Author's Note:

Hi guys! I've already written all the way up to chapter twelve in the last couple of days, but because my internet is on the fritz I haven't been able to publish them as quickly as I would've hoped. Right now I'm working on Chapter 13, and I'm super excited because the boys get to meet a certain someone... I'm having too much fun with this story at the moment and I hope you are too. Please review and let me know what you think.

"Holy shit!" Tara screamed as she bounced up and down on Dean's throbbing member. He rolled over on top and continued to plow away, increasing the force of each thrust. The rickety motel bed squeaked, echoing her throaty whimpers as his hips kept a steady unrelenting pace. He watched Tara writhe beneath him, grunting profane encouragements and dirty little nothings that sent his senses reeling.

Beads of sweat formed at his brow. A knot tightened in his stomach with each thrust, and his muscles burned .He tried not to think about his approaching orgasm. He desperately wanted this moment to last forever, but her muscles contracted around him as her climax wracked her entire body. "Oh fuck!" she cried out, clawing at his back. The pain of her nails digging into his flesh sent him over the edge. Finally the knot in his stomach untied itself, and he slowed the undulation of his hips in an attempt to ride out his orgasm.

He stared down at her for a moment, gazing into her ebony eyes before placing a surprisingly chaste kiss on her lips. He toppled off of her and rolled over on his back, physically spent. Tara snuggled up next to him, placing her head on his chest. He wrapped his arm around her, and absentmindedly traced circles on her shoulder with his finger. They remained silent for a moment, relishing their post coital displays of affection.

After a while, Tara spoke in a surprisingly small, quiet voice. "Do you really think she's gotta demon inside her?" she asked, looking up at him expectantly. Dean looked down and saw the earnestness in her eyes, a fear and a vulnerability that he didn't know she possessed stared back at him.

He cleared his throat before answering. "No, I don't. But it doesn't mean what she's experiencing isn't real."

Tara was quiet for a moment, as she traced the anti-possession sigil on his chest. "Y'know," she began. "The last time I saw her, she bashed my head in with a bottle of vodka. I keep tellin' myself this is it. This is where I draw the line. But then…" Dean squeezed her shoulder, encouraging her to continue. "She's all I got," she let out a jaded laugh. "It's fucked up, but that's family I s'pose."

Dean looked up at the ceiling to think. "But you can't live like that," he heard himself say. "You'll spend the rest of your life putting up with her shit, sacrificing everything you've ever had, everything you've ever wanted. You do that, and whose to say ten, no, five years from now you look in the mirror and like what you see?"

She looked up at him, confused. "Are you tellin' me to abandon my mama?" she asked defensively.

"I'm telling you not to abandon yourself." He couldn't believe he'd actually said that. He couldn't believe he actually believed it. Family had always come first for him, before the job, before his own life, before anything. But here he was, lying beside a woman he barely knew telling her all the things he'd never told himself. In a way it was too late for Dean, too late to want anything more out of life, too late to give up hunting, too late to be normal. Tara still had a chance. She still had options.

He looked around the ruddy motel room. "Do you really live here?" he teased, trying to change the subject.

"Yes, Dean. I really live here," she replied in a mock-offended tone. "You can't talk, you live in piece o' shit motels too." She playfully thumped him on the chest before standing up and walking over to their pile of clothes.

"So you're just gonna hit and run?" he grunted as he sat up in bed.

"Nope," she said tossing his clothes into his lap. "You are."

Sam sat across from the demon in a booth at the edge of the restaurant. The skinny redhead, who introduced herself as Arlene at the wake yesterday, approached them with a pen and pad in hand. "What can I start you off with today?"

"Nothing for me," Sam insisted curtly.

"I'll have a diet coke with a large order of fries," Ruby ordered. "Hold the salt," she beamed as she handed Arlene her menu.

"That'll be up shortly," the waitress chimed. Ruby watched her walk away before turning her attention to Sam. She stared at him in silence, as if she was waiting for him to speak first.

