A/N At some point in every story, there is a chapter that just doesn't want to work and is being a complete headache...well, that's this chapter. But all the same, I hope that you all enjoy it and, if you feel so inclined, I would love to know your thoughts!

Thank you!

Chapter Three

The mood in the cabin was palpably tense as afternoon morphed into evening.

Conrad sat sulkily in the corner, watching Sam and Dean with resentment. When he had tried to say that he should be going on the hunt, Amelia had quelled him with just one look. Jesse, however, walked around in a huff, aiming dark glares at whoever dared to look at him and snapping shortly at Amelia when she asked him a question. It was a relief to them all when Jesse left around seven to go do…whatever it was that he was doing. Sam hadn't exactly been filled in.

It was Dean who took up the restless pacing and hovering as the time for him and Amelia to leave drew closer. Sam sat on the couch, nursing his arm and feeling helpless to help assuage Dean's fear. Hell, he didn't even know how to deal with his own. Dean was going on a dangerous hunt…he was just sitting around waiting for medication. Somehow, they didn't feel equal.

"Here, you should eat."

Sam looked up, not surprised. Dean had been digging in the cupboards, determined to find something for Sam. He stood over him now, with what looked like a dusty package of crackers in his hand. For a moment Sam thought about saying no, his stomach rolling uneasily, but Dean's jaw was clenched as his eyes flickered worriedly over Sam.

He could relate to that.

Dean's shoulders dropped as Sam held out his hand, and he ripped the package open before handing it over. Sam mindlessly fished a cracker out, biting off a corner. "Dude, stop looking at me like I'm about to break into two," he reprimanded but Dean just arched an eyebrow.

"Right, because you look oh-so-good at the moment," he said darkly, sinking down to sit next to him. His leg began to bounce up and down restlessly.

"You need to let this go," Sam said quietly, shifting closer to Dean and immediately regretting it as it jarred his arm. "You need to concentrate on the hunt. I'll be okay."

"Stop worrying about me for one damn moment! You're the one with a bum arm and-and who knows what in your veins," Dean snapped and Sam drew back a little.

"Sorry."

Dean closed his eyes, his jaw working a moment before he shook his head. When he spoke, his voice had lowered. "You don't have anything to be sorry for," he said, but Sam could still hear the edge of frustration that was very much there.

"Dude, talk to me," Sam muttered, glancing over his shoulder to see where Amelia and Conrad were. Conrad was still on the bed, while Amelia was bending over a table, not paying them any attention.

"What is there to talk about?"

"Dean," Sam stated and waited until Dean looked over at him before continuing. "You're freaking out, okay? I'll be here when you get back." Unless, of course, the vampires went back on their word, but he wasn't going to mention that to Dean right now.

Dean ran a hand through his hair and was silent for long enough that Sam didn't think that he was going to respond. When he did, his voice was so quiet that Sam had to lean forward to hear him. "We just lost Dad, Sammy. I can't—and I'm not going to be here if something goes wrong." He looked away, refusing to look at Sam as he clasped his hands tightly in front of him.

Sam opened his mouth, but the artificial assurance that nothing was going to go wrong felt wrong. He was having the same fears about Dean.

Dean didn't give him a chance to form a response as he drew in a deep breath, rubbing his hands on his jeans. "I don't see you eating."

Sam glanced down at the crackers in his hand. They were stale and Sam really, really, didn't feel like eating anything, but…Dean was looking at him with such earnest concern that Sam found himself taking another bite. If this is what would ease Dean's worries and fears, then it was the least that he could do.

"Dean!"

Both Sam and Dean looked over at Amelia, who was beckoning Dean over with a frazzled expression. At some point, she had changed out of her skirt and blouse and was now wearing a pantsuit.

"In a minute!" Dean snapped back, before refocusing his attention on Sam.

"Dean, go." Sam nodded his head towards Amelia and held up his crackers. "I'm good."

Dean's lips thinned, but he walked away. Sam watched him go, dropping the crackers into his lap and leaning his head back against the couch.

Amelia and Dean bent over the table, examining what looked like a map. Dean was shaking his head, straightening and folding his arms across his chest. "It won't take that long," Sam heard him protest.

