Notes: This story began as a fun oneshot, and ended up eclipsing the story I was originally working on (which I will now get back to!). Thanks to everyone who read and enjoyed this story. You're awesome.
Extra note: I don't think I've ever mentioned this, but I'm a fairly big Shakespeare fan. I read his sonnets very often, about one every other day for a few years now. I know it's a bit corny, but I wanted Eric to express himself using a sonnet. It just seems like the type of thing a thousand year vampire would do. I picked a fairly popular one, but also one of my favorites. Hope you don't cringe too much. If anyone hates reading Shakespearean English (which many people I know do) you can google the number (55) and probably find a modern version side-by-side. Also it's IMPORTANT to read it aloud, please. I can't stand people who read poetry silent, lol.
Chapter 10: Last Chapter because otherwise I'll go insane. ;)
Eric had fought many battles. Most of them he knew he could win, but far from all. Contrary perhaps to popular belief, vampires did indeed have a fight or flight instinct.
Eric only entered a fight he didn't know he could win if it was worth dying for.
When Ruby had been in control, he had been in a dream state most of the time. He knew it was impossible, silly even, but he was certain he had dreamt all this:
The stone corridor leading to the room with the altar, the cold wind that didn't really effect him, but gave a strange sense of comfort, and the loneliness.
Most of all, he was certain he had dreamt his death. But perhaps that was just his mind playing tricks with him. He had waited a thousand years for the other shoe to drop, so to speak. It seemed petty to care how he went out. He didn't really believe in having the last laugh, as long as he had justice for himself and those he cared for.
It didn't matter if his opponent didn't see it coming. Once, perhaps it had, but he was far too old for that now.
The doors were open. He could see Lilith standing in front of the altar, her back to him. He knew Ruby's ability to connect with other demons was limited due to his presence. His first hope in his plan was that it also prevented other demons from recognizing her. Even after having spent all that time riding in the backseat to a very chatty demon, he still couldn't understand the complexities of their power-levels.
Which meant he had no idea how this confrontation would even begin. He could be dead in a moment.
She appeared to be quite serene, waiting for her death. Eric felt a stab of jealousy. Though he was content to die tonight, he did not wish to fail. That would mean Sam's destiny could still be fulfilled.
She didn't turn until he was by the door, and when she did Eric was prepared for her to look into his eyes and find them wanting. She smiled in greeting, however. First test confirmed- she could not immediately tell he wasn't Ruby. He tried not to breathe a sigh of relief. Old reflexes could still pop up even in the oldest of vampires.
'Where's Sam?' she asked lightly.
'He'll be along,' Eric replied, giving her an evil smirk for added effect. He made sure to speak with American accent, the way Ruby had preferred. 'He thinks we're approaching from different sides, ambushing you.' Lilith smiled, delighted.
'How's the vamp treating you?' she said with a slight drawl. 'It's a bit unnerving, the way you appear.'
'He's annoying, but I am in control.'
'And he's still dampening your powers?'
'Yes, I haven't been able to subdue him.'
'You feel… cold'
'I am in control,' Eric assured her.
'Good.' She turned back to her alter, running her hands over it in a sensual manner. Eric walked forwards causally, coming to stand a few feet to her right. He gazed on her with admiration.
'Any moment now,' he said, voice filled with anticipation. She gave a sigh of pleasure.
'Yes,' she whispered, her eyes closing at the thought of her master's arrival.
Eric struck, as quickly as his vampiric speed would allow. The knife almost touched her skin before she stopped it with an iron grip on his wrist.
He looked into her eyes and saw pure rage. It did not surprise him, but it still filled him with dread.
There were no arms that held him tight this time, only worn restraints barely doing their job. Sam saw the fan above him, breathing in slowly and watching it come into focus.
It must have taken longer this time, he thought. There was barely a sense of time left in him at all.
He didn't know how long he lay there, feeling his body. He felt thirsty, for water, and instead of calling out he relished in the feeling for a moment. He could tell from the opening above the fan that it was day, so perhaps that was why Eric wasn't there.
'Dean!' he called out, hoping his voice sounded normal enough for Dean to recognize it. He didn't call again, but waited patiently, as a normal person would. Finally, he heard quick steps on the stairs and the door creaked open.
'Sam?' Dean asked the second he popped his head in. Sam tried to smile as normally as possible.
'You feeling okay today?' Dean came inside, his eyes scanning Sam like they always did when Sam was hurt or sick.
