Author's Note: This story will update weekly here and on AO3, usually on Fridays unless I know I'm going to be busy that weekend. I'm close to finished writing this, and it should run to ~25 chapters when it's done.

Chapter 16

The party ran fairly late, and by the time we finished cleaning up, we were too tired to do anything but fall into bed. Bobby and Jody of course stayed with us, as was Garth. Rufus elected to get a room at the motel in town, as he had to make an early morning start to get to a possible banshee hunt in eastern Montana. Castiel, Gabriel, and Crowley teleported away, but each promised to return within the next day or two.

After Dean made everyone a shit-ton of eggs, bacon, and French toast for breakfast, we spent the next day planting Cas' seedlings throughout the yard, installing Garth's wind chimes on each porch, hanging Collin's prints through the house, and finding homes for the other gifts as well. We also took Hannibal out for a run around the neighborhood and carefully introduced him to more of the people and pets in the area.

Most of the rest of the week was spent working on the upper floor and basement, in particular taking advantage of Bobby's presence to construct as much of the vault and panic room as we could. There wasn't the feverish rush of before though, so plenty of time was spent relaxing, showing our guests around Veneta and Eugene, and doing some shopping.

We decided to invest half of the windfall from Gabriel as a nest egg and reserve most of the remainder for finishing the work around the house. That still left us with a nice amount to splurge with. I was surprised when Dean spent the majority of his share on small kitchen appliances and specialty utensils and only a relatively small amount on movies and music. Mine went into the study—a brass reading lamp, leather blotters, and wood organizer for the desk, a small wooden step stool, and of course lots of books.

We spent New Year's Eve at a local bar, drinking, playing pool and darts, and making out unabashedly when the ball dropped. Bobby and Jody drove off the next day, heading home to Sioux Falls. Dean was due to start working full-time that Monday. The winter term at the university was beginning on the same day, which meant my classes and my teaching assistant position would begin as well. I was enrolled in two folklore courses, Folklore and the Supernatural and History and Theory of Folklore Research, and one anthropology course, Approaches to the Symbolic. My TA position was for the Introduction to Folklore class.

The day after Bobby and Jody left, we were sitting in the family room, having just finished discussing options for the bonus room. The final coat of varnish was curing upstairs, and we knew we wanted to turn the room into a media and game room. What we were still deciding was what exactly was going in there, since there were many options to choose from.

Dean suddenly turned to me, his face serious. "We got most of the major projects done around here, not counting the shit outside where we hafta wait for spring. There's still stuff to finish in the basement and upstairs bathroom, but that ain't urgent. But we ain't done any real work, our kinda work, since we got to Bobby's place after the honeymoon."

"Do you want to start looking for cases then?"

"Yeah. See if we can find something kinda local. We talked 'bout balancing hunting with the life we're building, but we hafta test it. Now might be the best time, before you get loaded down with tests and papers," he pointed out.

"You're probably right. We can starting checking out the news articles, and drop a line to Bobby once he's home to see if he knows of anything around here," I said.

You sure you're okay with this, Sammy? he asked, looked concerned. I know you've really been digging what we got here, and you've never been as into hunting as me.

I laid a reassuring arm over his shoulder. I'm okay, Dee, really. I've been feeling different about the family business lately, I think. It's no longer something we have to do, something we've been forced into because of revenge or one of us dying or some big destiny. It's back to being about helping and saving people again. And that . . . that feels good.

My brother grinned at me delightedly. That's awesome, baby boy! I do miss how it was when we first started hunting together too, when we could enjoy what we were doing and have some fun. Now we just hafta find a good case!

We kept our eyes open after that, but didn't find anything appropriate right away. The couple of prospects we did turn up either were too far to manage in a weekend or turned out to be not "our kind of thing" after some digging. Aside from that though, everything was going well. We went to work, continued to fix up our home, played with our dog, and enjoyed our time with each other.

Near the end of the first week in January, we were cleaning up after dinner when the doorbell rang, followed by Hannibal's excited barking. I was in the middle of loading the dishwasher, so Dean answered the door. To my surprise, he led Edith into the family room. Even more unexpectedly, Don followed after them, looking more disgruntled than usual. The pup brought up the rear, tongue lolling happily. I quickly rinsed and loaded the last of the dishes, dried my hands, and joined them.

