I've finally decided to have a go at an SPN fic, although admittedly this is a bit... different. It involves several OC's, and a deviation from the usual type of SPN fics, I guess. Tbh this felt sort of awkward when writing, and I'm not that happy with it yet, but anywho, here goes...

Please read & review,

hope you like it

-A x


As you pass through a crowd you observe a countless number of nameless faces. Your conscious mind will immediately disregard the features and appearances of those around you. They will be forgotten in an instant.

There are some, however, who cannot afford to forget even the smallest details. They do not have such luxuries. A combination of training and instinct ensures that nothing escapes their watchful eyes.

One such person is, at this moment, silently observing even the slightest movement of those around her. She sees the man at the table next to her spill his wine over his date, and watches as he clambers around with a napkin in an attempt to clean up the mess. She notices that when dabbing at his date's dress, the man's hand lingers a few seconds too long on her thigh, fingers spreading an inch or two wider than necessary.

She spots the waiter inside the restaurant, bringing someone's order. He has a limp. It's too pronounced to be a birth defect, and the slight wrinkles at the corner's of his eyes are the only clues to his pain.

To her left, a fly lands in an overweight man's soup. Everyone else has noticed, but they don't say anything. He's noticed too, but he continues to slurp away regardless.

And finally at the top left corner of the patio, an middle-aged man with greying hair that betrays his years, sits with a guarded posture and flight-ready feet. He has a concealed weapon on his right hip. Most likely a cop, not edgy enough for the bureau, too old-school for the agency.

As she sits alone at an exclusive patio table at Le Poignard Noir, twiddling a breadstick through her fingers and taking frequent yet subtle glances at the restaurant's other patrons, Kat Summers began to think she was being stood up.

Typical. He calls me, I come running, then he leaves me high and dry.

A sudden shiver passes over her skin despite the unseasonable warmth of the evening, and that's how she knows.

He's here.

She looks up to see a tall, impeccably dressed man, with sweeping blond hair pass through the restaurant and cross out onto the patio.

"You always did know how to make an entrance" She smiles as he approaches her table, "Although I think you've passed the boundaries of 'fashionably late' by a good 40 minutes."

"Well, you know me dear. Always like to keep them waiting." His voice, though deepened with age was as beautifully velveteen as she remembers. She stands and he wraps her up in a tight embrace. "Sister. It is good to see you."

"Likewise, Brother." She says as they pull apart. "But tell me," She motions for them to sit down, "Why now? After all these years..." She trails off as the waiter comes to take their orders. When he leaves, she raises an expectant eyebrow at the man across from her.

"Katrina, there is no easy explanation, and I fear the joy of our reunion may be short-lived." He answers, lowering his gaze, avoiding her eyes.

"Ollie," She reaches across the table to place her hand over his, "Is it- is one of the others, are they alright? Is someone-?"

"Relax, Kitty-Kat. The others are fine. He is fine."

Kat nods, tension visibly seeping out of her frame at Ollie's worlds. The grim set of his features, however, does not permit her to relax entirely. "What is it?" She asks, unsure if she really wants to hear the answer.

"Something's coming. Something big-" He pauses as the waiter returns with meals, waiting until the man limps off to another table. "But that is not why I have called you here tonight. I have seen things."

"Forgive me, Brother, but you see things all the time."

"Exactly I see things. Not people. At least, not any people who aren't like us. Until now."

"What do you mean?"

Ollie takes a rather large gulp of wine before continuing. "There have been hundreds of images, some clearer than others, some lasting several minutes, other only a few seconds. But each time is the same. Each vision has the same people. Two people."

Kat's eyebrow's knit together in confusion, as she listened. None of this made any sense.

"And every vision leads me to believe the same thing."

"What?"

"I can't-" He reaches up to run a hand through his hair. "Now is not the time for that, no. I must tell you," He leans across the table, bidding her closer. "You must find them, keep them safe. It's the only way to stop it."

