Author's Note: So, this is my first Supernatural novella, and since I have a strange infatuation with fictional vampires, I have decided to make one of my own. Review please, and enjoy.
I've never thought of myself as a monster.
Of course, being what I am, I've considered it time to time. Really, I reason, I'm not much different from humans.
But as I dug my sharp fangs into the young girl's fragile neck, I couldn't help but feel disheartened. The child gave a soft inhale as her breath caught in her throat, and she whimpered at the pain.
Moments later, she lay motionless, her wide grey eyes no longer alight by life. I closed her eyelids, and covered her petite body with a soft pink blanket. I could feel the atrocious, instinctual fangs retreating into my gums.
"I'm sorry," I whispered into her still ear, my eyes tearing up for the loss of a life I hadn't even known.
I heard a door creak in the hallway and cursed weakly under my breath. God Summer, you always have to get so sentimental, don't you? But even then, I couldn't stop the tears from blurring my eyes.
Opening the window, I jumped from the second-story easily, wiping the blood from my mouth.
A black '68 Corvette waited for me at the end of the driveway, and the driver tapped impatiently on the steering wheel.
"Finally; I thought something happened," The human voice sounded, eyeing my generous curves, and petite waist as I bounded into the car.
"I couldn't just leave the poor girl glassy-eyed on the bed." My voice cracked, but I struggled desperately to feign casualty.
It was a futile effort. His eyes changed, softening, and looked at me with a strange pity. "I'm sorry," He whispered.
"Dammit Burns, why don't you say that to the family I just crushed?" I asked angrily, almost immediately regretting my ill-directed anger.
He quieted, and focused his attention on the road. "Where to next?" Burns asked gently.
I looked up at the dark starry sky. "Somewhere cloudy,"
"South Dakota is a possibility," He said, and I took out the map from under the seat.
"Hmm," I studied the map, immersing myself in it's various lines and symbols in hopes of a distraction. "That's like seven hours west, to Pierre?"
"I don't know, you're the map expert." Burns replied tiredly. "You drive, I can barely keep my eyes open,"
"We should be there once you wake up," I replied, checking the clock. 12:56 AM.
Burns smiled vaguely. "Sounds good to me," I opened the car door as he slid onto the seat I vacated.
--
Before I even started down the road I heard his audible snore beside me. I smiled at the sound, pushing my night-black hair behind my ear.
The drive was long and boring, with only Burns' ever-loudening snores to amuse me.
"Summer…" he mumbled under his breath, and I smiled.
--
About three-hundred miles and five hours later the car started stuttering, and I cursed.
"Dammit," I swore under my breath.
The jagged back road was empty of any civilians, but I saw a small sign in the distance.
'Singer's Auto Salvage Yard'. My annoyed frown suddenly gave way to a grin.
I stumbled down the road, barely reaching the run-down auto salvage yard, a perfect match for my run-down Corvette.
Before taking the keys out of the car, I glanced at the clock; 6:07. I hoped Singer wouldn't mind me coming in the middle of the morning.
The sky was lightening with the first rays of sun, and I found my way to the large brown house, pushing the doorbell with apprehension.
The door opened in a matter of seconds, and a tall, slightly heavy man that I assumed was Singer stood in the doorway. His clothes were rugged and woodsy; flannel, blue jeans, old baseball hat, the works. Singer's wide grey eyes appeared friendly.
I smiled. "I'm Summer," I reached out to shake his hand, not surprised when his firm grip far surpassed my timid one.
"The name's Bobby,"
I wasted no time in explaining my circumstances, glancing in distress at the horizon. "My car gave out, could you help me?"
"Sure, but first, I need some coffee," he answered, his eyes laughing, seeming to radiate warmth. "Come on inside."
I smiled, and gave a fleeting look toward the car; Burns was still sleeping soundly. "Why not?"
He opened the door wider and I stepped inside.
Books lined the walls and stacked neck-high on tables. They looked old and patchy; I wondered where he'd gotten them all. Papers littered the floor, but I didn't take a glance at what was on them.
"You a big reader?" I asked, turning to him.
"Yeah, you?" He led me to the kitchen, and I sat down at Bobby's small table.
"Not really,"
"Hmm," he replied. "I'll be right back, help yourself to the fridge, okay?"
"Thanks," I said, but he was already around the corner.
I hummed a nameless tune silently, looking around the kitchen. Just as chaotic as the rest of the house. This man needed a wife.