The headache that had been intensifying all day surged and Sam closed his eyes as he fought to control the pain. He breathed out slowly, trying to keep it even. It was about time for another dose, and he could feel the poison coursing through his veins with each beat of his heart. When he opened his eyes, Conrad was eyeing him moodily from where he stood next to the bed, packing a duffle. They glared at each other before Conrad's lip curled in disgust and he zipped the duffle shut.

Swinging it over his shoulder, he left to take it out to the van. Jesse had apparently taken the truck.

Sam rolled his head to the side, watching Dean. Conrad came back in, letting the door slam shut behind him.

"The van is ready. You should leave, Amelia," he announced with the faintest hint of bitterness. Amelia nodded, rolling up the map. Dean glanced towards the door as he crossed over to stand over Sam.

"You aren't eating," he said pointedly and Sam squinted up at Dean, ignoring the throbbing of his head, and reached out to grab his wrist.

"Don't get cocky. You get stupid when you do," he said, squeezing Dean's wrist tighter to emphasize his point, before tacking on a quiet. "Watch your back."

"I've hunted alone before, you know," Dean said with a snort, crouching down next to him. He held up something—Sam's cellphone he realized a moment later—and then tucked it into Sam's hand.

"I don't think we have cell reception up here," Sam said, dropping his voice even lower when Dean gave him a hard look.

"Just in case," he mouthed, and then stood, glancing around to make sure that Amelia wasn't looking as Sam slipped the phone into his pocket. When he looked up, Dean was giving him a brilliant smile, the same one that he tended to use on civilians.

"Dude," he said at a normal volume, "those fangs aren't going to know what hit them. This might even be fun."

Sam frowned. "No. No, man, you don't get to do that. You don't get to be fake with me."

"I do when you look like that! Seriously, I think that a toddler could knock you down right now. Besides, I wasn't lying. They aren't going to know what hit them."

"Dean, please, stop, just—" Sam let go of his brother to rub at his head.

"What, stop being amazingly handsome? Don't think that I could turn that off even if I wanted to."

Sam narrowed his eyes, trying to convey that he saw exactly through the façade that Dean was putting on.

"Just promise me that you'll be careful," Sam finally requested.

Before Dean could respond, Amelia strode into the room, holding a small glass that she preceded to thrust towards Sam.

"All of it," she ordered curtly, before grabbing Dean's arm. "You, with me. We have wasted enough time here as it is." She began to drag him away and Dean shared one last glance with Sam.

"Be a good boy and take your medicine," he managed to call, gesturing at the glass before he was yanked through the door.

A moment later the van roared to life and both Conrad and Sam were motionless, listening to it as it pulled away.

After the noise had faded, Conrad turned towards Sam, glaring pointedly down at the glass. Sam looked at it, his nose wrinkling up in distaste. He could see the undissolved powder swimming in the water, and he made a face as he tipped the drink back.

He drank it all in one swallow and resisted the urge to gag it back up. It tasted terrible.

"Finished?" Conrad's voice caught Sam by surprise. He had half been expecting them to spend the rest of the night in mutual loathing silence. Conrad gestured at the glass impatiently, holding out his hand. Sam handed the cup back and swore softly when Conrad caught his wrist tightly and slipped a handcuff around it. He stretched Sam's arm painfully far to the side, locking the other ring around the radiator.

"What the hell?" Sam asked, yanking awkwardly on his new confinement and making it clang, but Conrad just snorted.

"I'm not an idiot. I would no more let a hunter wander around than a rat. You should be grateful that I have let you live this long."

"Screw you," Sam muttered.

Conrad hmphed, rolling his eyes as he retreated to the bed. Sam shook his wrist again, trying to see if he could slip free, but Conrad had fastened it properly and there was no give. Tilting his head back, he silently cursed Dean for putting his other arm up in a sling. With it that way, he had no leverage and he wasn't going to be able to break free easily with only one hand.

"I can see you, you know," Conrad called over as he picked up a book, flipping through its pages until he found his spot. "And should you free yourself, then I will be forced to resort to a more extreme measure to keep you here. Just wait, Amelia will be back soon enough."

"Yeah, and then you're just going to kill both of us," Sam challenged, and Conrad looked disdainfully at him. His lip quirked upwards in a silent admission before he looked down at his book.

