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.

a/n: hey guys. 2nd chapt up already, yeah. I've actually got 6 whole chapts all set up, but why make you read em all at once, right? Reviews are super duper appreciated if you feel so obliged to share em, but, if not, just keep reading. Maybe put me on your fav list (hint hint) okay, enough begging.

Chapter Two: Hit and Run

Dean was paralyzed, his hands gripping the wheel as the body rolled mere inches from the windshield. The initial impact had jolted Sam awake. He went instantaneously from looking around groggily to rigid and alert. He realized what had happened when he saw the body roll off the Impala's hood.

"What the hell!" Sam yelled.

The car screeched to a halt too late to avoid the collision, but early enough so that the man wasn't run over.

Dean's moment of immobility had passed; he leapt out and ran to the man sprawled on the pavement.

Oh god, Oh god… Had he killed him? What if he had? What if he hadn't?

Sam got out of the car as well and stood there, gaping at his brother, who in turn was gaping at the body lying in the bright lights of the Impala.

"Oh, shit…" he said, his voice quiet, but tight and high with panic, "Dean, what happened?"

Dean couldn't quite understand what his brother was saying. Everything was a distant buzz. He was barely aware that Sam had even exited the car. The rain falling lightly on his face went by unnoticed. For the moment, all that filled the universe, all that existed to him, was the still body on the ground.

Were it not for the circumstances, Sam would've realized that he was witnessing a rare treat: his brother was, for lack of a better phrase, freaking out. The 'ain't-I-such-a-cool-stud' exterior of Dean Winchester had fallen apart. And the reason why was painfully simple: he didn't have any idea how to handle the situation. This was not a ghost that he could fend off with a simple ring of salt. This was not a matter that he had learned to take care of in his hunting experiences or could get some tips on from his father's journal. It was unfortunately one of those seemingly rare times when something went horribly wrong in a tiny percentage of the universe known as 'the real world'.

This was not a case of graves and hell, but a conventional and complicated one of flesh and bone. A human had run out in front of a speeding vehicle driven by another human who had, sadly, been Dean. And while Dean was skilled hunter, one with a great knowledge on how to make some of the scariest shit on the planet vanish in three seconds flat, this was not something that he could ever make go away.

Dean knew this, and it terrified him.

He knelt down by the body. Swallowing his panic, he reached out to feel the man's pulse. He nearly drowned in the wave of relief that washed over him when his fingers felt the definite thumpthump thumpthump.

Okay, not dead. That was good. Very good.

Dean breathed in relief and lifted his head to tell Sammy the very good news.

But before he could, a dark figure pounced out of the alley and on top of him, the only warning being a noise that sounded like a combination of a man's yell and an animal's roar. Dean was tackled from behind, hitting the damp pavement hard. He winced slightly at the sting of his chin being scraped open, but there were more important things on his mind. All he could comprehend was that someone was on top of him and bashing him into the pavement, apparently intent on crushing his skull. He went with his natural reaction: fight to get the person the fuck off of him.

Sam was already on it. The figure beating on his brother was a man in a long, heavy coat-at least, that's what it looked like. For all Sam knew, it could be a demon or just some meth-head. He turned around and opened the car, grabbing a salt-packet filled rifle from the back. Whether the figure was an otherworldly being or not, the salt pellets would still hurt like hell. Hopefully, they'd be enough to drive the attacker away from Dean.

Dean's face was a mess of blood from his chin, mouth, and nose. He was still on his stomach, unaware of who was beating him. He did know that he was being beat by a guy in a coat, and the guy was moving fast; too fast. Dean felt a wave of humiliation wash over him for two reasons: he knew he was getting the shit beat out of him and he also did not like having it beaten out of him in this particular position. The embarrassment quickly became anger and, deciding that enough was enough, he jerked his head back in a sudden motion, taking the pain that came when he rammed it into his opponent's face. The attacker let out a shout of surprise and pain, and Dean managed to reach around and find his throat. Getting the assailant's head essentially in the crook of his arm, Dean tightened the hold enough to make him stop.

Or so he had hoped. He knew he was cutting off the attacker's air supply, yet the attacker didn't cease in his hits to Dean's body or the speed of his movements. One minute Dean was pulling him down, the next the guy whipped around and got in front of him, shoving him onto the ground again.

Now on his back, Dean got the chance to see his attacker. But when he did get a good look, things made even less sense. Though the upper half of the man's face was covered by his long hair, Dean could tell that he was younger than him. And he wasn't nearly as hefty as Dean was, his frame being smaller. So how was he able to keep Dean on the ground when the laws of physics-not that Dean knew them all that well-told him that he should be stronger?

Plus, oh yeah: his eyes were glowing.

"Get off!" Dean managed to yell as he tried in vain to push the guy away.

This was met with a hard punch across the face and a snarl; yes, a snarl.

"You stupid fuck, you hit him!" a rough but youthful voice yelled in a slightly hysterical tone, "I'll rip your throat out!"

That was when Dean saw them. He didn't think that they had been there before, but in the rumble and tumble, no one would have been able to tell. But regardless, two fangs, mostly ivory white but with some flecks of blood still around them, were now bared at him.

