The Great Roots of Night (SPN, NC-17) Pt. 2
Dean’s attention went to his coat and shirt as Sam removed them and tossed them aside. He caught his breath and held onto Sam’s shoulder as Sam unfastened Dean’s belt with a sharp jerk, his fly with a few quick tugs of his fingers, and pushed his jeans down his hips, maneuvering Dean back toward the bed.
“That Gordon dude fucked off, it looks like,” Sam muttered, and shoved Dean down on the bed. “That was nice of him.”
Dean caught himself on the mattress on his elbows and blinked up at Sam, slightly dazed. “Ah… yeah. Real considerate guy. Look, Sammy-”
“Look at your hand,” Sam said. He pulled his shirt off and dropped it on the floor, then gestured to the hand Dean had cut open a few minutes earlier.
Dean looked down at it and squinted. “What the… Wow. It’s healed already.”
“Yeah,” Sam said. He opened his own belt and moved to stand by the side of the bed between Dean’s legs as he unfastened the fly of his jeans. “It’s kind of cool. Like a… perk or something.”
“A perk to being a bloodsucking-”
“Yeah,” Sam said, and reached down to grasp Dean’s hips and flip him over onto his stomach.
“Sam, slow the fuck down, alright?” Dean said, pushing back against him, trying to stand back up.
Sam made a soft sound of amused negation in his throat and worked Dean’s pants and boxers down his thighs. He dropped his head to lick the small of his back, slide his tongue into the little dimpled indents above the swell of his ass, then nipped. Dean tensed and tried once again to get up.
“Sam-”
“Dean,” Sam replied, chiding. “Shut up.” He pulled Dean’s shoes off, dropped them, and yanked his pants off. He was naked on his knees on the bed now and Sam paused for a moment to look at him and consider. “Unless…”
“Unless what?” Dean asked, turning his head to look at Sam over his shoulder.
“Unless you want me to stop,” Sam said. He scented the air and could still smell desire, stronger now than ever, but that didn’t mean Dean couldn’t still say no and mean it. “Do you want me to stop?”
Dean coughed laughter and turned back around, dropping his head between his shoulders and shaking it no. “No, Sammy. But you know that, don’t you?” he said. “Besides… it’s a little late for that.”
“No it isn’t,” Sam said, running his hands slowly up and down the outside of Dean’s thighs. He urged Dean up on the bed further and crawled up on the mattress behind him, licking up his spine with lingering swipes as he got him closer to the middle of the bed. “Not too late to say no and mean it, Dean,” he whispered against the back of Dean’s ear.
“Yes, it is,” Dean said, and pushed back against him.
Sam set his teeth lightly against the back of Dean’s neck as he pushed his jeans and underwear down his hips. He wrapped his fingers around his own cock and pulled gently, working his fingers up and down it until precum beaded at the head and he could slick it over himself. Dean tried to sit up and turn around to see what he was doing, but Sam put his other hand flat in the middle of his back and pushed him back down on his elbows. He moaned and rolled his hips, grinding against Dean’s ass as he thrust into his own hand. Dean tensed at the slick slide of Sam’s cock in the crack of his ass, but didn’t try to move away.
“Shhh, this is probably going to hurt a little,” Sam told him.
That was the only warning Dean got before Sam pushed two slick fingers inside his ass and thrust them deep, twisting to coat the inside of his hole with precum. Dean closed his fingers in the sheets and ducked his head, shoulders hunching as he rocked, moving instinctively away from Sam’s probing hand. He gritted his teeth against a cry of pain as Sam withdrew his fingers and did it again, opening and closing them a few times quickly, stretching him in a way that at once burned and formed a slow ache in his belly. When Sam curved his fingers and pressed them against his prostate, Dean jerked, cried out and thrust his ass back on Sam’s hand.
“Sam,” Dean said, a touch of a growl in his own voice now, “stop playing with me and do it or get the hell off me.”
Sam snorted in amusement and removed his fingers from Dean’s body to grasp his hips in both hands. “You should maybe relax a little,” he whispered and thrust into him with one quick, hard snap of his hips.
