Still Edgewood, New Mexico - Three Days Later
My dark eyes stare up at the ceiling but I'm so lost in thought they barely notice the imperfect, speckled strokes and smears that could, if I were to turn my imagination on (or eat some psychedelics), resemble an endless amount of creatures, objects and faces. The fingers of my left hand lovingly run themselves through the blond and black hair that belong to April, who sleepily rests her head on my chest. I carefully avoid contact with her skin which, despite the sun kissed hue, has grown frigid to the touch and a painful reminder of what she's become.
Dean's been nice enough to give me time with her. He hasn't even complained once about staying these past three days. If - or, rather, when - he starts moaning about wasting perfectly good time hanging out with a vampire when we could be hunting something more problematic, I'll tell him to move on without me. That I'll catch up somehow. Right now, my place is with April who is, surprisingly, the restless one.
I guess I'd be restless too if I didn't feel well enough to travel and got stuck in some crappy motel in some town between here and there. April swears the transformation isn't agreeing with her "hunter blood" and hasn't been up to the challenge of moving on. Dean, on the other hand, is confident that's simply what it's like to be a vampire.
"Your heart beat is so loud," April whispers but I don't say anything. I'm still trying to accept this, the vampire nestled under my arm and the fact she used to be the object of my affections.
Who am I kidding? She still is. This could still work. She hasn't killed anyone yet. She'd probably be a cheep date, too. If only she'd get rid of Ryan...
Speaking of...
"Where's your boyfriend?" I ask, trying to swallow the bitter taste the word leaves in my mouth.
"He's picking up some... food..." she replies, embarrassed by what "food" now means to her.
"What are you going to do?" I change the subject in an attempt to dismiss the thought of her surviving solely on blood.
"Ryan found a nest up in Denver," April says with a sigh. "They're on a donation only diet. As soon as I stop feeling like crap all the time, we're gonna drive up and join them."
"Ryan's going with you?" I question with a hint of disappointment in my breath.
"I guess so," she says with a shrug. "Why do you ask?"
"I donno. It's just... he's a human, you know? And a hunter. You really think an entire nest of vamps are going to let him near them?"
I leave out the part where I remind her that he's a flaming douche.
"This doesn't have anything to do with the massive crush you have on me, does it?" she asks.
For a minute, I don't respond. I swallow past the lump in my throat as I slowly sit up, gently brushing April's head away from my chest.
"He's not right for you, April," I speak as my eyes sweep the red shag carpet of her motel room. "Hell, he's not right for anyone."
Seriously. I know I just sound like the jealous Ducky friend over here, but the guy's a jerk. I can't help but hope he gets turned into something himself one of these days so I can hunt him down and chop off his head or put a silver bullet between his eyes.
"Ben..." April begins.
"You know he's bad news," I cut her off, turning my head to look at her. "Has he even offered to let you turn him?"
"What? No," she frowns as she shakes her head. "That's ridiculous. Why would..." She trails off as the realization strikes. "You're not serious, are you?"
"Yes," I whisper sincerely. "I am. I would go Twilight in a heartbeat if it meant I got to be with you."
I would, too. I'd give up the life and the road and my spot in Dean's Impala for her. I'd happily trade all that in for a mouth full of fangs and an incessant hunger for blood if it meant I could spend the rest of my life with her. Granted, if I were to become a vampire, that life could last hundreds of years, but that would probably be the selling point for me since fangs and bloodlust aren't really all that appealing.
"I wish you wouldn't refer to us as 'Twilight'," is how April responds as she folds her arms across her chest. "And I can't turn you, Ben. I can't turn anyone. That's not fair. I don't want this. Why would you?"
"Because I love you," I confess, staring her in the eyes as I tell her something she's already known.
For a really hot second, I'm almost certain she's going to press her lips on mine. That she's finally going to see what we could be together and let herself fall for me the way I fell for her.
And then the damn door opens.
"What's going on in here?"
April squints and puts a hand up to shield her sensitive eyes from the flood of daylight that enters the room between the muscular, brown haired, green eyed man who stands in the doorway. He kicks the door shut with his right foot as he enters the room with a suspicious frown across his brow and a white plastic grocery bag in his hand.
Ryan. He looks like a Jersey Shore Abecrombie & Fitch went to Bonaroo and threw up all over him. He's a shade too orange to have obtained his tan the good old fashioned way, and his sneakers are too clean to be hunter's footwear. He wears one of those tacky faux vintage shirts that boasts the name of a nudist camp that probably never existed from a year that predates his own birth, as well as a pair of kaki colored shorts and rasta colored sweat bands.
As a self proclaimed "good guy", the frustration is never ending that jerks like him have been outwardly expressing their inner douche for decades and girls still flock to them.
"Just talking," April calmly replies as Ryan eyes me with jealousy, which is the typical look I receive from him. "You remember Ben, don't you?"
