Infinite thanks to Faye Dartmouth, who has not only been a wonderful beta, but also fueled many of the ideas that eventually made this piece almost twice as long as it originally was going to be.
Disclaimer: If I owned them, I wouldn't be writing about them. I would have much better things to do with my time. Ahem.
The first thing he felt was the slight chill in the room.
The feeling of hard mattress against his back soon followed. But that wasn't too odd. Constantly traveling around with his dad and brother often took them to places with bad mattress.
He opened his eyes to a dark ceiling that he didn't recognized. But once again, not so odd.
He tried to rub the sleep out of his eyes but found he couldn't move.
Okay, that was odd.
He tried to move his feet, but found they were bound too. Evidently whoever carelessly threw him against the old mattress had enough of a grudge against him to tie his hands and feet to the bed posts.
Confused, he grunted, but it sounded muffled to his own ears. That was when he tasted the dirty fabric in his mouth.
He wasn't sure why it took him so long to taste it. But once he felt the dull pain in his head, he chalked it up to the concussion he obviously received.
Glancing around the dark room, he realized he was being hold up in a place no bigger than a large closet, with no windows and a door that was securely shut.
Things definitely weren't looking in his favor.
He tried to think back to the last thing he remembered, hoping that would bring clues as to how he got there and, more importantly, where his father and brother were.
All he could come up with was walking back from track practice.
His brother couldn't pick him up that evening, something about a girl with a nice rack, and his father was too busy at the library researching the next hunt. But that didn't really bother him, it was nice to walk home by himself, and it was only two miles away.
Looking around at his current situation, he wished he fought harder for that ride.
He tugged his hands against the ropes, hoping to get some leeway. But evidently whoever had him here was not only an expert at stealthy approaches but also at knots.
It was dark, so dark he could barely see three feet in front of him. Not that there was much to see, it was obviously there was just a blank wall in front of him.
The silence was deafening, that is until he heard loud foot steps approach the door. He frantically tried once again with the ropes, praying to God to cut him some slack. Or better yet, that Dean was behind the door.
Evidently, God was deaf.
The door slowly creaked up, obviously loving the dramatic climax. He held his breath, wondering what horrible monster was on the other side. Werewolf...rawhead...?
Three relatively normal-looking people walked into the room. That was one thing he wasn't expecting.
They walked in unison towards him, each of their faces set to a sadistic sneer. It wasn't until a set of sharp teeth descended over their own that everything clicked into place.
He was fucked.
The pain wasn't dull like he thought it would be. Reading about vampires, he assumed it would feel like giving blood, since, essentially, that was what he was doing.
It took just one bite to realize how wrong he was.
Shooting pain erupted through his body, setting his nerve-endings on fire. He wasn't aware he was screaming until someone clamped a hand on his already-gagged mouth and told him to shut up.
Without a source of light, he didn't even notice as his vision started to dim as he passed out.
As his eyelids fell, the last thing he heard was soft voice hissing, "So much power…"
He wasn't sure how long he had been out. There weren't any silhouettes crowding around him waiting to get a taste, and it no longer hurt as much. There was just a slight sting where each vampire left their mark.
They never said one word to him. They were just content on using him for a meal and then, by the looks of it, leaving once they were done.
While he couldn't really make it out (his muffled screams had a tendency of drowning out the other voices), they did say a couple things to each other. They kept on saying he was "surprisingly delicious" and "the best they'd ever had". He didn't really want to think what that meant for him though.
It wasn't until he felt a hand on his forehead that he realized someone was in the room with him.
He sharply looked to his side and blinked through the darkness until he made out the figure of a girl. She was much smaller than anyone who entered the room earlier.
Which meant there were more than three. And possibly more than four. Just when he thought things couldn't get much worse, things seemed bleaker than ever.
"You're awake," she whispered as she smoothed his bangs out of his face.
Crap. If he was smart (if he was Dean) he would have faked sleep to get out of another torture session.
She leaned in a bit closer as if to examine him in the dark. "You're awfully young. Eighteen...nineteen." She shrugged, moving her hand from his forehead to his chest. "Then again, I'm only twenty."
He wanted to say he was only seventeen (maybe he would get some sympathy that way) but he didn't have the means.
Her hand softly rubbed against his chest. It was then he felt the contact against his bare skin. Panicking, he looked down to find that they stripped him, leaving him in only his boxers.
