Moving from small town Iowa to small town Wyoming was not exactly what Kat would call an upgrade. Still, it could have been worse. The motel they'd booked was actually pretty nice—a collection of tiny suites rather than the by-the-hour variety she was growing used to. No mysterious stains, no scuttling in the walls, and she even got a kitchenette and free WiFi. It made her morning of redundant research a little more bearable knowing she didn't have to go round the block every time she wanted a cup of coffee.
She didn't have much to show for it. The longer she searched, the more certain she was that there was nothing about this case to find online. There was a case for sure—way too many coincidences for her taste. Sure, occasionally you'd see a fluff piece on the news about someone who beat cancer, or a hero who recovered from a terminal injury. But both in the same week? In the same town?
The problem was, no one had any real explanations. All she could find online were celebratory articles and conspiracy blogs, which offered her all of two options. A second chance from God, or aliens.
Kat wasn't about to put on a tin foil hat. They knew angels could resurrect people, of course. But with Dean, he'd had a purpose. He was a hunter who could make himself useful. She couldn't imagine what use God could have for a low-level accountant with a gambling problem, or a retired math teacher.
A knock on the door broke her train of thought. Kat rolled off her bed, peeking through the door before letting the Winchesters inside.
"How'd the interviews go?"
"Awkward as you'd expect," said Dean. He invited himself to sit in her desk chair and kicked his feet up. "Think we missed the window where retelling the story's still exciting. You got any coffee?"
"Not a waitress," said Kat, collapsing back to her bed.
"Ah, come on. We were the ones doing the work all morning."
"Yeah? What've you got to show for it?"
Dean stuck his tongue out at her, choosing instead to fiddle with the brochures on the desk.
"That's what I thought."
"Neither of the guys had much to say," said Sam, hands on his hips. "Shooting victim thinks he was a bad dad who got a second chance from God…"
"Yeah, heard that before."
"And the cancer survivor? He was clinically dead. His wife pulled the plug, and now he's taking her out for their twentieth anniversary."
"Mazel," Kat snorted. "And neither of them mentioned getting visits from angels? No hand-shaped tattoos or thoughts on the upcoming apocalypse?"
"Nope. Honestly, they didn't seem to put much thought into it. Guess you don't look a gift horse in the mouth, right?"
Kat nodded in agreement, while Dean sighed.
"Alright, so assuming I'm still the only one with a get-out-of-Hell-free card—I mean, what does that leave us with? Neither of these dudes sound like they made a deal, neither of them responded to any kind of demonic tests. If I have to deal with one more made-up-monster before New Year's, I'm out, man."
"Trust me, I'm with you," Sam agreed. "What about you, Kat? Found anyone dying around here?"
"Nope," she answered, leaning back against her headboard. "Not since Cole Griffith, anyway. He was just a sick little kid. Died about ten days ago. After that the obituaries go blank."
Dean slow clapped smugly. Kat didn't have the energy to jump up and beat him.
"It was a lot of different newspapers to go through, alright?" she defended. "I've also got his burial information and his mom's address. We can pay her a visit, if you like. I just don't see what good it's gonna do. With all these miracles going around, she's probably in the worst possible state of mind."
"No kidding," Sam agreed. "She loses her kid and all the sudden everyone's getting handed miracles left and right? I'd be pissed."
"You know, maybe that's all it is," said Dean with a shrug. "Not like we have much else to go on. Maybe it is what the people say it is."
"Wow," said Kat in disbelief. "Really did not expect that take from you. That's more Sam's deal, isn't it?"
"Miracles?" scoffed Sam. "Our lives suck, and everything's always come at a price. In our experience, when do miracles just happen?"
Kat held up her hands, and Dean crossed the room to pour himself a cup of coffee.
"Well, there's no deals," he offered. "There's uh, no skeevy faith healers. I mean, these souls just ain't getting dragged into the light."
"Maybe cause there's no one around to carry them," Sam suggested.
Dean looked up from his coffee in confusion. "What do you mean?"
"Well, grim reapers, that's what they do, right? Schlep souls? So if Death ain't in town…"
"Then nobody's dying," Dean finished.
Kat furrowed her brow, looking between them. "Sorry, I think I missed something here. Are we talking about grim reapers as factual entities or as a hypothetical solution?"