'Yeah, I think it's over. Feels like it, anyway,' Sam rolled his shoulders as much as the restraints would allow him. 'I'm a bit sore, and thirsty, and hungry,' he added as he took stock of his bodily needs. Dean snorted softly.
'Sounds good to me,' he said and undid the restraints.
'Is Eric still around?' Sam was trying for unaffected, but Dean's sudden stiffness made him give that up. 'Dean? Where is he?' His brother finished undoing the binds and got up.
'Why don't I go make you some breakfast. The whole nine yards, all right? We'll talk after.' He didn't wait for a reply, and left in a hurry. Sam swallowed as he sat up, very slowly, feeling his joints creak. Dean had sounded worried. Was it just because Eric had gone missing, or something even worse?
He felt an odd crinkling in his pocket and checked it, pulling out a folded piece of paper. He was pretty sure he hadn't put it there. Dean wasn't the type to leave secret notes on his person, so Sam opened it carefully, holding his breath.
Out of all the possibilities his mind had entertained, a poem was not it. At first it didn't seem like the type of thing Eric would do, but once he thought about it, and the words on the paper spilled into his mind, he realized a thousand year old vampire would probably think a poem would be the best way to say anything even slightly emotionally taxing.
Or a sonnet, in this case. Sam was well-read, but he wasn't familiar with all of Shakespeare 's sonnet. He couldn't recall if he had ever read this one, but he was pretty sure he would never forget it.
No longer mourn for me when I am dead
Then you shall hear the surly sullen bell
Give warning to the world that I am fled
From this vile world, with vilest worms to dwell:
Nay, if you read this, remember not
The hand that writ it; for I love you so
That I in your sweet thoughts would be forgot
If thinking of me should bring you woe.
O, if, I say, you look upon this verse
When I perhaps compounded am with clay,
Do not so much as my poor name rehearse.
But let your love even with my life decay,
Lest the wise world should look into your moan
And mock you with me after I am gone.
He must have read it ten times over. The words glided easily into his mind, but their meaning were refused entry. In the face of such simple, sad, old beauty, Sam's modern mind was inadequate to the task.
He was running up the stairs and into the kitchen before his mind had even left the bed.
Dean spun around at the abrupt entry, just in time to see Sam's circulation-system tell him he'd over-estimated his recovery. He swayed precariously, his vision fogging.
Dean was right there, holding him up.
'Hey, hey, easy there big boy,' he said. 'Why'd you do that? You're like a hungry puppy, I swear.'
'Eric,' Sam gasped out as his vision returned. He grabbed hold of Dean's shoulders, the paper crumpling in his right hand. 'Where is he?' Dean's face contorted in uncomfortable grief.
'Let's talk about it later,' he shrugged out of Sam's grasp.
'No,' Sam said, holding the paper in front of Dean's face. 'Tell me now.' Dean gave him an odd look before grabbing the paper and unfolding it. His eyes scanned the words. He couldn't have gotten halfway before he rolled his eyes in frustration and sighed.
'Jesus Christ, Eric,' he muttered angrily.
'Where is he?' Sam repeated sharply.
'He went after Lilith,' Dean explained tiredly.
'What? When? How? Why?' Dean didn't meet his eyes, but looked down at the paper in his hands without really seeing it.
'He said he was going, with or without our help, so we gave him the knife, and he went.'
'You gave him the knife?' Sam asked incredulously.
'I thought I'd give him a snowball's chance, at least,' Dean explained.
'What happened?' Sam asked, unsure if he wanted to know.
'We're pretty sure Lilith is dead.'
It took a few seconds for Sam's mind to wrap itself around that. In the end, it was superfluous information.
'We don't know,' Dean admitted. 'Castiel came by the day after Eric left and told us Lilith was gone, but he couldn't find Eric.'
Sam walked over to the kitchen table and sat down heavily.
'I'm not saying this to make you feel better,' Dean began, 'but Castiel is pretty sure the Apocalypse is a no-go for the foreseeable future. Unless the devil can find a new first lieutenant and somehow get everything set up just right again, he's stuck in there for our life-times at least.'
Sam sighed deeply.
'Good,' he said. Dean slowly put the paper down in front of him on the table. Eric's handwriting looked old and crooked, almost like Shakespeare himself might have written it. Sam suddenly felt a stupid regret that he had never asked Eric what life had been like during the 16th century.
'With vilest worms to dwell,' he whispered.
'What?' Dean asked from where he was back at the stove cooking breakfast, giving Sam his semi-privacy to take it all in.
