It called to me. The blood literally called to me. I don't know why I hesitated after that shallow shallow nick on her neck. Maybe something in me made me do it, made me smell it, feel it, and know that I wanted it inside my body. I did it. I bit and I sucked until I felt the blood coursing through my veins, felt it empowering me, felt as it made me stronger, made me strong enough to take out those sons of bitches who have done so much damage to me and my family.
I forgot that Dean was there. I forgot that he didn't know. I forgot that he would be mad at me. I forgot to worry when I smelled the blood, and everything else melted away as the warm thick liquid slithered down my throat.
But boy oh boy did it come back to me when I turned and saw my brother's face. I just turned. Didn't wipe the evidence off of my mouth, like I had so many times when I claimed I was just going to the bathroom, but really I was going to take a drink. I brushed my teeth after every sip, made sure that my breath never smelled like blood. Because my brother was a trained hunter, and if there was one smell that a hunter knew, it was blood. But not this time. I simply turned around. Mouth completely covered in it, it had to be grotesque, I'm glad I didn't see it, it would have shamed me, and right then, I needed to be focused enough to get the demon that was coming up on my brother.
Dean has never flinched at my movements. Trust was something that we've had ever since I can remember. He trusted me when I held a fire arm mere inches from his face, trusted that I wasn't aiming at him, but at the monster just beyond him. He trusted me with knives, and he trusted me to sleep next to him, and not do him harm. But here, he flinched. I held my hand out, and he flinched, moved completely out of the way. He thought I was going to hurt him. My brother was afraid of me, worried that I would do him harm, and dare I say, I don't think my brother trusted me at that moment. The look in his eyes, the panic, the hurt, the fear, all of it was wrapped up in his eyes, and at that second I didn't feel anything, but the moment the high wore off, the moment that demon was taken care of, I remembered to think and to be worried.
When we were alone, he didn't walk close to me. My shoulder felt naked so to speak. He and I usually walk close enough that we bump shoulders. But tonight wasn't business as usual. He kept his distance. He didn't' speak to me, didn't yell or scream, or even take a swing. Now that was what I expected. I expected him to be mad, I think I would like it better if he was mad, took a couple of swings. At least then I would know what he was thinking, I wouldn't have to stare at the side of his face and wonder what he was thinking.
The car ride, where we were going was still a mystery to me, seemed endless. The night stretched on and on, and my brother didn't look my way, didn't pull his eyes from the endless blacktop being swallowed whole by the Impala's wheels. It made me antsy. Made me want to crawl out of my skin. And now the raw power of the demon blood was amplifying my emotions, turning fear into anger, worry into rage. I couldn't take the silence any longer.
"Alright, you saw what I did. Come on stop the car and take a swing."
"I'm not going to take a swing."
"Then scream, chew me out."
"I'm not mad Sam."
"Come on, you're not mad."
"Right. Look, at least let me explain myself."
"Don't. I don't care." I think that's when I stopped hearing. My demon blood addled brain understood what Dean just said. He didn't care about the blood, didn't care that I was destroying myself, allowing my soul to be burned away one drop, one drink at a time. Maybe I wanted him to see me bathed in blood, maybe I wanted him to find a way to help me, because I'm scaring myself.
Dean always said he was going to save me, and Dad and I both made him promise that he'd kill me if he couldn't save me. I always thought he would put a bullet in my brain, but I guess he's just decided to let me kill myself. It is the cowards way out. It just proves that he isn't strong enough for this mission, this supposed destiny of his. He can't even kill the thing that's inside of me, can't kill it, cut it out, scrub it clean.
When I was little I thought my big brother could do anything, thought he could always save me. But Dean has never, nor will ever, be able to save me from the biggest, baddest, most evil monster of them all---myself.