Hollywood Apocalypse (4/5)
“Vampires?” Sam said dubiously. “He actually said that?”
Dean nodded. “I don’t know if he really believed but he said he couldn’t think of any other explanation.”
“Well, he’s right,” Sam offered.
“Dude, I know that!” Dean let out a soft groan of frustration as he ground the ball of his hand into his eyes. The bender they’d been on the night before coupled with the lack of sleep was starting to catch up with him now and he really just wanted to pass out in bed for a few hours. “I think I managed to convince him he was being stupid but I dunno. The sooner we find this thing the better.”
“You don’t think. . .” Sam trailed off and he looked at Dean warily. “I mean it’s not him, right? I like the guy and all but we don’t really know him. He is kinda pale and he’s got those blue eyes.”
“No,” Dean scoffed. “Sam, come on, there’s no way. If it were him, why would he make it so obvious? Vampires like to cover their tracks. Misha practically has a neon sign hovering over his head that says ‘I did this’ which means it’s a pretty safe bet that he didn’t.”
“Well, I’m glad you think so.”
Dean instinctively reached for his gun, and almost had it pulled when his brain caught up and he realized that he recognized the voice.
Misha was standing in the doorway of their motel room, looking half stunned and half smug, like he couldn’t decide which reaction was stronger.
“Why the hell didn’t you lock the door?” Sam hissed.
“He did,” Misha replied. “I got pretty good at picking locks when I was a kid and this place isn’t exactly Fort Knox.”
“You make a habit of breaking into people’s motel rooms?” Dean asked. There was no way in hell he was going to let Misha see how much this was bothering him.
Misha shrugged. “You aren’t as good a liar as you think. You’re better than most but you have these tiny tells. I wanted to know why you’ve been lying to me so I followed you.”
Well, that was great. Dean marched over and grabbed Misha’s arm, dragging him into the room and kicking the door shut behind him.
“You stupid son of a bitch. I’ve been trying to keep you safe but you couldn’t let it be.”
Sam flashed Misha a sympathetic smile. “I know this is all a bit strange and you probably want an explanation.”
“What’s to explain?” Misha asked with a shake of his head. “Vampires are real and you guys hunt them. Does that about cover it?”
“Uh. . .yeah.”
Misha nodded. “Have you found the one that killed Simon and Dave yet?”
“We’re working on it,” Sam replied and gestured to his laptop. “I’m putting together a list of the most likely places the nest might be and then we’ll start checking it out.”
“You’re really okay with this?” Dean finally asked. “This isn’t one of those actor things where you’re freaking out on the inside but putting on a brave face for the hunters?”
“What would be the point in freaking out?” Misha asked. “All that does is waste time and energy.”
Sam shot Dean a look. He was impressed, Dean could tell. Dean didn’t know what the hell to think. This guy seemed to throw him for a loop every time they met.
“So what happens when you find this thing?” Misha asked as he hovered behind Sam and looked at the computer screen with interest. “Stake through the heart?”
“Nah,” Dean replied. “These things are the real deal, not something from TV. Gotta cut the bastards’ heads off.”
“That sounds difficult,” Misha mused.
Dean shrugged. “You get used to it after a while.”
That seemed to grab Misha’s attention and he turned his head from Sam’s computer to face Dean. “Really? You’ve done this a lot then?”
“Oh, yeah,” Sam butted in. “Dean’s practically an expert. Don’t worry, so long as he’s around you’ll be safe.”
Dean frowned, the creases on his brow deepening when Sam flashed him a mischievous grin. So, apparently little brother was trying to play matchmaker.
Misha moved over to Dean, eyes dark and lips parted slightly as his tongue snaked out to moisten them. “Could you teach me?”
Dean blinked. “What?”
“I think we all know this thing is specifically interested in me, although I have no idea why. If I’m next I want to at least know how to defend myself.”
“Oh, I’m sure Dean can show you his moves,” Sam volunteered, his grin widening.
Misha smirked. “I can’t wait to see them.”
