Chapter 6 –Now Who Thinks They're Jesus?

Dean woke up to the sound of water dripping. When drifting out of sleep or head-trauma-induced unconsciousness, that tap tap tap sound could be extremely annoying. He realized fairly quickly that he was lying on a cold, hard surface and tried to figure out where he was as his vision slowly cleared. He remembered the hot girl, hitting on her just to piss off Josh, and scoring an invite in. Then he remembered seeing who he figured was Ella's grandmother lying on the floor all covered in blood. He was fairly certain she had been dead so he could leave 'saving grandma' off his to-do list for today.

The rest was a little foggier. He vaguely remembered fighting with an incredibly strong guy who was fast, even faster than he was because the dude had clocked him before Dean had even managed to get his gun out. Holy water had no effect and he remembered flying through the air, a lot of pain, then more superhuman dudes taking turns using him as a punching bag. Sam hadn't been there. Hopefully that meant Sam was still safe. But someone else had been there. Oh yeah, Josh. What had happened to Josh? That's right… the idiot had relinquished his gun. That about summed up everything he remembered.

By then, the blurriness in his vision had given way to shadowy shapes in the darkness. He winced but stifled a groan as he sat up, trying to be as quiet as he could since he had no idea whether or not he was alone. He blinked a few times, waiting patiently until the shadows began to take more recognizable shapes. The most noticeable one was the still form of a man on the floor about ten feet from where Dean sat. Dean crawled over, guiltily relieved to find it was Josh and not Sam. He turned him over and slapped his face a couple of times, hoping for a reaction.

He got a low grumble. Satisfied, he threw in a couple of extra not-so-gentle taps for the fun of it and turned his attention to their surroundings as Josh fought his way out of unconsciousness. It looked like they were in a cellar but there were no windows. The very limited light was from a dirty, dim bulb at the top of the stairs. The room was empty and the only door was at the top of a rickety wooden set of stairs. Sam was nowhere to be seen. Again, Dean hoped that was a good thing.

The hunter managed to get himself to his feet and haul his aching body up the stairs. Naturally, the door was locked. It was pretty solid in comparison to the stairs he was standing on, he thought ruefully with a nervous glance downwards at his feet. He pressed his ear to the door and could hear someone or something shuffling about on the other side. Suddenly he heard a click as the key turned in the lock and he was about to sprint down the steps when the door flew open with a speed and force that could only be from a supernatural source. It clipped Dean hard as it swung past him, knocking him off his feet and backwards down the stairs. He landed with a thump about halfway down but instead of rolling or bouncing down the rest of the steps, the rotten wooden treads gave way beneath his weight and he crashed through them. Pain rocketed its way through his shoulder and back as he smacked into the concrete floor below and he couldn't help but let out a sharp cry.

The noise forced the awakening Josh into at least partial lucidity and he struggled to sit up, the confused look on his face making it clear he was trying to assess where he was and what was going on. More lights came on, blinding Dean for a second, but he could hear two sets of heavy footsteps coming down the stairs above him.

He caught sight of the barrel of his own Colt .45 being pointed warily down at him through the hole he had just made with his falling body. He drew upon his inherited Winchester resolve to block away the pain and scrambled out from under the stairs, determined not to let Josh face whoever these guys were alone.

He stood boldly in the men's path, pulling his cocky 'ha you don't scare me' look onto his face. Josh was getting to his feet behind Dean and the hunter reached out a hand to help him up, never taking his eyes off the two approaching men.

"Vamps," he heard Josh say in a barely audible whisper behind him.

That made sense. The man in the girl's living room had just been too damn strong to be human. He had figured demon but the holy water hadn't worked on him. Amber had been killed by a vamp. Why had they not brought the machetes to the house? Or at least some dead man's blood. Winchester Rule number two. Be prepared. He had actually managed to convince an eight-year-old Sam that the Boy Scouts had stolen that line from their Dad.

Dean recognized the vampires as the sons of bitches who had tackled him after he fell off the balcony. "Coming back for a second try, huh?" he quipped, folding his arms across his chest in a challenging stance, not caring that he had been beaten on the previous round with these two and his challenge seemed rather ridiculous at this point.

The man in front snorted. "We wouldn't waste our time. It was too easy the first time."

