"Whatcha thinkin' about over there?" Dean asks.

Katherine turns her head to look at him, letting out a heavy sigh. "How effective a holy water IV bag would be."

Dean grins. "All right then."

"I really need to up my demon torture, Dean. The squirt gun just doesn't do it anymore." He smiles with her. She gasps, sitting up straight. "WAIT!" Dean slams on the breaks.

"What?!"

"Holy salt water!" Dean stares at her. "Huh? Huh?"

He clenches his jaw and starts to creep down the street. He pushes his palm over his heart. "Give me another damn heart attack," he grumbles.

"Holy salt water is gonna burn like a mother fucker."

Dean glances to her, her silly little raised eyebrows, and looks back to the road. "You're a sick puppy."

"But I'm right."

Dean rubs her face. "Yeah, you probably are." He looks down at a map he picked up from the gas station, the street he circled according to what Katherine read from Bobby's follow up text.

"This is the one," she croaks, nodding to the mint-green-light-blue house with red trim. She's the first one up the porch. Dean let her have that much, at least.

Approaching the front door, she took notice of the sign posted off to the side.

NO SOLICITERS

THAT MEANS YOU!

NO ASKING FOR DONATIONS &

NO SELLING ANYTHING

Katherine presses her thumb against the doorbell, brows furrowed as she reads the sign. Rufus has sure turned into a grouch, hasn't he? She hears a soft whirring, coming from her right, and looks up to see a surveillance camera turning to point at her.

"What?!" A grouchy man calls through the intercom.

Katherine sighs and clears her throat. "Rufus, it's KD! Open up, you curmudgeon."

"Girl, you talk to me like that one more time—"

Her temper flares. "Rufus, it's important!"

After a moment, the front door opens. An older dark-skinned man with a very thick mustache stands in the doorway, needlepoint glare, carrying a blue bowl of half-eaten cereal. Raisin Bran, it seems. His wardrobe appears straight from the 90s, wearing a heather gray t-shirt and an open blue button-down over that, a pair of blue jeans, and white socks. "What do you want?"

"I want to get information about Bela Talbot." He frowns and opens his mouth to speak. "And don't play dumb, Rufus, I know you know." Rufus glances over her, looking rather unsettled.

"Why you sound like that?"

"Like what?"

"Like you smoke ten packs a day and got your throat punched in."

"I was intubated, you ass." Katherine raises her eyebrows at him, prompting.

"Let me tell you a little story," he says. "Once upon a time, Bobby called me, asked me to call him if I got a whiff of this Bela Talbot. I got a whiff. I called. The end."

Katherine sucks her teeth and holds up her left hand. The bottle of scotch, still boxed up and cling-wrapped. Pricey as shit.

Rufus takes the box from her. "Yeah, whatever little white witch. Get inside."

"That's rude, Rufus," she mutters, passing by him. "I'd be a little witch regardless of my skin color." Rufus gazes harshly over Dean, who having witnessed every aspect of their strange interaction, shifts his weight. "He's with me," Katherine passively hums, moving back inside.

"I don't like him."

"Ah...he's not so bad once you get past the Eau de Douche."

Dean gawps at Katherine. "I'm not a douche."

"You look like one," Rufus mutters, moving in front of Katherine. She's smiling at Dean and pats his elbow as they start after Rufus. "Want a drink, Douche?"

"It's Dean."

"Same thing."

Dean nods once. "I'll take one, sure. Thanks."

"KD?"

"No, I'm good." She sits at his table, and Dean looks around. Bobby's friends sure are pack rats like him. The place is cluttered with books, but it's clean. There's a deck of cards in front of Katherine she's just started shuffling.

Rufus sits down at the table with three blue plastic cups. Katherine turns one over. He sighs at her. "I'm trying to be kind," he says.

"I'm kindly refusing your kindness," she returns, continuing to shuffle the deck.

"Nectar of the gods," he tries again.

"I don't drink scotch. Thanks, Rufus."

He gives her a sarcastic smile. "What you want, a piña colada?"

Katherine smirks. "You don't have the shit for that."

Rufus laughs. "You damn right I don't." Dark eyes flit between the two before settling on Katherine again. "Look at you. All grown up."

