Sam slid into the front seat of the car and Dean immediately punched it. "Juliet has a line on them," he said, and Sam glanced to the back seat, where she was speaking into her cell phone. "She just called in about disturbances in the same areas after each of the five previous abductions, and scored a hit."

"Wow, good work, Detective," Sam said. She nodded at him but didn't smile. "I think Shawn will be okay," Sam said to Dean. "As long as we don't take too long. Her partner's got some steel in his spine, but it's only going to be so long before the blood hunger drives him insane." Dean didn't reply, and when Sam glanced at him, he sighed. "Dude, I said I was sorry," he said quietly. "There's nothing else, I promise. I just didn't think you were ready to talk about it."

Dean continued to glare at the road, his jaw clenched so tightly that his teeth hurt, and he hit the gas harder.

"And you know—it's fine. I don't care. You're my big brother, and who you date won't ever change that."

"That ain't what I'm mad about, Sammy," he said. "You had part of Dad's journal and you never told me. You should have said something the second you found it."

"I'm sorry," Sam said again. "I didn't think it mattered, because we haven't hunted vampires in a while, and I knew you'd freak about Dad thinking you're gay."

"I'm not gay!" Dean shouted. "I like chicks, okay? I love chicks!"

"So you're bisexual?" Sam asked. "Which is also okay."

"Shut up, Sam."

"Fine," he agreed. "But just so you know: it really doesn't matter to me. When you're ready, if you want to talk about it, I'm here. And if you want to date guys—"

"I don't!"

O'Hara put her phone back into her pocket. "What are you two arguing about now? I had to tell another officer that I had my TV on and couldn't find the remote."

"My brother is a lying, sneaking, nosy little shit," Dean said into the rearview mirror. "And I am not gay."

She rolled her eyes and then grabbed the back of his seat and leaned forward. "I don't care," she almost shouted in his ear. "Can you two please save your dramatics for some time when my partner and my friend don't have their lives hanging on you? If your internalized homophobia ends up screwing up everything because you can't stop pouting, I will personally drive a riding lawnmower up your ass."

Silence. Sam had to fight not to laugh as he gazed out of the window, and Juliet reseated herself in the back, giving Dean another threatening look in the mirror.

"That was so hot," Dean muttered, and Sam lost his fight.

.

They were too late.

Juliet looked dispassionately at the body on the ground, and the head about two feet from it. She recognized it absolutely as the vampire that had attacked Lassiter, and one look at Sam told her she didn't have to ask if the possible cure would still work with the vampire dead.

"I'm so sorry," Sam said quietly. He stood next to her while Dean talked to the other hunters who had dispatched that particular nightmare, and it occurred to him that they probably looked as if they were mourning the vampire. Unfortunately, they were mourning the one that was still alive.

"Peachy," Dean had said when they'd come up on the hunters standing over the monster they'd just beheaded. Under his breath, he added, "You know what we have to do now, Sam. They can't handle him, and it probably wouldn't have worked anyway." Sam had looked at him, and then nodded toward Juliet, who looked as if her cop instincts were inches from breaking through. Dean hailed the other hunters and went to ask them about what went down while Sam stayed with her.

He wanted to comfort her, to say anything that would help, but he knew there was nothing. They needed to get back and do what needed doing so that she and the psychic could start grieving and move on. The SBPD Head Detective was going to get his picture on a wall somewhere, and he deserved it—he'd served and protected, and his partner, if no one else on the force, would know that he'd died in the most honorable way a cop could.

Dean walked back to them and waved his hand to the car. "Let's jet," he said. "Tell you on the way back."

"Juliet?" Sam said gently, holding his hand near the small of her back. "Let's go make sure Shawn is okay."

She nodded, and got into the back of the car without a word. "They've been here a week," Dean said to Sam, once they were back on the road. "They cleaned up the rest of the nest last night, that's probably why that asshole wanted to turn someone else." He glanced over at him darkly. "Guess what they found in their little wabbit hole? Spell books. You were right about the Devil's Trap. At least they've all gone to bloodsucker hell now."

