Disclaimer: Sadly the Winchesters and Bobby do not belong to me. I make no money from this, just enjoyment. The female OC and all other characters are pulled straight from my imagination and wish to stay there, so please don't use them without permission.

Spoilers: Takes place after Season 2. Don't think I referenced any actually episodes though.

A/N: Very strong M rating. Graphic sex and some language.

I would recommend reading After the Fight first, as it introduces my OC Taylor.


Dean groaned at the annoying ring. They had just spent three days hunting a rather vicious demon that had a thing for families, and all Dean wanted to do was sleep. However, the ringing was persistent. He cracked one eye open and reached for the phone.

"What?" he growled.


"Bobby?" Dean eyed the clock. "It's 5 am."

"It's Taylor," Bobby said.

"What happened?" Dean quickly got to his feet reaching for his bag, hoping for some clean clothes.

"She was researching a hotel for me. You know me and computers. The girl's not picking up her phone."

"You tried both phones?" Dean asked pushing on the leg Sam had draped over the side of the bed. He rolled and glared at Dean.

"Cell and home," Bobby said. "With all the recent demon activity, I thought you should check it out."

"Thanks Bobby," he said ending the call. He immediately dialed Taylor.

"Dean?" Sam asked rubbing a hand over his tired face.

Dean frowned when her cell went straight to voicemail. She never turned that phone off.

"Dean," Sam said pulling a t-shirt over his head and digging through his bag for a pair of pants.

"Taylor's cell phone is off," Dean said dialing her other number. The line was busy. "Damn it."

"Get dressed, Dean. We're not that far from her place," Sam said. "Maybe her phone is just broken."

"Not with her luck," Dean said giving up on finding clean clothes and grabbing the first shirt and jeans that didn't have blood on them. He threw his jacket on and shoved the rest of his clothes back in the bag. "Ready?"

"Dude, you smell like last week's socks," Sam said pushing him out the door.


Ninety minutes later, Dean pulled up Taylor's driveway. Cutting the engine, he turned to his sleeping brother. They'd been hunting nonstop since they had left Taylor's house three months earlier, and the onslaught didn't appear to be letting up.

Dean smiled. He still couldn't resist a little fun.

"Owe!" Sam shot up in his seat, hitting his knees on the dashboard. He glared at his brother rubbing his knees and holding his ear. "Was that really necessary?"

"Baby," Dean mumbled getting out of the car. He checked his 9mm and tucked it into the waistband of his pants.

"Jerk," Sam said following his brother to the porch.

Dean's mood instantly changed at the site of the open door. He nudged it open further, reaching for his gun.

"Ah crap," Sam said standing in the doorway of the sitting room. There was clear evidence of a struggle. The coffee table lay on its side and books littered the floor.

"She fought back. How did…"

"Chloroform," Sam said holding up a rag. "You know what this means?"

"Son of a bitch." Dean angrily kicked at the books on the floor.

"How the hell do we find out who?"

"Look around in here. I'll check her computer," Sam said heading for the pocket doors.

A very frustrated Dean walked into the office twenty minutes later. "Tell me you got something, cause I got nothing."

"Give me a few more minutes," Sam said not taking his eyes off the computer.

Dean paced the small room eyeing the clippings taped to the walls. It was amazing the assortment of nasties Taylor had knowledge of. He flipped through a pile of papers and frowned. Eyeing his brother, he pulled the file free and tucked it in his coat.

"I got it. Wow. I hope Bobby wasn't planning on tackling that hotel himself."

"What? It took you that long to find Bobby's research. Sam…"

"Dude, shut up. The last log on wasn't for Bobby's job. It was for an old job, Martin Daniels. It was a werewolf. Wait, she added more info…oh man." Sam said.

"What?" Dean said pushing his brother aside so he could see the computer screen. "No way."

"A bear walker. I didn't think they really existed."

"But bear walkers aren't supposed to be violent, right. The folklore surrounding them has them more magical than murderous," Dean said pacing the room.

"When has folklore ever been exact, Dean," Sam said scrolling through the file. "Son of a…"

"What now?" Dean asked coming to stand next to the computer again.

"Look." Sam pointed at a small article on the bottom of the screen.

Another bear attack has been confirmed on the outskirts of Fort Davenport, Montana. This is the fifth bear attack in three months. Authorities believe fourteen-year- old Ben Daniels was hunting with his father Martin Daniels when a bear attacked, severely mauling the boy.

"Come on," Dean said not waiting for Sam to follow.

"Dean," Sam called after him.


It should have taken them three days to get to Fort Davenport, but not the way Dean was driving. Accept for the five minute stops for gas, they drove straight through. Sam managed some sleep in the car, but Dean wouldn't take a break, and it was starting to show.

"Driving into oncoming traffic isn't going to help Taylor," Sam said snagging the keys.

"Dude…" Dean made a grab for the keys, but it was a weak attempt. Sam avoided it easily and slid into the drivers seat.

Dean grumbled as he dropped into the passenger seat. "I'm fine."

"Right," Sam said pulling back onto the road.

Not driving meant Dean had time to think. It was making his head hurt. This wasn't supposed to happen. They'd sent Taylor's demon to hell. She was supposed to be safe. He leaned his pounding head against the window letting the cold seep into him. Slowly his eyes closed, and he drifted to sleep. He stirred as the car came to a stop.

"Sam?" Dean asked, spying the hotel through the window.

Sam turned the car off and got out. Dean was forced to follow. "Between the two of us, we've gotten four hours of sleep in the last thirty-six. It's dark, and we don't know what we're up against."

