The demon who called herself Karen Morgan moved through the fog covering the docks of San Francisco with a predatory stride. Water dripped from her clothes, her hair, and the last remnant of the manacle encircling her left wrist. Grasping it with her right hand, she wrenched the rusted metal off and dropped it to the ground. Two years, she thought angrily, two years she'd spent trapped at the bottom of the bay. Her stomach cramped violently. God, she was hungry. And with the hunger came the memories; bittersweet memories of the man who'd put her there: Nick Boyle. She remembered when she first saw him in the diner in Crest

Ridge. Sitting alone in the booth, staring at the picture of Julia, the woman he'd loved, whose death he still blamed himself for.

"What can I get you? I can recommend the Roast Beef Special. Tried it myself, and I'm a vegetarian."

The look of shock, then pain on his face when for a split second he saw her as Julia. Not that she hadn't seen surprise in the eyes of hundreds of men in her time, but something about the pain in his eyes touched her as no other had. A small part of her hated him for that. But a larger part of her loved him still. And she knew he had loved her too, irregardless of what he had said to her the night he sent her into watery oblivion.

"You're a murderer."

She could still feel the softness of his lips on hers, before he clamped the cold manacles over her wrists. Could still see the hatred in his eyes as she slid across the dock and down into the frigid water. And still she loved him. Still she craved him. Her stomach cramped again. She needed to feed. Now. The sound of voices several feet away caught her attention. Turning towards the direction they came from she saw a building with lights emanating from its windows. As she approached, she saw the name of the establishment through the thinning fog, The Breakwater Club. A fisherman's bar. Perfect, she thought as she walked through the door. A smorgasbord.

_

The Trickster sat alone in the back corner of the bar, nursing his second beer and his bruised ego. Absently he rubbed the spot on his chest where Dean Winchester had not so long ago plunged a stake into. The Winchester brothers. Stupid interfering bastards. He'd had a good thing going before they'd screwed it up and tried to kill him. Now here he was in San Francisco, far away from them, sitting in a dive bar feeling sorry for himself. Movement at the door caught his eye and he looked up. Cowabunga! He thought as stared at the woman who walked through the door. Golden long blonde hair cascading down her shoulders, big blue eyes, and those breasts. Two queen-size pillows a man could rest his head upon, nestled comfortably in the low cut neckline of a very high cut red dress. He was so caught up in staring at her 'pillows' he didn't realize she was headed toward his table until she sat down in the chair across from him.

"Hi there." She said, her voice a deep, husky whisper.

"H-hi." He replied, his gaze still fixed on her breasts.

"My eyes are up here." She placed her right hand in front of her breasts with the index finger pointed upward.

His eyes jerked upward. "Of course, and what beautiful eyes they are."

She smiled wryly. "I couldn't help but notice you sitting here all alone." She reached across the table, placing her hand atop his. "I'm feeling pretty lonely myself tonight. What do you say we find someplace to be alone?"

I've got to be dreaming, the trickster thought as he stared at the woman across from him. Of course if I am I'd be pretty stupid not to take her up on her offer. He stood and held a hand out to her. "My mother told me to always give a lady what she wants. After you."

Karen rose, smiling. So easy she thought, it was always so easy.

They found a deserted fishing boat about twenty feet away from the bar and stepped on board.

"So, what's your name?" he asked as they moved toward the back of the boat out of sight of the bar and anyone who might be walking the pier.

She turned toward him and flashed a sexy smile. "What do you want it to be?" she asked in a sultry tone. She grabbed him by the shirt collar and pulled him toward her until they were chest to breasts. "Do we really need names?"

"No." He replied before she covered his mouth with hers. God, she tasted good he thought, before he felt it. The energy drain. A deep low growl emanated from her throat. He opened his eyes to see hers glowing. Before she could begin draining his life force, he grabbed her by the shoulders and thrust her away from him. The glow in her eyes faded to show an angry, confused look in her now brown eyes. The blonde hair was now brown and the slinky red dress replaced by a blue button-up shirt and dark skirt.

Succubus, he thought disgustedly, I should have known. She lunged at him, a scream ripping from her throat and he shoved her back again. "Listen sweetie, this ain't gonna work out. You're an immortal creature, I'm an immortal creature. As good a meal as I'd make for you, you can't kill me."

She continued to stare at him with confused, hostile eyes. "Why didn't I sense you?" She moved toward him and sniffed. "You smell human."

He sighed "I'm a trickster. I can make myself appear, smell and taste however I want. I can create whatever environment I want." To illustrate is point, he snapped his fingers and the fishing boat became a yacht, with a table for two complete with tablecloth, wine flutes and wine chilled in a bucket sat on the deck a few feet away from them. He turned to her. "Impressive, huh?" He snapped again and the fishing boat returned. "Now." He began as he reached up to straighten his collar. "As fun as this was going to be, I think I'll just go back to my beer and my brooding." He turned to leave, and she grabbed his arm.

"Wait." He turned back to face her, a patient if slightly annoyed expression on his face. "This trick you do, can you do it to anyone?"

"Yes."

She stepped toward him, rubbing his arm seductively. "I think we might be able to help each other."

He stepped back, raising his hands in front of him. "Look, I already told you, you can't kill me, and I can't trust you not to try, so I don't see what we could possibly do for each other."

She remained where she stood, pointing at his chest. "You've been injured recently. I felt it. So have I. We could help each other get back at the ones who hurt us."

Intrigued, the trickster sat on a nearby crate and looked up at her. "What did you have in mind?"