"Stop what?"

"You will know, in due time. But for now I need you to trust me on this, Kit."

That was the second time he'd reference her old pet-names. Kat bit her tongue to hold back the tears. "Tell me where to find them."

"They will come to you."

"What exactly am I looking for?" She asked, getting rather annoyed with all the cryptic answers Ollie was giving her. "Who are they?"

"Sam and Dean Winchester."

The door of the Impala swung closed and Dean looked over at his brother. "Dude, did you bring the pie?"

"When have I ever forgotten the pie?" Sam shot back as the elder Winchester brother started rifling through the plastic bag, eyes lighting up like a kid on Christmas when he located the pie.

"So, whufff eeegst einnn dah fschwist?" Dean asked through a mouthful of pecan pie. Sam, well used to his brother's eating habits by now, simply screwed up his nose and mentally translated that as "So, what's next on the list?"

"Uh, Bobby thinks there's a few demon omens back east, a werewolf sighting not too far ahead, but that could be a hoax. And there's been a few unexplained, yet grisly murders up north. All the victims gutted and had their throats ripped out while alive."

"What?"

"That's what the coroner says. Somehow whatever it was keep the vics alive until after they were done."

"Huh. Supernatural bastards are into some freaky shit. Whattaya think, vamps?"

"Could just as easily be werewolves. Or even a poltergeist, some vengeful spirits could pull that off easily."

"Yeah, whatever it is, sound like our gig." Dean turned the key in the ignition, and the Impala roared to life. They pulled out of the gas station and headed north into the city.

Four hours later, Sam and Dean could be found in an abandoned high-rise building, fending off, or rather being outnumbered by, several vampires. Sam's arm arced through the air and sliced the head off of a tall brunette, and spun around to chop the head off the vamp that had been attempting to sneak up behind him. He let out a sigh of relief as the body dropped to the floor, head rolling off somewhere in the darkness, and looked up to see his older brother still surrounded by three vamps.

Dean looked in confusion at the red-haired female in front of him. He was sure he'd already chopped that head off its shoulder's. Twice. The moment's hesitation was enough for another vamp to grab his machete-wielding hand and twist so that he dropped the weapon.

The vampire kicked the knife away. Huh, maybe we should keep those things on a bungee, Dean thought absently. He was pulled out of his thoughts as the vampire's grip on his hand tightened incredibly and soon Dean was only aware of the sheer pain in his hand and shooting up his arm. Vaguely he registered the sickening sound of several bones cracking at once, and from somewhere in the distance he could hear Sammy calling his name.

But right now, Dean couldn't focus on any of that. The pain made it feel like this moment was going to drag on forever, when in reality only a few seconds had passed. Complete and utter agony overwhelmed Dean's entire being, and he was seconds away from passing out cold on the concrete floor. Just as the blackness began to creep across the edges of his vision, he heard some more shouts in the background, then-

Bang.

Bang.

Bang.

Sam, who had been rushing to his brother's aid, almost ready to chop off another head, looked up at the sounds of the shots, then back as the body in front of him slumped to the ground, followed by the other two.

What the hell?

But he could worry about that later, right now Dean was all that mattered.

"Dean." He breathed out as he took a step closer to his brother. Dean lay on the cold, hard concrete, unmoving except for the flicker of his eyes, searching out his brother's voice. Sam knelt down beside the older Winchester, cradling him in his arms.

"Come on, Dean. Stay with me," he begged.

There was a snapping sound beside him, and Sam looked up. Standing there was a woman, dressed entirely in black clothing, most of it leather. Dean would certainly have appreciated the tight, curve-hugging material had he not been almost unconscious.

The knelt down beside the two brothers and reached out, holding what appeared to be a snapped twig under Dean's nose. Sam's eyebrow's knitted together in confusion, but then Dean suddenly took a sharp intake of breath, sitting up and scrambling away from Sam, coughing fiercely.

