Four people surrounded Lassiter, all shouting either questions or warnings. He reached out blindly, shoving Spencer to the side roughly as he escaped their circle long enough to fall to his knees on the dirty floor, retching until he felt like his insides would come loose. He could hear his partner alternately calling his name and Spencer's, trying to get either of them to acknowledge being all right, but he still couldn't speak.

"Did you swallow?" Sam asked repeatedly. "The blood—did you swallow it?"

"No!" Lassiter snapped, and swiped the back of his hand across his mouth. It came away dark red.

"Throw up!" Dean commanded, holding his machete at the ready. "Now!"

"I did!" Lassiter said, and spat once more. "What the fuck. I'm going to puke for five years."

"Continuously?" Shawn asked. Lassiter looked up and gave him such a dark look that his slightly amused expression dropped from his face as if he had been slapped. "Sorry," he said in a small voice. "Lassie... I'm sorry."

"You should be," Lassiter said venomously. "What part of do not enter the building escaped you this time?"

"I'm sorry," Shawn said again, his eyes wide and his voice now barely more than a whisper. "Are—are you okay?"

Lassiter ignored him for the moment and managed to get to his feet, raising his gun between the two men who had come in after them. "Drop your weapons," he said. "O'Hara, where did that disgusting son of a bitch go?"

She started, dragging her gaze away from Spencer's solemn face to look around almost wildly. "It—he—"

"Gone," Shawn said. "Ran away when it saw it was outnumbered." His eyes slid away from O'Hara and toward the newcomers almost casually. "Vampire hunters," he mused. "Gus, you were right."

"Good spot, genius," Dean snapped. "Some fucking psychic you are, or you've got some kind of death wish. Why the hell would you even come in here if you knew it was here? You don't even have any weapons!"

"Not true," Shawn insisted. "I have my scathing wit. And I didn't know vampires were real—I thought you two were just crazy."

"Dean," Sam said quietly, his eyes never leaving Lassiter and the gun in his hands. He held up his own, but didn't drop his machete. "Detective, do you feel all right?"

"Don't worry about how I feel," Lassiter said, raising his gun a little. "Drop those weapons right now. I guess that's one for you, Spencer, unless it's standard ops for FBI to dress like dropouts and charge into unsecured buildings with twenty-four inch blades."

"Drop your weapons," O'Hara repeated, aiming her gun at Sam while Lassiter focused his on Dean. "Shawn, back up slowly and go stand by Gus."

"It's really important," Sam said to Lassiter, speaking very slowly. "We're not a danger to you right now, okay? If there's the slightest possibility you swallowed some of that blood, we all need to calm down and think about what to do next."

There was a terrified gasp from the wall. "Lassie's a vampire," Gus said.

"Shut it, Guster," Lassiter said. "That stopped being funny a year ago."

"No one's laughing," Shawn said, and that statement, plus his soft, serious voice, made Lassiter finally glance at him. He was studying both of the newcomers carefully, and then he looked at O'Hara. "Jules," he said. "You saw what I did, didn't you?"

She tore her eyes away from Sam and looked at him, her mouth slightly open. "I... I don't know what I saw," she said finally.

"What are you talking about?" Lassiter snapped. "All I see are two suspects who are still holding knives. This is your last warning to drop them and stand down."

"Please, Detective, calm down," Sam said. "There's more at stake here than you can imagine."

"O'Hara knows damn well what she saw," Dean said flatly, and he looked at her. "That thing wasn't human. I'm sorry, but your partner's infected, and there's nothing we can do for him. You're going to be really sorry if you don't take a step back and let us explain."

"Just for two minutes, please," Sam added, his hands still raised near his head. "Lassiter, this could mean your life. Look at me—I'm not kidding."

"You mean that freak had something?" Lassiter had to stop another retch.

"Oh, uh huh," Dean said. "Just about the nastiest virus ever known to man, and there's no cure."

"If you say 'vampires' one more time, Daltrey, I swear to god—"

"C'mon Lassie, those aren't their real names," Shawn broke in. "They were pretending to be FBI to get the crime scene photos and information on the victims to kill the vampire." He paused. "And using mixed-up rock star names for aliases. Dudes, seriously? The Who?"

"Hey, shut up," Dean said. "Pinball Wizard is a great tune. What do you listen to, Cyndi Lauper?"

