Disclaimer: I do not own the concept or characters from the show "Supernatural." Any other characters not related to the show, The Vampire Diaries or Nightwold series, however, are mine and are not to be used in any other fan fictions. Some concepts were also borrowed or loosely adapted from L.J. Smith's "Nightworld" and "The Vampire Diaries" series. This chapter has information on the episodes up until 05/14/09. I will not include any spoilers for future episodes of Season 4 until they are released on TV. This is the start of a new trilogy. The first trilogy is: "Possession," "Broken," and "Sacrifice," followed with a new trilogy, starting with "Mission." This story takes place following the events in "Mission," and has the same characters from the first trilogy. I do not own any quotes used in the actual episodes. Any lyrics mentioned in this story do not belong to me are are the property of their original writers.

"You must be completely out of your pitiful human skull. Go home and get some sleep, kid. I'll call you in the mornin'," Jesse chuckled, closing the door to the hotel room.

Dylan wasn't going to be dismissed or ignored that easily. He placed his foot in the way of the threshold, stopping the door in it's tracks.

"Dylan," Jesse said sternly with no more amusement in his voice. "Go home."

"No."

The vampire absently ran his hand through his blonde hair, his eyes shifting to a stormy blue. He clearly wasn't happy with his late, unexpected guest.

"What do you want me to say, Dylan," Jesse laughed, tossing his hands up. "You come here after enduring a horrible day and want me to tell you about that? What do you except me to do?"

He took a step towards the vampire, his face only a few inches from his own.

"Tell me how."

"I'm sure Wes already told you how," Jesse drawled, annoyance pressing intentionally down on him. "Go talk to him."

"He won't come back and he won't answer my calls," Dylan admitted, having already gone the route that Jesse was recommending. Whether it truly was for their protection or for some other reason, Wesley wanted nothing to do with him or his family anymore.

"Huh...well good for him. Perhaps he is actually learnin'," Jesse said. "Dylan--quit while you're ahead. And believe me, you're ahead because you haven't done anythin' stupid yet besides askin' for my help. You're out of your league, kid."

"I'm not leaving, Jesse."

"Look, you know how to do it. Wes told you...but are you willin' to risk what happened to Jenny," he inquired. Hurt and sadness swelled off of the vampire from the loss of his adopted sister. Well, loss was not necessarily the correct term; turned would be the proper terminology. However, it was clear that he never wanted his sister to become one of his kind. She had the opportunity to be human and not have to be cursed by taking a life to live. That's what he was feeling about the situation.

But didn't he know how lucky he was? His sister was alive, or undead as it were. Either way, she existed.

"Will you do it for me," Dylan finally asked. Jesse's demeanor changed, his body stiffening up to statue straight.

"No, I will most definitely not do that," Jesse spat in disgust.

"Why the hell not?"

"For one, I wouldn't put someone else in that position for all the tea in China. Dylan, I respect you. You're a good man, but you're grieving...you're not in your right mind."

Why were people thinking that? He was thinking clear enough. He saw a way to save Becky; a guaranteed way. All the doctors could offer was a remote chance that she would wake up. It was a coin flip on her life. That wasn't good enough.

"Second, it's against the law."

"Law," Dylan tilted his head.

Jesse went on to explain that Lenore's nest had control of Chicago and the neighboring parts of Illinois and govern the local area. They had rules regarding feeding on humans and killing people. One of those rules was in regards to turning humans.

"You'd have to ask the nest's permission," Jesse said, leaning against the door jam.

"Who do I need to ask," Dylan said, not wavering in his conviction.

"Any of the hire ups in the group. Lenore, dear Gwen...and of course, your mother," the vampire smirked.

"Of course," Dylan sighed, causing Jesse to chuckle.

"If I were you, I wouldn't ask. I wouldn't even think about what you are plannin'. But, if you are stubborn enough to ask, I'd ask your mother directly. Wouldn't look good for your case if you tried to circumvent her authority. Good luck with that," he smiled.

