Dean made a small sound of surprise when Bobby suddenly wrapped his arms around him and did his best to squeeze the air out of his lungs. Not that the younger man could really say he minded at that point. Emotion welling up in his throat making it more difficult for him to breathe than the older hunter’s iron grip around him, and he found his own arms wrapping around Bobby and holding on just as tight.

“I’m sorry, Bobby…” Dean managed, though he almost choked on his words. He really was sorry, for all the pain and fear he’d obviously put the older man through. He’d honestly thought on some level it would have been easier for Bobby, not to have to watch him turn, not to have to watch him die, not to have to burn and bury him… maybe he’d only told himself that to alleviate his own guilt.

Maybe it was only easier for himself. Then again, it hadn’t been all that easy without Bobby here. The razor he’d put to his own throat proved that much. He’d almost died… almost killed himself… god… if Bobby had gotten that call… He wondered if he would have tried the same stunt if Bobby had been here. He had a feeling if Bobby found out about that, he really would kick his ass, quite literally.

Dean sniffed and swallowed hard, closing his eyes against the tears stinging his eyes. When he heard Jacob calling from the kitchen that Bobby’s food was ready, Dean forced himself to let the other man go. He grinned at the older man even though it was a little watery.

“Go on, go eat. You can finish kicking my ass later.”

Bobby squeezed Dean's shoulder. "Don't think I won't," Bobby told him sternly.

As Bobby began to let go of Dean's shoulder, his gaze swept across the young man. He had hickies the size of Texas on either side of his throat. In the midst of the dark bruising was a scar he knew Dean hadn't had before. One that traversed his neck. Bobby kept his smile on his face, struggling not to clench his jaw tight.

"You lay back down. Get yourself some sleep," Bobby encouraged, his voice rough and thick.

As Dean settled back to do just as Bobby recommended, he scooted down a little so his head wasn't jammed into the headboard and then closed his eyes.

Bobby watched the young man lay back, saw his shirt slide up as he wriggled into a comfortable position. Bruises—hickies—mottled Dean's stomach. Bobby pushed himself to his feet stiffly and walked out to the kitchen, his eyes narrowed as they rested on Cristo. He realized that the young hunter's lip had been recently bitten, hard enough to surely draw blood. And there was a cut on his wrist that looked pretty damned fresh.

Bobby saw red. "An affinity for your blood, wasn't that how you put it?" Bobby snarled and cold-cocked Sam across the jaw. Caught off guard, having been watching Jacob get coffee poured for Bobby, the blow knocked Sam out of his chair.

"So is that what you used to seduce him? Your blood?" Bobby demanded. "You god-damned bastard! Dean doesn't sleep with men. Not after that one. Never since that one. And you! You took advantage of him you son-of-a-bitch!"

Sam groaned as his hand went to his jaw, as he scrambled to get his feet under him and get some distance between himself and the hunter. He held his hands out in front of him. "He knew I was interested, yeah, but when we were in the shower, I told him—"

"You were taking a shower with him?" Bobby yelled.

"It wasn't like that!" Sam protested and felt his back hit the wall. His only option was to strike back or try to get out the back door. Into the nice bright sunlight. This was just getting better and better.

"Calm your ass down, Bobby!" Jacob yelled at him. "It isn't—"

Bobby ignored Jacob as he stalked closer to Cristo. "I should kill you, you bastard," Bobby growled, contemplating how easy it would be to pull out his gun and nail the manipulative bastard right in the heart.

Dean nodded at the older man’s suggestion, stifling a yawn behind his hand. He was tired enough that he didn’t really notice Bobby’s extra close regard as he laid back down on the bed. Didn’t recognize the sudden tension in his friend’s face or the sudden hardness in Bobby’s eyes as Dean got himself comfortable to continue his aborted nap.

