Puppet Food Part 5
Title: Puppet Food (17 - 18)
Summary: Bruised, tired and mentally exhausted from their previous hunt, the boys decide to take a break before they look for the next one. Unfortunately for them, their next hunt finds them first. Contains mature material.
Characters/Pairings: Gen, Dean, Sam, Sam/OMC, OMCs
Author:
chocca2
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: *sigh* No, I Still don’t own them, I don’t own much, in fact there have been questions surrounding the ownership of my mind. However, saying that, any characters you don’t recognize have been derived from my head.
Warnings: Violence, graphic descriptions, Strong language, slight noncon (if you squint), Dark fic
Author’s Note: This is an old fic I wrote the beginning of this year, *face palm* its set around session 2ish. It was originally posted it on Fanfiction.net. Now, it was just one of the many ideas in this crazy head of mine, it’s a ‘Vamp fic’ with a twist. Without giving too much away, there will be Sam and Dean Angst, but mostly Sammy and more protective Dean. Basically Sam's on the menu. They like to play with their food first….
Reviews are very welcome!
(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5) (Part 6)
The means are right for taking, fade to grey
Trying to be ruthless, in the face of beauty
In this matrix, it's plain to see
It's either you or me.
Bruise,
pristine,
serene,
we were born to lose.
Placebo- Bruise Pristine
The three men sat stagnantly, engulfed in their silence. The youngest Winchester was the first to break the silence with a groan that quickly blended into a cry out for Dean.
"I’m coming Sam." Dean licked his dry lips and inhaled deeply before slowly using the wall to bring him self up.
Damn, my head hurts.
The thought diminished just as quickly as it hit him, Sam was in far worse pain than he was.
"We don’t have a lot of time left, help me." Dean spoke to Tristan and motioned him over to Sam.
Dean reached the younger Winchester and gently began gathering his brother up to a sitting position. He silently prompted Tristan to hold him up. Tristan obeyed and planted a hand on Sam’s bare back, the other on his arm. He attentively waited on the older hunter for the next move.
Dean sluggishly stepped back, he stared at Sam for a brief moment, taking in the numerous scars and bruises scattered across his exposed body. He knew the sewer was not a place for anyone to crawl through clad only in boxer shorts. God knew what ‘crap’ would be down there, not to mention the dirt, and germs that, with Sam’s injuries, would definitely cause them to become infected.
Without further thought, the older Winchester began to unbuckle his belt before undoing his button. Dean paused and watched the shocked confused face of Tristan who obviously wasn’t following with his intentions.
"Sam needs some clothes!" Dean stated blankly while he slid his jeans off and to the ground.
Tristan nodded and ghosted a smile, of course he thought to himself, it worried him slightly that he thought anything else. Dean gathered up the jeans, ready to slide them onto his brother’s legs. He slid Sam’s foot into one of the legs and did the same with the other. Carefully he went to unravel the material up as far as they would go in a sitting position. Dean remembered this same routine on a young, tired Sam, who didn’t want to wake up or dress or leave the motel despite their father’s order.
Yes, Dean had gained many a skill growing up, even dressing a half awake, unresponsive brother, which now wasn’t an easy task as Sam was no longer a boy, not one, that in his condition, he could lift up so easily. It was then that he glanced over at Tristan. He was silently glad that he had him for help in their situation, however, he did not trust him entirely.
"Hold him up." Dean ordered as he gently grabbed the other free arm and brought Sam up to stand.
With the help of Tristan, Dean slid the jeans the rest of the way on and secured them there with his belt. He nodded gently, apart from the length; they were pretty much the same size. Dean quickly gathered his shirt and did the same, he knew time was not on their side and they had to get out before the vampires returned.
"You go down first, Sam’s gonna follow and I’ll be right behind him…" Dean paused and cleared his throat.
"You make sure you look back and see that Sam’s still behind you!" Dean barked. Tristan nodded, understanding Dean’s concern for Sam.
He would never have admitted it to the older hunter, but he truly wasn’t sure Sam would make it. Hell he wasn’t sure he would make it, he also thought it best to leave out the fact that he was claustrophobic, under the circumstances, he didn’t have many other options for an escape so this was something he would hope he could deal with, especially since he was going first.
"I’ll watch out for him." Tristan swallowed hard and turned away, drawing his eyes to the small entrance of the sewer.
"When I’m done with this," He held out the only source of light they had, a small lighter and then he continued. "We can use it as light, but for now you’re going to have to feel your way through." Dean shrugged his shoulders at the minimal choices they had.
Tristan smiled before dipping into his pocket and pulling out a packet of cigarettes. He held them out briefly, still beaming towards the hunter, tipped the packet and out slipped an orange lighter, that he lit to emphasis the delight of his finding. Dean raised a brow, smokers.
He nodded his approval before straightening and stiffening.
"Now, you better get going, you need a good head start." Dean took hold of Sam’s shoulders while Tristan made his way into the sewer.
When Tristan’s feet were no longer visible, Dean positioned himself in front of Sam.
"Hey, you with me Sammy?" He spoke softly. Sam inhaled and nodded, he looked into his brother’s eyes and almost lost his composure, he wasn’t sure whether he could do this.