“Fuck,” Dean barked, shocked both by the sudden movement and the unaccustomed deep, almost painful fullness of the penetration. He moaned as Sam withdrew a little, only to throw his head back with a shout as Sam thrust back inside, the pounding echo of his thrust tearing the sound from Dean’s throat and making him tense. “Sam… Sammy… Jesus god, Sammy, ease up a bit, man. I’ve never…”
Sam licked the back of Dean’s neck and began working his hips, fucking him with short, hard jerks of his hips. His rhythm was hard and quick, near violent and it forced strained, hitching cries from Dean, sharp little panting almost moans that became more like desperate whining sounds at the end. “Never what?” Sam murmured, licking over the little vertebrae at the base of Dean’s skull.
Dean pulled at the sheets beneath him, dragging them down the bed on either side of his shoulders, his body jarring with each pounding thrust. He could feel the sweat on his lower back, the way Sam’s cool belly slid in it as he moved, the pulling way Sam’s cock caught on the muscles inside him despite his attempt at lubrication. All of it, every sensation, was new to him and, in a way, not. “Never… had sex from this… position before,” Dean managed. He reached back and grabbed at Sam’s arm. His fingers ran up the inside of Sam’s elbow, then Sam thrust and his hand fell away. “Never been fucked like a girl,” Dean said, and laughed breathlessly.
Sam grinned and angled his hips, searching for and finding Dean’s prostate on his next inward thrust. Dean cried out and pressed his face into the mattress, shivering and moaning as pleasure beat at him insistently with every thrust of Sam’s cock over that spot. “Not like a girl at all,” Sam whispered to him.
Sam licked the curve of Dean’s shoulder, tongue dipping into the bend there before sliding up to the hollow behind his ear, tracing the heavy beat of Dean’s pulse. “Want to bite you,” Sam murmured. He tilted Dean’s hips up and back and slammed into him, ripping a ragged scream from him that sent a thrill of pleasure through Sam’s belly, down his thighs. “Want to bite you,” he repeated, still fucking Dean in that fierce way that made him cry and scream. “Let me?”
With his face pressed into the mattress, Dean shook his head no. He pushed back on Sam’s cock as Sam thrust and the pleasure of that snapped through him and made him scream again, the sound only muffled a little in the bed clothes.
Sam licked and nipped the side of Dean’s neck, his pace steady and unrelenting. Dean’s body contracted around his cock and Sam growled and held his shoulder between his teeth. The desire, the need, to bite down was so strong that his teeth were pressing down before he fully realized and Dean writhed under him, fighting between the consuming desire to come and the little pricks of Sam’s teeth in his skin. The flesh was not broken yet, but it so easily could be and he knew that. Even in his brilliant haze of pleasured desperation, he knew that Sam’s teeth could pierce him like his skin was silk under a needle if he wasn’t careful.
“Sam,” Dean whispered, panting and shaking. He braced his hands on the bed and pushed himself back into Sam’s next thrust and they both cried out. “Sam,” he repeated, and rolled his hips, testing.
Sam gasped and jerked against him, his hipbones pressing against Dean’s ass as he thrust. “Dean, please,” Sam said, a touch of a moan in his voice now. He trembled and licked down Dean’s spine, back up, over his shoulder blades. “Want to bite you,” he whispered, nuzzling into the back of Dean’s hair. “Want to taste you in my mouth while I feel your heartbeat here,” Sam said, and thrust his hips. “I can, you know. Feel every beat of your heart like this. Every breath you take. Every sound you make vibrates along my skin. It’s beautiful. Let me?”
Dean lifted his head a little and turned his face on the bed to watch Sam over his shoulder, panting and gasping, shoulders shaking with exertion. Sam thrust into him again and his breath hitched, pleasure rolling under his skin, along his nerves, right down to the tips of his fingers and toes as his orgasm crept through him. It started slow, building and then just seemed to flow, growing in intensity as it reached out.
Sam watched him and smiled faintly when Dean bucked under him, shoving his ass back against Sam’s hips. He sucked his bottom lip between his teeth as he came, his cries muffled, but only a little. They still sounded loud in the small motel room. Echoing so loud and so pretty.
Sam leaned over his shoulder and licked Dean’s mouth where he’d bit his lip, tasted his blood and growled. “Want to… bite you…” he panted, fucking Dean through his orgasm, forcing the last little spasms of aftershocks from him until he was spent. “Let me.”
Dean moaned, his body quivering all over, shaking and tense under Sam’s continued thrusts. Sam still thrust over his prostate and the sensitivity of that had Dean whimpering and squirming every time he did it.
