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Drown Myself in Someone Like You

Harry and Catalina have known each other for decades. But he’s never know her like this, set into the world that she comes from before. And along the way, Catalina serves to remind Harry that there’s good even in the bad.

AfroLatina OC!-Vampire!Harry, Demon!OC 13k+ words about 28 pages long. Reader be warned.

CW: Mature content (smut so only 18+ and up), Gore, Graphic Depictions of violence. Title is taken from Impossible by Nothing But Thieves.

Moodboard made by the wonderful @hoodharlow (Happy Early Birthday!!!!!)

Harry Styles Masterlist | Main Masterlist

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It shouldn’t shock him. It shouldn’t make Harry stop in his tracks, seeing her leaning against the brick building, a cigarette dangling between her fingers. She never brings it up to her lips. It’s her signature; a sign of her coming and a sign of her going too-- the smoke trailing from the butt of a burning piece of paper around the tobacco. That paper is never lifted to her lips. It’s always a trail of smoke from her fingers. It’s all too fitting, all too ironic for anyone that knew Catalina. Like really knew her, like besides the permanent red lipstick that she loved to wear, and really knew the reason for the bruises that were on her knuckles. They’d know that the puff of smoke was a warning--always a sign to anyone that cared to read it.

Harry always read it. He always turned his head to the smell of a cigarette just to see who was holding it, if they were puffing it. He looks for her--more than he really should look for her. Catalina has to disappear sometimes. She has to go back, has to recharge. Harry can’t tell what makes it hurt, what makes him always sad that she leaves. He knows she comes back. Maybe it was because they were always at a distance. They got time together; they had their fun, but it was always with the sinking feeling that eventually, it would have to come to an end. That’s what made it bittersweet, knowing that inevitably it wouldn’t last as long as Harry wanted it too.

Still paused in the sidewalk, Harry’s aware of all the bodies passing him by. And there she is. Leaning against the brick of the building, a cigarette dangling between fingers. He knows it’s her. Even in the dark of the night and the distance, there’s no way to miss her forever painted red lips--sometimes they are glossy, sometimes they are matte. And even though she’s dressed in a black overcoat thanks to fall’s incoming chill, Harry knows that Catalina.

It’s one foot that carries him and then the other and then he’s at her side. “Huh? Seems like you look a little familiar,” Harry teases, his accent smooth and the timbre of his voice deep.

“Oh?” Catalina returns, barely turning her head to look at Harry. “Seems like I don’t know a mug like that one.” She grins though, her glossy red lips splitting to reveal a wide smile.

He laughs, gently settling one hand on her waist. “You say that now.” She turns into him, careful of the burning paper and wraps him into a one armed hug. “But you won’t be saying that later,” Harry adds on, whispering into her ear.

Catalina hums. “Like the sound of that.”

As they pull out of the hug, Harry nods up ahead, the downtown area is alive, even in the chilling night. “You hungry? I think that chili place you like is still open.” Her lips turn up and Harry knows the answer. “Or we get cupcakes.”

“Now you’re talking my language,” she laughs, arm winding around Harry’s waist. His jacket is black too, but feels like it can do decently to keep a person warm. Not that it matters completely to him. The cigarette drops from her fingers and she takes the pointed toes of her boots to stamp out any live embers. She’s always had a sweet tooth, as long as Harry’s known her. And he gives into it. Though he knows the sugar doesn’t mix well with his particular diet, he always has at least one taste.

“C’mon then. Car’s just up ahead,” Harry grins.

They walk up the block, her arm locked around his waist, his arm draped over her shoulder. More couples shuffle around them, edging to the side as they stride over the asphalt. The heels of both their boots clicking with their steps. Truth be told, they notice the glances, the way people duck out of the way. The stares never went away, not over the decades, or even the centuries. How long had it been? How long had they been playing this game?

It wasn’t even truthfully a game. It felt like routine, felt like their normal. Catalina would come up from the depths in a human form--it changed in the beginning but she settled quickly on the dark skin and wide nose, paired perfectly with big eyes and pouty lips. And she’d find Harry; or Harry would find her. And then they would spend the days, the weeks, the months, however long Catalina could withstand the human form; however long she’d been assigned to come up together. It was late night drives and hanging out in bars and racking up noise complaints from neighbors in hotel rooms or apartment complexes.

Harry is always up here, above the surface. He thought about when he first ran into Catalina that his soul had been damned forever and there was no use. What good could he ever do in a world where he’s cursed to be stuck like this? What good could he ever do cursed to always be hidden in the shadows? But Catalina never saw it like that. She took any day as an opportunity and though more often than not, she wound up with bloody knuckles or standing with cops questioning her, she never backed down from anything that she felt was wrong.

Harry liked to have a low profile but not Catalina. Maybe it was because she never needed to be worried about maintaining a life above ground for too long. She could always disappear back to Hell and no one would ever be the wiser, no one could care. Besides Harry of course. He always cared. Maybe a little too much.

“So what ruckus have you been up to?” Catalina asks, tucking her arm around Harry’s. Her elbows tucks in close to his ribs.

“You’d be shocked to know that you’re the one that causes trouble out of the two of us.”

“Me? Trouble? Siempre,” Catalina laughs. The night is cold and she can feel it mostly on her nose, and maybe it’s being close to Harry again that makes her spine shiver. But she embraces it. There’s not much time for them on this round. Her orders are pretty strict but Catalina knows she can squeeze in just enough time. Just enough to take those memories with her and tide her over until the next time.

Harry laughs, squeezes at the crook of her elbow. “Always,” he whispers. Harry leans them off the sidewalk into the crosswalk to head towards the parking garage. The lights are bright inside the structure, unlike the lights of the sidewalk. Harry holds open the door to the passenger side for Catalina and is quick to shuffle around to the driver side. As the car rumbles to life beneath them, Harry turns to Catalina. “So cupcakes for dinner? What does that leave us for desert then?”

She stretches across the console, her nails sharp but gentle as she drags them down the stubble of his chin. “You know exactly what I like.” Her teeth graze the shell of his ear. “Don’t have a lot of time unfortunately.”

Harry shudders at the feeling, her breath ghosting over his skin. “How much time?”

“Three weeks.”

Not a lot of time at all, but they can make the most of it. He’ll make sure of it. “That’s plenty of time,” he counters, turning his head now. They share a breath. This close he can smell the candy she’s had early and the nicotine still clinging to her clothes and skin even if she never took a drag.

“But not our usual,” she purrs, a twinge of sadness pulling down her voice. “But I’ll take what I can get.”

“Good.” Their lips brush, not quite a kiss, but definitely not innocent either. “Because I want every second I can get.” They linger there, not quite kissing, but still sharing breathes. Harry almost suggests skipping the poor excuse of cupcakes from the 24-hour grocery store. It’s not the greatest, but she loves them even if the frosting always makes Harry think there’s no way one person can enjoy that much sugar.

He pulls back though. But not before gently brushing her nose with his and inhaling one last deep breath of her candy and nicotine. “Cupcakes coming up,” he whispers. His voice almost doesn’t work, like in their silence Catalina was attempting to steal it from him but didn’t quite finish the job.

Harry keeps his attention on the road, but one hand slinks it way from the gear shift, though the car is an automatic, to Catalina’s thigh. Her plaid pants are soft against his fingertips but he knows the feeling of her skin too--how warm and pliable it is, how her flesh always gave into the squeeze of his fingers. “Where are you headed this time?” Harry asks, needing to know if they’ll spend the weeks traveling or stationary.

“I’m local this time. So I understand if you can always come out for the late night escapades.”

“You say that like I can’t go somewhere else after the hell you unleash.”

Catalina shrugs. “Wasn’t sure if you had gotten too settled here or not. You know I’m not exactly known for my caution or discretion.”

“Only when you need to be, are you. But no, don’t worry about that, Catalina. I’ll be okay.”

