a/n: FINALLY! 10,000+ words! w00t!

Thanks to all my reviewers, by super-de-duper beta readers, andpeople that put this on their favs list!

I really hope you guys are enjoying this fic, cause I am really enjoying writing it!

Chapter Six: Control

All plans would have to wait. Coffee came first, second, and third. Sam had hoped that instead they could've just gotten some sleep. But no, Dean was set on continuing forward.

"You wanted research, we're doing research," he'd growled, "So just shut up and quit whining." Sam didn't respond to his brother's poor attitude. Dean was tired; hell, they both were. Plus, the damn coffee vender only took exact change.

The cafeteria of St. Mary's had roughly sixty tables, two pop machines, a candy vending machine, and, of course, a coffee vender. There was a small deli-type restaurant too, but it closed around eight.

Also because of it being late, the cafeteria was completely empty, for which the brothers were grateful, because it gave them plenty of privacy to chat. Sam had set up the laptop and was clicking away. Dean was just sitting back, enjoying the warm liquid, and trying to clear his head.

Damn, what a night it'd been. And it was only going to get longer. Dean half-wished that the damn vampire would just pop out and attack them right now, just so this could all be over with.

Sam was having the same thoughts as well. The week at the Drake had been draining. He decided that after this little escapade, a vacation was in order. He knew that Dean 'self proclaimed "Macho Man"' Winchester would have an issue about taking a break, but that was too damn bad. Sam knew that you could only push yourself so far before you fell off the edge. Maybe if he suggested going down to Miami for the break, Dean would be a little more apt to consider it, especially with Spring Break coming up…

But all day (or night) dreams of kicking back in Miami were immediately erased when the page Sam had clicked on finally loaded up. Sam snapped to attention, his eyes fixated on the text on the screen.

Dean meanwhile had started thinking about how to handle things. "So, I'm thinking we should try Dr. Bridge one last time. She's covering, but we're wearing her down. She's seen stuff, I'm sure of it." Sam didn't respond, still reading his laptop's screen. "And this dude, Scott, we have to talk to him." Dean added grimly as he chewed his lip, "If he ever wakes up." He looked over at Sam, waiting for his brother's view on all this. But Sam didn't seem to be paying much attention. "And then, I'll chat with Nikki Wales…" Still, not the slightest sign of listening. "In a leather bikini. With bigger breasts. Washing a car."

Sam didn't look up, but did reply: "Dean, I think your breasts are fine the way they are, and either way, I don't think Nikki Wales would want you showing them off in a leather bikini, and definitely not while washing your car."

"Ha ha," Dean replied, slightly crestfallen, "You let me say that out loud, you bastard?"

Sam finally looked up at his brother, and he couldn't hold back the grin any longer. And soon Dean followed suit, even adding a little chuckle. The imagery was just too damn perfect

"So what're you drooling over?" Dean asked, tilting his coffee cup towards the laptop.

"Got some articles here from the Chicago Sun," Sam replied, turning the laptop so that Dean could see what was on the screen. Sam had pulled up a number of files with various headlines. "There have been six attacks in the past two months, not including Scott Meeson. All died from blood loss, all from injuries to their necks. And only one reporter has been covering them for the Sun."

" 'Violent murder in Downtown Chicago', 'Second Mysterious Violent Murder in Chicago'," Dean said, reading off the headlines. They were all written by Nikki Wales. He raised an eyebrow. "Not one for catchy headlines, is she?"

"She gets better with the actual article," Sam said, but he didn't sound like he was complimenting the reporter. He sounded rather spiteful. "Nikki Wales has been writing a series on the killings. She gets good details. Too good. I found a photo here of one of the victims, Vince Sparra."

"What's wrong with that?"

Sam swallowed and set his jaw. That was all Dean needed to see to know that Sam was really pissed. Sam stated the information evenly and slowly. "None of the victims have survived the attacks. Nikki Wales published Vince Sparra's corpse. In the morgue."

There was a pause when the words hovered in the air, echoing in the stark silence of the vast, almost empty room. Well, this certainly explained why Dr. Bridge had been unwilling to give them much information.

"What does the picture show?" Dean asked, finally bringing some noise back.

