Summary:
Dean and Sam fall into a vampire hunting pack's trap; Sam manages to escape but has to leave Dean behind. When he loses the trail to the nest, he calls on the vampire who's life he saved, Lenore, to help him find his brother. Kate, part of the nest that has Dean, decides Dean's punishment for helping to kill her mate, Luther, should include becoming a vampire himself. Post AHBL.
Disclaimer: Nope. Don't own the copyrights to the Boys. But thank you Kripke for such fab characters and letting us play in your universe!!
Rating is for some bad-boy language. Some following chapters get a bit bloody and lean toward mature themes.
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Blood Debt
Chapter 1
Dean saw Sam's discreet yawn as they waited at the steakhouse for their meals.
"Are you sure you want to drive on to Springville tonight?" Sam asked. He'd really rather just hole up in a local motel and get in a good night's sleep. It was only 9 pm and already he was tired. The ghost had all but kicked their asses until they managed to find the preserved finger of the man and gave it a salt and burn. They'd been up most the night prior, trying without success to get the ghost. When they'd figured out the ghost came out at sunset, they tried again today and the battle was on. Sam ached from the fight and figured he'd hurt even worse tomorrow. Looking at his brother, he saw the adrenaline high still shone in Dean's eyes.
"Hell Sammy, I don't think I could fall asleep if I wanted to right now. That was an awesome salt and burn. That little bastard won't be strangling any other unfortunate hikers." Dean's smile was that of the cat that got the canary. Maybe the whole flock.
Sam gave a nod. He was glad for that fact. Twelve people had been killed over the past five years and the last two and been a father and his twelve-year-old son. Sam was hoping for a few days to recuperate but Dean had already found them a potential job a good six hours away, dog attacks that suggested a black dog or hellhound or something like that. It would take some on-site investigating to see what they were dealing with and if it was even supernatural.
The waitress slid their dinners in front of them. Sam dribbled a light spotting of A-1 on his steak, just enough to mix in with the garlic butter for that little extra zing. He looked over at Dean who was already digging enthusiastically into his meal. Sam made a face at him.
Dean stabbed the next piece of steak he'd cut off and saw Sam's look of disgust. "What?"
"Dean that thing could practically moo," Sam said, wrinkling his nose. "What's you do, ask for steak tar-tar?"
Dean grinned. "Told them to run it through a warm room. C'mon, just a quarter inch cooked on either side, and nice and juicy on the inside. Doesn't get much more perfect."
"You mean raw," Sam said, practically gagging at the blood on Dean's plate from the very rare steak.
"It's not raw," Dean protested. "Look. Grill marks," Dean said, pointing out the black lines.
"Probably put on with a Sharpie," Sam snorted.
"Your steak's so well done it's practically burnt," Dean said. "And A-1? That's enough to ruin any steak." Dean took his fork and stabbed one of the onion rings Sam had knocked off the steak.
"At least I don't have to worry about getting sick from mine," Sam countered. "And who said you could have my onion rings?"
Dean laughed. "Big brother prerogative, Bitch."
"Jerk," Sam muttered and quickly snagged the remaining onion ring and started to cut off a piece of it to eat when he saw the pathetic, envious look on his brother's face. With a long-suffering sigh he held it out to his brother.
Dean grinned, accepted the offer, and devoured the onion ring. Sam took a last look and the pool of blood around Dean's steak and shook his head. Give him well-done any day.
SNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSN
Sam had long since drifted off into sleep when Dean roused him with a slap on his shoulder.
"Dude, car pulled off up ahead. Looks like a flat tire."
Sam roused sleepily and stared through the rain-speckled glass. A late nineties dark blue car, a Saturn, Sam finally identified, was pulled over on the side of the road. The trunk was open and one woman was getting the donut tire out of the trunk while the other was studying the lug nuts on the left rear wheel. A small battery-operated lantern with a bright white light and a small flashing red light on top sat by the tire. Both women were nicely built, in tight jeans and equally tight sweaters. One was a blonde with a pony tail and the other had long, dark hair. Both looked in their early twenties.
"Ooo baby," Dean said, letting the Impala slow down. "Might be our lucky night, Sammy."
"Dean," Sam said, with some exasperation.
"Fun, Sam. Remember fun?" Dean chastised. He saw the indecision in his brother's face and decided to try a different tactic. "C'mon, they need some help. It's cold, and it's wet. What, you want to just drive on by and leave them to the next guy? He could be a serial killer or something. Now do you really want that on your conscience?"
Sam looked out at them and then over at his brother. Dean's eyes were bright with hope and obvious plans for the rest of the night.
"Fine," Sam said finally, rolling his eyes.