"Sam, we can't stop until we get to Fort Davenport."

"We're in Fort Davenport, Dean." He caught Dean's arm before he could head back to the car. "He's a hunter. We can't go in there blind."

"I know," Dean said pulling his arm away.

"Get the bags. I'll get us a room." Dean glared at his brother's back until he disappeared into the lobby.

After retrieving their bags from the trunk, he reached into his coat he pulled out the file. He should have known Sam would ask her for help, what little good it had done. The file was full of broken leads and scribbled out finds. She'd been busy but still hadn't found him a way out of the deal. Spying his brother exiting the lobby, Dean quickly hid the file.

"The room's back this way," Sam said grabbing his bag from Dean.

"Sam?" Dean asked dropping the bags inside the door. The room was nice, much nicer then the usual.

"There are only three hotels in town, and this is the only vacancy. It's hunting season." Sam put his bag on the armchair, and his computer on the desk. The room's other furniture included two double beds, two nightstands, and a large dresser with a TV and a small refrigerator.

"Whatever," Dean said laying down on the closest bed and closing his eyes.


Sam woke to an empty room. "Dean?" He checked the bathroom before reaching for his phone.

"You're up," Dean said entering the room, his hands full of coffee and donuts.

"Where were you?" Sam asked. "And I swear if you say you only went for breakfast, you'll be wearing that coffee."

"Damn, and I thought I was crabby before I got my coffee."

"Dean," Sam said.

"Fine, I scoped the place out," Dean said tossing the bag of donuts at his brother. "What? I was supposed to sit here and watch you sleep."

"No, Dean…" Sam stood irritation evident in his stance. "Forget it."

Dean snagged a donut and ignored his brother's glare.

"Just tell me," Sam said grabbing a coffee.

"He's in a small cabin about four miles into the woods," Dean held his hand up when Sam started to speak. "I didn't get close enough to see inside, but the very friendly clerk at the donut shop said Mr. Martin went on a little vacation last week."

"How long?"

"Five days. He just got back yesterday."

"Then what are we waiting for?"


The cabin was completely surrounded by trees. Sam lost sight of Dean as he rounded the corner, taking the back door. He peered through the small window into the empty bathroom. It didn't take much to open the window, and Sam quietly made his way into the room. Carefully he opened the door just enough to see the outer room was also empty except for some tattered furniture.

"Sam," Dean said appearing from the back of the cabin. "No ones home."


They both turned toward the closet. Sam nodded and stood ready as Dean opened the door.

"Son of a bitch," Dean muttered. Taylor was gagged and blindfolded with dirty rags. Her arms and feet rubbed raw by the ropes that bond them. Dean could see a large bruise on her face. She shrank back as he moved in front of her.

"Dean, she can't see you," Sam said.

"Damn, Taylor," Dean said kneeling in front of her and slipping the blindfold off.

She blinked in the sudden brightness still backing away.

"Taylor," Dean said again with more force. She stilled, and her eyes focused on him. Dean gently pulled the gag from her mouth.

"Dean?" Her voice was barely a whisper.

"Yeah," he said pulling her out of the closet. She sighed and buried her head in his chest. "Sam."

Sam slowly moved toward them, pulling his knife. Taylor tensed, but allowed him to cut the ropes. Her arms instantly went around Dean, and she buried herself further into him.

"Dean, we got to go," Sam said looking out the front window.

"I know." He gently pulled Taylor's head up, cupping her face with his hands. "Taylor?"

"Yeah," she whispered her voice still shaking.

"Can you walk? We need to leave."

She seemed to notice her surroundings for the first time and pushed away from him. "No."

"What?" Sam asked.

"No, he's coming back. He's coming back," she muttered trying to stand.

"That's why we need to leave," Dean said reaching for her.

Though unsteady on her feet, she continued to push him away. "You don't understand."

Dean was surprised by the sudden change in demeanor. "OK, then explain it to me."

She rubbed her wrists and moved towards the window. "He's looking for it. It killed…"

"We know," Sam said.

"My fault," she mumbled.



The boys started together.

"It was my fault," Taylor said. "I made a mistake."

"Taylor…" Dean started.

"Shut up!" She screamed advancing toward him, rage boiling off of her. Dean was caught off guard and backpedaled, almost tripping over the couch.

"We need…" Sam started, but the glare she sent his way shut him up.

"I thought I had all the answers. I thought I knew what I was doing, but I didn't and now someone is dead because of me." She turned away when she saw compassion in their eyes. She didn't deserve it. "He was a boy, a child. What happened to him was my fault."

"Taylor." Dean reached for her again.

"Aren't you listening to me?" She tried to pull away, but Dean gripped her arms tighter.

"Stop it," Dean said. "This is not your fault. Hunting is a dangerous job."

She laughed bitterly. "He told me."

"Who told you what?" Dean asked not liking the emptiness he saw creeping into her eyes.

"Martin. He told me what that thing did to Ben. Everything," she whispered. Shocked, Dean's grip loosened. Taylor pulled her arms free and turned away wiping the tears from her face.

"He's coming," Sam said from his spot by the window. He pulled his gun and grabbed Taylor around the waist. "Dean!"

Dean pulled his gun also and stood with his back against the wall. "Get her out of here."

Sam struggled to pull a defiant Taylor out of the room. "Let go!"

The man entered the back door without a thought to who was inside. Martin Daniels was a well-built man of forty-three. His brown hair needed trimming, and the months worth of beard was spotted with gray making him look older.

