"As in a Vampire Fairy

"As in a Vampire Fairy?" Sam questioned, all color draining from his face.

Dean replaced the handset on the receiver and turned to face his brother. Sara could see by the look in his eyes that whatever this fairy was, it wasn't good news. Suddenly, needing to break the tension that filled the silence, Sara asked, "You're kidding me right, a vampire fairy?" Careful to keep all worry from her tone, she continued, "Is that like Tinkerbelle with fangs?"

Watching Dean's expression harden was enough to seriously scare Sara. The elder Winchester was normally one to trade quip for quip, if he had no smartass reply to her joke then the news was even worse than she'd thought. She must have conveyed her fear to Dean because he held out a hand to her, beckoning her closer.

Sara hesitated, she'd spent so much time convincing herself that she didn't need to lean on his strength that she'd almost begun to believe it, almost. At last, she found she couldn't deny him or herself the contact. As her hand closed around his she reveled in the feel. His skin was warm and work rough, his large hand wrapped around her slim fingers, locking their palms tightly in place. The touch was like a balm to Sara's soul. No longer did she feel alone, no longer did the weight of the world rest on her slim shoulders. With Dean by her side she had no doubt that everything would be fine. Content at last, for the first time in what seemed like forever, Sara glanced up into his eyes and smiled, uncaring if her heart was clearly visible.

Dean's shuttered gaze and frozen expression said louder than words that she'd misjudged his intentions. Sara dropped his hand as if stung and fled from the room.

888

"Crap, Dean, what the hell?" Sam snapped before following the older woman out the door.

Dean ignored his brother's leaving and leaned over the table. Placing both hands flat on the surface, he closed his eyes and prayed for strength. He needed it. More than Sam would ever guess.

Nothing had changed, Sara was still better off without him around and eventually she would come to realize that. When this was all over and done with he would be leaving with Sam. Trouble came to everyone that Dean had ever cared about. He couldn't afford for Sara to get caught in that same trap. Above all, including his own wants and dreams, he needed to keep her safe.

Earlier his fear for Sara had overcome his good sense, it was a mistake he wouldn't repeat. Though, he had intended to offer her reassurance, to ease her way, he wouldn't allow himself to take comfort from her. With Sara that was nearly impossible, she had an innate gift for offering comfort to everyone she met.

When he'd offered her his hand, he'd done so only as a gesture of concern. He had expected Sara to have her emotions firmly in check, instead, she'd looked at him as if he held the world in his hands. So, he'd done as he'd always done, he shut down, and now he'd felt as if he'd broken something between them that could never be repaired.

A burst of anger, at once again having to give up what he wanted, had Dean lashing out, his heavy boot catching one of the kitchen chairs. It toppled over with a clatter, drawing him back to reality. Sara didn't have time for him to wallow in pity. He had a job to do, probably one of the most important jobs he would ever have to face, and he intended to do it right.

888

The dance that Sara and Dean had been engaged in for the past two years had at times been both beautiful and complicated. As partners, they had woven in and out, seamlessly, each one complimenting the other at every turn. At least that's the way Sam had always seen them, until Gordon. It had been the intrusion of the killer that had thrown off their pairing, causing their movements to become clunky and at odds with one another.

The invasion of the Winchester's hunting life, into Sara's normal world, had crippled Dean, leaving the older man to flounder with fear. Steps now unsure, he had fumbled in the dance sending a ripple effect across the relationship. In return, Sara's own steps became halting, her own issues rising up to strip her of her confidence.

Now as they circled one another, they at times, seemed to almost find their old rhythm until the slightest wrong step threw them out of sync once more.

This time the fault had been all Dean. Sam had actually watched his brother shut down his feelings at the conclusion of Bobby's phone call. His older brother's ability to erect a wall, to hold back his emotions, was Dean's only true self-defense mechanism. With every other area of his life, Dean was selfless to a fault. His heart was the only real part of him that his brother ever tried to guard.