“Let me,” Sam whispered again. “Say yes. Want to…”
Dean whined and nodded his head quickly before he could change his mind. Sam was the only reason he had to say no to such a thing and he knew it and now… now he was the reason he was saying yes. He could keep him like this, he knew. Any other way was uncertain. Any other way and he could lose him now.
Sam licked Dean’s mouth again, then lifted up a little and took one of his hands away from Dean’s hip, lifting it to his mouth. He pulled his lips back from his teeth as his sharp vampire fangs descended, and sank them into the underside of his own wrist. He tasted his own blood, thick with that familiar metallic tang and took his mouth away to hold his wrist to Dean’s lips. “Drink,” he said softly, licking the back of Dean’s shoulder as he watched him, waiting for him to do it.
Dean watched the blood smeared on Sam’s skin from his mouth, the way it beaded in the little holes his new razor sharp teeth had made and slid down the underside of his wrist to drip on the bed. Once again, he hesitated, then took a breath and pressed his mouth to Sam’s bleeding wrist.
Sam sank his teeth into the side of Dean’s neck the moment he touched his mouth to his wrist. Dean cried out and broke his mouth away from Sam’s wrist, but Sam fisted his other hand in the back of Dean’s hair and held him still as he brought his wrist back to his mouth. When Dean refused it this time, Sam growled around the flesh between his teeth and fucked into him as he sucked on it, blood that did not taste like copper to him anymore at all-human blood-sliding down his throat like melted sugar. Dean cried out, voice catching as Sam moved, his pace brutally violent, punishing, demanding.
“Drink,” Sam snapped, taking his mouth away from Dean’s neck long enough to give the order, then sinking his teeth into Dean’s shoulder to drink again. He pressed his wrist to Dean’s mouth until he could feel Dean’s teeth against it, his lips crushed against them.
With no real choice, Dean did as Sam demanded and drank. It didn’t matter anymore anyway. He’d already taken enough to change him. A single drop was enough and he’d had more than that already. He drank until the first cramps rippled across his stomach, then broke his mouth away and tried to shove Sam off. Sam growled with his teeth still in Dean’s shoulder, working his hips against his ass and held him down. The sound vibrated down Dean’s spine like a light electric shock and he gasped.
“Sam, stop,” Dean said, panting. He reached back and pushed at Sam’s side, trying to get him to let go. His heart was beating fast, too fast, trying to circulate his dwindling blood supply through his tired body. It burned and as Sam sucked, drawing it from him, he could feel it sliding through his veins like sandpaper and glass. “Sam…’
Sam made a low sound in his throat to show that he’d heard him, drew one last time, and pulled his teeth out. He licked over the wounds in Dean’s shoulder, deep but already beginning to heal from his saliva, and hunched his shoulders as he thrust again. Dean’s fingers spasmed on his side and Sam chuckled with his mouth pressed to his shoulders at the base of his spine. He licked there as pleasure pulsed in his belly, spreading out slowly in time to the thick beats of his heart. His heart that beat with stolen blood. Sam grazed his teeth over the spot and Dean shivered, then Sam nipped the little raised area there as he came. He moaned and licked over it, making the flesh pink with irritation, breath hitching in soft puffs against Dean’s back as his orgasm slid through him deep and slow. He felt Dean shudder against his stomach and chest and nuzzled him, breathing in the musk scent of his clean sweat and the smell of cheap motel shampoo.
“Hurts,” Dean said roughly. He pushed at Sam again and this time Sam withdrew from his body and moved off.
Dean rolled onto his back and lay there with his eyes closed, his bottom lip caught between his teeth. Sam watched him through his tumbled, damp hair and frowned in concern when he gasped and jerked against the bed. He ran a hand down Dean’s arm, felt the skin under his fingertips tremble and propped himself up on his elbows to look down at Dean’s face.
“What’s wrong?” Sam asked.
Dean shook his head and laughed dryly. “Changing, Sammy,” he whispered. “I’m dying.”
Sam ran his tongue over his teeth, tasted Dean’s blood still on his tongue and watched him uncertainly. “Oh. I forgot about that part.”
“How lucky… for you,” Dean managed.
“You’ll forget too,” Sam assured him.
Dean shook his head and gritted his teeth against the pain working through his stomach, up his chest. He could hear his heart thundering in his ears, feel it pounding on the back of his tongue. His lungs labored to draw in breath and then they just stopped. He opened his mouth to breathe and nothing happened. He made a dry coughing sound and scratched at his throat with his blunt fingernails, trying to breath. His body was changing, but he still needed the oxygen that his lungs could no longer supply.
