A/N: I think I first began promising to write/publish some version of this story three years ago, making it my longest procrastinated peice ever. I didn't even delay this long on graduate school admission essays.

I've never seen the Twilight episode of Supernatural, and this was written before it aired, so any resemblance is purely circumstancial.

I own nothing. Superntural and Twilight belong to their respective owners, and Ulla and Shasha belong to Crimson1, their kind and loving mistress who lets me play with them when I like.

Italics indicate flashback to the Chlidren arc of Incubus.

It began simply enough.

I had been in the dining room of the Road House, dancing to an old song on the juke box while I finished up filling napkin holders and catsup bottles, idly thinking about nothing much in particular, when my favorite Incubus burst through the door and started the whole problem.

Sasha flashed that little boy grin of his that could get me to do just about anything when he thought he was five, and can still do the same now that I know that he knows that he's perpetually twenty-five. "Hey Ulls- can you do us an incredibly big favor? It'll be instrumental in a hunt and could potentially save the lives of hundreds of young girls."

"If it's in my power, you know I will," I said, smiling. I couldn't think of what it might be though. My powers mostly include making a blueberry pie that Dean will eat until he's sick, a helpful organized nature that Jimmy once compared to being bullied by a butterfly, and a sort of maybe boyfriend who happens to be an old pagan trickster god, who hadn't even left his phone number when he took off the last time. I can also shape shift, but that's not a very useful ability unless you happen to be a psychotic murderer.

"Excellent," Sasha said, catching me up in a quick hug. "We just need you to read some books. It seems there's a whole collection of lore that no one we know will have anything to do with, and we need to know what we're up against."

"I don't understand. I mean Bobby, or Ellen must…"

"Bobby has a Y chromosome, and Ellen's… Ellen. We can't ask her. Anyway… read the books I left on the front desk. Please. Call us when you're done. We'll be on our way up to Washington."

And then he left. Dashing out of the diner, through the front door and back to the Impala, which then sped away. It looked like Dean had left the engine running.

That was odd. Usually he'd come in to see if he could charm his way into a cookie at the very least. That should have clued me in to the fact that they didn't expect me to be happy.

I wandered over to the front desk, and there I saw my fate. The penance I would pay for not getting details before I agreed to help. The addictive heroine that would lead to any number of embarrassing and self effacing situations.

There, on the desk, with un-cracked spines, sat all four Twilight novels.

And I'd agreed to read them.

I did what any self respecting grown female with a semi-feminist, woman's liberation bent did when confronted with such a situation- I groaned, and then dug out my cell phone to call Sasha Kelly and see why I had been bullied and charmed into reading teenybopper drivel and fluff.

"Okay guys, I need to stay in the front room so I can watch the desk. That means we can color, watch TV or play board games. Which would you like to do?"

"I wanna play Clue but I wanna play Clue by the box rules not Dean's rules. He'n Dad'll make up new rules about huntin' for Clue and I wanna know how you really play. But we can color too if Sasha would rather color."

I didn't follow that. Or I pretended I didn't. I was going to trust that these were good people. "How about you Sasha?"

Sasha seemed shy. He'd crouched down and was poking at his shoelaces. When he looked up at me he gave me a nervous smile. "Dean helped me tie them but he didn't tie a double knot and they'll come loose and I'll trip."

I knelt down and neatly knotted the skate-shoe laces into double knots. The laces weren't overly long, and it wasn't easy. I didn't blame Dean for skipping that bit, but it seemed to make Sasha happy. "Better?"

"U-hunh. Can we color and watch TV?"

"I don't see why not. What shows do you like?" And please by the Almighty and Merciful Lord of Hosts, let the answer not be Sponge Bob.

"Duck Tales!"

"Rescue Rangers!"

"Duck Tales is better!"

"Is not!"

Things were odd. I was definitely beginning to smell a rat named Dean. I got the feeling these two were telling me everything but I was missing a big piece of the puzzle. "Do you guys watch those shows on Netflix or Hulu? I love both those shows."

"What's Netflix?"

"On the computer?" I clarified.

"No. On the TV. Aren't they on today? I thought they were always on on weekdays…"

"Oh, I think I can work out something. I'm afraid it'll have to be Duck Tales though," I said while my mind worked about a thousand miles an hour. What direction did Dean drive up from? Was he coming in from 95 or did he come in on route 72. There was something odd up that way. What magic could make you forget 20 years? "Can I trust you guys to stay here while I go check the storage closet?"

There's no such thing as sparkly vampires.

But there are such things as vampires who've bought body glitter.

