Katherine lets out a weak laugh as the lights go out.

"We're so fucked," she whispers.

The emergency light flips on, giving some way in the darkness.

"Kat, you okay?" Sam asks. She can't see much outside of his silhouette by the bars of her cell.

"Yeah," she murmurs. "Yeah, it's starting to hurt, so...adrenaline's wearing off." She clenches her fist. "No nerve damage...yet." She sighs and starts for the other side of her small cell. "What the hell was that 'she's pregnant' bullshit?"

Dean's head snaps up at that. "You're not?"

"No," she scoffs.

Dean looks to Sam. "Why'd you say that?"

"Remember how I told you I had six months without you?" Sam asks. He shrugs. "She had a baby. I assumed it would be true." He looks to Katherine, silently asking for confirmation.

She shrugs. "No?" The brothers stare at her still, then she scratches her forehead. "Jesus Christ on a rubber crutch, you're gonna make me say it. I'm on birth control. Obviously."

"Obviusly," Dean mutters, leaning back against the wall. He watches her shift uncomfortably, pressing a spare rag from Dean's jacket into her shoulder.

"You know what, butt out," she continues. "Charlie's mom hasn't even asked us when we're having kids."

"What's the plan?" Henriksen's voice echoes into the holding cells as he walks down the corridor. He stops between the two cells, looking to all three of the hunters. "Kill everyone in here, bust the three of you out?"

"What the hell are you talking about?" Dean asks.

"I'm talking about your psycho friends. I'm talking about a bloodbath."

Katherine scoffs. "Whoever's out there is not here to help us, I can guarantee that. Look, everyone in here is in some serious shit."

"You think?"

Katherine plants her feet. "Why don't you let us out of here so we can save your asses?"

"From what?"

Katherine runs her tongue along her teeth, glancing to the Winchesters, and raises a brow as if to say, "Who's got this one?"

"You gonna say 'demons'?" Henriksen asks, and holds his gun up in frustration. "Don't you dare say 'demons'!"

"Demons," the young woman hums.

He turns to her, leaning close to the bars. "Let me tell you somethin'. You should be a lot more scared of me."

Katherine gives a brief chuckle through her nose, stoically appraising the agent. After a moment of silence, she quirks a brow, and Henriksen leaves.

"How's your shoulder?" Sam asks.

"It's awesome, Sam," Katherine mutters, and turns to look at him. She sighs at his typical puppy dog expression. "I'll be fine." Dean is unusually quiet. "So...either of you got a plan?"

"I thought you were coming up with the plan?" Sam chuckles.

"Yeah, well, I'm phoning a friend."

"Hey," Dean casually calls, and Katherine looks up; his gaze is locked across the room, brows furrowed and eyes curious as he carefully starts for the opposite bars of his cell. Katherine turns to try to poke her head out of her own.

Nancy, the receptionist, is lingering behind the corner, large dark eyes cautiously darting between the federal fugitives.

"It's Nancy, right?" Dean continues. Katherine can no longer see the receptionist. "Nancy, she's been shot...and she—she's--" Dean glances to the blonde in the opposite cell. "She's pregnant, all right, and she's bleeding real bad--could...could we get a towel, maybe?"

There's no response.

"We're not the bad guys," Katherine calls to her, pressing the soaked rag into her shoulder harder. "And we don't...worship the devil. Can't believe I have to say that."

The brothers let out a synchronized sigh. "She's gone," Sam informs Katherine.

"Perfect," she mutters. "Can we stop announcing to the world I'm making a tiny human? The wrong ears could hear that, and it's not even true."

"Well maybe I'm hoping it'd get you some help," Dean snaps. Katherine sighs, rolling her head to the side a bit, and runs her tongue along her lower lip as she stares up at the night sky through her small window. The scent of a gas-fueled fire hasn't gone away. It's gotten stronger, in fact, and Katherine wonders when the building will catch. She's assuming the helicopter that came in was what caused the explosion, because they haven't heard anything else since.

But where's the fire department?