Really, everyone needed to stop helping him. Dean Winchester did not need help getting laid. “Oh, I’ll show you what I can do all right,” he practically growled. “Let’s go outside.”
He grabbed Misha’s arm and dragged him out of the motel into the parking lot out back. “Hit me.”
That, at least, seemed to confuse Misha momentarily and Dean couldn’t deny it gave him a small sense of satisfaction.
“What?” Misha asked.
“You want to learn how to fight, don’t you? I need to see what you’ve got. Hit me.”
“I haven’t ‘got’ anything,” Misha replied. “I don’t believe in violence. I’ve never hit anyone before.”
“Well, I guess I should be pleased there’s something you don’t know how to do,” Dean grinned. “I was starting to think you were perfect. You at least know how to make a fist, right? They taught you that for your fight scenes.”
Misha made a fist and Dean was pleased to see that he didn’t make the rookie mistake of putting his thumb on the inside. Quickest way to wind up with a busted hand. He’d learned that the hard way when he was a kid.
“Okay, throw a punch.”
Misha glanced down at his fist and then back at Dean like he wasn’t sure whether he was kidding or not.
“Come on, man, try and hit me. I need to see what I’m working with here.”
Misha swung and Dean stepped back from the punch easily. “Wow, you’ve really never hit anyone before, have you? You seriously never got into any bar fights or anything when you were a teenager?”
Misha shook his head. “I used to make my own vodka in our shed. Didn’t need to go to a bar.”
Dean grinned. That was pretty damn awesome, actually. Would have saved him from spending a lot of (admittedly illegally obtained) money if he’d been able to brew his own booze.
“Okay, the problem is you don’t actually want to hit me.”
Misha nodded. “Hit on you, sure.”
Dean had to admire the guy’s persistence. “Yeah, well, you won’t be hitting on anyone if you’re dead. Come on, you’re an actor. Pretend I’m someone you really hate and go for it. I guarantee you’re not going to hurt me. Now come on.”
Misha took a breath and Dean was startled at how quickly his face slipped into a dark rage. He swung at Dean again, harder and faster this time, and even though Dean was anticipating the attack he wasn’t prepared for how fast it was and Misha clocked him firmly on the jaw.
“Shit,” Misha hissed as Dean stumbled backwards. “Also, ow.”
Dean grinned. “Yeah, I forgot to mention that unlike in the movies, punching someone actually hurts like a son of a bitch. You okay?”
Misha nodded. “Yeah, that actually felt surprisingly good. I didn’t hurt you, did I?”
Dean rubbed his jaw. “Nah, I’m good. That was pretty impressive for a second attempt. Who the hell were you thinking of?”
“No one specific, really,” Misha replied as he rubbed his hand and flexed his fingers. “More like a group of people. We didn’t have a lot of money when I was a kid and we got evicted from places a lot. Some of the asshole landlords tried to get my mom to pay the rent in other ways. She told them where to stick it, of course, but the fact that they even tried-”
Dean honestly had no idea what to say to that.
“I always wished I could do something about it,” Misha continued. “But I was just a kid. I just kind of got used to moving a lot. I still get antsy if I’m in one place for too long.”
Now that was something Dean could empathize with.
“I get that,” he replied. “After my mom died my dad used to travel across the country trying to find the thing that killed her. It’s how we got into the hunting business. We never stayed in the same place for more than a couple of weeks and we lived out of motels. I kind of hate it when I’m off the road for too long.”
Misha smiled. “So we have more in common than you think.”
Dean scratched the back of his neck. “Yeah, I guess so.”
“So when you told me you started watching movies when your dad was away, that was true?” Misha asked, sounding genuinely curious.
“Yeah,” Dean replied. “When we were really little, Dad used to leave us with other hunters but when I got a bit older he started taking us with him and leaving us in the motel room. The first time he left me alone with the one instruction to keep Sam safe, I stayed up all night with his .45 because I was so sure something was going to get him if I fell asleep. There was this monster movie marathon on TV so I sat up and watched them all. You know, they were all about heroes beating monsters and I liked to think of my dad out there doing the same thing.”
