A/N: Warnings, spoilers, notes and such are mentioned in chapter 1.

"Fuckin' great," Dean muttered to himself when he spotted the short brunette walking towards the diner.

He had left Sam sleeping and snuck out to enjoy his mornin' coffee in peace but this seriously ruined his mood. His plate was still half-full of hash browns and the coffee was steaming. Not even a freakin' sip before the first bitching in the morning. What demon had he pissed off now?

Dean could hear her order a large coffee and a sandwich to go; he tried to look as uninterested as possible but it didn't help.

"Morning, Dean."

She slipped into the booth and sat down as if they knew each other that well. Shoving down breakfast kept him from answering, too bad.

He could be a patient man when needed but her sudden silence made him glance at her. The moment he acknowledged her presence she continued.

"I'm sorry about yesterday. Usually no one walks in armed like you guys when I'm checking out the scene."

She tried hard to sound nonchalant but Dean saw through the effort.

Dean eyed her and chewed down another forkful, not reaching for more. He wondered what she expected from him.

"I didn't mean it to go down like that. Sorry."

She looked and sounded genuinely regretful, unable to keep the emotion from her eyes. Dean was ready to accept the apology but she scooped up her breakfast and jumped up gracelessly before he could say anything.

Dean remained quiet when she turned around before leaving.

"Tell Sam I'll stop by in an hour."

The remaining hash browns disappeared from the plate as Dean watched her heading to the motel. Something was wrong with the picture. Yeah, he had been a little cold towards her --for her own good, though, not that she'd see it like that-- and he had suspected that she'd call him all kinds of colorful names. Instead, he witnessed an awkward apology and almost wished that she had made a scene; that would've made him feel less guilty.

---

The door of their room slammed shut and pulled Sam from his light slumber.

"Rise and shine, Romeo."

Sam's lids opened and he registered Dean stepping in and waving something resembling breakfast in his hands. He set it on the table and stalked towards Sam's bed looking a little too smug regarding the circumstances.

"You've got a hot date waiting."

A throaty groan escaped his lips when Dean suddenly yanked his sheet down a few inches. Sam grabbed the receding edge of the rough fabric and managed to glare at his brother who actually was in a good mood. A warning sign started blinking in Sam's mind --in disturbingly bright neon colors.

"Who died and made you the king?"

Sam sat up and hoisted his legs on the floor. Keeping Dean out of trouble was tiresome; he stifled a yawn with poor success.

"Dude, seriously. Cath's comin' to see ya."

"What? When?" His words were still coated with the remainder of sleep.

Sam looked at his brother intently, wondering how he knew this since last night he hadn't exactly made new friends. Dean shifted under the gaze like he knew what Sam was thinking and then masked the reaction with heading to the bathroom.

"She said she'd drop by in an hour."

The tension in Sam's muscles melted; there was no need to rush with clothes and breakfast. As he fought another yawn, Dean's head appeared in the bathroom doorway; the big, evil smirk pasted on his face could only mean more trouble.

"Though that was about an hour ago."

"Dean!" Sleep was now only a distant memory in Sam's mind.

Sam slung his pillow at Dean who had no difficulties whatsoever slamming the bathroom door shut before the soft missile even came close. He rushed his jeans on and dug through his duffel to get a clean shirt. Between buttoning the shirt and fishing the bag for clean socks, someone knocked on the door. Crap.

Dean emerged from the bathroom with a broad grin and got to the door just as Sam was barely presentable --sockless but not half-naked like some crazy-ass stalker.

---

"Hi."

Cath gripped her shoulderbag harder when she saw Dean in the doorway. She had hoped that he wouldn't have been here for this; the heads-up in the diner had had a reason.

"Perfect timing."

Dean's lips were curved into a smirk which she sensed wasn't directed at her. But Dean wasn't frowning at her either, so she tried to pay no-nevermind to it. He let her in and she spotted Sam on the bed farther from the door struggling to get a sock on.

"Hi."

At least Sam greeted her.

She set her bag on a chair, swept the most obvious crumbs from the table, careful of not knocking down the cup of coffee on it, and pulled out her laptop. Dean had already settled on his bed, reading a magazine the name of which she couldn't make out from that distance. The laptop powered up while Sam ambled towards her and reached for his breakfast looking slightly guilty. Cath pretended not to notice how Sam practically inhaled the sandwich while grabbing his laptop. In between sips of coffee, Sam copied the articles and a copy of her program through a flash drive.

They agreed to view the information about the current case before delving into the program he had asked to see. Sam continued sipping the rest of his coffee slowly, reading the oldest articles his research hadn't found. He got the reason for it after the first two cases, the rest of the stories only confirming his suspicions; the six killings they had missed had been pinned down as weird accidents or animal attacks although the obvious wounds --always two gunshot wounds to the chest-- on the victims had never matched the official cause of death. There was no mentions of anything supernatural in them, not even a word about the farmhouse, nothing to warrant any attention on their own; just another weird accident spree decades ago. Unless you counted for the fact that Temple Parker's brother had been the sheriff at the time. Sam wondered if the man had seen his dead brother in action, keeping the secret out of fear.