He was already half asleep again before Bobby even walked out the door, but he wasn’t deeply enough asleep not to hear the sudden crash in the other room. Dean’s eyes snapped open again and sat up in confusion. That confusion, not to mention his desire to sleep, was burned away an instant later when he heard Bobby’s angry accusations, crystal clear as day and Dean was out of the bed a second later.

It was probably a good thing he had more important things to worry about than the fact that Bobby had apparently known all along that he’d been raped all those years ago, or he’d really be freaking out right now. Shit. Fuck. Ok, maybe Sam had a reason to be worried after all…

Dean moved a lot quicker than he probably should have given his condition, but he was there in time to see Sam backed against the wall. Bobby looking more pissed off than Dean could ever remember seeing him, and that said a lot, though it wasn’t until he heard the older man’s threat that a cold knot of fear twisted his stomach.

He knew that tone of voice. Bobby was a hundred percent serious.

“Bobby, stop!” Dean yelled, wasting no time then inserting himself in between Sam and Bobby. Probably not the brightest move he’d ever made, but at the moment he didn’t care.

He wasn’t exactly sure yet who he was more afraid for. Sam or Bobby. So far Cristo had done nothing to retaliate against Bobby yet, but that didn’t mean that he wouldn’t if Bobby actually pulled a weapon on him. Come hell or high water Dean wasn’t going to let that happen. He wasn’t just going to sit back watch the two most important people in his life quite possibly kill each other, all over him no less.

“Jesus Christ, Bobby, calm down. He didn’t do anything… that I didn’t want.”

Bobby was so intent on Cristo that Dean's sudden appearance between him and the target of his anger surprised him but didn't calm his fury. His gaze shifted to Dean's concerned face. Dean's words were like a fist to his gut. But he knew Cristo used Dean, dammit. And that scar that traversed Dean's neck. That was a deep wound, one that should have killed Dean. Now he wasn't so certain Dean wasn't somehow still a vampire. If he was, maybe Cristo offered him blood Dean was already attracted to, maybe even needed, to gain sexual favors. Or maybe Cristo started to kill Dean when Dean was turning and Dean made a deal.

"That you didn't want?" Bobby shouted at him. "How do you know? He says you're attracted to his blood. And that new scar across your neck, did he do that too? Did he cut your neck and offer you blood to let you live?"

Jacob pulled the meat clever from its wood block and slammed it back into it with a loud thump, loud enough to draw everyone's attention.

"Now everyone just calm down!" Jacob ordered. "Bobby, your boy wasn't convinced he wasn't going to turn, and took my straight blade razor and opened his own throat. Sammy found him and fed your boy his blood until Sam passed out. Dean was enough vampire then that the blood saved him, let him heal up that lethal wound. But if I hadn't found Sam, your boy would have drained him dry and Sammy would have let him. He'd do anything for your boy. Absolutely anything. If I hadn't gotten blood back into Sam, there's no telling what would have happened. By the same token, it was part of the reason we realized how to save your boy." Jacob's eyes were fairly blazing at this point. He grabbed a knife and slit his arm, holding it out in offering to Dean.

"You got any interest in this Dean?" he asked, but the look on Dean's face made it perfectly clear he didn't. Jacob grabbed a towel and covered the wound not wanting to tease Sam with its smell.

"So he's not a vampire, plain as day," Jacob continued. "He has my virus in him now. He can't be turned. He's immune. Just like me. Sammy and I figure there's a good chance he's going to be just like me in other ways, too, but he may not. My virus is still a vampire virus. It gives me strength, health, fast healing, heightened senses, and has kept me younger longer, maybe doubled my life span, but I can tell I'm not going to live forever. I figure I got maybe another twenty or forty years.

"Sorry to drop this on you Dean, but odds are probably pretty good every couple years you're going to need vampire blood to feed the virus in you. Just a couple pints is al that's needed. There are vampires out there that don't survive by killing people. Sammy gets me the blood I need. I usually take it in with an IV. My virus will probably kill me if I don't get the blood. It damned near did the first time, before we knew I needed vampire blood. Sammy's dad found me in a nest and I begged him to let me live, told him I knew I could beat the virus and I did. A few years later, I started getting sick, real sick. We finally figured out I needed vampire blood. Regular blood won't do a damned thing to stop it.

