It was soft, the sound he heard, but he listened intently trying to get a bead on it. He realized that the wind had shifted and he caught the scent of his lover, his lover's pain, and his lover's blood. His eyes turned red as the fury filled him. He ran through the woods, silent as a ghost to the human ear, both his machetes out and his fangs bared. Dean had better be alive or he would do to Michael what Vanessa had promised to do to Sam. Michael would live for a very, very long time, and not one second of it would be pleasant. And that would be the only reason Sam didn’t slit his own throat to follow his lover into death. To avenge his bloodmate.

The sound of Dean's muffled screams grew in volume as did the scent of his blood. So long as Dean was screaming, he was alive. That was the only comfort Sam was able to take in the screams that tore at his heart. Sam forced himself to move even faster, determined to reach Michael before Dean's screams stopped.

He saw the figures through the trees and barreled out of the underbrush. Michael was cutting determinedly into Dean's thigh as if to saw the bone and cut off Dean's leg.

Looking up as the last moment, Michael saw Sam and dove out of the way of his vicious blades, ripping the machete free of Dean's flesh as he did so.

Dean twisted and thrashed in Michael’s grip as he screamed but he couldn’t break free of the vampire’s hold. Blood poured down his leg and despite how he fought the blade never stopped moving, digging deeper and deeper until he felt the blade scrape against bone. His screams never stopped either, every saw of the blade through his flesh drawing another ragged cry from his already raw throat.

He barely heard the vicious growl from the trees over his own screams, though he certainly felt when the blade was suddenly ripped free from his flesh. When Michael suddenly let go of him, Dean crumbled down on the grass like a puppet with its strings cut, trembling and moaning pathetically.

Dean had no idea how he remained conscious, maybe it was the knowledge that Sam was there. He could smell his lover’s fear and his love for him somehow over the scent of his own blood and pain. Dean forced his eyes open weakly when he heard Michael laugh not far enough away from him for Dean’s liking.

“Getting slow in your old age, Cristo.” Michael taunted, raising the machete to his mouth still dripping with Dean’s blood and licking it off with an appreciative moan. “I’m glad you’re here. Now I can see your face while I take this little bitch apart piece by piece. Maybe I’ll even give you another show before I’m done bleeding him out, since you enjoyed watching me pound his pretty ass so much before.”

"Not slow. Wanted to make sure you knew it was me. Wanted to make sure you saw it coming. Wanted to watch you know you were dying," Sam growled.

With no other warning, he bullrushed the other vampire, one machete coming up to block the machete aimed at his neck. He tackled the other vampire and sank his teeth into Michael's throat. He felt the machete bury itself in his side but he didn't let go. Michael struggled but Sam clamped down and ripped his enemy's throat open, then bit deep again. Michael beat at him, cutting into him with the blade. Sam tore another chunk of flesh free. He sat back, grabbing Michael's wrist and holding them in a vice like grip. The Animal spoke.

"Not our bloodmate. You will not hurt our bloodmate ever again. Go meet your mistress, your sire." He saw the fear in Michael's eyes then opened his mouth wide and bit down, feeling the crunch of bone and he crushed the vampires neck. The damage Dean had already done to the side of Michael's throat was enough and he tore through the last bit of flesh as watched as Michael's head fell from his body.

<That is how you kill someone,> the animal told Sam with grim satisfaction.

Sam turned to Dean and ripped out the gag and undid the belt binding Dean's arms. He took the belt and wrapped it around Dean's leg above the savage wound. He could smell his lover's need and cutting his arm, offered it to his bloodmate.

Dean tried to keep his eyes open. He tried to watch what was happening, but again and again his eyes slid closed against his will. Soon he could only listen to the vicious growls of the two vampires fighting near him. He heard the sounds of metal clashing against metal. He heard sound of a blade cutting through flesh and bone, and he smelled the scent of blood. His own, Sam’s and Michael’s. He smelled Sam’s rage. He smelled Michael’s fear. Finally he heard the painful gurgling screams along with ripping and tearing sounds of flesh and muscle and he knew it was over. But he didn’t know who had won and who had lost.

He tried desperately to force his eyes open again but the pain, the fire in his leg, the fire in his blood, kept pulling him under. His breaths were weak and shallow against the gag still stuffed in his mouth, but suddenly it was ripped free. The binding around his wrists was loosened and a low moan escaped his throat when he felt the belt pulled tightly around his leg instead. Fuck that hurt…

But suddenly he could smell Sam’s blood, right under his nose. So close he could practically taste it. His lover’s fear, his love, and in spite of everything Dean smiled faintly. Sam… his lover was alive… that’s all that mattered.

Dean tasted Sam’s blood as his lover’s arm pressed against his lips, but even as the burning hunger clawed inside of him in demand he was too weak to act upon it. He felt himself slipping away, a strange numbness settling over him dulling the pain. Too much. Just too much. He was only human, after all…

Sam saw the slight smile on Dean's lips even though Dean never opened his eyes. He waited for the savage bite as Dean took the blood he needed, blood Sam wasn't sure he had enough to spare but didn't give a damned. His own blood poured from the wounds Michael had given him, his side splayed open, at least two ribs broken. His chain mail, having already been in bad shape from the big battle, Michael had ripped open and it practically off. Michael had dug his claws in, ripping at Sam's flesh along his back, at his throat, at his face.

There was no bite… Sam heard Dean's heart slowing, his breathing go from shallow to almost non-existent.

"NO!!!!" Sam screamed, the animal screamed, as his bloodmate, his lover, the other half of himself was bleeding out and dying.

