Disclaimer: I own nothing; not Sam, Dean, Benny, Amelia, or anything else involving Supernatural; this is purely written for pro bono entertainment.
Your honesty, like a back that hides a knife...
Sam stood close behind Dean as he opened the door slowly. Dean could hear the race of his little brother's heartbeat, could sense the strain in his muscles like he was preparing to run at any second, but at the same time, Dean could practically feel the acceptance radiating off of Sammy, and Dean didn't believe for one second that Sam was going to change his mind.
As soon as Dean had opened that door and closed it behind Sam, he knew it had sealed both of their fates.
Benny looked up from the single chair that sat beside the small table by the window, absentmindedly scratching the edge of the wood with a sharp nail, giving Dean a knowing smile. Dean could make out a small opening in the curtains, knew it was level with Benny's line of sight to the Impala. Dean raised an eyebrow and Benny just shrugged, almost as if to say, Are you that surprised?
Dean let it go.
Benny's eyes flickered over to Sam, causing Dean to turn and realize that Sam hadn't moved from the doorway. He was staring at Amelia's still unconscious body lying on the bed closest to the wall, his eyes full of emotion. Dean half-expected Benny to make some kind of smart-ass comment in that dry, sarcastic accent, but when the room remained silent and Benny stayed sitting in the chair, Dean was grateful.
Sam swallowed, licking his lips. He glanced over at Benny, who gave him a slight nod, before looking back at Amelia.
"Dean, I...fuck, I can't-"
Dean reached out and placed a hand on Sam's shoulder to ground him while Sam squeezed his eyes shut and bowed his head, a hand wiping over his forehead.
"It's okay, Sammy, I'm here." Dean ignored any guilt that was trying to make it's way to the surface, chose not to focus on the fact that he had told Sam it was his choice, but it was clear he wasn't really giving him one, simply because he needed his little brother. In all fairness, he knew Sam needed him just as much.
Gripping Sam's shoulder, he slowly pulled his brother forward, who resisted for only a second before letting himself be maneuvered in front of Dean. Dean gently turned Sam and sat him down on the opposite bed from Amelia, making sure Sam was looking at him and not the girl.
"First things first, okay?"
Sam slightly nodded as he stared at Dean's legs, and Dean wasn't sure if Sam was fully aware as to what was about to happen. Dean gently gripped his brother's chin and lifted it until Sam met his eyes.
"Are you ready, Sam? I promise, it'll be over quickly, and once you..." Dean couldn't help but glance at the girl before looking back at Sam, "once you feed, you'll feel better, okay?"
Sam opened his mouth, found he couldn't speak, so he closed his eyes and nodded.
Dean waited a moment longer before releasing Sam and straightening, reaching into his back pocket to pull out a switchblade. Flipping it open, Dean lifted his left arm, pulling back the sleeve of his jacket before setting the sharp edge of the knife against his skin. The flash of the blade seemed to wake Sam from his trance, because he was suddenly reaching out, grabbing Dean's wrist that was holding the knife, preventing him from slicing through his forearm.
"Sam-"
"I can't...I don't think I can...God, Dean I can't drink blood from you," Sam's eyes filled, gazing up at his brother with sorrowful eyes.
Dean placed his hand over the top of Sam's. "Sam, you only have to have a little, it's not that bad-"
Sam jerked his hand away, pain etched in his face, "I used to drink blood, Dean, remember? I know what it tastes like!"
"Whoa," Benny spoke up suddenly, hand raised as he glanced out the window and back at Sam, "Keep it down kid."
Sam glared, tears still in his eyes, grief now mixed with anger, but ignored Benny as he locked eyes with Dean. "You hated when I was drinking demon blood, I...fuck!"
Dean quickly set the knife on the bed, crouching in front of Sam, grabbing his brother's hands away from his face where they had been rubbing furiously, and held them tight as he spoke.
"This isn't like the demon blood, Sammy. Look at me," Dean waited until Sam obliged before continuing, "This has nothing to do with that. This is different."
Sam shook his head, tears threatening to fall. "You don't get it, Dean."
Dean tried a little humor, a gentle smile. "You're gonna be drinking a lot more blood after this, Sam-"
"But not yours," Sam said firmly, forcing Dean to stand up, frowning. "I haven't changed my mind...I'm ready to do this. But, it...it can't be you, Dean. I can't drink from my brother, not with where my mind goes when even just the thought of drinking blood takes me." Tears finally fell onto Sam's face, rolling down his skin as he practically begged his brother to understand. "I can't let you be...connected with those memories, your blood mixing with how the demon blood made me feel, what it made me do...I just can't."