Sam made soft soothing sounds in his throat and stroked the hair back from Dean’s face, his fingers lingering in the wet places by his temples. Dean’s eyes snapped open and he arched off the bed, mouth open and panting to get breath that never went any farther than the back of his throat. He reached out blindly and caught Sam’s hand, fingers closing around it hard enough to grind the little finger bones together. Sam felt it, but not as painfully as he would have if he were still human. If he were still human, it would have bruised him, it would have made him jerk his hand away and curse. Instead, he ducked his head and pressed his mouth to Dean’s knuckles, white and shaking as they closed over his hand and waited.
~~*~~
“Your friend stole our damn car,” Sam snapped, slamming the door as he walked back into the motel room. The little plaque on the door beneath the peep-hole with a map of the motel and its rooms rattled.
Dean looked up at him with blank, fevered eyes and shrugged. “We’ll just get it back.”
“Yeah,” Sam said. He tossed something to Dean and though Dean was shaking, pale and biting down the urge vomit up his own stomach, he caught it, snatching it out of the air with animal-quick reflexes. “Eat that, you’ll feel better.”
Dean looked down at it and almost dropped the thing in disgust. It was a half-dead rat, fur greasy and patched, legs twitching feebly, blood beaded in its whiskers. “What is this?”
“Food,” Sam said simply. “Look, it tastes bad, really fucking bad, but it’s food. It’ll get you moving and make the shaking stop. Just… bite down and think of a Big Mac or something.”
Dead shuddered and lifted the rat toward his mouth. “Does that really work?”
Sam grinned. “No.”
Dean grimaced and drew his lips back as his new, sharp fangs descended. It was a strange feeling and one he would have to get used to, the way his teeth slid through his gums, laying over his human teeth like those of a shark. “Weird,” he mumbled, and sank his teeth into the side of the rat’s body.
It was like drinking raw sewage through a filter of matted, oily hair. Dean’s throat worked and he tried not to gag as he swallowed. The blood ran over his tongue and he could feel the little animal’s dwindling heartbeat against his teeth as the revolting stuff slid down his throat. It felt glutinous, sticking to his throat and tongue as he swallowed it, the flavor lingering in his mouth after he swallowed.
“Jesus christ,” Dean said, gagging as he tossed the drained rat carcass aside. He staggered to his feet and hurried to the bathroom, hitting his shoulder on the door to push it open, then collapsing over the sink, taking deep breaths and desperately trying not to throw up. He didn’t even want to imagine what the rat blood would taste like coming back up.
“Don’t puke, man,” Sam said, leaning in the doorway. “That’s the only thing I could find and you need it. Try not to puke.”
“What the fuck do you think I’m doing?” Dean snapped. He gagged, shook his head, and made himself swallow. When he came out of the bathroom, Sam was sitting at the table, looking at the map that Dean and Gordon had been studying when Sam got there. “I think it’ll keep,” he muttered, running a hand over the back of his neck. “What are you doing?”
“Trying to figure out where the nest is,” Sam said, chewing his bottom lip thoughtfully as he traced his finger over lines on the map. “I was knocked out, but I remember the bridge. It shook the van or whatever the hell that jerk, Eli was driving. There was a light panning… I think he turned.”
“Which way?” Dean said, coming over to look at the map over Sam’s shoulder.
“Left… I think,” Sam said. He frowned and looked up at Dean. “Feel any better?”
Dean snorted and shook his head. “Not really,” he said. He reached over the map to snatch his cigarettes off the table, lit one and sat on the edge of the bed to put his shoes on. The first drag tasted fine, but the second one burned down his throat making Dean coughed and take it out of his mouth. He scowled at Sam over the glowing tip. “If this blood-sucking thing has taken this away from me too, so help me, Sammy-”
Sam snorted, folded the map, and got up. “Uh-huh. I’m gonna go find us a car.”
“I want my car,” Dean said, reaching over to crush his newly lit cigarette out in the ashtray on the nightstand.
“Yeah, we’ll get it,” Sam said. “I think I know where your pal, Gordon went with it.”
“Dick stole my car,” Dean grumbled, tying his boot with a hard jerk. “He’s not my pal.”
~~*~~
“We’re lost,” Dean said. He glanced at Sam in the passenger seat. “You got us lost,” he accused. “You don’t know where the hell we’re even going, do you?”
