In a tiny Colorado town, the Winchesters were hunting. Local girls were going missing. The bodies recovered so far had been found under unusual circumstances, and with a disturbing condition. Each victim reappeared one week after going missing- in a locked cell at the police station, missing her eyes and tongue. The security footage only showed a short burst of static each night a victim reappeared. Cause of death for the victims was asphyxiation each time, and there was no apparent connection between any of the victims other than the site of their disappearance. Every one of them had last been seen within a quarter-mile of the local cemetery.
Posing as FBI agents, the Winchesters chased leads until they were on the verge of dropping from exhaustion. Then finally, they saw a pattern. Each victim had received a phone call from the same number on the day of their disappearance. So they got a few hours' rest and asked around. It turned out that a twenty-year-old named Catherine Winter had gotten such a call that very morning.
They tried to warn her, but she brushed them off. Not to be deterred, they tailed her. As she walked home from work, she veered off toward the cemetery...and walked straight past it. Just around the corner was an old boarding house, long since abandoned, and now slated for demolition. Suddenly looking furtive, Catherine (known locally as Kitty) slipped inside.
"Come on, Sam." The Winchesters grabbed some gear and followed Kitty inside, but she was already out of sight. "Crap. All right, you look upstairs, I'll-" Dean was interrupted by a scream. Without hesitation, they rushed off in the direction it had come from. Busting open the basement door, they found Kitty faced by a stranger- a man of thirty or so- with a gun trained on her. He whirled to face the Winchesters. Surprise, anger, and finally determination registered on his face as he leveled his pistol at them.
Unfortunately, neither of the Winchesters had stopped to draw their guns before bursting in. "You don't want to shoot anybody," Dean warned the stranger. "We're FBI. In fact, our supervisor is expecting an update any minute now. If he doesn't get it, he'll tear this town apart looking for us- and for you, once he finds our notes on the case. He's the kind of guy who always catches what he hunts. Give up. You can't win."
"Sure, let me hand myself over," the guy retorted sarcastically, unaware that Kitty was edging towards a bent, rusted iron poker lying nearby.
"You'll do time, no two ways about it, but we can offer you a reduced sentence if you cooperate," Sam stalled. He and Dean had both noticed Kitty's efforts. "On the other hand, I doubt our supervisor will be generous towards a guy who shot two of his best agents."
"Actually, you might get off with no jail time at all," Dean chimed in. "He might just turn you over to the families of the girls you murdered."
Kitty had the poker. She hefted it, taking slow, cautious steps forward.
"Shut up. All I need is for you to make that phone call, then I can kill you...and take my time with the girl. I wonder how long-" he stopped abruptly, noticing that Dean and Sam were glancing past him. He spun, pistol raised, as Kitty launched herself forward.
The gun went off. Kitty collapsed. The man darted past them and took off down the hallway. "I'll take care of her- you go get him!" Dean said coldly, already kneeling beside Kitty. With a quick nod, Sam complied.
Kitty lay crumpled on the floor, clutching at her stomach, where an alarming amount of blood had already spilled out. Dean bunched up his jacket and, lifting her head gently, slid it under her as a makeshift pillow. "Hey, look at me. You're gonna be fine. I'll call an ambulance, and they'll patch you right up. You'll be home in no time."
With some effort, Kitty shook her head. "Liar," she managed.
Dean's forced smile faltered and fell away. "Yeah, you're right," he admitted quietly. "There's nothing I can do. I wish to God there was, but..." he trailed off, voice heavy with regret.
Kitty coughed, spitting blood. "H-hold my hand," she gasped, working hard even to breathe. "Please. Don't- don't want-"
"Nobody wants to die alone," Dean replied gently, taking her hand and giving it a reassuring squeeze. "And you won't. I'm right here."
Her eyes filled with tears, both of gratitude and fear, as her breathing worsened even further. Slowly, painfully, it ground to a halt. When Sam returned, Dean was still kneeling by Kitty's body, holding her hand.