Dead Man's Blood is literally the only reason this story got started. I've been waiting to write this episode since about 2012, so I hope it turns out as well as it did in all my daydreams (of which I've had several)!
Elizabeth remembers a flash of silver eyes in the headlights, the crunching of metal and a jarring impact when Zane swerves into a tree; she remembers joking about his horrible John Wayne impression and the night sky whirling overhead as the car turned on its side. It happens fast, their car crash. In the blink of an eye, they go from being a couple of idiots on a food run to being a couple of idiots in a car that reeks of gas.
"Zane," Elizabeth says, or tries to. It comes out garbled from her busted lips, her tongue heavy and not wanting to cooperate. Her shoulder is on fire and she knows she needs to get out (out where? i'm already outside there's stars and the moon and—)
"They're fine," a woman laughs. It comes from far away, somewhere in the distance or maybe that's the roaring in Elizabeth's ears. Has it always been there? She can't remember (zane was trying to quote el dorado and then he started to shout), remembering makes her temples throb. "They're not dolls, babe."
"They're human," a man roars. The voices sound oddly familiar, but she can't grasp where she's heard them before. She just knows she has to get her and Zane out of the car (gas!) "If she's dead, so help me—"
"She's calling for her friend." There's a crunch of boots over gravel, but that's not right since they'd been driving on smooth asphalt. She shifts and cries out as something cuts her cheek, the lightbulb flickering on dimly behind her eyelids. Boots on glass, glass from the windshield, the windshield that exploded when the car hit the tree (zaney's gonna be so mad about his car i gotta get it fixed for him).
A shadow falls over her, dark as an oil slick in the yellow beam of the headlights. The shadow crouches down and there's another flicker of silver eyes before the man's face reveals itself. There's no smile there, no sign of amusement, only a cold concern that makes Elizabeth's bones ache. Or maybe that was the car crash. Who can tell anymore?
The roaring in her ears has gone silent, pulled away like the moon pulls the tide (at least it's not my legs poor paulie sheldon broke his legs). She can't focus her thoughts, they're scattered all over like a twenty-sided die on a D and D table. The man reaches out and picks her up before she can protest, wincing at the way she screams as her shoulder is jostled.
"It's alright, kid," he murmurs. "I'll make you all better."
Don't worry, kid, Christopher Mayson had said nineteen years ago. Elizabeth had broken her arm in a fight with that goddamn Christa Caldwell and her daddy was cradling her against his chest just like he's doing now. We'll get you fixed up again. Maybe you'll even get a cool cast to show off.
"I need a cast," she says now, aware of how delirious she sounds. Her voice is faint, almost swallowed in the constant beeping of the Ferrari. "It'll be bubblegum pink again, Daddy." Daddy gives a brief, rumbling chuckle and then they're moving away from the crash and the noise. Her gaze drifts around, spotting a lax hand hanging out one of the windows. "Zane! We have to get Zane or he'll die!"
"Fetch the human, Katie." The woman who'd been talking before, Katie, goes and does just that. Elizabeth watches in surprise as she yanks Zane out of the wreckage, putting him over her shoulder in a fireman's carry without so much as a grunt.
"Katie's on some serious drugs."
"The only thing she's on is my last nerve." Elizabeth can't help her startled giggle, her ribs aching with the sound. She can't stop it any more than she could have stopped Ray Stevens' squirrel getting loose in church, it bubbles out of her and into the cold night air. "Try not to laugh too much, kid. I don't know what state your ribs are in."
"They hurt like a bitch."
"I reckon they do." Daddy lays her across the seat of a car (it's not the ferrari, that's still totaled off the side of the road). The seats are plush leather and she relaxes against them as Daddy puts her feet in his lap so he can sit down and drive. She must be in the Impala, it's the only logical answer she can come up with. "You and the human can ride in back, Kate."
