So, I was doubtful as to whether i was gonna continue onward with this series here, but what the hell!! hope everyone enjoys!! This story is running parallel to gengeno776's story It only Hurts to Breathe...she will be writing Sam and Jax's storyline and I will be focusing on Dean and Rowan's storyline...please let us know what you are like cookies and we love cookies!! bambers;)

Chapter One

For what seemed the longest time, Rowan stood outside the doorway of the motel room that he and Dean had stayed at while hunting for Killeon. With his head lowered, dark wispy bangs trailing into his deep green eyes, he lightly rested his hand against the wooden surface. He didn't want to leave Dean alone to die, but he had meant what he said. He just couldn't stand by and watch another person he cared about die, and having bitten Lucifer and drank his blood, Dean was pretty much as good as dead.

"I'm sorry, Dean," he breathed in a soft whisper as he turned and headed for the Chevelle.

Luckily, he had thought to pick Dean's pocket when the younger man had fallen into his arms, and had taken his car keys. A stab of guilt ate away at him as he got in the sleek black automobile and drove away, leaving Dean with no transportation, and only the weapons that he had brought inside the motel with him. His only consolation was that in a short amount of time, Dean would be in no condition to drive anywhere, and it was safer for him to stay where he was at the moment.

Trying to push aside any thoughts of what he had done, Rowan headed out of Las Vegas and toward North Carolina. Killeon had made it very clear that vamps had been watching his son, and that meant Collin was in danger. He had also sent Bobby and Joshua to his home there, and if Killeon found that out, their lives were in danger as well. That thought had him pressing even harder on the gas pedal.

As he drove, Rowan's mind wandered back to how Dean had risked his life to save him, and another wave of guilt crashed over him. Dean had done the unthinkable, he had become a vampire, something he detested with all his heart and soul, and Rowan had just walked out when Dean needed him the most. But without the amulet, Rowan couldn't see a way to save Dean's life, and just couldn't stomach the thought of sticking around to watch his excruciatingly painful death.

Not knowing what else he could do to help Dean, he yanked his cell phone out of his pocket and jabbed the button. When a deeply masculine voice answered, Rowan didn't even bother with customary formalities as he got right to the heart of why he had called.

"Lochlan, it's Rowan, I need you to get me a cell number for a Jax Callio, an' I needed it like yesterday."

"Told you before, Rowan," came Lochlan's now irritated voice, "the Brethren isn't your own personal little geek squad. You need a number call information."

"Why would I do that when I know you can get me the number within a heartbeat?"

"Sure I could, if I wanted to," Lochlan said, clearly not about to give Rowan an easy time in getting the information he wanted. "But I don't, so you're outta luck."

"Tell me something, Lochlan," Rowan went on to say as if he hadn't heard the barely disguised contempt in the younger man's tone, "just who owns all those fancy little high-tech gadgets you use for your research?" He paused to wait for Lochlan to respond, but when he failed to do so, Rowan added, "And that crappy piece of junk you call a classic muscle car which costs more in repairs than it's actually worth . . . jus' wonderin' who actually owns it? Not to mention all those little business expenses you seem to rack up monthly . . . still not exactly sure if a five hundred dollar an hour prostitute could technically be called a business expense, but hell, I'm nothin' if not generous."

"Thought she was a demon an' was jus' checkin' it out," Lochlan hastily defended, although Rowan could've sworn he could hear the smile in the younger hunter's voice.

"I'm sure the world's a safer place due to your dedication to the job," Rowan smirked as he rolled his eyes. "But my point is, if you don't get your goddamn ass on that computer an' find me the number, I'm so gonna kick your freakin' ass when I get to North Carolina."

"You're comin' here?"

"I'm on my way as we speak."

Lochlan was silent for a moment, his steady breathing the only sound coming from the other end of the line, and then he finally responded. "What was his last name again?"

"Callio . . . Jax Callio."

Rowan listen as Lochlan tapped at a computer keyboard and within a matter of moments he said, "Area code 919-764-3224 . . . there you got your number, now do me a favor an' forget mine cause I swear this is the last time I help ya out." Before Rowan even had the chance to thank him, Lochlan hung up the line.

Quickly dialing the number Lochlan had given him, Rowan listened and breathed a sigh of relief when Jax finally answered.

"Hello," Jax muttered into the phone, and Rowan could distinctly hear Sam talking in the background.

"Jax, it's Rowan. Where are you?"

"Headin' for North Carolina at the moment," Jax replied, lowering his tone.

"I need you to get your ass back here right now to give Dean back his amulet."

"Can't do that," Jax refused, lowering his voice even more.

"He could die if you don't get it back here to me very soon," Rowan breathed, tightening his hold on his phone. "So get your ass back here now."

"Look, I'd like ta help ya, but . . . ." Jax hesitated for a moment, and Rowan could tell the younger hunter was trying to decide if he should turn around and come back to Las Vegas or not. "I can't . . . there's someone in North Carolina who needs my help, so you're jus' gonna have ta figure out another way ta help him." With that, Jax hung up on him.

"Sonuvabitch." Rowan threw down the phone in utter frustration. Jax was Dean's only hope, and he was driving further and further away as the moments ticked cruely by. He grabbed for the phone again, thinking that maybe if he argued a little more, Jax would change his mind, but knew deep down it was useless. "Jax, I'm so gonna kick your freakin' ass the next time I see you."


Dean stared dumbfounded at the closed door of the motel room he was staying in, waiting for Rowan to return, but as minutes dragged on, he fearfully realized Rowan wasn't coming back. Drawing in a shaky breath, Dean slowly got to his feet, and was forced to grab hold of the chair to balance himself. His grip tightened around the backrest as the room seemed to shift off kilter and then just as swiftly shifted back.

