Ten

Sam's thighs burned in protest as he remained crouched, hidden behind a red Coupe. He tried to shift, allowing the weight of his body to be distributed more evenly through his tired legs, but instantly regretted it as a cramp seized his left calf and he tumbled backwards, landing on his butt. Cold moisture from the earlier rain began to instantly soak the seat of his jeans and he cursed at himself.

Sam pushed himself up and started brushing the dirt off his backside with his hands. The door to the bar opened and voices carried across the parking lot to him making him quickly duck behind the nearest car. He pulled out his Taurus nine millimeter, checking to make sure there was a bullet chambered and the safety was off, as the voices grew louder.

Sam peered over the back of the car and saw a man with his arm around a pretty red-head making their way through the parked cars. He recognized the guy from the night before; the spiky-haired blonde Reggie had used to try and distract Dean during their pool game. The girl's high pitched laughter carried to Sam as she giggled at what the man was whispering in her ear. Seconds later, they climbed into a flashy black BMW and sped out of the lot.

Sam relaxed against the side of the sedan he'd hidden behind and thumbed the gun's safety back on. He had just settled into a new spot to watch the bar's front door when he heard footsteps coming up from behind him. Sam spun and spotted Dean weaving through the lot.

"Sammy?" Dean called, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Over here," Sam called back and raised his hand to wave at his brother. Dean nodded and made his way over.

"Seen anything?" Dean asked when he finally reached Sam's side.

Sam shook his head. "No, nothing. You?"

"Well, the bartender from last night can't hold his liquor. Aside from that, nadda." He glanced at the bar entrance. "Do you think we should go inside and find Reggie?"

"Give her some more time. If we go in there, it's just going to piss Reggie off and make her think we don't trust her on her own."

"But we don't trust her on her own," Dean said.

Sam rolled his eyes. "You might not, Dean, but I do. You really need to give her more credit than you do. She knows what she's doing. She did save your ass last night after all." Dean glared at Sam before shoving him. Sam lost his balance and landed on his butt again. "Did I hit a nerve?" he laughed.

"Just shut it, Sam." The door of the bar opened and both men looked up. A petite blonde woman exited and headed off towards the street, humming to herself. "I'm going to go inside and see if I can find Reggie."

"I think we should wait a little longer."

"Okay, you wait here. I'm going inside," Dean stated and disappeared around the side of the car.

"Dean!" Sam hissed after him. His brother jogged across the lot, ignoring him, and strolled into the bar. "Dammit!" Sam rolled his eyes and stood up. "Reggie's going to kill us," he mumbled as he hurried across the lot to the bar.

It seemed to be more crowded than the night before, making it impossible for Sam to spot even Dean amongst all the people. He made his way to the bar, hoping to find at least one of them there. Sam stepped up and waved at the bartender. Tonight it was a short balding man who appeared to be in his late forties. He acknowledged Sam with a nod, finished filling two glasses of beer, and made his way over.

"What can I getcha?" the man asked, pulling a glass from under the counter and pouring a scotch for the brunette woman sitting next to Sam.

"I actually just wanted to ask if you remembered seeing a woman about five foot four with reddish brown hair in here tonight?"

"With piercing green eyes, wearing a dark blue shirt?"

"Yeah, that would be her. Do you know where she went?"

"Last time I saw her, she was making a B-line for the bathroom." The bartender pointed in the direction of the pool tables. "She was trying to get away from a guy who got a little handsy with her. Haven't seen her since, though."

Sam nodded, scanning the crowd again. "How about a guy a little shorter than me with short, dark blonde hair dressed in a brown leather jacket?"

"Nope, sorry. Doesn't sound familiar." The guy started to walk away and Sam held up his hand.

"One more?" Sam decided to try for three. "Did you maybe see a woman, blonde hair and bright blue eyes?"

"Son, that describes about half the ladies I seen in here tonight. You gotta be more specific."

"She was kind of busty?" Sam was struggling, trying to remember something more about the woman.

The bartender laughed. "If that's all you got, then I'm going to have to tell you no. Sorry. There are just too many woman in this bar that fit that vague description."