"Now see, I wouldn't call that a fair fight," Dean continued the banter, his long time method of stalling while he figured out the best way out of a bad situation. "I was distracted by your girlfriend undressing me with her eyes." He figured the chick had to be with one of them as vampires traveled in tight-knit groups and were known to mate for life.

Another snort. "Ella's not with us," the second one laughed. "We don't do demon."

Dean hid his surprise at the revelation that Ella was demon, not vampire.

"So if you're not her boyfriend," Josh chimed in remembering Ella's last words of authority on the porch and taking Dean's cue to be mouthy, "that just makes you her bitch."

The second guy growled. Not an annoyed human growl, but a real, beast-like growl with extra teeth and everything. Josh started to doubt Dean's strategy of back talking your captors. Dean mumbled over his shoulder at him. "Nice going, genius."

"Well excuse me, Bruce Willis," Josh argued back in a hushed voice. "I was just following your lead."

"Since when do vamps work with demons?" Dean turned his attention back to the two vampires, deciding maybe less confrontational was the way to go this time round. He had been briefly bitten once by a vamp when Gordon Walker had been turned and really didn't relish the prospect of repeating the experience.

"Since the apocalypse decided to roll around," the first vamp answered. Dean threw a sharp glance at Josh who had moved forward to stand next to him. Sure enough, he made out a flicker of confusion at the vampire's comment. He hadn't been sure how much Lex had told him in the letter she had asked Dean to hand-deliver. Obviously she hadn't mentioned the impending end-of-the-world, Lucifer-rising bit.

"So what do you want with us?" Dean asked. "You tryin' to score brownie points?"

"Oh there's no 'us' about it," the first vampire sneered. "Ella just wants you," he jutted his chin towards Dean but threw a smirk at Josh that made Dean worry for his friend. "She has a few questions to ask you about your feathered friends."

The second vampire laughed. It wasn't even an evil laugh, just a genuine 'friend-just-told-a-funny-joke' type laugh. "Yeah, Lillith sure wants you bad."

"Lillith?" Dean gritted his teeth. "You morons are working for Lillith?"

"No, we follow Ivan," the second one spat, either annoyed at the insinuation that they worked for a demon or at being called a moron. Probably at both. "We just decided to place our loyalties on the winning side. There are opportunities for ambitious creatures like us. This is no time to be sitting on the sidelines, Winchester."

Dean hated it when they knew his name. It made him feel so ignorant of the whole damn situation. He silently cursed Cas for his refusal to share the details until the last possible moment, which usually came too late.

"Yeah, so enjoy these last moments," the vampire continued. "Maybe we'll have you for dinner when she's done."

Both vampires seemed to find this extremely amusing as they laughed and headed back up the stairs. "Don't even try to come near this door," one of them warned as they reached the top of the stairs. "'Cause we're right outside and I'm pretty sure this nice Desert Eagle will shoot clear through it." With that, the door slammed shut and all the lights went out, leaving the two men in near full darkness.

"I want my fucking gun back before we leave," Josh grumbled into the dark. "And do they even know how old that dinner joke is?"

"Vamps aren't known for originality," Dean answered him, trying to decide whether or not he should attempt to go up the stairs.

"They obviously don't want you dead," Josh continued, as if reading Dean's mind. "So they probably won't shoot until we actually open the door."

Dean sighed, deciding against it. "They might have questions for me but they won't think twice about shooting you."

"Hmm. I kinda got that. So what are they keeping me around for? Dinner?" Josh managed to sound a lot more jovial than he was feeling at that moment.

Dean was glad for the cover of near darkness. "If you're lucky."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Josh couldn't really think of anything worse than being vampire chow.

"What I mean is that maybe they're keeping you around in case I don't talk."

"Oh." There were a few seconds of silence. "Well don't."

"Don't what?"

"Talk. No matter what."

Dean let out a chuckle. "Josh, do you even have any idea what all this is about?"

"I'm guessing it has to do with angels," Josh answered, surprising Dean a little with his awareness of Heaven's finest. "So I'm also guessing it's pretty big. So don't talk."

"What do you know about angels?"

"Not much. Lexie wrote that there's something big going on and you're helping them. But she seems to have left out most of the details. Care to fill me in?"

