Disclaimer: So not mine.
Warning: Meensy language, nothing I wouldn't say in front of my mum.
Author's Note: So, thanks to everyone who reviewed in chapters 1 and 2. you made my day, dudes and dudettes. And now for chapter 3, where the hunt will really begin. Enjoy!
Chapter 3: Taken
Sam had no clue where he was walking to. And he wasn't really sure what he was walking from. Sure, Dean was pushing again. But, he was pretty sure that wasn't what he was avoiding.
Something to do with Dean's eyes, he thought. His older brother thought he hid his emotions so deep, where no one could find them. He was wrong. Every time Sam looked into those green eyes, he could almost see what Dean was thinking.
And for the past two days, the utter lack of blame had been making him angry. Because he had killed their father. If not directly, than from inaction. From weakness. And weakness wasn't allowed in the Winchester family. It got people killed.
He sighed and stuck his hands into his pocket, kicking a rock that happened to be in the way. He didn't want to be in this town. He wanted to run as far as he could from it. The damn job though; it wasn't the Winchester way to leave a hunt unsolved.
Not that I've been the best example of a Winchester recently, he thought dryly to himself, kicking the rock again.
He didn't know what to do. He didn't know what to think. He didn't know how to react. He felt lost. He had felt lost ever since he had surfaced from despair to find his mind overrun by the demon. The demon that was still out there, the demon who had made him suffer, had made him watch as it killed his father. The demon he was going to kill. His fist clenched as he thought about that sweet revenge. Oh, that son of a bitch was going down.
He stopped, suddenly feeling better. The determination within him was shoving away some of guilt, the frustration. It gave him purpose. Dangerous purpose, but he didn't think of it as such. All he knew was that suddenly the anger and thought of making that bastard suffer… that made him feel so much better.
He turned and walked down an alley. Halfway down, he stopped and leaned against the wall, revelling in the anger. Revelling in the sudden urge to wrap his hands around something and destroy it. With his bare hands.
He opened eyes he didn't remember closing. It was then that he felt it. That sense he had been noticing for the past day. The sense of something tainted, but so close to being human that it was hard to distinguish. And it was close.
He looked around and spied a lump on the ground he hadn't seen before. Frowning, he pushed himself off the wall and made his way to it. As he neared, the lump suddenly turned into the shape of a person sprawled on the ground.
"Hey, are you okay?" Sam asked, getting closer. The lump wasn't moving. He was pretty sure it wasn't breathing either. "Hey, man, you okay?"
There was no answer, no movement. Sam got close enough to reach out a hand to touch the figure. He laid his fingers gently on the man on the ground.
It rolled over at the slightest touch, and Sam knew he hadn't made it do so. He snatched his hand back, falling on his ass as open, unblinking eyes came to rest on him. And then the man smiled, showing his teeth.
His many, long, pointed teeth. Kind of like fangs.
"Jesus!" Sam cried, knowing instantly that this thing wasn't human. And that it was dangerous. With teeth like that, how could it not be? He jumped to his feet and began running for the mouth of the alley.
Too late. Two figures, holding machetes, stood there, both knives and fangs glinting in the light of the street behind them. Sam slid to a stop before turning nimbly. But he couldn't run that way either. The man who had been laying on the ground was up, and had been joined by another two…
"Vampires?" Sam whispered, unheard by the five beasts around him. He shook his head, crouching slightly into a defensive stance. It was impossible. His dad had never even talked about them. They were supposed to be pure myth.
Well, this pure myth had him surrounded. And it wasn't looking good. But he wasn't going down without a fight.
The men began to close in, and Sam moved slightly to keep his back to the wall. At his movement, more than one of the he-couldn't-believe-they-were-vampires smirked.
"What, you're going to take us all on?" One of them asked, disbelieving. "When three of us have knives?"
Sam shrugged. "Knives? Those freaking things are like swords."
Someone laughed. Another two shared a look. "Howl, you picked a good one," the laugher said. "Lot's of fight."
