Last time, on Destructive Dependence:

All that filled the room was a gentle lapping, like a cat eating cream in a deserted kitchen. What the vampire didn't hear was the slight creak of the floorboards. She didn't look up as a pair of boots stepped behind her and her prey. What she did notice was the 2-by-4 that sent her reeling across the room and the snarl of a betrayed brother.


Rolling with the blow, the vampire crouched and hissed at Dean. She still reeled from the impact of the long piece of timber to the back of her skull. Now, as she assessed her new opponent, her tongue ran over her delicate fangs, stained with the blood of a Winchester. They stood with Sam in between them, two armies fighting for the same piece of precious land. Her eyes closed in the revelry of the fresh blood, while Dean frantically assessed his brother's prone form from afar. Relief coursed through him as Sam's chest hitched up in a shallow breath. He wished so bad that he had thought to pack a dagger or a gun. Dammit Sam, if you weren't so cryptic, i coulda been prepared.

Laughter echoed about the room, snapping Dean's attention back to the undead sadist on the opposite side of the room. "Hmm, so you must be Dean. Yeah," she sniffed the air, "You smell similar...but different. I wonder if you'll allow me a free sample; your brother here has let me have more than a few good meals. He tastes so sweet, like cake. Could you be the sour half? I always find family to be the most appetizing after sampling one. It's quite fun to compare, like being a connoisseur."

"Oh honey, the only sampling going on here is you tasting wood." Dean, likewise, crouched, moving to the left. He wanted Sam out of the middle of the battle.

Much to his irk, she moved so Sam was back between them. "Ooh, I'm terrified. See me a-tremblin'. Mm-hmm, this will be a fine feast. The anger that pounds through both of you is like a rare wine. Sometimes, he even gave me a hangover. You have no idea the sheer power that I've been taking from his veins for the past month." She smiled at the dawning apprehension on Dean's face. "What? Didn't you know how great a donor your brother has been? Tsk tsk. But too bad he's broken now."

"You friggin' bitch. Take in the view, because this is your last night before I send you back to Hell."

She abruptly stood from her defensive crouch, looking at her blood stained fingernails in mock interest. "Like to see you try, Spicy boy. It just stalls the moment that I taste you."

"Then come and get it. I'm told that I taste wonderful." Dean only knew one thing for certain, that vamp wasn't getting anymore of anyone's blood. "Though I might be close to expiration date, don't know how those deals work...though I'd hazard a guess that you aren't exactly fresh either."

"What?" She stopped dead, anger glinting in her ice chipped eyes. "That metaphor should've stopped."

"Oh, sorry." The dry wit was evident. "Must have used all my good metaphors on someone who actually matters. Can we fight now?"

A scream of fury ripped through the abandoned library as she coiled and sprang at Dean. The fingernails she was studying before suddenly hooked into claws and sliced down, intent on securing themselves in Dean's coat.

He sidestepped easily and swung the board again, catching her in the back. As she skittered across the floor, Dean noticed with satisfaction that her previous fight was still wearing on her, despite Sam's blood running through her. They moved to the center of the room, the vampire stalking as Dean back away. He allowed her to strike, calculating her punches and drawing her further away from his fallen brother. Finally, as she threw a right hook that shifted her entire weight, he moved right, grabbed her arm, and pulled until her body soared past his head. He slammed her into the ground and within a second, straddled her and brutalized her face.

Claws dug into his jacket sleeves, tearing the khaki. His arms only slowed slightly as the material quickly became shreds. Dean roared as they found purchase on his forearms, drawing deep rivulets. He stopped raining blows and leaned back, relying on his legs to pin his quarry. Instead of taking advantage of his pause, she grinned and brought bloodied talons to her mouth.

"Hmm, salty. Guess I was wrong. Sweetness runs in the family. Please sir, can I have some more?" Her eyes gleamed, playing the psychopath to its fullest. Clearly, the vampire thought this was an easy kill.

"Sorry, kitchen's closed." Dean brought both arms up, clenching his fists together like a flesh covered hammer. But as he swung downward, intent on bashing in her head, she moved lightening fast. Her hands caught his and her hips bucked, upending the hunter. Using his weight and momentum against him, she rolled with him and pinned him in the same fashion Dean had done to her.