"I'm Sam Winchester, and this is my brother, Dean," Sam said. "You were right, Shawn—we're hunters. But not just vampires, of just about anything you've ever heard of. You name it, we kill it."

"Every nightmare you've ever had, lurking under your bed," Dean added, watching Lassiter. "Most of them are real. There's not really that many, but there are even fewer of us, and we do what we can. We'll get that asshole killing people in your town, if someone else doesn't beat us to it." He folded his arms. "But first things first. You still have some of its blood on your mouth, and that's how they turn you. The bite doesn't do jack, but if you get any of its blood in your mouth, it's so long and thanks for all the fish."

Lassiter wiped at his lips again, hard. "I spit it out," he said. "And I vomited. And you're crazy if you think I'm going to believe this crock."

"You didn't see its teeth?" Sam asked, and then motioned to O'Hara and Shawn. "They did."

"Kinda hard not to, when they were almost in my face," Shawn said. He looked at Juliet, and so did everyone else. "Jules," he said softly. "Lassie's not going to believe any one of us other than you. Tell him you saw it, because he's in danger. This is real."

"Shawn," she pleaded, the end of her gun shaking very slightly. "Vampires? I... I guess if you're psychic, then maybe—"

Shawn turned toward Sam and Dean. "Is there a test?" he asked. "I mean, obviously he's not sprouting fangs and trying to come for any of our necks. Is there any way to tell if he's turning, if the vampire blood got him anyway?"

"Stop saying vampires!" Lassiter shouted.

Sam and Dean exchanged a look. "Maybe," Dean said slowly. "Look—can we all just chill for a minute?" He made eye-contact with Lassiter's partner, recognizing her as the only one he hadn't shouted at or disputed. "Two minutes," he said. "You know you saw that thing. I'll even go you one further—you get him to let us figure out whether he's infected or not, and then we'll ditch the knives and go with you quietly."

"You stop talking to her," Lassiter commanded, "and drop the knives anyway."

"Jules, do you trust me?" Shawn asked. "I'm telling you that these guys are telling the truth. What can two minutes hurt?"

"What's the test?" she asked warily. "Gus has my crucifix, if that—"

"That doesn't work," Dean said. "Almost all vampire lore is bogus, which is what makes the few that are left even more dangerous when someone thinks they spot one, because what they think will keep them safe is just a pipe dream. You're not safe during the day, for one, because sunlight won't kill them. We've seen them out in it."

"Garlic," Shawn said, giving Gus an exasperated look.

"Nope—and I don't even want to know where that one came from."

"Seriously, what's the point of being an undead superbeing if you can't have a good pizza?"

"What is the test?" O'Hara repeated.

"A swig of holy water," Dean said, and Shawn frowned, seeing Sam's eyes flicker toward him. "Just a little one. That's it." He spread his hands. "If he's not infected, nothing will happen, because there won't be anything changed in him to react to it."

"And you just happen to have holy water," Lassiter said.

"We're hunters," Sam said, not adding that they were still not completely convinced that there weren't any demons around.

"I have some," Gus added.

Shawn rounded on him. "Some good will that Lassie will turn out to be just fine and these excellent gents here will dispatch our fanged friend and we'll all live happily ever after," he said quickly. Gus looked confused, and when Shawn widened his eyes at him, Gus returned his gaze to the floor.

O'Hara was lowering her gun, pointing it at the floor between Sam and Dean. "Carlton," she said softly. "That thing—"

"Oh come on," he said, disgusted. "Not you too. What I need is a blood test for hepatitis, not vampirism."

"If you humor them, we can apprehend them easily, with no chance for further bloodshed," she said. "Holy water is harmless. And I'll take care of all of our paperwork for this," she added, seeing that he wasn't yet moved.

He raised his eyebrows at that. "Really?"

Juliet had to smile at that. "Yes," she said. "All of it. And Shawn will stay out of our way every step of this case until it's closed, won't you, Shawn?"

"Cross my heart and hope to die," he said, doing it, his voice rapid, "stick a needle in my eye, eat a cow manure pie—"

"I got it," Lassiter said, irritated. He frowned again, glancing between O'Hara and Shawn, and Sam and Dean sneaked another look at each other, confirming what they were going to do. "Fine," he said after a moment. "Give me your goddamn holy water so I can prove I'm not a fairy tale monster. And then, once everyone's satisfied, I'm going to have these two on the biggest weapons charge I can find before signing both of you up for a kindergarten class on fact or fiction," he said, giving his partner and the psychic another fierce look.

