Season Two

Episode Thirteen: Extinction

By Kittsbud & Tree

Part Two

Something jarred inside the elder hunter, something that brought the deserted hangar in New Jersey back into his memory kicking and screaming. He had to react, had to save Sammy all over again. It seemed like it was his lifelong calling, but it was one in which he vowed never to fail.

“Hey, you pointy-toothed sonofabitch! Come get some of this!” Dean spun the machete like it was a mace, daring the vampire to attack him instead of his sleeping brother.

The fanged creature hissed as it spun from the still-sleeping hunter, angry that its feed had been interrupted. Saliva dripped from its teeth and open mouth, its hunger spurring it on for the kill. It wanted, needed blood, and it had no preference where the irony, red liquid came from.

“That’s it, come show me what you got, Spike,” Dean urged, gripping the hilt of his blade with both hands. “Did anyone ever tell you your orthodontist sucks, dude?”

The blond bloodsucker screamed, its primal urge to feed forcing it to attack rather than the taunts from the hunter. Arms outstretched ready to seize Dean, it took one leap over Sam’s bed and literally flew half way across the room at its intended victim.

It knew it was strong, way stronger than any human – than anything that had gone before it, even.

As the vampire slammed into him, Dean faltered, its weight pushing him backwards into the wall and almost knocking the machete from his grip. Keeping hold of the weapon with just one hand, he tried to catch the creature a glancing blow with it, anything to buy time.

The thing laughed, a deep, gutteral chortle as it cocked its head back revealing its descending fangs once again. “I’m going to bleed you till there’s nothing left but a dry husk, and then I’m going to use your friend for my sweet.” It held a hand around the hunter’s throat, squeezing until he was forced to drop the machete in favor of trying to pry away the unnaturally strong hands. “Or, maybe I should turn him? Would you like that?”

Dean’s eyes shot to his brother, so deep in slumber he was still blissfully unaware of the fight that was ensuing only a few feet away. He couldn’t let this thing hurt Sammy, turn Sammy into a creature of the night.

“Ah, I see I’ve struck a nerve.” The vampire nodded, glancing from Dean to Sam as the younger turned, groaning in his sleep. “Friend? Lover? Brother?” It queried, it’s brow raising as it hit the right nerve and Dean’s face contorted in anger. “Brother…” It nodded.

“You won’t hurt him -” Dean’s voice was low, all the anger, the frustration abruptly washing away into something more peaceful – more certain.

“Hurt him?” The creature huffed, letting go of the hunter’s neck in the sure certaintly that it was in no danger. It was omnipotent, or as good as, wasn’t it? “Oh, I’m not going to hurt him. I’m going to eat him, drink him…savour him…”

Dean stepped away from the wall he’d been pressed against, a similar confidence embuing him as the vampire. Letting his right hand casually slip behind his back, he kept up the barrage of sarcasm as his fingers gripped the butt of his Desert Eagle.

“Dude, so not the first time a Winchester’s been threatened with being the main course.” He shrugged, thinking of the Bender family in distaste. “’Course, I think I was way more appetizing than my brother, but maybe you freaks don’t know good white meat when you see it…”

Dean bit down lightly on his own lip, drawing a thin film of blood that he promptly licked away after teasing the creature with it for just a second. “Mnn, tastes good,” he tempted.

The vampire tried to pounce, its mind telling it not to but its body unable to ignore pure instinct. It needed to sink its fangs into something warm and soft. It wanted to feel the tepid trickle of blood in its mouth as it sucked the delicious red nectar from the annoying human before it.

As soon as the bloodsucker made its move, Dean drew out his .45 from the small of his back and emptied every last slug into the thing’s chest.

Not one single projectile entered the vampire’s body. Most bounced harmlessly from its frame like it was wearing body armor. The odd bullet grazed its skin, but did no significant damage. And yet still, Dean’s plan had worked. The sheer force of being hit by so many slugs at close range knocked the vampire backwards and it fell clumsily, only the footer of Sam’s bed stopping it from hitting the floor.

While the creature shook itself, Dean tossed down his weapon and sank to the carpet, reacquainting himself with the machete with an ear to ear grin.

“Time for a little haircut, Spike!” Lunging at the blond as it staggered up from the bed, Dean brought the machete down hard to the vampire’s neck, trying to decapitate the creature with one blow.