"Uh, both, I guess," said Sam. He took the vacant seat at the desk and scratched the back of his head. "We've run into reapers before. A couple of times, actually."
"Not surprising with your track records."
"Funny. They're…well they're not angels exactly, but they're not demons either. They're just entities that appear to parted souls. Help ferry them onto the afterlife."
"Dodgy," said Dean grumpily. "Get real shifty when you start asking questions."
"Guess that comes with the territory," said Kat. "What's behind the veil is meant to stay there."
"Oh, how very poetic of you."
She flipped him off and turned back to Sam.
"So how do these things operate? What do they look like? Are we talking skull and scythe or Dead Like Me?"
Sam waffled, while Dean's gaze turned curious.
"What, you're making references now? Since when do you know anything about the Fuller-verse?"
"Hey, I know some things, alright? I watch TV."
"Jess used to watch it," Sam outed with a smirk. "I promise, it's not the same though. Reapers are the kind of thing that only exist beyond the veil. To see them you have to be on a different plane."
"So, dead," Kat surmised.
"Usually," he agreed. "Dean got a pretty close look a few years ago when he only had one foot in the grave. And there are certain spells and psychic tricks."
"Okay. So hypothetically, if a reaper was missing, the only way we could tell would be lack of death, right?"
"I guess. I mean, I don't know how the bodies are healing, but it's definitely an option."
"So what?" Dean asked skeptically. "The local reaper's on strike? Playing the back nine? I don't know, man."
"Well, then, let's ask somebody who might," said Sam.
"Ha. Last I checked, Huggy Bear ain't available."
"No, dude—the kid."
Sam pointed to Kat's laptop, and she furrowed her brow.
"The kid?" she asked. "Cole? Sam, I told you, he's been dead for over a week."
"Exactly. Look, if he was the last person to die around here, then maybe he's seen something. We should talk to him."
Dean chuckled into his coffee. "I love how matter-of-fact you are about that. Huh. Strange lives."
"Hey," growled Kat, waving to get Sam's attention. "Skipped something again. How do you plan on talking to a dead kid? I don't have any evidence that he's a ghost or anything."
"There are one or two things we can try," he said precariously. "Ways to contact a spirit without inviting it to the other side."
Kat blinked at him. She threw her hands up and jumped off of the bed.
"Ha ha, nope! Nope! Hell no! Fuck that!"
"Woah, chillax, Barbie," said Dean. He held out a hand as if she were some kind of wild horse. "What're you so up in arms about?"
"Sorry, 'contact a spirit without inviting it to the other side?' I know what that is. That's a Ouija board and I'm not fucking touching it."
"You do realize you hunt ghosts and demons for a living, right?"
"That doesn't mean I'm gonna invite them into my life!"
"Please," Dean laughed. "Ouija boards are toys, okay? They're not real. They're made by Hasbro for God's sake."
"Dean," Sam interrupted, looking incredulous. "We used a Ouija board. When you were dead, remember? That was how I talked to you at the hospital. Spirit boards work as well as anything else."
Kat brandished a victorious finger at him and rounded back on Dean.
"I am not going to be the dumb blonde that gets killed at the start of the movie. If you idiots want to mess around with shit like that, be my guest. I'm not doing it."
"It's not a spirit board," said Sam, in what was probably an attempt to soothe her. "It's more of a summoning spell for restless spirits. Forces them out of hiding."
That did not sound particularly promising. But it seemed she was the only one with concerns.
"Relax, Kat," said Dean, draining the rest of his coffee. "It's not our first rodeo. Though I guess some of us have more experience with witchcraft than others."
His eyes conspicuously skipped Sam as he looked around the room. Sam scoffed and prepared to argue, but Kat had already grabbed her purse.
"Yeah, whatever. Sam, practice your Latin and text me the stupid shopping list. I'll meet you guys back here later."
"Fine," Sam snapped.
Dean narrowed his eyes at her as she fumbled furiously with her keys. "What, now you're so eager to get the jump on Casper?"
"I'm eager to get the fuck away from you. Don't screw up my room."
With that, she stormed out into the hallway and slammed the door behind her.