"Sure," Ryan grumbles as he sets the bag on the table and begins extracting white styrofoam take-out boxes from inside.
"Where'd you go?" April asks, watching him dig out food boxes.
"Had to go to Albuquerque," he says. "The hospital here doesn't have a huge supply."
"So... did you get it?" she questions with a hungry look in her eye. Ryan pauses in his task and hangs his head.
"Shit," he mutters with a long sigh, turning to give April a set of big puppy eyes. "I'm sorry, Ape. I stopped at a smoke shop on the way back, I think I left the bags there."
April fumes. Her nostrils flare, her cheeks grow red with rage and her pupils dilate so much they almost swallow her blue green iris's. She's not just angry. She's hungry.
"You smell like another woman," she states, sniffing the air.
Me, all I can smell is the stench of too much body spray mixed in with the skunky smell of weed. But I wouldn't be surprised if there were undertones of another female's perfume on his skin, and if anyone can smell it right now, it would be April.
"I'm gonna go," I softly announce, rising from the bed. "Um... call me?"
April doesn't look at me. The way she glares at Ryan would indicate she didn't hear me at all. So I just slowly back towards the door and let myself out of the room. That's one domestic dispute I don't wanna see.
I walk the mile and a half back to the motel where Dean and I are currently residing, all the while wondering and wishing. Maybe Dean would let me borrow the Impala for a couple of hours. I could go get her some blood and bring it to her. By then, maybe she'd have kicked Ryan to the curb and we could at least have one night together.
I shouldn't be thinking these things. I'm a hunter for Christ's sake. It's one thing to let a vampire walk. It's quite another to seriously contemplate actually stealing blood from a hospital to feed one. Or, worse, seriously consider becoming one.
Just stop, I tell myself as I approach my room door. Don't get your hopes up.
Wait, no. That's not a good thing to hope for. Think about puppies. Or the new Marvel movie. Yeah, think about that. It's gonna be awesome...
Dean's voice drifts through the door and I pause to listen before intruding.
"Cas?" I hear him speak. "You got your ears on, Cas? Shit, I don't know if you're even really out there."
Huh. Looks like I'm not the only one Crowley got to.
"Look, Cas," he goes on after a moment of silence. "If you are out there, if you're still alive, I just want to say..." Pause. "I forgive you, Cas. Okay? I forgive you for abandoning me. I forgive you for letting me try to kill myself. You probably saw that, with the griffin in Jersey."
I feel kind of bad, eves dropping on a private prayer like this. At the same time, despite the morbid content, it's a little, well, nice to know Dean's not this empty, emotionless robot. It's kind of a bummer knowing he faced off with a griffin as a suicide attempt, but, at this point, I probably should have guessed as much.
"I lost an eye, you know?" Dean goes on. "But I forgive you for not being there. Okay, Cas? Do you hear me? I forgive you. I just... I just want to see you again. Make sure you're alive. It... it would mean a lot if you could just show me I'm not really..." Pause. "... alone."
I swallow hard as I digest Dean's desperate prayer. While I've slowly been learning who Dean really is, it never occurred to me he actually felt much of anything before. He hides it well and, lets be honest, with the amount he drinks I guess I assumed he was just constantly numb. I never really stopped to think there might be a reason he's been trying to numb himself.
Slowly I make my entrance into the motel room. Dean sits at the edge of his bed with his flask held loosely in his hands. At a quick glance I can see his eye water with tears he's too proud to spill.
"Hey," I quietly say as he turns away, quickly unscrewing the cap of his container.
"How's your friend?" Dean asks before lifting the object to his lips.
"She's... you know," I say with a shrug. "Dealing."
I pause to ponder my next words. Part of me wants to comfort Dean, tell him he's not alone now. He's got me and I'm (probably) not going anywhere. The other part of me, the logical part, tells me it would be a bad idea to let him know I just listened in on a private, one-way conversation between him and an angel who may or may not be alive.
"Thanks for hanging out here awhile," I say instead. "I really appreciate you letting me spend some time with April."
Dean scoffs as he puts his flask down and looks back to me, his eye now completely dry.
"I'm not hanging out here for you," he tells me simply with a flat tone. "I'm doing my job."
"What do you mean?" I have to ask, not sure exactly what his job is here at this point.
"Look," Dean says with a short sigh. "I know she's a hunter and you think she's going to keep her nose clean. And I'm willing to wait it out and see if you're right. But she's also a freshly made vampire, and it's a hell of a lot harder to control what instinct is telling you if you're not used to dealing with it."
"How would you know?" I challenge as Dean takes another sip from his flask.
"Because I was a vampire once," he easily shares, as if it were no big deal.
"What!?" I cry. "How are you...?"
"How am I not now?" he finishes. "There's a cure."
