I am on FIRE! :D I pounded this baby out in an hour. I had a craving for some good ol' fashioned monster killing. So it's a little light on the interpersonal stuff, but hey. :) I like it anyway. Enjoy!


"I feel ridiculous," said Jordan, failing to stifle a giggle. She was sitting on Sam's shoulders, her feet caught tightly in his hands, so that they could peer into Meredith and Louis's house. The problem was that it was nearly midnight, and it looked like the targets were asleep. The whole thing was beginning to seem ludicrous.

"There are too many cars out front," Sam said, sounding not in the least bothered by the weight of her on his shoulders. "We have to check it out."

"Yeah, yeah." She pressed her face a little closer to the glass, and while she scrutinized the shadowy interior, asked, "You comfy down there?"

"Fine," he said. "Except your butt smells like cheese."

Jordan looked down at him in shock, but he was grinning. "You're as bad as Dean," she told him, and gave his face a playful swat. He jerked away, causing Jordan to sway precariously atop her perch—sway just enough, in fact, to see that there was light coming out from under one of the doors. If she remembered correctly, it was the door to the basement.

"Down," she whispered, and he immediately crouched. She slipped down off his back and tip-toed over to the slender rectangle, partially hidden by grass (an inch too high here—Louis's gardener was slacking!) that served for the basement window. There was something painted over the window to keep light from escaping, but it wasn't locked; a gentle poke of her finger pried it open wide enough for them to see inside.

Jordan and Sam exchanged raised eyebrows. Jordan had put her money on death-by-ghost-breath, and Sam on soul-sucking. And even though they had briefly entertained the idea of blood, neither of them had imagined anything quite like this.

Meredith and Louis were down there, all right, along with Horatio and Jim, and they were all—as Jordan would later put it—"seriously naked!" Meredith was lying prone on a table, while the men took turns cutting their palms and dribbling blood across her belly, chest, and face.

"Please don't be an orgy," Jordan whispered, eyes squeezing shut. "Please don't be an orgy, please, please, please—"

"Oh, God," said Sam, and she peeked just long enough to see the men licking the blood off Meredith's pale skin. Jordan had to clamp a hand over her mouth to keep from squeaking. They watched—or Sam watched; Jordan's eyes remained very firmly shut, thank you very much—before Sam finally lost his stomach for it, and let the window fall shut. They leaned together against the side of the house, aghast.

"Well," said Sam. "We know what they're doing, at least."

Jordan looked at him with wide eyes. "We do?"

"That's a prayer," he said, nodding towards the basement window. "More of a command, really. It's powerful stuff, very old—there's a lot they could do with magic like that."

"What I saw in there was not magical," Jordan whispered furiously. "No wonder Horatio's such a tightwad, his pecker looks like it's been mummified!"

Sam snorted, unable to keep a smile off his face. "When you get married someday," he told her, "and your husband gets old—never, ever tell him that he has a mummified pecker."

"Married?" Jordan repeated. "Who would have me?"

Before Sam could answer that, she got to her feet and hurried back around to the side of the house, where sure enough, Mark, Julie, Michaela, and Roland were climbing out of an unimpressive Ford Taurus. She knew she'd heard something ugly coming down the road. Jordan glanced back at Sam. "Looks like the rest of the gang is here. What to do you want to do?"

Sam hesitated, but only for a moment. "I have an idea."


The women—and Jim—were all screaming, howling really, and it made for a terrific cover as Jordan and Sam slipped downstairs, bearing with them an assortment of pistols, rifles, and hatchets for the dirty work later. In fact, the book club enthusiasts were all so busy with their blood—and, Jordan saw, other more complicated and really, truly gag-worthy things—that they didn't notice Sam or Jordan at all until Sam cleared his throat.

"This is a really horrible twist on swinging, you know," Jordan said, as all activity froze.

"Hunters," said Meredith, spitting the word. Sam's sawed-off shotgun immediately swung around to point at her face. "You really think you can come here—onto my ground—and take me on?"

"So you're not denying that you ganked three people," Jordan clarified, and Jim hissed at her, sending a fine spray of blood onto her Yankee's T-shirt. She looked down with a curled lip. "Dude. Say it, don't spray it."

"Just what do you imagine you're going to be doing here?" Louis asked of them. He got up from his place beside Meredith, probably to assert some authority and maybe intimidate them a little.

"Oh!" Jordan cried, gagging. "Oh, shoot it! Shoot it! I think it's moving on its own!"

Louis—and everyone else—glanced down.

"I think they have surgeries that can fix that now," Sam said helpfully, and Louis turned a mottled shade of purple that didn't bode well.

"Leave my house," Louis snarled, "or else."

Jordan's eyebrows shot up. "Oh, see, now I'm terrified. Look at me. White as a sheet, I bet. Can you see my knees quaking? Your threats, Louis, they're—they're so profound—"

"You bitch," said Meredith, so Jordan shot her in the face. There was a dead silence as everyone watched Meredith collapse backward and slide, inevitably, onto the cement floor. Then Louis broke from the pack and tried to strangle Jordan. She tried to shoot him, but missed—sort of. Louis screamed and dropped, blood pouring onto the floor.