Sam's grocery list was about as bad as Kat could've guessed. Sage, candles, blood, copper bowls, dirt of the gravesite. He could've pulled it from the most unoriginal horror movie and Kat wouldn't have known the difference. But she didn't mind. If she could get away from the Winchesters for the afternoon, she was down. Even if that meant going to eight different home décor stores before she could find a set of five matching candles in white. What was with people and candles during the holidays?
Even after she'd collected everything on her hellish scavenger hunt, she didn't feel ready to head back to the motel. So she just kept driving. She drove in circles and listened to her music until her stomach's grumbling was impossible to ignore. Then she stopped at a diner for her own dinner. She answered emails on her laptop, checked the gym's website for updates, sent a quick text to Jo. Then she jumped in the car and started driving the circuit again.
But she couldn't avoid the problem forever. Dean was starting to text her incessantly, wondering where all their spell supplies were, or if she was too incompetent to go shopping by herself. Ordering the shit on Amazon would have been faster. For that crack, she left the paper bag outside their motel door and retreated to her own room. Maybe she couldn't avoid her problems forever, but she could put them off until the last possible moment, anyway.
No one came to get her when it was time. Sam just sent her a text that they were ready, and the Impala was gone by the time she hit the parking lot. It was nice to know the avoidance was mutual.
Kat only caught up at the graveyard, parking behind them on the curb. Still, she was reluctant to get out of the car. She watched as the boys rummaged around in their trunk. It was a relief not grabbing the shovels—she hated digging with a passion—but the empty yard still gave her the creeps.
"I'm still not sure about this," said Kat, finally forcing herself out of the car.
It wasn't a surprise that Dean rolled his eyes.
"Relax. We're not gonna let you become Busty Coed Number Three. Besides, the kid was like ten, right? How much damage could he do?"
"Um, a lot." She glanced around the yard again, her arms winding tightly around her torso. "I hate creepy, dead kids. I'm just saying—you know, usually we're sending spirits back to where they came from. I'm not crazy about summoning one here."
"So what?" asked Sam flatly. "You're not coming?"
"…is that an option?"
Dean snorted, slamming the driver's door shut with a smug smile.
"Sweetheart, if you wanted to sit out the ritual, maybe you should've actually done some work this morning. You coulda covered one of the interviews, gone to hospital and talked to that guy and his wife. You coulda pretended to be a nurse again! Certainly my preference for coupon use."
"Dean, what are you talking about?"
"You know, going undercover. The whole dodgeball deal. Redeem for one costume? We could have been squared up."
Kat blinked at him, a slow smile growing over her face. "Dude, we are squared up."
It was immensely satisfying to watch his joy evaporate.
"What? Since when?"
"Since the siren case," she said with a shrug. "I had to pose as a stripper to get into the Honey Wagon while you were taking shots with Munroe. Costume, fake name, the works."
"No you didn't," he argued. "No, no, there—there was no costume!"
"Yes, there was. I had my shirt all tied up. Tits out, bra exposed. It was the only way they'd let me in. Something I had to repeat, by the way, when you got all lovesick and let Nick suggest I had to go undercover."
"Woah! Hold on, okay—first of all, I was not lovesick. Second, you definitely did not have your…" He spluttered, gesturing to her own chest and then his own. "…there was no…I—I would have remembered that."
"Doesn't matter. It happened. Debt fulfilled."
"No way! No, it—it doesn't count if I wasn't there! Right? Come on, Sam, back me up!"
"Oh no," said Sam, who had been watching the altercation in amusement. "I'm not getting in the middle of this."
"Chicken," Dean shot, to little effect.
"Just stay then," said Sam, turning back to Kat. "Let us know if we've got company."
"Wait, what?" Dean complained. "How come she always gets to dip out?"
"Cause I don't want to listen to her complain, and I'm tired of reassuring her. Can we go now?"
All three of them glared at each other. Finally, Dean snorted, pursing his lips moodily at Kat.
"You hear that? He's tired of you."
"Yeah, whatever," she scoffed. "I'll keep an eye out for the caretaker, start up my car if you've got incoming."
"And we're supposed to hear it? It's a Prius."
"Then look for the headlights, jackass."
She could hear Dean mocking her under his breath as he turned his back, and she snickered as they disappeared off into the shadows.
