𝐃𝐎𝐍𝐎𝐕𝐀𝐍

𝐄𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐘-𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄

"If I eat one more IHOP pancake, I'm gonna barf."

"Are you guys listening to me?" Katherine sighs, shining her flashlight on copies of papers she snagged from city hall.

"Yeah, yeah, Elizabeth and her victory garden," Dean grumbles.

"Well, not only that, but she's jumped quite a few tax brackets, won almost too many raffles...and your favorite, Renee Van Allen, won a quilting contest." Katherine lets out a huff. "Along with every other crafting contest she's entered in the past three months."

"A regular Martha Stewart," Dean chirps. "Minus the Devil worship."

Katherine nods. "So either those women we just are hiding a damned cursed rabbit's foot on their person—"

"Or they're our coven," Sam says. Katherine nods. "Minus one member."

"Amanda."

"She was clearly going off the rez," Sam scoffs. "Think they killed her to keep up with appearances?"

"I wouldn't call it a long shot. They seem like the appearance kind of crowd."

Katherine's eyes flit to Dean's face in the rearview mirror. He seems torn. "If they killed a nut job, should we thank them, or...what?" He looks to Sam briefly before turning his eyes back to the road.

"They're using black magic, too," Sam points out. "They need to be stopped."

"Stopped," Dean repeats, glancing to his left, and raises his brows. "Like...stopped, stopped?"

"If we can't persuade them," Katherine hums.

Dean looks at Katherine in the rearview mirror, bewildered.

"Okay, Donovan Darko, I wasn't thinking murder." Sam shrugs a bit.

"I don't see the harm in it," he says.

Dean gawks this time. "Wha—Sam, they're human."

"They're murderers."

Slowly, Dean nods. "Burn, witch, burn," he says. "KD, would it be, uh...kinslaying if you go after these broads? Considering...you're technically a witch. Even if you're Glinda."

She doesn't have the time to come up with a smart-ass response. The engine sputters and slowly stops turning over, and the headlights shut on and off. "What the hell?"

"Who the freaking hell is that?" Katherine asks, staring out of the windshield. Average height, blonde hair... "Ruby."

The last time either she or Sam saw the demon, they were in Sophia's house, in the study. Sam was looking into the deaths of his mother's friends and family, per Ruby's direction.

Dean grits his teeth and steps out of the car.

"Ruby," Sam greets.

"Sam, listen to me," the demon rushes. "There's no time."

"What are you talking about?"

"You have to get out of town."

"So this is Ruby, huh?" Dean hums, and pulls back on the hammer of the Colt, quickly pointing the sights at the demon. "Never had the pleasure."

"Dean!"

"I was hoping you'd show up again," the eldest growls.

"Point that thing somewhere else," Ruby snaps.

"Ha, ha, ha—right!"

The demon turns her attention back to the youngest Winchester. "Sam, please. Get in the car and don't look back."