The Beckoning

Chapter Six: A Painful Kind of Hurt

Author's Note: Hi everyone! Thanks to all who have read/reviewed! I just thought I'd add this shorter chapter so the next one isn't too terribly long. It's almost 2 in the morning but I wanted to get this out. I added more insight to the vampire, and hopefully I won't regret this when I'm fully awake in the morning and re-read what I wrote lol. If I do, I suppose there is an edit button…hmm. Anyway, if you think it's taking a turn for the worst…let me know and I'll promptly try to make it better. There are many options to choose from when it comes to the Vampire world, I find, and in fiction it's easy to warp theories to your personal liking. So what I'm going to do…hopefully will be all right. Feedback is appreciated, as always!

Second Author's Note: Hi again, sorry lol, just thought I'd mention that while writing the first half of this I pretty much had the song "Right Here" by Staind playing on repeat…it really reminds me of the brothers.

-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-

Sunlight etched into the room, filtering in with the tired lamplight that covered the sleeping Winchester brothers. Both had fallen asleep, Dean first as he cried the pain away, and Sam last as he was unable to move and wake his finally resting brother. Sam was first to wake. His back had begun hurting as Dean was unintentionally pinning him to the uncomfortable wooden bedside.

"Sorry you had to find out like this," Sam hardly whispered the words to his brother. It was a terrible shame to have nightmares born from tragedy, but to have a nightmare prove to have a greater existence than an unconscious, unreal vision…Sam couldn't fathom it.

After a few minutes of Sam contemplating whether or not he should try and move Dean, Dean stirred himself awake. He lifted himself up and away from Sam, half asleep and half unaware of reality for the short time he'd become conscious again. With one glance around the room, seeing the tangled bed sheets, he looked up and once more was struck with realization. It was more than a nightmare.

Not wanting to cry, and willing away the memory, Dean fumbled with his aching body to stand up much quicker than his limbs were able. Sam was fast to help his brother stand, but Dean wanted to get away.

"No, I can't," Dean said, his voice signing off with anger and fear.

"Can't what?" Sam asked with utter confusion.

"I don't want to remember anymore!" Dean shouted now. He was freaked. Sam wasn't sure what to say to that.

"Dean,"

"No…I don't want to…I can't," he was anxious now, throwing the covers around like he was looking for something. He squeezed his eyes shut trying to rid himself the warm stinging sensation he was feeling.

Sam asked the only thing one could ask to follow a statement like that. "Why not?"

Dean stopped in his fruitless search and held a panicked breath.

"It hurts…"

Sam wished he could interpret that he meant physically, but he knew all too well it was a more significant, more painful kind of hurt. Sam hung his head down.

"I know it does," he could only agree. He'd never deny that. "But, eventually…I mean,"

"NO!" Dean yelled, forcing Sam's eyes to look up and meet his. "I can just…get a new life. I'll start over. I can be whoever I want to be. No demons, no monsters…no fire…Just…normal. I want to be normal."

At the words, Sam's stomach churned. He'd suddenly felt everything he held inside of him, everything he never thought he'd hear his brother say, expel itself from the myth that it wasn't possible, that it could never happen. And Sam lamented for his brother's wish for normal, a wish Sam once was granted only to have it taken away. Normal wasn't something they could have. Sam, at this point, wasn't even sure he really wanted normal anymore. All he wanted now was what was natural, what was right…he wanted his brother back.

"But…we can't have normal…"

"Why not? Because some…thing killed our Mom? Because we hear voices and hunt ghosts? Maybe I did that before, but not anymore…I don't remember, and I don't want to."

"It's who you are, Dean."

"It's who I was. I don't want to be some kind of a…a freak!" Dean sounded desperate, and Sam felt insulted on his brother's behalf when he used the word 'freak'. "I need to get out of here," he finished quickly.

"What? And go where?" Sam questioned with a higher authority in his voice. "You don't know what's out there!"

"I don't care."

Sam knew that Dean had no idea about what he was saying. He thought once he could pick up his gun and force his brother's understanding, away from stubbornness, to tell him all the gruesome horrors of the world and open his eyes so he could see…so he could be safe. Yet, the thought of pointing another gun at his brother made Sam feel even more ill than he already did.