Dean threw the first punch before the man even knew he was there.

"No!" Taylor put her full weight into her struggle, but Sam used his height advantage and raised her up until her feet didn't touch the floor. "No, Sam, put me down. He didn't mean to. Sam, wait…"

"Cut it out, Taylor," Sam said when she managed a good kick to his shin. He pulled her still kicking out the front door.

"Put me down," she said.

"Not until we get to the car."

Dean watched Sam pull Taylor out of the cabin, and turned his attention back to the man on the floor. He didn't care what he had been through. The image of Taylor bound, gagged and terrified fed his anger, and he didn't pull any of his punches.

"Who are you?" Martin asked. Dean's fist connected with the man's jaw before he answered.

"Dean Winchester," he said slowly moving away.

Martin grimaced as he sat up his arm going around his chest. "You pack quite a punch young man."

Dean didn't take his eyes off of him as he made his way to the front door. "Don't follow us."

"Owe!" Sam's cries made him move faster.

"Sammy." The site before him almost made him laughed. Sam was backed against the driver side door, still holding Taylor around the waist. His lip was bleeding and small scratches were trickling blood down his neck.

"Tell him to let me go," Taylor said throwing her head back and narrowly missing Sam's nose.

"It's ok, Sam," Dean said.

"Fine." Sam promptly loosened his hold, and with a cry Taylor landed on her butt. Sam moved to the other side of the car muttering something about buckets of crazy.

She glared at Dean when he offered a hand to help her up. "Martin…" she started.

"Get it in the car, Taylor." Not waiting for an answer, Dean angrily pulled the driver side door open.

"Dean," Taylor said.

"I didn't hurt him as much as I wanted to," Dean said clinching his jaw so tight, Taylor swore she could hear his teeth grinding.


"Not now," he said getting into the car, and she was left to stare at the closed door.

Sighing, she fumbled with the door handle, her hands still shaking, but finally slipped into the back seat. Dean peeled out before she had the door completely closed.

Once in the room, Sam kept his distance, holding a washcloth to his still bleeding lip. Dean handed him their newest credit card, and he practically ran out of the room.

"Where'd you send him off too?" Taylor asked.

"To get a few things, seeing as you have nothing to change into. I saw a thrift store up the road. The first aid kit is also a little light on supplies."

"Oh," she said not moving from her spot on the wall.


"I don't want to talk about it," she said not looking at him. His shoes appeared in front of her, but she still didn't look up.

"Taylor." Dean said touching her cheek. "Look at me."

"Please." She averted her eyes when he raised her chin.

He gently touched the bruise on her cheek. "He hurt you,"

"When I woke up in his truck, I tried to run. When he caught me…"

Dean's jaw clenched as the anger returned.

"No, Dean," she said resting her hand on his chest. "Martin had every right to be angry with me. I screwed up."

"Angry, yes, but…" he cupped her cheek. "This wasn't your fault."

"Yes it was," she said angrily pushing away from him. "The information I gave him was wrong."

"Taylor..." Dean said reaching for her.

She moved, putting the bed between them. "I thought it was a werewolf. It followed the lunar cycles and the wounds…"

"I saw the file."

"Then you know that Ben died because of my mistake."

"No, Ben died because hunting is dangerous."

"That is such crap," Taylor said angrily. "I have been helping hunters long enough to know how this works. You go in knowing what you are hunting, and how to kill it."

"But it doesn't always work that way," Dean said moving around the bed. "Trust me. This job is full of surprises."

She crossed her arms and turned away. "I should have dug deeper. Found more."

"Dug deeper for what. According to your own research you didn't have any evidence of it being a bear walker until after Ben's death. Before this had you even heard of a bear walker?"

"No," she sighed. "But ignorance isn't an excuse. I should have…"

"What? How could you come up with the right answer without all the evidence?"

She glared at him, but couldn't quite suppress a small smile. "Since when do you have all the answer?"

"I wouldn't say all…" He slid his hand around her waist.

"It's all so confusing, and I still don't understand fully what it is," she said resting against him. "Most of what I found in my research is contradicted by the evidence. Why is it killing these people? And how? I can't explain the wounds."

"Yeah, bear walkers don't normally slice up their victims."

"More importantly how do we kill it? Martin said he shot it."


"He said lots of things. I'm not sure how much to take seriously, but he said that when he was talking about Ben. He said the son of a bitch took a whole clip and kept going."

"Damn. They're supposed to be tough bastards, but an entire clip."

"So what do we do now?" She pushed away from him, stuck her hands in her back pockets and waited for an answer.

"Ok," Dean said sitting down on the edge of the bed. "We go back through. Recheck the evidence and the research."

"Sounds good," she said turning toward Sam's computer.

"Hey, why don't you take a shower? You can wear some of my clothes until Sam gets back."

"But…" she started.

"I'll get everything together while you're in there," he said pulling her to him as he stood.

"Join me," she said sweetly before kissing him. God, she could let herself get lost in that mouth.

Dean pulled away resting his forehead against hers. "Damn girl, you make it hard to resist you."

"Dean," she whined when he pulled away completely.

"Shower," he said grabbing a pair of boxers and smelling a couple t-shirts before adding one to the pile.

She took the clothes making sure to touch his hand as she did.

Dean groaned but managed to pull himself away. "Go."

She sighed, knowing this battle was lost and went to take her shower, alone.


Sam entered the room eyeing the sleeping girl on his bed.

"You can have my bed," Dean said from his seat at the table.

"And where will you sleep?" Sam asked not expecting an answer. He set the bags on the table.

