The Beckoning

Chapter Seven: Betrayed by Memories

Author's Note: Thanks again for all the lovely reviews and I apologize for posting so late. Writer's block found its way to me once again. That, and stupid work…Anyways, no more stalling.

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"Show me again," Dean coaxed, prepping his arm back.

"Like this, right here," Sam held the blunt end of a wooden stake over his heart, watching his brother pay close attention as if fascinated. He pulled it back away and handed it to his brother. "Ready?"

The eldest nodded as he let the stake get comfortable in his now sweating palms. He took in a deep breath before plunging it forward to Sam's chest, stopping only when he made contact with his body and then put a shrieking halt on his own strength, which he still was not accustomed to.

"You weren't supposed to actually hit me," Sam said between a struggled inhale, mixed with a slight laugh.

"Oh, sorry," Dean frowned, pulling the threatening object away and down to his side.

Sam tried hiding his smile now. It wasn't every day he heard his brother use the word 'sorry' and he didn't think he'd ever get used to hearing it.

"It's alright. This is coming back to you pretty naturally, which is understandable since you've been doing this kind of stuff for most of your life," Sam said, and it wasn't until he heard the words spoken aloud that he realized the sadness behind them.

"Most of my life, huh," Dean sighed. He seemed to be contemplating the fact his brother had just shared, and then he was brought back to the present. "You, too?"

Sam wasn't quick to answer. He knew he grew up in a world where monsters existed, while Dean had nearly five years behind him where there was no reason to fear the dark. "Yeah. Me, too."

"What do we do for fun?" Dean asked innocently, unaware that hunting was something he usually considered fun (unless, of course, some unthinkable being was after his kid brother).

"Fun," Sam scoffed at the word, but then saw the look shining in his brother's eyes as he awaited an answer. He then became suddenly determined to make something of their job sound fun. "Well, you're a pretty avid pool hust- um, player. And you play poker, and…" Sam's mind drifted. You can often be found gambling with your money and your life, and you're gifted when it comes to committing basically any kind of fraud, and obtaining any kind of fake I.D. you might like…not to mention an uncanny ability to pick up unsuspecting women.

"With who?"

Sam's thoughts were cut off by his brother's voice.

"Pardon?"

"Who do I play poker with and stuff?"

Sam didn't have the heart to tell him it wasn't a typical poker night with the guys Dean sought out. It was with whatever strung out, drunken idiots he could find at a sloppy table with an extra chair; or the more advanced, coherent type when Dean felt up to a nice challenge.

"Just, um…different people. Ya know, we travel a lot…and so,"

"No time to make friends." Dean finished, and Sam let a frown emerge at the sad finality his brother's words owned.

"Um, yeah…" Sam coughed and cleared his throat, stalling in his response.

"It's all right. I figure it just comes with this job, right? I bet we don't get close to a lot of people…"

Except for one…Jessica.

"It's a dangerous risk getting involved with anyone," Sam somehow conjured the strength to speak the words as his memories fell on a certain, haunting image of his girlfriend burning to death. "In our line of work." he added and pushed his pain further inside for the sake of his brother. Dean doesn't need this right now. "Speaking of which, I believe there's a vampire heart waiting to be staked. Think you're ready?" he deliberately changed the subject.

"Ready as I'll ever be,"

"Good. And you remember what I told you?"

"If you hold their gazes, they could possibly hypnotize you into their control. Just because it's daylight doesn't mean they can't be wandering the dark halls of their house. Not all vampires sleep in coffins. And…" Dean stopped in his recital of Sam's instructions to think for a moment. "Oh, and to kill a vampire you can stake it in the heart, or decapitate it. As you've been telling me for the past hour,"

"Hey, I just want to be sure you know the basics,"

"Well, you can be really, really, really sure now," Dean cracked a smile. "So are we gonna hunt this thing while there's still sunlight?"

For a moment, Sam simply took in his brother's patented anxiousness to get into the thrill of the hunt.

