she quips, shoving Dean's rolling chair from the computer. "I thought your name was Winchester." Sam laughs and Dean glowers as Katherine smirks, settling in front of the computer. "So, angry spirits are born out of violent deaths," Katherine begins, sweeping her long hair over her shoulder. The brothers catch a whiff of her conditioner, like oranges and vanilla and something earthier...warmer. Cinnamon. 

"Yeah," Dean grumpily replies.

"Well maybe it's not a murder," Katherine hums, turning her long, slender fingers to the keyboard. Sam catches an eyeful of the petite diamond ring on her finger, and he's instantly puzzled. Her eyebrows raises as she replaces "murder" with "suicide" in Dean's search, and she hits "enter" with her smallest finger. 

One search result produced.

Katherine clicks on it and waits patiently for the article to load. "Suicide on Centennial."

"April 24, 1981," Sam reads.

"Constance Welch, twenty-four years old," Katherine hums, eyes scanning the document. "Jumped off of Sylvania bridge and drowned in the river. She's cute," the teenager sadly murmurs, glancing at the woman's photo.

"Would it be any more sad if she was ugly?" Sam asks. Katherine snorts. 

"Shut up."

"Does it say why she did it?" Dean asks.

"Yes," Sam answers, index finger moving to the screen to point to where he's reading. "An hour before they found her, she called 911. Her two little kids were in the bathtub—she left them alone for a minute and when she comes back, they aren't breathing. They both die."

"'Our babies were gone and Constance just couldn't bear it,'" Katherine murmurs, reading the caption underneath the photograph. "That's her husband, Joseph." Katherine frowns, leaning back in her chair, and tilts her head a little. "That bridge look familiar to you guys?"

"Yup," Dean says, scooting his chair back. "Let's go."

Katherine closes out of the browser and quickly follows after Dean, tugging her jacket on over her tank top. "Katherine?" Sam asks. The blonde turns to him curiously, feathery fringe hanging just below her brow. "You're, uh...you're engaged?"

She smiles a little. "Oh, no. No, this was my mom's."

"Oh," Sam chuckles.

Katherine smirks. "Relieved?" She questions.

"For you," Sam says. "I have a girlfriend."

Instantly, Katherine's smile is warmer, less flirty, more comforting. "Lucky girl," she sincerely hums. 

"What about you?" Sam asks. "No fiancé, but a lucky guy?"

Unwilling to get into such sticky business, Katherine grins and replies, "Yo ho, yo ho, a hunter's life for me." Sam laughs, holding the door open for her as she ducks out into the sunset.

Sam was beginning to like the younger girl.

Katherine sits in the backseat, staring down at her cell screen, anxiously tapping it against her leg. 

Her father hasn't called in over a month, and her roommate hasn't called since she left New Haven.

"Kat." Her gaze snaps up, and she finds herself enveloped in darkness, headlights from the Impala beaming down the bridge they were at earlier in the afternoon. "You comin' or what?" Dean asks, leaning into the car, and plucks his keys from the ignition. Katherine tucks her phone into her back pocket and quickly moves after the eldest Winchester. "So this is where Constance took the swan dive," he muses, gazing down at the rushing black river.

"You think your dad would've been here?" Katherine asks.

"Well he's chasing the same story, and we're chasing him," Dean says, gently hitting the heel of his palm against the rail, and moves back. Katherine doesn't venture to the side. 

"So now what?" Sam asks. 

"We keep digging until we find him," Dean replies, making his way down the bridge. Katherine glances back to the car, wondering why they aren't moving that-a-way, but follows after the brothers. There's a weird sensation in the air...like they're being watched. It makes the hair on the back of her neck stand up. "It might take a while."

"Dean," Sam sighs. "I told you, I've gotta get back by—"

"By Monday," Dean interrupts, turning around with a nod. "Riiight, the interview. I forgot. You're really serious about this, aren't you?" His gaze flits to Katherine. The curious girl is doing something even more curious, or perhaps distracting herself by staring up at the top of the bridge. She seems a little more interested in the architecture than someone would consider usual, though. "You think you're just gonna become some lawyer—"

"Guys?" Katherine asks, brows furrowed, in a voice laced with concern.

"—marry your girl?" 

"Maybe," Sam says, indignantly jutting his chin out. "Why not?"

"Does Jessica know the truth about you? Does she know about the things you've done?"

"Guys," Katherine repeats, staring down at her boots. Something isn't right—it doesn't sit in her bones well.

Something is here, on the bridge.

"No, and she's not ever going to know."