"What the hell was that?" Dean exclaimed as he rubbed his tear-red eyes.

"Hemlock." The woman spoke for the first time, her voice soft and pleasant, but with a hint of irritation in her tone. "Come on," she said, standing up. "Let's get out of here before more show up."

Sam helped Dean to his feet as the woman walks across the floor. "Wait, where are we going?" he shouted after her.

"Someplace safe." Came the reply.

Dean grunted at that. "How do we know we can trust you?"

She stopped walking and spun around, holding a handgun neither of the men had seen her pull out.

"If you don't want to come, I could just shoot you."

"Fair enough. Come on, Sammy." Dean stalked off after her before Sam could protest.

Dean let out a low whistle as they crossed the threshold of an up-market penthouse apartment. It was stylishly decorated in neutral colours, with floor-to-ceiling windows along one side of the open-plan living and stunning hardwood floors.

When his eyes had done a full circle of the room, his gaze returned to the woman who had brought them here. For the first time, he was able to take in her appearance. Dressed almost head to toe in what looked like an awful lot of black leather, she was tall and slender, with a defined musculature in her upper arms which could be seen now that she'd removed the jacket. She had curves in all the right places, and the leather and two thigh-holster, each containing a handgun, gave her a sort of dominatrix look.

Her hair was somewhat harder to define. A mixture of deep brown, gold and something like copper gave it an overall bronze colour. The colour was odd, but it didn't look as if she had dyed it, although he doubts that shade is entirely natural. Under any other circumstances, Dean would certainly have tried it on with her. Actually, he still might. Depending on how the next few minutes panned out.

"Just who the hell are you?" He asks.

"First things first." She says as she disappears into another room, returning several seconds late with a handful of bandages and a splint. "Let's get that hand of yours sorted out." Surprised, Dean looked down at his left hand. He'd almost forgotten about it. He hadn't felt any pain in it since he'd left the vamp nest. Huh.

She gestured to the large leather sofa in the middle of the room, and they sat down, Sam settled in the armchair to Dean's right. She reached for Dean's hand, holding it gently in hers before speaking again.

"Ask me, now."

"What?"

"I have to straighten out your fingers so I can attach the splint. The drugs won't last much longer, and then you'll feel everything, so it'll probably help if you're distracted. Ask me whatever you want."

Before Dean could open his mouth to respond, Sam's intellectual curiosity got the better of him.

"Wait, drugs? I thought you said you used hemlock?"

"I did. It's a mixed breed. The root stem was transplanted with an opium plant, and with help of a little magic, it can be used not only to revive someone, but also to as a fast-acting painkiller." She answered, hands moving swiftly over Dean's injured one.

"But isn't hemlock poisonous?"

"What?" Dean cried, turning to look at his brother, then back at the woman attending his hand.

"Yes," she replied. "But it's only fatal to humans if they inhale more than 100mg. The slight whiff you got won't do much harm."

Dean didn't miss that she'd said "much" instead of "any".

"Just who the hell are you?" Dean asked again, growing impatient.

"Katrina Summers. Call me Kat."

"Okay..." Dean sighed when it became obvious that Kat wasn't going to elaborate any further. "I'm-"

"Dean, and that's Sam." She cut him off. "I know who you are."

Dean's eyebrows almost vanished into his hairline. "How?"

"Long story."

Silence.

"Alright, next question. What was that back there?"

"A vampire coven."

"Yeah, sister, we got that much. But you shot them. Last time I checked you had to cut off a vamp's head to kill it."

"And look how well that worked for you," she said sarcastically, with a roll of her eyes. "Chopping their heads off only made those things angrier. It might slow them down, but... you're lucky you were still alive when I got there."

"That's another thing. How'd you know where to find us?"

"I have my ways." was the cryptic reply. "There. All done."

Dean glanced down to see his hand and wrist straightened out and bandaged along a splint. He started to feel a slight throbbing in his fingers, but it wasn't exactly pain. Not yet, anyway.

