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You better run, oh baby you better run
I got a blade like lightning, silver bullets in my gun…..

I'm iron & steel, I'm bad to the bone
You come looking for trouble, honey don't you come alone….

"You Better Run"- Motorhead.

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Over the next few years Sam tracked Meg mercilessly but never got close enough for a confrontation. She satisfied her never-ending need to torment him by calling him sporadically. Sometimes not for months. Sometimes 24 times in a day. She'd in turn threaten then cajole. Scream then whisper. No matter what she said, it always found its mark. No matter how many times she called, no matter what he heard on the other end he had to answer. He had to listen. It kept him focused. Even when he'd feel that acid-burn in the back of his throat or the pressure behind his eyes telling him that yes, he could still cry, he would listen.

Sometimes he'd get a tip, get closer than she liked. Then she'd leave photos. Grisly taunts. If she was nothing else, she was an accomplished photographer. Often the people in the photos were strangers. Innocent people sacrificed to her obsession with making him suffer. More rarely they weren't. Some would be snapshots of other hunters. People whose names he knew. Who had helped him at one time or another. These he would burn. They deserved better. They deserved to be remembered but he wouldn't chance Lyssa finding them. Ever.

He saved people. Hunted anything that had the misfortune to cross his path. Family business right? It was what he did. What he'd always done, helped those he could, mourned those he couldn't.

He continued to train his daughter both physically and mentally. She was an ideal student. Sharp and eager. Like his brother had been. By the age of nine she knew more, had seen more, been through more than he had at twelve or thirteen.

Three years later she drew blood for the first time. Never mind that it was a monster. Killing is killing.

X x X x X x X x X

She ran swift and sure, hurdling fallen trees, ducking below branches. She clutched the gun to her chest like her father had taught her. One hand on the grip, finger on the trigger, the other on the barrel. The black dog running beside her could have been a ghost for all the noise it made. She scanned the area as she ran alert for any signs that he was near.

Suddenly the dog bounded ahead of her planting its feet and lowering its head. She dove and rolled. THOCK! Something hit the tree directly behind where she'd been standing. She whipped her hand out sending a storm of leaves flying in the direction the shot came from. Then she was on her feet again dodging and weaving. THOCK! THOCK! One shot each to the two trees she'd run between. He was messing with her now. He never missed like that.

To her left she spied the ribbon she'd used to mark a small cave she'd found earlier in the day. It was no more than a hole in the ground really, maybe 10 feet wide and about 4 ½ feet high but well hidden by a wall of wild raspberry bushes and lots of grass. She'd have to crouch a little once inside. Oh well no pain no gain.

The dog kept pace, instinctively juking when her mistress did. The girl put her head down and ran full out knowing her smaller, leaner frame would give her an advantage in the dense foliage. Closing in on the last few feet between her and her refuge she spun throwing her hand out again and dropping letting her momentum carry her backward through the whirlwind of sticks and leaves she'd created. It erased any marks of her passing even as her slight weight made them.

She slid on her belly feet first toward the hole, gun still tight against her chest. The dog had already disappeared.

Down the rabbit hole Alice.

She almost missed the ribbon when she passed, managed to grab it with two fingers. Then she was…...

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…Gone? Sam skidded to a halt in front of the thickest wall of raspberry bushes he'd ever seen. No way she went through there.

Not a single broken branch. He spat out a rather bitter tasting piece of greenery. She'd really caught him with that last little leaf storm.

It had been annoying but non-damaging. No matter how hard she tried she could only hurl small things and not very hard either. Note to self-telekinesis=bad offense but good defense.

He turned in a slow circle raking his eyes over every inch of ground. Nothing. He turned a second circle this time focusing on the trees. Nothing. Damn! Pride welled in his chest. If she could evade him, she could evade anything.

He completed his second circuit again facing the bushes.

THOCK!

He stared down in disbelief at the bright green splash covering the upper left side of his vest. Right over his heart.

The slightest movement in the grass near his right boot caught his eye. He saw the barrel of the paintball gun peeking out about…..

THOCK!

… a half second too late.

"You can come out now," he said wiping green paint from his forehead.

She crawled from her sanctuary with an enormous grin plastered to her face.

"Gotcha!" She cried pointing at the stain on his chest.

He regarded his 12-year-old daughter with what he hoped was a look of reproach. "Was the head shot necessary?"

"Ye-ah. Head means dead remember. Your rules not mine." She shrugged before handing him her gun. She dropped down and reached into the hole. At 5'4" and 100 lbs, she was lanky but surprisingly strong due mostly to the intensive training she'd been undergoing for the past six years.

"Come on Moonie," she huffed pulling the dog out of the hole by its shoulders then she was on her back and the dog was licking her face.

"One more?" She asked smiling up at him.

He checked his watch. They'd been out for nearly seven hours. "I think we should head back I'm getting hungry."

She pushed the dog off and got to her feet. After methodically brushing debris from her clothes and her short chestnut brown hair, she slung out a hip, giving him a faded denim side-eye.

"You just want to go check out that park. See if you can find that little girl."

"Or I'm hungry."

"You can go days without eating."

"Over a week actually but that doesn't mean I enjoy it."

"Dad!"

"What? You've been dreaming about that same park and that same little girl for how long now? Of course I want to check it out."

"Don't forget the blond woman."

"You can refresh my memory over dinner."