Suprisingly, the recently sharpened blade faltered, and Dean found it only half embedded in the thing’s neck. Blood splattered from the wound, showering the hunter, the bed, his brother and half the other items in the room with a bright crimson spray that even a kindergartener wouldn’t have laid claim to.

Dean winced, yanking back on the machete to make a second harder blow. “Ugh, friggin’ gross!”

This time, the top of the vampire’s spine finally gave way and its head toppled to the carpet, a look of complete shock crossing its features as the last vestiges of life faded from its brain cells.

The thing’s body hovered in an upright position for several seconds longer, more scarlet pumping blood spurting from its recently severed veins and arteries.

Dean tolerated the garish sight for as long as he could stomach the blood spashing onto his face – onto Sammy’s face. Then, with the tip of his boot he kicked the twitching cadaver in the back and it slumped forward to join its other half on the floor.

“I would say this sucks out loud,” he commented wryly, looking down at the corpse. “But given your occupation I think that might be too close for comfort…”

“Dean?”

The elder Winchester instantly forgot the oozing body at his feet, his head snapping back to the voice of his baby brother.

The brother he’d almost lost again because he’d unsuspectingly left him alone in a motel room. Funny how life, history, seemed to run in neverending, vicious circles. Just like in Fort Douglas – except that was a witch, not a vamp. And I shoulda known better than to defy an order from dad, kid or not.

“You okay, Sasquatch?”

Sam blinked, unsure exactly why he wouldn’t be. He rubbed at his bleary, grit-filled eyes and when his hands came away bloody his mouth opened but nothing came out. Swallowing, he followed Dean’s gaze to the decapitated head that stared up at him from the carpet, fangs bared. “Vampire?” He queried, even though it was the most obvious answer in the world.

Dean nodded, wiping the smeared blood from the machete’s blade with a towel from the bathroom.

Sam shook his head, for an instant wondering if Dean hadn’t gone and found a hunt just to keep him in the business. It seemed like too much of a coincidence to just run into a vampire – but then, Dean wouldn’t go that far, would he? “I’m so not gonna miss this when I’m done hunting,” he finally offered, rubbing away some more of the creature’s blood from his face with the back of his hand.

Dean’s brow furrowed, but he avoided any confrontation on the subject. Now wasn’t the time to browbeat his brother into remaining a hunter. “You can miss it later, ’cause right now I think we got a whole nest of these sick puppies just like in Colorado.”

Dean tossed a clean towel at Sam who took it and absently continued to rub at the bloodstains all over his skin and t-shirt. “Nest? Dean, vampires are so rare even Dad thought they were extinct. What are the chances of finding a whole bunch of them right where we happen to be staying?”

Dean toed the vampire’s body uncertainly. He didn’t like it any more than his brother, and he sure as hell didn’t like how strong the bastard had been. “I’d say the chances are as high as me beating you every time at poker, dude. Trust me, this isn’t the only Buffy reject I’ve run into tonight. I’m telling you, there’s something off here.”

Sam pushed up from the bed and toyed with the idea of heading for the bathroom to clean up properly. The fact that his brother had mentioned another vampire the only thing making him pause midway across the room to pander to his sibling’s “hunting evil” obsession. “Okay,” he sighed. “You got me. You ran into another one of these things?”

Dean rubbed at his bruised right hand where it had impacted on the first vampire, the memory alone making him wince. “Yeah, down at the local bar,” he confessed. “Friggin’ thing just walked in as brazen as a hussy and started to attack people.” He clenched and unclenched his tingling fingers. “I’ll tell you something else, too. The thing was strong - stronger than the Colorado vamps - hell, stronger than a pissed off wendigo with attitude. I’m telling you, Sammy, something’s not right here.”

Sam planted his huge frame back on the end of his bed, wash forgotten. He’d thought he was free of this, free to be normal again. Why was it always left to the Winchesters to hunt evil and save the innocent? Didn’t they deserve a life too, before it was too late?

He dragged down a long breath. “You’re right,” he eventually admitted. “Even with what little we know about vampires, this isn’t following their usual behavioral patterns…”

“We need to find the nest and finish these suckers.” Dean watched the woeful expression that crossed his brother’s face. “Then,” he added. “you can go back and play college boy. Deal?”

