Louder Than Words

He walked through the dark street. It was just after eleven in Michigan. He was on Chestnut Street with his collar pulled up, aware of the dark shops and strange looks he was getting from the pale faces peeking out here and there. But he barely even noticed anymore, the looks were so common. Even he found himself strange on most occasions.

He didn't know much about himself, and he thought that that may have contributed to his strangeness. He knew his name was Evagoras. He knew that he came from Greece. He knew that he was a lot older than he looked. And he knew that, among his kind, he was generally respected. Except... something was wrong now. He heard the whispers behind his back from people he thought he knew. He thought he trusted. There was only one person left he knew he could call on to be totally honest with him. And she was, perhaps, one of the reasons that no one trusted him currently.

Evagoras turned down onto another street and then slipped between buildings. He looked around behind him, pausing to feel the air. Once he was certain there was nothing that could be harmful to his personal being, he pushed aside a dumpster and started sliding bricks out of place. They formed a hole in the wall, just big enough for a lithe man like him to slide his head and shoulders into . He reached in and pulled out a small black sport bag. Inside, among other things not as important, there was a gun that looked like a colt, a silver knife, and a small piece of paper, tucked into the hem at the bottom of the bag. He pulled it out and slipped it in the breast pocket of his thin collared shirt.

He checked the ornate vintage watch on his wrist, then replaced everything in the hole, minus the paper, before putting the bricks back in place. He slid the dumpster back into place and trotted out onto the street. He began looking for a payphone- damn technology had made the payphone all but obsolete. But he spotted one a few minutes later and started walking towards it.
His way was abruptly blocked by a tall man in clothes equally as unfitting for the weather as Evagoras's were. The shoulders of the man's shirt were wet and he realized it had been raining for a while now, though he couldn't recall when it had started. He chided himself for the discrepancy: he should have noticed.

"Where are you going?" the man asked innocently. He looked no older than twenty with light coppery hair on his head and hands too large for his thin arms.

"Well I was hoping to get some coffee," Evagoras improvised, gesturing towards the cafe glowing brilliantly in the fading light and resting just behind the payphone.

The man's lips curled in a disturbingly sinister smile. "You don't drink coffee, Evagoras. Don't lie to me."

"And don't talk down to me," Evagoras snarled, summoning his most commanding voice. He stepped forward and leaned towards the man, seeming to lean over him. Anyone looking on might have thought they were brothers. They were similar in build and height, though the man was smaller in both, as well as external age. "Who are you to question me, Geoffry?" Geoffry raised his chin in defiance, but fell back a step. "Who sent you here?" Evagoras asked in a quieter voice, letting himself relax back into a civilized conversation. The man didn't answer. Evagoras stepped towards him, frowning. "Tell me." Still, Geoffry refused to answer, refused to turn away. Evagoras grabbed his arm, wrapping his long fingers around the small limb. It was so thin his middle finger touched his thumb.

"We're on to you, Evagoras. Watch your step." He shook himself out of Evagoras's grasp and slipped away into the night.

"Who is?" Evagoras demanded, but he got no answer.

He turned away and left, returning to the payphone the next day at the same time. He dialed the number and spoke no more than 7 words. And when he hung up, he smiled to himself before starting the journey to Maryland.

<><><><><>

Bayleigh huffed out a huge sigh. It was finally over. She was all alone now, no one smiling warmly at her, no adorable snuffling puppy constantly at her fingertips, no sad, knowing smiles from a face that was becoming all too familiar. All there was was the slow beat of a George Thorogood song and the comfy rumble of the Dodge traveling down a highway lined with snow. Dark storm clouds were chasing her, diluting the fading light of the evening, but nothing could bring her down. Well, unless she remembered that strange conversation with Cas.

Dammit.

Sam was right. She hadn't told him the whole truth. In order to keep what she wanted to keep a secret, she had even had to tell him some lies. Little white lies, but he'd obviously seen through them. And that was a bit unnerving. This was the second time someone had seen through it. The last time was with Rufus, but Rufus had understood and had even begun training her more vigorously. Making sure that she wouldn't go back to her old ways and, perhaps, even seeing the potential for a Mega-Hunter. Because Bayleigh had a lot of potential.

But how had Sam known? If she knew how Rufus had known, then maybe she would be able to figure it out. But Rufus was dead and, before that, he had refused to tell her. He would just give her that heavy everything-short-of-judging look that she knew too well. And then she would frown and walk away or get on with whatever it was she was doing, like making salt rounds or pouring him a glass of J. W. Blue. Bayleigh let herself fall into the memories of those days, when life had been simple: Sleep, eat, hunt. That was it. No one asked questions (mostly because the people who would have asked questions didn't know there were questions to be asked), no one cared how scarred she was, no one bothered her more than she could handle. She was accepted, and where she wasn't, she didn't go. Simple.