Once they were gone, she was left with the uneasy feeling of being alone. Being alone in a graveyard didn't help. She would've felt more secure in the car, but she wouldn't exactly be doing a bang up job of being lookout. So she grabbed a sweatshirt from her back seat, propped herself up on the hood, and tried to focus on her surroundings without psyching herself out.
It was easier said than done. No matter what she did, Kat couldn't seem to shake the feeling that something was wrong. She was constantly fidgeting, on edge. It was infuriating. Dean was right—they did rituals all the time, snuck in graveyards all the time. This was nothing new. She was being a baby.
It wasn't until she caught herself tracing the healing scars on her stomach that she remembered that magic and graveyards hadn't mixed too well for her in the past.
Kat pulled her hands back, tucking them under her head and forcing a deep breath through her lungs. This was not the same thing. They were facing the ghost of a poor little kid, not twenty demons and a legion of zombies. This wasn't a seal. She still had backup. She had Sam and Dean, Castiel wherever he was…
She couldn't help but bite her lip. She hoped she still had Castiel, anyway. She hadn't heard from him since their dismal conversation in her car on the siren case. Yeah, Cas was pissed at her. But he wasn't pissed enough to fuck off and leave her to be killed or captured…right?
"Hey! You there!"
The shout startled her out of her skin, and Kat nearly tumbled off the Prius in an attempt to sit up straight. An older man was lumbering down the path, flashlight held aloft, making a beeline for her car. So much for keeping watch.
"Sorry!" she said quickly, scrambling to her feet. "I—I just lost track of time. I'll just—I can go. Sorry."
"Slow down there, girl. No one's going anywhere."
Kat's shoulders sagged as she came to a halt. Defeated, she turned around to face the caretaker, who was now shining his light in her face. She tried not to flinch as he blinded her.
"You drunk?" he asked, brandishing the flashlight closer.
"No."
"High?"
"Wha—no!"
"Hmph." He peered at her suspiciously. "Then what exactly are you doing in a graveyard at three o'clock in the morning?"
"Nothing," she insisted. "I told you, I lost track of the time. I'm leaving."
"I don't think so. I'll be the one who decides when you leave."
"Fine. But if you're gonna detain me, do you think you could turn the light off? I won't be able to drive home blind."
He frowned grumpily, and lowered his arm.
"Thanks," Kat spat. She tried her best to rub the spots from the insides of her eyelids.
The man did not seem interested in waiting for her to recover. "Explain."
"Look, I'm not sure how many ways I can rephrase 'I lost track of time.' I came here to think, and I got caught up in my own bullshit, alright? I apologize for having a shitty life."
"Oh, boo hoo. Save the sob story, kid. Go sulk at home like the rest of us."
He waved her off with the flashlight, and turned to walk through the headstones. The same direction, she realized with a lurch, that Sam and Dean had gone.
"I can't!" She slipped off the hood of the car, spluttering the first excuse she could come up with. "I mean, it's…it's kind of hard to sulk at home when home's all your sulking about, you know? The way my parents scream at each other sometimes, it's…"
The caretaker groaned, turning back to her with overwhelming exasperation. But it had given her an opening. Changing tactics, Kat bit her lip and waved him off.
"Sorry. You don't need to hear this. I'll just go…"
"No, wait." He sounded reluctant, but he'd stopped all the same. He ambled back toward the Prius, dropping his flashlight to his side. "How old are you?"
"Twenty-eight."
"And you still live with your parents?"
Kat snorted, leaning back on the car. "In this economy? Yeah. I still live with my parents."
"And you don't have anywhere better to be than an old cemetery?"
"Like I said. It helps me think."
The caretaker nodded. Then he gestured to the hood of the Prius. He waited for her approval before he leaned next to her.
"Who'd you lose?" he asked knowingly, looking out over the yard.
Kat didn't bother lying.
"My sister. It's been a few years now, but my parents still fight like it was yesterday. I…I don't think they ever got over the shock. Mom's neck deep in therapy books trying to heal, dad's repressing the hell out of the grief cause he's afraid to move on. It's a mess."
"And you'd rather be here? With a bunch of dead people?"
"I don't know. It's peaceful."
"It's creepy." Kat looked at him in surprise, and he shrugged. "I hate it here. Too cold. Too quiet. I'd take the screams any day."
"Then why do you work the night shift?" she asked, unable to keep the laughter out of her voice.
