I've decided that rather than being all shame-faced about my slow updating, I'm going to start blaming other people. This chapter's scapegoat is Zatnikatel, whose A Killing Moon has kept me enthralled (her newest chapter was one of the scariest/sexiest SPN chapters I've ever read). Also- the Zep song mentioned here has nothing to do with the episode of the same name, it is used simply because it is my all-time favorite Zep tune. Thirdly, I have no beta, so all mistakes are mine alone. And finally, I own nothing. NOTHING. But please don't let that stop you from reviewing. :p


Ruby hoisted herself into the backseat of the Chevelle, bumping Bobby's shoulder with her ass. He gave a low grumble, which Sam thought sounded distinctly like rassum frassum, but the grizzled older man didn't turn around.

After a wilting look at Bobby, Ruby turned to Sam and rubbed her palm across his forearm. "He's too strong, Sam," she murmured against his ear, clearly trying to keep Bobby from hearing. "You can't beat him. Not without help." A hot wave rolled through Sam's stomach and his mouth suddenly started to water. "You've never faced anything like him before." Ruby slipped a flask into Sam's palm, closing her fingers around his. "It's the only way." Her eyes flicked forward as she glared suspiciously at Bobby.

Sam glanced at Bobby in the rearview mirror. If Sam had been watching closely, he would have seen the older man's shoulders tense and a muscle in his jaw jump, but Bobby didn't look in the rearview. He drove with his eyes on the road, as if looking ahead meant that nothing untoward, nothing all-fired-unnatural was about to happen in the backseat. Still, Sam turned away, trying to block Bobby's view with his shoulders as he tipped the flask to his lips. The blood, still thick and warm, swirled over his teeth and tongue, its metallic salty tang sparking his taste buds. The hair on the back of his neck prickled and he felt a tiny, delicious shiver. A surge like a flush of sex and adrenaline rushed through his stomach and he closed his eyes, falling into the feeling almost against his own will. It was all he could do not to moan.

"How do we find him once we get into town?" Ruby leaned forward into the front seat, clearly trying to distract Bobby's attention.

"My guess is that he's not even hidin'. He likes toyin' with us, and it's more fun if he can do it face to face. He likes to see the fear in people's eyes. 'Sides, he knows Sam would never really leave Dean behind." Bobby ground his teeth, pushing back a curse. "Still think this is a bad idea."

"Unless you've got a better one, this is all we've got." Sam wiped the back of his hand over his mouth, trying to capture any stray drops of blood that might have eluded him. He handed the empty flask back to Ruby, savoring the tingle he felt as his hand brushed hers, the glow of shared energy, the slow and steady throb of pleasure in his veins.

Bobby guided the car into town, his eyes darting from side to side as if he expected Dean to pop out of the trees like a spring-heel jack and maul them all. The streets were deserted, strange for the middle of the day, and Bobby wouldn't have been surprised to see a tumbleweed go lazing by.

"Bobby, there," Ruby barked, pointing off to the side. The Impala was parked out in front of a run-down dive bar. On the sidewalk lay a body, sprawled with the awkwardness that only the dead can achieve. Blood spread around it, congealing and clotting in the midday sun.

Sam barely waited for Bobby to stop the car before he was out, sprinting toward the bar. He vaulted the body, not even registering its presence until his foot slipped in the slick of blood, and he dashed up to the front door. Sam could hear a low bass rumble and a wailing harmonica from inside the bar. When the Levee Breaks. He had no doubt now that his brother was inside, and the music drew him in like a foreboding siren song. He snatched his pistol from his waistband, sprinted up to the door and smashed it open, nearly putting his fist through the flimsy wood.

The bar was dimly lit, with the light of the sun almost completely filtered out by the film of cigarette smoke that soiled the dingy windows. A still form was crumpled in the fetal position next to the door, a pool of blood spreading around his head like a dark halo. Another body was slumped in a booth by the window, brain matter spattering the wall beside him.

A jukebox in the corner was blaring at top volume, the bass line thrumming in Sam's chest. The bartender, a young man who could only be described as unfortunate looking, stood white-faced behind the bar. Weak-chinned and watery-eyed, his face had the doughy softness of a boy who hadn't quite lost all his baby fat. He was trembling. Sam's eyes narrowed. "Why are you still here?" he hissed, his gaze darting around the bar. "Where is he?"

"He…he won't let me leave," the bartender stammered, his voice quivering with fear and barely-contained tears. "He sa…said he ain't makin' his own fuckin' drinks and if I keep 'em comin' he won't kill me." A tear finally escaped and tracked down his chubby cheek, settling in a deep dimple at the corner of his mouth.

"Where is he?" Sam repeated, and the bartender raised a shaking hand to point toward a door at the back of the bar.

"They're in…in the pool pit…"

"They?"

"He's got Zak…" Another tear rolled down the bartender's face and he made a choking, blubbering noise in the back of his throat. Sam lifted his finger to his mouth, shhhing the young man, and moved toward the back of the room.

Ruby glanced back at Bobby, who was bringing up the rear, sweeping the room with his shotgun. "Get Tubby out of here," she ordered quietly. Bobby snarled noiselessly at her, his lip curling with disgust, but he reached across the bar and grabbed the bartender by the bicep, leading him to the door and giving him a shove out into the street.

Sam stopped by the closed door and waited for Ruby and Bobby to join him. His heart was pounding, sending adrenaline singing through his veins along with the euphoric high of Ruby's blood. All his senses were pinging…he could hear the birds outside above the howl of Jimmy Page's guitar, he could smell Bobby's sweat over the stink of spilled beer, he could taste the copper scent of blood in the air, and damn if it wouldn't be the best feeling in the world if he weren't on his way to maybe kill his own brother.

He felt Ruby and Bobby step up behind him, felt Ruby's energy even stronger in his blood now that she was closer to him, pressed against his back, her breath hot on his shoulder blade. He lifted his hand, counting backward from three on his fingers, then wrenched open the door quick as a flash, ducking backward to allow Ruby and Sam to cover the room with their weapons.

Only it wasn't a room. There was only a rickety staircase, twisting away down into the dark. Bobby couldn't suppress a grumble of frustration. "Pool pit, my ass. More like pool dungeon."

Sam didn't answer, just lifted his pistol and started down the steps. Ruby followed close behind, with Bobby bringing up the rear, stepping backward down the stairs while covering the open door above them with his sawed-off. Up in the bar, the Zeppelin song ended and the jukebox clicked once, then the creepy opening riffs of I Put A Spell On You by CCR drifted down the steps behind them.

As he neared the bottom of the stairs, Sam could make out another door, light outlining the edges from behind. He glanced back at the others, making sure that they sensed his intention, and then leapt from the third step, hitting the door square with his boot and sending it flying completely off its hinges.

The room was small and packed with pool tables, with wobbly round bar tables lining the perimeter of the walls. Dean was lounging at one of the bar tables, his arm looped around the waist of a terrified-looking young woman who was sitting stock-still on his lap. As Sam burst into the room, Dean looked him up and down once, a small smirk tugging at his mouth.

"Well lookie, lookie. Hey, little brother."