"Gotcha." With her hands holding his wrists down at his sides, Dean could make no move to defend himself as she lunged towards his neck. She actually giggled in power-drunken anticipation.

But Winchesters don't go down so easily. As she swooped down for the kill, his head came up to meet hers in a crunch of bone on bone. She stumbled off him, momentarily dizzied by the blunt force. The vampire hissed as Dean got up and they once again faced off. He could tell that his previous jibes goaded her and distracted her focus. So he hissed back. Not in the sinister way, but with all the spit and mock he could muster. He even added a little head-shake, just to really piss her off. It worked wonders. She let out a roar that sounded like an outraged cat. He laughed, but stopped abruptly as she pounced again.

With a muttered "Oh shit." and a roll, Dean thought he had successfully deflected another attack. But as he watched her soar by and execute her own roll, he watched in horror as she once again reached for his brother.

This time, he really did growl, low in his throat. "Get away from him, you bitch." Dean lunged quickly after her, but a small iron fist to his solar plexus knocked him clear to the wall. Several cracks were heard on the way.

She actually laughed as the hunter picked himself up, wincing slightly at what was most likely more than a few broken ribs. "See, that's the problem with you hunting types. " She easily picked up Sam's dead weight by his collar. Eyes locked on Dean's, she slowly licked her way from Sam's shoulder wound up to his neck. Her eyes closed in ecstasy, enjoying both the flavor of her prey and the rush of hot rage flooding off Dean. "You never expect the 'prey' to be a better hunter than you idiots. We're not animals, you dipshit."

Dean stalked towards her, wary of her hold on his younger brother and how much more damage he could take. "Yeah, well, whatever floats your barge sister. Considering the fact that you tear apart people, growl and get all pissy, I'm just gonna stick ya in the animal category for kicks. You don't use a litter box, do you?"

In retaliation, she jerked on Sam's shirt, causing his head to flop dangerously. She struck, fangs centimeters from piercing his exposed neck.

It took every ounce of Dean's will not to launch himself swinging. Instead, he cleared his throat and spoke forcefully. "See, this is just proving me right. Now, why don't you be a good little vampire strategist , and let my brother go."

"Oh, and how would that work? You gonna attack me some more? Honey, I know those ribs are cracked. I can outlast you anytime." As Dean started forward slowly, she backed up. Both began to play the violent chess game, watching themselves just as much as the other player.

Dean's face lit into a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes, his plan coming together. He now needed to distract her. "Hmm? Betcha a few female types would dare defy you on that one. Okay, more than a few." He tilted his head to give the impression that he was thinking of his many conquests. In reality, Dean's eyes locked on the 2x4 from before, resting behind her heels. As she snorted, his gaze snapped back and the plan was finalized.

"Then you obviously haven't been with a vampire." Her tone suggested they might try.

"Oh, sorry. Been asked already. Answer's still the same: Necrophilia is wrong."

She snarled and dropped Sam, his shaggy head bouncing on the floor. Dean didn't spare a moment to wince as he rolled yet again, but towards his adversary. Landing right at her feet, she reached for his neck, but he ducked and grabbed up the plank of wood. She bent, intent on savoring Dean's blood, at the same time he shot up. As he rose like a cork in water, he brought the wood piece up into an upper cut. The vampire screamed, knocked back by the blow. She rocked against the mantle of the library's fireplace. Perfect,Dean thought, Batter's up. And he swung the 2x4 in a wide arc that Babe Ruth would've been proud of. The height couldn't have been more perfect as it connected with her head, which in turn connected with the mantle-piece. Trapped between the two unrelenting pieces, the back of her head shattered in a bloody mass. It splattered everywhere: the walls, the fireplace, Dean's torn jacket. His hands were covered in the metallic sticky substance. The body fell to the floor, twitching.

"Argh. Why are they so hard to get to stay dead?" Dean sighed and swung downwards again. He stuck more times than he'd care to count, every blow sending a splash of blood and grey matter up. Finally, the head was ruined. Dean wiped the gore from his hands and looked over at his fallen brother. "What the hell Sammy..."