"You should be thanking me, not punishing me," Kate snarls. Her voice comes from behind them and the night is starting to give way to dawn, time slipping through Elizabeth's fingers like sand. (i stand amid the roar of a surf-tormented shore, and i hold within my hand grains of the golden sand—)
"Dana loved that poem," Elizabeth whispers. Her sister had read it whenever she was feeling down, curled up somewhere in Uncle Bobby's house (he's not really our uncle, Liza, he was just daddy's best friend). "She cried so much after you left, Daddy." Warm fingers wrap around Elizabeth's ankle, the one she'd sprained last week trying to climb fences. "We all did, but Dana loved you most. She remembered you."
"I'm still here, kid," Daddy promises. Elizabeth's eyes are closed now and she can't see the way he's staring down at her with concern creasing his brows. She can't see that he's got dark brown hair and eyes instead of Christopher's golden blond locks. "Can you stay awake for me? It's important that you stay awake, Elizabeth."
"I'm already asleep. This is all some weird dream."
"What do you mean?"
"You can't really be here, you're dead." The fingers tighten and she lets out a whimper, trying to curl up. The motion makes her ribs throb and her shoulder catch fire again, so she forces herself to stay still. This isn't right. You're not supposed to hurt so much when you're dreaming. She makes another small sound and then her eyes are fluttering open.
At some point, the car has changed into an open space and the leather seat is a mattress with cotton sheets. The pain is still there, though, more noticeable now as she squints around her. Overhead are bare beams that have gone gray from exposure, forming a curved arch at the very top (barn?).
"Morning, sleeping beauty." Her first response is to smile because Dean's the only one who calls her that. She turns her head to the right, ready to give him hell, only to have her smile slip right off her face because it's not Dean offering her a cup of coffee, it's Luther.
She remembers a flash of silver eyes in the headlights, the crunching of metal and a jarring impact when Zane swerves into a tree; a sticky note just for her on a motel room door and the way Luther never felt any of the booze when he sauntered out with his girlfriend (kate, who can pick up grown men like it's nothing). I've got your scent, kid.
The scent of copper hangs heavy in the air and she can see a body lying in a crumpled heap near a support beam. Kate's grinning, looming over the corpse with blood coating her mouth like a morbid goatee. Sharp teeth slide back into her gums, leaving ordinary, almost human, teeth in their place, but there's still the blood. Panic surges through Elizabeth, but it's not Zane that the bitch from hell has been snacking on.
"Are you guys vampires," Elizabeth asks dumbly. She feels that she's allowed to be a bit dumb right now. She's got a concussion, a couple of bruised ribs, and she's been kidnapped on top of all of that. She also has a vague memory of calling Luther daddy and that's not something she's ever called anyone. Her own father had been called dad and she's never developed a daddy kink.
"We're vampires," Luther confirms. Elizabeth nods and even the slight dip of her chin makes her whole body complain. She bites back a groan, not wanting to give these fuckers the satisfaction of seeing her in pain. They got a free show last night and that's all they're getting. Still, she's had a suspicion that vampires were real no matter how Uncle Bobby insisted they weren't. They'd even had a bet on the subject, hadn't they?
"I call bullshit on this whole situation and you two dicks in particular."
Forty-Eight Hours Earlier….
"Okay," Dean sighs, dropping the newspaper on the table. "Turns out the only interesting thing in Nebraska is cornfields and the children who live in them." Elizabeth snorts but doesn't comment. "Any of you find a case?"
"Not a damn thing," Elizabeth says, not looking up from her book. She's been reading The Stand for two weeks and she's going to finish the fucking thing even if it kills her. "I don't know why we came to Nebraska in the first place."
"Because of the homicidal children in the cornfields."
"That's not a real thing, Dean," Sam says. "Stephen King wrote a short story, but it wasn't a historical document." It wasn't even one of his best short stories. Elizabeth has a particular fondness for The Boogeyman; it was creepy and the perfect length for a campfire ghost story.