Sometimes, when caught in the throes of missing Jessica so badly his entire body ached, Sam envied his brother's ability. To just shut down, to ignore the pain of being left behind, that was something Sam had never been good at. He'd always been at the mercy of his emotions, nearly every choice he'd made in his life, had been out of one emotion or another. Anger, guilt, love, all had driven him in one form or another all his life.

Not Dean, his brother had learned early in life how to shut down his anger, to bury his guilt and to hold back his love, at least until he'd met Sara. The lovely widow had pricked his anger, until it came to the surface, then instead of retreating from it she'd embraced it firing back with her own. She'd shown him how to push away his guilt. Then she'd shown him that love had no boundaries, no status quo.

Now everything was wrong, every movement left one or both of them broken and bruised. For Sam, what hurt the worst was that he had no idea how or even if he should try to repair what was clearly broken. Sam, more than anyone, knew what it was to love someone and to lose them because of what you were.

"Sara?"

"Here, Sam," Sara replied, her voice surprisingly calm.

He pushed open the bedroom door and gingerly entered the room. Sara stood by the window, gazing out at the deepening twilight. Suddenly unsure of how to help, Sam began to fidget, glancing around Sara's room.

"Just spit it out, Sam."

The younger man looked up to meet Sara's gaze, he smiled slightly and asked, "Am I that transparent?"

Sara turned her head and gave him a smile. Despite her wasted countenance, it lit up the space.

"Maybe he's right," Sam blurted unsure of what made him admit his doubts. Maybe it was Sara's smile, he could still remember so clearly the last smile Jess had ever bestowed on him.

Sara snorted and returned her gaze out the window. "Right about what? Getting me killed? Please that's a load of crap."

"You wouldn't be the first woman that died for loving a Winchester," Sam ground out, suddenly furious with her stubborn refusal to see that they carried death with them no matter where they went.

"Sam, did it ever occur to you that I'm living on borrowed time?" Sara asked, her face still turned toward the window. "That maybe the reason bad things keep happening to me is not because you or Dean are bad luck, but simply because I've used up my nine lives. I should have died the night Jason died. Hell, we all should have. It was only by Bobby's intervention that we didn't."

"Since, Bobby, saved me, saved my family I have found myself in trouble time and again, and each time it's only by your involvement that I remain alive." Sara shrugged wearily. "The way I figure it, you two walk out on me and fate's bound to collect what I owe"

In two strides, Sam crossed the room to Sara's side, grabbing her arms he spun her around and shook her. "Don't say that, don't ever say that. Whether he's here with you or not, if something happens to you I'll lose him."

Sara stared up at him, her normally large eyes appearing even wider as she replied, "It's not like I have a choice, Sam. I didn't ask for any of this. You of all people should understand that."

He let go of Sara and stepped back, suddenly afraid that the widow had a point. "We almost didn't come here," Sam mumbled. All he could think of at that moment, was the fact that they'd come so close to leaving town without ever realizing just how much trouble Sara was in. If they had...well it didn't bear thinking.

"But you did, don't you see. If not for you I'd be dead and most likely the kids with me."

"I slashed the Impala's tires," Sam blurted, suddenly overcome with a need to confess.

Sara's jaw dropped and she blurted, "He'll kill you."

Sam shrugged a slightly guilty grin on his face. "Dean, had a nightmare. He felt you were in some kind of trouble but I couldn't find anything wrong." Sam grimaced, now that he knew what they were up against, it was really no surprise that he hadn't been able to find a trail. "He said we should go, that we were putting you in danger."

"So, you slashed the tires to stay here? So you'd have more time for research?" Sara questioned.

Sam blushed and looked down at his feet. "Actually, I kinda figured once you two were in the same room together..." Sam's voice trailed off.

Sara snorted and snapped, "Well, that sure as shit backfired, huh."

He looked up and gave a wry laugh. "Yeah, two more stubborn people I've yet to meet."

A grunt of surprise escaped Sam as Sara threw herself against him and wrapped her arms tight around his waist. Returning the embrace, he rested his chin on her head and whispered, "He really is going to kill me isn't he?"