"Well that's healthy," Dean scoffs. "You can pretend all you want, Sammy, but you're gonna have to face who you really are—"

"Guys," Katherine repeats, but they continue in their squabble. Suddenly, she's very nauseous, and her stomach flips as she looks down to her feet. She feels as though the bridge will break at any second, though it's highly unlikely. "Oh..." Katherine swallows, turning her face up to the sky. Her attention is stolen as Dean slams Sam up into a support beam.

"Don't talk about her like that," Dean whispers. 

Sadness. Grief.

Katherine moves a cautious boot over one wooden plank and wonders why in the hell people continue to build wooden bridges if there's a concrete alternative. She turns and lets out a shaky audible breath, almost a gasp. Her body freezes as she stares at a young woman standing on the edge of the bridge. 

She wears a short white dress, billowing with the gentle wind. Her features are mostly hidden, but her hair is long and dark, and she's staring at Katherine as she tilts forward and falls.

Katherine rushes to the side of the bridge, her vision tunneling and brain doing a strange readjustment as she stares down at the rushing water. Her throat is tight and she feels like she's just gotten off a rollercoaster.

The engine of the Impala turns over and Katherine freezes once more, this time in fear. The headlights illuminate the wooden planks beneath the toes of her boots, and both brothers look up the bridge at the car, then over at Katherine.

She most definitely didn't start the car.

"What the..."

"Who's driving your car?" Sam asks. Dean holds up his keys, a silent response, and the car lurches forward. "Go. Dean? Go, run!"

"Katherine!" Dean shouts, and the blonde shuffles for a moment before turning on her heel and sprinting forward. 

She's fast.

The car is faster. 

Dean tugs Katherine's jacket to the side and the three hunters jump. Katherine's heart thrashes against her ribs and her breath is stolen from her lungs. Quickly, her arms shoot out and latch onto the nearest support beam Her jacket doesn't have a good texture for gripping, and she slips before she wraps her legs around the nearest object. 

"Katherine?" Sam asks nearby. She doesn't open her eyes. He notices her lips moving quickly, almost wordlessly, eyes squeezed tight. "Dean?!" He looks around and then down upon hearing a quiet cry from the ground. Dean hauls himself from the water, covered in mud. "Dean, are you all right?!"

"Super," Dean calls up, resting on his back with a grunt. 

Sam laughs and cautiously hoists himself over the edge of the bridge once the car shuts off. "Katherine?" Sam asks. "Katherine, take my hand." Katherine opens one eye, her chest moving too quickly to be normal, or safe. If she keeps hyperventilating, she's going to pass out and plummet. Sam's eyes blow wide with realization. "Hey, hey, hey, you're all right," he soothes, moving closer to her. "Just take my hand—"

"I'm gonna slip," she whimpers, shaking her head. 

"I've got you." Sam reaches forward and slides his hand down her forearm, long fingers wrapping around her elbow. "Grab onto the rail." She stretches forward but shakes her head again, recoiling into the support beam. "Katherine, c'mon." He tugs her forward a bit and her fingers shakily wrap around the rail. "Now give me your other hand." Her eyes are wide, almost offended, but most of all terrorized. "I've got you," Sam reassures her with a nod. Katherine swallows hard and sits for a moment, contemplating how to best go about this. "Try putting your foot up here first," he suggests. 

Katherine lets out a shaky breath and tentatively reaches forward with the toe of her left boot, situating it between the posts of the bridge. 

"Good," Sam coaxes. "Now give me your other hand. Don't worry, I'm not gonna let you fall." Katherine, feeling heavy and drugged, quickly reaches out to Sam, and he grips her forearm tight, pulling her flush against the rail. "Good. Other foot?" Katherine slowly looks down to find her foot, figure out her placement—she didn't mean to look at the water. "No, no, no!"

"What if I fall?" Her voice is small and panicked.

"You won't," he promises. "Come on." His hands carefully move down to Katherine's waist—he times his movement perfectly. Just as she reaches forward with her other foot, Sam yanks her over the rail and onto the bridge. She lets out a breath, gripping his jacket and moving as far from the rail as she can. "You're all right," Sam tells her, rubbing her shoulder blades. "See? We're fine." She quickly nods, trembling fingers not slackening in their grip on his clothes.

"Dean," Katherine shakily murmurs, glancing around. "Where's Dean?"

Sam looks over the edge. "He's coming up."

"He fell?" Katherine squawks.

"Jumped," Sam corrects with a light shrug. "You're afraid of heights?"

