Chapter 18

"Wh—what were those things! What ar—are you?" Fred stammered.

"Never a neuralizer around when you need one," Dean muttered as he wiped his machete clean on one of the vampires' shirts and handed it to me. He then walked slowly towards the journalist, his hands held out non-threateningly. "Calm down, dude. It's okay—you're safe. We ain't gonna hurt you."

Fred backed up a little. "Wha—what's going on?"

Dean stopped and sighed. "These asswipes were vampires, and they're the ones grabbing your homeless folk and presumably killing 'em. Monsters are real—vampires, werewolves, ghosts, and just about everything else from the Brothers Grimm. Sam and me are hunters, which is kinda like the monster police—we hunt down the bad ones, the ones who hurt and kill people."

Fred looked at the bodies and then back at us. "Normally I'd say you were completely crazy, but I saw their teeth. And I saw what you both did. Are—are all hunters monsters too?"

After cleaning mine and sheathing both blades, I moved up closer to my brother. "No, most hunters are completely human. Dean and I are . . . unusual. He's a shapeshifter, which is exactly what it sounds like—he can change his form or take those of other people. And I'm—"

"You're a sorcerer!" the reporter exclaimed.

Dean snickered and sent me a mental image of myself dressed in a pointed hat and purple robe, both covered in fake mystical symbols. I glared at him before turning back to Fred. "Not exactly. I'm a psychic. Now, we'll be glad to answer more of your questions, but not here."

Dean nodded towards the bodies. "Whaddya think we should do with the stiffs? Can't exactly build a pyre in the middle of the goddamn city. I guess we could stuff 'em in the Caddy and roll it into the Columbia or Willamette."

"Let me try something—this is a trick I've been practicing," I said. "We need to pile them up first."

After moving the bodies and heads together in a heap, I motioned the other two to stand back. I first built a shield around the pile to protect us from the heat, and then created a fire inside. I swiftly increased the temperature until the flames burned far hotter than inside a crematory. Within minutes, the five bodies were reduced to ash and bone fragments, which I scooped up into a bag and tossed into a dumpster. I then retrieved the bottle of bleach I'd left at my rooftop hiding spot and splashed it on the blood stains. Dean finished the cleanup by smearing dirt and garbage (using TK, not his hands) over the blood and scorch marks, while I removed the barriers blocking the alley entrances.

We then each took one of Fred's arms and guided him to where we'd stashed the Impala. He still looked like he'd been hit too hard in the head and didn't protest. He did make a surprised noise when I let the concealment spell on the car lapse.

"Wh—where are you taking me?" he asked fearfully.

"We're just going back to our motel so we can answer your questions in privacy. Afterwards, we'll bring you back here or wherever else you want," I told him. "Like Dean said, you're perfectly safe here. We're the good guys, I promise."

As Dean drove us back, I contacted Garth. "How'd it go?"

"Vamp's dead, and we're bringing Don's buddy back to the motel," he replied. "You?"

"Five vamps down, but we ran into a complication. We're bringing it—um, him—back too," I said. "We'll be there in about ten minutes."

After parking in front of the motel, we led the journalist into our room. Dean immediately went into the bathroom to shower and change. I sat Fred down at the dinette table, handed him a glass, and poured him a healthy slug of whiskey.

He knocked it back in one gulp but shook his head at the offer of a refill. "Okay. Okay. So . . . is it all real—all the urban legends and myths and fairy tales and—and everything?"

I smiled as I started shedding the bloody outer layers of my clothing. "Well, not everything. As far as we know, Bigfoot, Nessie, and unicorns are fictional, for example—no hunter or other reliable witness has seen one. But we can never say never. After all, up until three years ago, we all thought angels weren't real, and then they showed up!"

"A—a—angels?" he asked faintly.