'Where do vampires go?' Sam asked, looking up, unaware of the deep sadness etched on his face.
'I don't know, Sammy,' Dean said apologetically.
Sam got up and went outside, not feeling particularly hungry. The sun shone, annoyingly. He wandered around the empty shells of former cars, feeling right at home.
'Castiel?' he asked. 'I know you're probably busy-' He stopped short when the angel appeared before him, wearing what Sam could only describe as a pitying expression.
'Sam,' he said gravely.
'Hey,' Sam replied awkwardly.
'I have been waiting for your recovery.'
'Oh...' Sam felt almost touched.
'You want to ask me about Eric,' Castiel surmised. Sam nodded, putting his hands in his pockets and kicking away a few pebbles by his feet, as if he was a child that knew he wouldn't like the next conversation.
'Did you really not find him?'
'He was not at the sight where Lilith died, that is as much as I know.' Sam tried to keep the hope from his heart.
'So he could still be alive?'
'I… I believe he is.' Sam let out a breath at Castiel's admission. He turned and paced up and down once, trying to get his mind out of the grief-filled hole he had been in.
'So… where is he?'
'Somewhere he does not want to be found,' Castiel suggested. Sam closed his eyes, the picture finally clear.
'He thinks he needs to stay away from me,' he whispered.
'Dean explained to me that the vampire felt guilty over what happened to you, and that he is staying away because he loves you.'
'Dean explained?' Sam repeated.
'Yes,' Castiel nodded. Sam let out a huff of breath, shaking his head.
'Typical,' he muttered. 'Thank you.' He turned to go.
'Sam,' Castiel stopped him. 'I'm sorry for my earlier threats on your life.'
'I never thought I'd see the day when a vampire would stop Lucifer,' Castiel admitted.
'Yeah,' Sam agreed. That was pretty incredible. He nodded once to Castiel and hurried back inside. Dean was now sitting at the kitchen table, eating more than his fair share. Sam spared a thought to wonder where Bobby was, but figured it might still be early. They kept odd hours after all.
'Eric is still alive, you jerk,' Sam blurted. Dean looked up at him, sighed and put down his fork.
'It's one thing not getting my hopes up, but to actually lie to me,' Sam began. Dean started speaking, their voices going louder as they argued, talking over each other.
'We thought he was dead, at first-'
'I thought you had accepted this-'
'Castiel went over the place again-'
'If it wasn't for him, I'd be dead ten times over for Christ's sake!'
'He wants to stay GONE, Sam!' Dean rose abruptly, eyes flashing in anger. Sam clenched his jaw and forced himself to keep silent. 'He left that stupid poem-'
'Sonnet,' Sam muttered.
'Because he left, for good,' Dean explained patiently. 'He wants you to have some sort of normal life.'
'Screw normal,' Sam snapped. Dean rolled his eyes.
'A normal love-life at least,' he amended.
'Neither of us are under any illusions that we'll find some nice girl to settle down with,' Sam growled. He tilted his head to the side, contemplating his brother. 'Is that why? You hate the fact that I found someone who can share this life?'
'Let's get one thing straight,' Dean said sharply, 'Eric can't share a life with you, because he's not even alive. He's gone. Accept it.' Dean left the table, and his food, and stalked out of the kitchen. Sam followed him outside, but stopped on the top of the porch, watching as Dean headed for some car he was working on.
'Would you let them go?' Sam asked, causing Dean to stop short. 'If you loved another hunter? If they left out of guilt for something that wasn't their fault?'
'It was his fault,' Dean said, not even turning around to face Sam. He appeared to be about to walk on, but then changed his mind and turned around, giving Sam a resigned look. 'I've tried to accept the fact that you love him, Sammy, and I know he saved the world, but I can't-'
He shook his head.
'I can't be sorry he's gone.' With that he walked away.
Sam watched him go.
Dean felt bad. He tried not to. He started work on the car, wondering if he should wake Bobby up so he could deal with Sam. The old hunter had taken the last watch, however, so Dean felt worse for even considering it.
He hadn't even really started working when he threw the wrench away and went back inside. Sam needed to understand. He hadn't really meant it the way it had come out.
He heard Sam's voice from the living room, but not the actual words. He approached quietly. Eavesdropping came natural to the Winchesters.
'Eric, please pick up,' Sam was whispering. Dean peaked around the corner. Sam was sitting on the couch, one hand on his forehead. His eyes were closed.