Sam looked up and a small smile crossed his face. “Deal,” he agreed, moving from the bed to take a look at the vampire’s still-warm corpse.

“Looks like Spike was into tattoos,” Dean mused, standing over his brother with a scowl. “Except that’s one pretty whacked out piece of art for a vamp to have on his wrist…”

Sam squinted slightly, twisting the vampire’s arm to get a better look. Taking in the intricate, almost corporate design marked out perfectly on the inside of “Spike’s” right wrist, he noted that the ink had faded with age. It wasn’t a colorful tattoo, either, but more like a mark of ownership or cattle brand. Beneath the emblem was a long number beginning with four zeros.

Sam looked up. “This is more like a logo than a tattoo some freak would have. I think we should check it out.”

“You should check it out,” Dean corrected. “’Cause I’m gonna get rid of our bloodsucker’s body before he starts to stink this joint out.” He took a look at the cadaver and grimaced in disgust. “Man, I gotta have that thing’s creepy head in my trunk. So not cool.”

“In your trunk is better than in your bed.” Sam made a face, looking at the scarlet spray pattern that covered his sheets. “Just be careful, Dean. I suddenly have a bad feeling about this town.”

Dean grabbed the mop of blond hair that was attached to the very dead vampire head and grimaced as he stuffed it into a black refuse sack. “Dude, I’ve had a bad feeling since you mentioned school.” The elder hunter turned, hastening out to his car before Sam could respond.

It wasn’t that Dean didn’t want Sam to have a life. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to lose his little brother to some big city law firm – Dean just didn’t want to lose Sammy, period.

* * * *

Dean glanced into the rearview mirror as the Impala cruised down a short lane on the outskirts of Mann’s Choice. He didn’t know why, but the town just reminded him of one of the creepy little towns from a Stephen King tale – the kind of town that always ended up harboring some deep, dark, and mostly evil secret. Even the name had the same creeped out ring to it.

He had nothing save the vampire attacks to base his paranoia on, and yet he couldn’t resist the urge to keep those hazel eyes darting to the mirror every few seconds.

So far, only the black of night or the flash of some nocturnal animal’s wild orbs had greeted him back, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to keep checking.

Eying the machete that sat on the passenger seat, he felt a pang of uncertainty. He’d managed to dump the vampire’s body out and burn it in some secluded field before burying any remains, but its very presence here worried the hunter.

One vampire was unusual. Two vampires were dangerous. If there were more in the nest here in Pennsylvania they had to be found and destroyed before they managed to “create” any more of their own kind.

“Man, I wish Dad was here,” Dean mused out loud as he pulled into a small gas station and Kwik Mart. As much as his comment to Sam before about gas had been pure anger-fueled snark, the car really was pretty much running on empty now.

Dean sat forward in his seat and took a look through the glass of the booth for an attendant. In small towns like this, a lot of gas stations were still not self service. Surprisingly, even though the notice on the door said “open”, the cash register had been left unattended.

Dean shrugged. “Small town dudes are way too trusting.” He ambled to the rear of the Chevy and quickly pushed the nozzle into the filler neck. Glancing around, he realized there were no other customers on the pumps, or inside the store. In fact, there wasn’t a soul in sight anywhere.

Damn, I think I’ve seen this movie…

When the pump chimed the Impala was full, Dean slid the nozzle back into its holder and sauntered over to the booth, tugging a fake MasterCard from his wallet to settle up the bill with. These bozos are lucky I’m bothering to pay at all. I mean, what the hell? Who leaves a store unattended? Probably some teenager making out in the back with his chick because business is slow…

Dean pushed open the glass door and looked cautiously around the Kwik Mart, every instinct telling him that maybe this was no kid shirking his duties after all. He swallowed, hearing the sound of his throat bobbing reflexively in the sheer silence of the room.

Something clattered to the floor and Dean’s head jerked towards the sound of the movement, his gut screaming that he shouldn’t have left the machete in the car.

Stuffing his wallet back into his pocket he edged towards the small stockroom from where the noise had come. The door was already open, and he skirted it carefully until he was able to safely bob his head around the jamb.

“Sonofabitch!”

Dean relaxed from his defensive position just a little and entered the store room. Whatever had attacked here had long gone, leaving only the very dead body of the clerk as evidence of its presence.

