The Beckoning
Chapter Eight: Only a Moment
Author's Note: Finally, an update! I almost wanted to give up on this story, and thought maybe I should take a hint when Microsoft Word had a sudden "error" and needed to close and if it wasn't for Auto-recovery, this chapter would have been lost…Alas, I'm willing to laugh at cruel fate and say "better luck next time!" because here it is…hehehe. There's Sam "whumping"-I think is the term, or one of them?- in this chapter…I like torturing both of the Winchester brothers, lol. Um, oh, of course-THANK YOU to everyone who is reading/reviewing this. It does wonders for my peace of mind to know someone out there can find some form of enjoyment in my story. Speaking of which, I'll shut up so you can read…
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"No, no, no, no, no," Sam exhaled violently, grappling his brother's coat collar in his hands, peering almost angrily at the bite marks on Dean's neck. He could only wonder how he'd let such a thing happen. All his life Dean was there for him and protected him. All his life. And now, in this one, small moment of Dean's life Sam realized how much he was failing at being there for him.
"I'm not cut out for this protection thing, Dean," Sam fought tears but his voice wasn't fighting the sadness he was burying. "I don't know what to do…" He hung his head down, unable to look at his brother.
Sam thought about the vampire; where he'd gone and when he'd come back. It made sense now in a complicated way, which Sam was used to dealing with. The vampire didn't want Dean dead. He wanted to turn Dean. The only question was why?
And Sam suddenly realized that the time for questions was long passed. It didn't matter why, it only mattered that Sam stopped what was already set in motion. Scowling on a dirty floor of an old manor wasn't going to save his brother. He finally let his eyes cross over the now-sleeping Dean, saw how peaceful he seemed and wondered what Hell he'd wake up to.
Sam knew he had to find the vampire. Yet, he couldn't just leave Dean there all alone. He had to make a choice, and taking time to deliberate wasn't an option.
What would Dean do? Sam wondered, silently musing that if their positions were switched, Dean would go after the son of a bitch to save his little brother. But Sam hated the idea of leaving Dean. He couldn't help but think about how Dean might react, waking up alone in a dimly lit room. However, if Sam didn't go hunting for the vampire now, find and kill him, then his brother was surely doomed. He made the reluctant choice to leave Dean behind and could only pray that maybe Dean would stay unconscious while Sam was away.
He took off his jacket and tucked it beneath Dean's head to add a little support. He checked his brother's pulse and was surprised to find it beating so fast, but he wouldn't complain. Dean was still alive, still human.
"I'm coming back for you, Dean," Sam spoke firmly, placing a gently hand on his brother's shoulder. "I swear, I'm coming back."
He silently wished his brother could hear him, and rest assured that he'd return.
And then Sam stood up, mildly sore but not letting the pain in his muscles affect him. Right now, nothing would divert him from his mission to find the vampire. Nothing…except for the fact he had no idea where to start looking.
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Sam was relying mostly on his instinct now, which was frighteningly becoming more of a source for his actions than he'd like to admit. He felt for any vibe that might be pressing him, any thought that might whisper a hint that it was safe to move here or he should be cautious to venture there.
He couldn't be sure the vampire was still in the manor, but he wasn't going to assume he was alone; especially since he was still in the dark. Assuming you were alone in the dark was always a dangerous thing to do.
He reached the top of the stairs to the main floor. He glanced out a window, took notice that the sun had readily begun to set and a wash of darkness filled the air. The vampire couldn't have gone far, Sam hoped, considering it was only becoming dusk now. And he was right. He suddenly felt it.
It was like a chilling breeze, but came from the inside out. For a moment he froze and then in a rush his thoughts rattled together in one, solid mass of understanding.
He's upstairs. Get upstairs.
He took off running, foolishly not caring that he might slip and fall. He knew that trying to be stealthy wouldn't help. After all, the vampire probably already knew Sam was coming for him. He twisted away from objects cluttering the hall and ran upstairs to the top floor. He almost purposefully applied extra pressure in the affect to stomp madly up the stairs, making his presence known. And upstairs, through the dark he saw down the hall a door ajar, a flickering light crisscrossing the shadows.
