AN: Here we go! Bad words here and some innuendo.

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The animal caught in the trap or by a predator will fight to the last atom of its strength to seek for redemption and to avoid death.

-- Ernest Agyemang Yeboah

They were so screwed.

Sometimes, trouble builds slowly. In retrospect, you can see all the little things that built up together to culminate in a bad situation. This was not that.

No, this had been a set-up from the beginning, and it was an effective one. The bait was irresistible: an old friend who had saved their lives long ago needing help. The location was ideal: far, far from any nosy neighbors, cops, and anyone else, and difficult to access, even if they could call for rescue. (Okay, so they kind of could, but help was really far away. Cas, I really hope you're hearing me.) And the ambush had been executed flawlessly. Sam had barely noted the blinding light before he'd felt something around his neck. Not something. A wire garrote. Simple to use, nearly impossible to escape, and utterly lethal.

The sight of Dean in a cage like an animal sent a surge of anger through Sam even as he tried to stay as still as he could. And the sight of Hooch, broken and ashamed, made him even angrier. These weren't mindless killers, they were cruel and patient.

"What the hell do you mean, a murder trial? You're accusing yourselves?" Dean was demanding. His eyes caught Sam's, angry and worried and asking silently just how hurt Sam was.

Sam looked back steadily. Despite the instinctive fear the sharpness of the wire engendered and the feel of blood trickling down his neck, Sam wasn't really hurt. The biggest issue was that he had no idea how they were going to get out of here. Dean wasn't getting out until someone unlocked the cage door, and if Sam made any sudden movements, he'd cut his own carotid, jugular, or both. He glanced at Hooch, but there was no life whatsoever in his eyes. They'd completely broken him, and he was simply waiting for death now.

"What I mean," that suave, almost lyrical voice behind Sam answered, "is that before my father departed the world after tens of thousands of years of living, he sent out a call to every vampire in existence: Sam Winchester has killed me." The three other vampires hissed again.

Oh, shit. Yeah, Sam had killed the Alpha Vampire. And supervised his salting and burning.

"Sit down and be judged, Sam Winchester." The voice was now velvet over steel, and it was somehow far more frightening than if he'd yelled and screamed. Sam was nudged toward the tall, ornate metal chair that seemed to be the only furniture in the place. He didn't speak and moved meekly, wanting to give the impression that he was scared or at least compliant, because he was more likely to get an opportunity to do something that way. Besides, they were moving toward his machete.

"Christopher," said the head vampire, and the black guy moved to the back of the chair. He had something in his hands that Sam couldn't see. The garrote came loose as Sam was turned to sit, and he took what he knew might be his only chance without hesitation. He didn't sit – he threw himself backwards at the chair. It knocked Christopher back and got Sam free of the hated wire. He rolled out of the chair toward his machete. As his fingers brushed the handle, his leg exploded in pain.

Sam knew he'd cried out, but things whited out for a minute and he didn't hear it. When the world sped back up to normal, he was in the chair with his arms wrenched behind him and his right ankle was the epicenter of a hot, throbbing pain. Somebody had stomped on his leg, he realized. He wasn't sure if the ankle was broken or not...but he was thinking so. Blondie was holding Sam in place with a hand on his neck, allowing only the barest hint of air to trickle through, and someone else (probably Christopher?) was wrapping what felt like more wire around Sam's arms from wrist to elbow. It was a position that wrenched his shoulders painfully, but there was no give in the hold, no chance to get an inch for relief. The person working on his arms stepped back and Sam found he could barely move his upper body at all. Blondie held on a second longer, hunger and hatred on her face.

"Note that the injury will prevent escape but not render our guest unconscious," the suited vamp was instructing the others as if he were giving a college lecture, ignoring the way that Dean was literally rattling his cage behind them. Sam saw the suffused fear and fury on Dean's face and knew without a doubt that if it were physically possible for his brother to get through the four-inch gaps between the bars, Dean would have done it. He gave Dean the best I'm okay look he could, though it didn't seem to reassure his brother much.

"Bernice, don't lick your fingers," head vamp scolded gently, with the tone you'd use to chide a small child. The female reluctantly wiped the hand she'd had on Sam's neck, bloody from the cuts caused by the wire, on her pants.