The night wraps around them as they step out of the car, staring up at the harshly lit sign and store. The place is small, a local shop. But they’re baked goods section is always well stocked. Catalina leads the way, heels of her boots clicking. The black jacket covers her from shoulders to ankles. Harry knows his attire matches. His jacket black too and hitting him at his knees rather than her’s going down basically to the floor. And while her wide legged pants are more formal in comparison to his jeans, anyone watching them would think immediately that they were taking cues from decades past. However, the worry doesn’t settle too deeply. Harry would rather be different and know it than worry.

The air of the grocery store is a tad warmer than the night though it rings more as both of them click against the laminate of the flooring. Catalina makes a beeline for the baked goods and Harry takes a quick survey. There are a few people lingering about. One woman looks positively frazzled, bouncing a baby on her hip as she walks to a register with diapers in hand.

He takes a pause at the front display of chips and watches for a moment as the mother approaches one the cashiers. “Can one of you unlock the formula display for me? I’m sorry to bother you,” she pleads, barely able to keep a whine that creeps up from the baby at minimum.

The young man nods, his bored expression never changing as he finds the keys and walks ahead of her back down the aisle. “When the hell did they start locking up baby formula?” Catalina asks behind Harry.

“Not sure. But I heard about a woman being arrested for stealing diapers a month ago.”

“They really arrested a mother trying to provide for her baby?”

“Shit’s hit the fan since you’ve been gone. No one to scare the daylights out of ‘em,” Harry teases, grabbing a bag of chips so they don’t look too suspicious. “You all good?”

“Siempre.”

The two of them head into the only line open and with minimal conversation check out. Harry pays before Catalina can even reach for the cash in her pocket. He can feel the glare but takes the bag and receipt with a smile from the cashier. As they reach the automatic doors, Catalina can hear the beep of the scanner followed by, “I’m sorry, I don’t--can you take the diapers off?”

Catalina spins on her heel and doesn’t need to tell Harry what she’s doing. She heads back to the register she just left. “How much is it for the diapers and the formula?”

The woman turns to the sound of Catalina’s voice. “What?”

“How much is the total with everything?” she repeats again, throwing a glance at the card terminal to try and get a look.

“24.75,” the cashier replies.

Catalina pulls out some cash, two twenties, and hands it over to the cashier. She then turns to the young mom. “Keep the change, for the next time.”

“Oh my god, no, you don’t--”

“For your baby. It’s fucked up that the system is choosing between two essential things. Your baby needs diapers and formula and I’m going to make sure they get that.”

“I-I can’t thank you enough,” the mother replies, tears beginning to well in her eyes.

“Don’t thank me. It’s the least I can do.” Catalina smiles before turning back to the door.

Harry’s outside the automatic doors and rubbing his finger clear of chip dust. “Going to do what I think you’re going to do?”

“Would I ever be me if I didn’t?”

Harry laughs, but shakes his head. “Follow me first.” They head back to the car and from the trunk Harry pulls out a black sweatshirt with a hood. Catalina slips it on over her long sleeved top and throws the long overcoat back on. Her pants will give her away, but it’s not in Catalina’s nature to always think things through.

She spies some spray paint cans. “When did you get into graffiti?” She picks the black one, knowing that if she stains her clothes it won’t be obvious though her heart wants to tag the store in red.

“I’m not. I have it from a project. Just never took them out of my trunk I guess.”

Catalina shakes the can before slipping it into her pocket and thankfully it’s deep and wide enough.

“Just don’t make too much of a mess,” Harry pleads.

“It’s bullshit, Harry. Mierda. They’ve already made the mess.”

He can’t disagree. “Front or back?”

“Front.”

“Playing with fire?”

“Siempre,” she returns, throwing the hood up over her head. Back inside the store, Catalina cuts through the wine aisle, casually stopping here and there to check out a bottle but making sure that she never lifts her head too high. At the end of the aisle, Catalina makes a beeline for the baby aisle. Right at the end of the row before the encap, is the locked up formula. Though the glass is tall, Catalina thanks to high heavens her boots give her an extra few inches. There’s a tiny banner across the top that proudly labels the section as formula.

The hiss of the can is loud but Catalina doesn’t stop. She keeps her hand moving. Her shoulder starts to hurt just a little by the time she’s done. Shockingly the hiss of the spray paint doesn’t alert either of the employees. However, her time of secrecy is up by the time she takes a step back and manages to drive the heel of her boot through the glass. One panel shatters and clatters to the ground. The second wobbles but doesn’t give way until she takes her elbow into the glass once then twice to make sure all the glass rests on the floor.

“Hey!” The young man shouts, hands thrown up into the air. Catalina turns, crunching the glass under her feet as she ducks back behind the wine aisle. “What the fuck? Seriously?”

The young man doesn’t even bother chasing after her, only stares at the mess on the floor of glass in the aisle and as he gets closer he can see written in black across the name Los padres no deberían tener barreras. “Fucking hell, that’s not going to come out easy.”

Catalina continues to the door. More people are shouting after her. She assumes it’s the manager on duty. They’ll review tapes. They’ll call the police. But that doesn’t matter. What does matter is the message, what does matter is that people shouldn’t be constantly battling just to meet basic needs. Harry pulls up to the front just as Catalina’s heels click against the asphalt. She slips inside and he floors it, pulling out of the parking lot and into the street with hardly a glance at the traffic.

“Your best bet is to get rid of this car,” Catalina says, finally pulling the hoodie down.

“You don’t say,” Harry laughs, ducking into an alleyway once he feels they’re a safe distance away. “You’re getting an early start on that three weeks.”

“Trying not to waste a moment,” Catalina returns with a grin. “Blame me?”

“Not in a million years.”

They can’t sit for too long. It’s a sure fire way to get caught. Not that either one of them would be too worried about getting caught, though Harry does worry for Catalina more now than ever before. Just because she could get out of the mess doesn’t mean Harry necessarily wants her to get into the trouble in the first place. There’s too much happening right now-- it’s all over the news.

“We’ve gotta go far,” Harry states. He’s got a place pretty far out from the town, up in the cut of a dirt road. Normally, he would offer his apartment. But it’s too far into the city that they will get caught. Besides, the house farther away is nice. He likes the seclusion. He can come out at night and no neighbors ask him about it, the strange habits--out more at night than the day or why he never really has much in the way of grocery. It’s much easier not to answer than it is to lie. After a few more minutes, and the wail of sirens die down, Harry pulls back out onto the streets.

“Don’t want to live on the edge?”

“Never afraid of that-- for myself.”

“But me, you’re afraid for me?” Catalina’s been doing this a long time--sometimes Harry wonders how long. And even in all that, Catalina seeing all the hatred, death, and violence, she still continues on with a reckless abandon. At first, it was exciting, hearing her talk about all the trouble she narrowly escaped. Now, Harry worries and he knows he doesn’t need to. However, it creeps in, it settles into the deepest part of his brain sometimes. And he just does worry. He can’t help it.

Harry hears the slight confusion, the almost amused edge to her question. “Sometimes the edge gets a little too dangerous. Sometimes I just want to enjoy my time.”

“A little ironic won’t you say? You got all the time in the world.”

“Time doesn’t really mean much except when I’m with you.”

Catalina shouldn’t smile, shouldn’t be as charmed. But the sentiment is coupled with Harry squeezing her knee before slowly dragging it up her thigh.The material of the pants are thin and his hands are cool but somewhere warmer than the last time she remembers. And if she’s honest, she can’t really remember the last time she was on Earth. Had it been that long that she couldn’t remember anymore? Or was she just doing this too long?

“What were you saying about time early?”

Harry laughs. “I wasn’t the one that brought up time.” His fingers squeeze, pressing into the flesh of her inner thigh. “However, I do have a question about time.”

“Which is?”

“How much time in those three weeks for me?”

Catalina traps his hand between her legs before pushing up, leaning over the console. Harry knows the feelings, knows how her lips will feel against the shell of his ear. “¿Para ti?” she whispers. “As much as you want.”