"Hey, Sam," Dean gently jerked Sam to attention. The young Winchester looked up, his hair hung limply over his glassy eyes as nodded. "You gotta hang in there a little longer man, we’ll get through this." Dean reassured with a firm squeeze on Sam’s shoulder. Sam’s eyes returned to the ground.
"Get going, I’ll be right behind you, but you keep going, you don’t stop, okay?" Dean waited for a response that was another weak nod from Sam.
"Deep breaths, look straight ahead, you’ll be fine." Dean carefully helped Sam lower his body to the ground, first to his knees, then onto his belly. Sam panted and began slowly descending into the small, dark hole.
---------
The smell hit him first, it thumped him hard like a fisted hand over the face. If he wasn’t already lying on the ground, he was sure he would have been. Sam fought with his body as an involuntary retch erupted, he quickly swallowed it down and sucked in a shallow breaths of much needed air he felt his lungs called for.
His lungs however, felt on fire, just like his skin, his muscles, come to think of it, nearly every inch of him burned. His head felt heavy and his vision began to blur. The filthy conditions, coupled with the intense, excruciating pain that echoed through his drained body made him was to cry out with each move he made.
He tried hard to focus on something, he couldn’t pass out, not now. The flickering weak light ahead of him provided a little focal point. The pace was very slow, he wasn’t sure if Tristan was doing it for his benefit, but either way it was just right, any faster and he would have been left in darkness, on his own.
God, where’s Dean? Sam thought, he began panting before lifting his hand and tucking his head under his arm to gaze behind him.
The light source at the other end was becoming increasing small which made him even more nervous, he trusted that Dean was doing whatever needed to be done, but something didn’t feel right. Dean was taking too long. Sam coughed and rested his head on his other arm for a brief moment, without knowing his body had stopped moving.
The shooting pain that followed movement was no longer present, it started to become clear why he had stopped, Tristan’s shoe rested still in front of his face, he could smell the rubber and dirt of his sole.
Sam breathed loudly through his mouth turning away slightly, he sighed.
"Tristan?... What is it?...What’s wrong?"
---
Tristan looked ahead, he tried his best to think about anything, anything apart from where he currently was. Shallow breaths. Open space. Deep Breaths, Cigarettes, Whiskey, Lucas, Walls, Darkness, Light, Tunnel, Fuck!
Tristan clenched the lighter harder as he tried to steady his hand. Shit!
He moaned and closed his eyes.
"I can do this." He whispered to himself, his shaky voice echoing against the walls.
He looked back and saw Sam not far behind. If Sam can do this, I definitely can.
However, his scattered thoughts were more positive than he actually felt. He tucked his head to look back behind him again and it occurred to him that going back wasn’t an option, the tunnel was smaller and thinner than it appeared from the outside and forward was the only way out.
He quickly snapped his head back and looked ahead.
"I have to do this!" Tristan told himself.
The lighter fell from his grip, landing in front of him, it engulfed the two men in absolute darkness.
"Tristan?... What is it?...What’s wrong?" Came Sam’s voice from behind him.
---
The man in question shook his head trying to clear the fuzz, were his eyes open or closed? His shaky hands managed to find the lighter again, however this time it didn’t stay on. It went out after a second.
It seemed that since the lighter had been dropped in the wetness it would not relight properly. Tristan’s heart rate was frantically beating against his chest, looking ahead wasn’t helping much anymore.
The end was no where in sight, there was only darkness ahead, more darkness and more confinement.
He took a breath that didn’t reach his lungs. He was stuck. They were stuck, there was no way out.
xxxxxxxx
Dean stood for a good few seconds as he watched his younger brother slowly move deeper into the dark hole that was the sewer, their only escape. His heart thumped hard against his bare chest, reminding him that he had to work quickly.
He had to get the fire ready and started before the vampires returned to finish them off; well at least, that’s what they thought. Dean’s plans said otherwise, the hunter began pacing around the parameter of the room.
He had already done a sweep and made a mental note of how he could start a substantial fire with his limited fuel, but he only had one shot and he had to get it right, Sam’s life depended on it, there was no other option.
Dean turned to glance at the open sewer behind him, he took a deep breath before opening the canteen containing the precious fuel.
These Vamps are gonna burn right back to whatever hell they crawled out of. The older Winchester thought as he started pouring the first line of fuel across the main door.
-------------
Sam rested his head on his arm and moaned, although stopping was more comfortable than the agony of moving, he was struggling to stay conscious, in fact the difference between the darkness in the tunnel and the dull obscurity filling his head, was growing very thin.
Sam couldn’t tell if his eyes were open or shut. With another groan he tried to lift his head, and for a moment, the younger Winchester fought to remember where he was, he focused and reminded himself of the real danger they were in and some of the last words spoken by Dean:
‘You don’t stop, okay?’
He shook his head slightly, regretting the movement straight after, where was Dean? As his fragmented mind thought about the answers to his question, he turned his attention to the troubling situation in front of him.
"Tristan?" Sam’s voice may have been weak and raspy but it bounced and echoed against the thick walls of the tunnel.
