AN: I can't believe this is the end of Whumptober! I wasn't always on time, but I did get something out there for every day. Today's was a struggle, but I couldn't give up on the one yard line, you know? I know the hunt and finish are quick, but with it having to be a one-shot, that's what happens sometimes. It's been a great journey and I've so appreciated all the faithful readers who took the time to comment. I read and enjoyed every single one. Thanks for taking this goofy journey with me!

The prompt options were: Experiment / Whipped / Left for Dead, and it takes place in season 2.

Shazza19: I adore Weechesters, and I had fun showing that in some ways, the guys haven't changed. Thanks for reading and commenting!

The vampire was patient. Everything in her wanted to hurry up and rush in, and get revenge. But her quarry was elusive and dangerous. And not alone. She would eventually kill both the brothers, but it was the younger one that had piqued her interest. She had seen Luther's face change when he'd held the boy hostage. He smelled something, but of course, he was killed before he could tell Kate what it was.

Alive over 150 years, her partner for nearly 70, and dead at the hands of three scruffy hunters.

She would have her revenge, but first, she would satisfy her curiosity.

She'd been so disappointed to learn that John Winchester, the man who'd pulled the trigger, was dead. She hoped that wherever he was, he would see her kill his boys. And see all of what she had planned before she allowed them to die.

WINCHESTER * WINCHESTER

Sam was tired, but he was always tired now. It wasn't the tired of after a really tough workout or the tired of finals week. It was the tired of never being able to sleep more than a few hours before nightmares woke him up. And not just ordinary nightmares. Nightmares where he could see Jess die and feel the heat of the fire and smell…he gagged at the thought, but quickly covered it with a cough.

And just for fun, sometimes his nightmares brought migraines and visions of things that hadn't happened yet. Things like people dying, and no matter how he tried, he couldn't always stop it.

Then he'd have nightmares about the car accident, only this time Dean and Dad died in the wreck, and a solemn-faced police officer shook his head at Sam. "You should have been able to prevent this," he'd say, censure on his face. "Your entire family is dead because of you." Then he would flash yellow eyes and laugh.

Sam really hated sleeping.

It was starting to affect Dean too, and he damn well had enough on his plate right now. Sam cast a quick look at his brother, who was "in the zone" the way he sometimes got when he was driving. But Sam hadn't been as subtle as he'd thought, because Dean said, "Why don't you go to sleep already?"

"I can drive," offered Sam instead. It was bad enough when he had a nightmare in the darkness of a motel room. When he had one in the car, next to a wide-awake Dean, he earned himself all kinds of worried looks, and he felt very exposed. He'd gotten looks that said you're not quite right his entire life. He couldn't stand to get them from his brother.

"Yeah, no way you're driving my baby until you're a little less sleep deprived." Dean held up a hand before Sam could reply. "Let me guess. You're fine." Dean's lips were pinched tightly closed. "Just close your eyes for a while, will ya?"

Sam didn't want to, but Dean had pushed down his natural inclination to order him and instead had made it a request. So he just nodded and lifted his right arm up so he could put it against the window and rest his head against it.

"What the hell?" snapped Dean, surprising Sam. Dean was pulling the car over by the time Sam realized what had caught his attention – Sam's sleeve was dark with blood and there was dried blood all over the back of his hand.

"Ah, shit. Sorry, man. I'll clean the car – "

"The car?" Dean actually sputtered. He climbed out of the car and came around, pulling Sam's door open. "You're an idiot. Show me."

Sam pulled up his sleeve, frowning. There was a maybe four- or five-inch cut on the back of Sam's forearm, nothing compared to some of the injuries they'd gotten. It was bloody, but not painful. "It's nothing, Dean. Just leave it."

Dean gave him a fearsome scowl and inspected it for himself, deciding after a moment that it didn't need stitches and that it could wait to be cleaned up until they got a motel room. Sam barely refrained from rolling his eyes. He knew it was no big deal.

What neither of them realized was it wasn't the injury itself that would bring trouble. It was the blood that had been left behind.