Sam sucked a mouthful of his own blood into his mouth, lifted Dean into his arms and kissed him, forcing the crimson liquid into his lover's mouth. Even if the blood went into his lungs, at this point it shouldn't matter. Dean was more vampire than anything. The virus would pull it out of his lungs. But if he was vampire, then he wouldn't be dying and the smell of death lay wrapped around him like a cloak. He took more blood from his arm into his mouth and kissed his lover again and again, tears streaming down his face even as the blood dribbled out of Dean's mouth. The animal called to his blood mate not to die, not to leave him, but there was no answer.

The animal pushed Sam out of the way, took full control in a way it never had before. There were other demon spirits around. He could see them, though none attempted to enter Dean, knowing that they couldn't, that they would be ousted by the special virus in Dean's blood.

It growled to their spectral forms. "One of you must try. Not to stay, not to die, but to bring our lover back enough to drink. He is weak enough."

None made a move. "We gave one of you a home today!" it snarled at them. The animal knew it would not matter to the lower demons that several died as well. Their own welfare was all that mattered. "We will find the one who tries a vessel," it promised though Sam fought against that promise.

"We cannot enter what is filled," a hellhound finally growled back.

Sam's animal turned to Dean and saw a spirit, a light, something it had never seen before, was in Dean. It was a….holy light. The anti-virus was God's answer to the vampire virus. It glowed faintly. Sam and the Animal stared dumbfounded at this new form. Angel? Demon? Neither knew.
The animal was shocked silent for a moment before it spoke again. "Holy one who has given me my soldaris, do not take him away. A demon dog prays to you, begs of you, offers up its own eternal flame to given this treasured one back its own light. Give him strength to drink, to live," it prayed.

The animal saw the reaper at its loved one's side and growled threateningly. "Take me if you must take."

The reaper stayed its hand, then looked skyward. The animal did not look up but sensed the holy glow above and watched as the reaper faded away.

Dean's heart beat faintly, the sound in his lungs thick and gurgling but he took a breath all the same. Sam and the animal became one once again and Sam brought his arm to Dean's lip begging him again to drink.

Dean heard his lover’s scream of denial, but it sounded miles away instead of right next to him. He felt his body lifted up and held. It probably should have hurt, but it didn’t. He was too numb… too cold… for it to hurt anymore. Dean could taste his lover’s pain, his tears of anguish, in the blood that was forced into his mouth. He wanted to tell his lover, his mate, that it was ok, that it didn’t hurt anymore, that he wasn’t afraid… but he was too tired. It was too cold. Too dark. He couldn’t feel Sam holding him anymore. He couldn’t feel anything…

Suddenly the darkness gave away to light, so bright Dean winced against it even though it didn’t really hurt his eyes, it was mostly out of habit. He thought he heard someone calling his name, begging, but when he turned to look he could see no one.

Sam…

He felt a hand on his shoulder, warm and… familiar. Dean turned again, tried to see who it belonged to, but the light was too bright. It was all he could see… but in the end he didn’t need to see to know.

Dad? Dean whispered questioningly, hoping… There was no answer, not in words anyway, but Dean could feel warmth and comfort flowing into him from the light touch. It reminded him of things he’d almost forgotten, memories buried under guilt and pain.

When he was three years old and he sat in his father’s lap, listening to his dad reading to him, big strong arms wrapped around him, keeping him safe. His father standing behind him, showing him how to shoot his first gun when he was six, the older man’s laughter and pride as he clapped him on the shoulder the first time Dean hit the bulls eye. Sharing beers with his dad while they watched a football game together, forgetting for a few hours about monsters and hunting and just being father and son.

The warmth filled him up, pushing deep into him, easing pains in his heart so deep Dean never thought they would be healed. He felt the hand on his shoulder give him a gentle squeeze, and Dean wanted to turn and hug his father for the first time in years… but instead of pulling him closer the hand was pushing him away gently.

No! He didn’t want to go! But… a part of him did. Sam… he remembered his lover’s desperate pleas, begging him not to go, and when Dean felt the gentle push again, this time a little more insistent, he didn’t resist.

Suddenly the light was gone and the darkness was back. He was cold again, he was in pain again, but none of that mattered because Sam was there. Dean coughed, choking a little on the blood in his lungs, but that didn’t stop him from weakly swallowing the next mouthful, then another, and another.

"Dean, oh God, Dean," Sam whispered as Dean finally began to take Sam's life blood of his own accord. He would feed Dean as much as he wanted as much as he needed. Loss of blood wouldn't kill a vampire, after all. The animal would take over, or he might pass out while his body slowly made more blood.

Sam kissed Dean's forehead. "I love you, I love you, I love you," he said over and over as his lips brushed Dean's flesh. "My love, my soldaris, don't leave me. Don't ever leave me," he begged.

He could hear Dean's lungs clearing out as the man took deeper breaths. The virus would focus first on Dean's leg, closing the wound and mending that leg enough for Dean to walk. The other wounds would stop bleeding soon enough. His own virus was trying to close his wounds but the wounds were deep and he was weak. Sleep, blood, he needed both. He felt the burning hunger start in his gut and spread. Bloodlust. The animal, which would normally take over and seek out that blood from whatever or whoever happened to be unfortunate enough to be near, refused to leave Dean's side, refused to set him down. Michael's body was nearby. He could drink soon enough. But not until he was sure his lover would live.

Reaching done, he undid the tourniquet on Deans' leg to make sure the virus could do its job, now that Dean seemed to be growing more stable. He felt the lightheadedness beginning to set in, something he had not felt in so long it took him a moment to even recognize it for what it was. The animal was intractable though.

<Dean needs rest and bandaged, to be safe,> Sam told the animal firmly. <We must drink or we will be out here exposed for a couple days. Do you want that for our love?>

<No,> the animal snarled and reluctantly forced itself to look over to the body that was out of reach. It did not want to release its Love, but dragging its Love along the ground would do him no good. It gently laid Dean down, growling reassurances that it would be back in just a moment to feed Dean more.

