Wow, it really has been a long time since I last updated this story. Any of my stories for that matter. And I sincerely apologize for that. I definitely have pushed past your limit of patience... hehehe. But I am trying! And I am still determined to finsih this story and all the others I am currently working on.

So here is the next chapter, which I hope lives up to your expectations. I accidentally posted it before with an added part that wasn't supposed to be seen, so hopefully none of you read it. Yikes. It's currently three in the morning so my brain isn't working quite properly. Anyway, I'm sorry again for having made you wait so ridiculously long, especially after the reviews and all, but I hope you continue to read!

John Winchester sat at the edge of the motel bed, his cell phone gripped firmly in his right hand and his eyes glued upon the 'send' button. His thumb hovered hesitantly above the key as doubts flickered in his mind. If he let his thumb drop he'd finally contact his youngest son. After more than five months of chasing that goddamn demon he would at last come up for air.

Dean had been his first call. He had contacted his older son as soon as he had heard news that they were back. He should have killed them when he had the chance… John had sent Dean a text message warning him of the vampires. The few that had escaped that night had obviously found or created a new pack of filthy bloodsuckers, and now they were killing near Boston.

He had sent the message over eight days ago and still there had been no response. Though this caused worry, John simply told himself that Dean was upset about his and Sam's departure. He had no reason not to be. The older man understood but he knew Dean would have to get over it sooner or later. The boy had always wanted to go on jobs by himself. This should simply be considered a permanent solo mission, for he had plans of his own. He couldn't concern himself with the usual affairs. The Demon needed his full commitment, and when he finally killed the son of a bitch, he'd at last be able to retire from his work. He'd finally stop hunting.

Having no time to rid the world of these vampires himself, John pushed the button, pressing it firmly for a moment before releasing the pressure, snapping his phone shut, and standing up from the bed. He walked slowly over to the far wall and stared at the multitude of news clippings, pictures, weather reports, and various other papers pinned to the peeling wall.

He needed to find that demon again. He had let it slip through his fingers once, but he would not allow it to happen a second time. The next meeting would be different. He would never allow things to turn out like they had that night. Sam could have ended it that moment, all of it, but he had chosen not to. He deliberately disobeyed his father, and in the end, they had almost all been killed. He was surprised the demon hadn't finished the job.

There was now one bullet left, one chance. He'd finally destroy the massive shadow that had consumed his life once and for all. Even if he didn't make it out either.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

The beep sounded again, indicating that the credit card was useless. "I'm sorry sir, but there seems to be a prob-"

"Here, use this one." Sam thrust out another one and looked expectantly at the cashier. She gave him an uncertain glance before exchanging the credit cards and swiping the new one through the small device. This time it worked.

As the young girl started to bag the items he had purchased, Sam sighed inwardly. That was his last credit card. All others had been spent to their limits and he was beginning to worry he'd run out of cash soon. Dean had always been the one to run the credit card scams. Dean wasn't there.

And whose fault is that?

Leaving the 24-hour drug store, the Winchester made his way to the lone car sitting in the dark parking lot. It wasn't much to look at – nothing near what the Impala had once been - scratches littering the hood and sides, rust collecting at the edges and a crack in the back window, but it got him where he needed to go.

Which is where?

He opened the driver's door and slumped in the seat, tossing the bag of items to the passenger side. Without shutting the door, one foot still planted on the pavement, he leaned back his head and let out an enormous sigh. He wondered where his brother and father were now...

Still tracking the demon? Fighting another evil bastard? Having a drink in a bar? Or…

He threw his next thought away as quickly as it had entered his mind and shook his head fiercely. They had survived without him when he had gone to college. They didn't need him as long as they had each other to watch their back. But he didn't want to think about his family at the moment. He needed to focus on his situation, because he really did have no clue where he was going. What he was going to do when he reached the unknown destination. It was all just an endless blank that he could never fill.

But you know where you can't go.

Clasping his face in his hands Sam exhaled frustratingly and tried to clear his mind of all doubts and uncertainties plaguing it. He just needed to go somewhere. Anywhere. As long as he was moving he would be all right. It occupied his thoughts; let him focus on the road. He just needed a distraction…

Ring. Ring. Ring.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

The pain was gone. His chest no longer stung when he inhaled. The headaches had vanished all together. These facts were all undoubtedly noticed by the older Winchester as his eyelids slid open. It puzzled him at first, the injuries he had sustained from the car crash five months earlier having been slow to heal, but… had the ceiling in the motel always been wooden?

