A/N Hello again! As promised, another story before January ended, even if it was just barely :) I hope that you all enjoy it and please let me know what you think!

Set earlyish season 2.

Disclaimer: not mine.

Credit For A Kill

Chapter One

Dean chewed on his lower lip, debating between the Hot Mama! burger (complete with Jalapenos and bacon) or the apparently world-famous Pot Roast when a pair of long, shapely, legs stopped next to him.

Well, that certainly isn't Sam… Dean trailed his eyes slowly over the legs and up her body to red lips and dark hair.

"Hey," he said, throwing on his best-disarming smile as he lowered the menu. She smiled seductively at him and before Dean had to say anything else, slid into the booth seat across from him. Glancing out the window to make sure that Sam had not yet arrived, Dean turned his full attention onto her. Long, dark, hair cascaded down her shoulders, framing her face, and her lips had been painted a deep red that emphasized the whiteness of her teeth when she smiled at him.

"Hi."

Her voice was low and silky smooth. Damnit. Now was not the time for this, he and Sam were here to hunt. Besides, the stick-in-the-mud that he called his brother was going to be here soon, and flirting would have to wait until they were off the job.

Heaving a sigh of regret, Dean leaned forward in his seat. "Sorry, sweetheart, I'm afraid that seat's already taken. I'm waiting on someone who is much, much, less fun than you are, believe me. But, hey, if you are free tonight…?" he trailed off suggestively.

The waitress returned at that moment with the two coffees that Dean had already ordered.

"Are you ready, or do you need another couple minutes?" she asked, pulling out a paper pad and a pen.

"Give us a minute," Dean said quickly and the waitress shrugged, leaving.

The woman reached out, picking up Sam's coffee and taking a long swallow. Her lipstick left a red smear against the lip of the mug and Dean grimaced. Sam was going to raise hell once he arrived and saw that Dean was letting some strange woman drink from his coffee.

"Or maybe you did come here to meet someone. If so, it's not me," Dean tried again, his patience waning rapidly.

"Hmm, maybe..." The woman's smile was still etched on her face, but it was no longer seductive. It was almost…sinister if Dean had to put a word on it. Alarms started to go off in his head and he reached slowly behind him for the gun that was resting at the small of his back.

"No, you have the wrong table. And I'd appreciate it if you'd leave or tell me what the hell you want," Dean said coolly, glancing out the dining room window again. There was still no sign of Sam and seriously, how long did it take to walk the couple of blocks from their motel room? Sam should have been here by now.

The woman huffed, taking another long swallow before leaning forward and setting the coffee down delicately. "I could have sworn that it was you telling me oh so eloquently to 'get my ass over here'?"

Dean shook his head. "Seriously, you have the wrong person. Move along, or—"

He stopped mid-sentence as he felt the blood drain from his face. The woman was grinning sweetly, brandishing a cellphone—Sam's phone—at him before tucking it away into the pocket of her jacket. And he had left a voicemail telling Sam 'to get his ass' here for lunch, to discuss the case, to check-in.

"Where's Sam?" Dean asked sharply, the flare of anger igniting so fast that he saw red. "If you've hurt him, I swear to God that I will end you and it won't be quick."

She laughed, leaning back into the worn vinyl, completely calm. "Do not worry so much. Your brother is fine," she paused, giving emphasis to her next words, "for the moment."

Dean felt a muscle in his face twitch. "Where is Sam?" he repeated, his voice dropping lower and to a tone that, if she knew what was good for her, she would pay attention to.

The waitress chose that moment to wander back up to them and Dean snapped his head to the side, glaring her off but the woman across from him gestured her over as she took another sip from Sam's coffee.

"I'll take a steak with potatoes. Oh, and make the steak bloody." She grinned, somehow managing to show off all her teeth.

The waitress turned to Dean expectantly, but he waved her impatiently away. She scowled at him, stuffing the notepad back into her apron pocket.

"Ignore him, he woke up on the wrong side of the bed," the woman called after her, and Dean clenched his hands into fists until his nails were digging into flesh.

"Give me one good reason why I don't shoot you right here, right now."

She laughed, tilting her head to the side as she regarded him. "You won't because if you do, sweetheart," she added on mockingly, "then poor, little, Sammy will pay for your reckless behavior."

