His breathe came out in puffs in front of his face. The blow that had struck him had sent him flying across the room and caused him to hit the wall, winding him. He staggered forward, pain flashing through his back. He should be used to this by now. He'd been flung against walls thousands of times by varying creatures and people and demons. His eyes searched desperately for his blade, ears listening for the vampire. There was a shuffle behind him. He whipped around, hit by pain again. A girl stood there, here brown curly hair pulled back into a ponytail. She held his blade in her hand. He launched himself at her. She moved to the side but was still hit by his fist. She dropped his blade and clutched her stomach. He crouched down, remarkably quick for a six foot three bag of muscle and hair.

He gripped the sword in his hand. He pointed it at her and slowly pulled it back. "Don't," the girl whimpered. "I'm not one of them. I'm a hunter." He stopped still. He had been hunting for over twenty years now and never had a vampire claimed that. He kept the blade raised though. Just in case. "Name? And don't bullshit me, I'll know," he asked.

"Lea. Lea McKynsall. I'm from Wyoming," she replied, still slightly breathless but much recovered from the blow. Her eyes widened. "Behind you!" she yelled.

Sam turned bringing the blade with his body, half expecting her to jump him from behind. It cut through the outstretched hand and the vampire cried out. He brought the blade back through the monster's neck and the body thumped to the floor just seconds before the head. He turned around again.

He turned back to the girl, Lea, noticing the outline of the gun in her inner jacket pocket and the blade hung by left hip. Right handed. He adjusted his stance slightly, ready to disarm her. "Lea? From Wyoming?" The girl nodded, one eye on the blade he had pointed at her. A drop of blood gathered at the end and slowly fell to the floor, landing between their feet. "I'm Sam. Sam Winchester. From Kansas. Why are you here?" he questioned.

"I was hunting. These vampires have been here for a couple of months now. Three people from the nearest town have gone missing and another four in a 20 mile radius. I got interested, did a bit of research. Found out they were here last night, came by today at noon to see if I was right. I was, so I came back. You were here and they were all dead except that one," she pointed behind him.

"Right. How long have you been hunting?" God how he wished Dean was here. A bit of backup would be nice in case she was a vampire or a vampire lover and decided to jump him.

"Three years now. My brother was bitten by a werewolf. He killed my mom, dad and little sister. I'd read enough books to guess that silver would at least hurt him enough to stop him. We had a silver dinner set. I went to stab his leg but he moved." Her voice broke for a second. She whispered, with tears in her eyes, " I got his neck. There was so much blood. It was everywhere. I figured I couldn't stay, not with three dead corpses and a wolf on the floor. So I packed and ran. And I began hunting."

He nodded. "Right, okay." He lowered the blade, still wary but more trusting. Dean would've been able to tell straight out if she was for real or not. "Do you need a lift home or are you okay?"

"I'm in the local motel. The Super 8. I can walk, its fine," she replied.

"I'm headed that way. Same motel actually. I'll give you a lift, come on," he replied. He couldn't let a girl, no matter how capable, go walking home when he didn't know if there were anymore vamps around. He started walking to the exit, swivelling his head to see if she was following. She was. He remembered that he had to burn the corpses. He stopped suddenly and she bumped into him. "Ouch."

"Sorry, I forget, my brother..." he stopped short. He wasn't talking about Dean to a girl he just met. "We need to get rid of the bodies. Can you start a pyre? I'll bring the bodies out," he asked, pulling a lighter out of his jacket and handing it to her.

"Can't we just set the place on fire? Much easier," she asked.

"No, it's too big and too local. Somebody could see and the fire brigade would be here before the bodies even caught. A pyre's smaller and less likely to be noticed. If you build it round the back, nobody should see," he explained. She nodded. Sam bent down to pick up one of the bodies. Her footsteps started up and then faded as she walked away. He lifted the body, trying not to get the blood on his jacket. He walked out the warehouse and towards Lea. He lay the body down and went back to find the head and the other bodies and dismembered bits.

