Choices, for jdl71
Title: Choices…
Recipient: jdl71
Rating: PG (some swearing)
Word Count or Media: 3122
Warnings: Spoilers for Season 14/15 - mention of minor character death
Author's Notes: I really hope that this is what you wanted dear reader. I guessed you were very fond of Dean but this is from Sam’s POV but it IS all about Dean…
Summary: Dean has been turned into a vampire. Can Sam save him or will he give in and allow Dean to turn him?
Now
Sam ran his hand over the machete blade; it was incredibly sharp, and he saw the trickle of blood on the edge as the skin on his fingertips split. He watched, in silent fascination as the liquid dripped onto the bunker floor. It was cold and dark in the ‘dungeon’, but he could still see the stone turn red. His mind whirled as he recalled his relationship with blood; demon blood, his own blood. Life had never been easy in that respect and he wasn’t particularly surprised it had come to this.
****
Then
Since their final battle with Chuck the Winchesters had gone underground; winning hadn’t been particularly satisfying. Lives were lost including some of their new friends from alternative Earth. It had knocked them both out of kilter for a long, long time and it was only after celebrating Dean’s fortieth birthday that they decided to start hunting again.
Small jobs, easy jobs, jobs that required nothing more than a simple salt and burn. They stayed off the radar and stayed in the bunker. Baby was retired; sure Dean still drove her and kept her in pristine condition, but they only used her for ‘nice’ things, good things like visiting the beach (for the first time ever) and watching the stars.
It was a quiet life, a good life and - for the first time in forever - Sam felt safe and had vague hopes for a future, but he should have known, should have realised, the Winchester’s never caught a break.
****
Now
Sam sat on nearest chair and stared at the blade again; he knew that he shouldn’t stay down here obsessing but it was hard to stop. He had no conception of time and, worse still, no conception of where Dean was at this moment. He shuddered and rubbed a hand across the back of his neck. He wished that he had someone to talk to, to explain how he felt, to ask their advice but they were pretty damn short of friends right about now and he knew that those who had survived their fight with God wouldn’t be coming by anytime soon.
****
Then
“Two bloodless corpses in town in the last four days…” Dean flung the local paper down on the desk and poured himself a whiskey, “what does that say to you?”
“Bad luck…” Sam smiled at his brother’s frustrated expression, “vampires…” he concluded knowing it was what Dean wanted to hear.
“Yeah…from what I could glean from our local gossip lady there are new occupants in the ruined farmhouse just beyond the ridge and they aren’t the sociable kind.” Dean slugged back the whiskey and dragged a finger across the paper, “I’m thinking we should go take a look see.”
“I…I thought we were only taking easy gigs,” Sam didn’t want to appear reluctant because his brother was still a hardened hunter at heart, “I mean a vampire nest might take more than two hunters…we could perhaps pass this on…I mean Donna was pretty interested in helping out last time we talked.”
“Are you wimping out on me Sammy?” Dean smirked and slopped some more of the amber liquid into his glass, “a simple vampire nest too much for the Winchesters…”
“No I just…” there was an odd feeling in the pit of his stomach, and he felt sick. He could see his brother staring at him with that familiar expression of anger mixed with concern and he swallowed down his fears, “no…it’s fine - we’ll go and take a look.”
“That’s my boy,” Dean leapt to his feet and punched the air, “I’ll go and get the blades while you fire up baby…no reason for her to miss out on this one.”
Sam huffed a laugh; he liked to see Dean like this but the uneasy fluttering in his gut was still there and he wished that Dean had never read the paper this morning and that they could just drive into town and get a late breakfast like they sometimes did on a weekend. A vampire hunt was not something he wanted or needed right now, and he was certain that something was going to go wrong…”
****
Now
The sound of footsteps along the corridor brought him back to himself; his brother was whistling ‘Metallica’ loud enough to advertise his arrival. Sam stared at the blade again and lifted it gingerly to test just how heavy it felt. The blood on his finger was dried now and he resisted the temptation to suck hard at it to start it up again. He still remembers how he felt after drinking demon blood, the power it gave him. He felt so damn unrestrained when he was drinking and he knew, deep down, he would always want that high, that supremacy.
