CHAPTER 49
True Blood
Three Days Later
It was just a vampire.
Nothing was supposed to happen; they were going to nab one of the vamps, find out the location of the nest, and wipe them out. Yeah, it was going to be dangerous, and sure, it would've been challenging, but no one was going to get seriously hurt.
But there they were, with Dean as a vampire.
"Say something about dying, one more time," Danielle growled, glaring at him.
"Dan, I can't live like this!"
"Says who?!" she counted, like a child, but she couldn't care less. If rolling on the floor screaming and crying changed his mind, she was prepared to do it. He was not dying, especially not just because he thought that was what he 'had to do'.
"Says me!" he returned, and Sam raised his hands, trying to calm them down.
"Don't freak out, guys."
"How am I not supposed to freak out when he's about to kill himself?" Danielle demanded, voice shrill. "You're not – dying."
Dean clapped his hands over his ears, swaying. "Jesus, your voice is annoying."
Danielle set her jaw, closing her eyes and exhaling. "Stop changing the subject," she whispered, trying to better appeal to the new sensitivity of his senses.
"What if I hurt one of you?" he demanded, jaw working. She could see in his eyes how freaked he was.
"It's you, Dean. You're not gonna hurt us."
He narrowed his eyes, flinching and throwing his arms up, as if to protect himself from a blow. When one didn't come, he glanced around the room, eyes squinted, before finding the cause of his agitation. He stalked over to the clock, ripping it out of the wall with one, clean pull. The whole socket came out, sparks jumping from the dangling wires.
He saw Danielle, before she managed to erase her look of shock. His eyes hardened, and he raised his brows, his expression one of hopelessness. "I can't control it, Danny."
She shook her head. "You're. Not. Dying."
"Stop arguing with me!" he yelled, and his voice dropped several octaves, far beyond what was humanly possible. It was deep enough to rumble through Danielle's chest, making her heart stutter. There was no point in hiding the shock this time; she jumped back in fear, and his eyes softened, eyebrows pinching up in remorse.
"You're just making it worse," Sam told her, and she wanted to stamp her foot like a little girl. Why was she the only one who seemed to care? Sam hadn't said a word, nothing to help her argument. He should've been tripping out, but all he was doing was trying to calm them.
Dean seemed to come to the same conclusion, narrowing his eyes and stalking towards his brother. Danielle pressed her lips together, not missing the fact that Dean's movements were almost feral. "Why aren't you freaking out?"
"I am."
"Really? 'Cause I can hear your heartbeat, and it's pretty damn steady. Dan's is all over the place, but yours…"
Sam was at a loss for words for a moment. "I-I'm trying to stay calm."
"Right," Dean snorted, staring at him for a second before stepping around him.
"Where are you going?" Sam and Danielle asked at the same time.
He turned around, a look of frustration blazing in his eyes. "The bathroom. News flash: Vampires pee!" The door slammed behind him, nearly coming off its hinges, and Danielle dropped down on the bed.
She'd been running on adrenaline since she found him in the alleyway, blood smeared across his lips and chin. She'd pushed back the overwhelming sense of panic, focusing on one thing: getting the fact that he wasn't dying into Dean's stubborn head. But now that there was a moment of silence, the terror was swallowing her.
Dean Winchester wouldn't make it as a monster. He couldn't; he was far too righteous for that. He wasn't going to risk hurting her or Sam, not for anything. The only other option was death, and she for sure wasn't going to kill him. Neither was Sam. He had to know that.
He did know that.
Oh God.
Danielle leapt to her feet, charging to the bathroom. She ripped the door open, but Dean was already gone. The window was open, and she pushed her hair back from her face, stumbling away from the room. Sam ran up beside her, peering into the empty room before sagging against the doorway.
Oh God. He was gone. He was going to find someone to kill him. He'd left, without even saying goodbye. How sacrificial of him. He was going to die. He was going to leave her, just like Sam did, without so much as a goodbye.
Danielle didn't know she was hyperventilating until Sam caught her as she fell. Her fingers curled onto his sleeve, her chest heaving in sporadic bursts. Her head was spinning, and she could hear his voice, though it was too faint to understand.
