A/N I hope that you enjoy, thank you for reading!
Chapter Five
Dean leaned both hands down on the couch as his brain began to turn wildly over.
Sam was gone and there wasn't a sign of a struggle unless Conrad counted. But Sam didn't have the correct resources to have done that to Conrad. He also wouldn't have just walked out on Dean with somebody else… He wouldn't have, would he?
Not unless he thought that he was giving you a fighting chance, a dark voice in Dean's head said.
"Damnit." Dean straightened and planted his hands on his hips. If Sam had gone off to find some quiet hole to curl up and die in, then Dean—Dean couldn't even think about it without feeling sick.
. But no, it didn't make sense. He did not doubt that Sam would sacrifice his life if it meant saving Dean's—something that he didn't always like to think about—but this wasn't saving Dean. If anything, it was leaving him vulnerable and in danger to be attacked by one very pissed-off vampire.
Besides Sam did not have a death wish, Sam wanted to go back to school. He wanted the house with the white picket fence.
"Fix this—!"
He wheeled around to find Amelia striding towards him, her face masked with fury as she jabbed her finger back towards Conrad's body. Dean backed up as he shook the syringe down his sleeve and into his hand, holding it up for her to see as a warning to back off.
Behind them, Conrad wheezed, his body jerking oddly and Dean spared him a glance. He didn't look good, and Dean mentally wrote him out of the equation.
"Where's Sam?" he asked, his voice flat and hard.
"Why would I know that? It is your brother that did this—" She gestured behind her at Conrad. "Now, fix him. Give him something, an antidote, anything, just make him better."
Dean tightened his grip on his weapon as he advanced on her. She stepped back, keeping herself firmly out of his reach. "I can't," Dean began. "I don't know any antidote to dead man's blood and even if I did, I wouldn't. Not until you tell me where Sam is."
"Did you not just hear a word I said, you absolute buffoon?!" Amelia shrieked, stamping her foot. "He did this! He attacked Conrad! He left you behind to die, you fool!"
Dean snorted. Like he was going over his abandonment issues with a vampire.
"Well, I hate to break it to you, but you just might be the buffoon in this case. Have you not put it together that someone else was here besides Sam? Sam had no dead man's blood. Not that it matters, because there is no antidote to dead man's blood or whatever happened to Conrad. Or," Dean changed directions quickly as Amelia's eyes narrowed, "if there is one, the person who probably knows it is Sam, so it really is in your best interest if you shut your mouth and help me find him."
"And why would I know him better than you? He is your brother!" Amelia was beginning to look extremely frazzled as she ran her hands through her perfectly curled hair. "Sam was supposed to be here. I don't—None of this was supposed to happen, he was supposed to be here so that—"
"What? So that you could double-cross us? Perhaps take off our heads?" Dean took another step closer, towering over her as she took a step back, looking surprised. "C'mon, despite what you might think, we're not dumb. We knew that you had another plan in mind."
Amelia's lip curled up in a snarl, anger sparking from her eyes, but Dean could still read the underlying fear that hid behind it. "Oh, you think that you are so smart, that just because you are a hunter and you kill things—kill us—that you know everything. All you do—"
"Oh, give me a break." Dean snapped. "I believe that crap as much as you do. You used us to kill your brother and half of his nest. You have no issue with us killing things."
"No! No, my issue with you is that you are mindless savages who go about killing anything that you want."
Dean opened his mouth to retort that hunters were not the mindless savages, but the recent memory of Sam's face right after he had punched him due to their last argument about vampires having free will came crashing in hard. He snapped his mouth shut, breathing heavily.
Now was not the time for this. Maybe some of the supernatural was good, but Amelia and Conrad… weren't. And right now, he needed to focus on finding Sam. Sam needed to be his number one priority instead of this pointless squabble.
"Look, just tell me what your plan was for Sam, or give me one good reason why I should believe you that you don't know where my brother is. Otherwise, I am going to pump you so full of dead man's blood that you're going to end up like Conrad."