Misha flashed Dean a sympathetic smile. “He sounds like a really impressive man.”
“He was,” Dean nodded. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, the guy had his faults, but he was my dad and the only reason I’m still alive is because he exchanged his life for mine.”
It was the first time he’d talked about it openly apart from that one time with Sam. He had no idea what the hell had possessed him to say it now, actually, but the words had just seemed to come out of him.
Misha stared at him for a moment, eyes wide and shining and for a second Dean thought the guy was actually going to cry. That was the last thing he needed.
“No chick flick moments,” he said thickly around the lump in his throat, and Misha nodded. He gave Dean’s arm a squeeze and then smiled at him.
“So, we’ve established that I suck at throwing a punch. Anything else I can do? Should I start carrying cloves of garlic around in my pocket?”
“I hate to break it to you,” Dean replied, glad to be back on familiar ground, “but if you face down a vamp you either cut its head off or you die. They can outrun you, have an awesome sense of smell and pretty much perfect night vision.”
“Oh,” Misha said flatly. “So we’re out here because. . .”
“We’re out here because Sam wanted us out of the way. He gets cranky if his research gets interrupted. Plus I think he’s got some sort of matchmaker deal going on. Like I need any help.”
Misha grinned. “Well, it’s nice to see I’ve got the family permission to woo you. Would you prefer flowers or a poem? Maybe a poem about flowers because as I’ve already told you, I’ve got that one nailed.”
“How about we save that until you’re off the vampire radar?” Dean replied. “Although all you need to do is buy me a beer. Save the chick stuff for the chicks.”
“Got it. Come on. Let’s go back inside and see if your brother has managed to track down the vampire that’s stalking me. Now there’s something you don’t often say in every day conversation.”
“You’d be surprised how often I wind up saying shit like that,” Dean replied and the two of them headed back inside.
“How did it go?” Sam asked. “You guys make any progress?”
“Oh, we definitely got somewhere,” Misha agreed. “How’s the search going?”
“I’ve narrowed it down but there’s still a whole bunch of places the nest could be.”
Dean watched as Misha moved around to stand behind Sam. “It won’t be there. That place is full of windows and there’s no basement.”
Really, nothing seemed to faze this guy at all. He just rolled with it.
“Hey, when do you need to be back at work?” Dean asked. “I’d hate to get my ass busted by the director for keeping you away.”
Misha waved his hand dismissively. “Movie’s been closed down until they find out who. . . or I guess what is killing off the crew. I told them I wasn’t working until they could guarantee everyone was going to be safe.”
“Oh,” Dean replied, suddenly feeling more than a little redundant as Misha and Sam went back to looking at maps. “I’ll go and get some coffee,” he muttered.
Neither Sam or Misha looked up from the computer screen.
* * *
He didn’t go for coffee right away. It wasn’t like Sam and Misha seemed bothered about it anyway. Instead he got into his car and drove, just enjoying the rumble of the engine and the sound of Zeppelin pounding in the speakers. It wasn’t like there was much else for him to do until Sam got done with the research.
The drive wasn’t soothing him the way that it usually did. He had an itchy restless feeling crawling over his skin that made him want to get out of the car and do something nuts like go for a run. He was only a few miles out of town when he turned the car around and headed back to the motel.
He knew there was something wrong as soon as he pulled into the parking lot. On the surface nothing seemed to be different but that feeling in Dean’s gut spread as soon as he parked the car and his hand was on his gun before he’d fully got out of the vehicle.
The motel room door was open and Dean had to fight the urge to charge in. Instead he leaned around the door and peered into the room. The light was still on but Dean felt a cold wave of fear crash into him when he saw Sam’s chair overturned on the floor and obvious signs of a struggle. It was all he needed to see. There were no immediate signs of anyone and Dean figured if it was a trap they’d have made it less obvious that they were there.
He darted into the room, gun drawn. “Sam?”
Silence.
A quick scan of the room showed no sign of Sam or Misha and Dean quickly moved across the room to check the bathroom. He nearly tripped over Sam’s leg.
“Sammy?”