"Trust me, you don't want to know." Alex had already told her brother more than Dean had hoped. "Do you know what these guys will do? What you're asking?"

In the darkness, Dean could hear Josh sigh and the man's voice seemed to sink lower to the ground. He guessed Josh had sat down, resigned to patiently wait out whatever fate would come through the door. "I'm asking you to hold out until your brother gets here," Josh said simply.

Dean hoped Sam was alright. Yes, of course he was. He had to be. Sam would rescue them. Sam had always come through in the past and, despite the hurtful things his brother had said under the influence of the siren, he surely didn't find Dean that pathetic and weak that he wasn't worth saving anymore. Right? Of course not. They were still brothers and Sam would still fight tooth and nail for him. Sam would show up.

SPN-SPN-SPN

May 2009 (four and a half weeks prior)…

Bobby opened the third door on the left in the long hallway and peered inside. It must be ten years since he had stepped foot in this room, even though it was in his own house. It looked exactly as he remembered it, with large shapes covered in sheets virtually filling the back half of the room. The sheets had been white at one point, but were now a dark shade of grey. This upstairs room had once been his drawing room, or study, but was now nothing more than a storage room for old furniture and junk he just didn't have the stomach or heart to throw away.

He stepped over to the oddly-shaped mound on the right, reaching out and yanking the sheet off. He instantly regretted the move as he was sent into a full five-minute coughing spell by the thick cloud of dust that leapt into the air and seemed to merely grow bigger rather than dissipate as he waved his arm wildly through it. Finally he was able to uncover his face and wipe the stinging tears from his eyes. He stood with his hands on his hips and stared at the pile of memories stacked before him, resisting the sudden temptation to root through in search of something to rejuvenate the fading images of his beloved Karen.

Instead he focused on his reason for coming up here to begin with - his current houseguest. Until now, Bobby had never found himself at a loss for words; he even prided himself on the fact that he was a good people person. He maintained communications with the affable hunters, the slightly anti-social hunters, and the downright unfriendly sonsofbitches like Rufus. He charmed information out of witnesses and always managed to convince civilians after the hunt to refrain from mentioning his presence to the authorities. But that was usually where his job ended. He didn't stick around to clean up any emotional messes left in the wake of the hunt. The Winchester boys were the only people he'd ever even tried that with and he wasn't exactly doing a bang up job on that front. He may have been able to handle it if they had offloaded a boy on him; he could have talked cars and maybe even slapped the kid upside the head a few times to snap him out of it. But he didn't have a clue where to begin with a girl. Sure, she was twenty-five and therefore technically an adult, but she was a few months younger than 'his' kid, Sam, which meant she too was just a kid in Bobby's eyes.

He had silently cursed Dean for offloading her on him as he struggled to make dinner conversation the past two evenings. Sitting on the couch eating take-out in virtual silence, he had been extremely thankful for the distraction of the TV. He'd even allowed the annoying delivery boy inside, something that only ever happened when the nitwit's idol, one Dean Winchester - master of fake ID's, was visiting. The kid had seen the order to Singer Auto Salvage come into the diner with more than Bobby's usual single meal and had shown up bubbling with excitement at the door. "Hi Mr. Singer! Dean here?" Bobby had almost managed to convince him the Winchester boys weren't there when the walking hormone had noticed Alex walking up behind him. It was game over after that. Took the hunter fifteen minutes to get rid of the chatty nineteen year old only to find out the idjit had made a mistake with the order. Kid was about as useful as tits on a bull.

Except for mealtimes, Alex had spent the majority of the three days she'd been here holed up in his library, reading all sorts of books on monsters, demons, and the supernatural in general. He fully expected her to break out in tears any time now and found himself constantly bracing himself for that inevitable, terrifying moment. I mean, that's what young girls did, wasn't it? But it had been almost three days and it hadn't happened yet. She was still awkwardly quiet and closed off.

He moved a few boxes and an old sewing machine aside, uncovering what he was looking for. He blew the dust off the large square object and opened the lid, a slow smile spreading across his face. He had work to do and, if Dean's instincts were right, this would keep her distracted enough to give him some time. And Dean's instincts were always right.

