Supernatural: Everything Dies, Baby, That's a Fact
Title: Everything Dies, Baby, That's a Fact
Author: caoine
Rating: NC-17, Dean/Sam
Warnings: Spoilers for Dead Man's Blood and Devil's Trap, Character Death.
Count: 2746 words
Notes: Usual disclaimers apply. Not mine, I'm poor, don't sue.
Once a vampire gets your scent, it's for life.
That's what dad had told them. Dean quirked a smile. Not that he needed help to get what he wanted--he'd always been able to find Sam. He looked down at his brother's body, blood darkening against bruised skin, pressure-white lines separating duct tape and sun tan.
"Hey, sweetcheeks," he nudged at Sam's shoulder, "time to wake up."
---
They'd been two months out of the hospital when she caught up with them. Two months past salting and burning Dad's bones. Two months past deadening the stinging smoke with tears and tequila and skin against skin. The days rolled beneath them like the highway, no jobs to be had, but they kept driving. Burning daylight in the Impala, burning each other at night with lips and fingers pressing into hips under cheap sheets. It seemed like the thing to do.
Two months and only god knew where, and that's when Kate had found them. She smiled at Dean from across the motel parking lot and was beside him before he had a chance to move.
"Hey, baby. Long time no see." Her hands shot out, grasping his wrists and pinning his hands to his sides. "Did you miss me?"
Too many things flashed through his mind. Sammy sprawled out on the motel bed, naked and waiting and no one to warn him. His hunting knife strapped to the small of his back. How many vampires were out there. How to get to a machete. How to stall for time. "Always, doll. And if you'll let me get my crossbow, we can reminisce all about old times."
"Funny, baby." She stepped closer to him, wrapping her hands and his behind his back. So close he could smell her, all dust and blood and relentless hunger. "But I think we'll be more comfortable at my place."
When she kissed him, she tasted of frozen, overturned earth. He didn't hear the other vampire behind him. He barely felt the liquor bottle shatter across the back of his head. The last thing Dean remembered before he blacked out was Kate's lips and laughter, and the taste of tequila and death.
"No! I'm the leader, and I say what goes. He's mine and that's final."
Dean shook his head, trying to clear it, and was immediately sorry. They'd taken his coat and he was bleeding from a dozen little cuts. Great. That coat was leather. He was tied to a pole, sitting on some kind of stage with lights blinding him...A strip club? You've got to be shitting me.
He squinted and shifted, trying to see past the light and find out if they had left him any of his knives. Had no luck either way. Dean swore and tried to think. Where was he? Where was Sam? What the fuck was he going to do? Time for a kickass plan. Right.
Kate stepped in front of the light, silhouetted into blackness. "You're awake. Good." Dean could hear the smug smile in her voice. "It's time to party, baby." She grabbed his shirt and lifted him to his feet.
"Party? No fucking way. Where's my brother? What did you do with him?"
"That really is your brother?" Her voice was teasing, laughing. "You are a dirty boy, aren't you?" She stepped closer. "We left him a little going away present. We'll let him find us in time. But I've got plans for you, baby. Big plans."
Vampires keep their victims alive for days, Dean told himself. There's still time for Sammy to find me.
"Plans? I'm not feeling real participatory, babe. Go find someone else."
"Oh, I don't think so. LIGHTS!" The blinding spotlight dimmed, and Dean could see the rest of the club. Eight vampires spread out across dust-covered tables. Ragged beams hung from the ceiling and the bar in the corner looked as though it had been smashed in a fight and never repaired. Blood hung heavy in the air--Kate's lips were red, and Dean wondered weakly if it was his.
"Nice place you got here. But you might want to think about hiring a--"
"Shut UP! God! Why do you have to talk so much?" She pulled a knife from her belt. His knife. His favorite knife. Dean opened his mouth to say something, and was rewarded with a hiss. "You and your brother and your father killed Luther. You killed my mate. Now, I figure that means you owe me. Baby, you owe me big."
