Author's note – Hey guys, sorry it's been so long. I especially apologise to those I promised an update to like a month ago. I'm a terrible person, I know. But yeah, I finally got this chapter finished. Yay. Hope you enjoy. =)

Chapter Nine

Sam hated cars.

He had decided this about five minutes into the journey when he was yet again jostled about so hard that he managed to simultaneously bash his knees, shoulders and head against the walls of this 'trunk' he was confined in.

It turned out that the trunk was just a small storage area that cars had at the back and just like he had predicted, they were not at all comfortable.

This one stank of oil and dust and from the moment the trunk door had shut, obnoxiously loud rock music assaulted his ears. Even without all the jostling, Sam was sure he would still have developed a headache from the noise alone.

The only thing he did appreciate about the car journey was the darkness that engulfed him. His eyes may have healed sufficiently so as to not hurt him anymore but he had seen enough sunlight to last him a good long while, thank you very much. His heated, blistered skin could attest to that.

Now, many hours into the journey, all Sam could do was lay there quietly, try his best to block out the music, ignore the ridiculously large number of bumps in the road and take some small amount of solace in plotting a revenge he knew would never happen.

He hissed out a curse when the car jerked yet again. He was sure this must be deliberate. No road could truly have so many pot holes.

But it wasn't a pot hole this time.

The car began to slow and then came to a complete stop, the music turning off along with the engine and Sam couldn't help the sigh of relief that escaped his lips. Sweet silence.

The relief was short-lived though as he suddenly realised that the car stopping probably meant that they had arrived at their destination. Where that destination was, he had no idea and that was unnerving in itself. All his life he had never really travelled more than a few miles outside of the City. He knew the City and he knew its people. And though he had had to hide his true self around the other vampires, the City was where he felt safe.

With baited breath, he waited. Heard the slam of car doors and the crunch of gravel underfoot as two sets of heavy footsteps made their way towards him.

The trunk door was thrown open and sunlight flooded in, momentarily blinding him after being in the dark for so long.

Without waiting for him to recover, two pairs of hands reached in and roughly pulled him out and deposited him onto the ground.

Sam tried to land on his feet but his right leg had fallen asleep during the journey and the sudden movement disorientated him to the point where a graceful landing was impossible.

Instead he landed on his ass. Hard. And would have toppled over onto his back if Gordon hadn't stood right behind him.

The other set of hands belonged to the eldest Winchester, who grunted irritably and grabbed Sam again, hauling him to his feet.

Finally, Sam's eyes began to adjust to the light and he tried to get his bearings.

What he saw did nothing to ease his nerves. They were parked on a huge expanse of tarmac and gravel, next to the pickup truck that Kubrick and Walt were climbing out of, along with a tall, gangly man that Sam hadn't yet met.

They were surrounded by metal mesh fences that stood about ten metres high and were topped with dangerously sharp barbed wire.

Behind one of the fences stood a large, grey building with several high towers, not too dissimilar to the ones Sam used to man.

Unlike the village he and the other vampires had invaded, the humans had set up a protection around this place and although it was nowhere near as secure as the City, Sam couldn't help but be slightly impressed by the formidable looking building.

However it wasn't the building or the towers or the fences that had him worried. It was the mass of people waiting on the other side of the fence, all of them silent and staring. He didn't even need his vampire senses to feel the tension in the air or taste the hatred seeping out of their pores.

"Welcome to Darkwater Prison," Dean breathed, stepping up beside Sam and grasping his arm in a much gentler hold than his father. "Or as we prefer to call it now; home sweet home."

"You live here?" Sam whispered back.

"Sure do," Adam replied, suddenly appearing on his other side. "The wake-up call sucks and the AC is non-existent but it's as good a place as any, I suppose."

"Enough talk," The eldest Winchester barked. "Let's go."

They made their way towards the fence and Sam had to try really hard not to cringe when he was close enough to see the open rage upon the humans' faces.

There was no doubt in Sam's mind. They knew what he was. What he had done. And they wanted justice.

As they approached the gate, it slid open with a loud buzz and a grizzled looking man wearing a plaid shirt and battered looking cap stepped out to greet them.

"John," he nodded at Dean's father and Sam finally had a name to put to the face.

"Bobby," John nodded back, face dark and serious. "How is Jo holding up?"

Jo? Sam knew that name. The blonde hunter Benny had shot had been called Jo. He wondered if it was the same one. Probably not. The wound was pretty serious. She most likely bled out long before they made it back to civilization. Besides, there must have been plenty of people with that name.

"She's hanging in there. It was touch and go for a while but the doc says with some time she should make a full recovery. Ellen's a wreck though."

Well how about that? Sam thought in surprise, switching from being unsure to confident that John and Bobby were actually talking about the same two women he had encountered a while back.

"That's understandable." John sighed.

Bobby nodded again before turning to look at Sam. Unlike the other gazes, there was no deep set hatred in his expression. Instead he just fixed him with a cold, dispassionate stare.

"I see you brought in another one."

"Yeah, well, I thought the other would get lonely all by himself."

Sam tensed and looked from John to Bobby to John again, as though he'd be able to find out what he needed from their faces alone. They had another vampire with them?

His mouth opened without permission, the question already on his tongue but before he could utter a sound, Dean's grip tightened, warning him to keep quiet.

Figuring it was probably smart to listen to the silent command, he snapped his mouth back shut.

