Sweet Little Lies | Supernatural | Sam Winchester

Chapter 1

"I suppose- it's quaint-" She hummed against his lips, burying one hand in his soft hair as he backed her against the trunk of a tree, the rough bark pressing into her shoulders through the thick fabric of her jacket.

"That's more like it." His deep baritone rumbled in her ear as his lips hungrily moved along her jaw, before trailing down to her neck. The light graze of his teeth against the delicate skin of her throat was enough to make her shiver.

"Hey!" She giggled, batting away his hand that had slipped under her shirt, playfully spinning them to reverse their places. Her light hands on his firm chest made a poor attempt at pinning him to the tree, but he played along with a smirk. "I don't know what kind of girl you think I am, but you're barking up the wrong tree if you think my shirt is coming off before yours."

"You're something else, y'know that?" His throaty chuckle was almost lost as he shrugged off her hands, moving to peel his sinfully tight black t-shirt over his head as she backed away a few steps.

"Ah... I knew it." She hummed playfully, shrugging off her jacket as she looked him up and down.

"Knew what, doll?"

"From the moment I set eyes on you in that bar..." She purred, stepping forward with an innocent smile, linking her hands behind her back; "I knew you were the type of guy who was gonna be a pain in my neck."

In a flash, the machete that had been tucked into the waistband of her jeans and concealed beneath her jacket was drawn – a confident, sweeping arc cleaving the vampire's head from his shoulders with a sickeningly wet sound. With a grimace, she watched as the body before her swayed on its feet for a moment before crumpling, long enough for the head to land with a dull thud amidst the pine needles.

"One of the coolest things I've ever said and the only person around to hear it just bit the dust." Ali muttered, bending to sweep up the discarded black t-shirt of the vampire to wipe down her bloodied blade. "Typical."

With a distasteful sound she nudged the head with the toe of her boot, the giggling demeanour of the 'lightly-buzzed' college girl dropping away as she crouched to confirm that the second set of teeth were present, slipping a small flashlight from her jacket pocket to get a better look.

It didn't take long for her to bundle the body through the woods into the cabin, muttering curses under her breath as she managed to smear blood across the thigh of her jeans. A quick scan of the dilapidated building, thick with the musty odour of rot and mould, confirmed both of her suspicions: firstly, that he was a loner, there was no nest here; and secondly, he hadn't kept any of his victims alive. The three vanished college girls who's reports had alerted her to the job were nowhere to be seen, but a courtesy search of a black duffel bag atop a stained mattress in one corner provided her with three sets of clothes that matched the 'last seen wearing...' descriptions she had memorised from their posters. Undoubtedly, they were somewhere out in the woods, but it wasn't her job to make that grizzly discovery.

Stowing the small flashlight in her jacket with her wallet, she shouldered the bag and headed for the door – if she tossed it somewhere in the forest and rang in a report, she might at least give the police a hand with finding the bodies.

"Hang tight babe, I left my lighter in the car."

Smiling wryly at her own comment to the corpse, she ducked back out into the cool night air, tugging on her jacket and running one hand through her tousled brunette curls before she set off in the direction of the road.

Two months she had been tracking that vampire, after picking up the scattered pattern of disappearances across the country. Always a small college town, always girls in their early twenties, always some abandoned shack or barn in the woods. Three had usually been his magic number before moving on though, and she was worried she hadn't caught up with him quickly enough this time, but he had been getting sloppy. She could attribute at least eighteen disappearances to him this year alone, it stood to reason that he might be getting overconfident – it had been enough to give her a chance to strike, here in the woods just North of Portland.