"Yeah," Sam chuckled. "Let's get going,"

The car ride back to the manor wasn't quiet. Sam had no problem in allowing Metallica to fill the silence in the Impala, knowing his brother was rather fond of the band he didn't remember hearing before.

As they saw the manor in the near distance, suddenly Dean reached for the volume knob and turned it all the way down.

"Everything okay?" Sam couldn't help the question. Dean let out a sigh. It seemed as they were approaching the manor, a chilling realization was burning in his thoughts. There's a chance we could die here…

"Well, um…Yeah. It's just…" Dean stumbled with his words, an expression of frustration played across his face. "I was thinking…what if I never get my memories back?"

Sam dodged glances with the empty stretch of highway and fields around them, his hands gripped the steering wheel. The thought had crossed his mind before, about his brother never remembering…but there was something different, more intensely sad in the question arising from Dean himself.

"Honestly, Dean…I don't know. I guess I just have to believe you will. I need to have…faith,"

"Will you be mad at me if I don't?"

Sam felt his brother's eyes watching him, eagerly waiting for an answer. He had no idea where the question was coming from, but he could make a safe guess as to what Dean needed to hear.

"No," Sam almost laughed at the absurdity of the idea. "This isn't your fault, number one," he silently shamed himself. It's because of me. "And secondly, you're my brother no matter what. I'm going to be here for you, always, like it or not," he took his eyes off the road briefly to glance supportively at his brother.

"That's…good to know," Dean said with relief, as though he half expected a different answer.

By then, they pulled up to the iron gates in front of the manor. Sam turned the engine off and stared at the ignition.

"If something's bothering you,"—

"I want to tell you something, but I can't," Dean interrupted hastily.

"You can't? Why?"

"Because…I just can't. I can't explain it. Never mind, okay?" Dean was halfway out of the car by the time he finished. Sam rushed out to meet his bewildered gaze above the Chevy Impala.

"Dean,"

"It doesn't matter right now. We have a job to do, and I just want it to be over with," he seemed to observe the disappointment in Sam's expression and sighed. "Can we just talk about this later?"

Sam nodded, agreeing that they did have a job to do, but still couldn't help but worry and wonder what was going on with his brother.

"Later, then." The taller Winchester said, shutting the car door. He wanted to press on, but knew frustrating Dean wouldn't help the situation. Dean was upset about something, and forcing him to talk about it wouldn't be very encouraging, especially with his state of mind.

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Sam hated being back in the cold, dark manor. As he and his brother trekked through the halls, making sure to open all the curtains to let the sunlight in along the way, a familiar feeling of dread came over him.

They weren't alone, and Sam knew it…he just didn't know if he'd be able to protect his brother like his brother had an engrained talent for protecting him. And that scared him beyond words. Yet, he couldn't just leave Dean alone somewhere, back at the motel or sitting in the Impala waiting. He didn't trust letting his brother out of his sight.

They reached the stairwell for the second time and Sam wasn't going to chance another accident.

"Let's check out the cellar, first," Sam said, cautiously stepping in front of his brother and moving ahead to the back of the manor.

"Not a bad place to start,"

The farther down the stairs they got, the louder the steps creaked. Once the light, although dim, was on and they were able to see the debris from the top floors collapsing, it was a frightening reminder to Sam that he could have lost Dean. He cringed with the thought and had to look over to his brother to validate he was still there, alive and well.

"This is where you found me?" Dean now asked with an obvious twinge of horror in his voice as he took in the sight.

"Yeah," Sam took a moment to collect himself from the painful memory of seeing his brother lying there. "It wasn't looking too well for you,"

"Seems to be a miracle I survived at all. I guess I have you to thank for that, don't I?"

"What, me? I'm not a miracle worker," Sam let out a small laugh.

"Sure, okay," Dean said without much enthusiasm behind the words. "Just go on and say it, I have a hard head," he grinned.

Before Sam could answer, each of them heard something muffled.