"Modest, aren't we," she whispered, obviously noticing the sudden flushed look in his face. She slightly chuckled as if she found the whole situation enormously funny.
She met his eyes, and he noticed how bright blue her eyes were, even though her hair was extremely dark.
"You're so pretty..." she breathed, her voice taking a seductive edge.
An edge he definitely didn't appreciate.
He tried to slide away from her but the bonds were unforgiving.
"Oh, don't be like that," she whispered as she subtly licked her lips. "We can still have some fun." She sat down on the bed next to him, her hands roaming over his chest. They slowly moved their way downward, caressing each muscle of his six pack. "It's strange. You have the face of a boy," she started, her voice sweet...almost innocent. "But the body of a man," she whispered the last part, all traces of her previous naivety gone. "The moment I saw you, I knew you were a special one."
He frantically shook his head. He could deal with a lot of things. He could deal with being feasted on by malicious vampires...that is until his dad and Dean showed up. But this...this he wasn't sure he could deal with.
It wasn't that he was inexperienced. Who the hell was he kidding? He was extremely inexperienced. Moving around from state to state made it nearly impossible to meet a girl.
Well, for him anyway. Dean…that was a whole different story.
Everything was a different story with Dean. He was strong, confident, and he sure as hell wasn't stupid enough to be used by a vampire…like some type of sexual playthingnonetheless.
Hell, knowing Dean, he would probably enjoy it. Call it hot or kinky or something like that.
It wasn't hot or kinky (whatever the hell that entailed). It was humiliating and degrading. It made him realize how little control he had over the whole situation.
Control he had a mere twenty-four hours ago. Whoever came up with the phrase you never know what you have until it's gone was a fucking genius.
Seeing the desperate look in his eyes, she leaned forward until her chin was almost resting on his chest. "Oh, c'mon, have some balls." Her left hand kept creeping downward, reaching beneath his boxers. "Oh, found them," she proclaimed as if she just found the last cookie in the cookie jar.
When she slowly started caressing him, he no longer cared about the way the bounds dug into his skin. He squirmed and bucked as much as he could to get away from her and her hand. As long as she got away from that area, he would count his blessings.
It wasn't until the tears burned their way down his cheeks, that he noticed his was crying.
He wasn't even sure why he was crying. It was extremely uncomfortable… embarrassing… so goddamn demeaning he wanted nothing more to than to curl in a ball and wish it all away, but at least it wasn't painful.
Winchesters only cried when they were in pain. And even then it had to be a gnaw-your-own-arm-off-to-make-it-stop kind of pain. But they always kept it under control. Let a few tears slip out, then take a deep breath and suck it up.
Nothing like the way tears continued to pour out of his eyes like they had a mind of their own. He relentlessly tried to blink them away but to no avail.
Luckily, it only took one glance at his tear-stained face for her to get the message. "Fine," she snapped, pulling her hand out of his boxers. "You know, most boys like that."
He simply deflated against the mattress and turned his head away from her, begging she would leave.
Evidently, he only got one blessing a night, and he already used his.
She moved back up towards his head and tried to get him to look at her. She slowly leaned over, and tilted her head to the side until she came into his field of vision.
Upon seeing her, he summoned his last ounce of pride and glared down at her. He was sure it was remarkably unconvincing with his face still red from tears. But that didn't stop him from trying to convey his pissed off attitude.
Even if he wasn't pissed off. Even if he was scared to hell and wished for Dean to barge in and whisk him away from his dungeon.
But she didn't need to know that. She embarrassed him enough for one night. If he was going to survive the vamps he was going to survive with pride. Even if it was rapidly depleting.
He stared at her face, memorizing it for when he got free. Even in the dark, it was easy to tell she was unnaturally pale, another sign that the dark hair was probably dyed.
"You're not like the others," she said with a tilt of the head. "Granted, Heather already told me that."
He immediately recognized the name. She must have been one of the vampires that came in earlier.
She continued on, clueless to his revelation, "They said your blood...it was unbelievably good. Something I didn't quite believe, but Heather has been a vamp much longer than I have." She leaned forward as if to tell him a secret. "But like I said before, I could tell you were special," she breathed her lips touching his ear.
He tensed up, well aware of the onslaught of pain if she bit.
