Authors Notes: Long hiatus, sorry. I was completely wrong about this update not taking too long to upload as I thought it would be in the prior chapter. Mostly just moving and starting college that delayed this. However, I'm pretty proud of how this chapter came out (admittedly a three part episode). Hope you enjoy. Feel free to leave a review afterwards!

"I can't stand to think my life is going so fast and I'm not really living it."
-Ernest Hemingway

When Sam and Kat got back from the movie theater, Dean was passed out in front of the television. A burger wrapper was left on the small table in the corner of the room. Kat grabbed a blanket from Deans bed, throwing it over him.

As she laid in bed next to Sam, she had a nagging feeling in the back of her head that encouraged her to have an existential crisis. While "Heaven" was planning on her having a kid with Dean, she knew it wouldn't happen. Dean was more of an annoying older brother now that she'd spent time with him. Then the fact that her feelings for Sam were stronger than the lack of any she had for Dean. It was difficult at times to process she had crossed over to a different universe that technically shouldn't be real. She had as well managed to alter some parts of this reality...
The sound of Sam's snoring brought her out of her thoughts. This was her life now. Being with the brothers; saving people, hunting things. She turned on her side, thankful the snoring had become faint.

Dearborn, Michigan

Kat closed the trunk abruptly. She swung her duffle bag over her shoulder as she followed the boys inside of the motel.

"Why are we even here again?" she sighed.

"Because some guy got crushed to death in his apartment," Dean responded.

"If you guys would just listen to me you'd know we need to go to some orchard outside of town," Kat chastised.

"Well with your psychic thing being unreliable at times..." Dean started.

"Can you guys just cool down?" Sam interrupted. "Kat's trying to help, and Dean you're making this way harder on all of us."

"Why? Because I don't wanna have to listen to some bullshit by her?" Dean snapped.

"Excuse me?" Kat challenged.

"You heard me. Half the time you don't tell us the shit we need in time or what you do tell us ends up with somebody getting fucked up," Dean said.

"Look, can we just work this job? Bobby will call us if anything comes up about the Leviathan," Sam said calmly.

Dean and Kat glared at each other before distracting themselves otherwise. Sam rolled his eyes, not wanting to get involved, and opened the door. The room was a sea foam green regurgitated color and the furniture had a dark brown theme to it. There was a claustrophobic feeling about it before Kat ran out the door. She slammed herself against the back of the door. It wasn't right. This wasn't right. There wasn't any way to avoid the feeling that she wasn't meant to be with the Winchesters, much less even alive...

She nearly fell backwards once the door opened. Her arm propped itself against Sam in order to balance herself before he held onto her.

"Are you sure you're okay, Kat?" he asked.

"Peachy," Kat said, pushing past him.

"Sure you are."

"You... you don't believe me."

"I really don't."

"Just shove off, okay?"

The harshness in her tone scared her. Sam saw her eyes widen in fear before she pushed past him and ran. He looked at her sadly as she sped down the stairwell. The door slamming behind her.

It was almost panic coursing through her. Her mind was racing and only stopped momentarily when she tripped down one of the stairs. She slammed into the wall trying to not loose her balance completely. Here she was... running. Running away from her problems. Really, none that were existent. Being here... being with Sam Winchester, of all people... and knowing it was essentially her job to protect the brothers, to help them with the cases. She should be dead. It hadn't ever really dawned on her that she should be. And she could feel her throat tighten at the information.

"Gabriel," she said softly.

There was the faint flutter of wings. She turned around and saw the archangel standing across the other side of the square floor in the stairwell.

"Didn't expect to get called," he shrugged. "You know, I can't believe it's still... what, 2011 right now?"

"How long have I been dead," Kat asked, coldly.

"Kat, you don't—."

"HOW LONG HAVE I BEEN DEAD?"

"Three years, give or take."

She leaned on the side of the wall, bringing her hand up to her mouth. Years. Years. It had barely been a year, maybe three months with the boys. In this universe.

"That can't be," Kat muttered.

"Kat..." Gabriel started.

"Don't, please don't. I'm just. I'M DEAD. I'm dead and I'm here and it feels wrong."

"You made your decision, Kat."

"I know. And I want out."

He looked at her confused before she yanked his hand to her throat.

"Kill me. Please," she pleaded, her voice cracking.
"Kat, if I do that-" Gabriel started.
"I can't fix Sam. I can't... I can't protect him."

She bit her lip trying to hold back tears.

"Please," she begged.

"How do you think he'll feel if you do that?" Gabriel questioned. "I would've thought you'd known that you can't just fix a person."

