Disclaimer: Not mine.

Warning: Swearing, and violence, same as.

Author's Note: OMG! How good is Croatoan! Not as good as I expected it would be, but I don't think anything could be as good as I expected it to be. And can I just say, Jared Padalecki, you are one damn fine actor my boy! That's now two weeks in a row you've tugged at that icy heart of mine!

Chapter 13: Finding Sam

Dean sat on one side of the table, going through half the records of employees who were working the night the convicts disappeared. He had almost finished his second run through, and still,

"Nothing!" he spat, chucking the papers back down on the table. "None of them left."

Holden sighed, nodding as he put his half of the records down. He looked just as frustrated as Dean felt. "I know. They're all still there. It makes no sense. Why would he still be working there if they got what they wanted?"

"In case they want more fighters?" Dean suggested, running a hand through his hair.

Holden shook his head. "No, they wouldn't be able to do it again. That place is on high alert. If these… vampires are like the rest of those disappearances you found out about, they're not going to stay long enough for the prison to become quiet again. They wouldn't have needed him there still."

"You find anyone who left a couple of days before?" Dean asked hopefully, though you couldn't have told from his voice.

"Yeah, but it couldn't have been him. He wouldn't have had any keys, and whoever did it had keys. And besides, he transferred to a prison in Kansas, he wasn't even in the state."

Dean frowned. "The prison would be doing its own inquiry, right? Into who helped, I mean, if there was no sign of forced entry."

Holden nodded slowly. "Yeah, they are. So far though, they've come up with as much as we have. Which is squat."

"I know, I know," Dean answered, hope rising as he had an idea. "But maybe they've been looking in the wrong places. Maybe we have too."

"What do you mean?" the cop asked, frowning. "We've been searching for someone who left after the breakout, right?"

"And who do we know that left the prison then?" Dean asked back, getting excited now.

"Ah, no one," Holden told him, obviously once more worried about the hunter's state of mental health.

"Wrong," Dean replied. "The seven guards who were killed, they all left."

"Yeah, but they were dead. I don't think -."

Dean cut him off. "Yeah, but we have been looking for someone who's alive as being the vampire insider. When vampires aren't alive at all. They don't have a pulse, they hardly go out into the sun. They don't need to breath. And, only six of the guards were drained. One wasn't. Why, because they were full up? I doubt it. And what's the best way to show you didn't help in something?"

Holden was catching on now. "Die from it," he answered, getting a little excited as well. "So, you think that seventh guard was the insider?"

"I'd bet on it," Dean confirmed. "Now all we have to do is find as much as we can about him. Did you grab the records from the dead men?"

Holden grinned. "I grabbed every record I could. Hang on, it's around here somewhere."

He leaned over and sorted through a pile of papers. Dean looked out the window where the sun was beginning to go down. He sighed, wishing they could have gone in during the day. Too late for that, if the farm was an hour out. But he wasn't going to wait until morning. Sam could be dead by morning. Or worse.

"Ok, these are the records of the dead men. Let's see… which one was it that wasn't drained."

Dean shrugged. "No idea," he admitted. "Any of them live at one of those farms though?"

"Hang on…" Holden mumbled, studying intently. He flipped through three pages before his eyes lit up. "I can't believe it. We may have the bastards."

He passed the record to Dean, who looked over it. Holden leaned over the table, pointing.

"See. His name's Frank Howling. Everyone called him Howl. Lives on a farm that's about an hour out. Where's the map?"

Dean motioned vaguely, looking through the man's profile. Holden scowled before moving a few papers out of the way. The hunter didn't pay much attention. He was studying the photo, looking for some clue that the man was actually a vampire. And why no one had spoken about his body going missing from the morgue. He supposed it didn't really matter. All that mattered was that tonight the bitch was going down. Along with the rest of the vampires holding Sam. Even if the man did look like human. The woman he had spoken to about them had said that that was where their danger came from. They could blend in so easily with the race from which they came.

"It's gotta be him. And it's gotta be this farm. I'm sure of it," Holden said suddenly. Dean dropped the papers and stood so he could see. "It's about an hour out. The road's to the west of the house. That's all I can tell from the map, but…"

"But that one has to be it," Dean finished for him. He turned, picking up his bag full of knives. Behind him Holden was standing as well, grabbing the crossbow he had promised to ignore once all this was over. That was after Dean had convinced him that any more police officers would be useless considering all they would do was anger the vampires by trying to shoot them.

"Ready for this?" Dean asked the cop, pausing for a moment before they left the motel room. "I mean, you ready to fight something you don't believe in?"