Sara's nodding head bumped Sam on the chin. "Oh, hell, yeah. I wouldn't wanna be in your shoes."

Sam rolled his eyes and muttered, "Yeah, well I'm not the only one keeping secrets now am I?"

Sara released her hold slightly and leaned back to meet his gaze. "Sam," she threatened.

"I'm just saying that maybe he'd be a lot more prone to believe that you were capable of taking care of yourself, if he realized that you were the one that shot Gordon."

Before the older woman could reply, Sam drew Sara close and hugged her tight. "He loves you, remember that," Sam whispered with absolute confidence.

888

"This is bad, Dean," Sam whispered as he heard his brother enter the bedroom.

"I know," Dean replied as he crossed the room to where Sara slept, curled up on her side, in the middle of her bed.

"She's getting worse, and as an added bonus the bruise is back."

Dean walked past the bed and moved to the window. Parting the blinds, he glanced out into the dark night. He'd just spent the last hour walking the perimeter of the yard. The hunter really hadn't expected to find anything, he'd just needed to blow off some steam and to think about their options. He always thought better on his feet and tonight was no exception. Bobby had pulled no punches in laying down just what was after Sara and what the brothers needed to do to save her.

For just a moment, while Bobby imparted the seriousness of the situation, Dean had found himself longing for the older hunter to suddenly appear at his side, or even better his father. Despite Bobby's considerable efforts to get back to Pennsylvania, Dean knew he couldn't afford to wait for him. As for his father, well wishing sure as hell wouldn't make that one come true. So, Dean, had pushed aside his childish wants and concentrated on doing his dead-level best to keep Sara alive.

"How much do you know about the Anchanchu?" Dean questioned Sam, wondering if his brother realized just how bad it actually was.

Sam, who sat in a chair by Sara's side, ran a hand through his shaggy hair and sighed. "Not much and what I do know is pretty vague. I know it's Peruvian, a cross between a fairy and a vampire. I know that traditionally they like to hang near rivers and wooded areas, which leads me to believe that Sara stumbled over this thing in the forest. They suck the blood of their victims, which ties in with Brian and Greg. But, I also seem to recall hearing something about them bringing about sickness also." Sam dropped his head and studied the floor for a moment. At last, he looked up and shrugged. "Wasn't there something about whirlwinds?"

Dean nodded, impressed with Sam's ability to recall nearly every baddie he'd ever heard referenced to. "You've got the basics, but according to Bobby, it's a bit more complicated than that."

"Has he dealt with one before?"

"Yeah," Dean confirmed, careful to keep his expression blank. He didn't plan on telling Sam that the last time Bobby had come across one of these fairies the victim had died.

"The Anchanchu was a fairy that became inhabited by the same demon that created vampires, it kept a lot of its magic, but, as an added bonus it now also has vampire-like tendencies. It can materialize and disappear at will, the only tell-tale sign is a gust of wind."

Sam nodded, his attention centered on Dean. It was obvious that the younger man was filing away information and intended to have all his facts straight.

"The streams and rivers thing is right, but for the woods, it's gotta be cedar tress. I'm thinking that if we follow the path Sara jogs every morning, we'll find it's been living near the stream."

"Great, what else did Bobby know?"

"The blood sucking thing is pretty straight forward. Though, the way it goes about it is a bit different. When it's looking to feed the fairy has a probe that extends from inside its mouth, like a sort of straw." Dean knew the look of horror he could see on Sam's face was a reflection of his own disgust. The thought of this thing sucking on Sara was enough to make him feel like puking.

"Ugh," Sam said swallowing hard.

"Yeah, nice huh? Like all fairies, it's got the ability to lure people to its side using it's sweet voice, and to erase memories. Basically people never realize that they've just been snacked on."

"It didn't move on this time," Sam pointed out in irritation.

"Nope, this time the bastard stayed put. From what Bobby said, it's not unheard of. The thing's got some sorta twisted agenda. Not part of the fairy world, and not a true vampire, it's a bastard of both cultures, and it's apparently fickle as hell."

