Vampires Were People Too

Disclaimer: The boys, the car and the concept belong to Kripke and the CW. I'm just having fun.

Beta'd: By the ever-helpful and talented Wysawyg. Thank you so much. She made this so much better than it might otherwise have been!

I had loads of homework after she beta'd so any and all remaining errors are mine and mine alone.

Special thanks to Muffy for being a willing sounding board and Charlie Girl for proof-reading this morning after I made said changes and had an attack of author's angst over whether or not it was ready to post.

Time Line: Between Houses of the Holy and Born Under a Bad Sign.

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"Hold on, Sam!" He knew the Impala would never stop on time. The heavy weight of the muscle car would send it straight into the old woman if he didn't do something. The car fish-tailed wildly and he turned the wheel sharply in the direction of the skid.

The Impala jumped the gravel road and into the sand and rocky ground. Dean cringed when he heard loud thumps as stones smacked the undercarriage. They shot past the woman and he turned the wheel again causing the Impala to hit the gravel once more and it slid sideways down the road before stopping.

Dean could hear the labored breathing of his sick brother trying to catch his breath after awakening to a near collision, but his eyes were trained on the hag that slowly approached the Impala. Her silvery eyes glittered, reflecting the small amount of moonlight available. The symbol of death tattooed on her forehead distorted in lines of rage when she opened her mouth and screamed.

……………………………………………………………..Chapter Two…………………………………………………….

Sam drew in a deep breath for the first time since awakening to a near accident. "Dean, it's the civatateo."

"Ya think?" Dean asked. His words sounded harsh, but the light sarcastic tone belied his true meaning. He was worried, not angry. He heard Sam fumbling with the seatbelt and held his arm out in front of his little brother. "Sam, stay put."

"Dean…"

Dean ignored the rest of Sam's protest, well aware that his brother continued to fight with the seatbelt anyway. The hag slowly and silently approached the car, her scream having died on bloodless lips moments ago. She raised one hand in the direction of the brothers. Screw this, Dean thought hotly.

He surreptitiously reached over Sam. His eyes never left the civatateo and his fingers grazed the knob of the jockey box. Just a little farther and he would be able to grab his extra gun. He could feel Sam trying to help him open the box, but even his little brother's gargantuan reach was not long enough when he was pulled tight against the seat by the safety belt.

Dean slapped Sam's hand away, opened the jockey box and slipped out the gun seconds before the silvery hag appeared at his window. She waved her chalky white hand towards the back of the Impala. "Ayya pacheoa!" she yelled, her face twisted in a grimace.

"What did she say?" Dean asked, his eyes never leaving the old woman.

"I don't know," Sam wheezed. "I don't recognize it, but I think she just insulted your car."

"Hey!" Dean shouted, his hand tightening around the handgun. It was smaller than the Colt, but it would do. "There's no reason to insult my baby."

"Macehualli," she hissed, the word filled with venom and her face contorted in anger. She pointed down the road. "Choloa!"

"Look, lady," Dean said, sarcasm lacing his voice. He lifted the gun slowly and twisted in the seat until the .38 was mere inches from the window. He kept it down and out of sight of the civatateo. "Back off!"

The ancient vampire gazed into his eyes, her exotic silver eyes sparkling. She curled her finger and beckoned to Dean as she stepped away from the door. "Panolitia," she called softly. A breeze drifted through the window carrying with it the scent of sand verbena, poppies and wild sunflowers. A smile spread across his face as he took in her appearance. She was simply breathtaking.

The world shrank until the only two things Dean was aware of, was the woman in front of him and his own need to be with her. He fumbled with the door handle and frowned at the temporary delay. He wanted to be with her now. The door finally opened and he walked towards her, his feet sinking slightly into the fine sand with each step.

Dimly he thought he heard Sam call his name. A voice inside Dean shouted at him to acknowledge his brother and that maybe Sammy needed him. He could hear his little brother coughing and he fought against the allure of the woman in front of him. But he couldn't resist her and he continued on to the enticing woman in flowing robes of white.

He stopped only inches from her. "You're beautiful," he said

The civatateo placed her hand on the back of Dean's neck and pulled his head downwards to meet her frozen lips in a passionate kiss. Icy fire burned his throat and chilled him from the inside. She pulled away from the kiss. "Amini," she whispered, narrowing her eyes appraisingly.