Amelia cast a glance behind her at Conrad, a dark hatred for Dean flickered in her face. And Dean knew a moment before she moved that she was going to attack
He launched himself at her at the same time she lunged forward, her fangs dropping. They grappled together for a minute, Dean swearing loudly as her teeth caught on his arm right above the other bitemark. Ripping her back by her hair, he flung Amelia around and slammed her face-first up against the wall. He raised the syringe, pressing the needle up against the skin of her neck.
"One. Good. Reason."
"I needed you both alive!" Amelia burst out, all the anger fading as fear flooded her face.
"Why?" Dean spat, pressing the needle in harder.
Amelia took too long to respond, and Dean ground her face into the wall, his hand tightening in her hair.
"I knew that simply having Robert killed was not enough to regain my family!" Amelia spat, her voice pitched slightly higher than normal. "I needed to kill his murderers first. I needed to kill you. So, I was going to use Sam to my advantage. It would not have mattered that I broke my word because you could not leave until he had been given the full antidote.
"Once the nest discovered the murder of Robert, they were going to search for the hunters that did it. Jesse was to let it slip that it was the Winchesters and that you had been staying at this cabin. They would walk in to see me avenging my brother's death and I would be their new savior. I would be the head of the family." Her wan smile was bitter, savoring a probably long dreamed of moment but Dean just snorted in disgust.
Grabbing Amelia roughly by the arms, he swung her around so that he could look her in the eyes. The syringe he kept pressed against her neck. "One wrong move," he warned with his thumb on the dispenser. She swallowed thickly, the motion making the needle bite into her skin.
Dean unceremoniously pulled her towards the small kitchen table, where he thrust her down into one of the chairs. Holding her there with one hand, he worked his belt off with the other and used that to tie her arms tightly behind her and to the chair. It wouldn't hold for long, but it would work for the moment.
"Fine, so you don't know where Sam is," he said as he worked, making sure that the belt was tight. "But you do know the antidote, so you are going to sit here and think about all the reasons that you want a quick death."
He cast her one last glare over his shoulder, before turning towards Conrad and bending over him. The vampire looked terrible as he gasped awkwardly, his lungs clearly not working right, and his eyes flickered open and shut.
There were multiple needle marks up the side of his neck, and Dean could only guess that someone had had fun and gotten creative. He couldn't find it in himself to be sorry for what Conrad was going through, although he did make a note of what this much dead man's blood could do to a vampire.
"Where's Sam?" he asked briskly, trying to make eye contact. Conrad rasped wetly and Dean grabbed the lapels of his shirt, jerking him upright and repeating his question. Conrad's eyes flashed once, the hatred bright despite the dulling of his eyes.
"Hunter," he gasped out, choking on something in his lungs. He let out a gurgling laugh, and a trickle of blood spilled over his lips as he worked on another word. "Never—never—" he broke off, his eyes rolling back in his head as he continued to choke on his blood before he went limp.
Dean dropped him back to the ground in disgust and stood, wiping his hands on his jeans.
He wasn't sure if Conrad was dead or not, but he wasn't going to take the time to find out. He wasn't going to be answering any more questions for the moment, and that was all that Dean had needed him for.
Dean rested his hands on his hips as he surveyed the room, thinking hard. Amelia was giving him a sour look, she would not be of any help just yet, not unless he let her stew for a moment.
Striding back into the center of the room, Dean looked at the couch. The pillows were scattered along the cushions, the throw blanket tossed carelessly on the floor, but that wasn't exactly a lot to go on.
The only thing that he knew for sure about the situation was that someone else was involved. Conrad hadn't just gotten over-eager with dead man's blood by himself, so who…
Stepping back over Conrad's still body, Dean examined the door. There was no sign of someone breaking in, and from where Conrad was laying, it was not unlikely that he had opened the door for them, probably even knew them.
But Conrad and Amelia were outcasts, even in the vampire community. Who would he have known and opened the door to?
Flicking the porch light on, Dean stepped outside, surveying the ground. The van was still parked exactly where Amelia had left it, and Conrad hadn't had his own car. If someone had driven up, he should be able to tell as the dirt was moist, almost muddy from the rainfall that had happened somewhat recently.