Now though he had other things on his mind; he could hear his brother getting closer and closer and he knew that they are about to have a long-awaited confrontation. It couldn’t be avoided forever and however much he wished it hadn’t come to this nothing would change it now and their lives were going to be endlessly different and there was not a damn thing he could do about it.
****
Then
Dean was grinning from ear to ear and looked, in Sam’s eyes, slightly maniacal. Their hunts had been steady and safe and had lacked the adrenaline rush of danger that a ‘real’ hunt could give. Ghosts and restless spirits were ok for a while but after fighting demons and monsters for most of his life, Dean had found those hunts incredibly tame. Sam knew that, had realised it months ago but he’d just wanted to be safe, to be happy, to have some sort of a life. He’d spent so much time fighting that he longed for peace…longed for some sort of normality in whatever form it took.
However seeing his brother so happy had always made Sam happy too and he shook his head affectionately as they got the machetes from the trunk of baby and inserted syringes of ‘dead man’s blood’ into pockets and the top of their boots.
The farmhouse was old and falling down; even in broad daylight it looked unsafe and dangerous and Sam found himself swallowing down fear as they crept around the back and peered through the broken windows. There were several bodies lying prone around the room, some were on old mattresses and some were just on the floor. Their pallor gave them away instantly and Dean gave Sam a silent nod as he reached through cracked glass and lifted the hinge of the window and opened it.
Sam counted at least seven vampires in this room alone and he had a sneaking feeling that there were more. He followed Dean - trusting his brother implicitly - and tried to be as silent as possible. He was holding his breath, his heart thundering hard in his chest and he wondered when he had become such a fucking wuss. Dean was sneaking around the back of the sleeping figures, machete raised, when all hell broke loose.
Vampires seemed to pour in from everywhere, too many to count. Despite it being daylight they were still strong, resilient, fangs bared. Several of them were already on top of Dean, pulling him down. There was a loud buzzing in Sam’s ears, and he could hear the vampire’s hisses and curses while Dean seemed oddly silent. Sam swung the machete he was carrying and took off two heads with one blow, he was kicking and flailing and splattered in blood, but he couldn’t get to his brother. Panic throbbed through him and he found himself backed into a corner; his jacket snagged on the broken glass of the window. He could see Dean trying to fight back, see the vampires baring down, fangs buried into every single bit of flesh they could get their teeth into. Sam pushed forward again, slicing another head, hacking off an arm. He felt he was virtually slipping in blood.
“Sammy!” His brother’s voice, weak yet oddly strident, “Sammy get the fuck out of here…save yourself…”
“No…Dean…” he tried to push forward again but something was holding him back and he tried to shoulder out of his jacket, the sleeve anchoring him to the window. “DEAN!” He was desperate now and he got one arm out of his ‘prison’, the other swinging the machete around trying to take as many down with him. Then he felt something hard against his chest and he was physically shoved out of the window and down onto the ground outside. He fell heavily, the wind taken out of him and he couldn’t breathe, stars dancing in front of his eyes, head aching, his whole body covered in blood. He tried to get up, but the world whirled about him so violently he lost his footing and the world turned grey, then black and he knew nothing more.
****
Now
The footsteps stopped outside his door; Sam lifted his chin and stared at it for a long time; the cheery whistling had stopped and he knew that Dean was considering his next move, knew that his brother would soon be in this room and that no lock, no bolt was going to keep him out. He reached down and gripped the machete rising steadily. The door shook a little and then rattled hard enough to break the hinges and then it was flung open and Sam was face to face with his future…
****
Then
He never knew how he got back to the bunker; he woke up on baby’s backseat and there was blood all over him. His head hurt and he could feel numerous lumps and bruises under his hair. Whoever had driven the car back had left the keys in the ignition and the weapons they had taken with them were stacked neatly in the trunk. Sam felt bile rise to his throat and he vomited copiously, retching until there was nothing left inside of him.
He called Jody and the two of them went back to the farmhouse; it was dawn and two days after the Winchesters had driven to this place all guns blazing. He’d wanted to go back immediately but Jody had advised caution. Neither of them said a word but both knew what the other was thinking.
