Disclaimer: Don't own them

AN: A special shout out to Shannon for her beta THANKS

Promises Broken

"Streets are filled with broken glass,

You get buried by the past.

Give me just a little taste lay this mess to waste

My mind is racing, my body aching so alone

I'll make you want to stay with me

Befriend by the enemy

Every little thing about this tells me

Nothing out there is ever going to help me,

And all these words that I have spoken

Just promises broken."

Soul Asylum

Everything I ever wanted to be and everything I am has nothing to do with why I'm here or why I was chosen to be here. The more I run from who I am the more the world finds me. Closing my eyes tight I wish to be anywhere else but here, but as my eyes slowly open I realise that right here is who I am. I walk a lonely road, I don't know where it will take me but I know that it's a long trip.

The air is crisp and bites at my face and hands as I look behind me, the alley is empty, even the sub life that lines every street corner reminding us what it will be if we're not careful, but even on a night like this they know not to be here. I glance up to the night sky, the pale stars flicker in the distance, giving hope to whomever glances their way that there is more to the world than what we see. I laugh out loud, cruel world teasing everyone to believe in a god that isn't real.

The smoke from my cigarette dances in the breeze before it dissipates into nothing. I take another deep drag from the cigarette wishing that I could disappear just like the smoke. But a reality drags me back to the task at hand. I walk slowly down deeper into the darkness, a darkness that gave birth to me.

The mindless chatter of people breaks my thoughts as I turn the corner. Two young street walkers in their tight cloths and venomous looks stop watching me as I walk slowly past them. They go back to the work at hand as a black Escalade pulls up. I keep walking, trying not to look at the man half leaning out the window. His heavily hairy arm hangs out as it moves, as he talks his words bite at me. As I look up, the light from his car blinds me and I let my cigarette drop to the ground it bounces. I dig deep into my pockets. The cold metal of the pistol touches my finger tips. I breathe in, one shot, one mistake.

It's like the world stands still, the gun slips from my pocket. I take aim, one shot. I zone out focusing only on the figure in the car. All the air rushes out of my lungs as I let my finger press down on the trigger, the shot rings out. The working ladies scream and they take off down the street. I tuck the hot gun in my pocket as I keep walking down the cold dark alley. The pictures fly through my head, one shot, no mistakes. I raise my shoulders blocking the air from my neck as I disappear back into the darkness.

The loud shrill of Metallica's Enter Sandman fills the air as I roll over, the sun already spreads its rays of sunshine into my room, blinding me as I pull myself off the bed. "Harold!" my voice calls as I crack my neck, catching a glimpse of myself in the mirror. My fiery red hair has a life of it own. I try in vain to control it. My makeup from the night before is blurred and the eyeliner runs down my cheeks giving my look even more of a twist.

The door creaks as I walk out; the smell of pot fills the air. I shuffle to the kitchen. "Harold!" My voice cracks.

"Trinity," Harold is surprised by my presence, "baby were you sleeping?" Harold jumps up from his usual position on the couch. His face red as he walks up to me, his eyes already glossed over. I look behind him. A young woman sits leaning over, her red lips gripped around the butt of a joint. She doesn't even acknowledge my existence taking another hit.

"Harold, who is she?" I point as he lets out a lung full of smoke.

"Star," he loosely hums, "I met her last night, girl's going be famous someday." He runs his hands through his greasy hair. "You should talk with her. She has like some far out words of wisdom."

"What I want is for you and Star to leave," I growl as I notice the newspaper on the counter, the picture of the Escalade is on the front page. I pick it up and slowly read the article. Man shot by unknown assailant.

A man, name withheld by police until proper notification of his family, was murdered on the corner of Brooks and Fifth Streets early this morning. Emergency operators dispatched police and paramedics to the scene at approximately 2:00 am where they discovered the victim dead from a gunshot wound. Police have no leads on the description of the assailant, with the exception of gender. One eye witness is quoted to have said, "she came out of nowhere, killed him and was gone. The investigation is ongoing."

I turned the paper over. If only they knew what they were getting in the car with. I saved their lives and they will never know. He would have used them for bait most likely, and enjoyed every minute of it.

"All right," Harold staggers, "buzz kill."

I was brought back by my brother's words as he walked over to Star, whispering to her. She looks back at me; her green eyes pierce holes through me. They walk out, slamming the door shut behind them.

I need to clear my head, need to free myself of my own demons. I make my way back to the bedroom, knowing well enough that it is already too late to go back to sleep. My brother has seen to that. So I do the next best thing. A cold shower to get the rest of my body to respond to the need to be awake.

