Intentional Colors

Summary: Dean couldn't think about what had lead him up to this point in his life. Nothing made sense for him. Sharper scents and sounds are just some of the few abnormalities that had popped up. Cravings he didn't understand along with massive headaches. Dean's life changes forever when he meets Garth and he got used to it, but then he meets someone that he can't get used to. Vampire!Dean/Human!Castiel SPN!Universe

Warning: Cursing. Violence. Horror (of course). Male x male. (Don't worry. I'm not going to have anything to do with rape and/or forceful sexual situations. If you are looking for that, please turn away. This fic is going to be a very loving and feeling type story.) Slow!Build love. Future sex scenes. Slight OOC. Slight AU. Well. Same universe but different time-liney thing. So, yeah. And Cas won't be coming in till a bit later in the story.

A/N: Obsessed with the Supernatural series. Obsessed with Destiel. Obsessed with writing. And let them all combine with the angst of a teenage male. Boom. Fic. And the reason why I'm writing this is because I can't find any Destiel fics that I like that update regularly. Blah. I mean I love them sooooo much. And I wanted to contribute with my petty writing I guess. So, here I am. Crying to myself about this fic I thought up of just the other night and how amateur this story will be. Vampire love story. Cliché, no? :x I'll try my best not to make it cliché as always and I hope you all enjoy this ficlet. Let me know if I should continue this or not... Well. Hope you guys like it. Sorry for the wall of text.

Prologue: Down with the Deep

"Son of a bitch..." A rough voice echoes around parallel walls of bricks; slicked with the moist air of the rising morning. It was early, before the sun had even thought to rise up upon the sky's territory. The chill of night lingers in this poorly lit alley way that would make anyone squint. What would catch most people's attention was the smell that erupted from the place. A putrid smell that would put stagnant water and a dead animal to shame. It was coupled with the appearance of the hidden and dark alley way. A man, tall and fit as a light description, stood under a barely functional lamppost, his black silhouette mirrored by the puddles surrounding the figure. His form was shaking, whether from adrenaline or fear the man himself didn't know.

The man swayed and leaned forward before his cautious foot stopped him from falling to his face. He had a dull pain in his side but it didn't seem extreme at all. Maybe a bruise, if anything. The standing man felt all around himself, feeling numb but being able to feel dampness on himself. He grabbed his head with one hand to help shake it to clear the grogginess but froze at the new sensation. The feeling of wet, moist warmth spread and slid down his face with the touch. His breathe hitched in his honey-like lungs. He felt down himself and found it almost everywhere. He pulled his hands away for fear of assuming without seeing in the dark. His breath was rapid and was speeding up, clearly on the point of choking himself. Most of all, he felt disgusting: nasty, gross, and repulsing at the same time. Then he remembered something, completely forgetting about himself for the moment being.

He glanced back behind him to find the man's body still shaded and slouched against the dirty alley wall. His head was tossed to the side and one of his palms upturned. He had seen the man before when he had just regained consciousness, but he had turned away from the gruesome scene, feeling so ill he could have thrown up everything in his stomach. He almost did too, feeling his gut lurch and his throat burn from the acid. The man standing blinked for a long while before letting the guy on the ground come back into focus. The man's legs were spread and just as limp as the rest of him. The standing man's eyes adjusted and checked the other's displayed neck before he let out a strangled, deity bashing, curse. His voice softly cracking with rising panic draining his voice.

"Dean, Dean, Dean, what the hell did you do, man?" His voice breaking several times in a husky and dark tone. Dean all but cried out as he gripped his head again not caring about the mystery liquid this time. His green eyes glowed with water that was building in his eyes and was bound to tip over. Dean's jaw was straining to keep in soft sobs with slightly trembling, slick lips. He had no clue what to do. How to go forward. Everything told him this was not good. Dean walked hesitantly around to the unnamed man. His whole being was screaming at him, though, Dean was not sure about what. He stood over the guy for a few seconds, contemplating his plan of action before deciding. He kneeled down, feeling the seep of water through his jeans and looked at the seemingly dead man in the alley.

Dean placed his hand to the man's neck, drawing his fingers over the other man's blood-ridden neck to check for a pulse. He pressed his fingers harder and finally feeling a light jump under the stranger's skin. He let out a surprised huff of breath from his opened mouth and he found a stray tear leak to his check from relief. He grabbed the guys face and tilting it towards his to get a better look.

The guy's face was skinny with a profound nose and deep bags under his eyes. His chin and lip was coated with a fair amount of hair, making his already thin lips seem thinner. His ears were big and coated with some blood as was the rest of his features. Dean felt more panic race through every part of him and he began to shake again. Instead, he gently smacked the guys cheek a couple of times before shouting at the man.