Sam didn't see the fangs or the glowing green eyes, but he took aim and fired nonetheless. He got the attacker in the back, the pellet making a distinctive thump on impact before ricocheting off onto the pavement. Immediately, the man's head shot up as he gave an unnatural hiss of rage. Sam was taken aback by the monstrous face of luminescent eyes and long, sharp fangs. The distraction allowed Dean to return the punch, and the attacker finally fell off of him. Dean quickly got back on his feet as his opponent gave a feral growl. Sam fired twice more, this time at the attacker's chest. With a grunt of pain, the attacker backed further away from Dean, but purposefully in the other direction: towards the car and Sam

Sam didn't even give him the chance. He fired and hit the assailant directly in the face. The target gave a yowl of pain and, using his unnatural speed, retreated into the shadows before either brother truly realized that he was gone.

Dean wiped the blood from his face onto the back of his hand, and from there onto his jeans. He grimaced at how dark the blood was, but made no complaint.

Sam, meanwhile, tossed the rifle back into the car as he asked, "You okay?"

"Peachy," Dean retorted.

"What was that?" Sam asked, walking back over to him.

"Later," Dean said briskly as he looked back down at the injured man, "Here, help me get this guy in the car. We're taking him to the hospital."

Sam looked as relieved as Dean had felt. "You mean he's not…?"

Dean checked for the reassurance of the man's chest rising and falling before replying, "Nope, he's fine. Well, breathing anyway. Which is good, 'cause otherwise we'd have to dump the body in the river." Sam paused and gave his brother an odd look. Dean rolled his eyes as he knelt down by the man's body again. "Just trying to add a little comic relief to the situation, Sammy. Lighten up. Now come on, we have to get him in the car."

Sam followed his brother's lead, but hesitantly. "You sure it's okay to move him?"

"We might not have time to kick back and wait for an ambulance," Dean replied solemnly. His thoughts were centering on the blood he'd seen illuminated by the headlights instants before the crash.

He was down by the man's midsection as Sam positioned himself at the head. Dean started to carefully lift his end and Sam followed suit. But before he started to lift up the man, Sam felt something warm, wet, and sticky. He looked down and felt sick as the blood on his hand glistened black in the headlights.

"Oh my god," he said quietly, his voice tight with terror again, "Dean…"

The way his brother said his name was enough to make Dean stop and focus all of his attention on Sam. Sam held up his bloody hand, staring at it as though he'd never seen blood before. "What did you do?" he demanded in quiet horror, "What did you do?"

"Wasn't me," Dean explained calmly, hoping that his softer tone would help Sam calm down, "He was bleeding before I hit him. Now come on, we have to get him in the back."

Sam obeyed, but was silent as the two of them carefully and slowly lifted the body and moved him into the car.

Getting the shit beat out of him had certainly dislodged Dean from his own little panic attack. Now he was in the zone, working quickly and correctly as he did what he could for the injured man. Being an experienced and trained hunter, Dean knew a thing or two about treating injuries. It helped to know what to do when, say, a poltergeist stabbed you. Medical knowledge was essential to a hunter's survival, a concept that Dean had apparently grasped.

First, he propped the man up against the door so that blood would drain away from the wound. Then Dean grabbed the hem of the man's T-shirt and started ripping away at it, making rags.

"Sorry about your Sabbath shirt, buddy," Dean said apologetically as he continued to destroy the shirt, having a genuine respect for the band as well.

With one rag, he wiped away what blood he could, but there was too much to successfully reveal the exact location of the injury. Then, when he could make a rough estimate of where the injury was, he tied another rag over the area, overlapping it. Then he grabbed a sock and a roll of duct tape from the trunk. He put the sock over the injury, then duct-taped everything together.

Meanwhile, Sam checked the man's pulse and breathing. Both were picking up. The man's lips were turning blue, and his skin was pale. The man, Sam knew, was going into shock, no doubt from the massive blood loss. Trying to remember what his father had taught him about emergency first aid, Sam went into the still opened trunk and took out a blanket. The man had to be kept warm, especially after lying in the rain. Dean was bandaging the wound, and didn't seem to be paying much attention to anything else while Sam wrapped the blanket around man.

It was when Dean saw Sam started taking off his belt that he finally spoke up.

"What're you doing?" he asked, a little befuddled.

Instead of answering, Sam directed, "Keep pressure one the wound for ten minutes."

"I know that," Dean shot back, irritated. He knew damn well how to treat injuries better than Sam did. Whatever paper cuts Sam may have suffered while grinding his nose in Stanford were nothing compared to the injuries Dean had sustained while out fighting evil monsters. He would have said so himself, but they didn't have time. "But what are you doing?"

"We have to keep him from moving around," Sam replied, "I'm gonna tie him down."

Dean nodded, though he was still a little irked. While he kept one hand on the bandaging, fully intending to keep pressure on it for ten minutes on the dot, he removed his own belt and tossed it to Sam. Using the two belts and the seatbelts, Sam secured the man.

Finally, when the man was set for transport,the brothers sped off for the hospital.