AN: If I told you this chapter had handcuffs and mud wrestling, would you get the wrong idea? Heh.

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Each moment is as slow and transparent as glass. Through each moment I can see infinite moments lined up, waiting.

– Audrey Niffenegger, The Time Traveler's Wife

Sam was bombarded with so much sensory input that it was hard to focus on any one thing or, you know, think. When Lucifer had possessed him, he'd turned all of Sam's senses up so high that everything hurt, and this was similar sensory overload. Though, in this case, Sam could at least cover his eyes or ears or do something to ease his pain. And he had Dean. He simultaneously wished Dean would leave and hoped he wouldn't.

Sam didn't see any way for this to end except for himself in the cage. He knew that pushed some of Dean's buttons. But the cage in Hell wasn't a horror because of the bars. In fact, when Sam had been inside it, he'd rarely been able to see any bars since Lucifer preferred to create his own reality. No, Sam could appreciate this cage if it could protect Dean from him and prevent Sam from hurting anyone.

He listened to Dean talk about a time when Sam was a baby and wanted to smile about it, but his stomach was starting to clench again, and he could smell blood and broken things inside of him were shifting around inside of him as his body tried to heal the damage that had been done to it. He was heading toward another episode where his body rebelled completely and freaked out over the lack of fresh blood.

Sam hid his face. Dean really should lock him up, dose him with dead man's blood, or take his head. Not that long ago, Sam would have goaded Dean by asking him what Dad would have done, but they didn't do that kind of emotional blackmail much anymore. Maybe they'd matured. Maybe they just got hurt enough from outside forces that they'd finally figured out that they really didn't need to hurt each other. Maybe.

The scent of fresh blood taunted Sam's senses. He felt himself shaking and seizing but had no control over his own body, no ability to cry out as the scent rushed closer, intoxicating, horrible, and the best thing Sam had ever smelled in his life. Everything else faded to the background, and he was staring, just staring at two little drops of blood and skin so fragile that almost anything would break it open and…

Dean was talking. Dean. It was Dean's blood, Dean's hand, and Sam could suddenly smell the blood pooling under the skin of the warm arm he was holding onto. He willed himself to let go but couldn't actually manage to do it, couldn't listen to what Dean was saying…

A distant sound slipped through the cracks of his fevered brain with a feeling of danger. It was just enough of a distraction to allow Sam to finally release Dean. He blinked at his brother, registering the pain in Dean's posture and the horror of what he'd almost done sending a tremble down him even as he swallowed all of the extra saliva that kept pooling in his mouth. But that could wait – Dean needed to know that Sam had heard the very same vehicle as before – coming back.

"Dean," he whispered. "The vampires are back."

Sam pulled himself to his feet, almost used to the tug of the broken ribs by now, or maybe they were healing despite his starvation diet. He could hear the engine working harder as it started up the small hill the house was built into, the whine of iron as it went over the fence, the slip of the mud through tracks, not under tires, the huff of the choke engaging to bring it to a stop just outside. One set of feet landed on the ground, and Sam focused harder. Only one set of lungs. Steps walked up to the door, and suddenly both sides of Sam were in perfect agreement. Someone was coming to take Dean away from him, and that was not happening.

He barely heard himself hiss as the door opened, registered the hand grabbing at the back of his shirt even less, couldn't be bothered to care that his new teeth had descended. His entire world focused down to Attack the threat. Protect Dean.

Sam launched himself forward and bore his prey to the muddy ground just outside the door. The impact made his torso erupt in enough pain that he was nearly bucked off. His tshirt tore as his opponent grappled. Sam growled low in his throat and used the two fistfuls of clothing he held to pick up his opponent's head and shoulders from the ground and slam them back down. The hands gripping his biceps with supernatural strength didn't let go, nor did they let him get any closer to the vulnerable neck beneath him. Voices were yelling and hands were pulling at him, but it all flowed away, washed away by the twin tides of protect and bite that swamped him.

Sam and the other man rolled over a few times, and suddenly Sam was the one pinned. His formidable strength was fading again, like his body could only sustain it for short periods of time. He stopped struggling and relaxed under the vise-like grip holding him down, instinct honed over a lifetime telling him that this would give him a little bit of wiggle room for one last push. And it did. The hands holding him went loose, just shy of letting go. Fast as a snake, Sam reached out for Dean's ankle a few feet from his left ear and pulled out the knife Dean always kept there. He swiped up, knowing his adversary would expect the attack to come from his teeth. Too fast, one of those hands came up and the knife bit into its palm.

There was a spray of blood, and Sam felt like he'd been splattered by acid. In the shock of the pain, he lost track of where he was and what he was doing. He was hauled upright and his arms pinned to his side. Someone was prying the knife from his hand, and he let it go, trying to remember how to breathe as his ribs were constricted.