"Yes, angels are real, and so are demons. God is real, as are the deities from other pantheons. But what's written in the Bible and in legends and literature isn't always accurate. Vampires, for example, have a full second set of teeth that are all fangs, like you saw, and stakes, garlic, crosses, and all that do jack-shit against them. They can even go out in sunlight, though it'll give them bad sunburn," I explained. "And angels aren't sweet guys with fluffy wings and shiny haloes. They're warriors of God, and most are sanctimonious dicks."

Fred shook his head as if in disbelief. "And . . . hunters . . . are you all FBI agents? Like you're a whole bunch of Mulders and Scullys or—or the paranormal version of the Men in Black?"

I laughed. "I wish we had that kind of funding and support, and Dean would love the toys! No, the government has no idea about us, and they, the scientific community, and the world at large thinks the supernatural doesn't exist. Hunters are regular folk, that's all. Most get into it because they've lost a loved one to a monster attack, though some are raised in the life by their parents. That's what happened with us—my mom was killed by a demon, my dad became a hunter to track it down, and he trained us."

I then looked at him seriously. "You do understand that you can't write an article about any of this, right? We need anonymity to survive and do our jobs, so that kind of exposure could be fatal. And Dean and I . . . we've been trying to build a regular life outside of hunting, and if our neighbors and co-workers heard about this—"

He snorted. "As much as I might want to, there's no point. No one would ever believe me! They'd think I was drunk or high or gunning for a job at the Weekly World News. I might not have much of a reputation as a journalist, but something like this would tank it unless I had mountains of proof."

Dean emerged from the bathroom at that point, clean and dressed in his own clothes. "Your turn in the shower, Sammy. I'll take over being grilled by Carl Kolchak here. Then we gotta meet up with the others to deal with the rest of the fucking nest."

I nodded and hurried into the bathroom to take a rushed shower. After scrubbing all the vampire blood off and changing into a fresh set of clothing, I joined the others. The reporter's eyes were as wide as saucers, and I assumed Dean had been regaling him with tales of some of our exploits.

Dean immediately stood when he saw me. "Listen, man, we gotta go. The vamps we killed earlier were part of a larger group, and we hafta take out the rest to stop 'em from killing more people. You can wait here until we get back, or we can call you a cab."

"I'll stay here. I have to find out how this ends," Fred responded.

We then went next door, where Garth and Don were talking to a thin, worn-looking vampire whose dark skin was ashy from stress. Don smiled as we entered the room. "Justin, these are Sam and Dean, the other hunters who're helping us get you out and get rid of those bastards. Guys, this is my mate, Justin."

"Nice to meetcha," Dean said, and then looked at Garth. "How'd it go, dude?"

Garth grinned. "Easy as pie! I shot Kong with one of the darts and then took his head clean off when he crashed down. Justin here was more than happy to get outta Dodge with us. We dumped the body in a deep ravine nearby before coming back."

"How are you feeling?" I asked Justin.

He said, "Relieved, and anxious to go home. I first came here to get away from the memories of my poor Elise, and I was pretty out of it with grief for a long time. I didn't even know Marcel and Katie had been driven off so violently when they came to see me until just recently! And at first, I had no idea that these guys were rogues—they were very careful around me.

"But eventually I started to notice things, like that the blood they gave me was too fresh and didn't taste like the packs from a blood bank. I snooped around when I could, but I couldn't let on when I discovered the truth—I was afraid they'd either hurt me or make me join them in their barbarity!"

"It turns out these cocksuckers aren't killing their vics as fast as we thought. They're keeping 'em alive for weeks or more, and abusing 'em physically and sexually as well as feeding on 'em. It's only when the poor blokes get too worn out that they off 'em," Don explained grimly.

"From what Justin was able to find out, they've turned one of the houses into their 'larder,' and there might be close to a dozen live prisoners locked up in there," Garth continued. "And they built a crematorium in the basement of another house, which is how they're getting rid of the bodies. Those are the two houses that are guarded but don't have a lot of vamp traffic."

