I am so glad to be writing Supernatural again! I missed it!

A few notes: This story is not a straight-up sequel to my previous SPN fic, Breath and Bones, but it does make a few references to it, so you might want to check it out, too. Also--back again is my amazing beta-reader, amyblair, to whom I offer thanks. Also, thanks goes to daisyduke80 for her enthusiasm for this whole idea. So... yay!

Enjoy!

Chapter One

The sky was dark and fearsome, roiling and undulating with clouds of deep blue and heavy gray. Lightning lit up the clouds with an ominous glow, followed by thunder that rocked the sky and made the window rattle.

Dean Winchester tried not to shiver, pulling his jacket closer around him as he turned from the window to fake a smile at the man across the room. Dean was getting good at that--faking smiles. He didn't like it. And right now, he'd rather be throwing punches than smiling.

"So… We've reached an impasse." Dean lifted his chin and swaggered toward the man across the room, hoping to God he looked confident, powerful, in control. The man standing by the fire appeared unfazed. Dean's confidence took a nosedive. "Whaddaya say we get this over with?" He reached into his jacket and withdrew a stake. Its tip was darkened with the blood of a dead man. "We can deal with this like reasonable men, or…" He shrugged. "I can gank you. It's your choice."

The vampire smiled slowly, his eyes reflecting murkily in the flash and spark of the fire. "Imagine that." His voice was velvety smooth and oh so reasonable. "Dean Winchester offering mercy to a vampire." His grin widened, exposing wickedly sharp canines.

Dean managed a smile. "Yeah. Well. I'm magic."

"I think not." The vampire sighed and lifted his chin, turning toward the fire. He looked to all the world like an average human being--of medium height, lightly tanned, with a slightly receding hairline. He appeared to be perhaps in his late thirties. In reality, he was probably closer to one hundred and thirty. "Well, well." He sighed with an air of condescending patience. "I suppose your idea of dealing with the situation reasonably would be for me to reveal the location of my… guests."

Dean inclined his head to the vampire, gritting his teeth. This guy was getting on his every last nerve…

"I'm afraid one of us must not be a reasonable man." The vampire's smooth smile turned nasty. "Though I'm not sure which one of us it is."

"Well right now, it's probably me," Dean growled, tightening his grip on the stake. "'Cause I'm about to throw reason to the wind and just stab you."

"You're right, Dean. That wouldn't be reasonable," the vampire replied amiably. He held out his hands to the fire, as if warming himself. Dean imagined pushing the creature into the flames… "If you kill me, you may never find out where I have placed my guests."

Dean swallowed down the berserk rage rising within him. "Fine. You've got me there." He slid the stake back into his jacket. "I guess you'd like to make a deal, then."

"Like a reasonable man. Of course." The vampire flashed the hunter a charming, ironic smile, then sighed and looked around the elegant parlor, eyes warm with affection. "I do love this place, but…" Again he sighed, theatrically. "If I must, I will let it go."

Dean frowned, irritated with his opponent's theatrics. "What are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about a deal." The vampire leveled his eyes with Dean's, and this time, there was no play-acting, no pretentious charm. The creature seemed to be serious, intensely so. "Let me pack my things and go peaceably, and I'll tell you where my guests are… hidden."

For some reason, Dean believed the vampire. Something in the man's eyes… Strangely, it seemed like fear. But Dean wasn't about to trust some strange gut instinct that led him into trusting a vampire. "As much as I'd like to agree to this deal, I don't know that I can." He took a few steps toward the vampire, hoping to seem at least a little bit menacing. "I'd be rescuing a few innocent people by taking your offer, but… How can I be sure that you won't just move on to some other neighborhood and start sucking people dry?"

"I'm tired, Dean," the vampire answered, and there was an odd note of weariness in his voice. Once again, Dean thought that he spotted fear in the creature's eyes. "This life of hunting and being hunted wears one thin."

I can sympathize there, Dean thought reluctantly.

"I plan on settling down in some busy area where people are too preoccupied with their own lives to notice if blood banks sometimes come up short or a few animals go missing," the vampire continued, his eyes turning back toward the fire. His shoulders slumped somewhat, flames reflecting in his dark eyes.

Dean frowned, confused. Where was the vampire's former arrogance? His refusal to compromise?

"Can you let me live, Dean? If I tell you where they are?" The dark creature's voice emerged softly, barely above a whisper.

Thinking fast, Dean replied, "I have a friend who's an angel, you know. You take one step outta line, and he'll know. And he'll lead me right to you, and I'll end you."

"I know." The vampire flinched, seeming to shrink into himself.

This was getting strange. "You know, eh?"

"Yes. Castiel." The vampire looked back at Dean. "That's your friend's name, right?"

