Disclaimer: Not mine.

Warning: Ummm, same as.

Author's Note: So, thanks to everyone who's reviewing, I love you all! Only two and a bit days until Croatoan (for us Aussies who haven't seen it via downloads/pirate copies) and I CANNOT wait! Oh, and sorry, this chapter's a bit looooong.

Chapter 10: Revelations

It began shaking, and then, as he watched, it rose, slowly, shaking as Sam struggled to keep control over. It didn't help that he was tired, and hurting. But he didn't think about that. He thought only of the knife coming towards him.

It paused in the air, turning slightly, Sam's own mind rebelling against the strain. He frowned, feeling the sweat start.

"Come on," he whispered urgently at it. "Come on!"

Perhaps sensing the insistence in his voice, the knife decided to 'come on'. It came on, fast, dangerous end facing Sam. He flinched, unable to do much but tense and close his eyes as he prepared to feel the blade sinking into his flesh.

It never came. When it didn't, he popped one eye open, and then both. The knife was right in front of him, twirling slightly in the air. It had stopped bare inches from his face. He sighed with relief and at the same time released the energy. The knife dropped to his lap.

From there it was a matter of twisting and pushing to get the knife where his hands could grab it. And a minute later he was free.

Sighing, he stretched his shoulders, before pressing around his ribs, making sure nothing was broken. Then he stood, feeling his face and wincing at the growing bruises. He wasn't going to look pretty for a while.

He moved silently to the door and tried to turn the handle. It was locked. He didn't try shaking it. He didn't want to alert anyone to his liberated presence. Not yet anyway.

He started searching the instruments on the wall, looking for anything he could pick the lock with. He yawned once while doing so, realizing how exhausted he was becoming. He wouldn't be using the telekinesis again, that was for sure. But he still had to get out of the room.

He put the wide knife through the belt around his jeans, loosening the leather for easy access to the weapon. He hit the jackpot when he found… something. He frowned over the instrument, wondering what it was for and hoping he would never personally find out. But he broke two small, very thin, metal rods off of it and made his way back to the door. He knelt by it, listening intently, before picking the lock and making his way from the room. He locked it behind him, so if anyone did decide to check on him they would find the door apparently not tampered with and hopefully not bother to look in.

He made his way to his right, the opposite direction from which he had been dragged there. He crept along silently, knife out.

Voices could soon be heard, but he made his way along at the same pace, refusing to give into anxiety or panic. His grip on the blade was tight, his knuckles pale.

He paused though, by the room where the voices were coming from. He recognised Marco as the one talking, but the door was closed, so he couldn't see who this Boreal was. He found he didn't care. The door was closed, he could get by without the chance of being seen.

He crept by, wincing as the floor squeaked. But no one shouted, there came no difference in the air, and Sam kept on, feeling about with his mind for that tainted sense he was becoming accustomed to. Nothing was close, and he breathed easier.

He found the entry a few minutes later, wondering how he had done so without being seen. Then he realized why they seemed so lax in their own home.

Three vampires guarded the front door, each carrying a long machete. Sam thought about taking them on for a bare moment. Then he knew that even if he could fight all three, the sounds of fighting would attract attention.

He backed away, keeping his mind trained on the space around him. He had to get out soon. He had been out of the room for nearly ten minutes. Someone was going to realize he wasn't there soon.

He made his way back, looking for some other way besides the one he had come. He took a different turn, a little surprised at the size of the home. He supposed it would have to be to hold all the vampires in the nest.

He found some stairs a minute later, and paused, thinking about taking them. Maybe there would be an open window he could climb out of. In the end his decision was made for him.

A bellow echoed through the entire house. "He's gone!"

Cursing under his breath, Sam made his way up the stairs as quickly and as silently as he could. He had just disappeared around a corner when he heard footsteps thundering past the bottom of the stairs.

He found himself in a corridor lined with doors. Cursing again he began trying doors. Each seemed to be locked, but he tried handle after handle.

What he hadn't thought about was the possibility of there being inhabitants in any of the rooms behind the doors he tried. He was halfway down the hallway when he heard one of the handles turning.

He looked and saw it slowly moving. Panicking, sure he had been found out, he all but ran to the next door, turning the handle…

He almost fainted with relief as the door opened, and he stepped in, closing the door behind him. He didn't let it click shut, not yet, but waited to hear the other door close. It did, and when he didn't hear footsteps, he closed the door firmly.

Thankfully there was a lock on the inside, and he used it. He knew he was trapped now, but he hoped it would be a while before someone realized he was in there. Maybe by then he would have gotten out of this hellhole.

He turned away from the door to find himself in some kind of storage room. At least that was what it was being used for now. Maybe it used to be something else, but now Sam's eyes looked over piles of knives, wallets, clothing, belts and…

"Cell phones!" Sam breathed with shock. He couldn't believe his luck. He was so stunned by the good turn in his fortunes that for a moment he didn't move. And then he leapt forward, sorting through them one by one until he found one that worked.