She flicked his lobe with her tongue and started nibbling. But not in the way he prepared for. Human nibbling, like the way a lover would.
Feeling extremely awkward and out of place, he stayed as rigid as possible. Her hand was no long probing and her teeth weren't painful. As long as it stayed that way, he wouldn't complain.
She continued her nibbling down his ear and started on his neck. She stayed there for a couple seconds until the taste of his skin became too much.
Without warning, the other set of teeth descended and she bit.
Taken aback, he screamed through the gag and threw his head back. He immediately felt her hand press down on his mouth, making it impossible to breathe.
When her teeth sunk in further, he mercifully passed out.
His whole body was sore. Evidently the vampires had a personal grudge against him for some reason. They spent the whole night finding different ways to make him break, but never giving him a chance to speak.
Their favorite method of torture though was sucking out his blood. He supposed it was because it was an easy way to hear him scream and a delicious meal all in one.
He was quickly getting concerned about the amount of blood he lost. He doubted he could lift up his hand even if they weren't bound.
Dean needed to come soon or else there wouldn't be much to save.
A soft sigh shook him out of his thoughts of his brother and rescue. He was almost relieved to find there was only one silhouette sitting next to him.
It was her again. The girl from the previous day. He figured she visited during the day since there was no noise beyond the wall, and vampires usually slept when the sun was still out.
He took one look at her and promptly looked away. He didn't have the energy to deal with her again. He wasn't sure if he had the energy to do anything again.
Before she could say anything, he fell asleep.
When he woke up again, she was still there. He was pretty sure she never left.
That confused him.
The whole situation confused him.
From what he read about vampires, they kept their prey together in holding pens. And yet he was clearly separated from everyone else. He also never read that they were sadistic in nature, they just got their food and left the corpse. But the last twenty-four hours spoke otherwise. He wasn't sure what he did, but they were acting like he had committed some heinous crime against their pack and this was their revenge.
But as far as he knew he never saw any of them before in his life.
He found out there were six of them in all. They had all come in for their little interrogation session. Except for he really couldn't call it that because they never asked him anything. They just seemed to enjoy him in pain.
He saw her there too, the girl who was sitting on a chair beside him, but at the time she just stood in the corner, never making eye contact with him.
He wished he could ask her why. Not because she was the most compassionate or understanding of the group, the previous night was proof of that. But because she was by far the most open. She was the only time willing to spend time with him alone.
He looked over at her, hoping maybe she could read his mind.
Immediately noticing he was awake, she leaned forward and placed her elbows on her knees. "I've been thinking."
His brow furrowed at her comment.
"Why does your blood taste so different from everyone else's?" She didn't look at him when she asked the question. She knew he didn't have the ability to answer. "Everyone's blood tastes good and all. But yours...yours is like crack. I mean, I don't think I could ever be satisfied with a different person's blood now."
He really hoped that wasn't the case. He didn't think he could last much longer with six vampires feasting on him like he was the Christmas turkey.
She looked at him for a moment. Their eyes meeting in the darkness. "Are you psychic?"
It was obvious he was taken aback by the question.
"I read somewhere once that people with powers, psychics and mind readers, they're made up differently. Not like anatomically or anything. But their DNA and stuff it's different...somehow. And their blood...it's delicious," she stated as if she was having a casual dinner conversation.
He wondered where she would read something like that. Bloodsucking for Dummies maybe.
"So are you?" she asked, cocking her head to the side.
He just shook his head, too lost in the conversation to be stubborn or lie.
"Huh." She leaned back in her chair, obviously lost in her own thoughts once again.
He simply rolled his head to the other side, and wondered, maybe, if the girl had one or two screws loose.
He didn't notice when he drifted off to sleep.
He dreamt of Dean. He must say it didn't really surprise him when Dean suddenly appeared next to him. His thoughts never left his brother.
First, it was fear that he was in the same situation that he was. Shortly after it was hope for his rescue. Then, it was envy for his defiance and courage.
Now, it was need for his presence. The need to feel safe and protected. He didn't care if Dean made fun of him for being such a baby. As long as Dean was there to make fun of him, he would consider himself lucky.
Luckier than most, because now he knew the alternative.
Dean just stood there, never uttering a word, but he didn't need to. Just seeing him was enough. Knowing he was there was more than he could ask for.