The animal refused to give up control, the blood hunger was yet too strong. It crawled over to Michael beheaded body and sank its teeth into the femoral artery, needing as much blood as quickly as possible. The animal all but drank the body dry, Sam's body so low on blood it needing everything it could take. The blood hunger sated, the animal finally released control back to Sam.

Sam really wasn't sure he wasn't going to puke. He body was processing the blood as quickly as it could, but his body was already weak and queasy. The only reason he had managed to accomplish what he had was because of the animal and their love for Dean. His energy was at its limits. He pulled off the remnants of the chain mail and ripped Michael's shirt off the dead body, tearing it into strip, bandaging his love and then himself to help stave off the loss of blood until the virus could do it properly.

Dean was naked but Sam's shirt was in tatters. After a bit of struggling, he got Michaels pants off and pulled the overly large jeans onto Dean. He knew it hurt Dean, but Dean needed warmth. He was still human, more or less. He finally reached into his back pocket for his cell phone, but what he retrieved was a smashed collection of electronics. He would have to get them back to the van. He didn't know if Dean needed more blood, but he needed what strength he had left to get them to the van. Then he could let his lover drink.

"This will hurt. I'm sorry," Sam whispered to his lover, and lifted him, hefting him face down onto his shoulder. It was the best way to carry Dean to minimize pressure on his injuries. He held Dean's legs to keep the injured one from swinging free and began to slowly walk back to the van.

Dean could hear Sam’s soft whispered words of reassurance and love, even if he was still too tired to quite make out what his lover was saying to him yet, their meaning was still clear. They would have been even if Dean could hear nothing at all.

There was still a faint taste of fear and pain in his lover’s blood, but it was almost completely overshadowed by his mate’s overwhelming relief and equally overwhelming love. He wanted to tell Sam that it was all right, that he would be all right, that he loved him too… but the hunger prevented him from stopping now that he could drink on his own from Sam’s bloody arm, and Dean could only growl weakly, hoping that his lover understood.

He still coughed every once in a while, trying to clear the blood from his lungs, but it was getting easier and easier to breathe. His heart beating a little stronger every minute that passed, every drop of blood he took from Sam giving him a little more strength.

A small whimper of pain escaped Dean’s throat when the belt was removed from around his thigh, his blood beginning to pour freely from the wound again. Dean sucked harder on Sam’s arm to replenish it, he simply couldn’t stop himself. It was weakness more than willpower that allowed him to release his lover when Sam finally set him down. Because he just didn’t have the strength to hold onto the vampire.

Dean’s eyes slid open slowly for the first time since he’d woken, wincing at the sunlight pouring through the canopy overhead. It was not nearly as comforting as the other light had been, but it was proof enough that he was still alive. He couldn’t believe he was still alive. He thought for sure…

He knew Sam was nearby and slowly turned his head. His lover looked like shit but he was still the most wondrous thing that Dean had ever seen. Dean even managed a weary smile for his lover when Sam returned to his side, though it quickly changed to a wince of pain when Sam started bandaging his wounds. It was worse when the other man started to move his leg so he could get him dressed and Dean groaned softly in discomfort, feeling very close to passing out again. But that’s what happened when you almost got your leg fucking chopped off. He was afraid to ask Sam if he’d be able to walk again, or maybe he was just too tired to.

Sam’s soft warning and apology didn’t quite cover it, but at least Dean bit his lip hard to keep from crying out, not wanting to upset Sam, when his lover hefted him onto his shoulder. He knew Sam had done it as gently as possible, but it still hurt like a mother fucker. Dean was too fucking tired to protest being carried around like a sack of potatoes for the second time today, so he simply let his eyes drop closed to minimize the dizziness he felt from the blood rushing to his head in this position.

Sam was getting close to the van when he smelled Desiree's scent and relief filled him.

"I'm here!" he yelled, knowing that like him, she wouldn't call out until she sorted out what was going on.

Desiree was beside him almost instantly.

"Sam, oh my God. What happened?" She took in the bloody Dean on Sam's shoulder and the bandages wrapped around Sam's waist and ribs. She could smell both their blood clearly. Neither of the men were doing well.

"Vanessa's right hand man, Michael. Nearly killed Dean. Underestimated me. He's dead, but Dean's hurt bad. I almost lost him." When the younger vampire moved to take Dean from Sam, Sam shook his head. "No, any movement hurts him. I've got him."

"You're exhausted Sam. You're ready to collapse," she scolded him, worry clear in her voice.

"I can get him to the van. He may need more of my blood too."

"Like hell. He can have some of mine," she told him firmly. "You just can't spare anymore. You're going to be sick for days as it is and you know it."

Sam gave her a weary look. "Just get us to the van," he said, not up to arguing with her. He was practically staggering at this point and he didn't fight it when she took his arm and helped guide him along the path. He breathed a sigh of relief when he saw the van ahead but then closed his eyes briefly. "No way. No way he can take the jostling from the van going down to get the others. Just help me set him down in the shade. I'll stay with him.

"All right," Desiree muttered unhappily. She got Dean lying as comfortable as possible and helped Sam sit beside him, giving a small smile as she saw her sire stroking the hunter's hair. Retrieving a blanket and some water out of the van, she also brought Sam over a bag of human blood from the cooler. "Let's get you off vampire blood. That much is hard on you."

Desiree leaned down to rest her hand lightly on Dean's shoulder. "Dean, are you hungry? Do you need more blood? Or do you want some human food? I got you some water," she told him as she covered him lightly with the blanket.

Dean was pretty sure he’d passed out again at some point along the way. Probably a blessing in disguise since being jostled around on Sam’s shoulder as the vampire carried him, no matter how careful his lover was, had not been pleasant in the least.

He started to stir however when he heard voices. Sam and someone else’s he couldn’t remember right now but that sounded familiar. Sam didn’t sound angry or fearful at hearing the other voice, so Dean remained as relaxed as he could still perched on his lover’s shoulder. It didn’t hurt quite as much that way.