A soft shuffle draws Sam's attention to the front of the holding area, where wide-eyed Nancy is standing, clutching a seemingly clean white towel between her small fists. "Thank you," he says. Katherine leans up against the bars with a soft smile, and Nancy's large eyes move to her bloodied hand. Slowly, the receptionists' feet shuffle towards Katherine, a trusting smile tugging at the corner of her lips. Then Katherine notices the rosary beads clutched between her fingers. Her mind works faster than anyone could understand.

She could snatch them. Or she could ask nicely.

The human instinct kicks in, nudging the barbarian hunter aside.

Nancy reaches the towel through the bars. Katherine's fingertips clutch the edge of the towel before her other hand grabs her wrist. It's enough to startle Nancy, but she doesn't scream. She just stares, petrified. Fight, flight...Nancy freezes.

"Can I borrow your beads?" Katherine whispers. Nancy's eyebrows furrow. "Your Rosary. Please. I'll give them back, I promise. I just..." She wets her lips and shifts her weight. "I want to pray."

After a moment, Nancy nods, unwinding the beads from her fingers, and shakily presses them into Katherine's palm before she rushes away without a second glance over her shoulder.

"What'd you say to her?" Sam asks. Katherine wordlessly holds up the rosary beads and retreats to the toilet. "How'd you know she had those?"

"Saw 'em on the desk when I first came in," she quietly answers. "Then I saw them in her hand just now."

Sam stares at her, eyes soft and an equally warm smile twitching at the corner of his mouth. "Using toilet water," he hums. "Smart."

Katherine shrugs her good shoulder and kneels by the toilet.

"You premeditate that?" Sam asks.

"Not really," Katherine hums in response. "It's a bit difficult to premeditate if you can't anticipate what's coming."

Sam wonders if he'd ever be able to understand how her brain works. He watches her sink to her knees and murmur quietly to herself, her right hand keeping the towel firmly pressed to her left shoulder.

✕

The night had grown eerily still and quiet. There was nothing more to do than sit down and collect thoughts, catch whiffs of gasoline. Katherine had tried to sleep, but nothing was comfortable enough, and her mind was too busy, and the air was too cold.

"Would it kill these cops to bring us a snack?!" Dean cries. "Or some painkillers, maybe?!"

"How many do you think are out there?" Katherine murmurs. Why haven't they dont anything yet? She's looking up at the dark ceiling, ankles crossed, with her hand resting over her shoulder. She's given up on applying pressure. Idly, she wonders how much time has passed since she was paraded in here like some minor-league Aileen Wuornos.

"I don't know," Sam answers. "But however many there are, they could be possessing anyone. Anyone could just walk right in."

"Kind of wild, right?" Katherine hums, and the Winchesters look in her direction. "They're coming right for us," she almost whispers, eyes narrowed. "They've never done that before, not even to me."

"It's like we've got a contract on us," Dean muses, then smirks. "Think it's 'cause we're so awesome? I think it's 'cause we're so awesome."

Sam glowers. Katherine sits up when she hears someone pad into the holding area, and she makes herself as small as possible in the dark corner, waiting for the figure to come into her line of vision.

"Well howdy there, Sheriff," Dean says. She watches the man—the sheriff—move to the brothers' cell, unlock it, and move to the padlock of hers.

"Uh...Sheriff?" Sam asks.

"It's time to go," the sheriff responds. Katherine lingers in her corner, watching him slide the door open. "Come on," he prompts, gesturing up the pathway. Then he starts in.

"Uh...y'know, I'm kinda comfy here," she hums, backing near the toilet, ready to splash some of the bootleg holy water onto him. Dean and Sam start forward, but stop when Agent Henriksen appears.

"What's going on here?" He asks.

"We're not just gonna sit around here and wait to die," the sheriff says. "We're gonna make a run for it."

"It's safer here," Henriksen argues.

"There's a SWAT facility in Boulder," the Sheriff states, glancing away from Katherine in aggravation. Henriksen steps into the cell with her and the sheriff.

"We're not going anywhere," Henriksen insists.

"The Hell we're not—!"