"Ah, food," Dean said pulling a sandwich from the bag. They sat in silence, both busy eating, before Dean cleared his throat. "We have a problem."

"When don't we," Sam said not skipping a beat.

"The evidence, the victims, the wounds, they don't sound like a bear walker, but the eyewitness accounts..."

"But we know how reliable eyewitness accounts can be, Dean," Sam said dropping the remains of his sandwich back on the table.

"I know, but one of those eyewitnesses was a hunter, Sam," Dean said opening the computer.

"What's this?" Sam asked.

"Before I could get her to go to sleep, we went back through all of it. The first eyewitness was a college student who had just witnessed his girlfriend getting mauled to death. The second was an elderly man who'd been hiking with son. The last was Martin. If it were just the first two I wouldn't believe it, but Martin…"

"I don't know," Sam said. "A bear walker is just a little out there, even for us."

"Right, as hard to believe as Fairy Tales coming to life," Dean said smirking at his brother.

"Ok, but the evidence points to a werewolf," Sam said standing. "Can we talk to the first two witnesses?"

"No. The college student went back to Florida, and according to the records Taylor found the old man had a stroke not long after and died."

"That leaves Martin."

"Great," Dean said closing the computer.


"So I'm supposed to stay here and do what?" Taylor asked looking much smaller in Dean's boxers and t-shirt.

"I don't know. I don't care, but you're staying here," Dean said tucking his 9mm into the waistband of his pants.

She grabbed the remote from the bed muttering under her breath.

"Sammy, time to go."

"Yeah, yeah," Sam said coming out of the bathroom.

Taylor sent them once last glare as they headed out the door.

"So, how are we doing thing?" Sam asked.

"I have no idea," Dean said starting the car.

"Dude." Much to Sam's annoyance, Dean remained silent. "How badly did you hurt him?"

"Not badly enough."


"He hurt her. He's lucky I didn't kill him, Sam," Dean growled. He turned the radio on, ending the conversation.

Sam sighed and pulled the duffel bag from the back seat. Not sure exactly what they would be hunting, the bag was packed full, two 9mms each, one with regular bullets the other with silver, two shotguns, a handful of knives and daggers, and two very vicious machetes.

"What the hell?" Sam's head shot up at Dean's words. So intent on his task, he had failed to notice the red and blue flashing lights in the approaching darkness.

"The cabin is the only house down this road, Dean."

"I know. Pull out the Press Passes," Dean said pulling up behind a police car.

"I don't…"

"We don't have a choice." He leaned over Sam and pulled the plastic cards out of the glove box.

Sam made his way to the crowd of onlookers behind the yellow tape. Martin's cabin was not visible from the road, but he could see at least four different uniforms amongst those entering and exiting the woods.

"Sam." Dean appeared next to him.

"The state police are here."

"I know," Dean said keeping his head low. "Martin's dead."


"They found him in the woods a couple of hours ago, another bear attack," Dean said making his way back to the car.

"Are you going to tell her?"

Dean didn't answer.


"Dude, you have to tell her," Sam said opening the door.

"Shut up, Sam," Dean growled. He stopped short at the site of the dark empty room. "Taylor."

"Dean," Sam said pointing to the muted TV. The news channel flashed a small banner across the bottom: ANOTHER BEAR ATTACK IN SMALL TOWN.

"Taylor," Dean called rushing into the bathroom. Taylor sat against the bathtub, knees drawn to her chest, her body visibly shaking.

"Dean, is she…"

He waved his brother off. "Taylor?"

She didn't respond, her eyes distant. He placed his hand on her wrist and scowled.


"She's in shock. Damn it," Dean growled picking her up. Her arms hung limply and her head rested against his shoulder. He placed her on the closest bed, leaning her back against the headboard, and sat in front of her.

Without a word, Sam pulled the bedspread from the other bed and placed it around her. "Dean…"

"I know," Dean said not looking at his brother. "With Martin dead the only way to be sure is to find this thing."


"Sam," Dean said lowering his head. "Give me a couple of hours, OK? Please." He added the last part, knowing it would be the push his brother needed.

Sam relented, but didn't move away. "Dean, what are you going to do?"

"I'm going to talk to her." He grumbled inwardly at the look his brother gave him. "Hey, I'm perfectly capable of caring and sharing."

"Right, you're a regular Dr. Phil." Sam said standing. "Fine, I'll give you a couple of hours, but whether or not you snap her out of this, we can't leave that thing running lose in the woods. Whatever it is."

"I know," Dean said turning away. He heard the door click shut and sighed. What was he supposed to do now? All that vibrato was mainly for show, and now that he was alone with Taylor he wasn't sure if he could help her. He placed his gun and knife on the dresser before sitting once again in front of her.

"Give me a break here, Taylor. You know how much I suck at this," he said hoping to elicit some sort of reaction, but the vacant expression never wavered.

This went on for an hour, until Dean had gone from concerned to annoyed to downright pissed off. He slumped to the floor, rubbing his hand through his hair. "Please, Taylor. This wasn't your fault."

"Wasn't it?" She spoke so softly, he barely heard her.

"Martin Daniels knew the risks, just like the rest of us." He turned to face her and hated what he saw.

Her eyes remained distant and vacant. "He trusted me. Based on information I gave him, he took his fourteen-year-old son on his first hunt."

"And he died. It sucks I know, but it happens."

"He didn't just die, Dean." Her voice cracked and a solitary tear dripped from her chin. "Ben wasn't dead when Martin found him."