He grasped her head with both hands and pulled her back in to return the kiss with equal fervor. He could feel his insides seizing and he shivered violently. He lifted his head and looked deeply into her eyes. She was beautiful and he wanted to drink her all in. Distantly, he heard the squeak of his brother's door opening and the resounding slam when it closed, but he ignored both.

"Hey!" Sam yelled. Dean turned and looked in the direction of Sam's call. His little brother sat only feet away, on the hood of the Impala, holding Dean's .38 Special. Dean frowned and looked at his hands. When had he put his gun down and why was Sam pointing it at her?

"Put the gun down, Sam," he said, his voice soft in spite of the fact he was not at all pleased Sam was holding his gun and pointing it his woman.

"Let him go," Sam said, ignoring Dean.

"Sammy, it's fine," Dean replied, trying to placate Sam. Little brothers had a way of showing up at just the wrong moment. "Wait in the car."

"No." Sam's stubborn stance hardened and his aim on the civatateo never wavered. "Dean, they mess with your head. She can make you…" Sam squirmed with discomfort and he seemed to choose his next words carefully. "…Feel a certain way about her."

"I'm fine," Dean started, until the vampire placed two fingers on his lips. She walked towards Sam in a graceful, almost regal gait. As she moved away from him and towards his little brother the odd feelings of intense attraction thinned and wavered.

The veil of confusion lifted and Dean blinked against the conflicting information his brain tried to process. The beautiful woman in white was gone and an old hag in tattered rags lurched towards Sam. He shook his head to clear it, obviously, both women were the civatateo.

He pivoted on his heel and took three jogging steps to stand between the civatateo and his little brother. She wasn't getting her gnarled hands anywhere near Sam. "Leave him out of this," he growled. He placed his hands on her shoulders to keep her from advancing any closer to his brother.

"Dean, move," Sam commanded behind him. "I have a clear shot."

Dean did not turn his head to look at his brother, but instead kept his gaze focused on the ancient vampire. "No! Get back in the car."

"Conetl icniuhtli?" the vampire asked, tilting her head to one side. A slow, malicious grin spread across her face. She raised her hand, palm facing Sam. "Tonehua cocoxqui mococoa. Miqui!" Sam's face twisted and he coughed then again and again over and over, the cough building until his face turned red.

"Sammy?" Dean grabbed the vampire's arm and twisted it sharply behind her in one motion. "I said, leave him out this!" The civatateo peered over her shoulder at Dean and started laughing. Dean fumbled with his grip on her shriveled arm.

Her form lost substance and became semi-transparent, loose grains of sands intermingling with the molecules of her body. Her form became less and less dense as the grains of sand grew in quantity. They started swirling, slowly at first and then with growing intensity. The wind picked up and the sand of the civatateo spun into a dust devil.

The dust devil whirled about the brothers, scouring them with desert sand. Dean closed his eyes against the stinging granules and tried not to breathe certain he would inhale a lungful of dust if he did. The wind picked up another notch and needles of sand dug into his exposed skin and scalp. Son of a bitch that hurts!

He lifted his arm to his mouth and nose trying to give himself a pocket of air to breathe, but the sand was hitting too fast and hard. Dean walked blindly in the direction of his brother. They had to get inside the car if they had any hope of surviving. Before he could reach his destination, the wind stopped. Furiously he wiped sand out of his eyes and spit it out of his mouth. Blinking rapidly, he searched frantically for his brother.

Sam was crouched down by the car with his hand on the door handle. Sand caked his hair and completely covered his jacket and pants.

"Sam!" Dean shouted.

Rising like a survivor of Pompeii, Sam stood and rivers of sand ran in swirls down the fabric of his clothing. He shook his head to rid it of the sand and turned towards Dean.

Dean closed the distance between them in record time. "Sam?"

Sam coughed in chest-racking barks, puffs of dust escaping with each one.

"Sam?" Dean placed a hand on his little brother's shoulder and dipped his head to make eye contact. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," Sam replied, cracking a small smile, "For someone with sand up his nose, in his ears and down his throat."

"Yeah," Dean agreed with a puff of air. "That sucked out loud. Did you know she could do that?" He gently steered Sam back to the passenger side of the car.

"Know she could what?" Sam asked, his scratchy voice squeaking in duet with the passenger door, "The 'seduce my big brother' part or the 'supernatural tornado' part?"