"I'm not twelve years old anymore, Rufus."

"And who taught you how to sass like that?" Rufus leans back in his chair. "What happened to the sweet little girl—"

"She became a hunter," Katherine interrupts, and sits up straight. "Bela Talbot?"

"Yeah," Rufus hums, looking down at his drink. "She wanted to buy some things, which is gonna take me some time to round up."

"You know where she is now?"

Rufus frowns a bit. "Can I ask you somethin'?" She shrugs. "Your friend here has two months left. Why are you wasting your time chasing this skinny, stuck-up English girl?"

Dean is alarmed. He didn't even say who he was. "Rufus knows everything," Katherine says to him. After a moment, he nods.

"About a lot of people," Rufus adds, and downs the last of his whiskey.

"Is that so?" Dean hums.

"I know no peashooter gonna save you."

"How do you know?"

"'Cause that's the job, kid," Rufus slurs, and pours himself another. That's three for him already. "Even if you manage to scrape out of this one, there's always gonna be somethin' down the road. Folks like us...there ain't no happy ending." His pointed gaze turns to Katherine. Her chest seizes. "Congratulations, by the way. Charles seems like a nice guy."

"Charlie," she corrects. "Thanks for the heart to heart, Rufus, but the Colt isn't the only reason I'm going after her."

Rufus hums, sitting back in his chair. "Your little family heirloom," he says.

"Your big ass ears heard anything about that?"

Rufus wheezes out a laugh. "No, kid, I haven't."

Dean glances between the two. They're like old pals.

"Tell me where Bela is."

Rufus sighs, looking down at his cup. "Hotel Canaan. Room 39. But watch your back. That girl is slippery as an eel."

"Don't I know it."

"She burned her fingerprints off—"

"After she crossed me," Katherine hums. "I know."

"You do her ear?"

Katherine frowns. "I'm sorry?"

"You do her ear?"

Dean presses his lips together. "I mean, I'll try anything once, but—"

"No." Katherine shoves him. "Her ear print, you fucking walnut." She looks at the table and shakes her head. "I didn't even think about that," Katherine scoffs.

"What?" Dean asks.

"Her ear!" Rufus and Katherine shout. Dean gawks at the two.

"Sorry for asking, Jesus!"

"Ears are as unique as fingerprints," Katherine says. "It doesn't fly in the courts here, but in England, they're all over it. We learned that in med school."

"A friend of a friend of a friend...of a friend...faxed me ten pages of confidential files within a day," Rufus tells the hunters. "All I had to send him was one clean shot off the security camera."

"Right," Dean hums. "One clean shot of her ear."

They watch as Rufus walks over to his desk and pulls a file from the drawer. After a few moments, he sets it on the table in front of them. "There's a whole lot you don't know about your girl, Katherine," Rufus hums.

Katherine reaches forward and opens the file up. "Look at you being helpful, you old bag of farts."

He chuckles and pours himself another glass. The bottle is 3/4 gone. "I always liked you more than I liked your daddy."

"Lots of people say the same thing," Katherine hums, turning the page.

"Your momma wouldn't want you to be like this," Rufus says.

Katherine's eyes drag up to Rufus as she sets the file to the side. "Rufus."

"Think about the blood you'd have on your hands," Rufus continues. "You ain't like the things you hunt, Katherine Louise." She grits her teeth and looks away from him. Dean watches the fury simmer in her eyes. "You ain't like her." He points to the file. "But if you're hellbent on finding her, you better get going. Like I said...she's slippery."

"Thanks for the pearls of wisdom, Rufus," Katherine mutters, pushing herself up from the table.

"Katherine Louise?" Rufus calls after the two hunters. "You ever want to talk about your daddy...I might could help you out."

"What do you know?"

Rufus shrugs. "I'm tuggin' on a couple threads."

Dean doesn't like the way that hit his stomach.

✕

Katherine jams her knife up against Bela's throat, pinning her shoulders to the wall. "Where's the Colt?"

"Katherine," Bela murmurs. She can see the pulse in Bela's throat. Feels Bela's fingers prod around her jacket.