Arms wrapped around her, Sam's she supposed, and she clutched onto them as tightly as she could, squeezing her eyes shut. Focus on something. She struggled to breathe through her nose, trying to calm herself down, but it wasn't working. And then she was crying, and not just normal crying- it was the kind where you thought the person was about to heave up a lung.
"Whoa, whoa; you have to breathe."
She tried. She couldn't speak; she was going to pass out if she didn't stop hyperventilating, but the thought didn't help. If anything, it only made her freak out worse.
"We'll find him; you just gotta calm down."
"I-I-I'm t-t-r-rying-g-g," she hiccupped, and Sam squeezed her arm.
There was nothing to focus on. She had to focus, had to have something to distract her. Instead, all she could think about was Dean dying and then her dying because she wouldn't stop breathing wrong and-
Sam pulled away, and she grated her nails against his arm with a mess of sobs. She fell onto her side, only able to hear her heart beating, too fast and erratic, in a way that she definitely could not hold for long.
Sam grabbed her shoulder, pushing her onto her back and shoved a pillow over her mouth.
Her panic escalated to a new level, and she started seizing, flinging her hands around, trying to get him off of her. She couldn't breathe, she had to breathe. Her hands made contact with skin, and she dug her nails in, trying to let out a scream; she needed help.
"Dan!" Sam shouted, and she reached her shaking hands up to his face, pushing him away. It was like pushing a wall; he didn't even flinch. "I'm not trying to hurt you! You have to hold your breath!"
She felt herself come back to her senses. She couldn't breathe, and her vision was blurry, and she started to feel top-heavy as all the blood rushed to her head. He pulled the pillow away, and she took a huge, shuddering gasp as she scrambled backwards. She clawed away from him, back hitting the end of the bed.
"Danielle, listen to me," he said, raising a hand.
She was still breathing fast, and she was basically raining sweat, but she wasn't panicking. At least, she wasn't having an attack. "G-Get away from me," she demanded, her voice thin as she used the bed in an attempt to climb to her feet.
"I read somewhere that you can hold your breath, and it stops a panic attack- look at me." She'd looked away, turning and trying to stand up. She glanced over her shoulder, trembling like a leaf. He'd just tried to smother her, to kill her; she was totally vulnerable, and it was the perfect time to strike. Dean was gone, probably wasn't coming back, leaving her totally defenseless.
"It's still me," he promised, hands at his shoulders. "It worked, didn't it? If I was trying to kill you, you'd be dead."
It was true. Danielle, far too exhausted to fight any further, sat back down, leaning her head back against the bed. Beads of sweat rolled down her neck and her chest, and she shut her eyes, pulling her knees up and just breathing.
She heard Sam stand up and start moving around, listening closely, hand itching to grab her angel blade. She wasn't sure if she trusted him completely; he had just smothered her, after all.
"Dean?"
Danielle snapped her eyes back open, only to see Sam on the phone. She didn't have time to heave her disappointed sigh, as Sam continued.
"Where the hell are you? … When are you coming back? … Dude, you scared the hell out of us; we thought- … Yeah, whatever, just get back here." Sam ended the call, tossing the phone on the table before facing her. "He just went to say goodbye to Lisa."
Danielle let out a huge breath, letting her head fall again. She closed her eyes, rubbing a hand over her face, scrubbing at the tears. God. That was the second panic attack. She prayed to wherever the hell their non-caring God was that this wouldn't start to be a thing. If something like Sam smothering her with a pillow happened again, and it was with a real enemy- she was screwed.
"I was just trying to help," he said.
She nodded. "I believe you."
They were quiet for a long time, Danielle not moving. She think she actually dozed, snapping back awake as there was a knock at the door. She met Sam's gaze, nervous. Dean would've slammed his fist against the wood until someone opened it for him, and Cas would've just popped into the room.
Sam went and opened it while Danielle rose to her feet, still unsteady. Samuel stepped into the room, receiving a smile and a clap on the back from his grandson. Danielle clamped her lips together, giving him a small nod as he looked towards her.
"You look like hell," he said.
"How'd you know where we were?" she asked.