"The supernatural tornado part, well, both really," Dean grimaced. "God, she tasted like ass."

"You know what ass tastes like?" Sam smirked. He started to ease down to the seat when Dean gave him a light shove and he fell down the rest of the way to the leather, tumbling backwards.

"Shut up, Sam," Dean growled, his lips curling into a smile in spite of himself. "You know what I meant."

Sam chuckled and struggled to sit up. He had barely managed to right himself when Dean crouched down next to him. "Seriously, Sam, are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," Sam replied by rote. He suppressed three small half-coughs and Dean knew Sam was trying to cover up how bad he really felt.

He placed a hand on Sam's forehead, but the sand covered Sam like a second skin. He couldn't tell if Sam had a fever or not. He didn't like this, not one little bit. "I think we should go back to the motel for tonight," Dean announced, standing up.

"That's not necessary, I…" Sam stopped talking when Dean shut the passenger door. "Jerk," he muttered.

Moments later, Dean plopped down in the seat next to Sam. He turned to look at his little brother. Underneath all that sand, Sam looked pale and miserable. "Really, Sam, I'm not asking. We're going back for tonight."

Sam relaxed his features, the frowning wrinkles in his forehead disappeared and the defiance in his eyes softened. "Dean, you're right. I feel like crap. But, I'm good enough to get this over with tonight and maybe sleep in a little tomorrow."

Dean had to hand it to his little brother. He knew how to talk a good game and push all the right buttons. If they didn't interview Maria tonight, Sam would probably be glued to his computer all night researching anyway. If they got the information tonight, maybe Sam would get a little sleep.

"So? Whatcha got on this thing?" Dean asked finally. He started the car and headed back down the road towards Maria's.

"Not much yet," Sam said, his voice full of self-recrimination. "I sort of fell asleep the other night while I was researching."

"I remember," Dean said. Sam had been up for several hours trying to research the civatateo, but his cold had morphed into full-fledged flu and he had spent more time sneezing and shivering than reading. A little cold medicine in his dinner had taken care of his stubborn brother. "I am the one that spiked your milkshake," he goaded.

"You what?" Sam asked, incredulous. His eyebrows threatened to crawl up into his hairline and take up residence. "You drugged me?"

"I pharmaceutically encouraged you to sleep," Dean quipped, glancing quickly at his little brother. "Just like Dad did with the Dimetapp when you were teething."

Sam narrowed his eyes and Dean knew Sam was trying to decide if he was teasing or not. "Wha, wha, what-choo," Sam sneezed into the elbow crease of his jacket. "Whatever, Dean," he groused. He crossed his arms and sniffed loudly. "Anyway, I don't know if beheading works on a civatateo, especially when it's in dust bunny form."

"Pretty much works on everything, Sam," Dean replied. He tapped the brakes to avoid hitting a jack rabbit bounding across the road. Sam tossed him a concerned glance at the sudden stop and Dean shrugged his shoulders. "It's just a rabbit," Dean intoned with a badly rendered British accent.

Sam shook his head. "You know that movie entirely too well for it to be healthy."

Dean smirked. "Hey, it's not my fault your knowledge of classic movies is lacking. It's not like I haven't tried to set a good example."

Sam huffed in amusement and twisted in his seat to look at Dean. "Anyway, the only thing I know right now is the civatateo can lead men to sexual deviancy, they steal children and cause disease and death. They are reported to haunt crossroads at night looking for children and they frequently wander holy places and churches." Sam absently scratched at a spot on his cheek causing sand to flake off and coat the leather seat in fine granules.

Dean stared pointedly at the sand and Sam hurriedly brushed it off the seat. "You're kidding right?" Sam asked. "What difference do a few grains of sand make, considering?" Sam gestured to the piles of sand on the floor boards, their clothes, the dashboard and the back seat.

"It makes a difference, Sam." Dean insisted, tossing Sam a lop-sided grin which Sam returned.

"Isn't the turn somewhere up here?" Dean waved a hand in front of him, gesturing to both sides of the road.

"We're looking for Yucca Lane on the right," Sam said, peering into the darkness.

"Got it," Dean replied. He tapped his hand on the steering wheel and glanced over at Sam. He didn't appear to be any worse for wear after their run-in with the civatateo, but Dean didn't like that she'd held out her hand towards Sam and shouted God only knew what at his little brother. Something wasn't sitting well with him about the whole thing, but then again, it could be the awful after-taste left in his mouth from the kiss that was making him nauseated.