"Shut up." There's a beat where Dean takes a long drink from his coffee, gazing around the diner as though trying to find a monster in disguise. When nothing pops out at him, he turns his attention back to his brother. "So, have you found anything? You never answered."
"A man in Colorado named Daniel Elkins was found mauled in his home." Elizabeth's head snaps up and to the left, looking at Sam with wide eyes. "What? Why are you giving me crazy eyes?"
"Did you say the guy was named Daniel Elkins," she asks. At Sam's nod, she sets her book down and lets out a faint sigh. "Uncle Bobby used to write him letters bi-monthly, keeping him in the loop on cases around South Dakota. The dude was a retired hunter, but he kept a detailed journal and notes. You know how Bobby is the go-to guy for information?"
"Yeah."
"He learned everything from two guys: Daniel Elkins and Rufus Turner. If Elkins is dead, then something supernatural got him."
"Then I guess we're going to Colorado to kill the thing that killed him." They finish eating before heading out to the car, the next five hours passing like they usually do in-between jobs—arguing over dumb stuff, singing badly, and a bitchy monologue about why Sweet Home Alabama is a cinematic masterpiece.
"I'm just saying," Sam says as they pull up to an old cabin. "If it was meant to be taken seriously, they could have worked on their southern accents a bit more." Her lips pursed and all her patience left behind somewhere on I-76, she grabs her book and smacks Sam over the head with it. "Ow! What the fuck?"
"They did their best, dammit," she states firmly. "It was romantic and funny and I'd totally let Reese Witherspoon do weird shit to me if she asked. This isn't a debate, Sammy. You will never convince me that the movie is garbage." He scowls at her over his shoulder, looking ready to say something else when she smacks him again. "No!"
"Dean, tell her to stop hitting me!"
"Why don't both of you start acting your ages instead of your shoe sizes," he orders sternly. "I'm gonna go into the creepy cabin and do a little investigating and you two are welcome to join me when you cool off."
"You don't have to be such a dick about it." Dean rolls his eyes and gets out of the Impala, the other two flailing to follow suit. It had been kind of warm in Nebraska, but at some point between crossing into Manning and nightfall, the temperatures have plummeted. There are also snowdrifts piled high against the sides of the cabin, glittering in the moonlight as the hunters walk up a shoveled path to the front door. "Hold the light steady and I'll pick the lock."
"You got it." Dean pulls the flashlight out of his coat pocket, shining it on the three locks for Sam to see. It's slow going, Sam's fingers must be stiff as hell in the cold, but he eventually gets them all unlocked. The door swings inward with a slow creak, the drawn-out sound echoing eerily in the empty cabin.
"I'm gonna be so pissed off if I die in a cabin in the woods," Elizabeth mutters. "That's too clichéd for my tastes." If she's gonna die, she'd prefer to do it naked on silk sheets with Forever Young playing in the background. She'll probably go out bloody like most hunters.
"Tell me about it." The sitting room of the cabin doubles as a kitchen, pretty much barren aside from the leaning tower of beer cans on the counter. Next to a plain armchair is another pile of Coors cans, these shaped into a fairly impressive pyramid. Further inside is another room, this one far more interesting; printouts and sticky notes cover the walls and desk, all the papers covering a vast array of myths.
"Jackpot," Elizabeth mutters, looking around. "This looks just like Bobby's study back home." There's a handwritten letter stuck under a paperweight, Bobby's untidy script written in black ink.
The girls aren't doing too great, he'd written. I just came right out and told them that their daddy was dead and now I'm starting to think I should have lied. Elizabeth is glad that he hadn't lied, it was best to start mourning right away rather than put it off. They'd burned Christopher's body in the woods at the edge of Bobby's property, then they'd buried his ashes so Elizabeth and Dana would have a place to visit. They hadn't burned Alice, though.
"Man," Dean says. "This guy's journal looks exactly like Dad's."