The whine builds in the back of his throat and Harry knows she still has work to do. She still has a job to do. But knowing that he can have as much time with her as he can is all the more exciting. “You don’t want to tell me that,” he whispers.

“Oh, but I do,” she laughs quietly. She kisses down his cheek. “When’s the last time you fed?”

“Yes-yesterday,” Harry returns a shiver running down his beck at the graze of her teeth over the shell of his ears.

“Good.”

Harry presses down on the gas a little harder. The car accelerates, pushing Catalina back, but she counters the force just so she can trace the contours of Harry’s neck with the tip of her tongue. “I am driving,” he whispers, voice tight and caught in this throat.

“I’m playing on the edge again, aren’t I?”

“Just a little.”

“Want me to stop?”

With toes curling into his shoes, and readjusting his grip on the steering well, Harry exhales one simple word, “No.”

“Bueno.”

It’s an exhale when Harry cuts the car off in front of the house. The trees are dense around them and the moon’s light is cutting through the foliage just enough to guide him across the console to cup her cheek. In the dark, there’s a slight shine to her skin thanks to the moon but Harry’s eyes for a moment think he is cupping a tangible nothingness before her eyes come into his focus.

Before any breath can carry a word over her lips, Harry kisses her and Catalina grins into the kiss. She holds Harry’s head in her hands, not because she knows he’ll back away too soon and she wants to keep him there. It’s because she’s nearly forgotten what he’s felt like. How his skin is so much cooler than hers but still makes her feel like she’s been set on fire--but in the best way possible, without the smell of burning flesh and burnt hair.

Now all there is is Harry and the soft brush of his hair as it falls in front of his face against the bridge of her nose. There are soft giggled exhales and the light smack of lips meeting and pulling apart. All Catalina can do is drink in the smell, the feel, the taste of him--the last few crumbs of salt from the chips he must’ve been munching on while she tagged in the inside of the grocery store.

As her fingers trace down his jaw, around his neck and curl up into the nape of his neck, Harry groans into her mouth--unabashedly and without a care at the way his weight falls into her just a little. She takes it in stride and presses up against the door and window. Harry curls his fingers into the thick layers of coat, sweatshirt and sweater. “Have I told you just how dangerous you are?”

“Not yet on this visit.”

“C’mon,” his breathing is laboured, and his voice is soft as his lips brush over hers in his speech. “More space inside the house.”

“Getting old on me?”

His grin reveals all his teeth and Harry shakes his head. “Never. Just want to treat you right.”

“When have you ever treated me wrong? Nunca me has tratado mal.”

“And I’m not about to start either. C’mon.” He seals the plea with another kiss and finally pulls away from her. Harry parked in the back of the house, as to keep them under cover for a little bit longer before he could find a way to change the plates or get a new cart. So he waits at the bottom of the porch for her to catch up before guiding them to the front door.

The second Harry unlocks the door and flicks on the lights, he’s reminded of the fact that it’s been a while since he’s come this far out of the city. Everything is well kept. He pays a maid to come by every couple of weeks to keep it up. But it reminds Harry of when he first ran into Catalina, though he thinks it was less fate and more Catalina’s doing the more he looks back on it.

He brought her here, to this house. She had gotten into a bad fight and was sitting on the side of the road. While her being was influenced to be more human like, it was clear when she was injured that she wasn’t fully human. The normal red blood had started to turn into a thick black ooze and it would slow in time. But there was no way she could hang out just on the streets like that. Harry noticed her, on the curb, and while he smelled the blood of the others she had fought, he locked in the slow thudding of her heart. So slow, Harry thought maybe for a moment she might’ve been dying but when she screwed the top to her lip gloss back close, and stood without a grimace or groan. Harry figured then he had been wrong.

Harry takes in the soft grey couch and suddenly wishes it was another color. And though his mind wanders to a few interior decoration changes, it’s the warm hand of Catalina running around his back, over his side and nestling snug against his stomach that makes me forget all about those. He feels it, the slow thudding over her heart--or what should be a heart, even though she is full of heart, full of gasoline waiting for the lit match.

She kisses at his shoulder, even with the coat in the way and Harry gives into the way her fingers trace the opening of his coat and up over his chest and soon her palms flesh against his throat. His head is tilted back, resting almost onto her shoulder. There are a couple inches that differentiate them. But Harry can still give into her, drop his head back on his shoulders and flutter his eyes close to the feeling of her palm resting against his throat.

“Letting me in so soon?” Catalina chuckles, fingers pressing in just a little.

“Never let you go, really.”

His throat is released and soon his jacket falls to the floor. He takes the moment to spin and push her coat off her arms too before hooking his arms around her waist and pulling her into his chest. They’re lips are like magnets, finding each other and impossible to resist the pull.

Slowly, he tugs at the hem of the sweatshirt. It does not go alone--her sweater comes off with it. Before Harry can truly drink in the sight of her, she’s making quick work of the t-shirt he’s dawned in, kissing down his chest. Her mouth is warm, tongue lapping at his nipples and Harry knows he’s a goner. He knew it when he noticed her on the sidewalk. But now there is nothing to do but succumb. As she works on the button at his pants, Harry exhales heavily.

“Please,” he pants, “wait on that.”

And she does, standing back to her full height and kisses him. “So what do you want?”

Harry’s laughter falls in a tuft, one hands cupping her through her pants. “It’s not hard to guess.”

“Always a gentleman.” He winks at her before they walk further into the house, leaving what outerwear and shirts have already been discarded to the care of the floor.

Her books make a soft thunk as Harry drops them to the floor. He kisses over her ankles, pushing the wide bootleg cut up to expose her skin. Sure they do this all the time but it never gets old. Harry can never get enough of the way her body quivers under his touch. He can never get enough of the way she shakes, and moans beneath him. There is nothing quite like it.

The air’s cool to Catalina as her pants are removed. However, it’s chased by the feeling of Harry kissing down her thighs, dragging right to the edge of her underwear but not fully giving into her yet. And she knows, she knows what he’s doing, however, it still winds up her gut. Catalina takes a fistful of Harry’s hair and tugs, “Mírame,” she commands. Harry slowly lifts his gaze. “Do not play with me.” It’s desperate as it leaves her lips. But there’s a bit of a snarl, that leaves her mouth too.

“What happens if I do play with my meal just a little?” Harry breathes heavily over her clothed sex and smirks as he watches the flutter of her eyes. Her hold in his hair slackens.

“Fuck,” Catalina murmurs.

That’s all Harry needs, the crack in her voice that tells him all he needs to know. He’s quick as he removes her panties and at the first drop of her, he groans. It’s been so long, too long. For a fleeting moment, Harry thinks about how much he doesn’t want this to end. He doesn’t want her to have to go back. But the thought escapes him completely when she whimpers, fingers tightening in his hair.

Catalina wants to squeeze her thighs close. She wants to trap him between her legs forever, but her muscles are quaking. She’s going to come undone and she knows it. But all she can do is give into the lap of Harry’s tongue and the push of his fingers. Her own voice, her own high pitched pants are almost foreign to her own ears. However the warmth in her stomach is all too familiar, it’s all too craved.

“Oh, fuck,” she cries, heels digging into the mattress and hips attempting to push up but Harry’s hands keep her pinned down and spread open. His tongue dances over her, teasing at her clit, slipping inside of her just a little. There’s a lew slurp, lips wrapping around her clit. Stars--that’s what she sees right before her mouth falls open and his name crawls over her throat.

Harry doesn’t slow, not until she gives a hiss and begs him to stop. Only then does he kiss across her inner thighs, up her stomach, between the valley of her breasts and then teases her nipple with the tip of her tongue. Harry can feel just beneath the flesh, the way her heart pumps rapidly. It reminds him, more than it should, of the times when his own heart still pumped blood.