From everything that had happened that night, from all of the fears Dean had, he was completely taken aback. This was the last thing he had expected for Sam to be worried about. The demon blood had never once crossed his mind.
For a moment Dean was quiet, knew that no matter what he said Sam wasn't going to change his mind. His brother didn't want to think of Dean when the memories of drinking demon blood filtered into his nightmares or waking thoughts.
The fact that they were having a conversation about Sam drinking his blood should have troubled Dean to begin with, but this is what their life had become now. Nothing was ever simple for them.
Opening his mouth to speak, Dean stopped as he saw Benny stand from his chair and approach them both slowly, understanding that this was a delicate situation. Sam's wet eyes flickered from the floor up to Benny, who had stopped less than a foot away. Without looking at Dean who was watching him curiously, Benny slipped out of his jacket, tossing it onto the bed beside Sam.
"Benny, what're you doing?" Dean asked, turning towards the vampire.
Without answering, Benny pulled out a hunting knife, slowly lifting it as he heard Sam's heart quicken at the sight of the sharp blade. Sam shifted back slightly, lifting his head a bit more to watch Benny carefully as the vampire met the intense look on Dean's face.
"I said I would help you, Dean," he looked down as he placed the blade against his palm, "Guess that means I gotta help you're little brother, too."
The realization of what Benny meant clicked for Dean as he watched his friend slice the blade through the tender flesh, Benny barely flinching as a steady stream of crimson flowed from the wound. Dean flicked his eyes over at Sam, and was surprised to see that his little brother, while still watching Benny carefully, had relaxed noticeably. The tears were gone, leaving behind drying steaks on his face, and the anguished look in his eyes when he had practically begged Dean not to give him his blood was now replaced by acceptance. Sam's body language showed how tense he was at Benny's proximity to him, far from trusting him the way Dean did, but he was obviously more willing to let Benny turn him rather than his brother.
Dean knew it was for a good reason why Sam didn't want it to be Dean, he understood, but it did nothing to take away the conflicting emotions running through him. He wasn't sure why, but the idea of someone else, even if it was Benny, sharing this moment with Sam...he was the one who was supposed to transition Sam into this new life, but did it matter? Sam and he were going to be experiencing this new life together, the little details shouldn't matter.
Jesus Christ, why was this bothering him so much?
"Benny, you've done more than enough for me man, you don't have to do this." Dean did his best to keep his voice as emotionless as possible, not wanting to have to explain how he felt when he didn't fully understand it himself.
Benny opened his hand, watching as the blood dripped on the ground before giving Dean a smile.
"I got this, brotha. No worries."
Dean licked his lips and fixed his eyes on Sam who was staring at the blood on Benny's hand. "Sam?"
"It's okay, Dean," Sam said softly, trying his best to give Dean his own small, exhausted smile as he glanced at his brother, "It's better this way."
Dean nodded, forcing himself not to react to the words. A part of him wanted to say no to the whole situation, but it was him who had put them there, and if he started contradicting himself everything he had convinced his brother of up to this point would all be for nothing.
Benny slowly lowered himself, crouching until he and Sam were eye level. "If I'm doing this, there's just one little thing I want in return."
Sam glanced at Dean before eyeing Benny warily. "What?"
Benny held up the knife, placing the tip against Sam's wrist gently, watching his face. "I'm gonna feed from you, during."
There was no stopping the physical reaction from Dean this time. "Benny, what the hell man?"
Benny looked up at Dean, noticing how tense his friend was, that extra step towards him the hunter had taken. "It will help relax him, help to keep'm calm," he paused thoughtfully, "...lethargic. You 'member how overwhelming it feels? This'll help ease that. Besides, you promised me a drink right?" Benny winked. "Two birds, one stone an' all that."
Dean looked over at Sam, found his little brother watching him. Sam didn't have to say anything, Dean could see his brother's choice written all over his face. Years of reading each other made the silent communication nearly impeccable. Dean almost smiled at the fact that a year in purgatory hadn't changed that.
Dean knew Sam was waiting for his answer, was grateful his brother was letting him have an opinion. Again, Dean had to ignore the thoughts running through the back of his mind, telling him how dysfunctional he and Sam already were, that this was reaching a new level of fucked up. Sam was about to turn into a vampire like him, the vampire he was drinking from was about to feed from him in turn, and Dean was letting it happen. Hell, as long as the ultimate goal of that whole night was met, he wanted it to happen.
Point of no return, no going back.
"Do it," he said lowly, gaze heavy on Sam.