Dean spent the rest of the afternoon and evening catching us up on what he and Dad had been doing out in the wilds of the Pacific Northwest. It involved a lot of hiking. They'd also done some exhumation of bodies. The last thing he finished telling us was how they'd had to run from a couple of Rangers who'd been investigating the latest murder and thought Dean and Dad had been asking too many questions.
"Dad sent me back in the Impala," Dean said around a mouthful of hamburger he'd picked up before starting in on the Rangers. "She's too hot to keep in the area."
"So it wasn't my fault," I groused, pointing a fry at him.
Dean took another bite before adding, "Totally was."
"Bobby?" Sam asked.
Dean nodded. "Had a message waiting for him that took up the whole time for the voice mail. Then he called back and filled up another one."
I winced. "That's just overkill."
Dean shrugged before popping a fry into his mouth. "He ain't happy," he informed me matter-of-factly.
"Bobby?"
But Dean shook his head. "Dad."
Great. "So what is it?" I asked.
Staring at his soda cup, Dean kept chewing.
"Dean?"
After a minute, he swallowed before lifting his sights to meet mine. "I'm not supposed to say."
Sam and I both stared at him, shocked. "What?" I asked as Sam questioned, "Why?"
Dean grabbed a napkin and rubbed at his mouth. "Because Bobby's got Dad convinced you two meant to go after it yourselves." He tossed the napkin down and added, "And that'd be a seriously bad idea."
"So, what?" Sam said, brows pinched together. "It's some demon?"
"Look, it isn't the thing that killed mom, alright? Beyond that, I'm not pissing Dad off by giving you two any ideas." Dean grabbed the fast-food bag and stood up. "End of discussion," he said as he threw it into the trash.
After eating Dean ended out passing out on the couch and didn't stir until late the next morning. Sam and I tiptoed around him, quietly munching on cereal and retreating to our rooms until we heard him stirring downstairs.
Dean had his own bowl of frosted flakes out when I found him awake and sitting on the couch. As he munched through a spoonful, I noticed a machete was lying on the coffee table. And not just any machete. This one looked old, with strange symbols scratched into the blade, and along the edge—
"Is that dried blood?" Nose crinkled, I reached for the handle.
Dean got to it first, yanking the machete away. "Don't touch my stuff," he warned, setting his cereal down.
"Dude, clean that blade. You're gonna ruin it."
With an exasperated look, Dean shoved the machete back into a leather holster at his belt. "Mind your own weapons." He took up the remote and started flipping channels. "You cleaned that twenty-two since firing it?"
I rolled my eyes. "Yes."
Lips pursed and brows twitching upwards, Dean's sights fell back to the tv. "Well. Good." His eyes narrowed before they darted back to me. "What happened, anyway?"
"Dad didn't say?" I asked, flopping down into the nearby recliner.
Dean shrugged. "Said you shot something in your room. That you didn't get a good look at it."
"Yep." A moment of spying a myriad of people walking around in white lab coats and I remembered TNT played reruns of Dr. Sexy, M.D. on Saturday. A pair of doctors were arguing in a hallway outside a patient's room. Given how close they were standing while staring each other down, the sexual tension was thick enough to cut with that machete Dean was hiding.
"Hasn't been back since?" Dean further prodded.
"Nope."
"That you know of," Dean muttered, more to himself than to me.
It was a notion that had me finally looking over. "I think I'd notice if something was skulking around my room, Dean."
"Unless it hasn't gone in your room." Dean stood up, walked round the coffee table, and headed for the stairs.
He was already at the top and striding into my temporary bedroom by the time I was halfway up after him. "Dean?"
"Relax," he called. "I'm not after your diary." I walked in to find him at the window, curtain shoved aside as he peered out into the backyard. A thoughtful frown gave an unusually serious cast to his face as he stared into the woods. "It doesn't have to come in to watch you." He nodded to a nearby tree at the edge of the house. "Not if it can climb."
The hairs on the back of my arms rose. "Okay. Thanks for those nightmares." I folded my arms to get some warmth back into them and leaned against the doorframe. "Why do you even think it came back?"
Dean hummed and let the curtain fall. "Not saying it did. Just that it could." He turned and regarded me from the window, that serious expression still in place. "There hasn't been anything odd since that night?"
Lips pursed, I shook my head before saying, "No. Nothing." Unless one counted the superpowered family of mysteriously pale people at my school.
Dean took another final glance out the window before nodding himself. "Alright. Must've been a one-off thing then." His brows furrowed, as if trying to figure something out. After a moment, his gaze fell back on me. "Guess you scared it off."
