I seriously do not like this chapter. I HATE it. But I've been an ass about updating (or rather, the lack of updating FOR A MONTH), and you guys deserve something. Happy holidays.
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the boys (damn), but I do own Alischa (not my best OC, I don't think).
Just Another Day in Mystic Falls
"Mm," Dean groaned, rolling over onto his stomach. His head pounded, and he wasn't entirely sure that he wouldn't puke in the next five minutes. He then rolled onto his back once again, feeling his pockets to be sure that he had all of the weapons he came with still on him; the gun was still in his inner jacket pocket and the knife was still tucked into his belt. Yeah, all good, he thought vaguely, painfully, raising himself to his knees. Immediately he keeled over, vomiting violently.
Bad goddamn idea, Dean, he thought regrettably as he heaved.
Eventually, however, the nausea subsided—for the meantime, at least—and he was able to sit back, leaning against the tree that he'd woken up lying at an awkward angle beneath. He breathed the cool, fresh, head-clearing air deeply, trying to recall what had happen.
Mystic Falls, car crash, Sammy, girl…vampire girl…
Bitch threw me into the tree! He thought indignantly.
"Sam," he called.
Dean leaned most of his weight onto the tree as he stood, despite the nausea that racked through his body, refusing to crawl around on his hands and knees like some pathetic little idiot. He could stand on his own two feet, damn it. "Sam!" he shouted once again, looking around; it was still dark, which meant that his younger brother couldn't have gone far.
He found himself losing balance, and his knees buckling, so he leaned against the car—his baby, the one who always gave him support no matter what. But, looking around, Sam was nowhere to be found. There was no trace of him whatsoever.
"Sammy!" he shouted anyway, as loud as he could, hoping to get some kind of response. "SAM!"
His only reply was the loneliness of absolute silence.
And his instinctive thought was, Vampire whore took him, which was probably the most accurate and least bad thing that could've happened to him. Stumbling a little further, Dean actually fell to his knees to find Sam's cell phone lying there…broken, if Dean knew anything about phones. The bitch must've done a number on him.
Feeling something annoying trickle down the sides of his face, and a throbbing pain in his head that was making his stomach do somersaults again, he reached, and, upon his fingertips encountering whatever it was on him, pulled his hand back.
Blood. Absolutely terrific.
God…I need help.
No sooner had he formed the thought when Sam's phone started ringing, a loud and high and annoying sound that made his head throb even louder. He grabbed the cell phone, looking at the caller ID; 'Stefan'. Dean connected the two. 'I need help.' 'Stefan.' Sounded about right. So, because he wanted the ringing sound to stop and because his brother was missing, he answered it, putting the phone to his ear.
"Stefan, we've got issues."
"When don't we?" came the bitingly sarcastic reply that was anything but a response from Stefan Salvatore.
Dean sighed, long-sufferingly and loudly. "Damon, what the hell are you doing with Stefan's phone?"
"I stole it," Damon replied cheerfully, in an almost singsong tone.
Dean rolled his eyes, painful as the action might be. "Typical."
"So…you were saying?"
"That we've got issues."
"God, I thought we'd gotten rid of you two."
"Just not lucky enough, I guess."
"What do you want from us now, you poor, poor bastard, you?"
I'm gonna rip his head off… "It's Sam. We were going on our way—" Back into town, Dean did not add, "And this chick appeared out of nowhere in front of the car. We hit her, she didn't die."
"She didn't, now?"
"No. Quite the contrary, she flung me to the other side of the road, into the tree. The bitch gave me a concussion."
There was a short period of silence.
"…interesting. Put your brother on."
Dean gave a little, kind of helpless laugh, one that held no humor. "I, uh, I can't."
"Sam's gone. She took him."
"…all right." There was some movement on the other end, like Damon was moving around, and someone said something in the background. Damon scoffed at them before saying into the phone, "All right, I'll come get you. I won't be very long. Is your head bleeding?"
