AN: Please be aware that my medical knowledge is...minuscule, to put it kindly. Especially about vampires. AABM (American Association of Bloodsuckers' Medicine) is really slacking with getting its information online.

Also, remember you love me.

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Fire is the test of gold; adversity, of strong men.

-- Martha Graham

For an indeterminate amount of time, Sam wasn't aware of anything except pain. But he was sadly well-versed in how to push it away far enough to function, or at least pay attention to his surroundings. The floor was very hard and very cold beneath his right cheek, and he was curled on his side with his arms pulled tightly behind him. His arms and hands weren't sending any signals to his brain whatsoever, possibly because of the molten agony in his torso. Or perhaps the circulation had been cut off long enough they were actually starting to die in advance of the rest of him. Sam coughed and it made everything spiral for a few moments. He slammed his eyes shut and didn't dare open them again.

Nothing in the world was solid and Sam couldn't hang onto anything for long except for the pain. He knew this sensation, if he could think enough to put a name to it. Shock. Yes, that's what it was. And more. This...distance. It was not a good thing. Sam was dying, he was pretty sure. He needed Dean.

As if in answer to his wish, Sam heard Dean's voice. The cadence of it alone held him for a minute and he drifted on it. But no...no drifting. He had to stick with Dean as long as he could. He had promised. He struggled to focus on what the words were actually saying.

"…n't believe you, so I stuck at least four Mentos in my mouth and took a big ol' swig of Coke. I didn't figure out that you'd played me until bubbles were pouring out my nose and mouth and you were rolling on the floor laughing." Sam tried to smile, didn't think he accomplished it. But though Dean's voice was gentle, even amused, there were tears underneath it. Even this far gone, Sam could hear that. With effort, Sam risked opening his eyes again. All he saw were blurs, so he let the words carry him for another minute.

Surprisingly, Sam's sight slowly got better and he could make out his surroundings. Dean was farther away than he'd expected, but he was wearing the expression Sam had pictured: a hint of a comforting smile but stricken eyes.

"Man, you just about peed your pants...Sammy?"

Of course Dean realized when Sam was able to see. Sam wanted so badly to say something, his brother's name, anything, but he couldn't do anything but blink. He wished he could say the crap they never said, but Sam suddenly wished they had. Sorry, Dean. I love you.

Dean seemed to get it. A tear trickled down his cheek. "I know," he whispered.

Sam was oddly content. Warm, now, floaty and pain-free. He knew this meant death was close, but instead of being worried, he was selfishly glad that Dean's face would be the last thing he'd see. His heart hurt for his brother, and he hoped that he wouldn't do anything reckless, and that he and Cas would find Jack and live on.

But then something blocked Sam's view and Dean went ballistic, screaming at someone to give them this moment and get the fuck out of the way and even throwing himself at the bars. Bars? Oh, right. Vampires.

Somebody crouched in front of Sam's face and took hold of his chin. "Try to focus, Sam. I'm about to give you an extraordinary gift."

Even though his mind sluggishly filled in the guy's name – Baako – Sam didn't care. He turned his eyes to try to see Dean around the legs blocking him. Baako shook his chin, ignoring the blood dribbling onto his hand. "Life, Sam. You need only drink." He moved something so close Sam couldn't see around it, but the smell suddenly reached him, rich and coppery.

No. A thousand memories slammed into Sam. Hiding in the bathroom drinking cold, congealing sludge from a flask as his body shook in withdrawal. Feeling a need so overwhelming that once Ruby cut her meatsuit's skin, Sam couldn't see anything else, would have let her slit his throat as long as he could drink from her. Ruby slitting the wrists of the possessed nurse while the latter cried and begged and Sam just looked away. Forcing gallons down his throat so he could face Lucifer and, even as he gagged, feeling a rush so strong that he could sense every demon in the city without opening his eyes. The rushing in his ears, the pounding of his heart, a pulsing under his skin that drowned out his fears and insecurities and humanity. The warmth over his lips and chin and the need still pulsing through him as Famine smiled and Dean stared in horror.

Baako was holding a cup of blood in front of his lips.