The vampire was feeling pretty confident that Dylan didn't have the balls to go suggest his plans to his mother. He figured Dylan didn't have the guts to do it. He was wrong.

Without another word, Dylan spun around and headed home.

"You need anything, babe," Dean said, patting her gently on the thigh.

"Just you," she yawned.

Dean smiled down at her on the couch, covering her with a blanket. He carefully lifted up her legs and took a seat on the sofa, replacing her legs on his lap, being extra cautious when he put down her twisted ankle.

"Are you feelin' any better," he asked, taking her healthy foot into his hands and rubbing it.

"I'd be feeling better if my son was home," she admitted, shifting on the couch to find a more comfortable position.

Dean suggested she get to bed; he'd stay up and make sure Dylan got home and stayed there. She wouldn't hear of it.

"No," she yawned. "I want to stay up and talk to him. I need to make sure he's alright."

Whatever would make her rest easier. He'd let her stay on the couch with him...at least until she fell asleep. With the combo of her exhaustion and medications, she wouldn't know the difference when he moved her to their bed.

"He's here," she whispered, her eyes closed.

He hated when she did that. Stupid, supersonic vampire senses.

The car pulled up into the driveway and the door slammed, followed by footsteps leading to the front door.

"Hey son," Dean greeted as the front door open.

There was a wiping of feet and then Dyl peeked his head from around the wall.

"Hey," he sighed. "Mom still up?"

"Yes," she yawned.

"In case you didn't hear, that'd be a yes," Dean smiled. "What's up?"

"I--I need to talk to Mom," he practically whispers. "Alone."

"Oh, no," Abby said, lifting herself up to a sitting position. Dean wished she would have asked for help as she winced from the pain in her arm. "No way, Dylan. If you have something to say, your father is going to stay right here."

"Mom...it's--I don't want to talk about it in front of--"

"It's either in front of both of us or you can keep it to yourself," she ordered. "So, make your choice."

Dylan took a seat on the chair across from the sofa, bringing it forward. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and placing his head in his hands. Dean was at a loss. He didn't know what else to do to comfort his son. It seemed like telling him 'it'll all be alright' was just a lie. How the hell did he know?

None of them spoke for a while. Dylan sat as still as a sculpture, his head never raising from the cocoon of his hands.

Finally, he sighed, lifting himself up enough for his eyes to meet his parent's. His gaze shifted between the pair of them, back and forth, searching for somethin'.

"Mom," he finally said, his eyes settling on her.

He'd never seen his son so focused, his face so stony and determined. And he appeared older somehow, the situation wearing on him body, mind and soul.

"Mom...I need you to do me a favor."

Abby stared at him, raising her eyebrow before her eyes slit and she growled. Her whole body trembled, her feet quivering over his own body...and he had no idea why.

"NO."

"Did I miss somethin'," Dean asked, looking from his son to his wife and back again.

"I don't even want to say what your son is thinking," she spat, her voice not steady.

Dylan looked down again, his eyes studying the hardwood floor of their living room.

"Will someone please tell me what the fuck is going on," Dean asked, his voice raised in annoyance.

"I can't even speak it," Abby said, looking at her son before her vision snapped away from him in disgust. She rested her chin on her fist, shaking her head in disbelief.

"Fine, I'll say it," Dylan said with scorn, raising his head to look at his father. "I want Mom to turn Becky."

Abby huffed crossing her arms over her chest. Man, she was pissed. Super pissed. Her face was positively seething.

"Are you mental," Dean said to Dylan, gently lifting up Abby's legs so he could stand and pace. "Seriously, Dylan? After what you...and then what your mom has been through tonight...you want to pull this shit?!"

"Mom...what happened to Mom," Dylan asked.

Dean lifted the blanket up and pointed to Abby's wrapped ankle and arm, telling him about the vampires jumping her outside of the hospital.

"Why didn't you tell me," he screamed at Dean, suddenly rising out of his chair to face his father, his face inches from his own. "It could have been the vamp that got Beck!! We could have gotten him! You let him get away?!"

