Chapter 4


The moment Castiel and Sam vanished from the dark room; Dean sighed to himself and turned himself to face the dead girl again.

She looked almost peaceful, Dean dared thought…except for the harsh puncture wounds and bruises on her neck of course. But other than that, she could have been sleeping.

Dean refused to think that it was Sam that had done this to that girl. He knew that it was his brother, but he couldn't bring himself to really think about what that meant for them at the time being.

How could this have happened? Dean wondered to himself. This wasn't fair!

Dean released an angry huff of breath that he didn't realize he was holding as he looked down at the dead girl. What was he going to do about her?

Well, he knew what to do with her.

In an angry haze, Dean pulled a small bag of salt from the pocket of his leather jacket, and sprinkled the white substance all over the corpse with a carefully blank look on his face.

He tried desperately not to think of Sam right now.

Satisfied that she was thoroughly covered in salt, Dean slid the bag back into his pocket before pulling a small bottle of accelerant from his other pocket.

He pulled the cap off, and sprayed the body as thoroughly as he had been with the salt.

When the body was damp enough, Dean recapped the bottle, and then shoved it down into his pocket again. In the same pocket, lay his sliver lighter which he pulled out lastly with a steadying sigh.

He flipped the lighter on, watching as the tiny flame sprang to eager life.

With one last look at the body, Dean tossed the lighter on her stomach as he watched with a sick satisfaction as the small flame turned into a large bonfire in only an instant. The flames consumed her entire mass, and Dean knew that she wouldn't be coming back.

Dean knew that this was probably a stupid move, but he turned and walked out of the room with the same blank look fixed on his face. He knew that the fire would eventually catch, and the entire nest would be destroyed.

But Dean couldn't bring himself to care. By taking Sam, and turning him – as far as Dean was concerned these sons of bitches just made it personal.

As Dean walked out of the building, the early morning sun greeted him as it reflected orange rays down on his face making him wince.

Ignoring the sun for the most part, Dean jumped in the drivers' seat of the Impala and drove off full speed toward the motel room.

xXx

Back in the motel room, Sam was pacing back and forth between the beds with a certain jittery eagerness. His gaze kept catching on the window with its closed blinds, he felt the sun rising – but refused to sleep even though his body craved it.

Castiel sat on Dean's bed as his eyes followed Sam curiously. In truth, the angel felt bad for Sam; but he wouldn't tell him that to his face because he knew this race of vampire – even if the boys didn't.

The rumble of the Impala was heard outside, and relief flooded through Sam's being. He wasn't looking forward to the impending conversation, but he didn't want to rest either until he knew Dean was alright.

Moments later, Dean walked in the front door with his eyes immediately fixed on Sam as he stood between the two beds looking back at his brother with a guilty expression.

Sam flinched when his brothers' scent wafted in the room, assaulting his now sensitive nose. He smelled like heavy smoke, and leather. But most importantly, Sam noticed that Dean smelled like blood.

Dean slammed the door shut behind him, as he walked all the way in the room.

He then came to an abrupt halt and looked around the room curiously. His gaze soon landed on the angel who was still sitting on his bed.

"Where's the stuff?" Dean demanded as he spread his arms out as a curious gesture before dropping them back down to his sides.

Of course, Castiel and Sam knew that Dean meant the stuff that would mask their scents from the other vampires.

"He," Castiel began with a nod in Sam's direction signifying that 'he' meant 'Sam', "had a certain reaction to the smell."

"Understatement." Sam muttered with an irritated eye-roll.

"Okay…so what – we're sitting here with our pants down?" Dean yelled angrily.

"No," Sam interjected, "Cas set up some charms around the room. We should be good for the time being."

Dean nodded in acceptance as he sighed and went to the small kitchenette to fix himself a cup of coffee. It didn't go unnoticed that he didn't look Sam in the eye.

"So what's our next move?" Sam asked, suppressing a yawn.

Dean put the grounded coffee beans into the papery filter, and put it in the coffee maker before turning back to his brother and Castiel.