"What do you want--flowers? A 'Good Riddance' card? You're monsters. Fuck you. I don't owe you. I'm going to put a machete through your neck."
Kate spun the knife against her forefinger. "That's what you think," she looked directly at him. "Dean. But I know people like you. I know how to punish you now, and I'm going to love every second of it." She looked over her shoulder at two of her pack. "Boys?"
Two large vampires strode up to the stage, placing themselves beside Dean. One grabbed his head, the other his mouth.
"Drink up, baby." Kate slashed at her arm, opening up a deep, long cut. She pressed it to Dean's mouth. "This won't hurt a bit."
---
All that was left of Dean when Sam had gone to check for him was his leather coat, sparkling and shining with blood under the orange streetlight.
He had been almost right on the pack's heels for a month. Not that they had been trying to avoid him--Dean had followed his brother around for a whole week. Sunglasses and a long sleeve shirt helped. He'd watched Sam checking missing persons reports, eating lunch in a diner, checking into a cheap motel. He'd hadn't noticed Dean, and Dean was a little disappointed at how sloppy little Sammy had gotten. This was going to require a change in the plan--he'd never find them. Kate wouldn't like it, but that was just too bad. It was time for Sam to come home.
Dean spent the evening getting ready. Ripping his clothes, smudging dirt across his face and in his hair. And finding a pretty young thing to give color to his cheeks and warmth to his skin. It was her blood that decorated the self-inflicted puncture wounds strewn across his body. He looked everything like one of his victims, but for the shine of his eyes in the moonlight.
He waited till Sam was asleep before stumbling, punch-drunk and weak, into the parking lot of Sam's motel. He collapsed on the doorstep, and banged on the door. He had to play the part.
A shotgun cocked, and the door cracked open. "Dean?? Dean! What the fuck! Are you ok? Where the hell have you been?" Sam looked stunned, shocked, relieved. "Come on, get inside."
Dean waved away the questions and took his brother's arm, trying very hard not to let Sam onto his new strength. "Vampires. That bitch from Colorado. Jumped me." He fell on the bed with a happy sigh, doing his best to ignore the fact Sam hadn't put the shotgun down yet.
"And they, what. Just let you go? Gave you a lift here?"
"Sammy, Sammy, Sammy. Haven't you learned I can pick just about any lock? They're vampires. They're not that smart. Man, I need a shower."
"Right, and you got here..."
"Baby, does that matter? Right at this very second? It's stupidly easy to follow a vintage classic like my baby out there. And if you'll notice, you haven't gotten very far. Three towns? That's the best you could do?"
Sam rolled his eyes but put the gun down. "I did everything I could. I didn't---you didn't... Whatever. You're home now. Thank god." He shivered suddenly and looked down at the hand he had used to help Dean up. "God, you're cold."
"Been walking through the woods without a coat, do you blame me? Now," Dean patted the bed beside him, "why don't you come give me a proper welcome?"
"Dean. You're hurt. You're bleeding. Just a second ago, you wanted a shower. I think your priorities are a little screwed."
"Just shut up and get over here, would you? I've been through hell." Dean's voiced dropped lower, softer. This was Sam, his Sam. "I just want a few minutes with you before everything else. Can you do that for me?"
That was all it took. Sam gathered up a small bottle from the dresser drawer--where he always put it, he's such a creature of habit--and smiled at his brother. He flicked off the light.
A car passed on the highway, headlights spilling in through the window, profiling Dean against the wall. And in that instant, he knew he was caught. His hunter's eyes glowed luminous.
Sam didn't make a sound, for a long second just stood, holding his breath. "I think I'd rather have them on, actually. I want to see you." He slowly crossed the room and lay down next to his brother.
They kissed in a slow welter of lips and tongue and the knowledge that everything had changed. Dean's fingers spread wide, clutching convulsively at Sam's hips and he wanted more. His new teeth, sharper and stronger descended, and it was all Dean could do to keep from biting down and revelling in the taste of Sam's blood.
