Archive of Our Own ^beta

Greasy papers and fingerprinted books covered the dining room table. Marmalade purred happily on her human’s lap as Jada typed ledgers into her laptop. She’d advertised her services for freelance bookkeeping, and her first client – a small mechanic – wanted to her move their fifteen years of handwritten receipts and invoices into the modern world. To her relief, the owner was a detailed record keeper. Still, she needed to call him with a couple questions.

“Pwetty kitty, you wanna get the phone for mama?” Jada asked.

Purring like an engine, Marmalade opened one eye to glare at her before shutting the world out again.

Stroking her pet’s thick orange fur, she whispered, “You’re right. I should just become a cat. I could sleep all day and no one would call me depressed. I wouldn’t have to take care of anyone or have my heart broken. I wouldn’t have to learn anything horrifying. Plus, fluffy tail.”

“Here, Sweets Girl.” Dottie, cordless phone in hand, stood beside her, her face strained with motherly concern.

Jada swallowed hard, hoping her aunt, who ten minutes before had been completely absorbed in afternoon game shows, hadn’t heard her complaining. “Thank you, Auntie.”

Instead of returning to Hollywood Squares, Dottie settled into one of the dining chairs with a sigh. “What’s wrong, child?”

“Nothing,” Jada said, flashing a brilliant smile. “It’s just work.”

Dottie shook her head. “You haven’t seen that boy of yours in a while. Something’s wrong if you’re staying away from that handsomeness.”

“That’s nothing, Auntie. Sam went out of town with his brother for a little bit.” She laughed like the half-truth was nothing. He had only been gone two days, but she hadn’t worked up the courage to knock on his door. What could she say?

“You’re a bad liar,” Dottie chided softly.

“Maybe I’d be more eager to see him if you hadn’t made a scene at Thanksgiving.” Jada bit her tongue too late to hold the bitter words in.

Dottie sucked on her lip and stared at her thick-knuckled hands. “I-I don’t remember making a scene.”

That was how dementia worked. How it stole. During an episode, Dottie often reverted to her younger self, memories from thirty years before being much fresher than what she’d done that morning. Jada had to explain to her a few times a week that she’d moved in to help her, but her aunt could vividly recall something as obscure as radio jingles she’s heard as a teen.

“It ended up being nothing,” Jada said softly. “At the time it seemed like a big deal, but Spike is fine. It was just embarrassing, is all.”

“Spike?”

“He’s a friend of Sam’s. British. Bleached blonde hair.”

“The vampire,” Dottie stated as if declaring the temperature.

“Auntie, please, why would Sam be friends with a vampire?” Jada felt shocked as the words slipped from her lips. Why hadn’t she just denied it? The existence of vampires was insane, but the idea chilled her like a someone was lurking over her shoulder.

“You should ask him.” Dottie shuffled over to the end table by the couch and returned with a stack of wrinkled papers. “Found these in the trash.”

Jada watched her aunt disappear down the hall before picking the papers up. They were from her journal, but she didn’t remember tearing them out, let alone writing them.

November 12, 2002 It’s been twelve hours at least, but I can barely write this without shaking. Maybe writing will help purge the poison? Someone attacked me at the grocery store last night. He jumped me and bit me. HE BIT ME!

I barely got away, but Auntie went berserk and wouldn’t help me. Kept calling me a vampire and kicked me out of the apartment. I was bleeding heavily from my neck, hoping Sam would be home soon. I felt light-headed, weak and sick. Maybe I should have called the hospital; I could have died slumped in a hallway like some sad junkie, but I kept thinking Sam would fix it. Sam Winchester would know what to do.

And when Sam – my smart, strong Sam – came, he knew exactly what to do. He cleaned the wound. He calmed me down. He seemed upset I was hurt, but somehow not surprised.

The waiter on our date days before was strange, telling morbid stories about someone who’d been killed. Someone with two punctures on his neck where he’d been drained of blood. I thought he was ghoulish and wanted him to go away.

Yet as I stood in the bathroom looking at the two clean punctures on my neck that I knew had come from impossible fangs, Auntie’s voice echoed in my head: Vampire.

I shut the voice out. It was too crazy.

The page ended there. The next page was from a few days before.

November 30, 2002 I worry Sam will get tired of me. Ever since that weirdo jumped me, I’m scared to leave my apartment at night as if the night has more eyes than the day. It’s silly, but that’s the way I feel. Don’t judge me, little book.

All I have to do is ask, and Sam is happy to escort me around. At first, I worried he was probably rolling his eyes on the inside, thinking I was scared of nothing. But he might feel the same fear for my safety.