The water feels good against my skin as I let it roll down my back, staring blankly at the drain, slowly letting it wash away any memories of the night before. Its therapeutic massage on my body feels just right and I lose myself to its embrace. I don't even notice the tears that slip from my bloodshot eyes.

The loud ring of the phone breaks me out of my bliss. "What now!" I yell at the top of my lungs, as I pull back the shower curtain, wrapping a towel around my wet body. I snatch the phone from the counter. "Hello?" My voice echoes coldly.

"Trinity?" a familiar voice brings a welcomed feeling.

"Dean?" I sit down on the toilet, "What is it?" The lengthy pause on the other line brings a sense of fear to the pit of my stomach. "Dean?"

"We need your help," he almost hesitates; I can tell he is forcing the words out. My heart skips a beat; it has been too long since I've heard from Dean, too long.

"Where?" the word came out before I even realise what I am saying.

"We're down stairs." He let out a nervous laugh.

"Five seconds." I throw the phone down, the towel slipping to the ground as I grab a worn shirt and a pair of torn jeans and struggle to get them on as I run for the door.
I take every second step the whole way to the lobby and skid to a halt.

Dean is standing with his back to me. His faded brown leather jacket hangs loosely on his shoulders. Behind him is a face I haven't seen since I was a little girl. My heart skips a beat as I open the door. Dean turns. He is holding his chest protectively, swaying to the right. The smile that creeps across his face is one of pain and worry. Both boys are battered and bruised.

What the hell happened?" I grab Dean before he collapses to the ground. "Jesus Christ, boys you look like horrible."

"Ha, you don't know the half of it," Dean lets out a low grumble.

An older lady walks up behind us as she clears her throat. "Right, good morning Evelyn."

I grab Dean's arm. "We better get you upstairs and looked at, the two of you."

Evelyn scowls as she continues watering her plants.

The walk back up is time consuming for both Winchesters, as they struggle with each step. My loft door swings open. I rush to the kitchen, grabbing everything I need. "On the couch both of you. Dean, what happened?"

"Funny thing, we were checking out some strange killings and ran into a nest."

"Vampires, come on guys there has not been a vamp sighting in years here, my dad made sure of that." I grab a large glass bowl filling it with warm water, walking into the living room.

Dean sits on the edge of the couch cradling his head, while Sam leans against the wall. He sways violently forward, catching himself on the edge of the wall.

"God damn it, Sam, sit down before you fall and crack your head open!" I bark as I look at Dean, lifting his head so I can look into his eyes. "What the hell, you're both damn good hunters, and you got your asses handed to you by a couple vamps, I'm surprised."

Sam flops down on a large recliner as he struggles to find a comfortable position. Dean is torn up something bad; a large gash covers his cheek. It drips blood onto my floor. Also a cut from somewhere on the back of his head streams blood down his neck, soaking his shirt. He protectively jerks back when I touch his chest. "Now that wont do, I need to take the shirt off, are you attached?"

"What?" he is confused by my choice of words.

I pick up the scissors from the small red first aid kit, cutting away at his shirt. My own heart skips a beat. The shirt falls from his chest revealing a medium sized puncture wound, covered by a poor patch job. The makeshift bandage was already soaked through. I couldn't help but let out a deep growl.
"Your dad's a marine right?" The words where meant to lighten the situation, but I found them more hurtful. "Then why the hell patch yourself like this? My ass could do a better job." I turn, glaring at Sam.

"We were rushed." His eyes are barely open as he takes a deep breath.

Dean's hand wraps around my wrist. "Sammy?" his voice trails off. He looks, up his brown eyes pleading. "Make sure he's all right."

That boy's way too protective of his baby brother. I shake my head, helping him lay down. "All right," I turn facing Sam. I am pleased that he is more helpful. He tells me where it hurts. My diagnosis is quick, "by the look and movement, probably cracked ribs, and a sprained wrist. There is no visible bleeding, just nasty bruising." I make sure I say it loud enough so Dean can hear. "No real patching needed here. Some pain meds and a couple hours of good sleep, you'll be sore, but right as rain."

"Thanks." He lets his eyes close, as his voice comes out in a mere whisper, "there were way more then the two of us could handle. Dean, he took the brunt of the volley. We got out of there as fast as we could." His voice trailed off. "We didn't know where to go. Dean was bleeding out…I…we called Bobby and he suggested we call you."

"Thank God for Bobby." I hand him two white pills. "Here before you pass out."