All the while, he knew he was dreaming. It was part of the curse for being so damn smart and logical. As some would say, special. He knew he would wake up in the same hellhole that had become a very prominent part of his dreary existence.
He didn't care that it was a dream, that Dean would disappear the moment he opened his eyes. Because Dean was standing in front of him, protecting him as he slept.
And right then, that was all he needed.
He woke up to the feeling of a hand slowly caress his bare chest. It ran from his pecs down to his abdomen and back up again.
He silently cursed the hand that wrenched him from his brother's grasp. But part of him knew it was inevitable. He couldn't sleep forever. No matter how hard he tried.
Flinching, he turned his head to the side to find the girl still there. He knew he couldn't have been asleep for long, but he was starting to wonder how many times that day he was going to wake up and find her next to him.
The girl must have had to sleep sometime.
"You're so special...sometimes I don't think you realize how special you are." She never looked at his face, but somehow she knew he was awake. She continued to trace her fingers down his chest, carefully avoiding all of the bite marks and wounds. "I mean if you weren't they would have killed you by now."Special. He had been hearing that word his entire life. First in Kindergarten when his teacher found out he already knew his addition tables, then from every teacher afterwards. Even the principal said one or two things about his 'advanced skills' to Dean a couple weeks ago in a conference (his dad couldn't make it, something about not wanting to waste his time hearing someone tell him things he already knew).
He never thought the title he was so proud of would be the source of his continuous torture.
His brow furrowed at the thought that he would be dead if he wasn't special. He read that vampires keep their captives alive for days, slowly bleeding them to death. He had no sense of time in the dark room, but he was sure he couldn't have been there longer than two days...maybe three. He would have died from dehydration if it was any longer than that. But once he thought about it, it felt like he was there an eternity.
She didn't even look up at him, but she smiled, and he shivered. She knew exactly what he was thinking. She seemed to know everything about him. "We didn't randomly picked you off the side of a street," she said as she watched her fingers slowly move up and down his chest. "Heather chose you."
He had been there long enough to figure out Heather was the leader of the pack.
"I don't really know the whole story. Something about revenge. To be honest, whenever Heather goes of on her little rants I sorta tune out. I guess some guy named Ethans...Elkins...E-something and your father had something to do with her partner's death."
Suddenly, everything clicked into place. It was nice to know they didn't get the drop on him like he was some unaware civilian. They had stalked him, planned it out. But, part of him wished she didn't tell him. Part of him despised his father for getting him involved.
He thought it was only fair that if his father got him into this mess, his father should get him out.
Deep down, he knew it wouldn't be his father who would ultimately find him. Sure he would do the research and kill a few vamps. But the first face he would see walking through that door would be Dean's. And while he knew he shouldn't blame his father for that (Dean always beat him to the punch), it still hurt.
He was his father's responsibility, at least for one more year. And it wasn't fair that it fell on Dean's shoulders, that Dean always had to be the only to lead the way. It made him feel that if his father had to choose between the hunt and him, it would be too hard of a decision to make.
And, ultimately, he didn't want to know the answer.
Cutting off his thoughts, he started focusing on his physical needs. Currently, they were much more vulnerable than his emotional.
His whole body was numb and trembling from the blood loss. And he couldn't remember the last time he had something to drink. The problem was he had no idea how much time had passed or how bad off he really was because of the darkness.
Evidently vampires have excellent night vision, which wasn't really surprising. He just wished they'd turn on a light every once in a while.
He knew it was just one more tactic to slowly break him, show him he was no longer in control of his own life. He would be lying if he said it wasn't working. He could barely make out the shapes of the people any more. He supposed that the loss of blood was making his vision blurry, but he had no way of actually knowing.
He was used to knowing all the answers, sometimes before the question was even asked. For the first time, he was starting to realize how little he actually knew.
He remained there, lost in his thoughts, as the girl continued to trace her fingers up and down his chest.
He couldn't move. Not that he could move before, but now even the slightest flinch sent shooting pains up his spine. He softly grunted against the gag, trying to voice his pain.
A warm hand caressed his forehead and started rubbing soothing circles against his skull. His first thought was Dean. But then he remembered where he was and all hope crumpled beneath him.