We were only going to the convenience store on the corner, hoping they had sugar, but Sam seemed suddenly nervous and practically pushed me into the store before disappearing. I went ahead and got my sugar, but when I found him…

I’m trying to remember, but the whole thing was dark and I keep telling myself my eyes were playing tricks on me. I left the store, didn’t see Sam, but heard a noise in the alley. Not the best sign. I peeked around the corner hoping it was a particularly noisy, grunty racoon, but there were three backlit shadows. One, taller than the others, was obviously Sam. The other two were fighting, punching. I wasn’t sure if I should shout or run or call for help, but then the strangest thing happened – one of the men disappeared.

But he couldn’t have disappeared. That would be crazy. People don’t just poof away. I kept telling myself he must have just retreated into a shadow, but the other man suddenly wasn’t interested in fighting anymore. None of it made sense.

He and Sam chatted for a moment. I was so unsettled, I called out to him. Turns out the other man was Spike, Spike who Auntie had recently stabbed in the hand. He gave me an unbelievable song and dance about being attacked after a card game and Sam coming to his rescue. I’ve seen strange bruises on Sam basically since we met. They couldn’t possibly all be from bailing Spike out of fights.

Adding to the surrealness of the night, Spike showed me his completely uninjured hand. I wrote about that night, and, little book, the record says blood. He should have at least had a bandage on or some sort of mark.

The relief was welcome if strange, and I wanted to ask Sam about it later, but he decided to spend time with Spike instead.

Jada rubbed her eyes and stood up, prompting a meow of protest from Marmalade. She paced the room with her hands over her face, thinking, praying, biting her lips.

She didn’t remember writing any of this, but it was her handwriting on her journal’s blue-lined paper. And worse, she knew it was true. She’d been bitten by a vampire.

Jada had been bitten by a vampire, and her boyfriend knew something about it.

Dottie appeared in her pajamas, though it wasn’t even five ‘clock. “Why are you still up?”

“Auntie, tell me about the vampires.”

That evening, Dottie Johnson peeked over the top of her book to see if the blanket at the end of her bed had slipped off. It hadn’t, but her feet were still freezing. Throwing back her covers, she headed to her dresser for another pair of socks.

On top of the dresser lay one of the many stakes she’d whittled recently. Dottie had long enjoyed whittling, a hobby passed down from her father. Her skill with a knife was one of the first things James had noticed about her. She’d spent years carving decorations on coffins that would be covered in dirt and hidden away. Now, she made stakes in case the dead came back.

Unable to remember if she’d checked the obituaries that morning, Dottie and her stake headed to the living room. “Lotta deaths,” she muttered to the cat nuzzling her feet. The obituaries spanned two pages – absurd for a town the size of Sunnydale – two pages of neck ruptures and animal attacks.

The vampires were usually kept in better check than this. Let it get out of hand and people notice. When they notice, they get scared, like that person she’d talked to the other day. Sweet girl, but Dottie couldn’t remember her name.

Dottie wasn’t sure what was happening, but she knew what she had to do. After all, she was young, fit and aware. Plus, all the books said killing vampires was a job for a woman.

Sam brushed the vampire dust out of his hair and reminded himself it was easier than disposing of bodies. Seven vamps so far tonight. So many more to go. “Where to next?”

Dean pulled a notebook from his pocket. “Looks like Sunnydale Cemetery’s gonna have one tonight, one at St. Matthew’s, three at Shady Hills. But four raised yesterday at Sunny Memorial, and that’s near The Bronze.”

“Four all at once in the same place?”

“It was a family,” Dean said solemnly.

“God, we’re going to be at this all night.” Sam couldn’t help but wonder if this was part of the plan, keep Buffy busy and off patrol while the vampires built up. “Okay, let’s try the three, then The Bronze, then coffee.”

Sam shoved his fists deep in his coat pockets; not the most prepared stance in a graveyard, but losing feeling in his fingers wasn’t a good idea either. December was nippy even in southern California.

“Remember that Civil War ghost we hunted in rural Wisconsin?” Sam asked.

Dean flipped his stake while he thought. “Killed a farmer and her daughter?”

“That’s the one. Do you remember how cold it was? At least a foot of snow. Ground was frozen solid. Thankfully they’d left the backhoe in the cemetery.”

They arrived back at the Impala where Dean stowed his machete under the driver’s seat before sliding in. “Dude, that was like, five years ago. What’s got that salt an’ burn on your mind?”

Sam shrugged. “Things are bad, but at least it’s not snowing.”

With a small grin, Dean drove out of the cemetery. “Grab the tapes will ya? Gonna be a long night, might as well have some tunes.”

Before Sam could decide on Motorhead or Thin Lizzy, his phone rang. Jada’s number blazed across the screen. His heart fell into his stomach. Their current juggling act of unknown evil and hostage baby-sitting had pushed her from his mind, but she hadn’t tried to reach out in nearly a week either.

He put on a cheerful, not-out-hunting-vampires voice. “Hey, Jada!”

