Sam and Dean crept through the trees in the dimming light. They had tracked a group of vamps in the area and it had led them deep into the woods in northern Maine. The group, led by a man Dean thought couldn't be more than 25 years old, had gotten careless with their victims and left behind an obvious trail. Sam tried to convince his brother that it could be a trap, but Dean chalked it up to inexperience. More and more young people were being turned. While most were unwilling victims there were still plenty of people willing to seek out vamps and be turned. He shivered.
Sam stopped and grabbed at Dean's shoulder. "Listen." They stood, motionless, and peered about the trees. There was no sound. He was about to shake Sammy off and tell him to calm down, but he realised there was no sound at all. It wasn't just quiet; it was silent. Suddenly, branches cracked all around them. A woman sprung out and crashed her fist into Dean's temple. His knees gave way and he fell onto his back.
Dean lay on the ground where he fell and stared up to the treetops high above him. His ears were ringing, but he could hear the muffled sounds of scuffling feet close behind as another vampire sprung out of hiding. Sam slashed out at the closest vamp with his knife, leaving a gaping wound in its chest. The vamp backed off and clutched at his chest, breathing heavily. The woman that attacked Dean now turned on Sam. She lunged out, snarling, and grabbed at the hand holding the bloody knife. Sam and the woman grappled for a moment as Dean pushed himself up. He snatched up his machete and swung it down upon the back of the vamp's neck. Her eyes widened and her chin dropped just before her head came loose and rolled off onto the floor of the woods. Sam breathed hard. "You good?" Dean asked.
Sam nodded. "Yeah. You?"
"I'm good." Dean confirmed. A trickle of blood rolled down his cheek. He turned to look at the male that Sam had cut open. He was still clutching his chest, but began to stalk toward them. Another man came out of the shadows and stood behind Sam, sandwiching the brothers in between the two vamps. "Come on." Dean goaded the man on, arms spread out wide. His adrenaline was pumping and the only thought on his mind was to finish the bastard. The vamp grinned and hissed. His jagged teeth seemed to shine now as he advanced on Dean.
Behind them, Sam narrowed his eyes at the vamp he faced. The two crashed together, Sam struggling to get at the man's chest with his knife and the vamp trying desperately to sink his teeth into Sam's exposed neck. They broke apart and stood panting. Like dogs, they circled around each other without breaking eye contact. Sam could feel his pulse quicken, but he still did not make a move. He knew the vamp would get tired of their dance and would, inevitably, strike out first. When he did, Sam was ready. He sidestepped out of the way and plunged his knife deep into the back of the monster's neck. The vamp fell to the ground and Sam took the chance to dig his knife into the vamp's heart. It let out a gurgling cry and its body seized, then lay still.
Dean and his vamp came at each other at the same time. Neither of them were patient enough to prolong the fight as long as Sam had done. Striking out, Dean grabbed for the vamp's arm and pulled him forward and down. The man lost his balance and fell into the dirt. He quickly rolled over and kicked out at Dean's shin. A deep pain shot up through his leg. Dean stumbled back as the blow connected and the machete flew out of his hand. It landed with a dull metallic thud, just out of his reach. Dean kicked back at the vamp. Taking the opportunity while the vamp was stunned, Sam ran forward and grabbed up the machete. "Got it!" He raised the machete up, ready to chop its head off. With a quick swing, he finished the monster.
Dean limped away. He braced himself against a tree, rubbing at his leg. "You deal with this idiot. And don't take all freaking night." Sam stood back and watched Dean stalk back to the car.
Sam tamped down the dirt on the grave he had buried the bodies in. He looked about him and listened to the trees creaking as they swayed in the wind. Everything was calm again and the sounds of the woods filled the air again. If it weren't for the fresh dirt he stood on or for the bloody knife in his hand, he could have believed that nothing had happened that night. He and Dean would be the only people that would know what had really taken place. With a contented sigh he wiped the blade clean and began the trudge back to the Impala.
Dean was leaning back against the door when he arrived. His eyes were closed tightly. When he heard his brother's footsteps he opened them and pushed himself off the car. "You hungry? I'd kill for a burger right now."
"I'm good, but we can make a pit-stop if you want."
"Yeah, my head's killing me. Blood sugar must be low." Dean yanked open the driver's side door and climbed in. He turned the key in the ignition and listened to the low roar of the engine. He smiled and revved it a few times. Sam dropped his machete on the back seat and climbed in, slamming the door shut and fastening his seat belt. Spinning the tires in the loose dirt of the roadside, Dean peeled away. For a moment his eyes flicked up and stared into the rear-view mirror, half expecting one of the monsters to come hurtling out of the woods after them. But nothing followed them as they turned the corner into town.
Dean pulled into the parking lot of the first burger joint they came to. He sent Sam inside to order for them. As usual he told Sam to ask if they had any pie, though most places never seemed to have it any more. But, Dean supposed, there was no harm in checking because one of these days some place was bound to have the perfect pie for him. He hoped tonight was his lucky night.
