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Chapter 3 Sam did go kill a cow later that night. He had been telling the truth when he said he didn't remember much, but what he did remember was the rapture of rich, warm blood running down his throat. Dean's blood had tasted like heaven itself. On the other hand, he'd found that the human blood in those blood bags Dean had brought them tasted sort of stale and dull, and cows were nasty. And they had way more blood than anyone could ever hope to drink. But he clung to the memory of the group of vampires he had saved, the ones who had learned how to live without drinking human blood. If they could do it, so could he, and he sometimes thought about trying to find them again. Not to stay, of course. But to learn. He had to learn how to be what he was, or someone was going to cut off his head one day. He couldn't count on it being Dean, promises or no, but the idea that it might be someone like Jo, or Gordon Walker, or any of a dozen hunters who frequented the Roadhouse, was never far from his mind. He did a lot of research that first night, and so did Dean, but there was little that they could find that was reliable and which they didn't already know. Crosses didn't work, and neither did holy water. Garlic was a laugh. The animal blood filled him up, but at one point near dawn he went to get ice and he caught himself staring at the woman who ran the desk at the motel they were staying at. When she started blushing he realized that he'd been fantasizing about tearing her throat out and drinking down every drop of her blood. The bottom line was, he was terrified. And despite his every effort, Dean was looking at him differently. He certainly didn't blame him. Sam felt on edge, like just about anything could set him off. He'd already bitten Dean once, and it was one of those things where neither of them really knew if it would happen again. Dean was walking on eggshells, solicitous ("Hey, need any more blood? I could take you down to that farm again"), but wary. He tended to stay just out of arm's reach. It broke Sam's heart, but he said nothing. Sam slept restlessly the next day, tossing and turning, and waking up frequently to look over at Dean sleeping in the next bed. He suspected that a part of him was worried that he'd look up at some point to find him gone, but each time the older man was there, laying under twisted up covers and looking like his sleep was just as restless as Sam's. After a couple of hours of that, he finally fell into a deeper sleep, pulled down by the weight of the sun overhead. Finally around dusk, Sam awoke to find Dean already awake and dressed, and dipping crossbow bolts into a canister. Each one came out stained red and he laid them on a towel to dry. Sam caught a whiff of the scent and turned over in the bed, dry heaving. "Oh...Oh god," he managed. "What?" Dean asked, his head jerking up at the sudden exclamation. He got to his feet, wiping his hands off and moved to the foot of Sam's bed. "Hey, what's wrong? That cow not agreeing with you after all?" He was trying to be funny, but he just sounded a bit nervous. Sam shook his head, swallowing bile and forcing himself to sit up. His stomach was settling, but he was seriously considering going outside. "Is that dead man's blood?" he asked, pointing toward the canister. "Yeah, of course," Dean said, perplexed, and then his eyes widened. "Hey, it's not doing anything to you from here, is it?" he asked with sudden concern. "No, I mean...it just smells really bad. Like sulphur, or worse," Sam said, shaking his head again and pulling the covers back as he swung his legs to place his feet on the floor. If he just didn't look at it, he could keep himself under control. "Sorry, dude," Dean said contritely. "I'll finish up. Go have a shower or something, and I'll clear this away before you get out." Nodding, because Sam was nervous that if he opened his mouth and caught another whiff of the dead man's blood that he really would hurl - and considering he was on a pretty specialized liquid diet at this point, the results wouldn't be pretty - he got up and headed to the bathroom. Twenty minutes and a long soak in hot water later, Sam was coming back out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his hips. He sniffed nervously as he opened the door, but most of the smell was gone, just a bit of a lingering miasma remaining that would probably never get out of the upholstery. Dean had opened the front door and propped it open with a chair, and the blood and crossbow bolts had been packed away. "Better?" Dean asked, leaning back in his chair and bracing himself against a wall as he strung one of the crossbows. Sam crossed the room, leaned over and grabbed the end of the bowstring, pulling it taut between his fingers and hooking it over the knob on the other side. "Much better," he said with a grin that faltered when he saw that Dean was looking up at him from only inches away, a little