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 13
Dean's welfare spiraled down the hungrier for blood the vampire in him became. The deadman's blood started taking a worse toll on him. He thrashed, he screamed, he cried and begged as the deadman's blood webbed his body with dark lines that just as quickly faded. Sam stayed by him for long periods at a time whenever Dean was given the deadman's blood because during that time, Dean would sometimes be himself. Those times were getting fewer and fewer.
Eight days after their rescue from Thomas' family, Dean collapsed.
Detroit and Lenore held Sam back.
"No, Detroit said, "He will attack you. He will kill you."
"He's unconscious!" Sam fumed and struggled to go to his brother's side.
"The vampire in him would use every last bit of strength he has if he thought he could get fresh blood," Lenore told him. "He's almost killed you once, Sam. You know he'd do it again."
Sam practically collapsed in their arms as the truth sank in. He shook off their hands and moved as close as he dared. "Is he going to pull through, Lenore?" he asked softly.
Lenore moved up next to Sam and settled beside him. "I wish I could tell you, Sam. His chances are poor, you know that."
"It's not too late to finish turning him, is it?" Sam asked, hardly believing the words coming from him. He couldn't bear the thought that after everything they'd been through that Dean would die crumpled in a cage, chains around his wrists and ankles. After he'd been electrocuted and nearly died, after the semi had t-boned the Impala and their father had given up everything to save Dean. Not like this. No.
Lenore took Sam's hand. "No, it's not, but Dean doesn't want that. We both know that. You're desperate Sam. I understand. Do you really want to condemn your brother to becoming a demon half-breed in an undead body?"
Sam's jaw clenched and he shook his head as his tears spilled down his face. He couldn't do that. But he wanted to. God, he wanted to. Anything to save his brother. He wanted to go to the cage and offer Dean his arm, beg him to drink if it would save him. Even if it cost him his own life. "I can't let him die, Lenore," he whispered.
She smiled kindly at him. "If he becomes a vampire, the Dean you know will be dead. Given time, he'll be just as dead as if he were to die physically, now."
Detroit put his hand on Sam's shoulder. "Why don't we pray for him, Sam? Maybe God, shocked enough to hear a half-demon praying, will grant us with his kind Grace."
Sam turned his tear-filled gaze to Detroit and managed a nod.
Two days later, when Sam had all but resigned himself to the fact that Dean wasn't going to make it, Dean stirred.
"Sammy?" Dean asked weakly.
"Dean?" Sam asked. He'd hardly slept since Dean's collapse. "I'm here Dean. I'm right here," he said excitedly. He moved closer to bars of the cage. He wanted to go to his brother, but he reluctantly kept his distance.
"Sammy," Dean whispered. "Help me, Sam. I'm hungry. I'm so very hungry."
Sam fought back his tears. "I know, Dean. But I think you're through the worst of it. I'll get you something to eat."
Sam dashed upstairs, dumped a can of soup into a bowl, and shoved it in the microwave. He carried it back downstairs and set it and a spoon on a tray. He pushed the tray up to the side of the cage.
"Dean, I brought you some soup. Do you think you can eat it?"
Dean slowly managed to roll on his side and stared through the bars at his brother. "I don't think I can move. My arms feel like spaghetti. Really heavy spaghetti."
Sam hesitated. "Okay. Just hang on a minute."
Sam went back upstairs and returned a few minutes later, Nick following him down, a pistol loaded with deadman's blood in his hand. Sam opened the cage and entered the cage warily. He set the tray down next to his brother.
"Here, Dean. Try to eat some real food."
Dean struggled to sit up but his hadn't the strength to push himself upright. Sam debated, then got behind Dean and helped him, dragging him close to the bars so he had something to lean against. He got the tray and brought it over to Dean.
He scooped up some soup, "Try to eat this," he said, offering him the spoon of chicken noodle soup.
Dean managed to swallow it. He made a face. "Dude, that's awful."
"Well, I doubt you can manage anything else. Try some more." Sam offered a second spoonful to him.
Dean swallowed it, but grimaced. "Man, it smells so good. Why does it taste so damned rank?"
"Sam," Nick said, warning clear in his voice as he moved closer. "Get out of the cage. Now."
Sam looked back, questioningly. "Why?"
Dean suddenly shoved himself off the bars and tackled Sam, the bowl of soup skittering across the cage. Sam held Dean back by his shoulders, startled by the sudden strength Dean had. Dean's eyes gleamed hungrily.
"You're what smells so good," Dean crooned, his fingernails digging into the side of Sam's neck.
Nick fired the gun and the dart buried itself into Dean's back. Dean arched against the pain, momentarily releasing his grip on Sam's throat. Sam kneed Dean in the groin and rolled, managing to pull away and dive for the cage door. Nick grabbed Sam's arm and practically yanked him out of the cage, kicking the door shut with his foot. The door clicked as it locked automatically.
Sam had his hand at his throat and felt the hot blood seeping into his palm. Nick pulled his hand away from it.
"He's weak. It's not that bad. Just some soap and antibiotics should take care of it. Lucky for you both, he didn't quite get to the carotid. And the next time I tell you to get the hell out of the cage, don't stand there and ask me why."
Sam put his hand back over the aching wound. "Sorry."