"Hey man…we … we gotta…" Sam bit his lip, and inhaled deeply, "keep moving…" His adrenaline was draining and he was becoming increasingly weak.
He really needed Dean there, the worry for his brother’s whereabouts alone was becoming too much. Sam felt as though his heart had jumped into his throat, his churning stomach coiled in unison.
Panting through the nausea, he returned to resting his heavy head on his arm. Vomit and a tunnel did not mix. He fought harder through the thoughts of the consequences of such an event. Why was Tristan unresponsive? Maybe he had passed out, oh god maybe there was danger ahead, and perhaps Tristan had been injured.
Sam returned to his worried thoughts, his chest tightened and his air intake halted briefly. At this point the younger Winchester realised that he was unarmed, helpless and now apparently probably alone.
He wanted to cry, but that was too much effort.
--
Faint sounds awoke Sam from his semi-conscious state, the distinct sound of crying. At first it was muffled, but now it was clear to Sam’s ears. He remained still, in too much pain and turmoil to do anything else, until his head absorbed and processed the sound that filled the sewer.
The strangled sobs came from in front, Tristan was crying and had been for what seemed like a good few minutes.
God, why is Tristan crying? Sam thought as he attempted to communicate with the man ahead.
"Tristan?" Tristan seemed to hear the desperation in Sam’s voice, he momentarily stopped crying and held his breath.
"I’m sorry…so sorry Sam." Tristan’s voice broke and returned to sobs.
Sam closed his eyes, god he wished Dean would get here, the fact that he wasn’t already with them scared Sam more than anything. He had to believe that Dean was coming; there was no other option he could manage, so he clung onto that with all he had, he couldn’t do this without Dean.
"I tried, I really did, I never meant for any of this to happen." Tristan was stopped by his own coughs, he waited for a response, on not receiving one he continued. "I was going to tell Dean, but I didn’t want to let you guys down. You’re good guys, I can see that and I’m so sorry." Tristan hitched over his own voice.
"God…" Sam couldn’t manage anything more verbally. He tried to process Tristan’s words, but all he could think of was Dean. Whatever Tristan was going through, he felt for him, but this was not a good time to be apologizing.
Sam slumped forward, helpless.
"Sam?... s’ok Dean is alive, I can ... you know… feel it…" Tristan tucked his head under his arm to get a view of the younger hunter behind him. He could see Sam’s face buried in his folded arm, he wasn’t sure if he was still conscious.
If Dean’s alive, we need to keep moving, Tristan needs to keep going! The young Winchester thought. He was about to attempt another verbal request to continue, but was cut off by the man in front of him.
"I hear you Sam, I’ll try harder man, I will …but this… I really don’t do closed spaces, I can’t believe I even got this far, my legs, my body, they just don’t wanna move." Tristan pressed his lips together and pushed off the ground so he was resting his weight on his elbows again, ready to begin crawling.
For a moment Sam was shocked and uncomfortable, but it passed quickly, remembering Tristan’s ability.
I forgot about that, you reading my thoughts. Look man, this is a bad situation, but believe me when I say it’s gonna get worse if you don’t move. Sam raised his head, clear tracks of fresh tears running down his cheeks, he looked at the man before him waiting for his response.
Tristan felt the pang of guilt as he took in Sam’s despair and desperation. He knew Sam was in pain, he could almost feel the suffering the young man had already gone through, stopping wasn’t an option, he had to make sure he did right by him and force, fight through his demons.
"Yeah, I know, I’m gonna push through it, focus, try those stupid mind exercises my brother taught me when I was younger. Besides, I ain’t got any other choice, especially if that brother of yours gets here and finds you held up ‘cause of me." Tristan huffed, trying to make light of the situation, he sucked in a deep breath, his fear for Dean was enough to dwindle any of his own fears, he had after all read the hunter’s thoughts long enough to know that, when it came to Sam, nothing got in the way of his safety.
Swallowing hard, Tristan pulled himself forward.
You’re sure Dean’s okay? Sam’s mind was still immersed in worry for his brother.
"Yeah, he is, he’s alive I know that much, but I have a feeling he’s gonna be coming fast, so I guess we need to get as far away from this place as possible." Tristan inched forward more and looked behind him again to see whether the younger hunter was following.
Sam had managed to move but only slightly, his pace had slowed immensely. Tristan slowed a little, but kept moving, hoping it would encourage the hunter behind him.
Cigarettes came to mind again and Tristan looked down into his palm to view the lighter. He rubbed his thumb over the ignition a few times before daring another attempt to light it.
To his surprise the lighter ignited, filling the small tunnel with a flickering glow, the man said a silent thanks and continued their painful struggle forward.
-------------
The abandoned wine warehouse had no obvious weapons, certainly none for destroying psychic vampires. The one thing it did have in abundance was wood. Dry, termite eaten and potentially flammable wood.
It was everywhere, in the framework of the building, the ceiling beams, and the doors and piled in the corner near the door, was some conveniently placed, old broken wine barrels and box crates that Dean intended on using.