A half hour later, Alex came out of the shower to find Bobby tinkering with the large object on the living room table. Too curious to resist, she stepped up next to him.

"What's that?" she asked.

Bobby smiled at her show of interest. "It's a turntable."

"A what?" she looked skeptical. "Oh, you mean like a record player? Plays those big vinyl LP's from way back?"

Bobby stifled his growl at the unintentional insinuation that he was old. "If you mean those," he pointed to the stack of LP's he had found and placed on the table, "then yes, it plays them."

Alex reached forward and picked up the top album, turning it around in her hand like it was some ancient relic before sliding the vinyl out. "Merle Haggard," she read aloud. "You call this music?"

Bobby grinned. "Was that sarcasm?"

She smiled briefly and reached for the player, sliding the record on the turntable. "How does it work?"

Bobby showed her the variable speed dial and how to get the turntable going, dropping the needle on the first track, 'Sing Me Back Home'. The sound that floated out of the thirty year old player was crackly and had substantially less bass than that crap the kids played today, but Bobby was satisfied at the small smile of approval Alex gave him. He gestured to the stack on the table with a wink. "I'll bet not a one of those is younger than you are," he said, "but trust me, they don't make music like that anymore."

He left her alone to continue rooting through his old collection and headed off downstairs to start his next project. He nodded in satisfaction when he heard the volume of the music being turned up. After fifteen minutes of Merle Haggard, the record was stopped and the sound of Hank Williams came floating down the stairwell.

Yep, Dean Winchester, damn genius.

SPN-SPN-SPN

June 2009

Sam struggled in vain to free himself from the ropes binding his wrists together around the post behind him. He had been unceremoniously shoved with his back against one of the thick log posts supporting the barn's hayloft and had his hands tied behind it by the woman vampire. Sam figured she must have been a sailor or sailor's wife before she was turned vamp if her knowledge of knots was any indication. The young one, clearly the leader, was pacing back and forth in front of the hunter, running his hands through his short, dark hair.

"Samuel Winchester. The one and only Samuel Winchester," he repeated, nodding his head in apparent pleasure at the identity of his captor. "I must say, it's a bit of an honour."

"Fuck off."

The vampire looked at him with a puzzled look. "Aren't you in the least curious who holds your fate in their hands? Who you're telling to fuck off?"

"Not really."

The teenager gritted his teeth, obviously not appreciating the disrespect. "You are impertinent. You should show some respect for your elders. I may not look it, but I am perhaps the oldest of my kind left."

"Good for you. I hope you had a good retirement plan because from what I hear, this economy's a bitch on pensioners." Dean was usually the mouthy one when faced with undesirable odds, but Sam too was born a Winchester and just couldn't help himself. It must be in the genes, he thought, still working at the ropes binding him.

Clearly annoyed now, the vampire snarled but took a few deep breaths, trying to ignore Sam's attempts to rile him. "You may call me Ivan," he continued. "As for you, I hear you're quite unique, Samuel."

"It's Sam."

Ivan ignored the correction, once again seeming pleased to have the Sam Winchester in his custody. "You know, to a vampire, human blood is something to be treasured, enjoyed, even savoured," he said slowly. "Now the blood of a human possessed by a demon, on the other hand, can have quite an adverse effect on any vampire unfortunate enough to digest it." He was speaking to Sam as if he was a schoolteacher and Sam his eager student. "Rather like a McDonald's burger, I'm afraid. Pretty tasty, but not so good for your health." He walked closer to the restrained hunter, stopping just outside of head-butting range. He reached a hand up and ran two fingers down the side of Sam's neck, licking his lips. Sam squirmed away as much as he could, finding the light touch far more invasive and uncomfortable than a mere punch to the gut would have been.

"Centuries ago, there was a girl." The vampire stepped back to continue his lesson, this time apparently choosing the subject of history. "She was rumoured to be a human with demon blood." He looked at Sam with a smile. "Much like you." He started up his pacing again, hands clasped behind his back. "Legend goes that a vampire named Mortrim Van-something-or-other drank from this human and became ten times more powerful than any other vampire in history."

He stopped and looked at Sam, an expression of deep thought on his face. "Of course, other legends say he died an excruciatingly painful death the instant he ingested her blood." He shrugged. "I'm inclined to believe the first story."