"And you just thought you'd keep that to yourself?" I question angrily.
"It only works if the vamp hasn't fed," Dean tells me with a sigh. "She's obviously already fed. Even if we hadn't seen it, there's no way she'd be able to resist for that long. I was a vampire for a day and I barely made it."
The way he looks at me as he tells me this, it's like he feels guilty about something. He opens his mouth to continue but, at the last second, decides to take another drink instead.
"So you're just sitting here waiting for her to slip up?" I question and he shrugs.
"If that's how you want to see it, then yeah," he says. "I guess I am."
"That's just... peachy," I mutter.
"If it makes you feel better, it's not like I'm rooting for her to go full-on monster," Dean attempts to reassure me. "It's my - no, it's our - responsibility to make sure that doesn't happen."
"She won't," I tell him with an unwavering confidence. "She's got a place lined up. A nest of vamps on a strict donation-only diet. She'll be gone before you know it."
"Good," Dean nods. "I hope she makes it. But as long as she's in town, so are we."
xXxXxXx
I can't sleep. April never called me. She didn't even answer me when I tried calling her. I'm starting to worry about her. I'm also a little worried about Dean. Not just what he might do to her if she does slip, but him in general. Whenever I manage to get April off my mind, I can't help but recall the confession he made in his prayer. About him going up against the griffin. It makes me wonder how many monsters he's gone up against in hopes that he ultimately looses. And is he still trying to loose, even though he's not alone anymore?
I realize I'm not meant to sleep tonight when a call comes through over the police scanner set on the night stand between my bed and Dean's bed.
"Dispatch, this is officer Burton," a staticy voice cuts through the silence. "We've got a one-eight-seven down at Guyer's Liquor. Make that a double one-eight-seven. Requesting ambulance and back-up. Over."
"Ten-four, officer," a woman responds as Dean stirs under his covers and I sit up. "Is suspect in custody? Over."
"Suspect has yet to be identified," the police officer responds. "Over."
"Is the suspect armed? Over."
Dean slowly sits up, dangling his legs over the side of the bed as he sleepily scratches his head and carefully listens.
"I... I don't know," the officer replies, completely dropping his official-sounding tone. "It looks like these boys were bit by... I don't know what. Over."
My heart sinks and my stomach drops. Dean glances at me with a sorrowful gaze before rising to his feet to grab his jeans and a pair of socks.
"I'm sorry, Ben," he quietly attempts to comfort me. "I really did hope she'd pull through."
I want to believe this wasn't her. That maybe she turned Ryan and he's the one who killed the guys down at the liquor store. That she's still strong and I get to decapitate an asshole. I want more than anything to believe she's still in her motel room or at the goat farm, innocently drinking animal blood while the other guy is on a rampage. But I just can't, because I know better and, honestly, my luck's not all that great.
Dean and I swing by the liquor store first to confirm the bite marks do, in fact, belong to a vampire. A third victim who was fortunate enough to survive gives us a description of his assailant which, of course, accurately paints us a vivid picture of my poor April, right down to what she was wearing when I left her motel earlier. We swing by her room to see if she's there, even though we both know she's too smart to have returned to the first place two hunters would go looking for her.
Sure enough, the room is dark and empty when we arrive. Empty, save for the cold body that used to belong to Ryan, which lays stiff on the red shag carpet only a foot or so away from the bed. Given his body temperature and the cold, untouched take-out food on the table, April killed him shortly after I left.
"Damn it," Dean sighs when he sees the first of three bodies my friend's made.
"Don't feel too bad for him," I tell Dean, who shoots me an angry look.
"I don't care if you didn't like the guy," he barks. "He didn't deserve to die. Not like this."
I could argue that Dean didn't know him, but he's probably right. Jerk or not, it's seldom a person actually deserves a death sentence.
Well, you got your wish, Ben, I bitterly think as I stroll to the parking lot. April's single. And Dean's going to make you cut her head off.
"Her car's gone," I inform Dean once he's alerted the police of Ryan's body.
"Shit," Dean curses. "She mention where this nest she's joining is?"
"No," I lie through my teeth. I know this is wrong, me protecting her like this. It doesn't just violate the unwritten hunter's code, but it kind of goes against morality. Every instinct within me screams out "tell Dean! Head north and save anyone who might cross April's path before she can get there! Do your fucking job!" But I don't, because I want her to live a nice, long, unnatural undead life. Even if that means I'll never see her again.
"Albuquerque's the closest city," Dean thinks out loud, agitated we managed to let one little vampire slip through our fingers. "It's where I'd go if I was trying to shake a couple of hunters."
I know she's headed north, but I don't bother to correct Dean. If we go south, she'll get a good head start and have time to clean up her act.
