A/N: I'm posting this short piece to get a little feedback, as it's my first ever attempt at a fanfic challenge. The prompt is to write a short about vampires, which must have the Winchesters in it (I'm greedy so I've stuck both Sam and Dean in). Anyway this is my first effort. Here's part one and I'll stick part two up asap.

Usual 'does anyone actually read this part' disclaimers apply.

Jello shots and Vampires – Part One

"There isn't a whole lot I can tell you, Sammy. A vampire is a vampire, you stake the sucker and you're gonna get nowhere fast. You decapitate the son of a bitch and you'll get your very own vampire light show."

"Really? They really go up in flames after you decapitate them?" Sam asked, disbelief clouding his expression as he took another long swig from the bottle of Pepsi he was carrying.

Dean nodded enthusiastically. "Poof. Vampire flambé."

"Poof? And you've seen it happen?"

"I might've killed a vampire or two in my time." Dean tried not to add a swagger to his step as they walked.

"Oh yeah, when?"

"When what?"

"When did Dean the Vampire Slayer do his slaying exactly? I don't remember Dad ever mentioning anything about a vampire hunt."

"You were too young to remember."

"That's convenient."

"What, you think I'm kidding? I'm telling you dude this case; it reeks of a vampire nest. Tourists going missing, a gang of bikers taking up residence in the area. I can read the signs. I know vampires."

"So, what, you're the Vampire Whisperer now?"

Dean turned and gave his brother a wide grin, "If the name fits."

"Dean." Sam plonked himself down on the nearest bench in exasperation. "I don't like it, man. We've not done any research; all we're going on is a few eye-witness accounts."


"And what?"

"And Dean the Vampire Whisperer's say so." Dean settled himself down on the bench next to his brother and leaned back, sticking his legs out in front of him. "This case is as sweet as it gets. Vampires Sam, they're like total old school hammer horror."

Sam sighed heavily, trying not to notice the way Dean's knee was bouncing up and down with poorly concealed excitement. "So, what do we do now oh great Vampire Whisperer?"

Dean nodded approvingly. "We scope the local hangouts. See if we can't find ourselves this biker gang."

"And by that you mean we're gonna check out the local bars?"

"Sam, Sam, Sam how quickly you learn. We'll make a Vampire Whisperer out of you yet." Dean rose from the bench, setting off in the general direction of heavily lit storefronts and flashing neon bar signs. "Come on, I've heard they're doing green jello shots at O'Neill's."

Sam's frown grew, engulfing his face in a huge scowl.

"Dude, it's St Patrick's Day. Who doesn't want green shots on St Patrick's Day?" Dean looked round noticing Sam's frown wasn't going anywhere. He huffed disappointedly. "You're no fun, you know that? In fact, don't answer that one."

-Several hours later-

Sam pushed his way through the packed bar in the general direction of the men's restroom. He felt pretty nauseous. The contents of his stomach swilled around dangerously as he hurried his wobbly steps before said contents got the chance to make a guest appearance. Sam really didn't want to admit to his older, still apparently sober, brother that little brother was going to vomit his one beer and seven Leprechaun green whisky jello shots all over his sneakers if he didn't get to the john like yesterday. Anyway, who the heck would choose to drink green whisky jello? Sam thought with a disgusted pang of regret...Sammy Winchester that's who. What an idiot, Sam chided himself, it only took Dean calling you a prissy-assed geek boy and there you were downing shots like your throat was on fire.

Sam shoved the bathroom door open and raced into one of the stalls. Locking the stall door behind him, he lent over the porcelain bowl bracing himself with one hand pressed against the grubby wall. His vision swam and for a second Sam wasn't quite sure which of the two toilet bowls he should try aiming for. Then it didn't really matter as he suddenly, violently, vomited...all over the floor. Splattering his last clean pair of jeans with globules of lurid lime green. I'm never drinking again...or eating, Sam added remembering with revulsion the greasy diner Dean had insisted on having lunch in earlier that day and the mystery meat special he had ordered for them both whilst Sam was still collecting his laptop from the Impala.

Sam's misery was abruptly interrupted as the door to the bathroom swung open with a bang and he overheard raised voices entering the room. Sam wiped a thin string of puke from his lips with the back of his sleeve and lent forwards to peer through the crack in the stall door. He could see two huge men taking a leak into the grimy looking urinals whilst engaged in a furious debate.

"I'm telling you, that guy in the brown leather jacket out there is a hunter." Huge guy with a moustache said to his moustache-less beer gut carrying friend. Sam's ear squashed itself closer into the gap to listen.

"So what." Beer Gut replied disinterested, apparently pissing was much more entertaining. After a few tinkle filled seconds, he added "He wouldn't be the first hunter we've killed. Those guys, they get cocky, till they realize what they're up against. I guess it could be fun. I need a little fun."

"You don't find killing tourists fun?" Moustache asked, stunned and pulling at his uncooperative trouser zipper.

