Bad Blood {Dean Winchester}

Croatoan - Virus

A/N: How annoying that Polyvore (the site I used to create outfits) is no longer a thing. Does anyone know any alternatives? I might have to be old fashioned and just describe what she's wearing. If that's the case, I just imagined her wearing black denim, skinny jeans, a plain white casual top, a light fitted denim jacket, and a pair of brown ankle boots. Her hair is just down and natural. But by all means, imagine your own outfits for her. I'm sure you all have your own image of how she looks and dresses :)

Katherine's P.O.V

Night had fallen outside and the inside of the clinic mirrored that. All the lights were off, the shades were drawn, and it was silent. The older man, whom I came to realize was named Mark, was peering out the shades, a concerned expression upon his face as he saw people just stood on every corner, staring like zombies. Behind him, Sam was stood over a table full of our weapons, pulling a hunting knife out of it's holster to check the blade. Dean was beside him loading a shotgun whilst I was huddled up on a chair near the lab's open door, a pistol in my hand. Suddenly, a smash sounded from the lab, a high pitched squeal following it. I shared one look with the brothers before rushing inside to see that Pam had dropped a vile of blood on the floor, and was flaying her arms about in panic.

"Oh god! Is there any on me? Am I okay?" Pam rushed out, patting her arms down herself.

"You're clean, you're okay." Dr Lee assured. The Winchesters along with Mark entered the room, assessing the situation before relaxing.

"Why are we staying here? Please, let's just go!" Pam begged. The poor girl was obviously terrified, and I couldn't say I blamed her.

"No, we can't, because those things are everywhere."Dean reminded her, although his tone was harsher than needed.

Pam's breathing picked up and she sunk to the floor. "Oh god . . .whys is this happening?"

"Hey, shh, shh." Dr Lee comforted her.

I sighed, turning to the three men near the door way. "She's right about one thing. We can't stay here. We've gotta get out of here, get to the Roadhouse? Somewhere. Let people know what's coming." I whispered, not wanting to freak the women out any more.

"Yeah, good point." Dean agreed. "Night of the Living Dead didn't exactly end pretty."

"Well, I'm not sure we've got a choice. Lots of folks up here are good with rifles — even with all your hardware we're, we're easy targets. So unless you've got some explosives . . ." Mark responded, shaking his head slightly. Sam sighed before his eyes caught something in the far top corner. I furrowed my eyebrows at him before turning my head to see what he was looking at, a smile spreading across my lips as soon as I saw the medical supplies on the cabinet.

"We could make some." Sam said, pointing them out for Dean and Mark to see. Sam moved around us to grab a bottle of Potassium Chloride off the top when suddenly, someone started pounding on the front door frantically, screaming for help.

"Hey! Let me in, let me in! Please!" A young man's voice yelled through the door as we rushed out.

"It's Duane Tanner!" Mark called out, not wasting any time in letting him in. I took notice that he was limping and panting as he pushed his way through the door way, tugging his backpack further up his back.

"Thank god." Duane breathed.

"Duane, you okay?" Mark asked, following him into the reception area where the brothers and I stood.

"That's the guy that I, uh," Dean said to us quietly, clicking his tongue at the end and swiping a hand across his throat.

"Yeah." Sam confirmed, worry in his voice. I crossed my arms over my chest, biting my lip as I stared at the boy. Now that we knew something was happening, Dean shooting the kid didn't seem like such a crazy idea. That of course was if he was one of those insane people.