Dean ran through every four-letter word he knew in his head before he forced himself to take a deep breath and reign in his emotions. "What do you want, then? Money? You must know that we don't have a lot of that." Money was a long shot but, hey, maybe this could be an easy fix since everything else had gone to the crapper.

She wrinkled her nose up, running an eye disdainfully down Dean's patched and faded clothing. "That much is obvious. No, what I want is revenge."

"Great, that's just—" Dean ran a hand through his hair as his stomach began to tie itself into knots. In their business, they made enemies more often than friends, and those enemies… they tended to be pretty bad.

She chuckled and Dean shot her a hot glare that should have sent her crawling back into whatever pit of hell that she had climbed out of. "If I wanted revenge on you, then Sam would already be six feet under. And while I have no qualms about killing a hunter—and a Winchester at that!" She paused gleefully and it took all of Dean's willpower not to pull his Colt out and shoot her right then and there "—but I need you on my side. I need revenge on, well, I'm getting a little bit ahead of myself. Let me tell you a story."

The waitress appeared at that moment with a plate steeped with steaming potatoes and meat. Picking up her knife and fork, the woman began to cut into the steak.

"Just get to the point," Dean snapped, but she continued like she hadn't even heard him.

"First off, I guess I should introduce myself. My name is Amelia, and I am what you humans have so lovingly termed as a vampire."

Dean's gut clenched even tighter at her words, and he straightened in his seat. What was up with vampires suddenly popping up all over the place? A year ago, he would have laughed himself silly at any hunter who believed in vampires, but then there had been their run-in with Kate. With Dad. A fresh wave of grief threatened to wash over Dean, but he pushed it ruthlessly away.

It hadn't even been that long ago that they had encountered the pack down in Montana and tried to hunt them with Gordon…that one had ended oddly, and he still wasn't sure how he felt about it.

No, vampires did not beckon good news.

He watched her cut another bite of steak, seething internally. Well, his gun might not be of much use, but he had plenty of machetes in the trunk to choose from. As soon as Sam was safe, heads were going to roll.

"I assume that you heard about those killings south of here? In Lyons?" Amelia asked as she forked a potato.

Dean was silent for a long moment. They had heard about the killings and had been headed in that direction when a more recent killing here in Longmont had caught their attention and diverted them. They had just rolled into town late last night. This morning, Dean had gone to talk with the authorities while Sam had walked a few blocks to meet with the local historian before returning to their room to do some more research.

"Yeah," Dean finally snorted. "Lemme guess, one of your kind?"

Amelia's smile turned even more bitter, and Dean logged the reaction away to examine later. "I confess that the killing done here was by me to lure you in. The killings in Lyons, however, were done by my brother and his...nest." She paused; her face distorting into a cold fury that made the hair on Dean's arms stand on end.

"To make a long story short, I was in line to be the head of the family after my mother was murdered by hunters nigh on ninety years ago. But instead, my brother, Robert, got my nest and convinced my family to turn their back on me. They made a fool of me, and he claimed all the glory for himself while ensuring that no other nest would allow us in. We have been alone for a very long time but now…now at last the time is right. I will take back my rightful place and I will regain my honor." She pulled herself up, her eyes flicking closed as she took a deep breath.

When she opened them again, the anger was mixed with determination.

"What did he say you did?" Dean asked smartly as he tapped his finger against the tabletop.

"That is none of your business," Amelia snapped, the fire sparking again.

Dean couldn't resist the smirk. "Oh, I'm sorry. Did I touch on a sore spot? C'mon, what did you do? Did you get your mom killed?" She was gripping the knife and fork hard enough that Dean wouldn't have been surprised to see them bend but he couldn't resist continuing, "I mean, that's all that I can come up with that would be bad enough to get you kicked out, seeing as you vampires let a lot—"

"Let me remind you that your brother's life is on the line," Amelia broke in harshly, "so if I were you, I would choose my next words carefully."

Dean held up his hands in silent surrender. "Alright, alright. Sheesh, aren't you touchy? Get on with the story. Or better yet, skip to what I need to do to get Sam back."

Amelia shot him a withering look. "All I need you to do is kill my brother. Vampires, like humans, tend to frown upon fratricide and I need my name clear. Sam is simply my leverage to make sure that you both do as asked. Once Robert is dead, then your brother and you may leave."

"Right, there's no loopholes there."