Dean didn’t really need to check to know what kind of killer he was dealing with, but he hunkered over anyway, examining the two deep puncture wounds on the young man’s neck.

“Another friggin’ spike-toothed creep,” he sighed. The clerk was only young – too young, and looking at his innocent, “baby” features only made the hunter regret his earlier thoughts that the kid had been in the back making out.

Dean shook his head ruefully and pushed down on his knee, starting to straighten up when the clerk’s eyes suddenly flashed open. The hunter momentarily balked and at the sight of two pure white descending fangs he stumbled backwards.

The clerk’s arm shot out just in time to catch the hunter’s collar and hold him, but Dean’s reflexes were just as fast.

Leaning against the nearest wall was a spade used to shovel sand onto gasoline spills. It wasn’t exactly the perfect tool, but Dean was the master of improvisation.

Grabbing the handle, Dean struck out at the undead clerk as he yanked on the hunter’s collar. The first blow landed square on the “turned” kid’s forehead, making an evil-looking dint that knocked him back just enough for Dean to straighten and swing a much better aimed blow.

The second strike was perfectly on target, the spade’s blade landing just under the clerk’s chin and cutting straight through his windpipe, carotid, and all the tissue that went with them.

The kid’s eyes rolled but didn’t quite dim as his arms flailed and dark red blood seeped between the blade and his flesh.

To Dean, it was like watching a dying animal in the road writhe in agony, knowing you couldn’t save it. Better to finish it quick…

Dean placed his boot on the bottom of the spade and looked away as he put his full weight onto it. He felt a sickening crack as the clerk’s spine gave way beneath his heel and the severed head lolled away from the kid’s quivering body.

For a while, even Dean couldn’t force himself to look at his own handiwork. This had once been a young man with his whole life ahead of him. Maybe he was studying like Sammy. Maybe…

Sammy.

Dean slipped a hand to his jacket pocket and pulled out his cell. Hitting Sam’s number from the speed dial he pressed the phone to his ear, holding it there with his shoulder as he tossed a sheet he’d found over the clerk’s remains. He’d need to come back later to burn them, but for now there were bigger fish to fry.

“Dean, where the hell have you been? I was about ready to come look for you!” Sam’s slightly agitated voice cracked across the unhealthy cell line, evoking a surge of relief in the elder Winchester.

“Yeah, well, let’s just say I almost got a puncture…”

“You blew a tire?”

“Dude, I was thinking more in the area of my friggin’ neck.” Dean walked back through the Kwik Mart, snagging a pack of Twinkies as he headed outside and took another look around. “I just killed another Buffy extra and this one had been turned recently. Sammy, we got a serious infestation here…”

“Yeah, and it’s not the only weird thing going on. The tattoo on Spike is a logo from a local research lab. The place is called Bastian Pharmaceuticals, and according to what I can dig up they’re doing some top secret work. Dean,” Sam’s voice became questioning, and he almost, almost sounded like the hunter he used to be. “What if Bastian is turning out more than a few new drugs?”

Dean raised a brow and stuffed in a Twinkie, munching as he answered. “What? You’re thinking Robovamps? Dude, that’s a pretty big stretch, even for us.”

“At least let’s check the place out.” Sam pulled up the lab’s location on Google Maps and jotted it down as he continued to hold the phone to his ear. “It would explain why this place is suddenly inundated with vampires, Dean.”

Dean gulped down the last of his sponge cake and looked around the empty lot. How many locals were already dead? How many were destined to be unsuspecting victims to be fed upon or turned? Did they really have time to be riding around the countryside checking out labs just because of a tattoo?

“Okay, Van Helsing, you go check out this Bastian place. I’m gonna try and find the nest before more locals get hurt. It has to be reasonably close the amount of vamps we’ve encountered already.”

“Dean-” There was frustration in Sam’s voice. “All the answers we need might be out at this lab. We might not need to go head on with these things…”

“Yeah, right, and I’m the tooth fairy. Sammy, there’s only so many ways to kill these bloodsuckers, and you know it.” Anger seeped into the elder hunter’s tone and he didn’t try to conceal it.

Sam was still trying to run from his destiny, still trying to pretend there were other ways to solve supernatural problems rather that actually “hunt” anymore.