"Chupacabra," Shawn said to Sam.

"What?"

"Is it real?"

"Yeah."

Shawn looked over at Gus again. "I owe you lunch on that one."

"You owe me seven thousand lunches," Gus said, and then glanced at Sam himself. "Bigfoot."

"Hoax," Sam said, watching his brother slowly reach into his jacket. Dean came out with a small bottle, but not the one he stored holy water in. Of course, Sam had known what he was going for the second he'd said it, because holy water had no effect on vampires. He only hoped that if the detective was infected, and he did have a reaction, the other one wouldn't freak and start shooting. They'd have to figure out a way to get the gun away from her before they could take care of him, and then get themselves away after cleaning up.

"Just have a swallow of this and remain standing, and we'll be convinced," Dean said.

"Right now you are the last person in the entire world I care to convince of anything," Lassiter said, glaring, but he took the bottle and gave it a dubious look.

"Cool, I've been bumped up," Shawn said softly.

Lassiter looked at O'Hara, slightly uneasy because of how intently she was watching him. He'd seen something too, of course, but it had all happened so fast, and then there was that thing in his mouth, so horrible it felt like his insides were trying to escape him. Everyone was watching him, so he rolled his eyes again and upended the small flask. It tasted horrible, and he gagged, realizing too late that it wasn't holy water. He dropped it, and then he dropped to his knees, trying to grab at his throat. Something was wrong, very wrong. He didn't feel even close to all right any more. He could hear O'Hara and Spencer calling to him, but their voices were too far away. Everything faded as he crumpled to the floor.

"No, don't!" Sam said, grabbing Shawn's elbow as he tried to push past him. "Trust me, man, you need to hang on a minute."

"What was it?" Shawn demanded. "What'd you really give him?"

"Dean man's blood," Dean said grimly, and tightened his grip on his machete. "It's like poison to vampires. He's turning." He made eye contact with his brother. "Let's make it quick, Sam."

"Make what quick?" Shawn asked, his panicked tone saying he already knew.

"Hang on," Sam said again, having to hold the psychic again when he tried to jerk away. "Dean—"

Dean had taken another step toward the detective on the ground, but he stopped when the other one raised her gun again, her face white and her lips pressed together. "Don't you go near my partner," she said. "This is your only warning."

Dean saw that she meant it, and he raised the hand not holding the machete. "I'm sorry," he said. "You saw the vampire, and you saw that he reacted to the vampire poison, so I'm sure you can get what that means. There's nothing we can do for him, and you wouldn't want him hurting anyone, would you? Putting more bodies on the ground like the ones you're trying to stop? I can tell you're a good cop, so I know you don't."

Sam had been trying to figure out how he could let Dean know what he knew with the smallest amount of upheaval, and when he unconsciously loosened his grip, Shawn yanked his arm away and went for Lassiter, standing in front of him. "Hey, get back!" Sam warned. "We don't know how long that stuff will last!"

Shawn gave him a cold look, and then he bent down and grabbed the gun Lassiter had been holding. Sam made to step closer to him, but Shawn was very quick, and had the gun aimed directly at Sam's stomach. "No, no, Nanette," he said. Gus was moaning and saying, 'oh my god' over and over, his eyes going between the four of them quickly.

"Listen, you jackass, Detective Dick is a vampire vic!" Dean said.

"Sweet rhyme, but I'm with Jules," Shawn said. "No one's hurting him. He hasn't done anything."

Dean pointed to Lassiter, who still looked unconscious, with the tip of his machete. "Sam's right, we don't know how long that'll last, especially since he only had barely a sip. He's turning, I know you believe that. Any minute now he's going to wake up hungry, and he's going to attack, andguns won't be worth a squirt of warm piss. You need to let us take care of the problem you caused by blundering in here."

"I get that," Shawn said steadily. "But if you or Sam take one more step toward Lassie I'm going to kill you." His face was entirely serious, and his reflexes were too good to chance. Gus slid down the wall slowly, his hands covering most of his face.

"Put down your weapons," Juliet said. "Shawn, we need to get Carlton to a hospital."

