Bobby and Sam dragged Dean to the far side of the bedroom where Sam shoved aside a large dresser revealing eye bolts fastened to the solid interior wall plate of the old house. He then kicked away a small area rug revealing two more eye bolts screwed securely into the floor joists and, like a well-oiled pit crew in the Demonic 500, they had Dean pinned to the wall and his legs secured to the floor in under a minute.
Dean's hands were chained to the wall eye bolts, his legs to the floor bolts and, for good measure, a heavy silver chain was wrapped around his neck and secured to the wall bolts. His head lolled forward and the chain practically crushed his throat but Bobby refused to loosen it. Dean was just too dangerous. He handed Sam the dart gun loaded with the loco-weed and ordered him to cover Anna in case she thought of doing something other than just lying there helplessly.
The older hunter pulled up a chair, glanced once more at the vampire to make sure she hadn't moved and made himself comfortable. At his feet lay a control box with a five-foot remote extension cable that was connected to a syringe feeding system pump that he placed directly next to Dean's immobilized left leg.
The feeding system pump, a nifty machine able to deliver multiple injections from a safe distance, held ten syringes, each filled with 140cc's of a noxious and highly toxic mixture of bleeding heart, black nightshade, angel's trumpet and other herbs to basically 'kill' the blood. He'd also added jamaican root, stinging nettle leaf, burdock root, yellow dock root, hawthorn berries, chlorella, butcher's broom root and bull kelp to cleanse the blood of impurities and sodium hypochlorite or common household bleach to kill any pesky viruses that may linger.
When mixed together and boiled down in a witch's cauldron or, in Bobby's case, a double boiler, the ingredients for his Bloody Anna were purported to cure 'infectus lamia' in a person who hadn't yet undergone a complete vampiratic transformation. Someone who hadn't been bled to the point of death and had his or her blood supply replaced with the blood of a vampire. Someone whose mortal body hadn't died. The Necronomicon had laid it out graphically for him. It was a painful and arduous process and their best - and maybe only - chance to save Dean...if the cure didn't kill him that is.
A morning person no longer, Dean finally came around and literally growled his dissatisfaction with his situation. Despite the weakening properties of the silver he pulled against his restraints, his eyes wild and glowing silver.
"What's the deal, Bobby?" he asked belligerently, "I told you I was leaving."
"That's all fine and dandy and, if Sam or I ever need to find you, we'll just follow the trail of corpses."
"I can control this, I can..."
"Bullshit! You're worse every minute. Besides have you ever heard of a vampire starving itself to death for humanity's sake?"
Dean's lip curled cruelly revealing his fangs. It was getting worse. The hunger was starting to drive him to distraction, trying to control him.
Then do what ya gotta do," Dean said defiantly and looked directly at his brother, "Kill me, Sammy. No wait, you already have. My deal remember."
Dean's words cut Sam, twisted his guts into a tighter knot.
Although Sam never wanted Dean to make the deal in the first place, he vowed, "I'll get you out of it, Dean, I promise."
He had told him the same thing time and time again but the promise was starting to sound hollow, even to him.
"I am out of it!" Dean shouted then remembered that more was got with honey than with uncontrolled rage.
He tried smiling. The effect was hideous, his gums receding even further from his fangs.
Dean's face and demeanor then changed completely to those of sorrow and repentance and he said softly, "Sammy, I know it wasn't your fault. I just did what I thought Dad would have wanted me to. We can call it a push. Just let me go."
Sam and Bobby exchanged looks. Sam wanted it all to be over while Bobby steeled himself for what was to come.
"Bobby found something in Anna's books...a cure," Sam offered.
"No! I can see it in your faces. You don't even know if it'll work." He saw Bobby's finger settle on the control button and hissed, "I will kill you, old man."
Dean lunged at him and there was a loud crack as the old wood gave a little.
Sam wondered if the bolts would hold and started to suggest they wait and try to find another solution.
"Listen, Bobby…"
"You keep an eye on her," Bobby barked and jerked his head toward Anna all the while keeping his eyes locked with Dean's, "And let me worry about your brother."
Pushing the remote, the first hypodermic pressed forward, its needle settling into Dean's thigh, the plunger forcing the syringe's contents into him.
Within seconds, Dean started to shake and a bloody sheen broke out on his forehead. His muscles cramped and he roared as the solution entered his body feeding into his bloodstream burning like molten lava as it made its way through his system.
"Jesus," Dean moaned, "What's in it?"
He tried in vain to knock the contraption away but he was battened down like a ship in a storm.
"Jesus wouldn't have a clue," Bobby said to him, his mouth set in a grim line as he pressed the remote again.
The second needle extruded and another dose of the mixture shot home. He pleaded with them both to stop but Bobby, silently and without rancor or malice, sent doses three and four on their way and Dean came undone.
He screamed and it was a terrifying sound, pulled up from his guts filling the room. He had bitten down on his tongue when the pain had ramped up from excruciating to unbearable and bloody spittle dripped from his mouth. Snot ran from his nose and blood tears fell from his blood rimmed silver eyes.
Sam stared in disbelief at his brother's transformation. Dean bellowed again and he gripped the dart pistol so tightly that he thought he might split the grips. A moan came from Anna and he backed away from the bed and pointed the barrel of the gun at her.
"Bobby, she's comin' around."
"Just keep yourself and that gun between the two of them. Pick your target carefully. We know what she's capable of if she gets out of that mask but we ain't got a clue about Dean," Bobby said as he got up from his chair and squatted down next to Dean. "I've seen you look better, son."
Dean's head lolled forward. Panting like a dog with heat stroke, he mumbled something unintelligible.
"What'd ya say? I can't hear you," Bobby asked.
Dean's head came up slowly. His blood filled eyes locked with Bobby's and he repeated himself. "I said 'Where is my wife, fool'?"
You could have knocked Bobby over with a feather. Dean had married her?
"I didn't realize there was an all-night chapel nearby," Bobby deadpanned.
Dean sighed heavily. He had traveled so very far and for so very long to get here but he knew she was close. His journey was nearly at an end but he was now chained to a wall and overcome with a sickness not unlike the Black Death. He wanted to know one thing and one thing only from the old man and Gerard of Exeter ground out between Dean's bloodied lips, "Annalise of Exeter. Tell me where she is."