And again, Sam got a vibe that shook him involuntarily.
He's waiting.
He swallowed all reactions of fear, tightened his grip on his stake, and marched forward to the room.
And as he went down the hall, it hit him that he was heading for the room where this all started: where his brother fell. Again, he was forced to push aside any other thoughts and feelings and focus only on the most vital. Kill the vampire. Save Dean.
Sam pushed the door completely open. There were a few candles, set atop a rather faulty looking table, which lit the room in a yellowish glow. Sam took in a breath as he saw the dark figure standing by the window, his back to Sam.
"So, you've come to kill me, have you?" The vampire spoke with amusement in his voice. Sam gritted his teeth.
"You're already dead, remember? I'm just sending you to Hell," Sam took a feeble token of self-appreciation for flinging the vampire's words back to him. The vampire then turned around, his eyes flashing an endless hue of black and his mouth slightly agape from the fangs that jutted out. He was grinning.
Sam eyed the vampire suspiciously, wondering who would make the first move. In anticipation, Sam began to study the vampire's face and took notice of the fact that…he wasn't familiar. He couldn't help his curiosity, and he needed to attempt to validate he wasn't losing what he had left of sanity.
"I've never fought you before, have I?"
The vampire's grin widened maliciously.
"Quite the observer, young hunter."
"But…why…the voice,"—
Sam was cut off by a hollow laughter that seemed to make even the shadows cringe.
"It was a nice detail, wasn't it? I figured if I was going to do this, I should have fun with it. Why not read into your pathetic mind a little, see where you come from. The guilt of uncertainty in you is overwhelming, and I couldn't help myself with the idea of taking advantage of that. Have no worry, for you properly killed that vampire years ago. I was just-to put it blatantly-messing with you. And it worked, didn't it? Got the wheels turning in that head of yours, distracted you, weakened you…"
"What do you want?"
"You know what I want."
Dean…
"Yeah, well you can't have him,"
"Little boy," his grin vanished. "I already have him."
The vampire lunged at Sam and then seemed to disappear. Sam held his stake up in preparation to attack, but found he was staring at nothing. He tried to brace himself, to turn around, but his speed was no match for the monster he was desperately hunting.
A strong, heavy swipe of a shadowed arm cut across his back and Sam was sent flying into the wall. He wasn't really in too much pain, just couldn't catch his breath. The hit had winded him and he coughed to get a better intake of oxygen. He tried to stand back up, and barely maintained balance. He was still holding onto his stake with a death grip, and stared towards his unfriendly foe.
"Poor Sam," the vampire began laughing again, and Sam felt his eyes on him. "You try so hard to be the avenger, the protector. You just don't have it in you…and you know it," the words cut into Sam although he tried not to show it. The vampire was playing mind games with him and Sam had to be stronger than to crumble at words that spoke of hidden secrets.
"You're trying to break me, and I won't let you," Sam hissed, now wishing the new throbbing in his back would go away.
"Is that what you think I'm doing- breaking you? What could I possibly accomplish in doing that? You've done all this to yourself. This eternal hunt, this life…you know it's your fault. Somehow, you're connected to their deaths. Somehow, you're responsible for putting them on the ceiling. Their blood is on your hands, in your crib, and if it wasn't for you then maybe…they'd still be alive. You'd still have a family. A mother who is alive, a father who is there, and a brother…who could have a life of his own,"
Sam wasn't sure what hurt worse, the throbbing of his back or the ache in his heart. He tried to reconcile with his conscience- the vampire was just reading his buried thoughts, picking up the ones that hurt the worse and whipping them at him. Now was not the time for a guilt trip. Yet, he couldn't help the tears watering in his eyes, masking his clear vision, and he looked at whatever he could to focus. His eyes fell on the flickering candles, and he watched the flames bounce the light to the walls for a few moments, but unfortunately it brought his memory back to Jessica's death.
I could have stopped it. She could still be alive.
"You can try and pretend to be strong. You can try and believe that this guilt is only temporary. But this will never go away. Her blood will always stain your soul, no matter what anyone tells you and you will not be convinced otherwise. Do you know why? Because it's not just that you feel guilty, Sam. It's because you are guilty. You see it in Dean's eyes when he tells you none of this is your fault. He's just telling you what you want to hear, when really…he knows as well as you do that you are to blame. Isn't that right?"
