*Author's Note: This fic is set in Season 5 after the episode The End and before Fallen Idols, while the flashbacks take place in Season 4 between episodes Death Takes a Holiday and On the Head of a Pin. I will be posting every Tuesday.*

Chapter 2- One Year Ago

The hobo let out a hiss over his forearm as he pinned Dean to the tiled wall. Hot, foul breath beat down on the hunter's face as the bearded man bared a set of vampire teeth at Dean, and the younger man grimaced. Why did this always happen him? He and his brother weren't even on a case yet. Just yesterday they were in Greybull looking for missing reapers. His bruises were still fresh.

"I know you," the vampire growled behind a filthy gray beard. "You're a Winchester."

The pressure on Dean's neck grew, and he felt his airway getting cut off. Dean tried to push the monster off him, but Beard had the upper hand. He had extra strength, while Dean had lost his machete in the brawl, and his little brother was nowhere to be seen.

Spots flickered in Dean's vision, speckling the image of the empty diner they stood in. Once again, he tried to push the vampire off him. But his feeble attempts were fruitless. The lack of air was taking its toll on the hunter.

"You killed my brother, by the way," Beard panted, sending a wave of his disgusting breath directly up Dean's nose. Dean wanted to cough, but with his esophagus being pressed closed, he couldn't. "This is for him."

The vampire opened his mouth to display his sharp fangs, ready to bury them into the hunter's neck, when something unexpected happened.

A single hand flashed into Dean's hazy sight, and roughly grabbed the vampire by his grimy beard. It yanked the monster backwards and off Dean. Now free, Dean let out a gasp and crumbled to the tile floor, frantically gulping in mouthfuls of air.

Once the stars in his eyes faded, Dean glanced upward, expecting to see his brother fighting off the vampire, but instead, a tall blonde woman was furiously swinging a machete at the bearded monster. The hobo vampire slowly backed away, trying to avoid the blade as she silently pushed forward.

Dean watched as she backed the monster into a table, and with a heavy grunt, she grabbed the vampire by the collar and slammed his head against the table. In a flash of silver, she brought her machete down on the monster's neck, ending him.

Tombstone, Arizona

It wasn't uncommon for Sam and his brother to run into people from past hunts, nor was it rare to encounter monsters time and time again for them. But to see Sarah, someone could have slapped them and got a less response.

The trio had made a deal to avoid Sarah, and she to avoid them in turn. Yet there she was, sitting in a red pleather booth, fiddling with a fork across from them. Sam was still shaking off his surprise, while Dean threw distrustful glares at her as he chewed his burger.

"So, how did you find us?" Dean asked after a few minutes of uncomfortable silence, his voice muffled by the chunk of hamburger in his mouth. Sam shot his brother a reproachful look, but turned his attention back to Sarah.

"I have my ways of finding people," she replied, as the fork twirled between her fingers.

Sam couldn't help but think that there was something off about her tone, but he didn't dare voice his thoughts as Dean wiped his mouth with a napkin and stared her dead in the eyes. "Okay, down to business," he said, clapping his hands together to brush off the crumbs of food. "What do you want?"

Sarah set the fork on the red table and pulled out a thick manilla file from her open backpack that sat beside her on the booth. The Winchesters watched in interest as she set it beside the fork. "In the last five days, three bodies have been found at Yellowstone National Park." She opened the folder, giving them full view of its contents. "Official cause of death for all three is animal maulings, but-,"

"You wouldn't be here if that were true," Dean stated bluntly.

She gave him a irritated look, but nodded. "Yes." Flicking the first paper over, she moved on to the next page, which held a series of photographs. She spread them out, revealing three profiles of different people.

Pointing to the first profile, Sarah moved their attention to a photograph of a middle aged woman with thin black hair and a rather impressive mole on her chin. "This is Martha Nicholas. A thirty-eight year old cook for a local high school. Seven days ago, she and her daughter went on a nature hike with their dog. Eight hours after they left, the daughter was found wandering about a mile away from the designated path. Her mom was nowhere to be found. The girl said that they were separated when she ran after her escaping dog."

