Next thing I knew, I was puking belly-down on a patch of moist goo. Wait, not goo. Mud? And grass? And ferns? I heaved myself up to get a better look. Daylight? Maybe. It was cloudy and misty and the sun wasn't out. Apparently, I must've been away-from-keyboard for awhile, because I was in a dense primeval pine forest—the kind you'd find in Oregon, not Sioux Falls, South Dakota, where Bobby and I'd been camped. I suspected a knock-and-drag.

"Hello?"

Hey, it's the standard whiskey-tango-foxtrot-where-the-hell-am-I birdcall. And what a surprise. No response. Just chirping, twittering, and gnats. A field mouse scurried past. I remember thinking, God I hope the varmint didn't poop on me while I was gone-fishing. That's when I saw the barrel glimmer—the Colt revolver in all its beauty, nestled in the bosom of a fern.

"What the hell?"

You see, I'd lost the gun trying to off Lucifer pointblank "dodge this" Matrix-style during our first date. Only yeah, he dodged it. Or rather, he took it full force and chuckled. In the chaos of switching my ass into high gear and running, I'd dropped the goods in more ways than one. And that the Colt would suddenly reappear now? Under these circumstances? Way beyond creepy. I never refuse a free gun though. So, I snagged it. Now the Colt's no ordinary revolver. It was made by Samuel Colt himself, way back in 1835 when Halley's Comet was overhead. The very same night those men died at the Alamo. It can kill pretty much anything—well, besides Satan or God or something like that. And you gotta aim right, but hey, that's still pretty damn good. And it was loaded with five, shiny rounds.

I swabbed dried barf off my jacket as best I could with some ferns. The minty fresh smell helped disguise the charming fragrance of flu. My cell phone was gone and I didn't know what else to do, so I started bushwhacking a path west. You can tell direction by moss on the trees. It's burliest on the north side. But bark thickness is a better indicator. It's a trick I picked up from Dad. Wilderness expeditions and monster hunts come as a package deal. Soon I could hear a babbling brook, like in one of those cheap-ass relaxation CDs.

Wait. What the hell was I doing? Why not just call Cas?

Castiel was our wingman. Help from on high. An angel who'd gone rogue to fight alongside us and stop Armageddon. Word on the street was he got the boss position upstairs after Michael's defrocking. Of course, Raphael didn't like that and now there was some big civil war. I knew less about it than the surface of Mars. Cas kept his pie-hole shut most days. I guess 'cause it was painful. I understood. Or so I thought. He'd been like a brother to me since the day he'd gripped me tight and raised me up from perdition. His words. Paraphrased.

Yeah, about the perdition. It's a long story. I made a deal with a demon to bring my brother back from the dead and uh, it didn't pan out so well. That was several years before Sammy's current bout with H.E. double-hockey-stickitis. Really, the pit had become a second home for us. You know, me, Sam, and Bobby. If you want the whole weepy soap opera, I'm sure someone else can tell you. But I'm only gonna bring up what I need to when I need to. They weren't the golden years.

Anyway, we hadn't been in touch with Cas for awhile. He didn't exactly dig the Death plan. Or restoring Sammy's soul by any other means. "Why don't you just be a man and kill your brother outright?" he'd said. In retrospect, maybe so. Hell memories can dust your fluffer.

But then again, it's not like Cas is Mr. Clean either. More on that later.

Getting back to the story, I clasped my hands and did the "I do believe in fairies, I do believe in fairies" shindig—you know, praying.

"O Castiel, who art probably royally pissed off at me. I sorta went through on the deal with Death. I don't know where I am, I'm wet, and I ickied my jacket. Get your ass down here and you can tell me 'I told you so' and laugh as much as you want...but uh, I guess you don't laugh so much and...okay, I'm shutting up."

I cracked an eyelid. Nada.

"Damn it."

Either I was getting the cold wing or worse—something happened to Cas. Or he was simply busy. War's a bitch. He'd come when it counted. I had faith. And it wasn't like I was in mortal danger.

A twig snapped.

Well, I wasn't in mortal danger yet.

A shadow whooshed past. The one from Bobby's place? Motion in the branches. Click. Clack. I backed against a tree trunk. My grip tightened on the Colt. Running is typically a bad idea when you can't see your enemy. Cautiously, I trod toward where the disturbance was headed. West. Past the brook.

