Alright, the final installment. I know when I said I was extending the story, a lot of you thought I meant "make it an epic" longer. In reality, I just couldn't fit everything in that I wanted to. This is the end of this particular story, but I have several other ideas for stories in the same 'verse.
Thanks for all your support!
Bobby' knife seemed tiny in my hands. Xander stood patiently, arms outstretched, apparently expecting my brother to rush up, throw his arms around his neck and say, "Oh, Daddy dearest, I've missed you so!"
My brother curled his lip up in a feral snarl instead.
That placating smile turned cold.
"Not the reception I was expecting." He said, and stalked forward. The four of us moved as one, shifting sideways, weapons drawn. It was a dance, almost, circling around and around each other, his eyes hungrily sliding from one of us to the next, our hands hot for battle. Lenore had apparently gotten herself together to some degree. She was sliding along with us, behind us still, but no longer cringing away. Her fangs remained firmly behind her lips; my brother had bared his, and they glinted in the hazy light.
Xander came forward once, Bobby swung a wide arc with his knife, and the fang pulled back unharmed, laughing as his superhuman speed triumphed. He was tall, tall as I was, dressed in slacks and a button-down shirt, his hair cut neatly around his face. This was the kind of vampire people read about, the kind of vampire teenage girls drooled over across the pages of Anne Rice novels. Aristocratic, dignified, terrifying. Nothing like the earthy vamps we'd encountered before.
He stopped abruptly, crossing his arms across his chest. We stilled too, the anxiety of waiting making my heartbeat loud in my ears. We didn't wait long. With that incredible speed, he came forward, and lashed at Bobby with his fist, slamming him back against the wall. He fell with a thud, and I had no time to look at him before Xander was on me too.
He knocked me back onto the floor, pinned me down and held me still, but made no attempt to deprive me of my knife. He pushed my hands up above my head and lowered his face to a mere inch above mine. "So you're the one." He said. His breath was cold as ice against my neck as he brushed his lips across my jaw. And he was off, dragged backwards by his hair, my brother grunting in exertion as he heaved the patriarch away. He screamed, furious, and twisted around, like a cat trying to land on its feet, and snagged his long fingernails into my brother's arm, dragging him to the floor.
I sat up, my breath short from being slammed into the ground. The two of them were biting, clawing, kicking, Xander clearly winning. My brother met my eyes. "Bobby!" He cried, and I knew what he meant. I scrambled to the older hunter's side. He was scrambling back to his feet, resilient. I grabbed his arm.
"Dead man's blood?" I had to yell to be heard. The battle between my brother and his patriarch was unceasingly feral, screaming and yelling and growling. Bobby couldn't speak, breathless, but he reached under his shirt and shoved a corked bottle into my hands. Small, but it didn't take much. I popped the cork out and jammed the tip of my knife inside, and when I removed it, it dripped red. I slipped the bottle into my pocket.
I dove onto my knees, tried to stab into Xander's body, anywhere, but each time I moved to cut, my brother's arm, or leg, or back would be there, and I couldn't touch him with this crimson poison. Xander flipped around and slashed across my face with his fingernails, and I felt warm blood drip down my cheek. It knocked me back, only a foot, but it was enough. There was a fraction of a second where Xander looked to be coming after me, and that was all it took. My brother attacked again, and the real battle began.
He kicked sideways, trying to take out the older fang's knees, but Xander predicted it and caught his leg as it was extended, leaving him trapped.. Xander bared his fangs at last, monstrous teeth, inches long and sank them into my brother's side. Dean cried out, and bent his head, stabbing his own fangs into the patriarch's shoulder. He twisted at the same time and freed himself. He stumbled back a few steps, and they looked at each other, fiery from battle.
Dean's eyes met mine. I knew what he was saying as clearly as if he'd really been saying it. Are you okay?
I nodded silently. I'm fine.
His hands clenched and he turned his gaze back to Xander. Wait for an opening and do it.
I could only tighten my grip on the knife. I looked for Bobby. He was at the ready, too, nodding like he'd understood our silent conversation. And Lenore was standing, frozen, as though uncertain whether to run and survive or stay and die. We waited…and watched.