"What are you afraid of?" Katherine inquires instead of answering his question. 

Not many of her friends were fearful of heights. They often made light of it, and just a few months ago, they laughed when she couldn't look over the edge of Brooklyn Bridge.

"Clowns," Sam honestly answers.

"Really?" He nods, and she releases a tremoring chuckle. "My sister was afraid of clowns," she volunteers.

Sam's brain doesn't quite latch onto was. 

Dean is covered in mud, hair slicked down onto his head. He doesn't say anything, just checks the interior of the car and under the hood.

"Is the car all right?" Sam asks.

"Yeah," Dean sighs, shutting the hood. "Whatever she did to it, it seems all right now. That Constance chick—what a bitch!" Katherine can't take Dean seriously, all ruffled feathers and covered in sewage.

"Well she doesn't want us digging around, that's for sure," Sam says. Dean lets out a heavy sigh, sitting on the edge of the car. Sam sits beside him. "So where's the trail go from here, genius?"

"Can we discuss it while we're not standing on wood that could have us freefalling at any second?" Katherine asks, careful to keep her gaze eye-level. Dean looks at her curiously. Her arms are primly held behind her back, hair disheveled, expression innocently inquiring, and voice too-tight yet amicable.

"You smell like a toilet," Sam says, leaning away from Dean. Katherine lets out a quiet giggle, and Sam smiles. It's a step up from her hyperventilating and nervous lip-biting. Several steps, actually. Katherine holds her hand out, taking one step closer to Dean. 

"What?" He asks.

"I need to get into the trunk," she says, leaning away from him. Dean sighs, digging into his jeans pocket, and drops the wet keys into her palm. She moves to the trunk and grabs whatever cloth she can find and rests it on the driver's side of the Impala.

Once they're back within town limits, the three go to the first motel they find. Katherine waits outside, staring at her phone, scanning through her voice messages. Sam and Dean hurry from the office, though, and Katherine follows after them like an alert puppy. "Guys?" She asks.

"Our dad was here," Sam says. 

"Whoa—seriously?" He nods. "When?"

"Dunno, but he bought out a room for the whole month—room ten."

"You think he could still be here?" Katherine wonders.

"Don't know that either," Sam says. "Damn—I don't have a lock pick."

"I've got one in the car," Dean volunteers.

Katherine rolls her eyes and pulls a pin from her hair before straightening it out; her teeth grip the rubber end of the pin and she pulls it off easily. The boys watch as she crouches before the door, works the kinks from the metal, and wriggles the pin into the doorjamb with relative ease. Dean turns around to keep watch. "You should know how to pick a lock with anything, you dependent sons 'a bitches." She pushes the door open in record time and peers inside before stepping in, Sam after her. Sam grips Dean's shoulder and yanks him inside. 

The room is in a messy state; a suitcase's contents are littered about the room, maps and pictures pinned to the wall with pushpins, some string looped around them. Salt line, old takeout food. 

"Salt," Katherine says, pointing to the floor.

"Cat's eye shells," Sam adds.

Katherine frowns. "Oldie but a goodie," she muses. "He was trying to keep something out."

"Centennial highway victims," Dean says from the other side of the room, staring up at one of the plastered walls. "I don't get it. Different men, different jobs, age, ethnicities..." Katherine watches Sam cross to the other side of the room. "What do these guys have in common? There's always a connection, right?"

Katherine looks down to her toes, frowning as she thinks back to just an hour ago. "Constance was wearing white," she murmurs. Dean turns to look at her, perplexed. "She's a woman in white."

"Dad figured it out, too," Sam says, and the other two turn to him. "He found the same article we did."

"You sly dogs," Dean muses with a smile. He's back to business quickly. "So Dad would've found her corpse and torched it."

"She might have another weakness," Katherine says, shaking her head. 

"No, Dad would want to dig her up," Dean counters, moving to Sam. "He would've made sure. Does it say where she's buried?"

Katherine blinks harshly, stepping away from Dean. "Well wherever we're going, you aren't going like that. You smell like a corpse—might mistake you and light up the wrong set of bones." 

Dean's voice is dry. "Ha." Katherine smirks, holding her hands behind her back. 

"It doesn't say where she is," Sam says.

"So we ask her husband," Katherine chirps.

Sam nods. "If I were Dad, that's what I would do...if he's still alive."

"Why don't you guys see if you can find an address?" Dean suggests. "I'm gonna get cleaned up." He turns to Katherine. "Wanna help?"