The crates where built of a few strips of wood that were nailed together. The soft wood was now old and the nails were rusted through. Dean could use his feet and hands to break them apart without a problem. He worked quickly, picking the few exposed top crates that where dry enough to burn immediately.
He used his boot and hands to break the crate apart, first stamping on it while gripping and pulling the wooden strips into smaller shards and pieces. He promptly doused the wood pieces in some of the fuel and strategically placed them around the room. He had created a circular shape around the room that began and protected the opening to the sewer. The trail of fuel continued towards one of the large wooden support beams that stood on each side of the basement.
A larger majority of the wood was concentrated on the beams, Dean made sure he doused these pieces of wood well as these were the main pieces that he really needed to light sufficiently enough to make a large affect on the fire. Working with fuel and fires for many years, Dean was sure he could make this fire dangerous enough to burn through the building, he also needed to ensure it was enough to get his main target, the vampires.
Fire was just one of the ways to ‘kill’ a vampire and this was really the only available option. The older Winchester’s breathing echoed against the confinements of the small darkened room, it was then that he heard distant laughter, accompanied by approaching foot steps.
Dean gripped harder to the strip of wood in his hand, he pushed down on his foot and pulled with greater force, this last crate appeared to be more stubborn than he had thought. He suppressed a groan as the sharp perturbing splinters dug deep into his skin, embedding themselves into and through his palms.
With lightning speed, he threw the pieces to the ground near his feet, they landed on the pile of discarded material and he began to pour the remainder of the fuel on it. He barely had time to roll his thumb over the metal of the lighter before he felt a gush of wind that filled the room.
On opening, the door contacted and smashed hard against the basement wall, it was followed by several tall dark figures.
"Well, well, well, what do we have here?"
----
Anthony a tall in stature, dark haired ‘man’, sauntered into the small room towards the young hunter. His bright green eyes surveyed the room, before landing back on the half dressed, boxers and boot clad, man before him.
The gaze on Dean was intense, as was Dean’s who burned holes into the obvious leader of this brood of vampires. The young hunter also performed his own mental assessment of him, Anthony was wearing a long black trench as were his other goons who stood in the background. He held obvious respect from the group as no one walked or moved in front of the man.
Anthony slowly moved closer to Dean, who had remained perfectly still since they had arrived and appeared to be just as calm. Anthony rubbed his chin and lifted his brow, he then continued to sniff the air and held out his hands lifting his shoulders at the same time.
"Now, now Dean, where is that delicious brother of yours, and that pesky Tristan?" Anthony spoke lightly, but his voice was laced with venom and threat.
Dean shrugged and lifted his shoulders, he smirked as a response and continued to look at the man before him. Anthony nodded calmly, he walked around to Dean’s side and continued to stare at the older Winchester.
"So, you planning a lil’ barbeque here Dean?... ‘cause I really don’t think there’s enough ventilation, not to mention it was very rude of you to not invite us. We always enjoy a good feast."
Anthony walked behind Dean and crouched down to look into the sewer, "So I see they decided to join the rats. Sewer escape, huh?" The man laughed out load and stood rubbing his hand on his worn Jeans.
He then went to place a rough hand on Dean’s forehead, pulling it back. Anthony then leaned over Dean’s shoulder and spoke into the hunter’s ear.
"I’m not stupid Dean, I can put two and two together, you’re all going to die, and just for this," The man pointed to the sewer, " I’ll make sure I don’t make it quick and painless." Anthony roughly jolted Dean’s head to the side and hovered his teeth over the nape of his neck.
"Hmm, I thought you guys had suffered enough, but now I can see you obviously enjoy playing games. I love games too and not to brag or anything, but I never lose." Anthony snarled.
----
Dean began counting in his head, he kept a steady rhythm as he knew he could think of nothing else. He purposefully and mentally avoided the fact that he was about to set fire to the whole damn room, while he was still in it.
He knew that the counting would distract his thoughts from giving away his plans.
"Hmmm, very clever Dean, but you gotta do better than that." Anthony released Dean’s forehead and pushed him forward into the centre of the room.
"You know, I’ve just about had it with your empty threats, you wanna ‘make me suffer’ go ahead and get it over with already because I tire of your stubborn attitude."
The young Winchester smirked and returned to staring daggers into the man before him. Dean held his arms wide open, gesturing a ‘come get me then’ stance.
The young Winchester watched as the man before him smiled, before his demeanour changed to that of pure evil and he attacked Dean with a force that caused the oldest brother to struggle for breath.
He could feel the immense weight of the tall man up against his body, he was pressed against the cold concrete of the wall behind him. His jaw ached under the man’s tight hold. Even with his mouth forced open he attempted and failed an intake of air, it was at that point that he began to feel his lungs burn from lack of oxygen.
"Still wanna play?" Anthony asked as he turned his head back for a brief moment to look at his brood.
Anthony retuned to face Dean, he puzzled at the expression the young hunter was wearing, Dean had a cocky grin on his face that only became clear to Anthony, when he saw what the hunter had in his ‘free’ left hand.
In less than a second the room was engulfed in the beautiful array of red, orange and blue glow of fire and Dean kept smiling even as Anthony’s expression fell to one of complete shock.