That’s what Harry focuses on, the way her heart thumps in her chest, even through her back when she’s pressed up against his chest. His hips never falter than his eyes flutter shut as he inhales the scent of her, brushing his nose along Catalina’s neck. Harry trails his fingers up from her waist to her throat and just feelings, the way her body sweats beneath him, the way she pants against him. “Fuck,” Harry whispers, a groan slipping over his lips.

Catalina hums, reaching back to grab onto Harry’s shoulder--anything really. The bed’s a steady rhythm against the wall thanks to the pace of Harry’s hips. Catalina finds the buzz, the way her body warms even at the cool touch and sinks into it. She sinks into the squeeze at her throat and laughs. “Harder,” she breathes. When his hand tightens, she hums and can only feel the growing heat in her belly.

“You’re gorgeous, you know,” Harry starts, kissing at her shoulder. “When you beg for more, when you whine--makes my knees weak.”

At the confession, Catalina grins though the only thing she can vocalize is just the pleasure she finds herself falling into, she can only hum at the way Harry holds her neck firmly in his palm. She crumbles first, a hitch in her breath alerting Harry just how close to the edge she is, how she’s sure to come around his cock in mere moments. “Don’t hold back on me,” he coaxes, relieving some of the pressure from her throat. “I want to hear it all.”

Catalina feels her jaw going slack and the way her body tightens, coils ready for the pop of relief. She comes with a grunt, a string of curses and his name tumbling from her lips. Harry grins, turning her head to silence the sounds with a kiss. He swallows down the whimpers and when she melts, muscles caving in, he guides her face down, keeping her hips up. Everything radiates up. When Harry keeps a firm grasps on her hips, he knows his time is running up too. His time to succumb to the pleasure will be arriving shortly.

“You know you want to,” Catalina teases from below, pushing herself up to her hands, back arched still. “You know you can’t hold out forever. Not with me.”

It’s true. He can’t. There’d be no point. She’d always find a way, know exactly what to say, know exactly how to touch him to get a rise out of him. There’s no point in fighting Catalina ever. It would only serve to his detriment, so Harry chases down his own release, holding Catalina firmly in place with the echo of skin slapping against skin. The echoes are occasionally broken by a groan, from him or her and before Harry has any mind, the tension finally bursts.

“God, fuck,” he huffs, his body going lax, falling into Catalina. She doesn’t budge against his weight, just sinks into the mattress, laughing. The vibrations shake Harry’s chest and he winds his arms around her torso.

“Told you so.”

Harry kisses along her neck, shifting more of his weight off her and settling in behind her. “Never a reason to deny myself you, so you can save the sarcasm.”

Catalina turns, pushing up and shuffling to face Harry. “You’ll never escape it.”

“It’s a good thing I don’t want to.” The thought leaves him in a whisper and he stretches out for a kiss, sliding his hand down to cup her ass and pull her into him. Catalina hitches a leg, hands cradling his face. It happens again, in her stomach, the way his touch causes the butterflies and the heat to flutter.

Harry listens again, feels the slight thudding of her heart in her ribs. She’s alive again, even if it’s only for three weeks. That’s all he has to remind himself off.

After another round to satiate their desires, Catalina starts plotting where she has to go. She made Harry her first stop but with the time crunch she knows she’s got to get across state lines within the next two days or else the whole time will be spent chasing. Harry offers that they make the plan during the rest of the night and figure out car logistics in the morning and make a move then.

“You’re coming with me?” Catalina asks.

She sits at the desk, bed sheet wrapped around her shoulders, munching on the cupcakes that Harry went back to the car to get for her. The pen scratches over the map before moving across the page of her notebook--really it’s Harry’s old lyric notebook, but he transferred the pages to a folder and left the remaining pages for whatever random things he’d need them for and not it appears it was for Catalina. She licks the icing from her fingers.

“My car’s kinda toast. So if I stay here with it, cops might press me for me answers if they know that car’s connected.”

Her eyes narrow for a moment, assessing Harry. “You wouldn’t rat me out.”

“No, but I am one less loose thread. Besides, you’re not around for super long this time.”

“You don’t want to be a part of this. This isn’t the kind of stuff you do. You do good in the world.”

“I won’t be a part of whatever you have to do. I’ll be the willfully ignorant ride along, who buys snacks and patches you up, joking that I don’t even want to know.”

“That makes you an accomplice, you know.”

“A dumb one,” Harry counters, pushing up from the bed. He showered and put on a clean pair of boxers but hasn’t put on anything else. Whereas she’s dressed in a t-shirt and only a t-shirt, even though she’s draped into the sheet.

“Still an accomplice.”

“Please,” he asks, kneeling in front of her, hands clasped in front of his chest. The lower lip rolls out and Catalina sighs. She can’t say no to that. Harry keeps the puppy-eyed look, waiting for the inevitable confirmation.

“Fine,” she huffs. “But snacks--that’s your only job. No navigation.”

“Patch jobs? I’ve been told I’ve got a magical touch.” Harry pairs the sentiment with a smirk and his hands grazing along her thighs.

Catalina pushes into his torso with her foot, putting just an inch or so between him and her. “No. Snacks and snacks only. I don’t think I’ll be needing patch jobs on this one.”

“But if you do? I could take care of it.” His hands have continued to hitch higher on her flesh.

“Oh you’re impossible. Go pack a bag. We’ve got only a few more hours before needing to get out of here.”

His lips brush up her shin and over her knee. He’s quick as his fingers graze over her exposed core. She shivers, despite rearing her foot back. It lands square into his chest. Harry only laughs as he lets his body give to the weight falling back onto his butt just a little. She didn’t push hard, but enough force to warn Harry. He knows she could go harder. He winks at her before pushing off the floor. “Packing a bag. How long for?”

“Week and a half, max.”

When the morning light starts to just settle into the sky, Catalina’s quick to toss some of the spray cans into a black trash bag including the receipt to the grocery store. She’s grateful in the moment that Harry used cash. Maybe he suspected. Maybe he knew that after telling her about the formula being locked up was sign enough that Harry had to be careful just in case things went south.

Had they been around each other that long that he just knew? What had it been, eighty years of this song and dance? Did he just know the next line because of time? Had they practiced this over and over that Harry just knew instinctively? Whatever the case be, Catalina is glad. She needed someone, especially now, that just got her. That didn’t think too much about the way she didn’t think too much.

Crumpling the receipt, she tosses it too into the bag and takes a scan. There’s nothing else that can be linked so she ties it up and tosses to the floor of the passenger side. When they get back to some main roads, possibly on the backside of a shopping center, she can dump it there. But they need to get on the road soon. The morning is their cover for the time being and she managed to get a deal on a trade in on the car.

Harry tosses her the keys as soon as he steps out of the door. He carries a duffle bag and backpack. “Lead the way.”

It’s not too hard to toss the trash once they get into the city north of them. And it’s not much longer before Carl steps out from the house turned office, taking in the car that Catalina and Harry step out off. “The only thing on it is heat?” he asks, another set of keys dangling around his finger.

“Only thing on it is heat,” Catalina replies.

“Normally don’t do just straight trade ins. But this is a nice ass car. All I’d have to do is give it a new coat of paint and some new tags and no one would be the wiser.”

“Carl, I would never make your job harder,” she smiles and walks up to him keys just about to fall over the manicured black nails.

Carl drops the new keys into her hand and catches the other set. “Ain’t go through no tolls?”

“Cars just don’t disappear, you know?” she teases.

“Not without a little help.”

“No tolls. Stopped once to get rid of something. Parked in the back. If anything is captured, it’s not much.”

Carl can work with that. Not perfect, but more ideal than the car getting seen in a toll--that has a direction, more specific area of such. Harry is silent during the whole exchange and follows behind Catalina as she walks towards the black 4 door sedan. Though he should be more upset that his car is being traded in for god knows what, he is not worried about that. Harry finds a small bit of relief, one less thing for them to worry about.

He drops the bags into the backseat and quickly climbs into the passenger seat. “Since I’m in charge of snacks, I get control over the radio and breaks from driving?”