Sam winced, and gave his brother an incredulous look, tilting his head toward the back seat. Dean realized what he'd said and grimaced, returning his attention to the road.

"What do we do now?" Juliet asked softly.

"Well..." Sam said slowly. "We're going back to the warehouse."

"And then you'll explain to us about vampires, so that we can help my partner adjust?"

Dean shook his head slightly to avoid rolling his eyes. "I'm sorry, really," he said. "This isn't really an adjustable sort of situation."

"Why not?" she asked clearly. "You said the sunlight wouldn't kill him, that most of the myths weren't true. And you said something earlier about animal blood. Just tell us the rest, and we'll do what we need to."

"That's admirable," Sam said, meaning it. "But... the thing is, your partner is fresh-made. A newborn vampire is incredibly dangerous, especially when he doesn't have a nest of older vampires around to stay with, because he won't be able to control himself during feeding. What Dean said earlier, about chewing a hole in someone's neck? That happens. People die. Some vampires, old ones, know how to stay under the radar, either by not killing the humans they feed from, or by robbing blood banks or draining animals."

"There's no way a brand new vamp would be able to get by on stored blood or animals," Dean added. "The smell of fresh blood would drive him up the wall, and he just wouldn't be able to stop himself. You don't want more people in your town to get hurt, right? Especially not by a cop who was supposed to be protecting them?"

Juliet was quiet for a long moment, sitting up straight and completely still. Dean glanced into the mirror again, trying to gauge her reaction, but he saw nothing, and exchanged a nervous look with Sam.

"Shawn," she said finally. "He'll give him his blood. He said he would."

"What, every few days for the rest of ever?" Dean asked.

"Yes, if he needs to. I know him—even if he didn't feel like all of this is his fault, he's fascinated with the concept of actual vampires, he's headstrong, and he's often reckless with his own safety. He's an adult and can make the choice to give away his blood," she said firmly.

"Also admirable," Sam said. "But that—that puts him in danger. Your partner hasn't ever fed before, and he's going to be extremely hungry by now. There's a very good chance he'll kill Shawn without meaning to."

"And then we will kill your partner," Dean said. "Two deaths instead of one."

"Neither of you has used his name since you asked him if it was okay to cuff him to the wall," Juliet said. "You're distancing yourself from him as a person because you've been preparing to murder him this entire time. Listen to me: I will not allow that to happen. You can either help us, by telling us everything you know, and maybe standing by while he—while he feeds for the first time, so he knows when to stop, or you can drop me off and go, and I won't call for backup to arrest you."

There was more silence for a long moment. "I used his name," Sam said softly. "When I took the rest of the dead man's blood in for Shawn. I asked Detective Lassiter if he felt like he could let Shawn know if he needed another hit, and he said he could."

"Thank you," Juliet said quietly. "My point stands."

"I guess it does," Dean said, and slid his eyes over to Sam's. Sam took in a long breath and ran a hand through his hair. This wasn't going to be pretty.

.

Juliet wanted badly to call Shawn, to make sure he and Lassiter were both still okay (still in the land of the living? bite your tongue, she told herself), but she didn't dare. She was aware that the near total silence in the car on the way back meant that the two brothers in the front seat were thinking fast, trying to come up with some way of carrying through their original plan, and she watched them both carefully, particularly Dean, who was not only less compassionate when it came to—to nonhumans, than Sam was, but who was also going through an emotional reveal of his own. That often made already unpredictable people more dicey, and she was set to put one or two in his calf or knee if necessary to protect her partner.

They pulled over across the street from the warehouse, and Dean shut off the car. "Sammy," he said. "Why don't you get the rest of Dad's journal for vampire lore from the trunk, then go in and check on them. If Lassiter is coherent, start explaining to him what he is now, and what he can and can't do." He turned in his seat, where Juliet regarded him solemnly. "If you're absolutely sure Shawn's going to be willing to feed him, let's find your car and go to the nearest 7-11 to pick him up some o.j. so he doesn't pass out from blood loss."