Rapidly sitting up, Dean swung his head around to perceive the room he was situated in. Wood paneling bordered the four walls, a door closed to the right. The room was practically empty besides an oak dresser pushed back against the far wall and the bed he was lying on. He let out a sigh of relief. Just another one night stand he didn't remember.

Rubbing his eyes Dean pulled the covers from over him and searched for his shoes and his shirt. Better to leave while she's gone… Who ever she was. Having no luck in locating his missing top or biker boots he decided to get up and search the room more thoroughly. He had to get out of here. Swinging his legs over the side of the bed he stood up and decided to first come to the conclusion of where here was.

Dean walked towards the lone window situated on the left wall, the dark red curtains drawn tightly across the frame, only a soft glow around the edges of the material indicating it was day outside. He wondered how drunk he had been the previous night. It was usually rare for him to have no recollection at all.

Preparing to tug the curtains away he narrowed his eyes instinctively to shield them from the sunlight that was sure to blind him in a few moments, his eyes still attuned to the dark interior of the room. But as he drew the curtains back a different pain reached him. Not only did his eyes sting but every inch of exposed skin throbbed with pain. It felt as if he was burning alive, and he expected to smell the stench of burning flesh at any moment. However, the anguish only lasted a few seconds before he jumped to the side and out of the patch of sunlight filtering into the room.

Dean stared at the glowing light with horror, his skin still tingling from the pain. Glancing down at his exposed chest and arms, he searched for singed flesh but found no marks at all. No scars... When he returned his sight to the window the look of horror was replaced with a dismayed curiosity. He slowly held up his hand and tentatively reached out, pausing for a moment as his fingertips hovered just before the edge of light. Suddenly he pushed his arm forward but jerked it back just as quickly, gripping his fingers in his other hand as pain encompassed them.

An amused chuckle reached his ears and Dean swung his body in its direction. A woman stood in the now open doorway, her left shoulder lightly leaning against the frame with arms crossed before her. "It hurts less afterward" she said, straightening her form as she took a step into the room and her face became visible. "You're body's still adjusting. It's still sensitive."

Dean recognized her immediately, and after a few seconds of surprise – desperately wanting to recall the previous night's events – he snarled, "What did you do to me?"

Kate stood motionless, her arms still crossed at her chest as she smirked. "You don't remember, do you? All the fun we had?"

Dean glanced uncertainly at the bed as he suddenly became increasingly aware of his bare chest. He stared firmly at the vampire. "What are you talking about?"

Kate seemed to have caught his unsure glimpse and laughed disdainfully. "You could be dead right now," she sneered. "Should be dead. Making yourself vulnerable before a group of vampires? You're one lucky bastard."

"Tell me what you did!" Dean shouted, anger filling his voice, hiding the panic that lay behind it.

Kate became serious as well. "I shouldn't have to tell you Dean." she growled, her eyes wild and edgy, but she quickly regained her composure and smiled, stepping a few feet forward until she was standing right before Dean. "Sunlight hurts you," she said gently. "You're past wounds having healed…" She stroked her fingers across his chest, where once healing scars had been scattered across his skin, but he drew back at her touch, leaving her to stare blankly at him before responding, "You connect it all together."

Dean's eyebrows cut downward in genuine perplexity as he tried to sort it out, but the answer that repeatedly came up was swiftly pushed away until he couldn't ignore it any longer. After what seemed like an hour of debating within his head - though it only lasted a few seconds - Dean spoke. "No…" he breathed. "No, I'm not… Not a…"

"Vampire?" Kate asked dangerously. Dean let out a shuddered breath, blinking slowly as he cast his eyes to the wood floor. "Are you sure about that?" And in less than a moment the woman had pulled something from her belt and was thrusting it forward. Dean barely saw it coming, his mind still in confusion as to what was happening, but he felt the object enter his body. It sliced through his skin and tore its way through tissue and organs, and as he glanced down he saw the silver hilt of a dagger protruding from his abdomen.

He stared at it for a few seconds, confusion clearly present in his expression. Dean knew he should be feeling a tremendous amount of pain, but all that accompanied the injury was a slight discomfort. With increasing marvel he gripped the handle in his right hand and slowly tugged at it, the blade easily sliding from his body. As the dagger completely pulled away Dean watched in horrid fascination as the slit it had caused quickly vanished, skin rapidly stretching over it and the wound miraculously healing.

"How does it feel?" The voice erupted through his haze of astonishment and Dean was quickly thrown back to reality. Head slowly rising, the older Winchester met the smiling eyes of the vampire. "How does it feel to be bad?"