Katherine can't help but scream out of surprise, jumping back into her corner, as Henriksen draws his gun and shoots the sheriff in the head. The Winchesters rush into the cell and Katherine jumps into action, engaging herself the best she can in her tattered and chained condition. She wraps the chain around his forearms and knocks the gun from his palm before releasing his arms, the Winchesters charging into the cell, and grab his arms.

"Toilet!" She cries, and they push him forward, forcing him to his knees, and shove his head into the toilet bowl. Dean picks the gun up and forces Katherine to sit down, pushes the towel onto her shoulder, as Sam exorcises whatever demon is in Henriksen.

A sheriff's deputy rushes into the holding area with a rifle, and Dean aims the pistol at him. "Stay back!" He warns.

"Sam, hurry!" Katherine prompts.

"It's too late!" Henriksen shouts. "I already called them! They're already coming!" Sam forces his head back into the water. After another few words, a thick black cloud shoots for the ceiling, and Katherine remains low, watching it like it has teeth.

Sam lets Henriksen roll. Dean's still pointing the gun towards the deputy, where Nancy now stands, both of them shocked. The hunter looks over to Katherine with set brows and speculative eyes. "Are you okay?" He asks. Katherine nods.

"'M fine."

"Is he dead?" A voice asks. It's Nancy.

"No," Katherine answers, her eyes scanning the FBI agent lying motionless on the ground. As if on cue, Henriksen coughs, chest lurching, and he sits up, turning onto his hands and knees as he heaves. The hunters cautiously eye the agent as he pulls himself into a sitting position, blinking harshly, almost as if he's forcing himself to reorient.

"I shot the sheriff," he says.

Dean can't help himself. "But you didn't shoot the deputy." Katherine snorts, but Sam gazes flatly at the two, jaw clenched and dark hazel eyes darting between them. Katherine's grin fades into something awkward and forced as she looks to Henriksen.

"Five minutes ago, I was fine," he says, wiping his face. "And then..."

"And then a nasty black smoke jammed itself down your throat?" Dean fills in, and Henriksen stares at him. Confused, disoriented, disbelief.

"You were possessed," Katherine informs the FBI agent, eyebrow raised in an almost I-told-you-so way.

"Possessed like..." His hand moves forward, almost forcing the words to come to him.

Katherine purses her lips and nods. Very smart-assy. "Like the messengers of Satan took control of your body and filled every little crevice—even the ones you didn't even know existed," she hums. "It's as disgusting as it sounds. Been there, done that, s'not my cuppa." Henriksen notes the way the young woman's eyes briefly flit to the ground and her tongue slowly moves across her lower lip when she's finished speaking. "Now you know. And we owe you the biggest "I told you so" ever, so."

Agent Henriksen looks over her sincerely before his dark eyes move to the floor. Shame washes over his face. Disbelief. But it's gone just as quickly as it came.

"Officer Amici," Henriksen says, climbing to his feet. "Keys."

Katherine clears her throat and holds her wrists out, prompting Henriksen to unlock her first.

"All right," the FBI agent says, and the hunters' chains hit the ground. "So how do we stay alive?" Cautiously, his eyes flit to Katherine, briefly studying the blood staining her jacket, smeared across her palms.

"I'm fine," the huntress mutters. "Just get me some salt."

"Salt?"

Katherine stares at him. "Do you need me to do a concussion eval? Salt, Henriksen. Go, find it." She shoos him away and turns to the Winchesters. "You know what to do."

"We're gonna need blueprints," Sam says, and she nods, turning to look for the receptionist.

"Nancy, we need some papers," she says.

Nancy lays out a blueprint on her desk and the three hunters examine it for a brief moment. Dean goes to town on her shoulder."This sucks aaaaasssss," Katherine groans. "Look at all the windows, man."

"If we move fast and be quiet about it, we'll be fine," Sam murmurs.

"Fine. Devil's traps at the entrances." She winces, pulling her shoulder from Dean's stinging gauze, and she looks at him with murder in her eyes.

Dean isn't all that amused. "Be a good patient and hold still," he grunts, wrapping his fingers around her distal humerus like a vice. Katherine huffs and looks back to the blueprint.

"Why don't you salt while Sam draws?" She suggests. "I can take care of a gunshot wound. We can work faster."