His brother was in a crumpled heap between the two beds, eyes closed and face pale. Dean dropped to his knees, sickness burning in his throat as he pulled Sam’s head into his lap. There was no blood, no sign of any wounds at all and when he ran his hand over Sam’s head there was no indication that he’d been hit with anything.
He felt for a pulse and sighed in relief when he found it. That was when the acrid smell hit his nostrils. He knew enough to recognize the smell of chloroform and it didn’t take him long to find the soaked cloth half under the bed.
Dean eased Sam back onto the floor and disposed of the cloth in the bathroom. There was definitely no sign of Misha which left only two possibilities: Either Misha had attacked Sam or whoever attacked Sam had taken him. He didn’t want to admit that the first one was a possibility but he had to be reasonable about it. It’s not like he knew the guy, not really. All he knew was what Misha had told him and when the guy made a living out of pretending to be someone else, it didn’t exactly lend itself to trust.
He moved back over to Sam who was still out cold. What he really needed was clean fresh air but there was no way in hell Dean could move Sam’s dead weight by himself. Not without literally dragging him out to the car which was bound to draw attention to them.
He knelt back down and patted Sam’s cheek. “Come on. You need to wake up and tell me what happened.”
If Misha had been taken, they needed to act fast before he became the next corpse to turn up on the movie set. The thought made Dean feel kind of sick.
Sam made a soft noise in the back of his throat as his eyes quivered beneath their lids. Dean shook him again and was almost relieved when Sam let out a groan and weakly batted Dean’s hand away.
“Come on, Sam. Wake up.”
Sam’s eyes opened into slits and he groaned again before closing them. “Dean?”
“Yeah, dude, it’s me. You okay?”
Sam opened his eyes again, fully this time, and winced as he nodded his head. “Yeah, I think so.”
“What the hell happened?”
Sam’s brow furrowed as he sat up and leaned back against the end of the bed. Then his eyes widened. “Dean! We have to go! I came out of the bathroom and Misha was out cold on the floor. Someone jumped me from behind before I could get to him. It must be the vampires. They’ve got him.”
Dean had started to move before Sam even finished talking. He rose to his feet and extended a hand, pulling Sam up and bracing him when he stumbled.
“You good?”
Sam nodded. “Where the hell do we start? I narrowed down the list of potential places the nest could be in but there’s still dozens of them.”
“Wait, Misha seemed pretty sure that whoever did this works on the movie,” Dean replied as he started to pull an array of blades out of his duffle. “I know where we can start.”
* * *
Now Dean was kind of glad the movie had been temporarily shut down. It meant there were fewer people around and all they had to do was make their way past the lone security guard, who was more interested in the studios where movies were actually being filmed.
“You sure about this?” Sam asked as Dean worked at the lock on one of the side doors of stage nine.
“I’m sure,” Dean replied firmly.
“Do you think he’s still alive?”
Dean’s hands stilled on the lock for a moment. He’d been trying not to think about it. He was still trying not to think about it, actually. This shit was easier when it was just a job. This was why he didn’t let people get close.
He went back to work.
It didn’t take him long to get the door open and the two of them slipped inside.
“We should split up,” Dean said as he clicked on his flashlight. “We’ll cover more ground that way.”
Sam nodded. “I’ll call you if I find anything.”
As Sam disappeared into the dark, Dean paused. The vampires would have the advantage in the dark, with their keen senses, but if he switched the lights on it’d remove any possible chance of surprising them.
He decided to risk it. His hands closed around the handle of the machete strapped to his thigh. He had another one strapped to his back and a large knife concealed inside his jacket. No way in hell was he going against a bunch of these sons of bitches unprepared. He’d seen firsthand how fast they were and how dangerous. One on its own was bad enough, but if he was dealing with a whole pack. . .
Suddenly splitting up with Sam didn’t seem like such a good idea, but time was a factor here. He needed to get on with the search and fast, and he had to pray to God that he was right about this place.