“If that makes you happy, fine by me.” Catalina doesn’t waste a moment more before throwing the car into reverse and peeling out of the parking lot. The clink of gravel hitting in the spin of the tires is evident. But Harry searches through the radio stations instead of worrying about that. Instead he thinks about how long they should drive before he insists on Catalina to find a gas station nearby. Harry focuses instead on the way the wind comes in through the open windows. He focuses instead on listening to Catalina sing softly to the music coming through the speakers.

“Driving through the night?” Harry asks. The evening has settled. The clock on the radio alerting them to the time of night. Nothing crazy, only 8.

“Driving through the night,” Catalina replies. “Let me know if I’m not obeying any snack breaks.”

“Where are we going?”

“Ah, that’s a question of navigation. And I’m afraid my dear, that’s not something I can tell you.”

He did ask to be the ignorant ride along. Just not this ignorant, but he nods a hum falling over his lips. “I’ll let you know.”

“We do need to get there fast. Within a day and a half.” While Harry didn’t anticipate needing to get there that quickly, he doesn’t make a huge fuss. Neither one of them needs sleep and he should be fine for at least another day or two before needing to feed again.

Harry watches the night pass, the stars become brighter the farther from the city they go and at the speed they’re rolling they look like streaks of white paint on a black canvas. “We should paint,” Harry says, still glancing out of the window.

“Paint?”

He finally turns to her, watching the way she keeps a recline in the driver seat, one hand on the steering wheel, the other resting outside the rolled down window. He hadn’t felt the breeze, but he should’ve heard it. Harry continues on, “I’m sure you miss it, when you have to go back. If we have time, I want you to paint again. With me. Just for fun.”

“If we have time, sure.”

The right of the night passes without much, besides the two stops to fill up on gas. The radio plays and they sing--Harry much better than Catalina, which she never fails to pout about. However, it’s all good natured. Even when Harry asks, knowing that she won’t answer, where they’re headed and if she’s sure he can’t play doctor. “You’ve got one more time to ask me that and I swear I’m throwing out of this car.”

The morning skies are perfectly blue. No clouds in the sky either. Catalina knows she should stop soon. She needs to gas up and they need to lay low until the sun starts to set. “Long rest?” Catalina suggests, looking for the next exit to pull off with a motel nearby.

“If you’d like,” Harry shrugs, “Don’t have much else to do.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

It takes another hour before they pull off the highway. Catalina fills up the tank, arms crossed as the pump is locked and pours out gas. Harry steps outside of the car, leaning onto the hood. “Snacks?”

“Not really hungry.”

“We’ll come back out later then. Unless you need to make an errand then.”

“Evening? Errand can happen after.”

Harry nods, taking in the cars passing by. He pulls down the sleeves on his shirt. Possibly while she’s out doing her errand, Harry can go hunt. Normally feeding would last him longer but not around Catalina--he always uses too much energy around her. But it’s always worth it. Harry wonders if her constant leaving is always tied to her own recharge or does she know too--does she know that maybe they’re bad for each other? Not bad as in they bring out the worst in each other. Harry keeps her out of so much trouble and Catalina brings a little spice to Harry’s life that’s not normally there.

However, there’s always some sort of take. Catalina gets time to come up. She gets time with him. But it’s never a permanent deal--she never gets long enough. And Harry maybe gives a little too much. He pushes himself more than normally would. Though the gaps-- the times she has to return to Hell-- are hard, they might be saving them, keeping them from burning each other out. It was probably too simple to think that eventually they’d even out. But that didn’t stop Harry from daydreaming about it sometimes.

They find a motel close by and dump bags onto the single bed. “Make sure you behave when we share this bed now,” Harry teases, sending a wink her way as she steps into the bathroom.

“I am the last person you need to tell that too.”

“Oh contrary to popular belief, you are the first one I need to tell that too.”

“Maybe I’ll give you that one.” Catalina’s quick in the bathroom, coming back out to immediately rummage through a bag. Harry packed the clothes but she asked for hers to be left out and Harry’s not really sure what else she needed. However, when she unearths a phone, one Harry’s never seen her with before. He knows he shouldn’t ask questions. But the curiosity itches.

“I’ll be back in an hour max.” Harry can only watch as the door closes behind her. Maybe being the dumb compain wasn’t his most brilliant idea.

It doesn’t feel like an hour before she returns. The only thing new in her hand is a cup from a Burger King. “I’m going to assume you lock me in here just to get a breakfast.”

“Cased a place. What are you reading?” Catalina crosses the room, sliding out of her shoes and laying on the bed next to Harry. On her stomach, head held up on her hands as her elbows pressed down into the mattress.

“Nothing special.”

“Read it to me?”

Opening up his arms, Harry waves for her to get closer. She climbs the rest of the way up the bed and rests her head on his chest, one leg thrown over his left hip. Harry picks up where he was, not providing any sort of explanation about what’s happened prior to this moment. Though it’s still early in the novel, so there’s not much to catch up on plotwise. For the moment, he feels normal. Like he might be going on some road trip with his girl and they checked into some motel just for a day or two while they still head for their destination. And he’s just reading to her, as they take a break from the road.

It’s all too clear though when Catalina loses her patience for the book. Her nails trace over his stomach, she angles her head up, pressing light kisses along his jaw. They don’t even hardly make full connections but just enough for Harry to feel, just enough for Harry to know. Catalina kisses a little harder and Harry’s thought trail off in the middle of the sentence. “We haven’t gotten to a kissing scene yet.”

“Hmm, I skipped a few chapters ahead,” Catalina returns. Her kisses press a little firmer to his skin and Harry’s chest constricts. Her fingers trails at the hem of his shirt, pulling it up just enough to expose a thin band of his skin. That’s all she needs, just enough skin to tease before Harry drops the book to the floor and lifts Catalina firmly into his lap. Their lips meet firmly and he exhales, knowing he can’t not give into her. Not when she’s rocking her lips over his like this and the friction is just so deliciously enticing.Catalina sighs into his mouth as he brings a hand to her breast cupping it over the shirt pinching right where her nipple is beneath the cup of the bra.

“That’s what I like to hear,” Harry coaxes, pulling the her shirt up and off of her body. He kisses down her chest, and over the swell of her breast in the bra. Catalina clings to him, wrapping his head in her arms and sinking into the brush of his lips, into the graze of his teeth along her skin. The small pricks of his sharp incisors cause a chill to crawl down her spine and she keeps her hips a steady grind against Harry’s crotch, needing nothing more than him.

“It’s ironic,” Harry hums, tracing the lines in Catalina’s palm. They make her real. Realer than him and realer to him.

“What’s ironic?” she asks, cheek smushed into the pillow.

“I know you, have known you for so long. But I still don’t know you like that. Like I do know vaguely what you do. But if it weren’t for the time we’ve spent together I would be sure I was a ghost instead of a what I am. And I would be sure that you were one too. But yet, here we are. As real as ever. Being alive as long as I have been alive, things never are coincidences. I found you that night. I found you on the side of the road, bloody and I’m thinking holy shit, this person is halfway dead. And I don’t know. It’s the most full of life I’ve ever felt.”

“You’ve always been full of life. I’m not full of anything.”

It’s an age old debate. Harry can never call himself a monster, but she can call herself one. “If you’re not full of anything, then I feel bad for my soul.”

“You’re not damned, Harry. You never could be.” She squeezes at his head, fingers threading through.

“You don’t know what I was doing before.” Harry looks past their joined hands, the vibrant contrast of Harry’s olive skin and Catalina rich dark brown skin to his legs, halfway uncovered by the sheets. The scars always seem to stick out more, even if Harry doesn’t want them too.

“I do know.”

“No you don’t,” he retorts. “How could you know?”

Catalina sits up, staring down at Harry. “Because I found, walking back in the night. Three hunters were stalking you. They had followed you the whole night and you were young--young into this body. They were just looking for a reason.”

“Three? How would they have been following me without me knowing?”

