1 – Black Lodge

It turned out the vampires didn't have a nest. They had a farm.

When he and Dean finally tracked them down, it was to an old factory farm in a rural area known as the "Deeps" to the locals. It was spread across several acres, and there were a couple of large outbuildings as well as the house. Dean said he'd take the house, and Sam wanted to protest they should stick together, but immediately discarded it. Dean was getting antsy and twitchy, and had unconsciously rubbed his right arm several times on the drive up here. The Mark was driving him crazy, and he wouldn't admit it. Best to let him try and get it out of his system if he could. And if it drove him farther over the edge … well, Sam would cross that bridge when it arrived. And he was sure it would arrive, sooner rather than later. Dean was in real trouble. The Mark was taking him over more and more. If Dean lost himself this time, Sam had no idea if there was any way to get him back.

Sam headed out to the first outbuilding, which looked like a big barn. The sun was coming up somewhere, but not within eyeshot. The sky was currently shading to a pale pink, and the wind was surprisingly cold. Sam had a machete, and a tranquilizer gun of cartridges full of dead man's blood. Full in this case meant he only had five shots, so he had to use them wisely. He had five more cartridges on him, but it took longer to reload this than a shotgun. Dean had headed out only with a machete, but Sam wasn't worried about him. Sam was worried about the vampires who might encounter him in his current state.

The funny thing was, of all the corpses spring up around the state with torn out throats, none had turned up in the Deeps. These vampires were at least smart enough to know that they shouldn't drop bodies anywhere near their house. Sam wished he could be sure about the size of the nest, but they had no firm intel on this, and Dean was too impatient to do any reconnaissance. Although, to be fair, so was Sam. The numbers of bodies turning up had been increasing, and they couldn't waste much more time. Too many people had died.

Sam approached the barn cautiously, and looked in between a couple of boards, where there was a gap just big enough to see through. It was dark in the barn, he saw nothing except the lumpy shadows of hay bales, but then he heard a noise. Crying.

Sam knew by now this could be a trap. But the chance that it could be genuine spurred him on. He opened the barn door and turned on the bright flashlight attached to tranq gun, which at least should have annoyed vamps if nothing else.

The barn seemed empty, save for a little girl, maybe eight years old, in a blood spotted dress, sitting on a bale of hay, tied to one of the supporting beams. She looked up upon seeing Sam, and tear tracks had smeared dirt on her face. "I wanna go home," she said, a hitch in her voice. "Can you take me home?"

"What's your name?" he asked, approaching warily. He was still looking for vampires. This felt like a trap. He still couldn't leave a little girl behind.

"Katie," she said, her voice still fragile with sobs. "Where's my mom? My mom used to be here."

Oh, that didn't sound good. "How'd you get here, Katie?" Having still not seen anything in the shadows, he slung the gun over his shoulder, and pulled out his knife to cut the ropes. Katie shied away from him, as if afraid he was going to use it on her. What had she seen?

She sniffed, trying to stop crying. "I dunno. My mom picked me up, and we were driving home … I think she hit something. Or something hit us."

Sam cut through the ropes, and wondered if this was how the vampires were getting all the victims from over a wide swath of the state. Take them on the road. Being hit by a car wouldn't kill a vampire. Might stun them, but if they were with friends, they could recover as the rest of his or her nest pulled the people out of the car. They'd have to get rid of the cars, but that wouldn't necessarily be difficult.

"Okay, Katie, my brother and I are trying to get the people behind this. We have a black car out front. I want you to go there, get in the back, lock the doors and hide."

"No!" She clung to his leg fiercely. "There are monsters out there!"

Shit. He was going to have to take her there. Maybe that was for the best. He could make sure the vamps didn't grab her again. If any of them were in the other outbuildings, they might attack Dean in the house, but he was counting on Dean to be able to hold his own for a couple minutes. That shouldn't be too much to ask.

Sam led Katie out, his gun back in his hands, and he wondered if sunrise, as slow and dim as it was, had already scared all the vamps indoors. Sam then felt a sharp, stabbing pain in the back of his leg, that dropped him to one knee. He turned, and he found Katie had just jabbed a syringe in him, and she was grinning ear to ear, showing off her many jagged teeth. "Sucker," she said, and while Sam intended to hit her with the gun, it felt out of his suddenly numb hands. The world had started to spin, and he felt his consciousness draining away.

"Wh- what did you –"

"Don't you worry your stupid little head about it, blood bag," she said. She gave him a pat on the head for emphasis.

Sam's consciousness slid sideways, and he fell into a deep darkness.

When Sam came to, he felt warm and fuzzy; heavily drugged, in other words. So drugged it took him a moment to realize he was indeed hung upside down.