With the back of his hand, he swiped the sweat beading on his forehead, and cursed aloud as he felt how warm his head felt. From years of experience taking care of Sam, he knew that sweating was usually a good sign as it meant the fever was breaking, but could tell by the heat radiating off of him, that he was no where near getting any better.

On shaky legs, he carefully made his way to the bed, and slumped down onto it. Call Sam, tell him where you are an' say your goodbyes," Rowan's last parting words came back to haunt Dean as he pushed his way further onto the mattress and laid down. Yanking his cell phone out of his pocket, he stared at it long and hard before he finally jabbed the button to call his little brother. Come on, Sammy, pick up the phone, I really need to talk to you . . . need to hear your voice," Dean silently pleaded as he listened to the phone ringing.


Dean's heart caught in his throat as he heard Sam answer the phone, but as he opened his mouth to speak to him he remembered Michael's warning, and snapped his mouth shut.

"Hello?" Sam asked again, this time sounding a bit aggravated.

I think I'm dyin', Sammy . . . an' I don't wanna die alone. Please come an' find me.

"Is there anyone there?"

There's so much I wanna tell ya . . . so many damn things I need to explain. It was only supposed to be for six months, an' then I was free.

"Dean?" There was such a sound of desperate hope in his little brother's voice that it tore away a hole in Dean's heart. "Is that you? If it's you jus' answer me, please."

Yeah, it's me, Sammy . . . I need you to find me . . . I need to be able to say goodbye.

"If that's you, Dean, where are ya?" Sam's tone turned to pleading, and Dean's grip on the phone tightened in response. "Jus' tell me where you are an' I'll come an' find ya.

"I'm in Las Vegas, little brother . . . an' I'm jus' callin' to say goodbye. Dean hit the button ending the call.


Rowan slowed the car down as he passed by an old stone church, and swore under his breath. Doing a quick u-turn, he pulled into the vacant parking lot, parked the car, and headed inside. Fearful and on shaky legs, he trudged down the long aisle way lined on either side with cushioned pews. As he reached the altar, he dropped to his knees and lowered his head.

"Tell me what to do," he called out to the statue of Jesus on the cross. "I don't want to leave him to die, but I don't know how to save him."

Rowan waited for what seemed the longest time with no answer to his plea, and just when he was beginning to think there would be no answer forth coming, a soft breeze filtered into the damp old church causing the candles on the altar to flicker. Closing his eyes, he felt as if someone placed a comforting hand on his shoulder as he could see a warm golden glow behind his closed eyelids.

"It's been a long time since you've found your way to my house, Judas," came a softly spoken male voice. "It's good to see that you're finally finding your way."

"He trusted me, an' I turned my back on him an' walked away," Rowan reluctantly admitted.

"Those who wander are not always lost, but then you don't really need me to tell you that, or you wouldn't be here in the first place."

Rowan lowered his head even further as he listen to the voice that held no condemnation for his actions. "He saved me when any other person would've turned their back on me, an' I just couldn't find it in myself to do the same for him."

"You speak as if he is already dead." The soft soothing voice hesitated briefly as if to give Rowan hope that Dean still had a chance to overcome the sickness raging through his body, and then the voice continued, "Only God can truly know when it is a man's time to die, and I can assure that it is not this day. Now, you need to do what you know in your heart is the right thing to do. And even if it is his time to die, no man should have to die alone."

As the faint breeze died away and the golden glimmer faded, Rowan opened his eyes to find he was alone in the sanctuary. "Thank you," he murmured, and smiled as he glanced up at the old wooden cross once more.

He rose to stand, slowly walked down the aisle, and headed out of the church. Once inside the Chevelle again, he grabbed for his phone, dialed a number and waited until he heard someone answer.

"McCarran International Airport, how may I help you?"

"Yes, this Alexander Cole of Cole Steel Industries, I need my private jet fueled and made ready for take off as soon as possible."

"Just one moment, sir, and I will get you an estimated time of departure and an ETA. Where are you planning to travel to?"

"North Carolina."

After a long pause, in which Rowan heard the woman on the other end of the line typing on a computer, she finally came back on the line and said, "We can have your plane fueled and ready for take off within the next two hours with an ETA of 1:45 a.m. at the Charlotte Douglas International Airport."

"Thanks, I'll have one other passenger with me."

"Very good, sir, we'll be expecting you."

Hanging up with the airport attendant, Rowan quickly dialed another number, and waited until he heard a man answer.

"Fletcher's Shipping and Freight, this is Ed speaking, how can I help you?"

"Ed, this is Artemis Fletcher, and I need a car transported to North Carolina on your next outgoing freight train to that destination."

"Yes, sir, Mr. Fletcher," Ed's tone turned very accommodating as he heard the owner of the company was calling, "let me just check the books for the next available train to North Carolina." Ed paused for a moment, and then came back on the line. "We can have it shipped out of here tomorrow on a nine a.m. train and it should reach North Carolina by Thursday evening at the latest."

"Good, I'll drop it off within the hour." Snapping his phone shut, Rowan got back in the Chevelle to travel back to the motel to pick up Dean.


After hearing the sound of hope in Sam's voice, Dean dragged himself out of bed, and slowly began the daunting task of gathering his clothes and gear together. With or without Rowan's help, he wasn't about to give up just yet. As the room shifted in and out of focus, Dean packed away his belongings in his duffel, and slung it over his shoulder.

If he could just make it to North Carolina on his own, Bobby might be able to figure out a cure for whatever was wrong with him. With that thought in mind, he opened the door and headed outside. A quick glance around the parking lot, had him shaking his head in clear disbelief.

"That sonuvabitch," he breathed angrily as he slumped back against the door frame. "He stole my freakin' car."