Dean spat a moutful of his own blood on the ground. "What do you want?" Dean growled. I started forward, but they were still standing too close. If Xander moved as I stabbed, I'd catch my brother on my knife instead.
Xander smiled, a wicked grin of teeth and blood and death. "You, of course. And revenge. Your brother killed several people who were very close to me."
"More children?" My brother said, sarcastic and biting. "Like me?" He snorted.
"Children, yes. Lovers too--"
My brother cut him off. "Was that one sentence? A little incesty, isn't it?"
Xander curled his lip. "You're quite funny."
My brother shrugged. "I try." And they met again. This time, Xander took initiative. He swung his fist in a vicious uppercut and caught my brother on the chin. His head snapped back, and two more blows were swift in coming, jabbing at his chest and neck. The older vamp was in control, and he knew it.
I was reminded of a National Geographic special I'd seen once. A pair of mountain lions were duking it out over territory. They'd come together, clawing and biting and bleeding, then they'd break apart, look at each other for a moment, stalking, planning, waiting, then they'd come together again. The fight before me was a gross parody of the same concept.
They came together and parted three times before I got in. Dean, scratched and torn in a hundred places, his shirt and jeans ripped ragged by claws and teeth, stumbled backwards, on the verge of collapse. Not far, but far enough. I went in as fast as I could and sunk my knife into his arm. It should have been his back, but he moved again, enough to deflect my blow just enough to make it less damaging. He hissed at me and clutched at his shoulder.
"You!" He growled. He cast a careless look back at my brother, who was panting desperately, then those eyes were back on me. "I've heard about you." He sneered, his lip drawn up. "Brother dearest turns into a monster and you've got the guts to keep him around. Keeping a pet, are we?"
"Shut up!" He was goading me by making my brother an object, but I couldn't stop my reaction. I swung the knife forward, but he knew I was coming and stepped easily out of reach. His laugh was like dry tree branches scraping a window.
"Think you're good enough?" He flung his arms out in defiance, giddy pleasure showing in his smile. "To beat me? To help your brother? Never. Not you. Not a human."
"What are you after?"
"Revenge. I thought we already talked about this."
"No. If you wanted us dead, we would be. You'd have killed us in our sleep."
His smile faltered. "Maybe I'm tired of the underhanded deed."
"Not a monster like you."
He looked at me a moment, his eyes dark, and then he shook his head. "You don't have the slightest idea, do you? Of what you're brother's worth? A hunter and a vampire? Your brother's the perfect killer. The right bidder would pay through the nose to have him in their employ. It's been centuries since I sired anyone quite so…valuable."
"So now I'm on the bidding block?" Dean cut in. He moved with an unnatural speed to my side. He stood close, and I felt his hand drop to the canister of blood in my pocket, sliding it out with the ease of a practiced thief. I made no move to acknowledge it.
"Not yet." Xander leered. "But soon enough. A pretty thing, too." He remarked. "That's another million right there."
"Not going to be so pretty if you keep bruising the merchandise." Dean swept a hand down his body, indicating his haggard appearance.
Xander shrugged. "You should have come quietly." And they came together again. The patriarch sank his fangs into my brother's collarbone, leaving his strong neck exposed, and I suddenly understood Dean's plan. The canister of dead man's blood was already uncorked and almost at my brother's lips.
"Dean!" I cried, but even as I said it I knew I was too late. My brother had a mouthful of poison. He bent his head and dug his own fangs into his sire's neck. This time coated with the only thing that a vampire couldn't take.
Xander screamed and his skin smoked with the pure concentration of the crimson on his neck. The two of them sank to the floor, slowly, and I snapped myself out of my morbid observation. My knife still had a thin sheen of dead man's blood on the blade, and I stabbed it into Xander's heart over and over and over until my brother at last let go and the patriarch lay motionless.
Dean fell away, slumping to the floor. I took a good look at Xander, made certain that there was no chance he'd be moving soon, and went to his side. He was curled up, vomiting up a steady jet of red, expelling the poison.