"Damnit," Sam muttered under his breath, even as he stopped trying to wrench his wrist free. His stomach was doing flip-flops and somehow he doubted that it was because of the antidote. He had already known that the vampires were going to double-cross them, but seeing it confirmed was disconcerting.

Leaning forward, he tried to look at his watch, but the numbers were too small and he looked to the clock on the mantel instead.

It was just before 9:30 and Dean had guessed that they would be back sometime around three or four. Another dose was to be administered around two. So, he had around five hours to come up with a plan, but only an hour to implement it because he wasn't going to be able to do much if he was dead.

After that…after that, he was done waiting. It was time to go on the offensive.

The cuffs clanked against the radiator again as Sam brought his hand up to his head, trying to rub the headache away. He was feeling better, the antidote working quickly against the symptoms, but he still wasn't feeling great. Perhaps it was just his body's way of telling him that it did not appreciate the constant see-saw between being somewhat okay, and not okay.

Closing his eyes, Sam continued to rotate his wrist slowly. The first step was going to be breaking free, which meant the handcuff was going to have to go. He couldn't physically pull his arm free right now, nor pick the lock, but if he broke skin then his blood could act as a lubricant. Then, maybe, he would be able to slip free.

Once he was free, he could kill Conrad, or maybe take him hostage. As for the antidote…he would worry about that later. They would figure something out, they always did. Right now, his focus was on plan A.

Get free. Take care of Conrad. Keep Dean alive.

#

Dean's stomach was rolling with unease. He did not feel comfortable leaving Sam behind with Conrad, even if it was not Jesse. Why was it that they always seemed to be stuck between a rock and a hard place? And, if he was playing the 'why' game, why was it always Sam? It felt like the universe was taunting him, making him realize just how little control he had over what happened to those that he loved. How they could be ripped away at a moment's notice and there was nothing that he could do but sit back, watch, and be the one to pick up the pieces when it was all over.

Dean pulled in a deep breath. He needed to be calm if he was hunting tonight, especially since he was hunting alone. It had been over a year since he had been forced to hunt alone and damnit, he wished that Sam was with him. If that was a weakness…well, he guessed that it was a weakness that he was just going to have to live with.

He forced his hand to unclench from the door handle and took another calming breath. Sam needed him focused because the hunt for Robert was only the beginning. Hostage situations were notorious for going wrong, and he didn't trust Amelia. So the anger, the frustration, it all needed to be boxed away elsewhere and he would deal with it…probably never if he was being honest. Not unless there were massive amounts of alcohol involved.

"How far?" Dean asked curtly, checking his watch. It was just past eleven. They should be getting there any moment.

Amelia flipped her hair over her shoulder, keeping her eyes firmly fixed on the road. "About fifteen minutes. Jesse reported to me that Robert and the others should be at the campground a little before midnight."

It took a moment for the words to sink in, and when they did Dean looked over in alarm. "Wait, campgrounds?" He had been told that they were going to a nature reserve, not to some…campground.

"Yes, well, a campground within the nature reserve. Where there will be isolated campers. How else did you think that we were going to draw Robert out? By telling him that he won the lottery? Or even better, a song and dance?" She rolled her eyes, shaking her head at Dean's abhorrence.

Dean rubbed a hand across his face as his guts began to tie themselves into knots.

He had been so focused on Sam and getting both of them out of this alive that he hadn't really stopped to think about much else. Or the fact that other people would possibly be in danger. If anyone died tonight…it was an unacceptable thought.

Bracing his elbow against the door, Dean clenched and unclenched his fist as his thoughts began to tumble over each other. He was itching to be the one driving, but Amelia had shut that down the moment he suggested it. Driving had always calmed him, giving him something to focus on while trying to figure out bigger problems.

He hadn't realized just how much it helped until he wasn't able to do so.

"Relax, Robert is weak. I know for a fact that you have killed creatures much stronger than he is. You will not have a problem," Amelia said, glancing over at him before looking back at the road.

"That's not what is concerning me," Dean muttered, rolling his shoulders under his jacket.

Amelia did not reply to that, and Dean checked his watch again.

It was four minutes to midnight by the time that they pulled into the nature reserve. There was only one other car there, a mini-van, and Dean couldn't help but notice the car seats in the back as he got out.

