Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural. Obviously.

Kate pried her eyes open, squinting hard against the sunlight. Usually she loved waking to sunshine on her face, but something…wasn't right, this time. Her head was pounding, the pain centered above her right ear. She stretched, raising her hands behind her head as she took in a deep breath—

Wait.

She couldn't move. And her chest ached when she breathed in. And agony stabbed through her head like a hot knife with every beat of her heart. Kate gasped as everything came rushing back.

They'd been talking about demons. She had shuddered, leaning on the wooden windowsill. It was dusty, and she drew her hand away, making to brush it on her jeans, when the dust caught her eye. It was yellow—odd enough—but it also smelled awful, pungent and acrid.

Like sulfur.

"I would tell you more, but it'd do you no good."

Kate had turned back to her friend. "What?"

She'd gasped to find Liv right up in her face, a feral smile lighting her features. The other huntress's eyes turned deep black, and Kate's hand went instantly to her knife. She never made it, an invisible force slamming her hard against the wood wall, her hands pinned to her sides, her heart beating loudly in her ears.

"It's a bit too late for mere information to help you, girlie."

Liv snatched the knife from Kate's hand and raised it, brought it down impossibly fast, hilt first. The steel pommel struck her temple before she had a chance to protest, and everything went black.

"Look who's awake," Liv—the demon—said with a smile. Kate bit back a groan as she forced herself to focus on her friend's face. Liv looked just like herself, only with a smug expression the brilliant huntress would never have worn. "It's little Katie Winchester."

Kate gritted her teeth at the nickname—only her brothers and father were allowed such familiarity. Liv's face grinned wickedly. "Oh you don't like that, do you?" she taunted. "Tell me, do Daddy and Dean and Sammy call you Katie?"

"Go to hell," Kate growled, fingers working to loosen the knots that bound her wrists to the back of the wooden chair.

"Ah, been there," Liv laughed lightly. "It really is a charming place. But we're not here to talk about me."

"Exorcizamus te, omnis immun—" Kate began, calling up the Latin exorcisms Dad had forced all three of them to memorize as kids; but she was cut off when a disembodied pressure closed invisible fingers around her throat, effectively shutting her up. She clenched her hands, wincing when the rough fibers cut into her skin.

"Now, now," the demon laughed. "None of that, dear. I don't want to kill you, you're far too valuable. So let's try this again." The pressure was released, and Kate gasped and coughed, chest aching. Spots danced before her eyes as she wheezed, "Who are you and what do you want?"

Loosening her fists forcibly, she let the demon think she had her full attention. Because whatever other skills this creature had, tying good knots was obviously not one of them. Or maybe it was just all those years of evasion and escape training.

"Ah, now we come to it," the response came. "My name is Phoebe, and I'm…well, you could consider me a broker, of sorts. I procure items of value and then sell them to the highest bidder." Liv's face darkened, and it sent a chill down Kate's spine. One of the knots slipped, and the pressure loosened. Kate pulled one wrist free, careful not to move her shoulder or bicep. "And I must tell you, the Winchesters—the whole set—would bring in enough to keep me happy and topside for a good long time."

"Well isn't that unfortunate for you," Kate answered, furious at the mention of her family. "Because you'll never get them all—they're too smart for that."

Phoebe laughed again. "Oh you poor child. And they said you were the intelligent one."

"Then you were sorely misinformed—"

"John Winchester is a positively legendary hunter, as I'm sure you're aware," the demon kept talking as if Kate hadn't said anything at all. "The man is simply unbeatable—outsmarting where he can't outmuscle—and he has quite the reputation amongst my colleagues. But he has exactly one weakness, and you're it. You and your brothers are the only thing John will do literally anything to keep safe." Phoebe stepped closer, her face scant inches from Kate's, and cocked an eyebrow, daring the girl to respond.

Kate refused to look away. "I won't let you hurt him," she growled through clenched teeth. Her left arm ached as she eased it free of the mess of ropes.

Phoebe snorted. "As if you have a choice."

Kate moved quickly, the demon too close to her face to be aware of what her supposedly-tied extremities were doing. Rearing back, she ducked her head and slammed her skull into Liv's nose, perhaps more satisfied by the resulting crunch! than she ought to have been. She didn't wait to follow up, bringing her sore right arm around to land a solid punch to Liv's jaw. With a grunt, Phoebe went down, landing hard on her shoulder on the hardwood floor.

