It's official - you lot are fab. Hopefully I've managed to personally thank everyone who left a review.
Btw - part one has now been beta'ed. I'm getting achy knees from bowing at the feet of the amazing grkgrl88 who showed me the correct way to describe toilets using USA speak. I was almost going to write 'loo' at one point, as that's what we call them here in the UK.
Jello Shots and Vampires – Part Two
"Dude. You're wasted?" Dean asked glaring angrily at Sam.
Sam pouted. "Maybe an incy wincy bit." He replied holding his finger and thumb apart to indicate a tiny gap which would have been a more convincing example of his sobriety had he not been going cross-eyed as he gawked at his hand.
"We're hunting vampires and you get loaded? Man. I should have known you couldn't handle all those Leprechaun shots you were knocking back. I only wanted you to taste one not pickle yourself in the stuff."
Sam pouted again with more emphasis. "Guess you're not the only one trying to impress."
Dean scowled in response, deep lines rippling across his forehead in waves. Boris jerked his head towards Sam, wincing as Dean's knife bit a little deeper into his neck. "You've had one of those Leprechaun green jello shots? Really? They're meant to be hardcore; I've been trying to convince Sid to give them a try all night." Boris said somewhat in awe.
"I've had seven." Sam replied with an air of nonchalance as he held up nine fingers.
"Man, I'm impressed. Now you come to mention it, your blood did have a tasty zingy aftertaste."
"Thanks. That'll have been the lime." Sam smiled as if paid a huge compliment.
"Can we cut the warm and fuzzies crap please and get to the decapitation part. I've got a zingy little something waiting for me at the bar and she ain't a Leprechaun." Dean glowered, transparently fed up.
Boris eyeballed the knife held in Dean's hand. "You're going to decapitate me with that tiny thing?"
Dean turned to Sam and held out his hand. "Machete, Sam." Sam glanced at Dean's open hand, then at Dean's face, then back at Dean's open hand again. Dean waggled his fingers emphatically. "Give-me-your-machete, Sammy." Dean growled. Not overly impressed with what Sam's drunkenness was doing for the Winchester kick ass hunter reputation.
Sam's jaw dropped as he remembered he had a machete strapped to his leg in a sheath and it had indeed been there all night. He rushed to grapple with the complicated task of rolling up his trouser leg. Meanwhile Boris had spotted Beer Gut stirring awake from where he lay underneath the urinals. With a signalling wink from Boris, Beer Gut clambered unsteadily to his feet and made a dive for Sam, who was busily tugging at his ankle. The force of Beer Gut's considerable weight knocked Sam flying towards one of the stall doors. Boris used the distraction to slam his head forward so that it smashed into Dean's face. Dean's hands flew to his nose, which was by now spurting blood. His knife clattering to the floor in the commotion.
Sam groaned as Beer Gut lifted and pinned him against the far wall, promptly sinking his teeth into Sam's neck on the unharmed side where Boris hadn't already been sucking. "Hmmm zingy." Beer Gut said in rapture as he drank and Sam's clumsy struggles began to weaken.
Dean, weapon-less and witnessing the sight of his little brother being drained of blood, felt himself begin to grow mad. Boris stared at him, licking his lips at the sight of the blood still dripping from Dean's nose but apparently conflicted over whether to feed on Dean or get himself another taste of the alcohol-rich blood Sam had to offer. Like a kid in a candy store his eyes kept flicking greedily from one Winchester meal to the other.
Both Boris and Beer Gut froze as the restroom door opened and a short chubby faced man wearing kaki pants and a pair of brown sandals over thick socks came into the room. The man also froze as he saw Sam pressed against the wall by Beer Gut. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other uncomfortably as Beer Gut released his grip on Sam, who consequently slid down the wall to the floor. Beer Gut spun around and glared irritably at the man. "Sorry-sorry, I didn't realize it was that sort of bar." The man stuttered, clearly petrified as he hastily exited the room. The door slamming closed behind him.
Beer Gut turned back to Sam's limp form in time to be greeted by a heavy toilet tank lid, which Dean swung like he was trying for a home run, cracking it against Beer Gut's skull. The lid broke in two as it met the resistance of Beer Gut's face and Beer Gut plummeted to the floor in a boneless heap.
Dean, still clutching one of the broken pieces of lid, turned swinging it again. This time aiming for Boris' chin. It hit with a sickening crack and Boris dropped like a stone. Dean threw the heavy piece of porcelain aside and hurried over to where Sam lay, pale and unmoving. Dean crouched next to his brother and put his fingers into the blood slick at Sam's neck worriedly searching for a pulse. "Sammy? Don't do this to me." Dean could feel his eyes begin to sting and he wiped at them roughly with the back of his hand. "Sammy?" He tried again, the tremble in his voice betraying his panic.
"G-germs." Sam mumbled his head tossing weakly from side to side.
"What? Say that again Sammy?"
Sam's eyes cracked open and he raised his head mere inches off the sticky floor. Lifting a hand to rub at his face he let Dean guide his head back down to rest upon Dean's knees. "Germs, man, germs. This floor is disgusting."
Dean laughed, too long and too loud. Achingly relieved to hear Sam sounding like Sam. "Tell me about it. I'm sitting on it." Dean grumbled, though he really didn't give a crap. He'd sit on much worse than a urine discolored floor if it meant Sam was okay.
Sam stared up at Dean. He felt weak and woozy. Blood loss and whisky making the room spin like a fairground ride. He could feel Dean's fingers fiddling to remove the machete from his leg. "Give me a minute." Dean whispered glancing briefly down at Sam before shifting Sam's head gently off of his knees. Sam was about to protest at having his head put back down on the gross floor but his mouth slammed shut again as he felt something soft and comfortable placed under his head as a makeshift pillow. His heart flooded with warmth when he realized it was Dean's precious leather jacket.
Sam lay for awhile peacefully drifting. Only faintly aware of the sound of the machete, whistling through air before slicing into flesh and bone. He might have fallen asleep as unexpectedly Dean was by his side again, carefully lifting him up. Once upright and leaning heavily on Dean, Sam stood motionless, staring at the headless bodies of Boris and Beer Gut.
"Sam?" Dean asked bemused.
"They didn't go poof."
Dean shrugged apologetically. "Guess I over-exaggerated that part. Come on; let's get you back to the motel. You can sleep off all those Leprechaun shots and Sam?"
"You're going to have a killer hangover in the morning. You know hangovers make you wake up crabby, like a guy being poked in the ass by a pitchfork. So no more Leprechauns okay?"
"No more Leprechauns." Sam agreed nodding hard. And if that wasn't the weirdest thing he'd ever said, he really didn't know what was.
Dean glanced longingly at the restroom door, knowing they couldn't exactly take the easy route and walk back through the bar. Sam's neck and jacket collar were saturated with blood and the bottom half of Dean's face was smeared red with the blood from his nose. So that he looked like he'd been the one chowing down on Sam's neck. He grabbed hold of Sam and hoisted him up towards the small bathroom window, grunting at the effort and absently wondering if little brother had been eating lead recently. As he lifted Sam, Dean mourned the loss of the hot girl in the bar who was, no doubt, getting zingy with someone else by now.
"Dean. I think you've earned the title 'Vampire Whisperer'." Sam said as his head and shoulders disappeared through the open window.
"Nah dude. It's too lame, I've decided to go with Awesome McAwesome."
Dean gave Sam's backside a light shove so that the rest of his brother vanished through the window as he grinned affectionately at the sound of Sam's giggling.
If you liked it, even just a tiny bit, please let me know. I could have written more but there's a story length limit for the fanfic challenge and it seemed like a good a place to end as any.