"Saints and Sinners." Dean Winchester snorted as he read the flickering neon sign above the entrance to a small crappy bar, his small strapped duffel bag containing ten or so sharpened spikes hooked over one shoulder.
First, I'll deal with the sinners, he decided, then see how many times I can get a saint to scream out "Oh, God" in one night.
The bar was dark and crowded and from all the black leather, club patches, beer guts and facial hair the sinners outnumbered the saints by about ten to one. But he wasn't looking for a big bad biker. He was looking for a sinner of a different caliber, a vampire he believed to be the source of the small nest he had decimated just hours before.
To a one they had all described a tall man with long blond hair and piercing blue eyes as the one who had made them...just before he unmade them with sharpened spikes of cherry wood, a hard wood that could withstand a lot of abuse and smelled good as it turned vampires into disgusting, stinking corpses.
Pushing through the crowd gathered around the bandstand Dean made his way to a booth and sat down. In moments a woman dressed in a black tank top and faded jeans came over to his table. She leaned over to wipe it down, her tumble of long, black hair hiding her face.
Pushing the heavy mass to one side she looked at him appreciatively, "What'll it be, angel cakes?"
"I'll have a Jack and a beer back, sweetheart," he told her with a smile. The waitress was an absolute stunner and when she smiled back at him and winked, a very good sign, he knew that before her shift was done she would be his "saint" and as he watched her walk back to the bar he said a quick thank you to the patron of incredibly firm butts, St. Pilates. But the signs quickly turned ominous when, as he continued to watch her, she handed off her tray to one of the other waitresses and tossed her apron on the bar. She then headed into the kitchen.
Leaning against one of the cars parked behind the bar the waitress lit up a cigarette and took a deep drag. As she exhaled a plume of blue gray smoke someone said, "You know, smoking is hazardous to your health." The deep, sensuous voice floated out of the darkness and the woman pursed her lips in irritation. Like assholes, everybody had an opinion on smoking but why this jackass insisted on interrupting her break to express it was beyond her.
"Who wants to live forever, dickhead?" she replied hostilely and, before she could take another drag, she was roughly knocked to the ground. Someone sat heavily on top of her and sucked so hard on her neck that she knew, come morning, she would have the mother of all hickeys.
Breaking his kiss of death he of the disembodied voice replied, "I do. I want to live forever," and the tall blond haired man with piercing blue eyes who'd drained her to the point of death ripped open his wrist and placed it to her mouth.
Moments later Dean Winchester came out into the alleyway and stopped dead in his tracks. He watched as the hunched figure threw back his head, long hair spilling down his broad back, and growled with pleasure and pain as the waitress took what he offered, eternal life for her and the continuation of a long and noble line for him.
The blond growled again as the girl continued to feed from him and, lost in the ritual as old as time, the vampire Dean had been hunting didn't hear him coming up behind him. For a split second he did smell the pungent odor of cherry wood and, although he had preternatural speed and strength, the vampire had just created a neophyte and his powers were sorely depleted and no match for the hunter or the stake he plunged into his back so hard that it shattered bone and ripped through sinew to pierce his heart before the tip exited out his chest.
As the vampire toppled slowly over the waitress looked up at Dean. Her eyes shown with what he could have easily mistaken for gratitude but he knew better. "I'm sorry," he said as he pulled a second spike from his bag.
Rico Suave wanted to drill her next, and not in the good way, the waitress realized and she vowed she would not go gentle into that good night. Having learned a thing or two from her ex, the son of a bitch, she backhanded Dean viciously across the face and the force of the blow tossed him into a row of garbage cans.
She rose up and watched her assailant as he struggled to regain his senses and his footing for a few moments before she heard a warning in her head. As her maker before her had done she was on her would be killer in a flash of preternatural speed and sat heavily on his body. Bending over him she tasted blood as her fangs broke through virgin gum and sank them deep into his warm, sweet smelling neck. She, too, began to feed until he was on the brink of death, his eyes closed, his handsome face serene.
Sitting back, Dean Winchester's blood racing through her veins, she learned everything about him including his deepest, darkest secrets and his name. With his vast wealth of hunting knowledge and experience her instinct for self-preservation kicked in but, instead of killing him to assure her survival for the moment, she decided to turn him. Through the blood she would make him one with her, her son, her lover. Who better than a hunter to protect her while she explored the strange new feelings that flowed through her body and the strange new powers she possessed?
But Dean Winchester was having none of it. He tried to throw her off, to keep her from feeding him her blood, but he was no match for her strength and when the first few drops touched his lips and ran into his mouth and over his tongue, he suddenly wanted nothing more than to drink from her...and drink he did.
His teeth tore at the flesh of her wrist as his ever strengthening hands held her hard and fast to him crushing delicate bones. His feeding was painful and sensuous all at the same time and the woman's head began to spin and her breath quickened. She could have easily let him bleed her out completely, which was exactly what he was trying to do, but she balled up her fist and punched him in the temple breaking his lethal lip-lock on her.
Standing she moved away from him and into the shadows and bent down to look at her neck in the side view mirror of one of the cars. She was amazed to see that her skin was unmarked, smooth and luminescent. She was also amazed that she could see perfectly well in the dark and putting a finger to her mouth she pushed up on her upper lip. Her teeth looked okay, too, regular sized, straight and Colgate white. She dropped her chin to try to smooth her disheveled hair and noticed that her wrist and fingers were perfectly fine, the bones having miraculously healed.
This is so weird, she thought, and for a moment the vampire fledgling wondered if she was having some sort of drug flashback. She didn't think so but her reprieve from the twilight zone was short lived. The stud muffin was coming at her again, this time with a fragrant spike clutched tightly in his hand. She turned on her heel and left him flat footed in the alleyway staring dumbly after her.
"You can run bitch," Dean rasped out under his breath as he stooped to gather up his duffel bag, "But you can't hide." He picked up his 'kill' and effortlessly dumped it and the duffel bag into the Impala's trunk and, after burning the vampire's remains in a secluded parking lot, he arrived at waitress extraordinaire Allison Whitehall's apartment withlless than half an hour before sunrise.
Dean had planned to stake and bake her, to leave her out in the front yard when the sun rose, but, when he found her laid out on her bed, hands crosses over her breasts like a corpse in repose in a coffin with dried rivulets of blood tears streaking her face, he hesitated. Whether it was the blood tears or the blood ties that now bound them, or his fear of being truly alone for the very first time in his life, he couldn't do it.
He quickly locked all the doors and windows and pulled the blinds closed. He then picked up Sleeping Elvira, laid her on the floor next to the bed and stripped the covers off. Crawling under the bed he pulled her under after him and covered them both with the bedding then, wrapping his arms around her, he pulled her close, closed his eyes and surrendered to the dawn.