"You shouldn't have come." The vamp slugged Dean in the stomach, then watched with patently false concern as the hunter fell to the floor, gasping.

"Dude," Dean finally croaked, "Have you ever read Twilight?"

"Pardon?"

"Or Anne Rice?"

"I don't understand." The monster looked politely confused.

"You don't really come off as the Boris Karloff type, but if you work on your leer a little bit –"

A dart flew through the air and buried itself in the vampire's neck.

With a cry, the monster yanked out the dart, turning to gape at Sam as he advanced into the room. "Why, you little - rapscallion."

"I've been called worse," Sam said shortly.

The vamp swayed and dropped to his knees. "What –?"

"Dead man's blood, asshole." Dean got to his feet. "Nice shot, Sammy."

"Nice diversion." Sam pulled a machete out from under his coat. "You want to do the honors?"

"Damn straight." Dean took the blade. "Not too smart, vamp, you staying with the girl that long."

"True." The creature's fangs gleamed. "But she was just so delicious."

Dean's smile was wide and ugly as he raised the blade. "You know, Sammy, some days, I really love my job."