A/N: Well, here's chapter 3 and now we're getting somewhere. This chapter is un-beta-ed, so please excuse any grammar mistakes. Anyways, happy reading and please review/give feedback.

Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural.

Things That Go Bump In The Night

Chapter 3- Jefferson Starships Was A Great Name!

They had left the diner and went to the motel to research a bit more. Well, Sam researched and Dean sat in front of the small television and had his mouthwatering pie...finally! It didn't hurt that the waitress named Mel had written her number on the container. Dean had decided the faster that this hunt was finished, the faster that he could go get laid. Which was Awesome! When Sam obviously determined that it was vamps (duh!) that they were dealing with several hours later, Dean had simply rolled his eyes and they headed out. It was little after midnight when they had decided to investigate the out-of the way woodland trail that the hunters were killed and not found.

The Impala's engine echoed with the sound of crunching gravel underneath her tires. The trail was barely visible by the high beams of the Impala, Dean wasn't surprised that the hunters were ganked around this area. Trees, beyond trees, look as if they were painfully stretched for miles, blocked out any light from the starry night sky. They were least likely to find a "normal" hunter in the dark twilight. Hunting vamps in the dark wasn't the brightest idea that Dean had, but as Sam pointed out earlier: It was better them taking the hit rather than an innocent person.

Dean cringed as the trees on the woodland trail slowly enclosed around them and the low tree branches started to scrape the sides of his Baby that sounded like nails running down a chalkboard. They only drove a few more feet until the trees started to scrap at the hood and viciously around the sides. Dean threw his Baby into park, finally not wanting to subjugated his precious car to any more damage. Wordlessly, both boys climbed out of the car and automatically honed in to the truck while scanning through the wilderness that they could see. Dean quickly opened the truck to the secret compartment that he propped up with an unloaded sawed-off shotgun. His practiced hands snatched up the loaded guns with extra bullets, two machetes for the each of them, and several vials of Dead Man's blood.

Then he slammed the truck closed with a hollow thud, ruining the low chirping of crickets that had echoed through the trees as Dean muttered, "We need to stock up on Dead Man's blood after this Sammy. This is the last of it." Then Dean handed over a gun, a machete and two vials out of the original four to his brother. Sam took them without question and geared up. Both brother's looked to each other then flickered their eyes to the darkening trail ahead.

"Flashlights?" whispered Sam. Dean went into the truck of the Impala again and pulled out two black flashlights and handed one to Sam. He closed the truck quietly as he could, but the hollow metal sound echoed through the quiet woods. Dean shook his head and his hand blocked the yellow beam of the flashlight when Sam clicked it on, "We don't want to be spotted," whispered Dean. "Or ruin what night vision we have. Last resort only."

He heard Sam snort at him and Dean thought he saw Sam nod, if he had, he barely saw the movement. Dean didn't say anything, instead he started on the trail in silence and when Sam's boots joined in, the only sound was the echo of their boots crunching over the hardened rock.

"Where does this lead to Sammy?" whispered Dean. There was no longer an eerie silence surrounding them, instead the woods started to come alive. Not literally. Sam and Dean hear the owls in the trees, crunching of branches far in the distance (which made both of them alert) and other animistic sounds deep in the dark woods. At least, it wasn't a Wendigo...there wouldn't be any sounds around.

"There should be an abandoned cabin a mile up," whispered Sam suddenly. Dean only nodded, ignoring the short jump that his heart gave him. "Dude, did you just nod?"

"What's it to you?" whispered Dean, knowing full well why Sammy had asked.

Again, Dean received another snort from Sam as his little brother continued to whisper, "I can barely see you man, I'm turning the flashlight back on."

Dean let out a disgruntled whisper of, "Fine." Sammy's flashlight clicked back on before they fell back into a working silence. Each of them taking a side of the trail, scoping out the surroundings; Dean with his night vision and Sam scanning the trees with the yellow beam of light. Their footsteps quickly crunch across the harden gravel as they hiked to the abandoned cabin when a shrill screech of "HELP!" burst through the night.

