𝖘𝖆𝖞 𝖆 𝖕𝖗𝖆𝖞𝖊𝖗 𝖋𝖔𝖗 𝖒𝖊

Sleek black heels click along the cracked pavement while I make my way down the narrow strip of sidewalk, my black leather jacket wrapped tightly around my torso in hopes of diluting the chill of the bitter night breeze.

I pass by a dark alleyway, the dim yellow streetlight barely illuminating my surroundings. Soft rustling easily registered due to my heightened sense of hearing causes me to turn my head. I still, eyes widening with alert as I look past the rusted dumpsters and trash bags beyond the entrance.

I walk into the alleyway and am frozen with shock when I spot one of my vampire brethren, Boris, pinning a man with his right arm, just below his throat. He smears his bloody wrist over the man's mouth. The poor stranger is helpless, unable to move. He makes a guttural noise in protest, but can't defend himself. I can only imagine that he ingests the dark red blood.

Fury instantly courses through me. I had tried to create a better life for myself after years of being alone, deciding to live on the blood of animals. I could still ingest human food, but it never kept me satisfied. Sadly, I was the only vampire I knew of that adopted this way of life. I was an oddity in the supernatural world: I was half human, half vampire. A dhampir. It was a surprise to most of my kind that I was born, not bitten. I had a heartbeat, which allowed me to blend in much easier with humans.

I step forward, bringing myself out of the shadows. Boris doesn't notice my presence.

"I see that you're still using old tactics," I tsked, shaking my head. "It's quite amusing if I've got to be honest."

He turns at the sound of my voice and grins, revealing a row of blood-stained fangs. "Hey there, sweetheart. It's been a while."

I speed forward, wrapping my slender, tattooed fingers around his lower jaw before slamming him against the brick wall. "Haven't you learned?" I snarled, my once smooth voice turning animalistic. "Don't call me that."

Boris lets out a maniacal chuckle, and I pull my lips up, growling. In response to his laughter, my grip grows tighter, cherry red nails digging into his skin. His jawbone cracks under my touch and I can't help but smile, exposing my own set of pearly-white fangs. The canines were sharp and gleamed in the dim moonlight cast from above.

My expression hardens. "Leave. Now. Or you'll have to spend the next century without a jaw."

"Why should I listen to you?" he challenges, eyes calculating. "You're only a half-breed. A bottom feeder."

"Because I won't fucking hesitate to rip you apart, limb by limb." I grab him by the shoulders and shove him back, causing his body to soar through the air and collide with a dumpster at the end of the alleyway. A harsh thud lets me know that he made an impact. I hoped that he was injured. Or dead. "Get out of here—before I make you regret ever seeing my face."

Boris hurriedly scrambles to his feet and flees, scaling a fire escape before disappearing into the night. I shake my head once more before realizing the man was still slumped against the dumpster behind me.

I surge forward and kneel in front of him, pressing my hand against his cheek. My touch was ice cold, and this mysterious man stirs from it, eyes slowly fluttering open. I can hear his heart pounding erratically in his chest, and the smell of his blood hits me like an exploding grenade. He had the sweetest blood I'd ever smelled in my three centuries of being a dhampir. My fangs slowly descend from my gums and I shut my eyes, taking in a deep breath. Thirst roared within me like a fire. Oh, I could only imagine how exquisite his blood must be...

I forces myself to resist the temptation with every breath I takes. Breathe in, breathe out, I told myself, ignoring the bloodthirsty monster that lurked beneath the surface. Don't lose focus, Frances.

The man before me adjusts to his surroundings, focusing on me crouched down before him. I open my eyes, revealing their brilliant green color. I rake over his features, knowing that my unnatural beauty could have an effect on him. Most vampires are not gifted with this—they're quite ugly, in fact, but I believe that I was given my features due to being half human.

"Hi, I'm Frances," I say. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," he murmurs, weakly climbing to his feet. His knees buckle, and I wrap a strong, steady arm around his shoulders for support. I can tell this mystery man finds this shocking due to my petite frame, which causes me to smirk. He doesn't hesitate to lean into my side, however, and I lead us forward.

I see a man standing at the end of the alleyway, an emotionless expression on his face.

"Dean!" he calls out, causing the nearly unconscious man I was supporting to pick up his head. "Oh man, are you alright?"

"Sammy..."

The long-haired man begins to speak, but then stops, hazel eyes narrowing whenever he focuses his attention on me. His grip tightens on the machete in his right hand, and I can feel the tension beginning to build. A hunter. "Who are you?"

"Well, Sammy—" I shift Dean as I continue to aid him, wrapping my arm tighter around his middle. His head lolls against my shoulder. "I'm Frances."

He looks at me with the same cold stare, seeming to be unamused, and I sigh, knowing the brief introduction was not welcomed. "Never mind. You should be thanking me because I just saved your brother's ass."