"Dean, turn here!" Sam shouted near his ear. It was obvious from Sam's tone that it wasn't the first time Sam had tried to get his attention.

"I got it," Dean insisted, as he tapped the brake and turned the wheel sharply. The Impala bounced along the rutted driveway and came to a stop in front of a small stucco house. "Let's get this over with. I could really use a hot shower and a cold drink right about now."

"Me too," Sam agreed. "I think I swallowed half the desert."

Dean grinned, pocketed his keys and exited the car.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

Sam swallowed hard. It felt like sand scraping down his dry throat. He watched while Dean pulled on his shirt trying to rid himself of excess sand. He lacked the motivation to follow his big brother. Standing right now sounded like it would take too much effort and he was so tired.

He heard a chorus of screeching cries and his eyes followed the sound to a black leathery cloud of bats in the distance. Sam rubbed his eyes with his fists and grimaced as tiny flecks of sand dug into his corneas. "Get up, Winchester," he chastised himself.

With a stifled groan he climbed out of the Impala and walked over to Dean. His stiff joints protested and his geriatric shuffle did not go unnoticed by his brother. "Feeling a little stiff there, Grandpa?" Dean asked. The tone was teasing, but the furrowed brow and tight lips told Sam the truth. Dean was concerned for him.

"Shut up," Sam said, tugging on the collar of his jacket. "I can't help it if I'm walking more stiff-legged than your girlfriend out there." Sand slipped down the back of his shirt, sliding down the curve of his back and into the waistband of his jeans. "Just great," he muttered under his breath.

"I don't know what you're talking about, Sammy," Dean said. "She may have looked like an old woman, but she moved like a yoga instructor." Sam wrinkled his brow. Whatever spell she had placed on his brother earlier had certainly been a strong one.

Dean jerked his head in the direction of the house and Sam nodded. Sandy or not, it was time to talk to Maria. The pathway up to the house was dimly lit by light from the windows of the house. Sam heard the faint sounds of a baby crying accompanied in the distance by a coyote howl.

He shivered against the cooling night air and dragged one foot after the other towards the house. He definitely felt sicker not better. This was not good. He didn't have time to be sick when Dean could be affected even more than they realized by the civatateo.

Dean made it to the door first and rapped on the solid wood. The running footfalls and children's laughter could be heard from inside. A young woman answered the door, two small heads poking out around the door just below hip level. "Yes?"

"Sorry to bother you, Mrs. Gomez," Dean said, extending his arm. "Father Rodriguez sent us. He thought you may be able to tell us more about your husband."

The door opened further casting warm blocks of light onto the front steps. "You are the men who are here to investigate Pedro's death?" She returned Dean's handshake before opening the door wider and gesturing them inside. "Father Rodriguez said he sent for help. Not many here believe in the civatateo, but a few of us are direct Aztec descendants and we know what we saw."

Sam stepped into the house behind his brother and shook his head at the offered seat of an upholstered armchair. "I'm covered in sand." He couldn't wait for a hot shower and to crawl into bed.

"This is the desert," Maria replied, gesturing to the chair again. "We are used to the sand."

"Thank you," Sam replied, taking a seat. "What did you see?"

Maria pulled up a stool and sat down. The brother and sister sat down cross-legged on the floor beside her. "Pedro and I were driving back from town and the children were asleep in the back seat. She just – appeared in the middle of the road. Pedro barely stopped the car in time. The civatateo looks like an old wrinkled woman with a tattoo of death on her forehead."

Maria sniffed and motioned for the children to go down the hall. "Go to your rooms. I'll call for you later."

"Aw, mama," the little boy whined. He pursed his bottom lip and his large brown eyes gave Sam's hang-dog expression a run for his money.

"Come on," the girl ordered, grabbing her brother by the shirt collar. "Mama said to go to your room."

Sam heard the argument continue on down the hall even as the boy complied with his mother's and sister's demands. He refocused on Maria who was busy straightening invisible wrinkles on her skirt. "I know this is hard for you," Sam said. "But we need to know exactly what happened."