Vampires might not naturally sparkle, but neither do they burst into flames in the sunlight. It hurts like a bad sunburn.

A bad sunburn doesn't hurt enough to make up for the sadistic fun of charming every idiotic girl between 12 and 15 into becoming a happy meal on legs.

A vamp nest in the state of Washington had invested in body glitter.

This was so bad it was hard to describe. Sure, it wasn't hell on earth, great battle between good and evil, and I think evil's winning bad like last summer, but it was bad in a somehow more personal way, along with the additional downside of being kind of funny in a horrible, unmentionable way.

And even while this knowledge made me so angry I was likely to punch something, I was soon completely and utterly absorbed in the books, almost hypnotized by addictive appeal of feeling seventeen again. It was embarrassing, but I could be found reading the book on the counter while I tended baked goods in the kitchen or waited in the bar on the off chance of a customer.

As I searched the back closet for a specific box, I was glad once more that Diana Kerrigan was an obsessively neat pack rat. It was but the work of a moment to find the storage box labeled, "Old VHS tapes- boys."

"Who's your favorite character in Duck Tales?" I shouted out to the front room, hoping those two couldn't get into too much trouble in less than a minute while they were talking to me.

"Uncle Scrooge."

"Gismoduck's cooler."

"Uncle Scrooge swims in a money bin. It looks like fun."

"Dean say's Uncle Scrooge'd break his neck if he jumped onto coins like that."

"Dean's a spoilsport," I said laughingly as I excited the closet, relieved to find them mostly where I'd left them. "Follow me. I think this is mostly about Donald, but you should like it. My brother got this from Burger King."

"Buger King has tapes of Duck Tales? Cool! Can we go to Burger King for lunch?" Sasha asked, turning those blue eyes on me.

"I thought we could have dinosaur claws for lunch," I said, hoping this would distract them. It worked when I was five.

"Dinosaur claws? How?" Sam wanted to know.

"You'll find out," I replied. "Grab you're crayons and coloring books and come sit." The boys settled in on the floor between the couch and the coffee table while I got the tape started. The Kerrigan boy's had practically worn the spots off the recording long ago, so the sound crackled a bit, but Sam and Sasha seemed sufficiently captivated by Donald's misadventures in Egypt not to care.

Whenever any of my acquaintance caught me reading the Twilight books for the first time, they'd roll their eyes at the very least, certain I'd just fulfilled every snide thought they'd ever had about the ditzy shapeshifter, or they would launch into a diatribe against the entire concept of the teenage vampire romance novel.

I had my rebuttal memorized by the end of the second day (and half-way through New Moon. I hated Edward quite a bit by this point, but I wanted to see how it turned out, and good lord Bella was a doormat!) I explained the hunt, explained that the Impala crowd were too uncertain in their masculinity to dare read the estrogen soaked novels, and explained that they were actually a kind of fun read once you got past the trouble they were causing in Washington, the fact that it seemed to ignore 30+ years of enlightened feminist progress, and the fact the books all seemed to follow the same sort of plot structure. Then finally I'd admit that those were three very large things to ignore, and go back to reading.

Considering how much the books annoyed me, I was rather surprised to find how defensive I was when criticized for reading them. Maybe it's because one of my firmly held beliefs is that a free society is based just as much as on the freedom for people to read what they want as well as to say what they like. Maybe it's because even though they were formulaic teenybopper romance novels that I hadn't sought out, I found it highly insulting that everyone felt the need to rag on my books.

Maybe it was the fact that even though they were formulaic teenybopper romance novels, I couldn't put them down and was done with the fourth book by the end of the third day.

The old Burger King episode and the Duck Tales movie kept the guys occupied through 11:30. I found the Duck Tales movie vaguely disappointing, but I kept that to myself. I'd last watched it when I was about Sam and Sasha's mental age and had found it equally gripping, but now I found it lacked that certain something, like a plot twist or even a coherent plot to have on in. I vaguely wondered how many more beloved childhood classics would turn out the same way as I set the boys to playing shoots and ladders at the kitchen table while I got lunch ready.

"Do your brother's live here Ula? Can we play when they get home from school?" Sam asked. He'd been a little shy at first, like Sasha, but when you got him to open up he seemed like an extremely tall teddy bear.

"They're grown up, Sam, sorry. Nick's a firefighter in Portland and Noah's a mechanic. What do you guys want to be when you grow up?" It was a perfectly natural question as I got the cookie sheet out of the cupboard, set the oven temp and kept a half eye on the two playing games. They'd been good all morning and little boys usually only have a certain amount of good in them. As soon as the question left my mouth though, I remembered that it was probably in poor taste.