Abruptly, I felt a sharp pain in my back, and the piercing cut of a blade through my heart. I dropped to the ground, the blade once again giving me a sharp, painful slice as he tore it out.
Dead man's blood, I thought, scolding myself.
I grabbed Singer's leg, giving his ankle a firm bite in a vain attempt to injure him, only to be thrust away with another deep slice to the cheek.
Panic and frustration was evaporating with my consciousness. I always knew someone was going to get me one of these days.
Bobby stared down at me, and I peered up at him with passive eyes, my sight fading.
"Small world, isn't it?" I laughed faintly.
"It is," He replied. Was that a tinge of remorse I heard? What a softie.
"Say goodbye to Burns for me," I smiled weakly, as his eyes widened with surprise, but unfortunately I couldn't relish my consequences, because I passed out.
"Shit, shit, shit," a voice mumbled beside me. The engine purred as my surroundings passed by in a flash. However, the only thing I could focus on once graced with consciousness was the delicious smell of the voice's blood, flowing within the smooth, tempting, stretch of neck above it's collar.
"Burns?" I asked, strained for control.
"Summer!" He glanced my way and quickly turned back to the road, his eyes wild with elation. "Summer!" Burns repeated. His high, ecstatic voice hurt my sensitive ears.
"I need blood." My voice was coarse. I pretended that the pulse pounding in his throat and the luscious aroma of blood rushing through his arteries was my imagination.
"Right, right, blood, okay, I can find blood," He said in a hurry. The tires screeched as Burns pulled over to the side of the road.
He held his arm out in a hurry. "Take me."
My glare was furious. "What?" Even at the suggestion I could feel my fangs appearing beneath my lips. I cursed inwardly, forcing them back. The last thing I needed now was temptation.
"Take my blood!"
"No," I answered, my body beginning to tremble. "I'm not going to kill you," I tried to put as much power into my voice as possible. Regardless, my darker side was craving to seize the blood coursing through his delicate veins and never look back.
"I'm not asking you to kill me." He said with a roll of his eyes that sent me fuming. "Just take enough. Just enough blood to heal."
I raised one eyebrow in contempt, despite of my salivating mouth. "No."
"Summer! We don't really have a choice here, we're completely isolated."
"I don't care," I said, and it was his turn to raise an eyebrow. "I…I'll wait." My voice faltered, and could practically feel my eyes turning a vampire white.
"Summer," He gave me a reproachful, almost scolding look. "Drink."
"Are you sure?" I asked him, now turning persuasive. "I could kill you, you know." My influential glare locked with his, but my mouth was trembling with desire.
"You could never kill me." His voice was definite.
I wanted to slap that trusting look right off his face.
I could kill him in a blink of an eye. Didn't he care at all about his life? But that didn't matter, because a sharp pain shot through my chest, and I couldn't have turned back at that point anyway.
I leaned into his neck, and tried to make my swift bite as gentle as possible.
He cried out, but the ecstasy of his blood made it hard to notice. I continued, sucking the blood from his body at an alarming pace. My was mind too animalistic to realize that I was killing the closest person I had in this world.
"Summer!" He yelled, his voice faltering, weakening with each syllable. My eyes shot open at the sound of his voice, pulling away swiftly.
Burns was swaying with grogginess but the barely conscious man recognized the look of shame on my face easily.
"It doesn' matter-r…," Slurred words made him almost impossible to understand, but the gist was easy to obtain.
"It does matter,"
Unearthing a dusty first-aid kit from beneath my seat, I pulled out a roll of gauze, casing his wound in a mound of papery fabric.
"Ar-re you okay?" Burns asked, and returning to the steady world of comprehensible speech.
I scoffed, a nasty sarcasm entering my tone. "Am I okay?"
He looked unpleasantly at my bloodied shirt, his voice turning to soft murmur. "You... when I saw you there, lying on the floor, it scared me. A lot."
I frowned.
"I'm going to die, Burns," I watched as he shook his head, refusing to meet my gaze. "Somebody is going to kill me," My pause was evident, sluggish words deliberate. "I can't survive in this world. It's not my place."
His eyes became passionate. "I'm going to keep you alive Summer, and don't think for a second that I won't."
I sighed, succumbing. "What happened to Singer?" I asked, shifting the matter.
Burns was silent, starting the car and returning to the road at a much slower pace. My eyes grew with alarm. "What happened?" It was barely a whisper in the midst of the growling engine.