Holden thought about it for a moment. He looked down to the crossbow in his hands. "What does it matter? This'll kill a human just as quick as it'll poison one of your vampires."

Dean grinned. "That's my kind of philosophy," he said with a nod. "Come on Holden. We've got a party to crash."

Sam didn't look up the second time he heard the cellar door opening. His shoulders and neck were too sore by then. He wasn't sure how long he had been down there. Time seemed to have no place in the dank room. All he knew was that it had been a long time since they had left him alone.

He ached. He had no problems admitting that to himself. The bruises and stiffness were taking hold because he couldn't move far. And it was only a while ago that the bite marks had stopped bleeding. And he was weak. Too weak to even think about being able to beat Zane. The vampire might have been a lot of things, but stupid wasn't one of them. He knew Sam had no chance. He had made it so.

Again, his thoughts had no grounding, but Sam tried to focus on the feet coming down the steps. There was a group of them, like before, booted feet stomping and hurting his head.

He sighed, opening his eyes as the feet came to a stop around him. He looked into Howl's grinning eyes.

"Fuck off," he said wearily, closing his eyes again. All he wanted to do was sleep. The blood loss was getting to him.

For an answer the vampire stood up on his toes and unlocked the cuffs around Sam's hands. He opened his eyes with a start as he fell to the floor, smothering a cry as the blood rushed back into his arms.

He didn't get any time to recover. As he groaned on the ground Howl and another leaned down to grab his arms, dragging him to his feet. They struggled slightly to get him up the stairs. He wasn't making it easy on them.

Still, the walk seemed to do him good. Some of the fog in his head cleared, and the feeling was coming back to his limbs. It wasn't so cold above ground, even though the sun was down. Not long down, but enough for vampires to be free to move across the land.

By the time they reached the passage between the farm and the house he was able to walk by himself. He shrugged his captors off angrily, taking a deep breath and standing up straight. He ignored the sting in his ribs and walked proudly, refusing to show anything but confidence. And he was beginning to feel it as well. Strength was returning; all he felt now was dizzy. Nothing worse than a mild concussion. And he had fought with those plenty of times before. Maybe he did have a chance.

Hearing the noise from the barn, he thought not. Yeah, he wouldn't be dead within the time it took to drain someone of their blood, but he wouldn't last much longer.

Now would be an awesome time to show up, Dean, he thought wearily to himself as he entered the barn to the excitement of the vampires. Sam felt sickened by it. They were looking forward to watching him die.

He looked around and found the other captives watching him, faces pale with something very like horror. He ignored them and stared at the vampire in the cage.

Zane had stripped down to just his pants, hands wrapped, looking intimidating. Or he would have been if Sam had fought stronger beings before. Of course, never while he had been feeling so bad, but it was hard to be intimidated by something that looked so human, albeit a lean, muscled human.

Sam climbed into the cage and forced himself not to flinch when the door slammed shut behind him. Zane was grinning wildly, and the hunter stared back confidently. He prowled the cage, suddenly wanting, needing, this fight to be over and done with. He was sick of it. Sick of waiting.

The bell rang.

Sam waited for Zane to come to him. He didn't have to wait long. The instant the bell rang, the vampire rushed him. Sam watched, trying to concentrate only on his opponent, instead of taking in the overwhelming excitement of the nest. At the last minute he sidestepped, and the vampire skidded to a halt inches from the bars.

The vampire wasn't a convict though. He had more than one lifetime's knowledge of tricks and fighting. Instead of running into the bars, Zane took a hold of them and used them to keep balance as he spun, kicking out.

Sam ducked at the last minute, surprised by the speed, and lost his balance. He rolled backwards, getting to his feet as quickly as he could. As he regained his height he blocked a kick and two punches, before lashing out himself. He punched, and Zane evaded away from the side of the cage. Sam spun and kicked himself. And then Zane did something completely unexpected.

Instead of simply blocking the kick, the vampire used his strength to take the hit, merely grunting as Sam connected. And then he grabbed the hunter's leg, swinging hard and sending Sam flying into the bars.

He cried out, feeling the hit jar his already bruised body, and then again as he fell to the ground, wincing at the slight twist in his knee.

He pushed pain away, panting already, and looked up as Zane came at him, glee written all over his face. Sam didn't move as he watched a foot come at him. He had to fight smart, not hard.

At the last moment Sam repeated the vampire's trick, catching Zane's foot. The vampire was definitely as surprised as Sam had been and didn't react in time to stop the hunter kicking out to push him back. Except he kept a hold of the foot and Zane fell back with a loud thump.