It wasn’t too much longer before they got to wherever they were going, Dean couldn’t remember anymore. He thought he would have been glad to be put down, since being carried hadn’t been all that fun. But the pain in his leg and back caused by the shift in position made him groan all the same as he was settled down on the grass. At least once he was lying down and no longer moving it wasn’t so bad. Or, at least, it wasn’t as bad.

Dean’s eyes slit open when he felt the gentle fingers in his hair, of course it was Sam, but somehow it still amazed him every time his eyes fell on the vampire.

“You… look… like hell…” The young man finally managed weakly, his voice still rough from choking on blood and his own screams, giving his lover a slight smile.

When he felt the light touch to his shoulder, Dean blinked, almost surprised. Turning his head to look at the other vampire… Desiree… It took him a moment to process what she was asking him. Did he want more blood? He didn’t know. A part of him wanted it, but the mindless burning hunger wasn’t there, so maybe he didn’t need it. He had drunk a lot of vampire blood today, maybe too much, already. He wondered if it was possible to overdose on vampire blood. Though Sam’s blood had surely saved his life, more than once.

“Water.” Dean finally answered. He was still human after all and there were things his body needed other than blood.

"I feel like hell," Sam told him, but smiled back. He took the offered human blood and bit off the cap, then began sipping on it. It was cooler than he would have liked, but his system was definitely much happier with blood it didn't have to fight with. Desiree left him a second bag of blood and brought more water and some applesauce, fruit cups, and power bars over for Dean. She also brought over medical supplies. "There's some morphine in there for Dean," she told him. "Would probably help."

"I'm going to go get the humans and hunters," Desiree told him. "I'll ride back up and take the last van down to get my family and the kid who's trying to fight off the turning. Bobby's going to have to come back from the hospital and keep the kid cool. The rest of us need sleep. Including you two."

"Yes, mother," Sam told her, and gave her a smile in response to her smirk.

Sam watched Desiree slowly guide the van toward the now decimated nest. He continued to gently stroke his lover's hair. He set the blood aside and got the water open for Dean, sliding in the straw Desiree had also brought. They hadn't known what to expect from either humans or vampires and straws made drinking so much easier. He bent the straw and put it up to Dean's mouth. "Drink slowly," he cautioned. "I've got some food here if you think you can eat it. Probably be good for you," he encouraged. "Sorry no beer marinated deer and green beans and corn on the cob," he said with a small laugh. "Though Jacob's cooking probably spoiled you to mine from here on out.

He watched Dean slowly sip at the water, seeing him shift uncomfortable and wince when he did so. "Do you want a painkiller? Got some morphine here. That'll do a long way to help you feeling better."

Dean watched with tired eyes as Sam drank the blood that Desiree brought him. A little worried at first because Sam had said the blood, even kept on ice, had a rather short shelf life. His lover was already so damned weak Dean was afraid what dead blood would do to him now.

And who’s fault was that? Because Sam had to come to his rescue yet again. Sam had to give him blood when Vanessa nearly cut him in half. Sam had to give him blood again when Dean agreed to try to save the boy from turning. Now Sam was all torn up by Michael and had to give him blood again because Dean had let the bastard nearly chop him up piece by piece. He was the reason Sam was in such bad shape now, plain and simple.

Dean sighed softly and let his eyes drop closed, exhausted, but enjoying the feeling of Sam’s fingers running gently through his hair in spite of his guilt. He didn’t open his eyes even when he heard Desiree talking about going to get the hunters, though he mentally groaned. Bobby… he hoped the older man didn’t freak out too much over this.

He didn’t open his eyes until Sam nudged him a little and held the straw to his lips so he could drink. The cold water felt good to his abused throat, but the thought of eating anything right now made him cringe a little. If he tried to eat he’d probably end up wearing it two seconds later and he felt enough like shit already. Painkillers though, he definitely wasn’t going to refuse.

“Painkillers would be good.” Dean admitted with a little nod and another wince. Fuck, that bastard had fucked up his head something good too from bashing it around, he hoped he didn’t have a concussion. “Sorry… you’re back to playing nurse maid again…”

Sam was pleased to see Dean drink the water. While his blood might help sustain Dean, the man was still human enough that he certainly needed real human fluids as well. At his suggestion of food, the look on Dean's face made it clear that food was not going to be on the 'I want' list.

"Don't be sorry. Michael set a trap for who ever came up that path. And I think you just secretly like the attention from me."

He reached into the bag of supplies and pulled out the morphine. He saw it was a low dose so they wouldn't have to worry about the size of the person they could give it to. He could always give a second one in a bit if this one wasn't enough for Dean. He took out an alcohol prep pad and opened it with his teeth, and cleaned off the blood and dirt on a spot on Dean's arm.

"I'm giving you the shot now. It's a low dose of morphine. If you need more in a bit, I'll give you more, but let's start with this. You're not allergic to morphine are you?"

At Dean's slight shake of his head, Sam pushed the needle in. He could see Dean relax almost immediately and smell by his scent that the pain wasn't nearly as bad. "Don't you worry about that leg. You might limp for a month, probably less, but it'll heal up just fine. I doubt it'll even scar. You'll heal faster and better when we get you cleaned up and bandaged properly. The less the virus has to deal with, the faster you'll heal. We'll keep you on crutches for a week and see how you're doing after that. The less stress you put on it, the faster it'll heal. You'll probably be able to walk on it by tomorrow or the next day, but the virus makes sure you'll able to function, even if it isn't fully heal. Kinda acts like stitches to start off with."

Dean had stopped drinking the water but Sam could tell he wasn't quite asleep. He pulled out some towelettes and began cleaning what parts of Dean he could reach free of the blood, then turned to himself. He'd gotten as far as his own face when the van was coming back up the path. He could see Bobby was driving and saw the concerned look when Bobby got closer.

