a/n: Thank you all for your reviews! I really appreciate it! My play opens this week, so I wanted to make sure I got this posted before I get caught up in tech week. Didn't want to leave you -- or Sam -- hanging too long. :) Hope you enjoy the final installment!

Not My Type

By AJ Wesley

Chapter 3

"What have you been up to?"

Sam startled, opening his eyes. The dim light nearly blinded him. Kate and her teenaged cohort were standing just inside the room, but he hadn't heard them at all, his attention focused on his task. Kate was holding a small lantern that gave off very little light, but it was enough to make him squint after being in total darkness.

The girl stepped closer, her eyes drawn to his bound hands. Sam swallowed past the dryness in his throat. His escape attempt had left his wrists raw and bloodied; talk about dangling the carrot.

"Kate…," the girl said on a breath.

"Go ahead, baby." Kate smiled. "Just remember what I told you."

No. Sam tugged harder at his bonds, fear and adrenaline giving him strength. It would take days to recover from what Kate had taken from him. Another bout would kill him.

The girl kneeled beside him, her fingers tracing up his right arm, sliding into the blood. She brought the stained fingers to her mouth and licked them clean. Sam averted his gaze in time to see Kate drop beside him on his left.

"Tracy," she admonished, "don't play with your food."

Sam turned his head forward so he could see them both. He caught Tracy's smile out of the corner of his eye, but he couldn't see her clearly without taking his eyes off Kate. And he wasn't about to—

Teeth sank into his forearm, and Sam gave a muffled cry.

"Oh, come on," Kate said, pulling the gag from his mouth. "You can do better than that. Scream for me, Sam."

Sam didn't trust his voice, so he remained silent, clamping his jaw shut until it felt like his teeth would crack. Damn it, he would not give her the satisfaction.

Kate laughed softly, her fingertips skimming down his arm from his wrist to the cut she had made earlier. "Just one scream, Sam, and we'll stop."

Sam barked a laugh. "Yeah…right." Then his stomach flipped as Tracy moaned in delight, her feeding intensifying. A gasp escaped before he could stop it.

"Not quite what I was looking for." Kate's fingernail pressed into the wound she'd made on his left arm, reopening it.

Sam squirmed, closing his mouth and breathing heavily through his nose. He was getting dizzy again. The room was listing, the lantern throwing strange shadows onto the walls. He closed his eyes against the vertigo.

Cold breath misted past his ear. "I can make you scream," Kate whispered.

Then there was nothing but pain. Sam's back arched as he struggled to get away, his head slamming against the cold concrete. His mouth opened and a strangled noise sounded in his throat, but he wouldn't scream. He wouldn't.

Oh…God!

And above the roaring in his ears he thought he heard the one voice he'd been waiting to hear before he spiraled into darkness.

~oooOOOooo~

"Hey!"

Dean stood in the doorway and tried not to think of what he would have found had he arrived just a few minutes later. His chest constricted as he watched his brother's head drop forward, blood flowing freely from the wounds in his arms, but he masked the emotion as the vampires spun toward him.

"Oh, now that just hurts. You're having a ménage a trois and you didn't invite me?" He took a step closer. "Oh, wait. That's three, right?" He pulled the trigger on the crossbow. The bolt imbedded itself dead center in the younger bloodsucker's chest.

She staggered back and let out a screech before lunging at him, but only made it halfway across the room before she stopped. "Kate?" she whimpered, collapsing to her knees.

"Four's a crowd," Dean added, pulling the machete from its sheath.

"Stop!" Kate demanded. She grabbed a fistful of Sam's hair and yanked his head up. "Kill her and I'll tear out his throat."

Dean smiled and tossed the machete to the floor at her feet, making sure she could see the bloodstains. "It's just you and me."

Her eyes darted to the blade, then back up at him. If she cared at all that her brood was gone, she didn't show it. In fact, she smiled. Her teeth retracted, and she slowly licked Sam's blood from her lips. She loosened her grip and brushed her fingers through Sam's hair almost as if he were a pet. "How did you find me?"