It was almost worst than what the vamps did to him. To desperately want something so bad, but not having the means to get it. It was the feeling of total and utter helplessness.
He wanted his brother.
He wanted his brother more than he wanted to breathe.
He wanted to Dean to come and take all the pain away. Just as he did when he was a child.
When he first awoke in his personal hell, it was his goal to leave with a bit of pride and dignity. At this point, he would be ecstatic if he left alive.
He knew Dean would find him. Dean always found him. Whether it was a game of hide-and-go-seek or a game of hide-before-the-rawhead-bites-your-head-off.
Dean was coming. There was no questioning that. He just no longer knew how much would be left of him for Dean to find.
The soft circles against his forehead slowly came to a halt. The girl's voice entered his ears. "You know, it doesn't have to be like this."
He didn't bother to open his eyes. He knew she would continue. She never left him hanging before.
"It doesn't take much. Just a simple kiss and we could be happy," she stated as she brushed his hair out of his face. "We'll run away...just the two of us."
He knew what she was implying, and he would be lying if he said it didn't sound so goddamn tempting.
No more vampires. No more bonds. No more paying the price for the sin his father committed.
His family abandoned him when he needed them the most. It only seemed right that he committed the ultimate betrayal by becoming what they hunted.
They weren't going to save him in time. There was no doubt in his mind. They had no idea where he was, if they did they would have been there by now. It was so easy to just slip away and give into his instinct to survive. No matter what the cost.
He opened in eyes and looked at her, his eyes tracing over every detail he could see. The way her short, black hair slightly covered her face. The way her bright blue eyes stood out against the darkness. The way she seemed so confident, yet so nervous all at the same time.
Most of all, he looked at the way she sat there like the world hung on his every word, yet he had no means to talk.
He wondered how she could offer to spend the rest of her life with him, and she didn't even know what his voice sounded like.
He imagined the shock in his Dean's face when he finally found him, only to have him already transformed into the things they despised. He instantly looked away, knowing he could never betray Dean like that. Even if it meant he had just given himself a death sentence.
She slowly rose to her feet, her eyes never leaving his face. "C'mon, it's not so bad," she whispered as she reached into her pocket and took out a Swiss army knife. She didn't wait for a response, knowing she wouldn't get one.
"They're going to kill you, you know. It's only a matter of time. They're going to feast on your blood until there's nothing left. Then they're going to leave the remains on your father's doorstep."
He turned his head away from her, not wanting to think about how his death may send his father over the edge, taking Dean with him.
She switched open the knife and slowly cut her hand, almost mesmerized by the blood that slowly leaked out.
He watched as she slowly put the knife away. She seemed nervous for some reason, much younger than her actual years. He assumed she never turned someone before.
She brought her hand up to her mouth and sucked the blood until it was moist on her tongue. She slowly leaned over and guided his face towards her.
He didn't have the strength to turn away.
Her teeth stained with her own blood she give him a sympathetic smile. A smile that told him she would make the pain go away.
But he didn't want the pain to go away. Not like this. Becoming a vampire would eventually lead to more pain, maybe not for him, but for his family. And he never wanted to wish harm on them.
He frantically tried to turn his head away from her, but her grip was too tight, yet surprisingly gentle. He supposed from the constant lack of blood his head had become to heavy to move. Regardless of the reason, he head refused to budge.
He pleadingly looked into her eyes. He could smell the blood on her breath. He wondered how long it would be until his breath would smell the same way.
She looked back at him, her blue eyes twinkling with sadness. "You don't want this, do you?" she whispered, her voice thick from the blood.
He didn't have the power to shake his head, but he knew his eyes conveyed the answer.
She slowly dropped his head and swallowed. Brushing his bangs out of his face, she breathed, "Neither did I."
She softly smiled, though it didn't quite reach her eyes.
He silently watched as she walked away from him. He realized it was the first time she had ever left him. And for a moment, it scared him.
The dehydration as finally getting to him. He seemed to slip in and out of consciousness at a second's notice.
He almost considered it a blessing, knowing that soon he would leave the wretched closet.
He just prayed that his brother never found his body. That Dean could continue living thinking he was alive somewhere. Denial seemed like the only way his brother could possibly survive his death.
He slowly blinked his eyes open and glanced to the side. The familiar sight of dark hair greeted him. But she wasn't sitting in chair like usual. She was leaning against the bed with her back turned towards him.
