A/N: Those who read 10 Ways Sam Winchester's Been Kissed met Halley in the final chapter. This is her story...

I honestly don't understand why I find Soulless!Sam so utterly fascinating, but I do. I wanted to stretch my writing fingers a bit and do something different. The stunning differences in Sam seemed to be an excellent way to do that.

And, because I'm apparently a masochist, I'll be doing it in first person. Italics at the beginning and end of odd numbered chapters with be entries in Halley's journals and plain text in the middle will be her memory of the events. Even numbered chapters will be from Sam's POV. Please be kind and tell me what you think?

Many thanks to pal and beta stephaniew for her continued support and encouragement. After getting me through this one, I swear she has the patience of a saint! Be sure to check out her stuff if you haven't already!

Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural.

Chapter One: Dead Inside

March 25, 2010

Writing has always been an outlet for me. It's the way I clear my head of jumbled thoughts. Sometimes it's as simple as making a list.

Tonight, I write because it's cleansing. I write because something happened to me. Something that I really can't share with anyone...at least in part because no one would believe me.

My Daddy is the pastor of this sleepy, little town. I go to church every Sunday. I sing in the choir. I was raised on principles of salvation and the eternal damnation of hell. But angels and demons, things that go bump in the night? Is any of it really real? I didn't think it was. Certainly not until I found myself in the middle of it.

Things have been strange for days. People have gone missing. There've been freak accidents. Bodies have been found exsanguinated but with little trace of their blood.

But it's usually so safe and calm here. Incredibly normal. So none of that stopped me from walking from the farm to my favorite spot - the covered bridge less than a mile from McGinty's Pub. That's where I met Sam. Or, more aptly, where he saved me...

Walking down by the river in early spring is a favorite past-time of mine. The air is crisp and clean. You can breathe in the peace and quiet. Usually I can see the constellations from the bridge, tracing their starry outlines in the night sky. But tonight isn't as clear as I'd first thought. It's suddenly overcast. Thick, inky clouds stretch in eerie fingers across the moon.

Hearing footsteps behind me, I freeze. I see a shadowy outline moving behind me and I turn to run only to find my face buried in a man's chest. He towers over me. His hand closes roughly around my neck and he shoves me forcefully out of the way.

His teeth gleam in the moonlight. His smile is stone cold. It's hollow, sort of like that of a jack-o-lantern. He pulls a blade from beneath his jacket and, for a moment, I'm sure I've drawn my last breath. That I've become the killer's next victim.

Turning from me, he advances on the dark figure and thrusts the blade into it's belly. Red light shoots from its eyes and open mouth. There's a howl like that of a wounded or dying animal. Then, in a cloud of black smoke, the body disappears.

I scramble back to lean against the side of the bridge, but make no move to stand. My heart thundering in my chest, I press my hand to my forehead and look up at him. "What was that?"

He stares - a little too casually for my liking - at the blood coating his weapon before answering. "A demon."

I blink rapidly, trying to process this information. Sure, we'd talked about demons in Sunday School...but I'd always thought it was one of those things they said to keep us out of trouble and make us think twice about sinning. "Like from hell?"

"You should go home," he says. "It isn't safe."

I force myself to my feet, the soft soles of my flat shoes shuffling over the floor boards. I tilt my head trying to get a better look at him. He seems angry and impatient, but my curiosity gets the better of me. "Who are you?"

"Sam," he tells me. His tone is abrupt and he doesn't make eye contact.

No-last-name Sam is tall. At least a foot taller than me, probably more. His legs seem miles long. His hair is shaggy and I can't quite determine its color in the dim light. He's very easy on the eyes though. He has nice features. Features that would be entirely different on someone who wasn't so...empty.

I stick my hand out to him. I was raised next to a barn, not in one. "Thanks, Sam," I say. "I'm Halley."

He makes no move to accept my offering, so I shrug. "Okay, then..." I reply. Hooking my thumb over my shoulder, I point in the direction of the bar. "I'm just gonna..."

I begin to walk away, but turn back to him. My mother, God rest her soul, raised me better than this. I can't just leave him here. Not after he saved my life. "Can I buy you a drink or something?"

He follows me without a word. I glance at him when we hit the street lamps and watch as he scans the closed store fronts. McGinty's is the only thing open this time of night. I raise the back of my hand to cover my laugh when he notices we only have the one traffic light. When you're not used to being in a place this small, it's kinda like stepping back in time.

We walk in and the barkeep barely looks up from wiping down the mahogany counter in front of him. It isn't very crowded and rather than waiting for him to come to the table, I walk to the bar. Grabbing a couple of beers, I carry them over to the corner booth where Sam sits with his back to the wall. I realize he's chosen this spot to have a view of the entire room and it makes me shiver.

I don't usually drink. Maybe it's my upbringing, I don't know. But seeing what I'd just witnessed - noticing that Sam's on full alert - I need something...and I'm not entirely sure beer is strong enough.

"So," I begin, toying with the napkin beneath the frosted mug in front of me. "If that was a demon, what does that make you? Some sort of angel?"

Sam smirks, jutting his chin out. "I'm a hunter."

My brow furrows. "A hunter?" I ask. "You mean there are more things like that out there?"

"And shapeshifters, poltergeists, wraiths, skinwalkers," he shrugs. "But yeah, there're more demons. There's all kinds of stuff out there."

Definitely need more alcohol. The cool mug feels good in my hands, but it doesn't provide nearly enough of a distraction. "So you hunt...monsters?"

"Pretty much," he answers. I watch as he sips his beer, his tongue darting out to lick the foam off his upper lip. My head fills with impure thoughts and I find myself wondering what it'd be like to kiss him.