"Dean'll be fine," Sam shouted at Bobby. "We'll see you back at the hotel."

Desiree got out of the van and after a moment, Bobby gave a hesitant nod and headed off.

"You two good?" Desiree asked.

"Good enough," Sam acknowledged, picking the bag of blood back up and sipping more from it. It had warmed up some now and he was able to drink more of it. It was getting an edge to it though, so he finished it off quickly as he watched the young woman take the last van down the road. He quickly drank the second bag, then tossed the bag aside. He slowly combed his fingers through Dean's hair and shut his eyes.

Sam’s reassurance that he shouldn’t be sorry didn’t really comfort Dean all that much. Even though he cracked a small smile at his lover’s joke about him just wanting the attention from Sam it was all for show. Nothing about what had happened was funny, not in the least.

Dean couldn’t help but wonder if Sam had come with him, if Michael would have still gotten the drop on them… Probably not. What if it had been someone else other than Dean? What if it had been Bobby? Dean felt a cold shiver of fear work up his spine just thinking about it. Michael probably would have just killed the man outright. But because it was him, Michael had seen the chance for a little extra revenge. Thinking like that wasn’t exactly pleasant, but better him than someone else, he supposed.

He shook his head slightly when Sam asked him whether or not he was allergic to morphine. Thank god he wasn’t. He barely felt the prick of the needle when it pierced his skin but the relief the shot provided was almost instant, and Dean let out a low sigh when he started to relax. The pain starting to ease up a little thanks to the drug.

Dean looked at Sam, no small amount of relief filling his tired eyes when his lover answered his unasked question regarding his leg, though a part of him wanted to ask Sam if he was sure. Sure the ‘virus’ in him seemed to act a lot like the normal vampire virus but he wasn’t a vampire. He didn’t need human blood, but he did need vampire blood when his own blood supply got too low. He could heal faster than a human but not as fast as a vampire. He had some of the reflexes and heightened senses of a vampire, but not as good as Sam’s and they seemed to come and go as they pleased. Oh, and he didn’t have fangs…

But Sam hadn’t been wrong yet. Dean had recovered quickly after their imprisonment and torture by Vanessa, he should have died twice today but he was still alive. He’d just have to trust that Sam was right about this too and he wouldn’t be crippled for the rest of his life.

Dean let his eyes drop closed tiredly, exhaustion pulling at him even stronger now that he wasn’t in so much pain. When he felt Sam cleaning off his face he smiled a bit, though Dean couldn’t help but wonder how the fuck they were going to be able to go back to the hotel, a four star hotel at that, looking like ax murderers covered in blood. Guess he’d just have to trust the vampires had already thought of that too and had a plan.

He cracked his eyes open when he heard the van return, lifting his hand to give Bobby a weak wave to reassure the older man that he was fine. More or less, anyway. Soon the van was gone and Desiree had taken the other one to pick up the rest of their comrades and hopefully would return for them in a few minutes. Dean couldn’t wait to get the fuck out of here.

Dean looked at Sam and he couldn’t deny the flash of worry he felt for his lover. He didn’t think he’d ever seen Sam look so… drained. Not even after everything they’d been through the first time at Vanessa’s hands.

“Are you ok?” Dean asked softly, lifting his hand once more to press his palm against Sam’s chest over his heart. He didn’t like how slow his lover’s heart beat was or how cold Sam felt.

Sam clasped his hand over Dean's, but kept his eyes shut. "Yeah, I'm fine Dean. At least, I will be. I basically have the vampire equivalent of the flu." He cracked open his eyes and looked down at his lover. "Most of us probably do. I'm sure a lot of us drank blood from Vanessa's nest trying to replenish ourselves. You drink enough of a different strain when you're injured and your virus treats it like any other virus. It attacks it. Unfortunately this invading virus tends to attack back. My system wants to shut down, heal, fight off the invading strain. I just need rest. Vampires don't die from the vampire flu, don't worry. It just tends to make us sick and more prone to bloodlust since human blood helps a lot. Maybe Bobby can round us up some fresh donors."

Sensing Dean's deep concern, and maybe even guilt, he added, "It's common in vampire wars. I told you. Most of us who took any sort of blood loss probably have a case of it. Nathan is probably going to be the worst because of his arm getting severed. His virus is going to have to work overtime to reconnect it and he probably drank a helluva lot of vampire blood. He'll need some major human blood and will probably be out cold most of the time."

He twined his fingers with the hand Dean had on his chest. "It's probably how the whole vampires rising from the grave lore got started. After a vampire war, bodies were found, no discernable heartbeat, no breath, cold to the touch, and the bodies were buried. After enough rest, the vampires dug their way out of the graves and were famished and in bloodlust."

After a pause, Sam asked quietly, "Michael he didn't…he didn't get a chance to do anything more than bruise you up and cut you, right?"

Dean frowned a little at Sam’s explanation. Vampire flu? Well, that was a first. Sounded more like food poisoning to him. For some reason that thought made Dean snort softly in amusement even though it wasn’t all that funny. Must be the morphine.

Dean had no idea that vampires even could get sick. Sure, he knew dead man’s blood could poison them but that was different. He’d never heard of vampire blood making other vampires sick, and Dean seriously doubted any hunter had for that matter. The way Sam described it though, it did make sense, he supposed.

If Sam said he would be all right with just a little rest, he would just have to trust his lover. It wouldn’t stop Dean from worrying, however. Sam did look a little better at least as he went on into his little history lesson, not so tired. Probably just distracted. But Dean didn’t try to stop him.

His lover’s next question made Dean flinch slightly before he could help himself. It just took Dean by surprise, though really, it probably shouldn’t have.

“No.” Dean answered just as softly, shaking his head a little. Bruised up, yeah... Sure as hell felt a lot worse at the time, but Dean would take a beating over… “He tried.”