"That's what I told Dad," I reminded him.
"Well, lucky you had that gun and knew how to use it," Dean said, grim. He slid sideways past me and back into the hall.
I followed, nearly on his heels. "Why'd you say that?"
"You kidding me?" Dean demanded, glancing over his shoulder before bounding down the stairs. "Who knows what could've happened."
I thought of Edward protecting me from the van. If the shadow had been Edward, which I still hadn't ruled out, why would he save me if he'd meant to hurt me less than a few weeks earlier? "Maybe he was just curious."
Dean paused on his way to the couch to turn and give me the full effect of his skepticism. "You can't be serious."
I shrugged. "I mean... he was just standing there. Watching."
"Uh. First of all? Creepy. Second of all? How do you know it wasn't deciding the best place to start snacking. Or worse."
"Worse?"
Dean shook his head as he turned and walked back to the couch. "Don't make me spell stuff out, Sarah," he gruffed before sitting down. "I don't want to think it, let alone say it."
Oh.
I hadn't even considered anything other than being maimed, possibly killed, but Dean had a point.
But that wouldn't be Edward. He could barely sit next to me without tensing up. Every time he was close to me it was as if he was a spooked horse waiting to bolt from the room. He didn't seem the slightest bit interested in touching me.
But the thought brought up memories of his too-perfect face and serious eyes that lightened to honey whenever he smiled.
I fell back into the recliner, watching the white-coated doctor and intern of Doctor Sexy now making out in one of the break rooms. Their kisses were frantic, hands sliding off lab coats and lifting blue scrubs. I looked away, embarrassed at the thought of being caught staring at the scene by Dean.
I was about to leave the living room all together when the burner I kept on me rang. It was the one I'd given out at school. Dean glanced over as I answered. "Hey."
"Hi, Sarah," Angela greeted on the other end. "Mike said he forgot to mention when we'd be meeting."
"Oh, for La Push. Right." I sat up straighter, finally managing to banish thoughts of Edward as I remembered promising to go with the group to the beach. "When and where?"
"An hour in front of Mike's dad's shop." She paused a moment before asking, "Do you know where that is?"
"Um, I'm guessing somewhere down main street?"
I could hear the smile as she replied, "Yeah. It's a little further north of the diner. You can't miss it."
"Cool." I kicked the foot stand back into the seat. "I'll be there."
"Great. See you."
"Yep," I replied, before adding a quick, "bye," and ending the call.
Dean leaned over the couch's arm. "Who was that?"
"A friend. Angela."
"She cute?"
My whole body cringed. "She's seventeen," I replied, revolted at the idea.
"You say that like she's jailbait or something," Dean replied, still looking far too interested. "So? Is she cute?"
"I'm not hooking you up with my friends, you ass," I retorted before hopping out of the chair. "Especially not someone as nice as Angela."
Dean ignored the insult. "What's in La Push?"
"A place called None of Your Business, just outside of Go To Hell."
"C'mon Sarah," He cajoled. "I'm supposed to keep an eye on you. Dad's orders."
I was about to tell him to butt out again but realized I was probably already in deep enough with Dad. I relented with a grudgingly stated, "First Beach."
I hated the way Dean's eyes lit up. "A beach, huh. Sounds fun."
I knew exactly what he was thinking. "You realize it's, like, fifty degrees out, right?" I crossed my arms and frowned. "No bikinis."
As I suspected, a little of the excitement drained away. He still looked entirely too interested, however. "When we going?"
"I'm going in forty-five minutes. You're staying here."
"Dad's Orders," Dean repeated, a smug grin on his face.
I threw up my hands. "Why?! It's a bunch of high schoolers hanging out. Aren't you a little old for that?"
"I'm nineteen," he said, sounding insulted, "not forty."
"Whatever." I whirled on the ball of my foot and headed for the stairs. Dean would do whatever he wanted. I just hoped Jessica, Angela, and Lauren had enough sense not to fall for his crap.
I threw on a white tank under a flannel and my denim jacket. Then went to put my hair up into a ponytail and throw on some eyeshadow. A pair of boots comfortable for walking in wet sand or hiking through mud completed the ensemble.
Done, I snuck down the stairs and, seeing Dean wasn't in the living room, walked as quietly and quickly for the door as I could. I winced at the groan it gave as it opened and shut, but then hurried down the steps for the truck, thinking I'd managed to sneak out.
No such luck. Dean was already seated in the Impala, smirking like he knew exactly what I'd planned.