Finally one turned on and Sam had to smother it to hide the jingle announcing his presence to anyone in the house who had good hearing. He listened intently once more but no one seemed aware that he was in the room. Breathing again, he waited another minute for the phone to be in working mode.

He dialled Dean's number, relieved he had learned from past mistakes and could remember the number easily. It rang for a long moment, and he used the time to look out of the window. He couldn't see far, but it was enough to give him a rough idea of where he was. He tried the window but found it locked.

"Hello?"

Dean answered the phone, and Sam was sure his brother's voice had never sounded so sweet. He jumped, dropping his hands from the window to take a better hold on the cell.

"Dean! Thank God you answered."

"Sam? Sam! Damn, Sammy, are you okay? Are you hurt? Where are you? How could you let something get you? Dammit Sammy, you have no idea how worried -."

Sam had to cut Dean off before his brother's relief gave way to anger.

"Dean, Dean calm down, please. I'm okay. A few bruises, but I'm all good. Look, I don't know how much time I have," the younger brother warned, looking around the room for something he could pick the lock on the window with, because of course he had left the other metal rods downstairs.

"Fine, Sammy. Where are you? And ah… who has you?"

Sam frowned, pausing as he tried to snap an aerial off a phone. "Who? Dean, you working with someone?"

He was sure Dean rolled his eyes. "Yeah, some cop who found me where you were taken. He wouldn't let me go unless I worked with him."

"A cop?" Sam asked incredulously. "You're working with a cop?"

Dean sighed. "Sam, answer the damn question. What happened to not having much time?"

"Sorry," Sam apologised. "Look, I don't know much. According to the cop who was taken, we're about an hour out of Cromwell. On a farm. It looks like it was abandoned until recently. Ah, house is two stories, big, barn about a hundred feet away. Um, no roads from where I can see, but I'm facing east. Sorry, that's all I can tell you. I was unconscious when they brought me in."

"That's fine Sammy," Dean comforted. "That's enough. Now, can you -."

Sam almost dropped the phone as he heard the doorknob rattle. Then, "Who's in there?"

"Shit," Sam swore, leaping for the door to lean against it. It rattled again before someone thumped into it. Sam winced.

"Look, Dean, I really don't have much time. They found me."

"He's in here!" the vampire on the other side shouted, running at the door again.

"Sam, you there still?" Dean cried frantically.

"Yeah, Dean, I'm here." Sam had to nearly yell to be heard above the running feet and the shouting outside the door. He kept one hand on the doorknob, the other on the phone.

"Sam, describe 'em for me!" Dean ordered. The besieged hunter could hear someone in the phone's background calling out.

"Dean, they're vampires!" Sam cried, pushing hard against the door. He heard the knob unlock and took a tighter grip.

"Va… you're kidding me?"

"Dean, does it sound like I'm kidding!" Sam shouted. Another thump made him fall back. "Look, trust me, they're vampires. Big pointy teeth, don't really like the sunlight, though it doesn't kill the bastards." He reinforced the door again.

"Did they…" Dean paused as Sam assumed glanced at the cop. Then he sighed. "Did they bite you Sam?"

"No," the younger hunter confirmed. "That's not really why they took everyone. They make us fight. Those convicts, the vampires were responsible for breaking them out. Remember the drained bodies. They make us fight the convicts and they make us fight them. The loser gets eaten. Dean -."

Another thump sent him sprawling back and a second later vampires poured into the room. Sam jumped to his feet, unwilling to give up this easy. He could hear Dean calling his name from the phone, but ignored it. He ignored everything. Turning on the balls of his feet, he jumped for the window.

Glass shattered around him, and his breath left him as he landed on the roof of the verandah. Then he was rolling, wincing as slates dug into his back, into his sides, into his stomach. And then he was falling, dreading and welcoming any landing.

"Sam? Sam? Sammy!" Dean shouted into the phone. There was no answer from his little brother, and he hit the steering wheel. Next to him, Holden gave an anxious glance.

Next thing both heard shattering glass, and, horrified, Dean heard the phone go dead.

Hands shaking, he closed the phone before resting it against his head. This couldn't be happening. This could not be happening.

"Dammit!" he shouted, hitting the steering wheel again. And again. Then he leaned back, closing his eyes. Well, at least he had more to go on now. He hoped he had time to figure it all out. By the sound of that, Sam had jumped out of a window.

"What did he say?" Holden asked, interrupting Dean's thought processing.

Dean leaned forward again, putting the Impala into gear and getting back onto the road from where he had parked when he had realized it was Sam who was calling.

