This story occurs about a month after 'Metamorphosis'. The spoiler picture from 'Monster Movie' of Dean wearing lederhosen and talking to Dracula gave me the idea for this one.

Buckets O' Crazy

"Sammy behind you!"

Sam woke with a start, his brother's frantic yell ringing in his ears. Groaning, he rolled over onto his stomach, balancing on his hands and knees he took a few deep breaths before pushing himself up until he was kneeling, he winced as the pain in his head spiked with the movement. The dank, musty smell of the dark room did not help his nauseous stomach at all but it did give Sam a small clue to where he'd ended up. "Great another closet," he muttered putting a hand to his aching head. He felt warm stickiness in the hair above his left ear, "and another head injury. I swear this is starting to become a habit," he grumbled, wiping his hand off on his jeans then standing up. Overcome by a wave of dizziness, he bent over putting his hands on his knees until the world had stopped spinning then stood back up and slowly shuffled forward, his hands out in front of him.

By the time Sam found the door, he'd knocked over a mop, a broom and two metal buckets on top of that he'd also crashed painfully into a sink with his hip. "I feel like I'm in a Three Stooges movie." He rubbed his bruised hip as he stood next to the door listening for footsteps or any other signs that the vampire had heard the noise. Trying the doorknob, he was surprised to find it unlocked. He opened the door a few inches when the glare from the hallway lights blinded him, ratcheting his headache up another notch and forcing him to cover his eyes with his hand. Swallowing back nausea he squinted between his fingers until his eyes had adjusted then looked back out into the hallway.

Seeing no one, he cautiously pushed the door open until he could slip out, and then pulled the door shut behind him. Sam walked quietly down the stone lined hallway. 'Wait…stone lined?' He ran his fingers over the rough texture, glancing quickly around; he rapped his knuckles against the dark grey stone and heard a hollow thud. "What the hell? Fake stone?" Continuing down the hallway he checked the wooden doors inset into the walls, none of the handles turned and rapping on the doors produced dull thuds. "Fake doors too? Talk about taking the whole movie vampire lore to the extreme," Sam muttered walking down the hallway to check the next door.

Sam grabbed onto the door jam to stop from falling into the room when the handle unexpectedly turned and the door opened. While looking into the dark room he searched for a light switch along the wall, finding one he flipped it. "Whoa." He gazed with an open mouth at a room that was a torturer's dream. A well-worn stocks and spike studded rack stood in the center of the room surrounded by a darkly stained floor. He could see shackles hanging from chains bolted to the ceiling along the wall behind them. As Sam walked further into the room, the feeling of being watched made the hairs on the back of his head stand up. Spinning around, his eyes quickly searched the room, stopping when they came across an iron maiden standing in an alcove. Glancing back at the door he cautiously walked over to the maiden. Noticing a large amount of rust on the door's hinges he expected the medieval instrument to be difficult to open, what he didn't expect was a desiccated corpse to fall out.

Letting out a yell, he fell backwards onto his butt and rapidly backpedaled away from the body, stopping when his back hit a wall. Averting his eyes from the corpse's contorted face Sam let his head fall back against the wall and tried to get his breathing back under control. "That's sick," he said with a grimace. Getting to his feet, he heard a muffled noise coming from the maiden. Sidestepping the corpse, Sam searched inside the deadly device. Finding nothing, he looked behind it and spotted a metal grating set in the wall near the floor; he knelt down and just managed to squeeze his body into the small space between the iron maiden and the wall. With his head closer to the grate he was able to hear his brother's voice echoing through the air vent. 'Dean.'

snsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsn

Snarling, "what did you do with Sam?" Dean pushed against the curved steel bands holding him to the upright rough-hewn table. Feeling a cool breeze he looked down at his legs and said in disbelief, "WHAT..IN..THE..HELL have you dressed me in?"

The vampire grinned, showing off his two glistening fangs and in an overly dramatic Hungarian accent said, "I am Count Dracula and you zir are my prizoner and zoon you vill become my villing minion." The elegantly dressed man swung around, flinging his cape in a circle before gathering it to his body and walking over to the cantilevered wooden table and shelves that held his many potions and elixirs.