He laid a careful trail down the side of Sam's neck, tan skin pressed white then blossoming red. When he reached the crook, Sam flinched and went still. Dean laughed, the puff of air raising goosebumps along his brother's sensitive skin. Time enough for that later. He moved on.
Dean tasted his way across Sammy's chest, tasted sweat and fear and the blood of a thousand hurts etched into his skin. He rolled on top of his brother, kissing a jagged line up to his ear. The lengths of their bodies pressed together and Dean whispered, thin and needy, "God, baby. Touch me. Fuck me. I need to feel you, Sammy. I don't bite."
He smiled and snickered, a little, and Sam exploded into action. Hands wrenched at Dean's t-shirt and jeans and down his boxers. Dean grinned against Sam's lips and wriggled free of his clothes. Sam's nails sickled his sides and back and all in rush, Sam rolled them over, sliding down and slotting himself between Dean's legs.
He stared down at Dean stretched out before him, eyes unreadable. Dean whined, pathetic and low, his stone-hard cock sobbed shining droplets of blood. Fingers scrabbled up to tug Sam's shorts down around his thighs. Sam was only half-hard and Dean pulled himself forward, taking all of his cock in his mouth. Pointed teeth scraped at the shaft--he could taste the blood--and tongue soothed the pain away. It was intoxicating, prickling hair and sharp breaths and the scent of Sam filled Dean and spun his world down to inches of pale skin and the blood underneath.
Sam pushed him back onto the bed, hard, with a silent snarl. He pulled the bottle of lube from the folds of the blanket and spread silvery-clear shimmer across himself. Dean held his breath and tucked his knees up close to his chest. Sam's eyes flittered shut a second before he pushed in. Pistoning his hips wildly, he set a brutal rhythm of thrust and pull and slam that left them both breathless.
It was a new side of his brother, and Dean liked it. His cock bounced and slapped against Sam's abdomen with each lunge, fingers digging into his arms as Sam hit his prostate over and over, Sam's face collapsed in on itself in vicious concentration. Dean rollicked in the heat coming off Sammy's body, heard the blood pounding in his ears as Sammy got closer. Only one thing, one little thing, could make this perfect. Turning his head, Dean automatically found the vein running just above Sam's wrist. His sharp-pointed teeth easily shredded through skin and tissue.
The blood burst across his tongue--it was intoxicating, moreso than anyone he'd had before. Metallic and salty-sweet, hot and rich, tinged with thick, wet oxygen. He tasted musty houses and deep, still lakes, Dad and Jess, every secret and dark memory or thought. Sam's blood burst across his tongue and down his throat, and Dean sucked hungrily for more.
Sam twitched and snapped and came, fell apart unconscious across Dean's body.
---
"Hey, sweetcheeks," he nudged at Sam's shoulder, "time to wake up."
Dean had stolen a page from Kate and duct taped his brother's wrists together. He licked the wounds on Sam's arm clean and bandaged them, and settled down next to him to wait. Finally, Sam started to groan and stir.
"You're not going to get out of that, so don't hurt yourself trying," he cautioned. "Besides, you're probably going to be a little weak. I'm still working on that whole 'stopping' thing, I think I might have taken too much."
Sam glared at his brother, trying hard to sit up more fully against the pillows. "Great. Like it's not bad enough that you're a vampire, you've got to be a shitty one on top of it."
"Baby, I got carried away. I couldn't help it with you going to town on top of me."
"That's comforting. So. What are your plans now? Or are we just making this up as we go along."
Dean smiled, raising a wicked eyebrow. "Oh, I've got plans for you. Big plans." He flowed off the bed, alive with blood and agile grace, and found the knife he had left in his pants. "I'm going to take you home, Sammy."
Sam's face clouded and he shook his head. "Huh?"
"Back to the family. Kate, Amanda. Everybody. It's a real family, Sammy. Like we've, you've, never had, not really. I want you to be a part of it."
"And so you're going to make me a vampire?" Sam asked, skeptically.