Giving in to fate, I changed course for the car. Shutting the door with a loud creak, I settled into the familiar leather passenger seat. I tilted my head to the side and had to deal with Dean's smug face. "Just try not to embarrass me," I pleaded.
Dean's brow lifted. "Princess, it's the other way round." The car started with a roar that settled into a rumbling purr. Dean threw an arm over the seat and turned to look as he backed out.
"I'm serious, Dean," I tried once more. "No hitting on my friends." My nose crinkled as my lips twisted with disgust. "It's weird."
Dean turned back to the wheel as he took off roaring down the street. "What if they hit on me?" He asked, the twinkle back in his eyes as he grinned.
"Then they're judgement is obviously impaired, and you shouldn't take advantage."
Dean popped a tape from the cassette player and flipped it over before shoving it back in. The opening riff for Guns N' Roses' My Michelle twanged out of the speakers. By the time the music changed tempo and blasted out the speakers, Dean was 'singing' along.
Propping my elbow up on the car door, I let my head rest in my hand and watched as the buildings raced by. It was ten minutes and the middle of Sweet Child o' Mine by the time we reached Mike's store. The Impala's rumble attracted the attention of the group seated around Mike's Suburban and Tyler's new Sentra.
I had the door open and was out as soon as Dean had shifted into park. "Hey, guys."
"Hey," Mike answered, uncertainty coloring his voice. "Isn't that the guy you were hitting Friday afternoon?"
Dean had bent his head low enough to look out the passenger window and was showing off his most charming smile.
I closed my eyes and prayed to whoever might be listening for patience. "Yeah," I admitted as soon as my eyes were open. Reluctantly I added, "My brother wants to tag along."
There were various exchanges of glances and a round of assent from the assembled group. I mustered a smile and a thanks before I was sucked back into the 80s as we got on the road. This time we followed Eric and Tyler as they drove to the La Push reservation.
The day was back to Fork's typical dreary gray. The road cut a winding path between the trees that loomed to either side. It was still green out despite the cold weather and stayed that way as we travelled down the interstate.
An few minutes into the ride I risked Dean's wrath (or at least the slap of his hand) by turning down the volume. As I expected, it earned me an annoyed glance from the driver seat. "Don't touch the stereo," he said, reaching out to turn it back out.
"You're really not gonna tell me anything about what you and dad found out?" I tried before he could turn the dial.
Dean's hand fell away with a sigh and a roll of his eyes. "We've been over this, Sarah." His sights leveled out and fixed themselves on the road. "Dad doesn't want you getting involved in this one."
"So you're keeping me in the dark because Dad said so?"
"No. I'm keeping you in the dark because I think you'll get yourself killed."
The hot ball of anger was back, growing bigger by the second. "'Cause I'm not ready," I said, voice tight.
"You're not," Dean replied firmly. "Not for this." He glanced away from the road to meet my furious stare. "Look, after this crap blows over, first weird thing I catch wind of, you're in on it. Alright? I'll take you myself."
I fixed my sights ahead, watching the trees slide by as the car raced down the road. The beach was supposed to be fifteen minutes away. But if Dean had his mind made up, I knew there wasn't enough time in the world to change it.
"Bobby gave me some kind of lecture the other day," I settled on.
"Oh?" I could hear the relief in his voice at the change of subject. "What he say?"
"That I wasn't a hunter."
"Hey. You're a hunter." Dean insisted. "But there's some stuff you're not ready to tangle with just yet. Doesn't mean it'll stay that way forever." He frowned lightly and shifted his shoulders. "Bobby's just overprotective."
"And you aren't?" I shot back.
"Back to this again?" Dean blew out a frustrated puff of breath. "Let it go, princess." He nodded his head towards the windshield. "We're off to go to the beach with your friends. Alright? Lets just have some fun for a few hours."
I turned to stare at the towering firs and consoled myself with the knowledge that Dad and Dean weren't the only ones keeping secrets. I was starting to feel less guilty about keeping mine.
The clouds hadn't moved by the time we reached First Beach. But the gray waves were capped by bright white foam, and the fir trees that packed the land glowed an otherworldly green in the ocean mists. Islands rose from the ocean, their sides tall and sheer, as if a great hill had been smashed to pieces and strewn out among the water. Small, smooth rocks in a brilliant array of colors lined the shore beyond a thin strip of gray sand, and the carcasses of trees long since felled and bleached by the salt and the weak light littered the long shoreline.