Sam opened the door and handed a couple of paper bags to Dean and balanced the drink tray on the dashboard. "No pie. But they had double cheeseburgers so I got you two."
"Bacon?" Dean raised an eyebrow as he dug into one of the bags. Sam nodded. Eagerly, Dean tore the wrapper of a burger and took a bite. He sighed deeply and leaned back in his seat. His head was still throbbing steadily so he took a few more over-sized bites hoping the hunger would go away quickly.
"Dean, slow down. We don't have to hurry, you know."
"The faster I get these into me the faster this stupid headache goes away." He snatched a drink from the cardboard tray and took a few gulps. Just as he sank his teeth into the burger for another bite his stomach seemed to roll over in his body. He groaned. "Aw crap." Throwing the food from his lap, he sprang out of the car and fell to his knees on the damp ground, heaving.
"Dean?" Sam leaned over to check on him. "You okay?"
Dean tried to answer, but a wave of nausea overtook him and he heaved again. He coughed and wiped his mouth, breathing heavily. He clamped his eyes shut. Sam climbed over the driver's seat and hurried to his brother's side. "I told you not to eat so fast."
"Shut up." Dean commanded. "I didn't eat too fast." A minute went by before he was able to steady himself enough to climb to his feet. He sank into the driver's seat, but Sam shook his head and grabbed his arm.
"Uh-uh. I'm driving."
Dean looked set to make a salty reply but couldn't gather the energy to start a fight. Relenting to Sam's tug he allowed himself to be herded into the passenger seat. No sooner had he fastened his seat belt he leaned against the cool window and fell asleep.
Sam eased the Impala into the parking lot in front of the Moonlite Motel and killed the engine."Come on, Dean. We're here." When he didn't stir, Sam frowned. He shook Dean's shoulder and Dean grumbled something incoherent. His eyes fluttered open and he peeled himself away from the window.
"We're here." Sam repeated. An air of annoyance touched his voice. Why should he have to babysit Dean? It wasn't his fault he had stuffed himself so full of grease he had gotten sick. "Let's go." He urged again and climbed out of the car. Dean slowly unfastened himself and pushed open the door. He swung his legs out and sat for a moment longer before following after Sam.
Dean flopped down on the bed and watched as Sam hauled out his laptop and typed away furiously. The clacking stopped briefly as he scanned across some webpage. He shook his head slightly before mashing the keys again. Growing bored of his brother's noise, Dean climbed out of the bed and sat at the table across from Sam. Sam peered up over the laptop screen. "What?"
With a shrug and a barely stifled giggle, Dean shook his head. "Nothin'." He stared intently at Sam.
Fed up, Sam exhaled and slammed the lid of the laptop shut. "Dean, what are you doing? You're acting really weird."
"I dunno." Dean threw up his hands. "I'm bored. Let's go do something."
"Do what?"
"I dunno!" He said again. "Something fun."
"Dean." Sam warned. His eyebrows creased. "Turn your head." He rose from his seat and stood next to him. Dean did as Sam asked and turned his head. A deep purple bruise had spread across his temple and blood had dried and matted his hair. "Go lie down."
"Nah, I don't wanna." Dean shook his head. "I wanna go out and do something. Hotels are boring and I don't want to be bored anymore."
"Dean, I think you have a concussion. I need you to lie down. I'll go get you some ice. Okay?" He inclined his head and stared unblinkingly at Dean. With a disappointed sigh, Dean hurled himself back onto the bed.
"Ow..." He muttered to himself and put a hand on his head. Maybe that vamp had hit him a little harder than he thought. "Bitch." Dean mumbled. Sam turned back and looked at him.
"Don't start."
"Not you. Vamps." Dean informed him.
"Uh. Right." Sam nodded. He grabbed the ice bucket from the bedside table and dropped the laptop in its place. "You stay right there. Don't even get up. Got it?" His finger pointed accusingly at Dean, who scoffed. "I mean it, Dean." And with that he slipped out the door leaving Dean alone to stare up at the off-white ceiling.
Tiring quickly of the nothingness of the ceiling, Dean took the time to stare around the room at the outdated decor. The room was typical of the cheap motels they often occupied. All the furniture was shoddily made and showed signs of years of use. The bureau at the edge of the room had a thin layer of dust on the top suggesting that the cleaning staff did not particularly care whether or not the room looked tidy. He supposed most other occupants of the dingy room did not care either. The walls were lined with a wallpaper covered in hundreds of little sailboats of varying colors drifting along in a light blue ocean. Dean began to wonder if they weren't actually floating along in the sky instead of in the water. The thought of a fleet of tiny ships flying around through the air made him laugh. He reached out and attempted to pluck one off the wall.
