Chapter 1: Occupational Hazard
A Supernatural/Vampires: Los Muertos Cross-over
by Laurel (Sailorhathor)
Chapters: 1 of ?
Rating: This chapter, parental supervision suggested for those under 13 for adult situations. Overall, Adult17+ for graphic sexual situations, sometimes between two men, and bad language.
Dates: This chapter was written November-December 2006
Word Count: 4,126
Silly Summary: Sam is turned into a vampire... with sexy results!
Serious Summary: Dean discovers that Sam has been turned into a vampire when Sam shows signs of blood starvation. Dean does the only thing he can for his brother - he feeds him. This chapter is pre-Wincest.
Timeline: Alternate Universe after the Supernatural episode "Bloodlust."
Warning: Vampirism/blood drinking. Will eventually feature a threesome relationship between Sam/Lenore the Vampire/Dean. Will also contain Dean/OFC and Dean/OMC. Contains spoilers for several episodes of Supernatural, especially the second season. Eventual cross-over with John Carpenter's Vampires: Los Muertos will majorly spoil that movie.
Betas: Thanks to KaijaWest and Renzer for the betas of this chapter.
Author's Notes: Told from Dean's point-of-view. I never really wanted to write Wincest between Sam and Dean until this story. Most people just don't write it realistically, and that's a big turn-off. But this plot bunny made it seem sort of possible to me. Blame it on the sexy vamp biting.
The title of this story comes from the lyrics of the Slayer song "Raining Blood."
It's sort of funny how sometimes, your own failures sneak up on you, and happen without you even having to be there. And suddenly, your whole life changes into some bizarre caricature of what it once was until you don't even recognize it. You just do whatever you have to for the people you love.
Sam would later call it an occupational hazard. But I didn't find out the truth about what happened to Sammy for two weeks following our run-in with Gordon Walker.
We got back to the hotel room after dealing with a haunted painting done by serial killer John Wayne Gacy of himself dressed as a clown. Fucking clowns again. The painting was coming to life and killing young men. Unfortunately, Gacy thought Sam and I were a mighty tasty treat, and we were both injured. I was bleeding more than Sam, so he was fretting over me getting patched up. But I should have known something was wrong when he wouldn't come near me. Sammy hung out in the corner, sometimes giving me a sheepish look, while I dressed the wounds I could reach. I asked for the Band-Aids and he practically threw them at me instead of bringing them to me.
"Dude, what's the matter? Do I stink or something?" I asked. A little humor can go a long way with my brother. Get him to open up.
Sam shrugged, looking guilty as a whore in church. "No," he said, not being the least bit convincing. "Nothing's the matter."
"Then come over here and patch up my back," I said, indicating a deep gash on my shoulder blade that I couldn't reach.
He just stood there, his eyes kinda wide, like a deer caught in the headlights. Everything in his facial expression said, "Oh shit."
Sam wasn't moving, so I repeated my request. "If we don't close it up, it'll scar. Come on, Sammy, it hurts."
He tried to recover by making a joke about me whining over the pain. A second later, Sam climbed onto the bed behind me and his hands were touching my bare back lightly. I heard him unwrapping the Band-Aid, and it really seemed like he was going to put it on without cleaning up the blood that had trickled down my back. I made a remark about it - Sammy just wasn't being himself - and his breath caught in his throat. His fingers on my back were shaking now. It was obvious to me that Sam was trying to get this done as quickly as he could.
"What the hell is the matter, Sam? You're being really weird," I said.
It was only going to get weirder. Sam didn't answer me. I could hear his breath coming faster, on the way to panting. Although I couldn't see him behind me, out of the corner of my eye, I could tell that he was just kneeling there, staring at the wound on my back. Like he'd been hypnotized. Next thing I knew, Sam leaned forward, and I felt him slowly lick the blood off my skin, running his tongue up my back until he'd reached the gash. Then he just sat there breathing heavy.
The look on my face must've been priceless. I barely got two words out. "Sammy, what-"
As I turned my head to look back at him, Sam let out this loud, inhuman growl, and I saw that he had a full set of vampire teeth descending from his gums. As you can imagine, I jumped about ten feet off that bed and backed away from my brother in shock. I really had no idea this would be the explanation to Sammy's strange behavior.
While he was away from me, looking after Lenore and her man, Sam had been vamped. And he had kept it from me. Not that it's a surprise. I probably would have done the same thing.
Seeing my brother looking at me with those puppy dog eyes on top of a mouth full of razor sharp teeth was more than disturbing. He seemed terrified of how I would react. "This is why I didn't want to come near you," Sam explained. "You're bleeding, and I started to crave it..."