"Well, It was taken from a distance," Sam said, turning back to the screen. His face was resolved, but angry. "I've zoomed in on it, but the angle's wrong; the injury is on the other side of his neck."

"What does she say about the killings?"

"Well, she's not recommending people to walk around with cloves of garlic and wooden stakes, if that's what you mean. Like everyone else, she says it's just some psycho. In fact, the topic of vampires never comes up." He added as an after thought, "Not really that big of a surprise, I guess. Anyway, the only thing she actually agrees with the cops on is that the killer is a psycho, probably on met amphetamines."

Dean scoffed. "Met amphetamines," he jeered, "Right. Pretty neat little holes for a methhead."

Just then, Sam opened another window on the screen. He frowned. "Well, that's the other thing…" he said slowly as he read the article. Dean looked at him quizzically. Sam looked up, his face showing that the information he'd found had perplexed him slightly. "No holes."

Dean raised a questioning eyebrow. "What?"

"Their throats were all cut," Sam replied, "Cut in the exact same place though; carotid artery. Which means there was no mistake; someone definitely wanted these people dead." He pointed out, "So, if Dr. Bridge was describing Scott's injuries correctly, Scott's the only one that's been bitten."

Dean leaned forward, taking another sip of his coffee. "Okay… This vamp, he might've cut their throats to cover up any bite marks," he suggested. "Vamps don't like to get a lot of attention."

Sam sat back in his chair, putting a hand to his temple. "See, that's the thing that's been bugging me. Most vampires are subtle. They're careful. If they weren't, blood-drained bodies would pop up all the time." He didn't want to say it immediately, but he was starting to lean into what he'd said back in the car: maybe they weren't dealing with a vampire. These murders could've been performed by your garden-variety crazy person.

"Well, they rarely bite unwilling people," Dean pointed out.

Sam's brow furrowed. "Wait…they find people who're willing?"

Dean nodded. "When vamps aren't robbing from blood banks, they feed on these people who just…well," Dean forced a tight smile, "Let's just say they're not shy." Sam sat back in his chair, rather disturbed at the thought. "They're called 'givers' or 'pets'," Dean continued disgustedly, "Either way, kinda gives you an idea of how many regular nut-jobs are out there. Enough to keep almost every vampire fat and happy without having to worry about ditching a body some place." Dean thought for a minute while Sam absorbed this information with a nauseous stomach. "Hey, any chance the victims were givers?"

Sam turned his attention back to the articles. "No. One was a high-profile lawyer, another was a news reporter, another was a mother of three… These are all people who wouldn't have time or opportunity to get away to be fed on." He sighed. "They just all happened to be outside at night. They weren't even killed in the same area. The murders took place all over Chicago."

"Okay, that'll make it a little harder to find the leech," Dean said, shrugging.

"I don't get it though. Why didn't this vamp just feed on a giver or swipe a stash from the blood-banks? Why did he decide to go hunt and kill people? It's not smart."

Dean nodded in agreement. "Right… Vampire community's very tight-knit. They have very strict rules, especially about keeping things on the down-low. Don't follow the rules, well…" he grimaced, "they either isolate you or…you end up wishing they had. And this dude's already attracted way too much attention for his own good."

Sam raised his eyebrows. He hadn't known that about vampire communities. This new information added fuel to the theory forming in his mind. "And then there's the fact that he jumped you before. Most vampires would've taken off when we got out of the car. Too many witnesses, and he'd probably already gotten a snack out of Scott anyway. Why did he stick around?"

Dean shrugged a shoulder. "Well, maybe it's just me, but I think this dude has a self control problem," Dean replied, gingerly touching his bruised cheek. He grinned, "Or maybe he just likes me. Anyway, what's it matter? All we have to do is find Dracula and dust him."

Sam's eyes widened. He could almost see the light being cast upon his brow from the metaphorical lightbulb above his head. It was what Dean had said: 'maybe he just likes me.' "Dean, vampires have to feed every two weeks, right?"

"Yeah. So what?"

"Well, that's how often our guy was feeding. For two months, he only fed every two weeks. Until tonight. Scott is the seventh attack. He's early."