Silence.
"Burns?"
"I killed him." His tone was morose.
I glared at him in disbelief. "What?"
"I killed him."
"Why would you do that?" Suddenly, I was irritated.
"Because, he would have come after us, killed us, Summer. I couldn't let that happen."
"Then how did the car get fixed?"
"He fixed it, after I told him you kidnapped me. He was a nice guy, too. It's not like I wanted to do it." Burns paused for a half-second. "Oh, and next time, could you not pick someplace that screams hunter?"
I sighed.
After a flustered encounter with the hospital staff, the doctors had taken Bobby. The bullet, it turned out, hadn't been Bobby's biggest problem. Having narrowly missed his main arteries, the biggest concern was blood loss. It had been a minute problem, but this didn't stop Sam from gazing worriedly at the IV that fastened itself into Bobby's skin nearly a half hour later.
"Red eyes," Bobby said, still slightly woozy from the blood transfusion. "but it was the boy who shot me. Don't know if he was a vampire though; probably not." The old hunter stroked his beard, contemplating.
Dean seemed skeptical. "A human?"
"As far as I could tell," Bobby, too, seemed perplexed.
"Any idea where they were headed?" Sam asked, anxiety still apparent.
"No," Bobby paused. "Listen boys, give me a little time to get back on my feet and—"
Dean interrupted, looking livid. "No way Bobby, we're going after these suckers." His eyes were like an inferno, smoldering in response to Bobby's persistence.
"This is my hunt." The older man replied, stern.
"Bobby," Sam intervened, his voice gentle. "You're injured. By the time you've recuperated, they'll be long gone. If we go now, we have a better chance of catching them,"
The old man seemed to soften, the fiery conflict evaporating. "Look, I don't want you boys involved in this. The next time I turn up, they won't be as friendly."
Dean looked exasperated.
"Please Bobby," said Sam. "Going after them while you're hurt isn't a good idea." Sam trailed off, the hunters each absorbing their own fears.
Bobby was silent. "Well, I suppose you two wouldn't listen to me anyway," The brothers brightened. "Call me, okay?"
"This is a step up," Dean remarked, examining the clean two-bed motel room of a near Super 8.
Sam ignored the comment, toying unsuccessfully with the police scanner they had borrowed from Bobby's place.
"Gonna get done before the next ice age there, Sammy?" The elder hunter grinned, collapsing on the soft mattress beside him.
"Shut up," Sam replied, finally activating the small black knob that declared 'VOLUME'. Immediately, a static clamor filled the room, ruining the silence. "You wanna take first watch?" He asked, holding out the monitor in the direction of Dean.
"Wake your ass up, Sam!" Dean bellowed not an hour later. "We got something,"
Abruptly, a flood of artificial light pierced Sam's eyes; he groaned. It seemed he'd only been asleep for a few minutes, certainly not enough time to get some much needed REM.
"Where?"
"Pierre, single mother, two daughters. Sucked dry." Dean had an unusual streak of venom accompanying his voice, and the fire in his eyes seethed. He grabbed his belongings quickly, stuffing his wallet and car keys into the pocket of his worn jeans.
Sam, having taken nothing to the motel, jammed his feet into a pair of dilapidated Vans, barely making out the door before Dean slammed it behind him.
I was thirsty, again. Story of my life, really. But as seconds slipped into minutes, Burns seemed to become significantly more appealing.
"Almost to Pierre?" Did he hear the panic in my voice?
"Fifteen more minutes," Apparently so; his quick glance revealed instant awareness.
"Okay," My tone was tense, and struggling for normality. It didn't succeed.
Miles passed, unsolicited visions of Burns' killing played like a busted record behind my eyes. For what seemed like perpetuity, we sat in quiet, until a surprising announcement broke the silence.
"Welcome to Pierre," Burns in a uninterested tone. "We're here."
Here was a city? The surroundings that were classified as 'here' paralleled the suburbs, maybe even the country. However, my thoughts were not contemplating the doubtful status of 'here'.
The heavy pounding of hearts, and the delicate thump of pulses were like a siren, alerting and emphasizing my thirst. I breathed in, allowing the bittersweet smell to pierce my senses, sending my nerves into a frenzy. Pleasure. The scent of blood seemed on the tip of my tongue.
"Later Burns," I uttered it so quietly I wondered if he had even heard my goodbye.
Author's Note: So, what do you think? Again please review, I eat them like candy.