"I know you said to feel free to visit when you gave me your new address. I hope you don't mind us showing up like this with no warning," she was saying as I walked in.

I sat beside my husband on the love seat and replied warmly, "It's a pleasure having you here—both of you! We haven't seen each other since the resort, and emails and phone calls aren't the same."

"Your house is lovely! It's quite amazing how much you've accomplished since you told me you bought this place," she said, looking around the room from the armchair.

"Can we cut the bloody chitchat and get on with it!" Don burst out. He was standing beside her chair, acting as if he were guarding her from us.

"Don, try to behave yourself!" Edith scolded. She glanced at us ruefully. "I had been meaning to visit sometime soon, once things quieted down after the holidays. But there is more to us coming right now than a social call, I'm afraid. We need your help in a . . . professional capacity."

Dean straightened up from patting Hannibal, who was now draped across our feet. "You got a case for us?"

She nodded. "There's a nest of rogue vampires operating on the outskirts of Portland. You haven't heard anything yet in the news because they've been surprisingly smart about their kills so far—they've only been targeting the homeless and runaways and being very careful with disposing of the bodies. We—our nest—only know of them because of Justin.

"Justin is a member of our nest and normally is a sweet man. But he lost his mate a couple of months ago. Just a tragic accident—their apartment building caught fire, and she was one of the handful who didn't make it out. We mate for life, and losing her . . . it drove him more than a little mad. The rest of us tried out best to comfort him, but it wasn't enough. He left, saying he needed to start over somewhere that didn't remind him constantly of her.

"He moved to Portland but still kept in touch with some of us. The things that he told us about the new nest he'd fallen into . . . we grew worried. So a couple members of our nest went to visit Justin, and our worst fears were confirmed. The leaders of that next openly admitted to their kills, and from their talk, it's only a matter of time before they escalate. When our friends tried to protest and to convince Justin to come back with them, the rogues roughed them up pretty severely before telling them to leave Portland or else."

"So you want us to go in, pull this Justin dude out, and gank the rest of those sonsofbitches. Why us though? Why not take care of this your own damn selves?" Dean asked a little suspiciously.

"Believe me, we would if we bloody could, rather than trust you fucking wankers," Don snarled. "Problem is, most of our mates ain't got much in the way of fighting skills, while that lot is almost entirely made up of sodding thugs and brutes. I can hold my own pretty well, but I ain't leading my family into a goddamn slaughter!"

"And we can't afford for word to get out to other nests or the community," the female vampire added. "You see, the rogues told our people that while they're tired of living off of bums, they aren't planning on attacking other humans—they know that will bring hunters down on them. No, they want to capture and feed off of a werewolf or shifter or the like. There's an old wives' tale that if you drink the blood of another supernatural creature, you can gain a portion of their abilities for a time. These idiots apparently want to test if that's more than an urban legend.

"The community as a whole normally doesn't get involved with rogues, other than to throw a few clues towards the nearest hunters and let you mop up the problem. But one of the cardinal rules throughout the entire community is to never attack other members. If the community discovers what these morons are planning to do . . ."

"They'll destroy the whole nest with prejudice, Justin included," I finished grimly. "And you can't let some random hunter find out either, in case they're more like Gordon Walker than us."

"That about sums it up. We can't let that other nest keep hurting people and causing trouble, but we also can't give up on Justin. So I told my nest about the two of you, and that I trusted you to handle this situation right. Don wasn't happy that I'd been keeping secrets from him. He doesn't particularly care for hunters either." She sighed heavily.

"I know this is asking quite a lot of you. But it would mean so much to us, and would probably go a long way towards earning trust and goodwill in the community. And we can pay you, as well."

My brother and I exchanged startled glances. We were rarely offered any kind of reward for doing our jobs, which is why we'd lived off of credit card fraud and hustling pool for so long. The idea of getting paid for this felt . . . awkward.

"That's not necessary—it's not why we do this," I responded uncomfortably. "And you have to realize that if we take this particular case, we can't guarantee we can bring Justin out safely. We'd try our best, of course, but . . ."

"We do. Your best try is still a far better chance for him than anything else. And I insist that we at least compensate you for any expenses you incur," Edith said firmly.

"We can deal with that later. What we need right now is information," Dean stated briskly. "As many details as you can give us—where this nest is, how many people are in it, names, all that shit. Then me and Sam can look up as much as we can online and make some phone calls before heading to Portland."

