Chapter 1
Snow crunched beneath John Winchester's feet as he emerged from the warehouse door, clutching his bloodied abdomen. Music boomed rhythmically from within the building, disturbing the quiet night outside. The patrons of the rave inside blissfully unaware of how close they'd come to being vampire chow. Leaning against the outer wall of the warehouse for support, he stumbled toward his black pickup parked a short distance away.
John paused several times to blink away the blurred vision that accompanied the large gash on his forehead. He wondered momentarily what he was going to do when he got to his truck, knowing that driving would be tricky while he fought to remain conscious. He considered calling someone, Bobby maybe, but the last time he'd seen his friend the man had tried to shoot him full of buckshot. Then there was Ellen. She wasn't very far away and could patch him up. Again he hesitated. Things were awkward, strained even, between them since Bill died.
Music blasted from the open door behind him, alerting John to the presence of someone behind him.
"No…let…go…of…me!" He heard a young woman plead. He turned to see her struggling against the two men holding her immobile while a third leaned in with a sneer.
"Now, now is that any way to show your appreciation for what I've done for you?" the man asked in mock disappointment. "And here I thought you were gonna give me an early Christmas gift." The girl shrank back as he pushed aside her dazzling red hair and caressed her cheek.
"I-I p-paid you back f-for the ride…p-please just let me go," she begged as she struggled against her captors again.
"Oh, but you owe me much more than money."
John watched the man ran his tongue across the girl's cheek as she cringed in disgust. He sighed wearily, knowing he should probably mind his business as he really wasn't in any shape for a fight, but unable to stand by and watch what was about to happen. "Hey jerk-off why don't you pick on someone your own size?" He called, pushing himself from the side of the building as he pulled his gun from his waist band and pointed it at the men.
"This is none of your concern old timer," the man called, pulling away from the girl.
"Let her go and no one gets hurt," John called, filling his voice with as much authority and strength as he could muster.
The two men holding the girl turned to the third man who simply shook his head and took a step toward John. "Told you this is none of your concern." John squeezed off a warning round close enough so the guy knew he'd missed on purpose.
"And I said, let the girl go and no one gets hurt." John stared the man down, demonstrating how serious he was. He prayed that the distance between them and shadows would keep his injuries hidden as the man considered his next move.
"Hey you want her that bad gramps, she's all yours." The man turned back to his colleagues and with a curt nod of his head they let go of the girl and followed the other man back into the warehouse.
Both John and the girl stood frozen, staring at the door for a moment both wondering if it was really over that easily. The girl turned to look at John as he leaned heavily against the side of the building. As the adrenalin wore off John was left fighting a losing battle to remain upright. He shook his head and blinked in an effort to clear his blurring vision as he felt himself slide down the wall until he was sitting on the snow-covered ground.
"S-sir? A-Are you okay?" the girl asked, sounding far away though John could see her crouched beside him.
"M'okay, Red," he mumbled as his eyelids drooped closed.
"Hey," the girl called, gently tapping John's cheek. "C'mon Gramps, we gotta get outta here before Ray comes back with some fire power of his own," she added, pulling on John's shirt lapels as she tried to stand him up.
"Don' call… me gramps," John mumbled as he struggled to help heave himself up from the snowy ground.
"Sure, whatever you want…" the girl mumbled as she threw John's arm across her shoulders in an effort to steady his sagging form. "Tell me you have a car around here."
John nodded, sluggishly pointing out his black pick up only a few feet away. As quickly as they could manage, the duo stumbled to his truck. Neither of them noticed when John's gun slid from his hand, the snow muffling the sound as it hit the ground. She managed to fish out John's keys, before easing him into the passenger's seat. John thought to protest, but couldn't find the energy to manage it. Instead he slumped back in his seat, working not to lose consciousness.
He watched as the girl hurried around the front of the truck to the driver's side. She quickly hopped into the seat beside him, jamming the key into the ignition and gunning the engine as both of them spotted Ray coming out of the building with reinforcements. She skidded out of the parking lot on the fresh snow, winding her way through the darkened streets. She stopped after a few blocks in front of a row of small shops long-since closed for the night.