wide-eyed. He straightened and turned away quickly. He moved to grab some clothes, running a hand through his unruly, damp hair as Dean set the crossbow aside and grabbed the next one. "Good," Dean said belatedly. "So, uh, you need to eat before we head out?" "No, I'm good," Sam said, shaking his head and yanking on a pair of underwear before he let the towel fall. His stomach was still unsettled, and the lingering stench of dead man's blood, coupled with his memory of the nasty flavour of cow convinced him that he could deal for another few hours. "I wish we could have done this in the daylight. They'll be awake and active by now, let alone when we get there." Dean grunted as he slipped the second bowstring into place, then moved to start packing away the gear they were bringing with them. "Yeah, well, if we could go in the daylight, we probably wouldn't be going at all. Not like this." Dean was right. If it weren't for the fact that Sam had been targeted by these vampires, they'd be going about this very differently. They'd been tracking the vamps, sure, but one didn't just walk into a nest and start shooting. "Yeah," Sam said with a sigh. "Look, Dean, maybe you're right," he began as he drew his jeans on and buttoned them up "Maybe this is a dumb plan." His brother shook his head. "Nah." He glanced at Sam. "We've gotta go after them before they come after us. They may not have wanted to follow us yesterday night, but that doesn't mean they've just given up. They led us all the way here from Seattle for a reason. For all we know they could have found us by now, and the longer we wait, the worse our chances get." Dean had spoken Sam's reasoning to the letter and he nodded with a sigh. "Yeah, you're right. I just have a bad feeling about this." Glancing at him, Dean cocked his head. "Like, demon psychic vibes bad feeling, or Star Wars bad feeling?" he asked carefully. Sam thought about that as he pulled his shirt over his head. "Star Wars," he concluded. "Well then, we'll be extra careful," Dean replied, his lips quirking. "Come on, Sasquatch, let's get going, if you've finished primping." Shaking his head, Sam ran a hand through his hair in a futile attempt to tame the damp locks, and moved to grab the duffle bag Dean had packed. He knew it was probably heavy, but he lifted it as if it weighed nothing, and slung the strap over his shoulder, then followed Dean out the door to the impala.
It helped that this time Dean knew where he was going already. He stopped a few doors down from the vampire's nest, pulling into a driveway and killing the headlights before they got out of the car. He and Sam each took a machete, a crossbow and a brace of dead man's blood-soaked bolts. He caught Sam wrinkling his nose as he slung the quiver over his shoulder, but he didn't comment. "You ready?" Dean asked, pitching his voice low as he cranked the crossbow into ready position. "Ready as I'll ever be," Sam whispered back. "I'll go first," he added, striding forward on his long legs. They had already decided to come in through the back door again. Even though they would probably be covering it better than last time, it was facing the lake, and there was a sharp drop-off to the water behind the porch. It would be hard to defend, unless someone was planning on attacking by sea. Which, you know, they weren't. "Hey wait!" Dean hissed, lengthening his stride to catch up with Sam. The younger Winchester ducked around a hedge and crossed the next yard, then ducked low and peeked through before Dean fully caught up with him. Dean hadn't exactly been running flat out - way too big a chance of tripping over something in the dark and falling flat on his face - but damn, he was fast, now. Sam was also probably aided by the fact that he could see in the dark what Dean would have to find with his big toes. Sam suddenly reached back and grabbed Dean around the shoulders, dragging him down towards his face. Dean stiffened and nearly struggled, and then realized Sam was only trying to tell him something. "I don't see anyone outside. I think they may be in the house," he whispered into Dean's ear, still keeping an eye on the grounds through the gap in the hedge. "What if they're not here at all?" Dean whispered back. "They could have split since we know about their nest." It was a possibility they had bandied about several times in the last 24 hours, but they hadn't seen any other options. If that was the case, they were back to the drawing board, and would have to wait until they killed again to pick up the trail. "No," Sam said, shaking his head. "I can hear them talking." "Can you make out what they're saying?" Dean asked, as much out of morbid curiosity as because it might be relevant. Sam fell silent and the seconds ticked by. Finally he shook his head. "No. I can't make it out. It sounds like they're just talking, though - just having a conversation." He glanced up at Dean briefly, just a quick eye-flick and then back towards the house. "Your