The corner of Sam's mouth tilted just slightly at his brother's choice of word. "Fickle, huh?"

Dean shrugged and said, "Bobby's word. Anyway, so this things decided to settle down for a while. I guess they get bored with the whole waiting by a stream for some hiker to stop by for dinner. When this happens they..." Dean hesitated, hardly able to continue, "they possess a body."

Sam's eyes drifted toward Sara who lay still on the bed, the only sign of life the shallow rise and fall of her chest. "It's possessing her?"

Dean leaned against the wall, suddenly feeling as if he could use the support, and cleared his throat. "Not yet, it's a long process that involves draining the body to nearly the point of death. Near as I can guess, Sara's not there just yet. It does however, have a link to her already and it's pretty much got free reign to use her body as it sees fit."

"Like what, a puppet master? It can make her walk, talk, and act normal?"

"No, it hasn't taken possession so it can't control her emotions. She's still ours. What it can do is call her to its side for feedings."

"Shit," Sam breathed. "That's how it's been getting to her. It's not getting in the house, it's pulling her out."

"Yup. Nice, huh. This shitting thing's been calling to her, feeding on her and then clearing her memory so she has no recall of it."

"So this has been going on for months?"

"Yeah, it has to keep her alive to take over the body. So, basically it destroys her soul leaving just an empty shell."

Sam gained his feet and turned to face Dean. "That means we still have time, right. It hasn't been able to displace her soul. All we need to do is kill it and Sara's safe?"

Dean had known this was coming and yet it still felt like a blow to the chest. "It's too late to just kill it off. Its hold on Sara's too great already, if we're not careful..." Dean's voice trailed off. He just didn't have the strength to admit that Sara could very well die.

"She could die," Sam's said, his tone full of pain.

Dean moved toward Sara and reached out to brush his fingers against her cheek. She lay on her side, one hand gripping the bedspread as if to anchor herself to the bed, the other was tucked up under her pillow. Too thin, too tired, too pale, it seemed as if Sara was already gone, leaving behind only a broken shell.

"Not today she won't," Dean reassured his brother. "There's a list of supplies on the kitchen table. Most of it's fairly straight forward, but," Dean sighed, "there's a snag. We're gonna need both the berries and the bark of a Hawthorn tree."

"Shit," Sam breathed. "That stuff's nearly impossible to find."

"I know, but we need it for the spell that'll break the Anchanchu's hold on Sara. Otherwise, when we kill it, it'll take her with it."

Sam nodded his understanding and headed for the bedroom door. "Makes sense, Hawthorn's got major regenerative powers. I'll do what I can and be back here as soon as possible."

"We'll be waiting."

888

Dean glanced down at his watch once more and grimaced. Only seven minutes had passed since his last check making it only an hour total that Sam had been gone. He knew his brother was going to need longer than that to figure out the Hawthorn angle, after all it wasn't as if there was a tree in the back yard that they could go harvest some berries from. Nothing was ever easy, of course it couldn't be the sap of a maple tree that would save Sara, I mean he couldn't throw a stone in the local woods without hitting one of those. No, it had to be a traditional English tree.

Unable to sit any longer, Dean began to pace. For the last hour, he'd been going over the spells that he would need to use, memorizing the words and familiarizing himself with the correct procedures. The first spell that Bobby had given him was a binding spell. This would hold the Anchanchu in place and basically render it powerless, for a while at least. The second spell would break the hold the fairy had over Sara and would give her the strength to survive. At least that was the idea, honestly, Dean still had his doubts.

The final step would be to destroy the Anchanchu out right. Bobby figured that be-heading would work best. After all, few things could survive without a head. The hardest part of the plan would be to capture the fairy long enough to perform the binding spell. Dean had little faith that the creature, which as far as he knew could have looked like anything, would simply stand still and allow itself to be captured. Fairies were, as a rule, never cooperative, especially, not blood thirsty, body seeking fairies.

