Okay, I got a prompt from SatanicLucifer for a one-shot with a vampire!dean & human!sam

Thing is ... I really intended to write a one-shot. I DID. But then the muse gave me a wet sloppy kiss and I got soaked in muse-slobber ... and this is what came out.

WARNINGS: UNRELATED!WINCEST, vampire!dean, human!sick!sam, vampire!john, vampire!bobby, top!dean, bottom!sam, love!story, porn, graphic!content!ahead, blood!play (since there are vampires)

DISCLAIMER: I do not own the characters, nor supernatural. NO BETA!

In A World Of Monsters

Chapter 1 ~ The Man On The Streets

It was one of those nights. Dean Winchester and his clan were out on the streets of Chicago, somewhere downtown. He and his family had watched the news lately carefully and wanted to take care of their problem before any hunters would get wind of what was going on.

The Winchester-Clan had a strong assumption, that there was a nest of vampires hunting on their grounds, which could lead to serious problems for them.

The Winchesters lived there since the early twenties and had always taken care of not to attract attention where it wasn't necessary. Besides, ever since there was the possibility of living from blood-donations neither of their clan was out there hunting anymore.

The Winchesters owned a small club not far away from where they were gathering in one of the backstreets of the city. The fact, that there were enough humans out there that gladly donated their blood in the club (of course under the necessary preparations, so no human would get harmed), made everything easier for vampires nowadays.

Years ago, Dean had laughed about the gothic-scene. But now? Actually he was glad there were those crazy people. It made life for him and his clan pretty much easier and they had unfettered access to the red gold at any time.

Anyway. Back to the actual story.

They had met up in the back-street of another clan's pub, who had informed the Winchesters about a sighting. They had also let them know, that there were already hunters sniffing around, and that the whole situation was getting out of hand.

This foreign clan (or whatever they were) was killing humans and left their bodies everywhere. They were leaving a trail of dry-sucked corpses kriss-cross through Chicago. What was a no-go.

Either those vamps were just stupid, or hadn't the backing they would've needed when they had been turned.

Sadly there were a lot of those vampires out there those days.

John, who was their alpha, stood there. His usually green-brown orbs surrounded by a thin golden-red circle that gleamed in the pale light of the lamp above them. He made with everyone of the small group eye-contact before they split, as if he had given them telepathic orders.

Dean Winchester rounded the corner into another backstreet. The strong scent of blood and death had led him far off the position he should've been staying. Sure he'd get troubles with the old man later for it. But if it meant to take out those bastards and probably saving a human it was sure as hell worth the troubles he would be in.

Yeah, Dean Winchester had never been an easy child. First – as he was still human – he had rebelled. And now as a vampire he wasn't much better. Though he always got the curve right ... at least until now.

The scent of blood and humans grew stronger. Other than that there was this other scent though. Usually vampires didn't smell. They were practically odorless, except for the scents that clung to their clothes ...

So the youngest of the clan pressed his back into the brick-wall behind him and glanced around another corner. His eyes narrowed instantly as he saw three vampires ... and someone who looked like a tall human male. A hunter.

At least the guy had taken down four of them already. Though ...

Dean had two choices: Either he was watching and waiting who'd win (what would probably cost the hunter's life. - The guy seemed pretty spent and in no condition to take on the remaining three of them). Or he would step in and take the vamps out, including saving the guys life.

Actually Dean Winchester wasn't interested in getting in contact with hunters. Specially not with one, that seemed to be well trained and probably capable of chopping his head off any unwary moment.

The youngest Winchester snarled. The hunter wasn't able to win that fight. He was visibly exhausted and those vampires were just playing around anymore ..

"Fuck it.", he hissed in between gritted teeth and stepped out of the shadows. "Hey!", he yelled, keeping his place in the middle of the alley.

The vampires and the human's head snapped towards him. Big green hazel-eyes stared unfocused into his direction, the human's expression surprised but other than that unreadable.

The vampires on the other hand hissed and snarled angrily. "That's ours. - Go find one yourself!", the one in the middle called out and was about to turn back towards the hunter.

Dean chuckled amused. "You obviously don't know in whose territory you're in, huh?", the Winchester said quietly, taking a step forward.