They both watched as Dean paced back and forth along the bars like an animal. A minute later, Dean's knees gave out as the deadman's blood finally took hold.
"Did you see how long it took for the deadman's blood to kick in?" Nick said with a grin, apparently encouraged by the response. "Your brother's beating it, Sam."
Sam stared in at his brother who was curled up on the floor, moaning in pain, and didn't say a word.
Dean opened his eyes. Sam sat nearby at a table, working on the laptop. Dean could smell the steak and realized just how hungry he was. He looked at his surroundings, trying to put together the pieces. Why was he in chains and locked in a cage? And why did every muscle in him hurt as if he'd gone fifteen rounds with a prizefighter? Oh yeah. Because he was a fucking vampire that had tried to drain his own brother.
Dean tried to speak, but his throat was dry and sore. "Sam?" he managed to whisper.
Sam's head snapped up and he nearly knocked over the chair as he jumped to his feet. "Dean?" Sam said hopefully. Dean noticed Sam stayed back a good five feet from the cage.
"No, Peter Cottontail," Dean whispered. "Water?"
Sam pointed to bottles of water lined up just outside Dean's cage. Dean gave a nod and crawled over to them. He snagged the first, opened it, and guzzled it. His throat felt damned raw, but the water was definitely helping. He finished the first bottle and snagged a second. After downing about half of it, he felt he'd quenched the worst of his thirst.
"How do you feel?" Sam asked anxiously.
"Like I've been run over by a truck. About twelve times. That steak really smells good," Dean said, eyeing the plate on the desk. His stomach rumbled loudly.
Sam nodded. "Yeah, you've said that before. Well, I guess there's only one way to be sure. I'll be right back."
Sam took the stairs two at a time. A few minutes later he returned, with Lenore.
"Hello, Dean," she said. "Feeling a bit more human today?"
"I think so." The memories came back to him in fits and starts. She would cut open her arm and offer it to him. Last time he'd still reacted, still craved it.
Lenore drew a crimson line on her arm with a knife. She moved in close to the cage. Dean looked at it then at her face and Sam's. He shrugged. "Nope. Pretty disgusting. No offense."
She opened the door and came up next to him. Dean caught a slight whiff of the smell he remembered, the smell of the blood that would drive him to madness. He stiffened and eyed the blood, a mixture of desire and revulsion inside him. Lenore backed away.
"Another day or two and you should be safe, Dean," she said. "You'll probably have lingering after effects for a few months though."
"I'm … human?" Dean asked hopefully.
"Almost. It's probably best if we keep you on the deadman's blood and drinking holy water for a week or two yet, just to make certain the last of the virus is killed, as there's no point tempting fate. Best you stay locked up yet for a few days. Sometimes relapses can happen right at the end."
"So can I have some steak?" Dean asked hopefully. "I'm starved. And the beer. That sounds good too."
Sam went to the desk and picked up his plate and half-empty beer. He'd hardly started on the meal. He handed it and the beer in to Dean warily.
"I'm not going to jump you, Sam," Dean said, taking the plate of food eagerly.
"Yeah, that's what you said three days ago about my hamburger."
The memories filtered back into Dean and he winced. "Uh, well, yeah. Well, I'm not this time. The steak smells a lot better than you do."
"Good."
Dean studied Sam a minute. "I'm guessing since you're out there, you didn't end up turning from the blood Lenore fed you."
"No," Sam said with a shake of his head. "I, uh, I guess I dodged another bullet."
"Be glad. Vampire blood withdrawal sucks out loud. So how are you feeling?" Dean asked as he dug into the meal.
"Pretty good, over all. Still a little lean on endurance. I'm only managing to run a mile every morning."
"Slacker," Dean accused. "How long have I been in here, anyhow?"
Sam's eyes grew hooded. "Two-and-half weeks. You remember any of it?"
Dean looked at his brother then his eyes went back to the plate of food. "Some," he reluctantly admitted. "How's your hand?"
Sam held up his left hand. Bandages were wrapped around it. "Still hurts. You bite damned hard."
"Sorry about that," Dean said quietly.
"Yeah, well, serves me right for letting your bad acting sucker me in."
Dean took another bite of the steak, savoring it. It tasted great. Dean began laughing.
"What?"
"Dude, I will never again give you shit about liking your steak well done."
Sam grinned at him. "Yeah, I don't think I'll be able to eat anything undercooked ever again."
Dean's smile faded. "I'm really sorry, Sammy. I'm sorry I …almost killed you. I'm sorry I wasn't strong enough—"
"Shut up, Dude. You weren't yourself. It's fine. Maybe it's just payback from where I shot you with the rocksalt and tried to blow your brains out. No chic flick moments, remember?"
Dean's smile returned. "Yeah. No chic flick moments." He gave Sam a bigger grin and then went back to devouring his well-done steak.
The End.
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Thank you all for reading my story. I hope you enjoyed it. Your attention and reviews throughout made it very rewarding for me to write it. I may come back and tweak it somewhere down the road, but there'll be no major changes, just some additional texture and description probably. I know I tend to suffer from "white room syndrome" and am trying to overcome that—one of my worst writing habits. I don't have a beta, so any and all errors and issues are mine and mine alone. Again, sincere thanks for everyone's support!