Dean sat back, relishing in the last of the warm coffee. "Sammy, what's up?" He didn't like it when Sam kept him in the dark, like he was too dim to be able to keep up with Sam's thought process. But he didn't outwardly show any contempt. No real reason to, he supposed. He and his brother had to work together for this hunt to be successful.

"I think that Scott's being targeted for a specific reason. I don't think he was bit out of bad luck."

Dean thought about it. "I'm not sure. I mean, like I said, this vamp has a self-control problem. He probably got hungry and Scott Meeson happened to be around."

Sam shook his head dismissively. "When I shot at him and he finally got off of you, he didn't run away. Not until I shot him in the face."

Dean nodded. "Right. I thought he was going for you."

Sam shook his head again. "That's what I thought too, but he wasn't even looking at me. He was looking at Scott."

Dean rubbed his chin-careful to avoid the stitches. "Okay…But why Scott?"

Sam shrugged. "I don't know. But I definitely think this vampire has it in for him."

Dean thought for a moment, then threw up his hands. "Well, Scott's not going anywhere. Not tonight, anyway."

"You think we should keep an eye on him?" Sam asked.

"Nah. He'll stay in here the rest of the night, and then he'll be fine during the day. He'll probably be a little more careful at night. Probably won't even leave his house for a week."

"But the vampire could get in if Scott invites him," Sam pointed out

Dean raised an eyebrow. "Sammy, if someone ripped your neck open, would you ever invite that person into your house?"

Sam knew that to be true and rather obvious at that. But that wasn't really the point he was trying to get across. What he wanted to say…he didn't want to say it out loud. Deep down, he was hoping that Dean would say it for him, or come up with a better idea. But he played it casual. "I'm just saying. If he's the one our vampire's after, we might want to watch out for him."

But Dean caught the underlying suggestion Sam was trying to make. He also caught that his little brother was nervous to say aloud. So, Dean said it for him. "We could use him as bait."

"We could," Sam replied neutrally. He didn't want to commit to it. He felt a little ill thinking about using another human being as bait. It seemed ethically wrong.

But Dean considered the idea from a more detached position; he'd learned to keep things at a healthy distance if you wanted to deal with them rationally. Using Scott for bait wouldn't really be that difficult anyway. And, if they played their cards right, it could actually be safer for Scott. Vampires, Dean knew, are rather easily deflected. Strong smells and loud music kept them at bay because they have heightened senses. Also, they needed an invitation to private places. So long as Scott didn't invite the vamp into his house, the vamp couldn't get in.

"Well, let's see how it goes," Dean said simply as he took aim and tossed his cup into the nearest trashcan. "We still need to know where to look for the sucker." He paused, thinking over his words for a minute. He gave a chuckle. " 'Sucker'. Ha, didn't even make that one on purpose!"

Sam smiled, but it was more for his brother's comfort than his own humor. He was nervous about this. If they did use Scott for bait, Scott's life would be in danger. But if they didn't watch Scott anyway, there was an even greater chance that Scott would end up dead. Plus, Sam still wondered why Scott was being targeted. He didn't think it was just the luck of (or lack there of) of the draw. There was something else going on here…

They settled on going up to Scott Meeson's room, seeing as how it was all they could really think of. Outside of room 304, Nikki Wales was talking on her cell phone. The brothers happened to come by just in time to here a one-sided argument.

"Yes, he's here. … No, I didn't-of course not! … No. … I don't-wait, no, I think I did. … Yeah, well, that's not my problem. … No it isn't! … Well, I can't get anything yet. … Because the police are still here, you idiot!"

It was the last sentence in particular that made Sam's ears perk up. It seemed Nikki Wales was planning another shady operation to get her story. Sam set his jaw in irritation. He moved toward her, passing Dean who arched an eyebrow at him, but said nothing.

Nikki Wales didn't notice him approach, still yapping on her phone. "Look, I…" But then she looked to her right and saw Sam waiting expectantly. "I'll call you back. … Well deal with it!" And with that, she hung up. She turned to Sam, crossing her arms over her chest in a huff. "What?" she asked snappishly.

"Nikki Wales, right?" Sam asked tersely.

"Yes," she replied touchily. But then she paused as she looked at his face. "Wait, didn't I see you with Dr. Bridge earlier?" Her interest in his existence seemed to have peaked significantly.

