Welcome back, you lovely readers! For those of you just joining us, go and check out my other work Everybody Changes. This is a sequel to that lil' guy.
(But I'm not your mom. If you're ignoring the above suggestion, here's what you need to know: Katelyn Winchester is the younger twin sister of Sam (but she would like you to know that the age difference is only two minutes). The three Winchesters encountered some asshat witches in the last story, so our favorite siblings are a bit bitter towards any magic-bearing entities.)

A bit of backstory concerning our favorite angel: In the past year, Cas unintentionally screwed over the Winchesters by handing their asses to some vengeful angels. As such, Dean would like it if he would keep the hell away from his siblings (and this story) for the foreseeable future.

Thanks for embarking! Like last time, I'll be updating every day until this story is flushed out.

Enjoy!

"I'll start the oven

And get the house warm

For you to land in

When you return.

I'll start the oven

And get the house warm

For you to land in

And watch you burn."

-Greg Laswell, Watch You Burn

Chapter 1: Sam is Satan

"'This is a low-flying panic attack,'" I sang along to my phone's music. God bless you, Radiohead. "'Sing the song of sixpence that goes…'"

In that minute, I was politely laying on the motel bed, singing to my music, and respecting my own goddamn business. In the next, I was being tackled to the floor by a shouting beast.

Instantly on the defensive, I scrambled to get my arms up and push.

Sam grabbed my arms and pinned them in-between us. "Where'd it go, Kate?!"

My mind was whirling. "What the hell, Sam?!"

He narrowed his eyes at me. "You took my hunting knife!"

OK, now I'm just insulted. I shoved him back. "No, I didn't!"

Sam glared at me, stood up, and started rifling through my duffel bag.

I jumped up and shoved his giant shoulder. "Why the hell would I take your freaking knife, huh? You're being paranoid—again."

He whirled on me, still glaring. "It's not paranoia when you've been going through my stuff every day all week!"

I glared back and took a step closer. "Well, maybe I wouldn't have to sneak through your crap if you would stop taking my phone charger!" I noticed my phone wasn't playing music anymore—it'd been shoved the floor hard enough to turn off. I returned my glare to the offending party (and DOUCHE-BAG EXTRAORDINAIRE!).

The door swung open, and Dean, holding food in his arms, instantly recognized our stand-off. "Hey, hey! You two need to simmer the crap down!"

Sam and I continued glaring each other down. Our fists balled.

"I said knock it off," Dean demanded, pushing us apart. He shoved two bags of food against our chests. "Eat, and get over whatever crawled up your asses this time."

"I'm going to punch you if you touch me ever again," I threatened Sam, snatching up my food bag from Dean.

"As if you could reach," Sam snapped back, grabbing his bag.

"COOL IT!" Dean shouted.

"He tackled me to the ground—" I defended.

"Because she couldn't—" Sam accused.

"I SWEAR TO GOD I AM GOING TO HURT YOU BOTH IF YOU DO NOT SHUT UP," Dean demanded, his voice becoming that parental tone. "Katelyn, go to the couch and eat your crap. Sam, go to the bed and eat your crap. Now."

With final glowers, Sam and I marched to opposite ends of the room and opened up our fast food bags.

"This isn't my salad," Sam complained, holding up a double cheeseburger.

"K, well I didn't order rabbit food," I said, holding up his stupid salad.

Sam lobbed the burger at me, nailing me in the face. Rage fueled me, and I gripped the salad to chuck.

"Hey!" Dean grabbed the salad from me before tossing it over to Sam's bed. "God! What the hell has gotten into you two?!"

Sam ignored him and went for his salad, and I did likewise with my burger.

Dean turned to me and screwed his face up. "Is it… your time of the month?"

I chewed my burger and gave my brother an exasperated look.

Dean turned to Sam. "Is it… your time of the month?"

Sam angrily rolled his eyes and packed up his salad. "I'm going somewhere else."

"Drama queen," I muttered around my burger.

Sam strutted towards me. "What is your problem?!" Dean stood in between us.

I stood up. "You! You've been so goddamn annoying this whole week! I swear to God, everything you do makes me want to punch you in the face!"

"Likewise!" His glare was harsh.

"WHAT! THE! CRAP!" Dean shoved Sam back towards the bed. "You two need to figure out what the hell is actually going on, right now."

"Maybe somebody voodoo cursed Sam to have a fart-filled personality and old man nipples!" I suggested.

"God, you got cursed one time!" Sam rolled his eyes and threw up his hands. "Not everything is supernatural! I just can't live with a nosy, self-righteous bitch!"

"Well, you managed to share a freaking womb with me just fine, asshat!"

"QUIET!" Dean barked at me before turning to Sam and screeching the same order. "Sam, when did you start hating our sister?"