"I went to college," she said, her voice soft and wistful.
He never knew how, but she always seemed to know the moment he woke up. Sometimes he wondered if she talked to him while he was asleep too.
"My major was Middle Childhood Education. I always wanted to work with kids."
The comment threw him. It was odd to see the vamp next to him going to class and student teaching in schools. It almost scared him a bit. But once he thought about it he realized that it did make sense. No one ever grew up planning to be a vampire.
She slightly turned toward him, but didn't look him in the eye. "Sometimes I don't even know who I am anymore. This wasn't me. But I can't control it," she whispered, but her voice didn't hold any sadness or anger, just acceptance.
He found that odd. That she could be so willing to accept that her life was no longer hers anymore. She no longer had control of her own thoughts, and it seemed like she couldn't care less.
He wondered if it was part of transforming into a vampire, or if she was always that easy going of a person.
And in that moment, he envied her. Envied that fact that nothing seemed to bother her, where the slightest thing seemed to bother him to no end. He always had to put in his two-cents worth. And that got him in trouble more times than he could count.
Maybe she was there for a reason. Maybe she was there to provide a final revelation before he died. Something that he would have never learned with this final experience. Something that would help him get through his final days on earth.
He slightly smirked at that, wondering if acceptance really would help him in the long run. He obviously had no control over what would happen to him no matter what he thought or felt.
He closed his eyes, knowing it was silly of him to try to get anything out of this experience. If he could even call it an experience. It seemed much too vivid to lump it into such a dull word. But he supposed it was better than calling it hell on earth.
Oblivious to his racing thoughts, she turned around and looked at him. "I brought you some water," she said as she held up the bottle.
His eyes immediately left her face and looked longingly at the bottle. Even in the darkness, the clear water shimmered as she twisted the cap open. He didn't think he could ever love something so much.
She sat and on the top of the bed and he anxiously lifted his head up, his eyes never leaving the bottle. She slightly chuckled at the apparent awe in his eyes. He didn't even blink, lest the bottle would disappear.
She reached forward and gently pulled out the gag.
He didn't even try to make a noise, afraid she would take the water away as some sort of punishment. He simply licked his cracked lips and opened his mouth, ready when she was.
She placed one arm under his head and placed the tip of bottle on his mouth before slowly pouring it. Like a fish out of water, he began gulping the water, even as it started to spill down his chin and unto his chest.
They remained like that for several seconds. She softly laughed at the way the water seemed to get everywhere but his mouth. The bottle almost gone, she brought it away from his pale lips and screwed the cap back on.
Even to his own ears it sounded weak and pathetic, but he didn't care. He had long passed caring and was now entering the land of desperate.
She quickly turned towards him, softly smiling at the sound of his voice. "That's enough for now, any more and you'll get sick."
He found it ironic that she evidently had no problem keeping him hostage while her buddies tormented him, yet she was concerned about him getting sick over too much water.
She was unlike any other vampire he read about. Sure as hell the most different from the rest of the sadistic bastards holding him.
He didn't know if it was because she was the youngest vampire in the group (rest of them looked several years older than her), or if it was because she had only been changed a short while ago, even though he never knew for sure. Regardless, she had a certain grace beneath her movements. Eyes that told him there was so much more beneath the bloodsucking exterior.
He opened his mouth to ask her something (he wasn't sure what, but he wanted to know more about her), but was cut off guard by the taste of the handkerchief suddenly going back into his mouth.
"Sorry," she muttered, not quite looking him in the eye.
His hope quickly dwindled. He knew he was never going to leave there alive, but for a second he believed he had found a companion during his last hours. But she was no different from the rest. In fact, she may have been worse.
The others were killing him, while slowly, deliberately, with no second motive in sight. Even if they were twisted, there was logic behind their methods. A logic he could easily follow.
But she…she seemed to be everywhere all the time. One moment she's helping him and then next she's in the corner watching him get tortured. He never knew what to expect from her, and lately he was becoming too tired to try.
Part of him wished she would go away. But the other part yearned for her presence, for her soothing touch. He found that he hated that part of himself more than he hated her.
He knew he wouldn't have made it this far without her. He just couldn't decide if surviving was a blessing or a curse.