"We should take it with us," Sam says. "Eventually, we could combine all of their notes into a journal for each of us." It's a good idea and Elizabeth makes a mental note to do just that the next time she's bored. Besides, out of the three of them, she's the one with the best handwriting. "Let's head upstairs. That's where he was killed."
"Think he might still be hanging around," Elizabeth asks. "Maybe he can tell us who ganked him before going into the light."
"Somehow I doubt we'll get that lucky." Still, they move up the stairs and into the first room on the right. This one has been ransacked, the two skylights overhead shattered and letting in gusts of cold air, the bookshelves and desk toppled onto their sides with their contents strewn over the floor.
"He needs to fire his housekeeper."
"You ain't lying." Sam shines his flashlight up at the skylights, the glow of it highlighting the jagged edges of the remaining glass. Most of it is on the floor, crunching beneath their shoes. "I'd say it's a good bet that he was attacked by more than one creature."
"Looks like he put up a hell of a fight, too," Dean adds. Elizabeth picks a book up from the floor, the pages crumpled and splattered with Elkins' blood. Stamped in gold on the spine is North American Vampires and How to Track Them. Kicking through the other books reveals much the same thing, like vampires had been Elkins' specialty even though they aren't real.
"Got something?" Elizabeth drops the book and turns to find Dean crouching down across the room. She and Sam join him, finding a few scratches on the floor that must have been done by Elkins' fingernails. She winces at the thought, curling her own manicured nails against her palms. "Think he did it while he was dying?"
"I don't know. It looks almost deliberate." Dean snatches a piece of paper and a pencil from the floor, laying the paper over the scratches and using the pencil to make a rubbing. The paper comes up with a few bloodstains, but the scratches are clear amongst the blood and the pencil marks. "Looks like my ass is the blackest." He holds the paper up for the others to see.
"Three letters, six digits—the location and combination of a post office box. It's a mail drop."
"Just like Dad uses."
"Just like most of the old hunters use," Elizabeth says. "Danny boy started the trend and Uncle Bobby teaches it to the younger generations." After one last look around the cabin in case they missed anything, they head out to the car. None of them notice the dark shadow amongst the skeletal trees or the footprints that snow is trying to hide.
The post office is a local one, maybe seven miles from the cabin. Like most post offices that hunters use, it's unlocked twenty-four seven and they don't have to worry about an alarm going off as they head inside. The box itself is one of several set into the left wall, Dean putting in the combo to unlock it.
"Seriously," Elizabeth mutters. "All the dramatics for a single envelope?"
"Look who it's addressed to," Sam says. J.W. is written on the front in pencil and there's only one hunter that Elizabeth can think of with those initials. She's sure there's more than one JW in the game, but she also doubts if any of them have Elkins' private number written in their journals.
"Let's head back to the car," Dean says, looking around with his shoulders slightly hunched. "I feel like someone's watching me." Now that he mentions it, Elizabeth's got that same feeling of eyes boring into the back of her skull. Dean tucks the envelope into his coat pocket before they head out, the first one in the car. They don't drive away from the post office right away, Dean bringing the envelope back out for them to see.
"You really think it's for dad?"
"I don't know. Should we open it?" There's a knock on Dean's window and all three hunters shy away from the sound with bitten-off curses. Waiting for them outside is John Winchester himself, waiting for them to finally look at him before he opens the back door and shoves Elizabeth over so he can sit. "Dad?"
"What the hell are you doing here," Sam asks in the same instant that Elizabeth says," Stop fucking shoving me around."
"Do you always cuss so much," John asks, giving her a sharp look. "I know Bobby doesn't talk like that and your sister sure as hell didn't. Where'd you get it from?" Elizabeth doesn't answer him, still trying to straighten up again from where he'd shoved her against the far door.
"Are you okay," Sam asks.
"I'm fine. I read about Daniel in the newspaper and got here as fast as I could. I saw you three up at his place." Which is just freaking terrifying because none of them even noticed him skulking in the shadows. What if he'd been a monster or one of Elkins' fictional vampires?