"I called him."
Danielle's gaze snapped to the kitchen, seeing Dean step out from the shadows. At first, she was relieved, and wanted to run forward and hug him, but she stopped, rooted in her spot. At the sight of him, she stepped back, the back of her knees bumping against the bed. He looked … wild. Feral. Dangerous. Dead. It's not that his skin was super pale or some cliché like that; his eyes were blank and heavy set. His lips were a bluish tinge, and his skin looked grey, almost. His shoulders drooped, and the burden of the job was visible. He seemed to have aged several years while he was gone, dark shadows resting under his eyes.
So he still hadn't completed the transition yet. That was good; that meant he hadn't drank any human blood. Full-fledged vamps looked much better than he did. Of course, it meant he was dying.
"You guys weren't gonna kill me, so I had to call someone who would."
Danielle's gaze swung to Samuel's, seething. She knew how dangerous this guy was; he'd given her the creeps since day one. He would do it. She stepped forwards, hand inching towards the angel blade tucked into her belt. "You aren't killing," she stated.
Dean whispered her name, a faint, exhausted breath, and she knew this was probably torture for him. She was dragging it out. But, even if she had to open up her own vein for him to drink, he wasn't dying.
"No, I'm not," Samuel answered, in a no shit kind of tone. "There's a cure."
Danielle faltered, licking her lips before relief rushed through her bones. A smile flitted across her face, and her shoulders dropped to a more relaxed position. She turned to Dean, whose eyes were narrowed. Of course he would be skeptical.
"What do we need?" Dean asked.
"Little bit of this, little bit of that. The hardest thing to get on that list is the blood of the vamp that turned you," Samuel said.
Dean gave a terse nod. "On it."
"Hold up; you're just gonna walk into a nest of vamps?" Sam asked.
"Why not? I'm one of them now," Dean answered. Sam fell silent, and Samuel produced a jar full of red liquid.
"Let's get cracking."
Two Hours Later
Sam, Samuel, and Danielle sat in the very inconspicuous huge black van, parked in the side alley near the main building. Danielle was currently irritated; no one would think twice of a massive black van, of course. What was she worried about? She'd voiced her opinions, but the boys didn't seem to care.
It wasn't until the van gave a huge shudder and a vamp broke through the window and snatched Samuel that her point was proven. He grabbed the man, throwing him down the alley before chasing after him.
Her and Sam leapt into action, diving out of the car and running for the vamp. It wheeled around to face Sam, letting out a mighty hiss and slamming into the Winchester. Sam flew back, landing flat on his back.
Danielle ran forwards, hoping to catch the vamp a little off guard, but it already caught onto her plan before she even had time to get near it. Before Danielle could blink, it had slammed her into the car, hard enough to rock the vehicle and send pain shooting up and down her spine.
She didn't have time to think; all she saw was the vampire's face, covered in shadow, the teeth bared with spit dangling from the fangs.
And then it's teeth were in her neck and her skin was being ripped apart and her blood was being sucked out of her body. She let out a mighty scream, punching and kicking at her assailant, despite how every move only made the fangs sink in further. Her blade, still in her hand, sliced across its stomach, and it disappeared.
She clapped her hand over her neck, blood pooling between her fingers. Her stomach churned, and she tilted her head, hoping to quell the blood flow. She clamped her lips tight together, swallowing the bile that rose in her throat at the feel of her shredded skin.
Samuel appeared in front of her, peeling away the fingers and examining the wound. "Sam, get the gauze." Sam handed him the white bandages, and Samuel wrapped them around her neck. She was trembling, eyes shut, breathing out her nose as she struggled to not throw up.
"You gonna be okay?" Sam asked. Danielle nodded, wincing as her skin pulled. "'Cause you're going to have to be on your game if you're gonna go in there. You can't slow us down."
Danielle opened her eyes, meeting Sam's stoic gaze with disbelief. He was serious. He wasn't worried because she was hurt- he was worried because he was afraid she'd slow them down.
"I'm fine," she snapped, and the Winchester's eyebrows rose before he walked away.
"Come on," Samuel said, shooting his grandson a glare before walking with Danielle up and down the alley, making sure she hadn't lost enough blood to pass out.