"Whoops," said Jordan. "I was supposed to aim higher, right? Try, try again."

"This is murder!" Mark shrieked, hiding behind Julie.

"Murder is what you did to those three people," Sam replied. "Think of us as karma."

"Karma with guns," added Jordan. Sam shot Mark as Horatio rushed him, leaving Jordan to deal with Julie and Jim, who were pissed off and naked and looking at her with eyes that glowed red. Horatio threw Sam into a wall; Jordan got off a shot at Jim; Sam knifed Horatio in the heart; and Julie, the last one standing, let out an ungodly shriek before falling on Jordan.

They struggled together on the floor, rolling this way and that, the fight going basically nowhere because Julie's strategy was to hold on for dear life. She seemed to realize that this wasn't working and tried biting instead. Jordan yelled and reached out for anything—anything at all—her fingers caught on something and she hit Julie with it, and kept hitting until the other woman's teeth let go. It wasn't until Julie was dead that Jordan realized she'd beaten the other woman's head in with a flower pot.

"You okay?" asked Sam, bleeding from a cut on his forehead, but otherwise all right. He helped Jordan to her feet and winced at the blood smeared all over her T-shirt.

"Okay?" Jordan tugged down the neck of her shirt to show him the bloody bite mark. "I probably have HIV!"

"Doubtful," said Sam. "They weren't human anymore."

"Noticed that one, thanks." Jordan picked up her gun and started up the stairs. "The glowing eyes was my first clue."

Sam laughed.


It had been a while since Audrey got anything in the mail worth looking at—namely, half-naked photos of the Winchester boys. When she saw Jordan's handwriting across an envelope, she let out a squeal, startling old Mrs. Henry half to death, and ran all the way back to her apartment (three floors!) It wasn't until she was safely locked inside that she ripped open the envelope.

The photo, this time, did not include Dean, and it hadn't been taken at Bobby's house. Jordan had leapt into Sam's arms, waving a sheet of paper over her head, just as the picture was snapped. Sam was grinning up at her, and neither one seemed to care that the people walking in and out of the frame were giving them scandalized looks.

The note on the back read:

HIV free! You'll be happy to know that pagan freaks aren't infectious :) That dumbass chick bit me for nothing. We're on our way back to Bobby's now to meet up with Dean. Love you! – J

Short. Really short. Pagan freaks? HIV? Biting? Audrey set the photo on the counter with shaking hands. Jordan had a lot of explaining to do—just as soon as Audrey could figure out how to get into contact with her.


Jordan must have read Audrey's mind, because a week later she got another envelope, this one of Sam and Jordan at a lake. Sam was shirtless and Jordan was down to her bra, both of them soaking wet. Jordan was sitting on Sam's lap, her arms around his neck, and they were smiling at the camera—nothing more, nothing less, but Audrey's heart all but stopped anyway.

Hey, babe! Jordan's note on the back said. We stopped at a lake to cool down, it's so hot out! We had a total blast. There were some college kids out there having a party and they shared some beers with us. Definitely my idea of a good summer vacation! Also, don't worry about my last letter, I was joking around. The things we killed weren't human, the chance that they'd be infectious were practically nil. It wasn't till after I sent it that I thought how it might sound. Don't be pissed! Hugs and kisses!

Jordan

P.S. Stop smiling, we didn't do anything naughty in the lake :)


Dean was waiting for them when they got back, sitting on Bobby's front porch with a beer dangling between his fingers like he wanted it to be a cigarette. He waited until they'd gotten their bags out of the GTO and were heading towards the house to speak.

"So how'd the job go?"

"Good," said Sam, halting in front his brother. Jordan had stopped a few paces back, watching Dean warily. "You?"

Dean swallowed a mouthful of beer. "Good."

It was like watching two fighters bow before a match, and it put a rock in Jordan's gut, even though she couldn't say for the life of her what they'd done wrong. Maybe it was about the journal.

"Out a little long, weren't you?" Dean asked. He set down the beer and stood up. She was sure it wasn't just her imagination that said Dean was preparing for a brawl, because Sam had tensed up, and all of his weight had gone to the balls of his feet.

"We stopped off at a lake after," Jordan said, shifting Dean's attention away from Sam. It was a bad idea. The look in his eyes put a stake of fear through her unlike anything she'd ever felt.

Sam dropped his bag with a thud, stepping neatly between Dean and Jordan. "Something wrong with that, Dean?"

"Something wrong with picking up a phone?" Dean retorted. "Bobby says you're on a job, but he can't tell me where. 'Maybe a week,' he says, and I'm waiting for three! You couldn't call me once to say, 'Hey, Dean, no worries, we're good, we're fine, be back soon'?"

Jordan's fear evaporated, replaced with a blooming warm-fuzzy, and she came around Sam to give Dean a kiss on the cheek. "We love you too, Papa Bear," she said, and went inside. The boys watched her go, eyebrows raised.

Sam clapped his brother on his shoulder as he picked up his bag, and said with a snicker, "What she said."

"I'm still pissed!" Dean yelled after him, but Jordan, peeking out the window, saw a smile on his face that said otherwise.