"From where I am standing, I do not think that you have much of a choice," she answered, returning with less enthusiasm to her steak and potatoes. "You will do as I have asked, or else Sam will die. It is as simple as that."

"How do I even know that he is still alive? I want to see Sam," Dean demanded bluntly.

"Do not worry." Amelia's lips twitched upwards in the same brief sinister smile from before. "I was planning on taking you to him all along. Word has gotten around in the last year that the Winchester brothers hunt together, it would be suspicious to see you without him. Besides, we are not ready to attack until later tonight and I would rather not fight you every step of the way. Clearly, you are not going to be civil until you have seen that dear Sammy is whole." She appeared to barely restrain herself from rolling her eyes, settling for a quiet huff of disbelief instead.

Dean didn't hesitate in rolling his own eyes. If she thought that family was a weakness, that they were a hindrance, then she knew nothing.

Shoving her half-eaten plate away with her nose turned up, Amelia got to her feet. Dean followed suit, watching her every move carefully.

"Take care of the bill, darling." She smiled at him, gesturing to the front desk, but Dean shook his head.

"I didn't eat a damn thing, so no. You pay the bill," he said tightly, folding his arms over his chest. They stood there; the silent power struggle almost palpable until Amelia shook her head disdainfully.

"And here I was, thinking that you were a gentleman." Looping her arm through his to keep him close, she dragged him towards the front desk. Dean's skin crawled with revulsion, and he tugged his arm free as soon as he could, resisting the urge to wipe his hands off on his jeans as they walked towards the door.

Amelia flinched as they stepped out into the bright afternoon sunlight and threw up one hand to protect herself from the harsh rays. Dean smirked, slowing his walk to a crawl as he moved towards the Impala. He sure as hell wasn't going to leave his baby here in a diner's parking lot for however long this whole revenge scheme was going to take.

"Don't worry, I walked, so I can ride back with you," Amelia said smartly as she followed him, and Dean groaned.

"And just when I thought that I was going to get away from your stench. It's making me ill."

"I heard that you were supposed to be funny. I guess I heard wrong."

Dean didn't dignify that with a response as he got into the Impala. He grimaced, clenching the wheel tightly, as she opened Sam's door and gracefully slid in. Damnit, he was going to have to disinfect the whole Impala after this.

Turning over the ignition, he looked over at his unwelcome guest. "Where too?"

Amelia shifted, smoothing her skirt down. "Just your motel."

Dean swore loudly. "So, you are saying that I could have just left, went back to the motel, beheaded whoever you got watching over Sam, and been through with this whole mess?"

Amelia made a face. "It is more complicated than that."

"What do you mean it's more complicated? Seriously!" he began hotly but just then Amelia's phone rang. She dug through the pockets in her jacket, pulling out first Sam's phone and then hers. She glanced at the ID before answering. The conversation was short, clearly just a check-in, and Dean's jaw clenched.

"What do you mean that it's complicated?" he repeated, talking over her. She frowned at him, before snapping the phone closed.

"I—"

"And cut all this 'I'm the bad guy so I'm going to do this like it's some sort of horror film' act. Just give it to me straight." He took the corner sharper than he needed to, forcing Amelia to grab for the door handle. She glared at him, looking slightly hurt.

"You think that I am being dramatic—"

"Just get to the freakin' point already before I shoot you. It won't kill you, but it'll make me feel a lot better," Dean snapped.

Amelia stiffened, folding her hands in her lap. The motel was looming up ahead and Dean glanced between her and the road, waiting impatiently.

"You cannot just take off with Sam," she finally began, "because I do not trust hunters. I needed insurance that you would not take off at the first chance you got, nor that you would try to kill us as soon as our backs were turned."

Dean did not like where this was headed, but he stayed silent, his jaw clenched.

"A few years ago, I ran into a shapeshifter in New York. In exchange for their life, they gave me a rare and highly complex poison, along with the antidote." She paused, turning her head to look at Dean. "I have already administered the poison into your brother's bloodstream."

Thumping the wheel hard, Dean fought to control the fear that was surely spreading across his face. "You bitch," he seethed between his teeth. "Lemme guess, we get the antidote once Robert is dead?"

They pulled into the motel parking lot, but Dean didn't turn off the car, swiveling instead to face Amelia head-on.

