Thank you to all my readers and reviewers!!!
Just to tell you all, things will start to pick up in the next chapter. Trust me. Oh, and John will be more involved in the later chapters, as well as another notable character.
Coming to the edge of the alley, Dean looked out helplessly at the bustling street, hordes of people pushing their way to their separate, unconnected destinations. He had left the vampires' lair, an old, crumbling apartment building hidden deep within downtown Boston, only an hour ago. It hadn't been difficult, though he somehow got the sense that Kate had allowed him to leave. He wondered uneasily what she could possibly be planning.
Pulling up the collar of his leather jacket, the Winchester kept close to the brick wall, hugging the shadows as if they were his only lifeline. The sunlight cascading down from the sky lit up the street with its brilliant radiance, glinting off the windows of passing cars. Dean shielded his eyes and shrunk back as a particularly shiny Corvette drove past the alley's entrance.
"It will hurt less afterward. You're body's still adjusting. It's still sensitive."
He would wait here until the sun was concealed, which the Winchester judged would not take long. A fairly extensive cloud was currently nearing the golden orb at a fast pace. He would still feel pain – the only time he was completely safe from the sun's rays was at night when it had set or within thick shade as he was now – but he could bear it.
Dean's mind was still in chaos, memories of the previous night lost among the turmoil. Running his tongue over his gums he was relieved to feel their smoothness, a second set of teeth yet to appear. But when he distractedly touched his abdomen he couldn't help but remember that less than an hour before it had been pierced by a dagger. Yet there was no wound. Not even a scar.
"How does it feel? How does it feel to be bad?"
Like shit. Despite the fact that his past injuries had miraculously healed, ridding him of the pain he had constantly endured five months after the car accident, he felt like complete crap. There was a smarting in the back of his throat that ran down his esophagus and ended somewhere deep within him. It was like a mixture between hunger and thirst, and though he did not want to admit it to himself, he knew what it was he felt.
"The crave for blood. Human blood."
How had he let this happen? How could he allow himself to exist now that he was one of them; the very thing he hunted? There was only one answer; he couldn't give in. He would fight the thirst, for there was no way in hell he'd submit to a vampire's desire. He'd never allow himself to become completely like the monsters, even if that meant suffering the consequences. He was strong and he could resist it
But for how long?
The question echoed solemnly in his mind before he finally answered it.
As long as it takes.
There had to be some way to reverse the transformation, to allow him to change. After all, Dean had only discovered the true existence of vampires less than half a year ago. Until then he had believed they were simply fictional, created by the fears and imagination of humans. Unlike other supernatural creatures, he had never come across any proof they existed. Not until he had faced a pack himself. He was not an expert on the vermin, and therefore, a cure may exist outside his knowledge. Until he found it, he'd slaughter them all.
"Then you deserve to die too Dean. Just like all of us, because you're one of us now. Welcome home."
Rubbing the back of his neck, Dean watched as shadow enveloped the busy street and he stepped out onto the sidewalk. An intense stinging encased his exposed skin but it was manageable. Exhaustion was another case. The Winchester could feel the fatigue gripping his body as he cut through throngs of people, a businessman practically yelling in his ear as he shouted to an unlucky assistant on his cell phone about his late dry cleaning. The exhaustion was like a dead weight upon his limbs and he struggled to keep walking, knowing he had to find a safe place to rest soon. His body needed time to adjust.
Stumbling between cars stopped in a traffic jam, all of which held angry drivers cursing rush hour, Dean's thoughts suddenly turned to his father.
What would he think of me now?
The thought was fleeting, however, and as quick as it had entered his mind it was pushed away in a wave of anger. His father was no longer a part of his life. He had made that painfully clear.
The exhaustion clinging to Dean's limbs seemed to increase with each step and he soon found himself dragging his feet across the concrete as he reached the far sidewalk. He slipped into the darkness of another alley just as the sun's rays began to peak around the cloud and the street was once again alit with sunlight. Glancing at the radiance, Dean felt an overwhelming feeling of dejection. He wondered if he'd ever be able to walk freely in the daylight again without the accompanying pain.
A grim determination settling into his expression, the Winchester turned his back on the light and began to disappear into the shadows. He was not sure what they held, but they provided comfort for now.
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
"Can you please describe the suspect again, ma'am? Maybe a little slower this time?" Sam couldn't keep the annoyance from his voice as he listened to the elderly woman squawking like a mad chicken. She gave a long, frustrated sigh as he asked her to repeat her description.
"I don't have time for this!" she complained in a high-pitched tone creaking with age. "I have things to do, errands to run!"
"I understand ma'am, but it is extremely important that we get this description right. Otherwise we'll have no chance to catch the culprit."
"People these days, it's amazing what they'll do to get out of work," she grumbled as she reached for her large brim hat, plopping it on top her head and a mat of grayish hair. "Stealing from an old lady like me would have been appalling when I was a young girl. Now it seems like everyday business."
"Yes ma'am, it is truly awful how the world changes," Sam agreed, hoping to win some points with the woman before she decided to leave and deny him of the information he required. It seemed to work as the lady folded her arms across her chest and glared at him.