'Come on, you idiot, pick up.' He waited two more rings before he pulled the phone from his ear and stared at the display, finally flipping the thing closed. He threw it away and it hit the wall with quite a bit of force. Both hands on his face now, Sam hunched over. Dean realized he was trying not to cry.
Dean watched for a few seconds more before heading back outside. He stopped once he was out in the gravel yard, and looked up.
'Hey, Cas. You still around?'
'Yes, I have been watching.' Castiel appeared right in front of him. 'I am not a fan of the vampire either, but you both deserve peace.'
'You sound like it's all over.'
'It is… for now.'
'There are still monsters out there,' Dean pointed out. 'And Eric is one of them.'
'The whole world knows about Eric's kind,' Castiel mused. 'Some might call them monsters, but do you hunt the monsters everyone knows about?'
'That's semantics,' Dean pointed out. Castiel shrugged.
'I don't think an angel is the right person to ask for advice about vampires.' Dean sighed, glancing back at the house.
'Can you find him?'
'I will try, for both of you.'
'Thanks.' But when Dean glanced back, Castiel was already gone, as usual.
Eric struck, as quickly as his vampiric speed would allow. The knife almost touched her skin before she stopped it with an iron grip on his wrist.
He looked into her eyes and saw pure rage. It did not surprise him, but it still filled him with dread.
'You really thought you had a chance?' She hissed. Eric raised his other hand and tried to hit her across the face. She was quick and dodged.
Then the fight began.
She appeared to be playing with him, liking the physicality of it. His speed was new to her compared to the humans she so easily consumed.
'Where is Ruby?' she gasped after Eric had managed to hit her a few times.
'She's here,' Eric lied. 'Desperate to break through.'
They danced, they broke stone and wood and glass, but never bone or muscle. She could use her powers on him, but clearly chose not to, or perhaps she was saving it for something. Her speed wasn't actually that much quicker than his own, however.
She got hold of his throat and raised him up high above her head. Since he didn't have to breathe, it was merely an inconvenience.
'Ruby,' she growled.
'Yes, I'm here,' Eric gasped. For just a fraction of a second, Lilith's eyes narrowed as she tried to verify his statement. In this minute moment of distraction, Eric kicked her in the stomach with all his force. She flew backwards, her grip slipping. Even before Eric himself had hit the ground, he had brought the knife up. To a human it would have passed before they could even see it, but to Eric it was an eternity.
He was charging her even though she had still to hit the floor. He struck just as she raised her arm to no doubt blast him away, but this time, he was quicker.
The pure shock on her face was priceless.
'No,' she gasped as he twisted the knife deep in her gut. Such a little mistake, all because of arrogance.
When the life has burned out of her, Eric felt oddly bereft. After all that, he still wasn't dead.
He thought about Sam, and the goodbye note of sorts he had left. It was best if it didn't go to waste. It was best if he went away.
Sam was moping. He would never admit it, but he was. Dean and Bobby had gotten sick of it, so they had both escaped into town for supplies and groceries. Dean had insisted they not start hunting until Sam was absolutely sure he was feeling a hundred precent again. He wasn't sure if he was ever going to feel a hundred percent ever again, maudlin as the thought was.
When sundown neared, Sam decided Dean and Bobby had probably hit the bars. Not that he blamed them. He made himself dinner and read some books.
He was sitting with only the table-lamp on, fairly engrossed in a book about vampires, predictably enough. Maybe it was a form of self-torture, but he wasn't really thinking in those terms.
He heard the door open and close softly, which made him immediately alert. Dean and Bobby would have made more noise.
He heard steps, deliberate, slow steps, signaling that whoever was approaching wasn't trying to sneak up on him. He was still tense, wanting to go for a weapon, but the nearest one was the shotgun on the coffee table.
When Eric came through the from the hall, he didn't know whether to release a breath or suck one in. His brain short-circuited and he ended up half-gasping, half-choking as he stumbled out of his chair and around the desk. Eric watched him, his eyes betraying nothing, causing Sam to stop short of reaching him.
'Eric,' he said, hoping for a reaction.
'You came back.'
'I was brought back, by your angel.'
'Castiel found you?' Sam asked, surprised.
'Yes, he seemed to suggest I deserve some sort of consideration due to my recent actions.'
'You killed Lilith, you saved me.'
'You don't want me around.' Eric sounded like he convincing not just Sam. The hunter took a cautious step forward. Eric didn't move.
'Don't go all Twilight on me,' Sam tried to joke. From the look Eric gave him, the vampire didn't get it. Sam smiled. 'Just, don't be stupid,' he explained calmly, feeling more and more elated with every second Eric was there. 'I'm a grown man, I make my own decisions.' He took another step forward.