"Something like that," Amelia answered lightly. "The poison will remain in your brother's system for the next 48 hours or so, but it will kill him long before that. The antidote is more of…more of a wall rather than an actual cure. It will keep the effects of the poison at bay if administered about every five hours. I have the formula memorized, and I will make it from scratch when he needs it. If you kill me, or anyone under me, or if you try to run, then you kill your brother. But, if you both are obedient, then there is no reason that Sam should ever even feel the effects of the poison."

Dean closed his eyes for a moment. This just kept getting better and better…

Yanking the keys out of the ignition, he stood and glared at Amelia over the roof of the car. "Hell's going to be more fun than I am once this is done; I can promise you that."

"Only if you can catch me," she said coolly and strode towards the door.

She rapped once. It didn't open, and she sighed, knocking again more loudly. "It is Amelia! Open up," she called. A moment later the door opened, revealing a tall man—vampire—with hard, unforgiving, eyes. There was a long cut down the side of his face that looked painful, and Dean smirked.

Sam was a badass, they shouldn't have messed with him.

The vampire smiled distractedly at Amelia while his eyes bored into Dean's with disdain and distrust.

"You succeeded with the other hunter, I see," he drawled.

"The hunter has a name, thank you very much." Dean rolled his eyes, moving to push past him and into the room, but the vampire stood firm in the doorway, blocking his access.

"Are you sure that this is a good idea? Should we not keep them separate until tonight?" he pointedly asked Amelia.

"It's fine, Conrad. We have everything under control," she stated calmly, patting his chest as she moved past him and into the room.

"See, Conrad, it's fine," Dean mocked, shoving past him as well and marching inside.

It looked like a hurricane had blown through. The TV had been knocked over and one of the lamps lay in shards on the ground. Loose papers were strewn across the floor and one of the overhead lights was flickering sluggishly. A third vampire was lounging on Dean's bed, twirling a small knife but Dean moved past him, searching for his brother.

"Where's Sa—" he began hurriedly before he froze, his eyes landing on his brother. "You bastards."

Sam was awkwardly slumped between the two beds with his hands cuffed around the leg of Dean's. A wad of fabric had been shoved into his mouth to act as a gag but what spiked Dean's anger the most was the large knife that was sticking out of his shoulder, pinning him to the wall.

Sam raised his head, his eyes shining with what looked horribly like an apology.

Lurching forward, Dean dropped down onto his knees and was reaching for him when Sam's head was abruptly yanked back as a knife was pressed against his throat. The third vampire was leaning over the edge of the bed and holding Sam by the hair as he glowered at Dean.

"Back away," he snarled, and Dean raised his hands cautiously, watching as a thin line of red appeared under the knife. Sam breathed out slowly, being careful not to move, and gave Dean a pointed look.

Dean swiveled, looking for Amelia who was staring at the situation, looking just as surprised as Dean was.

"What happened?" she asked her hands on her hips.

"Jesse got a little overeager," Conrad explained in a low voice as he stooped to grab an overturned chair, righting it. He sank onto it, snagging a can of beer from their green cooler and popping it open.

"Jesse?" Amelia rounded on the third vampire who still hadn't released Sam. He shrugged.

"He tried to escape."

Amelia swelled in indignation. "Jesse, we have been over this! We needed to capture them in fighting condition!"

Sam made a pained noise around the gag and Dean felt his patience, already stretched thin, come to a snapping point.

"Sam needs medical attention! He's got a freakin' knife sticking out of his shoulder, in case you hadn't noticed," he spat as he rose to his feet, bristling with anger. "So have your little hissy fit later and tell Jesse to back. off. right. now."

Jesse tightened his grip, pulling Sam's head back further. "You back off and I will."

Dean spluttered, but there was little that he could do with the knife still at Sam's throat.

Amelia hesitated, looking between Jesse and Dean, but Conrad's eyes had narrowed.

"We do not trust the two of you together. You are going to come up with something, I know that you will." He continued to glower at Dean with something that verged on loathing and Dean turned once again to Amelia.

Before he could open his mouth, she cut in, giving Conrad a poignant look. "Conrad, you take care of the wound. We need him to be able to fight. Jesse, you and Dean both come over here."

Conrad turned his glare on her, hefting the can of beer in his hand. "Amelia," he began, the frustration clear, but her mouth tightened into a thin line. Making a face, Conrad drained the last of the beer, crushed the can, and stood.