With better focused mental clarity, Sam was able to see more of the cellar now than the first time he'd been in it. Behind some of the towers of boxes there was a door. He assumed the sound came from there. He turned to his brother and silently approved the next step of moving to the source of the noise, which Dean acknowledged.

Stakes in hand, the boys slid the boxes away and Sam was first to make a try to open the door. The handle was loose as if it could fall off at any moment. In the new darkness their flashlights cut through, revealing a larger room than they were in already. Given the size of the manor, they weren't too surprised.

Most of the room was consumed with trash and dirt, a few pieces of random furnishings scattered throughout. There were a few more rooms spread out, one of them a wine cellar filled with a myriad of different wines, all decorated with a thick sheet of dust. Upon investigating the room further, the noise was heard again and neither could determine where exactly it came from. The two of them stepped into the room quietly, careful to monitor their surroundings.

Sam kept watch for Dean more than himself, making sure he'd be the first one aware if any vampire made an attempt to attack his brother. And as he constantly reverted his attention to Dean, he lost sight of his own perimeter but never would have seen what happened next coming anyway. Suddenly, Sam found himself swung into the wine cellar, hitting the ground with a loud thump, and being enclosed in darkness with the snap and lock of the cellar door.

"Sam!" Dean yelled for his brother, running towards the door and using all his strength to pull it open but to no avail. "Sam! Are you okay? Can you hear me?" Please answer…

"He can't hear you,"

Dean turned around, stringing his flashlight around with him. He thought he saw the shadow of a man quickly moving. So inhumanly…

Dean then realized he dropped the wooden stake somewhere, probably when he took off after his brother. He cursed himself. When he turned around to go retrieve it, he was met with a harsh blow backwards as the vampire stood there in his way.

"I was hoping you'd come, hunter," the vampire appeared deceptively porcelain, given he had enough strength with his mind alone to throw grown men into rooms, shut and lock the doors, with hardly taking a single breath. His eyes were strikingly pale like clouded glass, and there was a rigid smile stretching over his narrow features. He removed a fraying strand of black hair out of his eyes to get a better view of Dean. "I believe the last we spoke I left with unfinished business,"

"Move away from the door," Dean held his ground firm, careful not to hold eye contact with the vampire. "And let my brother go,"

"Can't we discuss this, first?" the vampire mocked cordiality.

"No,"

"Well, the way I see it…" the creature stepped towards Dean as he spoke. "You have two options. Either you listen to me, or you watch your brother die. It's up to you,"

"Who the hell do you think you are? What do you want?"

"You can call me Maeron. Right now, let's focus more on you. We'll get to what I want later. But you, what do you want?"

Before Dean had a chance to respond, strong hands clapped his shoulders and he was forced to sit down on a conveniently placed wooden chair, one of the select random items in the room. The vampire continued.

"Why don't I answer for you, hmm?" he placed his cold fingers on Dean's temples and pressed hard. Dean wanted to move, to stand, to break away from the frigid touch but he was unable. "You want to be appreciated. You want…a real family,"

"Shut up! I have a family,"

"You have a dead mother, an absent father, and a brother who always leaves. Have you forgotten? Allow me to help you remember,"

And a whirlwind of images flashed themselves behind Dean's shut eyes.

His mother pinned to the ceiling again, consumed by fire…

A strangely familiar man sitting on a bed encircled by salt, pictures and news articles decorating the walls in a mosaic of obsessive design…

And then the moving pictures stilled, and in a new clarity there was his brother, standing in a room Dean didn't recognize at first.

-:-

"You're really leaving…"

"I'm not leaving. I'm just…going away for a while."

"Away from me,"

"Dean, don't do this,"

"Do what?"

"Don't twist this so it's about you. This is about me and what I want,"

"What about all I've done for you? What about what I have wanted and didn't get?"

"The only person stopping you from getting what you want is yourself."

"You and Dad are all I have, Sammy. And Dad's gone most of the time. What am I supposed to do when you're off at college?"