"Why didn't you just come inside?"
"Because I had to make sure you guys weren't followed." He glances over at Dean and there's a faint shine of pride in his dark eyes. "You did real nice work covering up your tracks, Dean."
"I learned from the best," Dean says, smiling.
"Yeah, Bobby's a great teacher," Elizabeth says dryly. The men all look over at her with no amusement and she shrinks a little in her seat. "What? He is." Sam leans over his seat and snatches up The Stand, smacking her over the head with it. "Ow, fucker!"
"Stop being such an ass," he scolds. He smacks her again for good measure and she makes a silent vow to get him back when he least suspects it. She grabs her book back, cradling it against her chest like she used to do her niece. Sam doesn't seem bothered by the glare she sends his way, turning his attention back to John. "Did you come all the way out here for Elkins?"
"Yeah," John nods. "He's a— He was a good man. He and Bobby taught me everything I know about hunting."
"You never mentioned him to us."
"We had a falling out. I haven't seen him in years." What a surprise, Elizabeth thinks sourly. If she had a nickel for every hunter John Winchester's had a falling out with, she'd have enough of them to put in a sock and beat him over the head with. "Hand me the letter, Dean." Dean passes the envelope to his dad, all three of them watching as John tears it open and takes out a sheaf of pages.
"Anything interesting," Elizabeth asks. "Does he call you a fugly slut?" John doesn't even look away from the letter when he swings at her, the flat of his palm connecting with her leg. She yelps and jumps away, jamming her shoulder further against the door.
"I don't believe it, that son of a bitch had it this whole time."
"Had what?" She rubs at her thigh, flinching a little when John looks away from the pages. "Oh, I know what it is! Your sense of humor."
"Do I need to put you over my knee, Elizabeth Michelle? Because I will."
"Ignore her," Dean advises. "She hasn't had coffee in six hours and that tends to make her miserable company. What did Elkins have?" John glances over at Elizabeth again, like he's trying to get a read on her, then he shrugs and looks back to his sons.
"When you were searching his place, did you see a gun? It would have been an antique colt revolver." Elizabeth straightens up at that, practically jerking around to really look at John. Surely he's not talking about the colt, the one that's practically got a ™ symbol emblazoned on it in her mind. The same Colt™ that Bobby used to tell her stories about that's basically a fairytale in that it can kill anything?
"There was an old gun case, but it was empty."
"Shit, they have it."
"You mean whatever killed Elkins?"
"We gotta pick up their trail." John lurches out of the car and slams the door shut behind him, bending at the waist to look at them through Dean's window. "If Elkins is telling the truth, we've got to find this gun. It's important."
"But we don't even know what killed him yet," Sam protests.
"They were what Danny Elkins killed best. Vampires." Elizabeth jolts at that, almost throwing herself over the seat to see John better. That's impossible, vampires are about as real as Sam's old imaginary friend.
"Vampires," Dean repeats incredulously. "Vampire-vampires? As in I vant to suck your blood? I didn't think they were real."
"I thought they were extinct. I was wrong."
"Somebody call the Vatican, a miracle just happened," Elizabeth says. "John Winchester admitted he was wrong." John gives her a flat look and she can feel her cheeks heating up in a blush. "Sorry, knee-jerk reaction. Continue." He stares at her a moment longer, making sure she's really going to keep her trap shut.
"Most vampire lore is crap; a cross won't repel them, sunlight won't kill them, and neither will a stake to the heart. The bloodlust is about the only true thing Bela Lugosi had right. They need fresh human blood to survive, but they can also eat food and drink normal stuff like the rest of us. They were once people, so you won't know it's a vampire until it's too late."
"So basically they're the world's perfect predators."
"Basically, yeah. Look, Zane and I got a motel room here and town that we can all crash in. Follow me there and we'll head out first thing in the morning."
"Zane is working with you? Zane Daniels?"