Kate didn't stop to watch. A quick deep breath—this was going to hurt, her legs were still tied to the chair—she threw herself to the right, toward a pistol on the end-table she knew was loaded with consecrated bullets. The chair creaked as she landed hard on the wood floor, dragging herself the last ten inches to the table. She was pretty sure silver wouldn't stop the thing, but maybe it'd at least slow it down.

God, she hoped.

She barely had time to whirl about and fire—a spot of red bloomed dead center in the middle of Liv's chest—before the demon tackled her. Kate cried out as the chair splintered into several pieces, one of which embedded itself deeply in her thigh. Her head smacked the floor hard enough to make her see stars again, and Phoebe scored a punch of her own against Kate's jaw.

Kate lay, stunned, while the demon straddled her, assessing the damage done to Liv's body with distaste.

"Shame," she muttered flippantly while Kate blinked hard below her. "I liked this suit. But it's no matter—I wasn't going to be wearing it long anyway." Phoebe looked back at the woman beginning to struggle again. "Ah, there you are, dear. Welcome back." She took Kate's jaw in her hand roughly, forcing her to look her in the eye. "As I was saying before you so rudely interrupted, let me tell you what I'm going to do."

Kate thrust her hips up, throwing the demon straddling her forward and off balance. Phoebe slammed one hand down beside Kate's head to prevent her falling forward completely. It was only a second's worth of a chance, but Kate pressed her advantage, bringing her knees up in an attempt to get them between her and Phoebe to kick the demon off.

It was a clumsy attempt, her legs tangled in the ropes and the remains of the chair; and the demon was impossibly fast. Before she could manage to throw her off, Liv slammed her weight back down on Kate's belly and slapped her in the face.

"Stop. Interrupting. Me."

Kate growled. "Stop. Hitting. Me."

Phoebe's eyes narrowed. "I'm going to possess you. I'm going to get inside that pretty little head of yours, take control, and then I'm going to take you straight back to your brothers. I'll know everything you know, so they won't suspect a thing; and then I'm going to get you all in one room together, and oh no—" Phoebe adopted a sniveling, high voice. "Sweet little Katie is going to hold the entire family at gunpoint until my boss gets there and collects the set."

No. No no no no…

Kate somehow found it in her to scoff. "You really think that, do you? So you're ignorant as well as delusional; good to know—"

The demon didn't give her a chance to finish before black smoke poured from Liv's open mouth and into Kate's. She screamed, unable to shut her jaw to block the demon entrance.

Fire scorched her windpipe, her nerve endings sparking with agony and heart beating a wild tattoo in her chest. Kate tried to hold on, but it was difficult to tell what was real and was wasn't in the midst of the agony in her head and chest.

Dean…Sammy…help….

"We could stay?" Dean offered as Sam stared out the rear view at the pretty preacher's daughter. He knew his little brother had connected with the girl, and it was the first time since Jessica's death that Sam had seemed something like his old self; Dean wanted to prolong that as much as possible.

Besides, what was coming once they left made him curl his lip in disgust.

"Kate doesn't need us right away," he continued, hoping to stave off the research as long as he could. "She and Liv are on top of things."

But Sammy wasn't having it; Dean figured he wouldn't, not with a possible answer to the ever-present question what is Dad doing? looming. "No," his little brother murmured, shaking his head. "Let's go."

Dean swallowed his sigh and eased Baby out of the driveway. Off to Liv's then; the huntress had answered Katie's phone when he called last night. Apparently the two were up to their eyeballs in books and parchments and god-knows-what-else on demons. Liv had laughed when she heard he and Sam were working a case in a church, told him to be careful and come to her place when they were finished.

"Kate is having the time of her life," Liv had said. "But we could use your help, once you've cleaned up there."

Well, they had cleaned up in Ankeny, and Dean had done everything he could to loiter as much as possible, but here they were, cruising down the road in his Baby with the windows down and the music up.

Despite the research—ugh—waiting for them, Dean couldn't help but feel that familiar sense of rightness, what with Sam beside him, Katie nearby (ish), and his Baby purring beneath his feet. He supposed it didn't hurt that they'd just managed to save that poor girl's life—as well as her dad's—and he'd found a goddamned treasure in his duffel yesterday.