Until that point, the female vampire had been hanging back, letting the young-looking leader have his conversation with the prisoner. Sam saw a look of shock cross her face, however, at Ivan's last comment. "Ivan, no!" she cried, stepping forward. "Ella said to leave him be. She said we could have the other one but not to touch this one."

Sam's heart skipped a beat. Dean. They had Dean. And they were going to feed on him. He renewed his surreptitious but vigorous struggle with the ropes that were painfully cutting into his wrists. He had to get free. He had to save Dean.

"I don't really care what that demon bitch says," Ivan spat, not taking his eyes off Sam. "She's not here, is she?"

"On the contrary," a female voice sounded from the side door Sam had entered earlier. "Unless you want Lillith and every demon in her employ after you, I suggest you back off, Ivan. Lillith wants this one all to herself."

The pretty brunette Dean had been chatting up at the house walked up to Sam, stopping in front of him with a smile.

"You're a demon," he said, instantly trying to summon his powers.

"My, you're observant," she smiled, not looking overly worried about her proximity to a known demon-killer. "What's the matter Sammy? Can't aim without your hand?" she mocked. "I know exactly what you are and aren't capable of… so far."

Sam ignored her tease, realizing she was right and he had no idea how to focus or channel his powers without the use of his hand. Practice sessions with Ruby were hard to arrange with Dean around twenty-four-seven. He floundered around inside his head for a bit but didn't seem to be getting anywhere. "Lillith's behind all this?" he asked, stalling for time. He would figure it out.

"Hmph," Ella said with a toss of her head. "There's not much these days Lillith's not behind. The days of every demon for themselves are gone, Sammy.'

'It's Sam."

"Actually, it's Dean. My appointment, that is. With Dean. I should really get going. I hate to be late for a torture and kill session, don't you?"

Sam was unable to keep the panic from showing in his eyes. "What have you done with my brother?" he demanded, trying furiously to throw his powers at her. All he succeeded in doing was stirring a breeze through the hair of the vampire to his left side, the one he had shot earlier. He derived no satisfaction from the nervous look the vampire threw his way before taking a few wary steps backwards.

Ella laughed, clearly deliciously happy with the reaction she had incited. "Well, nothing yet. But I don't want to keep him waiting. Adieu, Sammy." With that she gave him a condescending royal wave and practically skipped out of the barn.

Sam roared his frustration, pulling with all his might at the ropes behind him. Still, no give.

SPN-SPN-SPN

Dean and Josh sat in silence for a good twenty minutes, the darkness providing a comfortable cover and eliminating the need for small talk. It was Josh who spoke first, his question clearly indicating what his thoughts had been focused on during the previous silence.

"What was she like when you got her out?" he asked.

Dean winced, knowing these questions were inevitably coming at some point but not wanting to deal with them yet. He supposed with the likelihood that Josh was going to be fang-kibble at some point if Sam didn't hurry his ass up, he may as well answer them honestly.

"Quiet," he said candidly. "She wouldn't look me in the eye and she didn't really talk much, just sorta went through the motions."

There was a long silence during which Dean grew increasingly uncomfortable. Once Josh broke the silence, however, Dean realized quickly he preferred the uncomfortable quietness.

"Damnit Dean!" Alex's brother yelled. "Do you realize how long it took her to get where she was?"

Dean didn't answer, knowing the question was rhetorical and not liking his chances of not getting popped on the nose if he tried to defend himself at this point.

He heard Josh sigh before continuing. "When I was eighteen, I didn't know about Red-Eyes and I took off to travel and go backpacking for a year then I went away to college for almost four years. While I was gone, Red-Eyes came a lot and Lexie got really, I don't know, really quiet. Withdrawn. I mean, she had always been quiet around people she didn't know and never seemed to make any friends of her own growing up but after those years, she got a lot worse." The anger had drained from Josh's voice and it seemed he was just telling Dean the situation, an unmistakable sadness behind his words. "Red-Eyes was only getting a hold of her two, three times a year before. Maybe it doesn't seem ideal to you, Mr. Badass Hunter, us running away from Red-Eyes all the time, but she's a different person now. She still gets scared and sure, all the moving around sucks, but she's got a spark to her now that I hardly ever saw when she was younger. Her laughing and smiling and getting some semblance of enjoyment out of life makes it all worthwhile. She's almost happy." Dean could feel rather than see Josh rolling his head towards him from where he sat leaning up against a timber post. "Or she was," he added, the animosity creeping back into his last statement.