Dean started to move with him when Jesse, who had moved away from Sam at Amelia's command, came up next to him. He grabbed Dean's arm firmly and dug his fingernails in to keep him from moving. "We should handcuff this one as well," he said pointedly. He began to drag Dean towards the table, but Dean dug in his heels.

"Wait—" he began but Jesse yanked so hard on his arm that he almost dislocated it. Dean stumbled forward and Jesse shoved him into Conrad's abandoned chair. He began to look around for handcuffs, one hand digging painfully into his shoulder to keep him in place.

Dean glared up at Jesse, refusing to show any sign of discomfort until…Sam made a small noise through his gag and Dean whipped his head around, watching as Conrad poked at the knife dispassionately.

"He's done this before, right?" he asked Amelia gruffly, but she was no longer paying attention to them as her phone buzzed with an incoming text. She pulled it out, squinting at the screen.

"Sonofa—Hey! You need to wash your hands first!" Dean called over to Conrad, craning his neck so that he could see what was happening. Sam's body was going to be under enough pressure, he did not need an infection on top of everything else. His concern only grew as Conrad waved his advice away.

He watched with bated breath as Conrad roughly began to cut Sam's shirts off, not being considerate of the fact that he had been impaled and had to be in a great deal of pain. Sam's body stiffened and Dean could almost see the color seeping out of his already pale face. Conrad moved to grab the knife and Dean lurched forward.

"Don't!" he tried frantically, but Conrad had already roughly yanked the knife out.

Bright red blood immediately began to gush across Sam's shoulder and chest. Now that he was no longer pinned to the wall, he slid down it and towards the floor, but Conrad caught him around the chest, shoving him briskly upright.

"You stupid, arrogant, son of a bitch!" Dean bellowed as he tore free of Jesse's hold and leaped to his feet. Jesse tried to shove him back down, but Dean had had enough.

Shoving Jesse hard, he ducked the punch that was aimed for him and felt a thrill of satisfaction when his own connected. Jesse fell back a step in surprise, his hand going to his jaw. His eyes darkened with fury even as Dean moved forward, and he whipped out his knife. He slashed downwards but Dean threw up his forearm to block the blow while he grabbed Jesse by the shirt with his other hand. Twisting him around, Dean yanked him up against his chest only to have Jesse drive an elbow into his gut.

He staggered back, wheezing a little, and then Amelia was grabbing him by the lapel of his shirt and slamming him up against the wall. A generic picture of a landscape that was already hanging crooked fell off the wall, the glass shattering as it hit the floor.

"That's enough! Jesse, stop it!" Amelia shouted, her eyes furious as she extended an arm to keep Jesse at bay. Jesse glowered at her, rubbing at his jaw as he pointed at Dean.

"Did you—"

"No! I've heard enough from you over the past week, you need to be quiet and listen to me. We need the Winchesters alive!"

Jesse took a step back, muttering something dark under his breath as he jammed the knife back into his pocket. He gave Dean one last scalding look before turning away.

"I need a drink," he announced loudly and strode from the room, slamming the door behind him.

Dean turned to look at Amelia. "Let me help Sam. Now."

"Conrad's already—"

"Conrad's gonna kill him! Does he even know the basics of first aid? Shoulder wounds are tricky enough, there are veins, and nerves, and-and arteries! Sam could bleed out now that he pulled that knife. Listen, if I don't help then you aren't going to have him as leverage for much longer and what are you going to do with me then? How are you going to control me, huh?"

They stared at each other, and Dean was grimly satisfied to see fear in her eyes.

"Fine," she said curtly as she took a step back, letting go of Dean. He shoved past her, making straight for his brother. Conrad was still kneeling next to Sam, putting pressure on his shoulder with one hand. His other hand had been stained red with Sam's blood and he was absently sucking on one of his fingers.

"Huh. Not bad," Dean heard him say quietly to himself, and then Dean was knocking him aside.

"Get away," he ordered as he pushed his way between Sam and the vampire. Conrad snorted and pushed himself up to his feet. Still examining his bloody hands, he walked back over towards Amelia.

Dean glared after him, before turning his full attention to his brother. "Hey, Sammy," he said softly as he reached out, cupping Sam's white face while fumbling blindly for the remains of Sam's shirt. "Hang on just one second… lemme see if I can stop you from leaking all over the place." He began to fold the shirt into a pad, pressing it hard against the entrance wound. He ignored Sam's muffled groan at the pressure, and gently leaned him forward, wincing at the sight of the blood flowing freely down his back. It had already soaked the waistband and leg of Sam's jeans and Dean struggled to stop his hands from trembling as he quickly folded another bandage for the exit wound. Using a long strip from Sam's ruined shirt, he tied them off to add pressure and then sat back to examine his work.