Sam nodded and shrugged. "Thanks anyway." He turned and began scanning the crowd again.

He spotted Dean a few seconds later, heading in the direction of the pool tables. Sam tried to push his way through, calling his brother's name, but Dean kept walking, obviously unable to hear Sam over the loud, pounding music. Sam continued to push his way through towards Dean's retreating back. He was only a few steps away when a large, black haired man stepped in front of Sam, blocking his path.

"Excuse me," Sam said, trying to step around him. The man ignored Sam as he continued to stand in his way. By the time Sam was able to force his way around the man, Dean was gone again. "Shit!" Sam snapped.

It appeared like Dean had been heading in the direction the bartender had pointed out to Sam as the way to the bathrooms so Sam decided he would keep going in that direction and hope to find Dean on the way. When Sam finally made it over to the bathrooms, he found himself at the end of a very long line.

"What's going on?" he asked the woman ahead of him.

"I heard someone say that the ladies room's been vandalized. So I guess now we all have to use the men's bathroom," she responded.

Sam nodded absently at her and started walking up the line. A few people cried out, thinking he was cutting, but Sam ignored them.

A sick feeling crept into Sam's stomach as he got closer to the front of the line. The woman's bathroom door stood open and glass from the broken mirrored wall lay everywhere. Sam noticed a few spots of blood, not enough to indicate a serious injury, on the white tile floor.

A man with white hair, wearing tan pants and a light blue, collared shirt, stood just inside the bathroom. He was talking to a stocky man in green coveralls in hushed tones, anger making his pale face bright red.

"What do you mean you called the cops, Carlos?" the white haired man snapped as Sam stepped into the bathroom. Both men looked up at his entrance and the one in the coveralls, Carlos, stepped forward, ushering Sam back out.

"Excuse me, sir, but you can't come in here."

"It's okay, I'm a detective," Sam said, pulling out his wallet and flashing one of the badges he and Dean had forged to match the alias' Reggie had given them the day before. "What happened in here?" Sam bent down to take a closer look at the drops of blood on the floor.

"Not really sure. A patron found the room like this about ten minutes ago," the white haired man said, rubbing his temples as if to ward off a headache.

"I'd like to talk to her for a minute. Do you know where she is?"

"I have her waiting in my office," the white haired man said and motioned for Sam to follow him. "I'm Bart by the way, Bart Madison. This is my bar." They reached Bart's office and the man held the door open for Sam. Sam looked around and turned back to Bart. The room stood empty.

"I thought you said...?"

"I left her in here, I swear I did," Bart cried. "Where the hell did she go?" Bart began searching the office as if the woman had simply decided to hide behind the filing cabinets or bookshelves.

The sick feeling began to grow. "Do you remember exactly what she said to you?" Sam asked.

"She said she found the bathroom all messed up," Bart snapped, pushing aside the small office chair to look under the desk. "I don't really remember her exact words since I was more concerned about the damage to my bar."

"What about what she looked like? Do you remember that?"

"Blonde, pretty. I think she had on a pink dress." Bart dropped into the chair and put his head in his hands. "It's gonna cost me a fortune to fix that mirror," he whined.

Sam quickly realized the man wasn't going to give him anything more and decided he needed to get back to the bathroom. "Thank you, Mr. Madison," he said and slipped out of the office.

Sam made his way back through the bar to the bathrooms. The heavy metal door was closed now, blocking off curious bystanders, and Carlos had apparently found some tape to cross off the doorway to stop people from going inside. Sam pushed open the door, ducking under the tape. The man had also attempted to sweep up, but there was still a lot of glass scattered around the room.

It was apparent there had been quite a commotion and Sam wondered why no one had heard it. He stopped in the middle of the room and listened, quickly realizing why. He could barely hear the busy bar once the door was closed.

"What the hell happened in here," he muttered to himself. A sinking feeling told him he already knew the answer and that he needed to find Dean, soon.