Dean didn't answer. He felt guilty and Josh's commentary was certainly feeding the flames, but he couldn't bring himself to say anything. What was there to say? Sorry just didn't seem to cut it. Apparently he'd set Alex back eight years. Peachy. Talking about it wasn't going to help her now, was it?

Josh, on the other hand, wasn't really looking for an apology. He was figuring guilt was the only way he would get a location out of the stubborn hunter. He could tell Dean felt guilty, could tell he felt buckets of remorse. The guy wasn't unfeeling, after all, not by a long shot. In fact, Josh was banking on those feelings to find out where his sister was.

"Do you know how long it took that bastard to show up after she got locked up at Oceanview?" he asked the hunter accusingly.

Dean closed his eyes in the darkness, really wishing Josh would shut up, but again he didn't answer.

"Three days. Three fucking days. I only got to talk to her on the phone once for five minutes before Bryce decided I was feeding into her delusions and cut me off. She was pretty heavily medicated and I wasn't sure what to make of her babbling about angels and stuff. I realize now that she wasn't that out of it. And she told me you put her in there. Not Sam, not the two of you, not even Uncle Bryce. You. Dean."

"Look, I said I was sorry," Dean managed. "What more do you want from me?"

Josh suddenly felt the frustration and anger sweep back in at Dean's noncommittal words. "I want to understand how you could do it!" he vented. "You're a HUNTER for Christ's sake! You KNOW this stuff is real!"

"Look, I'm not gonna make excuses, I was wrong. I saw the evidence and I stupidly believed it."

"What evidence?" Josh asked, honestly wondering what kind of evidence could possibly convince a person who kills monsters as a full time occupation to disbelieve a very sane girl about hers.

"Dennison had videos of her hurting herself."

"Hmph. He tried to get me to watch some videos when he came to see me in jail. I refused." Josh didn't sound impressed.

"Well they were pretty damn convincing. And Sam found all this psych stuff about people who seem perfectly normal except they believe this one single thing that's a delusion. I mean, he researched the shit out of it and… and it all fit. I honestly thought she was doing it to herself." Dean didn't know why he was defending himself; he deserved the anger Josh was directing at him now, but he continued. "And she admitted you'd never actually seen Red-Eyes."

Dean heard Josh's fist slam into something, presumably the timber post behind him. "I didn't need to!" the ex-surfer fumed. "And doing it to herself? I came home one day to find her pinned to the wall with a fucking screwdriver through her shoulder, Dean! She'd been there for two hours trying to stay conscious and on her feet so the hole didn't rip any bigger." His voice almost cracked at the reliving of the memory. "That fucking bastard had rammed it in so hard I had to use both hands and brace my feet against the wall to pull it out. You tell me how a girl who weighs a buck twenty soaking wet can do that to herself!"

Dean remembered the round, jagged scar on Alex's shoulder that he had mistaken for a bullet wound at the time and swallowed hard. "Fuck, Josh," he croaked. "I said I was sorry. Nothing I can do can make up for it now, I know that, but I am sorry." He was glad for the cover of darkness as he winced in his discomfort, wishing he could just up and leave, ending the incredibly uncomfortable conversation. Goddamn Lillith and her fucking minions.

Josh was silent for another long minute. That Dean felt remorse was obvious but he suddenly realized the extent of Dean's guilt. He could hear it in his voice despite the hunter's best efforts to control the emotion and suddenly felt bad for pushing it. He was extremely curious to know the nature of the relationship that had formed between Dean and his sister when he had asked the hunter to find her in Texas but Dean was difficult to decipher. It was obvious from the short conversation he'd had with Lexie that she had developed feelings for the guy far beyond friendship and he could tell Dean cared about her in return, but he just wasn't sure in what way. After all, it wasn't as if he could just come out and ask 'so, were you banging my sister?'

"She doesn't blame you, you know," he offered.

Dean let out a snort of obvious disbelief.