"Bad move," Sam said. "They can't help him, and they'd just lock him away. Look, I'm putting mine down, okay? I need everyone to stop and listen to me for a minute, please. Everyone." When even Dean was looking at him, albeit impatiently, Sam very slowly bent and put his machete down, though still within his reach. "Listen," he said again. "There might—might—be something we can do. I don't know if it'll work, because as far as I know it's untested."

"The hell are you talking about?" Dean asked. "You saying you've heard of a vamp cure? Sammy, you know it's all crap."

"I think you'll take this one seriously," he said. "I need to get something from the car and I can show you." He saw movement behind Shawn's feet, and he almost grabbed for his machete before realizing Shawn and Juliet weren't looking, and they might shoot him. "Shawn," he said softly, raising his hands. "Can you please take two steps forward? He's waking up."

"I know," Shawn said, unmoving. "Lassie? Are you okay?" He tensed when he heard him make a small pained noise, but he didn't dare take his eyes from the tree of a man with the huge knife near his feet, unwilling to make Juliet keep them both under her guard.

Lassiter was breathing shallowly, unable to open his eyes because the few sixty watt bulbs were brighter than the sun. "No," he managed, starting to pant at the floor when pain ripped through his entire body and then twisted.

Dean glared at Juliet. "Your partner's about to literally tear the living shit out of your psychic, and then he's going to go for us. You got seconds, lady, so you want to point that somewhere else."

"No, I don't," she said. "Carlton? Are you—are you—" She couldn't even think of a way to finish the question, since he'd already told Shawn that no, he wasn't okay. Alive? Human? She could see him out of the corner of her eye, pulling his legs up until he was nearly in the fetal position, and they could all hear him groan again.

"You gave us two minutes before," Sam said quickly. "Let's give him another shot of the dead man's blood to knock him out again, and we can see about the possible cure."

"There's no cure!" Dean said, rolling his eyes.

"It spilled," Shawn added. "Unless you have more."

"Not with us." Sam glanced at the wall Guster was near. "Pipes," he said. "Detective O'Hara, do you have handcuffs? Please, just let us make everyone safe for a few minutes, and maybe we can try to save him, to turn him back."

"Sam!" Dean barked. "What the hell are you doing? We're wasting time!" He pointed at Shawn. "You're going to get your smart ass killed—you're psychic, tell me if I'm lying."

Shawn hesitated. "Sam's not lying," he said, and flicked his eyes toward Juliet. "Cuffs, Jules?"

"Okay, I'm done with all of you," Dean said, and headed for the new vampire. Shawn took a step back, now very within Lassiter's reach, and he and Juliet both aimed at his chest. Dean ignored Juliet and gave Shawn a contemptuous look. "You think I'm afraid of you?"

"I don't think you're afraid of anything," Shawn said. "But I'm not trying to scare you—I mean it, I'll kill you."

"And?" Dean challenged.

"Who has a death wish now? Ohh, I get it. You're dying, so you've got nothing to lose." He considered Dean for a few seconds, and then turned his gun on Sam again. "But I bet you're afraid for your brother. How about I shoot him if you don't back off?"

Dean froze. "You hurt my brother and I'll kill you."

"Yeah, yeah, bloodbaths all around. Sorry Jules, looks like there's going to be more paperwork than you thought."

"No one needs to hurt or kill anyone," Sam said, and took a chance. "Detective Lassiter? Do you agree that securing you temporarily so that we can look into a cure is a good idea? They'll be your partner's handcuffs, and she can keep the keys."

Lassiter tried to open his eyes, but had to put his hands over his face again. He was shaking, much of the pain that had kept him on the ground localizing in his abdomen in a familiar way, but to a degree he'd never experienced before. He was hungry, so hungry, and he could... hear their blood. "Yes," he said. "Stop this, I don't care how. I can't—"

"Can't stop yourself from attacking much longer?" Dean asked.

Shawn gave him a dirty look. "It's okay Lassie," he said. "We're not going to let them kill you."

"No, you're just going to let him kill you," Dean sneered.

Shawn shrugged. "He saved me," he said simply.

"Can you make it to that wall, Detective?" Sam asked Lassiter. "It's about twenty feet away, and there's a couple of pipes near Guster. Quickly, if you can."

"Oh hell no," Gus said, scrambling to his feet and dashing behind Juliet.