"Dean?" I whispered and put a hand on his shoulder. He shuddered, spitting the last of the dead man's blood from his mouth and opened his eyes. They were hazy and wild. "Dean?" I said again.
"You okay?" He said, and I felt relief roll over me like ocean waves.
"Don't you ever try that again! Have you lost your mind?" I cried, trying to be angry. It wasn't working. He sat up, inch by inch, my hand against his shoulders, supporting him.
He nodded his head in Xander's direction. "Finish it."
The patriarch was stirring feebly. I nodded and felt a white hot rush of hate cloud my head. I looked across at Bobby and Lenore, who were looking at us with expressions of mixed relief and worry. Bobby was favoring his arm. He nodded at me. "Do it, Sam. It's not like I care about the mess." I couldn't help but agree as I surveyed the destroyed room. Lenore crept over slowly, as though afraid Xander might still attack, and sat by Dean, letting him lean against her.
All three of them gave me a look of approval as I took the head from Xander's shoulders in one swing.
---------------------------
"I'm sorry about Eli." I said, hefting Lenore's bag into her backseat. We'd offered her a place to stay for the day, to keep her from the light, but she'd insisted on going back to her nest. Her windows were tinted almost black to keep the sun out. I tagged that memory for use on the Impala.
She nodded, and I saw the tears glisten behind her eyelids. She stood still for a moment, then shook her head. "I should go." She reached for my hand. "You know Xander's not the only one who's going to want a piece of your brother. And you. You've got to be careful, Sam. You're going to be on a lot of people's lists, now." She rolled her eyes. "A guy whose part hunter and part vampire, and a guy who killed half a nest on his own in one family. Some genes you Winchesters must have."
"Yeah," I murmured. "Some genes."
She pulled away slowly, waving one last goodbye from her window. I waved back and watched until she was gone, and went back inside. Bobby was sitting at his kitchen table as I entered. He waved me in. "I took care of the mess. Burned it out back."
"Thanks, Bobby." He slid me a beer as I sat down. "Where's Dean?"
"Upstairs. Haven't gotten the windows covered down here, yet. Figured he should stay up there until the clouds come out."
"Right." I paused. "Thanks again. For everything."
"Not a big deal." That gruff, loving tone was back, and I smiled behind the lip of my bottle.
"Yeah. Because so many other people would take in a guy and his vampire brother." He smiled at me, acknowledging the compliment. "Thanks. Really."
"Sure, sure. Get up there and see your brother." I didn't need to be told twice. I snagged another beer for Dean…just in case.
The room had been destroyed, but it was still the only room in the house with the windows all blocked off. It was funny, seeing Dean sitting serenely in a chair with rubble and bloodstains and claw marks all around him. He looked up as I came in.
"What's up?"
He rolled his eyes. "Oh, stop it, Sam. You came up here for one reason."
"Oh?"
"You wanna know all about how I'm feeling, and what's it like. You know, all the questions you always ask."
"That's not what I wanted."
Sarcastic silence.
"Okay, that is what I wanted."
He snorted, amused, but I knew he'd answer me. "Doing fine. I'll need to eat tonight."
I felt a brief moment of panic. "Dean, there aren't any cows around here." I'd seen him go hungry once, and I wouldn't ever see it again. Not ever.
"True."
"We'll have to leave. We could go north, I know there's a cattle ranch up there. Or I could scout around and see if there's anybody with a milkcow or something."
"Sam! Knock it off!" Dean cut my rambling short. "Lenore left me a store." He indicated a plastic shopping bag. I could see the packets of red underneath it.
"Oh."
"She said I have to live off those for the first couple days. We'll be out of here before I can eat beef anyway." He stretched out. I tentatively offered him the beer.
"Do you…I mean, can you…"
He laughed at me, snatching it from my uncertain grasp. "I can always outdrink my little brother. Vampire or not." He took a huge gulp.
"We'll see about that." I matched him swallow for swallow. We talked guns and girls and beer and nothing else.
I let go of the last thread of fear and doubt and let us be brothers again.
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