Sam ran his finger along a line on the map. “Turn onto the road just ahead,” he said.
“I thought you were blindfolded and unconscious,” Dean said. “How do you know where to turn?”
“Just do it, okay?” Sam said. “If we’re lost, then we are, but what have we honestly got to lose? Turn, you’re going to miss the road.”
“I see it,” Dean said irritably, turning and spraying gravel under the car’s tires as he almost drove past it.
Sam folded the map and sat up straight to look out the windshield. “I think it’s around here somewhere…”
“Around here somewhere,” Dean repeated. “That’s great, Sammy. We’ll just spread out and search the area in a ten mile radius. That should only take us until… oh, morning. When the sun comes up and we turn into crispy critters!”
“We don’t have to do that,” Sam said. He glanced at Dean and quirked a brow. “‘Crispy critters’?” he asked, amused.
“Shut up,” Dean muttered.
They rode in silence for a few minutes, the car vibrating lightly over the gravel of the dirt road. It was a soothing sensation, something that would be easy to fall asleep to.
Dean was about to accuse Sam again of getting them lost when Sam tensed beside him. “Stop, there it is,” Sam said. He narrowed his eyes and peered at the house, half hidden behind trees and flowering bushes. “I think.”
“You think?” Dean said. He pulled the car over and dimmed the lights as he parked it. “What do you mean by that?”
“I mean, I think this is it,” Sam said and got out of the car.
“Wait,” Dean said and reached over the front seat into the back to get his gun. He got out of the car and followed quickly after Sam who, he noted with irritation, had not waited. “I said wait,” he hissed as he followed Sam up the doorsteps.
Sam shrugged and stopped by the closed front door to cock his head and listen. At first he couldn’t hear anything beyond most human perception; the chirping of crickets, the sigh of the wind over the un-mowed grass, the papery flap of leaves, the creak of old wood under Dean’s boots as he tried to be quiet and moved to stand on the other side of the door from Sam. Then, very distantly, he heard voices-or rather, one voice-but couldn’t make out what was being said through the thick walls and the rooms between them. It was a male voice, he could tell that-Gordon Walker’s voice-and he did make out the word’s “Dead man’s blood”, but that was all.
Sam looked over at Dean and mouthed, “Dead man’s blood.” at him with a worried frown and crease of his brows.
Dean grimaced at those three words and lifted his hand to his index finger across his throat in the universal gesture signifying death as the grimace deepened into a scowl at the knowledge of what the meant for he and Sam, now, too.
“Oh yeah,” Sam whispered, frowning as he caught on, having forgotten that himself for a second.
Dean reached over, grabbed the back of Sam’s neck and pulled him over to press his mouth to his ear. “That’s for us now, too,” he whispered, just for safety’s sake. “So be careful.”
“Okay,” Sam said, easing out of Dean’s grasp. “Got it.”
Dean nodded and dropped his hand to his gun to pull back the slide. He gritted his teeth, the hair on the back of his neck standing up as metal slid against metal with a sharp snick that sounded much too loud to his new ears to go unnoticed. “Remind me now, why are we going in here? My car… should be around here somewhere. We could just take it back and-”
“Because Gordon’s in there and no way that guy is just hanging out in a house that’s being used as a vampire nest. He’s got someone and he’s probably hurting them and well…” Sam tilted his head and jerked a shoulder. “We’re decent people… vampires… whatever. And um… protecting people… things… is what we do?”
Dean pursed his lips and gave Sam a patient look. “Uh-huh.” Dean carefully opened the door and went inside, Sam following close behind him. “Try to act… normal,” he whispered to Sam. “You know, human? Gordon doesn’t know yet and that might be a good thing.”
“He might know,” Sam said. “He was in the room, he had to leave and he might have heard us arguing in the parking lot.”
“Shit,” Dean hissed. “Alright, so we’ll pretend he doesn’t then and act human anyway.”
“Because…?” Sam said.
“Because maybe he doesn’t know,” Dean said.
“Right. That makes perfect sense,” Sam said.
They both froze as a woman’s scream crashed through the house, followed by Gordon’s pleased laughter. Recognizing the voice, even under the touch of animalistic pain and fear running through it, Sam walked by Dean.
“Sam!” Dean whispered urgently, following after him with his gun drawn. “Sam, goddamn it, stop!”
Sam ignored him and threw the door open when they reached it hard enough to make it crash against the opposite wall.