Dean was not disappointed.
The tracks from the van were clear with two imprints (from when they had first arrived, and then when they had come back after the hunt) and then there were the tracks from Jesse's truck.
Jesse's truck that had apparently been back to visit.
It hit Dean like a ton of bricks and once it had, he marveled at why he hadn't thought of it before. It was so simple, yet made so much sense.
Jesse had double-crossed Amelia and Conrad.
The vampire had seemed tense ever since Dean had had the oh-so-great pleasure of meeting him, even more so than the others, and there had been the scathing remarks between both Amelia and Jesse.
What he didn't know was what Jesse wanted with Sam.
The thought made his stomach plunge as a wave of panic washed over him. He hadn't wanted Jesse alone with Sam when he thought that he was on Amelia's leash and he most certainly did not want Sam with him when he was off the grid doing who knows what.
Wheeling around, he made a brief detour to the van to grab the machete and then strode back inside. Stepping over Conrad, he headed straight for Amelia. She stilled in her seat, watching him carefully. Dean leaned over her, making sure that the belt was still holding.
She had managed to loosen it some and Dean tugged the straps tighter.
"I would get the rope, but I don't think that you are going to be here long enough to need it." Straightening, he made sure that she could see the machete that was in his hands.
She pursed her lips, looking away from him.
Shrugging, Dean grabbed the other chair and swung it around backward, straddling it as he sat down in front of her. "Did you know that Jesse was going to double-cross you?" he asked bluntly, gauging her reaction carefully.
Amelia looked up in surprise. "Jesse? No, Jesse is on our side. He wouldn't."
"Is he though?" Dean asked pointedly.
"Yes, he is loyal to me. He would never." Amelia tipped her chin back firmly, meeting Dean's eyes.
"Really? I think that you took him for granted," Dean threw on a mocking tone, his eyes grim. "I think he was disgruntled with you, and all I ever saw you do was make life harder for him. Why wouldn't he double-cross you? You do seem like a pretty trashy person to be working for." Amelia's nostrils flared but Dean kept talking, his voice losing the light tone. "The only question that I have for you is where he would take Sam and why?"
"That's two," she began, jutting her chin out.
"Fine, two questions. Answer 'em both and maybe I'll let you live."
Amelia shook her head. "Do not mock me, Dean Winchester. You do not plan to let me leave this cabin alive, you already admitted to that."
"Damn right, but I'll make it quick." Dean forced out a smile.
"What about the antidote?" She asked quickly and Dean shrugged.
"I'll make it three questions. What's the antidote?"
They stared at each other for a long moment, the tension palpable. Amelia broke eye contact first.
"I do not know where Jesse would go and why he would take your brother."
Dean held up a finger, opening his mouth, before closing it sharply and letting his hand drop again as realization hit. "You know what? I actually believe you. You couldn't catch a spy in your ranks, you clearly wouldn't know what Jesse would be doing."
He hung his head for a moment, going through every curse word that he knew. Amelia was turning out to be pretty much useless. Hell, Conrad had given him more to go off of than she was.
"Alright, sweetheart, tell me the cure."
"What are you going to do if I don't? Kill me slow? At least then I can watch the horror on your face when you realize that sweet little Sammy is going to die."
Dean clenched his jaw. "Tell me the cure, or I will drag it out of you."
Amelia leaned as far forward as her bonds would let her, and Dean was surprised to see the tears glistening in her eyes. "I will never—never—tell you the cure."
"Wanna bet?" Dean growled, already reaching for the dead man's blood but she smirked, sinking back.
"I may not live to see the next sunrise, but my dying wish is to deny you the only thing you want. You are a hunter, I do not doubt that you will find Jesse. When you do, I hope that you make him suffer, but you will not save Sam. The only thing that matters to you will be gone."
Dean paused, chewing on the inside of his cheek. "What if I let you live," he responded in all seriousness. "Will you tell it to me then?"
