A/N: Thanks to everyone who followed and reviewed the first chapter! I'm sorry if I missed personally responding to anyone, but the site was "losing" all the reviews, which made it difficult to keep track. Same if you happened to also read my one-shot "Left Behind." In fact, it looks like the site still isn't saving reviews...oh well. Hope you enjoy this chapter!

Chapter 2: Monster vs. Monster

Even though Bobby's was only an hour from Worthington, the Winchesters got a motel room anyway. Better to be close in case another body dropped. Dean called Bobby to report in, but the older hunter had no idea what type of monster would be hunting other monsters. Dean had half a mind to let whatever it was have at it, but who was to say it wouldn't switch to more human game?

Unfortunately, their research session yielded no leads. When the Winchesters finally decided to call it a night, Cas said he would go conduct a search of the city in all the typical places a monster might hide out in. The angel hadn't returned by the time Dean woke the next morning, and he tried not to be too worried. It was just that Cas had taken some hits recently, what with nearly killing himself traveling through time, and then the whole Famine thing, which Dean did not want to think about. At all.

He gave himself a rough shake as he slipped his jacket on, and then headed out to pick up some breakfast, since Sam was hogging the shower. Dean made it down to a donut shop before the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. It was an instinct honed after years of hunting—someone was following him.

Dean continued his measured stride without appearing ruffled, and turned into the next alley. There was an alcove to his left behind a dumpster, and he made a sharp veer toward it. With his hand on his gun, Dean pressed himself against the shadowed wall and waited.

Footsteps entered the alley, then stopped. Dean waited while his unwanted company probably took a moment to look around in confusion. Then he heard the soft slap of footfalls start to come closer. Dean counted, visualizing the cautious sweep the guy was probably doing, and when he guessed the person was close to the dumpster, Dean drew his gun and stepped out of the alcove.

It was a guy alright, an inch shorter than Dean, wearing cargo pants and a brown jacket. Black hair stuck out in various angles. He stopped short at Dean's appearance, and quickly raised his palms.

"Whoa, man, we're cool here."

"Yeah? Then why you following me?"

The guy gave a minute shrug. "Wanted to scope you out before I made contact. I'm a hunter."

Dean blinked. Another hunter? He lowered his gun just a fraction. "And what would you be hunting in the city?" he asked sardonically. Couldn't be too careful.

"Same thing you are. Vampire. I saw you at the crime scene last night, and let's just say you don't exactly scream legitimate FBI. Though you put on a good enough act for the locals, I'll give you that. Or maybe it's just easier for hunters to recognize each other." He lowered his arms, arching an expectant brow at the pistol still aimed at him. Dean slowly lowered his gun the rest of the way.

"Name's Paul Eger," the guy continued.

"Dean Winchester."

Paul nodded. "I used to hear stories about the Winchesters from Ellen Harvelle. Damn shame about the Roadhouse. Makes it harder to keep up with people. Hell, I haven't heard from Ellen in several months."

Dean's throat constricted. "Yeah, well, she and Jo…" He couldn't say it. Even though it was an understood risk in their line of work, it didn't make it any easier to swallow. Because their deaths were on him. He'd convinced them to help with some crazy-ass plan to ice the Devil that'd all been for nothing.

Paul's jaw slackened with understanding, and he reached up to rub his stubbled chin. "Aw, shit."

"Yeah." Dean cleared his throat, and finally holstered his weapon.

Paul let out a low breath. "Damn. Can happen to the best of us, though."

Dean tried to shove the memory of Jo bleeding out and Ellen clutching her dying daughter far from his mind.

"Anyway," Paul said, also shaking it off. "I've been tracking this vampire for a month now."

Dean frowned. "A month? First vic was a week ago."

"First one in this town," he replied. "Vamp's been making his way southeast since I picked up his trail in Montana."

"Huh, you sure it's a vampire?"

Paul's brow furrowed. "What else would it be?"

"Dunno. But last week's victim was a werewolf, and last night's looks like it might've been a demon. Last time I checked, vamps aren't that high up on the food chain."

Paul blinked at him in bewilderment.

"So you had no idea whether previous victims were also monsters?" Dean asked.

Paul slowly shook his head. "Uh, no. I…I don't know how I would've known something like that. How exactly did you figure it out?"

Dean shrugged one shoulder. "We got an ace in the game. You got any other leads?"

Paul eyed him warily for a prolonged beat. "No. Like I said, this vamp's been good at giving me the slip. But maybe if we team up, we can catch it."

Dean couldn't think of a reason not to. Unless he counted the fact that everyone around him tended to drop like flies. But this hunt had nothing to do with Lucifer or the Apocalypse.

He cleared his throat awkwardly. "Yeah, sure. I'm just gonna pick up some coffee and we can head back to the motel and meet my brother."

Paul nodded. "Sounds good."

He followed Dean into the donut shop, and even ordered a coffee and breakfast for himself. Then the two of them walked back to the motel where Sam was finally out of the shower, phone pressed to his ear. He stiffened as soon as he caught sight of Paul entering the room behind Dean.

"Okay, got it," he said hurriedly and hung up, shooting Dean a questioning look.