"He was young, maybe in his late teens. Shaggy dark hair covered his eyes. He was wearing ripped jeans, red shoes, and a black hoodie - you know the type all them young people are so fond of these days - with the hood pulled up. I didn't see his face too clearly but his teeth,-"
Sam perked up at the mention of teeth.
"-they were so very oddly shaped."
"How so, ma'am?" Sam questioned, excited by the fact that this may be firm proof that he was following the trail of a vampire.
"He had too many. And they were all pointed and jagged, like some sort of monster. Gives me nightmares sometimes." The old woman shivered before composing herself. "Now, if you would excuse me, I must be off."
Sam exited the small house as he thanked the woman and she made her way down the street, on her way to run her mysterious errands. He heaved a sigh as he walked down the street in the opposite direction, toward his broken down car and his few meager possessions.
He was somewhat proud of himself, this being his first hunt alone and already having made terrific progress in only a day. That morning he had arrived in Boston, and scouring the local newspaper he had noticed a small article tucked away in a corner. Apparently a theft had occurred the previous night, not unfamiliar in these parts of the city, but there was one strange detail. The neighbour's dog had been found dead in the backyard, drained of blood.
Upon investigation, Sam had surely caught the vampires' trail and was now prepared to follow it until he ended them all. He estimated the hunt would take less than a week, and after each and every vampire in Boston was rid of, he'd search for more. Maybe he had been wrong when he had decided against hunting. Continuing his dark career seemed to satisfy his needs. He hated the fact that it sometimes dredged up memories of his family, but mainly it kept him busy enough to forget. To forget what he had done to them.
And sometimes he just needed to forget.
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
A blanketing drizzle of rain fell from the night sky, slightly muffling the sounds of the city and illuminating the edges of the alley. Huddled in the back doorway of a worn-down retail building, Dean's eyes were shut as he leaned his head against the cement wall and hugged his arms to his chest. He couldn't sleep. He could barely even move, for each attempt brought a new wave of pain crashing down on him, washing away any other feeling just as the streams of rainwater wiped the filth from the alley.
The agony had hit him full force only an hour ago, waking him from a fitful sleep after he had collapsed within this grimy alleyway, pure exhaustion having weighed him down until he could no longer go on. He had not been warned of the affects of his transformation, neither from Kate nor his knowledge of vampires, therefore leaving him exposed and unaware of the changes occurring within his body, all of which he thought had already taken place. This is what had left him tired, for although he did not know for certain how long it had been since he had been 'changed', he had no idea how long the process of conversion lasted.
He prayed he'd be released from his agony soon, because not only was this sudden adjustment exhausting, but it was also unbelievably painful as well. The torture had grown worse with each minute and he could only pray he was experiencing the peak of its torment now. His body shaking in cold silence, paralyzed with tremors of anguish, all he could do was grit his teeth and bear it.
But the pain was not the worst of his worries, for it was getting worse as well. The burning in his throat had increased tremendously in intensity, and it took all he had to keep his mind focused on something other than the thirst He clenched his fists until he felt his nails dig into his skin, concentrating on the stinging in his palms, and screamed in his head.
How had everything changed so quickly and so drastically? Five months ago he had been with his family, united together in a hunt for the yellow eyed demon. Now he was somewhere within Boston, alone and wrecked by anguish as his body slowly and painfully accepted his new fate. It was all so unreal, and he simply wished it would end.
Suddenly he could take it no longer. Throwing himself forward, away from the shelter of the doorway and into the cascading rain, he ignored his suffering body and his aching head. He began to crawl into the midst of the alley as his muscles shook with the effort and he grimaced with the pain, but his thirst drove him on. It needed to be quenched, and as he found himself surrounded by falling rain he tilted his head to the darkened sky.
Fat raindrops hit his body, soaking his clothes in a matter of seconds and streaming through his hair. He could feel the large drops upon his tongue, their stinging coldness sending shivers down his spine. The water collected in his mouth, flowing down his throat as he greedily swallowed, sucking it in.
But the thirst did not disappear. It continued to scratch at his throat, to tear at it until it felt raw and bare. The pain was insufferable and the rainwater did nothing to stop it, for it felt like his throat was burning. The sensation swept across his body until his veins were lit with a raging fire. His skin was tightening, constricting with the pain that gripped him. It was excruciating. Pure agony.
His back hitting the sleek pavement below him, eyes squeezed shut, Dean screamed into the storm, hands gripped around his neck as if this could stop the pain. His feet slipped against the wet concrete as he squirmed on the ground, back arching and yells drowned out by the thunder that suddenly rumbled through the city.
He felt like he was slowly dying. He had never felt so much pain before, and he wished only to sleep. To black out and be free of the excruciating agony he was experiencing right now. After a few moments of unbearable misery, seconds that felt like an eternity, he was finally granted his wish. But just before he fell unconscious, he felt a raging throb in his mouth. It was as if razors were tearing through his upper gums, and somewhere within him it registered that he was no longer human. Not even close.