Summary:

Dean and Sam fall into a vampire hunting pack's trap; Sam manages to escape but has to leave Dean behind. When he loses the trail to the nest, he calls on the vampire whose life he saved, Lenore, to help him find his brother. Kate, part of the nest that has Dean, decides Dean's punishment for helping to kill her mate, Luther, should include becoming a vampire himself. Post Croatoan.

Disclaimer: Nope. Don't own the copyrights to the Boys. But thank you Kripke for such fab characters and letting us play in your universe!!

Rating is for some bad-boy language. Some chapters get a bit bloody and lean toward mature themes.

Blood Debt

Chapter 11

Lenore and Dean made small talk, mostly discussing rock bands and music during the drive. Lenore approved whole-heartedly of Dean's collection of tapes and told him of concerts she'd attended through the years.

Dean tried not to squirm in the driver's seat, but the sun was an uncomfortable reminder that he was no longer entirely human. The side of his face and his hands felt like they were in an oven. The leather coat kept the sun's rays off his arms and chest, but it was hot enough he almost wanted to take the coat off.

"Isn't this sun just driving you freaking buggy?" Dean asked, pulling his left hand off the steering wheel and getting it in the shade for a few minutes. He looked down at it, convinced it was sunburned, but it was a disturbing pale white.

She laughed. "Well, one advantage to cow's blood is that we don't seem quite as sensitive to the sun. Besides, after a few hundred years, the sun just doesn't seem to hurt as much as it use to."

"How old are you?" Dean asked. She'd talked of attending concerts by some of the jazz greats so he figured her at least approaching a hundred.

She settled a little further back in the seat. "I was born in the mid-thirteenth century in a little town in England."

Dean gave a sidelong glance, reappraising her. "You look good for a 650 year old, Lenore."

She grinned back at him. "Well thank you, Dean."

"So when did you switch to cow's blood?"

"I've fed on and off cows since the seventeen hundreds. I finally went 'vegetarian' about twenty years ago."

"Vegetarian?" Dean laughed. "That's a new definition for the term. Why? Got tired of killing people?"

Lenore chuckled. "Oh nothing so moral as that. You hunters have brought my kind to the brink of extinction. In the old days, hunters were few, they couldn't get places fast, and news was slow. In the modern world, vampires are easy to find what with the news and the internet and cars and planes. It was purely a tactic for survival. As it had always been." She looked over at Dean. "If not for hunters, I'd probably still happily be drinking humans dry."

Dean was silent as he contemplated her words. He debated, not wanting to offend her—she'd saved both him and Sam, after all—but plowed forward anyhow. "You know, Sam and I, we hunt evil. We placed you in the category of 'not evil' after your show with Gordan and after you let Sam live."

"And now you're not so sure after what I've said?" Lenore said, arching an eyebrow at him.

Dean gave a half shrug. "Well, your words don't exactly inspire confidence in that decision."

She laughed, delighted. "Rest assured, Dean, we don't intend to go back to drinking human blood. Not intentionally, anyhow. I'll admit, cow's blood is about as disgusting as drinking pond scum, but the trade off is worth it. We don't have to worry as much about hunters, and those of us with anything still resembling a conscience find it a better way to live. We can finally fit into society in a way we couldn't before. We can put down roots, after a fashion, and after centuries on constantly being on the move, it's nice to stop and rest and enjoy the world. It's nice to work a job and make money instead of stealing it. It's better, at least for now. Can we stay vegetarian for the rest of our lives? I hope so. We've come to prefer the quieter life, even at the price of god-awful food for eternity. The craving for human blood eventually eases, but it's always there."

"I've never felt anything like this hunger," Dean admitted. "I don't know how you fight it."

"Practice. But we have our limits. Starve us and we'll kill anything to ease the hunger. As you've seen."

Dean shuddered. "Yes," he said quietly. He rubbed his eyes. The Protégé's license plate number had since been burned into his brain. And Eli drove the speed limit. Annoyingly, exactly, the speed limit. "How much further?" he asked, changing the subject so he didn't have to think about what he'd done to his brother to ease that terrible hunger.

"Oh, maybe an hour."

Good for her word, an hour later they followed the Protégé down a long, dirt driveway that led to a blue, two-story farmhouse. When Dean shut off the ignition, Lenore turned to him.

"You stay in the car until we get Sam inside."

"But—" Dean began.

"No," she said firmly. "He's not safe around you right now. You might not feel it at the moment, but sometimes the bloodlust can explode inside you and even I might not be able to stop you. Especially because Sam's blood is … uncommonly enriching."