"You better step down, kid," Dean grumbled. "Believe me, if I coulda gotten him, I would have. Don't you think I would have? But how the Hell do we even know it's the same vamp that got Becky?"

"Who else would have been there, Dad? Come on, you can't be that dense?!"

Dean stood toe-to-toe with his son, neither of them backing down.

"Dylan...sit...down," Dean said between gritted teeth.

Dylan didn't dare move, not even a twitch.

"Don't make me put you down," Dean said. Dylan sighed and sank down into his chair. "So, do you wanna calm down now?"

"We could have stopped him," Dylan repeated over and over, putting his head back in his hands, tugging on his hair. "We could have stopped him."

"No, we couldn't," Dean said. "Do you see what he did to your mom? He was just playing with her; toying with her....with another vampire. What the fuck do you think woulda happened to us, Dyl? Look, I know you're upset but think for a minute, alright!! And then after all of this shit today, you come home and ask your mom to go and do that?! Christ, you are really outta of your fucking mind, son!!"

Dean couldn't stop pacing. He was livid. He thought if anything happened, his face would explode. He really needed a drink...

"No, you don't."

His gaze shifted to the voice who had so sternly invaded his thoughts. Abby was stoic and completely still.

"You don't need that, Dean. Let's not go back there," she said, no emotion in her voice. She seemed to be doing a much better job of holding it together...or she just hadn't cracked yet. From the tremor under the blanket, he knew better; she was about two seconds away from completely wigging out.

'I can't believe my stupid son,' she repeated in her head. She wondered how in the hell he thought what he was asking for was ok. Abby didn't dare look into his mind again, for fear of what else she'd find out. She was shanking at the very thought of it. How could he be so stupid?

Her eyes met Dean's, who was still in the middle of a rant, standing in front of Dylan. Her husband was fuming. She was incensed. And, Dylan, he was just devastated.

"Do you know what you're askin' her to do? Do you really," Dean continued on.

"He does...he's just in to deep too realize how selfish it is," she sighed.

"Pardon," Dylan said, his eyes glassy. "How could you even think saving someone is selfish?"

"What's the real reason you don't want her to die, besides love? Revenge? Regret? What else, Dyl," she wondered.

"I love her," he sobbed.

"So?"

"So," he hissed back. "Isn't that enough, Mom?"

"Your Ma has a point."

She glanced up at Dean, who was rubbing his face with his hands.

"Well you do," he said to her.

Dylan looked up at him, trying to figure out his father's angle.

"What I wonder is...is it fair to Becky," Dean pondered, offering the question to his son.

"Why wouldn't it be fair," Dylan yelled, throwing up his hands. "Apparently, because she knew me and our family, she's in that hospital dying! So, why wouldn't it be fair to save her when we were the ones who got her hurt?!"

"Didn't you learn anythin' from what I told you earlier, son? You can't let this stuff eat at you," Dean yelled.

"She's human, Dylan," Abby muttered.

"Wh--what?"

"She's human...she's supposed to die."

"What...did...you...say," Dylan snarled at his mother, his stare deep.

"She's human...she's suppose to die, Dylan."

Dylan took a step towards her, his fists clenched before Dean stepped in between him and his mother.

"Human's grow old and they will die. That is an absolute certainty, my son. Terrible to some, envious to others, but their species will pass on."

"While we stay here and watch everyone else fall around us? While they rot in the ground," Dylan sobbed. "Is that fair?!"

"No," she sighed, playing with the blanket on her legs. "No, it's not fair. Believe me, it's hard to deal with...perhaps that is why most of our species don't associate a lot of humans, in regards to relationships I mean. Only us masochists," she joked, glancing up at Dean. Her thoughts shifted to those she had earlier, those of Dean dying--dead on the floor of the house in New Harmony. She could feel the tears already coming. "I've had to watch your father die before."

"Ab--," Dean said, his brow tight as he approached her in an attempt to console.

"Don't," she said, pushing him back. "He needs to know. He needs to know…everything."