"Yeah, I ran into him a couple days ago on the way here and I've been stuck with him ever since." John pauses and gives Dean a sly smile. "He tells me you and Elizabeth finally wised up and started dating." It's Dean that blushes now, sending Elizabeth a fond smile where she's half-hanging over the seat. "It's about time you two made it official. Bobby owes me fifty bucks."
"He owes me twenty and an Easy-Bake Oven," Elizabeth says primly. "Six year old me was dead certain that vampires were real."
Elizabeth wakes up to the smell of fresh coffee and a package of gummy worms being dangled in front of her face. She stares at the colorful package for a moment before snatching it and hugging it close to her chest. Beside her, still drooling on his pillow, Dean lets out a long groan.
"Come on, kids," John orders. "On your feet."
"What happened," Sam asks. He's already sitting up, still dressed in the clothes he'd been wearing yesterday. They all are and Elizabeth's fleece-lined leggings have twisted at some point, the seam digging into her leg. She stands and straightens them again, smoothing the creases out of her skirt.
"A couple called 911 and told the dispatcher they found a body in the street. When the cops got there, everyone was missing." John turns after pulling his jacket on, pausing when he sees what shoes Elizabeth pulls out of her bag. "You are not wearing high heels when it's snowing outside."
"They're kitten heels," Elizabeth corrects groggily. "They make me feel tall without making me trip. If you don't like them, you can kiss my ass."
"She won't trip in her shoes," Zane says, passing her a cup of coffee. It's black and bitter, but it does the job of waking her up a little more. "I've seen her walk on ice in a pair of five-inch heels, it's her superpower or something." They follow John out of the motel room, splitting up only when they reach their cars. The Impala and Zane's Ferrari are familiar sights, but John's Sierra Grande still seems out of place. "You can ride with me, Liza."
"Can I drive," she asks with a note of hope.
"Not a chance in hell."
"You're too overprotective of Sheila."
"I am the right amount of protective. I've seen your driving and my baby isn't going to be handled like that." Elizabeth slides into the passenger's seat, gently closing her door so that Zane doesn't have a fit. He gets behind the wheel, the engine coming to life and a Nirvana song blasting out of the speakers. "So you really didn't know about vampires?"
"Not a clue. Uncle B kept insisting they weren't real until I finally gave up asking about them. How long have you known about them?"
"A few years. One of my friends is a Chosen like us, his mom was a vampire and he ended up favoring her rather than his human dad. He got a job at a blood bank and is doing pretty well for himself now."
"Vampires can have kids?"
"They're able to have kids with partners who have a touch of Chosen blood in them. There's a sixty-forty chance that purely human mates will result in a baby and zero chance with another vampire. It's just a lot of weirdness, so there aren't a lot of baby vampires running around." Elizabeth hums, leaning back in her seat as they take off.
"Your mom was a Djinn, right?"
"Yup." He holds out his right arm and she pulls the sleeve of his sweater up enough to find the blue tattoos he'd been born with. They curl and change depending on his mood, strange little shapes like trying to find pictures in clouds. The blue of them almost matches his eyes.
"I kind of want a tattoo."
"So get one."
"Nah, I'm not a fan of voluntarily getting jabbed with needles. It'll have to wait until I'm so drunk that I have to hold onto the ground to stay on planet Earth." Zane tosses his head back and laughs, his smile bright and infectious. She loves him, she has since she met him, but it's not the same way she loves Dean.
They pull off to the side of the road ten miles from the motel, John striding over to the cops guarding the crime scene while the others gather in front of the Impala. Sam's pouting already, his mulish nature rearing its ugly head. She swears he'd argue that the sky isn't blue as long as it's John that he's arguing with.
"I don't understand why we had to stay here," Sam says.
"Oh, wonderful," Dean drawls," I was wondering when you'd start this shit again." Sam's pout deepens, but John is coming back over and he doesn't get the chance to ask what Dean had meant. "What'd you find out?"
"It was definitely the vampires. Looks like they're heading west. We'll have to double back to get around this detour."