"What?" Dean pulled himself off the floor and sat down next to her on the bed.

"It grabbed him. Martin could hear…" Her voice started to shake, and she bit her lower lip. "Ben was… he was screaming when Martin found them. It killed Ben while Martin watched."

"Taylor, what happened to Ben was terrible, but it wasn't your fault." He grabbed her arms when she tried to turn away. "Listen to me."

"No, you listen. My mistake… my fault," her voice trailed off.

"Stop it," Dean said shaking her non-to-gently. "You don't think I know what you're doing?"

She struggled to pull away. "Please, I can't do this."

"Yes you can. You are one of the strongest people I know."

She shook her head. "No, I'm not."

"Yes you are," he said fiercely. "You took a bad situation and used it to your advantage. God, Taylor, even locked in your house you were helping people."

"And how many of those people died, Dean? I'm sure Ben's not the only…"

"Shut up," Dean said trying to control the anger building up inside him. "Do you know how many people I've seen die? How many people I could have saved if I was a little quicker, or had figured things out a little faster? Should I give up, Taylor?"

Her head snapped up and for the first time since Dean had found her, she really looked at him. "What? No, Dean, you can't stop helping people."

"Why not? If I can't save everybody?"

"It's not the same thing," she said shaking her head.

"Really? How?"

"Dean," she pleaded, her eyes now full of unshed tears.

He sighed and let her head fall against his chest, hiding those damn eyes.

"How do you do it?" she whispered.


"This, over and over, knowing you can't save everyone."

"It's not easy, Taylor. You save who you can and the rest," he shrugged. "I guess that would depend who you talked to."

"What do you mean?"

"Everybody deals differently. You just have to figure out what works for you."

"And what works for you, Dean?" she asked pulling back and looking at him.

"I'm probably not the person to ask…"

"Never mind," she said pulling completely away and standing.

"Wait," he said.

"I knew when I asked you wouldn't answer," she said bitterly.

"Really? And why is that?" he asked.

Her eyes, full of anger now, bore into his. "You forget, Dean, I have a whole file on you. If anyone could understand how I feel, it's you, but getting you to admit it, I'm not holding my breath."

He glared back at her, but didn't speak. She leaned back against the dresser, shaking her head.

"Fine," he said, looking down at his hands. "I try not to let it get to me."

"That's a cop-out, Dean," she said crossing her arms.

"Damn it," he said standing. "What do you want me to say?"

She didn't flinch as he advanced toward her. "I don't expect you to say anything."

Passion fueled by anger consumed Dean, and he grabbed her arms, pulling her into a rough kiss. Taylor moaned as his hands moved to her ass, lifting her and pushing her up onto the dresser.

"Dean," Taylor groaned, his hands sending waves of pleasure through her as they snuck under her shirt to explore her body.

"This is what you wanted, isn't it," Dean said, his body unconsciously moving against her.

"Always want you," she breathlessly moaned, his body rubbing against hers in just the right place.

Dean moved slowly down her neck, enjoying the little noises she made. He found the sensitive skin behind her ear and sucked hard, making her arch into him.

"Oh… Dean… Please." She couldn't seem to connect her brain and her mouth.

Dean's hands made their way back to her ass, drawing her legs up and around his waist. "Hold on."

She tried, but her body wouldn't listen, and she fell into him, toppling them both to the floor.

"Sorry," she said coming to rest on top and rubbing against him.

"Sure you are," he growled low in his throat and his head fell back exposing his throat. Taylor took advantage, placing kisses up his neck to his jaw line. He flipped them over, his head connecting with the side of the dresser.

"Maybe we should move," she said as he rubbed the side of his head.

He helped her to her feet and backed her against the wall.

"I meant the bed." She ducked under his arm, but her caught her around the waist and pulled her against him, kissing the back of her neck. All thoughts of the bed left her as he kissed his way up to her ear.

"You like that," he said nibbling her ear.

"I like most of the things you do with your mouth," she said rubbing her ass against his growing arousal.

"Tease," he growled.

So entranced with his mouth, she didn't notice they were moving until they fell into the armchair, her back against his chest. His hands roamed her body, sneaking under the t-shirt. Her head fell back against his shoulder giving him access to her neck. His hand found her breast teasing her, at the same time his mouth, once again, found the soft skin of her neck, sucking and nipping.

He groaned as she unconsciously moved against him. The friction causing his already over stimulated body to arch into the touch.

Taylor was lost in sensation. Dean continued to torture the back of her neck with nips and kisses, while his hand switched from one breast to the other, touching just enough to make her moan for more.

"Dean. Please," she groaned arching into his touch.

"Tell me what you want?" His breath tickled the back of her neck, sending shivers down her spine.


"Close," he laughed, his hands stilling. "What do you want, Taylor?"

"Please," she groaned again trying to arch into his hand.

"You can have whatever you want, but you have to tell me." He pulled her closer, the evidence of his arousal rubbing against her back. She would have said anything she wanted him so badly.

"Touch me. Please, Dean. Please." She couldn't think any more.

Dean felt her give in and relax. Her body practically melted into his. He kept one hand on her breast and moved the other slowly down her abdomen, slipping beneath the waist of her shorts knowing there was nothing blocking his way. She was warm and wet as he slipped his fingers into her. He held her tight as she arched into his hand, and burrowed his head into her neck searching for control.

Taylor moaned and made noises deep in her throat that she was completely unaware of. Dean's thumb brushed against her center, and she was gone.

"Yes. Yes," she groaned as her body trembled around his fingers.