"We never realized until you, Dean, what happened, that I have a mutated version of the vampire virus, that it feeds on the vampire virus. When the virus starts to get active, I get a little sensitive to light if the sun is really shining that day. I'm prone to sleeping in the middle of the day. It begins to hurt, to feel like fire in my veins. I'm not vampire. I don't have the teeth, I don't have the lust for blood. I'm like a diabetic that needs insulin every couple years and my insulin is vampire blood. I don't have an interest in Sam's blood like you, and yes, I'd guess it makes him more attractive to you." Jacob turned his gaze back on Bobby, "but Sam would never force himself on anyone. He's one of the kindest people I've ever had the honor to meet and call my friend. He would never seduce anyone, but he loves your boy. Deeply enough he'd die for him. And he also knows Dean will probably go his own way and he wouldn't beg Dean to stay." Jacob quirked a smile at Sam, who was wide eyed at all of Jacob's revelations. "Well, maybe he would beg him to stay, but he wouldn't stop him from going. If Dean says he wanted to make love to Sammy, then part of him did.

Sam cut himself to confirm Dean hadn't turned. That's when we found Dean did like his blood, but that was right after the fever, so it's hard telling if that will continue to be the case. Afterward, Dean went in to shower but was too weak and Sam went in to help him. I can show you his soaking wet sweats to prove he didn't go in there naked trying to jump Dean's bones. The carpet in there by the bed is still wet from where he pulled those same sweats off. I don't know exactly what happened in that shower, but I'll tell you now, if Dean hadn't made a move on him, Sam wouldn't have done anything, no matter how much he might have wanted to. Did the cut on his wrist play into it?" Jacob shrugged. "Maybe, but not enough to make Dean say yes if he really didn't have an interest."

Jacob's gaze swept over the threesome. "Sam, why don't you go on out and tend the animals. They should probably be let out into the pasture and the water out there topped off. Won't take you more than a few minutes and it will give these two a chance to simmer down." Jacob tossed him the sunglasses on the counter. "Go on."

Sam looked briefly between Bobby and Dean, his pained gaze lingering on Dean, an apology clear in those hazel eyes. He looked away then. This wasn't at all the way he had planned to tell Dean. Dean was probably going to be pissed at him for keeping those details from him, and Jacob had glossed over the bloodmate bit, but Jacob was right. Sam had fought off his desires for Michael for a long time before finally giving in. If Dean hadn't wanted Sam, it was doubtful Dean would have kissed him, would have let Sam fuck him. He hoped that was true. He really hoped that was true.

Clenching his jaw, Sam did as Jacob asked without a word, deftly catching the sunglasses and sliding them on as he stepped outside.

Dean’s hand’s came up between himself and Bobby, placating, and also an attempt to ward off the older man in case Bobby just decided to shove him out of the way or something to get to Sam behind him. Dean winced a little when Bobby mentioned his… attraction… to Cristo’s blood. When the hell had Sam told Bobby that? Yeah, the man had mentioned something like that to him too but… Dean remembered all too well how he’d licked at the other man’s wounded wrist. How the smell of Sam’s blood had affected him in the shower.

Still he was shaking his head in denial, until Bobby mentioned the scar at his throat and Dean blanched. The absolute last thing he wanted right now was to explain that to Bobby. He didn’t want the older hunter to know how he’d almost killed himself, but he couldn’t let Bobby think that Sam had done it to him. Before Dean could even really consider what he was going to tell his old friend, Jacob’s little outburst with a meat cleaver silenced all of them.

