Hiya guys! Sorry this took me a little longer than usual to update, and I hope this chapter isn't too anti-climactic. Thanks for all the follows and favourites! Here's the last chapter some of y'all had been waiting for! Once I saw this scene, I started thinking there was something wrong with Dean. I guess now we know there is. (HOLY CRAP THAT FINALE!) Being the dark writer that I am, I wanted a peek inside Dean's blood lusting head.
Vampires suck. Their voices echoed in his head. Vocal chords hummed with a condescension that made Dean want to stab a machete through them. He wanted to rip their hearts out through their chests, that is, if Dean believed they had hearts.
Occasionally he would hear Sam moan, from what Dean didn't really know, or care. He'd just have to wait until the time was right before he swoops in and saved Sam's ass. Again.
Gosh, why is Sam so helpless? Can't he ever take care of himself? Dean was getting pretty damn tired of always having to play the hero.
Finally, he heard one of the vamps approaching just as Dean had subtlety reached into his jacket pocket.
As soon as he saw a shadow lingering over him, and grab him by the hair, Dean jerked up and plunged the dead man's blood filled syringe into the vamp's chest.
Shoving blood into these fangs wasn't enough. He wanted to see blood spill from their heads, and drip down his blade.
Dean rolled out from under the vamp after an all too brief struggle. Why couldn't these things put up more of a fight? Give a guy a challenge!
There was a sudden presence lurking behind him, and before Dean had the chance to investigate, he was tossed into a wall.
"So, this one wants to play."
Punches were thrown, dodged, and blocked by both Dean and the vampire. Dean managed to take out his machete, and swing the blade. Instead of it severing the monster's head, the machete caught only air.
Within seconds, Dean found himself pinned against the wall with his own blade coming dangerously close to his neck as the vamp fought for control over which direction the machete should go.
Dean thought he heard a worried groan from Sam's direction.
"Shut up, Sam! I'm a little busy right now! Maybe next time you shouldn't get yourself captured so easily. Always gotta be the damsel in distress, don't you?"
What Dean was too blinded by animalistic rage to see, was that Sam's cry wasn't for himself, but for Dean. The only thing Dean saw was the monster forcing his machete closer and closer to Dean's throat.
Hunters were strong, so were vampires. Dean was so much more than both of them combined now. He wasn't weak, nor would he ever be again. He never has to be afraid again, he never has to back down.
A conscience is a funny thing. Some people believe that a conscience is a literal part of you, others think it's just a concept. Dean Winchester was none of the above. He didn't believe in consciences anymore. Anything outside of survival will slow you down.
Ever since he'd held that first blade, Dean had forgotten about the idea of a conscience. Not only had he stopped giving a damn about pointless things like vamp's worthless lives, he looked forward to ending them. These freaks deserved to die. Slow, and bloody.
"Kill, kill, feel its blood run down your hands. Kill, kill. NOW!" The thoughts buzzed throughout Dean's head and seemed to spark some kind of dark adrenaline through his veins.
Before Dean even realized what had happened, he had suddenly switched positions with the fang. Machete held against its neck, waiting to be stuck through, swift and clean.
Dean felt his lip curve up in anticipation. But something was wrong.
The vamp wasn't looking at him.
The smile faded, and Dean's face turned cold as he ordered, "Look at me." Its eyes still avoided Dean's gaze. "Look at me, bitch!" He shouted.
Defeated eyes hesitantly met Dean's. Fear, pain, but worst of all, life twinkled in the creature's eyes. Dean couldn't wait to see it fade.
With a final thrust of the blade, the warm speckles of blood littered Dean's face like dark, ruby freckles.
Dean listened intently to the thunk of the severed head landing on the unforgiving wooden floor.
The rush and power of the kill began to recede, and damn he missed it.
Glancing down at his hands, coated with sticky, red blood, Dean eagerly though, "Till next time…"
I know, I know, this chapter is a little short. (Redundant much?) And yes, Dean is being uncharacteristically evil and uncaring, but considering the finale, i think we should start to be expecting that type of behaviour from him. I think I enjoy my dark writing too much. Then again, I'm a supernatural fan so, dark is kinda to be expected… Oh well. Thanks to everyone who saw this, and if you've got the time, drop me a review! Carry on my wayward sons!