"I wanna work on cars. Sometimes Dad'll let me hold the flashlight when he works on the 'Pala." Sam said while neatly moving up the board.

"Hey you skipped over a square so you wouldn't land on a shoot!"

"No I didn't!"

"Did too!"

"Did not!"

"I saw you!"

"Did not!"

"Liar!"

"You're a stinky liar!"

"ULA!"

As I hurried over to the table to sort out the issue, I came to the conclusion that was actually dealing with two very bright, inquisitive, over grown five year olds. From there apparent age and various cultural variables, I probably could have gone to kindergarten with them, but non-withstanding, they were still five. "Would you guys like some juice while I get lunch? Once we eat we'll go play catch in the back yard."

And on the evening of the third day I closed the last book, feeling dissatisfied and said, "That's it? This woman has issues."

I then grabbed my phone to call my tormenters. "Hey, Sasha. I'm done and can tell you way more about the life and times of Bella Swan angsty teenager whose afraid of sexuality and adulthood and quite possibly the worst role model I've ever encountered and her overbearing abusive vampire boyfriend than I could ever possibly want to."

"Thanks Ula. I'll take notes so you don't have to tell us twice."

"First tell me again why you lot couldn't just read the Wikipedia article?"

"We needed in-depth research from the hunter's perspective. And Sarah and Jo are on a hunt and shouted at us when we asked them, and you'd never shout at us."

That was true.

That was a promise, actually.

My cell phone rang while we were playing 3 corner catch in the back yard. I ignored it at first but whoever it was just kept calling, and I only know one person who does that. "Hey guys, my phone's ringing and I need to answer it. Come sit with me on the porch, okay?"

"Can't we keep playing?" was asked with puppy dog eyes. I'd escaped rabid hunters and Lord knows what else in my days, but I had no will power to withstand puppy dog eyes.

"Okay, but be careful." They wouldn't be out of my sight. I was just going out of the wind so I could here on the phone. I jogged 30 feet up onto the porch and flipped open the simple black cell and kept an eye on the guys as catch devolved into Calvin-balll.

"Hey Danny."

"No, just babysitting."

"Are you kidding? Kid's are great."

"Would I be babysitting if I thought there were hunters in Ellsworth?"

"Yes I'd cut and run."

"Probably. You really don't have to on my account. I can take care of myself."

"That doesn't signify."

"Jane Austen."

"Just because some people think Green Lantern Comic Books are the high point of Western Literature-"

CRASH!

"Gotta go." They didn't know how strong they were. They didn't know how strong they could throw a ball. They didn't know that the old glass storm windows were brittle from the cold. By the time I reached them, Sasha, who'd thrown the ball, was in tears and Sam looked halfway there.

"Are you alright?" I asked, my lungs stinging from running in the cold. They were at least 40 feet from any broken glass but I couldn't have stopped the question in the face of all the logic in the world. They nodded miserablely.

"Well then, let's get you inside for some hot chocolate. It's cold out here. I always think it's colder when there's no snow."

The miserable crying continued. I threw my arms up around their shoulders. "Hey now, you're alright. I'm sorry I left you alone."

Sam nodded to nothing in particular and started back in. Sasha still needed comforting. "Breaking windows with baseballs is part of being a kid Sasha, okay. I'm not going to yell out you for being a kid, I promise. Do you want hot chocolate or cider?"

"Chocolate," he whispered, studying his shoes again. That was good. I was hoping the warm milk would help them go down for a nap.

"Then come with me and we'll get you some, okay?"

I held out a hand and Sasha put his gloved one in mine. I reached up and ruffled his hair.

Sasha and the Winchesters cleaned out the vampire nest fairly easily, once they knew how they were operating. By easily, I mean that no one but the vampires and one particularly idiotic 14 year old died while the guys were on the scene and Sasha heals really quickly, so alls well that ends well.

The dead 14 year old kept it from being as much of a joke as it might have been though. They guys seemed bummed that they didn't save here.

You can't save everybody, but it didn't stop my guys from trying.

As the Impala drove away from the Kerrigan's motel for the last time, I sat down behind the main counter and shook like a leaf. Sasha was right, Dean did deserve to know that the helpful babysitter had her own secret, but telling people always left me shaken. It was a huge matter of trust.

I was glad that I'd made some new friends though. I liked hiding out in Maine, but it was getting high time to strike out again. I'd keep in touch with the Kerrigan's of course, but these last few days had reminded me of the good I liked to do in the world.