He thought - at first - that the vampires would have fled but - as he peered in through the window, he saw they were still there. The dead had obviously been removed and buried somewhere but there were still more than he had ever seen in one nest and he found himself searching every face wondering which one was the bloodsucker that had ended his brother and telling himself he would kill every single one of them.
“Sam…”
The voice was so fucking familiar, yet it had a new resonance about it; a strange echo, something definitely supernatural. He turned slowly to see his brother standing behind him; Dean was still wearing that old leather jacket of their dads, a plaid shirt and patched denim. His hair was still spiked artfully, there were still fucking freckles spattered across his face, but his eyes were so dark and green that they looked like deep holes in snow and his skin was white, translucent, the veins standing out on his neck and hands. He was completely unmarked, no injuries, no ripped open throat. Sam felt his whole world crashing down in that one moment as realisation made his head spin.
“You should go…” Dean’s voice was emotionless, “before they…before we kill you…” he gestured over to the car where Jody sat staring out, her face reflected in the glass, pallor almost as bleached as Dean’s own.
“Dean…there’s the cure remember…the cure…” the words tumbled out of his mouth and he was unable to stop them. He recalled very little about being soulless, but he had been told - many times - about letting Dean get turned and now, now it was happening again, and he had to stop it, had to turn things around.
“It’s too late…” there was nothing in his brother’s eyes, no regret, no remorse, “it’s only affective if I hadn’t fed…” he smiled then and Sam winced but there were no fangs on display, just sharp, white human teeth.
“Dean…” there were no other words and all he could do was stare. He could hear his father’s voice, distant.
’Your brother is just another monster now Sam and we hunt monsters…we kill them…we kill them.
“Sammy - you should go,” Dean shoved him then and he stumbled back, shaking his head in denial. “Sammy…it’s killed or be killed.”
“I…” he couldn’t kill his brother; wouldn’t kill his brother. He turned his back for a moment and let the tears come.
“You could join me Sammy…” temptation wrapped in a voice that was now as smooth as chocolate, a familiar smirk, a wink, “think of how strong we would be together like this…an eternity together…”
For a long time he wished the vampires had killed his brother; wondered why they had decided to turn him. Now he had to decide, and it would be the hardest of his entire life.
****
He lay in bed that night with thoughts whirling in his head; he could see it all now and it was as clear as a bell even though his mind was muddied. Dean had pushed him through that window, his brother had saved him, vampires hanging from his body like fleas on a dog and yet he’d found the strength to get Sam out of there. He swallowed down more tears and stared at the blank wall. The bunker was huge, lonely and he wanted his brother back. His hand was on his cell before he even considered, and he pressed the well-worn button before he could change his mind.
“Sammy…”
He hadn’t thought his brother would answer but that familiar voice only added to the ache he felt. For a long moment he said nothing and realised that the only breathing he could hear was his own.
“Sam…I’m sorry.” Dean sounded like Dean now, “they…they overpowered me - you were right Sammy - we should have stuck to simple salt and burns - we were rusty - the both of us and now…” there was regret in his tone, “they thought it would be good to turn a hunter - they knew who we were and they were crowing about how easy it was.”
“Dean…”
“I didn’t mean to feed Sammy, but it wasn’t like before…I was so fucking hungry and I just…I knew you were safe, but I knew you’d come back.”
“I can’t let you…” the words stuck in his throat and he couldn’t get them out. His whole body ached with a pain that was almost physical, “Dean you’re a monster and you said it yourself once…we kill monsters.”
“Then kill me Sam…the nest has gone now, they moved on, but I stayed, I stayed here because I wanted to. I told you and I meant it - it’s kill me or join me Sam.”
“Join you…” Sam had been called monster more times than he really wanted to remember and yet here was his brother asking him to actually become one.
“It’s not that much different Sam…but the power, the strength, we could be the best hunters on the planet Sammy.”
“But…I can’t kill people Dean…I won’t.”
“You do know there are other options - remember Lenore - but you might change your mind once…well once the deed is done.”