Dean,

I know you don't want to talk about it, but I have something to say, so you have to listen. Big Brother rules.

She always started like that, taking the responsibility for the impending chick-flick moment and absolving him of all accountability for any emotional nonsense that may take place while he followed "Big Brother rules."

I don't hate you.

He knew.

I know you know. But the shifter said it, and I'm un-saying it. I never hated you. I never wanted to leave you. I never considered suicide by the gun you gave me. Ever.

But she had considered it.

I did consider it, at one time. I'm not going to apologize—it had nothing whatsoever to do with you, was not your fault, and I know for a fact you've considered it too. So has Dad, and probably Sammy—maybe even recently. We've all been there.

Didn't make it hurt any less.

I will tell you this: it was you, not Dad, not Sam, not the job, not the world or my education or my few friends, that kept me from going there. You, Dean. You, who always have my back, stitch me up after bad hunts, let me pick the music (sometimes), make me eat when I'm not hungry (but actually am), get a laugh out of me when the rest of the world is falling to pieces.

Those weren't tears. It was smoke stinging his eyes.

So that shifter can rot in Hell for spitting such poisonous lies; I am not suicidal, and the brief time I was, it wasn't because of you. You saved my life.

I love you, Dumbass.

Kate

Kate and her stupid letters. He was going to hug her stupid self the minute he saw her, murmur into her stupid curls how much he loved her.

She wouldn't call him on it, he knew. She never did.

And hours later, when they pulled into Liv's driveway, he nudged Sammy awake with a grin and the intent to do just that. The sun was setting over the forested horizon, the golden light filtering through the trees and dappling the earth. Liv's cabin stood before them, innocuous enough; though Dean knew wards and salted earth made the place extremely difficult for the bad guys to come near.

Safehouse, indeed.

"Come on, Sammy. The books await."

Sam grinned and elbowed him as they walked to the front door. "Bet you can't wait, can you?"

"Shut up."

Sam laughed and knocked on the door—twice, pause, then three times—but no one answered. Dean's instinct tingled, but Sam just cocked an eyebrow and knocked again.

"Liv? Kate?" he called. Dean moved to the side and peeked through one of the cracked-open windows.

Oh god.

"Sam!" he hissed, and his brother went into Hunter Mode so fast it would've made his head spin if he'd had time to think about it. Sam picked the lock in less than ten seconds—ten interminably long seconds—and Dean slipped inside, shotgun at the ready. Sam was right behind him.

His heart sank when he saw for sure what he'd thought he'd seen through the window.

Liv lay on the rag rug in the front room in a puddle of scarlet blood, brown eyes wide and staring. First glance said the single shot to her chest was the culprit, but Dean knelt to check for a pulse just in case.

Nothing.

"Dean?" Sam whispered, standing guard, but obviously shaken. Liv had been part of their lives since he was only ten—just a kid—and Dean knew he had bonded with her over their shared crazy intellects. Hell, he could feel grief roiling at the edges of his own soul, trying to swamp him; but he held it back with a will borne of years of practice.

This wasn't the first time he'd lost a friend. Besides, Liv hadn't been alone, and there was really only one name crashing through Dean's skull on a loop.

Katie.

"Sorry, Sam," he murmured as he stood. "Kate!" he bellowed.

Please let her be alive, please not Kate, please…

A small sound from the back of the cabin caught his attention, and he motioned to Sam, who took position a step behind him and to the left.

The cleared the small house with military precision, finally stopping at the back door. A stifled sob caught Dean's attention outside, one he thought he recognized; but he wasn't about to let his guard down, not here, not now. Nodding once to Sam, his little brother yanked the door open and Dean swept his shotgun, looking for targets as he stepped outside.

He froze when he saw her, bent over the porch banister and spitting up bile into the bushes. She straightened—or tried to—when she saw him, whirling so fast she nearly ended up on her ass, face ashen.

"Dean," she sobbed. "Help me."

Kate.

A/N: Thanks for reading! Don't forget to leave a quick review or PM; your feedback is like catnip! Special thanks to my Girls for their help proofing and Nova's notes on clearing a room, military-style!

Cheers!