As he watched Lea pour the gas and salt over the corpses, he remembered standing watching Dean do the same thing, countless times. The flame on his lighter caught and the girl held a match up to it, waiting for it to catch before throwing it onto one of the corpses. He listened to the familiar click of the lighter's cap. She walked and stood beside him. "Here," handing him the lighter back. His hand grasped it, feeling the familiar cold metal that Dean's hand had once warmed. "Thanks. Shall we?" he said indicating behind him where Baby was parked. She nodded, somehow sensing his disinclination to talk.

They walked slowly back to the car. He opened the door and slid in, watching as Lea glanced back at the growing flames before opening the door and sliding in, one jeans clad leg, then a hip and the rest of her followed. He gunned the engine and listened to her purr. The door closed and the radio clicked on, ACDC blasting out of the speakers. He flinched at the volume and quickly turned it down. He put his foot down and slowly drove away out of the warehouse's parking lot.

They drove in silence for the first two minutes. "You mentioned a brother earlier. Where is he?" Lea asked, curiosity filling her voice. His throat tightened momentarily. "He, uh," he cleared his throat. "He died. Last month. Um, he was, um, he had a contract with a demon. I died, last year, and Dean," he stopped. "Dean sold his soul for my life back. But the demon only gave him a year, instead of ten. So, the hellhounds came and, well, ya know," he finished, his voice cracking at the end as the tears began to roll down his cheeks.

"Hey, hey, hey. It'll be, well I'm not gonna say fine, 'cause it's never gonna be fine, but it'll get better I guess. Slowly," she said, and Sam could hear the regret and sorrow and sympathy in her voice. The regret over asking the question. The sorrow over his pain and the loss of her own brother. The sympathy and understanding in her voice. They were nearing the motel. He could see the blurred sign at the end of the road. They neared it, tears still flowing down his cheeks. He pulled in and parked. He lent his head back against the headrest, trying to slow the tears. He was failing miserably. A hand, a small hand, touched his bicep and squeezed. Soothing noises were coming from her throat as she comforted him. Slowly, he pulled himself together. The tears slowed, then stopped. He kept his head still, enjoying the stillness and the quite calm in the car. She made to move her hand and Sam let her. He turned his head to face her. She was looking at him, chocolate brown eyes wide and sad. She smiled a little and said, "We should be going in. You need to sleep." He nodded numbly and got out of the car. The doors slammed shut, echoing in the stillness.

The door to the motel was heavy as he pulled it open, his muscles screaming from the work. He just wanted to sleep. To sleep without the nightmares and the biting pain. Lea walked in front and he followed, his muscles weary and his head heavy. "What room number are you in?" she whispered, considerate of the other sleeping guests.

"231," he muttered. She smiled.

"We're neighbours. Come on," she gestured down the hall and began walking again. He continued to follow her. They reached their rooms. He fumbled for his key and put it in the lock. She was doing the same when he glanced at her. "Goodnight Lea," he whispered as he opened his door. Her voice echoed the returning sentiment as he entered his room. He turned around and smiled at her as he shut his door and locked it. He looked down at his clothes. He needed a shower.

He stumbled to the bathroom and turned the shower on, stripping quickly. He climbed in, shivering as the cold water hit his skin.

Lea entered her room and looked at her clothes. They were relatively clean. Her hands had a bit of blood on them and she was sure she had a blood splatter on her face from when Sam had chopped off the vampire's hand. She went to the bathroom to check. She did. She turned on the tap and began to wash her face. She would shower in the morning. She heard the pipes rattle as water moved through them and then there was a blast in the neighbouring bathroom. Sam must be showering, she thought. Sam. He was a strange man. She could sense that he was very lonely. She assumed his mom and dad must be dead as well as his brother. She had never felt such waves of sadness rolling off of one person. His name was familiar to her of course. Every decent hunter knew who the Winchester brothers were. Apparently, not every hunter knew that Dean was dead. She hadn't and she went to the Harvelles' roadhouse often enough to pick up the gossip. She shook her head and turned the tap off. She wandered into the bedsit and peeled off her clothes, folding them neatly and placing them on a chair before climbing into bed.