Amelia looked away at Conrad's body, and a twin trail of tears made their way down her face. "Killing Robert has consumed me for so many years, but I did it. I received my revenge. Conrad is dying. Jesse has betrayed me…" her voice had gotten softer as she mused and Dean frowned.
"What do I even have to live for?" She blinked the rest of the tears away, leaving streaks of mascara down her cheeks, and a steely resolve entered her voice. "Even if you did not kill me now, you would hunt me down as soon as Sam was free of danger. My days are numbered."
"If you gave me the antidote, I'll give you a three-day head start," Dean bargained.
Amelia laughed brokenly, shaking her head. "Conrad told me not to mess with the hunters. It will only come back to bite you in the end. I should have listened."
"Yeah, you probably should have."
Her lips curled up. "Vampires have been almost extinct for years now, living with—with cow's blood or scraps that nobody will miss, that hunters will not notice. Maybe, yes, maybe it is time to move on. To rejoin my mother, to give her one last gift. The death of a hunter." She grinned lazily, leaning her head back and exposing her throat.
"I will not give you the antidote. Not even for my own life."
Dean stared at her with amazement, shaking his head. He didn't have time for this, he had to find Sam and Jesse. "You do know that Jesse knows the antidote, right? What if I find him and he tells me? Then your death will be for nothing."
Amelia's lip curled up. "He will not tell you. Even if I don't know everything about Jesse, I do know that he is a stubborn bastard. Yes, your brother will die."
#
Jesse hit the horn hard and Sam heard the screech of tires as he slammed on the breaks. The motion swung Sam towards him, and Jesse roughly shoved him back with a curse.
Not my fault! I wasn't the idiot who tied me up like this…Sam thought darkly as he bit down hard on the gag to repress any sound of discomfort. Jesse muttered something rude under his breath, but if it was directed at Sam or the other vehicle, he didn't know.
It didn't feel like they were regaining the speed from before, and that could be good. Sam perked up, waiting to see what happened next. They came to a complete stop a couple of moments later and his hopes soared. There might be people around and that meant possible help—because it had to look damn suspicious to have someone tied up with a sack over their head in the front seat of a truck—and that was good.
Jesse's door opened and then shut, but Sam couldn't hear any voices. Just the click of what sounded like a gas pump.
He didn't take this as a chance to relax as he began to pull and yank at his wrists, desperate to get free.
A moment later the door he was leaning against was wrenched open and Sam's stomach flew up somewhere in his throat as he felt himself falling into nothing. A moment later he jerked to a stop, his arms taking the brunt of his weight.
"You need to pee?" Jesse asked, his voice muffled through the burlap, but he did push Sam back up into the truck. Sam shook his head. If Jesse went in, though…that would give him a chance.
"Fine, but we are not stopping until I have to get gas again," Jesse warned and began to move away before suddenly stopping. "Oh, hold up." He leaned closer over Sam, who held completely still, not even daring to breathe, but Jesse only grabbed him by the collar of his shirt. He roughly shoved him fully onto the seat, before yanking the seatbelt free and snapping it in place. "So that you stop sliding all over the place and into my damn lap every few seconds," he said as an explanation, lightly slapping Sam's chest in a mockery of the familiar, warm, gesture that Dean sometimes used.
It was humiliating to be manhandled in such a way and Sam felt his cheeks burn.
Jesse moved away again, the door slamming shut but he didn't go into the gas station, sliding back into the driver's seat instead and starting the engine up. They peeled back out onto the road with a squeal of tires.
Sam swayed with the movement, but the motion did not send his whole body swinging now that he was seat belted in, and he didn't know if he should feel frustrated or grateful. His bad shoulder was no longer taking as much strain but for some reason, the seatbelt felt like just one more obstacle in his path for freedom. In his head, he knew that it was stupid. It was just a seatbelt, but the panic that set heavy in his chest only grew and he let his head fall forward to rest on his outstretched arm.
He wasn't going to give up, he didn't think that he could even if he wanted to, but there was a part of him that just wanted Dean to come swooping in and save the day.