Dean studied Justin for a moment. "He ain't lying. Sorry, man, but like Garth said yesterday, he mighta drunk the Kool-Aid. We hafta be sure whose side he's on before we trust his intel." This was in response to Don's indignant exclamation.

My brother went on, "Alright, after we take out the patrolling guards, we gank the guards on those houses next and get the victims to the van before we hit the main nest. We don't want those sonsofbitches using any of 'em as hostages. Justin, you okay to stay here alone 'til we get back? Sam's gonna shield both rooms so that no one but us can get back in."

While Justin nodded, Don asked, "What was your 'complication?'"

I sighed. "The reporter, Fred, saw us as we were killing the hunting party. We brought him back to our room to explain things and make sure he won't try to write an exposé piece. He's still in there—wants to see how this hunt ends."

"Dude wasn't trying to follow us. He was there to get more info for his story when he saw the vamp leading me away. He followed thinking he was gonna stop another abduction, and then everything went weird on him," Dean added. "And don't worry, not only did I make sure that he ain't lying 'bout no articles on this, I also frisked him for recording devices."

"Bloody hell! Just what we need!" Don groused. "What're we supposed to do with him after this?"

Dean shrugged. "Fuck if I know. We'll hafta figure that out later. We got bigger fish to fry right now."

I stood. "We need to get going before they start to wonder about the hunting party or Justin. Let's load up!"

We decided to bring the Impala, Ranchero, and the van since we didn't know how many rescued prisoners we might have to transport. We parked the vehicles around the corner and stealthily entered the cul de sac. Dean climbed up onto the roof of one of the empty house, from where he'd have clear line of sight on most of the property controlled by the nest. He was armed with the pneumatic equivalent of a sniper rifle and multiple tranquilizer darts filled with dead man's blood.

The rest of us made our way to the various ambush positions we'd marked through our earlier surveillance and waited. As each one of the vampire guards made his or her way past where we were hiding upwind of their path, we heard a soft thunk as a dart hit its target and delivered its debilitating payload. Dispatching them once they fell was child's play, and we dragged each body somewhere out of sight and move onto the next spot.

We were able to dispose of the five guards patrolling the grounds and the one standing watch outside the crematorium house with little to no issue. Dean radioed that he couldn't get a clear view of the guard on the porch of the house where the prisoners were kept. Fortunately, both Garth and I were carrying handgun-sized dart guns. Garth tranked the vamp, and I moved in and beheaded him. The three of us went inside and crept through the house, looking for the second guard. We found her checking the doors upstairs, and this time I shot and Don chopped.

Dean joined us at this point, and we started picking locks on the bedroom doors. What we found inside was sickening. Each of the four bedrooms held two to three people chained to the walls by collars around their necks and manacles around their ankles. The ten prisoners were naked, dirty, underfed, and covered in bruises, cuts, and bites. They were all weakened to various degrees, with a couple barely able to stand and one who remained unconscious. While Dean, Garth, and I controlled our fury and worked on unlocking the collars and manacles, Don ransacked the house for clothing, sheets, and blankets with tears streaming down his face.

Once these poor people had been freed from their restraints and dressed as best as we could manage, we led or carried them, under the screen of a Notice-Me-Not, to where we'd left our cars. We then gently loaded them into the back of the van, covering and cushioning them with the sheets and blankets.

Dean then turned to Don, whose eyes were reddened but face was hard. "You gotta drive these guys to the ER, man."

The vampire looked startled. "What? Won't you need me here?"

"These folk need medical attention now. That one poor lady woulda ended up in the incinerator tonight if we hadn't come, but she still might not make it if she don't see a doctor ASAP. And some of the others ain't much better," Dean insisted.

"We'll be okay. There aren't that many rogue vamps left, if Justin's count is correct. We killed six earlier and eight just now, which leaves eight still alive. The three of us should be able to handle them, especially if you factor in what Dean and I can do," I said.

Don rubbed a hand across his face. "O—okay. But what do I tell 'em when the hospital asks what happened?"

