Typical Disclaimer: This story has the typical violence you'll see in the show along with all the angst. I try not to get too off character or too violent, but I'm giving it a mature rating just to be on the safe side.
I of course own nothing and get nothing but the satisfaction of writing the story and hopefully making it enjoyable for others as well. Comments are always welcome, good or bad. Thank you to everyone and I hope you have been enjoying it.
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A/N: I had started this story before I saw "Bloodlust" and I apologize if there are similarities, I don't mean to copy the show. I did change quite a bit in this chapter so that it wouldn't look completely copied, what remains would have caused the story to flow differently if I'd changed it or I just couldn't think of anything better to change it to while writing this. In any case, I hope you enjoy this chapter and forgive me for anything that resembles the show too much.
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Sam couldn't think of anything to say. Fear gripped his chest and stole his words. He could feel the heels of her feet pressing against the back of his thighs as she squeezed him slightly, ready to maintain her position if he tried to buck or push her off of him. His right hand was free even though his left was pinned to his chest, but she held the knife deftly to his throat, ready to press and slash if he moved a muscle to attack her. "I … I don't understand …"
"You're going to tell me the truth now, who sent you here for me?"
"Father Chris … a priest in," he gasped as she pressed the knife a little harder into his throat.
"I know who Father Chris is. Now tell me why he sent you to me."
"We're tracking a couple of vampires here. They were from a nest we cleared out in Colorado." A small trickle of blood was beginning to run down the side of his neck and she took a deep breath in, savoring the smell. Sam tensed, waiting for the right moment to move, if she'd just move the knife away.
She inhaled deeply again through her nose, "you have a sweet smell to your blood," she leaned down slightly and Sam tensed again. The hand on his chest was holding his wrist tight, but if he could use his right arm to free his left, he could knock the knife away from his throat … if he moved fast enough.
She must have sensed something because she whispered lightly, "your throat will be cut and I'll be drinking what spills if you move a muscle." Sam's eyes widened slightly and his breath hitched in his throat. But as she noted the fear and smiled, she relaxed her grip enough to give Sam what he believed was his chance.
He grabbed her hand and used both arms to push the hand with the knife away from his throat. The movement got her off balance just enough that he could roll her off of him. He kept with the roll until he was on top of her, his elbow in her throat, pressing down hard, stopping any air moment. "Did vampires even need air?" the fleeting thought drifted through Sam's mind.
What Sam didn't expect was for her to start laughing as she twisted her arm out from under his and punched the knife into the side of his stomach. The pain caused his stomach muscles to contract and he grunted, lightening the pressure on her throat. She was still gripping him with her legs and deftly flipped him back over onto his back with the strength a normal woman of her size would never have. But then she wasn't normal any more.
Sam coughed lightly, expecting there to be more pain where she'd stabbed him, but oddly there was only a dull throbbing. He was on his back again, both of his hands resting unhindered by his sides. As he caught his breath he looked at her, she was still bearing her second set of teeth, one hand on his throat and it felt like the other was still at his side with the knife. He glanced down to see her hand, fisted and hovering over his stomach, ready to strike him again, but the blade pointed away from him. He huffed and smiled briefly, understanding now why it didn't hurt more. She'd punched him hard, but not with the blade. Instead, she'd hit him with the hilt and her fist.
She smirked and brought the blade up to her lips, tasting the blood left there from the cut on Sam's neck with the tip of her tongue. Sam watched in horror as her eyes lit up as if she was sampling a piece gourmet chocolate. She noted the look in his eyes and poised the knife as if she were contemplating whether or not to use it on him for real.
Suddenly, she smiled and leaned just a little closer, "Father Chris didn't tell you that the vampire hunter you were coming to meet was a hunter and a vampire. Did he?"
"No," Sam whispered. He tried to relax while his mind raced, hoping again that she would drop her guard enough for him to try and free himself, but for the moment he kept both hands near his head, open palmed and submissive.
"Didn't think so. He's a little shit like that. You're not the first hunter to come calling for my help to be just as surprised." She still had the knife poised to plunge it into his chest, "only the last hunter couldn't get over it and I had to kill him to keep him from killing me." She smiled, "his blood wasn't as sweet as yours though."
Sam reached up and grabbed the wrist that was holding the knife and punched her hard in the face with his other. She leaned back slightly with the blow, so Sam pushed her with his free hand and pulled with the other rolling her off him again. Only this time, he bolted for the stairs. Unfortunately, she was just a little faster recovering than he'd hoped. She twisted and kicked out with one foot, catching him on the front of his ankle, causing him to stumble slightly.