She could have told him that but Dean's watchful looks from behind the magazine kept her quiet. Trusting the word of a stranger in this business could have bad consequences, she understood that, but the constant watching earned her dislike anyway. She countered his hawk-eyed glares with setting her jaw firmly and focusing on the task at hand.

Sam hesitated a moment after reviewing the articles, and he glanced at his brother who concentrated on his magazine. Dean didn't even twitch and so Sam directed his words at her, not bothering to relay the news to Dean.

"How did you find these other cases?"

"Oh, it was the program we have."

She could have sworn that Dean snorted at that point but he just kept reading. Too intently. She ignored the reaction.

"How does it work exactly?" Sam's curiosity sounded genuine and more than compensated for Dean's behavior.

Cath opened the parameter file the program had used --not bothering with the actual code-- and explained how the search could be based on a location and refined with a time range and a possible frequency of the wanted hits. The program then scoured through various records, some of it public and legal and some not, and analyzed the hits to show if there was any temporal correlation.

She skipped the mathematics behind it but was delighted when Sam asked about time series and statistical analysis. Not often had she met someone on the road who not only knew the terms but some of the theory behind them. Her mood improved and she got more comfortable with the situation, forgetting about Dean for a while.

They hung up on an occasional detail when she explained her research process, but finally Sam had no further questions and she almost beamed from having a real, intellectual discussion. Usually all she had was her dad; the occasional hunters helping them tended to skip the talking and either treated her as a child or tried to hit on her the minute the job was done. Sam was a listener and she didn't mind at all. Dean, on the other hand, fitted the typical hunter mold to the teeth and ignored her.

She noticed Sam frowning slightly and couldn't help herself. He had this look like he was trying to piece a puzzle but something didn't fit. It was kinda cute.

"What is it?"

"Where did you learn all this?" Sam had a small smile playing on his lips, like he was embarrassed to ask her that.

Guess she had it coming. She had learned that personal questions always take her to a place she doesn't want to remember, to painful memories, truths, lies and pity.

"Took a few courses, read a few books."

That was the generic non-answer she had prepared long ago, delivered with a smile that hinted that the person asking was better off not knowing. The doubting raise of Sam's eyebrows reminded her delicately that he really was better knowing. She felt that Sam deserved more than generic.

"I do read. And Dad's an expert when it comes to programming. Guess it has brushed off."

Honestly, she hoped that the moment of silence would evolve into an awkward silence and then into one of those topics that everyone avoided. It didn't.

"How did you get into this? You don't seem like the usual hunters."

A sad smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. She knew they did the job differently, sticking with the supernatural that had a steady pulse of death, something that could be found by crunching the numbers. However, that didn't make the spirits less dangerous. The occasional werewolves and other even more random evils were not easy targets either.

The smile vanished when she realized that Sam hadn't asked that. His inquiry went further still, straight to the parts of her life she didn't want to dig up for strangers. Not even for those with puppy-eyes. She tried to remember how her dad always skirted the issue, but it failed her.

Just as she was about to lie through her teeth and offer some explanation that wouldn't earn pity, she heard Dean. He had stood up and approached them. The action didn't quite register until Dean was standing beside Sam, a hand on his shoulder.

"Find anything useful?"

Oddly enough, he seemed to address the question to them both. Sam glanced at Dean and then at her with this small frown that Cath was beginning to recognize. She looked at Dean, silently thanking him for the interruption although she wasn't sure if he had done it on purpose. Something behind Dean's stare convinced her that he knew what he just did.

Cath recovered faster from Dean's appearance, though Sam had his inquisitive expression still on. She suspected that the brothers could have an entire conversation with silent gestures.

"I was about to tell Sam what I found about the spirits."

Dean sat down across them, lifting his feet on the table and leaning back in his chair with a sprawl that probably was anything but as comfortable as Dean's posture suggested.

Sam accepted his brother's presence and after a raised eyebrow from Dean, he led the conversation again.

"Yeah, you mentioned last night that there's two of them."

She opened the most recent file about the case and Sam followed suit, turning his laptop so that Dean could read it. She noticed Sam reading the file on her screen now so she angled the computer better before explaining the whys and where's.

"I found this," she gestured at her screen and towards Sam's laptop, "It was a year before the first victim." Dean made no attempt to read the article for himself so she continued.

"Anyway, the farm was originally owned by a Temple Parker who lived with his man-eating daughter, Linda. It seems that one night he caught her with some guy and was so unhappy about the whole thing that he shot the man. So, Linda tried again two days later and brought home another unsuspecting guy. Temple took it kinda personally and popped him as well as Linda. The last thing he did was blow his own brains out."

"Man, the guy was a serious kill-joy." Dean sounded almost amused and she turned to Sam to ask if he was always like that or was he actually useful sometimes. However, Dean cut her off with a more serious tone before she got a word out.

