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 12
It was the yelling that roused him, his brother's voice cursing or calling for help—Sam sat bolt upright, snapping awake as if icy water had been dumped on him. His gaze darted around the dimly lit room. Yellow curtains with flowers were closed against the gold of morning sunlight that edged its fabric. The room was painted a light color, maybe white, and a floral border ran along the top of the wall. An old wooden dresser was against the wall opposite the wooden-framed bed in which Sam lay. Beside the bed was a white ceramic lamp with a creamy colored cylindrical shade. His bedspread was a quilt made up of swatches of whites and yellows and reds.
Sam heard a rooster crowing, but nothing of his brother. He tried to remember where he was and how he'd ended up naked in a Grandma Moses type room. The last thing he remembered was Dean drinking his blood, slowly killing him.
"Dean," Sam choked out, fear suddenly clutching at him.
The cobwebs of sleep drifted away and more memories trickled in. He vaguely recalled Eli and Detroit helping him up some stairs. His brother…had been sitting in the Impala and had waved at him. He felt his breath leave him. They'd gotten Dean out. Dean was safe. He might be a vampire—Jesus, how the hell were they going to deal with that?—but at least he was …alive?
"One step at a time, Sam," he told himself, his voice a mere whisper. On the dresser across from the foot of the bed, he saw his clothes neatly stacked. He staggered to his feet and lurched to the dresser, leaning heavily on it for balance. He tossed his clothes on the bed, and then stumbled his way back to the mattress. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he pulled his clothes on. Once dressed, he stood, but his head swam and he staggered and fell back onto the soft bed.
"Crap!" Sam muttered. He lay there a moment, letting his lightheadedness fade. He sat up slowly and carefully got to his feet and this time met with success. Walking gingerly across the room to the wooden door, he twisted the enameled doorknob and pushed the door open. Soft voices drifted in to him. Following the sound, he found himself at the top of a long set of steep stairs, old green shag carpet tacked to the middle of each step.
"Oh, swell," Sam muttered and, with a death grip on the old wooden banister, took one step at a time, not wanting to take a header down the stairs.
Steadying himself with the wall, he walked toward the source of the voices and found the living room. Six people were inside, two asleep on the checker-patterned couch and four chatting between themselves from comfy chairs. The drapes on the windows were a faded blue and a sun-catcher of a hummingbird spilled a circle of bright colors onto the oak flooring. He looked at the faces he didn't recognize and cleared his throat.
"Hello?" Sam said tentatively.
A woman with bright blue eyes, short brown hair, and dressed in a spaghetti string top and faded jeans, smiled at him. "Sam, you should have called out and let us know you were awake. Are you hungry? I've got some pancake batter all ready for cooking, or there's some cornbread in there if you don't want to wait."
Sam felt drained from just the short walk and staggered over to an empty chair where he collapsed. "My brother. Dean. I thought I heard him."
The woman gave a terse nod. "Oh yes. Mr. Scream-All-Night." She saw Sam's startle looked. "He wants blood, Sam," she said gently then gave him a smirk. "And he lets everyone in the house know it. Again, and again and again. He sure has a nasty mouth on him. I had to look up a few of the things he called me last time I gave him his medicine."
Sam shook his head. "I'm sorry, I don't know who you are. I don't know who any of you are. And I'm really confused. Where's my brother? Where are Lenore, Eli, Shelly and Detroit?"
The woman laughed, embarrassed. "I'm so sorry, Sam. We've been in and out of your room taking care of you, but you've been pretty out of it since you've been here. I shouldn't be surprised you don't remember who we are. I'm Anya. This is my husband Nick," she indicated a dark-haired man to her right dressed in a Styx concert T-shirt and jeans, then pointed to a slighter version of Nick and the petite blond beside him, "his brother James, his wife Marcie, and that's Ben and Alicia, my sister, asleep on the couch. Your brother is downstairs with Lenore and her family. He's doing as well as can be expected, I guess. He's not doing as well as Nick did coming out of the vampirism," she squeezed her husband's hand, "but Dean has a lot more virus in him. Lenore, Eli and Shelly are all trying to get past the craving for human blood, so they're locked up too. Would you like to go down and see them? They're probably just getting ready to sleep."
"What time is it?" Sam asked, trying to take in everything she said. His thoughts felt sluggish and nothing but bits and pieces seemed to stick.