"I'm almost done," he mutters, tossing the bloodied gauze aside, and reaches into the first aid kit for something to tape over her wound. They've already loaded Katherine with painkillers.

She looks up as Henriksen and Deputy Amici return with a few rifles and a box of ammo. She almost grins. It isn't nice. It's callous and arrogant. "That's nice, but it won't do much good."

Amici is confused. The frown on his face says so. "What are you talking about? We've got an arsenal in here."

Dean sighs, shaking his head, and picks up the bag of road salt before moving for the entrance. Katherine's smile drops. Nancy isn't sure if she's scarier when she smiles like she did, all teeth and no nice, or if she's just staring.

"You don't poke a bear with a BB gun," Dean calls over his shoulder. "That's just gonna make him mad."

"So what do we need?" Amici asks.

"Help Dean with the salt," Katherine orders. "We need salt at every door, lining every window. It needs to be a line, all right?" She calls to them. "Don't break it! If you break it, then it's useless!" She smoothes the medical tape against her shoulder and double-takes in Nancy's direction. "You doin' all right?"

Nancy shrugs and nods. "When I was little, I would come home from church and talk about the Devil. My parents would...tell me to stop being so literal."

Katherine chuckles. "Yeah...yeah, my dad would tell me to be more literal." She smiles a bit and shakes her head. "Guess you showed them, huh?" Her eyes follow Deputy Amici as he walks back into the room with more road salt.

"Where's my car?" She asks. Dean narrows his eyes at her, and she shrugs.

"In the impound lot," Amici answers. Katherine carefully slips her jacket back on and starts out back. "Wait...you're not going out there, are you?"

Katherine shrugs. "Gotta get somethin' out of the trunk."

"Katherine," Dean says, then shakes his head. "You don't need to be doin' anything—"

"Stop it," she scoffs.

"Let me go."

It's an ice-cold stare-off, the way Nancy interprets it. Two wills as solid as steel, unwilling to bend. She's surprised, though, when Katherine sighs and nods. Funny, she thought. Nancy wouldn't have pegged her as one to cave to anything. Then again, she couldn't see Dean folding either.

"Give him the keys," Katherine says, nodding to Dean over his shoulder. "And gimme your salt." Dean hands her what's left of his bag and she moves to the back of the jail, weaving between the cells to line the top windows. Tape to border it, hold the salt in case the windows shatter and the wind blows. Sam watches her stick long strips of duct tape up between the bars and press the edges into the stone, making an effective seal.

"Sometimes I forget how smart you are," he says. Katherine looks up from the window with a soft smile and steps down from the bed.

"Is that your passive-aggressive way of calling me a dumb blonde?" she wonders. "I'll have you know, I'm a dirty blonde."

He shrugs. "I mean, you're practically brunette."

"That's what I'm sayin'." She smiles after a moment.

"Say—you ever have anything freaky happen to you while you were an intern?"

"In med school?" She asks. Sam nods. "Like supernatural?" He nods again. "Oh, sure. You know, during one of my shifts, I had to perform an exorcism and later explain to my Chief how...a fifteen year old girl who came in for a routine physical had no blood pressure or pulse a machine could identify...and how she wound up dead." She purses her lips. "I think she was coming after me."

"Not everything is about you," Sam taunts. But she doesn't respond how he thought she would.

"I don't like joking about people who have died on my watch," she murmurs.

Sam lowers his gaze. "Sorry."

"No, it's—it's okay." She smiles a little. "Guess I don't really talk about it that much." She remembers Paul and his grandpa again.

"Maybe you can," Sam suggests. "Some day...when you're ready. I know how hard it can be to lose something so important to you."

A soft smile tugs at the corner of Katherine's lips. "A doctor and a lawyer walk into a bar," she hums. But she doesn't finish her joke.

"How's your shoulder?" He asks, taking a few steps towards her, and pulls at her collar to analyze the damage. The bandage is bloody, she notes.

"S'all right," she hums. "I wish you would stop asking that." When she looks up, their faces are a bit closer than she anticipated. She wonders if she's ever seen Sam so close before, spare waking up in each other's faces. The light brown in the frosted green of his eyes. The kindness in the concerned furrow between his eyebrows.