Sam pressed his finger down onto the button; he could still hear Dean talking to him, that familiar tone. His brother had always taken care of him, looked out for him and now he still wanted to. Dean would be Sam’s alpha his creator almost and Sam would be Dean’s little brother for an eternity.
“I’m here…” Dean’s voice had taken on a dreamy quality now, “I’m right here and it’s up to you now Sam…you can kill me or let me turn you…” he laughed then, “and I won’t fight you Sammy…I don’t want eternity without my little brother, my wingman, you understand?”
Sam ended the call and buried his head into his hands; yeah, he understood, he understood only too clearly, and he felt as if the world had pulled a huge rug from under him and he couldn’t possibly stay on his feet.
Kill me or let me turn you…
What sort of choice was that?
****
Now
“Sammy what are you doin?” Dean stood in the doorway; Sam could see the supernatural shine of his eyes, flickering almost gold in the semi-darkness of the room, “didn’t I tell you to get rid of all of those?” He moved into the room and took the machete out of Sam’s hand. He shook his head and smiled wryly. “You could have cut yourself.”
“I did…” Sam watched as Dean wrapped the weapon up and tucked it under his arm. “I was just thinking…”
“What about?” Dean was already halfway out of the door, keen to be up and away. News there was a werewolf pack up in the hills of South Dakota and it was a long drive; they would need to eat first.
“About all of this,” Sam followed his brother, “about how you gave me that final choice.”
“Do you regret it?” Even now Dean was trying to protect him, to care for him.
“No,” he rubbed a hand across his neck and felt the healing scars left by Dean’s fangs. His brother had a matching scar on his wrist and Sam recalled only too clearly sharing Dean’s tainted blood; remembered his brother nursing him through the change and he remembered how he had felt afterwards when all the guilt had been washed away and he rose up to his new life, a life he was going to share with his brother.
“Come on Sammy,” Dean shoved some beers into the cooler and heaved into the trunk of baby. Life wasn’t all that much different really - apart from the blood drinking and the incredible power it gave them - they had to avoid hunters now rather than work with them, but it was a trade-off and one Sam had been more than happy to take. “We’ve got work to do….”
End
Recipient: jdl71
Rating: PG (some swearing)
Word Count or Media: 3122
Warnings: Spoilers for Season 14/15 - mention of minor character death
Author's Notes: I really hope that this is what you wanted dear reader. I guessed you were very fond of Dean but this is from Sam’s POV but it IS all about Dean…
Summary: Dean has been turned into a vampire. Can Sam save him or will he give in and allow Dean to turn him?
Now
Sam ran his hand over the machete blade; it was incredibly sharp, and he saw the trickle of blood on the edge as the skin on his fingertips split. He watched, in silent fascination as the liquid dripped onto the bunker floor. It was cold and dark in the ‘dungeon’, but he could still see the stone turn red. His mind whirled as he recalled his relationship with blood; demon blood, his own blood. Life had never been easy in that respect and he wasn’t particularly surprised it had come to this.
****
Then
Since their final battle with Chuck the Winchesters had gone underground; winning hadn’t been particularly satisfying. Lives were lost including some of their new friends from alternative Earth. It had knocked them both out of kilter for a long, long time and it was only after celebrating Dean’s fortieth birthday that they decided to start hunting again.
Small jobs, easy jobs, jobs that required nothing more than a simple salt and burn. They stayed off the radar and stayed in the bunker. Baby was retired; sure Dean still drove her and kept her in pristine condition, but they only used her for ‘nice’ things, good things like visiting the beach (for the first time ever) and watching the stars.
It was a quiet life, a good life and - for the first time in forever - Sam felt safe and had vague hopes for a future, but he should have known, should have realised, the Winchester’s never caught a break.
****
Now
Sam sat on nearest chair and stared at the blade again; he knew that he shouldn’t stay down here obsessing but it was hard to stop. He had no conception of time and, worse still, no conception of where Dean was at this moment. He shuddered and rubbed a hand across the back of his neck. He wished that he had someone to talk to, to explain how he felt, to ask their advice but they were pretty damn short of friends right about now and he knew that those who had survived their fight with God wouldn’t be coming by anytime soon.