There’d been no sort of pattern to where the bodies had been found (and Dean was absolutely not thinking of Misha as a body). The first one had been found on set and the second in Wardrobe. He had no clue where to start looking and this place was pretty damn huge.
But it wasn’t long before he saw the light, quite literally. One of the large overhead spotlights switched on before he was more than a few feet across the main room and almost blinded him. It took a few seconds for his eyes to adjust and when they did he froze.
The light was shining onto the set and onto Misha’s character’s bedroom specifically.
The bed wasn’t empty.
Dean broke into a run, some small and stupidly naive part of his brain telling him that he wasn’t too late. That he could still save Misha.
He skidded to a halt beside the bed. Misha’s eyes were closed, his face pale, but even through the cold feeling of dread he could see that Misha was breathing, and that he didn’t seem to be bleeding anywhere.
Thank God.
He quickly went into business mode. He needed to get Misha out of here before whoever (whatever) turned on the light came back. Because he wasn’t stupid enough to think Misha had been brought here just to have a nap.
He shook Misha’s shoulder roughly. “Hey, we need to get the hell out of here.”
Misha lolled under the force of Dean’s pushing but showed no signs of waking.
Shit.
“Looks like I’ve got to carry you. Again.”
Dean made a mental note to gripe about the number of times he’d had to carry Misha some time when their lives weren’t in imminent danger and Misha was actually awake to take note of it. He pulled Misha into a sitting position and braced himself, ready to heave Misha over his shoulder.
The next thing he knew he was wrenched away from Misha and sent flying backwards until he slammed into the far wall with a loud and painful smack, the plywood cracking under his weight.
Instinct took over and Dean scrambled to his feet, machete already in his hand. He was tired, sore and pissed. Now he was ready to chop some damn heads off.
The vamp who’d got the drop on him was bent over the bed where Misha was still lying.
“You don’t get to touch him,” she growled as she rearranged Misha on the bed and stroked a hand through his hair.
Dean’s eyes scanned the room. Vampires always hunted in packs. No way was this chick alone and he needed to be ready to take on the rest of them. He really hoped Sam had heard him hitting the wall. Dean was good, but he doubted he could take on a full pack by himself.
Weirdly, she didn’t seem that interested in him now that she’d gotten him away from Misha and Dean tightened the grip he had on his weapon. Something wasn’t right here. He didn’t know what, exactly, but he trusted his gut.
“All I wanted was to help him.” The vampire still had her back to him, attention entirely focused on Misha. “If he’d just let me he could have done such amazing things.”
Things were starting to click into place. The deaths, the notes, the fact that it was all people connected to Misha somehow.
Dean snorted. “Are you seriously telling me you killed those people to, what, give him some sort of career boost? You’re insane.”
Slowly her hand stilled where it was still carding through Misha’s hair and she turned to face Dean.
Holy shit.
“So they tell me,” Amber replied with a toothy smile. “Now, unless you want me to rip his throat out while you watch, I’d put that thing down.”
Dean was still trying to wrap his head around the fact that Amber, who had seemed nice and very much not insane when he’d met her on his first day, was actually an undead nutcase.
“Contrary to what my brother tells me, I’m not stupid. I put this down so the rest of your pack can tear me to pieces. I don’t think so.”
Amber’s eyes darkened as she moved away from Misha and closed the distance between herself and Dean.
“My pack?” she hissed. “My pack abandoned me decades ago, Dean. Left me to fend for myself. So that’s exactly what I did. I hid, lived off the homeless and destitute, and let me tell you that is a shitty way to live. Imagine living on rotten food every day for forty years. That was my life, until I discovered that instead of hiding and lurking in the shadows like I’d been taught was the way of our kind, that blending in was so much easier and more comfortable. I’ve got a nice apartment, a job that I actually love doing and easy access to all the fresh blood I want. Hollywood is pretty fantastic, you know.”
Dean was bored already. Why the hell did the things they hunted always insist on telling him their entire life story before he kicked their asses? He really didn’t give a crap about this sob story.
