7 - Hit The Ground

It wasn't far, but still Fifth Avenue felt farther away than it should have. Dean even blew through a red light because the intersection was empty, and seriously, fuck it. If he got caught on camera he'd pay the ticket.

The bridge was actually a small, low one made by the overpass, but save for the passing glow of headlights, there was zero illumination. It was a perfect sinkhole of darkness. Did the city purposely design great little murder areas? Was there a vampire on the original city zoning commission?

As he pulled over to the side of the road, the headlights flashed on a person, and for a moment, their eyes seemed to turn a yellowish gold. "Oh, fucking vampires," Lyla said.

Their eyes could do that? New one on Dean. "Okay. Ramon, you can sit this one out."

"No fucking way."

He tried, right? "Fine, I'll give you a machete."

"Uh, what?"

"Don't need one," Lyla said, getting out of the car and heading towards the darkness.

He and Sam got machetes out of the trunk, and got an extra for Ramon, who was standing there looking nervous. When Dean handed him the weapon, he looked at it with obvious dread. "Whoa, this is heavier than I thought."

"You don't have to do this."

"I want to do this." He paused briefly. "What are we doing?"

"Gotta chop the heads off."

His eyes widened dramatically. "Uh ... oh. Isn't that zombies?"

"It's vampires too. Actually, very few things survive without a head."

"Oh, yeah. That makes sense."

Should he tell him about Leviathans? Nah. Best to get all of this info as necessary. Dean started walking towards the fitfully illuminated darkness, and said, "Stay behind me. Don't get bit."

"Yeah, once was really enough for me," Ramon admitted.

Underpasses like this were a natural gathering place for the homeless seeking some remnant of shelter, and because of that, they were often fenced off or patrolled heavily, in one of those common acts of civic cruelty. The chain link fence that supposedly blocked the homeless from access was torn down, and even before his eyes adjusted, it was clear there were several different fights going on, between a handful of vampires, and a handful of homeless people. Shit. He was going to have to confirm vampire before he swung on anyone.

Dean had never wondered too much about monster on monster fights - although some would be undoubtedly fun to watch, as long as your life wasn't immediately in danger - but just as he wondered how a vampire on shapeshifter fight would go, Lyla walked up to a vampire at least a foot taller than her, punched him in the face, and sent him flying back into a concrete pillar so hard, he swore he felt the tremble of it through the ground. Okay. Shapeshifter could absolutely handle vampire. Would a vampire bite a shapeshifter? Could they drink their blood, or was there something about it vamps didn't like? He had to remember to ask Lyla about that later, although would she tell him? She seemed to have a stick up her ass about him, which was pretty rich considering the first thing that really got him on police radar was the shapeshifter impersonating him. Until then, all he had was a handful of misdemeanors. Maybe it was simply a state of mutual contempt.

A dark figure launched itself at Dean, and he caught it by the throat. The male vampire hissed at him, showing teeth, and Dean released him only to shove him backwards. Only a few steps, as the vampire quickly recovered, but he expected that. Dean had only wanted to get him on the back foot so he could get a good swing. As he lunged anew, Dean brought the machete around in a level arc, and lopped off his head in a smooth, hard motion. His head hit the ground before his body did. It was weirdly satisfying.

He moved deeper into the shadows and concrete, and discovered a scrum between a vampire and victim on the ground. Dean simply chopped through the vampire's neck before he was even aware someone else was there, and kicked the body off the victim. As it turned out, it was Sarge.

"That crazy fucker was biting me," he said. He seemed more amazed than anything.

Dean gave him a hand up, and surreptitiously checked him out. Bite wound on the neck, but it wasn't too bad, nor was it bleeding excessively. He'd be okay. "They're vampires."

"Are they?" He looked around, and Dean wondered if he could see better than he could. Just when his night vision would set itself, a car would drive by, and its brights would white it out again. Oh, also? There was a minor bloody riot going on, and people were driving by like nothing was happening. In a way it was good, because no more civilians were putting themselves in danger, but on the other hand, it seemed remarkably callous. Dean wasn't sure there was a response here that would make him happy. "Am I gonna turn into one now?"

"It make you drink some of its blood?"

"Ick. No."

"You're fine."

Another figure came plunging out of the dark, something with big fangs, and Dean happily chopped its head half right down the middle. No, it wasn't exactly a decapitation, but it was a killer blow all the same. Sarge watched this clinically, as if he was at a show. Dean was relatively sure he was drunk, but he was a career drinker, so it wasn't obvious. Dean had times like that too. "So does a stake through the heart kill them or what?"

"Take the head." He gave Sarge a friendly pat on the shoulder, and said, "You might wanna hang back. My brother and I have been doing this a long time."

"That guy's your brother?" Sarge repeated. "Wow. You guys don't look alike at all."

Dean shrugged. No reason to get into the messy family tree right now, although honestly he thought he kind of saw it in the eyes.

He went further into the dark shadows and echoing concrete, as the low ceiling and angled walls made sounds carry in curious ways. He braced for attack when he heard footsteps, but they were actually much farther behind him. A car with a booming stereo drove by, making everything worse.

