Dean's head was already tilted back, and Bobby used the tip of a fang to nick open the packet of blood. He began to pour, and at first it pooled in Dean's mouth and began to trickle down the side of his jaw.
"Dammit, kid, swallow…" he said gruffly, and began to knead Dean's throat with one hand, coaxing the blood into his body.
The first pack was nearly dry by the time Dean moaned. Sam jumped at the sound.
Bobby stopped rubbing Dean's throat and put his hand against his face, trying to feel for a temperature difference.
"Come on, kid," he whispered. "Come on, you got this…"
He tilted the last of the packet's blood into Dean's mouth and watched as he swallowed of his own volition. Bobby's relief was short-lived when Dean's eyes snapped open in a panic.
"Hold him!" Bobby commanded, and Sam pressed hard, but Dean was writhing to get away.
"Dean! Goddammit, listen to me!"
Fear. Dean was terrified. He was scrambling, trying to free himself, but in his starved state, it didn't matter that he was a vampire- Sam still had the upper hand.
Bobby grabbed Dean's jaw with one hand, his heart breaking at the look of confusion and terror in his eyes. "I'm so sorry, son. We gotta do this."
Dean saw the blood, and his eyes went wide. He started to struggle with renewed panic, trying to scream for help through his muffled mouth, but Bobby ripped open the bag with his mouth and his thumbnail, and forced the torn plastic between Dean's teeth. Blood splattered over Dean's face and Bobby's hands, but Bobby pinched Dean's nose shut. Vampires don't need to breathe, but some reflexes never change, and Dean started to swallow, chokingly, to keep from suffocating.
"That's it," Bobby coaxed, "Keep going."
Tear started to leak from Dean's eyes. He jerked again, still trying to free himself, but it was no use. He swallowed, and Bobby finally released his hold on his jaw when the packet was dry.
As soon as he was released, Dean retched over the side of the bed. For a moment, both Sam and Bobby thought the entire horrific ordeal would be for nothing, but it seemed Dean's body was too desperate for food to risk losing it all to a guilt-induced nausea.
When he was done retching, Dean pulled himself back on the bed, shivering, panting with the exertion of his fight.
"Get out," he growled.
"Dean-" Sam started.
"Get the fuck out."
It was deadly silent in the room. Dean drew himself into the corner, knees against his chest. He was still shaking.
"You ain't allowed to die," Bobby spat, standing his ground. "Not on my watch, you ungrateful idjit. You gonna make your brother sit through you starvin' yourself to death after he already watched you die? You're as stupid and heartless as you are hungry."
Sam almost stopped Bobby before realizing it was a front. A bluff. Dean, at his worst times, only responded to his father's tough love and strict orders. A gentle hand would get bitten off, but Bobby's anger and aggression would push Dean back into submission. Worse, Dean wasn't arguing about whether it was possible for him to starve to death anymore. He knew. He had known since the beginning that it might kill him. He just didn't care. Sam felt anger rising in his chest.
"I… I'm sorry," Dean quaked. "I'm sorry."
Bobby's resolve shattered, but as he lifted a hand, Dean flinched back violently.
"Please," he groaned, "Don't make me eat again. I swear I'll do whatever you want. Don't…" he shuddered, "Don't force me. Not like they did. Please, Bobby."
They?
Sam's insides liquefied, and he realized Dean was talking about Kate and the nest. The blood they'd forced into him, laughing, watching him shudder and scream as the change rooted itself in his body.
"I'm sorry, Dean," his brother said. "We had to. You were dying and we didn't know what else to do."
"You could have let me go."
The response was soft, low, rasping from a sore throat, and almost regretful.
"No, I couldn't have." Sam dared his brother to respond.
Bobby huffed a sigh.
"You're gonna need more than what we gave you, Dean. Soon. Or you'll slip back into that coma or lose control and whether or not we force you is gonna become a moot point."
Dean's gaze was pleading, traveling between his brother and his adopted uncle, searching for any give at all. He found none.
"I'm storing it downstairs. You give me about four minutes to nuke the next batch, and I'll let you drink it of your own free will. You wait any longer," and here Bobby paused to draw in a breath, "And so help me, I'll make your father hold you down while I put a tube down your throat. We'll pour a full five and a half quarts into you before we take it out to be damn sure you survive. You try me and see if I won't."
Dean paled and looked like he was about to retch again.
Bobby grabbed a stunned and sickened Sam by the arm, left the room, and slammed the door behind him. Sam swore he heard gagging.