“You know, I love the movies,” Amber continued. “Always have, and that’s literal. I used to go and see the old Chaplin pictures when they came out. He used to make me laugh. You know he came from nothing. Used to be a regular guy until some executive spotted him and got him into the movies. That was what gave me the idea.”
Dean slipped his hand into his pocket and hit speed dial one on his phone. If he could keep Amber talking just a little while longer, Sam would hopefully figure out where they were. If she truly was alone, and at this point Dean had no reason to believe she was lying, then the two of them could take her down easily.
“What idea was that?” he asked.
“Come on, Dean, I know you’re not that dumb. It must be obvious what I’m doing.”
She moved back over to the bed and sat down on the edge. “Hollywood is a cut-throat industry. I’ve seen it progress and I’ve seen how it works. It’s not about talent a lot of the time, it’s about money. That’s why vapid, talentless teenagers make millions and people with real skill get overlooked and disappear between the cracks. So now, when I see someone with real potential, I give them a little help.”
She smiled down at Misha and brushed a hand over his cheek. “Misha here is very special, but then I guess you already know that. This movie could have made his career, it should have launched him into amazing things. But then they brought in that idiot script doctor who ruined the whole thing and turned it into a slasher horror movie.”
“And that’s why you killed him?” Dean asked incredulously. “What was the point? They didn’t change the script just because the dude was dead.”
“No,” Amber agreed, “but it gave Misha genuine fear to draw on. I saw it. After he found Simon’s body his performance became phenomenal. Even with the bad script people would have seen how fantastic he was.”
“And the wardrobe guy?”
“He lost Misha’s costume.”
Dean blinked. “That was it? You killed him because he lost some clothes?”
“The clothes make the character, Dean. How would you feel if someone took that leather jacket of yours and threw it away?”
This jacket had been his dad’s so, yeah, Dean couldn’t imagine not having it. It was one of the few things of his father’s that he had left.
He really hoped Sam was close now because he was running out of ways to stall.
“So why kidnap him if you want him to become this great big star?” Dean asked.
“He didn’t appreciate my gifts,” Amber replied sadly. “And then he had the nerve to demand that the movie be shut down. This movie has to be made if he’s going to amount to anything and since that’s not going to happen, I decided on another course of action.”
She leaned in close and nuzzled her face in Misha’s neck. Dean tensed, ready to attack if she showed any signs of harming him.
“I’ve been alone for a long time,” Amber said as she pulled back. “You have no idea what it’s like. So I thought I’d take a mate. He’s perfect. Smart, funny, kind, handsome and have you seen some of the positions he can bend his body into?”
She sighed wistfully. “You can walk away from this, you know. You seem like a decent guy and Misha seems to like you. Just leave us alone and I won’t hurt you.”
Dean was done waiting for Sam to arrive. “Sorry, no can do.” He struck before Amber could move, hoping to have the element of surprise on his hands. Unfortunately, the only thing surprising was how easily she swatted him to one side as though he was little more than an irritating bug.
Amber sighed and rose to her feet while Dean struggled to regain his footing. He’d always imagined the walls of movie sets to be flimsy. Wrong. Hitting it for the second time that evening hurt like a mother and the wall didn’t even show any signs of breaking.
“Do you think you’re the first hunter I’ve crossed paths with?” Amber asked with an almost indulgent smile as she crossed the room and yanked Dean to his feet. “When you’ve been alone for as long as I have you learn how to defend yourself pretty quickly.”
Dean’s weapon was halfway across the room now, knocked away when he’d hit the wall. Shit.
Amber leaned in close, so close that her breath tickled Dean’s cheek. His feet weren’t even touching the floor now. This bitch was strong.
“It’s a good thing I haven’t eaten today,” she whispered against his neck and before Dean could do anything, she bit down.
Dean was used to dealing with pain. Hell, he’d been trained to deal with it since he was a little kid. What he wasn’t prepared for was how invasive being bitten felt, especially when no matter how hard he kicked out and struggled it didn’t make a damned bit of difference. He could feel his own blood warm and trickling down as Amber bit and slurped.
This was it. He was going to die.