Sam felt a surge of strength, powered by disgust and the need to never see that revulsion toward himself on Dean's face ever again. It brought sudden understanding and clarity. He might be bound and dying and have no chance of fighting his way out of a wet paper bag, much less fighting off the ancient vamp, but Sam had one chance. If he struggled hard enough and the right way, he could cause one of the broken ribs to catastrophically puncture his lungs or heart and be dead before Baako could make good on the threat. He grit his teeth and looked directly into the cold eyes above him. "Fuck. You."

Sam drew a deep enough breath to make spots dance in front of his eyes, then abruptly arched his back pulled his knees up, knocking into Baako's elbow. Something shifted inside him and Sam lost his vision entirely. He could feel nothing except an almost distant stabbing in his chest. He couldn't breathe, not move his lungs at all and the darkness began to grow warm and comfortable. This isn't so bad, he thought. Wish I could tell Dean that.

WINCHESTER * WINCHESTER

"...open your eyes and I swear I will never use all the hot water again. Or mess with your toothbrush again. I don't care – just be alive, dammit. Please."

Dean should never sound like that, Sam thought. Huh. He'd thought...well, that he was dead. Toothbrush? The confusing thought drifted away.

Then the acrid taste on Sam's tongue registered and everything came rushing back and he knew what had happened. Sam arched, gagged, and spit, uncaring of the way it pulled at his bound arms and sent shooting pains through his chest. He could feel it all again, which meant…

"It's far too late for that, I'm afraid, Sam," Baako finished the thought from somewhere far above him.

Overlapping the vampire's words, Sam heard Dean say, "Oh, thank God," in a wrung-out voice.

Baako ignored Dean (which he seemed to do a lot, actually, and which was almost always a mistake). "The healing has begun, which means the transformation has begun. You will be one of us soon." Sam gagged again but nothing came out. A pointed shoe nudged his shoulder and tipped him over onto his back, trapping his arms beneath him, but the physical pain was a gentle shower compared to the open-fire-hose deluge of emotional pain and disgust. Sam retched uselessly yet again.

"You don't get to spit at my gift," Baako growled. The toe of that same shoe pushed lightly down on Sam's ravaged throat. "I gave you life back."

"Not...life," Sam dragged out, and the pressure increased. He wanted to wipe his face, feeling the blood drying so familiarly on his cheek. He wanted to look at Dean...no, he didn't.

"A better life than you've ever had. And for me, this is...non amittere. Den borei na chásel. llakka muțiyātu."

Sam glared up at the smug bastard with all of the hatred he could find. He knew the first phrase – Latin for 'can't lose.'

"You see, Sam, this is your true punishment. I gave you enough blood to change you and begin the healing process, but your body will be starving for blood to heal itself further. And, well, there will only be one source nearby." Baako looked in the direction of the cage, but Sam refused to follow his gaze. "I am tempted to stay and watch you tear out your brother's throat, but instead we're going to remove ourselves to keep your focus on Dean and the sound of his heart beating. The blood pumping so deliciously through his veins."

"You are one sick asshole," Dean raged, but his words didn't stop the staring contest between Sam and his torturer.

"There is a small chance that you will manage to turn him," Baako admitted. "But I still win, because that will mean both Winchester brothers are mine." He crouched, not removing his foot from Sam's neck. "You will find us, as you will be drawn to your creator. But I'm not going to tell you which of us that is, with that nasty little cure recipe I know you have." He gave a truly disturbing smile. "See you soon, Sam." He finally moved his foot, leaned down and draped something around Sam's neck. "The key to your first meal."

"I. Am. Going. To. Kill. You. All of you."

Baako shrugged, unconcerned, and stood, making a show of straightening his suit. "You can't kill your maker. And your maker won't let you kill the rest of the family."

Dean's curses – some of them highly creative – filtered through the haze of fury, abhorrence, and no that was crashing through Sam's head and making him breathe like he'd just sprinted.

"Oh, yes," Baako stopped theatrically, as if he'd forgotten something. "We need to make sure that you can smell the meal we're leaving for you. Bernice?"

The female vampire picked up one of the fallen machetes with an almost impish smile. "Leave him alone!" Sam yelled, squirming like a fish, but he still didn't have the strength to do more.