Sam got to his feet, limping slightly as he moved away to put some distance between him and his opponent, hoping to give himself some time to recover slightly. No such luck; Zane stood in a fluid motion, limping for only a single stride as he barrelled in.

A flurry of punches and blocks followed. Sam frantically tried to keep up, to block every punch, defend every offence. But it seemed useless, and soon enough he was stumbling backwards, blood seeping from a cut on his forehead. Zane didn't give up there; the vampire had never had any intention of playing around. He wanted this fight over as well.

Instead of backing off, Zane came at him. Sam watched, waiting, and to him it was like the vampire slowed down, and the world moved in slow motion.

That anger that had seen him beat Bailly roared into life, and he felt a snarl contort his face. Then he forced it off, not willing to give into that darkness within him. The demon would never be right about him. The anger remained, the thought of being brought here to die making him furious. But he struggled to push it away, fighting two battles and trying to survive both. He knew if he kept on giving into the anger, kept on blanking out, he would inflict something on the world that was nasty and mean and not him.

So, battling fury, he watched as the world sped up once more, and Zane lashed out with a roundhouse punch. Sam blocked, just, and tried a punch himself, finding flesh deep under the vampire's arm. Ribs cracked beneath his fist, but didn't break, and Zane didn't seem to give a damn anyway. He didn't even grimace, didn't show any trace of pain on his face as he sent an uppercut driving into Sam's jaw.

His vision went white for a bare moment and once more he stumbled backwards. Again Zane followed, punching a dazed Sam once in the gut, once in the chest and again in the face.

Sam fell back against the cage, putting the back of his wrist to his bleeding nose. His eyes were watering from the impact, but he tried to shake it off. Again Zane closed in.

This time Sam managed to block three punches before one snuck through. The fist knocked every bit of air from his lungs and sent the hunter to his knees, gasping for breath. A follow up knee didn't help, and he collapsed to the ground.

Two kicks and Zane finally backed off, leaving his opponent groaning on the ground. As Sam tried to regain balance, or at least clear vision, Zane busied himself on the other side of the cage. Sam wasn't sure what went on, but by the time he had dragged himself to a sitting position, the vampire was holding onto a prod in one hand and a knife in the other.

"Oh come on," Sam complained breathlessly, getting quickly to his feet. He wasn't beaten yet. Though the first time the wrong end of the prod came into contact with him, he knew he would be.

Zane stalked closer, his devilish grin spreading over his face. Sam found himself hating the bastard like he had only ever hated one being before. And it wasn't like this creature was anywhere near as dangerous or evil as the demon that had killed his parents and his girlfriend.

The fight was over soon after that. Sam defended as well as he could when he was tired, dizzy with blood loss and bruised all over his body, but it was useless, and he knew it. He had known it the instant he walked into the cage and the door slammed shut behind him.

Zane swung with the prod, and Sam ducked, before tackling the vampire to the ground. It being in vain didn't matter, not anymore. He was a hunter, and a Winchester to boot. Stubbornness was hereditary.

He landed on top of Zane, knocking the prod out of his hand and leaning back to avoid the wild slash of the knife from cutting through his throat. Then he leaned back in, punching as many times as he could before Zane took a hold of his wrist. The vampire twisted and Sam was forced to turn with the motion or have his arm broken. Suddenly it was Zane on top, but the vampire didn't waste time with punches. With Sam on his stomach, the vampire pushed his captive arm up the hunter's back until a resounding pop was heard even above the cheers of the crowd.

Sam screamed as his shoulder dislocated, grabbing a hold of it as Zane stood and he could roll over. He didn't sit up, just clutched at the now useless limb, groaning.

Suddenly Zane was standing over him, prod back in hand. Sam felt a moment of panic before a long moment of whiteness as the vampire shocked him once more. It left him gasping, in pain, even more so as his body writhed a second time with the electricity coursing through it.

As the white cleared, Zane dropped the prod, his sadistic smile sending shivers through Sam. Though that might have been the after effect of the prod.

And then the vampire knelt by the hunter, knife glinting in the dimly lit barn as Zane lifted it above Sam, point aimed at his stomach. The vampire leaned in, grabbing onto Sam's uninjured shoulder and sitting him up.

"Thanks, hunter," Zane whispered menacingly. "Least you made me look good."

Sam stared into his opponent's eyes and didn't bother answering. The blade began plunging down.

Okay, so leaving it… there! I know, nasty, yeah? Sorry! You'll just have to tune in tomorrow night to see if Dean shows up to save his little brother.

Thanks for reading!