Summary: Bruised, tired and mentally exhausted from their previous hunt, the boys decide to take a break before they look for the next one. Unfortunately for them, their next hunt finds them first. Contains mature material.
Characters/Pairings: Gen, Dean, Sam, Sam/OMC, OMCs
Author:
chocca2
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: *sigh* No, I Still don’t own them, I don’t own much, in fact there have been questions surrounding the ownership of my mind. However, saying that, any characters you don’t recognize have been derived from my head.
Warnings: Violence, graphic descriptions, Strong language, slight noncon (if you squint), Dark fic
Author’s Note: This is an old fic I wrote the beginning of this year, *face palm* its set around session 2ish. It was originally posted it on Fanfiction.net. Now, it was just one of the many ideas in this crazy head of mine, it’s a ‘Vamp fic’ with a twist. Without giving too much away, there will be Sam and Dean Angst, but mostly Sammy and more protective Dean. Basically Sam's on the menu. They like to play with their food first….
Reviews are very welcome!
(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5) (Part 6)
The means are right for taking, fade to grey
Trying to be ruthless, in the face of beauty
In this matrix, it's plain to see
It's either you or me.
Bruise,
pristine,
serene,
we were born to lose.
Placebo- Bruise Pristine
The three men sat stagnantly, engulfed in their silence. The youngest Winchester was the first to break the silence with a groan that quickly blended into a cry out for Dean.
"I’m coming Sam." Dean licked his dry lips and inhaled deeply before slowly using the wall to bring him self up.
Damn, my head hurts.
The thought diminished just as quickly as it hit him, Sam was in far worse pain than he was.
"We don’t have a lot of time left, help me." Dean spoke to Tristan and motioned him over to Sam.
Dean reached the younger Winchester and gently began gathering his brother up to a sitting position. He silently prompted Tristan to hold him up. Tristan obeyed and planted a hand on Sam’s bare back, the other on his arm. He attentively waited on the older hunter for the next move.
Dean sluggishly stepped back, he stared at Sam for a brief moment, taking in the numerous scars and bruises scattered across his exposed body. He knew the sewer was not a place for anyone to crawl through clad only in boxer shorts. God knew what ‘crap’ would be down there, not to mention the dirt, and germs that, with Sam’s injuries, would definitely cause them to become infected.
Without further thought, the older Winchester began to unbuckle his belt before undoing his button. Dean paused and watched the shocked confused face of Tristan who obviously wasn’t following with his intentions.
"Sam needs some clothes!" Dean stated blankly while he slid his jeans off and to the ground.
Tristan nodded and ghosted a smile, of course he thought to himself, it worried him slightly that he thought anything else. Dean gathered up the jeans, ready to slide them onto his brother’s legs. He slid Sam’s foot into one of the legs and did the same with the other. Carefully he went to unravel the material up as far as they would go in a sitting position. Dean remembered this same routine on a young, tired Sam, who didn’t want to wake up or dress or leave the motel despite their father’s order.
Yes, Dean had gained many a skill growing up, even dressing a half awake, unresponsive brother, which now wasn’t an easy task as Sam was no longer a boy, not one, that in his condition, he could lift up so easily. It was then that he glanced over at Tristan. He was silently glad that he had him for help in their situation, however, he did not trust him entirely.
"Hold him up." Dean ordered as he gently grabbed the other free arm and brought Sam up to stand.
With the help of Tristan, Dean slid the jeans the rest of the way on and secured them there with his belt. He nodded gently, apart from the length; they were pretty much the same size. Dean quickly gathered his shirt and did the same, he knew time was not on their side and they had to get out before the vampires returned.
"You go down first, Sam’s gonna follow and I’ll be right behind him…" Dean paused and cleared his throat.
"You make sure you look back and see that Sam’s still behind you!" Dean barked. Tristan nodded, understanding Dean’s concern for Sam.
He would never have admitted it to the older hunter, but he truly wasn’t sure Sam would make it. Hell he wasn’t sure he would make it, he also thought it best to leave out the fact that he was claustrophobic, under the circumstances, he didn’t have many other options for an escape so this was something he would hope he could deal with, especially since he was going first.
"I’ll watch out for him." Tristan swallowed hard and turned away, drawing his eyes to the small entrance of the sewer.
"When I’m done with this," He held out the only source of light they had, a small lighter and then he continued. "We can use it as light, but for now you’re going to have to feel your way through." Dean shrugged his shoulders at the minimal choices they had.
Tristan smiled before dipping into his pocket and pulling out a packet of cigarettes. He held them out briefly, still beaming towards the hunter, tipped the packet and out slipped an orange lighter, that he lit to emphasis the delight of his finding. Dean raised a brow, smokers.
He nodded his approval before straightening and stiffening.
"Now, you better get going, you need a good head start." Dean took hold of Sam’s shoulders while Tristan made his way into the sewer.
When Tristan’s feet were no longer visible, Dean positioned himself in front of Sam.
"Hey, you with me Sammy?" He spoke softly. Sam inhaled and nodded, he looked into his brother’s eyes and almost lost his composure, he wasn’t sure whether he could do this.