"Tell 'em the truth, minus the part about vampires. You came here to get your friend away from a gang that was bad news, and he told you they'd been kidnapping homeless people and doing horrible shit to them. You and some companions came here, rescued the prisoners, and then you brought them to the hospital," my husband instructed. "Give 'em fake names and contact info, and try to delay 'em from calling the cops for a bit if you can. Then get outta there quick. I'd recommend ditching the van since it'll be on the hospital security cameras and finding another way back to the motel."

"Are you gonna have enough time to finish up here before the fuzz shows up?" Don asked in concern.

"Trust me—now that no innocents are at risk, taking care of these monsters won't be much of a challenge," I replied, my expression pitiless. Dean's countenance was equally implacable, and even Garth had lost his pleasant demeanor.

The vampire nodded and got into the driver's seat. He said something softly to the people huddled behind him and then drove off, taking the turns carefully to avoid jostling them too much.

Garth looked at both of us. "You're gonna smite 'em into oblivion, ain't you? What can I do?"

"We need to gather up the bodies of the guards we killed and throw them into one of the three houses on the end, where the others still are. I've put barriers around those buildings that only we can pass through, so the vampires can't escape. If any of them try to stop you, trank them and push them back into the house," I said.

"We leaving the larder and cremation houses as-is for the police?"

"Yeah. Douse any vamp blood in bleach, but leave everything else so the authorities have an idea what happened to those unfortunate bastards," Dean answered.

Garth nodded in agreement, and we got to work. He started grabbing heads, while Dean and I moved the bodies through a combination of telekinesis and enhanced strength. The vampires trapped in the three houses tried to break out when we opened the doors to toss the remains in, but they fell back when hit with darts or syringes of dead man's blood. Or in the case of the leader, who'd been described to us by Justin, when beaten into unconsciousness by my enraged brother.

Once all the rogue vampires, live and dead, were contained inside, we backed off to a safe distance away. I then raised my hands, drew upon my power, and rained fire and lightning down upon the nest. Dean offered up his energy as well, which I used to heighten the intensity of the conflagration. Once it was obvious that no one within still survived, I dropped the barriers.

We watched the inferno for several minutes. Garth said haltingly, "I can sorta get why vamps or other monsters kill people for food. It ain't right, but it's kinda understandable. Everybody's gotta eat, and maybe some of 'em don't know they can get by without killing.

"But this . . . torturing and raping people for no other reason than—than the fun of it . . . it's just—just—"

"Evil," I finished for him. "If there's the equivalent of Hell for supernatural creatures, these fuckers are burning in it. I have no regrets about what we've done tonight, other than not stopping it sooner."

Dean squeezed my hand. We then walked back to our cars and drove away as sirens grew in the distance.

We found Justin and Fred talking together quietly in our room when we returned to the motel. Justin stood, looking concerned. "Did something happen to Don?"

"Nah, he's fine. He took the vics to the ER and is making his way back," Dean answered. "He called a little while ago to let us know he walked part of the way and is hitching a ride for the rest. He should be here soon."

The vampire looked relieved. "That's good to hear! And that none of the rest of you took any injury. Are—are they all dead?"

"Yes," I said flatly.

He shrank back a little and swallowed at my tone. "Oh. Well . . . uh, I hope you don't mind that I came over here. I was feeling restless waiting by myself and thought that Fred might be feeling the same."

Fred meanwhile leaned forward. "What happened?"

"Let us get cleaned up first, dude. Vamp blood stains even worse than the regular shit!" Dean grabbed a set of clean clothes and went into the bathroom. Once he came out, I went in to change and add my bloody clothing to the ones he had soaking in the bathtub.

I emerged to Dean describing the condition of the prisoners, and both the reporter and vampire looked horrified. I sat down next to him on the bed and leaned into him, and he put his arm around my shoulders.

When he paused after telling of Don's departure with the injured, I interjected, "We have names for some of them and descriptions for the rest. We should be able to match them up in your notes to the people who went missing."

