If there's one thing Katherine knew how to do, it's hold a grudge. Between his own searching, Dean watched his blonde partner scour every drawer she saw, move every piece of furniture...she probably would have lifted up all the floorboards, too.

He wonders if the grudge-holding is a Taurus thing, or a Katherine thing. Or maybe a Bela thing, since no one particularly enjoys her existence.

"Any sign of it?" Katherine growls, lifting the mattress from the frame.

"Nothin'," Sam huffs, over by the closet. She glances over to him.

"Crack that safe, would ya?"

Sam frowns at her. "I don't have supersonic hearing."

Katherine rolls her eyes. "I have a stethoscope in the car."

"Are we sure this is Bela's room?" Sam growls, rising to his feet. Dean holds up two wigs.

"I'd say so."

The telephone resting on the bedside table begins to ring, and Katherine glares at it.

"Do we answer it?" Sam asks.

Katherine lunges across the mattress and rips the phone up from the receiver before holding it to her ear. She doesn't say anything, though, staring at the mattress as white noise on the other end filters through. 

"Dean? Sweetie, are you there?"

"Where are you?" Katherine hums, rather conversationally. Like she's talking to Charlie.

"Oh, Katherine," Bela sighs. "Two states away by now."

"Where?"

"Where's our usual quippy banter? I miss it."

"I want it back, Bela," Katherine growls. "Now."

"Your little pistol, you mean? I can't at the moment."

Katherine's eyes narrow as she shifts her weight. "You understand how many people are gonna die if you do this?"

"What exactly is it that you think I plan on doing with this?"

"Oh, I don't know. Take the only weapon we have against an army of demons and sell it to the highest bidder?" Katherine suggests. "Just a stab in the dark."

There's a pause on the other end. "You know nothing about me."

"I know I have nothing better to do than hunt your ass down. I want the Colt, and I want you dead." Katherine cocks her head to the side. "I usually get what I want."

"Rather spoiled, are we?"

"Somethin' like that, sure."

"You're wrong, anyway."

Katherine's brow quirks. "Wrong?"

"Yes. You're about to be quite occupied." Katherine waits. "Did you really think I wouldn't take precautions?"

The hair on the back of Katherine's neck stands up and she slams the phone on the receiver. 

The door is kicked in, and they're met with a barricade of police officers and muzzles of weapons pointed at their chests.

"Hands in the air!"

"Down on your knees!"

Katherine's teeth grit as she sinks down to her knees, heart pounding and chest burning with fury. "That bitch!" She seethes, and she's pushed onto her stomach, hands roughly brought behind her back. "There's no need to be so rough!"

"Sam and Dean Winchester, Katherine Donovan—you have the right to remain silent." She rolls her eyes. "Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law." Her eyes are drawn towards the doorway as a pair of dark shoes come into her line of vision. She follows the pants up to the waist, the shirt up to the neck, and groans when she sees the face of Agent Henrikson.

"Hi, guys," he says, smiling a bit, as the local police officer continues to recite their Miranda rights. "Gal." Katherine scoffs, lowering her head back down to the carpet. "It's been a while."

"Can't say I'm happy to see you," Dean says.

"Yeah, well, seeing your sour face is the best thing to happen to me in months," the federal agent bites back.

"Must be a pretty boring existence," the huntress mutters, and she's lifted to her feet. Agent Henrikson's eyes narrow as he takes in her smirk and raised brow. "No serial killers, cow-sacrificing devil worshipers, or, uh...threats on the homeland?" He nods his head to the side and Katherine is shoved forward. 

"Ea-sy!"

✕

Katherine is escorted in first. "Ladies first" and all that. Her ankles are shackled, so her strides are shorter than usual, and wrists are cuffed in front of her. Her eyes survey the office before her. A young dark-haired woman sitting at a desk before her with various idols on her desk. Virgin Mary. The cross around her neck. She's looking at the huntress like she's got three heads, hands trembling as she reaches up to grip the cross hanging around her neck. With a frown, Katherine reaches up to scratch her neck, and pulls the crucifix out from underneath her shirt.

"Let's go," one of the officers says, gripping her shoulder, and Katherine yanks away from him with a dirty look.

"Don't touch me," she snaps, starting forward, and shoots one last look to the receptionist—Nancy, her nameplate says.