I drink from my glass, the cool liquid sliding down my throat but doing nothing to calm me. I gulp, wondering what has come over me. I don't think or act this way. It isn't like me to lust after a stranger. I'm beginning to wonder if Sam is like the things he hunts. I already know he's mysterious and a little dangerous.

He shifts, looking over my shoulder before turning slightly in the direction of the bar. I wonder if he's thinking about leaving. Men like Sam aren't interested in girls like me. We're too inexperienced to be appealing.

"Well," I stumble, preparing for what I'm sure is coming. "Sam, I...um...thank you for..."

"Halley." If it were possible for a man's voice to sound like chocolate, that's what I'd have called the first time he said my name. It was magic. Dark and sinfully rich like the candy bars you have to drive into the city for.

His eyes are hypnotic when mine connect with them. Or maybe it's my drink. I don't know. All I can tell you is that one minute, I am sitting on my side of the booth as Sam says practically nothing and the next, I am sitting beside him. His lips meet mine in a bruising kiss. His mouth is hard and firm, not unlike the toned lines of his muscular body.

My hands drift from his shoulders to his pectorals. I can feel the heat of his skin through his shirt. I gasp when his tongue enters my mouth, the sound serving to egg him on.

I panic. I'm sitting in a public place making out with a man I hardly know. My eyes open and I pull away and out of the trance he has over me. I nearly trip getting to my feet. Needing an escape, my eyes find the neon sign signaling the ladies' room. "I...I, um...I need a minute. Will you still be here when I get back?"

I really don't give him a chance to answer before hurrying to the door. I turn on the faucet and splash my face with cold water. This couldn't be happening. It wasn't me.

Looking in the mirror, I note my kiss swollen mouth and pinked cheeks. Cursing my fair skin, I also note the early signs of discoloration where Sam grabbed my throat. I take a deep breath only to find myself panting. Leaning against the vanity, I grip the porcelain edge until my knuckles go white. "Get it together, Hal..."

I nearly come out of my skin when I hear the door open and realize for the first time I neglected to lock it behind me. My pulse quickens when I see Sam standing with his back against the it. My eyes were probably the size of saucers at the gentle click of the lock sliding into place.

And then he's on me. His mouth hot and wet as it glides over mine. His fingers digging into my thighs, he lifts me, placing me on the edge of the counter. He forces my legs apart and, standing between them, grabs my braided hair, pulling my head back roughly to expose my throat.

He nips at my neck, scraping his teeth along my skin. The more I try to move away, the closer I seem to be drawn to him. His hands grip my hips as his lips make their way back to mine. "Come on, Halley," he says darkly. "You know you want it."

I can do nothing but moan. Part of me does want this. Part of me wants very badly to feel something other than the rare but gentle caresses I'm used to. To escape the peace of my small town life and experience a little danger. But it's more than just that - I need to be held passionately and reminded that I'm alive. That I was saved - rescued from the darkness.

A bigger part of me feels dirty. I don't know this man. This isn't my home. It isn't even a motel. It's a public toilet in a place frequented by people I know and see every day. People I go to church with. People who know my father.

Sam tugs my sweater off and his lips cover mine all over again. My brain screams No! Don't do this! even as my body begs for him to take me. When I try to voice my thoughts, I find my mouth filled with his tongue and he takes down the straps of my camisole.

He takes my hands in his hair as encouragement, the chestnut strands slipping through my fingers as his mouth captures my nipple. I cry out in a mixture of pleasure and pain at the savage suckling and scoring of his teeth.

Sam opens my jeans, licking his fingers before stuffing his hand into my pants. He strokes them into me, testing the readiness of my body. The moan that escapes when he gets me wet is primal and he spins me tighter and tighter...but not so tight that I break.

Yanking his own fly open, Sam guides my hand to his length. The engorged organ looks even bigger against my small palm. He reaches for something and in my lust blurred haze I see him tearing open the foil packet of a condom.

This is very real. It's definitely happening...and there's no assurance he'd stop if I asked him to. I'm not sure I have the strength to say no. His presence is dominating. Who could say no to someone who looked like that?

Sam pulls me off the vanity and my knees nearly buckle as he spins me around. He pulls my pants down just to my knees before entering me forcefully from behind, tugging me to him as he guides my hands to the counter. The weight of his thrusts is oppressive. The added friction from being unable to spread my legs further is maddening. It makes me ache. For more. For release.

There's no gentleness in his touch, not even in the way he rubs between my thighs. I want to stop him. I want to tell him no, that I can't take any more. But my body rebels. It greedily takes all of the punishment Sam gives me.

I catch his eyes in the mirror. They're cold and unfeeling, almost dead. Seeing his smile, the wicked and somewhat twisted glare he gives me, tears me apart. When he drops his head, sinking his teeth into the back of my neck, I scream. In ecstasy.

The rush of warmth I feel is overwhelming. It's overpowering. It makes me feel sick to my stomach and completely ashamed. Oh, God, what have I done? What have I allowed this man to do to me?

My eyes slam shut and I hear the sound of his clothes being righted. I hear the snick of his zipper and the lock sliding out of place. As quickly as he came into my life, Sam is gone. And I'm alone. Struggling with all my might to keep the tears from falling.

After he left me at McGinty's, I came home and cleaned myself up. I cried as the pounding droplets of water from the shower head poured over my body. While the heat of it relaxed and calmed my muscles, it did nothing to clean away the memories etched into my brain...nor did it banish the bruises, bite marks and scrapes I was sure would be more prevalent in the light of day...