Sam breathed slowly through his nose, centering himself and detaching himself from the pain as much as possible. He could now see that the big, heavy lock to the cage was in the direct center of the solid door, which meant there was no way Dean could reach it to pick it. This meant that Sam was still their best hope for escape. He didn't know how. Not just yet…

"Ah, Sam. I see you're back with us," said the oldest vampire with the smooth delivery of a professional orator. "A few items of housekeeping, and we can begin."

"Wait, wait," Dean interrupted, and Sam might have smiled if he hadn't been in so much pain. His brother didn't like verbose monsters. "Her name is Bernice? Seriously? Not like Kayla or Lauren?"

The vamp very deliberately ignored Dean. "My children: Bernice, Christopher, and Matthew. I am Baako. Thanks to Sam, I may now be the oldest vampire in existence." His eyes glittered at the last.

"Well, fucking good for you, gramps." Dean's taunt ended with a grunt as the Asian guy – Matthew – reached through the bars, grabbed a handful of Dean's flannel, and smashed him into the bars. Baako growled and Dean, naturally grinned around a rapidly-swelling fat lip. "Don't like to be reminded of how ancient dear old dad is?"

"Wait by the door and get yourself under control," Baako demanded, shaking Matthew slightly. "Bernice, you may feed first. Leave some for Christopher."

Bernice's eyes, such a light color they were almost disturbing, brightened. "Thank you, Father." Almost faster than Sam could process it, she dashed across the room and buried her teeth in Hooch's neck.

"No," Sam breathed, but Hooch made no move to defend or protect himself, made no sound at all even when Bernice dug her fingers cruelly into his arm. Bernice finally stopped the loud slurping and lifted her face, painted liberally with blood. Hooch swayed on his feet.

Oblivious to the brothers' horror, or perhaps enjoying it, Baako chuckled indulgently. "You are a messy eater, dearheart," he said. He beckoned the girl to him and kissed her deeply, visibly savoring the blood on her lips. He delicately wiped off the blood that had been transferred to his face with a white handkerchief, which he then handed it to Bernice. "Christopher, you may finish, but be careful."

"Yes, Father."

He was neater and quieter than Bernice, but it was no less horrific to watch the color drain from Hooch's face and his eyes flutter. Sam forced himself to watch. Hooch managed by meet Sam's eyes and his lips moved silently in what looked like I'm sorry. The man had been destroyed by these monsters, and Sam didn't hold him accountable for giving them up in the face of the tortures they'd obviously visited on him. He put all of that absolution in his eyes and stared at the man, giving him the only gift he could and hoped it got through.

Christopher dropped the old Hunter like a broken toy and licked his lips appreciatively. He, too, received a kiss from Baako while Matthew pouted like a teenager, but Sam's eyes were all for Hooch. His breath was stuttering now, his eyes nearly sightless. Then he breathed out like a long sigh and his chest didn't rise again. He looked more at peace than he had so far, but it didn't stop the fury inside of Sam. "You're animals! Monsters!" he yelled. Baako's backhand didn't surprise him, nor did it cool his anger. He twisted in his bonds, uncaring that they cut into his skin. Unable to get free, Sam spit the blood from his split lip onto Baako's pristine suit. For the first time, the veneer of aristocratic ennui truly cracked as the vamp's face twisted in anger. This backhand made sparks dance in front of Sam's eyes.

He blinked hard, hearing Dean yelling at Baako then demanding that Sam answer him. He blinked again and made eye contact with his worried brother. It wasn't bad. Baako didn't want him too damaged, as he'd explained before. At least, not until after his so-called trial.

"You call us monsters," sneered Baako, visibly trying to regain his temper. Sam looked at the bruises coming up on Dean's face and the body of their father's old friend on the floor, blood dripping from the wounds on his neck, and understood the feeling. "We act according to our natures. But you, you are a murderer."

Right. The Alpha. "We worked with him before," Sam argued, thinking of his pre-law days. He doubted this would be any fairer than Osiris' sham trial of Dean, but it didn't hurt to try to defend himself. "He turned on us and attacked, killing people we were...working with." It was a bit of a lie, since only Mom had been working with the Brits at that point. And they'd never really had more than a very temporary detente with the head vampire. But they had helped each other.