His hand weakly grazes mine and he drops them into his mouth, giving me a slight nod. I turn my full attention on the wounded Winchester sprawled out on the couch. His side is now bleeding out. "Super." I press more gauze onto the wound. "I just bought this couch; you're going to pay to get it cleaned." But my words are pointless, his eyes closed shut.

My hands worked flawlessly, cleaning the wounds, trying to assess the damage. I get most of the blood cleaned away. It isn't as bad as I thought it would be. "Couple stitches," I mumble, reaching for my kit.

"You know, Trin, you really have to treat my ladies with respect, I mean---" Harold's voice makes me stop. He walks into the living room, freezing at the sight that lies before him. He looks at me; his small brown eyes open wide as he drops the grocery bag on the floor. "What the hell girl?"

"Close the door," I yell, not even looking up, tucking a stray strand of hair behind my ear. "Listen, I need you to either sit down or shut and help me."

He doesn't say anything as he walks towards me, looking down at Dean. "Winchester? This day is turning out to be a mind blowing experience." His voice trails off as he turns to look at Sam.

"Hey pot head, can you stay with me for a second?" I scowl. "I need you to get Sam into the spare room."

"That's my room."

"Not today, do it now or I'll evict your butt and you can find somewhere else to crash!"

He grumbles under his breath, picks Sam up and carries him to the back of the loft.

I really don't have the time to deal with his childish antics right now. My thoughts and actions are focused on Dean. The cuts on his face are deep and need stitches. I give him one more once over, making sure I didn't miss anything. There's just so much carnage. That's when I notice the bite mark. I drop his arm. I can think of some choice words to say, but instead I stare blankly at the marks.

Harold lets out a gasp from behind me. "Snap!" He steps back. "He's been bitten!"

"Really, it doesn't mean anything Harold, come on." I have to give myself a mental shake. "If it drank their blood then we'd have to worry."

"You don't know that," he barks.

"And we're going to keep that way. If he turns then we kill him, if we're wrong, I'm not wasting a good hunter." I take a deep breath. "Harold, I need a needle and some string. I have to fix his face and side."

"It's a waste of time."

"No it's not." I snap my head at him. "He's practically family and we don't give up on them, right? I never gave up on dad or your sorry ass."

"Fine," he storms off, coming back moments later with the needle already threaded. "You don't have to be such a bitch about it."

I grab the needle from his hand, turning to Dean. I stitch up what is necessary, looking from time to time to his eyes, making sure he isn't going to wake. It takes less time than I thought. Relieved that Dean didn't wake up through any of this.

Rolling back on my ankles, I let out a breath I didn't even realize I was holding. "Put him in my room, I need to call Bobby." I stand up, stretching out my back, my hands reach automatically to my cigarette pack on the coffee table.

I lock myself in the bathroom, running warm water over my blood soaked hands, steadying my already shaking breath. I catch a glance of my pale face. "Not good, not good."

Pressing my hand against the mirror. Without thinking I reaching for the phone, dialling a number I never want to call.

"Hey Jake, it's me Trinity." I pause, turning from my reflection.

"Trinity, why are you calling me this early in the morning?" his voice growls. He is the one person I never much like to talk to or listen to, either

"Listen, the Winchesters just showed up and they are both banged up pretty badly." I pause, my stomach churning; a queasy feeling washes throughout me.

"I know we lost three good protectors fending them off." His voice becomes alert.

"I know, but listen to me," I try in vain to shut him up.

"Do they know they almost found the council?"

"No, they don't know what they have. Not yet anyway."

"Keep it that way, that's why Fallyn chose you. How long till they are well enough to leave?"

"Couple days at best before they are mobile. Get Fallyn and the others out. I'll hold them off as long as I can." I hear steps and turn, holding my hand over the receiver. "Harold?"

"What?" his voice is right outside the door.

"I need you to run to the store. Take my bankcard. I need you to pick up some more bandages and gauze and the best damn painkillers you can find." I pull back, stopping to grab his arm, "and the strongest whiskey they have."

His face smiles as he turns. "Can I get a little something for myself?"

"Just go." I roll my eyes, waiting to hear the close of the door. I turn my attention to the phone, "Jake, still there?"

"Do I have a choice?" his tone is flat.

AN: Come on I know you want too just Click the GO and tell me what you think

"Whatever." I knew they would find out sooner or later. "Dean's been bitten, I need to find out who did it."

"What?! Has he changed yet?"

"No, I'll keep an eye on him. Call me when you find out."

"No, Trinity, a bitten mortal needs to be dealt with before he figures out anything." I knew that was coming.

"Just do it." I look at the phone before quickly hanging it up.