A clearing was coming up. Really odd. Circular. I got real close to the edge but pressed against another tree. The ferns below two vine maples on the other side shook. Something was coming out. I girded my loins. Whatever the hell that means.

Slowly, the beast emerged.

A teenage girl with a grey pullover-hoodie? Cute too. But definitely jailbait. She toyed with a few strands of long, dark almond-colored hair. A nervous twitch? I knew instantly she was stressed about something. The way she cradled her chest told all.

This was not a stray hiker. More like a mourner visiting a grave.

I stood my ground.

She closed her eyes and fell to her knees, making this creepy gaspy-groany noise. Her face contorted like she was passing a kidney-stone. I almost full-throttled out to assist her. She looked sicker than Sammy after the Rattler at Six Flags. But then I heard feet crunch a few dozen paces away. Firm, steady. Purposeful.

Best to keep the element of surprise.

The footsteps paused. I heard a snort. Animal? Yeah, I don't think so. The critter was bipedal. Gettin' close to rumble time. I adjusted my grip on the gun.

Snorty moved for the clearing. Gosh, he'd certainly been eating his Wheaties. The muscles rippling gracefully on those carved, olive-toned shoulders—okay, that was really gay. Suffice it to say he was a very pretty, shirtless Jamaican man with leafy dreadlocks. Look, you'd have to have been there. It was majestic elk beauty, not Chippendale's.

Snorty entered the clearing and froze.

"Laurent!" squealed the girl. She giggled a bit.

Secret lovers' rendezvous? Laurent? Why did that name sound so familiar? I smirked and shifted for a better view. Damn, maybe I was wrong about this whole situation. Usually you have to pay fifty bucks to see porn this good. I glanced over the trembly girl and then at the lucky bachelor and—

What the fudging holy hell was wrong with his eyes? Black, like a demon, but with faint rosy-red rings. I gulped and assumed combat stance again. This was about to get stinky or really, really kinky.

"Bella?" he gasped.

Oh son of a bitch!

I grimaced. Were the vamps seriously still hauling their creep-ass recruitment camps along, building an army? How did girls fall for this crap? I mean really? Anne Rice and Stephanie Meyer? It's not even good writing. It's not even good grammar for Christ's sake. This girl was what, seventeen? Eleven I could understand. Maybe. But whatever. I had to hand it to the fangs though. Preying on hot emo-chicks with self-image problems seemed to be a winning strategy. Of course, this could just be roleplaying. But I never get that lucky. I decided to wait it out and see.

"You remember me!" Trembly-girl smiled at Laurent.

Snorty grinned. "I didn't expect to see you here."

Yeah. Sure you didn't, Champ.

He strolled toward her.

"Isn't it the other way around?" The girl stood. "I do live here. I thought you'd gone to Alaska?"

"You're right. I did go to Alaska. Still, I didn't expect... When I found the Cullen place empty, I thought they'd moved on."

Yep. Vamp recruitment officer. Cullens! Ha!

"Oh." Trembly-girl bit her lip. She looked wounded by something he'd said.

Silence. Laurent moved forward.

The girl mewled, "They did move on."

"Hmm," Snorty grumbled. "I'm surprised they left you behind. Weren't you sort of a pet of theirs?"

Trembly-girl smiled. "Something like that."

"Hmm."

The propeller on Laurent's thinking cap was spinning fast as a jet. You could almost feel the breeze. I wasn't scared though. This guy was alone. And besides, vamps are overrated. Sure, they're quick and strong and hard to kill. But they aren't undead and they certainly aren't demigods. Yeah, sunlight hurts their eyes, they can take quite a stabbing, and they are nocturnal. So, I can see how some of the myths got started. However, real vamps eat (well, drink), whizz, sleep, and bleed like everybody else. Some even go to church, vote, tithe, and do the animal thing rather than people. Immortality is true though—well, until a hunter wastes you. Decapitation drops'em fine. A drunk guy with a shotgun and razor-wire could take an unprepared one down easy. I'd seen it done. And I had the Colt on me.

"Do they visit often?" Laurent ventured.

I assumed he meant the, cough cough, Cullens.

Trembly-girl's face twitched like a grand mal seizer was coming on.

"Now and again," she peeped. "The time seems longer to me uh, I imagine. You know how they uh, get, um, distracted."