“Listen, meet me at the Kwik Mart on the corner of Main Street. You can help me get rid of my second stiff of the day, and then you can borrow his car. It’s not like he’s gonna need it anytime soon…” Dean smirked knowingly as he looked across to the only car parked in the lot besides the Impala. It was perfect, just perfect for his brother.

* * * *

Sam arrived at the Kwik Mart thirty minutes later, finding Dean sitting on the floor, his back against the counter, a large bag of cheese curls open by his side. Scattered about the floor around him was an assortment of discarded candy wrappers and the occasional Twinkie crumb.

Dean looked up as Sam walked through the door, setting off the tell-tale chime. He smiled an orange-toothed grin, licking the equally orange cheese residue off his fingers before pushing up off the floor.

“What took you so long?” he asked, still chomping on the last of the junk food he’d crammed into his mouth.

Sam cast him a distasteful look, continually amazed at how his brother could subsist on the crap he insisted on shoving into his mouth on a daily basis. He was pretty sure that Dean’s entire digestive system would likely shut down if it were ever exposed to anything resembling a healthy diet for any extended period of time.

“I had to walk dude,” Sam replied. “Besides, I was looking into that Bastian place some more. Dean, there’s some seriously strange stuff going on at that there.”

Dean snorted loudly, still not convinced that the solution to their problem lie anywhere other than finding the nest and destroying it. He moved back to the storage room, leading his brother toward the most recent kill. Pushing open the door, he stopped to stand over the clerk’s decapitated body. Sam watched him, curious that his usually callous brother had gone so unusually solemn and quiet.

After several moments, even Sam couldn’t ignore Dean’s uncharacteristic silence. “You okay there bro?” he asked, reaching out and putting a hand on Dean’s shoulder.

The older hunter flinched away, but quickly looked back up at Sam, his “I’m perfectly fine” mask back in place, but not before his younger brother caught the briefest glimpse of sadness reflected in Dean’s hazel eyes.

“Yeah, I’m good, Let’s get this done, okay,” the elder sibling replied, moving around the body and grabbing a nearby green tarp.

Sam would have challenged Dean’s bullshit reply, but considering how tense his brother had acted earlier that evening he knew that there was more bothering him than a recently dead vampire. Still, Dean being Dean, Sam knew that wild horses wouldn’t get his brother to open up and admit what was truly bothering him and Sam being Sam, he couldn’t and wouldn’t stand by and wait.

“He was a vampire, Dean,” Sam said matter-of-factly. “You didn’t have any choice.”

Dean looked back up, eyes rolling at the inference in his brother’s tone. “Sam!” he droned back, his own tone warning his brother that this was not the time for a heart to heart discussion.

“I’m just saying…” Sam began, but Dean cut him off, dropping the edge of the tarp and waving a hand at him.

“Don’t start with me, Sam. You’re the one that wasn’t looking for a hunt, wanted to go all normal. Hell, I’m ecstatic to be killing some friggin’ thing. Was getting bored outta my damn skull sitting around waitin’ on your ass,” Dean snapped back.

Sam stared at him, partially startled at the abrupt lashing coming from Dean, partially angry that his brother could verbally attack him after supposedly being supportive of his decision, and finally, partially understanding, when he finally stopped to realize that after all, this was Dean, and as such, this was the only way Dean knew how to respond.

“Yeah, well okay then. Move your ass over so I can take a look,” Sam demanded, kneeling down. Dean glared at Sam for another moment, but shifted his position to allow his taller brother room to get in closer to the body.

Sam flipped back the tarp that Dean had just been wrapping around the clerk and lifted the young man’s hand. He turned it back and forth, scanning it carefully but finding no markings similar to those on the wrist of the vampire killed in their motel room.

“Well, he’s not marked like the other,” Sam observed.

“What’s that mean?” Dean asked. “Maybe he was afraid of needles.”

“I dunno. Maybe nothing. Maybe he isn’t part of what’s going on at the lab. I still think we gotta get out there.”

“Well, we’ll ditch this one and you can go play investigative reporter. In the meantime, I’m finding that nest,” Dean reasserted, tucking the last of the tarp around the feet of the dead clerk.

Standing up, he grabbed the detached head and unceremoniously tossed it into the open end of the tarp. Sam sealed up the opposite side and between them they hoisted the body off the ground and carried it to the trunk of the Impala.

