Fireflies at Midnight

Chapter 1: Pirates in the Bullpen

Motel Room, Springfield, Vermont. Thursday, June 9, 2005.

"Something's coming, Dean, and it ain't the Easter Bunny."

Bobby Singer's gruff voice could make happy news sound like you should jump off a cliff, but the growl coming through the phone this evening was on steroids.

When Dean and his brother Sam were kids, Bobby helped out when their dad was off hunting. Last year after their dad passed, Bobby stepped up to the plate even more. He was a hunter with more experience than they'd ever have and more knowledge about demons than Sam could ever learn, no matter how many hours he pored over his laptop. Bobby knew when to give them a swift kick in the butt. He was always there for them, no matter how they messed up. And if he was nervous, they sure as hell better be too.

"Lay it on me, Bobby. What have you heard?" Dean asked.

"Vampires. They're on the move. You know we've been dealing with a major population surge over the past few months."

"Tell me about it." Dean flopped on the bed in the motel room. "It's like they're trying to outdo the Baby Boomer generation with their special breed of free vampire love. This town we're in? Sleepy little place, but one honking-big vampire nest. We were able to gank three of them, but the rest scattered."

"Any battle scars?"

"Nah, we're good. Sam seems to have finally shaken off that bug he refused to acknowledge."

"Glad to hear it. It ain't natural for Sam to be dragging that way. Made me think he came down with mono."

"The kissing disease?" Dean broke into a laugh. "Don't let him hear you say it. I'm having a hard enough time getting him to ask a girl out."

"Give him time. He's still grieving over Jessica, even if he won't admit it. When my wife died, I didn't think I'd ever want to be with another woman. Sam will come around."

"Yeah, maybe. So, what did you hear?"

"A couple of hunters in Massachusetts stumbled on a vamp. He was a renegade—not feeling the love of his nest. He claimed there's some big event coming—the anistemi he called it."

"Hold on a sec. Did you say Anastasia?"

"Anistemi. And before you ask, the hunters swear they got it right. They had the vamp spell it for them." Bobby did the same so Dean could write it down. "Vamps are gathering from all around for whatever it is. It's going down in your part of the country. They couldn't get the exact location out of him, but it's somewhere in the Northeast."

"You got any idea of what we're dealing with? A vampire Woodstock?"

"I ain't got a clue, but I'm working on it. All I know is that it's happening soon—on the Summer Solstice."

"That's only twelve days away. We don't have much time to prepare for something we know nothing about. Are we talking Apocalypse big or new roadhouse diner big?"

"Stop asking me questions I can't answer. I'm guessing this ain't end-of-the-world Armageddon, but with our luck, you never know. The vamp didn't call it Summer Solstice. He said it'd happen at a Litha festival."

"Litha ... Isn't that the Wiccan name for the solstice?"

"You win the Kewpie doll. Your girlfriend Chloe—"

"She's not my girlfriend," Dean interrupted.

"Well, what do you call her?"

"Chloe works."

"And you give Sam grief for his dating habits? Someday you boys are gonna grow up, but I can tell it won't be any time soon. You told me Chloe is researching Wiccans for the new novel she's writing. She's in your area. She may have heard something. As long as I'm in South Dakota, it's hard for me to do much. If this turns out to be as major an event as what those hunters claim, I may have to pull up stakes."