To say Pestilence was horrified by how far behind Sam and Dean were with schooling would be an understatement. If John wasn't already dead, he might have strangled the man himself. Bad enough the American school system was terrible!
Sam was far more eager to learn than Dean. All Pest had to do was sit something in front of the boy and it would keep his attention for hours. Euthalia usually offered to learn with him. Made Pestilence's job easier.
Dean, by contrast, resisted most of Pest's attempts to catch him up. His wary regard of him and Euth did not help.
But what embodiment of disease gave up easily? No, Pestilence knew how to adapt. Did so with Euthalia. Dean was no different. There was always a learning method.
Finding Dean's was decently simple. His tight connection to his brother worked well in Pest's favor. While he found half the stuff Pest tried to teach "boring and nerdy", he was willing to help Sam. Even try to read to him.
Dean also preferred a more hands-on approach. Quite similar to Euthalia.
He...still dragged his feet, but slow progress was progress.
The trouble, however, was him butting heads with Euth.
Pestilence felt Euthalia's aura flair not long after turning away. Their voice low and agitated, "We would get this done faster if you'd give me the beaker!"
"And this would be mixed already if you'd stop being a priss!"
"You are doing it too fast! You're gonna ruin it!"
"It'll be fine!"
Dean's aura flared and Pestilence quickly stepped in, "That's quite enough!"
"They started-"
"I don't care. What's going on?"
"He keeps stirring too fast and won't let me help! He is uncooperative."
"It'll be fine! They're being a perfectionist!"
"I have done this experiment before and, no, it will not."
Pestilence pinched the bridge of his nose. In all candor, he figured this would happen. However, admittedly, he hoped they both would learn to cooperate. For Euthalia to be more patient and perhaps Dean to listen to them given the similar stories.
Unfortunately, sympathy did not override stubbornness.
Pestilence, at least, had the advantage of Dean seeing him as a authority figure and thus bitterly yield. Euthalia, a teenager, did not get such regard.
And Euthalia was particular about things. A trait they picked up from him.
Furthermore, Euth had plans with Hadley that day - no doubt adding to their nerves.
And Dean's already irritated aura.
He sighed, wondering why life had become so complicated, "How about this..." Readjusting his unneeded glasses, he gestured at Dean, "Show me how you're stirring this."
A few hours after the incident found Dean slumped, bored, in an armchair. Something was playing on the TV he couldn't be bothered to tune into. It had Sam captured.
Euthalia had left. Gone out with a friend. Hadley, if Dean recalled. A witch. Figured. Why wouldn't the adopted child of Pestilence be friends with a witch?
Dean huffed. If only he had the NES here...
And they were in the middle of nowhere. No running off.
...Perhaps he could wander the forest. See if there was anything interesting. Doubted it, but it beat sitting around.
Pestilence might be annoyed. Who cared?
He could tell Sammy where he was going, that he'd be back before dark.
He did not get to. A knock on the door interrupted the thought. War entered the cabin. "Knock, knock! We're back! Got the stuff and ready to get this over with."
Dean frowned, "Get what over with?"
"Oh, good you boys are awake!"
"It's 5 in the afternoon..."
"Could've been napping. Anyway, night's the night you cubs get warded from...basically everything except us."
Oh, right, that. Dean did not look forward to it. Sure, they were assured it would not hurt, merely sting. Euthalia attested to it. But Dean was, as usual, unconvinced.
Sam peaked over the couch, "Where's Famine?"
"Still outside," War glanced out the door, "thumbing through the book. He'll be here in a second, don't worry. Where's-"
Pestilence emerged from his lab, wiping his hand on a cloth stained with something best left unknown. "Lab's cleared. I have the sigils done. Shouldn't take as long to set up this time."
War nodded, satisfied, and left for the lab.
Pestilence pointed to the boys. "Wait until we call you down. Understood?"
The warding ritual...came and went. Other than the ominous feeling - being in a room painted in sigils, with three of the four Horsemen of the Apocalypse speaking in an unknown language they claimed was their own, the stinging sensation of the warding itself... It was quick.
Easy. Painless. As they said it would be.
No, the worst part came with Famine telling them he and War were separating them. Sam with Famine. Dean with War. Both with Pestilence on occasion.
Neither took this well. Especially not Dean.
His aura burned. War's struggled to keep it down. To calm. Dean resisted the attempts.
"You can't! I won't leave Sammy alone!"
