On Your Side

She gasped as the vampire's cold arm pressed against her throat and held her dangling a few inches off the ground. Her eyes flicked to the abandoned machete, still lodged in the throat of a dying vampire. He followed her gaze, then leaned forward with a cruel smile. His breath smelled like metal and rotting flesh and she couldn't help but flinch.

"I think I'll turn you," he said, the fangs extending from under his lip.

"Die," she replied in a considerably better smelling, but strained, whisper. He started laughing, fangs extending from his gums. She flinched back, feigning fright.

The vampires fangs met her neck as her needle met his. He hissed and fell down, passing out almost immediately. Unfortunately, he dropped her, forcing her to take a precious moment to refill her lungs with air and regain balance. She retrieved her machete, finishing off the other monster with a quick shove. She turned her attention back to the first vampire and gingerly removed the needle from his neck. Making sure not to touch the blood that had come from the vampire and the blood the syringe once contained, she recapped the needle and slipped it in her pocket.

She then proceeded to behead the monster.

Bayleigh Quinn Thomas had no real need for any sense of normalcy. Nor for any type of human contact. That's why she got into the business of hunting monsters. It was practically required not to have relationships with normal people, and she had none, save with her dog.

As she surveyed her latest series of kills, Bayleigh stiffened. There was a presence behind her. She steadied her breathing and relaxed her muscles so they wouldn't know she knew. Then she stood and turned in one swift movement, swinging her machete aimed straight for the neck of whoever it was.

Her blade stopped a half inch from his delicate and very human throat.

He was tall. Very tall. His own machete was held aloft, ready to strike. His eyes were wide and his mouth turned downwards.

"You're human," he said.

"So are you," she replied. Her eyebrows were furrowed, unhappy with this turn of events. He relaxed his machete and she returned the gesture stiffly, still prepared to defend herself if necessary.

Another man, this one a bit older and about a head shorter, entered silently. "Sammy?" he asked.

"Yeah, I'm here."

Bayleigh narrowed her eyes. "You're the Winchesters," she stated.

"Do we know you?" Dean asked defensively.

"No." They didn't know her, but she knew them. She looked between the two of them, then said, "I have to go."

"Wait," Sam started, but she was already slipping past Dean and out the door.