Sam opened the bathroom door and was just ducking back under the tape when a red smear caught his eye. He bent down and dabbed his finger in it. Right away he recognized that it was more blood and saw that a trail led off towards the back of the bar. Sam followed it all the way to the rear exit and pushed open the door, stepping out onto steel steps in a dark alley. He walked down the steps, his heavy footfalls echoing ominously.

Sam pulled out his penlight and began walking down the alleyway towards the street, stepping over sodden cardboard boxes and trash. As he made his way past a dirty green dumpster halfway down the alley, his foot hit something hard on the ground. He bent down, shining his light on the object. Sam's stomach dropped as he recognized Dean's Colt lying on the ground before him. He picked it up, staring at it as if it were an alien being, then looked around.

The alley was completely quiet, completely deserted. Sam shone the light up and down the alley and his light caught something else, something shiny, a few feet away. He hurried down to the glittering object and picked it up, the Impala's keys cold and wet from the puddle they had fallen into.

"Dean?" Sam yelled, spinning on the spot. He ran to the end of the alley, his chest constricting painfully, and out onto the street beside the bar. "Dean?" Sam yelled again, his voice choked with panic. Sam already knew his brother wasn't going to answer.


Dean knew he needed to open his eyes, knew there was a reason why he should want to open them, but he couldn't figure out what that reason was. His head hurt and his mouth was dry, making him feel like he was hung over all over again. He knew he hadn't had anything stronger than a Coke to drink since Reggie had given him that little bit of whiskey earlier that morning.

Her name seemed to jog something in Dean's memory. A vague recollection of shapes and sounds. Dean slowly opened his eyes and found himself in a large room. It was bare except for a metal table about five feet away from him and what appeared to be shackles bolted into the wall opposite that.

Dean tried to push himself up off the floor and found that he couldn't. He turned his head, his vision going hazy for a moment, and saw that there were shackles around his wrists that chained him to the wall.

"Hello?" Dean tried to call out, his voice hoarse and broken. He winced as the effort made his head pound. As if it were a dream, Dean remembered being hit on the head by something cold and hard. Details began to trickle forward into his consciousness and suddenly Dean remembered everything.

He'd entered the bar looking for Reggie and had overheard two patrons talking about a mess in the women's bathroom. Immediately, Dean had headed in that direction, a nagging feeling in the pit of his stomach. What he found in the bathroom had turned that nagging into full fledge dread.

The women's bathroom had been trashed, the mirrored wall above the sinks shattered, a stall door dented and broken off its hinges. Dean had spotted a light trail of blood on the floor and had followed it to the door leading into the alley behind the bar; the very alley he had been in not that long ago. Just as he was walking down the steps, a silver Mercedes pulled up at the end of the alleyway and Dean saw a woman get out from behind the wheel.

As he started forward, suspicious of the car and its driver, Dean saw another figure step out from the darkness. He could tell it was a woman by her build and that she was carrying something. Dean had only taken a few more steps when he realized what the woman was actually holding; Reggie lay unconscious in her arms.

Dean yelled at them and started running down the alley, pulling out his gun. He wanted to shoot at the woman, but was afraid he might hit Reggie by accident. The one carrying Reggie continued towards the car, ignoring Dean, as the driver stepped forward to block his path.

Dean aimed his gun and was just about to press the trigger when he was hit with such force that the gun flew out of his hand. He slammed into the stone wall and hit the cold ground on all fours. Dean looked up just as the driver, the pretty blonde he and Sam had watched walk out of the bar earlier, bent down and punched him in the jaw. He saw stars before the blackness of unconsciousness overtook him.

Now that Dean remembered what had happened, he had an idea of where he might be. He glanced around and saw the door across from him open. A tall, slender woman with white blonde hair and pale skin entered the room and strolled toward him.

"I'm glad you're awake. I was worried Elisa had hit you too hard," she said, her voice soft and melodious.

"Why would that matter?" Dean asked. "I'd have thought you'd consider it tenderizing."

"We prefer our meals to be awake. At least, as long as we can keep them that way. It helps with the experience, the smell of your human fear. Adds to the flavor."