"Hmm. The house smelled like it had been vacant for a while..."

She perked up. "I'll have to mention to Carlisle that you stopped by. He'll be sorry they missed your visit." She put a finger to her chin. "But I probably shouldn't mention it to...Edward, I suppose—"

Edward? Damn they had her miracle-whipped.

Trembly-girl struggled to continue. "—he has such a temper." Her lips quivered. A tear trickled. "Well, I'm sure you remember. He's still touchy about the whole James thing."

She rolled her eyes and waved a hand. Trembly-girl was trying so hard for nonchalant it physically hurt to watch. Even more than a back-to-back showing of An Inconvenient Truth and UFO Files...

"Is he really?" Snorty flashed a toothy grin.

"Mmhmm."

Laurent glanced around. I scrunched up against the tree. He didn't see me, but it was a close one. I tried to breathe shallowly, hoping my heartbeat would be cloaked by birdsong or some nearby deer. As for the barf smell that'd been stinking up my jacket, I'd smeared so much fern I doubted he'd notice.

Laurent advanced for the girl. Not time yet, but almost. I was gonna have a little fun before he died. And I needed him as far from a retreat as possible.

"So how are things working out in Denali?" Trembly-girl small-talked. "Carlisle said you were staying with Tanya?"

He paused. "I like Tanya very much. And her sister Irina even more... I've never stayed in one place for so long before, and I enjoy the advantages, the novelty of it. But, the restrictions are difficult... I'm surprised that any of them can keep it up for long."

Laurent smirked, "Sometimes, I cheat."

Aha! A recruitment officer lusting for the thrill of the kill. Like the good old days back before fangs were reduced to ransacking blood-banks. Recently, they'd been keeping a low profile to bulk up their nests and dodge nasty questions from local law enforcement.

Get a little closer, you bloodsucking bastard.

"Oh," squeaked the girl. "Jasper has problems with that, too."

"Really?" Snorty cocked an eyebrow. "Is that why they left?"

"No. Jasper is more careful at home."

"Yes," Laurent agreed. "I am too."

He stepped forward again.

Come on! Twist that ankle a bit more!

I needed him in a position where sprinting wouldn't be an option.

The girl was petrified. "Did Victoria ever find you?"

"Yes," Snorty hesitated. "I actually came here as a favor to her. She won't be happy about this."

Victoria. Must be the ringleader. Nest head. Mother hen. Whatever you call it. But I knew that wasn't her real name. The vamps were obviously, pathetically, literally posing as Twilight characters. Hadn't seen 'em that desperate before. My Meyer's knowledge was decent. I'd never touched the books, but Sammy'd dragged me to the first movie. I made it halfway through before I bailed for the commode and tried to flush myself. Must've been at least three years ago. Jesus Christ that boy had a heart. Well, back when he had a heart. Never seen a 220 lb., 6'4", 25 year-old man cry so damn much. Poor Sammy. I cried too, but for other reasons. See, I've been to Hell, and...we'll just leave it at that.

Laurent glared in my direction.

Shit! Did he spot me?

No, but almost.

"Victoria won't be happy?" Trembly-girl sounded hysterical. "She, she won't be happy about what?"

He turned back to her and purred. "About me killing you."

Well, if I was waiting for intent, the bus had arrived. Time to hustle ass off the platform. This dick deserved to be taken down with indignity.

"Talk about authenticity!" I strolled out laughing and clapping.

The girl jumped. Laurent's mouth fell.

"Holy crap!" I jeered. "Are you wearing glitter and powder? Where'd you get the contacts? Party Pig?"

Snorty gaped, "How the hell did you get here?"

"Good question." I aimed and clicked the gun. "But I'm driving. Nice dreadlocks by the way. They smell like piss."

"You smell lovely yourself," he chuckled.

"Indigestion," I snapped. "You're about to have it worse, pal."

He belly-laughed at me. Unbelievable.

I side-stepped and cracked my neck. Actually, I was checking around for any surprises. His confidence didn't seem like a bluff. Trembly-girl dropped to the ground all squirmy. She was mouthing something like, Run away. Sweetheart, if things get ugly, we'll get to that part soon enough. Trust me.

Laurent composed himself. "Do you know what I am?"

"A steaming hunk of bloodsucking douche-bag? Mosquito with an attitude?"