WINCHESTER * WINCHESTER

Sam groaned softly as he read the clock radio on the wobbly nightstand. 2:03 am. It's like his body wasn't even trying to sleep any more. Five o'clock, he could justify getting up and starting his day. Maybe even four. But two? When they'd gotten in around eleven? That was just wrong. But he knew by experience that there was no getting back to sleep, not after the Jess dream, as he thought of it.

He slipped into the bathroom, holding his breath that mother hen big brother wouldn't wake up. He knew why Dean got so worked up over Sam's dreams and insomnia – because it was something Dean couldn't fix. Worry looked a lot like annoyance on Dean, and inability to help was expressed through anger.

Sam had left his clothes in the bathroom, and the Tylenol too, because this was far too common an occurrence. Dean hadn't figured out that he was doing that yet, but Sam knew it wouldn't be long. But for now, he was glad. He could get dressed, albeit in dirty clothes, and swallow a few pain pills without rousing his brother.

That accomplished, Sam pondered what to do next. If he took a shower, Dean would definitely wake up. He could probably boot up the computer and look for their next hunt, but he was restless. He had one of those odd feelings that something was happening right here, in this town. It poked at him, itchy and refusing to be ignored. Goody. Yet another reason to be awake.

Sam decided that he'd walk two buildings over to the 24-hour gas station and convenience store and pick up some coffee (since there was actually a coffee maker in the motel room – bliss!) and a six-pack and then settle in for research for a few hours. He'd look into the town of wherever they were and see if he couldn't find a reason to make Dean stay.

He nodded decisively and scribbled a note for Dean. Only one more hurdle to face in the gauntlet of don't wake the bear. He slid the door open as silently as he could, grateful that it actually opened to a hallway and not directly to the outside like most places they stayed. He slipped out and closed it behind him, waiting for a loaded moment to see if Dean would make a noise. Silence.

With a relieved sigh, Sam tucked his hands into his pockets and nodded at the probably dozing night clerk, and walked out into the brisk night. Something lightened in his chest to be out under the stars – not that he could see them in the glare of the artificial lights of the motel parking lot. He felt an itch between his shoulder blades that said he was being watched, but it left almost instantly, and he relaxed. After all, he couldn't know that Kate was watching and grinning at her good fortune. All she'd wanted was the younger Winchester alone. And he had no idea that she'd guessed his destination since nothing else was open nearby, and had dashed ahead to get a welcome ready for him.

Sam walked into the store, and started to toss a greeting to the man behind the counter, only to freeze. The man was staring at him, terrified, with a leather-clad arm around his neck. "Hello, Sam," said the woman holding him in place. "Remember me?"

"Kate," he breathed. He remembered all too well the way her husband? mate? had held him in the same position.

"Very good. I was just explaining to Gary here that his life is in your hands. See, you're going to set down any weapons you're carrying, and your cell phone, and come with us peacefully, or I'm going to break Gary's neck while you watch."

Sam held his hands up, palms out. "Okay, okay. Don't hurt him. Alright? I'm doing it." He crouched and slowly pulled his Taurus out and laid it on the ground, then his butterfly knife, not that either would do much good against vampires. "Why don't you let him go?" he asked placatingly, slowly pulling out his cell phone and setting it beside the other items. As he stood, still slowly, he felt someone – someones – come up behind him and ducked a blow that would have crashed into his temple. Instead, it just caught his shoulder, but was still enough to send him careening into a shelf of processed snacks.

"I said I'd come, dammit!" he yelled to the three thugs that had come up behind him. If he hadn't known it already, the strength of the blow would have revealed the vampiric nature of the closest one. "Let Gary go, okay?"

"I didn't say I'd let him go," purred Kate. "Only that I wouldn't snap his neck." She smiled at her henchmen. "Knock him out and get him in the truck already. But do not kill him." She sank her teeth into Gary's neck as Sam cried out for her to stop.

