𝐃𝐎𝐍𝐎𝐕𝐀𝐍

𝐒𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐘-𝐅𝐈𝐕𝐄

Katherine Donovan is a lot of things, but she doesn't consider "stone cold murderer" one of them. Despite vivid daydreams of just how she would kill Bela Talbot, despite smelling the metallic tang of blood that would be in the air after she did, the thought of acting on the impulse makes her sick to her stomach...more so than seeing the rotten wench again this morning.

She's so red with fury still that Katherine can't hear anything Bela is saying to Sam, Dean, or Peter Warren, the latest victim's brother.

She'll have episodes of rage sometimes. It's so blinding, so deafening, that she may not remember the circumstance the next day. She hasn't seen Yellow Eyes in a while...but she can still feel him. That part of him still nested deep in her brain, his own branch of neurons...listening. Watching. Behaving.

For now.

When Katherine comes off autopilot, they're standing at the trunk of the Impala, and Sam is looking at her expectantly.

"What?"

"Ghost," Sam says with annoying emphasis. Sometimes she'd like to push his face into cold cement. Hard. He holds a salt round up to Katherine. "Rock salt."

"Thanks for the deduction, Sam," Katherine mutters. "I haven't hunted in thirty days, I was in need of a crash course."

"Thirty?" Dean asks after a moment. Katherine nods without looking up.

"Addicts don't quit cold-turkey," she sighs, turning the salt round over between her fingers.

Dean appraises her for a moment. Maybe she is looking at that round like an alcoholic would a nice cold drink.

"You want to quit?" Sam asks.

Katherine purses her lips before loading her shotgun with the round. "Not necessarily," she says. "But I need to."

Because of Charlie.

"I see you got your car back," Bela Talbot chirps, heels clicking against the pavement as she crosses over to the hunters.

Without looking up from the trunk, Katherine sings, "Kitty's got a gun."

Bela sighs and rolls her eyes. "Oh, mind your blood pressure, darling." She purses her lips, observing the three hunters and their lack of acknowledgment. Dean is turning red. Bela cocks her head to the side. "Why are you still here?" A pause. "You have enough to ID the boat?"

"That guy back there saw the ship," Sam says. He closes the trunk once the hunters are done loading their weapons.

"Yeah? And?"

"And he's going to die, you scrubber," Katherine snarls. "So we have to save him."

Bela's unreadable expression turns to something more. Colder, more full of rage. Her lip curls and she lunges. Katherine, swift as a cat, deflects Bela's fist and twists her arm behind her back before shoving her into the trunk.

"Let me go," Bela snarls.

"How'd you get like this?" Katherine seethes. Her nostrils are flared and her pupils are blown. Dean can see the pulse in her neck throb. Bared teeth lower to Bela's ear. "Daddy not give you enough hugs?"

"I don't know," Bela pants. "Did yours?" Katherine's mouth tightens. Sam sees her hand twitch, and he starts to move for her.

Bela dead in the street wouldn't do anyone any good. Who knows what cameras are around here? And the police just a block away...they would know who to look for.

Katherine comes back. With a stone cold face, she steps away from Bela. The Brit clutches her arm to her chest, where a bright red mark is already blooming.