𝐃𝐎𝐍𝐎𝐕𝐀𝐍

𝐄𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐍

"So, I was looking in the trunk." Katherine's blue eyes shift questioningly to Dean at her left. "Any reason in particular you have that bat?"

"Leave the bat alone," she grumbles, adjusting her jacket, and trots down the stairs of the second-level motel.

Mike Gunther is elbow-deep in some new car's hood when Dean and Katherine arrive at the auto shop. He's friendly enough, offering smiles to the hunters, leading them back to his work as they talk. "You and John Winchester owned this garage?" Dean questions.

"Used to," Mike answers with a nod, toweling his greased hand off. "Long time ago. Must be...twenty years since John disappeared," he elaborates with a shrug. "Why are the cops interested all of the sudden?"

"We're reopening some of our unsolved cases," Dean tells him. "The Winchester disappearance is one of 'em."

"Uh-huh. Well whaddaya wanna know about John?"

"Whatever you remember. Whatever sticks out in your mind."

Katherine's eyes flit to a shower of sparks over Mike's shoulder, spat from the underneath of a car. Mike glances to the pretty girl on the right, observing how young she looks. She could be the other man's age, just going off of the way she carries herself. Straight spine, shoulders held back and chin held high. But the eyes...something in the eyes is younger. Bigger, somehow a bit more innocent. Those eyes shift to Mike as she awaits his recollection of John Winchester—the wait is no more than a second.

"Well," Mike sighs, putting his hands on his hips. "He was a stubborn bastard, I remember that. And...whatever the game, he hated to lose, y'know? It was that whole Marine thing. But he sure loved Mary." Out of the corner of her eye, Katherine notices Dean's jaw tighten a bit. "Doted on those kids."

"That was before the fire?" Katherine asks. Mike nods. "Did he ever talk about that night?"

"No, not at first. I think he was in shock."

Her brow quirks. "What did he say about it?"

"Oh, he wasn't thinking straight," Mike dismissively tells her, and chuckles. "He said something caused that fire and killed Mary."

"Ever say what did it?" Dean asks.

Mike gazes at him, a bit puzzled. "Nothing did it," he says. "It was an accident. An electrical short in the walls or somethin'. I begged him to get some help, but...it just got worse and worse." The blonde young woman nods a bit, a gesture for him to continue. "Started reading some strange old books. Even went to a palm reader in town."

"You got a name?" Katherine asks.

"No," Mike scoffs.

She nods a little. "Well if that's all you have for us, we'll be on our way. Thanks for your time." She raises a hand at him, backing away with Dean at her side. "Should we swing by and grab Sam?" She asks, walking close to him, but not unusually so. "Check out some of the psychics and whatnot in town?" Dean nods. As she sits in the car, gazing at the garage, she wonders what could have been, had that fire not happened. Where would the boys be in their lives?

Hers wouldn't be so dramatically different. She only met the Winchesters the one time a decade ago. But now?

Perhaps she'd still be looking for a way to worm out of a residency.

"There are a few psychics and palm readers in town," Katherine says, sitting up on the hood of the Impala with a phone book in her lap. She kicks her feet a little.

Sam chuckles leaning over into her space to get a look at the list. "The Mysterious Mister Fortinsky."

She smiles, a simple tug of the corner of her mouth, but enough to dimple her cheek. "Missouri Moseley," she says. "I like that alliteration. Uh, there's—"