Now Sam was no pushover, even when chronically sleep-deprived. But he was outnumbered 3-to-1 (4-to-1 if he counted Kate) by supernaturally strong creatures, and basically unarmed. His options ran through his mind at lightning speed.

Option 1: Run. Chances of success: extraordinarily small, since two vampires were between him and the door, and they were faster than he was.

Option 2: Pull the knife he still wore and fight. Chances of success: even smaller. The knife was not heavy enough to take off a head with one blow, and he wouldn't get more than one shot.

Option 3: Text Dean to warn him. Chances of success: still small, but better than the other options. If Kate wanted him alive, that would give Dean a chance to find him, right?

Sam chose three, with a twist. He backed away, finding his second cell phone inside his pocket and punching in the shortcut to text Dean by feel, really hoping he got it right. He pulled it out and typed 'K' 'A' before he had to duck another haymaker. Before he came back up, the second vampire grabbed him, so he hit 'send' and dropped the phone. Then he fought like hell with his fists and his feet and his elbows. They'd killed an innocent man in front of him, and he just didn't have it in him to surrender peacefully.

Still, the fight didn't last long. As he kicked out at the tall, bald guy, he failed to dodge a punch coming right at his face. Instant darkness followed.

WINCHESTER * WINCHESTER

Dean made a very grumpy sound. He had been sleeping, and he was very comfortable. And he was not pleased that something was messing that up. He didn't move for a minute, waiting to see if his spidey senses would let him drift off again, but the sound that must have disturbed him came again. A…text message? He groped for his phone and opened it, having to blink three times to get his eyes to work well enough to read it. KA? Did Sam butt-text him or something? Speaking of Sam…

Dean scrubbed at his face to wash the sleepiness away and sat up. Even in the dark, he could see that nobody was in Sam's bed. Instantly more alert, he stood and flipped on the light. "Sammy?" he called. The bathroom door was open, but he looked inside anyway, and even opened the shower curtain in case Sam was sleeping in the tub or something stupid. Hey, he wasn't completely awake yet. Stepping back out of the tiny room, Dean noticed the lone piece of paper on top of the laptop. He hooked it.

Gone for coffee and beer.

What the hell? It was…he squinted…2:24 am, for fuck's sake. This insomnia was shit. Not like Dean slept a lot, but a human body just couldn't function on the tiny amount of sleep Sam got lately. Dean looked at his phone again. Something about the text was really bothering him, though he had no idea what it could mean. It wasn't in their lexicon of shorthand. Then he noticed what his sleep-addled brain had missed the first time.

Fuck me, it's from Sam's back-up phone.

That automatically meant something was wrong. And that's when he heard the sirens.

WINCHESTER * WINCHESTER

The clerk was dead, his throat ripped out. The camera had been torn off the wall, and the recording equipment smashed. "Probably by a baseball bat," said the cop who was showing Dean around. He'd been surprised to see a fed on scene nearly immediately, but had bought the explanation that he'd been staying just down the road and woke up to hear the sirens. Dean had a feeling the electronics had been smashed by a fist, but he didn't say so. And he didn't comment when the guy wondered aloud what kind of "weapon" could have torn out someone's throat like that. Looked like teeth to him, and not enough blood around the body. "Poor kid set off the silent alarm. Too bad it didn't save his life," sighed the cop, and that Dean agreed with wholeheartedly.

The main area of the store was a disaster. Several of the smaller shelves were completely tipped over, and a glass door in the beer area was broken in like a body had been smashed into it. A tall body. Dean peered at the spiderwebbed glass and saw miniscule drops of red. Then he saw the phone under the edge of a nearby shelf. It was the phone Sam had used to text him, screen cracked but still functional.

"Listen, I just came to see if you guys needed help securing the scene, but it's not really my business," said Dean, amazed that his voice came out so calm. He handed the guy his card. "I don't know if I can be any more help, but call me if there's anything I can do." The guy thanked him, with some comment about how he wasn't a dick like most feds.