'Free will,' Eric murmured with a soft snort at the end. He gazed at Sam for a long moment. 'When you've lived on this earth for a millennium, a single human life passes by in a moment. I suppose I thought it was easier to say goodbye now.'
'I'm not gonna live to old age,' Sam said with absolute certainty. 'I understand if you don't want to stick around.' Eric stepped closer suddenly, taking Sam's face gently in his cold hands, and kissing it chastely, but firmly. Sam tried to kiss back, but Eric pulled away.
'Better to have loved and lost, as they say,' he murmured, before kissing Sam more deeply. They opened their mouths to each other, and Sam moaned at the familiar feeling he had missed so much. He sneaked his arms around Eric's waist and pulled the vamp flush against him. Their making-out session was getting quite heated, so Sam finally pulled away enough to ask:
'Yes,' Eric hissed. Sam ran first, knowing Eric would be annoyed at their slow ascent. Sure enough, Eric started pushing him halfway up the stairs. Sam laughed as they entered the bedroom.
'Impatient?' He didn't get a verbal answer, just more kisses, hard and demanding now. 'Don't rip the shirt,' he warned, just in case Eric got any ideas. He didn't have that many shirts to spare. Eric made a growling noise of annoyance and unbuttoned Sam's shirt with lightening speed instead. He then pulled off the t-shirt underneath and shoved Sam backwards on the bed.
Sam laughed, feeling better than he had in longer than he could remember. Eric wasn't going to waste time waxing poetical about their reunion, however, and set to work on Sam's pants. They were pulled off unceremoniously.
'Hey, work on your own clothes too,' Sam admonished. Eric was quick to comply, crawling over Sam once they were both down to their boxers.
Sam was paler now thanks to his time spent with Eric, but no where near the paleness of the vampire, so they still created a nice contrast. Eric captured his lips in a deep kiss as he ground downwards.
'Yes, this, just this,' Sam murmured, closing his eyes in contentment as Eric moved on to kissing his jaw and throat. It was only now, with the real Eric, he realized how fucked up the blood had made him for him to not have realized. Eric was nothing like Ruby in bed. He was gentle when needed, playful when appropriate and always devouring.
'You can say no of course,' Eric whispered, 'but I would like to taste you, just to make sure.' Sam stopped, his eyes snapping open at the thought, wondering if it should upset him, but no, Eric had tasted him before all that had happened with Ruby, and he would again after.
'You think there's still some left?'
'The level of demon blood may still be higher than your normal level, if it can be called such a thing. I merely wish to ascertain how far detoxed you are.'
'Go ahead.' Sam tilted his head back, letting his eyes fall shut again as Eric kissed his neck, almost as if he was looking for the right spot to bite. He found it soon enough.
He only took a few drops, but it still aroused Sam. Maybe he was a fangbanger, but there were far worse things to be in this world.
'You are almost completely detoxed.'
'Good. It felt longer, but it wasn't as bad.' Eric stiffened abruptly, pulling back and looking into Sam's eyes.
'He didn't tell you,' he concluded.
'Didn't tell me what?' Sam asked. What more secrets could there be?
'I was certain he would, and blame me. I should have realized when you were so eager to have me back, that you don't know.'
'Don't know what?'
Eric pushed himself up and sat on the bed. Sam felt cold, even though it was actually warmer without the vampire on top of him.
'I gave you my blood,' Eric said softly. 'I broke my promise. Dean asked me to, and I did not have the strength to refused. Understand, we were both trying to spare you pain.' Eric didn't look at him, clearly braced for a violent reaction, but Sam found he had none.
Maybe he should be furious, but he didn't want to be furious at Eric. He didn't want to fight, or waste anymore time. The overwhelming anger he so often felt was finally overpowered by a stronger emotion; to treasure the time he had.
'You shouldn't have done that,' he said finally. 'But I don't remember it, so I doubt it really made that much of a difference. I'm not addicted to V, I don't think.'
'It was only a few drops,' Eric told him.
'I think I would have done the same, and I know Dean would have done it, if it had been his choice.' Sam gave Eric a pleading look when the vampire finally turned to look at him, putting on his best puppy-dog look. He held out his hand. 'Come back to bed, now.'
'You're not angry?'
'I'll be angry tomorrow, if I'm feeling up to it.' Eric studied him, as if he couldn't quite believe it. Sam wasn't sure he believed it himself, but with Lilith gone, and the destiny Yellow Eyes had chosen him for finally broken, it was like the anger had let go.