When Sam turned the key in the lock and pushed the door open he was greeted by the sight of his brother kneeling on the bed, nose pressed against the wall and staring intently. "Uh...Dean?" He closed the door behind him.
"Hm?" Dean asked distractedly.
"Find something?"
"The boats are weird."
"Okay." Sam sighed. "Why don't you lay down again. Put some of this on your head." Sam passed the ice bucket and a hand towel. Already getting the feeling tonight was going to be a long one he sat on the edge of the bed and watched Dean pack ice into the towel. He winced slightly as he pressed it to his head.
"Ow." He growled, agitated. "This is why I hate vampires."
"Really? That's the only reason?" Sam raised an eyebrow. Dean shrugged. Sam shook his head and grabbed his laptop. If he was going to be stuck in here all night he may as well get a head start on their next case. He started by scanning all the local news sites for anything out of the usual. By the fourth site, he had found nothing strange. As he was about to close the tab he found a lead. Two men of about the same age had vanished mysteriously. Sam re-scanned the news sites for reports of the men. Again he found no stories, but he did come across a video of the widow of the second man.
A reporter stood at the scene of what appeared to be a car wreck. Police were searching the area surrounding the car, but no-one seemed to be paying attention to the car itself or the driver. In fact, Sam noticed, there weren't even any ambulances or EMTs around. Maybe they had already cleared the scene? He watched on. "Police are continuing their search for the driver. Authorities believe the man, Anthony Hagan, may be seriously injured as evidence found in the car suggests." Here, a picture of Anthony was flashed on the screen. "Police are asking for the cooperation of the community at this time. If anyone knows of Hagan's whereabouts, they are instructed to contact the local sheriff's department as soon as possible." Sam paused the video. Far behind the reporter stood a young blonde woman. She looked lost as she stared blankly at the crushed metal of the sedan. He made a note of her name and logged on to Facebook to do some digging.
Beside him, Dean had started to snore softly. Sam shook his shoulder. "Hey. You need to stay awake for a little while longer." Dean sat up and nodded.
"I am awake."
"Sure you are." Sam said.
"Find something?" Dean peered at the laptop.
"No. Nothing weird, anyway." He closed the lid and set it aside. Sam wanted to investigate further but he knew Dean would insist upon getting in on the case and that wasn't a possibility right now. In a few days he'd be of some use.
"You're weird." Dean grumbled.
Sam sighed. Definitely of no use right now. He went to the bathroom, grabbed one of the little plastic cups from the counter and filled it with water. He handed it to Dean who was now sitting up with his back against the headboard. "Here. I'll get you some aspirin." Dean took the cup from his hand. Sam knelt down and dragged out his bag to dig for the pill bottle. When he found it he shook out a couple of pills. He handed them to Dean.
"Thanks for the drugs." Dean smiled playfully as he tossed them down.
"What else are brothers for, right?" Sam said, screwing the cap back on the bottle. He left the bottle on the table, but stuffed his bag back under the bed. "How are you feeling?"
"How do you think? Some crazy bitch cracked my head open."
"She didn't crack it open." Sam corrected.
"No, but she did get me pretty good, didn't she?"
Sam nodded in agreement as he inspected the bruise again. "It doesn't look great, does it?" Dean threw him a cold look. "What? You asked." His voiced cracked slightly as he tried to hide his grin. At least Dean was starting to act a little more like Dean. Sam was relieved they would be leaving soon. Lately he had been anxious between cases. Hell, even small leads were exciting to him. It was making him restless, he realised.
"I did not ask you how it looked." Dean threw a light punch at Sam's shoulder. Sam pretended to look offended.
"If you weren't already brain-damaged, I'd hit you back."
"Thanks, ass." He threw the plastic cup at Sam. Dean rearranged the pillows on the bed and laid down again.
"Want me to tuck you in?" Sam asked in a babyish voice.
"Shut up."
"Do you need a story?"
"Sammy, I'm going to kill you." Dean reached out for the TV remote. Sam snatched it up before Dean's fingers could touch it. His lip pouted out slightly. "I'm bored so I wanna watch TV. Give it."
"You know the rules. TV has to wait until your brain unscrambles itself a little. But, if you want, we can listen to the radio for a little while." Sam tucked the remote under the mattress. Dean huffed. "That's what I thought." He picked up the radio and scanned for a decent channel. Between squelches, he managed to pick up a weak signal from some local rock station. With a teak of the cheap antenna he was able to get the signal more clearly. Skynyrd was in the middle of playing 'Tuesday's Gone'. He turned up the volume a little and set it back on the nightstand.
Sam kicked off his shoes and climbed into his own bed. He clicked off the light and listened. A deep sigh threatened to escape him, but he hid it with a yawn. His eyes darted to Dean, but he didn't seem to notice. With his brows knitted tightly together, Sam stared up at the ceiling. He closed his eyes, trying to let sleep carry him off.