Moonlight

Chapter 1

Moonlight glinted off his hair, his face lost in shadow as he turned my direction. Head lowered, his voice like gravel, he finally spoke. "Sorry. I usually …don't kill…people."

"Stop. We'd be dead if you hadn't." I had to look away. I could feel the tension still stacked up in him, his spidey senses on high alert and ready to uncoil at the slightest provocation. Taking a deep breath, I walked over to him, careful to touch his arm lightly. Not expecting it, he jerked away, grunting at the pain the sudden movement caused.

I looked around to get my bearings again, and headed for what I hoped was the path. Note to self: Do not touch highly volatile men when they're still amped from a fight, no matter how pathetic they look. It was just the moonlight that made him look like he needed mothered. Not that this was a situation I'd have to handle on a frequent basis, but a good note to store away for future reference nonetheless. "Come on." When I came through the brush onto the path, I heard him following. Very faintly. Knowing I wouldn't see him in the dark shadows of the trees here I turned to check his progress anyway. Surprised that he was close behind; I picked up the pace toward the cabin. His volume didn't equal distance; it was all about stealth. He moved like a cat naturally after years of sneaking up on ugliness, which is why I barely heard him. A few minutes walk took us around a bend then off to the left was tonight's shelter. There was nothing but a few trees and a field between the cabin and us so my perimeter check would be short. "I'll get the back."

"I can – "

"Shut up. I'll check the back." I was in no mood for macho shit. Walking to the far front corner, I pulled my gun from the waistband of my jeans at my back. I'd never gotten comfortable with it there; always afraid I'd blow half my ass off someday by mistake. Someday hadn't come yet, and I still had too much ass. Placing my back against the front wall, I rolled my body to the left and around the corner, gun drawn. A quick scan showed no bad guys, so I repeated the move around to the back of the place and stood staring at a gravel driveway and a fence guarding a steep drop-off to the river below, running parallel to the length of the cabin. "Nice." I said under my breath. I walked back to the front and found Dean picking the door lock. "It's clear. Not much should be able to join us from the back of the place. And you might have waited to see if it was clear before you barged in."

He continued working the lock. "Define 'not much'."

"Nothing human." I bit my tongue on the rest of my response. He'd had a rough day. The lock gave and the door swung open. He pulled his gun. I let him do the manly thing this time and bust in first while I stood by the doorway for backup.

"It's good." He sounded tired.

I went in and it WAS good. Pale light showed a rough but tidy cabin, equipped with a few pieces of surprisingly nice furniture, fireplace, and small kitchen in one corner. And a bed. A soft fluffy big bed.

We looked at each other.

"Oh yeah. There's gonna be a fight over that." I informed him.

His expression didn't change. Actually his expression hadn't changed since I met him yesterday. Except sometimes he clenched his jaw.

Seeing a door in the dim light at the far end of the room, I motioned toward it with my gun. He nodded and quickly crossed a huge braided rug, then jerked the door open, disappearing into the gloom. He reappeared immediately, indicating with a slight motion of his head that I should go look.

"Whoa." I was standing in a bathroom that took up roughly a quarter of the original one-room cabin. After opening the blind on the window, I verified that I was indeed looking at a deep oversized tub with a hand shower attached. There was the usual bathroom stuff like toilet and sink too, but who cares. If there was bubble bath to be had in here, I was never leaving this place.

He sat down carefully at the small dining table after flicking on a light. "First aid kit?"

I crossed to the kitchen and opened the refrigerator, scanning the contents. "Hell yeah there is." After grabbing two beers I opened them and set one in front of him, taking mine to the counter and opening cabinets. "And here's some medical stuff, too."

An understatement. An oversized plastic bin filled with enough equipment to start our own ER had been shoved under the sink. I drug it out and then sat down at the table.

He'd finished half of his beer. "Thanks."

"Is that taking the edge off?" From the looks of him I doubted it. He had dirt and blood everywhere and his shirt was half torn off of him. It had been a vicious fight, and I suspected that he was hurting worse than he was letting on.

"Little bit." He made a brief gesture around the room with his beer.

"Hunter's refuge. Ellen told me about it when she heard I'd be in this area. I guess any hunter can use it; the only rule is that you leave it like you found it." I answered him before he asked the next question. "Nobody knows who owns it or stocks it. Get cleaned up and we'll see what needs done to you." I gestured toward the bathroom. He drained the bottle, picked up the duffel bag he'd dropped by the door and slowly headed for the big magic tub, closing the door behind him.