"Sure, why not? It's amazing, baby. I can't even explain...I feel so good. And we can still hunt, too, Sammy. We'll just be faster, stronger, immortal. Come on, baby, it'll be great."
Sam sat quiet, thinking it over, Dean hoped.
"Look, baby, we can do this the easy way or the hard way. But Sam? It's going to happen. I'm not going to lose you." He spun the knife on a fingertip. "I don't want to have to hurt you."
"Ok," Sam said, finally, quietly. "Cut me loose. Let's do this the easy way."
Dean grinned, relieved. Happy. "You'll see, Sammy. You've just got to trust me. This is going to be the best thing that's ever happened to you. I promise. But you're going to stay taped up till it's over. No offense, but you are a Winchester."
"Fine. Whatever," he growled. "Let's just get it over with, can we?"
"It'll be ok, little brother. I promise." Dean sat down beside Sam on the bed, took a deep breath, and cut a gash across his wrist. "Drink up, baby. This won't hurt a bit."
Sam opened his mouth and moved towards Dean's bleeding arm. Just as he was about to make contact, he shifted his weight on the bed and swung with his arms, making contact with the side of Dean's head and knocking him to the floor. Using Dean's momentary confusion, he rolled off the bed and tugged a machete out of the scabbard thrust between the mattress and box springs.
Dean laughed heartlessly from the other side of the bed. "So this is how it's going to be, baby?"
"Yeah, it is." Sam's voice was cold as he moved, low and soft, around the bed.
"Sam, it's not going to work. You're tied up. I'm stronger than you--and I've always been smarter. Besides," Dean flipped and landed, bouncing softly on the bed, "You can't. You wouldn't. I'm your brother."
Brandishing the knife, he made a diving roll towards Sam, intent on knocking him down. But Sam was ready. Just at the apex of Dean's flight he stood and twisted out of the way, bringing the machete down in an awkward semi-circle. As it bit into his neck, Dean screamed.
"No. You're not my brother."
Sam sat on the floor of a cheap motel room, a thousand and one hurts etched onto his skin, another secret, dark memory pounding through his veins.
Author: caoine
Rating: NC-17, Dean/Sam
Warnings: Spoilers for Dead Man's Blood and Devil's Trap, Character Death.
Count: 2746 words
Notes: Usual disclaimers apply. Not mine, I'm poor, don't sue.
Once a vampire gets your scent, it's for life.
That's what dad had told them. Dean quirked a smile. Not that he needed help to get what he wanted--he'd always been able to find Sam. He looked down at his brother's body, blood darkening against bruised skin, pressure-white lines separating duct tape and sun tan.
"Hey, sweetcheeks," he nudged at Sam's shoulder, "time to wake up."
---
They'd been two months out of the hospital when she caught up with them. Two months past salting and burning Dad's bones. Two months past deadening the stinging smoke with tears and tequila and skin against skin. The days rolled beneath them like the highway, no jobs to be had, but they kept driving. Burning daylight in the Impala, burning each other at night with lips and fingers pressing into hips under cheap sheets. It seemed like the thing to do.
Two months and only god knew where, and that's when Kate had found them. She smiled at Dean from across the motel parking lot and was beside him before he had a chance to move.
"Hey, baby. Long time no see." Her hands shot out, grasping his wrists and pinning his hands to his sides. "Did you miss me?"
Too many things flashed through his mind. Sammy sprawled out on the motel bed, naked and waiting and no one to warn him. His hunting knife strapped to the small of his back. How many vampires were out there. How to get to a machete. How to stall for time. "Always, doll. And if you'll let me get my crossbow, we can reminisce all about old times."
"Funny, baby." She stepped closer to him, wrapping her hands and his behind his back. So close he could smell her, all dust and blood and relentless hunger. "But I think we'll be more comfortable at my place."
When she kissed him, she tasted of frozen, overturned earth. He didn't hear the other vampire behind him. He barely felt the liquor bottle shatter across the back of his head. The last thing Dean remembered before he blacked out was Kate's lips and laughter, and the taste of tequila and death.