"The only words I want out of your mouth," Katherine snarls. "Is the location of the Colt."

"Across the world, by now," Bela answers.

"You're lying."

"I'll call the buyer. Speak Farsi?"

Katherine yanks Bela forward by the belt and fishes her hidden gun from her holster before pocketing it. Five inches from her face, Katherine flips on the lights and points her knife at Bela. "Don't move." Bela watches Katherine start opening drawers.

"I told you, I don't have it!"

"Oh, yeah," Katherine croaks. "Definitely gonna take your word for it."

Bela inches sideways over the doorknob as she turns around. Dean, sitting in the bathroom doorway, fires a silenced shot just beside Bela's head. She shrieks, dropping to the ground and covering her head.

Katherine looks from Dean to Bela. "I said don't move."

Bela looks to Dean, spine pressed against the wall. He smiles and waves his gun at her.

Katherine yanks Bela's suitcase onto the bed. "Louis Vuitton luggage?" She scoffs. "I don't get it. It's a damn suitcase."

"It's not in there," Bela insists. "I told you, it's gone. Get on a plane if you must. You might catch up to the buyer eventually."

Dean stands up and moves towards Bela.

"What, are you going to kill me?" She asks.

"Oh, yeah."

Katherine puts her hands on her hips as she stares down at Bela's suitcase. Thinking, thinking about too many different things. Why is Rufus digging into my dad?

"You're not the cold-blooded type," Bela murmurs.

"You mean like you? I guess it's true...I couldn't imagine killing my parents."

Bela shakes her head. "I don't know what you're—"

"Yeah, you do," Dean snarls.

"You were how old, fourteen?" Katherine asks, moving to stand beside Dean. Bela's hard eyes are trained on her, furious tears burning. "They died in some shady car accident...the police over there thought it may have been slashed brakes, but it was all too, uh...crispy to tell. Cut to little Abby inheriting millions."

"How did—"

"It doesn't matter," she whispers, moving to stand in front of Bela.

"So how are we going to do this?" Bela asks. "Dean's gun, your knife...my gun? Your little hands around my throat? Go on, Katherine. It's fate. It's what you promised."

Katherine slams her up against the door, knife pressed right up to Bela's throat. A thin line of blood runs along the sharpened edge, and Bela squeezes her eyes closed. Something falls onto Katherine's shoulder, and she turns to look at it.

At first glance, it's a bundle of twigs. But then, she realizes it's Devil's Shoestring.

Dean stoops to pick it up, and rests it on the table with the lamp. He just stares at her.

Cold blooded. Blood she'd have on her hands, blood that would never wash away. Blood on hands that would touch her baby, who didn't know the world yet. How cruel it could be.

Bela opens her eyes, staring into pitch black dilated pupils. "You're not worth it," Katherine whispers, tucking her knife into her palm.

She pushes Bela to the side, opens the door, and stalks down the hallway.

She barely makes it outside before feeling the nausea turn into vomiting. Dean grimaces, turning away, watching for anyone walking down the sidewalk.

Katherine sits on the paver flower bed and looks down at her trembling hands. Dean sighs and sits down beside her.

"You okay?"

"I thought I wanted to do it," she whispers. "Slowly. Violently." Dean chuckles at her wry smile. "I just couldn't fuckin' do it."

"That's not a bad thing, KD."

She coughs and spits into the flower bed. "Should leave, before I get yelled at for puking in the bushes."

Dean pulls her up by the elbows, and they start for the Impala. Katherine looks through Bela's file again, flashlight shining down on it, the window cracked just enough to get her some fresh air.

"She had to've made a deal," Katherine mumbles. "Her parents died ten years ago today." In a panic, she starts patting down her pockets.

"What?" Dean asks.

"She took something off of me," she mutters, searching her pockets with the light.

"What was it?"

"I don't know...I don't usually keep anything in there." Then she remembers Dean had her check in to their motel room. "She took the receipt."

"The what?"

"The receipt for the motel room." Katherine scrambles for her phone and calls Sam.

"Hey," he answers.

"Hey," Katherine breathes. "You okay?"

"Yeah. I, uh...found Benton's cabin."