"I have the address and the few names we know written down. It's a fairly large nest—close to two dozen vampires. And as Don said, most seem to be formidable fighters."

"Sonofabitch! That's a lotta fucking vamps!" Dean glanced over at me. "We're gonna need reinforcements."

"We'll have to call Bobby and Garth to see if either of them can help," I said.

"Great, more bloody hunters!" Don groused. "Are you trying to get poor Justin killed?"

"Listen, dumbass, not all of us are knuckle-dragging murderers," I snapped. "Bobby and Garth know what we are and accept us, and neither is the type to kill someone just because they're not human. So shove it!"

"Yeah, whatever, Bigfoot. And by the way, I'll be coming with you to take these blighters down," Don said.

Dean exclaimed, "Hell no, you're not!"

"Hell yes, I am, you fucking fairy! Without one of us there to keep you honest, we won't know if you didn't bring our boy back 'cause you really couldn't or 'cause you decided it was easier to cut his blooming head off!" the vampire retorted. "I'm pretty handy in a fight myself, so don't think you can gaffle me easy. Used to be a bobby in the East End before I was turned, and I've made sure to keep my hand in."

"You better believe we're gonna test that. 'Cause bluster all you like, but we ain't letting you tag along if you're gonna be a liability." My husband gave him a hard stare. "And catch up to the fucking twenty-first century, douchebag! If you think liking cock as much as pussy makes me any less capable of kicking your undead ass, you're a goddamn moron."

Don opened his mouth but got glared down by his mate, who ordered, "That's quite enough, Don! I don't care if your masculinity is threatened by two men loving each other, nor am I impressed by you trying to wave your dick around. Sam and Dean are doing us a huge favor, and I will not have you screwing this up!"

"Damn! Next time we need to threaten Gabriel with scary ladies, we hafta include Edith!" Dean said admiringly.

I laughed in agreement.

After getting as much about the nest from Edith and Don as we could and then showing them to the guest bedroom—over the male vampire's objections about staying at our house—we made some phone calls. The first calls were to our respective employers and my professors to tell them we needed a few days off to take care of our "other duties." Then I called Garth, while Dean rang up Bobby.

Garth picked up after a couple of rings. "Hey, Sam! What's up?"

"We need your help, man. We're going after a pretty big vampire nest in Portland—over twenty bad guys from what we know. Any chance you're available and not too far away?" I asked.

"Darn, that's a lotta vamps! And you want my help? Wow!"

"It's kind of a delicate situation. It's a . . . I guess a rescue mission as well as a hunt. You remember us telling you about our friend Edith? Well, one of her nest brothers ran off—his mate got killed, and he lost it—and fell in with these assholes. So we need help from someone who isn't in the 'all monsters are evil' school. Plus your people skills might be handy in convincing the guy we need to extract to come with us." I told him.

"Really?" Garth sounded thrilled. "It just so happens that I finished Garth-ing a nasty trickster spirit—not that Gabe dude—down by Reno, so I'm all yours. I can be at your place in . . . yeah, should be there by late tomorrow morning. That cool?"

"That's great! We're trying to get a hold of Bobby too."

Garth whistled. "Ooh, no can do, amigo! Bobby told me a couple days ago he was heading out to deal with a wendigo somewhere north of Grand Rapids. He probably don't even have cell signal right now."

"Shit!" I swore. "I don't know who else to call on something sensitive like this. Rufus is okay with us, but I don't know how he feels about other supernatural creatures."

"Wish I could help, but most of the guys I know are the 'only good vamp is a headless vamp' types."

"It's okay. We'll have to make it work with the four of us. Edith's mate Don will be coming along," I said.

"Huh, sounds like I'll be the only regular guy there. Should be interesting! See you tomorrow then, Sam." Garth hung up.

Dean looked frustrated. "Just got Bobby's machine at home and voicemail on his cell, dude. How 'bout Garth?"

"Yeah, he just told me Bobby's in northern Minnesota chasing down a wendigo, so there's no way to contact him. But Garth's in and should be here tomorrow morning," I replied. "Do you think we should call in Cas?"

"He's got his own shit going on. I'd rather not bug him 'cept as a last resort," Dean said. "If we play this smart, and if Don ain't all talk, I think we can handle this."