Sam and Dean glanced at each for a millisecond with wide but silently understanding eyes, that each brother had said: Vamp ahead, get ready, before bolting further down the trail at a run. Dean watched as Sam's back disappeared into the dark due to his long legged stride but he could see the yellow hue of the flashlight flicking through the night as a beckon in one hand the silver glint of the machete in the other. As Dean approached pure pitch black night, he flipped on his flashlight with a short flick of his finger and ventured off into the night, determined to catch up with his little brother. He heard his Sammy's whispering in his soothing voice in the dark, along with feminine voice that sounded like a trapped animal over the slowly crunching of his boots over the gravel.

Dean could hear bits and pieces of her story as the unmoving breeze carried it to his ears. He heard Sam introduce himself and Dean, and said her name, 'Sarah.' Dean's mind automatically wondered to the blond waitress from earlier in the diner that blushed and scampered from his forward flirting. Then her small voice explain that something or someone with weird teeth that tried to bite her. Anymore of her story was lost when Dean heard a choking, wet sob in the night and his green eyes trained for Sam's unmoving flashlight that looked as if it was sitting on the ground.

His yellow beam of the flashlight crossed over the darkened path before he found his brother sprawled on the ground, with his legs open with a sobbing bright blond head pressed against his shoulder and where ever she could grab as she sat in between his legs. Brown eyes met green for a quiet moment, then Sam lightly jerked his head towards the darkened trees to the right. Dean followed the gesture and he licked his bottom lip when he found another dirt path that broke away from the main trail. Dean's eyes flickered back to Sammy's as he arched his eyebrows in a wordless conversation.

'Girl or trail?'

Sam looked down at the waitress named Sarah buried within his arms, who was trying to gather herself together as she gave small hiccups instead of tears, "Sarah, why were you here by yourself?" asked Sam softly as he patted her back gingerly, not knowing what else to do. I guess that answered Dean's question and his green eyes flickered back forth from the trail to his brother on the ground with the waitress.

"I...I was...on my way home," quietly replied Sarah as she wiped her running mascara from her cheeks with the sleeves of her pink sweater. Before she could continued her explanation, Dean interjected suspiciously with his gruff voice, "At night? In the deep woods? Where three murders have happened?"

The youngest Winchester gave his older brother the look deemed as bitchface for a moment before turning back to Sarah. Her brown eyes stared at Dean with a frightful expression and Sam sighed.

"Ignore Dean. He's...like a giant overgrown teddy bear but doesn't like to show it," which earned Sam a small bridle grin from Sarah and a heated glare from Dean. Then his voice carried a deeper tone, a business tone that let Dean know that he was getting back to the job and all teasing aside, "I thought the cabin was abandoned."

A sharp snap in the woods to the left made both hunters go rigid and alert. The girl let out a small fearful whine as she buried her face within Sam's neck, shaking like a leaf. They wordlessly scanned the woods surrounding them quickly and efficiently in the same pattern as before. When a opossum scampered across the trail, with its tiny beady eyes barely reflecting in the light, the rigidness of their shoulders lessened. But they knew that they were still in vamp country and needed to get the innocent to safety. Dean's sage green eyes roamed over the woods as he watched Sam turn back to the girl. He licked his bottom lip as something in his gut didn't think this was right. "I thought the cabin was abandoned," stated Sam,gently reminding the frightened girl about their conversation. She removed her face his neck with a heavy sigh and trembled slightly before replying in a tear strained voice, "It...It was. My family..just bought it last week."

Sam nodded in understanding, "Is your family up at the cabin?"

Sarah nodded weakly against Sam's chest as she crossed her shaking arms around her, "Yes. They're waiting for me to return with dinner from the diner."

Then her voice grew several pitches, obviously still scared, "But...but that thing attacked me and tried to drag me down that trail," her pale shaky hand lessened her grip on herself to point down at the darkened trail that Sam had noticed earlier, "I lost everything...everyone's going to be so upset with me."

Dean snorted, "It's better you lost their dinner than to lose you." Dean gripped his machete tight in his hand and walked past his brother. Their eyes linked together for a moment, before Dean spoke.

"You take her back to the cabin Sammy, set her family up with protection and I'll take the trail. If I don't find anything, I'll loop around and get you." He ran a hand through his short hair, "Be careful Sam, and for god's sake, don't do anything stupid."

"You're one to talk Dean," replied Sam as he wretched himself from Sarah's grasp and stood. He offered his hand down to the girl, who quickly snatched it. As Dean stood before the small darkened entrance to the other trail, he heard a small yelp and something crumpling to the ground that made him whirl around with the machete held high.