"You did? Did you kill him?"

"No."

"Wha—no?"

"I found his lab book," Sam says. "It has the formula."

Katherine lets a shaky breath through her nose. "Between sacrificing black cats you find on a full moon and drinking blood out of a baby's skull, how bad is it?"

Sam laughs. "That's just the thing, Kit...it's not black magic! No sacrifices or anything...it's just science." He sounds almost awe-struck.

Katherine glances to Dean, whose brows are knit together as he anxiously waits for news. "He found Benton's lab," she tells him. "And his lab book. Benton's not doing it with magic, it's science. Sam found the formula."

"Very, very, extremely weird science," Sam interjects. Katherine puts the call on speaker. "But I think it might be doable."

Dean's gaze darts to Katherine. She offers him a small, hopeful smile.

"I think this might be it," Sam breathes. "This could save him."

Katherine nods. "Okay, so this formula—"

"I think you're gonna need to look over it, because there are still things I don't get—" Sam's voice is instantly muffled, and there's a loud thud.

"Sam?" Dean shouts. Katherine's stomach feels cold.

✕

"You can relax. It's all gonna be okay."

A rough hand pats Sam's forearm. He jumps, eyes darting to his right.

Benton is a man of average height. Snow white hair, leathery skin, face stitched up in four sections. One eye is closed, and the other is bright blue. Cataracts. Blindness. One of the two.

"Ain't nothin gonna happen here that you got to worry about, Sammy."

Sam's eyelids are taped open, pulling at his skin when he tries to blink. He's already tried to move. Every appendage is strapped down, including his midsection.

"Your chances of coming out of this procedure alive are very, very high."

I'm so fucked.

"How do you know my name?" Sam asks.

"Oh...I know." Something metallic rattles. "You think I'm some kind of monster, don't you? Well, I've got to tell you..." Benton leans over Sam. "I have never done one thing that I did not have to do! This whole...eternal life thing...is very high maintenance. If something goes bad, like my eyes here...you've got to replace them." His fingers brush over Sam's brow bone. "And sometimes things get damaged...like when your father cut out my heart with his friend. Your friend's dad. Now that...that was an inconvenience. So I'm sure you can imagine all the joy I felt when I read all about myself in this little journal here." Benton holds John Winchester's journal up in front of Sam. "Kind of makes this whole thing feel like a family reunion, don't it?" He moves behind Sam's head. "I guess it's about time we get this thing started."

Sam's eyes train on the very-not-medical scooper. Last minute miracle? Broken table, disintegrating shin bone...something!

They're quick about getting into the cabin. Katherine hears voices coming from down the stairs, and motions Dean over to them. It's risky, moving across the floorboards so they don't creak. She goes for the spots that aren't quite so dusty, but carefully tests the waters with the toe of her boot before stepping down all the way.

Then something caught her eye.

"Wait," she whispers. Dean looks to her with furrowed brows, watching her pat herself down. "Gimme one of your knives." He obeys, silently handing over his favorite one. A birthday gift from her this year. Silver blade, dark leather handle with his initials burned into it. He watches curiously as she screws off the cap to a brown bottle, and squints to see what the old lettering says.

CHLOROFORM

"What's that for?" He asks.

"Well it won't be good," she mutters, dousing the blade in the sweet-smelling liquid. "They used to use it as an anesthetic but had to stop because it caused cardiac arrhythmias and respiratory failure. Give 'em a good stab in that new heart of his and he'll be unconscious at the very least."

"New heart?" Katherine's eyebrows knit together. "Oh, right."

She tucks the bottle into her jacket pocket and nods to the stairs.

Dean goes first, creeping through the darkness like a quick-paced big cat. Just as Katherine is getting a glimpse of someone standing above another body, and she hears grunts that sounds like Sam's, Dean shoots Benton four times in the chest.

He's a ghastly sight. His hair is still attached to his scalp, but it's as white as snow. His face has four different suture lines, one of which leads all the way down his neck. Some patches of skin are whiter, ashen, older than others. And the one eye she can see is blinded, or has a cataract. "Shoot all you want," Benton almost taunts, his voice flat, and starts forward. Dean still goes for the chest, but Katherine hits him square in the head.