Dean sighed, lifting his arm to scrub at it the blood dripping down his forehead with his sleeve. "Yeah."
"Crap," Damon muttered. "Uh, okay. Stay there."
"Hey, I can drive back there. I didn't total my car."
"Probably not. But, you have a concussion. And I think that as a responsible 169-year-old adult, I shouldn't let you drive like that. Or is that driving drunk? Whatever, quit distracting me, I'll see you in a few minutes anyway." The vampire hung up.
Dean raised an eyebrow, pressing 'End' and putting his cell phone in his pocket. Damon Salvatore had hung up on him. Damon Salvatore had hung up on him. Dean was the one that hung up on people. But he wasn't able to finish his thought, because bile rose into his throat, and he turned away from his car, the sudden movement not helping his somersaulting stomach, but it didn't matter because he threw up on the grass again.
Nope. Not good.
And Dean wouldn't admit later, but he nearly jumped out of his skin when he felt someone grasp his arm and pull him to his feet, muttering, "Come on, dude, you can't just sit here projectile vomiting all night."
"I am not projectile vomiting. I'm just vomiting," Dean retorted, albeit weakly, and he noticed that he was actually leaning into Damon, who had an arm around him in support, and wouldn't be able to pull away if he wanted to (which, he wanted to because hey, a vampire helping a hunter counted as freaky in Dean's book); he wasn't strong enough. So he let Damon help him along, because he had no other options, although crawling on his hands and knees looked pretty good right about now.
"You come up with the dumbest arguments, you know that?" Damon murmured. "Do concussions make your brain stupid or is this just normal you?"
"You know what, shut up," Dean snapped, pulling away from Damon, taking a step on his own and feeling the world tilt, stumbling.
He felt Damon's hands again, one around his middle and the other gripping his arm, pulling him back to his feet. "Yes, you are such a badass."
"I have a concussion, I ca…I can't help it," he stumbled over his words. "And you aren't driving my car!"
"Yes, I am, because you can't. Shut up and get in the car."
It might've been the concussion, but Dean felt that if he didn't do exactly what Damon said he'd probably get knocked out and locked in the trunk until they got back to the boarding house. Then Damon was opening the driver's side door and pushing Dean through to the passenger seat, climbing inside himself, shutting the door and starting the car.
"Just so you know, Salvatore, if you screw up my car—at all—I will drive a stake through your heart."
"I mean it."
"Shut up before you hurt yourself, okay?"
Awareness came to Sam unevenly, with different things at a time. The first thing he realized was that his body throbbed all over, his head in particular. Then he realized that, despite all that, he was very comfortable, and he didn't want to open his eyes, even with the logic that he would have to eventually. After that, some talking that was nearby but muffled by a wall between him and them. Along with that, it was very dark, even though his body's clock told him it was daylight. Something must've been blocking it.
After a few moments, he also thought in random, short bursts,
Vampires, Mystic Falls, car crash, vampire chick, blackness.
He squeezed his eyes shut even tighter for a second before opening them. He could barely see, even though his vision was slowly coming accustomed to the darkness in the room.
He went to move his arms where they lay above his head, to sit up. But something pulled his wrists back, and he heard a small clinking sound. Experimentally pulling his feet back, he encountered the same dilemma. He groaned, more outwardly than inwardly, although he knew he would regret the loud sound.
Chained to a bed. That was never good.
As expected, Sam was coming to regret his loud groan when he saw the door open out of his peripheral vision.
"Well, well, well, someone's awake." And the girl absentmindedly pushed the door shut, moving further into the room, slowly and at her leisure.
"Where's my brother?" he demanded.
"Oh, not here," she replied calmly. "We don't need Deano. But I left him there at the "car crash" scene. He'll be fine, as long as the concussion wasn't too bad."
As long as you freaks don't have my brother. He didn't doubt she was telling the truth; she had no reason to lie. "So," Sam said, "demon bitch or vampire whore?"