"What?" Sam finally asked, bewildered by the demon's scrutiny.

"Oh nothing. I was just trying to figure out what the fuck was so important about Bon Temps, Louisiana. You've been here for days screwing the pooch while I've been sticking my neck out searching for leads on Lilith," she contended hotly.

"We're here on a job," Sam explained.

"Really?" she mused sarcastically. "Tell me, how's that going?"

"It's a dead end," he answered reluctantly. Ruby gave the hunter a knowingly smug look. "So," Sam pressed. "Do you have any leads or not?" Before she could answer, Arlene returned with her diet coke. Ruby thanked the waitress and took a huge gulp. Sam stared at her expectantly.

She set the cup down and spoke. "There's a hit out on this girl, Anna Milton. The demons are trying to get their hands on her. She escaped from a mental hospital a few days ago. It's top priority, but the demons are being really hush-hush about it. Something about not drawing the angels' attention." She handed Sam a slip of paper with the hospital's address. "If you leave in the next hour you and Dean can be there before tomorrow."

Sam took out his smart phone to start looking up the hospital when he suddenly realized that he couldn't leave just yet. The knife. "There's a bit of a problem," he began tentatively.

Ruby sat back in the booth and folded her arms. "Oh for fuck's sake, what now?"

"We lost the knife." Ruby rolled her eyes. "But we know where it is, so we can get it back. It's with a vampire, a very old vampire."

Ruby laughed to herself knowingly. "Typical. Y'know, last I checked, we were at war. Do you know how many seals have been broken already? Lilith is going to win if you two don't get your heads out of your asses." Sam nodded. "There's too much at stake for all these fuck ups." Arlene returned with a plate full of French fries.

"Enjoy," she huffed as she walked away.

Ruby doused the fries in ketchup before immediately popping a couple in her mouth. "I don't know why you insist on using the damn thing, anyway," she looked up from her plate.

"You know damn well why I do," he retorted coldly. "I told you, Ruby, I don't like doing that."

"Sam, do us both a favor and stop lying to yourself. It's okay to admit it," she contested.

"No," he barked. He suddenly felt ashamed and exposed, as if somehow everyone in Merlotte's knew his dirty little secret. He looked around nervously, but was relieved to see that no one was paying them any attention. He turned his attention back to the demon. However, out of the corner of his eye, Sam could've sworn he saw the bar owner, Sam Merlotte, glaring in his direction.

Dean checked his watch before tossing his duffle bag into the backseat of the Impala. It wasn't like Sam to be late, especially when he knew they had to hit the road. He took out his phone and scrolled through his call log to Sam's number. Before he could hit send, an old mustang pulled into the motel parking lot and stopped a few yards away. Sam hopped out, and waved the driver off before approaching his brother.

"Where the hell have you been? I've been waiting for nearly an hour," Dean asserted, following his brother into their motel room. Sam began gathering his belongings hastily.

"I heard you left with Tara. I thought you two might've wanted some privacy," Sam replied without looking up from his duffle bag.

"Right," Dean mused sarcastically. "Well then who the hell was that?" he quizzed, motioning to the parking lot. Sam finally looked up from his bag and looked Dean in the eye.

"It was Ruby," he admitted without conviction. "She's got a lead. This girl, Anna Milton, she escaped from a mental hospital a couple days ago. For some reason, the demons have a bounty on her head. It seems pretty important. "

Dean scoffed before rubbing his chin. "Seriously?" He shook his head.

Sam let out an exasperated sigh. "What?" he asked with a shrug.

"I don't get it Sam, why do you trust her so much? What the hell happened while I was downstairs?" Dean probed.

"I don't know, Dean. How was hell? Don't spare the details." Sam knew that would shut him up. Dean had refused to talk about hell for weeks, and he showed no signs of opening up about it any time soon. "She wouldn't have brought it to me if it weren't legit. You were right about this job. It was a dead end. I'm just trying to make up for lost time here. The angels haven't been much help on the Lilith front. This could be about a seal, or anything but we won't know unless we check it out."