It took me a few seconds to find my voice again. At the time, I couldn't see this as anything but a very likely death sentence for my little brother. Not that he hadn't suffered a form of death already. The thought was mind-blowing. There were so many unanswered questions. All of Sammy's plans for the future... I wondered what would happen to them. Becoming a lawyer. Getting married. Having little Sammy spawn. Being a vampire could end all of those plans. Then there were vampire hunters to consider, people like Gordon, who would behead first and ask questions later. Sam's life could become nothing more than a never-ending flight from danger. I would do anything in my power to save him from all that.
I managed to ask, "Sammy... how did this happen?"
He told me the story of what had gone on after he carried Lenore out of that house. There had been a scuffle out front, one I didn't see or hear because I was involved in a fight of my own, with Gordon. Lenore's man, Eli, had come back at that moment. Seeing Sam carrying his girl with all those cuts on her, looking two steps from death, he just assumed Sam had done it. Eli didn't ask any questions, he just attacked. Sam was trying to put Lenore down, to show Eli that he had no intention of doing anything harmful to her, but it left him vulnerable, and Eli didn't have much trouble knocking him down once Lenore was safely out of his arms. She tried to speak up on Sam's behalf, but Eli didn't hear a word she said because he was too busy growling and screaming at my brother. Before Sam could draw a weapon, the vampire's teeth were already in his neck.
I might've known sooner that Sam had been bitten if the bite had been higher, but Eli got him at the place where the neck meets the shoulder. He easily hid the marks under all those layers of clothes and hoodies he wears. I should have known when Sam refused to walk around in the hotel room after his showers. He started insisting on dressing in the bathroom, with the door closed. I thought it was strange of him - we were never that formal before - but it never crossed my mind there was anything seriously wrong.
Sam never had a chance. The vamp held his arms down with that intense vampire strength and just kept drinking and drinking his blood while Lenore crawled around behind him, weakly trying to pull him off. If Gordon hadn't poisoned her with the dead man's blood, she might've been able to stop Eli from killing my brother. Heck, Eli wouldn't have gotten the wrong idea and attacked Sam in the first place if Lenore hadn't been poisoned. All the blame could be placed squarely on ol' Gordy's shoulders.
Sam described for me how his vision went gray. That's what happens when someone drains all the life out of you. He couldn't see what happened next, but he felt Eli's weight being lifted off of him and heard him yell in surprise. It was like someone with incredible strength, like another vampire, had simply grabbed Eli by the scruff of his neck and tossed him across the driveway.
"Who are you?!" Lenore yelled. Sam just heard all of this; he still couldn't see anything but gray.
What followed were the sounds of a fight. Lenore kept screaming things like, "No, no, don't!" and then suddenly let out a wail of, "NOOOOO!" like someone had just destroyed the thing she loved most.
Turns out, they had. What Sam found out later was that the stranger had drawn a long sword and eventually managed to cut off Eli's head.
Sam could hear Lenore crying, but he couldn't move to help or comfort her; all the strength had been drained out of him. Still sick from the dead man's blood, there was nothing Lenore could do to protect her mate, nor Sam. The next thing Sam felt was lukewarm wetness on his lips.
"Drink," she said. A woman's voice.
Sam knew he was dying. He wasn't sure what she wanted him to drink, but what did he have to lose? What he told me was that he hoped it was some kind of magick elixir, something that would regenerate his blood before he could die. That she was a fellow hunter or something of that sort. Sam was grasping at straws in his mind.
But of course, what she wanted him to drink was her blood. Vampire blood.
Sam had tasted blood before - his own. After all the times he'd taken one in the mouth, you'd think he would recognize the flavor. But he said vampire blood tasted different. He began to feel strong again within half a minute. It didn't take a lot to save his life, if that's the correct way to put it. Sam's vision came back, and he saw the woman who had been his salvation.
But she was just a kid.
An attractive black girl, just a teenager by the looks of her, with a confident smirk on her face. Like she was playing a big cosmic joke on the whole Winchester family. (Of course, we didn't know at the time that that is exactly what she was doing.) Just as Sammy felt better and stronger than he had in his whole life, he realized he was drinking from the girl's slit wrist.
Sam backpedaled away from her, sliding out from under where she'd been crouching over him. The girl laughed, stood up, and sheathed her sword before turning and running off into the night. He wasn't completely sure what had just happened until Lenore sobbed out the details he hadn't been able to see.
That was when Sammy realized he had become one of them. The creatures we hunted. A vampire.
Of course he hid it. Sam now tried to shrug it off as an occupational hazard, something that had always been possible with the kind of job we did, but I'm sure he had no idea how to even approach the subject with me at the time. You can't just say, "Hey Dean, pass me a microwave burrito, and by the way, I'm a vampire." Or, hey, maybe he could approach it this way: "Hey Dean, you've just lost your father - he sacrificed his life to save your sorry ass, doncha know, and guess what? You've now lost your brother, too. I'm the blood sucking undead. Merry Christmas!"