Huh. Me. Not us. "It's my job, sweetcheeks. Hunter, remember?"

She grabbed one of Sam's abraded wrists in her hand and squeezed. Sam's body tensed, and he cried out as he was yanked back to consciousness.

Dean took a threatening step forward. "Leave him alone."

"Lose the crossbow," Kate told him with a small shrug.

After a moment's pause, Dean obeyed.

"And the ammo."

He shucked off his jacket and tossed it aside, then held his arms wide. "Satisfied?"

"Dean?" The call was weak, confused.

"I'm here, Sammy."

"Your brother and I have some business to attend to, Sam." Kate leaned in close to him but kept her eyes on Dean. "But we'll be back later to play."

Sam blinked as if trying to understand the meaning of the words. Then it hit him. "No. Dean."

As Kate approached, Dean spared a moment to lock eyes with his brother. Sam swallowed, then nodded. He understood there was a plan, but the knowledge didn't lessen his fear. Dean's gaze flicked back to the vampire.

"I'm impressed," Kate said, stopping before him. "You're better than I thought."

Dean leered at her. "Honey, you haven't seen half of what I can do."

She laughed. "Well, first things first." Her hands slipped up his chest and onto his shoulders.

"Uh-uh. I don't do audiences. Let Sam go."

Kate tsked. "Oh, no, baby. He stays until I can trust you. Until you're mine."

"Look, isn't there somewhere we could—" And then he was slammed back against the wall, Kate's mouth covering his. Palms flat against the cement, Dean fought for balance, fought for breath, fought against the churning of his stomach at the taste of blood in her mouth. He could just hear Sam's desperate struggles, his frantic cries, over the roaring in his ears.

Pull it together, Dean.

Regaining himself, Dean slipped one arm around the tiny waist, drawing her hips against his. His other hand slipped into the pocket of his jeans and drew out the hypodermic he'd snaked from the hospital. One-handed, he flicked off the cap and slid his arm up her side, toward her neck.

Kate's hand shot out, grabbed his arm, and pushed it away from her body. She pulled back from him and cocked her head sideways to see what was in his hand. With a moue of disgust, she squeezed until the syringe dropped from his numb fingers. Then she pulled him forward and slammed him back against the wall. The force dazed him, and Dean nearly sagged, but her inhuman strength kept him upright.

"Well, that wasn't very nice." Her teeth extended. "Now it's my turn."

Dean struggled against her, but it was no use. She grasped the collar of his t-shirt and pulled, ripping it. Before Dean even had a moment to catch his breath, her teeth sank into the flesh above his collarbone.

Dean growled in pain, white light blotting out his vision.

"Dean!" Sam cried, horrified.

I'm sorry, Sammy. Sorry to put you through this. I couldn't—

He gasped when Kate withdrew, and sagged back against the wall. She held him up with one hand to his chest, and he heard the snick of a knife being drawn from its sheath. Dean blinked, trying to focus.

The haze slowly lifted, and he saw Kate had made a cut across her forearm. She smiled at him as she licked her own blood off her arm, holding it in her mouth as she stepped closer.

Come on. Come on. Dean snapped his mouth shut, closed his eyes.

"Don't."

Dean's eyes popped open to see Sam holding the machete to Kate's throat, a determined glare in his eyes. Kate's hand fell away from Dean's chest, and he fought to stay on his feet.

Kate turned slowly, swallowing the blood. The blade slid along her neck as she moved but didn't cut her. She smiled. "Go ahead," she told him, "give it your best shot."

Dean blinked, trying hard to focus. When he finally could, he saw how badly Sam was shaking, how he gripped the machete with both hands, how his glare faltered a little when the vampire called his bluff.

Kate laughed. "You can barely stand." She advanced, slowly backing him up. "Okay, so I'm impressed that you managed to get loose, but did you really think you could take me out?"

Sam seemed to consider that for a moment, then he smiled. "No. But I got you away from my brother, didn't I?"