She bent down and stroked his cheek with one long, thin finger. Her skin was ice cold against Dean's and he shuddered involuntarily. The woman smiled, her red eyes flashing at him.

"I was surprised to hear you were taken so easily, Dean. After all I've heard about you Winchesters, I thought you would have been more of a challenge."

Dean stared at her, shocked. "I don't think that's very fair," Dean stated, thinking fast and trying to cover the jolt of fear her knowledge of his identity gave him

"What's that?" she asked. She continued to touch him, tracing her finger along his jaw.

"You know my name, but I don't know yours." Dean tried to pull his head away from the woman. "You freaks do have names, don't you?"

She smiled down at him and patted his face. "I've been going by Cassandra Levy for the last fifty years or so. But I've had so many names, lived so many lives."

Dean snorted and shook his head. "I would have gone with lived so many lies and eaten so many lives, but, hey, whatever works for you." He smirked up at the woman, watching as the smile faltered on her face.

"You have a smart mouth on you. Didn't your father ever teach you to mind your elders?" The smile returned when she saw Dean flinch at her words. "Yes, as I said, I have heard a lot about you and your family. About your father's quest for vengeance and his sacrifice for you. About Sam and his…gifts. About how you came back from hell and what you did while you were down there."

Cassandra ran the finger of her left hand down Dean's chest. He could feel her frigid touch through his dark gray t-shirt.

"When I realized there was a hunter in town, I started doing my own research. Trying to figure out just who it was that was here to hunt my family. But then you and Sam showed up, too. It intrigued me, the stories attached to the Winchester name."

She bent lower, her face only inches from Dean. Her breath was cold and smelled of rot, making Dean gag. He tried to pull away from her, but she grabbed a handful of his hair in her hand and held his face still. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath through her nose.

"You really have no idea what you've gotten yourself into, do you?" she asked, her eyes flashing open.

It was then that Dean saw her true form and it made him cringe. Her skin was old, bluish-gray, and stretched. Thin pink lips pulled back to reveal sharp pearly white teeth as the creature before him smiled.

"You are one ugly…"

She hit Dean across the face, cutting him off mid-sentence. He could taste blood in his mouth from the blow. Dean turned to face her, smirking.

"What'd I say?"

Cassandra glared at Dean, her long, thin fingers clenched into fists, her gray chest heaving in anger. Then she relaxed and the façade returned. Dean could only see the pretty blonde woman who had entered the room. She raised her finger and waved it at him.

"Tsk-tsk. That was very naughty, Dean."

The door opened again and Dean peered around Cassandra. The two woman from the alleyway strolled into the room wearing identical grins as they took in the sight before them. Cassandra nodded at them and turned back to Dean.

"Your friend has presented us with a rather unique problem."

"Really?"

"Yes, if you remember, I said that your fear adds a distinctive taste. A taste we are quite fond of. Now, I'm not sure if she's brave, stupid, or just plain crazy, but she just won't cooperate."

"Gee, I'm sorry about that. Maybe you should let me talk to her," Dean replied snidely.

"Oh, I intend to. See, you're going to be part of a little experiment."

Cassandra stood up and snapped her fingers. The two women waiting by the door darted over, moving so fast Dean barely caught the movement with his eyes. They gripped his head and blew a fine dust into his face. The last thing Dean saw was one of the women, dressed in a green top over tight, black pants unfastening his hands, her long pointed nails moving delicately over his wrists.


Sam floored the gas pedal of the Impala, the speedometer needle inching towards ninety. He was racing down the dark highway, heading back to the motel. He needed to call Bobby, find out if the hunter had found anything more about the creatures that had taken Reggie and Dean.

Sam shuddered as he thought about what they could be going through at that very moment. He pulled into the motel parking lot and bolted from the car, slipping once in the muddy lot as he raced to his room. Sam yanked the key out of his pocket and stepped inside the room, flipping on the lights as he grabbed the phone off the nightstand. He dialed and waited, holding his breath. Bobby answered on the third ring. "Hel-lo?"

"Bobby, it's Sam. We've got a problem."