He didn't stop, he had reached the stairs and turned, stepping onto the first step when the knife flew by his head and impaled itself in the wall's 2x4 at his head's height above the second step. He stopped in shock for only a second before he grabbed the knife and attempted to pull it from the wall. It wouldn't budge, so he turned to face her as she reached the stairs.
He shifted his weight and kicked as hard as he could, aiming for her stomach. She yelled in pain as she doubled over and was lifted off her feet and thrown into the wall behind her. Sam turned again, ignoring the knife and running up the stairs. He reached the door and tried to open it, but it was locked. He stepped back, ready to kick the door in when the blow to his left kidney rocked through his body, making his knees weak. He gasped for breath as he sank down onto his knees and doubled over, twisting slightly with the cramp that tighten the muscles in his side.
He felt her grab him by the back collar of his jacket and her arm reached around to cradle his neck. Fear twisted his stomach; with her strength, she could easily break his neck without a second thought. Instead, she pulled slightly, more with the hand on the collar of his jacket than the one around his throat, and drug him back down the stairs. Once as the bottom, she twisted and threw him across the room. He landed with a grunt near the bed.
He turned and tried to stand up as she came towards him at a run. He prepared to grab her and throw her, but she shifted at the last minute, jumping slightly, and kicked him in the chest. The wind was knocked out of him and pained racked through his chest, as he was knocked back onto the bed. The pain was intense and he couldn't catch his breath. He wondered lightly if this is what was felt when someone was having a heart attack, had she kicked him that hard?
She jumped back onto his stomach as he fought to inhale. She grabbed both his wrists and placed them on his chest, holding them still, but didn't push them into his chest as he finally began breathing. Coughing mostly, but breathing at least. Her eyes were wide with excitement, the same look Dean sometimes got when he was on a hunt and had finally found his prey and beaten it. She sat there watching him as he slowly got his breath under control.
He watched her with a confused expression on his face. She could have killed him and fed upon him several times now, but she hadn't. Was she toying with him? Was she waiting to see how much more he'd fight before he gave up?
She tilted her head slightly; studying him quizzically, as if he were something new she was trying to figure out. She watched as his breathing slowly returned to normal, well as normal as someone who was just beaten lightly could be. As he took a deep breath and studied her, she leaned towards him a little and whispered, "Want to wrestle some more?" Sam looked at her in surprise, "Is this a game to you? 'Cause I gotta say that I'm not having any fun here."
She laughed lightly and the second set of teeth retracted back. She moved her body off of Sam slowly, and with one knee on the bed and one foot on the ground, she let go of his wrists, grabbed his shirt front and hauled him up onto his feet, standing up completely with him.
Sam followed her lead and stood up in front of her. He was quite a bit taller, but even his height and strength didn't seem to help much. He swallowed, "so now what?"
She was still watching him, his movements, and his eyes. "That depends. Am I going to have a problem with you?" Sam just shook his head a little. After another moment, she stepped backed away from him, turned and retrieved her knife from the wall. She could see him let out a breath and relax his shoulders a bit as she moved away and she smiled lightly.
"One's your dad and the other's your brother" She said it as matter of fact and not a question. Sam just nodded. "So which one is Dean?" She turned and walked over to stand in front of the dresser. Sam frowned and looked at her questioningly. She smiled, "you called out to him for help when I ambushed you at the motel. Is Dean your dad or your brother?"
"My brother."
"I find it interesting that you'd call out for a sibling and not a parent." She shrugged and interrupted the protest or explanation he was about to provide, "You might want to stop the bleeding," she indicated the small cut on his neck.
Opening the top left drawer, she pulled out what looked like a pillow case and threw it to Sam, "put this over your head."
Sam looked at it and it was indeed a pillow case, black and thick, he wouldn't be able to see through it, "you're kidding right?" No, he could tell by the look on her face that she was not kidding at all. "Why? You know why we're here, you're safe, so why?" He bent down and picked up the towel that had contained the ice and pressed it against his neck, wincing lightly at the pain. He was going to need more than just the cool towel with some melted ice to ease the pain in his back left side. The shot to his kidney probably bruised it and it was going to hurt for a while.