"They're tasty but they get all high-pitched and whiny before I even get to show them my game face." Beer Gut answered. "Let's take the hunter; I want to see him put up a fight, please Boris?"

They're gonna take Dean. Sam's eyes widened and he knew he'd heard enough. His drunken irrational side took hold as he unlocked the door to his stall and slammed it open. Boris jumped in surprise, trapping a sensitive part of his anatomy in his zipper. "Wanna play with a hunter? Play with me-meee." Sam slurred reaching into his back pocket for his trusty...oh shit...his knife wasn't being very trusty at that moment as Sam quickly remembered he'd left it by his bed back at the motel.

Boris let out a pained yell as he yanked himself free from his zipper and lunged at Sam. He easily grabbed hold of the inebriated Winchester, shoving Sam to the floor before pinning him underneath his gigantic bulk. Boris leaned close, his breath hot and sticky against Sam's neck. "Looky, looky, we're gonna get two hunters on a hooky."

"Dude, did you just make a rhyme?" Sam giggled before stopping short and wondering just how much bacteria was living on the yellowing floor tiles his cheek was pressed against.

Beer Gut looked down on Sam, evidently unimpressed and more than a little disappointed. "Boris, he's no hunter. Look at him, man. He's not even making an effort to kill us. It's pathetic."

"I left my knife at the motel okay? Geez, I'm not Mr. Perfect you know." Sam's irked response was somewhat muffled.

"Let's just kill him, put the sorry runt out of his misery." Beer Gut grumbled, apparently disinterested once again.

"Hey, I'm no runt, I'm tall Sammy." Sam struggled under Boris' weight, eager to stand up and prove his point.

Boris sighed and patted the back of Sam's head. "Really kid, I feel let down." He opened his mouth and a set of vicious razor-sharp retractable vampire teeth sank into view. He bent forward digging his teeth into the smooth flesh of Sam's neck as Sam squirmed to get away.

"Hey Sam, you fall in? You're missing the band. The lead singer looks just like that bald chick Sinead..."

Although Sam couldn't lift his head off the floor thanks to fat-ass Boris sitting on his head, Dean's voice was unmistakable. " Deannn!" Sam shouted out, barely aware of the dulled pain he was in. "Now you're in trouble Boris." He added triumphantly.

"Hey! Get the hell off him, my brother look like a Slurpee to you?" Dean's voice was brimming with rage.

"Looks like this one brought his knife to the party, Boris." Beer Gut said, a little cheerful at last.

"Oh I brought more than that fugly." Dean smiled reaching into his pocket and pulling out a hip flask. He quickly unscrewed it and with a swift snap of his wrist, sent holy water flying at the two vampires holding his brother down.

Beer Gut let out a confused yelp as the water hit his face. "Awww, man." He whined turning to Boris, "He just flicked water in my eye."

Dean paused waiting for the sound of hissing flesh. It didn't come. Beer Gut took the opportunity to grab a bewildered Dean and shove him to the floor so that his face was pressed a few inches away from Sam's. Sam turned his head awkwardly and peered at Dean. "I thought you'd done this before, Dean. You know vampires--that's what you said isn't it?"

"Would you be mad at me if I said I haven't killed a vampire before?"

"You lied to me? What the hell for, Dean? And what were you thinking—holy water?"

Dean looked away embarrassed, as much as he could do with Beer Gut's knee pressing into his back. "I thought it was worth a try." He paused as Sam let out an angry huff of air. "I didn't mean to lie. I was trying to impress you okay; you used to think I was some big superhero or something."

Sam raised an eyebrow stunned. "Dean, I was six and I was convinced you and dad were in the X-Men. Anyway, I never stopped looking up to you. You're my big brother."

Dean's smile was warm and genuine as it lit up his face.

"Shall we give you guys a moment alone?" Boris asked, grabbing himself a handful of Sam's hair and yanking his head back off the ground. Sam released a sharp gasp of pain.

Seeing Sam in pain was the only incentive Dean needed. The smile wiped from his face, he flipped himself onto his back and raising his leg so that his foot was against Beer Gut's rather large belly he shoved, hard. Beer Gut fell backwards, arms whirling in huge circles seeking desperately for purchase before his head slammed into the edge of one of the urinals knocking him unconscious. Dean was off the floor in a flash, pulling Boris off his brother and ramming his knife against Boris' throat. Boris screwed his eyes closed, his adam's apple twitching convulsively as the tip of Dean's blade bit into his skin. "Where's the rest of your nest?"

Boris popped one eye open to stare at Dean. "There are no others, only Sid and me."

"What?" Dean pressed the blade in a little harder, "you can't have just two people in a biker gang dude."

Boris looked offended. "Membership's been a little slow lately."

Sam struggled to pull himself to his feet and stood before Boris swaying slightly. "See, I am tall." He beamed broadly as Dean shot him a confused glance.


Thanks for reading. Part 2 up soon. Please hit the little button and review, I could really do with some feedback.