"He attacked those who were hunting down and killing all of his children," came the answer. "He had been living quietly, peacefully, until we were being slaughtered mercilessly."

"And I defended myself," snapped Sam, wishing he could stand and face Baako on an equal footing.

"Peaceful, my ass," interjected Dean. "Did you forget the whole kidnapping kids and eating people things? Or creating more and more monsters?"

"No, you do not get to argue for yourself." Baako pointed an imperious finger at Sam, ignoring Dean again. "You are guilty. His last thoughts accused and condemned you."

"Trial?" Sam sniffed. "Right. Just call it what it is – revenge. Petty revenge." Now he was the one ignoring Dean and his shut-the-hell-up-Sam expression.

"You're right," agreed the mercurial vamp. His teeth slid out and the younger vampires hissed in anticipation. Don't watch, Dean, Sam silently begged. But Baako regained control of himself yet again. "This isn't a trial to determine guilt or innocence. It's a vampire trial, to determine punishment." He stepped forward, grabbed Sam's chin and wrenched his head up, hard. "To remind my children that we are still the top of the food chain. And to honor our father."

"Because you're so torn up about big daddy," Dean taunted. His tone was light, but he was pressed up against the bars, gripping them so tightly his knuckles were white from the strain. It was killing him to watch Sam being hurt and not be able to step in. "You couldn't even be bothered to rescue him from Crowley's little menagerie."

"Do not speak to me of my affection," Baako roared. He let go of Sam's face, which had undoubtedly been Dean's intention. "He was the first and the oldest and greatest. He was my maker and my father and my first lover."

The vampire bowled right over Dean's disgusted, "gross."

"We did not go get him because he was captured by choice and told us to stay away. He wished to know what the demon was planning."

That...made a lot of sense. Sam had a suspicion that the Alpha had also wanted a look at Sam and Dean – one soulless, and the other a former vampire – and had somehow known they might be there. He'd said he had plans for Sam, that he'd make "the perfect animal" and the chill of that revelation had still been in Sam's mind when he'd pulled the trigger all those years later.

Sam pulled his mind back to the present.

"You blab like a stupid Bond villain," Dean was mocking, in very Dean fashion. "You sure love hearing yourself talk. Well, I've got news for you. Nobody gives a shit. You're putting your own harem to sleep."

Baako made an inhuman sound of rage, and Sam decided it was high time to get his focus off of Dean before the idiot got himself killed. It was obvious which of the Winchesters Baako really wanted, not just from his words, but also from their relative positions. Dean was in the only place where he wasn't in immediate danger from the vampire "children."

"I don't feel any regret," said Sam coldly. He'd done the calculations. He couldn't get an inch of freedom from the wires, and he couldn't break the metal chair. It was too tall for him to work his bound arms over the top. His hands were swelling and would be unusable anyway. He might be able to kick a vamp, but that was the only thing he could possibly do. He didn't see any scenario where he didn't die in this stupid basement in Mudville (which was a very Dean thing to think), but maybe Dean didn't have to die. Because unless his brother was going to pull a miracle out of thin air...there wasn't going to be one.

Cas, I don't know how far away you are, but please hurry and save Dean, Sam thought.

His words had thrown ice water over everyone in the room. "What did you say?" asked Baako slowly.

"I don't regret killing your father," Sam repeated. He focused on the feeling of cold evil he'd felt in the Alpha's presence. "He wasn't a monster. He was a stain. An aberration who probably killed tens of thousands of people and turned who knows how many others into abominations like himself. I only regret that he didn't suff—"

Sam's words were cut off as he was dragged up and off the chair and found himself held aloft by Baako's hand around his neck. The vamp was significantly shorter than Sam, but was able to hold him up by the simple expedient of holding his arm outstretched. Even as Sam choked and fought for air, unable to even raise a hand to help himself, he thought wow, he is really strong.

Maybe unfortunately, Baako lowered Sam so his feet could touch the ground. He didn't let go as Sam coughed and tried to catch up on oxygen. "You aren't fit to speak his name! You are the abomination. You think I don't know? The boy with the demon blood, intended to become their king, vessel of the devil, the one who lost his soul in Hell's cage?"

Sam's oxygen-starved brain reacted inappropriately to the diatribe and he choked out a laugh. "You think I care what you think about me?" he asked hoarsely.