"I don't know that at all. You're here under duress. Your passiveness is due to your captivity. I don't know anything about you or your family, though I have heard stories about the Winchesters and their hunting prowess. I'd hate to have to kill any of you." She glanced lazily down at the knife and the remainder of the blood that Sam had left behind. She swallowed lightly then walked over to the sink and turned on the water, cleaning the blade quickly before drying it and returning it to the sheath that was attached upside-down on her back and under her shirt.
Sam shifted his weight from one foot to the other watching her curiously. "So what do you drink?" He had a feeling that he might have offended her for some reason so he quickly added, "I mean, do you drink human blood?" He was suddenly feeling nervous again.
"If I did, do you think you would be alive or unbound?"
Sam shrugged, "I don't know."
She smiled again, "Actually, yes I do. I drink human and animal blood. The latter is pretty disgusting, but it helps me get by." She noted the frown on his face, "Before you get all huffy and I have to knock you down again, I don't kill humans. Drink their blood, yes. Kill them, no." She moved across the room towards him and he instinctively stepped back once but waited as she stepped in front of him, looking into his face and smiled, "you want to donate any?"
"Uh … no … I think I'll keep mine to myself." Sam raised his hands up in a mock surrender and tried to smile.
"Put the hood on and I'll take you back to your family."
He started to comply then stopped, "wait, since we're here talking anyway, can we talk about the vampires we're tracking? I mean, Father Chris did say you could help us and that's why we're here."
She motioned to the bed, "get comfortable then."
Sam blinked. He looked to the bed and then back to her with a little trepidation. She just started laughing, "Just sit down," she quipped as she moved and sat down in a small reading chair that strangely reminded him of Evelyn and the haunted painting. "If you're tracking them, what do you need me for?"
"Well," Sam cleared his throat, "we lost their trail, but we're pretty sure they've come into this area or passed through it. Father Chris said you might be able to help us find their trail and pick them up again. There's also a possibility of a nest that they might have joined with around here somewhere, based on the research my dad's done."
"I tell you what, I'll do some checking and I'll get back with you."
"What? Why not work with us? I'm sure we can help each other …"
"I don't think so," she cut him off. "I don't need anyone's help. I can track them and find where they're hiding. I was a damn good hunter before I was turned and I'm an even better one now. Besides, if it's just two, it shouldn't be a problem taking them out. And if it's a nest, then so much the better."
"My dad's not just going to walk away from this hunt because you say you'll take care of it," Sam reasoned, "and neither will my brother or me."
"Maybe not, and if you three succeed in finding them before me, then more power to you. If not, then you've gotten some exercise maybe?"
"Come on, let us help. It certainly can't hurt?"
"Like I said, I don't know anything about you or your family. I don't trust you and I'm certainly not going to hunt with you. So, are we done talking? You ready to get back to the motel?"
"Yeah, I guess so." He looked at his feet a little down-trodden. "Hey, if you were such a damn good hunter, how did you get turned?" Sam asked as he looked back up to her.
She frowned and tensed, but she could see in his face that he wasn't really trying to be hateful. His tone was more curious than spiteful. Sam noticed her expression and lowered his gaze back down to the floor, "sorry, I didn't mean anything by that." He shrugged and looked at back at her.
She thought for a moment then shrugged also, "too many vamps at once. They decided I should share their fate rather than just killing me." Her eyes appeared to focus somewhere other than the room as she remembered. "Guess they didn't think I'd turn around and kill them all afterwards." Her sudden half-smile that appeared was a little unnerving, so Sam looked away and checked the towel and the wound on his neck to make sure it had stopped bleeding.
After he put the pillow case over his head he heard her giggling. He started to take it off but her hand stopped his, "I'm sorry, you just look a little goofy."
He huffed, "well why don't you just take be back without this?"
He heard her take a deep breath before she grabbed both his wrists and attempted to secure them behind his back. "Hey!" he yelled and tried to step away from her. She pulled and twisted his arms painfully, then kicked the back of one of his knees making him drop down to the ground onto them. He felt her breath through the pillow case, "sorry Sam, but I have to make sure you're not going to try anything funny."
"And I thought we were getting along so well," Sam spat at her.
"We were and we still are, as long as you continue to cooperate." He heard her sigh heavily, "Remember, this is because I really don't know you and I don't trust you. I'm sorry, but no one knows where I live and I'm keeping it that way. Don't worry," she reasoned, "no one will see you besides me like this." He couldn't see the playful smile or her attempts to keep from laughing as she led him up the stairs and into the garage.
