"Can I take this off?" Her fingers travelled to the knot of the blindfold.

"Hmmm…" he stroked her skin, enjoying the softness. "Not sure I'm done with you yet."

"Oh, yeah?" She jumped on him, knees landing on, then sliding off of his ribcage, framing him. "Maybe it's my turn."

A sharp agony cut through him, and his lungs locked with a crisp grunt. His hand rose to her left knee, pushing it away.

"Oh my god, I'm sorry!" Tina moved off of him as she rid herself of the blindfold to stare down at his face.

Dean's eyes were tightly closed. Sweat beaded on his upper lip.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah." The word was strained. His entire body had tightened against the pain. "Jus' gimme a minute."

She ran the ball of her thumb through the wet track coming from his right eye. "I'm so sorry! I forgot about your ribs!"

He rubbed at her leg, letting her know that he understood.

She watched until he started to relax, then carefully snugged up against his left side. "I'm really sorry. You don't act like you're hurt, and I totally forgot."

"'S okay. I wanted you to forget."

"Did you bring your morphine? Do you need some?"

He chuckled carefully, opening his eyes to watch his fingers comb through the warm silk of her hair. "No and hell no. Don't want the equipment malfunctioning before I'm done with you."

She traced a fingernail around one of his nipples. "Maybe I should take the lead this time."

A small coal of anxiety ignited in his chest. "I...uh….Get a little claustrophobic with restraints."

She lifted up on her elbow, examining his expression closely. "I thought you were new to all of this! You've been tied up before?"

He looked away. "Not for fun. Not my fun, anyway."

Her brow furrowed for a moment before her eyes widened. "Someone tied you up and...and hurt you?"

He closed his eyes, and he could feel his t-shirt abrading the sides of his face, the pressure of denim-clad knees on his arms, the mattress buttons biting into his skin. "I...it's not something I can talk about."

Her brow furrowed. "Why not?"

He thought rapidly. "It was a work thing. Confidential."

"Are you CIA or something?"

His mind filtered through several possibilities before finding one that she couldn't fact check but that also seemed realistic. "Bodyguard to the rich and-or famous." He turned his head, making eye contact. "You know when you see someone famous and there's guys in suits or whatever, being real obvious about their job?"

She nodded, eyes rounded with interest.

"Well, we're not those guys. They're important, because they give the bad guys someone to focus on, but my family and I, we're different. We blend in, fit in with the crowd, see things the suits don't have a chance to see. That's why it made me nervous being in your bar, dressed differently. We don't want to be noticed, pretty much ever."

"Oh!"

"Yeah. It's more boring than it sounds, most of the time. But every now and then…." He shrugged the shoulder she wasn't lying on. "Things go sideways."

"So the bruises and the broken ribs -"

"Well, my buddy really did shoot me, but the car accident: that was a work thing."

"And your whole family does this?"

"Me, my dad, my brother. Dad was-" His cell phone started ringing. "Shit. I gotta get that."

Tina sat up, allowing Dean to move. "A call this late is never good."

Dean grunted. "Especially since only two people have this number." He winced as he sat up, forearm pressed against his ribs, and retrieved his phone from the nightstand.

"Dad?"

"John." Bobby cleared his throat. I ain't afraid a' the guy. Just don't like deliverin' bad news. "I know you're at Caroline's and Dean's all stove up, but I need you here." He exhaled loudly. "Sam's missing again."

"What?" It was less a question than a warning snarl.

That man can go from zero to murderous quicker than anyone I know. "I dropped him at school, watched him walk in, went to pick him up, and he never came out."

"Jesus Christ, Singer!"

"I found his phone," Bobby interjected. "There's a message on it."

The ragged breath that carried down the line told Bobby that John was fighting for control. "What was the message?"

"It's a text: 'You took my family. I'm taking yours.' No signature."

"Shit. The vamp."

"That was my first thought, yeah." Bobby sighed again. "There's one other thing: I ain't heard from Martin, either."

"Shit. Shit shit shit!"

Bobby absorbed the rising anger. "I'm callin' in every favor due me, and some that aren't. We'll get a posse together, make this thing regret the day it was turned. We'll find 'im, John. We'll get him back."

"As what, Bobby? Damned thing almost turned Dean, and Sam don't have the shit in his body that kept Dean human. Dammit!"

"We'll cross that bridge if we find it, alright? You said they told Dean they were gonna keep him as collateral, and they only tried to turn him when that all went to hell. I'm guessin' this message is tellin' us they got the same plan for Sam: collateral. He won't be in real danger until we get eyeball-to-eyeball with the blood sucker, and by then there'll be too many of us." He paused, listening to the other man breathe, trying to gauge his mental status. "We'll get 'im back, John. I swear to God, we'll get him back."

"We better," the father snarled, "because this one's on you."

The line went dead.

Dean walked through the door in time to catch a weapon's bag to the chest.

"Sam's missing."

That's all his father needed to say.