Sam opened his mouth to reply, but he couldn't. He wanted to yell at this woman, wanted to verbally rip her apart for what she had done and what she was doing. He didn't care if he cut her down a few inches or pissed her off. He just wanted to berate her, not caring how loud he was, not caring how many people would stare. But if he did, she wouldn't help them. If he did, any resources Nikki Wales had to offer would be gone.

So instead he swallowed his pride and his anger, smiled as friendly a smile as he could muster, and offered a hand. "Yeah. Sam Winchester."

Nikki Wales shook his hand, though somewhat miffed that he would offer his hand to her. "So, you ran over the man, right?" she asked bluntly.

"No, that'd be me," Dean said a little too eagerly, glad to have entered the conversation with Ms. Wales.

Ms. Wales raised a scrutinizing eyebrow. "Well, aren't you pleased with yourself."

If Dean weren't such a manly-man, Sam could've sworn he saw him blush. Dean's expression suggested that he'd just swallowed a fly.

"This is Dean, my brother," Sam introduced.

Dean, having regained some of his debonair charm, smiled, offering his hand, "Charmed, I'm sure."

"Right," Nikki Wales sneered bemusedly as they shook.

Dean gave Sam a look that said 'What a bitch.' Sam replied with a slight nod.

"So, you've been running the series on the brutal killings for the past two months, right?" Sam asked, trying to get down to business. He wanted to be around this woman as little as necessary.

"Yes, of course," she replied, straightening up a little with pride. "I've gotten every case."

"And you want to be there when this guy is caught, right?" Dean asked, following Sam's lead.

She looked at him dubiously. "Of course!" adding "But I'd prefer that he isn't caught."

Sam's brow furrowed. "Because you'll sell more papers if he kills more people." he stated evenly, inwardly disgusted by Ms. Wales's seemingly nonexistent ethics.

"Naturally," Nikki Wales replied simply.

"Well, we can help you be there when this guy's caught," Dean went on, trying to draw her attention away from the steaming Sam.

"Oh?" she asked skeptically, eyebrow raised.

"We're going to catch him."

Nikki Wale's laughed. And it wasn't out of pure mockery. She actually had a good jolly laugh. Dean and Sam looked at each other. This was most definitely not going as planned.

"Look, we can give you vital information. Stuff that not even the cops have," Sam tried. Dean looked somewhere between embarrassed and pissed. "You help us out, we give you a big advantage over competitors."

Nikki Wales seemed very amused by the proposition. "Right. And how, exactly, did you get this 'vital' information?"

"You let us worry about that. Just like we'll let you worry about how you got that charming photo of Vince Sparra three weeks ago," Sam replied, grimacing.

The near-tickled expression on Nikki Wales's face was gone instantaneously. She looked very insulted, like she'd swallowed something nasty. She glared up at Sam. Sam inwardly smirked at how this woman was trying to be intimidating, despite the fact that she was even shorter than Dean.

"You think you're so smart," she hissed, "You think you can try to blackmail me into giving you the spotlight for some bullshit bravado? Well think again." And with that, she turned on her heel and stormed off.

Sam turned back towards Dean. He was practically shaking from anger and his face was hot. Dean responded by sticking his hands in his pockets and shrugging in an almost comical showing of 'Oh well'.

"Yeah Dean, that was a great idea," Sam snapped.

"It was a good guess," Dean defended coolly.

Sam looked away, leaning against the wall. Yeah, it had been a good guess. A completely wrong guess, but a good one. But, he didn't want share that thought with Dean just yet. He knew that the incident had gone wrong through no fault of Dean's, but still…

"Hey, look, Sammy," Dean said, getting his brother's attention. He let out a heavy sigh and looked down at the floor. "I know you're pissed, all right? But it was good that you didn't let it out. You gotta try and keep that stuff in sometimes, and I know it ain't easy."

Sam was surprised, but kept his face blank. "Yeah. Thanks, Dean." He was actually a little taken aback by Dean initiating the 'chick flick' moment. It wasn't like him.

Dean apparently noticed as he gave a quick nod as he reached for the door to 304. "Okay, let's go before we start getting all 7th Heaven."

END CHAPTER

uh…whoa there, Rosemary. Fic's not over yet.