The vampires were getting sloppy in their torture techniques. At first they were precise, knowing exactly where and how to inflict pain. Now, it seemed as though as long as he was screaming, they were happy.
He stopped looking down at his chest, getting tired of seeing his own blood leak out of him from multiple lacerations. He knew blood loss was going to be a serious problem if the cuts didn't clot soon.
He was never sure of when he was awake or asleep, either way only darkness surrounded him. Every once in a while he could tell he was awake by the sound of another person's breathing.
The girl no doubt.
She never seemed to leave his side. That is, of course, until the rest of her pack came in and decided to have their own fun with him.
He was pretty sure he was asleep when he felt the dull ache in his abdomen turn into a sharp burn.
His eyes snapped open to the dark ceiling above him as he moaned through the gag.
"I'm sorry...I'm sorry..." the girl whispered over and over, but for some reason he couldn't place where she was.
Suddenly, she appeared in his view, her teeth stained red. "I tried, I really did. But it's just so...you're so. I'm sorry..."
Not wanting to hear anymore of her pathetic apologies (either she was going to help him or not), he closed his eyes. Her betrayal was worse torture than anything the other vampires could deliver.
Her apologies fading away, he welcomed unconsciousness.
She didn't come for a while after that. At least it felt that way.
When he was getting dehydrated again, he really wished he hadn't alienated her. Even if she was one of them, she was the only one that treated him almost like a human being.
Most of all, he missed her voice. It was nice to have that consistency when he drifted in and out of consciousness.
When she was talking, it meant the others weren't there. And that meant he was safe for the time being. Okay, well…
He had no way to tell how long it was until their next brutal assault. He was pretty sure it was daylight, maybe he still had a few more hours of rest before they woke up.
As if just to prove him wrong, the door opened and two vampires strode in licking their lips in anticipation.
He closed his eyes, wishing himself to unconsciousness. But he was already wide awake, and they were already by his side. By the height of the silhouettes, he could tell neither of them was her.
For some reason, that made him feel a bit better.
They never said a word to him, just took their positions on either side of him and bit.
His hands gripped the ropes, trying to find some reprieve. Darkness clouded his vision, making it impossible to see anything but the blurry shapes surrounding him.
Before he passed out, he didn't hear his father's voice or even Dean's. Just hers, low and encompassing, burning through every synapse of his brain.
He knew it sounded weird...wrong even. But he missed her. He really did.
When he came to, the whole gang was surrounding him. Except for one, he didn't even have to look to know which one it was. He wondered what lie she told to get out of the group meeting.
Someone was talking, but he couldn't make out what they were saying. He was too tired, too drained, to even try.
He just hoped they would get it over with. His lips were so dry they were cracked and bleeding. The slight tremble in his limbs was now constant because of the loss of blood. He clearly wasn't going to make it another day.
He wanted them to finish the job so he would have to deal with the pain anymore. He didn't want to deal with anything anymore. It felt like such a release. No more worrying about Dean. No more thoughts of betrayal and abandonment. Just take it all away. He no longer cared.
He noticed one of the bigger vampires had something in his hand.
They must have seen his brow furrow for a moment. Smirking, the large vamp carelessly swung on object onto his shoulder.
A sledgehammer. The moment his eyes locked with it, he knew what it was meant for. He just prayed they used it on his head. Crack his skull and set him free.
The female vamp in the corner nodded.
He could hear the large vampire chuckle before he lifted the hammer above his head and brought it down on his leg.
He passed out the moment the hammer hit.
He woke up, surprised to find the odd taste of the gag absent in his mouth. He moved his lips around, just glad to get the feeling back, even if the rest of his body was still numb. Well, except for his leg. His leg had become a muted pain, but a pain nonetheless.
"It looks like my sister's," a voice sounded from the end of the bed.
He instantly lifted his head, recognizing the voice. By that point, he felt like he could recognize the voice anywhere.
The girl was standing at the edge of the bed, her eyes transfixed by his broken leg.
He opened his mouth to say something, but all the came was a strained noise.
Unfazed by his obvious struggle, the girl continued, "When my sister was six, she fell off the monkey bars and broke her leg. I saw it happen, but there was nothing I could do to stop her." She looked up and him and slightly smiled but it didn't reach her eyes. "I don't think I could miss her even if I tried."