"Why aren't we taking him to a hospital?" he asked, still worried that Sam was far too weak.

Lenore's lips pursed. She'd hoped she wouldn't have to tell him but saw only the truth would satisfy him. "That would be unwise. They would give him blood. I had to feed him some of my blood."

"You turned my brother?" Dean exploded.

"I had no choice. It was that or he was going to die. You took too much from him," she said coldly.

Dean looked away from her, her words cutting him to his soul. He almost killed his brother. And now Sam was walking the same damned path as he was, on the way to becoming a vampire.

"I had to get fluid back into him and that was the only way," she explained. "He drank from me, then from one of the food. We have his blood type on hand if he takes a turn for the worst, but it would be best if he pulls through on his own. If any of the vampiric virus is left, a transfusion of fresh blood might give it strength to multiply. We can't risk a hospital."

"It's a demonic virus, right?" he asked, trying to squelch his anger. It was his fault, not hers. She'd done it to save Sam.

She gave him a small smile. "Yes, and he is likely immune to it. Unless he were to ingest more of my blood, he should be just fine."

"Why would you say he's immune?" he asked warily.

Lenore shrugged. "He's demon-taint to him. Possession, exposure to a different virus, something, but it's in his blood. I would be surprised if he wasn't immune, though it's possible."

Dean chewed this over and asked hesitantly. "But he's not demon, right?"

"If he were, his blood would be useless to us," she reassured him.

Dean felt some unnamed fear uncoil in him. He sighed. "Okay. Let me know when I can come in. I can't wait to get out of this damned sun."

Lenore got out of the car and joined the others. Dean watched anxiously as they helped Sam out. He was relieved to see Sam was conscious and able to help himself a little. Sam looked over at Dean and gave him a weak, lopsided grin as he leaned on Detroit and Eli. Dean raised a hand and grinned back, feeling better. Sam didn't hate him. Sam was going to be okay. Even if he ended up a vampire, he could deal so long as his brother was okay. A few minutes later Lenore reappeared in the doorway and waved Dean in.

"Finally," Dean murmured and hurried out of the painful sunshine. He went into the house and found himself in the kitchen. Five new faces watched him from the table. Lenore was leaning against a cabinet.

"This is the rest of our family, Dean. You never got to meet them because you were keeping Gordan tied up."

Dean gave a slight smile and nod to each. "Nice to meet you all," Dean said, feeling awkward. He turned to Lenore. "How's Sam doing?"

"Weak. He fell right back asleep. But he appears to be getting stronger. He's not out of the woods yet, but I'd wager he'll be just fine."

Dean winced as his stomach cramped. The pain tripled and he fell to his knees gasping, clutching his stomach. Ravenous hunger electrified him. The smell assaulted him and he realized someone in the room was human, the scent of human fanning his bloodlust.

Lenore shooed the others out of the kitchen and then came over to him, picking up a knife on the way. She cut her wrist and proffered it to him. Dean didn't even think, having her arm to his mouth as soon as it was offered. The pain eased almost immediately. As soon as Lenore saw the tension relax in Dean, she pulled her arm away from his clutching hands. He reached out for her arm, anguish in his eyes.

"No, please," he moaned.

"Dean, is that enough to get you through for a little while?" Lenore asked gently.

Dean found himself on his knees the taste of delicious blood in his mouth. He saw that he'd only drank from Lenore's offered arm and relief swelled in him.

"Is that enough?" she asked again.

Dean laughed bitterly, staring longingly at her arm and the blood still seeping from the wound. "Would you give me more if I said it wasn't?"

"Not just yet. Eli, would you get Dean something to drink?" Lenore called out. She helped Dean to his feet and motioned him into a chair at the table.

"Already on it," Eli called from the other room.

Dean ground his teeth. He felt the hunger gnawing in the back of his mind. He looked again at Lenore's arm and forced himself to stay in the seat.

"We'll have you blood in just a minute, Dean. Fight it back." Lenore told him as she wrapped the wound. It would be healed by evening and she only covered it in an effort to help Dean.

Dean nodded but clenched and unclenched his fist, his eyes still on her arm. "Lenore," he said softly, "I'm still so hungry. Please, just a little more."

Lenore gave him an understanding smile. "Patience. I know it's hard."

Dean laid his head down on the cool table, struggling against the fire in his stomach. He couldn't help himself and slid out of the chair to fall on his knees at her feet. "Please, Mistress," he begged. "Please. It hurts."

Lenore ran her hand through his hair. "I know, Dean. I know. Eli will have some blood for you in just a minute. That will help. I promise."