Dean's light woolen shirt soon became soaked with sweat from his attempts to free himself from his bonds. The itching caused by the wet wool added to the discomfort Dean already felt from the beating he had received from the vampire. He silently swore, 'something is going to die messily if I end up with a splinter in my ass,' before saying in a sarcastic tone, "villing minion? I'm nobody's minion chuckles…especially some second rate Dracula wanna be."

"Ve'll zee," was the ominous answer. Opening an old, large book he flipped through the pages, "ah thiz one vill do nizely," he licked his lips while reading the page.

Flicking his eyes up and down at the man in front of him Dean asked sarcastically, "is there a sane reason for you to be dressed as Count Chocula?"

Pulling various bottles down from the shelves he glanced back towards Dean, "who iz thiz 'Count Chocula' you zpeak of? Doez he drezz az elegantly az thiz?" he gestured towards his black suit and cape.

Laughing Dean replied, "dude, he's a cartoon character on cereal box."

Glaring the Count turned back to his bottles. He measured herbs into a mortar and crushed them into a fine powder with a pestle before adding them to a glass beaker with other liquids. Lighting a Bunsen burner under the beaker the liquid was soon bubbling away, a nasty odor was released as the contents were stirred. "È me voi rizerca, dimentica la voztra vita. Voztri zono miei e miei rimarrete per tutta l'eternità¹," the Count intoned over the liquid before removing it from the flame and pouring it into a stoneware stein.

"Dude, no way I'm drinking that crap. It smells worse than moldy socks." He grunted as he strained futilely against the steel straps. "Sammy now would be a great time to show up," Dean muttered under his breath. Sweat stung his eyes making him blink rapidly as he watched the vampire add a clear liquid from a pitcher to the stein and stir the contents while repeating the incantation. When the Count turned and walked towards him, Dean looked around worriedly, whispering, "now Sammy…damnit now."

The vampire placed the stein against Dean's lips, following as Dean turned his head away and pressed himself back against the table. Grabbing his soon to be minion's chin he said strongly, "you vill drink my friend." He squeezed the man's chin until the pain caused him to open his mouth and poured in a quarter of the stein's contents. Dean spat the vile liquid into the Count's face. Growling in anger, more liquid was forced into Dean's mouth. Before he could spit again, the vampire covered Dean's mouth and nose with ice-cold hands, forcing him to either swallow or breathe the liquid into his lungs.

Choking, he swallowed then spat and coughed when the Count removed his hands from his face. Dean's brain felt muzzy as a hand pressed against his forehead and a distant voice chanted, "Leghi a me, il mio zervo dizpozto Hanzel. Il mio ogni deziderio è il voztro, il mio ogni penziero un ordine²."

Swallowing repeatedly, Dean opened his eyes intent on giving his captor his patented 'Winchester glare of death' however, his eyes refused to focus and numbness slowly crept over his body. Blearily he watched several red lips move, not understanding what was being spoken until one word caught his attention. Staring quizzically at the pale faces floating in front of him he mumbled, "H'nsel?" or at least he tried to; his tongue seemed to have a mind of its own.

The Count watched as the young man's eyes glazed over and removed his hand, letting the man's head drop forward. "Yez…Hanzel." He smiled and took a step back. "You are my zervant Hanzel."

"Ssserv'nt…H'nnsel?" Dean shook his head and desperately tried to ignore the voice echoing in his brain, 'il mio zervo dizpozto Hanzel…il…', "Nnno! Mmmy nnname's De..De'n…De'n Winnnch…" A hand squeezed his jaw and shoved his head back, forcing him to look into cold, dark eyes.

"Hanzel!" the Count said forcefully, "your name iz Hanzel! You are my zervant!" he shook his disobedient servant's head.

He was so confused, "H'ns'l? Nnn't D'n?"

"Hanzel!"

Squinching his eyebrows together as a head with messy dark brown hair and hazel eyes appeared from behind a door he asked quizzically, "S'mmy?"