Instead, Bernice darted forward, stretching the arm holding the weapon into the cage. Dean danced back out of range reflexively – and into the grasp of Matthew, who'd been waiting for him. It was a mistake Dean ordinarily wouldn't have made, but Sam supposed he was a little off his game given the current situation.

"No!" Sam cried as Matthew pulled Dean face-first into the bars. Again. Matthew and Bernice both laughed as blood began to pour from Dean's nose. Blood that Sam could smell. He gagged yet again, curling back onto his side.

Baako bent and patted Sam's head. "Nunc vale," he said in Latin. Goodbye for now. He stood and trailed out, his twisted family following.

"Et mortuus es," Sam called after them in the same language. You are dead.

A laugh was the only answer.

The door slammed shut, leaving the despairing vampire-to-be with his human brother and the corpse of an old friend. No, no, no, no. The deep-throated rumble of some big vehicle starting up reached Sam, and he followed its progress aurally while having the mother of all freak-outs.

"Sammy. Sam. Listen to me. Calm down and breathe for a sec."

I am breathing. That's the problem. I'm a monster. Again.

Still, Sam was conditioned to listen to that voice, had been his whole life, and his breaths slowed.

"That's it." Dean's voice was soothing and relieved. It was also muffled, and Sam finally looked over. Dean had torn one of the sleeves off his flannel and was holding it over his nose. There was blood visible on the hand holding it, and Sam's gums ached at the sight. "No," he breathed, turning away and feeling the garrote that Baako hadn't bothered to remove cutting his skin further.

"Sammy, look at me. I know it hurts. I know, man. Look at me."

Sam turned his eyes back and finally let them meet Dean's. There was no disgust there, though there should have been. There wasn't fear, or pity either, for that matter. There was sympathy and worry. And because he was Dean freaking Winchester, he smiled as Sam looked at him. Sam couldn't see the smile, but he saw the way the corners of Dean's eyes crinkled and some of the worry faded out of the green. "I know you're hurting. But you gotta move close enough for me to get the key so I can help you. Get you out of those wires before your skin tries to heal over top of 'em."

"No!" said Sam, his voice as hoarse as if, well, as if he'd been strangled and almost died. "Dean, I can't get close to you. I might…I have to get away from you." Maybe he could get free and throw the key to Dean and get out of there, far away, because he had a terrible feeling that the bindings wouldn't hold him long anymore.

"Sam, no. You let me out and we'll figure out how to fix this." Dean's voice was calm, confident, and reassuring, and Sam had to fight his instinct to believe it. Dean would use logic to his own ends, to get himself free because his little brother was hurt, and he'd never consider that his own safety was even worth thinking about.

Sam's back arched as pain lanced through him. Ribs healing? Or something more sinister? The motion made the top two wires pop off Sam's arms, and the evidence of his growing strength made fear twist through him again. "Dean, I can't hurt you. I can't. You, uh, you –" He trailed off at the look on Dean's face, unable to finish the sentence the way he'd intended: take my head. Sam saw the machete Bernice had used and twisted with effort (and holy hell pain) to kick it over to Dean. "You should arm yourself."

Dean's hand came down from his face, leaving a streak of blood across his cheek. "Sam. No, dammit."

He said more, but it was drowned out in a pulse of need as Sam couldn't look away from the blood. He needed it. Craved it. He'd feel so much better if he could just…

Sam jerked at the feeling of a handful more wires breaking behind him. He knew they'd broken the skin, but he only felt a sick, growing hunger. He closed his eyes. "I can't. You can't trust me, Dean."

"I know what you're feeling, Sam. Remember? I've been there. You can beat this. It sucks shit, but you can. I know you can. Listen to my voice not, uh, the other stuff you can hear." You mean the hypnotizing sound of your blood that I want to drink until you're dying in my arms? Is that what you mean by 'other stuff,' big brother?

"Sam. Open your eyes. I'm not afraid of you. You aren't going to hurt me. And I need to help you – you're hurt and bleeding."