"You won't be. You will see each other often." Famine assured, "This will merely make things easier."
"How!? You're going to juice him up on demon blood! I need to make sure he's alright!"
"He will be. I have dealt with my own hunger, I will teach him how to handle his. It is safer that you remain with War."
War chimed in, "Pest and I will occasionally help. And, as Famine said, you'll still get to visit each other."
Frustrated, Dean pushed, "Why does he need to consume demon blood again? Why can't he beat Lucifer another way!?"
Sam was quiet to this point. Trying to focus on quelling the returning itch. He would finally... "I don't think there is one, Dean..." I want to be strong.
"We don't know that!"
Slowly, Famine sighed. Tired. If there was another way... "The demon blood will strengthen him. He will need that strength. Not just to deal with Lucifer but to deal with his demons. I fear demons may try to manipulate Sam or that he will end up in grave danger if he suffers withdrawls. That, in turn, could also get you killed, Dean, if you are caught in the middle."
"Demons could end up fearing him if he gets strong enough." Pestilence said nonchalantly from the top of the stairs. Staying clear of the raging aura. "Quite the advantage."
"The Vampire of Demons..." War muttered, thoughtful, "The Demon Blood Vampire?"
Dean made a face. However, his aura lessened. Considerate. The idea was distasteful, but there was no denying the advantage.
He didn't want to see Sammy in pain. The thought of demons using him...
"Dean," Sam placed a hand on his shoulder. "I'll be okay."
It was against everything. What he believed. What he knew, or thought he knew. But so did all which happened since that day. Instincts pulled this way and that - one screaming not to agree.
The other claimed this was the only way. The best way.
To keep his brother safe.
To find Azazel.
To save the world, apparently.
Why did such a responsibility need to be their burden? Why couldn't they have gotten a normal life? Why did any of this...
Tiring. It was all so tiring. Not unlike carrying an anvil on one's back.
Sam's pleading eyes did not help. Dean sighed, shoulders drooping. Conceding. "You're sure about this? You actually want this?"
"Yeah. I want to try. If it'll give us a better chance..."
"Fine. So long I can know you're safe. Pull through for me, ya hear?"
Sam grinned, "I will!"
Dean returned a tired smile. Aura dissipating.
Stepping forward, Famine rested a hand on Sam's shoulder. "Now that's settled. We should head home."
"Get to teach you some new techniques!" War ruffled Dean's hair, who responded with a huff. "And, again, I'll make sure to check in when I can, alright?"
"Yeah, alright..."
"Let's get ya home. It's been a long day."
The whirl of emotions Sam felt waiting at the kitchen table the next morning was crushing. Dizzy. Nerves were alight, burning his skin.
Apprehension. Excitement. Impatience. He barely got any sleep the night prior.
It was time.
He would finally taste it. Feel its power.
He would be strong.
But the pains of hunger made him nervous. If it was bad now, how bad was it to become? Famine warned him before and had waited this long for good reasons.
In those days since he first felt the desire for the blood, Famine taught him some calming techniques. Basic ones, though helpful. Famine had promised to teach more once he was on the blood.
Footsteps approached from the hall. Famine entered the kitchen, a blood bag in hand. Sam's heartbeat drummed in his ears. It took every bit of self-control to remain seated and not run over to snatch the bag.
Did demon blood always look so lovely? A shade of red, dark than a human's... He could almost smell it.
He needed it. Now.
"Patience, Sam. We're going to take this slow, understood?"
He swallowed, nodding. Barely able to hear over his own heart. The hunger. The blood. The blood. The blood. It was right there!
Slowly, the tube - nothing more than a too long straw - came within reach. Sam grabbed at it, eager, only for Famine to hold it away.
"Ah, ah." Famine cut off his frustrated whine, "With restraint, Samuel. Now, let's try this again."
The stra- tube hovered in front of him again.
Another swallow. His very nerves felt sore as he reached out. Slower. Patiently. Like one would with a regular drink. Pulling it toward himself with the same control felt like hell.
"Good, good. Go on." Famine carefully urged.
Sam slowly stuck the straw in his mouth and watched as the blood flowed through it to him.
He shuddered.
It was the best thing he had tasted in his life.
He could feel the power washing through him. Becoming one with his veins.
He wanted more.
Needed more.
Now.
He sucked faster. Harder. Only to be cut off as Famine squeezed the tube shut.