"Move, Spencer," Lassiter said. Shawn hesitated again, but slowly stepped to the side, keeping the gun aimed in Sam's direction. Lassiter tried to stand up, but his stomach cramped viciously and he fell down again; Spencer moved toward him and he reacted without knowing what was happening—he growled in warning, and his mouth changed. He clapped both hands over his face again, but not before seeing shocked horror on Spencer's and O'Hara's faces.

"Step back farther, give him more room," Sam said, waving at Shawn. This time he obeyed, and they all watched as Lassiter crawled to the wall and collapsed against it. He turned around with his back to the wall, reached behind him, and came out with his own cuffs. He flicked them open, secured one of the bracelets around one of his wrists, and fastened the other loop around a pipe to his right in one fluid motion. He relaxed slightly, now that he would be unable to make a grab for any of them unless they got too close.

"Not good enough," Dean said to O'Hara. "With one arm free, a vampire could break either the chain or the pipe if it got hungry enough. Your cuffs for his other arm."

Juliet looked at her partner, bewildered and dismayed. She slowly reached for her cuffs, the tip of her gun lowering. "Who's going to put them on him? He can't do that side by himself."

"I will," Sam said. He showed her both of his palms, and then slowly bent for his machete. "I'll take this with just in case, but I can be quick. I don'twant to kill him, do you believe me?"

"Yes," she said softly, but she glanced at Shawn instead of holding out her handcuffs. "Shawn? Is he telling the truth?"

Shawn looked at Sam for a long moment. "Yeah," he said finally. "He doesn't want to. But that doesn't mean he won't."

"I won't unless I absolutely have to," Sam promised.

Shawn held his hand out to Juliet. "Give them to me, I'll do it."

"No," Dean said. "Let Sam do it."

"Lassie won't hurt me," Shawn insisted. "We were just about to announce our engagement."

"Yeah, I don't doubt it." Dean rolled his eyes. "You see his fangs? He's hungry, and you're lunch."

"I'm also fast," Shawn said.

"No, Spencer," Lassiter said, and couldn't help licking his lips. "I can—I can smell your blood. Stay back."

Shawn looked down at his arm, which had been badly scraped when the vampire jumped at him and he fell over. His shoulders slumped and he looked crushed, not voicing any further protest when Sam slowly walked toward Juliet and took the handcuffs from her.

"I'm going to come over on your left side, Detective," Sam said, opening both bracelets. "Can you hold your arm up by that other pipe? Thanks." He slipped one of the cuffs around the pipe first, then snapped the other around Lassiter's wrist and backed up quickly. Sam and Dean both breathed heavy sighs, and then Sam turned to the others. "Okay," he said. "Dean... I don't know if you know, but Dad's journal... it, well—"

"Doesn't say jack shit about a vamp cure?" Dean said, his eyes narrowed.

"Um... actually, it did." He faced his brother calmly, wishing it didn't have to be now that this was shoved into the open, but needs must, if they wanted to have any shot at all at saving the man who was a good cop, despite his abrasive nature. "There were some pages torn out," Sam went on. "I found a few of them last year., and one mentions a possible reversal for vampirism. I'm sorry I didn't tell you, but it wasn't important then, and now maybe, if it's true, it can do some good."

Dean gave him an incredulous look. "You're freaking kidding me," he said. "Of all the stunts and secrets you pull—"

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure that none of us here care about your brotherly spats," Shawn said loudly. "You can go tattle to your daddy later. Less fury, more cure-y."

Dean rounded on him. "Our dad is dead, so you can shut the fuck up, smart ass."

"My partner is handcuffed to a wall," Juliet reminded him. "Do you, or do you not, have a way to help him?"

"We might," Sam said. "The pages are in the car. I'll be right back. Under no circumstances approach him, because if I remember correctly, even if it's true, if he feeds at all it won't work. Even one drop."

Juliet flicked the tip of her gun toward the door. "Go. Quickly."

"This ain't even close to over, buddy-roo," Dean said after Sam as he turned and hurried out.

"Jules," Shawn said, and when she glanced at him, he nodded toward Dean. "You got him?"

"Yes," she said. "Why?"

Shawn had been watching Lassiter's face, which was scrunched up in pain, and the way he was squirming, indicating stomach or chest cramps. "Lassie?" he asked softly. "Are you okay, man?"

Lassiter found that he could stop the new teeth from popping down, but it hurt to keep them back. "No," he managed, and then couldn't help a whimper as another wave of pain, more than he'd ever known in his life, sliced into him.

