Chapter Fourteen

Author's note - Hey guys. So here's the next chapter. Yay! Thanks again for the support you've all given me throughout the writing of this story. I literally coudn't believe all the wonderful reviews that were left on my last chapter. I think I even teared up a few times. Haha. Anyways, enjoy!

What are you?

The question was simple enough. But it was one that Sam didn't care to answer. If his own people were willing to kill him because of what he was, then he didn't want to know what a group of humans and werewolves would do to him.

Using the wall for support, Sam dragged himself to his feet, refusing to let the prince tower over him any longer, and felt a smug sense of satisfaction in the fact that, when stood, he was taller that the Were's human form by a good few inches.

The prince looked up at him expectantly. "Well?"

Sam just raised an eyebrow and flashed him a grin full of fangs, trying to exude a confidence he certainly wasn't feeling. "I'm a vampire. I thought that much was obvious."

The prince growled deep in his throat, sounding very much like the wolf he had been earlier. "What is obvious to me is that you have allied yourself with the vampires. You have perhaps even taken up some of their more heinous habits - " he cast a glance over Sam's face, no doubt taking note of the blood still smeared across his lips from the feeding that took place only moments ago. "But you are not one of them."

"Of course I am,"

"Do NOT lie to me!" the prince roared.

"Prince Castiel," Dean started, hands stretched out in appeal but the Were refused to be placated.

"Do not interfere, Winchester. This matter does not concern you." The prince, Castiel, snapped before turning his attention back to Sam. "I could smell your blood, what little you had left of it, back in the chamber. I know for a fact that you are not what you say you are. It would be in your best interest to tell me the truth. Remember, your fate rests with me now."

The threat was obvious and Sam could tell that he meant it.

He looked Castiel in the eye, taking in the fierce determination and anger that swam in those icy blue depths, feeling certain that that very same glare had probably prompted many confessions in its time. But it wasn't the anger or the determination that made up his mind in the end. It was what he saw hiding under those emotions. Something excited and curious and confused all at the same time. Something that made Sam think that maybe, just maybe, telling the truth this time would lead to his salvation instead of his doom.

He heaved in a breath, eyes never straying from Castiel's own, trying to draw whatever strength he could from them.

"I'm a Half-blood," he said finally.

It was strange to actually say the words out loud. He had been sworn to silence his whole life and now here he was, confessing his most guarded secret to his enemies and captors. And they hadn't even tortured it out of him.

"A Half-blood? You're saying you are half vampire?" Castiel asked.

"Yes."

"But what's the other half?" Dean cut in.

Old fear began to rise up but Sam pushed it stubbornly back down. He could do this.

He met Dean's questioning gaze and said simply, "Human."

Doctor Mills gasped and Dean made an odd choking sound while Castiel just nodded, as though he had expected this all along.

"Is that even possible?" Doctor Mills asked.

Sam shrugged. "I'm living proof of it."

"You're human?" Dean said, voice breaking upon the word. He looked positively devastated by the news.

Another shrug. "Only half."

The infirmary door swung open once again, this time revealing John and Gabriel.

Aside from Gordon, they were possibly the two people Sam least wanted to see.

They stepped inside, warily assessing the atmosphere of the room, their gaze flitting from face to face as everyone turned to stare at them.

"Are we interrupting anything?" Gabriel said eventually.

"Not at all," Castiel said in answer, making his way over to his brother. "In fact, you're just in time. Our fanged friend here was just telling us how he's a Half-blood."

Gabriel's eyes widened slightly and John's head snapped up in surprise.

"He's a what?"

"A Half-blood," Castiel repeated calmly. "Half vampire, half human."

"I didn't think that was possible."

"They're rare." Gabriel said, staring at Sam with a newfound interest that made the vampire feel as though spiders were crawling up his back. "Really rare. A vampire and human coupling is uncommon enough but the chances of them actually managing to conceive a child are astronomically low."

"Yet here he is," John murmured.

Dean ran a shaky hand through his hair, still looking a lot like someone had just kicked his favourite puppy, and John's voice went from wonder to anger in an instant.

"Did he attack you?"

"Huh?" Dean asked eloquently.

Sam realised where John was now staring. Right at the arm that he had bitten, where the wound had thankfully stopped bleeding but still looked a bit of a mess.

Well, crap.

Dean noticed a second later and shot a terrified glance is Sam's direction before turning back to his father. "No. No, of course not."

"Then what is that?" John gestured at the offending arm.

"I...he..." Dean floundered helplessly. "He was going to die."

John was silent for a moment, clearly working it out in his head. Then it clicked.

"You LET him bite you?" he thundered.

"I had to. I couldn't just let him…he only needed a bit."

"And you let this happen?" John rounded on Doctor Mills.

"I suggested it." Doctor Mills, said, squaring her shoulders.

For a second, Sam was seriously worried that John was going to hit her. He certainly looked ready to, hands clenched tightly at his sides, trembling with what could only be described as barely controlled rage.

"Your son is fine, John." Gabriel intervened suddenly. "I'd be able to smell it if he were in any distress and he isn't. The half-blood really didn't take all that much."

John clearly wasn't appeased by the words but he at least stopped shaking.

Feeling suddenly exhausted, Sam slumped back onto one of the two beds in the room, the one he had woken up in earlier. He really needed sleep. And food. And some water would be nice too.

"So what happens now?" Dean asked. "With Sam, I mean."

He looked at John as he spoke but the man just shook his head, "That isn't up to me anymore. The fang belongs to the Novak's now."

Sam bristled silently. He belonged to no one.

"We will keep him alive." Castiel said and Sam gave a quiet sigh of relief. Telling the truth had paid off after all.

"For now," Gabriel added.

