A/N: Update again. Speedy, speedy, and my muse is being friendly, just at an insane hour. Gotta go to bed now, school in the morning. Night and enjoy! :)

That bitch could run. I mean, sure, I was worse for wear from that experience of getting my brains blown out, but there was no doubt I was losing speed. Finally I halted, noticing a small blood trail on the tombstones; I knew that this is where the banshee had stopped. Ambush...maybe...it seemed that she wasn't going to give up a fight and die. She had a mission just like all of them did; kill and feed. Well, must I continue onward with my internal bleeding? No. Banshee already knew who the target was, and even though I had a gun and was on a hunt to finish her off, she needed to eat.

"Come out princess, I know your hiding from me," I spat, looking around the cemetery and finding nothing in sight.

Suddenly, I heard an awkward scream from behind, not anything like the previous one I had witnessed, and was tackled to the ground. We rolled on the grass until we hit stone, and neither of us was going to let the other have an upper hand at winning. Got to give her props though, she at least is putting up a fight, the other one I dealt with in the past just stood there and that bullet embedded itself into her chest. I managed to snake my hand down to my pant leg, unsheathing my hidden Bowie and bringing it up to slice into her forearm, wincing at the sound she made.

"Stupid hunter," she growled, using her hands to grip both sides of my head and bringing it closer to her own. If I didn't know any better I thought she was going to kiss me or something, instead she let loose another wail.

I shook, mouth agape as my screams were taken from me and transferred through her, my eyes never leaving her empty light blue and somehow, I don't know how, the knife I was holding got wedged in between both of us and stuck through bone and flesh. The banshees scream caught in her throat in shock, I saw the rapid change in her appearance on how her hair color changed to a bright red, her eyes a stunning green, the tattered dress morphing into jeans and long sleeved shirt.

Poor girl, she must've only turned a few weeks ago. Her hand outstretched to the stone just at my head and then she was dead weight. I grunted as her body fell limp upon me. Great, I do the right thing and save the day, kill the baddie and result in being the baggage claim.

"Here you go," I huffed, pushing her to the side as I sat up and swiveled around to see the inscription on the grave.

'Here lies Michael Johnson. Beloved brother and son.'

Okay, so maybe she wasn't involved with him in the way that I thought, she just happened to be related. Love, even family love, I will never fully understand or grow to know. The only exception...my dad. My role model in life.

888

My one thing of transportation actually made it back to the motel room, and before the sun came up too. Wow, if I am that relieved doesn't that mean that I need a new car? Well, too bad, hunters can't afford luxuries. When the car was in park, I climbed out weak, sore, and with a pounding headache that would last me till I die...ha, funny.

I opened the door and entered the room where the two brothers were still fast into the land of nod. Setting my bag down by my bed, I pulled out a cigarette from my pack and lit it on my way to the bathroom, not getting far though as a hand shot out from behind and grabbed the lit sense of relief I had, tossing it into the sink, leaning over and twisting the faucet on to extinguish it.

"Hey!" I exclaimed, not caring who I might be waking or not.

"Those can kill you, you know that right?" Dean said in a harsh parental tone.

I turned on him and crossed my arms in front of me. "That's the point inspector; want to tell me what is and what isn't best for my health? Fuck off," I snapped.

"Whoa there, no need to get all emotional."

"Emotional? Hardly."

"Look if you want to inhale shit and get high off of it, go find a burning building but you aren't doing it with me and my brother in this room." I raised my brows at him; no one ever said anything like this to me. It was refreshing having it coming from a person who didn't know the world they lived in.

Avoiding his eyes, hating how much of a coward I was being for not doing something to prove that he couldn't boss me around. I could do whatever I wanted, wherever I wanted. If I wanted to light up a joint in the damn place, I should be able to. Who was he to tell me no?

"Go to bed Camry. It's almost six in the morning and I don't give a flying fuck that you won't go to sleep. I may not know you, but I sure as hell know when someone needs to get their act together and take care of themselves," Dean finished, his hand reaching for my arm and gripping it as he pulled me towards my bed with me putting up a fight.

Once we arrived at the side of the mattress he let go and bent his knees a bit so he could get better leverage to wrapping his arms under my legs and arms, lifting me off the ground. Instinctively my own arms went around his neck. Dean leaned over the mattress and then I was free falling briefly before I met the springs of the bed. "Night Camry," he called as he headed back into the living room and onto the couch.

888

When the streams of the suns rays came through the curtains at the window I knew that it was just an hour before the afternoon. After the little Dean freak out session, I had to admit that it was never easier falling asleep. Normally, I would never have drifted back into slumber, I would've just stayed up and then crashed when it was time to go back to bed, but no, Dean had actually made me do it. For that, I was grateful.

I didn't know how tired I was until my eyes fluttered open though, which sucked. The headache was back full blast, and I could hear the echoes of the banshee's wails floating throughout my skull, causing it to worsen. As the room met me, I found the other bed unmade and completely vacant. Shifting on the mattress and in the sheets I turned my head forwards a bit so then I could get a view of what was going on around.

No one. Absolutely empty. What was I supposed to expect from antiquing people? I'll say one thing, there is no way that a person who does that shit, says and does the things that Dean did earlier. Who is he? Obviously not what I think he is, maybe his brother is just into it and he's going along for the ride. I don't know, frankly, anything that is fetishes of men shouldn't be known to women.

I sighed, sliding out of bed and bending over to grab my duffel, slinging it over my shoulder as I headed into the bathroom for a shower and a quick change. Finishing all of that wonderful essential stuff to start a day, I headed to my car outside and tossed the bag on the passenger seat, going back into the room to pick up a piece of motel stationary and a pen.

It was a simple note, saying things along the lines of, 'thanks for sharing, if you ever find any cool antiques drop me a line. I might be interested in it.' A fake number here, a cutesy signature there, however with a last name that wasn't mine. Dean may know my first, but no one knows my second, even I. I've forgotten it over time, and besides, last names aren't that important.

Leaving the motel room and heading to the main office to find the old lady awake and not in the position of possibly dead, I gave her the key and was on my way, back onto the open road. However, as I turned to leave the office, she said something that confused me. "And so it was written...the end begins."

Author End Note: Thanks for reading and please review.