With a growl of rage, Kate knocked the blade from his hands, then backhanded Sam, sending him sprawling. He managed to roll onto his back, but his strength was waning fast.

"Sam!" Dean took a step forward and found himself cut off from Sam by Kate and the knife she held out in front of her.

"I was going to keep him alive, if only for that exquisite blood of his, but now?" She lunged at Dean, grabbed him, and tossed him into the far wall. "I'll get right back to you, sweetcheeks."

Pain lanced across Dean's shoulders and back on impact, and this time he couldn't stop his downward slide to the floor. He saw his brother try to backpedal away, but Sam's boots just scraped across the dirt floor, the last reserves of his strength gone. Sam glared defiantly up at the vampire before glancing over at Dean. I'm sorry. I tried. Then his gaze was back to Kate.

No. No, this was not how it was supposed to happen. Damn it! There had to be something—

The syringe was on the floor not two feet away. If he could just…

Kate stopped, a small choking gasp coming from her throat. Her brows drew together in confusion, and her head snapped toward Dean. "What…what did you…?"

Dean froze his reach for the hypo and watched, daring to hope.

Her face contorted in pain as the knife fell from her grasp. She wrapped her arms around her middle and staggered back a few steps, her body convulsing. Blood erupted from her mouth as she retched violently.

With a groan, Dean pushed himself to his feet and crossed the room, scooping up the machete along the way. "Hey, you're not the first girl to tell me I make her sick. Not in so many words, but I can take a hint."

Kate growled at him, pure hatred in her eyes.

"Say good-night, Gracie." Dean lifted the machete.

"No—"

The bunker fell silent.

"Dean…wha—what did you do?" Sam panted.

"I killed a vampire, Sam. You got a problem with that?"

"What? No! I mean, she…how did you…?"

Yeah, Dean knew exactly what he meant. He looked at his brother, and didn't like what he saw. Sam looked wasted. There were dark circles under his eyes, and his skin was jaundiced in the light of the lantern. One wrist was raw and bleeding, while the other still held the remnants of the ropes that had bound him. The gag hung around his neck. Dean dropped down beside him. "Tell you later. You okay?"

Sam swallowed and nodded, his eyes sliding closed.

"Hey! It's not naptime, Sam. Not yet. Come on. Let's get out of here." Dean slid a hand under his brother's neck and helped him sit up, bracing him when he wavered. Once he was upright, breathless and shivering, Dean let him rest a moment.

Shivering.

Dean jammed the tip of the machete into the dirt and grabbed his jacket off the ground. "Here." He draped it over Sam's shoulders.

"Thanks."

"Can you stand?"

There was only a moment's pause. "Yeah."

Dean helped him up, ignoring the blaze of fire across his own back as he supported much of Sam's weight. When Sam was finally on his feet, he swayed a little but eventually won his balance. Dean ducked under his left arm and pulled it carefully across his shoulders for support. Sam winced.

"Sorry," Dean offered.

"S'all right."

Dean grabbed the machete without having to duck too much, then headed for the door. After easing Sam out, Dean propped him up against the wall, earning a quizzical look. "I'll be right back," he said, hefting the blade. Sam gave him a quick nod, then tipped his head back against the wall. His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed again and again.

Dean took care of business, certain now he'd disposed of the entire nest, small as it was. He grabbed up the crossbow, syringe, and the lantern, and made his way back to Sam.

Finding the way out following the track system was easy; getting there was the hard part. Sam was losing steam fast. His head began to loll, and Dean stumbled under his weight. Kate hadn't taken much of his blood, but he could still feel the fatigue.

"Sammy. Hey. Almost there, buddy. Stay with me, huh?" Dean could feel the steady incline; they had to be close. And…

Dean stopped. It was getting lighter. He could see the curve of the track system up ahead, the upward sweep of the rails. Dean moved quicker this time, his body protesting the extra weight. He heard the quiet urgings that whispered past his lips and wondered if they were meant for Sam or himself.

