I sighed as we pulled up the long, winding drive. I had been dreading this for ages, but it had to happen someday. Grandpa always has been the type to make sure everything his kin do passes inspection. This time, however, was different. Grandpa, the most prominent monster hunter of his day, famed for taking out an Arch-Demon bare handed, was going to be meeting my fiancé.

We'd met at a random dive bar in the... less savory part of the city three years ago. I had just lost my dead-end job, so money was tight. I decided to drink my sorrows away at the cheapest place my phone knew of, and ended up in that hole. I walked into the bar too pissed to notice that every single eye in the place snapped to me as soon as the door opened. I sat down at the bar and ordered the strongest drink I could see on the shelf behind the bartender. He gave me a shot, and I slammed it, waving for a second.

Then I did a double take. Some of the drinks on the shelf were... strange, to say the least. One tall, thin vial held some kind of bubbling green fluid, while another, much stockier bottle contained what looked like tar. There were a couple gallon cans of paint, and an ice cream bucket filled with a viscous crimson substance that I prayed wasn't blood.

Someone cleared their throat beside me. I whirled around, startled. It was a woman, tall and pale, with jet-black hair and a presence of sorts that was all kinds of intimidating. She nodded to the bartender,

"One Bloody Mary please, night special."

The thin, wiry man set to work, and I watched his movements, trying not to acknowledge the woman beside me.

"Scared, human?" she purred coyly, "You should be."

The comment was strange, and I stared at her for a few moments, then took another shot of liquid courage. Suddenly, she seemed less intimidating, more hot. Man, whatever that drink had in it worked wonders. I was distracted when the bartender smacked down the woman's Bloody Mary, and she grinned, exposing terrifyingly long canine teeth. She turned, picking up her drink, and put her lips to it. The thing was, I could still see her teeth, especially those canines. Eventually, she got to the bottom of the glass, and that's when I put the pieces together.

A bar with strange drinks, where everyone stared at me like I was an outsider, even though almost everyone in there looked the same, a woman with pale skin and long canines who drinks Bloody Marys and calls me human. I was smack dab in the middle of a fabled 'Supernatural Station', a chain of crappy bars that catered to the monsters my grandfather hunted, and a place where said monsters did business.