His feet were bound together, and he was suspended from a hook in the ceiling. His arms were individually tied down to metal pegs in the floor. He tried to pull his hands free, but the knots were tight and well done. It took him another minute to realize he was in some kind of meat locker. Sam knew he was extremely stoned, because this struck him as funny. Either that, or it was all the blood rushing to his head. Both?

Katie was here, along with a few other kids, some teenaged, and an older couple. Vampires all. Sam counted almost a dozen. "I hope you taste better than the other hunters," the man said. "One of them had cirrhosis. His blood was disgusting."

"It was all a trap?" Even all the dead bodies scattered over the state? Sam couldn't see how that could be. It was a super elaborate trap, and would bring an awful lot of attention their way.

"Ooh, he gets it now," the woman said, with a mocking snicker. The funny thing was, she and the man almost looked like the couple from the American Gothic painting, only in more modern clothes. And, of course, vampire teeth.

Sam's eyes passed over the kids, who must have ranged in (death) age from eight to sixteen. "You're a family?"

"Like I was gonna keep the secret of immortality to myself?" the woman said. "What kind of selfish creature do you think I am?"

Two other men came in, big guys, at least in their twenties. If they were members of the family, they were the oldest kids, or Uncles. Between them they had an unconscious Dean, whom they dragged into the locker. "This one's on something," one of the men said. They dropped Dean unceremoniously to the floor, face first. The vampire Duggars gathered around him, as if contemplating ripping him apart as an appetizer. "He wouldn't go down. We got him three times, and he wouldn't drop."

The head of the family looked out the door. "Where's everybody else?"

"That's what I'm tryin' to tell yah," Uncle Vampire said. "He took out Merle and Emily and Jake and Stu and Joe and Sam. There's somethin' awful wrong with this one."

Sam had been right to call them the Duggars. How big was this fucking family?

"Susie, get the trough," the Dad said. "Let's drain him out."

The teenaged girl moved to the other side of the meat locker, where a trough shaped blood sluice, complete with old blood stains, was shoved off to the side. Sam was about to say something, stall for time, when he caught sight of Dean's pinkie twitching slightly.

Oh shit. He wasn't unconscious. He was playing dead.

Dean couldn't move as fast as a vampire, so maybe it was just the fact that their attention was elsewhere that caught them off guard. Dean suddenly jumped to his feet, swinging a machete, and beheaded three of the family in one vicious swipe. They were three of the kids, Katie included.

The mother screamed and jumped on his back, but Dean threw her over his shoulder and straight into Uncle Vamp and his twin (?), and they went down in a heap. Dad vamp stuck Dean with something, but Dean had already pivoted and cleaved his head in half, the top of his skull coming to rest near Sam's right hand.

Susie shrieked and launched herself across the room, and Dean chopped her in half in mid air, before turning and burying the machete in one of the Uncle Vamp's skull. Sam heard this kind of snarling growl, and was wondering which vampire was making it, until he realized it was Dean. His lip was curled up and his teeth were bared, and his eyes were almost incandescent with rage. But was it Dean? Or was it the Mark?

Sam preferred to think it was the Mark as the remaining vampires tackled him as one, attempting to get the machete from him as they brought him to the floor. The Mother climbed on top and went for his throat, when Dean viciously headbutt her and sent some of her teeth flying. She reared back, screaming, just as Dean got his arm free and swiped the machete through her head.

Blood splattered Sam's face, but he was lucky none got near his mouth. The last Uncle Vamp did the smart thing, he ran, but after Dean had beheaded the last vampire in the meat locker, he ran off after him. "Dean!" Sam shouted. He couldn't untie him first?

Sam distantly heard a heavy thud, and knew it was the sound of a body hitting the floor. He didn't think for a single second that it was Dean's.

What really bothered Sam was he heard that growling noise before Dean appeared in the doorway again, blood dripping off the machete. He was spattered with it, like he'd suddenly come down with a bad case of red freckles, but he seemed oblivious to it. He was also looking through Sam, like he didn't know who he was, or if he was friend or foe.

"Dean, it's me," he said, wondering if Dean was in there at all. According to Uncle Vamp's ramble, Dean had killed six vampires in the house, and he said they'd "got him" three times. Got him with what? Did they drug him too? You'd think that would drop him … except Dean had a high drug tolerance before you even factored the Mark into all of this. "Sam. Remember? Dean."

Dean was still making that noise, and still looking through him. "Dean! Snap out of it! They're dead! We're safe!"

Dean was stalking towards him, machete raised. Dean had been on a bit of a downward slide since killing Cain, but Sam had never seen him this bad, not since killing those men who had been holding Claire prisoner. "Dean!"