Eric finally crawled back over Sam, who grabbed him and kissed him hard before he'd managed to move into position. They quickly returned to their previous activity, grinding harder and more insistent. Sam stuck his hand down Eric's boxers and smirked when he made Eric hiss.
'I want you,' Eric told him. 'She stole you from me, and I want to take you back.' Sam couldn't help the breathless laugh that escape him. Not because the thought was ridiculous, but because he had been thinking the exact same thing.
'Yes,' he sighed. He heard a ripping sound and looked down. Eric had ripped their boxers to pieces. 'Eric,' he sighed. 'Show off.' His mock protestations were cut off with more kisses and much more pleasurable activities. Eric put all his effort into making Sam feel every nerve along his skin tingling with hot and cold. He was sweating, but every time Eric licked or touched him, it was like someone was gliding ice on his skin. He had come to enjoy the feeling very much, but it only became this intense when they lost all sense of time and sense of themselves. On the road, there was never enough time.
'Jesus, Eric, fuck me already,' Sam gasped.
'We have all night,' Eric countered.
'Well, if you're still fucking me when the sun comes up, I'm gonna be pissed.'
'And hot,' Eric pointed out before finally giving in to his own strong need.
They might have made the rickety old bed creak obscenely, and they also might have made a few animalistic sounds, but Sam would always remember that night as a quiet one. It was like his ears were stuffed with cotton, because all his other senses were using all of his brain-power.
When they finished, Eric collapsing on top of Sam, it was only the human who needed to pant, but they both did, maybe in solidarity with each other. Eric twisted off, practically snuggling up to Sam's side.
'You're lying on the covers,' he pointed out. The duvet had been pushed during their rough movements, so it was indeed just under Sam. He huffed and pulled it free, draping it over them.
'How long before the sun comes up?' Sam asked.
'Hours,' Eric said.
'We should ask Bobby to cover up the fan in the panic room. You could sleep there, or we could board up the windows here.'
'No, you need light,' Eric whispered. 'I am more comfortable outside.'
'In the dirt?'
'We will be on the road soon enough, and I have become rather fond of the earth. It's been a long time since I slept so many nights in it.'
'You're weird,' Sam pronounced. He sighed when Eric shifted him so they were properly snuggled up, Sam's on Eric's shoulder. 'Maybe that's why you fit in around here.'
'I'm not sure about your definition of fitting in, but considering the company here, I'll take it as a compliment.' Sam was too tired to deconstruct that sentence, so he fell asleep instead.
Sam came down in the morning to find Dean making breakfast yet again.
'Hey,' he said. 'I didn't hear you guys get in last night.'
'Yeah, well we heard you,' Dean muttered, turning to put a fresh plate of bacon on the table and giving Sam a look.
'Oh-' Sam felt his face heat up.
'Yeah, oh,' Dean grumbled. 'Bobby's scarred for life.'
'Jesus, you're kidding.' Sam face-palmed.
'Yeah, I am. Old man was too drunk to notice,' Dean grinned.
'But seriously, dude, get a gag ball of something.'
'Dude!' Sam's face had never been that red. Dean chuckled.
'He sticking around then?' he asked as they sat down to eat.
'I think so,' Sam said, feeling his heart swell at the thought. Dean nodded.
'Okay then. He's a good hunter, I'll give him that.'
'You're really okay with it?'
'Life's too short, Sam. Having a world-saving vamp around might just prolong it.'
'Yeah, it might.'
'Just not in the whole, getting turned into one, right?' Dean's question hadn't been asked in a serious manner, but Sam could tell from Dean's look that he was deadly serious.
'I don't want to live forever, Dean, and Eric knows that. We've made our peace with it. He promised me he'd walk away when the time came.'
'Yeah, well, how do you know he keeps his promises?'
'Well, as long as you don't ask him to break it, I suppose we're okay,' Sam short back sharply.
'He told you about that, did he?'
'Yeah, he did, but I'm not mad.'
'You're not?' Dean sounded more shocked than Sam liked, but he knew it was pretty shocking.
'Life's too short, Dean,' he said, smiling. 'But I'm still gonna hold it over you for quite some time, so I expect a lot more of this.' He indicated the breakfast. Dean rolled his eyes and took the last slice of bacon, but stopped mid-air when Sam gave him a look and sighed before forking the thing over. Sam ate very happily.
In the end he got a bad stomach from eating so much right after his detox, but he still claimed it was worth it.