****
Then
“Two bloodless corpses in town in the last four days…” Dean flung the local paper down on the desk and poured himself a whiskey, “what does that say to you?”
“Bad luck…” Sam smiled at his brother’s frustrated expression, “vampires…” he concluded knowing it was what Dean wanted to hear.
“Yeah…from what I could glean from our local gossip lady there are new occupants in the ruined farmhouse just beyond the ridge and they aren’t the sociable kind.” Dean slugged back the whiskey and dragged a finger across the paper, “I’m thinking we should go take a look see.”
“I…I thought we were only taking easy gigs,” Sam didn’t want to appear reluctant because his brother was still a hardened hunter at heart, “I mean a vampire nest might take more than two hunters…we could perhaps pass this on…I mean Donna was pretty interested in helping out last time we talked.”
“Are you wimping out on me Sammy?” Dean smirked and slopped some more of the amber liquid into his glass, “a simple vampire nest too much for the Winchesters…”
“No I just…” there was an odd feeling in the pit of his stomach, and he felt sick. He could see his brother staring at him with that familiar expression of anger mixed with concern and he swallowed down his fears, “no…it’s fine - we’ll go and take a look.”
“That’s my boy,” Dean leapt to his feet and punched the air, “I’ll go and get the blades while you fire up baby…no reason for her to miss out on this one.”
Sam huffed a laugh; he liked to see Dean like this but the uneasy fluttering in his gut was still there and he wished that Dean had never read the paper this morning and that they could just drive into town and get a late breakfast like they sometimes did on a weekend. A vampire hunt was not something he wanted or needed right now, and he was certain that something was going to go wrong…”
****
Now
The sound of footsteps along the corridor brought him back to himself; his brother was whistling ‘Metallica’ loud enough to advertise his arrival. Sam stared at the blade again and lifted it gingerly to test just how heavy it felt. The blood on his finger was dried now and he resisted the temptation to suck hard at it to start it up again. He still remembers how he felt after drinking demon blood, the power it gave him. He felt so damn unrestrained when he was drinking and he knew, deep down, he would always want that high, that supremacy.
Now though he had other things on his mind; he could hear his brother getting closer and closer and he knew that they are about to have a long-awaited confrontation. It couldn’t be avoided forever and however much he wished it hadn’t come to this nothing would change it now and their lives were going to be endlessly different and there was not a damn thing he could do about it.
****
Then
Dean was grinning from ear to ear and looked, in Sam’s eyes, slightly maniacal. Their hunts had been steady and safe and had lacked the adrenaline rush of danger that a ‘real’ hunt could give. Ghosts and restless spirits were ok for a while but after fighting demons and monsters for most of his life, Dean had found those hunts incredibly tame. Sam knew that, had realised it months ago but he’d just wanted to be safe, to be happy, to have some sort of a life. He’d spent so much time fighting that he longed for peace…longed for some sort of normality in whatever form it took.
However seeing his brother so happy had always made Sam happy too and he shook his head affectionately as they got the machetes from the trunk of baby and inserted syringes of ‘dead man’s blood’ into pockets and the top of their boots.
The farmhouse was old and falling down; even in broad daylight it looked unsafe and dangerous and Sam found himself swallowing down fear as they crept around the back and peered through the broken windows. There were several bodies lying prone around the room, some were on old mattresses and some were just on the floor. Their pallor gave them away instantly and Dean gave Sam a silent nod as he reached through cracked glass and lifted the hinge of the window and opened it.
Sam counted at least seven vampires in this room alone and he had a sneaking feeling that there were more. He followed Dean - trusting his brother implicitly - and tried to be as silent as possible. He was holding his breath, his heart thundering hard in his chest and he wondered when he had become such a fucking wuss. Dean was sneaking around the back of the sleeping figures, machete raised, when all hell broke loose.