It was makeshift, at best.

"You gonna be okay for a moment?" Dean asked, leaning over Sam as he undid the knot on the gag and pulled it out. Sam inhaled raggedly, letting his head roll back against the wall. This close, Dean could see the thick line of sweat starting to bead along his face.

"Sammy?" Dean repeated tightly and Sam swallowed, before nodding jerkily.

"I'm fine," he said thickly, and while Dean highly doubted that, he did not debate it.

Rising to his feet, he crossed to the bathroom, returning with a stack of towels and the first-aid kit. Blood was now welling up through the makeshift bandages and dripping down Sam's arm and side, adding to the puddle on the floor.

Sam's head was hanging forward and Dean's heart skipped a beat.

"Gotta apply more pressure, dude," he warned as he knelt next to Sam once more and pulled him forward so that he could have access to both wounds at once. Shaking out one of the bath towels, he folded it a couple of times before draping it over Sam's shoulder. Giving Sam a warning look, he clamped down hard with one hand on each side of his shoulder.

Sam grunted, tensing up from the pain and Dean apologized softly.

"Not your fault," Sam mumbled, giving Dean a wan smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Besides…" he paused, taking a short breath as he winced, "at le'st…I mean, it's gone." He blinked heavily, his words slurring together far too much for Dean's liking.

"Having a piece of metal shoved through your body does generally suck," he agreed, bracing himself as he increased pressure. Sam flinched, breathing out slowly through his nose as his eyes closed.

"C'mon, man. Don't pass out on me. You know that I'm no good around vampires all by myself. I tend to take their heads off…" Dean watched as Sam's lips twitched upwards in a faint smile as he let his head rest against the ball of Dean's shoulder.

"I'm with you. Not gonna stop you this time, though," he reassured faintly. From this angle, Dean could see the needle mark on his brother's neck, and he fought against the flare of anger and fear that was threatening to consume him.

Bastards.

"I'm sorry," Sam said softly, and Dean forced himself to dial back on the anger. Sam could read him far too well at times.

"Don't be. None of this is your fault." Blood was starting to seep through the heavy terry material of the towel and Dean glanced over at the motel clock. If Sam was still bleeding this heavily in another…six minutes, then he was going to demand that they take Sam to a hospital, revenge be damned.

Sam made a soft noise, rebounding Dean's attention to his face.

"Trick'd me… I tried to figh' 'em off…'m sorry."

Thready panic was making Dean's heart pound. Sam was fading on him, he was losing too much blood too fast. He jostled his shoulder, trying to rouse Sam.

"Hey, I mean, you probably had your nose in a book. I'm always telling you that geek stuff is not good for you. Look where it got you now."

Sam huffed a weak laugh, but his face screwed up and it ended in a low groan.

Dean glanced at the clock again. The towel, while red, didn't appear to be fully saturated. That was a good sign because it meant that the bleeding had at least slowed, even if it hadn't stopped completely. If Conrad hadn't pulled the freaking knife…

Dean would wait another couple of minutes to make sure the bleeding really had slowed before he took the pressure off, then he would see about cleaning and stitching.

"Gonna lean you back." He waited for Sam's nod before easing him back against the wall. Letting go, he grabbed a second towel and tied it tightly around the shoulder to keep at least some pressure there.

Stretching, he snagged his duffle and instantly Conrad tensed but Dean just rolled his eyes.

"My machete doesn't fit in my duffle. It's too big for that," he flashed them a fake smile as he dug out a bottle of whiskey, holding it up for them to see. Sam gave a weary chuckle that might have been a moan behind him, and Dean shrugged. Well, at least somebody found him funny. Turning his back on the vampires, he cupped the back of Sam's neck, lifting his head and pressing the lip of the bottle against his mouth.

"Here, for the pain."

Sam coughed on the burning liquid as he took a swallow before turning his head away and refusing any more. Dean shrugged, taking a swig for himself to steady his hands.

"Okay, here we go." Dean glanced once at Sam to gain his permission before he began to gingerly unwind the towel. The wounds were still leaking, but it had ebbed to a slow trickle so that was something at least.