Then Dean could only stare at the older man with wide, horrified, eyes as Jacob went on to tell Bobby exactly what he never wanted Bobby to know. How he’d slit open his own throat with a straight razor. How Sam had saved him… Telling them all how he’d nearly killed Sam, nearly drained him dry…

Dean’s stomach twisted, making him regret eating breakfast not long ago when Jacob went on to drop an even bigger bomb on him. As though he hadn’t done enough already. Explaining how he was not a “vampire”… he just had everything except the fangs, and oh, he needed to drink vampire blood to stay alive! No, not a vampire, just a fucking freak of nature. A… crossbreed. Not a vampire, but not a human either.

Dean turned to stare at the man who had lied to him. The man who had reassured him he was still human, when he wasn’t. The man who he had let… god… let fuck him… and he hadn’t known why. The entire time… the entire time it was happening he hadn’t understood why. He had wanted it, but he didn’t know why he wanted it. Now he knew… because of the blood… because of the vampire in him had wanted it.

Jesus Christ…

Sam’s look, the fucking apology written in the other man’s eyes when Sam turned to him had Dean’s hands curling into fists at his side. Dean barely managing to restrain himself from decking the other hunter just like Bobby had. The bastard… the fucking bastard… he had stood in front of him, defended him, for doing exactly what Bobby had accused him of. Dean hadn’t even realized it… what else could Sam have made him do, with just a little taste of his blood? And he’d thought… he really thought it was all because he was starting to care for Sam, maybe even…

Dean turned away as Sam walked out of the house, closing his eyes in disgust, self loathing rolling off him in waves. He wanted nothing more than to heave his guts out and scream, but he swallowed the feeling down and when he opened his eyes again they were cold and emotionless.

“Let’s go, Bobby.” Dean said softly as he walked past the hunter and out the kitchen door. He didn’t want to stay in this house another fucking minute. Hell, he didn’t even want to stay in this fucking STATE another minute. He hoped Bobby was up to driving at least a few more hours, because all Dean wanted was to get as far away from this house, Jacob, and Sam fucking Cristo as he could.

Dean didn’t even care that he knew he was leaving his duffle and stuff in the bedroom as he walked out the front door to the Impala. He didn’t want to set foot in that room again, for any reason. He’d buy a new duffle, and stuff, and when he and Bobby finally stopped at some motel somewhere Dean would get in the shower and scrub himself until the first few layers of skin came off of him. Though that wouldn’t remove the taint in his blood, all thanks to Sam Cristo.

Sam walked slowly out to the barn, his head down. Dean was going to leave him. There was little doubt of that. He's seen the look, the fury in Dean's face. But he had never really expected Dean to stay. He had hoped maybe he would, that maybe he cared about Sam, and more than just from being his bloodmate. That look of betrayal practically ripped his heart out and left it bleeding on the floor. Whenever Sam told him the truth, it was going to be hard, and it wasn't going to take Dean long to figure out he had gained some unusual 'side effects' from the 'cure.' And if Dean did stay, when Sam finally told him he was a vampire, well, if Dean didn't leave him, or hell, kill him, he would be even more surprised. He tried to tell himself that Jake did him a favor, but it didn't change his own smoldering fury with the old man. Jacob wasn't an idiot. He usually knew exactly what he was saying and what sort of reaction it would result in. So why did Jake do this to him? He knew Sam was already all torn up about it.

...because Sam wouldn't tell Dean and he knew Sam needed Dean to know before he would accept building a relationship with Dean. Or attempt to pursue a relationship. And he knew it would be bad, because Sam would tell him soon, probably at an inopportune moment. He seemed to be good at that with Dean. Going back to that whole, he couldn't do anything right when it came to Dean thing.