Sam breathed a sigh of relief when Dean told him Michael hadn't raped him.

"I should have taken longer to kill the bastard," Sam said, but he knew he was wise not to try to toy with his opponent. Michael had been injured, Sam had smelled it on him, but not badly and certainly was in better shape than Sam had been in. Michael probably ran when Vanessa was killed, or Vanessa had told him to run if things started to go badly…no, the bitch had been too cocky for that. Must have been after he and Dean killed the bitch. If Dean wasn't his bloodmate, he wasn't at all certain he could have saved him. The Animal continued to surprise him with what it was capable of giving him in the way of strength and speed, with what it would do for their bloodmate

Sam took the hand he held and kissed it. "This is over, finally," he said. "We did it, we're alive, the bitch is dead, and so is her nest. The Network will find anyone we missed, who ran and got away. People are already on their way to tend to the headcount and figure out who's missing. Vanessa's allies are going to find they're in for a world of hurt, too. The Network doesn't approve of vampire wars. Too damned hard to cover up in this day and age."

Sam looked down at his lover unsure if he should say anything but decided Dean ought to know. "You almost died. The Animal took over, totally and completely. We could see the demonic spirits that are always around vampires. It tried to get one to take you over while you were weak enough, just long enough to get you stable. Your virus would have prevented it from staying. But none of them could because you…you do have something in you. It…glows like…like it's holy. The virus in you, it's a gift, a way to combat the vampire virus. We saw the reaper, begged it to take us instead of you. There was a light above and the reaper left and you started drinking my blood again. Do you remember anything?" Sam asked.

He remembered all the times Jessica had told him there was a god, that he just had to have faith. Her loss had practically destroyed any faith he had, but now, now he was forced to reconsider. When even his Animal showed it not only believed in but prayed to God to save their soldaris, well, kind of hard to deny what that meant.

Dean couldn’t help giving his lover a small smile at Sam’s words. Only in their world would something like that be considered an endearment. Yeah, it was pretty fucked up, but Dean didn’t really care. Especially since Dean wished the same thing. That Vanessa and Michael both could have suffered at least a fraction of the pain they had made him and Sam feel, not to mention countless others. Their deaths had been far too quick and merciful for what they deserved.

He would just have to take comfort in the fact that Sam was right. They were dead and he and Sam were still alive, a little worse for wear at the moment, but alive. They could finally get on with their lives without constantly looking over their shoulders… well… for a little while at least. A heavy price had been paid but at least the fuckers wouldn’t be able to hurt anyone else anymore.

Then Sam begun talking about how he’d almost died, and Dean wasn’t sure what surprised him more. The fact that Sam wanted to talk about it at all, or what his lover told him. Of course Dean had known he’d been dying when Sam found him. He’d been bleeding out while his lover fought Michael. Dean didn’t remember much of the details, but he got the gist of it.

He didn’t understand how he was alive now. He supposed he figured Sam had just given him enough blood to save him but apparently that wasn’t the case, or not the whole case. Dean felt a cold feeling pool in his stomach when Sam mentioned the ‘animal’ trying to get a demon to enter him… he definitely didn’t like the sound of that. But apparently that hadn’t even happened, and Dean’s eyes widened a little when Sam said there was something already inside him. Something? What kind of something? Even Sam’s theories that it was something ‘holy’ didn’t really make Dean feel all that better.

When Sam asked him if he remembered anything, Dean swallowed hard, not sure if he wanted to say it aloud. It sounded crazy. He’d probably only been hallucinating or dreaming or something. He’d been dying after all. But the unmistakable hope in Sam’s eyes convinced him to speak despite his doubts.

“I thought… I felt my father. I couldn’t see him, it was too bright, but… I knew it was him. I heard you… calling. But I couldn’t see you either. He helped me back, helped me find you…”

"Then I guess your dad approves of me," Sam said, giving Dean a smile, but at the same time was troubled to know just how very close he had come to losing Dean, as if the reaper wasn't proof enough. Just knowing that Dean had indeed been on his way to Heaven, a place he could probably never go even if he died, scared him. Even so, a small part of him was relieved to know that Dean being part vampire or whatever he was didn't keep him from Heaven. He hadn't damned Dean. "I'm glad he helped you find your way back. I thought…" his smile faltered then, "I thought I'd lost you."

He wanted more than anything to hold Dean in his arms, but Dean needed to stay still and rest and he didn't want to cause Dean any pain by moving him. Not to mention his own broken ribs were apparently not at the top of the list for the virus to be working on. They hurt like a bitch even when he wasn't breathing to talk. Just sitting here he was beginning to feel every ache and injury. He couldn't wait to get back to the hotel, get properly bandaged, and lay down. He wasn't sure he even cared about washing all the blood off. His body would take care of it given time, but that would take a couple days. The virus was too busy with other things to worry about the blood and gore on the exterior of his body. If he felt threatened, that might change since it was a scent the enemy could potentially track, but with him sitting down and resting, the virus was busily at work trying to knit him all back together again.

"I'm looking forward to showing you the house," Sam finally said. "And once we're both back to our fully handsome selves, we need to get a couple pictures taken. And I want to paint a picture of you, too."

After a moment he grinned at Dean, "You know, you need to stay off that leg for a good week. Guess that means I'll be driving your car."

A small huff of laughter escaped Dean and he couldn't help but smile up at his lover. He hadn't thought of that… he hoped that's what it meant. Even if he wasn't sure if it had been real, but the love, comfort, acceptance, and… pride… he'd felt then when his father had touched him felt real.

It was the first time, in a long time, he'd been able to think about the older man without pain. Sam certainly seemed to think it had been real, and in spite of how much he hurt, Dean felt happy. Really fucking happy. He wanted to pull Sam down and kiss him breathless, and mentally cursed that neither of them were in shape for anything like that.