"Vampire, naturally," she said calmly. "And as for a whore or a bitch? A bit of both." With that she sat on the edge of the bed, way too close to Sam as far as he was concerned. "Hmm…" she placed a hand that was so pale Sam could see it through the darkness on his chest, running it slowly along his lean torso. "We've never met before, but I've heard of you. And I am quite pleased to say that I am impressed. Lucifer needs a decent vessel if he's going to bring the world to it's knees, don't you think?"
That had Sam looking at her, studying her. From what he could see, she was a slender girl—vampire—and not very tall, with long, thick, dark hair hanging around her shoulders. Dark hair…
His mind flipped back to the events that could've happened hours ago, as far as he knew. The girl that lay on the ground, seemingly dead, pale as snow. And her face, one that Sam could easily connect with the vampire that sat so near him now.
She'd also been wearing the same long white dress as the vampire here.
"Wow…I'm actually surprised here. Lucifer, stooping down as low as to work with vermin like you. Then again, he's got demons doing his dirty work everywhere you turn…"
The vampire gave a small, not-totally-stable laugh. "God, you know, Lucifer really wants me to get you to him in one piece. I'm sure he wouldn't mind if I took out a few chunks, you think?"
Sam swallowed. Vampires could be bitches. And he really doubted he would like being bitten. But Winchesters weren't known for giving in. "I dunno, he might not appreciate you damaging the merchandise. He'd probably just kill you. Hell, there are thousands of vampires in the world, you're just another for him to use." Yeah, he sounded like his brother. But what was he expected to do, lie here and die and not let the vampire know that she was a sorry bitch for thinking that working for Lucifer would give her a 'Get Out of Hell on Earth Free' card?
She laughed again, softly, lightly; it sounded like a little girl's laughter. Then Sam felt her grab him by the throat and yank his head back, moving forward and burying her fangs in her throat.
He let out a gasp at the sudden pain, the vampire ripping into his throat. She gnawed, like a dog on a rawhide. And then she pulled back, but didn't release his head, making him look at her.
"Katie was stupid enough to let her and her little gang get themselves killed. Lucifer really wants you, Sam. He can't end the world without you. And me, bringing you to him? Ah, he'll be grateful. He'll spare me, unlike he wouldn't have Katie if you Winchesters and those Salvatores hadn't killed her."
"Wow," he got out around the pain that was still spreading like fire, flaring up his cheek, in his neck and down into his chest. "You are a stupid, stupid leech. You're disposable to Lucifer. He doesn't need you. He'll kill you as soon as you're no longer of use to him, you realize that, right?"
Leaning down, she growled, "Forget bringing you to him in just a few pieces, I'm ready to rip you apart. Just give me the chance, Lucifer will be able to revive you anyway." Her voice softened, but it was still a snarl. "You're lying to me, Sammy. I don't like liars." And with that, she release his head, and it fell back down on the pillow.
The door opened again, and a bright, almost painful light washed over the room briefly as another vampire came in and handed her something long and slender, something that Sam didn't recognize.
"Thank you, James," she told the other vampire briefly. "And remember, we leave at nightfall."
"Yes, ma'am," he replied respectfully, exiting the room, closing the door behind him.
Turning back to Sam, the vampire girl uncapped the object in her hand, which Sam then realized was a syringe.
"You might be weak now, but we can't have you regaining your strength and getting away. You've slipped from Lucifer's fingers too many times, and he told us to take all precautions to be sure that you couldn't escape." With that she snapped his head to one side and immediately sank the needle in, despite the fact that Sam fought and tried to throw her off. His body was prone, however; his restrains were already taut, holding him against the bed. As he watched the vampire girl withdraw, however, setting the syringe aside, he felt his body becoming weaker, more relaxed, tired. He barely had enough time to fight against the wave of unconsciousness that threatened to overwhelm him before his eyes were sliding shut.
The very last thing he heard was already faraway sounding, muffled. "By the way, you can call me Alischa." And the unconsciousness overcame him.
Shouldn't be much left now. Please review!