Sam reached over and picked up the profile to study Martha's picture. "How did they found her?" he asked.

"More like they only found parts of her. Search and Rescue found her foot and part of her lower jaw a couple days later," she answered grimly, then moved her finger to point to the next picture, which depicted a younger looking man grinning at the camera. He sported a Yankees baseball cap over his short blond hair. "This guy here is Allen Fischer: a twenty-six year old outdoorsman. Now his story is similar to Martha's. Five days ago he left for a hike, and after two days of being missing, small bits of him were found just a quarter of a mile from where they found Martha."

"Which leads up to our last vic," she continued as she pointed to the final picture, which was of a dark skinned young woman smiling brightly at the camera through a wave of thick, dark curls that fell slightly over her face. "Meet Karla Monroy," she announced, tapping lightly on the glossy photograph for emphasis. "Again, the story's the same. Vic went off on a solo hike and two days later, bits of her were found less than a mile away from the last two bodies."

Sam flipped through the files, scanning every face and profile. The documents in his hands, he realized, were not photocopied like the usual files the police gave him when he posed as an FBI agent. They were originals. "How did you get all these?" he asked.

The blonde glanced down at the files, and shrugged. "I have some buddies that get me this sort of stuff."

With a frown, Dean took the file out of Sam's grip and began to flick through it. "Look, Pluto. We would like to join in on this one, but Sammy and I are on a job right now. We can't help you." The hunter shrugged with a smirk.

Slowly, Sarah sat up in her booth and leaned forward on the table with a smirk of her own. "Oh, the Bill Owen case?" I took care of your little 'salt and burn' last night. Your ghost isn't a problem anymore."

Sam furrowed his brow as questions flew in his mind, but Dean beat him to asking the first one. "You did what?!" his older brother demanded.

Sarah ignored him and pulled out another file from her backpack. "I got here two days before you two. The ghost was Miles Charleston. He died five years back in a drunken car accident, but was the only casualty out of five victims. Guess who the survivors were."

"Our three vics," Sam guessed, and the blonde nodded.

"Yep, I already took care of your case. That leaves you free to help me out on this one."

Dean held up his hand shook his head. "Wait a minute here. You took over our case, and now you expect us to help you?"

"Dean-," Sam began, but his brother ignored him and continued his rant.

"I got a question for you, Lassie: if you could solve our case so easily, why do you need our help for yours?" The question itself was innocent, but the venom in his voice dripped accusingly.

Casually, Sarah folded her hands neatly on the diner table and met Dean's eyes with a stormy glare. "You're the best in the business, Winchesters. The whole hunting community practically worships your name. Besides, I think you have forgotten that you owe me."

Giving his brother a confused glance Dean turned to the blonde. "We owe you?" he scoffed.

"You've must've forgotten when I rescued you from getting eaten by a pack of monsters," she replied. "Or is your memory not as sharp as you claim?"

Dean frowned at the snide remark. "Look blondie, I remember every second of that case, and it wasn't you who saved me." He jammed a thumb to his brother beside him. "It was Sam."

Shaking her head, Sarah reached over and pulled the manila file away from him. "Okay, fine. If you honestly don't want to help me, I'll just find a someone who will." She paused as she dangled the file tantalizingly over her bag in the boys' full view. "I'm just saying, a good case is right in front of you. You're passing up an easy opportunity." Her eyebrows twitched as she began to slide the file into her backpack, inch by inch.

The urge to reach over and grab the file burned in Sam's mind, but he didn't want to accept a case without Dean's consent. But to his surprise, he didn't have to wait long. "Okay, fine. We'll help you." Dean sighed as he held up his hand to stop the skinwalker from putting the file away completely.

Sarah nodded in satisfaction and began to climb out of the booth, slapping the manila file on the table as she scooched off the bench. "Good. I'll text you the name of the town and meet you there. I do still have that number you guys gave me."

The boys nodded in agreement as she stepped out of the booth, then pulled a wad of bills from her pocket and tossed them on the table, then dropped the Impala's keys over the money. "Lunch's on me," she said, and walked out the diner, leaving the two brothers alone at the gaudy red booth.