One shrugged, and Sam assumed that was Howl. He looked set to answer as well, but was cut off by the fifth.
"If you lot don't mind, I'd like to be back by sunrise. I've still got stiffness from being caught out when we got that copper."
Sam looked around him, confused. He put up a hand. "If you don't mind, can someone explain? Or I can just go, leave you lot to your bickering."
The one that had complained of sunrise raised an eyebrow. "You're about to get your ass kicked. I wouldn't be making smart comments."
"Let's get on with it then," he snarled, letting that determination from earlier fill him like lava racing through his veins.
One shrugged, before racing in. Sam sidestepped, ducking beneath a fist before driving his own into the ribs of the one attacking him. By the time he had stood up though, another two had joined the attack. One let his machete swing, and Sam ducked beneath it, kicking out at the one who had attacked first as he rose. It connected with the vampire's head, and Sam watched it fall over from the corner of his eye. He punched, attacking the unarmed one. It stepped back to avoid a smashed face.
He turned his attention to the vampire with the machete. Somewhere he was wondering what the hell was happening to the world when things even he didn't believe in were attacking him. But it was somewhere deep, because at that moment he had to concentrate on the machete swinging fast at his head.
He stepped in, tired of defending. He blocked the arm, grabbing it and yanking upwards, using his height to dislocate the shoulder. It dropped the machete, yelping in pain. He was glad to see that it did feel pain. He wasn't really sure what was true about these bastards, and what wasn't.
He dropped to scoop up the fallen machete, and stood, leaning back straight away and bringing the blade up to block the blade of another vampire. With two seemingly down, the other two had joined in, leaving three. Two with machetes.
He blocked another swing at his head before stepping in towards the attacker, changing the upwards block into a downwards strike. He winced as he felt the resistance of blade slicing flesh.
The vampires around him snarled as the third fell, and they leaped on him with a new fury, slashing and punching. Sam blocked as much as he could, but could feel the attack becoming overwhelming. And then he cried out as blade met his arm, only lightly, but easily enough to draw blood. He dropped his machete and then let the world explode in light as something hit him on the back of the head.
Dean woke with a start, realizing he had fallen asleep. He sat up, wincing at his stiffness. He had fallen asleep in a chair by the table, and now his back ached from leaning over. And his arm was numb from resting his head on it.
Yawning, he checked the alarm by his bed. Not long before sunrise. He yawned again, and let his eyes rove the room.
He frowned when he realized Sam wasn't back yet. When had his brother left? About twelve-thirty. Sam had been 'walking' for nearly five hours. That was a long time, even by Sam's standards.
He wasn't going to panic. He was going to shower. And when he got out, if Sam hadn't come back yet, he was going to call Sam and tell the kid to get his ass home. Then he was going to kick him into submission and make his little brother spill the beans.
He made sure the shower was nice and long, telling himself that he would not panic, and taking his time to prove to himself that he could.
Sam still wasn't back. The kid wanted space, but this was taking it too far. Dean frowned as he grabbed his phone and started dialling Sam's number.
It rang. And rang. And rang. And then,
"Hello?"
Dean's frown deepened. That was definitely not Sam's voice. "Who the hell is this?"
"My name's James Holden. I'm an officer with the Cromwell police department. Who is this?"
Dean ignored his question. He wanted to ignore everything, just for a moment, so he could get his heart going again. "Why the hell do you have my brother's phone?"
He heard the cop sigh. "Ah, sir, I think you should come down to the police station."
"Why?" Dean demanded. "What's going on?" He hated being out of the loop.
"Sir, we'll explain everything when -." Dean cut him off.
"No," he snapped. "What's going on? Why do you have Sam's phone? Where is he?"
Again, a sigh. "Sir, we found your brother's phone, in an alley off East Street. It looks like he's been kidnapped."
Oooooo, not looking so good for Sammy. What's going to happen to him? Find out (hopefully) tomorrow.
