The night was dark, the shadows long, and the coppery taste of her own trepidation filled her mouth, dark and rich as blood. She could feel her heartbeat, fluttering beneath her chest, increased because of stress. A giveaway but her lifeline. A bullseye for what she was hunting but something that could not be helped, the same as the breath that wafted from her mouth in cold clouds. She padded as quietly as she could through the building, her every sense on alert, her eyes as wide as they could be in an effort to try and see as much as they could.
It didn't help, it being so dark when her prey could see better than a cat.
She gripped her machete more tightly in hand, every footstep as quiet as possible. The shapes of the office furniture rose in her sight, potential hazards as well as potential hideaways. Eyes raked over them, trying to find her quarry while trying to make sure her own ass was safe. It was times like these when she understood why other hunters worked with partners because, god, but it was scary going after a vamp all by your lonesome with no one there to watch out for your hide.
She came to a corner and paused, trying to peer around it before she went barreling in and was potentially killed for it. The bastards were fast and deadly and scary strong—she only had her wits and her own abilities and the giant machete in hand to keep her on this side of alive. Sometimes, it wasn't enough.
A cold wind blew through the gutted office building, abandoned years ago and left to its own devices. The furniture was piled haphazardly together, cobwebbed and broken. The windows were all broken, busted out during the long years the building had been left unused. Ali shivered, huddling back into her jacket, peeking around the corner again—nothing.
She slipped around it, pressed tight against the wall, glancing over her shoulder to make sure there was nothing behind her. She paced forward, trying to be as silent as possible, trying not to give the vampire she hunted any forewarning that she was here.
A body came leaping at her out of the dark, hitting her square in the middle. She went down instantly and rolled, but strong arms pinned her down solidly. She hacked with her knife, intent on taking the bastard down with her if it was the last thing she did, but fingers gripped her wrist hard enough that she dropped the machete with a cry of pain. She kneed up into the body above her and winded her opponent enough to roll to the side and gain her feet. A fist came flashing toward her face and she ducked, swinging her own. There were punches, jabs, and kicks, some that landed and some that didn't. She took a particularly vicious hit to the face and the ribs but landed a kick of her own in a leg and a jab in a shoulder.
They circled, fighting for an opening, for anything. She wanted her knife, laying ready for use several feet away, but that required getting a moment's reprieve and none was coming. She wondered why she hadn't been wasted already—a vampire certainly had the capability—when he finally spoke, voice harsh and deep.
"You better give it up, you leech. You're not getting out of here alive!"
Ali actually laughed at that, blocking a particularly vicious swing that made her forearm burn. God, whoever this was, he was [i]strong.[/i] And good, very good. But where was the speed? Where was the inhuman strength? It was starting to bother her even as they continued fighting, breath coming faster and harder from the effort.
"Me? A leech? Oh, you have—got to be kidding me. You're the—bloodsucker."
He stopped and she was able to hit him, hard, in the chest, forcing him back a step. Ali immediately fell to the floor and rolled, grabbing her knife as she sprang to her feet, ready for whatever else was headed her way.
But he was standing where he had stopped, the darkness complete around him, making him just another shadow. She could tell he was tall, and built—his fighting had definitely been an indicator of that—but that was all. She sidled closer, machete gripped tightly. She was going to annihilate this bloodsucker and go back and take a long, hot shower as celebration for a job well done. She raised her knife higher, expecting more of a fight than this, but his voice came quick and urgent.
"Wait, wait. I think there's some confusion. You're not a vampire…and neither am I. I'm not what you're hunting."
Ali laughed. "Yeah, I'm sure. That's what you all say."
"I'm completely serious. My name is Dean Winchester and I'm a hunter like you."
That certainly stopped her.
Ali froze and straightened up, letting her knife fall. She knew the name and she knew who was standing in front of her now. Her heart thudded, hard, harder than it had when she'd been stalking the vampire bitch she was looking for. She peered at the man in front of her, trying to determine if he was who he really said he was, though she wasn't sure she'd even recognize him after ten years.
"Prove it," she finally said.
"And my fighting didn't? You know, there's not exactly a membership card here, sweetheart."
She stayed stubbornly silent and he seemed to realize he was going to be getting nowhere without indulging her. She heard his aggravated sigh before his hand clamped over her arm and he started dragging her toward a shaft of moonlight.
"Hey, hands off the merchandise, ace!"
"Oh, please, if I wanted you dead, you would be."
He released her to stand in the moonlight, arms spread and unamused expression on his face. He turned around and then his arms dropped. The light was silver on his hair, making his high cheekbones all the more defined. His jeans and jacket fit him well and Ali had to smile, even if her heart was thrumming fast, because the leather jacket fit him much better now than it had the last time she'd seen him. And if Dean was here, that meant—
"Dean?" a male voice came calling, confirming everything that Ali had been thinking.
She turned but Dean stepped forward, unamused expression on his handsome face. "Ah ah ah, sweetheart, you're not going anywhere. I don't trust you any more than you trust me." His voice rose higher, louder. "Sam! I'm over here."
They waited, he standing in the light, she in shadow, until a massive man rounded the corner, the knife in his hand glinting bright and sharp. Ali moved instinctively, but Dean grabbed her arm, pulling her back next to him so moonlight drenched her like a spotlight.
"It's just my brother. No need to worry."
"That's your brother?"
The Sam she remembered was small, all arms and legs, with an almost underfed, scrawny look and floppy hair. That was over ten years ago, and he'd be over twenty now. It stood to reason that he'd be different but…the last time she had seen the Winchester brothers, Dean had seemed so much larger and scarier. Perspective.
"Yup." He addressed Sam again. "Hey, it's all good. No vamp here. Just another hunter."
"Another hunter?"
"Yeah, some girl." Dean frowned, turning, releasing her speculatively. "What is your name anyway?"
Ali brushed her arm off, earning a reproving look from Dean, not that she cared. She was just spooked that of all the hunters she could have run into in the entirety of North America, she had tripped her way into Dean and Sam Winchester, men she had known briefly as boys long, long ago. And she ran into them on a job in Michigan? It was seriously just starting to get a little creepy.
She glanced at the both of them, hazel eyes somewhat wary. She had no idea how they were going to react to any of this. Or if they'd even remember.
"I'm Ali, Ali Russell." Eyes slanted back their way and she saw it in Sam's face first, in the dark eyes so high above her, in the way his brows wrinkled and smoothed back. He looked at Dean, who had merely accepted it, no questions asked, and then turned to her.
"Have we met before?"
This is the moment of truth, the moment where she can spill all or withhold. It was a decade ago—what would they remember? They were kids, all of them, dragged along by the fickle bitch of life. Ali pushed her long hair back from her face, biting at her lower lip before nodding.
"Yeah, yeah we have. Ten years ago, you and your dad came after the thing that killed my parents."