"I think I sprained my ankle," whispered Sarah, with fresh tears rolling free down her cheeks as she gripped onto Sam as he pulled her back onto her feet. When she placed her foot on the ground again, she gave out a moan of pain and instantly latched back on to Sam.

Dean looked at Sam, who watched the girl, "Sammy," stated Dean, which got the attention from the younger Winchester, "Hurry up and take her home." He only received the briefest of nods from Sam before Dean started to walk down the dirt trail alone. He could still hear his brother and Sarah as they hobbled away. Dean's eyes scanned the darkened trees as his heart pounded against his chest with adrenaline as he descended deeper into the woods with his machete ready.

His flashlight beamed was aimed at the ground as his practiced feet avoided branches and other noise makers on the trails. Dean was looking for any signs of a struggle or the waitress's packed dinners from the scuffle she had described earlier. When he reached a break in the trees, Dean saw three white boxes reflecting in the moonlight that sat perfectly before him on the trail. He licked his bottom lip and turned around and ran. He bit the inside of his cheek to prevent himself from calling out to Sam. This had been a trick. The waitress, the attack, the story, everything had been a trick. As Dean fought through the twist and turns of the trail, his mind kept replaying what that bitch had said.

'They're waiting for me to return with dinner from the diner.'

SONOFABITCH!

They were the fucking dinner! And Dean had sent his brother up there alone! He gripped his machete and ran, then finally broke through the trees faster than he descended down and his boots crunched over gravel again. Dean started to run up the trail automatically, not taking a break to catch his breath, wondering just how far the bitch had waited to make her move. His flashlight bobbled in his grasp as he ran. Dean ran for what felt like twenty minutes and he saw another flashlight unmoving in the dark. Dean pulled his gun out and aimed, not knowing what he would come across.

His yellow beam brightened over the area, there was no Sam or bitch in sight. Instead, Dean saw small droplets of black against the light gray of the gravel. He knelt down and placed his finger into it. Rubbing the spot against his thumb, Dean knew it was blood for the sticky metallic texture after handling it for so many years. Who's blood was it? He didn't know. But if it was Sam's, there was hell to pay. Dean would make damn sure of that. He carefully crunched up the gravel, following the dark blood drops as a trail upon a trail. He licked his bottom lip than froze when he heard a unfamiliar crunch underneath his boot.

Dean shined the light on the familiar but broken syringe and he knew automatically what that was. It was one of Sam's syringes full of Dead Man's blood that he gave him earlier. He wondered if his little brother had a chance to use it on a vamp, Dean quickly flickered his light around, looking for the pink-sweatered bitch, if she was a vamp. Instead of finding her, he found the pink sweater that was soaked in blood, but no body. Dean assumed that the other vamps took the bitch's body to their nest. Why did vampires have to hang out in groups like a high school girls going to the bathroom together? It made his job harder and messier. Not that he minded that much as long as it didn't involve Sam. But it did.

Gripping the machete painfully tight in his hand, Dean forced all of his concern and angry down his throat as he clicked off the flashlight. His footsteps quickened and he ventured up to the abandoned cabin. From the looks of the fight and the blood trail, he wasn't too far away.

Another ten minutes passed and Dean stumbled across the cabin that wasn't so abandoned, hoping that he wouldn't be too late for Sammy. He needed to focus and swallowed down the raging concern for his younger brother. Two vamps stood outside, walking back and forth as their eyes scanned the trees, as if they were waiting for him to arrive. Dean knew that he should formula a plan, but he wasn't really the planning type. He knew that he wanted to catch them off guard, it would be easier for him that way. Carefully, he crept through the woods to the back of the cabin and thanked his lucky stars that no one was bright enough to set guards in back.

Dean burst from the trees and jumped into the night shadows of the side of the house. His hand carefully pulled a syringe of Dead Man's blood from his inner jacket pocket. When he reached the corner that led to the front, Dean bent down, picked up a rock and threw it. The small rock clattered into the woods and Dean hoped that only one vamp would come to check it out. Just like it the movies, and only one did. Dean fought not to smile at his genius plan of a non-plan.