"So, the dude whacked two days ago was this year's first victim?"

Cath nodded, "Fits the pattern."

"And tonight will be the next?" Sam joined in.

"If Linda gets some unlucky bastard to go with her, then I'd say yes."

"Great." Dean lifted his legs from the table and leaned forward. "Where did she meet the corpses-to-be?"

Sam still scanned the article but managed to answer before Cathy.

"Apparently some people in town had noticed her hitchhiking on the main road on both days."

The look in Dean's green eyes was hard now. "And you're sure this isn't a woman in white or a succubus or anythin' else?"

Cath tried to match the look for the sake of her own confidence, crossing her arms on her chest for emphasis.

"I know a spirit when I see one."

The jagged edges in Dean melted and he leaned back in his seat. She blinked, wondering if he was really dropping the subject. In her head lurked a bad feeling that her assurance hadn't had anything to do with it, that somehow Dean knew what she had left unsaid.

---

Dean had seen enough people get protective and defensive over their secrets and weaknesses that he knew when to back off before things got ugly. This was such a time.

"Do you know where they are buried?"

Cath looked away for a moment, taking a deep breath.

"On their backyard. Temple's brother kept the farm for a few years before he died in an accident."

He let out a small groan and wondered who'd want to have a bunch of dead people buried on their yard, no matter how closely related they had been.

Sam apparently read his mind and shrugged. "At least we know where to find 'em."

Dean stood up. "Hope you packed your shovel, Sam. We've got some diggin' to do."

He didn't miss the brief, meaningful glance Sam and Cath shared. He knew that an objection was coming, Sam had that look.

"What about Linda? She might get picked up before we're done. If she senses what we're doing, she could hurt the guy."

Cath continued the thought. "Sam's right. We need a diversion to take care of her."

The words leapt out before Dean had fully thought them through, not that he usually censored himself much.

"Hey, there's no 'we' in this. Not one that includes you." He pointed his finger at her for emphasis. "Me an' Sam got this covered. You can go back home."

Dean had to give Cath credit, she got on her feet and in his face quickly and in excellent balance.

"No. I've done the work so far and I can finish the job as well."

Her eyes flamed in anger but her short frame couldn't pull off the threatening bad-ass hunter.

"Bet you could."

Dean dismissed her, not even sure why he did it. The easiest explanation was that she would be an added burden; spirits could be tricky enough even when you knew that someone had your back. Babysitting her and chasing the spirit at the same time wasn't something Dean wanted to do.

"I'll follow you as soon as you pull out if I need to."

Sam piped in finally, playing the referee again.

"Listen, how about your dad comes too?"

Dean threw a pissed-off look in Sam's general direction, not wanting two people on his case about this instead of just one. But usually Sammy had some rhyme and reason to his ideas, so he didn't argue back. Yet. Cath was quiet, too, though Dean suspected that she just didn't want to argue with her new best friend.

"Dean, you could, um," Sam paused and Dean knew that he'd hate the idea already, "distract Linda while we salt and burn the remains. Three can dig a lot faster than one."

Okay, it wasn't that bad of a plan. It would be faster and Mike could babysit his daughter and keep an eye out for anything suspicious.

Cath's itch to fight had been toned down a few notches with that plan and so Dean gave a half-nod to Sam.

"Sounds like we have a plan then," she said. "Except my dad can't make it. He's working."

"He's on another hunt?"

Dean noticed the surprised tone in Sam's voice; finally he was doubting these people.

"No, he has a real job. System analyst. Usually he works remote but sometimes he needs to be at the office."

She stared at the floor defeated, before eyeing Dean carefully.

"But the plan's still good. I can cover Sam's back while you're keeping Linda busy."

There was just too many points to argue about for Dean to know where to start, but the plan itself wasn't that bad. If they could keep it as a simple salt-and-burn, she probably wouldn't give them too big of a headache. Besides, this way he didn't need to listen to her or worry about her showing up unexpectedly.

"Fine."

Dean reminded himself that Sam having a back-up wasn't a bad thing, particularly when the said back-up would have only rock salt and not bullets in her gun. And maybe, just maybe, she would be more of use than a burden. There was something in her past she didn't want to talk about and obviously questioning her abilities as a hunter made her twitchy. Dean really didn't like it when people a had a point to prove; it could easily end up biting you in the ass.

---

"What's your problem, man?"

Sam rarely saw Dean acting that hostile, especially towards non-supernatural females.

"Leave it, Sam."

Dean was checking their equipment on his bed.

"No, Dean. You've been on her case the entire time, just pickin' a fight when possible. So what if they're not like us? They're not beginners, either."

Sam barely registered the tick in Dean's jaw, which normally spelled trouble. He set the shotgun aside, and Sam knew his monologue was over.

"I get what you mean, Sam. I do. She might be able to handle the job or she might not, we don't know until we find out. And I don't want to risk your hide or mine just to find out which is it."

Sam didn't know what to say.

---