“Yeah, that’s real subtle, Sammy,” Dean muttered, coming up behind him.
“Sam, Dean,” Gordon said, looking up from the bloody blade he had pressed to Lenore’s collar bone. “Good of you to join me.”
“Let her go,” Sam said, taking a step forward before Dean caught his arm and stopped him.
“Normal, Sammy,” Dean reminded him softly. “Be cool.”
Gordon grinned at them and moved behind the chair he had Lenore tied up to, running the blade of his knife across her collarbones as he did. She gasped as her flesh purpled along the path of the cut like a bruise, discoloring in snaking lines through her veins as the poison of the dead man’s blood mixed with her own. Sam took another step forward and Gordon smiled at them over her shoulder, pressing the tip of the blade to Lenore’s throat.
“Ah-ah, I don’t think so,” Gordon said. “It’s a real shame the Winchester boys both turned into nasty fangs. No better than the things they used to hunt. Ironic, really.” He laughed and cut the side of Lenore’s cheek. Her eyes flew wide with pain and she shivered, arching against her restraints with a scream.
“Let her go,” Sam said again, grinding the words out through clenched teeth. He looked at Dean over his shoulder, then down at his hand on his arm. “Let me go.”
Dean shook his head and tightened his grip as he shifted a little to put himself in front of Sam and pointed his gun at Gordon. “Let her go,” he barked. “Now.”
Gordon looked down the barrel of his gun and laughed. “Or what? You’ll shoot me?” He shook his head and chuckled softly, his dark eyes taunting them both. “She’s nothing but a monster, you of all people should understand that. I thought you understood that.”
“They aren’t killing people, so it’s not your problem or ours,” Dean said. “Let her go.”
“They’re all the same,” Gordon said. “You are all the same. Evil, monstrous, blood-sucking-”
“You are starting to get on my damn nerves,” Dean said. He gestured with his gun for Gordon to step away from Lenore. “Get away from her or I’ll fucking shoot you.”
“Dean Winchester, threatening to kill a hunter to save a vampire,” Gordon said, standing up and backing a little away. He clucked his tongue against the back of his teeth and shook his head. “Your father would be so proud, wouldn’t he?”
Dean frowned and his hand tightened on Sam’s arm. Sam shook him off, giving him a look of concern. “Dean?”
“You shut up about our dad,” Dean snapped at Gordon. “And put the knife down.”
Gordon ignored the order and turned his blade to watch the moonlight shine on it through the drying blood. “Now, the honorable thing for you to do would be to walk into the sun, don’t you think? A hunter turned monster… that just seems like the moral… noble thing to do. Rather than become one of them.”
He jabbed his knife in Lenore’s direction and Sam started to walk around the table toward her, watching Gordon warily with quick flicking glances. When Gordon tensed like he was going to attack Sam, Dean moved closer to him and once again gestured him back with the barrel of his gun.
Gordon smiled and held his hands out to the sides, showing that he was harmless. The red crusted knife still clutched in one hand crushed the illusion completely and made Dean snort in amusement.
“Get her out of here, Sam,” Dean said, not taking his eyes off of Gordon as Sam lifted Lenore into his arms.
Gordon suddenly jerked his arm to the side and nicked the back of Sam’s hand with the tip of his knife. Sam made a startled sound in his throat and almost dropped Lenore’s limp body as the poison rushed through him. His hand felt on fire, then so cold that it burned, before it started to go numb. He growled at Gordon and hefted Lenore’s weight again, trying to ignore the sensation.
“Sammy, you alright?” Dean asked. Gordon started to move toward him again and Dean bared his teeth at him and growled. “Get back over there,” he hissed, pointing him away from Sam.
Sam panted a few times as his hand twitched and the muscles in his arm spasmed. He shifted Lenore in his arms again and walked by Dean toward the door. “Shoot him,” he said calmly as he passed.
Dean’s eyes sharpened on Gordon and he started to walk toward him slowly. “Seems kind of like a waste to me,” Dean murmured, watching the way Gordon’s blood pulsed against the skin of his throat, his heartbeat quickening with instinctive fear as Dean drew near. “Like throwing prime sirloin in the trash.”
“I thought you fangs only ate cow blood,” Gordon said, trying to sound arrogant and only sounding more afraid when his voice cracked.