Over all, this wasn't going to be one of the easiest hunts. Again, Dean wished for Bobby, another pair of hands would make all the difference. As it was, they were somehow going to have to restrain Sara so she was incapable of heeding the fairy's song. Otherwise they risked her being used as a pawn by the creature.

It wasn't until he was half-way through memorizing the binding spell that Dean noticed the wind had picked up. At first the low sound of the air rolling through the clearing that the house sat in was just background noise, barely noticeable at all. At least until Jack began to howl. The dog's plaintive cry sent shivers down Dean's back.

He'd banished the dog from the bedroom a little after Sam had left. The Saint Bernard seemed to sense that something was wrong with Sara and in response he'd done his very best to act like a barnacle. Every time Dean moved the dog was right there, tripping him up, and when Dean's penchant for pacing had finally won out, Jack had only grown more and more agitated. At his wit's end, he had at last kicked the animal out, telling himself that it was for his own good.

Concerned now that their was nothing simple about the wind that threatening to shake the shingles loose, Dean decided he needed to do a quick check over the house. "Sara," he called as he rested his palm against her forehead.

It took two more calls, before Sara's eyes finally flickered. Calling to her for a third time, Dean was heartened to see her familiar green eyes staring back at him. For just one brief moment, he thought he saw a flare of life before she managed to shut down her emotions. It was enough, for now to know that she wasn't ready to give in yet.

"Sara, you need to listen to me. Do you remember the fairy?"

The widow gave an exaggerated blink and then began to squint, her eyes nearly closing as she tried to focus. Dean quickly reached out and snagged her glasses off the nightstand. He was glad to see her eyes widen as he slipped them on. Sara's eyesight was bad to say the least and he knew she always felt vulnerable without the aid of either glasses or contacts.

"Fanged fairy?" she croaked.

Dean knew his smile was a bit strained but he hoped it would help to reassure the older woman anyway. "Yeah, the fanged fairy. Seems he's causing a ruckus. I need to give the house a once over, make sure everything's still holding."

"Sam," she said her eyes already drifting closed.

"Sam's gone to get supplies, he's gonna get back soon and then we'll get you feeling better."

Sara's weak nod was her only response. Dean didn't bother to wait for anything more. Jack was now barking the house down and the wind was howling. With a last touch to her cheek, he whispered, "Stay put, kiddo. I'll be right back."

Dean was out of the room and down the stairs in moments, at a run he headed for the back of the house, where Jack was raising hell. The dog stood near the French doors that led to the patio, his attention firmly fixed on the dark yard. Strain his eyes as he might, Dean was unable to make out anything. "Jack, quiet." His head felt as if it were about to explode from the ruckus the dog was creating. For once, Jack completely ignored him. In fact, if Dean were honest with himself he'd have to say that the brown and white dog's cries grew even louder.

Content for the moment that the fairy was remaining well back from the protection that the house and yard offered, Dean began to check over the entire ground floor. As he moved through the kitchen, checking the salt lines, the windows began to rattle with the gale force winds.

A quick check of the office and Dean was heading back down the hall toward the kitchen. It was then the power gave out plunging him into nearly complete darkness. What little moonlight there was, didn't reach the hallway where Dean stood. It didn't stop him from continuing toward the foyer. He knew the house like the back of his hand, with or without the lights he could easily find his way. He'd just entered the foyer when he saw Sara descending the steps.

Dressed simply in a pair of track pants, her white tee-shirt reflected the little bit of moonlight that filtered through the window in the front door, her feet were bare and her hair was pulled back into a simple pony-tail. Dean paused for just a moment, thrown off by the sight of her.

Later, he'd find himself thankful that the sight of Sara did make him hesitate. Otherwise, he would have been much closer to the windows that lined the living room wall when they, and every other piece of glass in the house, exploded inward in one huge mass of flying shrapnel and shrieking noise. As it was, the blast still managed to knock him off his feet, throwing him the length of the foyer and into the wall. Dean's head slammed into the dry wall, leaving him slumped and unconscious on the floor.