D U S T [in the] W I N D

[Elliot Morgan]

Five months had passed since Elliot was left on her own. Her brother was killed in a hunting accident. Her parents were already dead. Sometimes, when she was left in the hotel room at night, Elliot thought about what he father had told her and Cameron after her mother died. Elliot had seen it. She was eight years old. Elliot had been hiding in the closet. That night changed the girl. And no matter how many times she told her father what she saw he never believed her. Sure her father had an extensive knowledge of the occult, and that aided her and Cameron in their hunts. She was sure he never truly believed in any of those things. Ironically, as the years went on, and Elliot left (at age sixteen) with her big brother to try and do some good in the world, her faith in the god her father served dwindled. The preacher's daughter from Stony Creek, Virginia, drifted away from "the path". After some time, her brother and her lost contact with her father. They only returned home to Stony Creek after their father died of a heart attack.

She remembered how adamant her father was in insisting that these things were not real. And if they were real, then they were not things that he wanted his children to be meddling in. He always told them that one day one of them would get killed. Sure enough, five months ago, Cameron was killed. Her brother's death only strengthened her resolve. Besides, Elliot lived for the hunt. Nothing could take that from her now. Her brother's death gave her the strength to press on so that his death would not have been in vain.

That was why she told herself she was there that night. Her brother's faded red 1979 Camaro pulled to the side of the road. A half mile down a long drive was an old farmhouse. She had been tracking a nest of vampires for some time now, but when she went to finally kill them she found that they were already dead. All but one, and she was not about to let that one escape. She managed to track it to the abandoned farmhouse. It would have been easier to drive up to the house, but that would have given her away.

As she stepped out of the car, her black combat boots hit the ground. She put on her dark blue denim jacket and opened the trunk. Elliot strapped two daggers to each side of her belt and had another longer blade strapped along her back. She closed the trunk and stared down the drive. The pale girl, that could have easily been mistaken for a vampire herself, tied her dark hair back out of her face, though a few unruly strands fell loose. She took a deep breath before heading down the road.

Elliot made it to the house unnoticed. The only light around was from the moon. She entered through one of the broken down doorways. For a moment she considered taking out of her flashlight but when she heard movement she decided against it. Elliot slipped one of the daggers from its sheath at her side and held it tightly in her hand. She moved silently through what she assumed was supposed to be the kitchen. As she reached the doorway leading out of the kitchen she heard more movement. It was just around the corner. Elliot closed her eyes for a moment and took a deep breath.

Then suddenly she jumped around the corner and slammed the body of a larger man against the wall, the dagger in her hand placed firmly against his throat, but not enough to cut him. It was dark in the house, and Elliot had been up against this vampire before. From what she could tell, holding him against the wall, it was the same person. Elliot smirked. "You're not goin' anywhere." She held him against the hallway wall and pressed the dagger to his throat a little more. She was well aware that the small blade she held in her hand would never be able to remove a head, but the one strapped to her back would.

[Dean Winchester]

This, he told himself, was what he needed to get his damn head back in the game. It echoed of a time gone by when he had been on his own hunting, while Dad had been off doing his own thing and Sammy had been putzing through college . . . He had hunted quite a bit on his own, then, but since then it had always been him and Sam. A package deal, really, because God forbid he ever go anywhere without his Siamese twin. Oh, excuse me, conjoined twin. He could practically hear his brother shouting in his head at the verbal slip-up but he ignored back-of-the-mind Sam and continued what he was doing. And what he was doing was tracking down the last damn fang-face that had gotten away when he and Sam had cleaned out this nest only a few nights ago. Trust the stupid thing to come right back to where it had been when the hunters had killed them all.

Dean rolled his eyes as he slipped through the open window, his booted feet not making a sound on the wooden floorboards. He was an expert and stumbling blindly through dark places -- good 'ol Dad had thought of everything in their training. Dean narrowed his hazel eyes in the dark of the abandoned house, listening, his hand clenched around the katana that Duncan had given him. If he had to carry the damn thing now, might as well put it to good use. Dean remembered earlier in the night, training with Duncan, and his massive emotional breakdown that had put him on his knees -- exactly the place where he wanted to be right then but refused to fall again. See, this was Dean's way of reminding himself that he was a hunter, dammit, and he could do this. And that was why he was without Sam at the moment because he was due to pick his brother up from the library in two hours and he had plenty of time to kill one damn vampire on his own before that. Just one -- because he had to remember that he was a hunter for a reason.

He just couldn't remember what that reason was.