"Oh, I just go where the higher-ups tell me to go. But what about you? Why visit your sister so late?"
"Simple. I don't usually need to run from my problems when the sun's up."
"You call this running? Sitting on your car, wallowing in your thoughts and staring into space? I'd call that—oh, self-inflicted punishment. But. Whatever works for you."
"I don't always just sit on my car," she reasoned. "Some days I sit in front of her grave."
"Wow," he said dryly. "Very impressive."
"I know. But it does help me. Being able to talk to her."
The man narrowed his eyes at her. "Do you think she can hear you?"
"I don't know," Kat said thoughtfully. "Guess it doesn't matter. Even just getting my thoughts out helps. But yeah. I guess I'd like to think that wherever she is, she can hear me."
"So you're a religious type," he said, though it felt like a question. "You believe the afterlife, better place stuff? All that jazz?"
Kat had to laugh. "Well, with my life it's kind of hard not to."
"Must be nice," he mused. "Comforting. The promise of Heaven. Everyone I've ever known went the other way."
"Oh. Sorry, I…"
"No, no. Don't be. Plenty of upstanding people in Hell. Just like there's plenty of bastards in Heaven. That's the problem with forgiveness and all that. A bad seed can pass through the pearly gates just as easy as a good man can get dragged to the Pit."
"Yeah. I guess so."
Without thinking, Kat's eyes drifted across the graveyard. She stared into the darkness at the place where Dean had disappeared. She couldn't imagine how he'd been managing his fear since his resurrection. Having to wake up every morning, wondering if today was the day he'd kick it, wondering if he'd be dragged back to Hell all over again. She couldn't imagine how he'd made it the year of his deal, knowing what was around the corner. The anticipation alone would have killed her. It was a wonder Dean could ever function with everything that must be going on in his head.
"I'm sorry," the caretaker chuckled. "Listen to me, going on."
"Oh, no! It's fine. I mean, I started it."
"Sometimes, I just forget who I'm talking to. It's all so redundant. I know you know all this, Katherine."
She didn't have enough time to react.
The man barely moved, and Kat's torso slammed itself back into the hood of the car. She tried to thrash, tried to fight back, but it was as if an invisible force was sitting on top of her. Her body was completely immobilized. She opened her mouth to scream, but no sound came out. She could barely breathe.
"It is so nice to chat with you." The caretaker was still staring out over the yard, as if she wasn't suffocating next to him. "Our last meeting was so short. We were barely introduced. And then you were in hiding so long, fighting here and there. I was starting to worry I might never get the chance to say hello."
He stood up, turning to face her. And though Kat was prepared to see the blank white of his eyes, it still sent a shiver down her frozen spine.
"Alastair," he introduced with a sinister smile. "And you, of course, must be Katherine. I have to say, I wasn't planning on bumping into you when they sent me and the team upstairs for this job. But I am so, so pleased we have this moment to ourselves."
He leaned over her, and traced a finger down the length of her jaw. Kat recoiled as much as she could. Her nerves were on high alert. The lack of oxygen was already starting to affect her head.
Alastair stooped even closer, and took a shuddering breath in.
"Mm. I can practically smell that pretty little soul of yours. Steeped in all those nifty blessings from the man upstairs. Let me tell you, Katherine. The two of us are going to have so much fun together, after—ah. I keep forgetting. I have this one, pesky little errand I have to run. Orders, deadlines. They can be such a pain. But I promise, once I clear my schedule, I am going to devote all my time and attention to you."
He stepped back, surveying her carefully, like a museum patron considering a modern sculpture. Kat wished she could tell him to fuck off, but the invisible grip around her throat was growing tighter. Her vision started to black out at the edges.
"I'm sorry," Alastair apologized. "I know it's not the most comfortable way to go to sleep. But I can't risk injuring you, and I can't risk letting you run off. I've just got to get rid of those annoying Winchester boys. Then I'll be right back. So—please hold."
Kat fought with everything in her power to break loose. But it was pointless. Her body was stone against the hood of her car, and as Alastair walked off to confront the boys, her vision blacked out entirely. Her body slid to the pavement, completely unconscious. And what felt like seconds later, she was being shaken awake.
"Katherine! Kat, come on!"