"Guys, we don't have time for this; they know we're here by now!" Sam exclaimed.
"She just got her throat ripped apart for Christ's sake," Samuel snapped. "Give her a minute."
"No, he's right," Danielle said, though she felt that maybe her previous misgivings towards the Campbell had been wrong. "We gotta go."
"You ain't going nowhere," Samuel said.
"Why not?" Sam asked. "We can take her in there with us, use her as bait."
"Bait?!" Danielle repeated, unable to believe what was coming out of his mouth. What the actual hell. She was supposed to suggest that, and he and Dean were supposed to be the ones to immediately shoot it down. Sam would never be okay with using her as bait; he would never put her in that kind of position.
"Have you lost your damn mind, kid?" Samuel demanded, teeth gritted. "She's staying here, and that's final." Danielle would have protested; using her as bait was a pretty good idea, but she couldn't fight, not like this. She opened the door of the van, sitting on the floor with her feet on the ground, watching the boys go into the building.
Ten minutes hadn't passed before the boys reemerged. Danielle stood up, seeing Dean trailing behind Sam and Samuel. They went straight for the van, taking the driver and passenger seat, while Dean drifted along, apparently in no huge hurry.
Dean paused where the streetlamp stopped casting light, his body stiffening. His head snapped up, pointed in Danielle's direction. She could just see his lips part, white fangs descending from his gums before his face was in hers, and her back was slammed against the van- again.
His hands were tight on her arms, fingers crushing into the muscle, making her arms throb. He was trembling, eyes locked on the gauze.
Yeah, Danielle, just prance around with a brand-new vamp with a gaping hole in your neck; everything will be fine.
She could run, fight, or stay put. Running would no doubt trigger the predatory response – if vamps even had that. Better not to test it; she would be toast if they did. Fighting was out of the question. For one, she'd dropped her blade when he tackled into her, and, for two, she couldn't hurt him even if she wanted to.
So she stayed put, fingers grabbing onto the lapels of his jacket. His nostrils flared as he took a shuddering breath, lips curling up.
He didn't look human. He looked like a monster, something feral and dangerous and not to be trifled with. She held her breath, heart hammering in her chest.
"Son," Samuel said, drawing out the word. "Step back, before you hurt her."
"Dean." Her voice broke, and it came out as a whisper. His head started drifting towards her neck, and she closed her eyes, holding her breath. "Don't do this. Dean."
A flicker of doubt flashed across his face just as his nose drifted against her jawbone. His eyebrows dipped just a fraction, and his eyes rose to meet hers. He came back to himself, horror starting to shine in his gaze.
Danielle knew that look. That was his self-destructive look, and she'd be damned if he did something stupid on her account. "Uh-uh, Dean-" Her hands tightened on his jacket, clawing at his chest as he tried to twist out of her grip. She settled on grabbing his arm, pulling him back closer.
"Let go, before I hurt-"
"Get in the goddamn car," she growled.
He shook his head, unable to look at her. "I can't-"
"Get in," she said, rolling her eyes and shoving him into the van. It was about as useful as her shoving Sam earlier, but he did as he was told, scooting as far away as he could in the backseat. He pinched his nose, angling his face away from her. Samuel rolled down the window, allowing him to stick his head out.
Danielle reached into her duffel bag, pulling out a jar of leftover dead man's blood. She dipped her fingers into the sticky liquid, resisting the urge to gag as she painted it over her gauze. Hopefully she'd smell less appetizing. As she moved, her arms and back throbbed, and she knew the dark bruises were probably already starting to appear. Best not to let Dean see those.
They got back to the motel, and Samuel whipped up the cure as fast as he could. Dean clamped his hands over his ears, irritated by some sound they couldn't hear, jaw set and eyes squeezed shut.
"If this works, it's not gonna be a kiddy ride," Samuel warned.
"If?" Danielle repeated in shock.
"Light her up," Dean growled.
"I haven't used it before," Samuel said.
"What?!"
"So what'd you seen in there?" Sam asked.
"Really? Wanna give him a second?"