He seemed stunned. "You actually do know what I am?"

"Hey," I winked, "you said it. I merely proposed."

Anger flashed in his eyes. "Clearly, you don't know enough, little boy."

"Just cause you're older than Betty White don't make me Justin Bieber."

Oh, that really set him off. Neato.

He growled, "You arrogant clown! I could break every, single, fragile bone in your frail, delicate body with the tiniest flick of my wrist! That gun is a crude toy. It will not save you!"

Poor ignorant sap. I thought I'd drill for oil before torching the well.

"So," I paced, "this is what you do, huh? Girl doesn't match your criteria, and you make a Slurpie of her? Or maybe you're just out for some rec action?" I shook my head and cackled. "Word is, you all got an R.O.T.C. program of sorts. Tell me, where's Victoria and her wonder boys?"

He looked confused. Surprised. Suddenly scared. "What's it to you?"

"Got a bullet with the bitch's name on it! Thought it'd be nice to give her a present that really touches the heart."

He snarled.

"You gonna tell me or not? Only reason you're still breathing."

No response. Just bared teeth.

"Okay then." I'd find her myself. Time to gank him. "Are you Jamaican?"

He laughed. Nervous. "What? No, I'm Haitian."

"You sure? Cause Jamaican me crazy." I grinned ear to ear.

He snapped and lunged. The girl screamed. Shit. The bastard was a lot quicker than I reckoned he'd be. No worries. I'd given myself plenty of elbow room.

"Suck it, leech!"

Blam!

A bullet slugged into his chest, stopping him cold. He gawked at the wound—a scorched, perfect pentagram sparking with electric energy. Red lightning rocked his body. He wailed as the skin around the wound cracked and turned white. It was like he was freezing over. All motion ceased. A perfect ice sculpture. I thunked his head. The corpse toppled, shattering. Freaky. Never seen one die like that before. They're supposed to kill over like humans, you know, except the blood is a tad thicker and gooey.

"You okay?" I reached for the girl.

"What did you do to him?" she cupped her mouth.

"Yeah. Gonna need a broom and a dust pan, eh?"

She forced a grin. "Thank you. So, so much."

I nodded and fished for one of the larger pieces of the corpse. It was hard, smooth, granite-like. I'd learned on the job that victims are sometimes shake-and-baked. So I didn't know if she was legit or a trap, but I needed to start building her trust even before I could give mine.

"You got a rock collection?" I offered.

She nodded slowly.

"Want me to hold on to it for you?"

"Yes. Kinda. Does that sound weird?"

Sure does.

"No," I chuckled. "Not at all!"

She clasped a hand to her chest and came forward. "Who... who are you?"

"Name's Dean Winchester," I extended a hand. Unbeknownst to her, there was an iron nail between my pointer and index finger. Common monster litmus test.

She shook my hand firmly and without pain. "Isabella Swan."

Well, not a monster. But definitely a basket-case of nut-bars. She sure looked the part at least. It'd be worse if she was big and fat with red hair and a snaggletooth.

"That's such a lovely name!"

Scheisse! Hope I didn't sound too sarcastic.

She eyed me odd. "What's wrong with my name?"

"Nothing, nothing, it's just uh—"

"What the hell are you? You just killed a vampire! Don't you dare touch me!"

Yeah. I'd been waiting for the freakout.

"Easy, easy," I put up my hands. "My brother and I, we're hunters. We're good at our work. We gank creepy-crawlies and help folks like you. Look, whatever the fangs told you, it ain't true. They've been sweepin' the country picking up girls your age with sappy romance gags. I'm just doing my best to stop'em and clean up the trail of broken hearts and bodies."

She sobbed and latched onto me. "Is that why Edward's gone?"

Assault and battery by excessive hugging followed.

"Um," I patted her back, "yeah. Sometimes they do that. They'll turn the ones they want, move on, and leave the others as chow for their friends to jerk-off later."

"It's not true!" she shrieked and beat my chest. "You're a liar! A liar!"

Bella—for lack of a better name—sank down.

"It's so true," she gasped in a voice barely above a whisper.

Her eyes went distant. "The house, the family, the—"

"All a show."

I knelt and gripped the poor girl's shoulders tight. "I need you to be strong, listen, and stay with me, okay?"