"Careful, Cas. Dammit. I know he's a vamp, but he's hurt!" Dean said. Sam lifted his head to see his brother standing in the doorway of the basement, holding the door open. Cas? Was he the someone who was dragging Sam toward Dean?

Sam looked down at the arms that were wrapped around him holding his arms at his sides. Tan sleeves. "Cas?" he rasped and the motion stopped.

"Am I hurting you, Sam?" rumbled the familiar voice behind him and Sam let his head fall forward in embarrassment.

"No. I'm – dammit, I'm sorry, Cas. I thought the vampires...uh, other vampires...were coming back for Dean and I kind of lost it."

"It's alright, Sam. I know you were not in control of your actions," said Cas immediately, and let go of Sam slowly, just leaving a hand on his arm.

"I -- I hurt you. I'm sorry."

Cas held up the hand not on Sam's arm, and a long cut closed as Sam watched. "It is nothing."

"Let's go in," Dean urged. He was shivering without an overshirt and holding his right arm, already deeply bruised and swelling, carefully against himself.

Sam moved willingly toward the door, but he spoke as he did. "Cas, can you heal Dean? I, uh," he swallowed hard, wishing he didn't still feel the urge to sink his teeth into his brother. "I hurt him."

"Of course." Cas paused. "Inside."

Sam's eyes caught on the unusual vehicle in the yard as they stepped into the house and it surprised him enough that he almost stopped, but he had other things to worry about. Inside, Sam moved toward the middle of the room, knowing the other two would need to keep an eye on him and want him away from the door.

"Cas, I'm sure glad you're here, man," Dean said, his eyes jumping back and forth from Sam to the angel. "You need to heal Sam, too."

"I cannot cure vampirism," Cas admitted, reaching for Dean's forehead. Grace glowed and Dean gave a relieved sigh and flexed his arm experimentally.

"Thanks, Cas."

Sam felt even guiltier. "Shit, Dean. I'm sorry."

Dean shrugged. "Stop saying that. Wasn't you. I've been there, remember? I almost...well, munched on Lisa and Ben. I get it."

Sam dug in Dean's bag, keeping his motions casual, aware of the eyes on him. He was hoping to find the key to the cage, but it must be in Dean's pocket. Sam had hoped to close himself inside and crush the key. Cas could rip the bars out to let him out once it was safe.

Plan b, then. Sam found the next best thing at the bottom of the bag as Cas regretfully told them that he wouldn't be able to heal Sam's injuries because the vampire in him would react negatively to angelic grace.

"Vampires are unnatural creatures. That's why my blood burned him," Cas finished, and Sam was surprised enough to stop rummaging.

"Really?" Sam looked at the burned spots on his hand and arm. They looked like chemical burns. "You smell…" He trailed off, embarrassed, unwilling to finish the sentence as delicious as Dean does.

"Human?" asked Cas. "I doubt a young vampire could detect an angel inside a vessel, but believe me, drinking my blood would kill you."

Sam hated the way his ruthlessly practical brain immediately thought, at least I have a reliable way to end myself if I can't be cured. So sue him; he doubted Dean's ability to kill him. Speaking of Dean, his brother was looking very suspiciously at Sam, obviously trying to figure out what he was doing. It didn't really matter though, as Sam had already found what he wanted. They were angelic handcuffs, not normal, but that was fine. Their special wardings wouldn't affect a vamp, but they should still be strong enough to hold him. Sam shrugged off his flannel, snapped one handcuff around his wrist and another around a bar of the cage.

"What the hell, Sam?" Dean complained as Sam began divesting himself of all his lock picks and weapons and tossing them into a corner well out of his reach.

"You won't lock me in the cage or lock me down with dead man's blood? Well, this is the next best thing," Sam answered with an equanimity that he didn't feel. "I already hurt you and Cas. It's not safe for me to be free." He sat down and leaned against the bars. "Put my shirt on. I'm not feeling the cold and you are." Actually, he was feeling really hot, but from the inside. He remembered that girl Lucy from so many years ago who thought she'd been given some recreational drug when really she'd been really been fed vampire blood. "I just want to come down." He had even more sympathy for her now.

"Sammy." Dean moved toward him, green eyes tortured.

"Sorry the shirt's muddy," answered Sam because that was the Winchester way, to say something, anything, other than talk about feelings. "You can take Cas for backup, you know. The cuffs can baby-sit." He tossed the key to the handcuffs to Dean, who caught it reflexively despite the dark.

"Muddy? It's a mess," Dean answered as if by rote. It was true. Rolling in the mud had coated Sam and Cas liberally in the stuff.

Dean crouched down next to Sam, ignoring the hand Cas put on his shoulder. Sam was grateful for it, though, because it meant the angel could pull Dean out of danger in a heartbeat. And if Dean needing protection from Sam didn't add up to a clusterfuck, Sam didn't know what did. "You're a mess," Sam gave the requisite answer.

