"Definitely haunted," McKenzie said as soon as they were in the Impala.

"Crazy haunted," Sam agreed.

"Guess I'm hittin up some more research." McKenzie glanced back at the bar with an uneasy look. The panic stilled remained settled over her. She took a few deep breaths to try to calm the feeling, but it did very little to help.

"I'll drop you both at the motel and go pick up some grub. I'm starving," Dean chimed in as the car paused at a red light.

"Gee, shocking." Sam's voice oozed sarcasm.

"Well, I guess no food for you then," Dean mocked.

McKenzie, however, had tuned out. She was too busy staring at a figure at the street corner. A figure who was grinning and waving at her through the window.

"How did we miss this?" Sam lamented. "A body found at the bar a decade ago?"

McKenzie struggled to focus, her mind reeling back to an hour before when she'd witnessed her past coming back to haunt her.

"What?" she said weakly.

"A body… at the bar?" Sam repeated. "You okay?"

"Yeah, yeah. I'm fine."

He eyed her but continued, "I guess it's because they changed their name shortly after that. Probably too much bad press."

"Makes sense," McKenzie answered, only paying half attention.

A sudden knock at the door startled her, but Sam simply stood and crossed to the door, looking out the peephole.

"You forget the key again?" Sam opened the door for Dean.

Dean shrugged. "Maybe."

McKenzie gasped, glimpsing the same man standing behind Dean in the door.

"Quick! Shut the door!" She jumped from the bed, tossing her iPad onto the comforter.

"What? Why?" Dean almost leapt into the room, looking around him.

McKenzie shoved past them and slammed the door closed.

"McKenzie, what's wrong?" Sam peeked out through the peephole again. "No one's there."

She moved around Sam and looked out of the peephole. He stood there, grinning and then winked as if knowing she was looking at him.

"What are you talking about? He's literally right outside the door." McKenzie was sure she sounded hysterical, but at the moment she didn't care.

Sam and Dean shared a glance, and Sam moved to take McKenzie's arm. "McKenzie, no one is outside. Come on, let's look together…"

"NO!" She shoved him away and barricaded the door with her body.

"Okay, okay, we don't have to look outside. Why don't we look the chain and go over to the bed?" Sam led her away as Dean chained the door.

"Who is it that's out there?" Dean asked.

McKenzie lowered herself slowly to the bed, focusing on the hem of her shirt. "His name is Clay."

"Okay. And who is Clay?" Sam prodded.

She could feel the panic striking at her. Her voice was quiet. "My ex."

Though she was playing with her shirt, she knew Dean and Sam were exchanging silent expressions.

"McKenzie-" Sam started.

"I don't wanna talk about it." She interrupted.

"Well, hate to break it to ya, sweetheart, but we can't help if we don't know what we're looking at here." Dean sounded annoyed, but McKenzie didn't quite care.

"It's none of your fucking business, Winchester," McKenzie snapped. But as she spoke she was already beginning to see the images in her head. The bruises. Clay's hands coming at her. The blood.

She breathed deeply, trying to push the memories away.

"Dean, do you think this has something to do with the murders?" Sam's voice was quiet, but McKenzie still heard him.

"How on earth could this be related? My ex is here. That has nothing to do with the murders." McKenzie closed her eyes for a moment, but quickly forced them open after the images grew worse.

"Um, McKenzie… Clay isn't really outside. No one was there." Sam's voice was gentle.

McKenzie tried to absorb the information. "He…wasn't? But…but I saw him! I saw him earlier too, right after we left the bar!"

"Sounds about right then." Dean nodded.

"This kind of reminds me of that time you got the ghost sickness. Except instead of being afraid of everything, they just think their worst fear is coming after them." Sam considered aloud.

"Yeah, and their worst fear is actually killing them," said Dean, looking at a trembling McKenzie.

"So the girl who was found dead at the bar is infecting them. What do the autopsy reports say?" Dean asked, leaning over the reports they'd gotten after visiting the local station in their FBI gear.

"Looks like she was choked to death, but according to this she was beaten up pretty badly beforehand."

"And they never caught her killer according to this. They suspected the owner, some guy named Jeff Dawes."

"I already looked him up. He's been dead for about 8 years." Sam browsed through the file, checking to see if he missed anything. "Hey, look at this!"

Dean took the paper from Sam and read. "Interviewed bartender… Burt? So our current owner was the bartender back then. Coincidence?"

"Doubtful," Sam answered. He looked over at McKenzie, who'd taken a valium from her bag and was now sleeping, though somewhat restlessly.

She whimpered in her sleep and thrashed a bit before settling down.

"I say one of us goes to reinterview our friend Burt, while the other stays here with McKenzie." Sam suggested.

Dean nodded and stood. "I got Burt."

Sam watched McKenzie start to thrash around again, mumbling incoherently. He considered whether it would be better to wake her up or let her sleep. They still weren't sure what exactly was killing from the club, so it was impossible to know if she'd be safer asleep or awake. Or if it really mattered either way.

Her mumbling grew louder, and Sam was able to make out some of what she said.

"Sorry…please." McKenzie cried out in her sleep, which was enough to move Sam over to her.

"McKenzie, wake up!" Sam shook her gently, trying not to startle her.

"I'm sorry!" McKenzie shouted, scrambling away from Sam towards the end of the bed. She curled into a ball, "Please not again. I'm sorry. Just…please." Her sobs overtook her as the begging became nonsensical.

"McKenzie. McKenzie!" Sam moved forward on the bed and reached out to her, but she smacked his hand away. "McKenzie, it's Sam. You're safe! It's okay!"

McKenzie quieted, still crying, and looked up with confused eyes. "Sam?"

"Yeah, just…Sam."

She sat up, breathing deeply and wiping tears from her cheeks.

"Your ex… that you've been seeing…" Sam paused. "Is that who you're dreaming about?"

There was silence for a long while before she nodded.

"He's your biggest fear?" Sam asked.

He didn't need her to answer. It was already obvious.

But what wasn't as obvious was the hand-shaped bruise that was appearing on McKenzie's arm.