"Hanzel!" His patience wearing thin the vampire grabbed the stein off a nearby table and started pouring it down his servant's throat. Disregarding the choking sounds coming from Hansel, he started repeating his incantation, "Leghi a me, il mio zervo dizpozto Hanzel. Il mio…" only to be interrupted by the dungeon's door crashing violently into the wall.

"Get the hell away from my brother you son-of-a-bitch!" Sam roared, taking the vampire down with a running tackle. Hitting the ground, Sam rolled to his knees, grabbed the fighting knife from his boot and swung it in an arc at the undead creature's throat. Using his preternatural speed the Count avoided the knife, caught and twisted Sam's wrist until he let go of the knife then slammed his palm into Sam's sternum sending him flying back into a wall where he laid in a heap, gasping for breath.

Standing up the Count tossed the knife into a far corner, brushed dust off his suit and straightened his cape, "you vill die for thiz inzolent behavior." Walking to a nearby table he picked up a black walking stick, a silver sea serpent entwined on the grip, and with a flourish, he pulled the cane apart and waved a sword menacingly at Sam. "Prepare to die."

If it weren't for the sword pointing in his direction Sam would have laughed himself silly at the vampire's pompous manner and preposterous accent. He settled for stating, "Transylvania's in Romania dude, not Hungary," before pushing himself to his feet. With his back pressed against the wall he slid away from the immortal creature. "Dean are you alright?" he called out while desperately glancing around for a new weapon or a shield. Hoping the vampire's swordcraft was as phony as the rock wall scraping against his back; Sam spied a metal pole lying under a nearby table.

"My zervant vill not help you," stated the Count as he advanced towards Sam. Following the younger man's eye line he quickly blocked his way and slashed out, slicing easily through Sam's jacket and shirts, and into his left bicep. Sam yelled and stumbled back from the sudden pain. Quickly pushing his advantage, the Count thrust his sword at the younger man's chest, cutting deeply into Sam's right forearm when he instinctively put it up to ward off the blow.

Reacting without thought, Sam grabbed ahold of the hand with the sword, pulled the vampire close, kneed it in the stomach twice, smacked its head with his elbow then jammed the palm of his hand into the creature's nose, forcing it to stagger back a few steps, then kicked it in the face knocking the creature flat on its back. Panting for breath and bleeding heavily from the deep cuts in his bicep and forearm, Sam stumbled over to the cantilevered shelves and started throwing anything he could lay his hands on at his attacker. White smoke swirled up in curlicues as alcohol and other volatile compounds combined on and around the vampire, the pungent fumes caused Sam's eyes to water and his throat to burn.

The Count screamed as his skin bubbled and blistered. Completely enraged and spitting out incomprehensible words he got to his feet and charged Sam, intent on skewering the young man through the throat. At the last possible moment, Sam threw the lit Bunsen burner and dived out of the way. The Count's screaming turned into high-pitched shrieks as his clothes and body caught fire. Dropping the sword, he twisted in circles frantically beating at the flames with his blackening hands.

Seeing the flaming vampire spinning closer to Dean, Sam surged forward grabbing the sword and swinging it at the vampire, decapitating it in one stroke. The headless body dropped haphazardly to the floor as the flaming head rolled to a stop near the open door. The stench of burning flesh nearly caused Sam to vomit as he staggered over to his unmoving brother.

Coughing from the smoke, Sam gently lifted Dean's head and tapped his face while urgently saying, "Dean…hey…it's time to wake up," as green eyes fluttered open he continued, "hold on Dean I'll have you free in a minute." Dean started coughing also, which soon turned into gagging. Sam pulled free the bolt holding the last steel band and held the older man as he emptied the contents of his stomach onto the floor. When his brother had taken a few steadying breaths Sam helped him step down and away from the table. Getting his first clear view of Dean's outfit, he weakly smiled and chuckled, "hey there Hansel."

"It's Hanzel," came the low reply.

"What?"

"My name is pronounced Hon-zel not Han-sel."

Startled Sam asked, "Dean are you okay? Does your head hurt," he tipped Dean's head back so he could get the light to shine into his eyes.

Dean slapped Sam's hands away, "stop that! Where's my Master…where's the Count?"