No, there was no good way to tell me.
I was alone with Gordon for a few hours, watching him stare angry holes into me while Sam waited for Lenore to recover. Once she felt well enough, she insisted that Sam help her bury Eli. He couldn't say no; he's a sucker for a crying girl, so he helped her get it done. I could tell Sam now had feelings for Lenore by the way he was talking about her. There was probably lots of hugging and comfort thrown her way by my lonely brother, I'm sure. Some guys just gotta have one girl to call their own. Not me, though. But that's another story.
Lenore's other buds came back and they finally hightailed it out of there with whatever (and whoever) they had left. I can just imagine the longing look Sammy gave her as she slipped into the car. It was all puppy eyes. At the time, Lenore couldn't return that look - she had lost too much that night. But that would change soon enough.
I had no intention of ending my brother's life... undeath... lifey form of death. I don't know what the hell to call it. He breathed and ate and acted like nothing was wrong. But as Sam described to me, pretending to be normal had been very hard for him those last two weeks. People ceased to be people. They had become a heartbeat and a pulse he could hear all the time. Food lost all taste. He just ate to keep putting up the front that nothing had happened. I was pretty well fooled.
The last few days, the craving for blood had become unbearable. Sam told me of how he'd gone out one night and chased down a rat to drain it of its blood, and how disgusting it was. Now that he had human blood to compare the taste to, he understood what Lenore meant when she said cow blood was disgusting. Animal blood just didn't have that same flavor. You could say that human blood had more "zing." Basically, what Sam was facing was a lifetime of never enjoying his food. And rats? Yuck. They just weren't good enough for my Sammy. We were going to have to find him some fine miniature poodles to snack on, or something. Their blood would be like fine wine, right?
But I should stop this joking. This was serious.
We had been talking for over an hour about what happened the night Sam got vampified (okay, I guess I can't stop), and he had started looking paler and paler by the minute. Eventually, Sam clutched his stomach, panting, and told me I should either get out or find him another rat, because he was craving blood pretty bad. I could tell he was suffering without it.
"I'm not leaving you," I told him.
"Dean, I'm serious," Sam said. "You're nothing but a big bag of veins to me right now. I want your blood so bad. Get out before I... I'm afraid I might..."
I knew what he wanted to do to me, but I also knew that my little brother was in pain. I did the only thing I could.
I offered myself to him.
I told Sam to lie on the bed, and I'd find him an animal to drink from. But like I said, fucking rats weren't good enough for my brother. So, once he was lying down, I quickly grabbed one of my knives and climbed onto the bed. Sam looked at me and started to sit up, but I worked as fast as I could, rapidly shoving his arms down and placing my knees on the insides of his elbows, straddling him. He was weak from blood hunger, and although he tried to fight his way out of it, Sam could not budge me. We struggled a bit, my knees slipping around. But he could not escape from where I'd pinned him.
"Dean, what are you doing?!" Sam asked me.
"Feeding you." I cut into my wrist just enough to draw blood, and then tossed the knife aside. This wrist, I put against Sammy's lips.
He really thrashed after that. It wasn't enough to get free, but I did have a hard time keeping him pinned. "No!" Sam screamed. "I won't feed off my own brother!"
"I insist," I said. "Just take enough to live for now. We'll figure out the rest later. You don't have to drink it all."
Sam moved his head back and forth, getting blood all over his lips and chin; he outright refused to drink at first. "I won't do it!"
I tried to make the situation seem like not such a big deal. "Come on, Sammy, we've got orange juice and cookies. Isn't that what they give you after you donate blood?"
"This isn't any different than if you'd been in an accident and needed family to give you blood."
"It is too different," Sam protested. His struggles had become weaker. It seemed he was giving in.
"I don't care. Sam, I can't just sit back and let you suffer." I put the bleeding wrist to his mouth again. He turned his head away, but not as far as he had before. "If you don't take it, I'm just going to sit here and bleed to death waiting for you to do it. Feed, Sam."
After a few more seconds of deliberation, Sam turned his head back toward my offered wrist and breathed in. His tongue came out, licking blood off his lips and chin, and he made a whimpery sound. I knew he didn't want to do this, that it was hard for him. But the bloodlust is irresistible. Sam began to lick at my wrist and make these satisfied noises.
"That's it, Sam. Come on. Get it over with," I told him.
At first, he just sucked lightly at the small wound I had made. But shortly after, Sam moaned, "Oh God, Dean," and lost some of his control. His vampire teeth came out, and he bit into my wrist. It hurt pretty bad. I tried not to show it. I know I winced, and the pain must've shown in my eyes. But I held in the string of curses that wanted to pour from my mouth.