Dean knew the damn thing was not in this room so he moved on slowly, making his way carefully through the darkened rooms. One step after another until that stumbling blindly thing came back to bite him in the ass and he knocked a knee against a small table. "Sonofabitch," Dean muttered through his teeth and a second after that he grunted as his back forcefully hit the wall and a knife was against his throat. Dean sucked in a breath and abruptly realized that he could not die -- except that was a knife to his throat and if he lost his head then he was a goner. Great. Peachy fuckin' keen, really. It was a woman, too, Dean knew it before she even spoke just based off the size of her frame alone. He rolled his eyes again, gritting his teeth as he slowly held up a hand. "If you cut off my head, I won't be able to tell you that I'm not sporting fangs and a penchant for blood." He told her slowly, not bothering to try and move from the wall until that damned knife was away from his neck. "And, also, I'd like to point out that I'm extremely uncomfortable with the proximity of your sharp and pointy object."

[Elliot Morgan]

She heard a voice that did not match the vampire she had encountered and instantly the blade withdrew from his neck. She was still holding him against the wall with one arm, but honestly was a good half a foot shorter than him and something told her that she stood no chance in a fight. Still, the last thing she needed was some idiotic civilian runnin' around this house for kicks. The fact that he mentioned fangs and a penchant for blood completely missed her attention. "I don't know who the hell you are," she began. "But you don't belong here. This place is dangerous and you're only going to get yourself killed."

She had given that speech to idiotic teenagers before, though by the sound of this man's voice she was pretty sure he wasn't a teenager. Elliot finally decided to release the man from the wall and she took a step back. Just as she did, she was struck from the side and thrown into the kitchen. Elliot slammed into the counter and hit the ground. The mass that slammed into her was now on top of her, the vampire she had been hunting. She managed to push it off and get to her feet, but hitting the counter had knocked the wind out of her. She glanced towards the man in the hall. "I said get out of here. You're going to get yourself-"

Before she could finish she was shoved forward. The vampire grabbed the girl's wrist and spun her around so her back was to him. He pulled the long blade from the sheath behind her back and threw it across the room. Then he stood in the doorway facing the other man. He grabbed a hold of Elliot's hair and yanked her head back and to the side, leaving her neck exposed. Elliot struggled to get her arms free but the vampire was far to strong for her. She looked up at the man in the hall and suddenly realized.

It seemed more like the vampire was taunting him than threatening Elliot. His words about fangs finally hit her. He was a hunter. "Okay... So um.." she let out a slight whimper as the vampire jerked her head back to silence her. She glared at the man in front of her but it was clearly meant for the vampire behind her. "Listen, I know I threatened you with a knife and all but uhhh... honest mistake? A little help please?"

[Dean Winchester]

This was not going the way that he might have planned -- not that he really had a plan in mind. He had known that one of the vampires had gotten away and he had known that it had come back to the nest after it figured the hunters were gone . . . but beyond that, he had no plan. His plans were usually flying by the seat of his pants but lately he had been a lot more cautious. So much for that . . . He had pretty much thrown caution to the wind and he knew that if Sam found out he had gone hunting alone, his baby brother would throw a fit. Not that Sam was not going to throw a fit either way when he heard what Dean had to tell him. The elder Winchester focused his mind back on the pint-sized problem at hand, being very careful not to move with the blade attached to his throat until she apparently decided that he was not the vampire and moved it. He breathed out, reaching a hand up to rub his neck, then stopped short and blinked a few times when she told him to get the hell out before he got himself killed.

Well, that was cute.

Dean had been hunting since before he could really remember. Alright, he could remember carrying Sammy out of the fire that had claimed his mother's life and he could remember his Dad sweeping them both up into his arms and carrying them away from the house as the fire had imploded the windows . . . But before that he had only vague memories and his entire life had become about hunting after. Most people became hunters at a later age, when something big, bad and on the side of evil came along and swept into their lives. The learned what to do and got in the game at a late age, figuring things out or getting taught by those more experienced -- he and his brother had been taught from childhood. It was in their blood, he knew now, considering their own mother had been a hunter. Sam was more like her than Dean had realized -- Mary had wanted out of the hunting life, too, and she had gotten it until the demon killed her.

Dean was about to tell the girl that she was the one that didn't belong there and, by the way, thanks for crowding in on my hunt, but he never quite got the chance before a blur of motion blew her to the side. Dean sighed and jerked the katana free of its sheath, turning on his heel to go after the goddamn vampire that had snuck up on them both in their distraction. It was clear that the kid was another hunter but Dean was not ingratiated to her at the moment . . . "I'd suggest you stop worrying about my skin and start worrying about yours, sweetheart," Dean told her, right about the time the vampire decided that threatening her life was the right thing to do. Something stirred inside Dean, a familiar old feeling that thrust regular Dean to the backburner and brought out the inner Winchester. Dean paced closer slowly, his steps measured and easy, silent on the floorboards. Hazel eyes glittered in the faint light of the room as he considered his option and angles. "This is for killing my family, hunter," The vampire said with a snarl and by then Dean was already bending to pick up the fallen blade that the vampire had dropped in one smooth motion.