My plans go to hell when we reach our motel room to pack up. Sitting on my bed in the dark is April, quietly waiting for us. Even in the cover of night I can see the blood smeared across her face, coating her lips. As I inch closer, I can see the tears that streak down her cheeks and, for some reason, it makes me happy because seeing her cry confirms that she's not a monster. Not really.
"Ben..." Dean quietly warns, attempting to defer me from getting too close to her.
"It's fine," I whisper back as I stride towards the vampire. "April?"
"Hey, Ben," she breathes, attempting a small smile through her pain. "Sorry I didn't call."
"It's okay," I assure her, inching carefully towards her. "What... what happened?"
"What happened?" Dean echoes shortly. "She bled three people dry, that's what happened."
"Dean..." I begin, but she cuts me off.
"It's okay, Ben," she gently tells me. "He's right. That was me. I did that."
"You shouldn't have come here, April," I point out as I sit beside her.
"I had to," she tells me. "I had no other choice."
"You could have ran," I point out and she shakes her head, giving Dean a quick glance.
"No," she insists. "I can't run from what I am. And god knows I can't run from a Winchester."
My heart begins to break as my stomach leaps into my throat once I realize exactly why she came here. Part of me was hoping she was seeking help and, to some extent, I'm not wrong. But she's not looking for help the way a drug addict looks for help and it's not her she wants us to help. It's everyone else she's trying to save.
"April, you can't... I can't..." I shake my head, my words tripping over my tongue.
"You have to, Ben," she tells me as she presses her machete into my hands.
"No," I shake my head. "I don't."
"What other options do we have?" she demands to know.
"You could go live with Garth," I spew the first idea that comes to mind. "He can teach you how live without..."
Without what? Blood? She's a fucking vampire.
"Oh, Ben," April gives me a sad, half smile as she places a tender hand on my shoulder. "Garth's a wolf, not a fang. We're two completely different monsters. He couldn't teach me anything."
I hate how right she is.
"Please, Ben," she pleads again when I remain silent, helping my fingers close around the cool hilt of her own blade. "I can't do this myself and I can't live like this. You don't know what it's like. I couldn't stop myself and I can't promise I'll never do it again."
"I could help you..." I attempt one last plea, something she rejects with a simple shake of her head. My heart grows heavy as the tears well in my eyes and my mind spins.
And then she does something completely unexpected. She leans in and places a long, tender kiss on my lips.
"I'm sorry it has to be this way," she apologizes, resting her cold forehead on mine as she speaks.
"April, I can't..." I begin before I choke on my own words.
"I'll do it," Dean speaks up. I'd almost forgotten he was there.
April turns to look at him and gives him a small smile.
"Thanks, Mr. Winchester," she says.
"It's Dean," he kindly corrects her as he takes a firm grasp of his own machete.
"Dean," she repeats with a small smile before looking to me one more time. "Bye, Ben."
Slowly, she rises to her feet and lets a long, hard sigh pass her lips as she strides towards the older hunter. I remain frozen to my seat as a single tear slips from my right eye and slides down my cheek.
"Ready?" Dean gently asks as she exhales one last time.
"As ready as I'll ever be," she nods, squeezing her eyes shut. I watch Dean bring his blade back to gain the right inertia to slice through bone and I want to throw up.
"No!" I cry, jumping to my feet. Dean pauses as April turns to face me. "I'll do it."
"Thank you," she whispers as Dean slowly lowers his blade and takes a step back. I wipe the sweat from my palms to gain a better grip of April's weapon before I can mimic Dean's own motions, drawing it back so the edge glistens just behind my head.
"I love you," I tell her.
"I know," she whispers sadly. "I love you too, Ben."
Before I can change my mind and subject April to the torture of waiting to die, I swing the blade with a clean, fluid motion. Within a single second, her head falls to the floor, followed shortly by the rest of her. Despite the fact I knew it was going to happen, a loud gasp escapes my throat as a few more tears break free.
"I'm sorry, Ben," Dean offers sincere condolences, gently placing a hand on my shoulder as he speaks. He pauses to allow this all sink in. "Look, man. I'd like to give you a minute but... you know. Dead chick on the motel floor."
"Yeah," I nod, wiping the salty tears from my face. "Right."
Dean strips his own bed of its sheets and silently lays it over April's lifeless body.
"She didn't love me," I share with him, not quite ready to help him in this gory task. "Not the way I loved her."
"So?" Dean questions as he works. "She still loved you. Isn't that what matters?"
"Yeah," I whisper as April's blade falls from my fingers. "I guess it is."
Yes, a smoke shop in New Mexico. Before anyone points out the fact that sort of thing is only completely legal in two states (one of which is not NM), I'd like to remind you this story is set in the future. Change happens and national legalization seems like a feasible feat at this point.
I was going to apologize for the feels, but I'm not sorry so I can't. We're all SPN fangirls & boys here. We're used to getting punched in the feels every week. Just trying to stay true to the Supernatural Universe.