"That's my boy!" Dean said enthusiastically and slowed the Impala to a stop beside the car. Both women looked warily at them. Sam rolled down his window. "Do you two need some help? Or want us to call a tow truck for you?" Sam asked.
"It's just a flat tire," the dark-haired girl said. "We'll be okay."
"We could change it for you," Dean offered. "Sam's great at changing tires."
Sam glared at his brother and Dean just grinned back. The women passed a look between them and finally the dark-haired girl relented. "Well, okay, I guess. I've never actually changed a tire before."
Dean pulled the Impala off to the side of the road ahead of the car and both men got out. The rain had all but stopped, just a light sprinkle misting them. It was chilly, their breath causing wisps of white vapor.
"Dude," Sam said, hitting Dean in the shoulder. "Keys."
Dean raised an eyebrow and looked at him.
"I want my gloves, okay? Fifteen minutes out in this, changing a tire, and I won't be able to feel my hands. They're in the trunk."
Dean shook his head and tossed him the keys. "Such a damned girl," he said softly and was rewarded with a glare from Sam. He chuckled and turned back to the women. "Ladies," he said cheerfully and gave them a broad smile. "I'm Dean, this is my brother Sam. It's kinda late to be out, isn't it?"
"We closed Tilly's Bar," the dark-haired girl said. "Must have picked up a nail in their parking lot."
"So you live around here?" Dean asked her.
"I do," the blonde said. "I'm Janine, this is my cousin Suzanne. She's visiting from California." She smiled at Dean then Sam. "I hated to call my parents this late. We were going to try to change it ourselves, first. Until you two came along. We appreciate you stopping."
"Always glad to help out ladies in distress." Dean said and stopped to stand by Suzanne. He gave her a charming smile. "So you're from Cali? Where abouts?"
"Janine, do you have the wheel lock key tool for the lug nut?" Sam asked, kneeling by the flat tire.
She shrugged. "It's mom's car. Maybe the glove box?"
"Dean," Sam said. Dean ignored him and continued his small talk with Suzanne. "Dean!" Sam yelled at him.
"What?!" Dean said and looked over at him.
Sam gave him his patented exasperated look. "Will you check the car's glove box for the wheel lock tool?"
"Let me just get this for him," Dean told Suzanne pleasantly. He turned and gave Sam a dirty look then walked around to the passenger's side and opened the door. He leaned in and tried the glove box, but it wouldn't open. "It's locked. I need the key."
"I've got them," Suzanne said and walked around to join Dean. He gave her another smile, watching her swaying hips and pleasant chest-bounce appreciatively. He decided they were definitely real.
Sam leaned low and pushed the jack under the car, carefully aligning it. The cold, wet rain on the pavement soaked the knee of his jeans and made him grimace. A loud thump was followed with the car sharply rocking. Sam looked up, concerned. Before he could rise to investigate the noise he saw Janine standing over him, grinning at him with vampire teeth fully exposed. She backfisted him and he was thrown several feet toward the Impala. He lay a moment, stunned, but the cold water on the pavement quickly penetrated his Levi coat and shirt, and helped clear his head. He scrambled to his feet and stared at her in horror. Janine began a slow casual stride toward him.
Sam eased back toward the Impala, his hazel eyes locked on Janine. He had a bad feeling he knew just what had made that thump he'd heard. He shouted, "Dean? Dean!"
Suzanne leaned on the open passenger's side door. "He bumped his head, Sam," she said, showing her fangs. "Now why don't you just calm down? It'll be much easier. Admittedly though, we do prefer our prey to run. At least a little bit."
Noises in the woods to his left drew Sam's attention from Janine. He saw shadows moving in the brush.
"Dean!" he shouted again. He could see the leather of Dean's coat through the car window. Dean wasn't moving. Sam spun and ran back to the car, grabbing a 9-mm gun out of the front seat and aiming it at Janine. Janine continued toward him, unconcerned. The shadows stepped out of the brush; there were three men and one woman. Their eyes glittered silver.
Sam squeezed the gun's trigger, knowing full well it wouldn't stop Janine, but hoping to slow her down. After unloading the clip into her, he jumped in the Impala, shoved the keys in the ignition and cranked it. He threw the care into gear and practically spun it in place. Janine stood in front of the car, bloodspots on her sweater and an annoyed look on her face the only indications she'd been shot.
"Sam, dear, you can't get away." Janine said, her vampire teeth no longer showing. "Why don't you just relax and give it up? If you come along now, quietly, I promise you, you'll have the best time of your life. I'll take you so high, you'll never want to come down."