"Hey! Answer me, dude!" Dean clapped his face again but getting no rise out of the guy. Green eyes widened before leaning back and slapping the unconscious man's face so hard his head turned and a moan was elicited from the guy. Dean grabbed the guys face again and laughed with upset liberation, like pouring warm water to calm him further. He let go of the guys face and moved to his shoulders, shaking him again.

"Can you hear me? Hey, man, please." Dean's voice was stuttering and cracking even with how deep it was. He was watching for any signs of responsiveness from the stranger. He could see the guy try to move. It was like the man was moving through molasses with how he was twitching. Dean thought he was trying to open his eyes but without success. He groaned again and whimpered; this man's voice wasn't gruff or manly at all, similar to his appearance in many ways.

The stranger's forearm twitched, followed by his shoulder soon after. Dean let go of that shoulder and he let his newly clenched fist rest by his side. He watched as the man weakly opened his mouth a couple times before letting out a pained sound that echoed around them. Goosebumps erupted from Dean and he just kept watching, not sure what to do. The man tried to open his eyes again and opened them to slim slits. Dean's mouth twitched into a half-smile, though it wasn't happy at all. The guy's eyes opened enough that Dean could see eye color. His eyes were a light shade of green and were staring straight at Dean.

Suddenly, the guy's eyes widened fully, creating a horrified expression. And then he yelled.

"Y-you! You should be dead!" His voice was high-pitched and had a slight confusion to them. He tried to move away but only to fall sideways with his head aiming straight for the ground.

"Shit!" Dean caught him before the man's head was cracked open on the ground. The guy was about to scream but Dean put a hand over his mouth. "Stop! Your voice freaking hur- son of a bitch!" The guys mouth came around Dean's palm and he bit down. Dean released him pulling his hand towards him and noticing small, red indentions. Dean glared back at the man who was currently glaring up at him from his newly slouched position. The stranger's face turning angry, yet he also looked confused.

"Why are y-" Dean cut him off in a rushed tone.

"Just stop! Are you okay?" Dean came a little closer to the now highly confused man. "I need to know now." Before, Dean had checked for a phone but there was nothing on either of their persons. And he didn't want to leave the bloody and, at the time, half-dead guy. Now the blood was slightly crusty and brown in some places, but it was still mostly red. The man clenched a hand and moved to push himself up. He shook as he did but also moved away from Dean.

"Yes. Now w-" Dean cut him off again.

"Awesome, I'm going to go get help, so you just stay pu-"

"No." The man was now glaring even more with his big eyes. "You are a monster, you shouldn't be alive and neither should I be! Why are we alive?" If Dean had seen him anytime else, he wouldn't have thought this man to be able to glare or be this forceful.

"I don't know what you are talking about, you lost a lot of blood so I'm goi-" Dean proceeded to say worriedly but then the guy was shouting at him with poison dripping off his voice.

"You aren't going anywhere! I Garth'd you and I myself got bit! What? Happened?!"

"I don't know!" Dean's voice dropping octaves and coming out almost in a growl. "I have no idea what you are talking about. Is your name Garth? Did you hit your head?" Dean wondered about the man's mental health. Hell yeah their situation was exceedingly odd and out of place and everything spelt danger, but that was all the more reason to go get help. "Look, I have no clue what's going on. I woke up next to you with blood on you and-"

"I'm not the only one! Look at yourself!" Garth, his name for now, was more reserved now and didn't seem as brutal as before. His confusion was growing by each word they both said.

Dean looked flabbergasted and replied, "there is nothing wrong with me. I just have some street water on me and that's it. Ain't nothing that happened to me."

"That's not possible." Garth frowned and squinted. "You have blood all over you! Your face, your chest, and even your side where I shot you!"

Dean froze at that. His green eyes going to saucers before glancing down at his body, the dull pain in his side coming back for him to be able to locate the injury. He lifted his jacket and shirt and closed his jaw tightly. There on his body was a small bullet hole covered in dirty and dried blood. Smears of red and brown littered the skin around the wound and Dean almost couldn't believe it. He barely felt a throb, much less a freaking bullet wound! He prodded it with a finger and didn't feel much. It seemed to not hurt so he crossed some mental fingers and grew temporary balls of steel and pushed his index finger in. He groaned in pain as apparently the inside was still tender as getting kicked in the shin but he pressed on and felt metal. He took several deep breaths and groaned a couple times before he pushed it to the side to wedge it back towards the rest of his hand. He had no idea why he was doing this but he just felt he could. Dean felt it near so he gave a sharp twitch and the ruined ammunition went clank to the ground, bouncing and rolling unevenly. He stood there for a few seconds a looked at the blood that covered his fingers and hand. Though, as soon as he pulled his fingers out the pain went away and he had to gasp for air as if he had been holding it the whole time. He looked down and around and found that the wound wasn't bleeding even though he had just rummaged around in his insides.