Dean looked at his brother skeptically, but didn't continue the argument. A lead from a demon was better than no lead at all. "Well, before we go we gotta make a stop in Shreveport," he sighed. "There's no way I'm lettin' that dead fruitcake keep my favorite gun."

The sun dipped under the horizon in the rearview mirror as Dean took the Shreveport exit off of I-20. The drive had been relatively quiet, aside from the Led Zeppelin cassette that roared through the Impala. When they'd finally arrived at the nightclub it was just before 9 pm.

"So what's the plan?" Sam asked as they slammed the doors and made their way to the trunk. Dean popped her open and tossed a stake at his younger brother. Sam looked down at the weapon and put it back in the trunk. As much as he wanted to stake the bastard, he knew they were no match for Eric. "I was thinking something a little more subtle."

Dean stood up straight with a silver chain in hand. "I don't do subtle," he replied gravely. Sam took the chain from his hands and placed it in the trunk.

"Hear me out," he insisted. "That vampire in there is old, the oldest one we've ever encountered. Now, I don't think he wants to kill us, but if you go in there armed he's not going to have a choice. We don't want a repeat of what happened last time."

Dean rolled his eyes. "So you're saying?"

Sam shrugged. "He took the knife and your gun for leverage obviously," he started.

"Wait, you want to make a deal with this psycho?" Dean asked incredulously.

"What? No, hell no. I'm just sayin', let's hear what he has to say before we go in guns blazin'." Dean took a moment to think over his brother's suggestion. To Sam's relief he took out his glock and tossed it in the trunk before slamming it shut.

"I'm not goin' in naked," Dean insisted, lifting his pant leg to reveal a silver blade strapped to his leg. Sam sighed, accepting that this was as close to a compromise as his brother was going to make. There was no line outside of the club, which Sam had expected this early on a weeknight. They went inside and Sam couldn't tell if he was relieved or reluctant about the place being relatively empty. The overhead lights were on, and aside from a bottle blonde human restocking the bar, there wasn't a soul in sight.

"Don't be nervous," she beamed when she noticed them standing by the door. "The vampires here are quite friendly," she insisted. "What can I get for you two?" she asked with a dopey smile.

Dean snapped his fingers and pointed at the woman knowingly. "You wouldn't happen to be Ginger would you?"

"Yeah," she answered as she busied herself with wiping down the bar. She looked up at him, puzzled. "I'm sorry have we met before?"

"We spoke on the phone the day before yesterday," Dean answered with a charming wink. Much to their dismay, she started shrieking and howling in terror.

Sam instantly tried to shush the woman but it was no use. The closer he moved towards her, the louder and more frantic her cries became. "We're not gonna hurt you," he insisted.

"Oh for fuck's sake Ginger, would you shut the fuck up." The blonde she-vamp appeared from behind a door. This time she was wearing an alarmingly pink velour tracksuit. She stood in the doorway with her hands on her hips, staring at the two hunters. "I didn't think it was possible, but you two look even more ridiculous than before. Like gay lumberjacks. Seriously? Flannel? In the summer?"

"Look who's talking," Dean quipped. The vampire raised an eyebrow. Sam couldn't tell if she was impressed or annoyed.

"Pamela," a Nordic voice boomed from behind her. "Please invite our guests into my office. I've been expecting them." A jolt of what Sam hoped was fear ran down his spine, generating a very uncomfortable heat in his loins. He hadn't given any real thought to how this would play out. If Dean found out that Eric had forced him to drink his blood he wouldn't know how his brother would react.