He's still walking, advancing towards Dean, and throws him into the wall. He's strong for being such an old guy. Katherine didn't anticipate him coming for her, too, but he did, sending her into the back wall.

Before she went down, she shoved her knife right into his heart.

"A knife," the doctor chuckles. "What part of immortality to do you not understand?" He sighs. "Pity about the heart, though. It was brand new." He starts for Katherine.

"Good!" She rasps. "Should be pumping nice and strong then, right? Sending chloroform through your whole body?" Katherine grins, pulling the bottle from her jacket. "Night night."

Benton falls right on top of her.

"Gah! Dean! Zombie doctor on me!"

Sam has remained wordless the whole time, but tilts his head back the best he can at the sound of boots coming down the stairs. It's a sound Dean didn't anticipate, and he never thought he'd see this man again.

Tall, rugged. Salt and pepper hair, fair skin. Canvas jacket, gray t-shirt, blue jeans and boots. Dark eyes very unlike Katherine's. Low cheekbones, square jaw, long, straight nose.

Dean shoots to his feet and rushes the staircase, backing him up, and the man stares down at him in bewilderment, hands slightly raised in defense.

"Dean!" Katherine shouts. Clay Donovan's eyes snap in that direction. "He's really heavy!"

"She can't see you here," Dean hisses. "If she does...who knows who she's gonna kill."

Clay slowly backpedals upstairs, and Dean rushes across the room to help Katherine. She's pulling herself up from underneath Benton, wearing a grimace the whole time. Dean pulls her up the rest of the way.

"Easy there, Bambi," he chuckles, holding her elbows with a shaky grip.

He never shakes.

She grips his forearms, wrapping her long fingers around near the elbow and steadies herself, slowly looking up at him with narrowed eyes. "Can you see?"

"Yeah," she murmurs. "Head hurts."

"Yeah, you...hit it pretty hard, I guess."

Katherine steps over Benton and moves for Sam.

"Are you okay?" Katherine asks, peeling the tape off of his skin that holds his eyelids open. Before he blinks, Sam shoots a look to Dean, and the eldest brother quickly shakes his head, indicating they'll talk about Katherine's father later.

"I'm fine."

"Did he touch you?"

"I think he started getting the scoop in there, but not too much," Sam winces, pulling at his wrists once they're freed. Katherine moves to the strap at his waist while Dean works at his ankles.

"Let's get Benton on the table."

"I say we cut him into pieces," Katherine says. "Don't want him coming back."

Sam and Dean do the heavy lifting, and Katherine straps him down.

"Please," he groans.

"Please what?" She snarls through her teeth, hardly glancing up as she secures his right ankle. "You've been killing people for over one hundred fifty years and you have a request? Fuck off."

"No, you don't understand—I can help you. I know what you need."

"All the fingers come off," Katherine instructs. "Then at the wrist, the elbow, the shoulder. Sam—waist, knee, ankle, toes."

"Got it."

"I can read the formula for you," he croaks. "Immortality—forever young, never die."

"Young?" Katherine asks. "You looked in a clean mirror lately?"

"Dean," Sam murmurs, and the other two look to him. Dean gives his brother a flat look before following him off to the side. Katherine purses her lips, and after a moment, she joins them.

"No," Dean says.

"No?" Sam repeats.

Dean shrugs. "What he is—that's not living. Black or white, human, not human."

There's a creak on the stairs, and Katherine is quick to pull her knife, raising it defensively. Her gun is lying around here somewhere, she just forgot about it as they were getting Benton on the table.

But seeing her father on the stairs after...how many years had it been? It's enough to make her forget about a lot of things. Where they are, what they're doing.

Dean lets out a sigh, dropping his head and pinching the bridge of his nose. Sam looks between the three.

"Upstairs," Katherine snarls. "Now."

"You go," Dean murmurs. "We'll take care of the Doc."

Her nostrils flare. "I'm not leaving you—"

"You're not," Dean agrees, shaking his head. "But you need to take a breather, all right? We can handle this." Katherine doesn't budge. "I said I'd help you find your dad. Now I didn't find him, but he's here...so go figure it out."