We picked our way down the rocky path to a chorus of pelicans singing from the shore. Mike knew where a circle of stones waited for a fire to be built, where logs arrayed around provided a popular place to hang out.
I went with the group collecting firewood while Dean ended up leading the efforts to get a fire going. Dean stacked the larger bits of wood together into a square that he filled with stray twigs. A generous application of lighter fluid and a flick of his Bic later, and a pretty blue fire was soon crackling merrily away at the structure.
I had gone to collect more wood to keep feeding the fire, and when I returned found Jessica sitting next to Dean, smiling and giggling. He was grinning and hamming it up right back.
I had to curl my hands around my bundle to keep from smacking the back of his head as I passed.
Dean glanced my way. The giant ass didn't have the decency to even pretend to be ashamed. His grin just got wider before he went right back to talking with Jessica.
I blew out a frustrated breath and sat across from them. I did my best to ignore their flirting, which mostly involved talking with Angela and Mike. About a half hour later, a group from the reservation spotted the fire and made their way down the beach to join us.
Introductions were made. The food came out and was passed around. The mood was light and easy.
I was still trying to ignore Dean and Jessica when a familiar name pulled my attention back to the pair.
"It was pretty shocking," Jessica was saying. "The Cullens never socialize with anybody. Especially Edward."
"Edward, huh?" Dean aimed a questioning eyebrow my way before turning back to Jessica with one of his well-practiced smiles. "Who's he?"
Jessica stared at my brother for several moments before glancing my way. I tried to tell her with my eyes to keep quiet, but either she couldn't read the urgent plea in my expression or she was more interested in impressing Dean. "Your sister's friend." There was no mistaking the loaded meaning she packed behind that.
Dammit, Jessica.
Dean was still smiling, but I saw it for the fake it was as he turned to me. "Surprised you didn't invite him."
"The Cullens don't come here." The abruptness of the unexpected declaration momentarily cut through most of the conversations going on. The guy who'd spoken, tall and deep-voiced who looked near Dean's age, stared hard at Dean. Several of the guys near me shifted on the seats. Dean just arched a brow, but I could tell he was as confused as I was by the sudden shift in the mood. After a minute, the conversation started back up.
I wondered at the finality of the guy's words, though. There was something lurking behind them, more than just a known neighbor not visiting the local hangout.
A little while later, Mike organized a hike to the nearby tidal pools. I joined up, to Mike's apparent pleasure. Several of the guys from the reservation wanted to go too—the older one not among them.
We had to trek a little way through the woods. Beneath the firs, the grey light had transformed into a misty green, lending an ethereal glow to the forest. Moss grew everywhere—up the trees, over the rocks, across the ground. It took particular care not to step in a sinkhole or onto a rock that might trip my ankle.
After a while, we emerged back onto the beach. The low tide had pulled much of the ocean back from the shore, leaving little ponds between the bigger rocks strewn across the shore. Each one teemed with life. After a while of moving from one tidal pool to the next, the tide began to come back in, and so the group decided to turn back.
We were back in the woods when I noticed one of the guys from the reservation peering over at me. He looked about Sam's age, though he wasn't quite as thin. He had a nice smile that I greeted with my own. He slowed a bit while I sped up my pace.
"Hey," I said as we met up in the middle. "I'm Sarah."
"Jacob." The hood of his jacket was pulled high, but I could see a lot of long black hair to either side of his face. "I haven't seen you here before."
"I'm new."
"Figured as much."
I grabbed a branch and shifted it aside so he didn't have to duck so low to get under it. He threw me a grateful smile. "Do a lot of hiking?"
"Not as much as I'd like." I avoided a huge rock sticking out of the ground at an odd angle. "You?"
"Same," he replied. "Guess I spend too much of my time working on cars."
"What kind of cars?"
The next ten minutes was filled with Jacob's enthusiasm about a car he was busy restoring for when he got his license next year. He and Dean would've gotten along great. His enthusiasm was infectious, though.
After a while, he turned a bit sheepish and said, "Sorry. You don't want to get me started on cars."
I laughed a bit. "Apparently not." At his slight smile I added, "But I don't mind." But seeing he was done expounding on the subject, I thought of the strange reaction earlier. "If you don't mind?" I waited until Jacob turned inquisitive eyes my way. "What was that earlier? About the Cullens?"
"Oh," Jacob turned forward, searching the trail as if to avoid my gaze. "That."
"It's just—he sounded like one of them ran over his dog or something," I went on.
Jacob's eyes lingered on my face before minding the forest floor again. "I'm not really supposed to talk about it."