“Just like you thought I was halfway dead. They weren’t human. Human hunters are too easy to notice.”

“So why’d you save me?”

“I wasn’t saving you. One of the hunters had gone rogue on their previous assignments and lost the trails of others sent after them. I was sent up to eliminate that guy and by that proxy I also had to kill his other two goons.”

“If that’s all you were meant to do is just kill them, then why’d you stay out on the side of the road? Why’d you let me see you?”

“We caught wind that this rogue hunter was going after more non-human creatures. I was told if you were a threat to eliminate you as well. So I watched them, watched you. I watched you cornering people in alleyways. I watched you want to give in, and I watched you succumb to it sometimes. I know every thought you’ve probably had, watching the cute girl passing you by from the bar and the blood is thumping in her veins after dancing her heart out and knowing all you had to do was turn on the charm, offer to walk her home and wait for the right time to get close. All you ever had to do was get close. I know about the men you left dead behind buildings after they hurt people. I watched for weeks.”

His throat seizes. The thoughts never leave him. For moments there he wondered why he had been turned. He wanted to curse himself for getting too close. Gabriella found him one day at the bar. He was drinking after a particularly bad day, his tire had blown on his way too work, he was late for a meeting because of it. His girl at the time was constantly down his neck about every little thing. He had found, after returning home, someone else in his bed with his girl. And that was just the icing on the cake. He told himself he’d just drink himself under the table, through the floor and into the depths of the Earth.

It was at that bar, after the day he had, not even a drink into the night because he was too busy trying to keep the tears at bay but failing miserably that Gabriella found him. She sat across from while he poured his heart out. She listened. She coo’ed, shook her head. She told him that a handsome man like himself didn’t deserve to be crying in some bar. He deserved to fall into bed with someone else. And it was so stupid. Gabriella was a stranger. He hadn’t known her longer than two hours, but he went home with her.

He got too close and that’s all Gabriella needed from him. It wasn’t until he regained consciousness in a dumpster and stumbled home that he realized something was way wrong. The world seemed to be moving in slow motion. The sun was twenty times warmer against his skin and brighter than before. When he opened the door to his apartment, it slammed open though Harry was sure he hadn’t opened the door with anymore force than he normally would have. If the day and night and previously had been the worst of his existence, the morning after all but shot Harry into an alternate reality one that he hadn’t and probably never would be able to any sense of it.

So Harry went into hiding. He soon had to resurface. He knew he couldn’t hide forever. So he did his best to reintegrate. It wasn’t easy. The smell of blood was always just too strong and though Harry had managed to survive mostly on animal blood, nothing quite satisfied the urge like human blood. He reserved that-- he tried not to give in on just any whim. If he was going to feed on human blood he wanted it to be good but it doesn’t matter if the person he sank his teeth into was morally questionable or not the screams all sounded the same.

“So-so you were sent after me to kill me? Potentially? If you thought I was enough of a threat?”

“Yes,” it falls with a little hesitation. However, ultimately, Catalina knows it’s true. That’s what she was told to do.

“And watched all that--watched me do that and didn’t see me as a threat.”

“I saw you as young and scared. But never as a threat.”

“I was killing people,” he retorts, springing up the bed as if someone flipped the switch on him. It’s the first time he’s ever phrased it like that out loud. “I was a threat, Cat. I was a threat.”

“Ay dios mío! When’s the last time you killed, Harry? When’s the last time you got your fucking rocks of killing someone?”

“I-I never enjoyed it.” His voice cracks as he speaks. It’s why he worked so hard not to give into those urges. It wasn’t easy and after Catalina showed up, after she would tell him he wasn’t a monster, it felt like maybe he could prove it to himself, that he could fight against them. “It’s been decades. After I met you, I stopped. It felt so wrong and I was sick of giving in. I was angry with who I was. But I figured-I figured if I was going to be damned forever, I might as well be damned for something.”

“¿Cómo pudiste decir eso? You’re not damned, Harry. You could never be damned.”

His chest--something aches and he’s not sure what it is, but the tears are slipping down his cheek. “Is that why? Did you know how much I hated it? Did you spare me to prove some point?”

“Would you have rathered me kill you? I could always do my job, Harry. I could always end this for you. But I didn’t kill you then because killing you would’ve done nothing productive. What would you have accomplished if you were dead? Wouldn’t have made it in music. Wouldn’t have gotten those degrees. Wouldn’t have founded that hospital. And look at it now, oh my goodness. Have you gone by that hospital lately? They’re on the cutting edge of new therapies for children with cancer. Tell me what the fuck would me have killing you done eighty years ago.”

“You wouldn’t, you wouldn’t kill me.”

“Harry, I would do a lot of things for you. But I made the call that you weren’t a threat because I saw you were scared-I always saw the hesitation, the way you were pleading with yourself not to give in. I saw that you just needed someone that understood you so that you could understand yourself. And if you’re telling me I made the wrong call, then know all I’d need in the word to make the right one.” Her nostrils are flared but she stands firmly in front him. Her eyes blink back the tears. “But I know I made the right call. I’ve done a lot of other things--killed people, taken their souls, been the middle man in a lot of fucked up shit, but I have never made the wrong call.”

All Harry can do is tug at her wrist and arm and pull her into his lap. He hides his face into her shoulder, knowing that the tears are rolling down her shoulder. How did she know all that? How could she have seen all the fear and pain? Harry’s not one to tell it all. He tells bits and pieces. He gives what he wants. But she was hearing it all, she was hearing what was unspoken. He was crying out for a second chance in life. He was trying to figure out what the silver linings of this eternal curse could be and Catalina had answered them.

“You made the right call,” Harry states.

What Catalina remains silent, brushing her fingers along his scalp, feeling him repeat, “You made the right call” into the flesh of her collarbone What she doesn’t let cross her lips is that he’s the only right call she’s made, the only one that felt like the right call even after the fact. The rest of them--they’re all the right calls in the moment but not always the right call in longevity. Harry’s been her only call that had longevity, that had a real reason not to call it and it was for good. Not for some assignment, not for someone else. It was her call and her call alone.

Truth be told, Harry might be the only call she gets to make that spares a soul, that keeps someone away from the gates of Hell. And she knows Harry’s never been able to fully accept what he is now, that he’ll always be hiding in the shadows as a vampire at least some of the time. But the thing Catalina’s always wanted to prove to Harry is that he’s always been good. Even when he thought he had been cursed, there was always good in that.

Just as the evening settles in, Harry pushes away from the desk. He settled in at the desk to do some more reading and some journaling. Though Catalina draped herself over his back until Harry allowed her to settle onto his lap. “While you’re gone tonight I’m going to go out for a little bit. You’ll take the room keys and everything and if I need to get in before you’re back, I’ll just go to the front desk,” Harry states.

“What about your trip for snacks before we head out for the night?”

“Do you want snacks?”

“Possibly.”

“Then we should go now. Besides I need a little less light before I can leave.”

“Hunting?” The only reason why Harry would want more of the night is to help cover his tracks. He’ll no doubt have to go a little far to catch any animal big enough to feed on. But it’s a lot easier to not hunt at night when the number of humans does drastically drop off.

“Have to stay strong with you around,” Harry teases.

“You’re not easy to keep up with either. But I like the challenge,” Catalina teases, before pushing off his lap and finding her spare phone and keys to the room. Harry pulls back on the jeans and slips into the sneakers. He takes the driving lead to the gas station, it’s only a couple minutes down the street.

“I’ll try to be back before you. Just in case you do need me to play doc.”

“I appreciate the concern,” Catalina returns pushing up her door. The display immediately in front of the door holds chips and sunflower seeds. Depending on how much of a fight it is night, cupcakes and honeybuns may not cut it. So Catalina grabs a bag off chips off the metal rack and takes in the setup. Towards the back is a display of refrigerated foods--mostly sandwiches but it’ll do.

