Bishop/Dean Comment-Fic for Beashark
All Dean remembered was coming to Boston to get away; he couldn't go to Lisa, couldn't inflict himself on her, so he had left Bobby's and just followed the highways. He knows he left his motel room at some point, looking for a bar maybe, and passed a policeman; memorable only because of his presence in the kind of neighborhood their motels tended to be in. Their motels. The thought of Sam brought a rush of pure anguish.
He was aware of tears streaking his face, and a callused hand cupping his jaw and gently brushing them away. Dean slowly regained his sense of awareness: he was leaning against a wall in an alley. The policeman was supporting him while subtly keeping Dean pinned with his weight. Dean looked up at the guy and stopped dead, the policeman was wearing Lucifer’s face; the face of the vessel he had burnt through to get to Sam.
The guy-because it couldn’t be Lucifer, there was no way Sam’s Hail Mary play could have failed-was still cupping Dean’s jaw, and he suddenly noticed how cold his hand was, how slowly his pulse and breath seemed to be. He had the stillness of an angel about him-or the stillness of the dead. Dean looked into those bright blue eyes, felt the subtle pull there, and knew. “Vampire” He breathed. “Bingo,” the guy smiled at him.
“I have an offer to make you, Dean” the guy said. Dean knew he should protest. But the vampire pinned him with a gaze and all of Dean’s resolve vanished. “I watched you through his eyes,” there was no need to ask who he was, “I saw how much you value family; how deeply you love. We have that in common.” There was sadness in his eyes as he said that, and Dean wanted to reach out to him; his first instinct to offer comfort no matter how much he might deny it.
“You’ve lost your family, and I can’t give them back to you, but,” the guy-Bishop, his badge read-meaningfully placed his hand over Dean’s heart, “I can give you love; I can ease your pain, Dean.” Shuddering, Dean tried to gain some composure; he had been hurting for so long and the thought of someone who really understood was almost too much. Even more disconcerting was the almost instant connection he seemed to have with Bishop.
Dean felt drawn to Bishop-a vampire he hardly knew. He wanted what Bishop was offering so badly, and really, what was there to hold him to his life anymore? “Yes,” Dean knew he was crying again, but he didn’t care; was so far beyond caring anymore, “Please,” his voice cracked on a sob, “Take me away from all this death.” Bishop leaned in and gently brushed their lips together in the barest of kisses before tugging Dean’s collar down and burying his face in the line of Dean’s neck.
He mouthed over Dean’s jugular, scenting the richness and purity of the hunter’s blood through his skin, drawing Dean fully into his embrace. Bishop waited for Dean to relax fully against him, to give his final consent, before he extended his fangs and sank them into Dean’s neck. Dean moaned and arched against him; feverish warmth spreading through his veins from where Bishop was drawing at his blood, his response spurring the vampire on.
Dean’s world narrowed until it consisted solely of Bishop. He felt something warm against his mouth, and, tasting Bishop’s blood for what it was, lapped insistently at the self-inflicted bite. With each swallow he could feel change, a part of himself at once newborn and ancient awakening. The world seemed to shift around him, and Dean returned to awareness held gently in Bishop’s arms. But Bishop was different now, Dean could see the power he radiated-Alpha-and more than that, “Mate.”
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Notes: If I had anything even resembling logic at this time of night I would have just written the thing and posted it here, but instead I wrote them in segments of 500 characters or less and spammed you with them. I'm sorry about that, bb.
Also: 666 words exactly.