*Author's Note: Special thanks to those who favorited this fic. I have spent nearly a year and a half working on this, and I appreciate all those who decide to sit back and read it. Thanks!*

Chapter 3- One Year Ago

Silence fell on the empty diner as Dean stared at the woman above him. She stood over the limp body of the vampire that lay slumped on the table. Blood oozed off the sides of the plastic surface, pooling on the white linoleum floor by her feet. At the angle he sat, Dean couldn't see her face, nor could he see the decapitated head of the hobo. All that was in his line of sight was her hunched back facing him.

With a pounding head, Dean slowly pushed himself up off the floor, keeping his sights on the young woman as he shakily got to his feet. The denim jacket she was wearing had an odd assortment of dark stains in the fabric, especially a spot between her shoulder blades where a noticeable patch had been stitched there.

"I hate vampires," she spoke in a low voice, then turned to look at him. Immediately, alarm bells rang in Dean's head as he stared into a pair of blazing eyes. Just a single glance told him the person standing in front of him was dangerous.

Her bloody machete hung limply in her right hand as she scanned him up and down, no doubt gauging if he was a threat.

She must have thought he was, because barely a second later, she whipped out a handgun and pointed it at him. "Get back on the floor. Now," she ordered with a firm tone.

Dean didn't move. "You're a hunter," he said, pointing to the corpse behind her.

The blonde hunter snorted. "Yeah, no kidding. Get on the floor."

"I'm a hunter, too," he protested, but the young woman didn't move. Instead, she just looked unimpressed.

"Pretty terrible hunter if you ask me. Couldn't even take down an inexperienced vampire like ol' Greasy Beard here." She motioned to the headless body with her machete. "Now I'll ask one more time. Get on that floor."

Dean frowned, but with that gun pointed at him, he didn't have much choice. So he carefully crouched down to the ground before settling against the wall behind him. "Now remove all your weapons and place them in front of you. Slowly."

Before the elder Winchester could even reach for his knives, the faint tinkling of a bell sounded in the diner, signalling that someone had entered the building. The blonde glanced over her shoulder in its direction, and Dean took his chance. He leapt to his feet as he unsheathed his knife tucked in his jacket.

Too late, he realized as the blonde hunter snapped her head back to him, and somehow she managed to grab his wrist before he could use it. Light flashed in his vision and a sharp pain abruptly formed on his cheek, then in his abdomen. The light faded, and Dean found himself leaning against one of the tables in a daze. It didn't take him long to realize the woman had hit him hard, twice.

Under the ringing in his ears, Dean heard his little brother shout in anger at the blonde, then through the stars flecking his sight, he saw Sam holding her at gunpoint.

"Drop em'! Now!" Sam shouted in a commanding voice as he slowly made his way toward her. The woman didn't move.

"Sam… wait," Dean groaned, but it was too late. The blonde lunged for his little brother, snatching his gun away with intense speed, then drove her elbow into his nose.

And just like that, Sam was out. Dean watched helplessly as his younger brother crumbled to the tiled floor at the woman's feet, totally unconscious.

"No," he grunted, pushing off the table. He staggered to her, but she suddenly appeared inches away from him.

"Good night," she said, lifting a hand under her lips. She blew into her palm, and a green powder plumed into Dean's face. He took a step back, but the strange herbal smell of the powder was in his nose, and he suddenly felt really drowsy. That was his last thought before everything went black.

The Impala rolled into a motel parking lot in West Yellowstone, Idaho, where a familiar woman stood waiting for them. Sarah was leaning casually against the driver's door of a green Jeep with a sour expression on her face as Dean parked the car in the next space.

She was wearing a nicely pressed pantsuit and forest green blouse, something Dean had never seen her wear before. With her blonde hair pulled neatly back in a tight bun, he wouldn't have realized it was her if not for the fact she was standing next to the only car in the lot. Something a person dressed like that would never drive.

"Hey," Sam greeted the female hunter as he and Dean climbed out of the Impala.

"Took you long enough to get here," she grumbled. "I've been here for hours, what held you up?"

Dean frowned at her rude greeting and eyed her outfit with a raised eyebrow. "Sorry we didn't break the freaking speed limit to get here, Lassie. We needed to make a couple pit stops on the way."

She tapped her foot against the asphalt for a second, then grabbed a folder sitting on the hood of her Jeep. It largely resembled the manila folder she had given them earlier. "Well, lucky for you, I did a bit of research while I was waiting-"

"Hold on a second," Sam interrupted, raising his hand. "You want to start now?"

She turned to face him with an indignant stare. "Uh, yeah? This thing has killed three people already. I don't want to waste any more time on this case."

"Well, do you think you can wait another hour? Maybe let Dean and I check into our rooms first?" I haven't taken a shower in-."

He was interrupted by sudden piano notes of Für Elise. With no hesitation, Sarah quickly whipped out a small flip phone and flipped it open. "Yeah, what is it?" she answered. They stood in silence for a moment as the person on the other end of her conversation spoke. Sarah nodded eagerly as she listened, then abruptly turned away from them. "How fresh?" they heard her ask. There was a little more nodding, until Sarah broke the silence again. "Okay, on my way," she said, then snapped the phone shut.

As she turned back to face them, the brothers stared at her expectantly. "It seems like there was another attack in the Park," she announced, shoving the phone in her pocket. The brothers exchanged sidelong glances at the news, but when they turned to look at Sarah, she was starting to climb in her Jeep.

"Woah! Where are you going?" Dean exclaimed in anger.

The look Sarah gave him was as if she was staring at an idiot. "There's another victim, and I need to get there before the Park Rangers remove the body."

"Wait for us first!" interjected Sam. "We still need to change."

Sarah let out a huff, but didn't move further into her Jeep. "Fine. Go get checked in and change. Just be back in twenty minutes, or I won't still be here to show you where the body is."

Dean was about to voice his frustration with her attitude, but Sam spoke first. "Wouldn't it make more sense to ride with us?" His little brother motioned to the Impala.

Instantly, Dean felt the urge to punch his brother in the arm for even suggesting that. Sam knew the rules about what got to ride in Baby. There was no way he was letting Sarah in his car.

The blonde must have noticed the disagreement on Dean's face, because after a quick glance in his direction, Sarah shook her head and patted the side of her Jeep with her free hand. "No thanks, I'm good with Ol' Green here," she said, then climbed the rest of the way in her vehicle. "By the way, you only have nineteen minutes now."