Sam really hated that guy.

"Look after him," the younger prince instructed Doctor Mills as he made his way over to the door. "Let's go, brother, we have much to discuss."

With one last appraising glance at Sam, Gabriel followed Castiel out of the room.

"Well now," Doctor Mills said the moment they were gone. "I think it's time our patient got some rest, don't you?"

Dean nodded his head emphatically but John just crossed his arms over his chest and said gruffly, "No, I don't."

"Dad, come on." Dean groaned.

"I still have questions."

"And I'm sure they can wait until after he wakes up." Doctor Mills retorted. "Look at the poor boy, he can barely keep his eyes open."

Sam jerked in the bed, sitting up straight from where he had slumped over and snapping eyes he hadn't meant to close back open. He needed to be careful or he was going to fall out of bed again.

"He's gone through enough today, I think." Doctor Mills continued.

"Come on, Dad, let's just go." Dean tried again, even pushing at John's shoulder a little in order to get him to move but John just shook him off.

"Is it your father or your mother?"

Sam blinked tiredly, "What?"

"Is it your father who is human or your mother?"

"My father," Sam answered slowly, not understanding why this conversation was more important than sleep.

"And he lives with you in the city?"

Sam snorted in amusement. A human living in the vampire capital of the world? The very idea was ludicrous.

"No. The guy took off before I was even born."

The colour slowly drained from John's face.

"Dad, are you okay?" Dean asked, the beginnings of concern in his voice.

John strode right up to Sam who leant back on the bed in an attempt to keep at least some of his personal space.

"What is her name?" John sounded almost desperate now. "Your mother's name, what is it?"

It was like being interrogated all over again. Sam suddenly felt as though he were strapped back down on that chair in that horrible, dank cell.

He would not answer. He would not give in!

He glared up at the hunter. "Her name is Mom."

John's stark white face began to redden, eyes darkening dangerously but before anything more could be said or done, Dean grabbed hold of his father's arms and pulled him away, with much more force than he had used in his previous attempt.

"We're leaving now." He said. "Bye, Sam. Bye, Jodie."

A ringing silence descended when the door closed behind the hunters.

"Are you trying to get yourself thrown back into jail?" Doctor Mills said before the silence could thicken.

Sam didn't reply, too busy trying to bring himself back to the present.

The doctor pulled Sam's covers back and helped him under them. The cotton sheets felt heavenly against his skin.

"You really should try to get some rest."

Sam nodded.

"Is there anything I can get you before I go?"

Sam thought for a moment. "Actually, I am really thirsty."

Doctor Mills raised an eyebrow and pulled her arms back from where she'd been tucking him in.

"Not like that." He amended quickly. "I meant water. I haven't had any in…" he trailed off, unsure of the last time he'd actually had a proper drink. "In a long time," he finished lamely.

Doctor Mills smiled sympathetically. "One drink of water coming right up."

When Sam next awoke, it was to almost complete darkness, the only source of light coming from the moon that shone though the barred window on the far wall.

For a few minutes, he just lay there, revelling in a comfort he hadn't felt in for what seemed like forever. Doctor Mills (or Jodie, as she had told him to call her during her last visit) didn't just bring him a glass of water, she brought him a whole jug full. And he managed to finish off a good portion of it before sleep overcame him.

He was well watered, well rested and felt almost completely normal. The only thing really bothering him now was his grumbling stomach, which interrupted his revelling all too soon.

"I should have asked for an apple as well." Sam decided aloud as his gut gave a particularly loud groan. "Or three."

He settled back into the pillows, resigning himself to wait until morning came. It was the only thing he could do really. Short of wandering outside of the infirmary in search of food and likely getting himself shot in the process.

He had only closed his eyes for a second, when he heard the pad of footsteps. Footsteps that were trying to be quiet but were no match for Sam's supernatural hearing.

"Doctor Mills?" He called softly as he sat up.

There was no answer except for the sound of footsteps drawing ever nearer.

"Jodie?"

The steps stopped directly behind the door and Sam decided to try one more time. "Dean?"

The door opened slowly and Sam's gurgling stomach dropped several feet when he realised it wasn't Jodie or Dean sneaking into his room in the dead of night but John Winchester.

Sam wasn't sure what the man wanted but he knew it couldn't be anything good.

John closed the door quietly behind him and Sam readied himself to start shouting blue murder.

As if reading his mind, John shot forward, (faster than any human had a right to be, even for a hunter) clamped a hand over Sam's mouth and shoved him back down onto the bed.

Sam gave a muffled yelp and began to struggle wildly. He wasn't going to let the hunter kill him that easily. Not after everything he'd been through in order to make it this far.

"Stop it," John growled. "I said stop."

Sam continued his thrashing and managed to throw the hunter off him.

"I'm not here to hurt you." John said, pulling himself back onto his feet but making no further move to approach the vampire.

Sam jumped from the bed, bearing his fangs and wanting very much to hiss, something he always tried to refrain from doing. He wasn't a complete savage.

"Then what do you want?"

"To show you a picture."

That stopped Sam in his tracks. "What?"

"Please."

Sam slowly retracted his fangs. The human seemed genuine enough. "If this is a trick…"

"It's not." John assured, pulling a small piece of paper from his pocket. "Just look at it."

With a sigh, Sam reached out and took the paper from John. He turned it to face him and his breath caught painfully in his throat.

It was a photograph, worn and yellowing from age but beautiful all the same.

The woman on it was young, somewhere in her early twenties, with long blonde hair, pale green eyes and a brilliant smile.

"Why do you have this?" Sam asked, confusion and longing warring within him. "Why do you have a picture of my mom?"

John made a sound somewhere between a gasp and a sob.

"Because she's my wife."