He’d expected her to either sweetly retreat, to not acknowledging what was going on all around her or give him a heartfelt goodbye. Instead, she blurted, “Dottie’s gone.”

“Gone? How is she gone?”

Some papers rustled on the other end of the line. “Long story short, she’s gone to St. Matthew’s Cemetery to kill vampires. Thought you might know something about that.” Her voice was cold, accusatory as if Sam was the reason vampire’s existed. He supposed for Jada at least, he was.

“Dean, we need to get to St. Matthew’s now. Jada, we’ll find her, okay?” Sam said as his brother’s sharp turn slammed him against the door.

“I’ll see you there,” she said before hanging up.

Jada’s hands trembled. She didn’t know what to do when she found her aunt’s note:

Jim, I gotta deal with some of these vampires. Starting at St. Matthew’s then moving on to Sunnydale Cemetery. Catch up when you get out of the shower, sexy.

Oh no. Dottie may know about vampires, but she didn’t know she was in her sixties.

The first thing Jada thought of was Sam. His pressing questions about vampires and witches made her skin crawl, but he knew more about this than he was letting on. Plus, he was a giant. Even so, Jada couldn’t wait for them. She found one of her aunt’s stakes by her arm chair and tossed it in her purse with the pepper spray and taser. Grabbing one of the crosses from the wall – had that been their purpose this entire time? – she ran out the door.

Five blocks later she was standing at the gate for St. Matthew’s Cemetery, a couple tree-spotted acres beside the town’s oldest Catholic church. Jada squeezed the taser in her purse. According to her aunt, vampires could be killed with a stake to the heart or by beheading, but that sounded gruesome and close. The taser should stun them enough for her and Dottie to get away.

Jada swallowed hard and stepped into the cemetery.

She wondered if vampires could hear her heart pounding, smell fear the way people say predators do. Was their vision extra sharp at night? Were her footsteps a thunderous announcement of her arrival? She hadn’t thought to ask her aunt any of these questions during their conversation that afternoon, focusing instead on how to keep them away and why they even existed.

“But if there are vampires everywhere--”

“And demons,” Dottie added.

“De-demons? We have demons now? That’s...of course. But vampires. They’re everywhere, and they kill people almost daily; so why isn’t anyone talking about it?”

Dottie shrugged. “You never wanted to talk about it before now.”

“Well, Sam kept pushing me and saying all these weird things, and the only thing that makes all the weird work is vampires,” Jada said it with a sigh and a mental note to see if she was also suffering from dementia.

“Jada, I make coffins. A family once sued me because the coffin didn’t keep out grave robbers, but we all know the dearly departed wasn’t so departed. The death community -- undertakers, coroners, aids, even hospice workers -- people don’t much like to be around those who are close to death, so we talk to each other. Unusual deaths. Bodies disappearing. You know what the most dangerous job in Sunnydale is?”

“No.”

“Coroner. We get a new one every three to six months, and not because of firings. They always end up dead and drained.”

Jada’s head had spun as she tried to retain details to research later. Maybe she could talk to some undertakers herself?

Footsteps behind her. Jada whipped around and saw two men running at her from the shadow of a nearby tree. “I will kill you if you get any closer!” she shouted, wondering if she could.

“Jada, it’s me,” Sam said as he stepped into the moonlight.

“Oh God, Sam!” Putting aside her anger, she fell into his arms, letting his sturdy embrace protect her from her fears.

“Are you okay?” Sam asked.

She nodded her head.

Dean, looking around like a guard on duty, asked, “What makes you think Dottie’s here?”

“I found a note when I got out of the shower that she’d gone vampire hunting, and this was her first stop.”

“Vampire hunting?” Dean, his mouth a small oh, raised his eyebrows at looked at Sam.

“I know they’re real, Dean.”

Sam didn’t look relieved or happy, which surprised her. He looked like he’d lost something.

But Dean was talking again. “Good. We can skip the small talk. Sam, you and Jada take the north end. I’ll take the south.”

Sam nodded, and with his arm still around Jada, turned back into the shadows. “Did you bring anything other than the taser?”

“Pepper spray and,” her stomach flipped just saying it, “one of Auntie’s stakes.”

“The pepper spray kept him off last time.” Sam paused, reading her face in the dim light, but she knew what he meant by last time. “There should only be one rising in this graveyard tonight, but that doesn’t mean there won’t be others. They’re incredibly strong, so keep your distance as much as you can.”

Bile rose in her throat. “You hunt them. The bruises. You’ve been doing this –”

“Most of my life, which is why we’re going to find your aunt. Everything’s gonna be okay, Jada.”

Hearing her name soothed her, a piece of flotsam to cling to in the waves. She tried to steady her breathing as she walked beside Sam, too frightened to fall behind or lead the charge.