The corridor seemed endless, but finally they reached the bend. And there it was. The incline was steeper here, but it lead out.

"Here we go, Sam. Last leg."

Orange-tinted sky and pink-purple clouds greeted them. Sunrise. Fresh air. Dean hadn't realized how stale the air was down there until he could breathe freely again. He inhaled deeply, finding a final burst of strength to get them out of there. Sam moved with him, apparently just as anxious to leave the place behind.

When they passed the entryway, Dean felt a surge of accomplishment, like a marathon runner crossing the finish line. He wanted nothing more than to collapse and rest, but he kept going up the grassy rise to the crest.

There it was.

The sun warm on his face, Dean gazed out over the Atlantic. "Bet you didn't know you were this close to the ocean, huh, Sammy?"

"Dean?"

"Yeah?"

"I think…I don't…"

Dean caught him when he fell.

~oooOOOooo~

"No!"

Firm hands planted on his shoulders. Sam struggled with what little strength he had left. Dean. He had to help Dean. "Dean!"

"I'm right here, Sam. It's okay. We're safe. Back at the motel, remember?"

Motel? Sam blinked, trying to bring things into focus. He reached out, took hold of the arms gripping his. They were real, solid. And so was… "Dean?"

"The one and only."

A couple more blinks and the fog began to lift. He was in bed under a pile of covers. Bandages adorned his wrists and arms. And Dean… His eyes sought his brother's. "Y'all right?"

Dean huffed a laugh, giving his arms a pat before letting go. "I'm fine. It was just a dream."

"Not all of it," Sam reminded him. Like he needed reminding. "I thought she was gonna tu—"

"Well, she didn't. Thanks to you." Dean cuffed him lightly.

Sam sighed. His strength was fading fast, and he couldn't stop shivering.

Dean was up in an instant, grabbing the mug from the table between their beds. He took it to the microwave atop the small fridge and nuked it for a minute. It took Sam that long to readjust himself and his pillow so he could sit up with support.

"Here." Dean held out the mug.

Sam accepted it, grasping the handle and curling his other hand around its warmth. He could smell it was tea, and he took a cautious sip. It felt good going down. He closed his eyes for a moment, relishing the heat. Sam rested the mug on his thigh, unable to hold it up for long. "Man, I feel like I haven't slept in week."

"Dude, you don't even want to know how you look."

Sam would have flipped his brother off, but he didn't have the strength. "Thanks," he said instead with all the sarcasm he could muster.

Dean picked up the ripped shirt he had shed earlier and tossed it in the trashcan. "Don't mention it."

Sam fell silent, the simple act of speaking exhausting him. Breathing, even. So he quietly watched his brother. Dean wasn't a "puttering" kind of guy, but that was exactly what he was doing. Maybe he was trying to avoid hovering. Or maybe…

"Dean?"

"Yeah?"

"What happened to Kate? What did you do?"

Dean stopped and turned toward Sam but didn't meet his eyes. He thought about his answer, then lifted a hand to scratch his head. "I…uh…slipped her a Mickey."

Sam's face screwed up in confusion. "I…I don't…"

Dean sighed. He crossed to his bed, sat on the edge across from Sam, and clasped his hands between his knees.

And Sam knew he wasn't going to like what he was about to hear.

"I, uh…" Dean shrugged. "I injected myself with dead man's blood."

Sam didn't think it was possible for him to pale any more than he already was, but from the look on Dean's face, the way he tensed as if ready launch himself to Sam's side, he must have. "You what?"

"Hey, it worked, didn't it?"

"Eventually. My God, Dean, are you insane? If I hadn't gotten loose, she would have turned you! That was a hell of a risk you took. Do you know how gross that is? Do you know how dangerous that is?"

"Do you know how freakin' long I was in the hospital waiting for someone with my blood type to die? I'm not stupid, Sam. I checked the guy out. He was clean."