Katherine's gaze sweeps to her father. After a moment, she nods, and waits for him to go back up before she does. Dean catches her wrist, and she turns her eyes to him again. Dean offers her a small smile and steps forward to kiss the side of her head. Katherine closes her eyes, leaning into it, her hear pitter-pattering. Then Dean releases her, and it's time for her to face the music.

She sits on the hood of the Impala as he stands before her, hands jammed into his pockets. "I thought you'd be happier to see me. You always liked when I came home from hunts."

His voice is the same as it was when she was a kid. It used to comfort her, but now it just makes her sick.

She stares. Angry. So angry she can't speak. Rubbing her fingertips together. Staring. Something's off. "You were gone...for years," she whispers, then scoffs. "I haven't seen you in four years."

"I know," he nods. "But you didn't exactly want me around either, KD."

"I needed you," she says, staring at him with cold, intense eyes. Unwaveringly aggressive. "I needed my father after mom died, and I got..." She gestures to him and scoffs. "I got a drill sergeant. And you're surprised I didn't want you around? You...ruined me." They stay like that, silent, for what feels like hours. Katherine wipes a rogue angry tear from her cheek. "Why are you here?"

At first, he doesn't have an answer for her. "I wanted to see you."

Katherine shakes her head. "No you didn't. You're in trouble, aren't you?"

"Look, Kat, I know I messed up. I know I did. I want to make it right."

She lets out a scoff, running her tongue along the back of her teeth, and smiles. "I'm past the age of requiring a father figure. I needed you most on the nights you left me alone...the days you left me alone. A little girl needs her dad, but I'm not a little girl anymore. And you're not someone I want in my life."

"That's right," Clay tuts. "You're married now. But you're on the road with the Winchesters." A wry smile twists at his mouth, and panic stabs her in the stomach. That smile...it was enough to unleash hell. She saw it so many times...right before punishments. Buried alive, solitary. Training. "Didn't peg you for a team-bonding kind of gal."

"I don't owe you anything," she sharply tells him, pushing herself off of the car. "Especially not an explanation."

"What, you get hurt? Can't do it by yourself anymore?" Taunts. That's how he always baited here.

She chuckles, walking past him for the cabin. "I'm going downstairs to finish the job. When we're back up here, you'd best be gone."

"I'm just curious, Kit."

She sharply turns on her heel. "Stop!" She shouts. "Stop acting like you have a place anywhere near me! You left! And the only times you bothered to call were when you needed extra cash or when you were in trouble! I'm sick of saving you! I'm sick of chasing after you! I looked for months after you dropped off the radar! And then I find out you were hunting with John and Dean Winchester! Not only that, you made them promise not to tell me! Hiding from your daughter like the coward I always knew you were!" She shakes her head, analyzing him in a light of disgust. "I hate you."

Clay looks down at the dirt before he meets her gaze. "If you hated me so much, you wouldn't be doing what I did—hunting with Winchesters?"

"Yeah, Dean came to find me after your little road trip to Mississippi with them," she spits. "I want you gone, all right? Don't fucking follow me." She turns to leave, but then stops again. "Were you following me?" His silence makes her laugh again, angry tears stinging her eyes. "For how long?"

"Six months."

Slowly, she nods. "Were you around at all when I was at Yale?"

"Of course I was. I always checked on you."

"So why didn't—?!" Katherine runs her hands through her hair. "Why didn't you come find me?!" Silence. "Don't answer that. Don't. I don't want to see you again. Leave."

"I know someone stole the book." Katherine sizes her father up, a hot flash creeping up her spine, slow like molasses. He doesn't seem angry. He's just standing there, stating facts. There's even a little glint of humor in his black eyes.

"She's getting what's coming to her," Katherine snarls.

"Good. We'll all get ours, one day. See you around, babe."

✕

"I think you just wanted an excuse to buy sex dolls," Katherine mutters, tossing her napkin onto her plate. "It doesn't matter if it looked like we were sleeping or not. We could've used pillows and not spent the metric ass ton of extra cash."

"It's just fun," Dean sighs, putting his hands behind his head as he sinks into the booth. Butter chicken. Truly god's gift.