It shouldn’t be this hard to pick out a sandwich but Catalina looks over the options and ponders if she’d be in a mood for ham or turkey. Harry spies her pause in browsing and walks over. “What’s on the menu?” he teases, sliping one arm around her waist.

“Don’t know. Should I go turkey?”

“I mean you can’t go wrong with--”

“Alright!” a voice booms. Harry and Catalina turn to the sound. The masks aren’t the most concerning thing. Both are visibly armed. In all that Harry anticipated, this would not have made the cut. They don’t seem initially aware of the people in the store. However, one woman, closer to the door than Harry or Catalina lets out a small whimper, the glass bottle in her hand smashing against the floor. It’s that moment that alerts the second guy to spin around, shouting at her to look at the ground and not move a muscle.

“Mierda,” Catalina says under her breath. Her instinct is to rush. But that’s risky, she doesn’t know if any of them is a good shot and if she rushes, Harry’s going to follow--thus exposing both of them.

“C’mon,” Harry exhales. He moves slowly from her waist and when his hand is firmly around her wrist.

“Backdoor?” Catalina questions.

“What?” It’s in his brief glance down that Harry can spy the wheels turning in her head already. “We always walk out the front.”

Catalina doesn’t miss the inclusion of ‘we’-- she couldn’t have missed it even if she wanted too. “We?”

Harry’s already glancing back to the store. One is focused on the teller and the other is still shouting at the poor woman that dropped the glass bottle. Harry steps in front of Catalina and guides her to head towards the rack of sweets and gum. “Rack,” is all he says before releasing her wrist. He turns back to the sandwich display case and Catalina nearly curses the heels on her boots.

If she can get behind the cover and make a ruckus on the opposite end of the store, she can at least split them up. Neither one of them wants a shot to be fired--if she takes it, her whole plan to get work done tonight is over and if Harry takes the bullet, it’ll look suspicious that it won’t do much damage. Catalina does her best to keep her heels from striking too hard and when she’s behind the cover of the gum, she notices a separate piece to the rack, holding up cotton candy and other hanging bags of candy. The rack is hooked to the main structure when catalina first pushes it as a test. But she spends a moment, steading herself and finding the spot it’s hooked into before pushing it up.

Once it releases, Catalina looks over to Harry. He’s not looking at her, instead now holding his hands up facing towards the door. She knows he can still hear. “Ready,” she whispers. She catches the small twitch of his index fingers before hoisting the bags and rack across the store.

The ruckus turns the second man’s attention to her. “Don’t look at me! Or I swear I’ll blow your brains out.”

Catalina can hear the start of a tussle, the grunts and exclamations of pain. She closes in, grabbing the barrel of the gun in her left hand. She ducks her upperbody off center and swipes at the guys wrist with her right hand. The guy yelps, releasing the gun. He ducks as Catalina pops back up. The gun’s aimed at him now and he huffs, holding his hands up. Her finger nearly settles onto the trigger, she nearly fires one round into his foot. It’d be so easy and it would for sure slow down him and his friend down if they tried to flee.

“Don’t.” Only one word from Harry--she hears it over her own labored breathing. “You gotta go.” Why would Harry tell her to leave but not include himself? Catalina starts to lower the gun, thumb just about to click the magazine to drop.

“Oh the bitch is on a leash,” the man teases though his hands are still raised in defense.

All it takes are about three pounds of pressure, not much more than the curl of her finger around the trigger to release a round. It echoes and is interrupted by the holler of the man falling to the ground, holding onto his shin.

Catalina swivels again and squeeze off around round. That one hits the man focused on Harry in the left shoulder. He drops the weapon and Harry takes the moment to kick it towards the back of the store. “You don’t listen too good,” he huffs, taking the weapon from her and dropping the magazine. It clatters to the ground and he racks it to release the one bullet in the chamber.

“I don’t kindly to being insulted. Pinche basura,” Catalina spits but steps over the howling man about his shin and finds the woman who’s curled in on herself. “Hey, hey, come with me.”

The tears tracks are obvious but the woman nods, shakily grabbing her purse from the floor. Catalina walks her to her car. “You did good back there. I know it’s scary,” Catalina starts, attempting to soothe her. Once the woman’s settled, Catalina waits, seeing Harry talk to the cashier. She knows Harry’s going to be pissed. But in her defense, the guy was a fucking asshole and deserved it.

It’s as Harry walks out of the station, tossing her the keys as he does so, that she notices a plastic bag in his hand. “What’s that?”

“Helped them out for the mess we made.”

“Technically, I made it.”

“I was going to give you a break.” Harry hands over the bag. “It’s a sandwich for after. In case you need it. Drop me off about two minutes up the road from here, but past the motel.”

Thankfully, Harry parked on the side of the station, not too far from the dumpster. But even if this car was caught on video, Harry’s deal with the cashier will make sure that the video won’t be seen. Catalina does as instructed, driving up past the motel and continuing on for another minute or two before Harry calls for her to stop. “How long?” he asks leaning against the door.

“Praying for no more than two hours. I gotta get there first. If they see me walk in, the thing’s blown. Bank for three.”

“More than enough time. Be safe.” Harry pats on the inside of the door before pushing away and zipping into the thick of the trees.

“Igualmente!” Catalina whispers, knowing he’s probably already too far away to hear. She turns around having to drive up into a random dirt path before peeling back down past the gas station and heading towards the casino she staked out for just a little bit this morning. Sure it’s ironic that her work would take her to a place like that, but she wasn’t going to be headed in for a regular. No, Catalina was headed in for the boss. Some debts can’t be consolidated or refinanced.

Parking across the street, Catalina cuts across the still lively street and stares up at the bright red neon sign. It blinks for a moment at her and then continues to hold steady. Catalina leaves her coat by the door, hung up by one of attendants. She’s going to be in here for a while. She cashes in her allotment for coins and chips. Her first perch of the night are the slot machines. There are only a few bouts of luck but Catalina never pushes them, instead keeping a sweeping eye over the floor.

He won’t be making an appearance just out of the blue. But the commotion, the sea of people that will move when the boss moves is all Catalina needs. She moves to a Black Jack table and thought that’s a dangerous move because it requires more attention, she knows she can’t linger on the outskirts all night. She throws a couple rounds but more than makes up for the losses.

She moves to the drinks table-only ordering a Sprite. It takes a few more rounds, going to different slot machines and playing one round of poker before she catches what she needs. The guards at the door are now more fidgety, glancing around the room more, talking into coms more frequently. Catalina pulls the lever on the machine, not even watching it for the images it lands on but instead sees the flock moving towards the stairs.

She leaves the winnings, bucket, and drink behind to start towards the bathroom. A little far from the stairs but a lot easier to work from than the middle of the casino floor. Ducking into the recessed area for the bathrooms, Catalina waits for a beat, hearing a voice echo, “Okay. Moving back up.”

Catalina slips from the door, just in enough time to see the huddle moving up the stairs and the others walking to the casino floor. She slips into step behind the mass moving upwards. She could get caught here, she knows but it really won’t matter. She’s close enough anyway. As the whole group lands on the second floor, Catalina keeps up against the wall, using the shadows for just a little bit longer.

“We haven’t seen any strange movement, sir.” A soft voice reports. “Everyone’s on alert just like you asked for.”

“I can feel her,” comes the reply.

Catalina almost laughs. But she knows that feeling the way the whole stomach feels like leads, the way you almost wish you could actually puke because everything is churning. “I’d say your gut’s still in good health then,” Catalina cuts, leaning against the wall, arms crossed in front of her.

The whole room turns in unison to face her and she grins, letting the tearing sensation burn through her skin. The way her teeth elongate and hands shift into claws. There’s the heat too, the way her whole body warms. It’s the transformation that does most of the work. The fear of seeing some random human body expand into the terrifying stature of a hunter.

“Dominic, your time has come,” Catalina growls. Her voice is a snarl and though she’s not overly exceeding in stature over any one. Her demonic state on Earth can only really reach about seven feet tall--it’s still not a pretty sight. The way things ooze.