She raised her eyebrows. Too easy. "You're going to help us now?"

He shrugged, looking annoyed. "Do I look like I want John Deere mowing my treasure trail? You can't say we didn't warn you when something bad happens, but my pain in the ass little brother will probably weep for a month if we don't at least attempt to try it your way. You drive, and Sam will keep them both safe until we get back."

Juliet knew that Shawn still had Lassiter's gun, and he was going to be on high alert himself if Sam came back without her; she doubted he would let Sam near them, even if he did just want to help. There was a mini-mart just a few blocks away, and she would have the more dangerous brother under her own eye the entire time. "All right," she said. "But I'm going to warn you right now, Dean, that I am still armed, and that I do not trust you."

"Gotcha," he said, and got out of the car.

Sam immediately went to the Impala's trunk, and Juliet led the way back to where Lassiter had pulled their car over a lifetime ago. She unlocked the doors and Dean slid in next to her; the second she reached to close her door, she saw movement in her peripheral vision, and she knew she'd been too late again. In less than two seconds, Dean had knocked the keys from her right hand and snapped a set of handcuffs around her wrist and the steering wheel. She punched him in the face with her left fist, feeling his nose mash against her knuckles—but it wasn't nearly as good of a hit as she could have gotten with her right, and although he grunted, he didn't withdraw.

"Let me go," she demanded, already trying to feel for her gun.

"Good one," he said. "But no can do." He was too quick a second time, and he had her gun, her phone, and her cuff keys in his hands. "Sorry about this, I really am. I can tell you care a lot about your partner. You're a good cop, but you're young, and eventually you'll dig the 'cruel to be kind' philosophy. He'll want to be remembered for putting away murderers and rapists and saving your psychic's life, not for biting someone's throat open." Juliet punched him again, and while he dodged another direct shot to the nose, she got him just underneath his eye. "Ow, damn," he said, finally backing up toward the passenger door. "Look, I gotta go. We'll make it quick, and we'll make sure he knows how hard you fought for him. He'll understand." He opened the door and exited, jogging quickly to where his brother was waiting for him.

"No! You bastard, stop!" she screamed. Neither of them looked back at her as they headed in. Juliet cursed and tried to reach underneath the driver's seat, but her position made it impossible to get her hand very far. She heard another car coming and whirled toward the street, hoping and unable to breathe. "Please," she whispered.

Yes—it was Gus. She gave two short blasts with the horn as he parked, and when he looked around suspiciously, she tooted again and opened her door. "Gus!" she screamed. "Gus, help me!"

He dropped something he'd been holding and bolted, yanking her door open the rest of the way and dropping to his knees. "Juliet, what—"

"Dean," she said, and jerked her arm. "He and Sam just went in to kill Lassiter. The other vampire was dead when we found him. There might be—if you can feel around under the seat here—"

Gus's mouth dropped open, and he glanced over his shoulder before shoving his hand in his pocket, coming out with two paperclips that the straightened in a matter of seconds. "Don't you dare tell Shawn I know how to do this," he said, and inserted both into the lock of the cuff around her wrist.

She watched, speechless, as the cuff clicked and fell away from her. "I—thank—do you always carry spare paperclips?" she sputtered.

He gave her a look. "Who is my best friend?" he asked.

She had to laugh, and then she almost bashed her face on the steering wheel when she tried to plunge her arm underneath the seat again, Lassiter's usual seat. "For your life, partner," she whispered.

Her fingers found it, and she cried out in relief. She straightened up with one of his many spare pistols, and looked at Gus calmly, but there was something in her face that froze him.

"Do you have my back, Gus?" she asked softly. "You know Shawn's not going to let them hurt Lassiter, and I think they'll kill him too if they feel like they have to. I'm prepared to do whatever is necessary to protect both of ours."

He looked panicked, and then for a second as if he was about to cry; then he stood up and held out his hand. "Let's go."

.