heartbeat is drowning it out a little." "Well excuse me," Dean replied sarcastically. "I'll try to work on that." "Don't be a jerk," Sam told him, his lips quirking. "I'll be a jerk if I want to, bitch," Dean replied, his own lips betraying him as he smiled. They grinned at each other, and somewhere inside Dean could have cried at how normal and right it was. The moment passed quickly and they both sobered. "Let's get in there," Dean said, nodding to Sam. Reluctantly, he added. "You go first. Just don't leave me behind." Sam's head bobbed in a single quick nod, and then he was off towards the house, bent nearly double as he kept himself low to the ground and invisible in case someone looked out of the window. Of course, considering a vampire could see as easily as if it were daylight outside, it probably wouldn't matter much. Luckily, it seemed the vampires weren't inclined to look at the scenery at the moment, and they reached the porch without any alarm. They had discussed whether to try to cause a diversion, maybe draw some of the vampires outside, but in the end had decided that it was a trick that was unlikely to work so effectively twice. "Plan B," Sam mouthed as they paused just underneath the porch, concealed from casual eyes. Dean nodded, pulling off the backpack that he had been carrying with him in case they had the chance to make some preparations before they went in. He unzipped it and pulled out two canisters, handing one to Sam, and unscrewing the top of his own. He bent down and crawled under the porch itself, screwing his face up as he imagined all of the spiders he was probably disturbing as he crawled on his hands and knees and laid down an even line of gasoline along the back of the house. When he reached the other side, the canister was empty. He glanced back in time to see Sam return from having done the same along the side of the house. Two sides would be enough to make the whole place go up in flames. This was just the backup plan, though, in case things went bad. In a dry environment like this, starting a fire could endanger other houses, so they'd decided to send the place up in smoke only if they couldn't handle the vamps themselves. They'd run if things got too hairy and torch the place on the way. They'd probably catch at least a few inside, and hopefully the fire department would get there in time. Now came the hard part. They both climbed up onto the porch, moving as silently as they could, which in Sam's case, was very silent. Dean laid himself out on the ground in front of the door, crossbow cocked and ready and the spare bolts within easy reach. Sam stood over him, crossbow in one hand and machete in the other. The Winchesters glanced at one another for a moment, counting breaths, and at Dean's nod Sam drew back and kicked the door so hard it blew off its hinges. Dean caught a glimpse of four vamps, one of them Angelica, turning towards them in surprise. He fired past Sam, unloading both of the bolts in his crossbow and hitting two of the male vamps, who grabbed at the bolts buried in their stomachs with almost identical cries of pain. Sam also fired off a shot, hitting Angelica in the shoulder, and darted forward with the machete raised to start beheading-- --And then Dean heard the twanging sound of several crossbows firing, none of them his. He caught a glimpse of the crossbows set up on the floor, aimed directly at the door. There were at least five dull thuds and Sam stumbled backwards, slamming into the wall and sliding to the ground. His hand grabbed for one of the crossbow bolts embedded in his chest, but fell away weakly. Dean could see that the bolts were stained red, just like the ones he'd been firing. It was another goddamn trap, and the fuckers were using dead man's blood on his brother. With a yell, Dean got to his feet, dropping the crossbow and pulling the machete. He only made it two steps before he was grabbed, one vampire grabbing him in a headlock and pulling his head back hard. The other twisted his arm so viciously he heard the crack an instant before the pain of a spiral fracture exploded up his arm. The machete clattered to the ground, but he scarcely heard it through the bright red hot screaming agony. "Don't bite him!" Angelica commanded, just as Dean felt the pinpricks of teeth at his throat. Gasping for breath, trying to think through the pain, Dean met her eyes. Her full lips pursed in an evil smirk. "I've got plans for this one. Tie him up. And Sammy, too." "I'm going to kill you, you fucking bitch," Dean informed her, though his voice was less intimidating and more breathless. "No, Dean," she replied, her smirk widening. "You aren't." He was dragged across the room and shoved down onto the stool Sam had been occupying before. Oh shit, he managed to think an instant before his arms were grabbed and pulled back behind the post. The fresh explosion of agony as the bones in his arm grated together was enough to knock him headlong into unconsciousness.