#
Dean finished wiping his machete clean on a spare rag as he hummed a distracted agreement into the phone that was pressed between his ear and his shoulder. Behind him, the cabin was going up in flames and he muffled a cough as the wind blew a waft of smoke into his face.
"Sorry, yes, that is my account number. I am on a trip in Colorado, hiking, you know, and I have been traveling all night and now I can't seem to find my phone. Could you get a location on it?" he lied easily, inspecting a small nick on the blade, before tossing the rag haphazardly towards the flames. The fire began to greedily consume it, just like it was with the two bodies inside. It had seemed easier just to torch it, and get rid of the evidence and also any DNA that they had left behind.
The operator on the other end was breaking up and Dean straightened, pressing the phone harder against his ear. She was probably just asking him to hold.
Thank goodness he had managed to sneak Sam's phone back to him before he and Amelia had gone hunting. Now he could only hope that Jesse hadn't thought to go through Sam's pockets. If he hadn't, then it would be their first win in a series of losses and he really, really, needed a win.
The operator was silent, but Dean thought that he could make out the tapping of keys as he slipped the machete into the back of the van and slammed the door.
Even if he could just get a general direction, a starting point, then he could work with it. He would hunt Jesse down from there and make him regret the day that he had been turned into a vampire.
"Are you still there?" The operator asked.
"Yeah. What did you find?"
"Your phone was last pinged going through the small town of Carson, Colorado."
Dean mumbled a quick thank you and goodbye before snapping the phone shut. Tossing it through the window and into the front seat of the van, Dean rounded the vehicle, climbing in and twisting the key in the ignition. The van was far bulkier than the Impala, and he was a lot higher up than he was used to. A small part of him longed to go back and get the Impala before going after Sam, but he squashed the thought for the longing that it was as soon as it was formed.
Sam first, he would get the Impala after his brother was secured and safe.
Revving the engine, which was not nearly as satisfying as it should have been, he began the descent off the mountain.
The real question now was what did Carson, Colorado hold? And if that wasn't the final destination, then what was? After that, he would somehow figure out the antidote.
When it became clear that Amelia would rather die than give up the antidote, Dean had realized that there was no point in keeping her alive. Time was running out for Sam, and Jesse knew the antidote so he would pry it out of him with a crowbar and a rusty blade if he had to.
Gripping the wheel tightly, Dean began to make his way southwest.
The western states were some of Dean's favorites, partly because they were filled with stretches of complete nothing where he could push his baby—or in this case, the van—as fast as he wanted to with far fewer cops trying to wrangle him down to something more reasonable. Dean was counting on that.
The van was clunky even under his expert care, and the engine began whining under the strain before he had made it five minutes and he fought the urge to chuck something.
Instead, he reached across to the passenger side and grabbed his phone. Flipping it open, he hit his second-speed dial, and his heart clenched a little as he did so. Ever since Sam had started hunting with him again, John had been his second-speed dial, but now that he was dead…Dean was getting better at the whole grief thing, but it was moments like this that caught him by surprise.
The line connected and Dean refocused. He had half expected the phone to just keep ringing and to click over to voice mail as it always had with his father. "Bobby?" he asked gruffly.
"Why is it that you two only call me at the most ridiculous hours of the morning?" Bobby sounded tired and Dean felt momentarily bad, but he quickly shook it off.
"It's Sam, I don't—I need your help," Dean demanded, trying to cover up the panic that was threatening to take control.
"What happened?" Bobby asked gruffly and Dean allowed the whole story to come spilling out. When he had exhausted all his words, he trailed off, waiting.
"Damnit, you boys sure do know how to pick 'em, don't you?" Bobby growled and Dean let out a weak chuckle.
"It's Sam, not me, who's the magnet to trouble. All I attract are chicks," he tried.
"Right, the nice and fluffy ones," Bobby said, the sarcasm thick enough that Dean could have cut it with a knife. "Look, I think I know a retired hunter in that area. He might know more about where Jesse could be going or what he is up to. I'll make some calls and get back to ya when I know more. Just—be careful, idjit. Don't wrap yourself around a tree trying to catch up to Sam. I don't need both of you in trouble."