"Sam, this is Paul. He's a hunter who's been after our monster for a month now," Dean said by way of introduction.

Paul nodded in greeting. "Nice to meet you."

"Uh, yeah, you too." Sam accepted the coffee cup Dean handed him. "Wait, a month?"

"Yeah, vamp's been moving down from Montana," Paul replied.

Sam quirked a brow. "You sure it's a vampire?"

Paul let out a light laugh. "As sure as I can be, though your brother's already filled me in on these latest two victims. Gotta admit, though, a werewolf and demon biting the dust? Seems weird."

"Oh, definitely weird," Dean said before taking a large bite of his sprinkle donut.

"Well, that was Cas on the phone," Sam said. "He's found a vampire. Doesn't think it's the one we're looking for, but sounds like it might have some information."

Dean straightened, sparing a brief rueful thought for his unfinished donut and coffee. But duty called. "Where?"

Sam typed something into his laptop. "Not far."

"This 'Cas' the other member of your troop?" Paul asked.

"Yeah," Dean replied, grabbing their duffel full of weapons, just in case.

Paul's mouth pursed thoughtfully. "He looked even less FBI than you two did."

Dean almost laughed. "He's still learning."

"And you let him track down a vampire on his own?"

Dean just grinned. "Trust me, he can handle it." Even though Cas wasn't as all-powerful as he used to be, he could still handle a lowly vampire.

They headed out and piled into the Impala, Dean following Sam's directions to Cas's location. When they pulled up in front of an entrance to the sewers, however, Dean groaned.

"Seriously?"

"I guess it's a good place for a vamp to hide out," Sam allowed, though even he wrinkled his nose.

Rolling his eyes, Dean climbed out and headed for the open culvert. Paul brought up the rear, eyes peeled with hunter readiness. The stench that oozed up through Dean's nostrils was acrid, but not as bad as some other pungent aromas he'd experienced. He just had to breathe through his mouth.

Their footsteps sloshed through a sheen of standing water, no matter how softly they tried to tread. Dean was getting annoyed; why couldn't Cas have zapped the vampire outside?

They finally came to a junction where Dean spotted a familiar, trench coated figure standing over a beaten and bloody vampire that was huddled in the corner like a sniveling wuss.

Paul pulled up short and stared in disbelief. The vampire wasn't restrained, nor was Cas holding a weapon. Dean smirked; it was kinda fun showing off the angel's badassery.

Cas ran an appraising gaze over the third hunter before he turned back to the vampire on the ground. "Tell them what you told me."

The vamp bared his teeth and hissed, a gesture that was dampened by him cowering further into himself. "There's a new vampire in town. Just got in." His eyes flicked around wildly. "He's one scary dude everyone is avoiding. Can't even tell you why, there's just somthin' about him. My nest scattered." His throat bobbed, eyes hungrily roving over the three humans as though he hadn't eaten in a while. "We're hiding out, just hoping he leaves."

Sam's brow puckered thoughtfully. "So you're sure he's a vampire?"

The creature glowered at him, sucking air through his jagged teeth. "Yeah, I'm sure."

Well, at least they knew the 'what' now.

"Alright," Dean said. "Where do we find him?"

The vamp silently glared.

Dean spread his arms with fake geniality. "Come on, if you're avoiding him, that means you know exactly where not to go."

Cas took a single step forward, and the vampire cringed away from him. "Warehouse on Hurst," he bleated, and then shot them all scathing looks. "That's all I know, I swear."

Dean exchanged a look with Sam, then back to the vampire. "I believe you." He nodded to Cas.

The angel's blade dropped down from his sleeve into his hand, and with one smooth movement, Cas arced his arm and sliced clean through the vampire's neck, metal clanging against the concrete wall. The head detached with a squelch and plopped on the ground.

Dean glanced at Paul, whose eyes were wide as he stared at Cas. His hand slowly moved to his jacket as though reaching for a weapon.

"What is he?"

"Paul, this is Cas," Dean said calmly. "Cas, this is Paul."

Paul narrowed his gaze. "What are you?"

A muscle in Cas's jaw ticked, and Dean belatedly realized that wasn't a fun question for him lately.

"I'm an angel of the lord," he said, somewhat stiffly.

Paul's brows shot upward. "Are you shittin' me?"

Cas frowned. "No."

"He really is an angel," Sam jumped in. "One of the good guys."

Paul's mouth worked for an extra beat before he said, "Well, uh, good to meet you."

"Great," Dean said. "Now let's go check out this warehouse."

"I'll meet you there," Cas said, and vanished before Dean could open his mouth to respond.

"Dammit, Cas," he swore.

Sam gave Dean a sympathetic shrug. "Backseat's probably gonna be a little crowded for him."

Dean glanced at Paul, who lifted his brows as though wondering whether he should be offended. "Yeah, well, a vamp that even the monsters are afraid of? Idiot should've waited for us." Dean started marching back out of the tunnel at a quickened pace, Sam and Paul hurrying behind.