We spent the remainder of the evening researching what we could online. We couldn't find much on the names we were given, which was to be expected—some of these vampires could have been turned long enough ago for there to be little record of their mortal lives, and the rest were probably smart enough to be using aliases. There was more information on the cluster of houses the nest had taken over, including Google Earth imagery of the neighborhood. We also saw a couple passing mentions to disappearances among the homeless population, buried deep enough in the website of a local Portland newspaper that it wouldn't garner any useful attention.

The early part of the next morning was spent in our basement assessing Don's combat prowess. First Dean tested his hand-to-hand skills. The initial couple of bouts were little more than beatdowns, as my brother was obviously trying to make a point. The vampire's strength and speed were counterbalanced by Dean's enhanced physical abilities, and Don's fighting talents were no match for someone who'd been trained since childhood by a grief-crazed ex-Marine to take down creatures like him and worse.

The third round ended with Dean resting his foot lightly on the other's throat and smirking down at the supine bloodsucker. "Had enough yet, Spike, or d'ya need the pansy to wipe the floor with your face some more?"

"Yeah, yeah, I fucking get it—no more bloody insults from me, okay?" Don coughed and sat up, then looked up at Dean somewhat resentfully. "How the hell did you do that? I've tangled with a shifter a time or two before, but I ain't ever seen one able to move like that or go toe-to-toe with a vamp!"

My husband walked over to where I was sitting and leaned against my shoulder. "First off, I've been learning to kick fugly ass since I was five years old, which ain't something most shifters can say. Second, I've trained with all my abilities, including ones the others don't even know we have. Last, I'm soulmates with the psychic who was powerful enough to take down Satan himself almost singlehandedly. So figure it out, dickweed!"

I glanced over at Edith, who was avidly observing the proceedings. Of course, some of her interest was due to the fact that Dean and her mate were clad only in a pair of shitabaki and sweatpants, respectively, and both were covered in a fine sheen of sweat. I had to admit that I was enjoying the view too and wouldn't mind a little alone time with my brother.

I shook my head in an attempt to get my mind out of the gutter. "Okay, dude, enough playing with your food. What do you think—will he be able to hold his own or not?"

"Eh, he doesn't suck. He should do fine, I think, 'specially if these goons are like most bullies and rely too much on size and brute strength. What next—you gonna see if he knows one end of a knife from the other?"

"Something like that." I tossed Don a rubber practice knife and moved to the center of the floor. "Alright, come at me, and we'll spar for a bit. If you can throw these too, we'll set up a target after this."

Don turned out to be better with a blade. Which made some sense, given that decapitation was the most effective method to kill his kind—learning how to attack with and defend against such attacks was crucial. We didn't bother with a throwing target since that wasn't something he'd ever learned.

"Okay, last thing is, can you shoot?" Dean asked. "If so, we'll hafta take you to the local gun range to see how you do."

"I've only handled a firearm a handful of times," the vampire admitted. "You Yanks may be obsessed with your sodding guns, but they're rather harder to come by where I was from. I can probably plug someone in the torso since that's a big bloody target, but I ain't guaranteeing a kill shot."

"Don't worry about it then," I said. "The two of us and Garth should be enough firepower. Bullets are only useful in this case if they've been dipped in dead man's blood anyway, so your machete skills will be more important."

"So, do I pass your fucking muster?" Don demanded as he retrieved his shirt.

"As far as your fighting skills go, yeah. There is something else that's just as important though. We're the experienced hunters, so we're in charge for this job, understand? If we give an order, you need to follow it without arguing, particularly when we hit the nest. We can't afford for your attitude to get someone hurt or killed. If you can't abide by that, then you're staying here," I told him sternly.

"Don't worry—I know I'm the spear carrier in this gig. I might have questions beforehand, but once it's 'go' time, I'll toe the line," he said. He then tossed a fond glance towards his mate. "Besides, it ain't like I don't get bossed around on a regular basis."

Dean raised his hand. "Did anyone else suddenly imagine Edith in a dominatrix outfit and Don in a gimp suit?"

I shuddered. "Excuse me while I go bleach my brain. Jerk!"

"Bitch!" My brother smirked. "Once Garth gets here, this is gonna be like the beginning of a bad joke. A psychic, shapeshifter, vampire, and hunter walk into a bar . . ."