Shawn sat cross-legged on the floor, his elbow on his thigh and his chin cupped in his hand. He'd had to give Lassie the shot of the gross dead blood after all—he hadn't wanted to, not even when Lassie first told him he'd better, but then he had roughly ten million long, sharp teeth, and his arms were shaking against the cuffs, and he'd smacked the back of his head against the wall, trying to throw himself back instead of forward. Shawn had crept forward, his own hands shaking, and he jabbed the needle into Lassie's thigh and slammed the plunger down. He jerked his arm back just as Lassiter's teeth snapped at him, and he fell back on his hands, unable to breathe for several seconds, until the dead blood took its effect and Lassie stopped, looked as if he was going to puke, and then he passed out. He was still slumped against the wall, his hands limp in the cuffs, when Sam and Dean came back.

Shawn jumped to his feet. "Did you get it?" he demanded, and then his eyes darted past them, and he frowned. "Where's Jules?"

"Look, kid," Dean began, and then he stopped when Shawn's face became hard and cold. He raised the gun, again aiming at Sam.

"No," he said steadily. "What happened?"

"We couldn't get it," Sam said, raising his hands in a placatory way. "And Juliet's okay, she's in her car. Listen: we found the vampire that turned Lassiter, but other hunters beat us to him, and he was dead. Even if the reversal would have worked before, there's no way it would have from more dead blood. There's nothing more we can even try."

"So... you're not going to help him."

"There's nothing we can do to help," Sam said. "I'm sorry."

"Okay," Shawn said after a moment. "Then you two aren't needed anymore—we'll take care of this on our own. Let Juliet go from whatever you did to her, and then make like a fetus and head out."

Dean huffed out an aggravated sigh, but Sam kept his ground. "Shawn," he said gently. "You can't let him bite you. I understand that you feel bad because he was protecting you, and he's your friend. But he can't control himself. He'll kill you."

"Try coming over here and I'll kill you," he said.

"Sammy," Dean said.

Sam recognized his screwed-the-pooch tone and looked at him, becoming very still when he saw the furious, determined blue eyes glaring around his brother's shoulder. Juliet stood behind him, and from the way Dean was standing, Sam was sure she'd gotten another gun from somewhere and had it centered on his back. Guster was back as well, though he appeared to be weaponless—he had a small white plastic box in one hand, and his other was empty.

"Hi Jules," Shawn said. "Looks like you're as sick as I am of these two and their creepy hankering for murder."

"They're not going to murder anyone," Juliet said. "Sam. Dean. You two have five minutes to get in your car and drive away, or I'm calling for backup, including a secured perimeter, and you're going to prison."

"That's going to be a laugh riot when they charge in here and see what your partner turned into," Dean said. "Had to give him more dead man's blood, didn't you? That's going to wear off, and everyone will see he's a monster. Lots of people will die, including him, either in trying to get him to stop attacking humans, or after they capture him and try to do tests on him to figure out what he is. He'll suffer, you want that? They won't just give him blood, either."

Juliet looked at Shawn and raised her eyebrows, and he nodded. "I will."

"Please, Shawn," Sam said. "Listen to me. Not only does he not know what he's doing, he's probably going to be insane with hunger when he wakes up again. He will kill you."

"You're going to have to kill me to get to him, so this is doubly pointless. And how, exactly, is he going to kill me?"

"What do you mean, how?" Dean demanded. "Uh, he's a freaking vampire?"

"I mean, what, you think he's going to take too much?"

"I think he's going to take a big motherfucking chomp out of your throat!"

"He won't be able to control the right place to bite, or how deep, or possibly how to heal the wound once he's finished," Sam said. "Dean's right. He's just going to bite."

Shawn shrugged. "You could help, but you won't. I'm cool with it—this entire situation is on me, and it's up to me to make it right, and that doesn't include standing by and watching you decapitate someone that saved my life."

"We can't help, I told you we couldn't get the—"

"Your biggest worry is Lassie biting me wrong," Shawn said, and nodded to the machete in Sam's belt. "Cut me—if I'm already bleeding, he won't need to bite me. Jules and everyone else gets back, I unlock the cuffs, and he should come for just me. Right?" He raised his eyebrows at Sam, who was momentarily speechless. "Then he's calmed down, and we can figure out what to do next."