"Who's cooking?" She asked changing the subject.

He knew talking about the dream made her uncomfortable so he let it drop. "Race you for it?"

"Sure," she said with a mischievous smile. "On three ok?"

"Ok."

"One."

"Two."

"Three!" she shouted flinging out her hand and taking off like a shot.

Kicking up another mini leaf tornado had given her such a good lead that Sam was completely confused when he found her standing motionless in the small clearing around the motor home. Confusion became concern when he realized that not only was she not moving forward she looked like she was about to turn and bolt backward. With several staccato hops, he was standing behind her.

"Lyssa?"

She jumped at the sound of his voice but didn't turn.

"Holy shit Sam when's the last time you had a haircut?"

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It amazed her how, as soon as she spoke, his entire demeanor changed. He reminded her of a jungle cat dropping low to the ground, tensed and ready to attack. With one thickly muscled arm, he swept the girl behind him while simultaneously pulling a wicked looking knife from his hip with the other. He held it before him in a way that said he not only knew how to use it, he could make it sing like a virtuoso.

"Who are you?" His voice was harder than she'd expected.

This was not the same man she'd last seen fourteen years ago. Naïve. Still hanging on to that last shred of hope for normalcy.

"I know why you're here." She said putting her hands up palms forward.

"That's not what I asked." He moved slowly, circling with a fluid grace that belied his weak leg, until his back was to the motor home.

"Dad that's her. From my dream."

"Lyssa get inside."

"She looks just like you Sam."

"But dad…"

"Lyssa now."

"They have the same eyes you know. Like an old pair of jeans."

He shifted restlessly from foot to foot.

"Dad wait..."

"Goddammit! Get inside!"

Lyssa yelped. Hurt flashed across her face but she obeyed.

"Sam you've got to let her go."

As soon as the door closed, Sam rushed her, grabbing the front of her shirt and swinging her around sending her flying into the side of the motor home. She felt a jolt and a sting where she'd touched it. Before she could stand he was on her again lifting her by the throat and pressing her against the sidewall. Her back sizzled.

"One more time. Who are you?"

"It's… Ru-by." She managed to choke out.

He shook his head startled and dropped her. He backed up a few steps still wary. "I told you to..."

"I know, stay away from you. I wouldn't be here if this weren't important. Move on Sam. Let her go."

"Let who go?"

"Arika."

He took another step back stumbling like he'd been punched in the gut. "What did you say?"

"Arika is here in San Antonio."

"How do you know that?"

"Isn't that why you're here?"

"But how do you know that?"

She took a deep breath, steeled herself. That was the million-dollar question and she could only hope that he wouldn't destroy her immediately after hearing the answer.

"Because… I brought her here."

"What? You! You brought her here." He didn't look wary anymore now he looked….well pissed. Really pissed. Beyond pissed. He hadn't moved but he was going to and when he did she doubted it would be to give her a hug.

"Wait," she said backing up, "Just hang on Cujo. I had to. I swore. I….." Before she could finish he was standing over her that wicked blade buried in her shoulder pegging her to the motor home. She pushed forward instinctively so she wouldn't be touching the warded paint job. It was tight. Like being caught between a rock and a hard place. She couldn't decide which he was.

"Keep talking." He leaned down until they were face to face and what she read in his eyes was an entire novel tentatively titled 'Homicide'.

"I was with Meg the night she broke into your house. I joined up with her entourage when I heard what she had planned for you. I thought maybe I could help. When she took the baby, I decided to follow her. Glad to see you got out alright."

He twisted the blade causing her to hiss. She pushed herself toward the hilt again.

"So you were there when she killed my family? Is their blood on your hands too?"

"I was there," she said quietly, "But I didn't touch them I swear."

"You didn't help either did you? DID YOU?"

"I….I couldn't. They made me swear."

"Who did?"

"Leeanna and Dean. That's how she took 'em down. They were fighting her flunkies and winning. Two serious hunters like them? She had to use the baby as leverage. I only got to talk to them once. They made me swear that if I had the chance I would take Arika and run. I got the chance when Meg was occupied making that….. message. She knew you'd do this you know. Leeanna. That's why she made me swear to bring the baby here. She said she wanted at least one of her children to have a normal life. I don't even think Dean knew she told me."

"Where is she?"

"Let her go Sam." Another ruthless twist.

"Stop. Doing that!" She pounded at his chest, shook her hand out. Guess he's the rock.

"What are you going to do if I tell you?" She screamed inches from his face. "Going to go snatch an eight year old out of her warm soft bed and away from her family?"

"I'm her family dammit! Lyssa's her family."

"Not anymore. Those people? They love her. She's happy and shit Sam she's safe. I've spent the last eight years making sure of it. So you need to go. Whatever you think it is you're protecting her from you're wrong. You're the threat. You are so immersed in what you're doing it'll follow you here and it will eat her alive. She's not like you. Not like her." She jerked her head indicating the door Lyssa had disappeared through. "It's not right what you're doing with her either. Even I know that." He yanked the knife from her shoulder none too gently.

"Ass." She pushed him. He staggered almost imperceptibly. Definitely the rock.

"I do what I have to."

"No, you do what you want to. You can dress it up in sugar and call it candy Sam but poison is still poison."

He looked up at the sky, back down at the blood stained knife then finally at her. "I think it's time for you to go."

She knew how to take a hint.