She stood up wobbly, having Dean steady her by the right arm, his hand helping posture her back. He looked at her pleadingly, begging her not to relive that night. But, she had to...for their son.

"Dylan--I knew when I met your father that one day we would have to part. At first, it didn't matter. I saw him just as he was; a human hunter. He was in a dangerous occupation and I knew that meant he'd probably meet his demise before others. But, as I grew closer to him, that thought nagged at me. It was like a tease. Here you are, you're one and only...fast forward years later and you'd be alone again. But, Dean had a way of making me forget about that until it was lost in the back of my mind. And then, I got pregnant with you and your sister. I was beyond nervous to tell your father," she glanced over her shoulder and gave him a kiss on the cheek. "I was delusional enough to think we could have a family; raise you two, forget about hunting. Be…normal. That same day, I found out your father had sold his soul to save Sammy's life."

Dylan took in a ragged breathe, his shoulders sagging lower. Abby felt Dean take a step towards her, his chest pressed into her back. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders, pulling her against him.

"I tried everything, Dylan. I--I went through tablets of ancient magic spells…hell I even went and called upon the Crossroads Demon myself, putting myself up in exchange for Dean. They turned me down, finding more pleasure in me squirming at their feet than giving in. They wanted Dean…bad. One night, I was laying next to your Dad. Dean was sleeping so peacefully and he was so still that he almost appeared dead…and I lost it."

"Lost it….how," Dylan asked, raising his eyes.

"I was about two seconds from turning your father into a vampire against his will."

Dean immediately pulled back.

"It was wrong," she cried to her son. "It was so wrong. I only stopped for two reasons. First, your father would have resented me forever, which I would have been ok with as long as he was alive to see you and your sister grow up. Second, it wouldn't have mattered; I would have had to kill him to change him. The hounds would have arrived before the change was complete. There was no hope. So, I stopped."

She moved closer to her son, putting a hand on his shoulder.

"I tried so, so hard to find a way to save him, Dylan. I tried with all of my might to find a way…and I failed."

"Ab, you didn't," Dean tried to console, his own voice cracking.

"I did," she said to Dean but didn't take her eyes off her son.

"Mom…it's just--this really hurts."

"I know, sweetie" she said, trying her best to sooth her son's emotions.. "I know what you're going through."

"Do you really," he retaliated. "Do you really know what it's like to watch the love of your life waste away in front of you?"

She only had one option left at her disposal.

"Dylan, use your powers on me," she requested.

"What?"

"Open up your shield to me…completely. Use you powers of empathy and telepathy on me. I--I want to show you something."

"Abby, I hope you're not doing what I think you are," Dean scolded. "If you are, stop it. Right the fuck now."

"Dean," she turned to him, "they're very fresh in my mind right now. The hypnosis brought a lot of things--good and bad--right to the surface. If he really wants to know that I understand, we have to do this…I have to do this."

Dean closed his eyes, his breathing deep and uneven.

"Fine," he groaned. "But I'm not going to sit here while you do it."

He turned on his heel and went out the back door, slamming it shut behind him. Dean just needed a little time to cool off. Abby turned back to her son and sighed heavily.

"Alright, Dyl, let's get this over with."


Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

Abby's 'plan' was completely, goddamned ridiculous. It wasn't gonna help anyone with what she was doing.

That had been his thoughts for a whole hour, just mulling and stewin' in his anger.

Sighing, he stomped up the back steps, making sure that everyone was aware of his presence. Pssh. Not like Abby couldn't have already heard him a mile away. He just…he didn't want to feel like he was intruding.

She was sharing a memory, truly sharing something so awful and hurtful with her son that he had never even experienced from her point of view. Frankly, he hoped he never had to. It was bad enough for him, he didn't want to really know what it was like for her and Sam. There was no way he wouldn't feel guilty from seein' how they were when he was in The Pit; how far they had both sank because of him.

"…it's against the law for anyone without permission, Dylan," Abby sighed from the living room.

Her voice sounded sad and tired. The projecting of her thoughts must of taken a lot outta her.