The moment all three doors of the Impala shut, Dean gunned it back onto the road while Sam read off directions from his phone. The warehouse was abandoned—of course it was—with four-inch weeds growing through the vacant side lot. Dean parked and popped the trunk, then got out and started handing out machetes, though he kept his gun in its holster and Sam still carried the demon killing knife.

Paul tested the balance of the machete he'd been given. "Let's do this."

There was a flutter of wings, and Cas appeared at the front of the Impala.

"Dude, what the hell?" Dean snapped. "You don't go running off alone after something that kills demons."

Cas's expression darkened. "I'm an angel. Besides, the place is empty."

The three hunters shifted postures, the anticipation of a hunt quickly draining at the news.

"So, was that other vampire lying?" Sam asked.

"No," Cas replied. "I believe our quarry was here, but he's gone now. Still, you should take a look." Pivoting, the angel started toward a side door, leaving the Winchesters and Paul no choice but to follow.

Inside was your typical abandoned warehouse, except this one had a devil's trap painted on the floor. Everyone stared at it for several long moments. There were some rust-colored smears that didn't look like part of the red paint.

"So…" Dean finally broke the silence. "That last vic was a demon, and somehow this vampire managed to kill it."

Sam nodded thoughtfully. "Seems that way."

Dean scanned the warehouse. A metal table had been set out near the devil's trap, but if it held anything before, it was bare now. There was no other sign of a vampire making this his evil headquarters for whatever he was up to.

"Still," Dean said. "A vampire that eats monsters? I mean, what the hell is that about?"

"Maybe it's a coincidence," Paul said. "We can't know what his earlier victims were." His brow furrowed, and he flicked a look at Cas. "Is that how you knew? Some kind of angel x-ray hoo-doo?"

Cas tilted his head and blinked back owlishly.

"Cas sensed it, yeah," Sam answered.

"Hey, think you could track down previous victims and see if they were monsters too?" Dean asked the angel.

Cas's brow furrowed, but after a moment he nodded.

"Great." Dean waved at Paul. "Make a list."

Sam paced around the edges of the devil's trap. "I wonder if this vampire is trying to do good."

Dean scoffed. "Come on, Sammy."

"Well, he's killing other monsters."

"Unconfirmed," Paul put in between scribbling out stuff on a small notepad. Once done, he ripped the piece of paper out and passed it to Cas.

Sam huffed. "I'm just saying."

Dean did have to admit that the idea of a monster taking out other baddies might be a good thing. Could save them work…for now. But again, the thing could easily target humans as well. It might help to know about the earlier victims.

"Let us know what you find," he said to Cas.

The angel vanished in a swish of wing beats.

Paul let out a heavy sigh. "This is what happened last time—I thought I was getting close, and the vamp skipped town. Trail ran cold until he started killing again somewhere else."

Dean's jaw tightened. Awesome.

"I ain't givin' up, though," he continued. "And hey, you keep me in the loop if you get wind of him, right? I'll do the same for you."

Sam nodded. "Of course. Thanks for your help."

Paul glanced around the warehouse and shook his head. "What little it was. I'd really been hoping this was the day."

Dean knew that feeling. "Guess we should head back."

After casting one last look at the place, the three filed out to the Impala. The disappointment of a failed hunt was palpable, and the drive back to the motel tense with silence.

Dean put the car in park and craned his neck to look into the backseat. "You need a ride anywhere?"

"Nah, my ride's around the block," Paul replied.

Dean shut off the engine and then lingered while Sam went inside the room to fill Bobby in on their progress, or lack thereof. Paul hesitated before taking off.

"So, angels are real, huh?"

Dean shrugged his eyebrows. "Yup."

"You meet many?" Paul asked. "I mean, if angels are teaming up with hunters…"

Dean couldn't help but bark out a laugh. "Trust me, you don't want that. Plus, angels would never stoop so low."

Paul frowned. "But…"

"Cas is different. All other angels are dicks, though. They actually helped jumpstart Judgement Day."

Paul's eyes darkened and he lowered his voice. "I heard rumors about the Apocalypse."

"Yeah, well, it's real, too." Guilt coiled around Dean's rib cage like a vice. Every time he had to tell someone about the Apocalypse, it was like personally issuing their death warrant, since he helped start it all.

"Huh," Paul hummed. "So, what do I do if I happen to run into angels?"

"Run like hell," Dean replied blithely, but then went around and popped the trunk. "Really, not much can hurt them. There's a banishing sigil you have to paint in human blood. I'll text you a picture."

He lifted the false bottom and rifled through the stuff before pulling out the jar of holy oil. Grabbing a half-empty water bottle, he dumped its contents and then poured a bit of oil into the bottle instead.

"Use this to set a circle and light it on fire to trap an angel inside. It ain't much, but should give you a chance if you have the misfortune of meeting one of those winged dicks."

Paul took the bottle and nodded appreciatively. "Thanks."

"No problem." Dean slammed the trunk closed. "Good luck out there."

Paul lifted the bottle with its small token of holy oil. "You too."

With that, he headed down the street. Dean watched him go, wondering if somehow, just by having met Dean and learning about angels, Paul was now destined to die like everyone else.

Turning away, Dean headed inside to grab a beer. Or three.