Dean squeezed his lover's hand gently instead.

"Its gonna take more than that to get rid of me." Dean told the other man, grinning smugly, and glad when his lover's fearful look faded from his eyes rather quickly.

The house… Sam's house… Dean was looking forward to it too. He was definitely ready for that vacation they'd talked about before that Dean had been doubtful they'd be able to take. But they were both alive, banged up sure, but alive, and the young man was more than ready for a break. He couldn't help but laugh a little, even though it hurt, when Sam started talking about pictures, and even painting him. Was he serious?

"You gonna paint me in the nude or something?" Dean asked with a raised eyebrow, and then snorted softly when Sam told him he would be the one driving. "In your dreams. I can stay off my leg and drive, you know. I'll be sitting down after all."

Sam could see Dean was actually pleased about going to Sam's house and he felt his heart jump a little at the the thought. He hadn't been at all sure Dean was keen on the idea and that sort of worried him. He wanted it to be their home and he hoped Dean liked it. He could move one of his extra cars down to the shop so Dean could have lots of room for his Impala, and could work on it and wash it and wax it and whatever else people did to cars. He'd have to try to convince Dean to pick up some sort of hobby too that didn't involve hunting. It was good for the soul to do something completely unrelated to hunting for a few weeks now and again. Maybe Ultimate Frisbee or even golf. He didn't see Dean as doing anything that wasn't action oriented.

He wished he could go to the house first and take down some of the pictures of his previous lovers, but they were part of his history and pictures of Dean and himself would take over the prime spots soon enough. It was time to put Jessica to rest. He had mourned her far too long, but now that he knew she had been avenged, it eased an ache inside him, even knowing that she had died terribly, knowing that Vanessa had done it, and that Vanessa was dead at his and Dean's hands, yes, there was something very satisfying in that. And then of course, getting vengeance for what she had done to him and Dean. No more looking over their shoulders. That would be nice. Maybe they both wouldn’t be so uptight about the night, or strange sounds. Maybe the nightmares would ease too.

Sam chuckled at Dean's suggestion. "I could paint you in the nude if you want. I was going to paint a portrait of you, though. And just how are you going to drive your car since it's your right leg that's injured? I will be very gentle with your baby, if you let me. I promise."

Dean snorted softly and rolled his eyes. He’d been kidding about the nude thing, and he was sure Sam knew it too. He wanted to ask the vampire what was the point of getting pictures taken if Sam was just going to use paint anyway, but hell, it wasn’t like he minded the idea. Right now Dean would probably say yes to just about anything Sam asked without any complaint. Well, almost any.

“I thought you said my leg would be better in a couple of days.” Dean argued back, but it was half hearted at best. Dean huffed softly and relented, “Fine, but if you get a scratch on her your ass is mine.”

Not that Sam’s ass wasn’t his already, Dean thought, a smirk beginning to pull at the young man’s lips even though he was still annoyed he wouldn’t be able to drive his car. It was about then that Dean heard the sound of the van coming back up the hill and he was sure that his lover heard it too.

“I think our ride is here.”

"And it will be better, but I also said you should be on crutches for a week to give it time to heal up properly. Just because you'll be able to walk on it doesn't mean you should. I told you, the virus will stitch you back together, but only enough initially to make sure you could run if you had to and to keep out infection. It'll do the fine tuning over the next week. Then you can use it, but you should still go easy on it for a week after that. Remember, I've got a pool. That'll be perfect exercise. And the house is set well away from the road. There's nothing like skinny dipping in the middle of the night."

"Not a scratch. And you can have my ass whenever you want it," Sam teased him.

He gave a nod when Dean said he heard the van. He had heard it wending its way back to them a bit ago. He was really dreading getting up, and dreading even more the pain he would cause Dean when he had to move him into the van. Once they were in the van, then the bottled water and rags would come out, cleaning off the blood so as not to freak anyone at the hotel. He had his duffle with a change of clothes in it as well as a change of clothes for Dean, but he wasn't going to attempt to change out Dean's pants. The pain would probably make his lover pass out. If moving him didn't.

The van pulled to a stop and the door slid open. Ken stepped out, looking fairly healthy, other than his neck being bandaged. Desiree put the van in park and joined Ken.

"We've got you lovely spots picked out inside for your first class ride. Dean gets the mattress what with his leg. Should make the ride a little easier on him, Nathan has the other one. But you can sit up by Dean's head. You're looking a little better."

Sam gave a nod. "Feel a little better. Feel like I got hit by a semi rather than a train. How's the kid Jason doing?"

"Bad fever. The blood's gone bad so we tossed it and are using what ice is left on him. C'mon, let's get you in first, then we'll get Dean."

"I can carry him," Sam started to protest, but saw the look in their eyes. "All right. But let me give him another shot of morphine." Digging in the bag, he pulled out a syringe and gave the shot to his lover. Once he did that, the two vampires helped get him to his feet and he hissed as his side complained. The two didn't say anything, just guided him to the back of the van and helped him in. He crawled to the top edge of the mattress and waited for Dean.

Dean knew he shouldn’t be disappointed as Sam explained to him how his leg would heal… or at least how it might heal. Hell, he was damned lucky to be alive in the first place. He was really damned lucky that he wouldn’t be crippled for the rest of his life, or lose his leg all together. But all of that still didn’t make him any happier that he wouldn’t be able to use his leg for at least a week, probably longer. He never was the ‘take it easy’ type.

Though Dean couldn’t help but chuckle softly when his lover said he could have his ass any time he wanted. Unfortunately his amusement didn’t last when he realized he probably wouldn’t be able to have Sam’s ass anytime he wanted because of his damned bum leg. Yeah, this next week or so was really going to suck.

But seriously, how could he be thinking about sex at a time like this? Maybe it was the drugs. Morphine always did make him a little loopy. But at least it helped a lot with the pain. He still hurt like a bitch but at least it was bearable.