Sam lost his voice, or maybe he had it, but he had no words to speak.
"At a loss for words, boy?" the vampire spat, and Sam hazarded a bitter look at him. "You should be happy for an ending like this. You'd be doing everyone you care about a favor by dying. Especially Dean…"
"Stop it," Sam didn't mean for his voice to break as he spoke. He didn't mean to sound like the vampire's words were affecting him. But even Sam couldn't lie to himself.
"Ah, I know where your silent prayers are going now," the vampire said, taking a step towards Sam who tried not to flinch from the sudden movement. "You want big brother to wake up, to remember everything, and come to your rescue, yes?"
Sam didn't answer, only cringed at the bastard's impeccable ability to strike the wrong nerve at the right time.
"Come on, little hunter…aren't you going to put up a fight?" the vampire addressed Sam's weakening balance. Physical attacks weren't the only attacks that could bring someone to their knees. Words hurt just as much and sometimes more, as Sam was finding out. The vampire let out a forced sigh. "Pity. I was looking forward to the struggle,"
Before Sam could blink he felt ice cold hands gripping his neck. Sam was forced to drop his stake and place both hands on the vampire's arms, a sort of innate reaction to try and break free, to breathe again. Sam shut his eyes. He suddenly felt the crushing sense of fate coming over him, and with all the guilt he held inside he knew he deserved to suffer. He stared directly into the vampire's eyes, who stared back at him with ridicule and malevolence.
"You hate this feeling," the vampire whispered harshly into Sam's ear, carefully extracting the young Winchester's fleeting thoughts. "This feeling of suffocation. It's not just that you want to breathe, but you want to be free, to let go and fade away and be done with it. You hate living sometimes, and so Dean is forced to live for you. You're tired of him breathing for you, aren't you? Do you want to let go, Sam?"
Sam wanted to reply but had no resolution in mind of what he could say. And before his vision was obscured by life's finality, he felt himself fall nearly limply to the floor. He inhaled tiredly, rapidly, and regretted every breath he took in.
"I won't take your life," the vampire said, kneeling down beside Sam's fidgeting body. He was trying to stand again, and the vampire put a hand down on his back, strong enough to force Sam completely flat against the floor again. Sam was just barely able to look towards the vampire and see the smirk curving on his ghostly pale face as he began to speak a gain. "But your brother will,"
And as he heard the words, Sam's eyes widened with disbelief and fear, putting delight into the vampire's expression. Sam then felt himself lifted up by his shirt, forced to stand upon his legs that would readily give out again if the vampire released him, and he looked defeated against the vampire's cold glare.
Sam then did the one thing he'd always resort to when in such a situation, caught in the hands of death. The one thing that made him feel as weak as an infant, as helpless as a child, but the only thing that made sense to the little brother in Sam. "Dean…" he let out a small cry for his brother, one he hardly heard himself speak. The defenseless warrior in him knew that calling out for Dean was the last and greatest tactic now, even though he wasn't sure why he thought Dean would show up to save him now; nor was he sure he was worthy of being saved…
"Dean!" Sam yelled with more energy now, the only energy he had left. The vampire shot Sam a wicked look.
"Where your brother is now…he can't hear you. How does it feel to be alone, Sam? How do you enjoy the abandonment?"
And Sam knew that Dean wasn't abandoning him, that this was all the vampire's doing….but he had to mull over the questions because he did feel alone at this moment.
But Sam refused to answer and refused to believe he couldn't save Dean. He had to try, had to fight. And mustered whatever strength he thought he might have into standing for himself, relenting against the vampire's armored grip. The vampire just watched in a humorous state as Sam was standing on his own, taking a meek step backwards against a wall.
"You believe you're a lot stronger than you are. You can thank your dear brother for that hindering lie," the vampire laughed. Sam narrowed his eyes, then suddenly remembered the vial of holy water he put in his pocket. He discreetly pulled it out behind his back and quietly opened the vial, keeping his eyes on the vampire who had now turned away to continue his bout of laughter. And without hesitation, Sam stammered forward and flung the water on the vampire's face.