As Dean worked to put the corpse in the old car, Sam returned to the Kwik Mart. He rummaged behind the counter, looking about until he came across the security video camera. Dean returned just as his brother was pulling a tape from the recording machine. He watched as Sam pulled the brown cellulose from the cassette, tearing it apart and tossing it into the nearby trashcan.

“We have enough problems don’t we?” he simply said as he finished, walking past Dean and out toward the car.

Dean watched him leave the building, sighing audibly. “Yeah, Sammy, we do,” he mumbled, trailing after his brother.

As he made his way outside, Sam was just about to climb into the passenger’s side of the black Chevy. Dean walked over to the trunk, about to slam it closed, when a scream pierced the stillness of the night. Both hunters immediately looked up, scanning the immediate area, senses at full alert.

Dean saw them first; a slim brunette, loose hair trailing behind her as she ran, a smaller brunette version of her clinging to a doll, in tow. The woman looked over her shoulder and screamed once more, stumbling as she tried to force more speed out of her weary legs. The little girl at her side whimpered, her hand clutching desperately at her mother’s as she struggled to keep up.

The brothers rushed forward simultaneously, not sure of the problem but a sense of urgency spurring them on. As they cleared the corner of the Kwik Mart, Dean saw what harried the mother and daughter. It was the vampire from the bar, Mr. BadAss himself, fangs bared in full vamp glory.

“Sam, it’s the one from the bar,” Dean shouted out a warning.

“You sure?”

“No, I’m just making it up as I go along,” the older sibling snapped back as he continued his dead run.

Sam reached the young woman first, taking her by the arm and drawing her to him. She didn’t resist, but rather clutched at his biceps desperately; clinging to him much in the same way the small child was clinging to her. Dean skidded to a halt immediately behind his brother, placing himself between the group and the on-coming vampire.

“We can’t fight him out in the open Sam. Not with the woman and kid. Get ’em inside,” Dean shouted over his shoulder.

Sam didn’t hesitate, he simply went into action, lifting the little girl into his arms while taking the young woman’s hand and pulling her toward the entrance to the Kwik Mart. He was vaguely aware of Dean still standing rock solid and defiant on the sidewalk leading down Main Street. Once Sam had the two inside the store, he leaned back out the door to wait for his brother. In the short distance, he could see the huge vampire closing in on his brother, but still, Dean hadn’t budged.

“Dean! Come on!” Sam yelled at the top of his lungs.

“Be right there honey,” Dean answered raising a tire iron with one hand as he waved off Sam with the other.

As the bloodsucker charged in, Dean never wavered. Pulling the black rod back like a baseball bat, Dean waited till the vampire was nearly on top of him before he swung for the thing’s head with all his might. The tire iron connected with the vamp’s head right along its left jaw, spinning the creature’s head around, its body obligated to follow. Dean never let up, moving in as he continued to pummel the fanged beast, delivering blows to its head and body one after another until he had the thing down on the ground. He knew he couldn’t kill it, especially after the abuse he’d seen it take back at the bar. All he hoped to do was slow it down long enough to get the woman and little girl to safety. Briefly satisfied, Dean stopped his barrage, glancing down at the monster at his feet. He struck once more with the iron before trotting quickly back to join Sam at the convenience store.

Sam was waiting for him, door held open as he approached. Once inside, the younger hunter let loose with an exasperated tirade.

“What the hell were you doin’, Dean?” Sam demanded. “Are you nuts? Going after a vampire with a tire iron. You got a death wish or something?”

Dean merely shrugged, breathless from the exertion. “Wasn’t my plan, I’d rather have had the machete. But we dumped dead clerk dude on top of the weapons in the truck, so the tire iron was the only thing I could grab quick.”

Sam stepped back, his outburst diffused and replaced by a certain amount of wry humor. Leave it to Dean to improvise. He looked back over to the brunette and little girl huddled in the far corner near the coolers. Neither had said a word since he thrust them inside the building. Leaving Dean to watch the entrance, Sam walked over to the woman.

Approaching her, he stooped down slowly, offering his hand out. “I’m Sam. That’s my brother Dean. Are you both okay?” he asked.