"Well," Dean began tiredly, "those vamps are more than likely to be after us once the sun goes down. And there's too many of them for them not to find us."

"Yea," Sam agreed, "but what are we gonna do about it?"

Dean was about to snap at Sam, but bit his tongue. Instead he cleared his mind and thought about another problem at hand first.

"How're you feeling?" Dean asked curiously, his eyebrows knit together.

"I'm fine." Sam snapped back.

"No," Dean replied, "that's not what I mean. When do you think you're gonna need to…um…"

"Dean means," Castiel interjected knowingly, "when do you think you will need to feed again?"

Sam looked between Castiel and Dean with a quirked eyebrow. Honestly, he hadn't thought much about it.

"I uh…I don't know." Sam replied honestly, "This is all really new to me too."

"Did that other vampire tell you anything?" Dean asked as he turned his back on them again to continue making his coffee.

"Just that starving myself isn't an option because I'm so new. Apparently if I even try it, I'll go insane or something."

"Alright then," Dean said sounding a little flustered, "you don't need to feed now, do you?"

"No…" Sam replied with a guilty expression, "I think I'm good for the day."

Dean nodded as he added the water into the coffee maker.

"The sun isn't bothering you, is it?" Dean found himself asking. He wasn't sure what his brothers' weaknesses would be anymore. It wasn't like he was like any of the other vampires they've ever met.

"Not really," Sam replied honestly, "it's just making me tired."

Sam then went on to explain to Dean and Castiel what else Victor had told him about these vampires. He explained to them his new weaknesses, and how vulnerable he really was because he was so new.

"It's just really confusing," Sam admitted as he sat down on his bed, "I know what's right and what's wrong – I know that feeding on humans is wrong…but this…instinct or whatever is sending me mixed signals. I dunno…it's just hard to explain."

Dean turned to face Sam with another judging look in his eyes. He didn't look his brother in the eyes just yet, but he saw Sam's face and knew that Castiel wasn't lying when he told him that his brother was fighting this.

"Don't worry about it," Dean said with a sigh, "I'll be right there with you."

"Yea, but that just makes it all the more strenuous." Sam admitted in a muttering tone.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Dean demanded.

"Dean," Sam began with an eye-roll, "right now…I can smell you. I smell the smoke from the fire on your jacket, and the upholstery in the Impala. I can taste how angry and bitter you are right now, mixed with the scent of your blood. I can…hear your heart beating from clear across the room! So tell me Dean, how can you possibly help me if I lose control?"

Dean stared at his brothers' jaw wide-eyed. He knew that vampires had far better senses than humans, but it was a shock coming from his brother just how bad it really was.

"We'll figure this out." Dean replied as he tried to mask his emotions a little better, now feeling rather uncomfortable knowing that his brother could taste them.

Sam's nostrils flared as he caught what his brother was trying to do. A smile formed on his face, but he didn't say anything more on the subject.

Sam suddenly stood from the bed, and walked past his brother who was now pouring the freshly made coffee into a green mug.

Dean looked up at Sam and frowned.

"Where are you going?" Dean asked curiously.

"Bathroom." Sam muttered in reply. He didn't have a pressing need to use the bathroom, in fact he wasn't sure if he ever would – being technically dead. But he did need to wash up for bed.

The bathroom itself had a nasty scent all its own, Sam realized before he even closed the door. It reeked of sweat, fecal matter, urine, bile, sex, underneath the stale aroma of cleaning products – suggesting that the bathroom has been cleaned several times.

Choosing to ignore the scents, he closed the bathroom door behind him, and quickly peeled his shirts off before tossing them in a heap on the tiled floor.

Sam placed his hands on both sides of the porcelain sink and leaned against it as his eyes caught his reflection in the mirror with a look of disgust and a sick fascination.

On the surface he looked normal mostly; his skin was the same tone. He didn't look sickly pale or anything like that. In fact he looked as if he were practically glowing with health; but he chalked it up to the fact that he just fed.

His eyes then locked on his eyes in his reflection and he then saw why Dean wasn't looking him in the eye.

