Chapter One - First Impressions

Xander fought to control his breath. The ragged sound was cutting through the silence, heralding his position. He needed to calm down. The vampires were sure to hear him if he could not get a hold of himself. The body of the slayer that had accompanied him was laying on the ground a good 20 feet from him, quickly cooling and what little blood remained in her body was leaking out of the several bite marks on her skin. She had been too young, too cocky, too inexperienced. He remembered a time where he had been like that, not nearly as suicidal, but from what he could tell some slayers had a god complex after they awoke, mistakenly believing they were immortal, biting off more and more, never stopping to chew until they choked on their own aspirations. Too bad, Madison was starting to grow on him.

His eyepatch dug into his skull, usually a feeling that had faded into nothingness over the past, Xander wanted to rip it from his face, and might have, if he had not been in such a situation. The nest was a lot bigger than the information given to him had suggested. Where the file had hinted at 4 or 5, there were close to 20. Xander had found himself between a rock and a hard place, or more specifically, a windowless concrete wall and sparse concealment in an abandoned factory that had been used by the squatting homeless population before the vampires had moved in.

He slowly forced himself to think rationally. He needed to get out of this alive. He had a team back home that needed him. Well… best to not dwell on that.

"Hey!" shouted a voice that sounded like it had spent a week gargling gravel, "who's ready to party?" The somewhat rhetorical question was followed by an angry conversation consisting of mostly muttering and some, despite the situation, borderline comical grunting.

Xander chanced a glance around the side of the dilapidated crate he was squatting behind to satisfy his curiosity. He was met with the curious sight of two humans, being surrounded by vampires. One, freakishly tall, the other holding a large machete.

Xander almost fell forward in his confused and surprised attempt at deciphering the scene. The men in front of him, most likely several years his senior, circling themselves, trying to assess the situation, confidence turning to worry as they saw how many vampires there truly were. They moved so in sync they had to have been fighting together for years. They barely looked at each other, but knew how the other would move, and when they did make eye contact, it seemed to reinforce that connection even more.

When the vampires attacked it was clear that they were outmatched. Not only from numbers alone, but from the looks on the men's faces they had little or even no experience with these demons from hell. Xander's eyes darted around the spacious room, desperation returning now that there were even more lives on the line than his. His eyes finally caught a catwalk close too hastily covered up window. Xander and Madison had attacked a little before noon, hoping to catch the vampires asleep with no escape route.

He hastily yet quietly ascended the ladder leading to the catwalk and jogged as softly as he could to the edge of the window. He began prying the large square board off of the skylight.

Dean was silently cursing himself for getting himself and even worse, his brother, into this mess. These vamps were different. Much different. Even if their faces hadn't been a tip off, the tranq darts filled with dead man's blood was doing nothing to them. He and Sam were in a bad spot. Even if they weren't different, 20 plus vamps were nothing to joke about.

Sam was wavering, he could tell, a slight lag in his steps. If the vampires hadn't seemed content to play with them, circling and taunting with lightning fast movements that seemed designed to tease and terrify, then the brothers would already be dead.

Seemingly out of sheer luck, Dean chopped the head off of a vampire that had been trying to get close enough to Sam to bite him. Both him and his brother stopped, dead in their tracks when they were met with a cloud of ash. The vampires recovered from their shock must faster, the game of playing with the Winchester brothers forgotten as their previous companion settled in around their feet.

Dean fought the panic rising up in his chest, along with the several curses bubbling past his lips. He was only slightly successful in both areas. Dean was bringing up his machete as the first vampire charged them, and they were surrounded by light, and then fire.

He stumbled back, almost falling as he collided against his brother, as each vampire caught fire almost spontaneously and was reduced to nothing more than ash. He searched for the source of the light, knowing that whatever these vampires were, Sam and he would have been surely dead.

He could barely discern the faint outline of a figure almost right above them. He followed the silhouette with his eyes as they descended. Worn boots hit the floor and the young man turned to him, he would have guessed that he was in his early 20's, younger than Sam, but his eye held a certain quality that Dean had only seen in very seasoned veterans of the fight. Old hunters who had seen more than two decades. The eye-patch and hair that was a little too long also painted the picture of battered soldier.

The man nodded to them, then walked solemnly off to the side of the room, Dean was about to call out to him when he saw the man squat down and pick up the limp and lifeless body of a young woman, curling her into his chest and closing her eyes when she was well situated in his arms. He made eye contact with each of the brothers again, before ducking of the door.

Sam turned to him with all of the unanswered questions in his eyes that Dean had. It was time to get Bobby involved.