Maria looked up at Sam, her eyes filled with unshed tears swimming in pools of deep brown. "Pedro didn't say anything. He left the car and went straight to her when she called him. He said later that he did not know what came over him, but he kissed her." Maria dabbed her eyes with a tightly bunched handkerchief.

"Did she say anything to him?" Dean asked, leaving his sentry post and crouching down beside Maria.

"No." Maria fingered the gold band on her finger. "She didn't say anything until I tried to pull Pedro away from her and then she, she cursed me."

"Cursed you?" Dean's eyes narrowed dangerously. "You understood what she said?"

Maria's eyes opened in surprise and her gaze flitted from Dean to Sam and back to Dean. "I thought you knew. I speak Nahautl, the same as the civatateo."

"What did she say?" Sam asked, studiously avoiding Dean's face. He couldn't make eye contact with Dean right now. He knew what he'd find.

"She said, 'Tonehua cocoxqui mococoa. Miqui!' It means: pain, disease, sickness and death." Tears escaped Maria's eyes and ran down her face. "I would have thought that she had cursed Pedro except she asked him if I was his namictili and the nantl of our children before she said the curse."

Sam looked up at Dean briefly and saw the tilt of his head and the eyebrow lift of any unspoken question. He nodded his head in reply. "Have you been sick?" Sam asked. He took a closer look at Maria and noticed for the first time the dark patches under her eyes and how thin and gaunt she was. It was obvious Maria had been very ill.

"Yes," Maria said. "I was very sick. Pedro blamed himself. He said if he had not kissed her, if he had not entertained impure thoughts, she would not have cursed me." Maria's tears turned into silent sobs. "I was dying and Pedro said he could fix it. I did not think…I would have stopped him if I had known." She covered Sam's hands with her own. "You cannot kill a civatateo. When she curses someone either the soul dies or the body does. It is the loophole that Pedro used to save me."

"He killed himself, didn't he?" Sam asked, his voice soft. It fit; both the location and the Father's extreme reluctance to speak about it. Pedro had committed an unforgivable sin to save his wife. "He confessed his sins and then he broke the curse by killing himself to save you?"

"Yes," Maria sobbed in earnest now. She pulled desperately on the sleeves of Sam's jacket. "You have to believe me. I would have stopped him if I had known. I was prepared to die so that Pedro would live."

Sam slid off the chair and knelt in front of Maria, making them eye level with each other. "Pedro knew that. The only problem is he felt the same way about you." Maria clutched Sam's collar and he wrapped his arms around her.

Cautiously he lifted his head and saw on Dean's face what he had been afraid he would find. Dean's mind had clicked through Maria's story and reached a decision. And if the clenched jaw and determined glint in Dean's eyes didn't perfectly convey his thoughts, his stiff body posture certainly did.

"It'll be okay," Sam said quietly. He maintained eye contact with his brother and placed a comforting hand behind Maria's head, pulling her closer. "We'll take care of this. It'll be okay."

Dean's hard stance did not change, but he nodded once before turning away. A cough tickled Sam's throat and he fought against it, his eyes watering. The urge to cough grew until Sam thought his chest would explode. He abruptly pulled away from Maria, stood and turned his back. The coughing started as quiet bursts of air and soon turned into deep, wet hacks as he tried to eject the traitorous lungs from his chest.

He felt a hand on his back and didn't need to look to know it was his brother's. Maria placed her wrinkled handkerchief in his hand and he nodded a thank you, not able to spare any breath to say the words. He felt light-headed as the coughing fit continued, his lungs starved for oxygen. Black specks appeared in his vision and Sam placed a hand on the back of armchair to maintain his balance.

Finally, he felt something break loose from deep inside his lungs and he coughed it up, spitting into the white embroidered hanky. He sucked in deep gulping breaths and concentrated on remaining upright. Dean's hand left his back and grabbed his wrist firmly. Sam's hazel met his brother's worried green and he furrowed his brow. He followed Dean's line of sight down to the handkerchief still clutched in his hands.

Flecks of sand glittered brightly in a puddle of red.

………………………………………………………Supernatural……………………………………………………………..

AN: We're experiencing a typical Oregon spring. Yesterday, we went to the coast and spent a sunny day at the beach, flying kites, climbing rocks and beach-combing. Today I woke up to a layer of snow on the ground. LOL.

I guess I shouldn't complain. It's good hiking weather!

Thanks all who have been reading. Feedback welcome!