Horror warred with anger as he strode towards the back of the van, meeting Amelia there as she threw the backdoors open. Grinning, she pulled out a long, sleek, machete. She examined it carefully, before turning to Dean.

"Remember—"

Dean didn't wait for her to finish, grabbing the blade from her and beginning to buckle the sheath around his waist.

"We also collected some dead man's blood," she began shortly, pulling a duffle closer and unzipping the front pocket. Dean shoved past her, snatching up the handful of syringes and thrusting them into the pocket of his jacket.

"Anything else?" he demanded curtly and Amelia threw out a hand, stopping him. Dean's lip curled up and he took a step back. If Amelia noticed his revulsion, she did not comment on it.

"There will be four, maybe five, vampires. His most trusted associates. I can almost guarantee that the moment you appear, Robert will run. He is a coward that way, and when he does, he will head west, which is where Jesse had them park."

Dean didn't bother nodding as he turned on his heel, stalking towards the tree line. Amelia hurried to catch up with him, and her lips were pursed with an emotion that Dean didn't care enough to decipher.

"I will be watching, but I cannot be seen with you or near the site of the attack until Robert is the only one left."

"I know, I know, you want a moment to gloat over Robert, now shut up and leave me alone," Dean growled, flipping her a rude gesture. By the time he turned around again, she was gone.

Dean snorted, rolling his eyes as he ducked under a branch.

He did not waste time being quiet or in hiding. If the vampires heard him coming then so be it, he might even be able to finish this more quickly. And—if they were coming after him—then hopefully they were leaving the campers alone.

The first scream came when Dean had worked his way about a quarter of a mile into the reserve.

Jerking to a stop, he looked around as his heart began to beat faster, pumping adrenaline through his veins. A second scream oriented him in the right direction and he took off at a full sprint, one arm out to help ward off any low-hanging branches.

No one was going to die on his watch, not if he could do anything about it.

He crashed through the trees, which were thinning into a clearing, and burst into a scene of absolute chaos.

A screaming child streaked past him as he was gleefully chased by a woman dressed all in black. Across the clearing, a large tent was caving in on itself and a second child, an older girl, was attempting to escape through a large gash in the middle. A vampire had its teeth in the neck of whom Dean presumed was the father.

Dean yanked out his machete, twirling it once as he leaped into the middle of it all.

The vampire raised his head from the father, looking around with blood-stained teeth. His eyes latched onto Dean, and his eyes went comically wide at the sight of gleaming steel. He scrambled upright, looking around desperately.

Robert, Dean assumed.

"Hey, come here you freak!" He shouted, and Robert began to hurriedly back away. Dean started to give chase, before abruptly switching directions and diving towards the nearest vampire, who had cornered the now hysterically sobbing boy against some trees. The vampire whirled around to face Dean, hissing around his fangs, but it was too late. Before he even knew what had happened, his head was rolling across the ground.

The child let out an ear-piercing scream, scrambling back as fat tears began to roll down his chubby cheeks. Dean lunged forward, carefully grabbing him by the arm as he tried to bolt past. The last thing they needed was a child lost in the woods.

He looked around, trying to find someplace where the boy could safely stay until this was over. The tent would work.

Dean had only made it two steps when a female vampire came at him from the side, hitting him hard and plowing him over. He had just enough time to push the boy aside before his head hit the ground hard enough to make him see stars. Years of training had him rolling with the hit and shoving himself away before she could get a firm grip on him.

Her fangs dropped, ready to pierce the tender skin of his neck, but Dean thrust an arm up, catching her under the chin and snapping her jaw closed. She growled, spitting blood from what looked like a bitten lip, and Dean reared up, violently rolling her over so that she was on her back.

Raising his machete high, he brought it down with all the force that he could muster. She thrust a knee up, catching him in his thigh—and thank goodness for that, he was positive that she had been aiming higher—throwing him off balance and the blade came down too far to the left.

Grunting, Dean yanked it back up, causing a spray of blood from the nasty wound across her face, but the moment was lost. Lunging up, she dug her teeth into the flesh of his arm, which he brought around just in time to spare his throat. Gritting his teeth to avoid crying out, Dean whipped his other hand into his pocket for a syringe. He jabbed the needle into her side without hesitation.