"Can't make any promises."
There was a long moment of silence again before Bobby spoke. "We'll figure this thing out, Dean, okay? We'll get Sam back. And we'll figure out the antidote. I have some resources that I can look into and people that can help."
Dean exhaled deeply, loosening his grip on the wheel, though his foot remained pressed almost flat on the accelerator. "Yessir"
Bobby ended the call and Dean snapped the phone shut, tucking it into his pocket this time. He rubbed wearily at his face, before straightening in his seat and staring down the long, empty, stretch of road ahead of him.
#
Sam swallowed thickly and tilted his head back, breathing out slowly through the gag.
He did not feel good, hadn't been for the past little bit. Pain kept shooting through his rapidly tightening chest and his head was aching along with each furious beat of his heart. He also had had enough fevers in his lifetime to know that he had one and that it was rising swiftly.
When he began to shake from the fever, Jesse broke his earlier promise and pulled over. A moment later, the hood was yanked off his head, making Sam blink at the early morning sunshine that was pouring in through the windshield.
The gag quickly followed.
"What—" he croaked out and closed his mouth immediately for fear that he might throw up.
"I gotta bring you in alive, don't I?" Jesse dug in his pants pocket, pulling out a small, round, jar. He unscrewed the lid, revealing the life-saving powder inside.
"Who…" Sam cleared his throat, tipping his head back and closing his eyes. Sweat was already gathering across his skin, dampening the collar of his shirt. "Who are you taking me to?" His voice came out more slurred than he would have liked, but Jesse only smiled as he began to carefully tap the powder into a half-drunk water bottle. He screwed the lid back on, shaking it vigorously for a moment.
"Bottoms up," he said cheerfully, tipping the bottle against Sam's lips for him.
Sam half-choked on the sudden onslaught and began to cough. Jesse's lips twitched in what was probably annoyance as he pulled the bottle back. Once Sam could breathe, he forced the water on him again, if a little bit more slowly.
"What's going to happen to Dean?" Sam tried to demand once the bottle was pulled away but Jesse reached for the gag again. He twisted the linen napkin tighter, preparing to force it back into Sam's mouth.
"I'll give you a hint about who I'm taking you to, how does that sound?" he offered as he began to work the gag in. Sam leaned back, trying to resist him, but Jesse forced the issue, his hands roughly forcing the gag into his mouth.
"One, she's someone you pissed off," he began as he worked to tie the knot. "Two, ah," he paused, thinking with the burlap bag in one hand. "She would prefer your father's head, but since he's disappeared you and your brother will have to make do. And three…" he moved in, shoving the bag over Sam's head and cinching it tight, muffling his voice. "And three, you've gone up against her in the last couple of years."
He sat back, chuckling as he pulled back onto the road.
"Work on that, let me know when you figure it out."
Yeah, screw you! Sam thought darkly, turning his head to the side to rest against the window as his mind began to churn. Jesse had probably given away more than he thought that he had. How many people had all three Winchesters gone up against in the last couple of years? The list was relatively short between Sam's failed college experience and John's disappearing act.
Breathing out slowly, Sam tried to think through the haze of pain and fever, but both were disappearing rapidly as the antidote went to work. After that, it wasn't hard to pick out who it was, and Sam clenched his fist as a shiver went down his spine.
Kate. It had to be Kate, the very first vampire that they had faced off against.
Kate was a vampire and Jesse would easily have connections to her. Dad had killed Luther—for Sam, not that he was up for going into that right now—and she no doubt hated their guts. She would want them dead.
The thought terrified Sam. Not for himself. It wasn't like he wanted to die, but he wasn't exactly scared of it, but rather for Dean. He did not want Dean anywhere near Kate, but if that was where Sam was, then Dean would follow.
Throwing caution to the wind, Sam began to work harder on getting his good hand free. The cuffs were looser than they were at the cabin which gave him hope. He had already managed to work his hand partially through the cuff, he just needed to give it a little bit more…of course, then he would have to figure out what to do with Jesse, but he would cross that road when he came to it.