Vampires seemed to pour in from everywhere, too many to count. Despite it being daylight they were still strong, resilient, fangs bared. Several of them were already on top of Dean, pulling him down. There was a loud buzzing in Sam’s ears, and he could hear the vampire’s hisses and curses while Dean seemed oddly silent. Sam swung the machete he was carrying and took off two heads with one blow, he was kicking and flailing and splattered in blood, but he couldn’t get to his brother. Panic throbbed through him and he found himself backed into a corner; his jacket snagged on the broken glass of the window. He could see Dean trying to fight back, see the vampires baring down, fangs buried into every single bit of flesh they could get their teeth into. Sam pushed forward again, slicing another head, hacking off an arm. He felt he was virtually slipping in blood.
“Sammy!” His brother’s voice, weak yet oddly strident, “Sammy get the fuck out of here…save yourself…”
“No…Dean…” he tried to push forward again but something was holding him back and he tried to shoulder out of his jacket, the sleeve anchoring him to the window. “DEAN!” He was desperate now and he got one arm out of his ‘prison’, the other swinging the machete around trying to take as many down with him. Then he felt something hard against his chest and he was physically shoved out of the window and down onto the ground outside. He fell heavily, the wind taken out of him and he couldn’t breathe, stars dancing in front of his eyes, head aching, his whole body covered in blood. He tried to get up, but the world whirled about him so violently he lost his footing and the world turned grey, then black and he knew nothing more.
****
Now
The footsteps stopped outside his door; Sam lifted his chin and stared at it for a long time; the cheery whistling had stopped and he knew that Dean was considering his next move, knew that his brother would soon be in this room and that no lock, no bolt was going to keep him out. He reached down and gripped the machete rising steadily. The door shook a little and then rattled hard enough to break the hinges and then it was flung open and Sam was face to face with his future…
****
Then
He never knew how he got back to the bunker; he woke up on baby’s backseat and there was blood all over him. His head hurt and he could feel numerous lumps and bruises under his hair. Whoever had driven the car back had left the keys in the ignition and the weapons they had taken with them were stacked neatly in the trunk. Sam felt bile rise to his throat and he vomited copiously, retching until there was nothing left inside of him.
He called Jody and the two of them went back to the farmhouse; it was dawn and two days after the Winchesters had driven to this place all guns blazing. He’d wanted to go back immediately but Jody had advised caution. Neither of them said a word but both knew what the other was thinking.
He thought - at first - that the vampires would have fled but - as he peered in through the window, he saw they were still there. The dead had obviously been removed and buried somewhere but there were still more than he had ever seen in one nest and he found himself searching every face wondering which one was the bloodsucker that had ended his brother and telling himself he would kill every single one of them.
“Sam…”
The voice was so fucking familiar, yet it had a new resonance about it; a strange echo, something definitely supernatural. He turned slowly to see his brother standing behind him; Dean was still wearing that old leather jacket of their dads, a plaid shirt and patched denim. His hair was still spiked artfully, there were still fucking freckles spattered across his face, but his eyes were so dark and green that they looked like deep holes in snow and his skin was white, translucent, the veins standing out on his neck and hands. He was completely unmarked, no injuries, no ripped open throat. Sam felt his whole world crashing down in that one moment as realisation made his head spin.
“You should go…” Dean’s voice was emotionless, “before they…before we kill you…” he gestured over to the car where Jody sat staring out, her face reflected in the glass, pallor almost as bleached as Dean’s own.
“Dean…there’s the cure remember…the cure…” the words tumbled out of his mouth and he was unable to stop them. He recalled very little about being soulless, but he had been told - many times - about letting Dean get turned and now, now it was happening again, and he had to stop it, had to turn things around.
“It’s too late…” there was nothing in his brother’s eyes, no regret, no remorse, “it’s only affective if I hadn’t fed…” he smiled then and Sam winced but there were no fangs on display, just sharp, white human teeth.
“Dean…” there were no other words and all he could do was stare. He could hear his father’s voice, distant.
’Your brother is just another monster now Sam and we hunt monsters…we kill them…we kill them.
“Sammy - you should go,” Dean shoved him then and he stumbled back, shaking his head in denial. “Sammy…it’s killed or be killed.”
“I…” he couldn’t kill his brother; wouldn’t kill his brother. He turned his back for a moment and let the tears come.