"You want some water?" Shawn offered. "I don't—that probably won't help, but maybe?"

Lassiter licked his lips again at the thought of a cool drink. "Yes, please."

"Gus, give me your stupid holy water," Shawn ordered, holding his hand out. Gus reluctantly held out the Aquafina bottle, and when Shawn took it, he glanced at Dean. "I'm pretty sure this is plain water, but just in case, does holy water hurt vampires?"

"No," Dean said. "But you still shouldn't get too close. Hey, moron, he's going to get you!" he added, when Shawn immediately headed for Lassiter.

Shawn whipped around, his face angry and guilty. "Then he can have me!" he shouted. "This is my fault! That should be me right there, but hesaved me from that thing, and I—and just fuck off!" he spat, and dropped to his knees in front of Lassiter.

Dean raised his machete slightly, and Juliet stared him down, her gun level. She heard Shawn say, "Hey, here you go," softly, and then there was a soft slurping sound. "Shawn?" she asked, not turning away from Dean. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, fine, it's just the water."

Dean was watching closely, almost unaware of how closely Juliet was watching him. "You're betting your soul on that little refreshment," he warned. "He already said he wants your blood."

"I can't help it that I'm delicious," Shawn said stubbornly, and then he pulled the bottle away from Lassiter's mouth when it was empty. "Better?" he asked.

"Thank you," Lassiter said quietly, not looking at him. "But Dean is right. You need to get back and stay back."

"Okay." Shawn just looked at him for a few seconds, and then he backed away until he could get to his feet and stand near Juliet again.

Sam came back into the building, a few small sheets of paper in his hands. "Got 'em," he said. "I was right. If the vampire that was just turned doesn't feed, and if you can get the blood of the vampire that turned him, it might be able to change him back."

"What?" Dean demanded, and yanked the top sheet out of his brother's hands. Sam made a grab for it, but Dean stepped away from him and held it up a little so that the light could fall on it.

Shawn squinted at the side facing them, and then he snorted. "So you're gay, huh Dean? Wouldn't have guessed."

Dean's eyes flicked over to him. "Excuse you?" he said warningly.

Shawn touched his forehead. "Your dad thought so," he said. "I'm getting some serious vibes from his handwriting. He wasn't sure how to ask you. Wow, he wasn't even sure he really wanted to know."

"How'd you like to get to know the floor?"

Sam gave Shawn a sidelong look, and then he reached for the paper Dean was holding. He gently turned it over and when Dean glanced down at it, his mouth dropped open.

August 9, 1994

I'm worried about Dean, and I don't know what can be done, if anything. He hasn't said anything outright, and a good, tough hunter he's growing into, but maybe a father just knows. Mary I know you would say it doesn't matter, but if our oldest son is gay, that I don't know how to handle. Dean is only fifteen, it's possible he doesn't know himself or he just needs guidance, but I don't even know how to bring it up, defensive as he can be. If he says something, we'll deal with it if we have to. The job comes first, and that he can do above everything. I doubt he will ever bring it up, and perhaps that's best.

"Son of a bitch," Dean said quietly, his face frozen. When no one said anything, he looked up at his brother, turning his shock back into anger. "What the fuck, Sam. You didn't think I deserved to know about this? What the hell else are you hiding?" He grabbed for the rest of the sheets of paper, and Sam let him take them.

"Nothing, Dean," he said calmly. "The rest of this is more about vampires and a witch in Tucson. I didn't tell you before because you clearly weren't ready, and really, man, now's not the time either."

"Now's the time to punch you in the face," Dean said, gripping the journal pages too tightly.

Sam lifted his arms and let them drop. "Then do it, I don't care. If that's what you need to get back on track here, then fine. But you can have a fit about this later, after we're done trying to help these people, remember?" He gestured to the others, and Dean looked at them suspiciously.

"Dude, no one here gives a Hershey's squirt if you like dudes," Shawn said. "You know what we care about?" He pointed. "Lassie. He's messed up, and he's hurting. How do we find the vampire that changed him?"

"We don't," Sam said. "Dean and I will go after him, you guys need to stay here and watch him." He nodded toward Lassiter, who was grimacing and starting to twitch, making the chains of the handcuffs rattle very slightly.

"This will never work," Dean said, looking at the notes again. "I've never heard of this, and I'll bet you a thousand clams Bobby's never heard of it." He slammed the entire pile of paper into Sam's chest, forcing him to take them before they fell to the ground. "This is ridiculous, and we're just beating our gums and dancing around it. You know what we have to do."