Dean carefully sanitized his hands, before taking a deep breath and dousing the wounds with the whiskey. Sam went rigid, his chest heaving as he blinked back tears. Dean gripped Sam's good shoulder, massaging the skin where his shoulder met his neck.

"Breathe through it," he murmured. Sam gasped raggedly, his face bleached of all color and Dean squeezed his shoulder tighter. "Take deep breaths, steady now…steady."

"Dean…"

His name was more of a breathy gasp, and he patted Sam's shoulder, admitting defeat. "If you need to pass out, that's okay too."

A moment later Sam's head tipped forward, his breath escaping in a slow sigh as consciousness faded. Dean tightened his grip, before tilting Sam's head back against the wall into a comfortable position.

Grabbing a sterilized sutures package, he ripped it open and started carefully stitching the wounds.

Amelia had been watching him carefully, and once the lid on the first-aid kit was closed said impatiently, "That took you long enough. Are you done?"

Dean didn't bother to answer as he reached over to grab Sam's wrist, monitoring his pulse for a minute. Too fast. And his skin was clammy.

Sam was going into shock, but Dean might be able to head it off before it got any worse…

"I need to uncuff Sam," he said, turning back to look at Amelia. She hesitated, but Jesse, who had returned halfway through the stitching process, was rapidly shaking his head.

"No, no. You do that and he's going to try something," he said, jabbing a finger in Dean's direction. "You've heard the rumors same as me."

"Oh, shut up," Dean snapped, though his brain paused briefly on rumors. Whatever rumors were going around them must be good if vampires were freaked out by them. Amelia frowned, indecision written across her face before she tossed him the key.

"Just remember, his life is on the line," she muttered as he snatched up the key.

Dean rolled his eyes. "Jesse seems like buckets of fun," he said sarcastically, pulling Sam's wrists free.

Amelia was frowning as she looked over at Jesse. "We need him. Without him, the plan is ruined," she said slowly and Dean raised an eyebrow.

"Kind of like Sam and me," he said, smirking. Jesse looked ready to throttle him and Dean flipped him off before swinging Sam's good arm around his shoulder. Sliding his arms under his brother's back and his knees, he counted silently to three before standing.

Damnit, Sam was heavy, and he swore that he felt something pop in his back, but he lowered Sam gently down onto the bed all the same. Grabbing some of the pillows from the other bed, he tucked them under Sam's feet, elevating them. Another pillow went under Sam's bad shoulder for support.

There was nothing more that Dean could do but wait and see what would happen. He settled down next to Sam with one hand on his wrist, monitoring his vitals.

"We need to discuss tonight," Amelia said, moving over to stand next to him.

Dean gritted his teeth. "Are you going to take no for an answer?"

Amelia sat down next to Sam and smoothed out her skirt.

"We are going to be leaving within the hour, so he must be ready for travel. We have a van and are headed up the mountains just past Lyons. That is our home base for the next few days."

"Your home base," Dean said pointedly, watching her carefully. "Our job is done after tonight."

She waved that away. "Yes, whatever. My home base. Once we reach it, Jesse is going to take his own vehicle and leave to do his part. After that, you, your brother, Conrad and I will head out about midnight and into a nature reserve where Robert—"

"Wait, wait, hold up." Dean shook his head, his voice rising in his frustration. "Sam's not fighting tonight. Did you see how much blood he lost? I'm not putting him in that situation after what he's been through."

"But—"

"No. No, it's not happening, he's in no condition to be fighting off vampires."

"But if you too are not together—"

"Then they can make up stories that Sam was turned into a frog by a witch. I really don't give a single rat's ass about what vampires think." Dean stared her down.

A muscle in her face twitched but she gave a brief nod. "Fine, have it your way. Sam can stay behind at the cabin or stay in the car. We'll work it out later. The point is, we will ambush Robert at the reserve. He will have three to five other vampires with him. They are your responsibility, understood?"

Dean nodded. Amelia continued to expound, and even though the information was valuable, and something to examine deeply later, he was glad when she finally stopped talking and left.

Then it was just him and Sam again like it always had been.

Absently brushing Sam's unruly hair back from his far to pale face, Dean tried to tap down the worry that was threatening to consume him. They had lost John not too long ago, there was no way that he was losing Sam as well. He would rather die.