She jolted awake with a gasp. Both hands flew up to her throat, clutching at the invisible force that was long gone. She panted in the cold night air. It seemed to dry the inside of her throat, making her cough violently as her own saliva froze. Sam patted her heavily on the back.
"It's okay, Kat. You good?"
"N-No," she stammered, looking around. "Alastair, he—he's…"
"He's gone. It's okay. Just breathe."
"Gone? No, but he's—he just—wait, where's Dean? Is he…?"
"He's fine," Sam assured her. "Knocked out. Seriously, Kat. Just breathe."
Kat nodded. She slumped into Sam's waiting arms, letting her eyes flutter shut again. Her throat still ached from being choked out. Her pulse pounded painfully in her neck, the leftover adrenaline too stubborn to ebb.
"What happened?" she asked, once she could fake a normal breathing pattern.
"I was gonna ask you," said Sam. "What happened to the lookout plan?"
"Oh, well sorry. I was only being choked by a high-level demon."
"No, I mean, did you see him? Did he sneak up on you? Get the drop on you?"
"No," she sighed. "No, it—it was my fault. I let my guard down, thought I just stalling the caretaker for you guys. One minute we were having a theological discussion about Heaven, the next I was pinned to the Prius. I messed up."
"You didn't mess up. He pulled the same trick on us. We thought he was the caretaker until he threw Dean into a tree."
"What about you?"
"Tried. Didn't work."
Kat furrowed her brow. "Why not?"
"Uh…I don't know. Guess I'm just made of stronger stuff."
If her throat hadn't hurt so much, she might have laughed. She pulled out of Sam's arms, turning around to stare at him incredulously. "Jesus Christ…"
"Not like that!" Sam defended hastily. "I just meant—you know, the demon stuff. Sometimes it doesn't work on me. Alastair tried to throw me, and it didn't work. So he bailed."
"Right," Kat groaned. "Well, his powers worked just fine on you last time."
"Look, I don't know what you want me to say, Kat. Maybe Alastair was weaker. Maybe I had a good night's sleep. Maybe it was the damn moon tides. I don't know any more about this than you do!"
"Come on, Sam. You've gotta have a better excuse than that."
Sam deflated. It seemed no better excuse was coming. He just let Kat scoot away and struggle to her feet without his interference.
"Please, Kat. Can you just help me with Dean? He could be hurt, and I've gotta get him in the car."
"I don't know. I managed to lug him into my trunk. If you're made of stronger stuff than it shouldn't be a problem."
"Kat…"
"Yeah, whatever. Lead the way, asshole."
It sounded like Sam wanted to argue, but he was smart enough to hold his tongue. He wearily waved Kat after him, and she followed him through the headstones of the graveyard. She could spot Cole Griffith's grave instantly. Her mismatched, discount white candles were still glowing brightly at its base. But Sam led her off to the left, where Dean's body was slumped under a tree. She moved wordlessly to his feet, while Sam grabbed him by the shoulders.
Moving Dean's body was at least three times as easy with Sam's help. It seemed like a lifetime ago she was dragging his heavy body down the road to her trunk, but she remembered it had been difficult. Like, really difficult. Now, she was pretty much steering while Sam took the bulk of the weight. It only took a few minutes to get back to the Impala, and a few minutes more to erase the evidence on Cole's grave. Then they sped back to the motel.
Kat would never admit it, but she followed Sam a little closer than she needed to on the road. She stayed close as they hurried Dean into the building and up the flight of stairs. And even after they'd dropped him safely on the bed, when Sam was done checking his vitals and confirmed he'd live, she couldn't bring herself to leave. She picked at her sleeves, trying to think up an excuse. But Sam did it for her.
"Hey," he said softly. "You okay?"
"Me? Yeah." Kat nodded stiffly, rubbing the back of her neck. "Yeah, I'm fine."
But just like her, Sam wasn't easily convinced. He sat on the foot of his bed and studied her doubtfully. Even from a distance, it was easy for him to pick out what was bothering her.
"What did he say to you? Alastair?"
"Nothing. Why do you ask?"
"No reason," he said casually. "Just…you know, he Vader-choked you out. Takes a while to pass out that way. And demons tend to be chatty when they've got an audience."
"Well, you'd know, right?"
It was a weak jab at best. Sam completely disregarded it. Instead of lashing back, he looked at her with searching eyes full of concern. It was more than she could stomach at the moment. Her resolve crumbled.