"Shutup, Sammy," Dean ground out behind the vamp. He was mashed up against the bars again.

"You know, Dean wasn't even there when I killed your father," said Sam, indulging in his reckless side because the pain in his ankle was nearly overwhelming and he couldn't get a real breath and he was going to die anyway. "If you claim to be fair, you'd let him go."

Baako pulled Sam in so close that he could smell old blood on his breath. "I will leave him the key to his cage," he promised in a harsh whisper. "But not until I'm finished with you."The vampire motioned toward someone Sam couldn't see and Dean inexplicably chuckled.

"Oh, my God." Dean sounded a little hysterical. "Napoleon Bloodsucker needs an apple box to strangle you, Sam."

Sure enough, Sam was turned so he faced Dean and Baako climbed up onto something behind him and wrapped the stupid wire around Sam's throat again. It wasn't cutting him but was tight enough to take off a layer of skin when Sam swallowed, and Dean's amusement died a quick death.

Baako pulled back just a little, making Sam shuffle and struggle to keep his balance and not put weight on his bad leg. The vampire chuckled and leaned forward to talk right into Sam's ear. "Human beings are so very, very fragile," he all but cooed, good humor restored. "Especially your tender, tender throats." He tugged on the cord just a little and a drop of blood rolled down Sam's neck, the cut too shallow to do more than sting but the threat absolutely clear. "I wonder how long you'll last before you lose your balance and slice right through your esophagus or one of those fat little blood vessels that run so close under the skin. Maybe your strength will give out. Maybe your will to live will and you'll just choose...to slip."

Sam considered the possibility for half a second, but with his eyes locked on Dean's, he knew he could never do that to his brother. Not on purpose. He didn't know exactly what was coming, but he silently promised to hold on as long as he possibly could.

WINCHESTER * WINCHESTER

Cas drove as fast as he dared. The desperation in the brothers' prayers had chilled him to the core. And the last one from Sam...it sounded like he didn't expect to survive. Cas had never missed his wings and the nearly instantaneous transport they offered more than he had at that moment.

Cas frowned at his GPS. He had a long ways to go. He just hoped it wasn't too long. He couldn't lose the rest of his family. He pushed the gas pedal down a little more.

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AN: A tad bit of a tangent here. It seemed so odd to me that Samuel and his cronies could capture the Alpha vampire, especially since he even apparently escaped from Crowley later. So...I wrote in my personal theory that he allowed himself to be captured.

The name Baako means first born; bagelcat1 found it for me.

sylvia37: Ooh, interesting theory! Yeah, nothing good is in store with these vamps.

bagelcat1: Thank you! The description of the place came easily this time, since I can see it in my head so clearly. I'm writing the story out and still feel that anticipation, so I don't think it's weird. I like the names you found!

JaniceC678: Oh, good! I have no military or hunting (big h or small) experience, so I have to make up signs and codes and stuff for the boys. It's lovely to hear that they sound realistic. A very wise beta-er once told me that while the plot is crucial, it's the details that give a story life.

Colby's girl: It just means the world to me that you look forward to reading these stories! IMO, anticipating a good book is like waiting for dessert...I'm thrilled if kine are even after dinner mints! LOL

Christine: I adore a new or unique idea, but I cannot take credit for this one. The details may come from my brain, but the story was conceived and laid out by bagelcat1. Now you know what Sam's on trial for!

Timelady66: I'm glad you find it easy to picture the poor, mud-drowned town. And now you know why the vamp's are pissed at Sam specifically. *wince*

muffinroo: LOL Yeah, Dean's not happy. Shall I tell you that he gets even more unhappy in the next chapter? Thanks for your encouragement!

supernaturalsammy67: I'm glad you aren't like oh lawd, she's posting again! lol You're so stinking kind and encouraging. I'm very happy that the description of the town. etc., felt realistic to you. I just describe what I see in my mind's eye and hope it makes sense!

Shazza: You're the second person to ask if Sam was on trial for Gordon's death, and I honestly never thought of that. The idea of the vamps wanting revenge for the death of their alpha comes from bagelcat1.

Iowa Kat: Oh, thank you so much! Vamps are such good villains, aren't they? Fun to write too, I'm finding. Our boys aren't going to have it easy this go-round.