"I'll heal," Sam said instead of begging Dean to kill him. He already knew how that conversation would go, and Baako had undoubtedly known it too. Monster or not, guilty or not, neither of them would ever willingly kill the other. Willingly being a key word here, since Sam's new nature was already threatening to overrule that lifelong connection. "I'll let you out if you swear to come out and lock me in the cage."

"I am not putting you in the cage," came the instant response.

"Dean."

"Sam."

Sam grit his teeth through the feeling of things shifting around inside his chest and wished that Dean were less stubborn. Or maybe had an ounce of self-preservation. "You may have to. You gotta find the vamps if you want to cure me, right?"

Dean let out a long breath. "Right. Be nice if I knew which one was the blood donor, though. It'd suck if you had to take the nasty-ass cure more than once. I'd rather drink Rufus' bathtub moonshine than that shit." Though the tension threading his words killed any humor, Sam appreciated the attempt.

"Maybe I go into the cage just until Cas gets here. I – ugh." This lance of pain was the worst yet, and Sam nearly convulsed in reaction. When his vision cleared, he was blinking up at the way-too-bright overhead light and his arms were curled around his chest, freed. He could smell Dean's blood again, and it was like molten chocolate, or brewing coffee, or fresh-baked bread. Shit. Sam staggered to his feet. How could he get Dean out of the cage and himself in it? "Pick up the machete, Dean," he insisted, pushing his hands against his throbbing temples.

"I'm not afraid of you," said his favorite idiot.

"Well, I am!" Sam surged to his feet, not even surprised that his ankle was able to hold his weight without a lot of pain. "I won't hurt you, Dean. I won't kill you. I can't. I won't." He swayed, but kept his feet.The knowledge that it was artificial strength, borrowed from the well of monster, just like that from drinking demon blood, nearly put him on his ass again.

"You won't, Sam. You're stronger than that."

Dean had always believed in him, always thought Sam could do anything. Had always trusted him, even when he shouldn't have.

"Sam, your neck," Dean said. "Lemme see."

Why couldn't Dean look out for his own neck too? Sam reached up, touched the key, then reached past it for the garrote. If only he hadn't survived the beating! It would have gutted Dean, but at least he'd still be alive.

Sam reached up and touched the wire at his neck and remembered beheading Gordon Walker with razor wire, and his shock over what he'd done, and at the blood coating his hands. In anger, Sam tore the wire free of his neck, uncaring that the skin had already grown over part of it and he was flinging his own blood with it as he launched it across the room.

"Sam, I have an idea. It's a little crazy, but hear me out. Maybe you could...turn me, just temporarily. Then, we hunt down the assholes together. Once you're squared away, we cure me next. We can't find 'em, I get turned permanently too. Then we drink animal blood until we figure it out, and you won't hurt me."

Sam stared at Dean in shock and horror. Dean was offering to get turned into a vampire – one of the things he still had nightmares about, something Sam was sure he wasn't supposed to know. And Dean was volunteering so that Sam wouldn't be a monster all alone. He knew the offer was genuine, and the depths of that kind of devotion made Sam's nose sting and tears threaten. "Never." He stared at his blood on his fingers in morbid fascination. It didn't look any different from a human's, but then, it had always looked normal.

It all came down to blood for Sam. Azazel's blood in his mouth, then running through his veins. Demon blood he'd drunk and become addicted to. The blood of the vampire he'd allowed to turn Dean just to get insight on a Hunt. The blood that made them Winchesters, that tied them together and made them incapable of letting the other go.

"You can kill your maker, you know," Dean almost wheedled, for once not following Sam's thought process. "I did. So did Benny."

It could well be disingenuous, Sam suddenly realized. Dean would say anything, offer anything right now, to get Sam to let him out of the cage because he couldn't stand the sight...of Sam's blood. And Sam could no longer resist the allure of Dean's blood. He could feel himself wavering. Blood. Sam's eyes fell to the small, cooling puddle beneath poor Hooch. Dead man's blood.

Sam pulled the thin leather cord holding the key from his neck, breaking the strand and not caring that he probably cut himself again. He stepped to the body and knelt down, his stomach clenching in disgust. "Either put me down or put me in the cage while I'm still weak, Dean," he said over his shoulder.