"You reckon he'll actually talk? 'Cause the other one hasn't said a word so far." Bobby went on to ask.

"They'll both talk eventually." John replied stonily. "I'll make sure of that."

Cold dread slowly settled in Sam's stomach as the two older men spoke. The threat obvious behind the innocuous words. He already knew these people weren't against using violence. Gordon's rough treatment of him so far was proof enough of that and Luther had told him of his torture, of Kate and Lenore's death, all at the hands of humans. He just hadn't let himself linger on those thoughts before, preferring to think of only the present situation.

But it seemed torture may well be his present situation soon enough.

Dean's hand had tightened to the point where it was painful. If it weren't for Sam's part-vampire blood, there would definitely be some finger shaped bruises forming under the already sun brittle skin.

"Dad," Dean ground out, "We should probably get him inside now, before he's burned to a complete crisp."

John glanced up at the hot, mid-day sun and then at Sam and Dean. "I guess you're right. Can't have him die on us just yet." He clicked his fingers at the unknown, gangly man. "Garth, take our prisoner to the cells and get him situated. Report back to me when you're done."

Garth nodded and stepped forward to replace Dean's hold but the younger hunter didn't move.

"I can take him." Dean insisted.

"No you can't." John said. "You're going straight to the infirmary. You say your arm is fine but I want it looked at."

"But - "

"Dean!" John barked and Dean reluctantly let go of Sam with a muttered "Yes, Sir."

Garth took Sam's arm and pulled him forward. "Let's go." He said softly.

Sam matched his pace and the crowd before them parted as they passed. They were no longer silent. Some whispered, some murmured, some outright jeered at him but Sam kept his gaze firmly on the ground, refusing to look any of them in the eye and just make things worse.

Something warm and slimy hit his face, just below his eye, and he realised with a disgusted jolt, that someone had just spit at him.

"That's enough of that, now." Garth called out, annoyance lacing his voice. "Let us through."

They managed the rest of the walk without incident and when they reached the already open door, Garth hastily pushed Sam though and shut it quickly behind them.

They were it a brightly lit hallway with cream walls and green carpeting. A couple of colourful pictures hung on the far wall and to one side was a large, wooden desk, behind which a young woman with bright red hair sat, flicking through a wad of papers with a look of outright boredom on her face.

As they approached, the woman glanced up and broke out in a huge smile that lit up her whole face.

"Garth, I'm so glad you're back," she breathed. "This place sucks without you. I'm not even joking."

Garth chuckled. "Hi Charlie, It's good to be back."

Charlie smiled again and turned her hazel gaze to Sam and whistled. "Now you have spent far too much time out in the sun. Next time you should probably wear sun screen…and a shirt." She clapped her hands over her mouth in sudden horror. "Ohmygosh! You're from the village aren't you? I'm so sorry. Like you had time to grab a shirt when you were being attacked - "

"Charlie," Garth interrupted her tirade. "He's not a villager. He's a Vamp. Gordon and his lot caught him just after the attack."

Charlie paled at his words. "Oh….well you know where to put him then. I'll talk to you later, okay?" She turned back to rifling through the papers again in a clear dismissal and with a nod, Garth left the hallway through a set of double doors, dragging Sam along with him.

"So what's your name?" Garth asked as they walked down a narrow, winding corridor.

"Sam," The half-vampire replied, seeing no point in ignoring the question. He'd already told Dean anyway.

Garth glanced at him sideways, eyebrows raised in surprise. "I honestly didn't expect you to answer. The other one didn't".

Sam shrugged. "It's just a name."

"In some cultures, people believe that knowing someone's name gives you power over them."

"I think that only applies to spirits and demons." Sam replied, surprising Garth again.

"You know your lore."

Another shrug. "My Mom liked to tell me bedtime stories when I was a kid. And most of them were based around some myth or other."

"My Mom used to do the same. Although hers were always about the hunts she's been on." He pulled a face. "I tell you I had more nightmares as a kid than was strictly healthy."

Sam smirked but made no further effort to continue the conversation.

They reached a large locked door and Garth knocked on it five times in quick succession. There was a pause for a second before the sound of a lock being turned could be heard and the door swung open.

The guard behind it did no more to acknowledge their presence than allow them to pass before locking the door back up.

"You'll be staying down here." Garth informed, already moving them towards a staircase that descended into gloom.

The stairs led to another corridor (this one much darker than the ones on the above floor) that stopped at a dead end and had a number of small barred cells on either side.

Sam wrinkled his nose as the smell of blood, badly kept latrines and vomit hit him. Garth seemed to notice.

"I know. Stinks to high heaven. We have a hard time getting people to clean up down here."

Most cells were empty but as they passed by one of them, a body suddenly threw itself at the bars, growling and hissing.

Sam jerked away instinctively and stared at the occupant, taking his wild dark hair, bloody clothes and fiery eyes.

"Luther?" he gaped.

The vampire's snarl tapered off and a leer took its place. "Sammy, you're alive. I gotta say, I'm a little shocked. I really thought I got you back there." He laughed briefly before doubling up coughing harshly.

Sam frowned. That definitely wasn't an apology. Luther didn't seem to regret throwing the grenade at all.

Once the coughing subsided, Luther straightened back up, clutching his stomach and gasping for breath. "But what does it matter right? It's not like either of us are gonna be alive much longer anyway." The leer dropped from his face, replaced by a serious glare. "Don't tell 'em anything, Sammy. Keep the City safe. Give these hunters hell."