The woman looked up, her blue eyes still wide with fright. She pulled the little girl closer to her, arms hugging the child tight to her body. She met Sam’s eyes, staring at him for a long moment, and then looking at his hand as though she’d never seen one before in her life. Only after she seemed absolutely sure that he meant her no harm did she reach out her own hand to grasp his.

“Sandra, Sandra Keller. This is my daughter, Beth,” she whispered meekly.

Sam took her hand gently, squeezing it, hoping to convey some sort of hope in that gesture. When he went to release it, she held on, refusing to let go, her eyes searching Sam’s for reassurance. He was about to pat her on the shoulder, to say something encouraging, to offer her some word of hope when Dean’s voice boomed through the quiet of the little store.

“Sam! It’s coming!” his brother warned.

Sandra tensed and the little girl tucked even further between her mother and the wall. Sam rose, but before he even managed a step toward Dean, the vampire smashed through the doors to the Kwik Mart.

Shards of glass flew in every direction, driving Dean back and away from the entrance. He raised the crowbar in defense, but the vampire pushed forward undaunted.

“What are you going to do with that?” the sharp fanged behemoth asked. “You can’t kill me with it.”

“No, but I’ll knock out every one of your friggin’ teeth first. You’re gonna look pretty funny trying to suck blood without any damn fangs,” Dean threatened.

The vampire lunged at the hunter, tackling him at his knees and taking Dean down to the ground. Sam joined into the fray, grabbing a nearby fire extinguisher and bringing it down across the creature’s head. It barely fazed the vampire, only drawing its attention away from its attack on Dean and redirecting it towards Sam.

Easily grabbing the extinguisher away from the younger brother, the vampire tossed the useless pseudo-weapon casually away then grabbed Sam by the fabric of his shirt. Behind him, both Sandra and her daughter screamed as they watched their tall rescuer get lifted off the floor and tossed effortlessly into a nearby rack of potato chips.

Before Sam could recover the vampire was on him once more, pulling him up roughly by the throat and driving him head-first into the bottom of the counter. The young hunter collapsed to the floor in a daze, his vision doubled, his limbs weak and rubbery. He glanced around looking for Dean, not quite understanding why his brother hadn’t come to his rescue. Was Dean hurt? Had he somehow missed seeing the vampire injuring his older brother?

Sam tried to focus on the immediate area surrounding him, but his blurred vision barely allowed him to make out the hand in front of his face, much less anything else. Distantly, he heard the soft whimpers of Beth Keller and he knew that no matter what had happened to his brother, it was up to him to protect the young woman and her daughter now.

Using the counter to pull himself back to his feet, Sam rose and turned to face the huge fanged creature. Snarling, it stood just a couple feet in front of him, placing itself halfway between Sam and the Kellers.

“Come on you pathetic human! As soon as I finish you, I’m gonna feed on that little girl. Children always have the tastiest blood!” it taunted.

Sam winced as Sandra shrieked “No!” in horror, tucking the child protectively behind her. The youngest Winchester dove for the vampire, driving his shoulder into what he hoped was the beast’s soft belly. It absorbed the attack with nearly no effect, catching Sam’s shoulders and slamming his head down hard onto an upcoming knee. Not allowing the hunter to drop to the floor, the vampire was determined to finish Sam right then and there. Pulling Sam up by his hair, he held him at eye level.

“Goodbye!” it goaded him, fanged mouth bending forward towards Sam’s throat.

Disoriented, Sam couldn’t coordinate his muscles to fight back or break the creature’s hold. Dimly, his mind once again wondered what had happened to Dean. Maybe his brother had gone down in the fight. Maybe he was about to himself. Wasn’t that just their damn luck? Survive all sorts of really dangerous, demonic crap, just to get their asses kicked by some souped-up bloodsucker.

He thrashed out one final time against the vampire’s hold on his head and neck, but to no avail. As the fangs skimmed his carotid, Sam squeezed his eyes tightly closed.

Instead of the painful puncture at his neck, his head was suddenly jerked, and then let go altogether as something warm splashed across the side of the face. Sam’s eyes flew open just in time to watch the vampire’s face display a momentary look of shock before its head teetered back and forth and then toppled to the floor. He watched with a strange fascination roll across the floor until it came to a halt against the black leather of his brother’s boots.