"No! I'm the leader, and I say what goes. He's mine and that's final."
Dean shook his head, trying to clear it, and was immediately sorry. They'd taken his coat and he was bleeding from a dozen little cuts. Great. That coat was leather. He was tied to a pole, sitting on some kind of stage with lights blinding him...A strip club? You've got to be shitting me.
He squinted and shifted, trying to see past the light and find out if they had left him any of his knives. Had no luck either way. Dean swore and tried to think. Where was he? Where was Sam? What the fuck was he going to do? Time for a kickass plan. Right.
Kate stepped in front of the light, silhouetted into blackness. "You're awake. Good." Dean could hear the smug smile in her voice. "It's time to party, baby." She grabbed his shirt and lifted him to his feet.
"Party? No fucking way. Where's my brother? What did you do with him?"
"That really is your brother?" Her voice was teasing, laughing. "You are a dirty boy, aren't you?" She stepped closer. "We left him a little going away present. We'll let him find us in time. But I've got plans for you, baby. Big plans."
Vampires keep their victims alive for days, Dean told himself. There's still time for Sammy to find me.
"Plans? I'm not feeling real participatory, babe. Go find someone else."
"Oh, I don't think so. LIGHTS!" The blinding spotlight dimmed, and Dean could see the rest of the club. Eight vampires spread out across dust-covered tables. Ragged beams hung from the ceiling and the bar in the corner looked as though it had been smashed in a fight and never repaired. Blood hung heavy in the air--Kate's lips were red, and Dean wondered weakly if it was his.
"Nice place you got here. But you might want to think about hiring a--"
"Shut UP! God! Why do you have to talk so much?" She pulled a knife from her belt. His knife. His favorite knife. Dean opened his mouth to say something, and was rewarded with a hiss. "You and your brother and your father killed Luther. You killed my mate. Now, I figure that means you owe me. Baby, you owe me big."
"What do you want--flowers? A 'Good Riddance' card? You're monsters. Fuck you. I don't owe you. I'm going to put a machete through your neck."
Kate spun the knife against her forefinger. "That's what you think," she looked directly at him. "Dean. But I know people like you. I know how to punish you now, and I'm going to love every second of it." She looked over her shoulder at two of her pack. "Boys?"
Two large vampires strode up to the stage, placing themselves beside Dean. One grabbed his head, the other his mouth.
"Drink up, baby." Kate slashed at her arm, opening up a deep, long cut. She pressed it to Dean's mouth. "This won't hurt a bit."
---
All that was left of Dean when Sam had gone to check for him was his leather coat, sparkling and shining with blood under the orange streetlight.
He had been almost right on the pack's heels for a month. Not that they had been trying to avoid him--Dean had followed his brother around for a whole week. Sunglasses and a long sleeve shirt helped. He'd watched Sam checking missing persons reports, eating lunch in a diner, checking into a cheap motel. He'd hadn't noticed Dean, and Dean was a little disappointed at how sloppy little Sammy had gotten. This was going to require a change in the plan--he'd never find them. Kate wouldn't like it, but that was just too bad. It was time for Sam to come home.
Dean spent the evening getting ready. Ripping his clothes, smudging dirt across his face and in his hair. And finding a pretty young thing to give color to his cheeks and warmth to his skin. It was her blood that decorated the self-inflicted puncture wounds strewn across his body. He looked everything like one of his victims, but for the shine of his eyes in the moonlight.
He waited till Sam was asleep before stumbling, punch-drunk and weak, into the parking lot of Sam's motel. He collapsed on the doorstep, and banged on the door. He had to play the part.
A shotgun cocked, and the door cracked open. "Dean?? Dean! What the fuck! Are you ok? Where the hell have you been?" Sam looked stunned, shocked, relieved. "Come on, get inside."
Dean waved away the questions and took his brother's arm, trying very hard not to let Sam onto his new strength. "Vampires. That bitch from Colorado. Jumped me." He fell on the bed with a happy sigh, doing his best to ignore the fact Sam hadn't put the shotgun down yet.