He quickly snatched the male vampire around his neck and pulled him into the shadows where he waited. Before the vampire could say anything or attack, Dean stabbed the vamp in the neck and injected the Dead Man's blood straight into the undead's bloodstream. Dean watched the vampire's eyes widened and crumpled into dead heap at his feet. A small breath escaped his lips just as he saw movement to his right but by the time he gauged to react, it was too late. His sage green eyes blinked as Dean was shoved backwards against the side of the house by his throat. The machete that he held dropped to his feet with a metallic clang.

His head throbbed painfully as it collided against the wall with a violent thud and his abused lungs screamed for air as the hands tightened against his windpipe. Dean tried to kick at the vampire's knees by means to escape and pull the hands away from his throat, which only egged the new male vampire further. If he thought his lungs were abused a few moments ago, Dean was wrong. The male vampire pushed hard against his body pinning him to the wall and letting his feet dangle from the ground. Dean let out a hard groan of protest from the pain as the vamp placed his knee between Dean's legs, that made the vampire chuckle deeply, mistaking his protest for pleasure. He turned his face away from the vampire's warm putrid breath as he spoke, "You like that hunter? I may just turn you to keep you as a pet. You're pretty enough. I can show you all kinds of things."

Dark black spots started to cross his vision before Dean could deliver a reply. He knew that he wouldn't be upright for very much longer and he didn't want to black out here, not when Sammy was still inside. His fingers gave up on pulling the vampire's hand away from his throat and desperately went straight into his jacket for the last syringe. The vampire was too busy caressing his face to realize just what the hell Dean was doing and he was thankful up until the point where the vampire placed his lips on Dean's. Full of disgust, Dean's mouth froze as the vampire tried to coax Dean into returning the kiss. Instead, he grew angry and Dean harshly jerked the syringe of Dead man's blood from his jacket then stabbed the vampire in the neck. The undead bastard howled into the night, breaking the repulsive kiss, giving Dean a chance to snatch his machete from the ground. When the vampire was on him again, Dean swung the machete professionally and he felt just how smooth the metal blade cleanly severed through the neck as blood splattered on his body.

When the decapitated head hit the ground, Dean leaned back against the side of the house to relearn how to breathe and massaged his abused windpipe. His lips still buzzed from abuse; he could feel bile threaten to climb up his throat but he swallowed it down with a grimace. Dean would throw up later when this was all over with. He went back to focusing on rescuing Sam and ignoring the little voice in his head going on about a certain angel. Now, wasn't the time to dwell on whatever feelings he had. If he had any. Everything had to be later. Hell, maybe he could throw up his feelings later. Dean would like that.

With his trusty machete in his hand, Dean rounded the corner of the house carefully. His eyes scanned the woods around him for any movement as he approached the front door. Dean licked his bottom lip and shuddered slightly from the taste as he pulled out his lock picking tools from his back pocket, placing the machete on the ground beside him. In his other pocket, he had a small knife, just in case he was without weapons like he often was in the hunting business. Kneeling down, he carefully started to pick the front door with two skinny metal rods, when suddenly, the door swung open. His face met with something that resemble a shoe before it collided hard against his cheekbone that sent Dean flying backwards from the door.

He landed on the hard ground on his back in the crumpled heap as he tried to relearn how to breath (yet fucking again). The dark black spots swam within his vision again and Dean, no matter how much he tried, couldn't fight off his tipping dance with unconsciousness. Dean let out a groan of pain as he focused on the shadow standing over him. He was going to say something on the lines of- 'Don't fucking touch me' but sudden pain blossomed over his ribs like something had kicked him. His scale with consciousness was tipped, and afterwords all Dean saw was black, and felt nothing.

"Dean..."

His eyelashes fluttered against his skin and Dean groaned at the sound of his name, not waiting to stir. He swallowed the painful lump in his throat as his head pounded against his skull. Getting up wasn't in his plans today. Yea, it was all about sleeping today.

"Dean..."

He ignored it.

Then voice grew more persistent, "Dean..."

Dean growled when his brain started to make sense and he could recognize the bitchy tone of voice anywhere, "Goddamnit Sammy, let me sleep!" snapped Dean.