Sam also knew that this wasn't Dean talking. It was a mere projection of his brother before him, a vision of a boy forced into adulthood and thrown into a world of unspeakable, paranormal truths. He was a man who'd been sleeping for decades, finally waking up to the true nightmare that evil coexisted on this planet; waking to a world with a murdered mother, a missing father, and a brother finding himself incapable of protecting his protector.

He was a lost child who didn't get to grow up, who was left untrained to be fearless, to not cry, and to not express weakness. He was Dean without their father's molding, without his warrior casing, and he was not the same. He was an orphan to his years of conditioning and practice, and a stranger yet to Sam.

And Dean, as Sam was discovering, was irrevocably aware of it all; of the ludicrous life they were forced to live, of his human desire to be normal and accepted, of his unshakeable belief that deep down he must be some kind of a freak for putting up with it all.

For a moment, Sam held in his urge to openly curse their absent father. John Winchester was to blame for all of this, Sam was certain now. John turned Dean into a 'freak'- he manipulated every cell in his body to become a less-than-human machine fighting for the salvation of humanity. Dean was pushed to fight for a world that he felt rejected him, all for the will of his father. Their Dad created the void and made sure it was left unfilled.

Putting blame on someone, no matter how strongly it might be deserved and help the psyche to continue moving forward, wasn't going to stop the issue at hand. Sam had to think quickly.

"If you would only listen to me for a moment," Sam was pleading, hoping some shred of his brother had been left unscathed by the awful circumstances, which would yield to the simple request. Dean looked closely at his brother, taking a moment himself to calm his nerves.

"I'm listening," Dean spoke sharply, but his eyes held a softer expression towards his brother now. Somewhere far inside he wanted to be convinced of a better option than walking out the door into a world of loneliness and answerless questions.

"You want to leave…to never remember. I get that…because I'll admit that I thought about lying to you, about never telling you the truth of who we are and what we do. It would be so much easier. But…the thought led me to another, and that was losing you. I don't want to lose you. I know you don't remember me or our history, but you've been there for me since…forever. And finally I have a chance to be here for you, to help you…but I need you to let me. I need my brother back, Dean…I miss you,"

The elder Winchester took some time to reflect on the younger one's sincere words. There was only one thing he could think of to reply with.

"Sam, I'm scared," Dean spoke sorrowfully. His openness to exclaiming fear was both a relief and a shock to Sam.

"I know. I'm scared, too," Sam admitted, stepping closer to Dean. "But you're a Hell of a lot stronger than you think. You're the bravest person I know, and if I lose you, if you walk out…then I'm losing the one person who gives me the strength to fight. And, it won't be easy…but you can pull through this. We're gonna be all right, I promise."

Silence fell more uncomfortably between them than Sam had hoped after cutting himself open and letting his honest words bleed out. His apprehension of a response grew tighter within his chest as he watched Dean nod, looking away around the room as if considering his options, before finally setting his eyes upon Sam's again. A small smile appeared.

There wasn't much to turn away from in that speech and Dean didn't know any better but to believe that whatever Sam wanted from him, Sam would get…be it from his way with words or the unrelenting inclination Dean had to succumb to his brother's wishes. Dean was powerless to do anything but have faith in his brother's words.

"I'm sorry, Sam…I don't mean to let you down," his smile disappeared behind a look of regret as he sat down on his bed in defeat.

"What?"

"You really look up to me…and here I am disappointing you, threatening to leave when you've been nothing but supportive. Man, I suck at being a good brother."

At that, Sam didn't stifle his laughter, which grabbed Dean's attention steadfastly. "What's so funny?"

"You're the epitome of a good brother. Sometimes, you're too good of a brother. And I can't wait for you to remember that. You'd be laughing now, too." Sam told him, shaking his head. Dean forced a laugh, wanting to be included in the humor of the situation.

Sam was thankful for a brief interlude of lighthearted laughter they could share; as fleeting as it was it lifted some of the tension in the room.

"So," Sam began, renewed with hope that somehow this was going to work out. "Think you're up for learning some old tricks to kill a vampire?"

Dean sighed, releasing any fear and anxiety he had and putting complete trust in his brother. Maybe it was the look in Sam's eyes, or the assurance of his voice, or a gut feeling Dean couldn't ignore as well as couldn't place…that told him things really were going to be okay. If anything, he was going to give his brother a chance. Dean silently affirmed he would let Sam help him.