Dean swayed, shaking his head, confused by the multiple conversations. "What?"
"We need to know," Sam told Danielle.
"Right this freaking second?"
"Both of you shut up. Give me the damn cure." Dean snatched it from Samuel's hands, gulping it down. They all watched, not daring to look away. Dean's expression went from one of hope to disappointment, and Danielle let out the breath she'd been holding. "I don't think it-"
He suddenly wheeled around, falling to his knees in front of the trash and vomiting blood. Sam stepped forward. "Is it working?"
"Either that or he's dying."
Danielle didn't bother to voice her protests, settling for a sharp look in the Campbell's direction. Dean's back arched, and he threw his head back, fangs protruding. And then his fangs were retreating, pulling back into his gums, and he was on the floor, eyes shut. Danielle dropped on her knees next to him, fingers scrabbling for a pulse.
There wasn't one. Did vampires have a heartbeat? They were technically dead; they had to die to become one, but how did the blood get around in their body? Did they have to breathe? Her hand hovered over his lips, but no air touched her skin. Panic started to bubble in her gut, and she felt for a pulse again.
She was about to start CPR when she felt a faint drumming. She sighed in relief as the pulse strengthened, letting her head hang. Her neck gave a sharp prick in response, but she ignored it, sitting back on her haunches.
Dean stayed unconscious for five solid minutes. Samuel leaned against the counter, waiting, while Sam had gone over and collapsed in a chair on the other side of the room. Danielle remained by Dean's side, grabbing his hand as his eyes finally opened. It took him a couple minutes to completely come to before he met Danielle's gaze.
"Welcome back to the world of the living."
Samuel had left only hours ago, after certifying that Dean was fine. They'd decided to let Dean sleep; being a vampire had kicked his ass. However, Sam and Danielle couldn't sleep, mostly from the excitement of the past day.
Danielle, after watching Dean's chest rise and fall for several minutes, finally worked up the nerve to talk to Sam. "Are you… Do you feel okay?"
Sam furrowed his brow. "I'm fine. Why?"
"It's just… You're acting kind of weird." Beyond kind of. Smothering her, trying to use her as bait, acting indifferent to her and Dean being hurt. "Are you sure?"
"If this is about the pillow thing-"
"It's not," she said. "Never mind." He was lying, again. Just like he had with the werewolves. He turned back to his laptop, seemingly oblivious – or indifferent – to Danielle's doubts. She watched him for a while, her stomach twisting into knots. Finally she couldn't take it, moving her gaze back to just Dean.
Morning came, albeit slowly, and Dean finally woke up. Sam and Danielle had already packed their bags in the night and were just waiting for Dean to grab the rest of his stuff. In the middle of the task, he straightened up, turning to his brother. "Sam, why don't you go ahead and take the stuff to the car."
His brow furrowed. "Why?"
"Me and Dan need to talk." Dean angled his head to the door. "Go."
Sam didn't argue any further, grabbing his and Danielle's bag before leaving them alone. As soon as the door had shut, Dean was advancing, an almost hysterical light shining in his eyes. "Something is seriously wrong with him."
She nodded, giving a faint, "I know."
"No, something is wrong." This was different. His tone, his attitude… Danielle stared at him, and she recognized the stiffness in his upper lip, the way his shoulders were drawn up, his eyebrows up and eyes wide… It was fear. Where before he was just suspicious and annoyed, he was flat-out scared now.
"He was there when I was turned. He watched me. He didn't even try to help me. He just watched, almost like… like he wanted me to turn."
"He did the same thing to me," she said. "Not- Not with vampires, but last year, with werewolves. There was one attacking me; I was about to die, and he just turned away."
Dean shook his head, gritting his teeth. "We have to do something. Danny… That is not my brother."
Danielle closed her eyes, dropping her forehead on her knees so he couldn't see her lip tremble. The other option, it was too mortifying, too terrible for her to dare consider it. And if Dean voice it, it would only make it worse. "Don't."
"What if Lucifer hitched a ride on the way out?"
"It's not him," Danielle said, shaking her head. "It can't be. Cas would know. And i-if he was out, Raphael wouldn't even be fighting us anymore."