Dean hardly heard him. Hardly noticed the walk back to the motel, though he should have been extra alert for the threat. But he felt numb. With ruthless focus, he pushed away his fear to analyze what he knew. Body drained. Something strong. Fast. Left a body, but took…Sam. That means he was alive. Alive. And he put up a hell of a fight.

Without knowing quite how he got there, he was back in the room, leaning against the door with his eyes closed. In the middle of a fight for his life, probably against multiple vampires, Sam had taken the time to text him. Why? What was the message?

Dean pictured their last encounter with vampires. Luther, looking surprised as he died. A furious woman, being essentially dragged away by her remaining nest-mates. Kate. Son of a bitch.

WINCHESTER * WINCHESTER

Sam could tell even before he opened his eyes that he really didn't want to wake up. It was something you learned as a hunter. You learned to wake up and evaluate your situation but fast.

This situation was a pile of shit with a shit cherry on top. He could tell, because his brain was channeling Dean, which was a protective measure he employed without consciously meaning to. Also, his wrists were bound above his head, and he was kneeling on a cold floor with the smell of blood heavy around him. Part of it was his own, he surmised, feeling the trickle from his nose. And his head was pounding enough to cause nausea to curl through his gut.

Sam kept his eyes closed and listened. There were voices around him, and he remembered. Vampire Kate. Whose mate Dad killed to save Sam's life.

"—ver smelled anything like it. Just a taste?"

"Kate said to wait. She has plans for this one."

"She won't care as long as we leave him alive."

"I don't know, Hugh…"

A hand fisted Sam's hair and pulled his head back, and a face pressed against his neck. He flinched, but couldn't move against the iron grip. A tongue was dragged against his neck and he gagged. "Bite me and I'll p-puke on you," he gasped.

"Leave him," snapped Kate's ice-cold voice, and Sam was immediately released.

He slit his eyes open, though it sent pain ricocheting through his skull. He waited until his vision settled down, the possibility of puking still very real. Oh good. There were five vamps, not ten. "Preciate the assist, Katie," he said with a little smile. Yup, still channeling Dean. Still internally freaking out.

Kate ignored him. "We won't be drinking from him directly, because there's something unusual about his blood. Luther told me something about this, something he learned over a hundred years ago. When we drink from someone who is demon possessed, we temporarily get much stronger, but we can become addicted as well."

"I can actually prove I'm n-not demon possessed," said Sam, trying very hard to make his words clear and hide his weakness. "In case anyone cares. Pater noster, qui es in caelis, sanctificetur –"

"Shut up," snapped Kate.

"A demon can't recite the Lord's Prayer. You should know that, since you're the one teaching the class." Damn, he was snarky when he had a headache. And was trussed up to become vampire chow.

"I know you're not demon possessed, or your family wouldn't have been so worried about Luther snapping your neck," hissed Kate, growing angry. "But there is something about your blood, and I'm going to find out what." Her eyes narrowed speculatively. "I was a scientist when I was a human, believe it or not. I am very good at devising experiments to learn the truth." Then she smiled. And that was scarier than anything else she'd done so far.

WINCHESTER * WINCHESTER

Dean got off the phone with Bobby and began to pace again. He was like a live wire, vibrating with tension and more emotions than he could name. He was furious with Sam for leaving and putting himself in danger. In the rational part of his brain, he knew that wasn't fair. There was no evidence of supernatural activity where they were, and Sam had walked all of two buildings over, well-armed and in a well-lit area. But the rational part of his brain wasn't the part currently in control. He was also furious with himself for sleeping through Sam leaving. He should have sensed Sam leaving, or sensed the danger or something. That was his job, after all. And he was pissed at himself, Sam and Dad for not tracking Kate and her surviving followers.

Dad had told them straight out: Once they have your scent, they never stop and vampires mate for life. But they'd been so caught up in the hunt for the yellow-eyed demon that they'd pulled a rookie move and not finished what they'd started. And now that mistake was biting them square in the ass. They'd all made the mistake, and Sam was paying the price.