"Sam, wh –"

Not letting himself think it through any longer, Sam dragged his fingers through Hooch's blood, then smeared it over the wounds on his neck. Instantly, weakness and lethargy spread through his still-healing body. Works fast, he thought blearily, wincing at the little stabs of pain around the site. The world began to tip, so he flipped his wrist out, expertly tossing the key to Dean.

I hope Dean listens...or this kills me, Sam thought, and the uncertainty – and Dean's enraged shout of his name – chased him into darkness.

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AN: Anything in a language other than English comes from Google translate. Non amittere, den borei na chásel, and lakka muțiyātu all mean "can't lose" in Latin, Greek, and Tamil (a sister language of Sanskrit) respectively. They are three of the oldest known languages.

sylvia37: Well, er, Sam's alive. *laughs nervously* Stick with me, and I promise I'll be nicer!

bagelcat1: You are a dear! The stress and tension in the story is a direct result of the prompt, you know, which means when I get "yelled" at by readers, I'll cheerfully throw you under the bus! Just ask muffinroo. LOL This chapter didn't give you a break, either. Sorry/not sorry. But I do appreciate your kudos and kind words.

Timelady66: Aw, thanks! Look at you guessing stuff like that. Except, we don't know for sure that it was Baako's blood. I warned bagelcat1 that you are a savvy reader and might figure stuff out. :-) I love it!

sfaulkenberry: Um, yeah. I'm feeling pretty mean here. A friend of mine very lovingly called all of us (herself included)a bunch of sicko freaks, to which I responded that we're sicko freaks together. Heh. None of us are sorry, either. Nor are we about to judge you when we're the same! I mean, look at all the crap I've done to Sam. LOL on Cas please save the day then leave for a broment. I had read Silence of the Lambs before I ever saw the movie, and it still completely freaked me out, where normally reading the book is far scarier for me. I think we've "talked" about all that Sam had to deal with right after the whole torture-by-Toni, with Dean back and Mary alive and oh yeah, surviving that torture and knowing his torturer's still out there. I wrote a one-shot about that even. I had Sam channel his bad-ass self from his defiance of Toni in this chapter.

Shazza: I know, I almost killed him. Twice already, in just 5 chapters. Really, you can't leave me along for a minute! How did I come up with it? My brain is a dark, dark place, and I have no idea where this came from.

writingtrainingwheels: I felt so bad for poor Hooch! I swear I wasn't actually trying to make anyone cry, just writing what I thought might happen given the scenario I was given. Personally, I had to bake three batches of cookies and eat way more than I ever should have just to get over it. Chances are, I'll eat more, given what happened in this chapter. I *almost* put a note at the beginning of the chapter to reassure people that this is not a death fic, but I hope that others know, like you do, that I don't write major character death. Well, except for the one story I wrote guessing what the finale would be like. I promise to get everybody out of this! Except probably some vamps.

muffinroo: Strong, badass even in the midst of suffering Sam is one of my "things" too! I'm so glad that you find the story inline with that aspect of his character. Just makes you want to wrap him in bubble wrap, doesn't it? And feed him hot chocolate and just in general spoil him? Or is that just me? That line "not any more" makes me laugh out loud every time.

supernaturalsammy67: Oh my gosh, are you trying to make me cry? Because you are! There's a song that I love about how the shadows that prove the sunshine that your comments made me think of. It's a basic tenet of humanity that we recognize joy more keenly when we've experienced despair, and that's true of all positive and negative emotions. I'm glad you don't mind the dark stuff I write, knowing that it only makes the happy come out happier. (And I don't know if that made any sense, but it made sense to me!) To me, the brother-bond is the heart and soul of Supernatural, and I hope everything I write about it shows that. You saying my writing is like making music made me smile, and I haven't stopped since I read it. Music is one of the most important things in the world to me, so you could hardly have given me a nicer compliment. Thanks for every word! Sending yet more (((((HUGS))))

Colby's girl: Take a breath! I swear they'll be okay when I'm done...though this chapter didn't give you any kind of reprieve. Oopsie. Thanks for reading and letting me know what you think!!