She laughs, high and surprised. Dean shrugs, and the second the bathroom door shuts, Katherine and Sam turn to each other with wide eyes. "Is he always like that?"

"Pretty much," Sam chuckles. "I take it you haven't experienced it."

"No," she says, shrugging out of her jacket.

"Hmm."

Katherine waits, but Sam doesn't elaborate. She raises her eyebrows at him, and Sam shrugs.

"You're exactly his type. Young, pretty."

"I'm flattered," Katherine flatly hums. 

"Maybe because he brought you on for work," Sam continues to wonder aloud. Dean was always good about that, now that he thought about it. 

"He's called me annoying a couple of times," Katherine says, shifting her weight with a pensive expression, then she grins. "Maybe he's warming up to me." Sam laughs. He watches the way the tendons in her neck shift as she turns her neck, the velvet choker delicately clutching around the skin of her jugular. He catches sight of a daintier silver chain underneath it, hidden,  but doesn't ask about it. 

Katherine turns, shoving her hands deep into her pockets, and tilts her head a bit. A small smile tugs at her lips as she crosses over to the board and she plucks an old photograph from the side before holding it out to Sam. 

Katherine inspects John's handiwork of the room, eyes on the research but mind with her father. She should've heard from him by now. 

But if they're together...

She pulls her phone out of her bag and stares down at the screen before moving to her voicemail box. Nothing. She presses "1" and holds her phone to her ear, eyes moving back to John's work.

We're sorry. The number you have dialed is not in service. 

Katherine stares at her phone for a moment before she snaps it shut and stares at the wall with a furrowed brow.

"Everything all right?" Sam asks.

"Yeah," Katherine chirps, turning to look for a spot to rest. She sighs again and collapses back onto the bed before curling into a ball. "I'm just gonna take a nap while Princess goes through his preening ritual." Sam chuckles. 

"So you've experienced it?"

"Experienced? Man, my ass was chewed out," Katherine hums with a smile. "He said he didn't have enough 'bathroom time.' He's such a primper." Sam laughs quietly, and after a few minutes, Katherine drifts into a light snooze.

Just as Dean is emerging from the bathroom, Sam is listening to a message left by Jessica from a few hours earlier. 

"Dude, I'm starving," Dean bursts, running a hand through his hair. "I'm gonna grab something from that diner down the street." He frowns, gazing at a curled-up Katherine. "Man, that girl can sleep. You want anything?"

"No," Sam says. 

Dean nudges Katherine's hip. She quickly reaches out, long fingers wrapping around his wrist like a vice, and he winces. "You're getting grabby," she accuses, sitting up with a sleepy daze in her blue eyes. Then she yawns. "I would love some food." 

Dean gestures to the door with his free hand; she releases him, grabs her jacket, and starts outside with the eldest Winchester. 

"Bacon or sausage?" Katherine inquires.

"What?"

"I don't know what I—" She stops, eyes scanning over the police car parked nearby, before they settle on the old man pointing in their direction, talking to two officers. "Aw, hell." She turns Dean around and he quickly pulls his phone out, dialing Sam.

"What?" The younger brother asks.

"Dude, Five-O. Take off."

"What about you guys?"

"They kind of spotted us. Go find Dad."

Katherine's insides tense as she glances over her shoulder—the two officers are just a few yards away. She puts on her best winning smile and turns to face them fully. "Officers," she greets.

"Where's your partner?" It's the same man from the scene yesterday—Jaffe. Judging by the hardness in his dark eyes, he's not gonna fall for Katherine's charm twice.

Katherine points to Dean, and Dean points to Katherine. Jaffe gestures to the side, and the second officer moves towards the room. Katherine's poker face is more on point than Dean's. "So, fake US Marshalls, fake credit card...you got anything that's real?"

He's looking at Dean, but Katherine pipes up. "My boobs." Dean can barely contain a snort. "Hey!" She snaps at the officer. "Eyes up here, bud." She gestures to her blue eyes with a set brow. The officer reaches forward, locking her wrist in a cuff, and tuns her around quickly, pinning her to the hood of a car she didn't realize she was near.

She lets out a grunt as the other cuff is locked. "You have the right to remain silent—"

"Hey!"

"No," Katherine warns, shooting Dean a warning look.

"—anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law."

Dean is cuffed by the other guy, and the both of them are sat in the back of the cruiser with pursed lips. "Ever been arrested before?" Dean murmurs.

Katherine smirks, resting her head back. "Don't worry your pretty little head, Hilts," she softly purrs. 

Dean smiles and turns to gaze out of the window.