The hunter's eyes narrowed as he tried to focus on the newly arrived man. He knew he had been screwed from the very moment he had realized that it hadn't been just two vampires messing around in the back-alleys of the city. Then again, he hadn't really cared either. He was dead nonetheless, so why bother? He'd take as many down with him as possible. Sam wasn't a man who'd die sobbing and pissing himself in a hospital-bed.

He never was.

And he'd never be.

After he had gotten his diagnosis one month ago, he was on the road again. Pills and all that shit that were supposed of making him feel better, which he carried in his duffel or jeans pockets.

Yeah, sure, the medications worked as they should. They just weren't able to take all the pain away ... not even the dizziness that had started to appear every now and then over the past week. Sadly one of those waves of vertigo had hit him just after he had taken out the fourth vamp and left him rather disoriented.

Somewhere along the fight he had lost his knife that was covered in dead man's blood, which had made it even possible to take the four of them out like that.

Probably even worse was, that another vamp-clan had its claws dug into this area of Chicago and Sam was now smack in the middle of it ...

Dean flicked his wrist to the side and a machete was sliding out of the sleeve of his jacket, which he gripped tightly at the hilt.

"Well ...", the one who seemed to be the leader chuckled, "... obviously you and your clan don't know how to make humanity your bitch ..." The vampire snarled, his eyes gleaming dangerously in the pale light.

"We don't like to leave corpses behind." Dean kept cool. He knew he was the seasoned one among them. He knew how to take them out without making himself dirty. "AND we don't do blood-sports. - Actually we hate vamps that are messing up our business over here ...", his voice trailed off into a low purr.

The hunter's forehead creased, his attention focused on the newly arrived vampire. The guy was a bit shorter than him, but seemed trained nonetheless. - At least the silhouette told him so, since everything else was still hidden in the shadows. Just as he took another step forward, Sam was able to see more of him.

The vamp had green eyes, his orbs circled with a thin red-golden line. His features young and though he looked like he had an eternity of experiences behind him. There was no doubt that the vampire knew that he was going to kill those bastards, and the hunter probably with them.

Though, as long as he was going to go down fighting, Sam didn't care.

"Is that so?" The vamp licked over his bared fangs and tilted his head to the side. "Where's the rest of your clan?"

Dean shook his head and blew out an amused huff. "Around ..." He lowered his head for a moment, then he blinked up at his enemies. "Somewhere ..."

The red-golden of his circles had widened and took most of his iris in now. He showed his teeth and let his fangs grow. A silent dare to make the first step. And stupid as the intruders in the Winchester's territory were, they picked up on it.

The hunter completely forgotten, the men turned towards the youngest Winchester, holding a defensive position.

The fight itself didn't last longer than five minutes. Dean Winchester had taken the bastards down before they even knew how to spell their names. And as it was, there wasn't just a single drop of blood on the Winchester's clothes.

Sam had found his knife with the dead-man's blood again in the meantime, holding it before him, if the vampire would dare to come near him. And of course he would, wouldn't he?

Dean wiped the grind of his bloody machete off on one of the beheaded corpses and looked up towards the hunter. The vampires gaze was blank, his eyes back to normal (at least for a vamp) and his posture less threatening.

"So ...", Dean started, his voice still low, "... I guess I've to thank you ... you took them out ..." He looked at the four corpses around the hunter.

There was a thin sheen of sweat building on the hunter's skin, as he felt another wave of dizziness cursing through his body. He couldn't use that right now. He couldn't afford to pass out, when there was still a threat. Getting killed by the bloodsucker wouldn't be the worse, but getting turned ... No way he'd let that happen.

The hunter swayed slightly, his vision getting more and more blurry by the passing second.

Hunters were hard to get by. They didn't even run when they were supposed to. So Dean figured it wouldn't work to spook the human off. He would just try to fight him and that'd end up bad.

Dean took a step forward.

Sam made one backwards, trying to keep the distance, trying to hold onto conciousness as long as possible.

"What about ...", Sam panted, "... you tell me where your nest is." He grinned slyly.