Her eyes went wide as he dispensed the blood and she began to convulse, her teeth unlatching from his arm as she dropped to the ground. Panting, Dean scrambled for the machete. It only took one well-placed blow to separate her head from her shoulders.

Staggering up, Dean looked around as he clutched his bleeding arm closer to him. His face was stinging as well, and a thin dribble of blood was seeping down from his cheek, but he paid it no attention.

There were no more vampires in sight, the others having fled.

All was quiet except for the weeping boy, who was being gathered up by the girl. He was about half her size, but she still managed to pull him up into her arms. Her father was moaning weakly on the ground, and Dean quickly sheathed his machete, hurrying to his side.

"Here," Dean dropped down onto one knee next to him and fished out his handkerchief. The man's neck was badly torn, and Dean bent down, gently probing. It didn't look like they had ripped the jugular open, so that was promising. He began to fold the handkerchief into a pressure bandage.

"Is there anyone missing?" he asked urgently as he began to apply pressure. The man moaned, his eyelids flickering.

"Mama's gone," the girl said. She had followed close on his heels and was looking at him with both trepidation and relief

"Your mom? Anyone else?"

The man groaned trying to sit up, muttering weakly "Alice…" and Dean hurriedly pushed him back down. They didn't have time for this.

"And Lilly, my sister," the girl continued, her face starting to screw up as the realization of what had happened began to hit. "I don't know where they are, I don't know! I don't—they just came out of nowhere, and—"

"Alright," Dean said as gently as he could manage as he glanced back over at the trees. Every second he spent here was more time for Robert and his prisoners to getaway. "I'm going to go get your mom and Lilly, and I promise that I am going to bring them back. But I need you to do something for me. I need you to put pressure on this here, okay. Can you do that, sweetheart?"

She nodded and he guided her small hands onto her father's neck and felt slightly ill at the sight of them now covered in blood. Tears were starting up again despite her determined look and Dean resisted the urge to wipe them away as he stood.

"I'll be back," he promised and she nodded, using her shoulder to wipe at her face. The little boy was clinging to her nightshirt, still screaming.

Dean backed away, his gut-churning, and turned west.

Even if he hadn't wanted to make the vampires pay before, he most certainly did now. They were not going to get away with what they had done.

#

Sam's wrist was aching, the skin rubbed a bright angry red and on the verge of breaking, when the sound of an engine cut through the night. Sam paused. He hadn't thought that they were close enough to the road to hear any passing vehicles…and yes, there was the sound of tires on gravel as someone pulled into the driveway.

Looking around in surprise, Sam leaned forward, squinting at the clock in the gloom. It was half-past midnight…It couldn't be Dean and Amelia unless something had gone horribly wrong. But who else could it be? Jesse, maybe.

A car door slammed and Sam sat up as much as he could, trying to see over the couch. Conrad was also straightening, a frown on his face. He tossed his book to the side, throwing a confused look in Sam's direction.

He shrugged. He knew just as much about this as Conrad did.

Still frowning at Sam as if he had somehow managed to call for help, Conrad crossed to the window and peeked through the blinds. Sam could only see the back of his head, but his shoulders relaxed. Letting the blinds snap back into place, Conrad crossed to the door.

Sam yanked on the cuff, trying to sit up straighter so that he could see the door.

Conrad slid back the latch, pulling the door open. "What are—"

Conrad broke off in a ragged gasp, stumbling ungracefully against the wall, and Sam's eyes widen as the movement illuminated the syringe filled with blood that had been jabbed into Conrad's chest.

A moment later, Jesse stepped into the light. He was lazily grinning as he stared down at Conrad's twitching body. He contemplated him for a moment, before rearing back and kicking Conrad hard enough in the chest that Sam swore he heard his ribs crack.

"Idiot," Sam heard him mutter.

Sam drew back, trying to make himself as small as possible as he began to work vigorously on the cuff. This wasn't good, this wasn't good at all. Whatever he had been expecting from Jesse, this was not it.

Jesse raised his head as the cuffs clinked and Sam froze as they locked eyes. Jesse's smile widened maliciously as he stepped over Conrad's body.

"Winchester," he drawled easily, "Nice evening to go for a ride, don't you think?"