In a slashing arc of headlights, he quickly saw that Sam was doing fine, chopping his way through another vampire, and Lyla seemed to be taking some savage enjoyment from punching around vamps like they were ninety eight pound weaklings on the beach. Since none had attempted to bite her, Dean decided he was just going to guess that shapeshifter blood was icky. It would make sense, right? Or maybe he was just prejudiced.

One vampire attacked him while another swooped in a two pronged attack, but Ramon jumped in and slashed the one attempting to flank. He got maybe half the head off, he didn't slice through, but since Ramon cut him in the back, the vampire's head was now flopped over at a weird angle. It was as useless as the headless corpse in Reanimator, and Dean would have laughed, except he was still fighting the first vampire. He managed to kick it back and hack its head off as a homeless woman pushed the floppy headed vampire right into traffic, where he was instantly nailed by a huge SUV. It was a thump, squelch, and crack, noises so violent and disturbing Dean couldn't help but wince. Technically, that wouldn't kill a vamp, but how long would it take to heal from that? Weeks, maybe a month or more. And that was before you counted in the partial beheading. Yikes. He was in for a bad spring.

Dean pushed deeper into the dark, and eventually came out onto the other side. Had they really cleared out the vamps? Their number had been impossible to judge in the dark, and it was conceivable a couple fled when they realized how badly this fight was going. They had probably assumed this would be an easy midnight snack.

Halfway back to the car, he reunited with Sam and Ramon, who looked fine. Ramon was shaking his right hand, and said, "I didn't realize how hard it is to cut someone's head off. Oh God, I can't believe I said that sentence."

"It's all in the follow through," Dean told him. "You're trying to hit a home run, not bunt for first."

"I'll take your word on that, Mr. Butch," Ramon replied. In the temporary slice of headlights scudding by, he thought he saw Sam laughing at that. Jackass.

When they returned to the car, Lyla was there, with one of the vamps bent over the hood. She had him in an arm lock, and he didn't look happy. "Who are you fucking working for?" she demanded.

"No one," the vampire said. He looked like one of those yuppie types Sarge disdained, only slumming it in jeans and t-shirt advertising a strip club. Lyla jerked his arm further up his back, and he made a noise of pain. "Let me go you fucking skinstealer!"

Oh - vampires had a different name for shapeshifters? Nice. Dean put his hands on the hood and got eye level with the vamp. He was in a lot of pain. "Do you wanna live? 'Cause the only way you're not joining your friends on a rocket ride to purgatory tonight is if you tell us who sent you out here. Otherwise, you're useless to us, and as far as I'm concerned, our shapeshifter friend can have all the fun with you she wants."

Dean heard a snap of bone, and the vampire howled. "You're running out of time, asshole," Lyla said.

"Skin shedding bitch! Fine! I don't know who hired us, we got money from a middleman."

"Name," Sam said.

"I dunno! It was something stupid, like Victor or Vincent."

"Where'd you meet him?" Lyla asked.

"The back room of Hanrahan's."

"And what exactly were you hired to do?" Dean asked.

"Clear out all the vagrants between here and Tenth."

Dean didn't even want to think how many people that must have included. Probably a shocking amount, more than he could ever know. "Why?"

The vampire met his eyes, and somehow managed to scoff. "Who the fuck cares why?"

Dean pushed himself away from the car and walked off. Lyla could do what she wanted with him. The vampire must have realized that was what was going on, as he called after him, sounding panicked. "Hey, wait!"

What followed was a deep, sickening crunch. Quieter than the vamp getting turned to pate by the SUV, but somehow far worse. When Dean turned around and went back, it was only to see that Ramon looked a second away from vomiting. "Did you really have to do that right in front of us?" Sam asked.

"Still cleaner than beheading him," Lyla said. She was reaching down to something on the ground, and Dean assumed it was the corpse of the vampire. The hood wasn't scuffed, but there was some blood on it that hadn't been there before. At least he knew from experience that washed off pretty well. She came up with a phone, and a wallet that she tossed at Sam. "Don't know if there's any information in there, but might as well check. Now let's get out of here before the cops show up."

"If they show up," Ramon said. He still looked pale, but must have managed to ride out his nausea. The only thing Dean could imagine happened was Lyla completely crushing the vamp's skull, or maybe breaking his neck so thoroughly she severed it from the spine. Kinda gross? But she was right, not really worse than beheading.

Sam dutifully looked in the wallet, and pulled out the vampire's cards, because of course he had a credit card. Dean wondered if the driver's license dated back to when he was human, or if a vampire actually bothered to wait at the DMV one day. It felt like there could be a sitcom idea in that. "Any cash?" Dean asked.

Sam looked, and pulled it out. "Few twenties, I think. Why?"

Dean plucked it out of his hand, and walked over to where Sarge was, standing by the broken fence. "Think they're gone for the night?" he asked.

"For now." He gave him the cash. "Stay together, keep everybody safe, call us if things get weird."

"I'll do my best," he said. "Good luck fighting monsters."

"Thanks. We always need it."