Katherine is locked in her own cell at the very end of the block, left in her shackles. She sits on the bed and stretches her long legs out with a sigh, crossing her ankles, and debates undoing the button on her jeans. Might as well get comfortable. 

A few minutes later, she can hear Dean's voice. "Why all the sourpuss faces? Hey! Watch the merchandise!" She raises a brow, watching as the Winchesters waddle into the holding area, chained to each other, and they're put in the cell across from her. "What a view," Dean remarks. She snorts. He starts towards the set of bars closest to her, while Sam moves for the bed, and the chain at their ankles jerks, the both of them almost falling to the floor.

"Dean!" Sam protests. Dean huffs, straightening out with a flat expression. "All right—sit?" After a moment, the older brother nods, and the two clumsily switch places and plop down on the edge of the cot.

"You made that so much harder than it needed to be," Katherine sighs, buttoning her jeans again.

"Come here often?" Dean asks.

Katherine grins, deciding to play along. "No, actually, it's my first time," she nods.

"Really? Never been arrested before?"

She shrugs. "I mean, once, but it was a while ago...but I wasn't actually put in a cell, just locked in a room."

"Oh, yeah," he hums, nodding. "Woman in white."

Katherine purses her lips. "How are we gonna Houdini out of this one?" She asks.

"Good question," Sam sighs, slumping against the wall.

"You boys take a nap," Katherine suggests after a moment, adjusting her body to lay more comfortably on the metal bed. "I'll work on that."

A little while later, Henriksen shuffles in, stopping at her cell. "Pick your feet up when you walk," she says, eyes closed as she speaks. Henriksen just stares at her.

"You know what I'm trying to decide?"

She sighs heavily and slowly sits up. "I dunno. What?" She rolls to her feet and starts to the bars of her cell before she leans against them with a raised brow. "Whether Cialis will help you with your little condition?"

"What to have for dinner tonight." Katherine slowly nods. "Steak or lobster. Ah, what the hell—surf and turf. I got a lot to celebrate."

"Man, you must have a tiny agenda if you break bank on us," Katherine laughs.

Henriksen grins. "Seeing you three in chains brings be great satisfaction."

"You kinky son of a bitch!" She cries, and the snoozing Winchesters jolt awake. "I am a woman in a very committed marriage, and those two over there don't swing that way."

"Oh, yeah, congratulations," Agent Henriksen chuckles. "I saw the ring on your finger, but wasn't sure if you stole it."

Katherine clears her throat. "I wouldn't bust out the melted butter just yet," she hums, relaxing a bit. "You couldn't catch them at the bank...couldn't keep them in that jail..." She raises a brow and shrugs. 

"You're right," Henriksen admits. "Screwed up. I underestimated them. But now I've got you in here. You're the mastermind, right?"

Katherine grins. "I dunno about that."

Henriksen shakes his head. "Oh, don't play modest now. I'm ready this time."

"Ready to lose us again?" Dean chirps.

"Ready like a court order to keep you in a supermaximum prison in Nevada until trial," Henriksen says, not moving his eyes from Katherine. She doesn't risk looking to the Winchesters. "Ready like isolation in a soundproof, windowless cell so small that, between you and me? Probably unconstitutional." He turns on his heel to gaze at the Winchesters. "How's that for 'ready?'" Silence hangs in the damp, mildewy air of the jail's holding area. "Take a good look at your little entourage—you'll never see each other again." Henriksen glances over Katherine before looking to the boys' cell. "Aw—where's that smug smile, Dean? I want to see it."

Dean just scoffs, shaking his low-hanging head. "You got the wrong guys, man."

"Oh, yeah, I forgot. You fight monsters. Sorry, Dean. Truth is, your daddy brainwashed you with all that devil talk, and no doubt touched you in a wrong place." Katherine stands up a little straighter, turning her chin to get a look at Dean. Sam sits up, too.

"Why don't you shut your mouth?" Dean lowly suggests.

"Well guess what? Life sucks, get a helmet," Henriksen continues. "'Cause everybody's got a sob story, but not everyone becomes a killer." Katherine glances to the barred cutout in the concrete walls of the jail as a strange sound lowly resonates around the cells. Like a helicopter. "And now I have two less to worry about." Henriksen turns to Katherine with a raised brow. "You may not be a killer, but you helped them. In my eyes, that's just as bad."