"I'm here asking permission. Please, Mom. I know that you know what I'm going through."

"And you know my opinion. What would happen if we took in every request to save a human life, son? Chaos. Our existence would be too well known. We cannot interfere with every human death. On top of that, made vampires are…not as controlled as Lamia. Many are angered by the change. They regret it or are defiant of their creator. They simply don't care about anything. They cause more issues than they are worth. Most of the vampires in our custody right now were made."

"Mom, no one said you need to save everyone of them. I'm asking for one. Just one. Save her," he begged, his eyes watering.

Dean stopped where he was not wanting to interfere. Whatever was going on was strictly between mother and son.

Abby sank farther back into her chair, her fingers tapping on the arms.

"No. I can't do that, Son. I'm very sorry," she apologized, leaning forward in the recliner, her hands on her knees. "But I will tell you one thing. This is more of a warning. Becky cannot be changed. That is my word. NO one has permission. If any vampire…and I mean ANY try to change her…there will be consequences from the Nest. I can assure you, they will not be pleasant."

Dylan stood, his face about to burst into tears at any minute. The last time Dean had seen his son like that was when he was a little squirt, barely about to get around on his own.

"Dylan," he yelled after his son as he darted out the front door.

His wife sank back in her farther, putting her head in her hands.

"Damn it, Abby! What did you do," Dean screamed, pointing towards the front door.

"I did what I had to do!! I did my job," she growled, standing in front of him in an instant. "I'M in charge of this decision, DEAN! ME! Son or not, it cannot happen! I can't make this decision just because he is my blood!"

"Did you have to be so harsh when his emotions are so raw," Dean accused.

"Speaking of raw emotions," she chuckled, her eyes watering up. "Sorry. It wasn't pretty for either of us."

"Why did you do this, Ab? Wasn't warning him enough?"

"No, Dean. He had to know that I had been there; I've gone through it before. Completely. He had to know before he understood why I turned him down."

"Do we need to go after him," Dean asked, looking towards the still open door.

"I don't know," her voice trembled. "Perhaps giving him some time to let my words sink in would be appropriate."

"I hope your right, babe," Dean whispered as he pulled his wife into his arms.

She shivered against him, wrapping her arms around his body, burying her head into his chest.

Dylan ran through the woods, his tears distorting his vision. He could hardly see anything in the darkness. Stupid human eyes.

Soon that would all change.

His was practically out of breathe when he spotted a rabbit cross his path.

Yep, that would do.

He had waited three more days after speaking with his mother that night at home. Becky wasn't getting better. In fact, she was getting worse.

"Use your telepathy to talk to her," his mother had suggested, letting him in on how she had comforted his father during his coma.

So he had talked to her in her sleep, letting her know he was there for her.

"I love you, Dylan," she had whispered to him in her dreams, his figment arms wrapped around her.

"Becky, if there was a way to save you…would you let me," he dared to ask.

"To be with you. Yes."

"Anyway? What are you willing to risk," he tensed.

"Everything. I love you. I want to be with you--forever."

That's all the permission he needed.

He stopped his pace and aimed at the rabbit with his crossbow.

"Sorry little bunny," he said sadly as he took aim, killing it almost instantly.

Thank god for the massive amount of hunting weapons in his car. Didn't come in handy just for ghosts; all he had to do after speaking with Becky was just head out to his car, grab his weapon, and run in the woods near the hospital.

He fell to his knees, waiting for himself to wake up. Was he really going to do it?

'Think of Becky. Think of Becky.'

And he did.

He picked up the limp form, and brought the bleeding wound to his lips, all the while thinking of his sister's own words the night she had revealed her condition to him: 'They never explained to that all it took was one sip of blood. I didn't know what I was drinking at first, Dylan. But once I took a sip it was like…something changed in me. I could feel this part of me grow stronger, more powerful. But, I swear to you, I never thought I'd have to live like this forever, to survive off of blood, I would have never taken that one sip. That's all it took to change me forever.'