Still trying to catch her breath, she felt him removing her shorts and heard the sound of his zipper. Strong hands gripped her hips and pulled her back. She gasped and clinched at his hands as he lowered her onto him.

"Taylor," he moaned His strong hands gripped her hips to the point of bruising as he brought her down onto him again and again.

"Dean," she whimpered leaning back against his chest and snacking her arm around his neck. "So good."

He found her lips not breaking his rhythm. She clutched at the back of his neck moaning into his mouth. He speed up his thrust, pushing deeper into her. She leaned her forehead against his chin, small grunts escaping her open mouth.

The fire started in her middle, racing through her body, and she was unable to control the scream that was ripped from her. "Dean!"

"So beautiful," Dean said, watching the ecstasy wash over her face. He held her against him, his hard length still impaling her, groaning as her body squeezed and released him over and over until she sagged against him.

Through the haze she felt Dean's grip loosen. He pushed her forward, her hands resting on the table, his body never leaving hers as he stood, the armchair tipping backwards in his haste. His arm wrapped around her waist, and he thrust into her.

The new angle made Taylor gasp, and the words just tumbled from her mouth. "Dean…more…yes…yes…don't stop…please…don't stop."

Dean leaned over, his chest against her back. "Begging is such a turn on."

His words drifted over her, affecting her as much Dean's next thrust. Her hands gripped the sides of the table as Dean pounded into her. "Please…don't stop…harder…yes."

His lips found the spot on her neck again, torturing the already sensitive skin. Her head arched back, and his lips continued down her neck leaving small marks along the way. His hands found hers and intertwined, their knuckles turning white as he thrust harder and faster.

"Dean…Dean," she said her whole body tensing. Her body started to tremble, clinching hard around him, and he moved his hand down to touch her, sending her over the edge with one final scream of his name.

Unable to resist, Dean thrust once, twice and then groaned as her body pulled his orgasm from him. He held her tight trying to catch his breath.

"Eventually we'll make it to a bed, right?" Taylor teased, resting her head on the table.

Dean laughed and pulled her up. Slipping from her body, he turned her around. Her long brown hair stuck to her flushed and sweaty face. "Complaining?"

She smiled, her hand going to his cheek. "What do you think?"

He kissed the palm of her hand and walked them to the bed.


Sam heard no evidence of fighting or… anything else and let himself into the room. Dean lay sprawled on the bed alone. Curious, Sam checked the bathroom. No Taylor.

Dean rolled over and opened his eyes. "Sam?"

"Where's Taylor, Dean?" Sam asked coming out of the bathroom.

Dean was fully awake and reaching for his pants. "I…" He spotted the empty dresser and swore.

"Dean, what is it?" Sam asked as Dean searched the dresser.

"Damn it," Dean growled. "I put my gun and knife…"

"She wouldn't. She knows…" Sam started.

"She thinks she knows, but she's just going to get herself killed."


"Martin was found about five miles in," Sam said as they got out of the car. Dean tucked a 9mm into the back of his jeans. Sam pulled the duffel from the backseat and checked it quickly, pulling his 9mm from inside and mimicking his brother, tucked it into the back of his pants.

"This way," Dean said eyeing the ground.

Three hours later Dean was frustrated and taking it out on Sam. They stepped through the trees into a small clearing, the sun blocked by the overhanging trees. Dean smirked as the branch he'd been holding hit Sam squarely in the chest almost knocking him over.

"Man, if you don't stop that…"

"What?" Dean asked.

Sam's response was cut off by the sound of a gunshot. Two more shots echoed closer, and Taylor burst through the trees ahead of them. Her newly bought jeans and blue Henley were covered in dirt and blood that dripped from her nose.

"Run!" she yelled as the creature crashed though the trees behind her.

It was huge. Standing close to nine feet tall, the arms, legs and most of its body were that of a bear, but the face still resembled a man. Dean could see now why the bullets hadn't worked. The chest of the beast was massive and landing a killing blow was going to be difficult.

"Son of a bitch," Dean said grabbing Taylor. He heard the creature closing in behind them and pulled Taylor in front of him seconds before a large arm connected with his midsection. He was air born before he could scream, the claws slicing through his side. He heard Sam yell before his head connected with something hard, and he slipped into unconsciousness.

Sam cringed as the creature tossed Dean like a rag doll against the tree. He ran to his brother's aid, putting himself between him and the creature.

"No!" Taylor yelled. She grabbed a large branch and brought it down on the creature's leg.

It growled and kicked out its large foot, knocking Taylor over.

Sam took advantage of the distraction and pulled Dean behind a fallen log. His side was seeping blood, but the lacerations were shallow, only through the skin. Sam took his button up shirt off and pressed it against the wounds, tying it in place with the sleeves.

Taylor saw Sam move Dean as she scrambled backwards. Following her, the creature threw its head back and roared.

The noise made it's way into Dean's fuzzy brain. "Sammy?"

"Stay down, Dean," Sam said pulling his gun.

"Sam, no," Dean said trying to stand. "We need to be closer."

"What?" Sam asked.

"Sam, look out," Taylor called. His attention on his brother, Sam didn't see the creature's hand until it connected with the side of his head, sending him to the ground.

"Son of a bitch," Dean said pulling his gun and shooting at the creature. The action only managed to enrage it, as it stalked closer to Dean. He backed up, but stumbled as his injury made itself known. The world grew fuzzy again and he fell catching himself before his head connected with the ground.

"Dean!" The creature turned back to Taylor cornered against a group of trees.