“You could join me Sammy…” temptation wrapped in a voice that was now as smooth as chocolate, a familiar smirk, a wink, “think of how strong we would be together like this…an eternity together…”
For a long time he wished the vampires had killed his brother; wondered why they had decided to turn him. Now he had to decide, and it would be the hardest of his entire life.
****
He lay in bed that night with thoughts whirling in his head; he could see it all now and it was as clear as a bell even though his mind was muddied. Dean had pushed him through that window, his brother had saved him, vampires hanging from his body like fleas on a dog and yet he’d found the strength to get Sam out of there. He swallowed down more tears and stared at the blank wall. The bunker was huge, lonely and he wanted his brother back. His hand was on his cell before he even considered, and he pressed the well-worn button before he could change his mind.
“Sammy…”
He hadn’t thought his brother would answer but that familiar voice only added to the ache he felt. For a long moment he said nothing and realised that the only breathing he could hear was his own.
“Sam…I’m sorry.” Dean sounded like Dean now, “they…they overpowered me - you were right Sammy - we should have stuck to simple salt and burns - we were rusty - the both of us and now…” there was regret in his tone, “they thought it would be good to turn a hunter - they knew who we were and they were crowing about how easy it was.”
“Dean…”
“I didn’t mean to feed Sammy, but it wasn’t like before…I was so fucking hungry and I just…I knew you were safe, but I knew you’d come back.”
“I can’t let you…” the words stuck in his throat and he couldn’t get them out. His whole body ached with a pain that was almost physical, “Dean you’re a monster and you said it yourself once…we kill monsters.”
“Then kill me Sam…the nest has gone now, they moved on, but I stayed, I stayed here because I wanted to. I told you and I meant it - it’s kill me or join me Sam.”
“Join you…” Sam had been called monster more times than he really wanted to remember and yet here was his brother asking him to actually become one.
“It’s not that much different Sam…but the power, the strength, we could be the best hunters on the planet Sammy.”
“But…I can’t kill people Dean…I won’t.”
“You do know there are other options - remember Lenore - but you might change your mind once…well once the deed is done.”
Sam pressed his finger down onto the button; he could still hear Dean talking to him, that familiar tone. His brother had always taken care of him, looked out for him and now he still wanted to. Dean would be Sam’s alpha his creator almost and Sam would be Dean’s little brother for an eternity.
“I’m here…” Dean’s voice had taken on a dreamy quality now, “I’m right here and it’s up to you now Sam…you can kill me or let me turn you…” he laughed then, “and I won’t fight you Sammy…I don’t want eternity without my little brother, my wingman, you understand?”
Sam ended the call and buried his head into his hands; yeah, he understood, he understood only too clearly, and he felt as if the world had pulled a huge rug from under him and he couldn’t possibly stay on his feet.
Kill me or let me turn you…
What sort of choice was that?
****
Now
“Sammy what are you doin?” Dean stood in the doorway; Sam could see the supernatural shine of his eyes, flickering almost gold in the semi-darkness of the room, “didn’t I tell you to get rid of all of those?” He moved into the room and took the machete out of Sam’s hand. He shook his head and smiled wryly. “You could have cut yourself.”
“I did…” Sam watched as Dean wrapped the weapon up and tucked it under his arm. “I was just thinking…”
“What about?” Dean was already halfway out of the door, keen to be up and away. News there was a werewolf pack up in the hills of South Dakota and it was a long drive; they would need to eat first.
“About all of this,” Sam followed his brother, “about how you gave me that final choice.”
“Do you regret it?” Even now Dean was trying to protect him, to care for him.
“No,” he rubbed a hand across his neck and felt the healing scars left by Dean’s fangs. His brother had a matching scar on his wrist and Sam recalled only too clearly sharing Dean’s tainted blood; remembered his brother nursing him through the change and he remembered how he had felt afterwards when all the guilt had been washed away and he rose up to his new life, a life he was going to share with his brother.
“Come on Sammy,” Dean shoved some beers into the cooler and heaved into the trunk of baby. Life wasn’t all that much different really - apart from the blood drinking and the incredible power it gave them - they had to avoid hunters now rather than work with them, but it was a trade-off and one Sam had been more than happy to take. “We’ve got work to do….”
End