"How can you be so sure," Sam asks. He's slouched against the hood with his hands in his coat pockets, chin raised stubbornly when Dean rolls his eyes. This is one reason Elizabeth had been glad that Sam chose college over hunting. She'll never be John's number one fan, but she doesn't flat out tell him to go fuck himself either.
"Just trust me."
"How do you know we're even going in the right direction, Dad?"
"I found this." John pulls something out of his pocket and hands it off to Dean, the others drawing closer to examine it. It looks like a fang, smaller than a human's canine and twice as sharp, one end of it covered in dried blood as though it had been ripped out.
"Is it a vampire fang," Dean asks.
"No fangs. They have a second set of teeth that descends when they attack." Elizabeth's gums throb and she brings a hand up to cover her mouth. No one's paying her any attention, John looking over at Sam. "Any other questions?" Elizabeth raises her hand just on the principal of the thing, but Zane grasps her wrist and lowers it back to her side. "Let's get out of here before we lose the daylight."
"Yes, mon Capitaine," Elizabeth says with a lazy salute. John ignores her this time around, heading back to his truck.
"Dean, why don't you touch up the car before you get rust? I wouldn't have given you the damn thing if I thought you were gonna ruin it." Just the pure bitchiness in his tone has Elizabeth's temper flaring and she probably would have done something stupid if Zane weren't still holding her wrist.
"I wanna kick him."
"After the case," Zane says, urging her toward the car. "I'll even hold him down for you, baby. Come on." They get back in the Ferrari and, as the wind picks up, Elizabeth regrets not getting her jacket out of the Impala. She absolutely loves Zane's car, it's sexy as hell, but it doesn't have a top and they're in fucking Colorado during the winter.
"So what can I be expecting when we find the vampires' lair?"
"First of all, it's called a nest."
"Right, gotcha. But are there going to be lamps made of body parts? Blood congealing in the minifridge?" Zane laughs again, but it's softer this time and there's no smile to follow it.
"Nah, vampires are usually pretty tidy from what I've seen. There are normally around eight to ten vamps in a nest and they send out a small party to hunt for food. Their victims are brought back to the nest and kept alive until they're drained." Elizabeth makes a face and that's what has Zane smiling again.
"Do the Chosen with vampire parents have to drink blood?"
"No, it's more a craving they get occasionally. It's kind of like how touching me doesn't automatically put you in a coma. My buddy does have a second set of teeth, though, they pop up over his canines like your typical Hollywood bloodsucker. He breaks those puppies out every Halloween."
"Okay, that's actually pretty cool."
"It really is. The only time I complained was when he bit me during sex."
"Do you just have sex with all of your friends?"
"I haven't had sex with Sam or Dean." Elizabeth laughs, turning her attention back to the road. It's grown dark since they left the crime scene, the chill in the air creeping up on her. Next time they stop, she'll grab her jacket and maybe one of Sammy's beanies. There's no reason for her hair to get messed up by the wind. "What the hell are they doin' up there?" The Impala has sped up, crossing the double yellow line and screeching to a stop in front of John's truck.
"Looks like it's time for a confrontation."
"Do we stop, too?"
"Nah, just keep going. Dean will keep John and Sam from killing each other. As a matter of fact, I think going after vampires at night is a dumb move." She pulls her cell phone out and sends a quick text to Dean's phone—me and zaney are gonna pick up some food. tell john that hunting vampires at night is as stupid as invading russia in winter. meet y'all back at the motel.
"What's the game plan?"
"Food."
"Alrighty." They steer past where the boys are arguing, making it another fifteen miles without any trouble. They're laughing and joking, Zane trying his best John Wayne impression and failing horribly. "What do you mean? I sound just like him! Okay, listen again. I'm lookin' at a tin star with a drunk pinned on it." They're still laughing when a figure appears in front of the headlights, their eyes flashing silver.
After Zane swerves, the world goes sideways.