When the van pulled up beside them Dean gave the vampires who hopped out a half hearted wave. A mattress, that sounded good. Though Dean frowned a little when he heard how the kid he’d given his blood to was doing. He hoped the kid would be all right.

Then Sam was insisting on carrying him into the van, and Dean almost started to protest. Sam was in no shape for that, even Dean could see it. But thankfully he didn’t have to say anything and his lover allowed the two other vampires to help him into the van. The expression of pain and dizziness that passed over Sam’s face when he moved had Dean worrying all over again though. If Sam was actually showing his pain, something the other man hadn’t even really done when he’d been torn up by that bitch Vanessa the first time, he must be worse off than he was letting on.

At least they were on their way to the motel now where Sam would be able to rest. When it came his turn Dean tried to brace himself for it, he really did. But even with the second shot of morphine he couldn’t stop the shout of pain that left him when he was moved. Between his shredded back, sliced side, and almost severed leg Dean remembered exactly why he had been all but unconscious when Sam had first carried him here when his eyes started to roll back in his head.

It was all Sam could do not to jump out of the van and rush to his lover's side when he heard Dean's cry of pain. By the time Ken and Desiree got Dean to the van, Dean had passed out. They gently laid him on the mattress and Sam helped pull Dean in the rest of the way. He really hoped Dean would stay out until they got to the hotel and got him inside. He looked around at the other walking wounded in the van. Nathan was asleep, his severed arm splinted to the side of his body but the shoulder was twitching practically non-stop as the virus made adjustments to reconnect everything properly. He would have grown back another arm given time, but the amount of blood he would need for that and the pain associated with it, it was much better for him for the virus to attempt to reconnect the arm. Really, it looked like it was doing okay, all things considered. Based on the coloring of the arm, it looked like at least the main vein and artery had been rejoined.

He could hear the groans and whimpers of the young man trying to survive the turning. The back doors shut and then Desiree climbed in the side and Ken returned to the driver's seat. Desiree sat with the feverish man and whispered soothing words to him. Sam could tell Desiree was somewhat attracted to the young man so if the man didn't survive the turning, he would have a home among the nest undoubtedly.

He sighed to himself, regretting how many lives of the nest had been lost. He would miss Simon. He had known Simon for over seventy years and he had stayed with the nest on and off through those years. In part it was why he had brought Desiree to them. He wondered who would take over leadership of the nest. Mel was the oldest of the nest, older even than Simon had been, but he had never wanted to lead. That might change, but he doubted it.

Lindsey was up in the passenger seat and he wondered how she felt about her lover being turned, not that there was a choice. Well, there had been a choice and Ken had chosen vampirism over death. He hoped that Ken kept his bloodlust under control and could stay vegetarian.

Refocusing on his lover, he carded his fingers through Dean's hair. They had been through so damned much but they had a life to look forward to, together, at least until Dean aged and died. Humans led such short lives. Still, Jake was still alive and healthy, so maybe Dean would be granted a longer life than most. He hoped so. He might have been able to convince Dean to become a vampire with enough time spent in each other's arms, but that was, of course, now an impossibility. Fate was cruel that way he supposed. He would accept the next sixty or seventy years he had with Dean and treasure all of them.

"Sam," one of the other vampires said. It was Rory, a dusky blond who had a faint hint of a Scottish accent. "You need to start cleaning up."

Twisting, Sam took the offered wet rag, but his breath hissed from him when his ribs stabbed sharp pain through him. "How is everyone?" Sam asked quietly.

"We'll be fine given time and blood. We all had a chance to say goodbye before the funeral pyre at least, even Nathan. I'm sure Stacey will be upset that she didn't get to to say goodbye to the family, but we didn't want the bodies disturbed by anyone or anything, so she'll understand. It's part of the way."

Sam nodded as he washed his face off. The towelettes had done a decent job of it, but the rag felt good and more thorough. He gingerly wiped at the scratches on his face and at those on his neck as he wiped down the uninjured flesh with greater pressure. He handed back the rag which Rory rinsed out and returned to him. He continued to clean what the towelettes hadn't gotten. "Knife," he asked.

Once he had it in hand he cut off his shirt. It was easier than trying to get the shredded fabric off over his head. He undid the bandage he had wrapped around his ribs and side. He'd done a piss poor job of bandaging it and flesh still hung away from muscle. The wound was damned deep. There were a few others just about as bad, but this one had nearly cut a good chunk out of him along with breaking his ribs. He could see bone and was glad Dean was unconscious. His lover would probably freak over this one. It had been worth getting it from Michael since it had allowed him to rip the evil bastard's throat out.

"Some help maybe?" he asked quietly. He could get everything in place if he were alone, Lord knew he had often enough, but if he didn't have to do it, he'd rather not. Desiree worked her way back.

"Damn, Sam," she said, seeing his side. She went to her knees and opened the medical kit. After thoroughly cleaning the wound, she set the broken ribs more or less back in place to help speed the healing, then butterflied close the wound.

Sam ground his teeth, the occasional moan of pain slipping from him. "Sonuvabitch." he muttered, feeling his fangs drop in response to the pain.

"Teeth away, Sam," Desiree growled as she continued to work on him and finished cleaning and bandaging his chest. She made him lean forward and did the same for his back. "You are cut to pieces, Mr. Bad Ass."

"No shit, Sherlock," Sam growled back.

Desiree gave a soft snort then turned to Dean.

"No, I've got him," Sam said, reaching to take the rag from her.

"Bullshit. Lean back, suck it up, and let me take care of your soldaris.

Reluctantly, Sam did as she said since he was once again exhausted from the pain and knew Desiree would be able to do a better job than he could at the moment. He took Dean's hand and shut his eyes, more than ready to be back at the hotel where he could sleep and recuperate.