"And they, what. Just let you go? Gave you a lift here?"
"Sammy, Sammy, Sammy. Haven't you learned I can pick just about any lock? They're vampires. They're not that smart. Man, I need a shower."
"Right, and you got here..."
"Baby, does that matter? Right at this very second? It's stupidly easy to follow a vintage classic like my baby out there. And if you'll notice, you haven't gotten very far. Three towns? That's the best you could do?"
Sam rolled his eyes but put the gun down. "I did everything I could. I didn't---you didn't... Whatever. You're home now. Thank god." He shivered suddenly and looked down at the hand he had used to help Dean up. "God, you're cold."
"Been walking through the woods without a coat, do you blame me? Now," Dean patted the bed beside him, "why don't you come give me a proper welcome?"
"Dean. You're hurt. You're bleeding. Just a second ago, you wanted a shower. I think your priorities are a little screwed."
"Just shut up and get over here, would you? I've been through hell." Dean's voiced dropped lower, softer. This was Sam, his Sam. "I just want a few minutes with you before everything else. Can you do that for me?"
That was all it took. Sam gathered up a small bottle from the dresser drawer--where he always put it, he's such a creature of habit--and smiled at his brother. He flicked off the light.
A car passed on the highway, headlights spilling in through the window, profiling Dean against the wall. And in that instant, he knew he was caught. His hunter's eyes glowed luminous.
Sam didn't make a sound, for a long second just stood, holding his breath. "I think I'd rather have them on, actually. I want to see you." He slowly crossed the room and lay down next to his brother.
They kissed in a slow welter of lips and tongue and the knowledge that everything had changed. Dean's fingers spread wide, clutching convulsively at Sam's hips and he wanted more. His new teeth, sharper and stronger descended, and it was all Dean could do to keep from biting down and revelling in the taste of Sam's blood.
He laid a careful trail down the side of Sam's neck, tan skin pressed white then blossoming red. When he reached the crook, Sam flinched and went still. Dean laughed, the puff of air raising goosebumps along his brother's sensitive skin. Time enough for that later. He moved on.
Dean tasted his way across Sammy's chest, tasted sweat and fear and the blood of a thousand hurts etched into his skin. He rolled on top of his brother, kissing a jagged line up to his ear. The lengths of their bodies pressed together and Dean whispered, thin and needy, "God, baby. Touch me. Fuck me. I need to feel you, Sammy. I don't bite."
He smiled and snickered, a little, and Sam exploded into action. Hands wrenched at Dean's t-shirt and jeans and down his boxers. Dean grinned against Sam's lips and wriggled free of his clothes. Sam's nails sickled his sides and back and all in rush, Sam rolled them over, sliding down and slotting himself between Dean's legs.
He stared down at Dean stretched out before him, eyes unreadable. Dean whined, pathetic and low, his stone-hard cock sobbed shining droplets of blood. Fingers scrabbled up to tug Sam's shorts down around his thighs. Sam was only half-hard and Dean pulled himself forward, taking all of his cock in his mouth. Pointed teeth scraped at the shaft--he could taste the blood--and tongue soothed the pain away. It was intoxicating, prickling hair and sharp breaths and the scent of Sam filled Dean and spun his world down to inches of pale skin and the blood underneath.
Sam pushed him back onto the bed, hard, with a silent snarl. He pulled the bottle of lube from the folds of the blanket and spread silvery-clear shimmer across himself. Dean held his breath and tucked his knees up close to his chest. Sam's eyes flittered shut a second before he pushed in. Pistoning his hips wildly, he set a brutal rhythm of thrust and pull and slam that left them both breathless.
It was a new side of his brother, and Dean liked it. His cock bounced and slapped against Sam's abdomen with each lunge, fingers digging into his arms as Sam hit his prostate over and over, Sam's face collapsed in on itself in vicious concentration. Dean rollicked in the heat coming off Sammy's body, heard the blood pounding in his ears as Sammy got closer. Only one thing, one little thing, could make this perfect. Turning his head, Dean automatically found the vein running just above Sam's wrist. His sharp-pointed teeth easily shredded through skin and tissue.