For one eerie moment he was kind of relieved. He shouldn’t even be here, anyway. He should have died in that damn car wreck like he was supposed to and then his dad would still be alive. Hell, his dad would never have let himself get taken out by a single vampire like this. He’d have kept Misha safe, and he’d have known how to deal with whatever the hell was going on.
But the truth was, he was here and if he bowed out now then the deal his dad had made would be for nothing.
He lashed out again but it was too little, too late. He had no idea how much blood he’d lost but his movements were slow and sluggish. Everything felt like such an effort, like he was weighed down and just moving was a struggle. He kicked out at Amber and she didn’t even pause.
“Hey.”
That caused her to stop and Dean grunted as he felt the teeth withdraw from his throat, causing a fresh flow of blood to trickle. He clamped his hand against the wound while Amber’s attention was directed elsewhere.
“Misha?”
Misha was on his feet, swaying slightly but upright and with Dean’s machete gripped tightly in both hands. Amber was apparently so surprised that she let Dean drop to the floor as she turned to face him.
“I’m glad you’re awake,” she said gently, in a tone that was usually reserved for small children and spooked animals. “You might want to put that thing down unless you plan on using it, though.”
If it had been Dean wielding the weapon, he’d have cut the bitch’s head off by now. He could see the uncertainty in Misha’s eyes, though. Misha knew Amber, and now that she’d put the teeth away she looked almost like the woman Dean had met on his first day on set. Apart from the blood smeared all over her face, of course.
“I think I’m okay right here, actually,” Misha said, even if he did sound uncertain about it.
“Just let me talk before you start chopping heads off,” Amber continued in that same soothing voice. “Just listen to what I have to offer you.”
Misha’s eyes flicked over to Dean and then back to Amber.
“I’m offering you a gift, Misha. Eternal life. All that good I know you want to do? Imagine being able to do it forever. Think of all the people you can help, think of all the joy you can bring to their lives just by being you.”
“And all I have to do is kill a few people to live, right?”
“What’s a few lives compared to the hundreds, maybe thousands you’ll be able to make better? You should accept my gift, Misha, because if you don’t. . .”
Dean knew what would happen if Misha refused. Amber wasn’t exactly leaving much to the imagination.
Misha lowered his weapon. “Your offer is very tempting. You know all I want to do is help people and bring a little creativity into the world, but you’re forgetting one very important thing.”
Amber frowned. “What? No, I’m not. I know everything there is to know about you.”
Misha moved in close, tilted his head and for a second Dean actually thought he was going to kiss her.
“Eternal life is an amazing gift but there’s only one problem.”
Amber frowned.
“I’m a vegetarian.”
Before she could reply, Misha swung.
Unfortunately, while Dean had told Misha that the only way to kill a vampire was to cut its head off, what he hadn’t prepared him for was how difficult that actually was.
The blow Misha dealt hit the mark perfectly, but it only cut halfway through Amber’s neck. Dean could only watch the look of horror on Misha’s face as he was covered in a streak of blood as Amber let out a choked growl and lunged at him. He pulled the blade loose and swung again and again, not waiting between blows until eventually her head hit the floor.
Dean struggled to his feet as Misha looked about ready to throw up or pass out. His face and chest were now soaked in Amber’s blood.
“Vegetarian?” Dean asked with a weak groan. The wound on his neck had almost stopped bleeding now but he still felt like shit.
Misha shrugged. “I used to be. It was the first thing that popped into my head.”
Dean grinned. “Still, that was pretty badass of you.”
Misha simply sighed and dropped the weapon to the floor. “Are you all right?”
“Me?” Dean asked in the most chipper voice he could manage. “I’m peachy.”
But then his body betrayed him and his legs buckled. Misha grabbed hold of him before he could fall and pulled him close.
“Maybe you should try that again when you’re not about to pass out.”
“Oh, my god, Dean! Are you okay?”
Dean found himself pulled from Misha’s arms into Sam’s and was vaguely aware that it didn’t feel half as good.
“Cavalry’s a little late, Sammy,” Dean grinned.
Then his body finally decided enough was enough and he passed out.
Part 5