"Slow down, son. I know how it must feel, but you need to slow down. Savor the feeling, the taste, instead. Understand?"
Through gritted teeth, Sam nodded. "Yes."
Famine released the grip on the tube, allowing the blood to flow freely.
This happened twice more before the bag was finally drained.
The tube was gently tugged from Sam's grasp. Prompting a pleading look. Wanting more.
"One at a time. We'll do this again come lunch. Right now, you need to process the power and learn to wait."
Agitation clawed at him. Every part of him wanted to demand more. But he knew it would be futile. And Famine was right, loathed as he was to admit it. "Okay."
"You did well, Sam." Famine smiled, soft, assuring. "Now, let's have something more proper for breakfast."
Back in Colorado, Dean similarly did not sleep well. Worry and shame stirred within. A painful, loud, crescendo making sleep uncomfortable. The morning was no different. Finding himself staring at his food, the smell only made him feel sick.
What was Sammy doing now? Was he alright? Despite assurances, those questions plagued Dean's mind.
"You should try to eat a little, at least." War said over a bite of waffles, concern evident.
"I'm not hungry..."
War was silent for a moment, before humming. "You're worried. That's natural. Understandable. It may not be the same, but it makes me think of the times when Famine or Pest had me worried sick. Unable to think of anything else. Pestilence always seemed to attract trouble, not of his own accord, but angels saw him as an easy target. Couldn't defend himself as easily as Famine or I could against them. At least not with his powers alone. He's a skilled fighter. Gives any angel or demon a run for their money, if they get away." War knew well what Pestilence did to captured angels or demons. Nasty work. Horrifying creativity. Disgustingly beautiful in a way only the Horsemen could appreciate...or perhaps another viromancer. "I am proud of how far our youngest has come. Though he still seems too hard on himself. Always believing he falls short..."
War sighed, picking at his food before taking another bite. Dean's mind was not completely quelled; however, the tale, War's lamenting, had caught his attention.
"Famine was similar in a different way. Being viewed as weaker for his need to eat, though he quickly gained a fearful reputation. Demons stay far away when they can. Even angels are wary of provoking him...though he can't digest angel grace as easily, he can still eat angels. Neither's vessels are entirely safe either. If they're not protecting them well enough, Famine can and will latch onto the vessel's hunger and make the possessor suffer with it. But..." War ground his teeth. "Famine can be in real bad shape if he hasn't eaten in a long while. Mentally, physically... And trying to provide for him sufficiently was a task. Still is. Overstep and suddenly Heaven and Hell are on our cases. The early eons were awful on him.
I never had to experience hunger but I could tell it was pure pain. The feedback loop his nature caused certainly did not help. But we managed. We found something that worked. He figured out ways to make existence a little less painful, and we helped however we could." War stared at the fork as he absentmindedly twirled it between his fingers. "I did what I could to provide and protect them, especially after Death was taken from us. Yet, there are many times I wonder if I could've done better. And, with what I know now? With all that I've learned? Maybe. But I didn't know these things back then. I did what I could. What I knew to do.
I still worry. But they've come a long way. Strong, able to hold their own. And I am proud of them."
Dean swallowed, remaining quiet. War finally looked back to him with a knowing, determined, expression.
"I see similar struggles with you boys. Sam will be alright. As will you."
Uncertainty remained. However, as Dean regarded his plate, he realized how hungry he was.
In the very least, he hoped to hear from Sam soon.
"Your stance is too lax. You've got to be grounded enough so your opponent doesn't knock you off balance, but loose enough so you can move quickly."
"Right. Sorry..." Dean picked himself up. Standing ready as he faced off against an illusion. Nothing that could do any real damage to him, but also nothing to be brushed off.
They were training with daggers. Something familiar.
It had been nearly a week since the separation. Famine had, true to his word, given updates on Sam's condition. Putting Dean more at ease.
He still worried. The demon blood was not easy on Sam. However, even War confirmed Sam was improving, the toll becoming lesser. Slowly. Surely.
And War kept Dean busy enough to keep his mind occupied.
The illusion lunged. Arms outstretched with its own pair of daggers. This time, Dean moved. Catching its side with a swipe.
An enraged hiss. Dean brought up his daggers to guard. Metal clanged together. More hissing. Dean grunted as they pushed against each other.
War did not skip out on his illusions.
He wanted Dean to thrive.