Dean laughed a little and ran his tongue over his human teeth as his sharp fangs slid down over them. “Oh, they do, but I tell you something, Gordon; I’ve tasted animal blood and I think if I have a choice between doing that again and being labeled “evil” by an asshole like you, I’ll suck on a human neck instead and cut my losses.”
Gordon slanted his eyes to the right then the left, seeking a way out as Dean closed in on him. “Wait,” he said and held up a hand.
Dean halted and tilted his head a little to the side. “What for?”
“Look, man, just put the gun down and I’ll put my knife down and we can both just walk out of here, alright?” Gordon said. “No harm done.”
Dean smiled slowly. “You know, Sammy told me to shoot you,” he mused. “And something about Sammy that a lot of people don’t know and would never guess… If Sammy wants it, I mean really wants it, I hardly ever say no.”
“What the hell does that have to do with-?”
Dean shot Gordon’s left kneecap out and watched dispassionately as he hit the floor, a silent scream pulling at his mouth as his throat worked to form the sound. Dean kicked Gordon’s hand and the knife with the dead man’s blood on it skittered across the floor, thumping harmlessly into the wall.
“Everything,” Dean said, returning his gun to its place tucked under his waistband as he knelt over Gordon. He drew his lips back from his fangs and watched with a little predatory thrill as Gordon’s eyes widened and he tried to crawl backward across the floor, reaching out for his knife. Dean grabbed his leg and jerked him back. “No you don’t,” he said, shaking his head.
“Please,” Gordon whispered. “Don’t.”
“Don’t what?” Dean asked.
“You… you know,” Gordon said. “Don’t kill me. Not like this.”
Dean laughed softly and leaned down, inhaling the scent of the other man’s frightened, adrenaline-laced blood. “Who said anything about killing you?” he whispered.
~~*~~
Sam gave Lenore some of his blood and sat with her until she stopped shivering and moaning and began to relax into still unconsciousness. He stroked his fingers through her hair, rocking gently, her head resting on his thigh as he petted her hair and watched her.
“Thank you,” she said, her voice rough, dry and very small. “You should hate me. I don’t know why you don’t, but… thank you.”
“Don’t mention it,” Sam said. He brushed his fingers down one of her pale, cold cheeks and gently slid her off his lap to lay on the seat of the car. “You’ll be alright now.”
She clutched at his arms and Sam paused, making soft, calming shushing noises. “I’ll be right back. I have to go get Dean. Make sure he’s okay. Just close your eyes and try to sleep.”
“The sun’s going to come up soon,” Lenore murmured with a sigh. “I haven’t seen the sunrise in… a long time.”
“Don’t worry,” Sam assured her. “We’ll be gone and safe before then.”
Lenore made an amused sound in her throat and shifted, her eyes sliding closed. “Maybe I’ll watch this one.”
“Don’t…” Sam glanced anxiously between Lenore and the house. Dean was still in there. That could mean a lot of things, most of them not very good, but what Lenore was talking about amounted to suicide. “Don’t do that,” Sam said. He traced his fingertips over the full swell of her mouth and frowned when she licked them with something that sounded a lot like a cat’s purr. “Stay here, okay?” Sam said. “I’m gonna get Dean, then we’ll leave. Just… don’t go into the sun.”
“You’re sweet,” Lenore said tiredly. “You’ll come back before the sun comes up. You’ll burn just like me if you don’t. No, Sammy, I won’t go into the sun. Not today.”
“Good,” Sam said, relieved. “That’s good. I’ll… be right back.”
He closed the car door carefully and ran back to the house, taking the front steps two at a time. “Dean? Are you okay? We have to go before…”
Sam trailed off as he walked into the room where they’d found Gordon torturing Lenore and found Dean crouched beside the table with Gordon’s limp form draped sideways over it. Blood pooled, thick black-red, over the table and ran down to the floor like a velvet drape. Gordon was covered in it, his dark skin gleaming wetly in the moonlight through the window. As Sam watched, Dean ran his tongue through a deep wound on the inside of Gordon’s elbow and blood gushed from it across his lips.
Without a word, Sam crossed to the table to lean down over Dean’s shoulder and lick the blood from his mouth. On the table, Gordon made a soft, pitiful sound. A sound reserved for terrified children and dying predators-turned-prey. Dean dipped his fingers in the blood on the table and licked them clean one by one as Sam watched. When he repeated the process, Sam followed Dean’s hand with his eyes as he lifted it to his lips and leaned in to lick the backs of his fingers while Dean sucked the tips.