Sam shook his head. "No, Dean. Come on—we let Lenore and her nest go, because they weren't hurting people. This guy hasn't hurt anyone, he hasn't even fed."

"That chick and the rest of them had each other," Dean said. "They knew what they were doing, and they were only able to choke down the cow blood because they knew what hunters would do them otherwise. Mr. Bean over there is not only fresh-made, which means he'd have an even harder time controlling himself, but he's alone. He's hungry, he bites, and he kills."

"He's not alone," Juliet said. "We know."

"You people didn't know jack shit about vampires or any of this until half an hour ago," Dean told her. "You gonna be able to stop him from latching onto someone's neck and chewing a hole in it? Because one-two-three-red-light isn't going to do it. He's not human anymore."

"What happened to saving people?" Sam demanded. "I thought after we met Lenore you saw that not every nonhuman is necessarily evil, not all of them hurt people. If that reversal wouldn't work, there are other ways to get blood without killing."

"There's always me," Shawn said, very softly, and looked unflinchingly at Juliet and Gus when they glanced at him.

"So your plan is to track the vamp that turned him, somehow get its blood before killing it, then make it back here before he gets so hungry he breaks his own arms trying to get out of those cuffs to feed," Dean said. "I didn't even see its face, did you?"

"I did," Shawn and Juliet said together.

Dean shook his head. "There's not enough time for that, and there's no way it would work."

"Oh, okay," Shawn snapped. "That totally means we shouldn't even try."

"He's right," Sam said. "I want to try. I didn't see its face, not really, but I'll take Shawn with me if you don't want to go with—you can keep an eye on him and these two."

"Please, like you can handle a vamp nest without me," Dean scoffed. He rolled his eyes and then shrugged. "Fine, fine." He pointed at Shawn. "But he's not going. He's too freaking squirrelly, and I don't like his face."

"I don't like your hair," Shawn said. "And I'm so too coming—neither of you knows what it looks like, and I can handle a gun."

"Good for you," Dean said. "That won't help, they can't be killed that way."

"I'll go," Juliet said, and tucked her gun back into its holster. "I got a good look at him, and I took a course in defense with knives."

"Can you handle a machete?" Sam asked, his eyebrows raised. "I mean, using it?"

"I'll do whatever it takes," she said simply.

Dean nodded approvingly. "Okay, Barbie's on board, she knows what she's doing."

She flashed her eyes at him, her lips pressed together and her game face back on. "Call me that again and I'll cut your brain stem a little bit," she said. Dean looked amused as he slid his machete into its loop.

"Good choice, she's terrifying," Shawn said, and squeezed her shoulder gently. "Go scare the undead shit out of them, Jules."

"Can you two handle being here alone with him?" Sam asked Shawn and Gus, nodding toward Lassiter.

"Sure," Shawn said. "We're just going to have a sit and dish about boys. You're not invited," he added to Dean, and then he hooked his fingers in the corners of his mouth and stuck out his tongue.

Dean rolled his eyes again. "You don't know when to quit, do you? It ain't my fault a vamp got someone you have a big gooey crush on, but if you want me and my brother to risk our lives trying to help, you should stop being such a dick."

"You were ready to cut off his head because it was too much work to even try to help ten minutes ago," Shawn shot back. "Who's the dick?"

"You're both dicks," Lassiter muttered, and everyone looked at him in surprise, as he hadn't spoken since Shawn had given him the water. "If you're going to try to help me, can you please shut up and do it?" Juliet tried to go to him, but stopped a few feet away when he flinched against the wall and shook his head fiercely. "Don't come near me," he warned. "You're bleeding too, and I—I—" He had to focus all of his will to keep the second set of sharp teeth from breaking out again.

Juliet looked over her arms, confused. "I'm not."

"You bit your lip earlier," he said quietly. "Please hurry."

She took a deep breath and then nodded. "I'll do whatever I have to, Carlton, I promise."

"Shawn, your arm is all bloody too," Gus said worriedly.

He looked at the scrape, which was long, but already clotted. "It was a love bite from the ground," he said, and shrugged. "I'm fine."

"I have a spare first aid kit at the office," Gus said. "And some vampire books, I'll get them."