"Soft" isn't a word she would normally use to describe the older Winchester...but Sam is. Soft, and warm, and kind. All the time.

Katherine wraps her good arm around Sam's shoulder, and he squeezes her middle, allowing himself a moment of doing nothing.

It's been a long couple of weeks for the both of them.

"How are you doing?" Katherine whispers.

"Hangin' in," he quietly replies. "How about you?"

She thinks about it for a moment. "Hangin' in."

A strange sensation floats up to the back of her neck, with the two of them simply staring at each other. It's almost a numbness, or a feather barely brushing against her skin.

Something is wrong.

"Dean," she whispers, pulling away from Sam, and rushes for the back door she ushered him out of.

"Dean?" Sam asks.

"He went to the impound lot." Katherine's voice is quick, frantic as she hurries down the corridor, looking out the windows with wide eyes. "They're coming."

Sam looks to the windows, too. "Right now?"

"Finish salting. Are the Devil's traps—"

"Yes!"

She tosses a fresh bag of salt at him, the pain in her shoulder forgotten, and sprints to the exit at the back of the jail, throwing the door open. "Dean!" She shouts.

The lights that illuminate the impound lot are flickering. The wind is almost howling, thunder is echoing, rolling as it grows closer and closer in a thick black cloud. "Dean!" She can see him hesitate before delving back into the trunk. "Get your dumb ass inside!" She can almost feel that cloud of black shoot through the air, and she turns to the left to watch it swirl around the atmosphere, making its way to the fenced-in gravel lot.

Katherine is bouncing on her toes, looking between the cloud of demons and Dean, who seems so much slower than he really is. "Come on, come on, come on!" He sprints past her and she yanks the door shut before locking it. "Took you long enough!" She scolds, turning to run after him.

"They're coming!" Dean shouts down the corridor, reaching into the weapons bag. "Hurry!" He tosses a saw-off behind him and Katherine catches it rather easily, adrenaline beginning to ease the discomfort in her muscles.

The dim, blue-white lights are the only things keeping the place somewhat illuminated as the wall of black presses up against the outside of the facility. Katherine can feel it crawl along the walls, feeling for a crack or a loose trap, almost like she can see it in her mind.

For a moment, she wonders if enlisting the help of amateurs was the right move for doing the barricades. What if there was a small break in a salt line? What if they missed a window?

They all converge in the office area of the police station. Dean throws Sam another shotgun, and he makes sure it's all loaded.

Katherine watches the shadow of demons eclipse Dean's face, and he slowly turns to look at her. Between the shaking ground and the flickering light fixtures, all he can think about is her and how he has to continue to keep his promise to her father. To protect her until the day he died, the best he knew how. To honor his new promise to Charlie to get her home safe every day.

Dean didn't know if Charlie was a master manipulator or just knew how to play the game. He knows Dean still loves Katherine. He saw it in his face every time he dropped Katherine off. Because really, he didn't need to promise Charlie anything. The love he feels for her, the kind that never goes away, is sufficient enough.

Dean is almost glad he knows when he'll die. If he can just keep her around until then, he won't have to live a day without her.

He wants more for her. He wants happiness, anything she's ever wanted. To get out of the life, to have a normal family. To have her two kids and the white pickett fence and sending those kids to college. Hell, maybe she'll have her own podcast, the fucking genius. She can do anything, and she chooses to do this?

Dean crosses over to her, a hand moving behind her head as he presses his lips to her forehead. Katherine's fingers fist his black t-shirt and she closes her eyes, inhaling his aftershave, feeling his heart pound underneath her fingers. When she does that, he's certain he'd never be good enough for her, but he can damn well try...so maybe it's a good thing he won't get to see her kids grow up and Sam will. The better Winchester brother. That's the price he'll have to pay for a rotten life he's lead. Losing the girl because of his own stubbornness, his inability to get over himself, and his brother, his good brother, will get to live next door to Katherine and continue to be a part of her life. They deserve to be in each other's lives.

There's some solace in that—knowing that karma is real.