Sam was content to sit there in silence and work on getting free, but after what felt like an hour or so it became apparent that Jesse was bored.
Sam could read it in the way that a song no longer held his attention as he scanned through the radio after only a verse, or the constant shifting and sighing. It kind of reminded him of when Dean got bored but, somehow, he doubted that Jesse was going to relieve the boredom with childish pranks and antics.
"Hey, Winchester…" Jesse called over a minute later and Sam went stiff as he stopped twisting his wrist in an attempt to get free. Blood was seeping through the damaged skin, lubricating the metal, and Sam's good hand was bunched awkwardly about halfway through the cuff. It had been about two hours since Jesse had let slip where they were going, and Sam had put the time to good use.
He was so close, if Jesse caught him now…
Jesse snorted, the music changing again while Sam held his breath, waiting.
"You know, I gagged you so I didn't have to listen to you asking questions or begging for the whole trip, but you could nod or shake your head or whatever."
Sam rolled his eyes under the bag. Now, why would he do that? He was not about to try and hold a conversation about the weather with Jesse like this.
"C'mon, play along! I'm bored."
Sam continued to ignore him.
"Oh, look at that, you sprang a leak there, Sammy-boy." Jesse's hand was on his bad shoulder and Sam tried to shrug him off, but Jesse clamped down. A moment later, his index finger was digging straight into Dean's carefully placed stitches.
Sam ground his teeth into the gag, trying to swallow back the sound of pain. His back arched involuntarily as Jesse broke through the stitch and a trickle of fresh blood began to seep out of the wound. Jesse removed his finger slowly and Sam slumped back, panting heavily as a wave of heat swept over him, leaving him feeling nauseous.
He had to close his eyes as his stomach rolled and the burlap bag began to blur. He would not pass out, he would not pass out…
"It's like my own personal vending machine. I mean, I only have one option and I don't have to pay but it's a nice pick me up. Better than coffee," Jesse was saying when Sam pulled himself together again.
Sam swallowed thickly, leaning his head against his arms, and wished that Jesse would just shut up.
He did for about another minute before he poked Sam in the side.
"Hey, wanna know what's going to happen to you? Or even better what is going to happen to Dean?"
Sam wasn't sure that he did, but Jesse plowed ahead, probably very aware of Sam's misgivings about the topic.
"I'm taking you to see her—" Jesse paused for dramatic effect and Sam rolled his eyes again. He knew very much who 'her' was, no surprises there. "Then she is going to make you suffer. I don't know how long, so you know, live it up while you got the chance. You might only have another few hours if she kills you right on the spot. Anyway, after that, she is going to display your body for the world to see as a warning to all hunters. But it's going to be more than that. It's also a trap for Dean. He's going to be waltzing right into it when he comes to hunt her."
Sam doubted that. Dean was much smarter than most people gave him credit for, and he wouldn't be surprised if Dean was already on Jesse's trail. Or, if not, then he would figure out that it was Kate. He wouldn't walk into that kind of trap, but…he tensed in frustration. Dean did get stupid when Sam was involved and if Sam was dead then Dean would take very little, if any, precautions.
He might just be willing to walk into a trap.
That desperate feeling that he needed to get free, if only to save Dean, was growing increasingly strong as each minute slipped by. They had already lost Dad—and despite what Dean sometimes said—that did matter to Sam. He didn't want to lose another family member to the supernatural, it had already taken so much from him.
Jesse seemed completely unaware of the emotional turmoil taking place next to him as he reached over and swiped at the blood dripping from Sam's shoulder. He continued to talk, a slight dream-like quality entering his voice.
"And do you want to know what the best part is? The best part is that I get accepted into Kate's nest. Amelia and Conrad kept going on and on about their nest like it was something to be envied. They are a third-class institution in a crappy world, Kate…now there is something to be envious of."
Sam wondered briefly as he gingerly rotated his hand in the cuff trying to make his hand smaller if Jesse realized that he had given away Kate's identity. But he seemed to be content to ramble on, apparently lost in his own thoughts.