"I don't know. Maybe 6:30 am."
"How long have I—"
"Three days," Nick said and pushed himself to his feet. He walked over to Sam. "C'mon, let's get you down to see your brother. I imagine you're worried sick about him. I know I would be if it were James down there. It's about time for his next dose, anyhow." Nick helped Sam to his feet and offered him a steadying arm.
"Dose?" Sam asked, hating that he needed Nick's help, but feeling too weak to try to manage without it.
"Of deadman's blood." He waved to a different door. "Into the kitchen and then I'll help you downstairs."
"Are you all vampires?" Sam asked hesitantly.
Nick laughed. "No, none of us are, but we owe Lenore and her family my life. We made a bargain, our blood when they need it, for their attempt to cure my cancer."
Sam twisted his head to look at Anya then back at Nick. "So they turned you, then brought you back."
Nick shrugged. "Seemed like a good idea at the time. The docs had pretty much done all they could, gave me a few months at most. I know they don't look it, but Ben and Alicia are into some pretty strange scenes in the city. Goth, vampirism, all of that. Alicia told Anya about some vampires that might be able to help." Nick laughed. "Anya and I figured she meant, you know, the human vampires that do that sort of thing. Ben is one. He craves blood. But he's human. We didn't think there were honest-to-God, fanged-and-all vampires that lived only on blood."
Nick pushed open the door that led to the kitchen. The lingering aroma of bacon, sausage, maple syrup, and cornbread filled the room. Dirty plates were stacked in the sink. Sam saw the mixer's beaters with the remnants of pancake batter still clinging to their metal strips. The food smelled good to Sam and he realized his was both thirsty and famished.
"So, with their help, we found Lenore and her family. My cancer's not gone, but it's been in remission for five years now." Nick picked up a tranquilizer dart lying on the kitchen counter and slid it into his shirt pocket. He saw Sam's gaze linger on the cornbread.
"Here, lean on the table a minute," Nick said and once Sam shifted his weight to the yellow laminate table, Nick went over to the cupboard and took out a glass. He filled it a quarter full with water, then poured orange juice in it from a pitcher. He set it in front of Sam. "Too acidic for an empty stomach unless you water it down a bit."
Sam lifted the glass to his lips and downed about a third, watching as Nick cut off a hunk of the cornbread, slid it into the microwave for fifteen seconds, then pulled it out and set it on the table. Sam devoured the bread quickly and finished off his watered-down orange juice.
"More?" Nick asked.
Sam shook his head. "Not until I see Dean," Sam said, feeling guilty for the few minutes he'd paused to eat. He had to admit, the food seemed to help clear his head and he felt a little stronger as the calories began to get into his system.
"Anya will fix you a proper meal when you're ready for it. She's the best cook in the county if you ask me." Nick said with a wink as he tossed down a few crumbles of cornbread. "You ready for more stairs?"
Sam's brow lifted as he sighed. "I guess I don't have a choice."
"Not if you want to see your brother," Nick said as he guided Sam to the steep basement stairs and walked down them in front of him, ready to catch him if he stumbled. As before, Sam took them slowly, step by individual step.
The full basement stretched the length of the house. Sam saw a handful of people lounging in chairs and couches about halfway down the basement. Not too far from the stairs, he saw a cage with someone sitting inside.
"Dean?" Sam asked, hurrying toward the cage. Nick grabbed his arm. "Easy there, Sam. Don't get too close. He's hungry."
Dean stood up, his chains rattling. "Sam? Sam! Get me the hell out of here!"
Sam looked in on his brother; Dean looked gaunt and pale, his green eyes flashing with fury. Padded cuffs were on his ankles and wrists with an additional chain running between the wrist cuffs. Bruises peppered his face and chest. A pillow and bedding were heaped to one side along with some Styrofoam trays and plates and empty water bottles. Sam's gaze went back to Nick.
"He's dangerous, Sam. The cage is safest for everyone."
"C'mon, Sam!" Dean said. "Clock him already and get me out of here!"
Sam saw Nick slide the dart into a pistol he picked up from a table. Nick moved a little closer to take aim.
"No-no-no-no!" Dean said, backing away from the front of the cage, watching Nick angrily. "Don't you let him shoot me with that, Sammy! What the hell is wrong with you?"