Sam opened the creaking barn door and pulled off his sunglasses as he walked inside. He headed to the back doors and opened them. The horses were antsy and for that matter, so were the cattle. They must be used to going down to the pasture much earlier, Sam mused. Sam opened the gate to the cattle pen and the cattle seemed anxious to head out. Good. He really didn't feel like have to chase them along. He opened up the stalls for each of the four horses and they shot out equally fast. The last one, Sam grabbed the halter on and swung up on its back, kicking it into a gallop, the horse needing no encouragement. Sam knew he wouldn't need to steer the horse. It would shoot straight for the pasture. He'd get to the gate and open it for the animals much faster on horseback and they wouldn't have a chance to wander off. The pasture gate was visible from the back of the barn, but it was a couple minutes walk. On horseback he was there in nothing flat and got the animals inside quickly, refilled the water tub, and headed back toward the barn.

He didn't want to face Dean and a part of him hoped he wouldn't have to. That Dean would just simply be gone. Another part hoped Dean was still there, that they could have their fight and clear the air, and that Dean would forgive him.

Yeah. Sure.

He sighed when he reached the barn, and shut the doors to the stalls. He was going to help Jacob muck the stalls but after that fucking stunt he pulled, Jacob could clean them himself. Sam was going to either face Dean, or Dean would be gone. Sam would make Jacob take him to a U-haul place, rent the smallest thing they had, and get back to his Jeep. Hopefully, if Dean left, he would at least leave Sam's gear behind. Once back to his Jeep, he would start tracking down the nest. The ones who had started this fucking mess in the first place.

No more civilians would be left alive. No more hunters, either for that matter. Anything he found, he would kill. Soon enough Dean's absence would hurt so badly--maybe Dean was still there. Maybe he could beg Dean's forgiveness. He sighed and headed for the barn doors that would take him back to the house. Time to face the music, whatever it might be. He slid his sunglasses on just before stepping out. That damned sun was bright today.

He caught their smell a moment too late. The pain exploded in the back of his head and he dropped like a rock. His last thought was that he wouldn't need to go hunting for the nest. They had found him.

Dean paced restlessly outside next to the car. Every step he made he had to forcibly restrain himself from kicking, or hitting something. He wouldn’t mind getting his fists bloody against something, or someone, but since the only thing next to him right now was his car he restrained himself. Barely…

Where the fuck was Bobby? He wanted to be out of here like yesterday.

“Bobby, what the hell is taking so long?!” He shouted. Stalking towards the house but then thinking better of it. He didn’t want to risk coming face to face with Sam again, or Jacob for that matter. Dean wasn’t the type to go around beating up old guys, but he was more than considering it right now… even though it wasn’t really Jacob’s fault. He’d just been telling it like it was… though he would have really rather he didn’t tell it like it was in front of Bobby, especially about him trying to kill himself!

Dean growled low in his throat as he stalked back to the car. His earlier weakness and tiredness momentarily forgotten in the rush of adrenaline, though he knew it was going to catch up with him pretty soon. Probably around the same time everything else finally settled onto his chest like a huge suffocating weight making it impossible for him to breathe. But he refused to think about it now, refused to consider the full ramifications, what he’d done… what he’d let Sam do… what he was now…

“Fuck!” Dean cursed loudly, kicking at a stone in the driveway. Where the hell was Bobby!

When Dean turned around again the man he came face to face with definitely wasn’t Bobby. Before the young hunter’s brain could even process that realization, the man’s fist hit him squarely in the chest hard enough to send him flying back a good six feet or more. Dean landed hard, his vision swimming in and out of focus as he gasped for breath that he couldn’t seem to draw into his lungs. The pain in his chest, excruciating. The bastard might have just broken a rib or two.

It wasn’t until the man was standing over him, leering down at him like the cat that had just eaten the canary, that Dean realized he recognized the man. Though Dean had been half unconscious most of the time he’d seen his face. He remembered the feel of the man’s hand fisting in his hair, yanking his head back at a brutal angle, as his fangs slid down over his teeth. The fangs ripping into the meat of his chest, sucking his blood greedily from the open wound he’d made as his hands roamed over the rest of his body.

God… how the fuck…

Dean wasn’t even able to complete the thought as the man’s booted foot slammed into his temple.