He wrestled the shredded remains of his jacket from his shoulders and also took the over-shirt off. Kneeling down next to Sam, he wadded it into the open wound. Dean's heart skipped a beat when his brother didn't stir at all. Though the tears seemed shallow, blood continued to seep out, drenching both Sam and Dean's shirts. Dean held his breath as he reached next for Sam's neck, only letting out a shallow breath when he felt the faint pulse of his charge's heart. He started as Sam groaned and shifted.

"Hey there big fella." Dean bunched what was left of his coat under Sam's head. The elder brother wanted to yell at the sheer stupidity of Sam facing the vampire alone, wanted to demand answers. But he didn't. He sat back on his heels as his brother slowly came back to consciousness.

Sam groaned again and his eyes shot open. "Dean! What're you-? Where'd-?"

"Whoa, whoa. Hold up there cowboy. You were playing happy meal to a fat kid at Mickey D's."

"Crap." He rested back and brought a shaking hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose. Sam sounded exhausted, and not just because he lost blood. He sighed, "How'd you find me?"

"Hey, gimme some credit, kiddo. I followed you. You're a sneaky bastard, you know that?"

A snort that was somewhere between a grimace and a laugh issued from Sam's mouth

"You ready to get up?"

"Yeah."

Dean snaked an arm around his brother's shoulders and pulled at the lapel of Sam's uninjured shoulder. Both grunting with the effort, they were finally standing, wobbly, but steady.

"Dean! You're hurt too!" Sam tried to push off his protector's hands to see the damage, but Dean wouldn't let go.

"Ahh, it's nothing. The wall was nice to me. C'mon, we need to get you some help."

Steadying his brother, Dean couldn't help but put off his questions in favor of helping. They could mano-a-mano later. Right now, Sam needed blood. Fast.


It was a mark of how out of it Sam was, that he didn't quite understand "get some help" meant the hospital until they were nearly there.

His head rested on the back of the seat of the Impala, drifting in and out of consciousness. Everything pounded around him; the little blood left inside his bruised body needed twice the power to get to his lanky limbs, so every thudding heartbeat felt like the slam of a jackhammer. He tried to keep up with Dean's joking commentary about how they must have looked like two drunks getting back to the hotel, and how he was surprised the manager of the place let him drive off. Sam drifted some more as Dean surmised that the amount of blood might have done the trick. Sam floated amidst the hammering in his body, wondering vaguely why they needed the car in the first place.

"WAIT!" Sam's fevered mind suddenly joined it all together. He sat straight up, looking accusatorially at his brother. It didn't really work, however, when he sagged back against the seat, dizzy from the retaliation brought on by his head and shoulder. He groaned, hand over his head, "Where are we going?"

Dean coughed and averted his gaze. He knew that his brother jumped to the right conclusion, and why his reaction was so alarming. "The hospital Sammy, you need blood."

"Dean no...we can't...they're watching..."

"Look at you. You can barely get subject and predicate." Dean gripped the wheel harder and ground his teeth. "Ican't help you right now. You need this."

"No...they'll catch..us...take you away...please Dean." Sam was failing again. Between the attack, having to struggle back to the hotel, and his little outburst, his body was shutting down. The blood, it never stopped flowing. Problem was, it kept flowing out the cuts. His pallor began to appear the shade of fresh copier paper.

"Sam, there is no way you are going to get better without help, and there is no way in hell I'm giving up on you now. We're doing this. It's final." Dean let the authoritative edge creep into his voice.

There was no answer. Dean stole a glance over at his brother. Sam had faded again, his chest hitching up and down, blood glistening on his shoulder in the moonlight. Dean pushed the gas pedal even further.

"I gotcha, Sammy."


AN: thanks so much to my wonderful wonderful Beta, Glittergoddess. thanks to the wenches for the death scene inspiration. hehe. i hope everyone enjoyed this. a great way to let me know that is by REVIEWING!!! have a great weekend! and yes, this was written BEFORE last nights episode ;)