"Hey, Sam," Dean gently jerked Sam to attention. The young Winchester looked up, his hair hung limply over his glassy eyes as nodded. "You gotta hang in there a little longer man, we’ll get through this." Dean reassured with a firm squeeze on Sam’s shoulder. Sam’s eyes returned to the ground.
"Get going, I’ll be right behind you, but you keep going, you don’t stop, okay?" Dean waited for a response that was another weak nod from Sam.
"Deep breaths, look straight ahead, you’ll be fine." Dean carefully helped Sam lower his body to the ground, first to his knees, then onto his belly. Sam panted and began slowly descending into the small, dark hole.
---------
The smell hit him first, it thumped him hard like a fisted hand over the face. If he wasn’t already lying on the ground, he was sure he would have been. Sam fought with his body as an involuntary retch erupted, he quickly swallowed it down and sucked in a shallow breaths of much needed air he felt his lungs called for.
His lungs however, felt on fire, just like his skin, his muscles, come to think of it, nearly every inch of him burned. His head felt heavy and his vision began to blur. The filthy conditions, coupled with the intense, excruciating pain that echoed through his drained body made him was to cry out with each move he made.
He tried hard to focus on something, he couldn’t pass out, not now. The flickering weak light ahead of him provided a little focal point. The pace was very slow, he wasn’t sure if Tristan was doing it for his benefit, but either way it was just right, any faster and he would have been left in darkness, on his own.
God, where’s Dean? Sam thought, he began panting before lifting his hand and tucking his head under his arm to gaze behind him.
The light source at the other end was becoming increasing small which made him even more nervous, he trusted that Dean was doing whatever needed to be done, but something didn’t feel right. Dean was taking too long. Sam coughed and rested his head on his other arm for a brief moment, without knowing his body had stopped moving.
The shooting pain that followed movement was no longer present, it started to become clear why he had stopped, Tristan’s shoe rested still in front of his face, he could smell the rubber and dirt of his sole.
Sam breathed loudly through his mouth turning away slightly, he sighed.
"Tristan?... What is it?...What’s wrong?"
---
Tristan looked ahead, he tried his best to think about anything, anything apart from where he currently was. Shallow breaths. Open space. Deep Breaths, Cigarettes, Whiskey, Lucas, Walls, Darkness, Light, Tunnel, Fuck!
Tristan clenched the lighter harder as he tried to steady his hand. Shit!
He moaned and closed his eyes.
"I can do this." He whispered to himself, his shaky voice echoing against the walls.
He looked back and saw Sam not far behind. If Sam can do this, I definitely can.
However, his scattered thoughts were more positive than he actually felt. He tucked his head to look back behind him again and it occurred to him that going back wasn’t an option, the tunnel was smaller and thinner than it appeared from the outside and forward was the only way out.
He quickly snapped his head back and looked ahead.
"I have to do this!" Tristan told himself.
The lighter fell from his grip, landing in front of him, it engulfed the two men in absolute darkness.
"Tristan?... What is it?...What’s wrong?" Came Sam’s voice from behind him.
---
The man in question shook his head trying to clear the fuzz, were his eyes open or closed? His shaky hands managed to find the lighter again, however this time it didn’t stay on. It went out after a second.
It seemed that since the lighter had been dropped in the wetness it would not relight properly. Tristan’s heart rate was frantically beating against his chest, looking ahead wasn’t helping much anymore.
The end was no where in sight, there was only darkness ahead, more darkness and more confinement.
He took a breath that didn’t reach his lungs. He was stuck. They were stuck, there was no way out.
xxxxxxxx
Dean stood for a good few seconds as he watched his younger brother slowly move deeper into the dark hole that was the sewer, their only escape. His heart thumped hard against his bare chest, reminding him that he had to work quickly.
He had to get the fire ready and started before the vampires returned to finish them off; well at least, that’s what they thought. Dean’s plans said otherwise, the hunter began pacing around the parameter of the room.
He had already done a sweep and made a mental note of how he could start a substantial fire with his limited fuel, but he only had one shot and he had to get it right, Sam’s life depended on it, there was no other option.
Dean turned to glance at the open sewer behind him, he took a deep breath before opening the canteen containing the precious fuel.
These Vamps are gonna burn right back to whatever hell they crawled out of. The older Winchester thought as he started pouring the first line of fuel across the main door.
-------------
Sam rested his head on his arm and moaned, although stopping was more comfortable than the agony of moving, he was struggling to stay conscious, in fact the difference between the darkness in the tunnel and the dull obscurity filling his head, was growing very thin.
Sam couldn’t tell if his eyes were open or shut. With another groan he tried to lift his head, and for a moment, the younger Winchester fought to remember where he was, he focused and reminded himself of the real danger they were in and some of the last words spoken by Dean:
‘You don’t stop, okay?’
He shook his head slightly, regretting the movement straight after, where was Dean? As his fragmented mind thought about the answers to his question, he turned his attention to the troubling situation in front of him.
"Tristan?" Sam’s voice may have been weak and raspy but it bounced and echoed against the thick walls of the tunnel.