Dean blinked. "Yeah. That's his name."

The vampire nodded. "I know of him." He jerked his shoulders back straight, lifting his chin. "Well. Shall we deal?"

"Guess so." Dean kept himself alert, still not sure he trusted this guy… Something strange was going on here--the fear in the vampire's eyes, the sudden change from arrogant to yielding… Dean found himself hoping that Sam and Bobby and Castiel were close by, that they had arrived on time, ready for anything.

"My guests are in the garden maze out back," the vampire said quietly, his eyes returning once again to the fire. "I suppose you saw it when you were outside?"

"Yeah. I saw it." Dean frowned. The twisted trees, grinning gargoyles, and dark hedges of the expansive maze behind the mansion had creeped him out. "So that's where you keep your victims. Nice." He narrowed his eyes on the vampire. "And all of a sudden, you're okay with giving me their location. That's convenient."

"Yes. Well." The vampire cleared his throat and tugged at the collar of his dinner jacket.

An ominous feeling rushed over Dean's consciousness then, bringing with it a wicked cold chill. He took a step toward the vampire, all pretence of intimidation vanishing. He was serious now. "Who are you working for?" he asked quietly, his voice dangerously cold.

The flicker of fear brightened in the villain's eyes. "What--what do you mean?" he asked, smiling a fake smile that quickly began to crack.

"Who are you working for?" Dean growled. He reached out and grabbed hold of the vampire's collar, slinging the other man against a cherry-wood bookcase and bringing the blood-tipped stake up to the vampire's chest. "Tell me now, or I swear to God--"

"Swear to God." The vampire's eyes narrowed, the spark of fear dimming somewhat. "You and your angel friend and his precious God… You won't know what hit you."

"Ah, so now I see." And see Dean did. What he saw scared him and made him angry. "You're working for him aren't you? For Lucifer?"

The vampire sneered and lifted his chin stubbornly, in a gesture that Dean recognized as familiar. He had used it himself many times. "Figured it out, did you?"

"You're stalling." Dean tightened his grip on the fancy collar, grinning in satisfaction when the vampire gagged. "Who's on the way, punk?"

The vampire coughed out a laugh. "Someone you don't want to deal with."

Dean narrowed his eyes on his enemy and gave him a shake. "Looks like you don't want to deal with him, either, 'cause you seem pretty scared to me."

The vampire's defiance melted, eyes widening, voice faltering and losing its smoothness. "Look, I told you where my prisoners are. Just--just let me go, and I'll--I'll go straight. This demon scares the crap outta me. He's--he's nothing like I've ever seen."

That scared Dean, too. Just a little bit. "What's his name?" he asked gruffly.

"Just--just let me go," the vampire pleaded. "We can both get outta here, Winchester. The demon will be here soon, and--"

"What's his name?" Dean demanded.

"It's--I think it's Lysander."

Something twisted inside Dean--something acutely uncomfortable. "Lysander? Are you sure?" He and Sam had finished off that particular bad guy a few years ago--or so Dean had thought. If Lysander were truly on his way here… He would be packing a powerful demonic punch--and nursing a vengeful hatred for the Winchesters. "Did he escape from the Gate a few years back?"

The vampire nodded tightly. "Yeah. Yeah. I think he did. And he definitely seems to hate you. He set this whole thing up. I just--I just helped him out. He promised me--"

"Blood," Dean finished, gritting his teeth, sickened. "Human blood."

The vampire nodded.

Dean's knuckles whitened around the stake. He was tempted, ever so tempted, to finish this twisted creature here and now… But… "How much time do we have?"

"A few minutes… Half an hour at the most." The vampire swallowed audibly, visibly. "Please… Take me with you."

A coldness washed over Dean, a contempt for this creature, who would probably suck his life's blood if given the chance. "Why should I?" He loosened his grip slightly on the vampire. "You've killed innocent people. You deserve to die. I should leave you here to tell Lysander that you've failed."

The vampire's eyes closed then, hardened. "If that's the way you feel, then." His nervous expression began to slowly transform into a smug smile.

Dean's heartbeat thudded hard in his chest. This vampire seemed very comfortable playing head games… He pressed the tip of the stake a bit harder against his enemy's rib cage. He already knew where the prisoners were--and who was really behind this scheme. He could finish the vampire now, and--

"Dean."

The urgent sound of the familiar voice caused Dean to jerk his vision sideways, over his left shoulder. As he had thought, there stood Castiel. "Cas. What are you doing here?" It was early, too early. Cas was supposed to wait with Sam and Bobby…

"It's Lysander," Castiel replied, striding forward toward Dean and the vampire, his footsteps soft on the Persian rug. "He's the one behind this. This is a trap. We have to leave. Now."