"Sure, good idea," Shawn said, knowing that Gus was still far too freaked out by the sight of Lassie with a mouthful of razor-sharp fangs to be left with him without both of the hunters and the other cop. "I'll stay."

"By yourself?"

"Sure, Lassie needs a distraction," he said. "I'll tell him about the time I got bit by a dinosaur."

"There's more dead man's blood in the car," Dean said. "If you're going to be here alone, you're going to need to give him a shot if he gets restless."

Shawn hesitated. "I don't want to poison him."

"You might have to," Sam said. "I'll get it, and you'll have it just in case." He nodded at his brother and then glanced at Juliet and gestured to the door. "We need to get going if we're going to try tracking that one, or finding the nest. We don't have that much time."

Gus suddenly threw his arms around Shawn. "Don't be stupid and get bit, because I was kidding about being able to stake you."

"Or to tell my dad?" Shawn snorted. "And besides, Dean said the bite doesn't turn you."

"I mean it Shawn, when I hit you in the face with that baseball in the seventh grade and you started crying, I couldn't stop either!"

"Hey, I wasn't crying!" Shawn insisted. "You hit me in the eye!"

"Did your dad tell you to keep your eye on the ball?" Dean asked, grinning. Sam rolled his eyes and headed for the exit.

Shawn opened his mouth to ask him if his dad had avoided that particular idiom for a specific reason, and then decided that would be too mean. He gave Gus a pat on the back, and his friend quickly followed Juliet outside. It was almost completely silent, and after a moment Shawn sat down on the floor near Lassiter, but well out of range. "So," he said. "My dinosaur bite. It was totally sweet, and left bruises for like, a year. It didn't bleed on me, though, so unfortunately my childhood dream of growing up to be a T-Rex wasn't realized. Not yet, anyway." He clicked his tongue.

Lassiter was trying to breathe very slowly and evenly. "You're an idiot," he managed to say.

"I've been told," Shawn said softly, looking down at his hands. "Lassie... I'm really sorry. I know I've fucked up before, but this..." He stopped, having to blink repeatedly.

"No one expected this," Lassiter said. "It's not your fault."

"It's partly my fault," Shawn told his hands, because it was too hard to look at Lassie's drawn face, his arms spread out and chained to the pipes along the wall. "Jules is going to kick its ass, you know. And—you know, no matter what. We won't let them kill you."

Lassiter nodded, not replying because he was starting to think that the hunters probably knew what they were talking about. This was beyond any of them, and the pain of this hunger was beyond anything he ever could have imagined. The smell of Spencer's blood, especially since he was close again, would drive him into a frenzy—there was something inside him that wanted it, that needed it, and it was strong, getting stronger.

Sam came back with another small bottle, and a syringe. "Here, Shawn," he said, and dropped down to one knee to hand them both over. "Dean and Detective O'Hara are waiting, so you'll have to fill this. Do it now, because you won't have time if you need it, and don't worry about air bubbles. The whole chamber. It should knock him out, at least make him feel too sick and weak to do much, if you have to use it. Detective Lassiter, do you think you can tell Shawn if you need it? To keep him safe?"

"Yes," Lassiter said, tensing up at the smell of the dead blood. He absolutely did not want to be in contact with it, but was almost certain he was going to have to be.

"Okay," Sam said, and then he hesitated. "Detective O'Hara says you have the keys for your car. She wants the spare radio from the glove box, just in case."

"In my right pants pocket."

"Can I get them?"

Lassiter glared at Sam, and Shawn's eyes widened when he saw how much more frightening it was. "Do you want to gag me?" he asked.

"No," Sam said evenly. "I want to trust you."

Lassiter let his head drop back until he felt the cinderblock wall. "I won't hurt you. Make it fast."

"If something happens, get Dean," Sam said to Shawn, and then stayed as low as he could, darting his long arm forward. He kept his eyes on Lassiter's face while he fished the keys from his pocket, and then he retreated back to Shawn, who was carefully inserting the tip of the needle into the bottle. "Thanks, Detective," he said, and squeezed Shawn's shoulder. "Don't hesitate, man, it's for both of your sakes. We'll do what we can."

"Okay," Shawn said softly, concentrating on filling the syringe. "Hurry." He finished and set it on the ground as Sam left, and then he sighed heavily. "Did I ever tell you about the time I lived in an old couple's mansion for a month because they forgot they had an east wing?"