Though Sam's eyes were still hazel, his irises looked bigger somehow and more defined as a thick black rim separated his irises from the whites of his eyes. But within the irises, just outlining the black was a thin line of crimson.

But he noticed that Victor's eyes looked human before. Why didn't his? This wasn't fair!

Sam growled at his reflection as he removed his hands from the sink and stood upright; his eyes however, were still locked on his reflection.

Taking in a deep unneeded breath, he opened his mouth slowly and with his tongue he massaged a tiny new muscle on the roof of his mouth, close to his gums.

Sam then felt the familiar pop on his mouth, and relaxed his tongue.

Looking at his reflection now didn't feel real. It was like he was trapped in a nightmare when all he wanted to do was wake up.

To match his eyes, there were now an extended set of fangs protruding from his upper gums where his once dull canines were.

Sam looked at himself horrorstricken, but also with a deep seeded pleasure that felt almost natural.

There was nothing remotely human about the thing that stared back at him in his reflection. And the thought brought a tear to his eye as he began to mourn the loss of his humanity.

xXx

Dean stood in the kitchenette with his back leaned against the counter and a hot cup of coffee in his hands. He looked down at the angel who was looking back at him curiously waiting for him to come up with a plan.

"So," Dean began uncomfortably, "what do you propose we do about this?"

Castiel looked at Dean with a quirked eyebrow. It wasn't his place to come up with a plan.

Taking the hint, Dean brought the hot cup to his mouth and sipped absently before lowering it again.

"Is there anything we can do about Sam?" Dean asked the angel almost pleadingly.

"Nothing to my knowledge." Castiel answered honestly.

"What about the angels?" Dean suggested, "Cant they just zap him with their mojo and make him human again?"

"I wouldn't advise going that route, Dean." Castiel warned as he eyed him cautiously.

"Why the hell not?" Dean demanded, "Do you have any other ideas?"

"No," Castiel replied honestly, "but Zachariah will surely torture you into saying 'yes' to Michael if you call on him."

"Well they need Sam too don't they, if they wanna have their little showdown?" Dean asked, his voice on the verge of hysteria.

"Yes," Castiel admitted, "but they will let Lucifer himself deal with Sam as he sees fit."

Dean was silent as if considering what Castiel just said; desperation clouding his better judgment.

"Don't you dare even think about it!" Castiel exclaimed, suddenly angry with Dean.

Dean was taken aback by Castiel's outburst of emotion, but nodded in agreement. He knew that no matter what, summoning Lucifer wouldn't end good…for anyone.

Unfortunately, this only left Dean with one other option. He was going to have to summon Zachariah; he wasn't sure how to do that exactly. And he couldn't exactly do it with Sam and Castiel breathing down his neck, and surely even if he asked Bobby for such a ritual – he wouldn't approve.

For the first time ever, Dean hated that Castiel carved those symbols into his ribs to hide him from the angels. If he were out in the open, surely Zachariah would have come right at them.

So for now he would just wait until he was alone. He would have to wait until he could find a summoning ritual for an angel, and then wait even longer to perform the ritual so that he wouldn't be interrupted.

Just then as if on cue, Sam opened the bathroom door and walked out wearing sweatpants and a loose-fitting light gray t-shirt as he carried his dirty laundry.

He shoved the discarded clothes into his duffel bag which lay by the front door, and then turned around to face his brother.

Dean nodded at Sam, silently telling his brother it was fine for him to rest now.

Sam nodded in return, and then crawled into his bed tiredly.

The moment his head hit the pillow, there wasn't a moment for him to think. His head hit the pillow, and his eyes slid shut as he fell into a deep sleep.

Dean looked at his brother with uneven breathing. He noticed that Sam wasn't breathing as he slept, and it was enough to drive Dean crazy.

It was like when you watch someone hold their breath for a really long time, and then you hold your breath without even realizing it; but you're willing that person to just take a breath.

Sam looked dead as he slept beneath his covers on his bed.

And Dean couldn't bring himself to look anymore.