"It was nothing," she repeated. "Nothing we didn't already know, anyway."
"Which means?"
"He…He knew who I was. What I could do. At least, I think that's what he was talking about. He said I had a—a special soul. Blessed, or something. And that he…had a lot of plans for me. That we were going to have fun."
She wished she hadn't said it out loud. The thought had been scary enough in her head, but repeating it made it worse. And Sam's hastily-disguised worry wasn't helping.
"He's not gonna get to you, Kat," he assured her. "We won't let him."
"I don't know if we have a choice here," she laughed hollowly. "But…it's fine. It's whatever."
"Kat, it's not…"
"It's fine, Sam. Yeah, I'm—I'm scared as hell. But I chose to come on the road with you guys. I was the one who said I wanted to fight back. And sometimes that means facing demons."
"No, it means being smart," he argued. "Kat, if Alastair knows you're here, the first thing we need to do is get you out of here."
"We're not dropping the case. Besides, I don't think he's here for me."
Sam narrowed his eyes at her. "What do you mean?"
"When Alastair was…talking. He said he had plans for me, but they had to wait because he had an errand. And before that, he was talking about how he just goes where the higher-ups tell him to go. They sent him up here with a team for a job. So if he was sent here…"
"Then it could be another seal," Sam finished. "You think it has something to do with the reapers?"
"It could," she said with a shrug. "The seal I saved in Belle Forche was about inverting death. That doesn't seem all that different from what's going on here. I'd say that's a feat big enough to warrant a seal. Wouldn't you?"
He frowned, mulling it over. "Alright. I'll give Bobby a call when the sun's up, see if he can find anything that fits the bill."
"Good. Yeah, that's…good."
Kat nodded. Still, she couldn't seem to force her body toward the door. Her thoughts were becoming frantic. If she didn't move soon, Sam was going to ask about it. She didn't want to talk it over, or admit anything else out loud. He would get all concerned and overbearing, and she didn't want a pep talk, or special treatment. She just had to move, to leave, to go…
Sam stood up abruptly.
"Hey, why don't you stay here for tonight?"
"No," she said immediately. It was so much easier when she could argue. "Absolutely not. Are you joking?"
"Kat, Alastair knows you're in town. If you're not gonna hide, then you definitely shouldn't be alone."
"I'm one door over, Sam. Besides, I know how to demon-proof a room."
"I know you do," he said, placating her. "But Alastair is a high-level player. Holy water doesn't affect him. The knife doesn't affect him. He could probably blow through salt lines in a second, and he's way too cautious to get tricked into a devil's trap."
"And what's the alternative?" she asked with a laugh. "Stay here with you and Mr. Tree Slump? Right. I think I'll take my chances."
She started for the door, but she wasn't fast enough. Sam stepped into her path. He held up his hands, warding her back toward the bed.
"Please, Kat. I really don't think you should be alone. We can take shifts on the bed, and you can help me make sure Dean doesn't die in his sleep or something. Just one night. Please."
Kat considered him, and glanced over at the limp body on the second mattress. She made her decision all too quickly. But she still folded her arms with a pout.
"Whatever. But I'm not promising he'll make it through the night. If I catch him suffocating, I might not wake you up. Honestly, I'd probably help him over the edge."
Sam cracked a smile. "Right. Well, in that case, you can take the bed first."
He didn't leave her room to argue. It seemed she'd barely blinked before he'd pulled a big T-shirt and running shorts out of his duffle bag. He tossed them on the bed, grabbed the ice bucket, and stepped out into the hall to give her some of privacy. Kat checked twice to make sure Dean was actually unconscious, and not just faking. Only then did she change into Sam's clothes and crawl under the covers.
She stayed very still when Sam came back. She didn't want to talk anymore, or reveal anything else about herself. It must have worked, because Sam did not bother her. Either he thought she was asleep, or he'd politely picked up the hint to leave her alone. Kat heard him settle into a chair in the corner, and after some shuffling, the quiet hum of the music in his headphones.
Without the threat of conversation, Kat finally relaxed. Her eyes fluttered shut, and for the first time in days, she felt a heavy weight lift from her chest. She was still furious with Sam and Dean. But what she'd never admit was that she was thankful for them too.