"Oh golly, you are a vamp, but you aren't." Garth said staring at his stomach with fright and caution. Dean looked at Garth as he turned his light green eyes towards Dean's emerald ones. Dean cocked his head at himself for what the hell he just did and what the hell Garth was talking about. Nothing was making sense. Especially not himself. "That was a part of my Dead Man's Blood ammunition."

"Your what?" Dean squinted at him. He couldn't understand this situation. Or where he was for that matter. Where in the hell was he? Before he could brood more, Garth spoke up sounding like he had more strength.

"Dead Man's Blood. It kills vamps." Sensing Dean's confusion, he carried on. "You know. Vampires. Vicious monsters of the night." Dean was now questioning this guys sanity. He must be delusional. This Garth character must have gone crazy and ended up hitting his head. Even if it didn't explain the newly produced ammo lying beside them both, glinting its dim light. It didn't explain a lot of things. Like why Dean was involved. Why he had blood on him. Why there were faint marks on the man's neck...

Dean laughs without mirth, "whatever you say, man." He takes a breath. Dealing with the insane is going to be difficult. "Okay, can you tell me what you remember? Of anything. Your name, where we are, what kind of situation you think we are in." Dean said carefully. Sammy had told him sternly about the mentally ill when Dean had made a joke about it. Dean had bit his tongue when Sam had passionately told him why it was wrong to joke about that and gave him some simple facts about the apparently touchy subject. After that, he tended to watch his mouth about those subjects. He truly didn't expect anything less from the Stanford law student.

He watched intently as he saw more of Garth come alive, yet, not. He had profoundly sunken eyes with dark circles around his eyes and other features. His skin was light and pasty and unnatural looking. He looked anemic. And wary and guarded, of course. He started moving more of his limbs to awaken them from their wounded state.

"I'm Garth Fitzgerald the Fourth. We are surrounded by abandoned warehouses in North Los Altos. I was hunting a werewolf when it fled suddenly and instead you showed up..." He kept moving and then Dean saw his arm move behind him slowly.

Oh shit.

The insane man made a fast rapid movement as he pulled his arm from behind him, brandishing a large knife. Dean fell back smoothly, not entirely missing the machete (Dean now recognizes) as it slices the forearm which came up to protect him automatically. He swore as he felt it almost glide through his skin, but with a rough, stinging sensation. Dean grunted painfully loud and fear pumped him full of adrenaline, making him roll as far back as he could forgetting his injured arm. He could see Garth after he positioned his body sideways to let him bring his legs around top to help him stand, facing his dangerous attacker. Dean would have deemed himself awesome for his smooth-moved back roll if he wasn't scrambling as far away from Garth as quickly as he could. Garth was now in a weak squatting position, defensive with his machete poised in front of him. Dean brought his arms in front of him with palms facing the attacker in a show of defenselessness and unwillingness to fight. Even with this, Dean didn't stop back out of the alley slowly. Garth looked winded with breath coming out harshly through his larger round nose.

"You then looked at me like Killer Croc looks at Batman and-" Garth coughs slightly. "And you lunge-slash-attacked me. I don't remember anything else." Garth was now looking around intently then turned to Dean once more. Garth was confused. He felt that this vamp was the victim in this situation for some reason.

In the back of Dean's mind, he wondered about the comic reference but he didn't dwell for a second. "Don't attack me! I don't know what you are saying! You can't go around making up random stuff. I did not attack you. Hell, I don't even know what I am doing here. Or why you are attacking me, man. Come on! Put down the weapon. I'm going to call the fuzz once I find a phone so you don't have a choice." Dean said, trying to put as much strength and accusation into his voice as possible. Garth was still looking around now but he looked up sharply at the mention of the cops. He squinted and then finally seemed to come to a decision. He stood up slowly drawing back his arm with the machete. Dean narrowed his eyes calculatingly and walked a couple steps back, eyes trained on the vicious weapon.

Then, Garth turned and threw the heavy blade in the opposite direction of Dean. Dean winced slightly at the sound of the metal clanging roughly with the ground and it slid a good ways away, further into the darker area of the alley. Dean was taken aback by Garth's sudden relinquished caution as the man raised his arms up in an awkward surrender. Garth then grinned. Happily.

"I believe you!" The strange man called out to Dean. Dean didn't trust him at all even though he looked so genuine. "I think we have a big mess going on and we are both being misunderstood. I promise I don't have any more weapons with me. My gun doesn't appear to be anywhere and I only had my handy-dandy machete on me." He looked up thoughtfully then continued on. "If you want, you can come pat me down, but I doubt you want to get anywhere near me. Sorry about the arm though. I thought you were going to strangle me."

Dean was flabbergasted. What the hell? This son of a bitch wanted him to believe all this?

A/N: So this is just the prologue! Tell me if you guys think I should continue or not. Trust me, Destiel is in this, just not until a bit later. I have got to get the story and background in before Dean can meet my little baby angel. ;3 Vampire!Dean and Human!Cas. Love you, cubs. Thanks!