"I know about Lysander… But what about the prisoners? We have to--"

"Sam and Bobby are working on that now," Castiel interrupted him. "Finish the vampire. We have to leave."

"Tell Sam and Bobby that the prisoners are--"

"Dean, look out!" Castiel called, taking a step forward.

Dean spun, flinging his arm up reflexively. His eyes widened at the sight of the wickedly curved dagger bearing down on him. In a split second, the blade glanced off Dean's forearm, nicking it just enough to draw blood. Biting back a yelp, Dean leaped back from the murderous vampire.

"I am so not taking you with me, you bastard," Dean snapped at the creature.

The vampire took a deep breath, closing his eyes, a strange smile alighting on his face. "Mmm. I can smell your blood, Winchester." He opened his eyes, the smile widening in a way that made Dean's skin crawl. "It's strong blood, isn't it?"

"Well you can't have it," Dean retorted, fighting the urge to throw up.

"I have a sample right here on my dagger." The vampire lifted the blade to his nose and inhaled deeply. "God, I'm hungry…"

Castiel abruptly stepped in front of Dean, one hand raised before him. "Then eat this," the angel bit out.

Dean blinked and smiled a bit. Way to go, Cas! His grin broadened as he waited in anticipation for the vampire to burst into flames or disintegrate into dust or something like that.

Instead, the chandelier overhead began to flicker rapidly, and the fire guttered with a sound like beating wings…

"Cas?" Dean held the stake before him, stepping up to his friend's side. His blood was suddenly cold in his veins.

"Something's wrong," the angel told him simply. He lowered his outstretched arm, keeping his eyes on the vampire. "Something's here."

The vampire grinned, straightening his shoulders. "Well, gentlemen," he sneered. "Looks like you've overestimated yourselves." He raised an eyebrow, his grin shifting crookedly as he slowly began to run his finger up and down the blade of his dagger. His eyes zeroed in on Dean. "Dean, I'm surprised you didn't recognize me."

Dean's breath caught in his throat. His voice emerged harsh and breathless. "Lysander."

The "vampire" smiled serenely as his eyes slowly filled in with shiny blackness. "The very same." The black drained from his eyes, and the smile faded from his lips. "Now. Shall we get down to business?"

Rage, fear, and curiosity mingled in Dean's psyche. "So… Being scared, working for someone else… All that was just a load of crap."

"I wouldn't say that." Lysander shrugged with an air of elegant nonchalance. "I would call it… a masterful ploy, a clever stratagem, impressive acting."

"Are there really any prisoners at all?" Dean demanded. His blood no longer felt cold. Now it was burning hot with rage, which was dimming all the other emotions wrestling within him. "Was that all part of your little… stratagem?"

"No, no. There are prisoners." Lysander drew a handkerchief from his breast pocket and methodically wiped the dagger clean. "Not to feed any blood thirst of mine, of course. They're only here to play the game."

"What game?" Dean asked, an ominous feeling settling in the pit of his stomach.

"You'll find out. Be patient." Lysander chuckled softly. "That was never your strong point, was it, Dean?" He sheathed the dagger in his dinner jacket, then reached into his mouth and began to tug at his teeth.

"I don't believe this guy," Dean muttered. He turned to Castiel and whispered quickly, "What now?"

"Dean, this demon is very powerful, and I don't think he's working alone… otherwise, I would be able to exorcise him," Castiel told him quietly. "And I think perhaps he's more than a bit insane."

"Yeah, I can see that." Dean took a deep breath, forcing himself under control. "What about Sam and Bobby? Do you think they--?"

"Oh, by now they've figured out that something… unusual… is going on." Lysander's calmly spoken words jerked Dean's attention back to the demon. The creature was wiping down an elaborate set of false vampire teeth with his handkerchief. "You see, by now they've probably joined my guests in the game." His eyes blackened as they narrowed with wicked glee on Dean's face. "I suppose you'll want to try and rescue them."

"From what?" Dean growled. "What is this friggin' game you keep talking about?"

"I've already told you where the prisoners are, Dean," the demon replied with a long-suffering sigh.

Dean swallowed. "The maze."

"Very good, Dean." Lysander clapped his hands theatrically. "Yes, yes. They're in my labyrinth. You'll just have to go and fetch them."

"You don't really expect us to fall for such an obvious trap do you?" Castiel spoke up, frowning at the demon.

"I expect the two of you to go rushing into my labyrinth because that is the only option you've got," Lysander countered smoothly. "An angel with a very human sense of heroism and a brash young hunter with an angelic courage going to rescue the boy with demon blood and the old hunter past his prime…" He chuckled. Lightning flashed through the window, followed by a portentous rumble of thunder. The demon's laugh tapered to a soft cackle, and he sighed as if content. "This could be epic."