"That should do, at least until I find a more permanent solution."

"What do you mean "more permanent"?" Sam asked, ever curious when it came to his brother's well-being.

"The bones in your brother's hand were shattered. Almost all of them. If he doesn't get some sort of assistance, he could lose the use of his hand altogether." With that, Kat gathered up what was left of the medical supplies and left the room again.

Sam and Dean watched her leave, then turned to look at one another.

"What the hell, man?" Dean asked.

"I dunno."

"No, seriously. What the hell?"

"I seriously don't know Dean. But-" He paused, looking around the spacious room. "She seems to be on our side, at least. And a hunter. That's something, right?"

"Yeah, I guess." Dean sighed as he sank back into the couch. "What the hell kinda vamps were those, Sammy? I've never heard of anyone just shooting a goddamn vampire!"

Before Sam could reply, they heard footsteps coming back towards them. Kat came back into the room, carrying a pile of clothes in her arms. She dumped the pile on top of the coffee table, before turning back to the two Winchesters.

"You boys should get out of those clothes. You're covered in vamp blood." When she saw Sam was about to protest, Kat held up a hand to stop him. "If you wear them for much longer, they'll trail you back to here, and I'd much rather they didn't know where I lived, thank you very much.

I have some t-shirts and sleep-pants that should fit you both. Regular for Dean, extra-tall fitting for Sam. And I'd advise you to stay here until I get someone to have a look at that hand. You can stay in the study, I have a pull-out couch and an air mattress I can set up for ya.

For now, you're welcome to use the shower. In fact, I'd encourage it. I know you have questions, and I will answer them, but later. Let's get you settled first. Bathroom's down the hall, first door on the right. There are clean towels on the rack, just throw your clothes into the hamper."

With that Kat disappeared down the hall again.

Sam snorted lightly, "She's something, isn't she?"

"I'll say."

"I think we should leave." At Dean's utterly aghast expression, he continued, "Dean, we don't know her from Eve. She could be anyone. She could be a psychopath for all we know."

"Sammy, I'm gonna give you some brotherly advice and I want you to listen to me." Dean said sternly. "When a hot girl asks you to stay the night, you stay, dammit."

Sam let out an unimpressed huff. "Seriously, Dean?" Dean shrugged unapologetically.

"I don't know about you, Sammy, but it's been weeks for me."

Sam laughed, "Oh please. She will eat you alive, man."

"That's what I'm hoping for." Dean waggled his eyebrows suggestively, and headed off in the direction of the bathroom.

Once everyone had showered and changed into something more comfortable, Kat had stuffed their blood-stained clothes into the washing machine, and poured them a large brandy each, before settling back onto the sofa.

She was wearing bed-shorts and an overly large band t-shirt, her hair was no longer pulled back into a tight pony-tail, and she bore almost no resemblance to the badass huntress the brother's had seen earlier. She saw Dean look appreciatively at the long legs she had stretched out, resting on the coffee table. She didn't say anything though. It had been a long time since anyone had really looked at her in that way, and it felt... nice.

She saw Sam lean forward, elbows on his knees, preparing to ask her a question. She smiled at him, encouragingly

"Kat, why-"

He was interrupted by a succession of loud thumps against the door. Quickly, Kat jumped up off the couch, grabbed the handgun she kept beside the television, and walked towards the door. Sam and Dean following quickly behind her, ready for action. She looked through the peephole, and all the tension in her body visibly dissolved. Kat sighed, setting the gun on the table beside her keys, before sighing and turning to grab the handle.

She turned the knob and pulled the door open to reveal a dark-haired man, who was completely drenched from the rain. His dark clothes, similar to those Kat had worn, were torn ragged– they were practically hanging off him, giving new meaning to the phrase 'hanging on by a thread' – and he was covered in blood. His breaths were laboured as he spoke, no it was more like hissed angrily;

"Bloody werewolves!"

To Be Continued...


So, what d'ya think?