The blood burst across his tongue--it was intoxicating, moreso than anyone he'd had before. Metallic and salty-sweet, hot and rich, tinged with thick, wet oxygen. He tasted musty houses and deep, still lakes, Dad and Jess, every secret and dark memory or thought. Sam's blood burst across his tongue and down his throat, and Dean sucked hungrily for more.
Sam twitched and snapped and came, fell apart unconscious across Dean's body.
---
"Hey, sweetcheeks," he nudged at Sam's shoulder, "time to wake up."
Dean had stolen a page from Kate and duct taped his brother's wrists together. He licked the wounds on Sam's arm clean and bandaged them, and settled down next to him to wait. Finally, Sam started to groan and stir.
"You're not going to get out of that, so don't hurt yourself trying," he cautioned. "Besides, you're probably going to be a little weak. I'm still working on that whole 'stopping' thing, I think I might have taken too much."
Sam glared at his brother, trying hard to sit up more fully against the pillows. "Great. Like it's not bad enough that you're a vampire, you've got to be a shitty one on top of it."
"Baby, I got carried away. I couldn't help it with you going to town on top of me."
"That's comforting. So. What are your plans now? Or are we just making this up as we go along."
Dean smiled, raising a wicked eyebrow. "Oh, I've got plans for you. Big plans." He flowed off the bed, alive with blood and agile grace, and found the knife he had left in his pants. "I'm going to take you home, Sammy."
Sam's face clouded and he shook his head. "Huh?"
"Back to the family. Kate, Amanda. Everybody. It's a real family, Sammy. Like we've, you've, never had, not really. I want you to be a part of it."
"And so you're going to make me a vampire?" Sam asked, skeptically.
"Sure, why not? It's amazing, baby. I can't even explain...I feel so good. And we can still hunt, too, Sammy. We'll just be faster, stronger, immortal. Come on, baby, it'll be great."
Sam sat quiet, thinking it over, Dean hoped.
"Look, baby, we can do this the easy way or the hard way. But Sam? It's going to happen. I'm not going to lose you." He spun the knife on a fingertip. "I don't want to have to hurt you."
"Ok," Sam said, finally, quietly. "Cut me loose. Let's do this the easy way."
Dean grinned, relieved. Happy. "You'll see, Sammy. You've just got to trust me. This is going to be the best thing that's ever happened to you. I promise. But you're going to stay taped up till it's over. No offense, but you are a Winchester."
"Fine. Whatever," he growled. "Let's just get it over with, can we?"
"It'll be ok, little brother. I promise." Dean sat down beside Sam on the bed, took a deep breath, and cut a gash across his wrist. "Drink up, baby. This won't hurt a bit."
Sam opened his mouth and moved towards Dean's bleeding arm. Just as he was about to make contact, he shifted his weight on the bed and swung with his arms, making contact with the side of Dean's head and knocking him to the floor. Using Dean's momentary confusion, he rolled off the bed and tugged a machete out of the scabbard thrust between the mattress and box springs.
Dean laughed heartlessly from the other side of the bed. "So this is how it's going to be, baby?"
"Yeah, it is." Sam's voice was cold as he moved, low and soft, around the bed.
"Sam, it's not going to work. You're tied up. I'm stronger than you--and I've always been smarter. Besides," Dean flipped and landed, bouncing softly on the bed, "You can't. You wouldn't. I'm your brother."
Brandishing the knife, he made a diving roll towards Sam, intent on knocking him down. But Sam was ready. Just at the apex of Dean's flight he stood and twisted out of the way, bringing the machete down in an awkward semi-circle. As it bit into his neck, Dean screamed.
"No. You're not my brother."
Sam sat on the floor of a cheap motel room, a thousand and one hurts etched onto his skin, another secret, dark memory pounding through his veins.