He could tell by the echoes, the sounds, and the smells that he was in a garage. He heard her close and lock a door, probably to the house. He was then led to and helped to sit in the back seat of a car. She pushed him lightly down, "now lie down and stay down. Don't make me have to turn around and slap you like an unruly child." He heard her giggle lightly again before she secured his ankles together as well. All Sam could do was huff and try to get comfortable.
Sam heard the mechanical noises of the garage door opening after what seemed like a long time of waiting in the back seat. He had heard odd noises before then: clanking, zippers, and eventually the creaking of leather as she got into the car. He realized that he still didn't know what kind of car she drove, but as she turned over the engine, it sounded smooth. Definitely not the rough sounds the Impala or his dad's truck made. It had to be a newer model car, but he wasn't good at determining the sounds that different cars made so he concentrated on other sounds. The seats were cloth, he assumed, and he felt the soft upholstery on his face and thought with a smile that at least his face wouldn't stick to it.
They pulled out backwards at a downward angle. Before she turned up the radio he could have sworn he heard the sounds of children laughing outside. A twinge of fear twisted his stomach as he wondered if she possibly lived and fed from children. He made a mental note to do some research on that when he got back to the motel, but as he thought about it he really didn't believe that she would do something like that. She did say that she drank human blood, but she also asked if he'd donate. Did she have human friends that helped to feed her?
The music she played was more the style that he liked when he was with Jess and one or two of the songs brought back some painful memories. But again, he tried to concentrate on details of sounds and movements of the car. After an hour of driving, he'd lost track of everything and gave up. Instead he just closed his eyes and listened to the music allowing his mind to drift to times with Jess and collage and the friends he left behind when he returned to hunting with his brother.
Sam wasn't sure how much time had passed, but eventually the car came to a stop somewhere. She got out and opened the door by Sam's feet. She cut the ties on his ankles, and then helped him into a sitting position. She pulled him out of the car and led him to the side of a building, leaning him against the cold stone. He felt her place something cold, fairly thin, and long in one of his hands. As he examined it with his fingers, he felt the sharpness of the blade.
He stayed still and didn't cut the ties because he could still feel her standing next to him. She put one hand on his upper arm and another on his chest, "Sorry if I hurt too badly." Her voice was playful. "I hope you and your family stay well. Be careful."
She moved away from him and he started to cut the ties, but tried to get her to stay long enough for him to see her and her vehicle, "wait, please … we can work together."
He heard the door shut and the car pulled out of the lot squealing tires with her haste. By the time he cut the ties and pull the pillowcase off his head she was gone.
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It was mid-afternoon and Dean was climbing the walls in a panic. There had been no word from whoever took Sam and he couldn't believe that his father was just sitting at the table doing nothing. He'd told Dean to just wait and if they didn't receive any word he would call the paper to put the ad in. They still had a little while before the ad had to be submitted in order to be in the paper the next day.
John was certain that the vampires wouldn't have come after them. It was daylight when Sam had been taken and everything he knew told him that they didn't hunt during the day. It had to be the hunter. He couldn't understand how he'd been tracked and not known. He was angry with himself and was doing his best to maintain a cool head, but Dean was about to drive him nuts with the pacing and knife sharpening. If Dean sharpened that knife one more time it was going to be too thin to penetrate anything without breaking, he thought to himself with mild amusement.
The squealing tires made them both jump. John was first out the door with Dean close on his heals. They ran as fast as they could to the other side of the building and found Sam snapping whatever was holding his wrists together. They ran over to him as he pulled the pillow case over his head.
"Sammy! Oh thank God," Dean yelled as he ran to Sam's side and began checking him over, noting the cut on his neck, "I'll kill her, I swear I will!"
"I'm ok," he pushed Dean back a little but without force or anger, "I'm not a kid, I'm fine. It's just a small cut." He sighed and leaned back against the wall. He suddenly felt extremely tired.
Dean frowned but backed off a little as John stepped up beside them and asked, "What happened, Sammy?"
"She saw us last night, hiding. She thought we were trying to trap her and followed us back here. When I came out for ice, she jumped me."
Dean smirked, "jumped by a girl, eh? Getting a little …"
"No, Dean." Sam cut him off. "She's a good, skilled fighter. And more …" Sam's voice trailed off. Dean's smirk broadened into a smile and he was about to say something crass when he noted the slight shiver run up Sam's body.
"What do you mean?" John asked a little too impatient.
Sam looked up at both of them, "She's a vampire too."