Okay. Now I knew I was onto something. "Oh. Well." I made a show of looking around. "I won't say anything." As he pressed his lips together, I leaned over and added, "I'm really good at keeping secrets. Trust me."
He glanced my way and smiled. "It's just—" his eyes lit up. "Do you like scary stories?"
Jackpot. "I love them."
"Well," Jacob grabbed the next branch and held it aside. "It's the story of the cold ones," Jacob said, voice quiet despite the fact we were far back from the rest of the group.
"The Cold Ones?" I shook my head. "Never heard of them."
He smirked. "They're supposed to be a natural enemy of our tribe. Legend says we're descended from wolves."
My pulse picked up. "Like... wolves transforming into men?"
"Something like that," he shrugged.
Werewolves. "And these cold ones are the enemies of these ancient wolf men?"
"And our enemies still," he confirmed. "Supposedly my great-grandfather met a group of them while they were hunting. But they claimed they weren't like other cold ones and weren't a danger to the tribe. So my great-grandfather made a treaty with them." Jacob leaned towards me. "As long as they stayed off Quileute land, we wouldn't expose what they were to the pale faces." He nodded at me.
"So the Cullens can't come onto the reservation because they're like the cold ones your ancestor met?"
"No," Jacob paused a moment before adding, "they're the same ones."
"The same—" I stared off into the woods. "Didn't they just move here?"
"Or just moved back," he grinned, brows climbing.
I forced myself to grin along with him. "So the Cullens are these cold ones," I said, carefully stepping over a log. "And they made the treaty to ensure your tribe didn't out them."
"That's the story."
"So the cold ones must have been known in European legend, right?" I turned towards Jacob. "For them to be exposed."
"Your people call them vampires."
My heart began to pound. A sweat broke out across my palms and forehead, immediately chilling in the cold air. "Vampires," I said softly.
Jacob grinned. "Yep." He looked down before adding, "So you probably think we're a bunch of superstitious natives now, huh?"
I got out of my own head long enough to turn and see that behind the easy smile was a real concern. "No, Jacob," I said, completely serious. "I don't." I turned to look up at the towering firs. "I think there's a lot of things in this world that lurk in the darkness."
Now it was Jacob watching me as I turned back. "So you're saying you're the superstitious one."
It startled a slight laugh out of me. "Yeah. I am." I pulled out my puppy eyes and fluttered my lashes at him. "Don't tell?"
Jacob's grin widened before he made a buttoning motion over his lips. "Secret's safe with me."
I kept pace with Jacob the rest of the way, somehow managing to keep up my half of the conversation despite the realization racing through my head. I even managed to keep the act up for the rest of the afternoon into the early evening.
The sun was setting by the time we packed up and headed home. For once, I didn't mind the mindless music of eighties rock pounding through the Impala's speakers.
That night I sat out on the porch, knees drawn up, staring into the trees.
Vampires.
Clearly, some of what popular culture had to say about them was crap. The Cullens walked in the day. Something had come into the house uninvited. I had to find a source more authoritative than Hollywood. But it would explain the bite marks on the man. If they had—drained his blood.
I wrapped myself tighter in my jacket, leaning my head against my knees.
Behind me the porch door slid aside. "Cold out," I heard Dean observe as he stepped out onto the concrete.
"Yeah."
There was a slight hesitance before he asked, "Still pissed at me?"
I rolled my head to the side to look up at Dean. He was peering down, a worried look in his eyes.
He knew. He and Dad and Bobby all already pieced it together. And they were worried Sam and I had been about to run into a pair of blood-thirsty monsters with super speed, strength, and senses unprepared. I hugged my jacket closer. "No, Dean."
His expression lightened. "Look. I was just talking with Jessica."
I turned to stare back out into the woods. "Sure."
"Seriously." He crouched down beside me and stared out into the darkness. "I put a few more weapons in your room. You should keep 'em handy."
Nodding my head, I wondered if I'd find stakes and holy water sitting on my bedside table.
Dean sat with me a few minutes longer before rising to his feet. "C'mon, kid." He said, extending a hand. "Time to get inside."
I let Dean pull me up and lead me back into the house.
I ended up on the couch that evening, both brothers lounging in the recliners as we watched movies late into the night. The commentary was familiar, and something tight in my chest loosened just a bit at the sound of their back and forth. By the time it drew past midnight, I was starting to doze off. I got myself up and, after a few goodnights, made my way back upstairs.
I walked into my room and paused.
A machete laid at the center of my bed. Stuck to the leather holster was a post-it note that read:
don't clean it