"No." Dean struggled to his feet, closing his eyes, desperate to clear his head. "Move it, Taylor."

"I can't. It's too big." The creature growled low in its chest. Taylor could see Dean behind it, obviously injured, but still trying to get to her. Her hand trembled as she pulled the large blade from the sheath against her back. Her knuckles whitened even as her hand shook holding the knife at her side.

Dean pulled his own knife, but knew he couldn't get to her in time.

"Dean," Sam called from behind him getting back to his feet and stumbling forward.

The creature lowered his head only a few inches from Taylor. The smell was overwhelming, and she tried to push herself back further.

Dean shook his head, trying to clear his vision. Knowing he was out of time, he steadied himself and threw his knife. The blade sliced into the creature's right leg.

Distracted, the creature reached for the blade, and Taylor struck, sinking her own knife deep into its chest. It reacted instantly it's claws digging deep into her arm. She pulled the knife free with her left hand, her right hanging limply by her side and plunged it back in. The creature stumbled back, its human like eyes full of confusion. It gave one last pitiful roar and came crashing down only a few feet from Taylor.

Dean collapsed next to her. Sam appeared by his side, the right side of his face swollen and blood dripping from his hairline. "Is she ok?"

"I don't know," Dean said rolling Taylor over. She groaned pulling her arm to her body. "Let me see."

"Dean," Sam said, getting a good look at her arm. The creature's claws had dug two large lacerations down the inside of her forearm.

"We need to get her to the car." Dean groaned as he bent to pick her up.

"Let me," Sam said, easily picking Taylor up. Dean pulled the knife from the creature and followed his brother to the car.

"She needs a hospital," Sam said eyeing his brother in the rear view mirror. Taylor lay across Dean's lap her arm bandaged the best they could on the run.

"We all need a hospital, Sam, but that's not going to happen."

"I'm fine, Dean, and I could sew you up. But her arm…"

"Just take us to the hotel," Taylor whispered, her eyes still closed. She cringed as the Impala hit a pothole.

"Taylor…" Sam started.

"I don't want you getting into trouble because of me," she said her eyes fluttering open.


"The hotel, Sam. I'll be ok." To prove her point, she pulled herself into a sitting position. Tears sprang to her eyes when her arm bumped into the car door.

"Be still," Dean said pulling her against him.

With a glare from his brother, Sam knew better than to continue arguing. He parked in the back and carried Taylor to the room. Then went back to the car for the first aid kit.

Dean paced from the bed Taylor was on, to the table where Sam was laying out the stitching supplies.

"Sit, Dean, before you fall over," Sam said as Dean swayed slightly. Dean glared at him, but sat on the other side of the bed next to Taylor.

Gathering everything he would need, water and some towels, Sam pulled the table to the bed and sat down. Pulling the makeshift bandage off, he ripped the sleeve of her shirt up to her shoulder. She hissed as the edges of the shirt pulled from the dried blood around the lacerations.

"Sorry," Sam said reaching for a washcloth and wetting it down. "This is going to hurt."

Taylor braced herself, but was not prepared for the excruciating pain. Dean's arm came around her, holding her still. Her eyes opened at his groan, not realizing she was brushing against his injured side.

"Dean," she said trying to pull away.

"I'm fine, Taylor. Hold still." The fuzziness was creeping back into his vision, but he wouldn't admit it.

Sam finished cleaning out the wounds and looked up at Dean. "There not as deep as I thought, but they still need stitches."

"Give me the whiskey," Dean said trying to adjust his hold on Taylor, easing the weight on his side.

"Dean, I don't…"

"Sam," Dean said rubbing his free hand over his face.

Shaking his head, Sam grabbed the full bottle of whiskey from the bag and handed it to Dean.

"Taylor, I need you to sit up a little more," Dean said unable to move her from his current position. "Sam."

With some maneuvering, Sam managed to sit Taylor up enough to help her drink from the bottle.

She choked down the first gulp with a strangled cough. "Ugh. That's terrible."

"Yeah, but a few more drinks, and you won't care what Sam's doing to your arm," Dean said. She wrinkled her nose but kept drinking.

"I think that's enough, Dean," Sam said after laying an antiseptic soaked washcloth over the wound and getting only a small frown from Taylor.

Between the blood loss and the alcohol, Taylor's head soon lulled to the side against Dean's shoulder, the dopey grin making Dean laugh.

"You're next," Sam said wiping the grin from Dean's face.


Dean woke, conscious of the warm body next to him. Taylor lay on her side, her bandaged arm tucked against her. He leaned over, placing a hand on her head checking for fever and cringed slightly as the stitches in his side pulled.

"You ok?" Sam asked from his seat at the table.

"Peachy," Dean grumbled. "How's the head?"

"I'm f…"

"Sam," Dean warned.

Sam turned away from the computer. "I'm fine, really."

He wasn't convinced but let the subject drop. "What time is it?"

"Almost two," Sam said turning back to the computer.

"Sam, we need to…" Dean started, holding his side as he sat up.

"I know, but you and Taylor needed to rest," Sam said not taking his eyes off the computer.

"What about…"

"I took care of it."

"Would you let me finish," Dean growled.

"No, actually, because I took care of it. The body's toast." He closed the computer and turned to Dean. "Any fever?"

Dean glared at him, but let him change the subject. "No, but we need to get some fluids into her."

"Got it covered," Sam said, pulling a bag from under the table. He pulled out two energy drinks, handing one to Dean. "You first."

"Sam." He shook his head, but downed the drink in three gulps. "Happy?"