"Seriously." Josh reached into his pocket and pulled out the folded, three-page letter from his sister. "Bro, you got a lighter on you?"

Dean replied in the affirmative by pulling his Zippo from his pocket and flicking it on. Through the dancing flicker of the small flame, he could see Josh holding out pieces of paper towards him.

"Top of page two," was all the blond man said.

Dean crawled forward and took the letter apprehensively. It had been sealed when Alex had given it to him to pass on to her brother so, as tempted as he and Sam had been to read it to ensure she hadn't written anything they didn't particularly want getting out, they trusted her and left it sealed. He was sitting on the floor with his back against the wall and his knees bent up before him and he placed the letter on them as he shuffled the pages with one hand, the other holding his Zippo. The letter was handwritten in the same neat, cursive writing Alex had inscribed in the book she had given him for his birthday. He flipped to the second page and started reading at the top.

…I actually saw one. He was beautiful. I swear, he glowed. For the first time in my life, I sensed something good instead of evil. An actual upside to my freak mojo. So I will officially admit, you were right and I was wrong. That unwavering faith I used to make so much fun of you for having, faith that things would be alright in the end and that something bigger was looking out for us, was totally justified after all.

Dean looked up, the small flame illuminating his grin for Josh. "She's talking about Cas, the angel she met." He shook his head and chuckled with the memory. "I swear, she practically swooned every time he came around. Couldn't stop staring at him."

"Keep reading," Josh instructed. "Next paragraph."

Dean shrugged and looked back down at the letter, feeling like he was invading Alex and Josh's privacy and intruding on a private moment by reading it.

…Please don't blame Dean for this. You liked him from the start, you should trust that. He's been through so much and he keeps fighting, gives it everything and always does what he thinks is right. I've seen why he did what he did and I don't want you to blame him. He's a good guy all the way through and I'm willing to bet he's gonna save us all someday.

Dean looked up, dumbfounded at her words. They certainly didn't hold the same tone he heard in the accusation she had spat at him in Nebraska a few days ago when he first argued her decision to ditch Josh.

"See?" Josh said with a grin, noticing Dean's stunned expression. "She thinks you're friggin' Jesus."

Dean snorted and let the flame go out, surrounding them both in total darkness again.

Josh continued talking. "She's forgiven you, bro. The only one who hasn't is you."

"And you," Dean pointed out.

"So tell me where she is then and you can consider yourself completely absolved."

"Now who thinks they're Jesus?" Dean scoffed.

Josh laughed again and Dean felt a renewed fear for their fates. He genuinely liked this guy, despite the endless Oprah moments. Dean didn't make many real friends and, unfortunately, kept losing the few he did make. He was still reeling with grief over Adam, a brother he never even got to meet before having to bash his look-a-like's head in to save Sam, and really didn't know how much more loss he could stomach. He made a silent wish that Sam would hurry his ass up; that he was okay and would barge through that door any minute.

Josh had obviously forgotten about their predicament for the time being because he kept right on talking Dr. Phil style. "You don't owe her anything. Now you need to do what's best for her."

"I tried that, remember? It didn't work out so well for her. So this time I'm gonna do what she wants and what she wants is for you to go back to California and spend your days frolicking on the beach with Carrot-top and Tight-ass."

Josh ignored the derogatory nicknames for his old friends, entirely unoffended. "And do you really think I can do that with her still hiding out somewhere waiting for that bastard to finally finish her off?" he demanded. "Could you?"

Dean knew he couldn't. In fact, he understood Josh's persistence completely, but Lex had made him swear and he wouldn't - couldn't - betray her twice.

"Look," Josh sighed. "I know you regret what you did but this is your chance to put it right."

"Regret?" Dean laughed a hoarse laugh with absolutely no humour in it. "I tell you what I regret. I regret ever meeting either one of you. I'm sorry I cost you your sister and I'm sorry I can't tell you where she is, but after what I did to her, I'm not gonna betray her trust again. I'm just not. So you might as well just give up. When she wants to find you, she will. Just go back to California and wait for her."