<><><><><>

Sam sat on the edge of his bed, facing his brother. "I need to go," he said.

Dean frowned. "Go where?"

"Anywhere. Look, I helped you get those vampires, but I just need to be alone. I just-- I can't."

Dean watched Sam's face and shook his head. "Okay. Then go. I'm not keeping you here. Just... come back, hear?" Sammy nodded. Dean took a seat at the table, splaying his left hand out on the surface and staring at them for a second before saying, "How do plan on getting anywhere?"

"I was hoping you would let me take the Impala."

"Oh," Dean frowned harder. "Sammy-"

"It's already pretty apparent you want to see this thing through," Sam sad, gesturing in the general direction of the storage unit where two vampires were currently being housed. "You're going to stay with it. Well I can't. I have to go."

"Go do what, Sammy?"

"Just... Be."

Dean frowned. He was beginning to dislike this plan. But, instead of voicing his concerns, he just tossed the keys to his life at his brother, who pocketed them with a grateful "Thank you."

<><><><><>

Bayleigh couldn't stop smiling as she pulled into the shoddy motel parking lot, humming along to Stay Gone by Go Radio and successfully ignoring the guilt gnawing at her was the words struck home. She hadn't even driven the whole day. She was so caught up in the ecstasy of true freedom that she had decided to turn in early, with the sun still illuminating the grey skies. She had the windows rolled down despite the cold. And she loved it.

She flicked off the radio and slid out of the Dodge with a quiet sigh and trotted into the motel office. When she payed for her night, playing with the idea of staying for two, she slipped the cashier an extra $10 and slipped out before he could say anything. She took her stuff out of the Dodge, locked it, and made her way to her room at the end of the row. He phone started ringing as she threw open the door, exposing the warm room to the frosty outside air.

She looked at the ID, expecting to see Garth's number, or even possibly Sam or Dean's, but it just registered as a payphone. She frowned at it for a millisecond, and then a cold rose up from her toes. She dropped her stuff, slammed the door and answered it, hoping that it was a wrong number and yet still hoping that it wasn't. Her heart skipped a beat as she pressed the phone to her ear.

"A?" The deep, attractive voice was horribly familiar, and Bayleigh's lungs evacuated all of it's air supply.

"The usual place, one week," she said hoarsely.

"See you soon." Bayleigh snapped the phone shut and collapsed on the bed. It took her a few minutes, but her legs decided to work again and she went to take a shower.

<><><><><>

The cold wind beat against the wind sheild as she barreled in the direction of Maryland. Not far- no more than two days drive southwest- the gorgeous Impala was purring in front of a cheap roadside motel in very northern California. Sam, hunched against the shill, was carefully placing his bags in the backseat of his brother's car. He slammed the door with a sigh and sat down in the driver's seat, warming his hands in front of the heater vents. His lips were turned downwards in a frown as he set to the highway, following mere instinct

Several days later, as Bayleigh's swift journey brought her within sight of the Baltimore harbor, Sam's slow and sporadic trip brought him into a small town on the Canadian border on the tail end of a storm. According to what he heard in the local bar, the weather man had predicted it to be much worse. But as he drove around the next day, he found just a couple feet of snow and some ice, which was obviously not that bad for that time of the season in that part of the country. He drove in circles around that town four times before convincing himself to leave it. He took a back road out, planning to only turn around if, by chance, he hit the border. He went at a painfully slow pace on this less-traveled road and it set his teeth on edge. He pulled into a drive-way to turn around, but found it much longer than he had first thought and there was something about it that made him keep going.

Eventually the icy gravel drive ended and a light blue house and several outbuildings materialized in front of him. He don't know what possessed him, but he got out of the car, standing in the cold air with barely more than his jacket on. He closed the door of the Impala and was hit with the sensation of being infinitely small. It was a strange feeling and it staggered him for a second, forcing him to lean on the car, bracing himself with both hands on the cold metal. He was still trying to get his bearings when a young man stepped out of the house and began walking towards Sam. Sam stared coming up with a cover story on instinct, but he ended up not needing it.

"Are you Sam?" the man asked.

Sam blinked a few times, puzzled, before answering. "Why?"

The man frowned and seemed to lose a bit of his confidence. He looked like a few things were just made intensely clear and he didn't like the outcome. "You just missed her," he grumbled.

"Excuse me?" Sam asked, finally able to stand by himself and push himself off the car.

The man shook his head. "Bayleigh. She just left here like five days ago. She said if you came by, then I needed to give you this." He pulled an envelope out of his jacket pocket. "You are Sam, right?"

"Yes," Sam said, reaching for the envelope. He unfolded it hurriedly.

"Don't follow me." was all it said.