The vampire's laughter halted and gave way to an unnerving growl of pain. He put his hands to his face and faltered unsteadily a few steps back. Sam took the moment to dive for the stake that was on the floor, and when he raised himself up again he was knocked away with such animosity that he felt it'd be a miracle if he'd still be breathing when he landed.
And Sam felt himself knocked down onto the old bed that was in the room, and he stared up at the ceiling and gasped for air again. The vampire stepped to the side of the bed next to the table with the candles. He put his hands delicately over the tiny flames, as if he was now in a state of mesmerized thought. His face had burn marks on it that were even redder than they should be against his pale features.
"That's a fight I was expecting," he said blankly, taking his eyes away from the candles over to Sam, who seemed to be dizzy as he couldn't much focus on the vampire. "The same fight I knew you'd lose," And with that, the vampire held his arm back and swung down hard on Sam's face, forcing him unconscious.
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Dean's eyes shot open and he immediately sat up taking in a huge breath as if he'd been denied it for far too long. His first reaction was to the pounding pulse throbbing in his neck, and he placed a hand over it and his fingers traced the two, small punctures. He hissed with pain and brought his hand back in front of him to see red liquid on his fingers. His next reaction had his pulse increase, and he suddenly felt betrayed by himself for delaying the thought.
Where was Sam?
He glanced around the room, a new wave of coldness hitting him in the already cold room. He struggled for a moment to stand, and practically crawled at first to get to the wine cellar where his brother had previously been locked in. When he saw the door was open and the cellar was empty, he wanted to panic. He wanted to worry that something had happened to him, wanted to set out immediately and find Sam to make sure he was okay…and he almost did worry, almost did set out in a search…but he didn't.
Instead, he simply stood there in the vacant doorway face to face with the bitter truth.
Sam left. Again.
And it didn't matter that there were other possibilities for Sam's absence. The only thing that made sense to Dean now as the fact he was alone and it was Sam's fault…because he abandoned him. And Dean hated himself for allowing that to happen.
How could he leave?
It doesn't matter. He's gone now, and you're better off without him.
Dean agreed with the strange thoughts floating in his head as if he had no will to do otherwise. Sam had left, just like Maeron said he would…and suddenly everything else Maeron said was clearing in his mind, a startling revelation that Dean was now ready to embrace.
I am made for greater things. This life is not worth it. I don't need Sam.
I don't have to be alone…
"Dean…"
He heard it…not so much a memory, not so much a voice…but a feeling that he was being called. It was the voice of his brother. He shook it off, but something inside him was pulling at him to tune into it, to respond…
"Dean!"
And there it was again; more urgent this time, more desperate…and it commanded him to react.
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He didn't know how he got upstairs so quickly, how he knew exactly where the panic-stricken voice of his brother was coming from…He just knew. It was as if he saw it before even wondering where it could be coming from. And also, there was some kind of new strength in him, some new speed that he found both appealing and frightening. He had moved so quickly, so effortlessly…
By the time he reached the candlelit doorway he stopped, froze…stood in the darkened hall and waited. It didn't take long for it to get to him…that scent…
Dean couldn't understand what exactly the scent was, why he wanted to relish in its lingering aroma…why it was luring him into the room. He couldn't understand, wouldn't understand, but didn't need to understand…for when he pushed the door open and stepped into the room…
All rational thoughts left him…and all he had was an insatiable thirst, one that quickened his pulse so much that the pain in his neck had swarmed over his entire body, leaving him without any feeling at all…except for desire.
He wanted blood, needed blood…
And there the scent was…the human flesh of the broken man lying on the broken bed…
And it took a moment before this obscure yearning waned and gave way to a stronger, defiant nature…
It's not possible…
It took only a moment for Dean to realize this blood he was craving…was his brother's.
Sam…
And in only a moment…
-You want his blood. You need his blood.-
It became evident…
-But you don't need him.-
That brother or not, he was eager to take Sam's life.
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To be Continued…
I really liked this part, and for as much as I struggled with it I believe I am pleased with the result and I hope you are, too… Thanks for reading…You readers are wonderful and so is your feedback.
Silver Kitten