"Yeah? You should see yourself," replied Dean softly.

Sam heard the layers of meaning, the sympathy under the harsh-seeming words. "Yeah, I am."

"I'm gonna go hunt these asshats down and then persuade them to tell me whose blood they fed you and take a little donation to get you better," Dean said after a moment. This close, Sam could see more detail of Dean's face than he ever had before. The way his freckles tapered off in an upward tilt on each side of his face, like they were smiling. The flecks of brown in his green eyes next to the gold ones that everyone normally noticed. The weight of worry and fear weighing in those same eyes, the creases at their corners from a need for revenge on Baako, et. al. It was overwhelming and intimate and Sam drank in every molecule.

"Cas will stay with you, because everybody knows trouble find you." Dean glanced up at their friend. "Okay, Cas?"

"Of course," Cas answered instantly, giving Sam one of his searching looks. "I can keep you safe and not allow you to hurt anyone, Sam," he finished, effectively addressing both what Dean wanted and what Sam did.

"No, Dean! You can't go after four vamps alone! You need backup. Take Cas with you. I'll be fine here." Sam's knew his voice had more than a hint of panic at the thought of Dean going after the nest alone.

"I'll be as fast as I can, Sammy," Dean promised, sincerity in every line of his body and the weight of his choice heavy on his shoulders. "You hang on and I'll be back soon with the cure and the jackasses will all be dead. I'll bring pictures if you want."

Despite his fear for his brother, Sam recognized a losing battle when he saw one. "I'll be fine. And I know you'll take care of them. You're one of the best Hunters I know." Sam tried to put his confidence in Dean onto his own face. It was himself that he didn't trust, but he believed in his brother – always had.

"One of?" Dean asked in fake outrage.

"Top 30 at least," Sam teased, hiding a wince as everything was suddenly too bright again. He grinned at Dean's fake outrage, then quickly closed his mouth to hide those damn teeth. "Uh, you should maybe take a step back."

Dean's face twisted briefly in automatic denial, but he stood and stepped back. "Okay, Cas. He can have a juice box and cheese stick, but no potato chips. And don't let him watch anything too scary or he wets the bed."

Cas ignored Dean, frowning at Sam as tremors began to shake him. "Is he –?"

"This happens. Distraction is the only thing that helps," Sam said quickly, hating the way his voice wobbled from his shaking. "And Dean, you're an idiot."

"Did you see that I get to drive a skidder out of here?" asked Dean, referring to the heavy construction vehicle that Cas had apparently driven up to the house. Twenty feet long and on tracks, the machine had a long arm going out to one side for dragging large logs. Sam supposed somebody had used it for hauling fallen trees out of the river, but it had been abandoned with the town. "Where did you find that thing, anyway?" Dean continued, his child-like grin almost disguising how much he hated the rest of the situation.

"Right along the road to the east of town. I could see that my truck would not make it through the mud, so I took it. The engine was still slightly warm," Cas answered. "I was not familiar with the type of vehicle, but it was not difficult to drive."

"East," mumbled Dean under his breath.

"B-baako must have k-kept it to get in and out-out of town," Sam stuttered. "You b-b-better get going." He closed his eyes. "And Dean, be careful."

Dean blew out a breath, then grabbed Sam's free arm, as if that hand hadn't broken his arm a short time before. Sam grabbed back – gently. No more words were exchanged, except for Dean quietly thanking Cas and walking toward the door like it hurt. He shrugged on Sam's shirt, mud and all.

"Dean?" Sam called softly, able to say the words only because Dean's face was turned away. "I don't want to live as a monster. If you can't cure me, you gotta promise me you'll kill me. Please. Don't make me live like this."

Dean touched his pocket where Sam could see the outline of his flask. "Sam…" Dean sighed and put his hand up against the door frame, then leaned his forehead against his arm like he was utterly weary. "I promise."

He slipped out and a second later, the big diesel growled to life again. Sam tried to picture prissy Baako riding on the machine and couldn't do it.

Without warning, a seismic tremor shook through Sam, and he felt like a molten pit opened in his stomach. Saliva pooled in his mouth as he smelled Cas' blood. The cuffs rattled against the bars and Sam's body felt like it did the same. The pit inside him grew hotter and wider and somehow Sam fell into it and he was nothing but hunger and hurt.

"It is painful for you, Sam?" asked Cas. Now he was the one crouching in front of Sam and he couldn't even hear the skidder engine, which meant he'd lost some time. Sam blinked and shook his head, ignoring the sparkles that erupted behind his eyelids.

Sam's mouth quirked a little as he considered the question. Painful? Uh, yeah. Whatever was happening to him was nearly as painful as the beating had been. "Yeah," was all he said. He noted that all of the lights were off now and was grateful for Cas' consideration.