"Get a job, join the real world…do something you want to do,"

"This is what I want to do, Sam. But I can't do it alone,"

"Yes you can,"

"Sammy,"

"It's Sam,"

"Don't…"

"Goodbye, Dean."

A door opens and closes harshly, and Dean realizes he's left alone in the dark room.

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More images flickered wildly like a fierce candle ready to erupt in high flame. He saw things he felt should be impossible to be seen. He saw several different creatures with claws and fangs, so many different people, and objects being thrown about a room by an invisible force; he heard howling and screaming and saw several stages of the moon through filtered scenes of forestry. Once again, the images stopped moving and froze on one individual, in one foreboding and familiar room.

"You hate me that much…?"

The gun was on him again. Sam's gun. And when Sam pulled the trigger, he got his answer.

He hates me…

"No," Dean opened his eyes, the cold hands were off of him and he wondered if he was alone. He felt warm tears come to his eyes as his gaze wandered to the closed door where Sam was behind.

"Don't fight the truth. He hates you and you know it, you feel it…"

"He's my brother. He doesn't hate me."

"And what do you truly know of him? What evidence do you have that that's true? For all you know, he's using you,"

"Using me for what?"

"To bring back your father. Do you remember why your father left, hunter?"

Dean shook his head no, unwillingly indulging Maeron's request to communicate.

"He left because Sam left and wanted nothing more to do with you. Sam came back for you only because he felt guilty for leaving your father. He's back for purely selfish reasons. Once you find your father, they're both going to leave you…forever,"

"That's not true!"

"Honestly, hunter, tell me one good reason why it's not possible? You don't remember the pain he caused you. All that time he was away you were left to struggle on your own. Did you ever wonder that maybe you can't remember your past because it hurt so much and you only wished you could forget?"

Dean was quiet at this statement, sadly considering the vampire's masked words. He did wonder if there was more to his memory loss than a head injury. What if, deep down, he really wanted to forget, to have no memory of history's pain? But no…that couldn't be why…

"You don't want to be alone anymore," Maeron said, and he began circling Dean now. "You don't want this life. You weren't meant for it. You were meant for greater things. You were meant to be appreciated. You were never meant to be alone,"

"But…Sam…"

"Forget about him. You don't need him, and he wants nothing to do with you, remember?"

Dean wanted to stand up, to defend himself and his brother, but he was scared because what the vampire was telling him made sense. He didn't want to be alone, he didn't want this life…

"I…"

"I can save you from this loneliness, from the threat of future abandonment. I can protect you from those who only want to hurt you," Maeron persisted in convincing Dean.

"How?" Dean didn't understand how the question found his voice. It was something more subconscious and provoked by the deeper question inside of him. Why did he want to know?

"It's simple," Maeron stepped in front of Dean once again, leaning down towards him with inspecting eyes. "I turn you. Make you one of what I am. I can give you a life you deserve."

"What about Sam?" Dean's gaze fell on the silent door. He wondered if Sam was okay or hurt, but he found the worry in him depleted by a sense of apathy. He wanted to care, but he couldn't. Maeron had manager to lift his hand to Dean's chin and forced their eyes to meet before Dean could blink.

"Forget. About. Sam." His voice, once thoughtful and lenient, had turned cold. "Your memories betray you. He doesn't care about you. He's a selfish liar. And you know sooner or later he'll leave you again,"

Dean fought to close his eyes but somewhere had lost the ability, and soon lost the notion altogether. He felt something slip away from him, something so far away now he couldn't grasp what he'd lost. Without him knowing it, hardly feeling it, his head was tilted to the side and his neck met with a warm breath sending chills throughout his entire body.

The last thing he was consciously aware of hearing were words that brought a surprising, unidentifiable comfort with them.

"I will be your family now,"

-:-

Sam opened his eyes while his body startled back to consciousness. He had no idea how long he'd be out. It could have been a few seconds to a few hours. Instantly, he thought of his brother.