Sam's eyes narrowed as he stomped on the gas and plowed the car into her. When he slammed on the brakes, she went flying backward. The others by the Saturn rushed toward the Impala. One punched through the driver's side window and reached in, grabbing the collar of Sam's Levi jacket. Sam shoved the gas pedal down then hit the brakes as he spun the wheel. The vampire lost its grip and fell away, his fingernails leaving three bloody gashes along Sam's neck. Sam spun the car to face the vampires.
"Dammit Dean, wake up," Sam muttered. "How the hell am I going to take down six vampires?" He gauged their locations and began to choose targets. If he could keep them on the run, he might be able to get them away from the Saturn, buy enough time that either Dean woke up, or that he could get to Dean and get him into the Impala. It wasn't going to be easy in any case and Sam felt his stomach clench. He reached under the left side of the seat and pulled out the sawed-off shotgun. It should have enough kick to keep a vampire off of him when he went to rescue Dean. If it hadn't been raining, he'd pull the Impala off the road, right up next to the passenger's side of the Saturn, but he was afraid the car would get stuck in the mud, and he couldn't risk that.
Lights in his rear view mirror flashed into his eyes. The six vampires by the Saturn whooped in delight.
The rest of the nest was coming.
"Dammit!" Sam swore, knowing that his chances just took a radical change for the worse. Sam wedged the shotgun by his leg, gave the car where Dean laid unconscious one last look, then pushed the gas to the floor. He knew he didn't have a prayer of getting to Dean at this point. They'll keep him alive to feed on him, Sam reassured himself as the Impala roared down the highway.
The other car was gaining on him. He kept the pedal to the floor and the Impala screamed as its speedometer continued to climb. Sam slid the car through curves, barreled down roads, and spun it onto crossroads, pushing the Impala and his own driving skills to their limits. Fifteen minutes later he finally lost the lights in his rearview mirror. He turned the car onto a long, dirt driveway and pulled in behind a line of trees and brush, shutting off the engine and headlights.
He waited and watched, grabbing another clip for the gun he'd used on Janine and replacing the spent one. Reaching under the right side of the seat he pulled out the foot-long knife Dean kept there and set it beside him. The knife wasn't ideal for decapitation, but it would get the job done and Sam didn't want to get out of the car just yet. He needed to try to minimize his scent and standing out in the wind would only carry his scent further.
His eyes stayed on the road and he strained to hear any hint of the car that had chased him. As his adrenaline began to fade, he noticed that the left side of his face began to hurt. He looked at it in the rear view mirror. It was badly bruised, swollen, and it felt tight. The gashes on his neck stung and were still oozing blood. He claimed the first aid kit from the back seat and cleaned his wounds and bandaged them while he was waiting, then held an icepack to his cheek.
Twenty minutes ticked slowly by and still no car passed where Sam was hidden. He finally accepted that he'd shaken them.
He went back to the trunk and pulled out two machetes and two shotguns. After he loaded them with buckshot, he picked up the 45 his father had given him when he was nine, confirmed it was loaded, then dug through the ammo until he found the 9-mm clip marked with red tape. He replaced the current clip in the 9-mm with the new one. Dean and he had come up with a way to load a little bit of deadman's blood inside a tumbling full-metal jacket bullet. They both felt the small quantity of deadman's blood was probably insufficient to do much, but they'd decided to try it anyhow. Sometimes even an extra second meant the difference between life and death.
"Six vamps on the road, at least two or more in the car. Yeah, real freaking fun, Dean. I wish to God you'd learn to think with your upper brain more often than the lower one," Sam muttered as he stuffed the duffel bag with the four guns and two machetes.
He hoped he could find the place he'd left Dean. He'd tried to keep track of the turns he made, but frankly he wasn't even sure where he was at the moment.
The small arsenal of weapons sat in the duffel on the seat beside him as he pulled the car back out on to the road. He began a slow and tedious backtrack and, an hour later, found the spot they'd been ambushed.
There was no sign of the cars or of Dean, not that Sam had expected there would be. Sam pulled off to the side of the road and began searching the area for clues. He cursed the darkness, but was grateful the rain hadn't returned. A couple of fresh, half-full beer bottles and some stubbed out cigarettes were all that he found, but it was better than nothing. The beer was probably purchased nearby and might point him in the right direction for the nest. He trudged off into the woods to hunt for more clues, knowing he might have to come back in the daylight if he came up empty.
Thoughts raced through his mind as he searched. I've got to track them back to their nest. I'll have to wait until daylight to make my move. In daylight, I shouldn't have too much trouble getting in and getting out with Dean. I hope Dean doesn't tip our hand and let them know we're hunters or that I'll be coming to rescue him. That damned smart mouth of his sometimes, though. No. No. He knows better. He'd never blow that.
He knew it would probably take a day or more to track them to their nest and the thought of what could happen to Dean in that time made his blood run cold.