Sarge gave him a small salute, and Dean returned it before going back to the car. When he got in and started it, he was belatedly aware there was a very tense silence. He wondered what, out of the million possible things, it could be.

They'd been back on the road for about thirty seconds when Sam finally broke it. "So, are you going to tell us the story of how you got so strong, or are we supposed to guess?"

Lyla made a noise of disgust, and he caught her crossing her arms over her chest in the rearview. "Do you know how much energy it takes to shift?"

"Can't say I do," Sam replied, giving her his bitchiest look.

"Well, as it turns out, if you don't shift for years, it kind of ... builds up."

"Is that what you're going with?" Dean wondered. It sounded super fake. Did he know for a sure it was a lie? No. It just seemed weird.

"Wait," Ramon said. "She's a monster?" He shoved himself over on the seat until he was right up against the door.

She scowled at him. "If I was really a monster, you'd already be dead."

"She's a shapeshifter, but supposedly she hasn't done that for years," Sam said.

Ramon looked at her with a new kind of fascination. "Like Mystique?"

Dean scoffed. "Oh, I wish. Nah, shapeshifters are killers who look like us, but aren't."

"I am not a killer." Absolutely everyone in the car stared at her, including Dean in the rearview. After a moment, she added, "Vampires don't count."

"You're still sticking with the story that blue balls makes you The Hulk?" Dean asked, mostly just curious.

"Do you relate everything to your dick?" she snapped.

Dean didn't think he did, but it was a bit of a conundrum, as it still felt like a fair cop. While he pondered it, Sam jumped in to get them back on track. "Okay, let's back burner this for now. I take it Hanrahan's a bar."

Lyla didn't look any happier, but her posture relaxed a bit. "Yeah. A really sleazy one. Not surprised vamps hang around there."

"I'm wondering how we can get an invite to the back room."

"Maybe there's something on his phone, but it's locked," she said, reaching into her pocket and pulling it out.

"Have you tried blood as the code?" Sam wondered.

"What? No. Even they're not stupid enough to be so obvious."

"Try blood," Sam insisted.

She sighed heavily, and punched it in to humor him. In a second, she exclaimed, "You've gotta be fucking kidding me."

Sam shrugged. "It was either that or password."

She studied the phone, its illumination like a spotlight in the otherwise dark car, and said, "Hmm, maybe there's a way." Her fingers went to town typing something on the tiny keypad, in that fast way that everybody seemed to have down nowadays. Dean hated to think he was slow and clumsy, but he was getting better.

"A way to what?" Sam asked, looking back at her.

"There's a text here, about good old Tony texting someone named Matt and thanking him for the easy money." Tony had been the name of the vampire she squished. Dean wasn't sure why, but Tony seemed like an odd name for a vamp. "I just texted him saying he had friends coming in from Portland who wanted in on the action. Let's see if he responds."

Worth a shot. There was no telling how fast tonight's massacre would get around. Maybe there was a margin for error, a time period when it was possible Tony sent the text. Even if not, they'd only be walking into a trap, which they'd done so many times he and Sam found them kind of boring. You could only be Admiral Ackbar'd so many times before it lost all meaning.

As soon as Dean finished parking in the same slot in front of Tia's house, there was a weird musical sting. Lyla checked Tony's phone. "Send them on. Usual place, eleven PM, have them hit up Liam and say Ferdinand."

"It's that easy?" Ramon replied.

"Could be a trap," Sam said. "So be ready for that."

"Always am," Lyla said.

"I -" Ramon began.

"No," Dean interrupted. "Sit this one out."

He frowned at him. "Why are you always trying to sideline me?"

"Because you're a kid who deserves a hell of a lot better than dying by the hands of a psychopathic monster at a bar," Dean told him. "We have no idea what we're facing, and we can't prepare ourselves for that, not to mention you. If you wanna be there when we go after the main boss, fine, we'll see what we can do. Just sit this one out, leave it to the pros who are used to getting our asses kicked."

"Speak for yourself," Lyla said.

Dean ignored her, and turned back to look at Ramon. "Seriously. Let us sort this shit out, and we'll bring you back for the third act. Cool?"

Ramon glared at him for a full thirty seconds of stony silence. Dean waited it out, because Claire had trained him to weather many disdainful teen looks. Hell, if it was a job, he could probably make good bucks at it. "What guarantee do I have you're letting me back in?"

"Have I let you down before? Trust me."

"Famous last words," Lyla muttered. Dean was still deliberately ignoring her.

Another few seconds of silence, and Ramon rolled his eyes. "Fine. I'm holding you to it."

"As I expect."

Ramon got out the car, but before he closed the door, Dean added, "But if you show up at the bar tomorrow, I'm telling Tia everything."

He looked instantly stricken. "You wouldn't."

"Try me."

Dean heard Ramon sigh dramatically as he shut the door and stomped off towards the house.

"We've created a monster," Sam said.

"You know, we can just knock him out and throw him in the trunk," Lyla said.

"Plan B," Dean replied. He didn't bother to tell her that was his plan B for almost everything.

It was good to have back up plans. You never knew when you were going to need them.