Sam's next comment died in his throat. Dean looked angry, but it was an anger born of frustration. He wanted Sam to understand. Maybe he even needed him to. And Sam did. Dean had confessed that it scared him sometimes, what he was willing to do to protect his family, and it scared Sam, too. Especially now that they knew the Demon had plans for Sam. Now that Dad was dead. Now that all they had was each other. Sam understood, because there was nothing he wouldn't do for Dean, either.

"O negative," he said softly, picking at the blankets that were doing little to keep him warm.

"Come again?"

Sam looked up, caught his brother's gaze. "You could have used O negative. Universal donor."

And just like that, the tension melted from Dean's body. "Negative. Man! I couldn't remember if it was positive or negative."

"Maybe you should have paid more attention in biology class."

"Maybe you should shut up, Mr. Exquisite-Blood."

Something twisted in Sam's gut. His gaze dropped again.

"What is it?" There was concern in Dean's voice, and maybe a little regret.

"Kate…uh…Kate said I wasn't quite human…"

"Sam, she was playing with you, trying to freak you out. The more afraid you are, the bigger the high for them."

"I know…" Sam looked up, caught his brother considering him with pursed lips. "What?"

"Exquisite, huh? Must be why the mosquitoes love you."

Sam rolled his eyes. "Great."

Dean leaned back, spread his arms, and grinned. "Hey, I'm the chick magnet, you're the mosquito magnet. Works for me."

Sam laughed softly. "Yeah, well, next time could you find a way to clue me in on your plan? Which I don't recall being on our list, by the way."

"Yeah, about that…"

"Dean, it's okay," Sam said, sparing his brother the apology. Dean didn't need to say it; Sam could see it.

There was a hint of a smile, then Dean slapped his thighs with both hands and stood. "Besides, there isn't going to be a next time. Not if I can help it."

And sometimes, just like when he was little, Sam believed his brother could do anything.

~oooOOOooo~

"Yeah. About five minutes…no, mine…okay…thanks." Dean slid the phone closed and stuffed it back into his pocket. He could hear the shower running in the bathroom, and he glanced at the clock. Five forty-two. Sam had been in there for nearly twenty minutes, which meant any minute now…

The water shut off. Dean grinned. Like clockwork, his brother. He sat back on the bed and picked up the remote, flipped through the channels, and waited.

At five forty-five, Sam emerged from the bathroom in a cloud of steam, toweling his hair dry. He was already dressed in his jeans. Since Richardson, Sam didn't lay out his clothes on the bed much anymore.

"What?"

Dean looked up, saw Sam watching him warily. "What what?"

"You've got that look." He tossed the hand towel back into the bathroom. "You're up to something."

Dean huffed, glancing at the clock. Five forty-six. "I'm not doing anything."

"Uh-huh."

"Sammy, come on! Would I kick you when you're down?"

Sam actually seemed to consider that. "No," he conceded, but quickly added, "but I'm not actually down anymore, am I?"

"Bottom of the barrel, dude."

Sam snorted. "Thanks."

"Any time." Five forty-seven. Bingo. "Hey, you hungry?"

A shrug. "Maybe." Sam walked slowly to his bed and lowered himself down with a sigh. Then he flopped backward. "Man, I'm tired of being tired."

Dean's phone rang. Punctuality: gotta love it. He dug the cell from his pocket.

"Hello? Yeah, what's up? Hang on a minute." He crossed to the bed, bumped it with his knee to get Sam's attention, and held out the phone. "Here. Take this. I'm gonna get dinner."

More than a little confused, Sam took the phone, mouthing, Who is it?

Dean pretended he hadn't seen the question and turned toward the door, hearing Sam's tentative, "Hello?" He glanced back in time to see his brother sit bolt upright on the bed, his eyes widening at Dean almost in panic.

"Sarah…hey…"

Then, slowly, his body relaxed, his face softening, a tinge of pink touching his cheeks. The first color Dean had seen since they'd returned to the motel.

Sam's gaze dropped, and a small smile tugged at his lips. "Yeah. I missed you, too."

With a smile of his own, Dean quietly slipped out of the room.

Finis