"Hey man…we … we gotta…" Sam bit his lip, and inhaled deeply, "keep moving…" His adrenaline was draining and he was becoming increasingly weak.
He really needed Dean there, the worry for his brother’s whereabouts alone was becoming too much. Sam felt as though his heart had jumped into his throat, his churning stomach coiled in unison.
Panting through the nausea, he returned to resting his heavy head on his arm. Vomit and a tunnel did not mix. He fought harder through the thoughts of the consequences of such an event. Why was Tristan unresponsive? Maybe he had passed out, oh god maybe there was danger ahead, and perhaps Tristan had been injured.
Sam returned to his worried thoughts, his chest tightened and his air intake halted briefly. At this point the younger Winchester realised that he was unarmed, helpless and now apparently probably alone.
He wanted to cry, but that was too much effort.
--
Faint sounds awoke Sam from his semi-conscious state, the distinct sound of crying. At first it was muffled, but now it was clear to Sam’s ears. He remained still, in too much pain and turmoil to do anything else, until his head absorbed and processed the sound that filled the sewer.
The strangled sobs came from in front, Tristan was crying and had been for what seemed like a good few minutes.
God, why is Tristan crying? Sam thought as he attempted to communicate with the man ahead.
"Tristan?" Tristan seemed to hear the desperation in Sam’s voice, he momentarily stopped crying and held his breath.
"I’m sorry…so sorry Sam." Tristan’s voice broke and returned to sobs.
Sam closed his eyes, god he wished Dean would get here, the fact that he wasn’t already with them scared Sam more than anything. He had to believe that Dean was coming; there was no other option he could manage, so he clung onto that with all he had, he couldn’t do this without Dean.
"I tried, I really did, I never meant for any of this to happen." Tristan was stopped by his own coughs, he waited for a response, on not receiving one he continued. "I was going to tell Dean, but I didn’t want to let you guys down. You’re good guys, I can see that and I’m so sorry." Tristan hitched over his own voice.
"God…" Sam couldn’t manage anything more verbally. He tried to process Tristan’s words, but all he could think of was Dean. Whatever Tristan was going through, he felt for him, but this was not a good time to be apologizing.
Sam slumped forward, helpless.
"Sam?... s’ok Dean is alive, I can ... you know… feel it…" Tristan tucked his head under his arm to get a view of the younger hunter behind him. He could see Sam’s face buried in his folded arm, he wasn’t sure if he was still conscious.
If Dean’s alive, we need to keep moving, Tristan needs to keep going! The young Winchester thought. He was about to attempt another verbal request to continue, but was cut off by the man in front of him.
"I hear you Sam, I’ll try harder man, I will …but this… I really don’t do closed spaces, I can’t believe I even got this far, my legs, my body, they just don’t wanna move." Tristan pressed his lips together and pushed off the ground so he was resting his weight on his elbows again, ready to begin crawling.
For a moment Sam was shocked and uncomfortable, but it passed quickly, remembering Tristan’s ability.
I forgot about that, you reading my thoughts. Look man, this is a bad situation, but believe me when I say it’s gonna get worse if you don’t move. Sam raised his head, clear tracks of fresh tears running down his cheeks, he looked at the man before him waiting for his response.
Tristan felt the pang of guilt as he took in Sam’s despair and desperation. He knew Sam was in pain, he could almost feel the suffering the young man had already gone through, stopping wasn’t an option, he had to make sure he did right by him and force, fight through his demons.
"Yeah, I know, I’m gonna push through it, focus, try those stupid mind exercises my brother taught me when I was younger. Besides, I ain’t got any other choice, especially if that brother of yours gets here and finds you held up ‘cause of me." Tristan huffed, trying to make light of the situation, he sucked in a deep breath, his fear for Dean was enough to dwindle any of his own fears, he had after all read the hunter’s thoughts long enough to know that, when it came to Sam, nothing got in the way of his safety.
Swallowing hard, Tristan pulled himself forward.
You’re sure Dean’s okay? Sam’s mind was still immersed in worry for his brother.
"Yeah, he is, he’s alive I know that much, but I have a feeling he’s gonna be coming fast, so I guess we need to get as far away from this place as possible." Tristan inched forward more and looked behind him again to see whether the younger hunter was following.
Sam had managed to move but only slightly, his pace had slowed immensely. Tristan slowed a little, but kept moving, hoping it would encourage the hunter behind him.
Cigarettes came to mind again and Tristan looked down into his palm to view the lighter. He rubbed his thumb over the ignition a few times before daring another attempt to light it.
To his surprise the lighter ignited, filling the small tunnel with a flickering glow, the man said a silent thanks and continued their painful struggle forward.
-------------
The abandoned wine warehouse had no obvious weapons, certainly none for destroying psychic vampires. The one thing it did have in abundance was wood. Dry, termite eaten and potentially flammable wood.
It was everywhere, in the framework of the building, the ceiling beams, and the doors and piled in the corner near the door, was some conveniently placed, old broken wine barrels and box crates that Dean intended on using.