"Oh and bringing a dead person back to life isn't fixing?"

"That's not fixing Katrina!"

"I can't, Gabe! I can't! I can't take it here anymore!"

She felt herself fall to the floor as Gabriel vanished. The tears flooded her vision as she curled into a ball.

There were times, back in her old life, when she'd defend Sam Winchester in absolutely ridiculous arguments with other fans. She felt a shy smile slip on her face as she remembered a debate over which brother was the main character. To which it came down, to her at least, that Sam was the main character, or at least the more fan-centric character. Whereas Dean was the personification of the show. It surprised her as to how long she'd been dead. How much she had she missed? Did fans still have discourse over their shipping and general character analysis? Perhaps. She wasn't even sure if the show was still on air. Any forum in this universe... it seemed more tame if anything. Perhaps it was because only the first five seasons had been published in their book formatting. She could faintly remember feeling the covering of a Supernatural book back in her universe. At some point she had to get up. People did after all, use the stairs.

The walk back up felt more like a drunk maze. She stumbled, and had no desire to go back upstairs. She'd gotten herself into this mess because of Sam Winchester. She'd be damned if anything happened to him. The walk seemed longer than she would've liked. When she got back to the hotel room, it was empty. Sam had left a note on a desk saying they were going to investigate and that he hoped she was okay. It took her a moment to realize that she wasn't. Yet she had to be strong for everyone else because it was essentially up to her to save as many people as possible in this universe. The now crumbled up piece of paper fell out of her hand.

Sam and Dean had been running around town trying to find whatever it was that had caused the recent murders. Splitting up had seemed to be the best idea they could conjure up. Of course, Dean had wanted to bail on going to the AA where the victim had previously gone to which led the job falling onto Sam. He talked with the woman in charge of the meetings; Matt had been hung up on something recently before nearly relapsing before his death. His phone went off and he excused himself. A part of him was hoping it would've been Kat, and with a sigh he found it was simply just Dean.

"Did you find anything?" Sam asked.

"So Elizabeth Duren ended up being some chick he had made an advance order on flowers for," Dean said. "Got an address."

"Okay, should we drop by to figure out what her motives could be?"

"Sounds good. I'm close to you right now."

It didn't take Dean too long to pick Sam up. The address had led them to a cemetery to the brothers' surprise.

"So she's been dead for ten years?" Dean questioned.

"I can look her up back at the motel," Sam said.

They walked back to the impala, Sam's thoughts lingered on Kat. She had left the room abruptly earlier in the day and she had refused to talk to him about it. When they finally got back to the motel, Kat was sitting at the table with a smug look on her face as the laptop sat in front of her.

"So apparently because of my 'weird psychic thing' I'm not 'reliable,' I already looked up Elizabeth Duren," she stated. "She died roughly ten years ago after being hit by a car and was probably why Matt went sober."

"You weren't even there when I found out about her," Dean snapped. "Plus, we saw the grave. The ten years thing is old news."

She gave a confused shrug.

"So do we salt and burn?" Sam asked, looking at Dean.

"I'm pretty sure there's supposed to be a couple of more victims because of that farm," Kat sighed.

"Salt still in the car?" Dean questioned, ignoring Kat.

She glared at the older brother. Here she was, with the information the brothers would try to find for who knows how long, and giving them the leads, and they were just ignoring her! It felt like blood would pool from her hand with how tight her fist was clenched. Nervous, she flexed her hand; glancing at it there wasn't the faintest trace of even an indent on it.

"Do you want to come with us?" Sam asked her.

"No thanks, I'm good," Kat said flatly.

"C'mon Dean."

The brothers went to the cemetery; a normal salt and burn.

Kat had fallen asleep with Sam's arm wrapped around her. For some odd reason she had woken up earlier than she expected. When she lifted herself up, the clock said it was four in the morning. Annoyed, she lowered herself only to find her pillow too warm for comfort.

"Kat?" Sam mumbled.

"I'm here," she said softly.

"You've been acting funny."

"How?"

"You're cold. And you're frustrated at me and Dean."

"I'm just trying to help you guys."

"I'm sorry."

Her limbs felt detached from her as she moved herself closer to Sam. It was frustrating and uncomfortable to do so, but it was the only way she could make herself feel real in this world. Maybe it was the fact that it was four in the morning that deluded her judgment. The shirt she had worn to sleep was an old one Sam had given her. Yet everything felt like paper. She closed her eyes and tried to focus on the warmth Sam radiated next to her. Somehow she still felt cold.

Authors Notes: Stay safe. Don't give up.