"They're on a farm, about an hour out of town. Two stories, big, with a barn about a hundred feet away. No roads to the east. The farm was abandoned, now it's got new tenants who are kidnapping people and making them fight each other. They're also responsible for breaking the convicts out."

"You said something about biting. You asked Sam if they had bitten him. What was that about?" Holden asked curiously.

Dean shook his head, pulling into the motel. "I said fight. I asked if they had made him fight yet."

"Bullshit," Holden countered, getting out of the car. "I'm not an idiot. And I know a lie when I see one. I'm a cop, people lie to me all the time."

"Yeah, well, it's not like you been a hundred percent truthful with me either, Holden," Dean snapped as they walked to room.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

The cop leaned against the wall as Dean unlocked the door. The hunter shrugged. "I mean, when you told me your reason for wanting me to help you. You lied. Or you didn't tell me everything, which is still lying by the way."

They went in and Dean grabbed the map and unrolled it, spreading it once more over the table. Holden appeared to be having some difficulty.

"Look," the cop began, and Dean groaned inwardly, knowing the dude was about to have some deep and meaningful revelation about his innermost thoughts. They were bad enough with Sam. He wasn't sure he could handle it from another person.

"I wasn't lying. I did want to help because we weren't getting anywhere. But that has a reason behind it. My partner, he was taken the night before your brother was. He's like my best friend, and he's married to my sister. And when I went to see her, I kind of promised her I'd get Blake back alive. And I knew that wasn't going to happen with the progress we were making, so I came to find you."

Dean was silent for a moment, thinking that over. Then he nodded. "Okay. So, what farms are about an hour out?"

Holden's face stiffened with anger. "I just told you something real personal, and that's your reaction?"

Dean stood up straight, sighing. "Look, dude, I don't do chick-flicks. The only person that ever happens with is my brother. And seeing as he's not here, it's not happening. Now, if you want to keep that promise to your sister, tell me what farms are an hour out."

Holden paused again, before sighing. "There are five of them," he answered, pointing to them on the map. "Here, here, here, here and here."

Dean looked up at him hopefully. "Any of them abandoned until recently?" he asked.

Holden winced. "All of them, from my knowledge. I mean, we've had like an influx of people wanting the country life in the past couple of months. And a few of them rent their properties out, privately, so at times we don't have any idea whether or not someone's living there."

Dean groaned. "I really don't want to check them all. I mean, we just spent the whole morning searching uselessly through abandoned buildings. Searching these could take forever, seeing as they're spread so far apart."

"True," the cop answered with a grin. "But we might not have to search them all. Look, you said the people who took Blake and your brother also broke the prisoners out, right." Dean nodded. "Well, they were as careful choosing them as they were choosing who to kidnap. I mean, they only took the real nasty ones, murderers, rapists, those kind of people. Not nice men. Fighters, no doubt twice as good as the men they kidnapped."

"So?" Dean asked, not knowing where this was going.

"So, how did they know who to let out? I mean, the break out was done with precision, it came out of nowhere and was over half an hour and seven dead guards later. So, how did they know who to take, how to get them out, how to get in?"

Finally Dean saw it. "They had someone on the inside. Someone working there who could organise the whole thing."

Holden nodded. "So, we get a list of all the men who were working there, see if any suddenly stopped working there after the prisoners escaped, and check their addresses with the farms."

Dean had a dampening thought. "What if they put a different address down?" he asked.

Holden shrugged, losing that grin. "Then I guess we check all the farms. But it's worth a shot."

Dean nodded. "Sounds good to me."

The cop nodded back, standing. "I'll go now. You probably shouldn't come, I mean they might suspect something's weird if I show up with you and you're not a cop."

Dean could have told him about the numerous false badges he had in a box in the Impala, but he had a feeling that wouldn't go over too well. Besides, he wanted to make a phone call.

"Fine. I'll stay here, do some more research on each house. Maybe something there'll tell us something if your lead comes up dry."

Holden left and Dean waited a moment. Then he sighed, a little relieved to be alone again. He was beginning to lose his dislike of the man, but Holden could still be annoying. Good cop, but annoying.

Dean sat down and pulled the tooth from his pocket. So, vampires. He vaguely remembered the demon mentioning them just before it had tried to kill them with Sam's body. Something about his dad killing one with the Colt. But besides that, he had always thought they were a myth. That they didn't exist. Well, he supposed he knew differently now.

He thumbed through John's journal, wondering who to call. Who would know anything about vampires? Who wouldn't just think they were pure myth? Who to call, who to call?

In the end he called Joshua again, mentally preparing for the pity he was sure to receive. After a few rings, the older hunter picked up, and Dean launched straight into it.

"Hey, Joshua, it's Dean. What do you know about vampires?"

So, what do you all think so far? We're getting close to the end now. I mean, this story's longer than any I've written so far, chapter wise. Anywho, hope you're enjoying, and I'll hopefully see you all tomorrow!