"That's the stupidest thing I've heard all night," Dean said.

"Really? Earlier I heard you bash Cyndi Lauper, you freaking heathen."

"Why won't that work?" Juliet asked Sam.

Sam looked at Dean helplessly, and then he flipped his hands up. "I think it will. Once he feeds we can talk to him, see if they really can make a plan to adjust."

"What the hell," Dean said flatly.

"Great, that's settled," Shawn said at the same time, engaging the gun's safety again.

"We can't stop him from making his own choice," Sam said. "We informed him of the risks—"

"Repeatedly," Shawn said, rolling his eyes.

"—and he wants to do it anyway. I still don't think it's right to kill Lassiter if he hasn't hurt anyone." Sam glanced at Shawn, and then back to Juliet. "How about this—we try it your way, but if it goes wrong, no more arguments: we take care of it."

"What are you defining as 'going wrong'?" Gus asked. "If he kills Shawn?"

"Yes."

Gus gave Sam a frantic look, and then his shoulders slumped when he saw that Shawn was adamant. "Jules," he said quietly. "If Lassie kills him, they'll be right, and he'll kill others."

Very slowly, Juliet nodded. "I agree. Shawn... are you sure? You can be badly hurt or killed."

"I should already be dead," he said, and stepped forward, his palm held out. "Cuff keys."

"What if the cut doesn't heal and you bleed to death?" Dean asked.

Shawn nodded to what his best friend was holding. "Gus has a first aid kit. I'll bet you a shiny new dime that it's stuffed with gauze. And I didn't say sever my jugular, sheesh."

"Fine," Dean snapped, flinging a set of handcuff keys toward him. "It's your funeral. Juliet, get that gun out of my back, if you don't mind? If Detective Dracula ends up coming for us anyway, I want my hands free and my torso hole-free."

She backed away slowly, but kept her gun out. "Gus, give Shawn the kit to have nearby. Sam, are you going to—?"

"Yeah, okay. I'll help."

Shawn got the first-aid kit and another deathgrip of a hug from Gus; Juliet tried to hug him too, but both of his return hugs were perfunctory, and she let him go as if she would never see him again, but respected him for it. "Try to tell him he has your consent," she told him. "If you can get that through to him, maybe he won't be so frantic to—to feed." Shawn nodded, and walked back over to Lassiter with Sam.

"How long ago did you have to hit him with the dead man's blood?" Sam asked.

"About fifteen or twenty minutes." Shawn looked worried now, and he glanced at Sam quickly. "Those fang-teeth are freaky."

"Uh huh, that's why you don't want them in your neck." Sam looked closely at the new vampire, bending down a little. "Detective Lassiter?" he called softly.

"Lassie?" Shawn chimed in, dropping to his knees in front of him and letting Gus's first-aid kit hit the ground. He started to reach for his shoulder, but Sam grabbed his arm just as Lassiter cringed against the wall. "It's okay, Lassie, chill," Shawn said quickly. "They couldn't get the cure, but I'm going to let you have some of my blood, okay? I consent—just give us a minute and everything's going to be okay."

Lassiter didn't respond, but he was fully alert now, trembling with the effort of keeping himself still, to not lunge at the two humans directly in front of him. He kept his eyes closed, too, because he could feel the effects of the dead blood draining away, and the hunger had him. Nothing was okay.

"Got the keys ready?" Sam asked, raising his machete slightly.

Shawn nodded, his eyes huge and his breath coming faster. "Do it fast and get back."

Sam took another second to recall everything he knew about anatomy to try to gauge the best place for the cut, trying to guess how long and how deep it should be. He moved, one quick motion with a jerk of his wrist and then he was backing away, his machete still at the ready.

"Ow!" Shawn screamed, his hand clapping over the cut on his neck that was pouring blood. "Fuck!"

"Handcuffs!" Sam shouted, going up on the balls of his feet when he saw the vampire's head snap forward, all of his fangs shining in the scant light. "Hurry if you're going to do it!"