The brothers reluctantly walked into the office. It was surprisingly underwhelming. Cases of beer and shelves stocked with assorted liqueurs lined one wall while the rest were covered in tacky Fangtasia posters and beer ads. The vampire sheriff sat behind an ordinary metal desk, his shoulder length blonde hair encompassing a hardened pale face with eyes that were inexplicably lazy and fierce at the same time. Sam's pulse quickened at the sight of his sinewy arms and shoulders in his black tank top. He cursed his body for betraying him. Although his blood boiled in his veins he fixed the vampire with a hardened, cold glare. A smirk tugged at the corner of the vampire's mouth.

"Leave us," he ordered. The she vamp rolled her eyes lazily before leaving the office, closing the door behind her. He sat back in his chair and studied the pair of them for a moment. "Please, have a seat," he insisted.

"We prefer to stand," Dean answered for the both of them, an edge of anger in his voice.

He looked from one brother to the other, seemingly amused and rightly so. It didn't matter if they were standing; the sheriff was still the most dominant being in the room. He could rip them asunder in seconds. Despite their compromising position, Sam didn't feel at all threatened. "You have something that belongs to us," Sam asserted boldly.

"That I do." He didn't bother denying it. "I confiscated very dangerous weapons from two vigilantes. I'm bound by duty to ensure the safety of the law abiding vampires in Area 5," he explained casually.

"Stow the AVL party line," Sam retorted. "What do you want with us?"

He stared at Sam for a moment, steeling him with an icy glare, but Sam didn't falter. After a while the smirk returned, and Sam wondered if the vampire could really sense his anxiety, or was he simply amused at his attempt to intimidate him. "Sam and Dean Winchester," he mused almost to himself. "I wonder what the FBI would do if they ever found out about you two faking your deaths. Or what the AVL would think about your baby vamp killing spree last year. Or the nest you attacked the year before that or the one before that?"

Dean shrugged nonchalantly, "What can I say? We've been busy."

"Not as busy as I've been. You see I have friends in very high places. Friends that want nothing more than to see you two pay the for crimes you've committed against my kind."

"What to do you want with us?" Sam repeated firmly.

"Hunters can be useful for a vampire like me."

"We've got more pressing matters than to be at your beck and call, Fabio," Dean asserted.

The sheriff chuckled knowingly. "That's right. The apocalypse," he mused sarcastically. "How many times have humans said the world was going to end in the last thousand years? So several million of you die. It won't be the first time and it certainly won't be the last."

Sam's impatience was boiling over. "We're not talking about the bubonic plague or Pompeii. Satan will—"

Eric lifted a large hand to stop him. "Please, I try to stay away from politics and religion." He opened a drawer in his desk and took out the knife and Dean's pearl handled gun. "If you take these, then you're accepting my terms and conditions. You'll come when I call and you'll do what I ask of you. In return I won't report you to the AVL or the Authority." His gaze landed on Sam. "And remember, I see everything, I know everything and I will find you. There's no where you can hide." He slid them across the desk.

Dean clenched his jaw defiantly and glared at his brother who silently pleaded for him to comply with the vampire's wishes. Reluctantly, they took the weapons from the desk. "Ginger will escort you out," he smiled.

As the two exited the club and walked across the parking lot to the Impala, Dean stopped. "I swear to god, I'm gonna stake that fucker right in the face." Sam started to protest but Dean interrupted him. "No we're going to wait 'til dawn, and I'm going to drive a stake through his pretentious head."

"No you're not. If we kill a sheriff, the V-feds will be on us before we know it. We'll put up with this as long as we have to. Besides, he could've done a lot worse."

Dean looked at his brother incredulously. "So what you're defending him now?"

"No," Sam answered nervously. "I'm just being practical." Dean looked at him suspiciously for a moment and then continued towards the Impala.

"C'mon we can get to Kansas before tomorrow night if we hurry," he called behind him. "You should probably get some sleep on the way. You look like shit."

Sam took in a deep breath and exhaled slowly. Dean was right. He'd have to tolerate the dreams if it meant being sane enough to handle the Anna Milton case.