It was that same arm screaming that finally dragged Dean back up from the depths again. He must have only been out for a short time, because they were still adjusting the chains around Sam when he lifted his head and looked around. The room had been stripped, only a threadbare couch and a few odds and ends that had probably not been worth taking had been left behind. Obviously the vampires had decided to move their nest instead of chasing them the night before, but had come back and set up this trap for when the Winchesters would inevitably come back to destroy them. As the older Winchester came to the realization of just how thoroughly they'd been played, Sam lifted his head and met his eyes, and Dean read fear there. And he was sure that Sam wasn't afraid for himself, but for Dean. Frankly, Dean was pretty scared for Dean, too. It didn't look like Angelicunt wanted to add him to her little fucked-up harem. Stupid bitch had poor taste, anyway. They had used some pretty heavy-duty chains on Sam, to make sure he couldn't break free. When the vampires had secured him, Angelica waved a hand at them and they backed off. It was just those two, and Angelica upstairs right now. The other two Dean had seen when the door opened had been helped downstairs already, since they'd both been hit by the Winchesters' crossbow bolts, one of them twice. Of course, like Sam, they'd survive. But also like Sam, they'd be weakened until it worked its way out of their systems. But things were looking up. If Dean weren't shocky from the broken arm, and if they were both free and had their weapons, which had been piled in a corner, they could probably go through the three of them like a hot knife through butter. A bunch of big 'ifs' there, unfortunately. The weapons weren't that far away, but it was far enough out of reach that it might as well have been miles, and Dean was rapidly running out of ideas. Every time he shifted to try to find some give in the ropes, his vision greyed out a little from the pain. And so far as he could tell there was no give, anyway. These bastards were good at tying people up. Angelica approached Sam and sank down to her knees. Sammy apparently didn't rate a stool this time, and he was sitting on the floor with his legs stretched out in front of him. She straddled his thighs and seated herself on his knees. "Sammy," she said in a stern tone. "What have you been doing, baby? You're gone all day, and then you come in and shoot some of our friends. And you brought a human with you. Why didn't you eat him? Is he a present?" The sarcasm was thick. She grasped the fletching of one of the crossbow bolts embedded in Sam's chest and twisted it between her fingers, pulling a grunt from Sam's throat. Then with a quick jerk, she pulled it free. Gasping, Sam jerked away from her, the chains rattling, but he didn't have far to go. "I'm going to kill you," he managed, his eyes squeezed shut tightly and his breathing rapid and pained. "No, baby," she purred, tugging another crossbow bolt free and tossing it aside. "You see, I've got it all planned out. I know you care about your brother - care about him a lot. I mean, look at you. You've had a banquet of blood right next to you in the worst hunger of your life, and he's still alive! I applaud that." Yank. Sam cried out as the third bolt was pulled from his body. Dean heard himself growling in the back of his throat, aching to wrap his hands around that pretty neck and twist her head right off, broken arm or no. "But you need to learn that you can't live like that. And I think the easiest way is just to remove the temptation." She wrapped her slender fingers around the last two bolts, which were quite close together, and ripped them out accompanied by a gout of blood. Sam bit down on a scream, throwing his head back and hitting the post with a resounding crack. Angelica rose to her feet and turned away. "That's why you're going to kill your brother, Sammy." There were a few seconds of silence punctuated only by Sam's harsh breathing and occasional soft whimper of pain, before he managed to speak. "I will never kill Dean," he growled harshly, the words distorted by the mouthful of sharp fangs that had descended. "Not yet," Angelica purred. She folded her arms and settled herself down onto the couch, tucking her long legs to the side. "But you will. Boys." The two vampires moved to Dean, each of them pulling long, wicked knives. He glared at them as they approached, wondering what the hell they were planning to do with those. They didn't give him long to speculate, bending down on either side of him and slicing deep into his upper arms, right above the elbow. "No! Stop it! Dean!" Sam was shouting, but no one paid him any attention. The bright star of pain that erupted from that paled in comparison to the screaming already in his arm, but he felt the blood start to flow thickly immediately. Fuck, fuck, fuck... he thought to himself, his eyes widening. It felt like they'd cut the big arteries that ran down his arm, the one that popped out if you opened your elbow. At this rate, it wouldn't matter if Sam killed him or not. He'd bleed out eventually for sure. The two vampires stepped back again and moved to join Angelica on the couch, one of them winding his arms around her. She shifted and reclined against him. "You two have fed well, right?" she asked, glancing up at her two companions. They nodded and muttered assent, but their eyes were drawn to Dean anyway. He could feel the blood running down and dripping to the floor. "Can you smell it, Sam?" she purred, slipping an arm up and around the neck of the vampire who was holding her. "Did you feed well tonight? From the look on your face, I'd say you probably didn't." Dean snuck a look at Sam despite himself. The younger Winchester was hunched over in the chains, panting, his fangs visible between his parted lips. "I don't want it," he growled. "Yes you do," she purred. "Let's just wait and see." Dean closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the post, trying not to feel like he was waiting to die. Time ticked by, and Dean wasn't sure how long it was, but it felt like hours. Felt like years. He began to shiver, blood collecting in a pool around him and trickling across the slate floor in little rivulets. Every time he lost control of himself, he would start to shake uncontrollably, and that made his arm hurt so much he felt like he was going to puke. And all the while, Dean could hear Sam's breathing growing more and more erratic and irregular. Every so often he glanced over at his little brother, and most of the time, Sam met his gaze. Eventually, Dean wasn't sure he could really see his brother in there anymore. All he could see was hunger. After an eternity, Angelica rose smoothly to her feet, the other two getting up and flanking her. "How are you feeling, Sammy? Hungry? Do you want that little morsel tied up over there? You'd better hurry, actually. He looks like there's hardly enough blood left in his body to keep his heart beating." Sam didn't even respond. He was staring fixedly at a spot on the floor, and had been for a while. Angelica's lips parted in a smirk and she gestured. "Release him," she purred. "Let him do what he wants to do most." With a laugh, one of the vampires moved around behind Sam. He released one lock and the whole configuration of chains fell away with a clatter. Sam bolted to his feet like he'd been shot out of a cannon. Dean drew in a breath and stiffened, his eyes sliding closed as he waited to feel the fangs rip into his throat. His eyes flew open again as he heard a wet sound and a thud. He looked in time to see the vampire standing next to Angelica slump back onto the couch as if in slow motion, his surprised-looking head already on the floor at his feet. Angelica shrieked and turned to run, but Sam's arm slashed again, the machete in his hand passing through her spine like butter, and her body crashed to the ground. Shouting from downstairs and the pounding of feet coming up from the basement caught Sam's attention long enough that the remaining vampire had time to flee. The back door banged open as he bolted out into the night. The four vampires burst through the door from the basement, and Sam beheaded the first one before he even had time to register what was happening. "Mistress--" the next one had time to exclaim before his own head was separated from his shoulders as well. Sam was covered in blood, spattered on him from head to toe, and his eyes were still as hungry and inhuman as Dean had ever seen him. Jesus Christ, Dean thought dizzily, too stunned to call out or even think anything more coherent than that. Sammy, what have they done to you? The other two vampires, the ones Dean had shot earlier, turned and fled, leaping over their fallen compatriots and making a beeline for the front door. To Dean's surprise, Sam let them go. Then his heart skipped a beat as his little brother turned and moved to Dean's side, falling to his knees next to him. Sam reached out and put a hand to Dean's cheek, and even that felt warm to him. Dean realized that he was shaking constantly now, his vision beginning to dim. "Dean," Sam whispered desperately. "I wouldn't kill you." "That...that's good, Sammy," Dean gasped, struggling just to form the words. "You did good." "I don't think I can get you to a hospital in time," Sam replied, reaching and cutting Dean free with the huge knife in his hand. Dean cried out as his arms fell to his sides. Apparently they weren't as numb as he'd hoped. "It's...okay...Sammy," Dean whispered, feeling himself slump forward and realizing that Sam had caught him. He felt himself being cradled in Sam's arms, his head against his little brother's shoulder, and had just enough presence of mind to realize how wrong this was. It was he who should be holding Sammy and protecting him, not the other way around. Not that he's really gonna be able to protect me, he realized. I'm going to die right here. Then he felt something pressing against his lips, and a hot liquid flowed into his mouth.
Dean tossed the bag into the Impala's trunk and closed it, hearing the hinges squeak even worse than usual and making a mental note to get some oil the next time they found a big chain store that sold it. Sundown was so late in August in California, it was hard to find places that were still open when they could get there. The hotel room door opened and Dean turned, offering Sam a smile. "Did you get something?" he asked. "Yeah, looks like they've moved on towards San Francisco. We can cross over the mountains tonight and hopefully catch up with them before they get there," Sam said. Dean nodded. The remnants of Angelica's coterie were running scared, probably holding together more for mutual protection than anything else. But the Winchesters had caught their scent, and as their father had said, "when a vampire catches your scent, it's for life". It was about time the vamps discovered what it was like from the other side. Ash had called them the other day, but they hadn't returned the call yet. They weren't sure what their friends were going to think when they found out that John Winchester's boys were vampires now, but they were going to finish off the hunt before they found out. Hopefully that would help convince those that cared about them that they were still hunters, not something that deserved to be hunted themselves. The boys exchanged grins and slid into the Impala. Dean inserted the key and started the engine, pulling off down the road. Dean figured it was inevitable that hunters would come after them eventually, but they'd been there, and done that. For the Winchesters, nothing much had really changed. Their hours had shifted a little, and their diet involved a lot of sneaking around farms at night. But the important thing was that they still had each other. And now, it really would be forever. | |
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