Sam took the gun from Nick. "Give me a minute," Sam said.
Nick looked annoyed, then shrugged. "Sure thing, but give me the gun back. And whatever you do, stay out of his reach. He nailed the hell out of Detroit yesterday. Your brother is one devious son-of-a-bitch. He's gotten out of his chains twice already." He saw the indecision on Sam's face and sighed. He pulled out a pocketknife and cut a small gash in the back of his hand, then squeezed it until a big bubble of blood welled up. Nick showed it to Dean. "Hungry?"
Dean's eyes locked on Nick's hand. He threw himself at the bars and fought with his chains. Creative cussing spewed from him. Nick sucked on the cut and then ran his thumb over it until it was hardly bleeding. He gave Sam a "believe me now" type look.
Sam closed his eyes and nodded his head as he handed the gun back to Nick. Dean began cussing anew.
Sam approached the cage, but kept well out of reach. "Dean? How are you feeling?"
"How do you think I'm feeling?" Dean snapped. "Get me out of here." Dean paced angrily but kept one eye on Nick and the gun.
"I can't. You're still sick."
"Sammy," Dean begged, "you've got to get me out of here. This is all a trick. They're messing with you. I'm fine."
"You will be, Dean. I'll be with you. I'll help you get through this."
"No," Nick said. "You can't stay down here until Lenore, Eli and Shelly have gotten past their craving for human blood." He pointed to the group of people gathered at the furniture Sam had seen. He realized Lenore, Eli and Shelly were chained to the wall.
"What's going on?" Sam asked, beginning to feel concern. He glanced back at Dean.
"See, Sam? See? Now would you get me out of here?" Dean demanded.
"Is it okay for me to go down there?" Sam asked Nick. He looked at the forty or so feet and winced. He was beyond exhausted and the extra spurt of energy that he'd gotten from the juice and cornbread already seemed used up.
"Sure. C'mon, I'll help you down there." He offered Sam his arm. Sam gratefully accepted the help.
Nick continued. "They're fine, they're just craving human blood. Pretty much have to starve them until they don't have a choice and drink the cow's blood. After about three days of it, they're pretty much back to normal. Lenore's already back to drinking cow's blood, but her craving will probably last longer than the others will. She had more human blood than they did. Stay out of their reach though. You probably won't have a problem, but best not to tempt fate, y'know? Under normal circumstances they'd never hurt you, but right now isn't normal."
"I understand," Sam said.
When they reached the group, he found he remembered most of the faces and associated names from when he'd met them all in Montana. They in turn welcomed him. Detroit moved over so Sam could sit on the couch. Detroit's right wrist and neck were bandaged, and the remnants of a black eye and other bruises on his face were visible.
"Dean did all of that to you?" Sam asked, an apology in his voice.
Detroit snorted. "Afraid so. He's a vicious S.O.B when he's hungry," Detroit said. "My own fault. I thought he was asleep, or at least too sick from the deadman's blood to get up, and I went into his cage to get the dirty trays out. Next thing I know he's whaling on me, had his fingers dug into my wrist and teeth buried in my neck. Took four of the family to get him off me. Unfortunately he got enough blood from me to give him a little bit of a set back. He's getting desperate enough to drink from another vampire that's not his sire. For what it's worth, that's actually a pretty good sign."
"Hello, Sam," Lenore said from where she sat by the wall. Various pillows were piled around her, Eli and Shelly. Shelly was curled up in the blankets softly snoring. Eli was reading a magazine. He glanced up, acknowledged Sam, and then went back to reading.
"Are you doing okay?" Sam asked worry in his face.
She laughed a little. "Oh, what I wouldn't give for another taste of your sweet blood, dear Sam, but I'm managing. It'll be another five days or so until the humans here will be safe from us."
"Lenore, I can't begin to thank you for everything you and your family have gone through for me and my brother." Sam looked around and made sure he made eye contact with each and every member of the family. "You saved both our lives."
"And you saved ours. A fair trade. Perhaps we might be able to even call each other friends?"
Sam nodded and Lenore smiled.
"But Dean's far from out of danger, Sam," Lenore said and her bright smile vanished. "He's hardly begun to go into it. He has a very real chance of not surviving."
Sam swallowed hard. "How bad are his chances?"