Sam rolled his eyes and went back to the computer. With a groan, Dean managed to sit himself up.

"Taylor," he said, gently shaking her shoulder.

"Wha'…." Her eyes fluttered open, unfocused and confused. "Dean?"

"Yeah. Can you sit up?"

She looked at him, the words bouncing around in her head, but not making any since. "What?"

"A little help, Sam," Dean said spotting the smirk on his brother's face.

"Hey, Taylor," Sam said kneeling in front of her. "Can you sit up?"

"Sam? What happened?" She shook her head, trying to rid herself of the fuzziness. Something had happened, but she couldn't remember. They were in the woods… oh god. She sat up too fast and toppled over.

"Taylor!" Dean gasped, pulling his stitches in an attempt to catch her.

"Whoa!" Sam was surprised to find himself on his butt. Taylor sprawled on top of him. "Stay put, Dean. I got her."

"Sam," Dean said still moving toward them.

"Dean, be still. You're going to rip your stitches," Sam said managing to keep Taylor in his arms as he got to his knees.

"Sam?" Taylor asked still a little confused.

"Yeah, you with me now?" Sam asked sitting her back on the edge of the bed.

She frowned, raising her arms to her head, half way there she gasped. Dean was there, wincing at the movement but catching her before she could fall again. Her body tensed under his touch, waves of pain radiating from her arm.

"Relax. It'll pass, just be still," Dean said settling himself behind her.

Gradually, her body relaxed into him.

"God, that really sucked," she said opening her eyes.

"Can I take a look?" Sam asked. She looked reluctant but let him have her arm. Carefully he pulled the bandage away. Taylor's eyes grew big at the sight.

"Damn that's nasty," she mumbled. The black stitches crisscrossed from her wrist to the junction of her elbow.

"No infection," Sam said wrapping it back up. Standing, he reached for his jacket.

"Where are you going?" Dean asked.

"It's a long drive back. We need supplies."

"Diet Pepsi," Taylor chimed in.

Sam mock saluted. "Yes mam."

Taylor smiled and snuggled closer to Dean.


Taylor stirred, her stomach growling.

"Dean?" she mumbled opening her eyes. Carefully rolling over, she sat up slowly. Thankfully, the room stayed still and her stomach continued to growl. Faintly, she could hear the water running. Yelling his name again, the water turned off.

"Yeah, you ok?" Dean called from the bathroom.

"I'm fine. Finish your shower."

"There's food on the table," he said before the water turned back on.

Pulling her arm to her body, she stood and made her way to the table. It was loaded down with grocery bags. She rifled through the contents, coming up with a diet Pepsi, a chocolate bar, and a bag of chips. God she loved these guys.

Sitting down in a nearby chair, she contemplated how exactly she would open anything. Frustrated, she tossed the food back on the table, knocking Dean's bag to the floor.

"Damn." Kneeling, she angrily stuffed the contents back in, almost missing the file. "Well, crap."

Dean entered the room, a towel over his face as he rubbed his hair dry. "Did you find…"

"Yeah," she said leaning back against the wall.

"Taylor, what's…" he said, pulling the towel down to his shoulders

She held the file up. "You found it."

Dean shrugged. "It was on top of a pile in you office."

"Did you read it?" she asked.

He sat down on the edge of the bed. "I skimmed over it."

"Did you tell Sam?"

"No," he said quickly.

"Why not?"

"Because he's still looking."

She eyed him, frowning. "So am I."

The door opened and Sam sauntered in, stopping when he saw Taylor on the floor. "Am I interrupting something?"

"Nope," Taylor said holding her good arm out. "Help me up."

Sam eyed his brother. "You sure?"

"You heard the lady," Dean said standing. "Help her up."

"What's this?" Sam asked taking the file from her hand as he pulled her to her feet.

"Look for yourself," Dean said turning away.

Sam flipped through the first couple of pages, walking slowly to the closest bed and sitting. Dean walked back into the bathroom, closing the door behind him.

"Sam…" Taylor started.

"He saw this?" Sam asked.

"Yeah, he saw."

"Great," Sam said standing.

"It doesn't mean…"

"What? That there's no way…"

"Sam, it's only been three months. I have a lot of places I haven't looked. Just because I haven't found it yet, doesn't mean I won't."

"Yeah, but will you find it in time," Sam said.

"Ok, quit talking about me," Dean said coming out of the bathroom.

"Dean…" Sam started.

"Shut up, Sam."


"I said shut up," Dean growled.

"Hey," Taylor said making them both stop and look at her. "Good, now that I've got your attention."

"Taylor…" Dean started.

"Talking now," she said holding her hand up. "This is why I stayed quite about what I didn't find, but I'm not done looking, not by a long shot."

"But…" Sam said.

"Still talking," she said to him but turned her attention to Dean. "Must I remind you of our earlier conversation? I'm not giving up and neither should you. So there will be no more moping or arguing. I'm going to get dressed, and then you can take me home."

She grabbed the bag of clothes Sam had bought her and slowly made her way to the bathroom. Turning she smiled at the two of them.

"Feel free to discuss this amongst yourselves but no yelling," she said before closing the door.

"God, she's bossy," Sam said with a smile.

"You have no idea," Dean said shaking his head and grabbing his bag from the table.

"Too much information, Dude," Sam said reaching for his own bag.

"Sam," Dean said stopping his brother at the door, but not taking his eyes off his packing. "Thanks."

Sam just smiled and continued out the door.


Thanks to those who asked for a sequel and for being patient while I finished it.

I could write another one, but only if I'm asked nicely.