"First off, It's Sam. And how did you know he was my—"

I shrugged, pursing my lips. "That was my only other option besides boyfriend."

Sam notices the blood spread along with Dean's mouth and chin and his jaw clenches. "Damn it."

"Your choice of words is correct," I agree. "Let's get Dean somewhere safe before his condition gets any worse."

And before I reconsider the possibility of tasting his blood, I add as an afterthought. I had already calculated a hundred different ways to kill him.

✧  ✧  ✧

Sam leads me to a dingy motel room. Dean, now regaining strength, grits his teeth.

"The lights—they're so bright," he hisses, and Sam shuts the curtains in response. I can't hide my concern when Dean holds his hand to his head. I knew the transformation was about to begin.

"Oh my God, what is that sound?" he cries in frustration.

Sam is oblivious to his attitude. "What sound, Dean?"

I'm startled when Dean pushes over the lamp, it crashing to the floor. He was growing angrier by each passing second.

He pounds on the wall. "Hey, c'mon, keep it down, damn it!" He turns and winces at the lit bulbs of the lighting fixture hanging from the ceiling. "Please, please shut that off...geez..."

I reach over and turns the light off. I knew now that every noise must be deafening, from his footsteps to the click of the light switch. The turning is happening rapidly, I realize. It won't be long before he reaches the final stage.

Sam's voice is concerned, and I wonder if he's feigning the emotion due to his actions earlier on in the night. "Dean...you should sit down..."

"You sit down." Despite not wanting to obey orders, he sits on the edge of one of the beds and cradles his head in his hands. I placed a gentle hand on his shoulder and he glances up at me. I pat it in hopes of soothing him. Why did I feel the sudden need to comfort him?

He groans. "Of all the ways to die, I never thought I'd be going out like this."

"Dean, nobody is 'going out'," Sam reassures.

I nod in agreement. "You're safe as long as I'm here." I glance over at Sam. Something about the young man wasn't right, but I couldn't put my finger on it.

Not yet, anyway.

"It's that..." Dean snarls, approaching the analog clock that was the source of the loud, mechanical ticking sound.

Before I can even question his motives, he roughly rips the clock's cord out of the wall, causing sparks to shoot out. He faces Sam.

"Samuel is gonna kill me when he gets here."

"No, Dean, he's not!"

Dean nods. "Yes he is, 'cause I'm gonna ask him to because you won't do it."

Sam sighs, following his older brother as he begins to pace around the cramped motel room. "Okay, just hold on a second..."

He throws his hands up in exasperation. "For what, huh? Look at me!"

I have no choice but to sit back and watch them argue, for I feared that if I stepped in I'd only make matters worse. If they found out what I was, it certainly wouldn't help the situation.

"We can figure this out!"

"How?!" There's a pause, meaning it's clear that Sam doesn't know how to answer. Dean's entire demeanor changed, and I immediately sense his wariness. "Why aren't you freaked out?"

Sam furrows his brows. "Of course I am!"

"Really? Because I can hear your heartbeat, and it's pretty damned steady."

I listen for a moment and realize that Dean is right. It was at a slow pace. Sam didn't seem to be showing any sort of emotion. His body language was off, almost as if he was mimicking something he had once seen on a TV screen.

"That's because I'm...I'm trying to remain calm." He struggles to form a rational explanation. "Dean, look—Samuel will know what to do."

Who is Samuel? I wonder. Someone they know? Does he also know about vampires?

"C'mon, man, I'm a monster, okay?" I silently disagree he continues. Just because he was becoming a vampire, it didn't make him a bad person. I knew from personal experience. But if you asked the person who killed my parents the same question, they would disagree. "This isn't a problem that you spit-ball. We gotta deal with this before I hurt somebody."

An uncomfortable silence fills the air. I pick at the worn floral pattern of the motel comforter with my cherry-red nails. I didn't know what to say to relieve the tension. Dean holds his head again and groans.

"How's it feel?" Sam questions.

"Now? Now you wanna talk about my feelings?"

"No, I mean...physically."

Dean huffs. "How do you think it feels? Not good!" He crosses the room and goes to step into the bathroom.

Sam stops him. "Where are you goin'?"

"Bathroom, okay? News flash, Mr. Wizard: vampires pee!"

Dean storms into the bathroom and slams the door shut. I can hear the erratic beating of his heart once again. A sigh. Soft rustling. Then...

Silence.

"Dean?" I call out, approaching the door. Sam stands back and allows me to pound on the door. When that fails, I jiggle the knob, realizing that it's locked. "Stand back." I warn Sam.

"No way, Barbie, I got this—"

"Shut up."

With one strong kick, I knock the door off its hinges, revealing the empty bathroom. A gentle breeze billows through the open window, dull moonlight casting through the blinds that now hang askew. Dean has escaped.

"Shit," I grumble, running a hand through my long blonde hair.

I hoped that Dean wasn't going to stir up trouble because that would only make his already bad situation much, much worse.