The session went on a few more hours. Longer than the last. Dean's muscles screamed at him by the end. Tired. Sore. Quite hungry. He wanted a bath.
"You've improved quite a bit! Stance is looking better, so's your guard... Still need to work on that push back and your sidestep. You'll get there." War patted his back, proud. "Now, go bathe. Rest. I'll have dinner done shortly."
"What if I mix demon blood with my food? Could I?"
Famine huffed with a smile and shook his head. "Another time. We can experiment after you adjust some more."
Sam pouted, though not completely bitter. Later would do. Patience. Always patience.
Blood was for after meals. At least for now. Waiting was rough, and the hunger remained intense. Gnawing at his mind. Always.
However, it was - slowly, surely - easing. The regular feedings and calming exercises especially helped. But they would only ever be eased, never sated.
The power was overwhelming. Famemancy strengthened with a few new abilities. Telekinesis, supernatural sense...more to be discovered in time. It was exciting.
Perhaps it was knowing blood would come keeping the itch at bay...
Still wanted to try demon blood with the stir fry.
...Which got him curious.
"Have you ever combined souls or essence with human food? Can you?"
Famine paused, not entirely sure if it were possible. "I don't know. I rarely eat human food to begin with. I can't taste it anyway." Could not taste at all. Only feel temperature and texture. "If there is a way, then surely another soul-eater has found it. But it would serve me little purpose."
"You can't taste?"
"I cannot. War and Pestilence can, to my knowledge. I won't lie, it causes me a bit of envy, but it is merely a fact of existence I accepted long ago."
Sam frowned. Things felt stacked against Famine. The Horseman who needed to eat lest he became too weak and not able to taste? It was mean. Sam could not do anything about it, except... Get stronger. Hunt demons for Famine to eat. Help out out he could to ease the drain.
He could do that.
He would do that!
Hell, he was technically doing so now. Helping out with dinner.
Famine smiled again and patted his head. "This is about done, bring the plates to me, will you?"
"Okay!"
Another week crawled by with the usual routine of training, exercises, and honing other interests. Sam's drawing, Dean's gaming. Horseback riding... And AC/DC karaoke while making lasagna.
Now there was something Dean would never forget. Or War, for that matter.
Being separated had become easier. The feeling of responsibility for Sam's safety slowly slipping off Dean's shoulders while Sam finally felt equal to Dean.
Maybe he could be the one to protect Dean.
In any case, none of it stopped the relief of reunion.
"Sam!"
"Dean!"
They pulled each other into a hug. Secure and warm. Knowing the other was okay was one thing, seeing it another.
"How's, uh, how's the demon blood stuff going?" It still made him uncomfortable, but Sam appeared happy. "Are you doing alright?"
"Yeah! My powers are stronger and I have telekinesis now!"
Dean blinked, both eyebrows raised. Unsure what he expected from any of this, but telekinesis wasn't one of them. "You what?"
"Oh, I can sense supernatural creatures better now, too!" Sam bounced on his heels with a wide grin.
"Back up - telekinesis? Like, moving things with your mind?"
Sam nodded excitedly. "I'm still getting the hang of it, but yeah! I'll show you when we go inside!"
"Please do. That's freaky, but cool." Dean gave a small smile, "I'm glad to hear this demon blood stuff is going well for you, Sammy."
"Thanks!"
Whatever conversation the Horsemen were in ended. War patted Dean on the back, "We'll try to be back by tonight. Don't give Pest and Euth too much hell like last time, you hear?"
A lighthearted jest which Dean rolled his eyes at, "Yeah, yeah."
"Remember what I've taught you and you'll be fine," Famine said to Sam with an encouraging smile. "But don't be afraid to ask Pestilence for help. He'll know what to do."
"I will."
War and Famine vanished.
"Have you learned anything new?" Sam finally asked Dean.
He opened his mouth but a cold breeze rushed past them, making Sam shiver. "I'll tell you inside. Let's get out of the cold first."
"Yes, let's." Pestilence peered at the sky. It was going to hail and he didn't want those two hurt.
He chuckled internally. Already imagining Sam inquiring about hail, blood, among other things. Dean's possible snarky remarks. Likely butting heads with Euthalia again.
He ushered them inside. Oh, he had plans with Famine involving Sam's training. A few with War involving Dean. But he was expected to primarily help with Sam.
At some point, Sam would need to learn to hunt and subdue live demons...
...And Pestilence knew exactly how to help.