"And this is for just being a general waste of space," Dean shot back, sliding around the vampire where he held the girl and throwing his arm back. The knife sailed free of his hand and found purchase in the vampire's side, knocking him clear of the girl. Dean sprang forward, grabbing her arm and hauling her behind him. Hunter or not, he was not watching someone else die. Dean gritted his teeth, watching as the vampire jerked the blade free of its side with a hiss. In a blur of motion, Dean rushed forward and bodily slammed the vampire into a counter, sending the dishes inside rattling as he brought the blade up. A second later the head rolled free and Dean turned from the body, letting it drop as he sized up the girl that seemed to be a hunter of some kind. "As I said, not the fang-face in this house. You alright?" He grated, eyes flashing in the low light of the room. He refrained from nailing her for getting distracted, because, in her defense he could have been the vampire and that was the only thing that kept him from saying anything about her slip-up.

[Elliot Morgan]

His movements were fast. He grabbed her arm and suddenly she was standing behind him. Elliot wrenched her arm from his grip and was about to comment on how she only wanted help she didn't need a white knight... more like just a wingman. Then as soon as it started it was over and a bodiless head rolled and stopped at her feet. She stared down at it for a moment before looking up at the man in front of her. She nodded when she asked if he was all right. Elliot had not worked alongside anyone since her brother died. Not that she really considered this working along with someone but still. "I asked for help." There was a hint of bitterness in her voice.

She was going to continue with her comments but decided against it. He carried himself the same way Cameron did. Something told her, he could not help but be the hero. "What the hell were you doing here? I've been working this hunt for the last week." She sighed loudly and kicked the vampire's head away from her before straightening out her jacket and her shirt. "Bobby's never given me a case someone else was working," she mumbled to herself as she looked around to make sure she hadn't dropped anything. She let her hair fall loose for a moment. The struggle had left it looking rather disheveled. Then she pulled it back once more and looked back at the man.

"Sorry about the umm... proximity of my sharp and pointy object," she said with a smirk. Elliot leaned against the counter, crossed her legs at her ankles and crossed her arms over her chest. "Thanks for um... thanks for the help." She rarely ever thanked anyone. Elliot was always a bit... arrogant. Her brother taught her well, and she was good at what she did. She was proud of herself, so she rarely thanked anyone. Though that was because she rarely ever accepted help from anyone. This man deserved it though. "Elliot Morgan." She threatened him, he saved her life. She owed him at least a name.

[Dean Winchester]

Dean could remember when he and Sam had found out that the hunting community was a bit larger than they had thought . . . The Roadhouse. Now destroyed, it had been the place that he and his brother had discovered that the hunting world was a lot wider than they had once thought it was. It seemed that John Winchester left quite a lot out of his leather bound journal . . . still, it was only a matter of time before his sons discovered all the places that his footprints had been left. And Dean thought that even John could not have imagined this . . . angels, demons, Seals, and the apocalypse. And, oh, let's not forget Immortals -- considering he was one. Dean felt the bitter ash rise up in his throat again at the thought.

Dean sheathed the katana with a ring of metal and mahogany sheath, turning on his heel to regard the young woman. Hazel eyes sized up the small frame and the way she seemed to have a bitter edge to her voice about the admission of needing help. Dean could understand that, he didn't exactly like to have his ass bailed out, either, but he also knew that sometimes help was needed. It had been a hard lesson to learn but he had learned it all the same. "What the hell am I doing here? My brother and I were the ones that cleaned out this nest. I was tying up loose ends." Dean snapped, annoyed that his actions were being called into question before he paused and raked a hand back through his hair, catching her muttered sentence. Between all of the end of the world bullshit, Dean and Sam had not had a lot of time for the usual odd hunting gigs . . . it figured Bobby would send another hunter to handle this, thinking the boys would not have time.

"Considering everyone and their mother, brother, cousin twice removed and dog knows Bobby, I'm going to skip over the entire "You know Bobby?!" part of this and say he probably thought we wouldn't have time to handle a nest of vamps." Dean said, reigning the ice in his tone in a bit. It was not this girl's fault that his entire world was rocking around like a forgotten boat and he knew that he could not be a total asshole even if the last thing he wanted was to sit in a dark house and chat it up. Dean sighed, shaking his head before he leaned back against the opposite counter. "No problem. Dean Winchester." He said mildly to her name and appreciation, however mild, of his help. "In your defense, I guess I could have been a vampire, so I can't really jump all over your case for it." Dean shrugged, his booted feet itching to head out the door but he stayed where he was, hazel eyes watching her slightly from across the kitchen.