After what felt like years, they spotted a flashlight beam bobbing near a mausoleum. “Auntie Dot!” Jada called, and the beam flicked their way.

Rushing to the mausoleum, they found Dottie – chilly but otherwise unbothered – shaking the chains on the door. She turned to them with suspicion, a stake gripped tight in her knobby hand. “Who are you?

“I’m your niece, Jada, Steve’s daughter.”

Dottie glowered at her. “My niece is still in diapers.”

“You two can sort this out later,” said Sam. “Dottie, my name is Sam. I’m a vampire hunter, like you. I’m here to help.”

The old woman pulled something out of her pocket at tossed it at Sam. “Catch, big boy.”

He did. It was a small gold cross.

Dottie smiled wide, “Glad to have the help. I think it’s in here.”

“Actually, I already got the one here,” Sam said, taking off his coat and giving it to Dottie. It made Jada’s head spin to see how quick on his feet he was with lies. “There’s a bunch heading downtown for some sort of sacrifice though, and we could really use your help.”

“I suppose,” Dottie said, stepping away from the mausoleum.

Jada was too overcome with relief and confusion to say anything as they headed toward the entrance; although, Dottie was happy to fill the space with chatter about her husband. “So no funny business, Sammy!”

Sam’s phone rang. “Yeah?…Shit. Okay, meet us up front.”

“What is it?” Jada whispered.

“Dean found the empty grave of the new vamp.”

Jada’s blood ran cold. Somewhere near her, a very real monster – a corpse with fangs – had dug its way out of its grave and was now prowling for dinner. A memory hit her with a bang. The vampire who had attacked her, his suit was covered in dirt. She’d assumed he’d fallen, but he must have been brand new. He’d chosen her as his first victim.

Jada threaded her arm through Dottie’s, encouraging her to move faster. The gate in sight, mere feet from putting this night behind them, Jada’s heart leapt with relief.

They turned onto the sidewalk, and there, between them and Jada’s car, stood a lithe man in a dirty suit.

“You said you staked that vamp,” Dottie complained.

“Am I that obvious?” said the man, his face transforming into a bumpy, twisted nightmare.

He lunged at Jada, but Sam grabbed him by the collar and swung him into the gate with a clang. The vampire leapt up, smiling and with fists raised. It peered over Sam’s shoulder. “Three course meal. Nice. Or maybe just the two; hey, hot stuff, you wanna own the night with me?”

Sam swung, and it rolled under his arm, popping up between him and the women.

It grabbed Jada’s arm and twisted her around, using her as a shield between it and Sam. Brushing its cold lips over her neck, it purred, “I’m still going to taste you, but if you want to be with me, to embrace death and really live, I’ll save a bit. What do you say?”

Jada jammed her taser into its side.

It had barely hit the ground when Sam rushed in and stabbed it in the chest, turning it to dust.

She wanted to scream, but she had no voice. No air. No ground. No real or unreal.

Sam brushed his hand over her arm.

“Don’t touch me!” she snapped, even as she felt herself collapse into his arms in a series of shuddering wails.

The Winchesters drove Jada and Dottie home, the old woman excitedly recalling the night’s adventure, adding more whimsical details with each telling. Dean grinned at the story of how she and his little brother had fought off a dozen undead Viet Cong.

Sam wasn’t amused. He was desperately trying to get a read on Jada, who’d quickly gone from  sobbing to calmly climbing into the backseat, dead eyed.

You risk breaking them.

Back at the apartment, Dean sat with Dottie, hoping to convince her that she was not the Chosen One, while Sam followed Jada to her room.

Her fingers trailed over the wall, the bookcase. She picked up a pair of boots and put them in the closet. If she wasn’t touching a surface, she pulled on her fingers, her eyes darting all over the room.

“Jada?”

“Don’t,” she whispered. She took three deep breaths and sat on the bed. “Thank you for coming, for saving Auntie.”

“Are you okay?”

Still refusing to look at him, she shook her head. “I need time. I need to sort out what’s real; I can’t trust anything anyone’s told me.”

Years ago, when Sam had pieced together the puzzle of what his dad did, the burden of worry his brother always carried, Sam collapsed. He’d curled up on the bed and refused to speak to Dean for what felt like an eternity; and Dean was his entire world. The worst part hadn’t been the monsters, but the lies.

The worst part was exactly what he’d done to Jada.

“I didn’t want to hurt you.”

“I know,” she said quickly.

He nodded. Time. “If have a bunch of books if you want anything to read about this.”

“Is there a For Dummies version?”

“No,” he chuckled, relieved. “Buffy’s been going through some stuff lately, so Dean and I have been staying over at her place. If you want to talk, call me, okay? I’ll leave you alone –”

Dean burst into the room, panic in his eyes. “We gotta go!”

“Wha–”

“Something happened at Buffy’s!”