She shrugs. "Good thing I don't give a shit." She raises her hands and waves with one of them. "Surf and turf time."

"You're right," the man hums, a smug smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, and he waltzes out of the holding area.

"Dick," Katherine mutters.

"We're gonna get out of this," Dean says.

"Yeah," she sighs. "Don't bet on it."

She wonders what she's going to tell Charlie. The FBI wouldn't screw up a case like this, especially since the hunters have been so slippery before. They're going to get everything they're entitled to...phone call, lawyer. They're going to do everything by the book so they get sent away for life.

Katherine makes distracted noises with her mouth. Dean watches her gaze grow distant as she stares unblinking at the floor.

A few minutes later, another man walks into the holding area before sliding the steel door shut behind him. The one that has stayed open until this point.

Katherine's eyes snap up, and they all wait. Curiously, her eyes narrow and she sits up a little straighter to get a good look at the man. He's wearing a suit. He's white. Dark hair. That's about all she can tell...other than the shadows that cling to him like a cloud. There's a darkness that lingers around his eyes, too, but it could be the shitty lighting.

He starts over to the two back cells, glancing between the three. "Sam and Dean Winchester." He points to them and shifts his gaze to the huntress. "Katherine Donovan."

She rolls her eyes. "What gave it away?" She monotonously drones, keeping her eyes on her fingernails. Charlie's gonna be so pissed. 

"I'm Deputy Director Steven Groves," he continues. "This is a pleasure."

"Glad one of us feels that way," Dean grunts.

"I've been waiting a long time for you to come out of the woodwork." Katherine looks up as her skin begins to tingle, and her eyes land on the agent's silenced gun pointed right at her.

Sam and Dean lunge to their feet. "Katherine!"

A bullet pierces her skin, sending electric pangs to her shoulders. She rushes the man and grabs the gun and wrist, twisting to keep the muzzle from her body as he keeps squeezing the trigger.

His eyes are black. The shadows around him are darker than ever.

Demon.

"Kat!"

The Winchesters can hear her speaking, but for a moment, they can't place what she's saying, until they hear demonica—it's an exorcism.

The man yells, a rapidly-ascending cloud of thick, dark smoke making its way to an air vent, before he drops to the ground. Katherine pushes the gun from her hands and sinks against the bars just as a few police officers—along with Agent Henriksen—barrel into the holding area with weapons pointed at each of the three hunters.

"What the hell is going on?" Henriksen snaps.

"He just came in here and shot me!" Katherine shouts.

"How'd he get down?" His gun is pointed at her.

"I didn't shoot him!" She insists. "Check the body, there's no blood!"

"He shot her for God's sake!" Dean cries.

"Check the body!" Sam and Katherine chorus, rather aggressively, and two officers check the deputy director's body.

"Vic, there's no bullet wound."

"Yeah, he's probably been dead for months!" Sam roars.

"What did you do to him?" Henriksen demands.

"We didn't do anything!" Katherine growls. "Check the goddamn security tape!"

"Talk or I shoot!"

"You wouldn't believe me!" She shouts over him. She looks up at him with blazing blue eyes and a clenched jaw, breathing labored as she presses her hand to her left shoulder. "You wouldn't believe me," she repeats, softer now.

"He was possessed," Sam says.

"Possessed," Henriksen echoes, nodding. "Right. Fire up the chopper, we're taking them out of here now."

"Yeah, do that," Dean snaps. "She's got a bullet in her shoulder—"

"She ain't bleedin' out—"

"She's pregnant!" Sam explodes, and everyone stops moving. Dean's wide eyes snap to Katherine, and he feels sick to his stomach. He can't read her face. 

Katherine clenches her jaw and looks to Henriksen as she slouches against the wall. Henriksen nods at one of the police officers, who switches a walkie on.

"Bill," he says. Nothing but static. "Bill, are you there?"

Henriksen sends one of his agents to investigate, only slightly lowering his gun from Katherine. She notices the way his eyes are carefully examining her now. She opens her mouth to speak, but outside, something explodes. Something so big it sends shockwaves up Katherine's legs and into her knees.

And then there's a blood-curdling scream just outside their window.