With an angry roar, John plowed into the vampire, knocking her off Sam, but she was fast. too fast. Before John could get back to his feet, the vamp was on him, hands wound tight around his throat.
Vision graying in and out, Sam climbed to his feet. Ignoring the pain in his torn throat, he plunged a shaking hand into his jacket pocket, pulled out the hypodermic needle his father had given him earlier that night, lurched over to the combatants and plunged it into the vampire's back.
Screeching with pain, she twisted around, releasing John; he fell helpless to the floor, choking and gasping, trying to pull in air.
Knowing he was no match for her but desperate to keep her off his father, Sam threw himself onto the vamp. The enraged monster backhanded him, knocking him to the floor, his head bouncing hard as it connected.
Feeling the dead man's blood working through her, the vampire twisted and turned, trying to get at the hypo bobbing back and forth in her back, but it was too late. Within seconds, her legs slid out from under her and she crashed down next to Sam.
His face red, trying to breathe past the finger-shaped bruises on his throat, John lunged to his feet, pulled out his long knife and staggered over to the two crumpled forms. Dragging the vamp a few feet away from his son's unconscious body, he started cutting, ignoring her horrific screams.
He didn't stop until her head was off and rolling across the gymnasium floor.
ΩΩΩ
John jerked out his cell phone and pressed speed dial one.
"Get over to the gymnasium," he said hoarsely when Dean answered. "Fast."
He hung up, not waiting for an answer, then pulled a worn handkerchief from his pocket and pressed the cloth to the wound on Sam's throat.
At John's touch, Sam stirred, moaned.
"Stay still, Sam," John rumbled. "Stay still. The vamp's dead."
"Ow," Sam rasped. "Ow." He started to raise a hand to his throat, but John pushed it away.
"Don't." He carefully lifted the handkerchief to check on the wound. It had stopped bleeding. Blowing out a sigh of relief, he ran a shaking hand over his boy's hair, then raised his head as a pair of familiar-sounding boots pounded toward the gym. When the door crashed open, Dean stood frozen for a long moment, surveying the carnage, then he was sprinting across the room and dropping to his knees next to his brother.
"Sam!"
"I'm okay, Dean." Sam's voice was faint, but his smile real. "I just got a little chewed on." He winced. "Shit. And my head hurts."
Face taut and grim, Dean looked at the bloody remains of the vamp and then at John. "What the hell happened?" he said accusingly.
"The vamp had a kid under the bleachers when we got here." John nodded bleakly toward the bleachers. "One of the cheerleaders. Sam tried to pull it off her." He shook his head when Dean got quickly to his feet. "It's too late."
"Damn it!" Dean ran an agitated hand through his hair. "Damn it! We should've -"
"We can't save them all." John's tone was flat. He looked back down at Sam, who had closed his eyes. "I'll clean up here, Dean. Take your brother back to the motel. Keep an eye on him; watch for concussion."
Dean nodded. Mouth tight, he helped Sam up, steadying him when he wobbled.
"Take it easy, son." John put a hand on Sam's shoulder. "You okay?"
"Yeah, I'm good." Head aching fiercely, but determined not to show weakness, Sam straightened. "I just need some aspirin."
"Good boy." John looked across at the dead vamp. "You did good tonight, Sam. If you hadn't gotten that dead man's blood into her, we'd probably both be dead."
Both boys' eyes widened in surprise at the rare compliment.
Looking a little embarrassed, John went on quickly, "You two head out. I'll see you at the motel in a few hours."
Hand on Sam's arm, Dean hesitated, looking toward the bleachers, where he could just see a still, huddled form. "Dad - is she gonna rise?"
The skin on John's face tightened and he suddenly looked every one of his hunter's years. "I'll take care of it."
For a moment the big room was silent except for the buzzing of the fluorescent lights overhead.
"Okay," Dean finally said, voice subdued. "You sure you don't want me to come back?"
"No." John's dark eyes went to the bleachers, then to the long knife lying next to the dead bloodsucker. "You just take care of your brother."
ΩΩΩ
A few minutes into their drive back to the motel, Dean flicked a quick sideways glance at Sam, who was drooping a little in the passenger seat of the Impala, waiting for the aspirin to work. "You okay?"
Sam was silent. Finally, a slight catch in his voice, he said, "The – the girl. It's my fault she's dead."
"That's bullshit, Sammy." After the initial surprise, Dean's scowl was fierce. "You're the one who figured out where that freak would be tonight! Left to me and Dad, we'd have been at the other end of town. Maybe if we'd listened to you upfront, she'd still be alive. No way this shit's on you."
Sam shook his head vehemently, then gasped and closed his eyes against the pain in his head. "Dean, no, it's not your fault."
Dean snorted. "Damn straight. Put it where it belongs. On that bitch vamp." He smirked. "That dead bitch vamp."
Head hurting too much to argue, Sam murmured an affirmative, but Dean didn't buy it. "Sam, you heard Dad," he persisted. "You did good. It's just - it's like Dad always says. We can't save them all."
"When we first got there, she was still alive." Sam drew in a shaky, tear-filled breath. "I could – she – if I could've just pulled her off faster…"
"Sammy, that thing was kickin' Dad's ass. How were you supposed to stop it?"
Sam didn't answer.
"Besides, remember what Dad said. You pumping dead man's blood into it is what gave Dad the chance to kill it. You did good, baby." Keeping his eyes on the road, he stretched out his hand.
Sighing, Sam grasped it and scooted over, leaning against him with a deep sigh of contentment. "I like it when you call me baby," he said presently.
Dean grinned, pleased.
Rain started to fall. Dean turned on the windshield wipers, their familiar syncopated rhythm soothing, comforting.
A few minutes later, Sam was asleep, head resting on his brother's shoulder, and still holding his hand.