Shawn dragged his hand away from his neck and looked at it, feeling sick at how much blood there was already. He looked up at Lassie and his stomach clenched, his breath freezing in his chest. "Consent," he said again timidly. "I'm gonna unlock you now, okay? Try not to hurt me too much, I won't struggle if I can help it." He reached forward and the keys slipped in the blood on his hand, and he almost dropped them. He managed to get one jammed into the lock and he twisted; the very instant the cuff popped open, Lassiter had snatched the keys from his hand and stuck them into the other cuff, and Shawn couldn't stop himself, he was too scared—he fell backwards and his feet scrabbled, trying to push himself away.

Lassiter lunged, but he went for the first-aid kit, not for Spencer. There was so much blood on him, and he almost couldn't think with how much he wanted it, how much he needed to have it, to bite him, but Shawn—he was so frightened. The dead blood had put Lassiter into a near-unconscious state, but he had heard everything: all of their debate, their heartbeats, Spencer's conviction. He tore the latch off the kit in order to get it open, and a dozen thick gauze pads tumbled out. He snatched one and reached for Spencer, who was looking at him confusedly.

"No," Lassiter croaked, his hands shaking as he pressed the gauze to Spencer's neck, smelling the blood as it was soaked up. It was so close, and there would be no going back, not ever. "I can't. I can't," he said, pleading as much with himself as with Spencer. Shawn seemed to understand, and then he did a shocking thing: he reached forward with the hand he'd clapped over the cut, and smeared his blood on Lassiter's mouth. It was over.

The others watched as Shawn was slammed onto the floor on his back, and then he gasped when Lassiter's mouth found the cut Sam had made. Sam and Dean both tensed, their machetes ready.

"Ow, ow," Shawn whimpered softly. "Lassie—teeth—ow."

"Don't bite him, Detective," Sam called. "You shouldn't have to. He's not fighting it, he's giving it to you. Try to slow down."

Shawn visibly relaxed then, seeming to go boneless when Lassiter used his hands to hold him still instead of his teeth. Sam relaxed as well, but kept watching, as did Dean. Gus looked ill and had to turn away, but Juliet also continued to watch, a line on her forehead. "Shawn?" she called after a minute. "Are you okay?"

He turned one of his arms up so that he could raise a confirming thumb, and then they all heard him moan very softly, but not with pain. They glanced away for several moments, awkward.

The whole thing took no longer than five minutes, and then Lassiter was able to release Shawn and push himself back on his knees, looking slightly dazed as he wiped at his mouth. Shawn looked up at him, feeling weak and sleepy—but then he grinned, very slowly.

"Lassie... that was so hot," he whispered.

Lassiter just looked at him, but he didn't reply. When he looked up at the others, he was calm again, his face set and his gaze hard at the two hunters. "Put those away," he commanded.

"Are you in control of yourself?" Dean asked. "'Cause I'm gonna warn you—you might think you're all big and bad and super fast and strong and whatever now, but there's two of us, and we have lots of experience fighting things like you. And we win."

"Noted," Lassiter said acidly.

"You heard my partner," Juliet said. "Put your weapons down."

Sam obeyed, setting his machete on the ground near his foot while Dean slipped his back onto his belt. Sam frowned slightly at Shawn, whose eyes were only half open now. "Is he still bleeding?"

"He's fine," Lassiter said. "He's falling asleep."

"Is it okay if I come over to him?" Gus asked. "I got—there was a Sunny D in the car, he should probably drink it."

"Of course," Lassiter said, and got to his feet. He focused on Juliet and slowly came toward her as Gus scurried past him and knelt down next to Shawn, rotating his head to check the side of his neck. Lassiter regarded Juliet for a long moment, and her eyes searched his face. He held out his hand for her to shake. "Thank you, partner," he said quietly, and she ignored his hand and wrapped both arms around him.

"Now I'm really sad I don't have my trusty Kodak," Dean said. "If you two are done, we need to talk."