“We have to go,” Sam said, running his tongue over his lips to catch the last traces of blood beaded there. “The sun’s going to come up soon.”
Dean half turned and licked Sam’s mouth with his tongue, leaving a smear of blood across his bottom lip. Sam lifted a hand and tangled his fingers in the back of Dean’s hair, pulling his mouth firmly against his own with a growl. They licked inside each other’s mouths, stroking the blood in Dean’s mouth over their tongues, both of them growling now as base hunger was forgotten and they reached for each other.
Sam pressed Dean back against the table until his hip was grinding against the wood and Gordon’s blood slid down the leg of his jeans, making the denim stick to his skin. He pushed his hands under the back of Dean’s coat, under his shirt, blunt nails grazing over familiar, smooth flesh. “Want to push you back on this table and fuck you with blood on your skin like paint,” Sam said.
Dean fisted his hands in Sam’s long hair and pulled his mouth back to his, nipping his lips. “Then do it,” he said.
Sam shook his head and pushed himself away from Dean’s body with a groan. “Can’t,” he panted. “Want to, but I can’t. We have to go.”
Dean ran a hand through his hair and made a low sound of frustration in his throat, then nodded. “Yeah, alright,” he said. “Shit. Okay, come on then. Wait, my car keys.”
He felt around in Gordon’s pockets and found them in his right one. Turning them on the ring on his finger, he followed Sam out of the house. “How does she know when the sun’s coming up?” he asked Sam, glancing in the back at Lenore.
“Hell if I know,” Sam said. “Maybe it’s some kind of vampire sixth sense.”
Dean shrugged, started the car, and turned it back the way they had come. “Maybe she has a watch,” he said.
Sam snorted.
“Well, she could have a watch,” Dean said reasonably. “Makes more sense than some kind of… whatever.”
“Do you want me to look and see if she has a watch?” Sam asked, humoring him.
“No,” Dean said. “It was just a… forget it.”
They were both quiet for a few minutes then Sam said, “What happens now?”
Dean looked at him and lifted a brow. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, we can’t really be hunters, can we?” Sam said. “Not anymore. Not if they’re going to be hunting us now.”
“I… never really thought about it,” Dean said.
“We haven’t really had much time to think about it,” Sam said. “Maybe we should.”
Dean scowled, watching the road without really seeing it. “It doesn’t really change anything,” he said after a while.
Sam blinked at him. “It… Dean, we’re vampires now.”
Dean laughed humorlessly. “You think I somehow failed to notice this, Sammy? Gordon laid out on the kitchen table, his blood in my mouth and all these… hungers in me, and I still don’t get it? I get it. We’re vampires now. So what?”
“So… we can’t-”
“Why not?” Dean persisted. “Aren’t you the one who was just going on and on to me about how there is no black and white line between good and evil? That there aren’t just bad things and good people?”
Sam chewed his bottom lip and glanced between Dean and the road outside his window. “Yeah.”
“So we’ll just go back to the motel until dark, then…” Dean trailed off thoughtfully. He drove over the bridge and Lenore stirred in the back seat.
“Then?” Sam prodded.
“Then we’ll figure it out, I guess,” Dean said. “I don’t know, Sam. Just because everything isn’t good or evil, like you say, doesn’t mean it goes away either, right? I mean there are still bad things out there.”
“Yeah,” Sam said. He sat down lower in his seat and stared out the windshield. “Dean?”
“Huh?” Dean said absently. He was sitting up in his seat, looking both ways at the traffic and waiting for his chance to turn into the parking lot of their motel.
“I’m sorry I bit you,” Sam said quietly.
Dean looked at him and blinked. A blaring horn behind them startled him and he jerked his attention back to the road and made the turn. He parked the car and turned to look at Sam, his brow furrowed in concern. “Sam?”
Sam shrugged and started to open his door and get out. He paused and looked over the back of his seat at Lenore, who was sleeping or passed out, he couldn’t tell which and pushed his door open to get out. She could have his bed, he decided. He’d sleep next to Dean or take the floor.
“No, wait, Sam,” Dean said, stopping him with a hand on his arm. Sam looked back at him uneasily and Dean sighed. “I’m not.”
“What?” Sam said.
“I’m not sorry,” Dean repeated. “That you bit me.” He let go of Sam’s arm and got out of the car. “Just don’t do it again. Now come on, the sun’s coming up.”
//End//