"Feels like forever," Sam responded, crossing his arms and glowering at me.

Dean gave him an oh-please squint before turning to me. "Kate, when?"

I crossed my arms and thought back quickly. "I've been plotting his murder since at least Monday."

Dean gave me an eye roll at my dramatics. "OK, that's the day after we showed up in this town. But there isn't even a case here, so…"

"So Kate's intolerable," Sam interjected, "and either she goes or I do."

I gave a short laugh and snatched my leather jacket off the couch. "Gladly!"

Dean grabbed my sleeve. "Nobody's going anywhere! Now, you two idiots are going to scour this freaking room until we find a voodoo doll or a hex bag or whatever the hell is making you two go murder-crazy." He nudged me towards the couch and started searching. Sam and I grudgingly obeyed, even though I was sure that the only thing tainting the room was his rotten existence.

After five minutes of searching under beds and cushions and couches and mattresses and sinks, I threw up my hands. "Surprise! There's nothing here."

Dean turned on me with The Point. "Keep looking."

"Uh, Dean?" Sam's confused voice came from the bathroom. He was crouched underneath the sink.

"I already checked there," I hissed.

"Not well enough, then," Sam shot back, ripping a duct taped hex bag off the underside of the counter. "But that's not exactly surprising."

"Mother of God," Dean muttered and snatched the hex bag from Sam. He ripped it open to see a few animal bones, some type of powder and a few brunette hairs—human and long. Mine and Sam's.

"Great, you made friends with another freaking witch," I accused Sam.

"Me?! You're the one who royally screwed up last time we ran into a coven!"

"Alright, well I've had enough of this crap," Dean grumbled before whipping out his lighter. He pushed the flame against the bag and tossed the flaming bag into the metal trashcan.

Like flipping a switch, all of the aggression and brewing rage in my chest smothered out. Sam and I blinked at each other in surprise.

"Oh," I said softly. Sam looked remorseful.

"Yeah, oh," Dean said and crossed his arms. "You two good now?"

We nodded slowly. "Sam, I'm—"

"No, I'm really sorry, Kate," he rushed to apologize. "I was such a freaking dick to you."

"Yeah, me too," I said, my cheeks coloring as I thought of the crap Sam and I had said to each other these past few days.

"Well now that that's settled, who befriended the freaking witch?" Dean looked between us.

Sam shrugged. "I-I've been researching. And hanging out here, trying to find a case…"

I frowned. "I've been doing the same. I went to the movies yesterday, but other than that, I haven't exactly interacted with the people here."

Dean looked to the heavens. "My siblings are such losers."

Sam ignored his griping and pointed to our brother. "Dean, you're the one who brought home that girl on Sunday."

As Dean smirked fondly, I wrinkled my nose. "Ew. Yeah, and Sam and I had to sit out in the Impala."

Dean snapped out of his daydream. "Hey, just because I bring home one lady-friend does not mean that's she's a freaking witch, OK? I can get a woman without being a means to a supernatural end." He gave us his best bitch face.

"Dean, that was the same time that Kate and I started hating each other," Sam added.

Dean considered this for a moment before grudgingly giving into the idea. "Fine, maybe she slipped us a hex bag when she went into the bathroom. But she didn't exactly target me, did she?"

"Well, someone could have convinced her to plant the bag," I suggested. "Somebody that has it out for me and Sam, I guess." I narrowed my eyes to the crappy, blue carpet as I mulled that over. Who the hell would come after just me and Sam?

Dean turned on me with a point. "No. No. Nobody paid that girl to sleep with me."

"She didn't say that, Dean," Sam said in exasperation.

"I said that somebody paid the chick to single you out and sneak into your bathroom." I smirked.

Dean narrowed his eyes on me. "Then why didn't the bag affect me, wiseass?"

That was a good question. "Your winning smile spared you…?" My sympathetic expression ensured him that I didn't actually believe that.

"We'll have to find her and ask," Sam said, going for his jacket.

"Fine," Dean said as he grabbed his keys off the table. "But I'll be doing the questioning, got it?" He headed for the door without waiting for an answer. I grabbed my cheeseburger and followed.

Sam rolled his eyes and followed us out the door. "Dean, we need to work together—"

"Oh, quit being such a bitch," Dean threw back, stuffing his cheeseburger in his mouth.

"Jerk," I called him out, chewing my own cheeseburger.

"Pansy," they said to me together. My jerky brothers exchanged grins and got into the front of the Impala.

I glared, not caring that they were just finishing the typical, siblings' insults. "Really, Sam? Right after I defend you?" He ignored me (as stupid brothers do), forcing me to grumble more colorful insults and get into the car.