"This should be interesting…" Dean said semi-cheerily.

Within two hours of fresh daylight passing, each of them had showered and cleaned up. Sam made sure to clean the blood on the mirror well, not wanting to leave any suspicion for the motel management behind. He was both happy and frustrated to wait for Dean to finish his shower. It was much like the old Dean to take forever getting ready.

As he waited, he collected as much information as he could to teach Dean what they knew about vampires.

There were many theories they learned about a vampire's strengths and weaknesses, how vampires are made and how they are killed. Sam would have to teach Dean how to properly stake one, while reminding himself at the same time. He wouldn't make the same mistake twice.

Sam couldn't suppress the fear that there might be more to this than he anticipated. If he wanted either one of them dead, couldn't the vampire have done it by now? Or was he waiting for something; planning something? Vampires were tricksters by right, master manipulators bending their opponents to their will. Sam didn't want to think this could all be a trap, but if it was…he'd have to prepare for it, because he wasn't going to let fear get the best of him. He wasn't going to let a stealthy threat stand between him and his brother's safety.

After all, if this vampire could attack Dean…just because he hasn't doesn't mean he won't. Sam wasn't going to take the chance. Whatever the vampire wanted, Sam was going to make sure he didn't get…or he'll die trying.

-:-:-:-:-

In a nearly empty room of a seemingly unoccupied manor, there stood a shadow of a being, beginning to pace back and forth.

"Maeron, you're going to do it…" the vampire cooed to himself, a smile filled with delight splicing onto his lips.

He'd mused for days on end about his sinister, ingenious plan…and it was coming together better than he could have ever imagined.

For years, the Winchester clan had destroyed more evil and put a shrieking halt to more acts of violent devastation than a gargoyle could turn to stone. The trio of warriors had made an infamous name for themselves in the dark caverns of the Underworld. Stories of their vanquishing of demons, exorcisms, bone burnings, werewolf shootings, etcetera…had traveled the globe.

Needless to say, the spooks over international waters made a laughing mockery of the Winchester family…only because the Winchester's have yet to pay a visit to the foreign bastards. All in time.

However, all else was naught of concern for this vampire…at least directly. He had a plan. Divide and conquer: never fails.

He was going to be the first to succeed in stopping these evil-wrecking do-gooders once and for all. After tapping into the youngest Winchester's memories, he was able to extract the perfect method. Nothing was worse than guilt, and Maeron planned to use it as much as possible.

Make Sam think he didn't kill the vampire six years prior…that this vampire was coming back for them like he swore…Make Sam believe it's his fault his brother is in trouble…

How simple it was…

He wanted to bring the fall of the mighty Winchesters, but at the same time he'd grown rather attached to one of them…

That Dean Winchester…he could perhaps be the strongest of the three. The father was getting older, less capable in his age, and the youngest was plain and simply weak compared to Dean. At first sight, Dean was unstoppable. At second sight, you knew instantly you wanted him to be on your side…and how tempting the thought was.

He wanted Dean to be his. Eternity was a long time to live by yourself, and he could use the company.

Maeron admired Dean's unending strength, his passion and zeal for life—for if he could hold so much devotion to help other's live, Maeron could just imagine if he could twist it so Dean had the same devotion to the side of death. Together, they'd be relentless.

If this vampire could succeed in breaking apart the enemies and gaining an alliance in one of them, he'd be pushed straight to the top of the ladder when it came to menacing actions.

Only one thing stood in the way of Maeron's plan reaching success…and that was Sam.

Dean would never leave Sam, would never turn on him for a lifestyle of evil, abandoning the good he'd worked years to maintain in the world. But Maeron decided he could use his amnesia to his assistance; twist the memories, twist the truth…

He'd get Dean on his side, on Evil's territory where he'd do more aid than harm…

And then he could dispose of the little brother, of the weakest link…

"Little Sammy…" Maeron spat the name out with ridicule and contempt. "Get rid of the weakest Winchester, the strongest will be mine…forever…"

-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-

-:-:-:-:-:-:-

-:-

To Be Continued…

The next part will be better, I promise...lol. Thanks for reading!

Silver Kitten