Dean felt a vague pain in his hand and realized that he was clutching Sam's dropped phone until the casing actually creaked from the pressure. With effort, he uncurled his fingers. The time on the cracked screen mocked him. How long did it take a vampire to kill? Seconds? How long had they had his little brother?

Wait. Where was Sam's main phone? It hadn't been at the store, unless it was somewhere out of sight, since they hadn't begun to process the scene when Dean was there. The cops wouldn't have moved anything. Had the vamps confiscated it? Was that why Sam used his second phone?

He hadn't even finished the thought when he was booting up the laptop. Once he had the number he needed, he made a phone call. "Yeah, I'm wondering if you could turn the GPS on my kid's phone – "

WINCHESTER * WINCHESTER

Sam covered his gasp as the big, bald vampire, Hugh, he thought, who'd been the one to get up close and personal earlier, had used Sam's own knife to poke a hole in his bicep. Grinning in Sam's face, he twisted the knife. Sam clenched his jaw and didn't make a sound staring right back as the vamp held up a tumbler and collected the blood that was pouring out.

The vamp's second set of teeth descended and his eyes darkened. "Don't taste," taunted Sam. "Not without permission. I think you hit the brachial artery," he lied. "Oops. I'll be dead in three minutes."

"Stop that up," called Kate. She was writing in a notebook. "Label that sample one. Now I need some samples taken after different kinds of…duress." Baldy stared for a moment longer before he collected himself enough to back off. Another vamp, this one with a very eighties blonde flat top, tied a rag around the wound, far too tight. Then, with a grin, he held up a wire with the end stripped.

"Don't get the voltage too high," called Kate sweetly. "There's a lot of other tests."

Blondie ripped off Sam's shirt before shocking him four times, making sure it was in four different places. The worst was on his neck. Every time, his muscles locked up, his lungs seized, and his flesh sizzled where the wire touched him. At the end of last, Sam's head hung forward as he slumped helplessly from his bonds. His muscles were all liquid, and he ached from his hair to his toenails. He barely flinched when the vamp poked the knife just above his collarbone. That apparently wasn't an acceptable response, so the sadist pushed it farther in until Kate yelled at him to stop.

"Cover that up," she called. "And label it sample two. No tasting!"

"He smells – "

Kate was across the room in a blink, grabbing the newest container of blood away. "I know, Terry. But trust me on this. We can feed from regular human cattle all the time. If we can figure out what makes sweet Sam different, we can get stronger, maybe find others like him. Do you trust me or not?"

"I trust you," murmured Terry and the others in sync.

"Nice cult thing you have going there," slurred Sam, discovering he still had the strength mock them.

Kate looked him dead in the eye. "The next test required blood that has pooled under the skin. That means we need bruises." She handed a rubber hose to a vamp Sam hadn't noticed before, a tall, black woman with dead eyes.

For better or worse, this vampire was a bit enthusiastic, meaning Sam passed out quite quickly.

WINCHESTER * WINCHESTER

The GPS was only on for about twenty minutes after Dean had asked for it to be tracked. At that point, they must have destroyed the phone. But it was enough to give him a good idea where they were holing up. It was outside of town, not far, in a rural area. Dean would have to look for abandoned buildings. Bobby wanted him to wait two hours until he could get there, but Dean simply couldn't.

He liked to think he'd know if Sam…well, if the worst had happened. But what if he didn't? Or what if he waited for Bobby and while he sat on his hands, the vamps… Yeah, he couldn't finish the thought, even in the privacy of his own mind.

With a general destination in mind, and urgency beating in his chest, Dean began to drive.

WINCHESTER * WINCHESTER

"I know you're awake," said a voice right in Sam's ear. He flinched, not realizing he'd lost consciousness again. Kate was shallowly cutting into each bruise the other vamp had made beating his chest, back, and abdomen. He'd been surprised to pass out during the beating, and again during this bloodletting. When he did pass out, they must slap his face until he woke up, because he could feel the bruises on his cheeks and jaw, and both eyes were getting swollen.