"Careful, Sammy. Easy," I said through gritted teeth.
He drank from me with more strength once he'd opened me up a little wider. I understood. Sam couldn't help it. This living off of blood thing was all new to him, and he'd been starved for two weeks. Like how I get when I haven't gotten any for a while (I'm not talking about blood). I could hear Sam taking big gulps of blood, and after ten seconds of it, I started to feel light-headed.
"Okay Sam, that's enough."
He didn't stop. He couldn't.
"Sammy, you gotta stop now. I can't give anymore."
I knew yanking my wrist out of a vampire's mouth was a bad idea; those teeth would just rip through my skin like me through a front-hook bra. Instead, I gently tugged and commanded, "Stop, Sam!"
He made this growling sound and bucked underneath me. My first notion was to smack the side of his head. I know, not bright, but I'm a big brother. Smacking a younger sibling upside the head is instinct. Sam's vampire nature seemed to be in control of him, because he reacted by shoving me upward by the wrist and then down, flipping me over on my back. Seems my blood had brought back his strength. All of his supernatural, vamp strength. Then he was on top of me, taking more than his share from my open wrist with great glee.
"You gotta stop!" I yelled, trying to bring him back to his senses. I tried to get up, but Sam pinned me down by the wrists and went for my neck. Those sharp teeth grazed over my jugular vein, lazily, like an animal stalking its prey.
"So much blood... I can smell it..." Sam whispered.
I tried my hardest to struggle free, but if you think that's easy, you haven't experienced vampire strength. A female vamp once picked me up by the chin with one hand. And I'm no lightweight. The blood from my wrist got all over Sam's hand and the sheets. The smell of it was driving him to want more than he really needed at the time.
I kept talking, hoping to break through to him. "Sam, you don't want to do this. You'll regret it once you come to your senses."
"And don't you regret staying here when I told you to get away from me with that fresh, warm blood?"
That comment actually freaked me out a little. It was like the vampire, the creature inside Sam, was speaking instead of my brother. But in a way, he was right - I had asked for this. Somehow, I had to get myself out of it.
Sam really started to scare me when he raked his bottom fangs over my neck hard enough to draw blood. I groaned. He actually snickered as he insatiably licked at the wound.
I didn't know what to do to get him to stop, so I pathetically begged for my life. My worthless, bought-and-paid-for-with-my-father's-soul, life. But what would Sammy do without me? He needed me to look after him, or some hunter would pick him off before he could even explain himself. Sure, he was about to drain all the blood out of his brother, who was still some form of lower human being, but I couldn't let a hunter like Gordon Walker just lop off his head. So I tried the last thing I could think of.
"Sammy, please," I begged. Even I was surprised by how weak and tearful my voice sounded. "Please don't kill me. Just stop."
It somehow worked. My voice penetrated through that haze the bloodlust had put over him, and Sam leaned back and looked into my face with the most heart-wrenching, pitiful look I've ever seen. "Oh... Dean, God... I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," he said, and quickly wrapped a corner of the bed sheet around and around my wrist to stop the bleeding.
"It's okay, Sam." I was weak. Too much blood. But I didn't think that Sam had taken so much that I needed a hospital. I just needed some rest... and maybe some of that orange juice and cookies. "You stopped yourself in time."
His eyes welled up with tears. Oh, great - chick flick moment. "I can't believe I did that-" he began.
"Sammy..." I scolded in an irritated tone. He really could be annoying with that guilt stuff. "Spare me the apology and just get me some juice and cookies, okay? You couldn't help it. You were hungry."
"Oh, yes, of course, right away," he said, and scurried off the bed to get me the stuff. I dragged myself to the head of the bed to lay back. Sam brought what I asked for, and helped get me comfy with pillows to prop myself up with so I could drink my juice easier. While I snacked, I got Sam to stitch up my wrist; it just wouldn't stop weeping blood. And did that ever hurt like a son of a bitch. But he did everything I wanted and basically waited on me hand and foot.
As well he should, that little bloodsucker.
For the next day, when Sam wasn't fawning over me, he'd look at me like he felt the weight of the world on his shoulders, and I knew the guilt was eating him alive. So I just kept reminding him that it had been my idea. "I made you do it, you know," I said. "Just offered you a bleeding wrist. Like throwing chum to a shark."
"I know, Dean," Sam replied, and tried to smile. "I know."
Neither of us had any idea how often vampires were supposed to feed. Would we need to do that again? Or would we be able to find a suitable animal for Sam to feed on before the hunger got that bad once more? Fortunately for us, and for Sam, answers were dropped right in our lap a couple days later in the form of a pretty raven-haired vampire who just couldn't get enough of my Sammy.
Lenore followed his scent right to us.
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