"Anyways, Sam blocked all the windows and doors in the three houses where the remaining fuckwads were holed up, and we tossed the bodies of the guards we ganked in with 'em. A few tried to make a run for it when we opened the doors, but we hit 'em with a dose of dead man's blood and shoved 'em back inside. 'Cept for the leader, that Cedric dude you told me 'bout—I beat the living shit outta him with pleasure. Then Sam nuked both houses—hit 'em with a shit-ton of fire and lightning. Once we were sure no one was coming out, we left," Dean concluded.

Fred stared at me. "Shit! How much can you do?"

"A lot and not enough," I said wearily. Dean shot me a concerned look, which I waved away.

"What happens now?" Justin asked quietly.

"Tonight we take Fred to wherever he wants and then crash after Don gets back. Tomorrow we go to our place, where Edith is waiting, and then she and Don will take you home," Dean replied.

"And you guys keep doing this—hunting evil monsters and trying to help people in the shadows." The journalist looked pensive. "Is there anything I can do? I mean, I'm no Buffy, but there has to be something."

"Buffy still needed her Scooby gang, and so do hunters," my brother said. "You keep doing what you do best—search for stories and information. And if you find something hinky, like weird accidents or unexplainable deaths, you pass that kinda shit onto us. Don't matter if it's here in Portland or somewhere else."

"Before you leave, we'll give you our numbers and the number of another hunter, Bobby Singer," I added. "Bobby is like our central dispatcher. He collects information on potential cases, checks to see if they're legit, and then contacts available hunters in the area to take care of them. He'll be the best person to send strange stories to."

Justin returned to his room, and Dean went to drop Fred off at his apartment. Don got back shortly after they left and checked in to see how we were doing. Once I was alone again, I decided to take a long hot shower to try to clear my head.

When I walked out of the bathroom again, Dean was putting most of a fresh six-pack of beer into the mini-fridge. He smiled at the sight of me in nothing but a towel around my waist and handed me an opened bottle. I took a long drink and sat on the side of the bed with a sigh.

My husband sat down on the other side, swung his legs up, and leaned back against the headboard. He then tugged me back until I was reclining against his chest. Once I was comfortable, he began combing his fingers through my damp hair.

What's up, baby brother? he asked softly. You've been down ever since we got back.

I turned my head to press my face into his shoulder. I know we couldn't have rescued those people any sooner. But seeing what was done to them, imagining what they suffered before we got to them . . . And knowing that there were dozens of victims killed before, here and wherever that nest was before . . . I can't stop thinking about it.

He gently scratched my scalp. Yeah, this was a real hard one. What those bastards did—even Crowley wouldn't sink that low, and he's a fucking demon! Like you told Garth, they were evil.

He put a finger under my chin to tilt my head up so he could look into my eyes. But Sammy, it's just like what you try to tell me to keep me from beating myself up. We can't save 'em all. It's the nature of our shitty job that we usually show up after the body count's already started, and we can't always find and gank the fugly before it kills again. In this case, these assclowns were damn smart, and it was sheer coincidence that we found out 'bout 'em at all. We gotta focus on the fact that we did save ten people tonight, and we prevented those monsters from ever hurting anyone else.

I sighed again. I know—you're right. It's not easy to let this stuff go though. We had such a big win with stopping the Apocalypse, and we have these amazing abilities now to go along with our hunter training. And yet horrible shit like this keeps happening . . .

But that crap ain't on us, kiddo. People have been getting hurt and worse since the beginning of time, Dean said sadly. If anything, add this to the list of why God needs to have his fucking ass kicked. Though maybe things will get better if Cas can actually convince his siblings to stop being uptight douchebags and lend a hand around here.

He bent his head to kiss me. Now finish your beer and find something stupid to watch on TV for a little while. I'm gonna take a shower, and when I'm done, I'll make sure you ain't thinking 'bout anything depressing!