I was heating up a big can of beef stew when I felt him staring at my back. Jesus, I hoped it was him. I'd found a handy economy sized bag of rock salt in the little closet and poured a line around the room for good measure. "Hungry?"

"Famished." His voice was soft.

I turned and found him staring at me with his head slightly cocked to one side, questions in his eyes. Big eyes. Green? Grey? Pretty. I shook my head to dislodge that line of thought. "What?"

"Lady, who ARE you?"

"Are you concussing? We met yesterday, dumbass." I turned back to the stove and killed the burner, then poured the stew into two bowls.

"You're Six. That's all I know." He paused, obviously waiting for an answer, then shrugged when he didn't get one. "I'll let the name-calling thing slide since you made dinner and I'm starving." After grabbing another beer and setting it on the table he kneeled and started digging through the bin of medical supplies.

I put the bowls on the table and sat down. He had his back to me and the white t-shirt he had on was stretched tight due to his position. I could see a bloom of red near his lower back. It seemed to be growing. "You're bleeding. You have any other serious stuff? You feelin' faint or anything? That guy was crazy with the knives."

"Yeah, just my luck the dude was possessed by an evil friggin' ninja. Why can't they ever be possessed by-?"

"Bunny rabbits?" I cut in. "Great-Aunt Hilda? Happy sweet things have no need to possess a human body."

"Smartass." He sat back, still on his knees. "I got a slice that probably needs stitches. I think I'm just hungry."

The stain on his back was still growing. I was becoming increasingly worried. "How about you sit in the chair and I'll look for the stuff to sew you up with?" I got on my knees beside him and he grabbed my shoulder sluggishly.

"No offense, but I don't feel real…"

He slumped toward me and I started to stand, trying to catch him, but greatly misjudged his dead weight. He knocked me over and the back of my head connected with the floor in a most painful way. When the ache subsided enough for coherent thought I realized Dean was on top of me, his shoulder jammed under my left boob, face in my stomach. I was thinking it could be worse, after all, and if I shifted a little to get the pressure off my chest, like THAT, It might even be a bit enjoyable. Physical contact happened rarely in this business, I rationalized, and - OW! One of my knees, twisted under his weight, was making its discomfort known. Payback for trying to enjoy the situation, I was sure. I was also sure I was going straight to hell. Probably on a bullet train. It's just not right to like the feel of an unconscious man on top of you. Heaving a sigh, I straightened my leg and carefully inched out from under him, lowering his face to the floor gently. After a run to the bathroom for towels, I pulled up his shirt and surveyed the damage. The still bleeding wound was deep, straight and fairly long, no doubt a near miss to a vital organ the ninja had planned to slash into halves. I hoped it was a near miss, anyway. I could stitch anything, but repairing guts was way beyond my capabilities. We were pretty far from a hospital and for that matter, a vehicle. I folded a towel and applied pressure to the area, letting my gaze wander up the rest of him. He had several nicks and cuts, and bruises were starting to show all over the place, but there was nothing else that needed more than a band-aid. I lightly ran my finger over a long-healed scar that cut across his shoulder blade. I'd heard he started young; I guess this was evidence that some of the talk was true. I dug in the bin and came up with a package of needles, antibacterial soap, antiseptic, and suture thread, then ran some hot water into a pan. After cleaning out his wound, I carefully stitched it up and taped a gauze pad over it, then rolled him onto his back.

Blood had soaked through the front of his shirt from a jagged cut in his side, below the ribcage. I cleaned and stitched it quickly, then decided it would be wise to cut his shirt off him so I could examine his upper arms and shoulders. I told myself sternly as I cut that it was only to make sure he had no other serious injuries and not at all for my viewing pleasure. I almost believed myself.

The shirt came off and I steadfastly searched for injuries while mouthing "Holy Shit" to myself. He was beautiful, and I was totally ok with being a chauvinistic pig. I was raised by men, after all.

I forced myself to look away from the pretty and grabbed a pillow off the bed, maneuvering it under his head. I drug the comforter off next and covered him with it, kneeling to feel his forehead.

I went back to the table and ate my lukewarm stew, keeping an eye on him. There was nothing else I could do for him now. I was pretty sure he'd passed out from pain and exhaustion, not blood loss. He might have a cracked rib or five, judging from the way he'd walked and the shallow breathing he'd been doing. Hopefully he'd wake up soon.

I tried my cell phone again, but there was no signal, just like the last 35 times I'd tried it. You never know. Maybe the moon would be in the perfect spot to bounce transmissions off a satellite or perhaps Jupiter so a signal would fall directly over the cabin. Or something. I wasn't picky at this point.