𝐃𝐎𝐍𝐎𝐕𝐀𝐍

𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐘-𝐄𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓

A week passed. Charlie and Sophia were worried as ever. Rick called to make sure everything was all right. But it wasn't.

Katherine and Dean did everything they could to find Sam, and it still wasn't enough. They traced all of his phones, checked all over the midwest, but he wasn't anywhere to be found.

And on the ninth day, Sam called Dean from some obscure town in Wisconsin.

"What ever happened in Milwaukee?" Katherine asks, rubbing her lower lip as she stares out at the pouring rain. "You never got to that part."

"It was a shape shifter," Dean replies. "It stirred up trouble, posed as an old lady who robbed a jewelry store, then got a guy at a bank. Ronald found out— "

"Ronald," Katherine says. "The one who was killed."

Dean nods. "He didn't exactly go about it in the best way. He got the bank locked down."

"So how did you end up on the seven o'clock news with a rifle in your hand?"

"Couldn't let Ron go down like that."

"Well he did anyway," she says. "And now you've got the government on your back, and Sophia and Charlie won't stop hounding me—"

"Sophia and Charlie are not my problem—"

Katherine gawks, then growls and rolls her eyes. "You would see it that way," she mutters, shaking her head. "How do I explain to them that it actually wasn't the two guys I was with for six and a half months?"

"You don't."

"Oh, so I just let them ask questions," she nods. "Emotional distance may work for you, Dean, but it doesn't work for me."

"Whoa—Great Lakes motel, right?"

"What?"

"Where Sam's staying—!"

"Yes!" Katherine cries, shaking her head, and Dean pulls a quick right into the parking lot. "Quit yelling at me. I don't understand half-sentences, Dean!" She throws her seatbelt off and jumps out of the car, moving quickly for the front desk. "Excuse me," she calls, running through the rain to the window. "Have you seen a big guy 'round here? Above six feet, brown hair—?"

"Yes."

"He's my boyfriend and I'm really worried about him. Could you tell me what room he's in?"

The man looks through his book. "109. Is everything—"

"Perfect." Katherine slips away and into the building, using the directories on the walls to help her move from the four hundreds to the one hundreds. "109, 109, 109..." Dean follows behind her, glancing on either side of the hallway before he runs into her still frame. She knocks on the door. "Sam? It's Katherine and Dean." She hits the side of her fist on the door. "Sam?" Dean reaches beside her and tries the doorknob.

"Sam?" He asks, and Katherine follows him inside.

He's sitting on the edge of one of two beds, staring down at his hands. His hair is longer. "Hey," Dean says.

"Hey, Dean," Sam murmurs.

"You're bleeding." Dean looks to Katherine, silently asking for her help, and she moves forward, sinking to her knees before Sam. His eyes flit to hers, and he smiles a bit, eyes tearful.

"Katherine," he breathes.

"Hiya, Sam," she says. "What happened?" She nods to the blood on his shirt.

"I tried to wash it off," he whispers, watching her fingers unbutton his shirt. "I don't think it's mine."

"Then whose is it?" Dean asks. Katherine lifts his undershirt anyway. Though blood has stained his skin, there aren't any open wounds.