A couple of brave guards rush forward. It only takes a heavy swat to send them flying. They clatter into the walls and glass, the sound of it shattering and hitting the floor sounds like rain almost. Catalina pushes forward, shoving more guards out of the way. They don’t go quietly, a few firing off shots. In this state, she’s a bit more protected but still not fully going to escape the realm of suffering injury.

It doesn’t slow her stalk. Dominic pushes more and more guards between them but they too are swiftly pushed out of the way. “You knew your time was up long ago,” Catalina teases. “You can run. But you can never hide.”

“I don’t deserve this!” is the outcry.

With a quick outstretch, Catalina swipes at Dominic’s back on his attempt to run away. He falls, a loud shriek leaving his throat. Catalina steps over him and hooks her fist into the back of his shirt lifting him up. His feet dangle above the ground. “Pathetic,” Catalina scoffs. “You do know your brother gave up everything for you.”

The heat of Catalina’s touch is searing his skin and Dominic whimpers in pain. But he doesn’t respond to the taunt. “You hear me?” she growls. “Your brother gave up everything for you!” She tosses him across the room and he falls into and through the door of some room. The thud of her feet echo as Catalina continues across. “And you don’t even hold up your end of the deal. Chance after chance you fucked it up.”

“I’m sorry. I am so sorry,” Dominic cries. “Just give me one more chance.” The blood is evident, scrapes along his arm and face.

“Chances have run out.” Hauling him up by the collar of his shirt, Catalina pauses for a moment. Her lips move, barely exhaling out the chant as the floor beneath starts to glow. It opens and both of them fall and fall. And even though Catalina’s done this a thousand times over, she’s still not quite used to it.

At the feet of the throne, Catalina allows herself to fully assume, the skin blistering a bit and growing taller. Her claws become more prominent and the flames licking at her skin start to recess in pain. She knows soon her own skin will jump with flames, her own body will start to mimic the world she’s in. Dominic screams at her feet, slapping at his own skin to quell the pain. “Oh, none of that,” she laughs. “You could always try some ice.”

Two guards approach her, shackles already clinking in their grasp. She holds up a hand to stop them. Hear and now in her true form, Catalina’s able to grab Dominic like a child grabs a doll right around the torso. The sound of skin searing is clear. “I’d say you’d finally get to show your brother the pathetic man you’ve become--but even if he were still with us, I don’t think he deserves that. Selling on the back end of your establishment, knowingly selling to mothers to be, running folks out of their rooms for gambling debts. It’s one thing to do that on your first try--it’s one thing to fuck up the then. But you knew, you knew the time was ticking on you and your brother beat you to Hell’s Gates. Do you know how he sounded begging for your mercy? Do you know the pleas?” She gives pause for an answer, one she knows Dominic can’t give but he was made aware of by the scrolls because she hand delivered them. “You don’t get to beg.”

With a single digit, Catalina presses it to Dominic’s mouth. The heat causes blisters and even though he screams, punches and kicks at her, Catalina holds for a moment longer before dropping him. His body hits hard and the guards finally step. She watches them take Dominic away, no doubt taking him to the holding chambers. And she lets herself stand a moment longer in the flames. Dominic won’t be dealt with for another week and though she should’ve taken more time, Catalina knows she must report back in.

“Impressive. I would’ve easily thought you’d play with him a little longer. Really sell the fear.”

It’s Lucifer behind her. “I need to keep my full three weeks on Earth.”

“Your jobs done, what do you need that time for?”

“Doesn’t matter, does it? The longer you keep me up there the more I can get done.”

“It’s that Harry fella isn’t it? I’ve been watching you.”

Catalina scoffs. “When haven’t you?”

“I still think you should’ve pulled his plug when you had that chance. Vampires are soulless creatures.”

“So what the hell does that make you?”

Lucifer laughs, patting her on the back. “Always good with the comebacks. Fine, fine, have your fun. I don’t really care.”

“But you care enough to watch me and know his name.”

“You say it’s the right call on him. I’m just making sure that assessment stays current--is all. Besides, it’s fun to have that over you. I know what makes you tick.”

Catalina knew the moment she decided to spare Harry it would be the thing that could always be loomed over her. He’ll always be the thing that makes her tick. Turning now, she faces Lucifer. “And you’ve seen me explode too.”

There’s a beat. A moment where Catalina stares at Lucifer and Lucifer stares at Catalina. He has seen her explode and it’s no pretty sight. And it’s not a threat, Lucifer knows that. He knows that Catalina doesn’t say a word she doesn’t mean. Exploding is a promise. Exploding is the sure fire way to Lucifer potentially staring back at his own head. He holds up his hands. “Look, it’s just making sure there are no threats. If they get exposed, all the other shit that goes bump in the night gets exposed. Enjoy the rest of your time.”

“Thank you.” Catalina continues on to the ports, finds a portal and lets herself go, climbs up and climbs and lets the bone fuse back together and shrink. It feels tight when she stands up. The skin feels tighter, her body feels heavier and she leans against the wall of the Burger King, grateful that the night is cool. Once she regains her balance, Catalina finds the car. She left the trunk unlocked and pops it open. She feels until she finds the small internal compartment and tugs. A spare set of keys sits inside just like she asked Carl to do. Spare keys in hand, she closes the trunk door, opens the driver side door and slips inside.

It takes another half hour just to feel like she could drive back to the motel. The transition back is always the hardest. Leaving Earth to go to Hell takes less energy than going from Hell back to Earth. She can’t hang out too much longer in this parking lot. So Catalina takes a breathe and starts the car.

Harry hears the knock on the door and places his book face down on the bed. Catalina had the key, not him. However, peering through the door he can see her, sans her jacket. “The hell happened to you?” he questions, holding her up by her waist.

“Went to Hell, came back and didn’t properly give myself time to adjust. I would’ve used the key,” she states, holding it up. She dropped that into the cup holder of the car before heading into the casino. “But it just took too much energy.”

“Didn’t eat the sandwich either?”

“What part of too much energy, did you not understand?”

“You’re impossible.”

“No, tú.” Harry laughs at the childish response but settles her onto the bed before, pulling her out of her shoes and taking the keys. “Stay there. Don’t move a muscle.”

The room door closes but a few moments later, it opens again and Harry rummages through the plastic bag she dropped into the passenger seat. "How much time do you think we have before we need to leave?”

“Safer to move now but a few hours tops.”

“And am I privy to know where we go next?”

Catalina shrugs. “Depends. You want to drive or not?”

“All your errands done?”

“All of them,” she returns, taking a small piece of the sandwich he extends out to her.

“Just us two for the next two weeks and some change?”

“Yeah. Just the two of us.”

There’s a bit of excitement that courses through Harry. It’s never really just been the two of them. Might this be the chance he’s wanted with her. Could this prove that they weren’t bad for each other? Harry hands her another piece of the sandwich, finding that she’s slowly coming back to her usual self. “But I got you into some terrible messes so I understand if you’re worried.”

“Everything here I have here I can sign over to myself and start new anywhere else. That doesn’t matter. Besides, it’s a little exhilarating to head into the action instead of watching from afar. We spend a week or so on the road, come back. Whatever mess is still happening we’ll sort out then. I know some people. I’m sure you know some people. Nothing to worry about.”

“You make it sound easier than it is,” Catalina replies. Harry can’t just go missing for a week and then turn up expecting everything to be fixed in a blink of the eye.

“You made it sound harder than it is,” Harry retorts, holding out the small pouch of fruit juice.

“Me llamaste imposible, pero tú eres imposible.” The rest of the mutter is cut off but the slurp of her drink but Harry catches onto the general gist of it--her general displeasure at his optimism. “Wherever you wanna go, for a week and then we come back and sort any mess out.”

Harry hands over the last bite of the snack he got and starts packing their bags. “We check out first thing in the morning. Only about four hours from now. You get the rest you need and we can plan where we want to go. Sounds like a plan?”

“Sounds like a plan.”

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