Dean cocked both eyebrows and stared at the hunter in disbelieve. "You don't look like you're holding it up even long enough to fight me off, human." He chuckled. "Aren't you?" His eyes narrowed. "Why don't you just drop the knife ..." Dean waved with his machete at Sam's dagger. "... and we're gonna talk about this. In peace."

This time it was Sam's turn to chuckle. "What about you drop the machete?"

Sam staggered back a couple of feet, feeling the cold brick-walled surface against his back, which gladly hindered him on falling backwards on his butt.

Dean made a hasty move forward, to fast for human's eyes to sense, but stopped in his tracks about a yard before the human.

"Stop!", Sam yelled, gripping with his free hand at his chest and fisted the fabric of his shirt. He squeezed his eyes shut, though he tried to stay focused. He just couldn't. The pain started to get overwhelming and his vision grew even more blurry. "Don't ..", he panted, "Don't come any closer ..."

Dean's frown deepened. He soon realized, that the hunter wasn't a threat for him. He was one for himself. The human was sick. Death-sick. Now that he was so close he could smell it, could hear it. Though he couldn't tell what kind of disease the man had. Not yet. – He just knew it was bad. Pretty bad.

There was this expression on the hunter's face. The stubbornness and anger ... the despair ... mixed with those unbelievable hazel-green eyes ... he had seen this before. A long time before ...

"Sam?", he asked, straightening up slightly.

The hunter blinked at him in confusion.

Sam's eyes grew wide with realization.

He knew the vamp. - And he hadn't changed from back then.

Stupidly this was just the same moment in which his body and mind decided to shut down and send him streight into darkness.

Dean lunged forward and wrapped his arms around the human hunter before his knees had a chance to give out. He sunk with him to the cold concrete, holding him gently.

"Sammy?", he asked, though he knew that there was no chance that he'd respond to him just now.

He could hear the human hunter's erratic, arrhythmic heartbeat, his labored breaths, the heat of his over-warm body. "Shit ..."

Yeah, he could've called 911 like they always did when a human got in between the fronts, or when one of them got hurt. Though ... Dean had the slight feeling that a doctor wouldn't be able to help Sam anyway. - Not at this stage.

So he guided the man to the floor carefully and started to search his pockets for something that could possibly help, or someone he could call.

People with his kind of heart-disease had usually medications with them. So Dean hoped Sam had them too. Then again ... as a hunter ... those people mostly didn't have any insurance and had barely the money to buy that kind of things. Otherwise they also were good at stealing stuff ...

The vampire blew out a huff when he finally found a pill-bottle in one of the inner pockets of the hunter's jacket. He eyed the description carefully and glanced at Sam's pale, sweaty face with an expression that said: Oh no, boy.

Without a lot of thinking, and the knowing that it was impossible to get the pills into the man without choking him, he stuffed the bottle into his own jeans-pocket. Ever so carefully he eased his arms under the younger man's shoulders and knees and scooped him up.

Sam's head lolled into the crook of his neck, his arms tangling limply from him.

Actually it wasn't much of an effort to get Sam settled into the passenger's seat of the Impala.

Before he turned the ignition, Dean called John and let him know that he had taken care of the vampires, but left the informations about the hunter out for the moment. He didn't even wait for his father to ask any further questions, he just told him that he'd call later again.

Dean leaned back in the driver's seat and rubbed with both hands over his face. What the hell did he think he was doing? Did he honestly think it was wise to get Sam back into his motel-room? Or that he thought about staying with the hunter there, until he woke up? Or even longer?

The vampire let his look linger at the young man, the still erratic heartbeat of him echoing through his ears.

YES. That was what he intended to do. And he'd do much more if it'd be necessary. He'd turn him, he'd take care of him. - IF Sam wanted him to.

Of course all of his thoughts seemed to get ahead, even to himself. But he owed the boy. He owed him his life. Hell, he wouldn't be there, if it hadn't been for Sam all those years ago ...

So yes. The least he could do was taking care of him and offering him a chance to live.

... to be continued

THERE WE GO FOLKS, ANOTHER STORY OF MINE :)

IT'S GOING TO BE WAY SHORTER THAN THE OTHERS SINCE A ONE-SHOT WAS REQUESTED.

LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU GUYS ARE THINKING, HUH?

(specially SatanicLucifer)