BLOOD
author: Roony
rating: T
disclaimer: Don't own Supernatural. Damn, I wish I did though. Props to the WB for putting on some kick-ass programming on for once.
summary: The Winchester Brothers run into a man (quite literally) that's being stalked by a vampire. Help is found from an 'old friend' of Dean and John. But when a case of mistaken identity ends up with the Winchesters' wanted by a vampire gang, a cat-and-mouse game unfolds in a hospital.
Author's Note: FINALLY! I have been working on this story since December, and, after going through 3 beta readers, my story is FINALLY ready to be posted. Thnkas to Oldrach's Dream, Goddess Gaia 07, and cornbread (Serena) for putting up with me and my mistakes!
And now, for your entertainment:
Chapter One: Intro/Run In
Chicago, IL. 9:35 pm.
A drizzling rain had just started to fall, making the grimy, dim alley even more dismal. The only light to illuminate the gloomy place came from a single bulb above a gray steel door at the very end of the ally. Suddenly, the door opened and a small explosion of music and strobe lights erupted into the alley. A figure followed, a little slumped over, as though he were drunk. His right hand was clapped down tightly on his neck. He staggered into the alley and tried to run, but he only managed to sort of lope along, like he was forcing himself to move.
The dim light revealed that he was a young man in his early twenties. He had very short brown hair and his blue eyes were opened very wide with fear and shock. He continued down the alley, but clumsily, too frightened to even focus on running for his life.
The Winchester brothers were once again driving along in the black Impala. Sam had fallen asleep in the passenger's seat, and Dean found himself getting drowsy. It wasn't that surprising; this had been an especially bad week. The brothers had just spent it dealing with a demon that had checked itself into in the world-famous Drake Hotel of Chicago. Calling the demon 'a handful' would have been a fantastic understatement. It had enjoyed such pastimes as shattering windows and mirrors with the intent of cutting people to ribbons, searing the cables of full elevators, setting items in the gift shop on fire, and strangling people with curtains. Fortunately, the brothers had managed to exercise it. Unfortunately, it took a good four tries before they were successful.
In celebration of finally achieving victory, the guys had decided to take a rest. They got a bite to eat and had hoped that the manager of the Drake, who had witnessed half of the third exorcism attempt before being chased from the room by a levitating teddy bear that had been engulfed in fire, would discreetly give them a free room for the night.
They had been sorely optimistic. The new manager told them that the former manager had entered intense psychotherapy for obvious reasons, just before she snappishly called for security to kick them out.
With only few dollars on hand, the brothers had set out on a quest to find the cheapest hotel in the city. Thus far, they hadn't had any luck, and it hadn't helped that they'd gotten lost in the shopping district for about half an hour.
So, there Dean sat, his eyes seeing bars, strip clubs, and pawn shops, but not a single place to stay for the night-at least not if he was intending to sleep.
The man was only halfway down the alley, but already he was loosing strength, feeling woozy. He was convinced that soon he would fall over. He stopped and leaned against a dumpster to catch his breath. His hand was still clamped on his neck, like it had been glued there.
Behind him, the door opened again. The music and lights jumped out and were accompanied by another figure, this time one that was bulky and dark. The man shot a terrified glance back at the figure, then broke into a run, his hand still at his neck. The dizziness was still there, but his newly released adrenaline helped him focus.
The figure in the doorway gave a rough, barking laugh that echoed off the alley's brick walls.
"You can't run from me, Scotty!"
Scott desperately tried to think otherwise as he ran for the opening of the alley up ahead.
Dean's eyelids continued obscuring his vision. He started falling forward on the steering wheel…
He pinched himself awake, shaking his head as he righted himself.
Awake, awake…gotta stay awake
"That was a bit too close…" Dean observed pensively, scolding himself.
While the prospect of falling asleep at the wheel with his little brother sleeping right next to him had woken him up a bit, Dean knew that it wouldn't last. He thought about just pulling over, locking the doors, and going to sleep. But when you spend your free time with poltergeists and skin-steeling demons, you tend to get a little picky about where you spend your nights. As Dean had said, you sure as hell should be scared of the dark.
The option of waking Sammy up to take over was completely out of the question.Though comforted to see his brother sleeping peacefully for once, it was not thatDean didn't want to wake him up. It was more because there was no way in hell Dean was going to let Sam drive his baby whenshe'd had her headlight busted only months ago by that same person.
Now it was starting to rain. Perfect.
But Dean settled on driving just a little bit longer. If he didn't find a place in ten minutes, he'd pull over, put a ring of salt around the car, and hope for the best. He thought he'd turn on the radio to help keep the fatigue at bay. Maybe roll down the windows too.
He took his eyes off the empty road for only a minute.
The figure was chasing after Scott at a horribly fast pace, but Scott didn't dare turn back. He had taken his hand away from his neck and blood was flowing freely from the wound he'd been covering. Because he was running, some of it was flying off and spattering on the gray concrete ground.
Scott's navy sneaker went first, then a drop of blood splattered onto the ground, only to get trampled by a heavy black boot a few moments later.
The figure could've caught Scott by now, but he was being teased, played with, and he knew it. But he refused to give up. He kept running even though his life force was being literally drained from his body with every passing second.
Finally, he made it out of the alley. He was out in the open. By now Scott couldn't focus on any strategy of hiding or zigzagging or any other option that the free space provided him with. His brain had become sluggish, so his instincts were all he had. They were screaming at him, louder than the sound of his heart pounding and his frantic breathing: "Run, Scott, run."
So he did. He ran into the street and paused for only a moment to catch his breath.
Suddenly, the darkness surrounding him was broken by light, strong light that was getting brighter and brighter. Scott was too out of it to understand where the light could be coming from. He looked up and his expression became one of horror and surprise when he saw the pair of blinding headlights speeding towards him.
The guitar chords of Keith Richards and the vocals of Mick Jagger now filled the Impala. The volume wasn't too high, but Dean thought it would be enough to keep his eyes open. But his mind wasn't focused; he was distracted by the song. It was older Stones stuff, the guitar far lighter than it was on songs like 'Start Me Up' or 'Bitch', which were two of Dean's favorite songs. The tune was pretty familiar. Yeah, and he knew the words… 'Please allow me to introduce myself. I'm a man of wealth and taste…'
But all thoughts of the song, or anything else for that matter, stopped dead as he became aware of the no longer empty road. He was taking in the sight of a pale man who had blood covering his right shoulder, a man with whom he was most certainly going to collide. His foot slammed on the brakes, but he was just a second too late.
There was a sickening clunk when machine met man. The front of the car hit Scott, and with a thud his body was thrown onto the hood of the car.