"Unless they all wanted us to think he wasn't out. He is the devil, Dan. Lying is kind of his thing."
"Then what are they waiting for? The opportune moment? That sure as hell has passed. If he wanted to kill us, he would have done it already."
"They could be biding their time, maybe he's too weak, who the hell knows? All I know is that's not Sam."
"So then what do we do?" Danielle asked, hopeless. "Attack him? Tie him up, torture him?" Dean met her gaze, jaw clenched, but the look in his eyes gave away that that's exactly what he was planning to do. All she had to do was say the word, join in on the plan, and Sam would be their new biology project. "Dean, we can't."
"What then? We just- just leave him alone to slit our throats in our sleep?!"
"We don't know if anything's actually wrong," Danielle said. "We can't just attack. What if it is Sam?"
"It's not."
"What if it is?" she repeated. "We can't take that chance. We have to wait until we're one hundred percent sure. We'll call Bobby, let him know, see if he can find anything. In the meantime, we just watch him."
Dean sighed, shoulders dropping. This wasn't fair. They'd gotten Sam back, but it wasn't the same. It was some, weird, twisted version; the universe was teasing them.
"We'll figure it out," Danielle promised.
"Yeah, sure," he mumbled, grabbing his bag and heading for the door. He stopped short, however, dropping his bag and wheeling back around. "While we're at it: what is going on between you and Cas?"
Danielle's heart stopped, and she felt her mouth go dry. He was aggressive, and his expression dared her to say the wrong thing. And she had a feeling that admitting to her and Cas was definitely the wrong thing. "Huh?"
"Something's going on between you two. What is it?"
Dean's jaw was tight, and his eyes were locked on hers. Something about his expression, something about his demeanor made her lie. She didn't mean to, didn't want to, but she was scared to admit it. "Nothing." He raised his eyebrows in disbelief, and she repeated herself. "Nothing. Why?"
"It's not hard to see. Me and Sam, gone for a year, leaving just you and Cas. Throw in the war, and you two are just best buddies. And I remember how things were before; you two were pretty damn close."
Danielle just gave a small shake of her head, heart hammering in her chest. "Nothing's going on."
Dean exhaled through his nose, a short, patronizing sound, and a mirthless smile curled up his lips. "Because that would be wrong. You know that, right?"
"W-W-Why would it be wrong?" she asked, kicking herself for stammering.
"Oh, you know, just the fact that he's however-many-million years old. Not to mention, strong enough to nuke an entire city."
Danielle just stared at him, eyes wide, speechless.
"'Cause you know, he's an angel," Dean continued, stepping towards her. "And he doesn't feel things, not like you and me. So his version of love or friendship or whatever the hell you think is going on between you two- it's different from ours. He's not human."
"It sure seems the same," she said.
"But, y'see, we're humans. You and me, we're flesh and blood and a heartbeat. The dude doesn't even have his own body; he's just light. Imagine how next-to-nothing we are compared to him. You hear it from the other angels, how insignificant we are."
She'd thought of that. She'd thought of that so many times. It was too much for her to fathom; the body she was touching wasn't his. She would never know what he really looked like, though she doubted it was anything that had a real shape. He was light, energy, fire- not something she could hold in her hands. "We can't be that insignificant if he was willing to defy Heaven after knowing us for less than a year."
Dean's chin went up, and he narrowed his eyes at her. She realized just how sharp her tone had gotten, and she knew he'd caught her. "If nothing's going on, how come you're getting so worked up?"
She shook her head, grabbing her bag and careful to look indifferent. "I'm not," she said, keeping her voice even. She strode past him. "Let's roll."
more panic attacks _ and dean's starting to get suspicious, which can only mean trouble...
angelashortall: "an affection erection" I'M ROLLING OMG. And it's good that you do, because he'll be back (;
mamareadstomuch2: yes, sooooon *evil cackle*
Guest: It won't be long now! *gulps* Dean is already suspicious...
Guest: Me too *sobs* (':
Guest: Rofl, if you mean the brothers, they weren't in the room when she got stabbed. So they don't know hahahaha!
Castiel'sGirl: Thank you so much! :D