As soon as the words left his mouth, his mind clicked on and became alert. The first things he noticed were, he was sitting in a hard chair that made his back throb and his hands were tied behind his back. The rope dug into his skin as he experimentally pulled at his restraints. His next observation was the odd sensation on the back of his neck that brushed across his skin lightly, he felt something move behind him. "Sammy, that better be you moving," stated Dean in abused voice, "And not some gay vampire."

Sam chuckled weakly from behind him, which gave Dean the answer he needed, "Tell me you have a plan Dean."

"I'm working on it," whispered Dean and his only reply from Sam was a low groan of disappointment, as his green eyes took in the room. It was a plain blue with deer heads decorating the walls as hunting trophies. The floor was covered in litter of paper, bottles, and dead animal carcasses. The only feature that stood out was a nice wooden table that sat in the left hand corner with lit candles sitting on the surface. Dean squinted his eyes at the familiar, larger shapes that sat along with the candles. Then, his light bulb in his noggin clicked: It was a witch's altar.

Dean leaned his head back and whispered, "Dude, are you sure we're dealing with vamps?"

He felt Sam shift behind him, "Yea. I killed Sarah with Dead man's blood when she tried to rip my neck out. Why do you ask?"

"There's a witchcraft altar in the corner. I thought you would've noticed it since you were caught first," replied Dean. He shifted in his chair to get his ass as close to his hands as possible. He started to maneuver his loose fingers into the back pocket of his jeans, fiddling for his extra knife. If he could could his bindings cut, then maybe they could wing the plan.

Sam snorted, ignoring the fact that it was Dean that sent him up to the cabin in the first place, "Well sorry that my observation skills need some work while I'm being tossed around the room like a ragdoll. I'll keep a mental note of that for next time we're captured by vampires Dean."

"Anything broken?" asked Dean with genuine concern in his voice. He felt Sammy shake his head, "I'm fine. Nothing's broken."

Dean let out a small sigh of relief, that thankfully his freakishly huge brother didn't get hurt that bad but he knew that getting throw around by vamps was no walk in the park. He finally extracted his small blade from his back pocket and flicked it open. The metal blade snapped in place with a small click and Dean began to saw at the rope binding with a slow back and forth motion.

"None of them made the moves on you did they?" questioned Dean and he swore that he heard Sam's brow furrow together. "No...," Sam replied in a hesitant but puzzled tone. "Why do you ask?"

"No reason," replied Dean rather quickly.

Of course, it was always him getting hit on by the monsters. All the monster always wanted him, well, except Ruby. Thank you for that, the bitch was psycho and annoying and anything else that Dean could think of. There was an awkward silence, Dean could feel it. He knew that Sam wanted pry more, but Dean wasn't having the 'I was mounted by a gay vampire' talk. Not right now. Dean cleared his throat and asked, "So how many vamps Sam?"

He heard his little grunt behind him and Dean tried to angle his head to see him. But he couldn't. "Sam?" Several seconds passed as Dean grew nervous. Sam would have told him if there was a monster in the room. It had to be something else.

Dean tried again,"Sammy?"

There was a light tickle on the back of his neck when he felt Sam's head move, brushing his hair against him. "I'm fine..."hissed Sam. Dean licked his bottom lip, knowing his brother too well to take that as a complete answer.

"But?"

"He's back," painfully whispered Sam. From the tone of Sammy's voice, Dean knew just who was back. Lucifer was tormenting his brother again, and with Sammy's hand tied, his little brother couldn't even test the little hand trick. Before Dean could question about Sammy's mental state, the large wooden door swung open, revealing three vampires. One, out of which, Dean recognized on the spot, "Sonaofbitch!"

"What Dean? What is it?" asked Sam and Dean bluntly ignored him. Instead his green sage eyes focus on the brunette vamp that walked into the room, leaning against the wall with her arms crossed over her chest. The other two vamps followed suit. The short-haired blond girl vamp closed the wooden door and stood by the witch's altar. The male 'boy-band' vamp stood by the brunette with a grumpy look on his face.

Dean shook his head slightly with his flirty smile and said, "Well, if I had known that we would be bumping into each other like this, I wouldn't have asked for your number."

"The other waitress!? Mel!?" exclaimed Sam as he tried to tilt his head to look. "She's a vamp?"

"No, Sam," said Dean as his green eyes stared at the brunette vampire, "She's a witch."