"Hey gramps you still with me?" she called, giving John a tentative nudge.
"D-don' c-call me gr-gramps," John mumbled as his head lolled and he struggled to keep his eyes open.
"What should I call you then?"
"N-Name's J-John, John Winch-chester, Red"
"Well John, I'm Becca, so don't call me Red," she replied as she leaned in and looked him over. His eyes slid closed against his will as she gently lifted his chin and surveyed the gash on his forehead. He pried his eyes open as he felt her hands, probing along his bloody shirt before they lifted its sticky wetness from his abdomen exposing the deep gash there courtesy of a vampire with a knife that had come at him from behind while he'd beheaded its companion. "Geez, John do you run around asking for trouble?"
"Nah, i-it seems ta f-find me on i-its own." John forced a grin to his lips as the young woman looked down at him in concerned disbelief. He blinked a couple of times as he stared into her eyes, assuming that his blurred vision and head injury were the reasons he was seeing one brown eye and one blue staring back at him. "Y-yer eyes…"
"Uh huh, yup, got two of 'em," she replied, pulling away as she put the truck into drive. "Gonna take ya to the hospital, Johnny boy. Get ya all patched up and good as n—"
"N-no…no h-hospitals," John protested weakly. "T-too many ques-stions."
"Well, then where am I takin' ya?"
"Y-yer drivin' yourself…h-home an' then I'll drive m-myself…ta some-one I know… to p-patch me u—" John's words were cut off as Becca slammed on the breaks, throwing him forward against the dashboard.
"Yeah, that's not gonna happen." She threw the pickup into park and turned to look at John as he struggled to push himself back against the seat. "Shit," Becca cursed under her breath as she realized her abrupt stop had resulted in a new gash above John's left eye. "Damn, I'm sorry."
John grimaced as she helped him sit back. "D-damn kid…y-you coulda jus s-said no," he grumbled as he fought against the dark spots clouding his vision.
"Johnny?" Panic colored her voice as she watched John's eyes slide shut and his head lulled against the headrest. "J-John…c-come on now…y-you need ta open your eyes an' tell me where we're goin'." She tentatively touched his face, her hands cupping his bruised cheeks. "Okay, Gramps. We're goin' to the hos—"
John forced his eyes to open. "N-no…I s-said n-no hos—"
"Got ya to open your eyes!" Becca grinned nervously at him. "So, where am I takin' ya Gramps?"
John groaned, knowing this girl was his only hope of getting to Ellen's in one piece. "Grab the highway heading east," he supplied as he moved to pull the seatbelt across his body. He hissed as it sent pain searing across his injured abdomen. Becca was there in a heartbeat, reaching cautiously across him.
"Maybe we should do something to slow the bleeding," she mumbled under her breath as she eased herself back into her seat without clipping his seatbelt into place.
"M'fine, Red," he insisted as he watched her pull off the thin sweater she wore over a plain white cotton tee. Ignoring him, she gently lifted his blood-soaked shirt and pressed her sweater against the laceration, holding it there a moment as she bit pensively at her lip.
"Need you ta sit up a sec, Johnny," she requested. Her voice shook as she took his hand and placed it over the sweater. She unraveled the scarf from her neck as he struggled to comply. Once there was enough space between him and the seat she quickly wound her scarf around his waist, tightening it so that it held the sweater snuggly in place. "That should help with the bleeding." She forced a smile as she helped him lean back against the passenger seat, trying to ignore the blood that coated the lower back of the leather seat. "I hope," she mumbled, her smile faltering as she looked down at her battered savior.
"Thanks." John forced a smile of his own at the young woman's ingenuity. Becca reached across him again, pulling the seatbelt snuggly across his midsection and clipping it into place.
"I- I think that might help, too." Becca was grasping for anything she may have learnt about first aid over the years. Apply pressure to the wound…check…Keep the person talking…conscious is good. "Okay, so the highway heading east…I'm on it." She smiled as she pulled on her seatbelt and threw the truck into drive.