Finally he stopped, and Sam thought he saw something like recognition in his eyes, which focused on him, and he stopped making that noise. Dean blinked rapidly, as if just waking up. He glanced at the machete, and suddenly brought it down, but he just chopped through the ropes holding Sam's right hand down. He quickly chopped his left hand free. "Thanks," Sam said, pulling himself up to undo the ropes around his ankles. He was actually glad he had a moment to look away from Dean, and shudder. He really thought he was dead there for a second.

"Umm," Dean finally said, as Sam fell to the floor. "So they were vampire Joads?"

"Apparently." Sam got to his feet, and found it almost impossible to avoid stepping in either blood or a butchered body part. Dean had ripped through this place like a hurricane of lawnmower blades. Sam looked up in time to catch Dean rubbing his arm again. The fucking Mark. "You okay?"

"Fine. You?"

Sam nodded, and nearly stumbled. "Yeah, but I'm super stoned."

Dean snorted. "I think they cornered the market on what remains of the Phenobarbital industry. Is that even a thing anymore, or has oxy replaced it?"

Sam stared at him. "How do you know that?"

"Know what?"

"What they shot us up with?"

Dean took a few seconds too long to respond to that. "I don't. I'm guessing."

"Uh huh." He'd have to be nuts to think that Dean kept his substance abuse to alcohol alone, but every now and then, he made references to things that still surprised Sam. Like that time he talked about something like it was an acid trip, and it sounded like he was speaking from experience. And then there were his occasional dips into animal tranquilizer, which was best left alone. "Is that why it had no effect on you?"

"Oh, that's bullshit. I got a nice buzz goin' now," Dean claimed, even though he seemed as sober as Sam had ever seen him. He glanced around the room once more, and for a moment, Sam saw concern. He was wondering how he'd done this. Did he even remember?

Sam wiped the vamp blood splatter off his face, and said, "We should get out of here."

"Yeah. Got some spare gas in the trunk."

Oh good, arson. But with this many headless bodies, it was probably best to burn the place down along with the corpses. Otherwise people could bumble in here and assume this was a mass murder scene, unaware that it was just a nest of vampires. A huge nest.

But of course it was a murder scene. It was just monsters who were murdered. And almost him.

Sam was careful to keep it from his face, but inwardly he cringed. Dean was getting lost more and more. He was still trying to play it cool, but what came out in Dean tonight was a monster. It wasn't that he wasn't glad for it – he could have ended up a vampire snack without it – but he knew they were edging closer to a time when Dean would not snap out of it. When the Mark would take over and not give Dean his body back.

Maybe the worst part was Dean knew this too, but he was swallowing it back and trying to bull through, like he had done since they were kids. Like if he didn't admit something it wasn't true. So he wasn't scared as long as he didn't say he was, and he wasn't flailing as long as he kept it to himself. He wasn't drowning if he didn't call attention to it. A therapist would have a field day with Dean.

Sam was so fucking desperate to do something, he was almost at the end of his own personal rope. It was like he was watching Dean die an inch at a time, and he could do nothing but sit and watch it happen. It was a slow motion car crash, an incremental possession, an exponential corruption. The Mark was winning, and both he and Dean were losing. After all they had been through, this seemed more than wrong. He wouldn't say it wasn't fair, because that didn't come into things. None of life was ever fair. Was it fair these parents robbed their children of life by turning them into bloodsucking monsters? Was it fair they'd killed almost a dozen people (that they knew of) in the last month? Fair was not a natural state of the universe as far as Sam could tell. They'd both given up their lives to save the world, and the world was aggressively indifferent to it, and always would be. Eventually they would die and stay dead, and it was unlikely anyone would notice.

Sam kept all of this to himself as he helped splash gasoline around the meat locker, which was in the outbuilding Sam hadn't had a chance to check. But after lighting the place up, he walked across the lawn towards the main house, which Dean had already set on fire.

That was when he saw Dean, rather close to the burning house, looking at his arm. He'd rolled up his sleeve to bare the red Mark, and he was staring at it like he didn't recognize it. And he saw Dean had his Zippo in his left hand, flame alight, and suddenly Sam wondered what he was going to do with it. The Mark couldn't be burned off. It was as a part of him now as his own soul. Dean knew that as well as Sam did.

But Sam saw it. Dean was still thinking of trying to burn it off anyway. It would just hurt him, but he was so tempted by self-mutilation he was just a frozen tableau of malicious intent in front of the burning house.

That told Sam that Dean was acutely aware of how close he'd come to killing Sam. Maybe the Mark had made him want to, and it was a small miracle he'd come back to himself in time.

What was he going to do with him? Sam didn't think he could kill Dean, but he knew, in this moment, it might come down to him doing just that. And it might damn the world, but he just wouldn't. Could Dean really kill him?

Sam didn't know anymore. And some days, he just didn't care.