He blinked trying to understand. It took him a second, but he finally realized. The transformation to a vampire made her no longer attached to her family and friends. Her pack became her new family. Under different circumstances he might have felt sorry for her.
Before he could contemplate it further, she held up another water bottle, and all thoughts of vampires were gone.
Just like that last time, she moved up to the head of the bed and poured the water into his mouth. It was even more delectable than he could imagine. About half way through the bottle, she moved it away from his lips, obviously avoiding the pleading look in his eyes.
"I have a brother," he stated, his voice garbled and weak. He wasn't sure why he said it. Maybe it was because he hadn't talked about Dean in so long that he started to think that maybe he never existed at all. And that thought alone made him want to die.
"I know," she whispered, looking him in the eye.
He looked down, unable to stop himself from what he said next. "I miss him."
She remained still as stone. "I hope you see him again," she said with so much sincerity that it was almost possible to believe her.
He felt tears quickly rise in his eyes. Not wanting to cry in front of her, he turned away and drifted off to sleep.
When he opened his eyes, he immediately closed them again, wondering what cruel, sick joke God was playing on him now.
"Sammy, wake up. We're gonna get you out of here," Dean's voice echoed throughout the room.
He felt a warm hand on his head. He immediately jerked away, not wanting to give into the hallucination.
The first thing he noticed was that his body actually moved when he jerked...a lot. He snapped his eyes open and brought his hand in front of his eyes. The hand he hadn't seen in...a really fucking long time.
Dean crouched down in front of him, watching him as he slowly turned his hand back and forth. "Amazing, isn't it? C'mon Dad's waiting. We gotta go."
He looked up at his brother, his eyes filled with hope and tears. He caught Dean's eyes for a brief second. They were unnaturally bright. Dean was crying. That shocked him more than the fact that he was still alive.
Beyond him, he could see the door was wide open, and light was shining through. Light he thought he'd never see again.
Completely oblivious to his astonishment, Dean leaned forward and grabbed him by the shoulders. "You with me, Sam? 'Cause I'm gonna have to carry you out of here. There's no way in hell you're walking on that leg."
He nodded, just glad to get off of the wretched bed. Dean hoisted him up in a fireman's carry. Without realizing it, he cried out as his broken leg jostled. Beneath him, Dean patted him on the back and mumbled, "It's okay, Sammy." Without another word, he carried him out of the room
Part of him thought it shouldn't have been that easy. He was trapped in by a door Dean could easily open and close at a second's notice. That just didn't seem fair.
They walked into the room beyond, a room he had never seen before. The thick scent of blood met his nose. Looking down at the floor, he understood why.
There was a mass vampire genocide before Dean reached him. Decapitated heads and bodies lay strewn on the floor, blood staining the dirty carpet red. He recognized every single vamp, even though they all looked different in the light...and with their heads not attached to their bodies. Yeah, that too.
As Dean walked further into the room, he caught the sight of dark hair and pale skin. He slightly tilted his head and saw lifeless, blue eyes staring back at him.
At that moment he had the sudden urge to cry, but he held it back. He didn't need his family to think he was nuts. Winchesters didn't cry over dead vamps, especially dead vamps that tortured them.
He maintained eye contact with her though as Dean walked towards the door. Unlike the rest, her face wasn't filled with fear or anger, just acceptance. He slightly smiled at that, wishing he met her under different circumstances.
He wondered if she knew his family was coming. If she knew that taking him was ultimately giving herself a death sentence. He supposed she wouldn't have cared either way. She always seemed to be just along for the ride.
Maybe, just maybe, she wanted to die. She wanted the same release he did. She had no control over her mind, just as he had no control over his life. She did say she never wanted to be a vampire.
But, in retrospect, who really did?
Part of him knew he was giving her too much credit. The other part needed to give her that credit in order to understand the bond he had with her.
"Sammy, you still with me up there?" Dean asked, giving him a playful slap on the butt.
"Yeah…" he breathed, melting into the safety of Dean's arms.
As Dean walked into the sunlight, he watched the door slam into place, forever separating him from the person he owed his life to. The person who persevered his last bit of hope.
He supposed the greatest tragedy of all was that he never knew her name.
I won't stand in your way
let your hatred grow
and she'll scream
and she'll shout
and she'll pray
and she had a name
yeah she had a name
Stockholm Syndrome by Muse