Kill or Be Killed

By: chocolate rules


Chapter 9:

Vulnerability


They had set out the table. They had prepared the meal. The product of which still rested in the corner. Sam had been attentive of the smell from the second he arrived. He had known the smell. He had smelt it once before. Dean hadn't let him see, but he knew what it was. He knew the smell of a rotting corpse.

Thirteen. When twelve dine, the first to rise is the first to die. He had read that somewhere. What happened when there were thirteen? Or rather yet, would the first to die be a victim to this brutality? Would they be the next meal?

They weren't vampires. He'd read on vampires. Vampires don't need an entire ceremony to feast. They ate what they saw. And they certainly did not drink dead blood. The meal was full of dead blood.

He wasn't to be the meal. Or at least not as of yet. He would be new blood. That was all. They wanted his blood. He was far too young to dine on. Not enough to go around. But he was vulnerable. That was all they needed. Vulnerability. And the young boy on the wall was bathed in vulnerability.


Dean leaped through the attic door. There was Sam, in the middle of it all. Literally in the middle. The entire scene played out around him. There was an alter of a sort set up with human body parts. The smell should have told him earlier. It had been vague, as in a passerby whiff, but the reek of rotting flesh and dried blood was evident everywhere.

Then, there were the bodies in the corner. A woman in her twenties and an elder man, in his late forties most likely. There chests were literally cut open and where some organs should have been, all that remained was empty space. It was like a fertility ritual. One male, one female.

And Sam was the key.