They drove in silence for a few minutes as she wound her way through the darkened streets to the highway. Once she hit the smooth blacktop of the highway she hazarded a glance at her injured companion. He stared at the road ahead through veiled eyelids. She watched his shallow breaths pluming out into the cold air of the truck and realized she was shivering. Again she racked her brain for something she'd heard about shock and keeping a person warm. She reached over and turned the knobs as high as they would go. The warm air blasting into the truck cab soon dispelled her trembling.
Rowan slid his car into the shadows beside the warehouse where he was meeting John. The pounding base from the music inside the building masking the low rumble of the Porsche Spyder's motor. He smirked as he imagined John's comment on his choice of hunting vehicle. Truthfully, it wouldn't have been his first choice, but he'd been running late.
He surveyed the area looking for John's black pickup, noticing it parked in the far corner of the warehouse parking lot. He thought he could see John in the passenger's seat as a flash of red hair caught his eye. He watched as a red-haired young woman slid into the driver's seat and gunned the engine, skidding off as someone emerged from the warehouse door brandishing a gun.
"Get back here you little bitch!" the man yelled over the pulsing sound of the music flooding out the open door from the rave inside.
Rowan slid quietly from the car, moving with catlike grace to stand behind the distracted man. Before the man noticed his presence, Rowan grabbed the man's gun arm and wrenched it behind him. "Who ya shootin' at there Cowboy?" he growled in the man's ear as his gun fell soundlessly to the snow covered ground.
"N-nobody." Rowan could heart the man's heart pounding furiously in his chest.
"Then who were you yellin' at?"
"N-nobody," the man stammered again, yelping as Rowan twisted his arm back further inches from breaking it. "J-just s-some little slut…w-who ran off without p-payin me," the man added with Rowan's coaxing.
The scent of the man's fear was intoxicating to Rowan as he held the man immobile. How easy it would be to drain him dry, this low life that no one would miss. Rowan fought against the urge, knowing he was wasting time. He needed to know if John had finished the job without him, maybe with a new partner. The red-haired young woman he'd seen driving off with John didn't look like a hunter, but maybe John had used her as bait.
Rowan sighed wearily as he scooped up the man's gun from the ground with his free hand. "Say goodnight," he breathed in the man's ear, feeling him go rigid as he waited for the Rowan to shoot him. Holding the gun by the barrel, Rowan smacked the guy in the back of the head with the butt of the gun. The man slumped to the ground as Rowan let him go and moved away shoving the gun into the waist of his tailored black jeans.
He smoothed a strand of his raven hair back, tucking it behind his ear as he moved to enter the warehouse. The scent of fresh blood halted him. He turned from the door following the all-too-familiar scent of John Winchester's blood. He stopped a few feet away from the door, noting his friend's blood smeared against the wall of the warehouse.
"Damn it, John," he cursed under his breath as he followed a trail of small blood drops toward where John's truck had been parked. "Stupid, impatient sonuvabitch, couldn't wait for me…always goin' in with guns blazin'," he muttered as he noticed John's .45 on the ground. He knew if John hadn't noticed that he'd dropped the gun that he must be bad off. Not to mention that he was letting the red head drive and John Winchester didn't let anyone drive his truck. "Please tell me Dean isn't like him." He lifted his eyes to the heavens and sighed knowing that with his luck, Dean would be exactly like his father. "I am so screwed."
After making a quick run into the warehouse to find that John had indeed taken care of the vampire problem there, Rowan hurried back out into the cold winter night. Pulling the guns from his waistband he threw them onto the passenger seat as he slid into the sleek black car. He gunned the engine, pulling the door shut as he sped off after his injured friend.
As he drove he considered his options. The girl might have taken John to the hospital. Rowan shook his head; John wouldn't let her do that…if he was conscious. Rowan chose to believe that he was as he couldn't see the petite redhead carrying John to the truck and there had been two sets of foot prints in the snow.
The woman's red hair nagged at him, it was distinctly familiar to him. Yet his distracted mind couldn't quite pinpoint why. Ellen's, he thought as he continued to consider the possible places John would be headed. Of all John's contacts and all the safe harbors to choose from, Harvelle's Road House was the closest by far. Hopping on the highway, speeding east, thankful that he'd chosen the Porsche after all.