"At a guess, maybe twenty percent that he'll survive," Lenore said, not trying to sugarcoat it. She didn't want Sam to think the chances were better than what they were.
"When will we know?" Sam asked softly. He glanced over his shoulder toward Dean.
Lenore shrugged. "Maybe ten days? A full vampire can go a very long time without eating. Dean had a lot of vampire virus get into him, and worse, multiple strains. Kate's, mine, and now he has a third strain in him." She nodded toward Detroit. "Once starved, the stronger strain will feed on the other strains and give itself strength. It's going to get very ugly for him."
"What can I do to help him?" Sam asked.
"Nothing. If you stay near him, it's tantamount to teasing him. You smell," and Lenore took a deep breath, "delicious."
Detroit nudged Sam. "That's your cue to leave. We're getting ready to sleep anyhow. I'll visit tonight when we get up. Best if you just stay upstairs for a few days though."
A pained look came to Sam's face. "But Dean. I can't just sit up there."
"You'll only make it worse for him. You need to stay upstairs. If," Detroit hesitated, "if it looks really bad, we'll let you know. We're right here, keeping an eye on him. And you can maybe sit on the stairs and watch him while he's sleeping, if that would make you feel better." Detroit laid a hand on Sam's arm. "And don't forget, Sam, there's always prayer."
Sam took a deep breath and nodded. Nick helped him to his feet and they headed slowly back toward Dean.
"Feel better now?" Nick asked, his voice telling Sam Nick clearly understood this was hard on him.
Sam gave him a bit of a smile. "Yes. Kind of." When he got close enough he could see Dean was sitting against the far side of the cage glaring at him. "Dean, I'm sorry. Can I get you anything?"
"The hell out of here?" Dean said.
"Soon." He looked at Nick and nodded.
Nick picked the gun back up, eased closer, and fired. Dean tried to slip out of the dart's way, but Nick's aim was good and the dart sank into Dean's shoulder. Dean howled angrily and spewed vicious words addressed to both Nick and Sam as he yanked out the dart and crushed it. Within a few seconds though, Dean collapsed, moaning as the deadman's blood began to work on him.
"Well that's how he's getting out of his chains," Sam said.
"How?" Nick asked anxiously, his eyes going to the cuffs.
"He snapped off the needle of the dart and palmed it."
Dean lifted his head with an effort. "Dammit, shut up, Sam!" he muttered, then his head fell back to the floor and he curled up into a ball.
"Son of a gun. Well, feel like backing me up while I get it from him?"
Sam shook his head. "I'm exhausted. I wouldn't be any good to you." Sam went closer to the cage.
"C'mon, Dean. Hand it over."
"Go screw yourself," Dean muttered.
"Dean!" Sam ordered. "Give it up. Now."
Dean's eyes opened in slits. "Come get it," he hissed.
"You going to try to drain me again, brother?"
"Given another shot, there won't be any try to it." Dean snarled. He began to moan and writhe.
Sam cringed, wishing there was something he could do to help his brother.
Dean suddenly quieted and looked at Sam. "I didn't mean that. I did, but it's not me Sammy. Stay back."
"Dean, the needles, toss them out," Sam begged him.
Dean shook his head.
"You can do it Dean. Fight its control. I know you can do it."
Dean stared at this brother, his face contorted in pain. He slowly reached his hand under his pillow, grabbed something and tossed. A smattering of items skittered across the floor.
Sam smiled, relieved. "Thanks Dean."
Dean gave a single nod before the look in his eyes changed. "Why don't you come close enough to pick them up, Sammy?"
Nick already had a broom in hand that he stretched out and swept the pieces away from Dean and toward himself. Nick shook his head in amazement. "A button, a safety pin, a zipper pull, a necklace chain, and pieces from the darts. Damn."
Sam shrugged. "We're, uh, kind of use to making due with whatever comes within reach."
"How is it he didn't get away from Thompson's lot?"
"My hands weren't usable then," Dean murmured from where he lay on the floor. "Pins through my palms and most my fingers broken."
"You're awfully together for just having a dose of deadman's blood," Nick said, seeming a little unnerved by the fact.
"It hurts, I feel like I want to hurl, I don't want to move, but I can think a little clearer. Sam … can you stay for a little while?"
Sam sat down and put his back against the support. "As long as you want."