Josh stayed silent, contemplating Dean's last words, which had been spoken with true vigor and even a hint of anger. He suddenly realized there was no way the stubborn hunter was going to give in out of guilt. In fact, guilt was the very reason Dean wouldn't give Lex up. Maybe he had been playing the wrong hand, trying the wrong approach. It occurred to him that perhaps Sam was the one he should be working on. Sam seemed less emotionally involved, after all. More practical. More logical. More willing to give up Lexie to get her annoying big brother out of his hair.

Hopefully the kid was all right and was planning his big brother's rescue this very moment.

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Ivan had been clearly infuriated by Ella's appearance and was now standing before Sam, seething in anger. He clenched his fists and gritted his teeth, making low growling sounds as he stared at his captor. The female vampire was standing a few feet away, giving her leader a long, nervous look.

"Ivan?" she finally asked warily.

"What?" he snapped, spinning around to face her.

"Don't do it. You heard what Ella said. We don't want Lillith after us."

"Besides," the other male vampire chimed in, "you could die. His blood could kill you!"

Ivan appeared to be thinking, his fury subsiding. He turned back to Sam, his face holding an expression of interest and curiosity now, rather than anger. "But if it doesn't kill me," he ventured slowly, "then we won't have to worry about Lillith because I will be stronger than her."

"No!" the woman looked panicked, her eyes darting back and forth between Ivan and Sam. "It's not a good idea!"

Sam wished the underlings would pick up their debating skills because Ivan didn't look convinced and Sam was getting really nervous. He struggled frantically with the ropes behind him but still couldn't get free. He squirmed, a nauseous feeling taking hold in the pit of his stomach at the thought of the young-but-old vampire sucking on his neck. Besides, he needed to stay alive if he was going to stop Ella from killing Dean. The bitch was probably starting to torture him right now.

A slow smile spread across Ivan's face, his decision clearly made. He moved slowly and eagerly towards Sam, his vampire fangs suddenly revealing themselves and a bloodthirsty look taking over his narrowing eyes.

"No, Ivan, wait." Sam tried not to sound desperate as he squirmed and tried to pull himself away from the hungry vampire. "My blood will kill you, please, I'm telling you, you're making a mista…..urggg guh!"

The hunter lost his ability to talk the instant incredibly strong hands grabbed his face and shoulder and pain tore through his neck as the vampire's fangs ripped through his skin. He could feel Ivan's breath around the wound and felt violated more than anything else when the sucking started. He had done more than his share of drinking blood from Ruby, but it was a far worse feeling to be on the receiving end. Just two weeks ago, the ghouls who had taken the form of Adam and his mother had sucked blood from deep cuts in his wrists. If he thought that had been invasive, this was far, far worse.

The nightmare only lasted a few seconds before Ivan thankfully pulled away, wiping the back of his hand across his bloody mouth. He stepped back a few feet and stood still, seeming as if he were waiting to see what effects the few mouthfuls of Sam's blood would have.

"Ivan?" the woman asked warily, staring at him wide-eyed.

Sam stared too, hoping like Hell the bastard would drop dead.

Ivan took three really deep breaths, his hands spread out before him. For a moment, Sam thought the vampire was going to go into convulsions, hopefully due to blood-poisoning, but it became quickly apparent Ivan was smiling. Laughing even. He looked up sharply, a look of unmistakable euphoria behind the glazed over eyes.

Oh crap, Sam thought as Ivan launched himself at the restrained hunter again with a snarl, this time not holding back. Sam felt a hand yanking his head sideways by the hair before the vampire's teeth once again found the hole in his neck, this time mercilessly digging in and out repeatedly, ripping the skin to shreds as greedy mouthfuls were violently drawn out with every painful gulp. His legs were pinned to the post by Ivan's incredibly strong knee in his hip and he managed a strangled cry of pain and frustration when he realized he couldn't even put up a decent struggle. The brutal onslaught at his neck continued relentlessly and was draining him of energy quickly. Ivan was the only thing holding him up once his knees buckled and his weight slumped against the post. His last thought before the darkness overcame him was of Dean and a fleeting hope his big brother would come to save him.

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TBC…

A friend once told me I pick on Dean and take too much pleasure in hurting him so I decided to try and share the love (and by love I mean whumpage) in these couple of chapters but don't worry, Dean still gets more than his share later, lol. Thanks to everyone who is reading and for the alerts, faves, and reviews!