Dean's eyes remained locked on the bandaged arm. He started to reach for it.

"Stop it," Lenore ordered him, her voicing turning hard and commanding. "Sit back down at the table."

Dean winced and did as she said. He ran his hands over the tabletop, trying to ignore the craving. Her order was all that kept him in the chair.

Eli came in with a large glass of blood and handed it to Dean. "This should be enough for a short while."

Dean accepted the glass anxiously; its contents were still warm. The aroma was heavenly. He couldn't get the glass to his mouth fast enough and quickly downed it. It felt like they'd offered a package of crackers when he wanted a three-course meal, but he could tell the edge had been taken off his bloodlust. His head cleared some and he felt more in control of himself.

"That was human blood," Dean said. "A woman's."

"Yes. We have arrangements with some humans who owe us favors." She nodded her thanks to Eli and with a jerk of her head, indicated for him to leave. His gaze lingered worriedly on her, but he went through the door after she gave him a reassuring smile.

"Favors? What kind of favors?"

"Nick, for example. He was the black-haired gentleman in the motorcycle tee sitting in here. He's not technically a member of my immediate family, but part of my extended family now."

Dean remembered him and the tee. It was a Harley t-shirt with a 2006 chromed out soft-tail on it. A sweet ride.

"Nick had cancer. He and his wife found us. We fed Nick small amounts of my blood for nine days before bringing him back to human. He still has cancer, but it is in remission. The agreement, regardless if Nick survived, was that his wife would allow us to take blood, via needles, not teeth, from her if we were in need. She and Nick are in the other room. Nick, of course, is also available for blood donation."

"He's the one I smelled," Dean said.

"Yes." Lenore paused then said, "Dean, you're very close, if not already, at the point of no return. I didn't let you drink very much from me and we didn't give you very much blood. The bloodlust will come back and very soon, but I needed you lucid. As I told you in the car, you need to choose, and choose soon. We can attempt to bring you back to human. It will be excruciatingly painful. You may not survive. As far along as you are, I would guess you've got about a twenty percent chance of surviving it."

"And my alternative?" Dean asked tightly.

"You can choose for us to finish the turning. In a little over a month, you'll be a full vampire, able to feed on your own, and not under my control. There is no guarantee that you'll be able to control your bloodlust. There is no guarantee that you will be able to survive on cattle blood, and likely not initially. You'll have all the vampire weaknesses and strengths. You'll age very slowly, nothing short of beheading or deadman's blood will kill you, and you'll be very strong. But you will need blood to live." Lenore paused again then asked, "What do you want to do?"

"Twenty percent chance, huh?" Dean said. He ran his fingers over the yellow laminate of the tabletop. The vampire in him begged for its next meal. The blood had become like nectar, or at least, the best-damned aged whiskey he'd ever tasted. The human in him was repulsed by the idea of living the rest of his life as an undead, bloodsucking parasite. There should be no thought. The choice should be obvious. He should ask to be returned to human. So why was it so hard to say that? Why was he debating it? Hell, even a five percent chance of returning to human and he should jump at it. But he still tasted the blood in his mouth, and it tasted so very good.

"Human," Dean choked out, fighting with himself to even get the word said.

She smiled. "We thought as much. Come on, let's take you down to the basement."

"Why?" Dean asked

"Because you will be a risk to us and yourself while you fight off the virus. We'll do our best, Dean, to get you through this. Now let's hurry before the vampire part of you decides running is the better option."

She led Dean through a door off the kitchen and down into the basement. A metal cage, not unlike that he'd just escaped from, sat empty, its door open and waiting. Dean felt the twist in the pit of his stomach. Every thing in him told him to run. He froze at the bottom of the stairs and began to shake his head as he backed away. "No. I —I can't. No. Turn me. Finish turning me," he begged. Part of his mind rebelled and tried to deny those words and the desire that swelled within him.

Lenore bowed her head. "I understand, Dean," she said softly.

She raised her head and pulled a pistol from inside her coat. Dean heard the "whump" as the gun fired and looked down to where the tranquillizer dart stuck out of his chest. The pain exploded in him and he fell to the floor in agony as the deadman's blood poisoned him. Lenore grabbed him by the forearm, pulled him to his feet, and half-dragged, half-carried him into the cage. She placed padded shackles on his wrists and ankles. The shackles on his wrists had an additional chain between them. She ran a gentle hand along his cheek. "We'll help you through this Dean. You'll survive this. You have to. For Sam. He needs his brother."

She injected another dose of deadman's blood into his arm and he screamed as its cleansing fire burned inside of him.