The crates where built of a few strips of wood that were nailed together. The soft wood was now old and the nails were rusted through. Dean could use his feet and hands to break them apart without a problem. He worked quickly, picking the few exposed top crates that where dry enough to burn immediately.
He used his boot and hands to break the crate apart, first stamping on it while gripping and pulling the wooden strips into smaller shards and pieces. He promptly doused the wood pieces in some of the fuel and strategically placed them around the room. He had created a circular shape around the room that began and protected the opening to the sewer. The trail of fuel continued towards one of the large wooden support beams that stood on each side of the basement.
A larger majority of the wood was concentrated on the beams, Dean made sure he doused these pieces of wood well as these were the main pieces that he really needed to light sufficiently enough to make a large affect on the fire. Working with fuel and fires for many years, Dean was sure he could make this fire dangerous enough to burn through the building, he also needed to ensure it was enough to get his main target, the vampires.
Fire was just one of the ways to ‘kill’ a vampire and this was really the only available option. The older Winchester’s breathing echoed against the confinements of the small darkened room, it was then that he heard distant laughter, accompanied by approaching foot steps.
Dean gripped harder to the strip of wood in his hand, he pushed down on his foot and pulled with greater force, this last crate appeared to be more stubborn than he had thought. He suppressed a groan as the sharp perturbing splinters dug deep into his skin, embedding themselves into and through his palms.
With lightning speed, he threw the pieces to the ground near his feet, they landed on the pile of discarded material and he began to pour the remainder of the fuel on it. He barely had time to roll his thumb over the metal of the lighter before he felt a gush of wind that filled the room.
On opening, the door contacted and smashed hard against the basement wall, it was followed by several tall dark figures.
"Well, well, well, what do we have here?"
----
Anthony a tall in stature, dark haired ‘man’, sauntered into the small room towards the young hunter. His bright green eyes surveyed the room, before landing back on the half dressed, boxers and boot clad, man before him.
The gaze on Dean was intense, as was Dean’s who burned holes into the obvious leader of this brood of vampires. The young hunter also performed his own mental assessment of him, Anthony was wearing a long black trench as were his other goons who stood in the background. He held obvious respect from the group as no one walked or moved in front of the man.
Anthony slowly moved closer to Dean, who had remained perfectly still since they had arrived and appeared to be just as calm. Anthony rubbed his chin and lifted his brow, he then continued to sniff the air and held out his hands lifting his shoulders at the same time.
"Now, now Dean, where is that delicious brother of yours, and that pesky Tristan?" Anthony spoke lightly, but his voice was laced with venom and threat.
Dean shrugged and lifted his shoulders, he smirked as a response and continued to look at the man before him. Anthony nodded calmly, he walked around to Dean’s side and continued to stare at the older Winchester.
"So, you planning a lil’ barbeque here Dean?... ‘cause I really don’t think there’s enough ventilation, not to mention it was very rude of you to not invite us. We always enjoy a good feast."
Anthony walked behind Dean and crouched down to look into the sewer, "So I see they decided to join the rats. Sewer escape, huh?" The man laughed out load and stood rubbing his hand on his worn Jeans.
He then went to place a rough hand on Dean’s forehead, pulling it back. Anthony then leaned over Dean’s shoulder and spoke into the hunter’s ear.
"I’m not stupid Dean, I can put two and two together, you’re all going to die, and just for this," The man pointed to the sewer, " I’ll make sure I don’t make it quick and painless." Anthony roughly jolted Dean’s head to the side and hovered his teeth over the nape of his neck.
"Hmm, I thought you guys had suffered enough, but now I can see you obviously enjoy playing games. I love games too and not to brag or anything, but I never lose." Anthony snarled.
----
Dean began counting in his head, he kept a steady rhythm as he knew he could think of nothing else. He purposefully and mentally avoided the fact that he was about to set fire to the whole damn room, while he was still in it.
He knew that the counting would distract his thoughts from giving away his plans.
"Hmmm, very clever Dean, but you gotta do better than that." Anthony released Dean’s forehead and pushed him forward into the centre of the room.
"You know, I’ve just about had it with your empty threats, you wanna ‘make me suffer’ go ahead and get it over with already because I tire of your stubborn attitude."
The young Winchester smirked and returned to staring daggers into the man before him. Dean held his arms wide open, gesturing a ‘come get me then’ stance.
The young Winchester watched as the man before him smiled, before his demeanour changed to that of pure evil and he attacked Dean with a force that caused the oldest brother to struggle for breath.
He could feel the immense weight of the tall man up against his body, he was pressed against the cold concrete of the wall behind him. His jaw ached under the man’s tight hold. Even with his mouth forced open he attempted and failed an intake of air, it was at that point that he began to feel his lungs burn from lack of oxygen.
"Still wanna play?" Anthony asked as he turned his head back for a brief moment to look at his brood.
Anthony retuned to face Dean, he puzzled at the expression the young hunter was wearing, Dean had a cocky grin on his face that only became clear to Anthony, when he saw what the hunter had in his ‘free’ left hand.
In less than a second the room was engulfed in the beautiful array of red, orange and blue glow of fire and Dean kept smiling even as Anthony’s expression fell to one of complete shock.