Mel, the waitress smiled, pleased, as she shrugged her shoulders, "Almost. I was a witch long before I was turned."

Dean smiled his usual cocky smile and tried to angle his head back to talk to Sam, "Hear that Sammy. I found another new monster. By default I get to name this one too," bragged Dean.

Behind him, Sam groaned. Dean didn't know if it was from his famous mouthing that would pissed off the witch/vamp thing or from Lucifer. His smile was still plastered on his face when he saw Mel's face morph into an expression of anger. Dean continued to do what he did best, be a pain in the ass, "How about ABBA Sam? The brunette singer was hot but I can't stand the band. So damn annoying."

Again, Dean heard another groan from Sam, and this time, he felt Sam's hair tickle on the back of his neck as his little brother shook his head from what Dean assumed, partly entertainment and shame. Shame that his older brother was pissing the monsters off, again.

"Hey, Jefferson Starships was a great name!" defended Dean.

Then the punch came.

His head rocked to the side with a loud thud. Or that could have been what he heard inside his head. Dean could taste blood in his mouth and he spit the metallic glob on the floor.

"We are not monsters Dean Winchester," hissed Mel. Her brown eyes flared with rage and disgust.

Dean smiled through his bloody teeth, "So, you've heard of me? I'm flattered."

Mel, the ABBA pushed from the wall, and stalked towards him. She stopped in front of him and caressed his cheek softly, "Who hasn't heard of the Winchester brothers? Everyone wants a piece of you; Heaven, The King of Hell, and My Father. Why is that?"

"I'd like to think that we're just awesome at making friends," replied Dean with his smartass smile on his face. Which earned him another punch from Mel in the same spot as earlier. More blood poured from his lip in a heavy drip.

"That question wasn't for you to answer," snapped Mel before she swiped her thumb over Dean's damaged lip, collecting some of his blood on her fingertip. Dean had a grimace on his face when she placed her thumb in her mouth, sucking eagerly. Her thumb broke from her mouth with a obscene pop that reminded Dean too much of something that he was trying to forget. "We've been debating just what do to with the two of you," continued Mel.

"They," she pointed to the girl vamp and the 'boy-band' vamp, "wanted to kill you. For revenge of our fallen. But I have other ideas."

He licked his bottom lip as he felt his bindings give out and he carefully gave Sam the small knife. All he needed to do was keep the ABBA bitch talking while Sam cut himself free. Then they could possibly ambush the monsters and by some freakin' miracle, be able to kill everything in this room with a small knife. "So, what kind of ideas did you have in mind?" asked Dean as his eyes watched Mel. She caressed his face again, then grip his jaw tight with her hand, "I'm going to turn you."

Dean ignored the feeling of his blood turning cold in his veins as he remembered how it felt to be one of the undead. His ears could hear blood pounding through the thick meaty heart, each thump had tempted him to sink his teeth. To dare taste the thick metallic liquid that pulsed through Ben and Lisa's veins. He had been so close to attacking them, at this moment Dean could still feel his vampire teeth that he no longer had bared to the moonlight. He swallowed his pulsing fear, knowing that there was a cure, as long as he didn't feed. Wearing his bravado as a façade, Dean smiled at Mel, and spoke.

"Sorry, but I think I speak for both Sammy and me when I say we're not interested in your lifestyle."

The vampire-witch huffed at Dean with his face still in her hands, "You know, I'm getting really sick of your smartass answers Dean. Can you honestly say that being a vampire was terrible? You were perfect. You were the perfect hunter for the short time that you were one of us."

Dean shrugged his shoulders, "Sorry, but we're not interested."

Mel let go of his face with a small shove and a playful slap as she spoke, "That is the second time you've mentioned the word 'We.' I never mentioned anything about turning your brother. You'll need something to satisfy your bloodlust as a newly-made."

"You sick bitch!" shouted Dean. "I would kill myself before attacking Sam."

The ABBA bitch literally sighed in his face, puffing her warm metallic breath on him. "That's what I thought. You wouldn't willingly want to take the change."

"No way, you need something way better than cookies to get me to go dark side," joked Dean. His laughter at his poor attempt at a joke died when Mel's heated eyes glared at him before she walked behind him. Dean arched his head to see what she was doing back there, but he couldn't see shit. His heart jumped in his chest as he heard Sam's voice hissing "No" over and over again just before there was an audible snap and Sam's voice crying out in pain.