Cas stared at Sam for so long that it would have been uncomfortable if Sam had been able to focus enough to think about it. "I wish I could help," he said finally, softly.

"You are helping." It was hard to sound emphatic when you were half-slumped on the floor and felt like you'd been put through the spin cycle a few times, but Sam tried. He saw his friend's doubt. "I mean it. Dean wouldn't have been able to make himself go if you weren't here. Cas, he was even considering using my blood to make himself a vampire so we could go together."

Cas blanched. "That seems reckless. Even for Dean."

Sam chuckled even though it kind of hurt. "Yeah. And honestly? I really didn't want to be alone." Sam closed his eyes and leaned back against the bars, hoping some of their coolness would seep into him. His defenses were down from the pain, and besides, he might not get another chance to say this. "I'm glad it's you. After Dean, you're the person I'd most like to have at my side. You – I don't say it, but you're like a brother too, you know?"

Cas was still at Sam's side, stiller than any human could have been. "Thank you, Sam," he said with a quiet gravity that Sam had learned to mean his words had touched his friend. A pause. "So, what you're saying is that I'm your second favorite brother?"

Cas' unexpected humor surprised a laugh out of Sam. Hiding his emotions, then disguising them with a joke? Cas certainly was one of them. "Sorry, Cas. As Dean likes to remind me, he changed my diapers. There's no competing with that."

"Clearly, brotherhood is more complicated than I was aware of," said Cas. He'd shuffled closer, close enough that the smell of his blood made Sam's teeth ache. A sword of hunger shoved its way into Sam's guts, sharp and hot, and he moaned before he could stop himself. Cas' hand touched his shoulder and Sam was torn between a need to move away and to sink his teeth in. He couldn't even move for the competing desires.

Cas was talking, but Sam was busy trying to hold himself together and couldn't follow the words. There was a brief flash of a different kind of pain on his shoulder, and it gave him focus for a second. Cas squeezed his shoulder, he realized.

"Sam, listen to me. I can probably put you to sleep so you don't have to go through this. May I?"

Sam squinted at the angel and swore his eyes were glowing already. "I…"

"I will stay and watch over you." Cas was so earnest, and the truth was, Sam had meant everything he'd said. He trusted Cas. Sam nodded.

"Sam, the part of you that is a vampire will fight this. Humans are designed to trust angels and their grace, so it's very easy for an angel to put a human to sleep, but vampires are very different. I don't even think it will work unless you relax and deliberately allow it to. Do you understand me?"

The last question was necessary, Sam supposed, since he was staring vacantly and breathing heavily through his mouth. "Yeah, I think so." It wasn't easy to cede control like that, but it sure beat going through this agony over and over.

Cas helped Sam lie down as comfortably as possible on the hard floor. He was talking, but Sam was struggling and shaking again from his friend's proximity. Do. Not. Bite. he had to remind himself.

Cool fingers on his forehead were a relief. He had the sensation of an invitation to rest, and he ignored the part of him that screamed that he should run the other way. With a grateful sigh, Sam sank into darkness.

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AN: I couldn't find anything in SPN that talked about what angel blood might do to a vampire, so (with Janice's help) I made something up!

The episode with a newly-turned vampire named Lucy is Fresh Blood.

radpinapple: Right, and the way things go on SPN, Sam will get like a day to recover. (You got tortured by the BMoL, found out Dean didn't die and your mom's back? Well, that's no excuse...get back to work! LOL) I'm so glad you're enjoying the story.

JaniceC678: Thank you very much! Gotta love that Winchester codependency. And of course, how their "rules" are different when it comes to each other.

muffinroo: Heh. Although I specialize in putting them in FUBAR'd situations, the boys' current predicament is actually not my fault this time! As promised, I'm sending accusations and accolades both toward bagelcat1, who is the brains behind this plot. (Sorry, my friend!) I tried to get this chapter out as quickly as requested, but got distracted by football. So much wonderful football. Anyway, the term defecated in the wrong cornflakes made me snort coffee through my nose! Ha!

supernaturalsammy67: Listen to you! You're gonna give me a big head. You're too sweet...and gotta love finding fellow SPN lovers, amirite? Bagelcat1 is the one who you can thank for this plot and Baako's sneaky plan. :-) I love that when you're reading the rest of the world fades away. I'm a huge reader and I love it when a story of any kind draws you someplace else. I'm super thrilled that something I wrote can give you that.

Christine: You have such intriguing ideas! But you were right that it was Cas coming. I just had to make everyone sweat a little bit. Cas can't fly at this point, but at least he's got angel strength still.

Timelady66: Oh, yeah, the vamps underestimated the boys! Don't all the bad guys? Except Crowley eventually. I wouldn't want a pissed off Dean hunting *me* down...but I wouldn't bet against the guys either.