She nodded. A tear wobbled on her chin.

"Now," I continued, "I'm gonna ask some hard questions. You're safe, so you can tell me anything. Absolutely anything. You understand?"

She nodded again.

"Were there any others?"

"Um, vampires? Yes, there was Carlisle and Esme, Alice and Jasper, and Rosalie and Emmett. Laurent was from another coven. James' coven. James is dead. Actually, I dunno. That might have been a trick. Victoria was with him. She's alive."

I knew the basic plot line. I didn't need it rehashed. The girl was even more damaged than I suspected. And I suspected monster-truck derby carnage.

"Okay. Were there any others like you?"

"No. I don't think so. Or at least, they didn't let me see them."

"Where'd Edward go?"

"I don't know. The rest of the Cullens left before him. He took me out into the forest, told me he didn't love me and—" Her voice broke.

"And?"

"And left."

"When was that?"

"Back in September. September fifteenth. Two days after my birthday."

Five months ago? Odd. That's all I could think. Why not drink her then and there? Too sweet? Were brunettes gamey? There was something to this story I wasn't getting. But it'd have to wait till we got someplace less Hansel-and-Gretelly.

I helped Bella up. "Hey uh, can you walk?"

"I think so."

I scratched my chin. "You got a cell phone by any chance?"

"No," she sniffled. "I'm technologically impaired."

She was trying to joke. Very good sign!

I wrapped my free arm around her shoulder. "You know the way to the main road from here?"

"Uh huh." She unwrinkled a map scrawled with an impressive grid pattern. "I was following this line today. So we're about here and the road is...northwest. I've got a compass too. You look pretty grizzled sir."

"You're worried about me?" I winked.

"Well, kinda about me too. I'm not good at keeping myself safe."

Tell me about it.

I fished in my pocket.

Oh thank God!

I whipped out my fake FBI badge. "Feel better?"

"A lot," she sighed. "The government's involved in this?"

"When's the government not involved?"

She grinned. "So hunters are, like special agents? And your brother's one too? Where is he right now?"

"Missing in action," I mumbled, "as usual."

Maybe I could buy the lie too, if I washed it down with enough whiskey later. I went ahead and let Bella rock the map and compass. You gotta help folks maintain a feeling of control. Or else, well, try to fight holding a dank, stiff log, because that's what they'll mighty-morph into once the heat comes on. Bella struggled to orient us before we set off into the woods.

"Do you specialize in vampires?" she asked.

"Excuse me?"

"You talked as if there's more stuff out there. You were really good with the vampire though. It's...like you were inside his head."

Eh, what the hell? Why not give her a small dose of truth? She seemed to dig fanged men anyway. This hand might play to my advantage.

"It's 'cause they turned me. A few months back."

She cocked an eyebrow.

"Yeah," I explained, "but it was only for—"

Snarls from the trees. A giant, black wolf crashed through the underbrush. Big as a horse. Mad as a prodded cow. It stopped about twenty feet away, pawed the ground, and glowered. Spit glistened on its pearly whites. Dog men—skinwalkers, we call 'em. And these fellas were pumped on steroids. I don't know who screamed more like a girl—Bella, or me. She burrowed into my leg.

"Try the other one," I whispered. "That one might be a little warm."

Yeah. Real men pee themselves, okay?

A gray and a brown beast slinked out to join the first. Then, there were five, lined up in a V shape. If it's not geese flying south, that's a very bad shape for creatures to be in. I figured I might get two shots off before they made Kibbles'n Bits of us. Running was out. Bluffing was just plain stupid—but stupid is as stupid does.

I aimed the Colt and hugged the girl. "You put one scratch on little gray riding hood and I swear to God, I'll huff, and I'll puff, and I'll blow your ass away!"

The brown wolf glanced at the black one—the alpha, I assumed. Their stance relaxed. One by one, they left—the brown one last. He kept glancing back over his haunches at me. His brow furrowed as he trotted along.

"Holy crap," I swallowed. "What the hell is this? Dracula versus wolf-man?"

"We gotta run!" Bella tugged.

No disagreement there, sweetheart. She fumbled the compass and map. I ripped 'em from her hands, slung 'em to the mud, and snatched her up. Screw giving her a sense of control! I'd take the dank, stiff log!

"Which way are we going?" she squealed.

"Away!"