"Leave him alone you sonaofbitch!" shouted Dean.

It took every fibrous ounce of his will to not jump from his chair and attack the bitch. With Dean's outburst, there was another snap, and Sam cried out again. His body trembled with anger and unadulterated rage to slit the waitress in half. He bit his lip when he felt a light hand play over his shoulder, her lips breathed warm air into his ear as she whispered, "No more comments from the peanut gallery or I'll break another one of your brother's fingers."

Dean bit into his bottom hard enough to open the cut from his earlier abuse and he could taste blood in his mouth. His sage green eyes wordlessly promised to kill her as she walked from him and to her altar. "Luckily, I know a spell to awaken your desires. All I have to do is add my blood to complete it."

When the bitch had her back on them, Dean felt the knife being placed into his hands, signaling that Sam was now free. "Sammy?" Dean made his name a question as he shoved the blade back into his little brother's hand. Asking with just one word if Sam was up for the fight. Not that they had much of a choice if they wanted to get out alive.

"Dean," replied Sam.

They burst from the chairs with not much of a plan, just to only survive. Dean barreled towards Mel in a tackle, crashing the both of them into her altar. Hot wax burned at his skin as he landed several good hard punches to her face to hopefully disorient her. He looked for any kind of weapon just as Dean heard an unfamiliar cry behind him. His green eyes whirled to find Sam decapitating the 'boy-band' vampire with the small knife before his large brother got picked up and thrown literally through the wall by the blond vamp like a ragdoll.

When he heard,"You shouldn't have turned away Dean," it was too late and he was magically slammed into the wall. He couldn't move an inch of his body as Mel picked herself up from the ground and brushed off the dust from her waitress uniform. "That wasn't very nice."

Dean tried to shrug but failed to move against the Mel's magic, "I'm not known for my niceties." He could hear thumping and more crashing in the distance as he watched Mel gather her magic supplies again and she held her bloodied wrist over a silver goblet. Dean only hoped that Sammy was faring better than he was at the moment. He might need the cure after all.

Her heels clicked angrily as Mel closed the distance between, chanting.

'Excitetur in desideris'

Dean flinched as she placed her palm over his heart. He watched as her eyes turned black like a demon, and he gave a desperate yell of, "SAMMY!" She smiled at him with vampire teeth as she continued her spell.

'Flagrans igle viva'

His chest began to burn. He could feel pulsing warm waves traveling inside of him in every corner of his being. Dean bit his lip as the inside of his eyes began to glow white, and the heat intensified; he slammed his green eyes shut, hoping to subside the blinding heat. There was a high pitch buzzing from inside his head and he fought not to scream from the pressure. The only time that his ears had painfully hurt like this was when Cas wasn't in his vessel and he was trying to make contact in his pure, angelic form. He heard the bitch's voice over the ruckus inside his head as she continued to fuck with his desires. To make him desire to be a vampire.

'Quae non in perpet-'

Her voice suddenly stopped, along with the chaos in his head. His green eyes shot open and saw Sam still holding onto the bitch's shoulder after he slashed through her neck with the small knife. Relief and gratefulness washed over him, along with blood, as he watched as Mel's black eyes morph back to normal but dead brown before her head slid off of her neck. Her head landed on the floor was a sickening splat as Dean could feel his body again. He flexed his hand experimentally for a moment until he heard a grunt and a metal thud.

He watched as Sam fell to his knees with his hands in his hair at first, grabbing tight at the long locks then to choking and clenching at his throat with his hands. Dean went to him, and gathered what he could of Sam into his arms, patting him on the back. Saliva poured from his younger brother's mouth as he doubled over and Dean left his side looking for a hex bag, wondering if the damn witch had a back plan. Tearing at the room wildly, throwing animal bodies around, ripping animals heads from the wall, Dean's heart froze when he heard a heavy thud. Spotting Sam laying sideways on the floor, unmoving, Dean rushed to his side and felt for his younger brother's pulse. The thick pounding on the side of Sammy's neck let him relax enough to let out a shaky breath.

Dean jumped slightly when he heard a raspy, "I'm fine," from below him.

He huffed at Sam, " Dude, you didn't sound fine."