"Dean!" he yelled, having to catch his breath as he felt the wind had been knocked out of him. He scrambled to find his flashlight lying somewhere next to him, while at the same time wondering if it was even with him. "Dean!"

He stood up wearily in the dark, not able to see a single thing. He couldn't even hear anything but the sound of his rapid breathing. He put his arms out in front of him and walked slowly forward. His hand pressed against something cold and smooth. A wine bottle. He then realized he must be in the cellar. It wasn't the fact he was locked inside that scared him. It was the fact whatever put him there had Dean out there, alone and vulnerable.

As if putting more fierce demand on the word would help, he yelled for his brother again. He followed the rack of bottles across the wall, leading to another, and another, and then he found what felt like the door. He slid his hand up and down it looking for a handle but couldn't seem to find one. He decided to just try and pound on it.

Perhaps, he thought, if he hit hard enough, he could break the door down and get to Dean.

"Dean! If you can hear me, please answer me!"

Again and again he struck the door with his fists, feeling a bit ridiculous, much like a child being put in a corner as punishment when he did nothing wrong. He just wanted to get out. He wanted to lash out at whoever was doing this.

The darkness was irritating, but he supposed if he actually saw the door that was keeping him from his brother, he might break his wrists in a fight to get out.

"Dean!" once again he yelled in a painful cry. He couldn't think of losing his brother. Not now, not ever. Why couldn't the door just open? Why couldn't he get out?

"Let me out!" Sam then shouted at the culprit who put him there. "Right now, you mother fucker!" and he gave one final pound on the door, letting his fist slide down its rigid exterior. It was no use. The door wasn't going to open. Dean was going to die. And Sam knew he was going to burn in hell for being a miserable excuse for a brother, let alone a hero, for letting Dean die.

And when his hope gave out and his strength basically faded in with the darkness around him, a sliver of light appeared after a small scratching of wood against wood.

The door had opened.

Sam stared at it for a moment, wondering if he'd finally begun to crack and he was imaging things. Maybe he wanted the door open so much he'd just imagined it was open.

He cautiously put his fingers lightly on the door and gave a small push. When it moved outward, he almost laughed with triumph as he bolted out.

Getting a visual again on the room, still dark, he saw a flashlight on the ground, its light projecting on a wall. Sam ran for it, picked it up, and abruptly flashing it over the room.

"Dean?" he felt something swell in his throat and he stumbled forward, his foot tapping something. He put the flashlight down to see his brother lying on the ground, slumped over on his side. "Oh, God," Sam let the horrified whisper escape him, and he swore it'd be the last breath he'd waste on life until he knew Dean was still breathing.

Sam fell to the ground next him, holding his brother up to him, trying to gently shake him to life.

He heard Dean let out a tired exhale and Sam found it to be the most beautiful sound in the world. His brother was alive. And Sam was sick and tired of getting so close to believing he'd lost him. He helped hoist his brother up and they walked carefully to the next room where there was more light.

Sam was partially relieved to no longer feel another presence with them, and at the same time it scared him. Why would the vampire leave? What happened?

Once they got into the light, Sam saw with his own eyes what must have happened. And if he hadn't been helping Dean to stand then surely he'd give in to the fainting sensation that was overwhelming him.

As Sam's eyes drifted to the two bleeding punctures on Dean's neck, he felt his heart plummet.

"No," he gasped, setting his brother down to get a better view of the terrifying spectacle. Dean had his eyes shut, seemed to be drifting to and from consciousness, and Sam wanted nothing more than to just wake up from the nightmare he was living now.

A million fears collided with a million possibilities as he realized his brother was bitten. And the countdown started. He had twenty four hours now to kill the bloodsucking bastard, to save his brother. And if he failed…then in twenty four hours, his brother was going to die…and be born again a vampire.

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To be continued…

Thanks for reading, I hope you liked it. I actually liked this part, and now I'm all fired up to write the next part. Feedback is wonderful and appreciated.

Silver Kitten