As soon as I no longer felt nauseous, I pulled out my cell phone and called my most recent contact.

"Hey Danny, I was thinking it might be time to get the gang back together again."

"No, that's the plot of Ocean's Eleven. I was thinking more along the lines of meeting up in Boston for Thai food."

"Because your idea of interesting always sounds more like 'oh god, oh god, we're all going to die.'"

"Firefly, I think."

"I didn't say there was anything wrong with Green Lantern comic books, now did I?"

The Washington hunt was in early March. I re-read the Twilight Saga in early April, taking copious notes so no one would ever have to read it again. And also to distract myself.

I hadn't heard from Danny for months.

In Ellsworth I'd heard from him on a regular basis. He'd stop by what I later realized was just often enough not to seem suspicious. After the apocalypse when he'd had to reveal his true identity, he'd proceeded to hang around for months trying to get on my good side. I couldn't get rid of him. Then finally I'd started to cave to his blandishments, and he'd left without even leaving a phone number.

He hadn't called either. For someone who can generate a cell phone out of the raw firmament there is no excuse.

I'd started expecting him unconsciously around April Fool's Day. I suspected that day was a grand combination of Christmas, Halloween, the Fourth of July, a birthday and the first day of summer vacation to my friend, and I'd thought he might like some friendly company.

Apparently I was wrong.

I didn't hurry through the books quite so much the second time through, and found, unexpectedly, even with the 14 year olds' blood on their pages, I liked the books more with a second reading. Maybe it was because I was in the mood for angst just then. Maybe it was because the cast of secondary characters kept me amused enough that I didn't mind the hero and heroine so much.

Maybe it was because people left me alone when I was reading them and I couldn't stand another bumbling pep talk from Jimmy or awkward pat from Ellen.

However I was not happy the morning I woke up in Forks. I'd left the third book on my nightstand the evening before, and I woke up in a completely different place. There was a note from Charlie in the sunny yellow kitchen explaining that he'd gone into the station early. That was nice. I wouldn't have liked to make awkward conversation with a fictional character before breakfast.

Soon enough a shiny silver Volvo pulled into driveway, and a ridiculously handsome, angelically perfect version of my long lost guy, with the addition orangey blond hair stepped out of the driver's side door. At this point something apparently unplanned in this little charade happened. I marched out of the house, my here-to-fore strawberry blond curls but now straight brown hair streaming behind me and went to give apparently-Edward Cullen a piece of my mind.

"What is wrong with you! You just show up after months without a word, and play havoc with reality? Did you think I'd get a kick out of this? I watched Labyrinth the other night. Are you going to arrange for me to fall into the bog of eternal stench? And you cast yourself as the tortured hero? Why am I not surprised? Take me home this instant or I'm never speaking to you again! I thought I'd been kidnapped when I woke up here. Where am I really! Have you finally come home? Where have you been?"

By this point I'd stalked all the way over to him and was punctuating each word by poking a finger into his chest. He glanced down at the offending digit, and caught my hand.

"That's not really a good idea Ula," he said warningly.

"I'm not afraid of you! You want to punish me for pride? Go ahead, but unless you take me home this instant…" Before I could finish my idle threat, the driveway and over cast morning dissolved and we were standing in my bedroom. Danny let go of my hand and awkwardly scratched at his now dark haired head.

"Okay, where have you been, why didn't you call, and why not stop by and say, hey have you missed me before scaring the pants off me?" I asked in a shrewish tone. I had been scared, and I don't deal with being needlessly frightened very well.

"Out and about, I know you're safe so I didn't think it was necessary, and I thought it'd be a treat. You looked like you like those dumb books, and well…"

"Go away Danny," I snapped, grabbing some clothes from my dresser and heading toward my bathroom.

"No. The last time I listened when you said that you apparently got straight back into your snit."

"I told you to go away?" I asked incredulously.

"Three times. Well actually you said, 'For the third time, go away and if I see or hear from you for six months I'm breaking out the rock salt,' but the intent was clear, and such banishments must be obeyed," he replied with a mockingly courtly bow.

Oops.

"Oh. There's pie in the kitchen."

"I know. I ate it before I came to see you. Do you always sleep in your underwear?"

Danny ducked when I threw Eclipse at his head- stupid old pagan trickster gods and their godlike reflexes. I left him protesting my violent nature as I went to shower, debating whether or not to inform the rest of the hunting crew that the Trickster could be banished by telling him three times.

I decided to keep that bit to myself. It was a matter of trust.