Sam weakly chuckled at Dean as he sat up from the floor. His brown eyes connected with Dean's obviously concerned green ones. He mindlessly brushed his mane of hair back from his face and smiled at Dean as he said, "I feel better than fine. Great actually."

"Yea? What makes you say that Sam? Because from where I was standing, it looked like your were choking on your own tongue," said Dean, as he stared at Sam like he had some brain damage.

Sam ignored his brother's attitude and with a clear head, he whispered, "I can't see Lucifer anymore."

"WHAT?!" shouted Dean. His surprised echoed reverberated around the room. "What do you mean you can't see Lucifer anymore?"

As Sam moved to stand, his fingers lightly brushed on something cold and his eyes spotted a small golden box that was sitting on the floor, still glistening in his saliva. That box was the reason why Sam was choking. During his brother's massive destruction of the room, Sam had hacked that thing up his windpipe. Through his watery eyes, he had watched Lucifer being sucked into the box, kicking and screaming, before slamming the lid shut. Now, Sam couldn't hear that bastard anymore. Now, his head felt better than ever. He felt like himself before he went to hell. Sam smiled at Dean, his same old smile that he wore when he found Dean to be a source of entertainment. His older brother just stared at him, with his green eyes full of bewilderment and confusion. "I said, I can't see Lucifer anymore."

He partly expected Dean to hug him in happiness but his brother looked more confused than ever. Dean's confusion reflected in his voice as he asked, "But...how?"

"I have no idea!" replied Sam happily. He wasn't going to question it. They both raised themselves from the floor and stood. One brother was completely and utterly happy for his new wave of sanity...and quiet. The eldest Winchester was confused as hell but happy as well, he wanted Sammy back together again. His green eyes watched as his giant brother bent over and snatched something from the ground, "What's that?" asked Dean as he motioned with his eyes to Sam's hand.

Sam held out a small golden box that sat in the palm of his hand, "Lucifer's box. I guess. I saw him get sucked into it." And he seemingly chuckled to himself. A box was as good as a cage. Sam wasn't going to bitch, for once. When Dean didn't question anymore about it, Sam stuffed box into his pocket. He smiled almost evilly when he heard muffled complaints from inside. Sometimes, revenge could be oh-so-very-sweet.

Dean licked his bottom lip as he watched Sam stuff the tiny box into his pocket with a somewhat frightening grin on his face. A grin that could frighten small children. He knew better than to ask, for once, he didn't want to know. He glanced around the room, hoping to find their weapons when suddenly he heard a light flutter of wings along with a small breeze. Cas, stood before both brothers in his usual 'Nerdy angel' attire, and his stupid, but surprisingly sexy trench coat.

Wait? What?

He shook his head while his fingers buzzed as he wondered just how soft Cas' sex-tousled hair would feel in his hands again. How his lips would feel against his again. How warm and firm Cas' body would feel underneath his or on top. Dean could feel heat pooling into his lower abdomen when the angel collapsed on the dirty floor, breathing heavy.

"Cas!" shouted Sam and he immediately ran to the fallen angel's side. Dean, on the other hand was frozen to the spot, as he saw them. The dark shadow of wings that Dean had seen in barn was nothing compared to seeing them for real. He took several light steps forward with his hand outstretched to touch them. Cas' wings were something of wondrous beauty. Not that he would say something that gay aloud. The tip of his finger trailed over the tip of a shiny black wing and a spark of pleasurable electricity jolted through his arm, to his hardened manhood that was thankfully trapped in his bloodied jeans.

Dean lightly touched the feather again, making himself moan, "Cas..." and the wing underneath his touch shuttered and drew closer to him. He felt his heart stop when his green eyes met with Castiel's extraordinary blue ones as the angel stared at him from underneath his dark lashes. The pureness of the blue took his breath away, and in the back of Dean's mind he knew that he had never seen anything as beautiful as those eyes. Then Dean crumpled to the ground with a hard thud, completely passing out and Cas shortly followed.

Leaving a blushing, bewildered and confused Sam in the room to deal with their unconscious states.

A/N: Okay. I suck at Latin. I just placed what I wanted to say in a google translator. The latin says- 'Awakened desires within, burning pulsing fires, will not be contained, forever.' So, yea, I suck at Latin. Anways, please review/give feedback.