"And I mean, I deserve this. I worked my ass off to pull off what I did. Do you know how hard it was to make everything work out the way that I wanted to? First, I had to convince Amelia to go after the Winchesters of all hunters, and not some random son of a bitch. And then they were originally going to have you join in the hunt because everyone who knows the Winchesters knows that you hunt together. But I couldn't have that. I figured that it would be easier to handle one Winchester at a time than two and Kate didn't seem to mind it if I brought one at a time. So I knifed you. I knew enough about Dean to know that he wouldn't let you fight like that."
He paused, and then his finger was back, digging deeper into Sam's shoulder this time and making him see stars. "Damn, it's been a long time since I've had blood like yours. Maybe she'll let me keep some as a reward. Anyway, I also had to get Conrad and Amelia separated because I wasn't sure how much your brother could handle by himself and I didn't want him to get himself killed. I made Dean hate me just enough for him to convince Amelia to leave Conrad behind. Now, when Dean finds you missing, he's going to take care of Amelia for me. And he is never going to catch back up with us in time. It's all so perfect."
Sam continued to roll his hand back and forth, biting down hard on the gag to suppress a hiss as his shoulder throbbed and his wrist smarted.
Jesse sighed heavily. "Brilliant. That's what it was. Maybe I should ungag you so you can sing my praises."
Right, like that was going to happen anytime soon. Sam hoped that Jesse could feel the annoyance and disgust coming off him. There were many types of people that Sam could get along with in the world, even if he did not agree with them, but someone who betrayed their own families…Sam couldn't get behind that—not that Dean nor his father always knew that he felt that way, but he had never intended for Stanford to be the ultimate that it had turned into.
Sam ground his teeth together at the thought, twisting his wrist harder. He had not been betraying his family by going to California. He wasn't the one who had said don't come back, that had been all Dad. Dad was the one that had slammed the door, meaning that Sam had only seen him a handful of times before he died. It just…it wasn't fair.
A wave of grief washed over Sam, and he wrenched down on the cuff with all the strength that he had. He'd lost time with Dad, he refused to let the same thing happen to Dean and him.
His hand popped out and Sam lurched forward with a surprised grunt. He hadn't expected that to work.
"What the hell!" Jesse might not have noticed him trying to escape, but even he could not ignore this. Sam didn't have much time to come up with a plan, and he acted on the first thought that came to mind. Lunging forward, twisting so that he could have further reach with his right hand.
Jesse's fist lashed out, catching him hard on the jaw and jerking his head to the side. Sam tasted blood, but he shook it off. The truck was small and tightly confined, which was a good thing because he didn't have that far of a reach with his left hand still cuffed.
Shoving roughly past Jesse, Sam reached blindly until he found the wheel and latched onto it. Without pausing to pay attention to the small voice in his head that was screaming at him that this was about the dumbest idea that he had ever had, Sam yanked the wheel hard to the right. He wasn't dumb enough to take them into oncoming traffic, but he didn't know what else to do. He still couldn't see anything, and they were stuck together in the truck.
It was his only option of at least slowing Jesse down.
Jesse was yanking the wheel the other direction, his free hand latching around Sam's wrist, trying to rip him free. Sam fought him, determined not to let go but Jesse was stronger than he was even before he had been injured.
He pried Sam's hand free, shoving him roughly back, but Jesse had lost control of the truck. They were spinning, and it felt like Jesse had overcorrected, the tires squealing their protests, and then they were off the road.
"OH S—" Jesse broke off, before beginning a whole string of expletives as Sam lurched back, bracing himself in preparation for the crash.
What had he done?
The next moment, the truck was bouncing over an uneven surface before it tipped, rolling. Sam automatically threw his hand up to cover his face as he heard the glass of one of the windows blow out. His seatbelt snapped taunt, locking tight and slamming him back into his seat. The truck might have been upright again, or maybe they were still rolling—Sam didn't know—but his body was being jerked hard to the right, his head cracking into something unyielding.
With one final crunch, they came to a complete stop with the truck overturned on its roof.