It was getting harder to focus and concentrate. Worse, his heart felt like it was pounding extra hard, and he wondered just how much blood he'd already lost. "Open those pretty eyes," cooed Kate. She dragged a nail down the side of Sam's neck, and he couldn't help but jump when the new cut bisected a burn from earlier. He knew it pleased her, but he couldn't help it. She dragged her tongue down the cut she'd just made, then suddenly pushed away and stood.

"Tr-trouble con-controlling yourself?" Sam chuckled, finding a little strength. He mustered everything he had to tilt his head back and look at her, and say one very important thing perfectly clearly. "Bitch."

The backhand was almost a blessing.

WINCHESTER * WINCHESTER

The urgency Dean had been feeling was suddenly ramped up exponentially. He was effecting a grid search that Dad would have been proud of, and just as his nerves lit up like a Christmas tree, he saw a derelict old farmhouse. It was all dark, but there were three vehicles parked in the yard. There his instincts screamed. He parked on the road and grabbed his machete and a handful of narrow but strong stakes that had been soaked in dead man's blood. He'd had it all laid out on the seat next to him to be ready.

In a heartbeat, he was out of the car and stalking toward the house. There was a bored-looking vampire with a stupid haircut at the door, and Dean divested him of his head before he had a chance to so much as look up. Dean caught the body and tossed it down the steps so it landed in the grass and didn't make a thud and give away his presence.

Without giving it the dead vamp a second thought, he stepped inside. There was only one more vamp on the main floor, and she only had time to get a look of surprise before he'd beheaded her too. As he headed for the basement (because where else would the cliched idiots hang out?) he heard something that made him even more icily furious. "Are you sure he's still breathing?"

That was all Dean needed. Maybe he should have slowed down and thought it through, but he had lost his dad, and he was not going to lose his brother.

Dean turned into a berserker. There were three vampires in the basement, but there could have been 10 and he wouldn't have hesitated. He didn't stop moving until Kate and her minions lay dead on the floor. He took a good look at his brother and wished he could kill them again.

Sam was on his knees, slumped forward so far that Dean couldn't see his face. His wrists were tied and suspended from a pipe above him, and his hands were badly swollen from the strain. He was bare to the waist, and what Dean could see of his chest and back were mottled with bruises and littered with cuts.

Dean fell to his own knees and lifted Sam's chin, then cut off a curse when he realized there were deeper wounds too, one on his arm and one on his upper chest, and what looked like electrical burns. He put a shaking hand beneath Sam's nose and finally felt a small puff of air. He felt for a pulse in Sam's neck and found it after far too long, thready and galloping, but there.

"Hang on, Sammy. I'm getting you out of here."

WINCHESTER * WINCHESTER

Kate's backhand had made Sam's ears ring. He was still marginally aware, but he couldn't seem to lift his head or react to what was happening around him. There was a lot of noise, fighting, but he was distant from it.

Then there was a hand on his chin, and he knew instantly who it was. Dean. And Dean was talking to him, so Sam did the impossible and forced his eyes open. His vision was iffy, but he recognized those green eyes, and he might even have said Dean's name.

A lot more things happened. He was lying on the floor and Dean seemed busy and kept pestering him to talk, but that was just too much work. In fact, keeping his eyes open was too much work.

Time slipped past like petals on the wind, then he was on his feet and gasping at the pain of the arm around his waist. But he inhaled the familiar scent of the coat he was now wearing and kept trying to move his feet, because that's what Dean wanted him to do.

Now time skipped and jumped around.

Impala. Sleeping. "Dean?"

"Yeah, I'm here. Relax, Sammy."

"Kate?"

"Dead."

Sleeping again. How about that? He could finally sleep. Motel room.

"Dean?"

"Right here, dude. How you doing?"

He wasn't sure. He had to think about it. He didn't know what he meant to say, but all that came out was, "Ow."

Dean chuckled sadly, then gave him something to swallow, and something to drink, and soon he was drifting in pleasant oblivion.

"Dean?"

"Yeah, Sammy. What do you need?"

"Jus'…you."

"I got you."

And he knew Dean did.