"Yeah, whatever," Katherine mutters, glancing to her watch. "I'm gonna call the room, see if she's there."

"I wanna listen," Dean grunts, frowning.

"No." Katherine's already started keying in the phone number for the motel and the extension for their old room. If she timed it right, Bela would've only been able to get into Erie in the last few minutes before the clock struck midnight. She steps outside the old-fashioned diner and sits on the brick ledge beneath the large glass window pane. Hardly anyone's outside. It's freezing, sleet is falling. They're in the middle of a small, unnamed town about an hour outside of Erie and stopped for a bite. Dean demanded Indian food and called Charlie to curse him for starting this food craving demon he had.

One tends to work up an appetite having unexpected reunions with deadbeat fathers and digging ten-foot graves.

Sam and Dean, the last few customers in the late-night diner, watch her outside the window curiously. Dean swipes her mango lassi from the table.

The call picks up, and Katherine smiles. "Hiya, Bela," she chirps. "It's Kat. I've got a fun fact for ya." Her expression goes flat. "I felt your hand in my pocket when you swiped the motel receipt. You really threw off my bookkeeping. What was the price—forty-five-ish?"

"You don't understand—"

"Oh, I'm pretty sure I understand puurrfectly. I noticed something interesting in your hotel room...tucked above the door? Devil's Shoestring." Katherine sighs. "I know you're running from a demon. Hellhounds, actually. See, after our little visit, I went back to look at your parents' obituaries. They died ten years ago today," she hums. "A demon did your dirty work. So, uh...maybe you're not the cold-blooded killer we thought you were, but you're still a snake." Katherine looks down the street, listens to the sleet turn into rain against the pavement. "Is that why you stole the Colt? Try to finesse your way out of the deal?"

"Yes," Bela whispers.

"I'm going out on a limb here, but...the gun wasn't enough to save you, was it?"

"They changed the deal...they wanted me to kill Sam."

"Demons! Untrustworthy!" Katherine clicks her tongue. "I never would've thought." She glances to her watch. "Kind of a tight deadline, too, huh? You got what, three minutes? Oh! Two."

Bela sniffles. "Katherine, listen, I need help—"

"Honey, we are weeks past help," she growls.

"I know I don't deserve it," Bela sobs. "I know what I've done to you, I know!"

"No, you don't know," Katherine quietly seethes through gritted teeth. "So let me enlighten you. You stole a book full of dark magic that has the tools necessary to literally obliterate humanity. By stealing that book, you sent me into hiding from my own family. Maybe I was a little pissed off, but I would've forgiven you...eventually." She shrugs. "It's a Christian thing—we need to be forgiving of sins an' all that because—anyway. I just needed to be dramatic first. But then...but then..." Katherine chuckles, shaking her head. "Even if I didn't want to help you, Sam and Dean would have because they are good people. And by stealing the Colt, you sealed Dean's fate. You took a good man...from people who love him. And that, Bela...that is something I can truly never forgive."

"I know—I knew about Dean's deal."

Katherine raises a brow. "So you know what I'm talking about."

"Yes, I do. And I know the demon that holds it." Katherine turns around to look at Dean in the window, and she wishes she had that polaroid camera. It's somewhere in the backseat of the Impala, and this moment will be gone before she can retrieve it.

Dean's stuffing his face, as per usual. But he and Sam are laughing. She wishes she knew what they're talking about. What has his eyes so bright and has him so relaxed. She hasn't seen him like that in a long time. So at peace and joyful. Then he turns to look at her, still smiling, but it changes.

He's never said it to her, not that she can recollect, but it's there, in his eyes. He loves her. Even still. Always will.

"Who?" Katherine whispers.

"She holds mine, too," Bela says. "She says she holds every deal. Her name's Lilith."

Lilith. The demon Ruby mentioned...the newbie, the one that wanted to kill Sam because he was a "threat."

"Why should I believe you?" Katherine snarls.

"You shouldn't, but it's the truth."

"Why are you telling me this?"

"Because just maybe, you can kill the bitch," Bela snarls. "You're capable enough, aren't you? Or so you say you are?"

"Goodbye, Bela."