A coughing fit forced Sam to bend over while grabbing onto his brother's forearm and shirt for support. Dizzily he said, "we..we have to get out of he..here bro." The fire crackled as it spread across the floor to the wooden table and door. The jars and bottles Sam hadn't thrown at the vampire cracked and shattered from the heat, releasing their noxious fumes and gases to mix with the smoke.

"But my Master," Dean whined, his eyes over flowing with tears as he coughed and stared at the vampire's blackened remains.

Sam yelled, "HE'S NOT YOUR MASTER DEAN!" Dark spots floated before his eyes and fresh blood ran down his arms, spotting the floor, as he pulled the resisting man towards the only way out…the doorway engulfed in flames. "We gotta g..go De…" The last thing Sam saw before losing consciousness and collapsing onto his brother was the bright yellow-orange flames reaching out for him.

snsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsn

-beep…beep…beep- "Sammy wake up." -beep…beep…beep-

"Nnnnngh," was the muffled response.

"Sam open your eyes damnit." Hazel irises could barely be seen between partially opened eyelids before disappearing again. "No Sammy, you have to keep your eyes open."

An unknown voice entered the confusing mass of scents and sounds, "is he awake?"

"He groaned and sort of opened his eyes."

"Well your brother lost a lot of blood in addition to a concussion and smoke inhalation so he may take a while to fully wake up." -light scratching- "And how are you doing Mr. Mahagoff?" -paper rustling- "Are you breathing…" -beep…beep…beep-

His arms felt heavy and something was up his nose, he lifted his left arm and a burning pain shot up into his shoulder. 'Burning?…I'm..I'm BURNING!' Sam shot upright, his breath came in gasps and his eyes wildly rolled in their sockets searching for the flames. A crashing sound caused him to jump and swing his eyes around to where his brother was struggling to get out of a hospital bed, his tray of used dishes lay scattered on the ground.

"Sam?"

Giving the room another fleeting look he turned back to his brother. "Dean…" the vibrations from speaking triggered spasms in his dry throat, which set off a coughing fit.

Dean pulled Sam up into a sitting position, poured some water into a cup and held it to his brother's lips. "Drink this Sam." Sam choked and sputtered on the water but finally managed to get some of the liquid down his parched throat. "Done hacking up a lung?" he asked when the coughing lessened.

Sam nodded as Dean helped him lay back down. "How you doin' Dean…or should I say Hansel?"

"Hansel? What are you talking about dude?" Dean asked while pulling up a chair and propping his feet on Sam's bed.

"Dean, you insisted your name was Hansel wait…make that Hanzel and the vampire was your Master." He hissed when his arm protested moving but he had to pull the nasal cannula out of his nose, the itchy feeling was driving him nuts.

"I think that vampire knocked a couple of screws loose Sammy," Dean reached out and gently pulled Sam's hand away, "stop…you need the oxygen bro."

He glared at the older man for a moment before rubbing his eyes. "Don't you remember being strapped to a table?"

"Sort of, it's a little fuzzy but yeah."

"Anything else?"

"Like what? I remember smoke…fire…you passing out on me," Dean looked up at the ceiling lost in thought, "oh and one more thing."

"Yeah?"

"A vampire shaped scorch mark."

Their doctor coming through the door saved Dean from Sam's scathing response. She was so happy to find the younger Mahagoff awake she proceeded to poke, prod, and question Sam until he was ready to scream 'Uncle'. By the time his medications had been adjusted, the required breathing exercises performed and a small meal eaten Sam was so exhausted he passed out.

Dean laughed quietly as small snores emanated from his kid brother's bed, "no way do dirndls come in Sasquatch size, Gretel," smiling he shook his head, "no way."

FIN

Translated into Italian using Babble Fish:

¹It is me you seek, forget your life, Your are mine and mine you shall remain for all eternity

²Bind yourself to me, my willing servant Hansel, My every wish is yours, my every thought a command

Sam's knife - www(dot)huntingblades(dot)com(backslash)blfihukn(dot)html - black Ka-Bar hunting/fighting knife