Sam looked up from the boots to the rest of the body attached to them. Dean smiled back at him, machete still raised triumphantly in his hand.

“Where the hell have you been?” Sam demanded. “I was getting my ass handed to me in here and you decide to take a coffee break?”

“Gee, you’re welcome, Frances. Sorry, but I forgot where I put the machete,” Dean explained. “Took me a second or two to find it.”

Sam groaned, sometimes there was just no escaping his brother’s strange sort of logic on the world. He turned away from Dean, focusing again on the young woman and child over in the corner. They hadn’t moved at all during the battle, if anything managing to wedge themselves even further into the space between the wall and the cooler. Kneeling down to them, he offered his hand once more to Sandra to help her to her feet.

“Its okay now,” he said softly. “It’s dead.”

The young woman slowly drew near the mutilated vampire, warily eyeing it as if it might suddenly spring back to life. She stood over it for a prolonged minute in silence before a hitched breath broke her strange reverie.

“It killed my husband. I saw it biting him. I couldn’t believe it! Like some horror movie, almost surreal. I ran to the sheriff’s office. But… but he was dead too, his throat ripped out,” she stammered out rapidly.

Sam listened to her, encouraging her to talk, absorbing the information in between the emotion and shock.

Sam looked from her down to Dean. His brother was kneeling by the vampire, turning over the creature’s arm to reveal the same strange trademark-looking tattoo as the one on the arm of the vampire from the motel room. He raised the vampire’s arm up to show Sam, his eyebrows cocked up, a look of concern on his face. He dropped the lifeless limb back down and rose to whisper into his brother’s ear.

“I don’t like this Sam. Not one bit. We got vamps turning people right and left by the sounds of things. We got some with this mark, others that don’t. This whole town might have been turned for all we know.”

“I still think the answers are out at that lab, Dean,” Sam insisted.

Dean nodded. “I’m not arguing that, but we can’t leave these people to fend for themselves. We need to round up as many of the folks that are still, well… human, and keep them safe,” he insisted. “Besides, if they have established a nest already, we’re gonna have to destroy it, Sam.”

Sam agreed reluctantly. He was less than pleased to split up, knowing that every time they did, things just had a habit of going south. Still, he was certain that despite Dean’s insistence on finding and destroying the nest that the real nexus of the problem originated at Bastian Laboratories.

Dean headed for the now shattered door to the convenience store, stepping through the open frame. Sam followed behind him, aware that Sandra and her daughter were immediately behind him, trailing their new-found protectors. Dean stepped up to the trunk of the Impala, lifting the lid and pulling out the tarp-covered body of the clerk. He unceremoniously dumped the corpse on the ground, emotionless as he turned back to the hidden compartment beneath.

Sorting through the contents, he drew out a crossbow and another equally looking sharp-bladed machete. Handing the machete and the crossbow to Sam, Dean then pulled out a quarrel of bolts. Closing the trunk, Dean took the crossbow back off his brother, but left Sam with the long blade.

“I’m heading for the local mortuary. A little dead man’s blood ought to help keep any bloodsuckers off our necks for a while,” Dean suggested. “Here,” he added, reaching into his pocket and tossing Sam a set of keys. “I snaked those out of Spike’s pocket before we wrapped him up in the tarp,” he added, toeing the dead clerk with his boot.

Sam glanced around the parking lot of the Kwik Mart. Besides the Impala the only other car was a sickening lime green Honda Civic parked over near the corner of the building. A grass-skirted Hawaiian figurine sat on the dash, waiting to hula just as soon as the first sharp turn or pothole would set her in motion. The bumper bore stickers that proudly proclaimed; “I break for Aliens” and much to Sam’s chagrin, “Zeppelin Rules”.

He looked back over his shoulder, not missing the broad grin on Dean’s face. That his brother was enjoying this new form of punishment was not lost on Sam: somehow he knew that Dean was taking some sort of obscene pleasure in finding ways to torture him in retaliation for the perceived betrayal of Sam’s leaving. Well, he wouldn’t give his brother the satisfaction. Smiling back, he jingled the keys.

“I’ll call you when I find something,” Sam assured him, continuing over to the overgrown lime on wheels.

* * * *

Dean loaded Sandra and little Beth into the Impala, tempted in part to point the old Chevy back onto the highway and head out of Fangville, but knowing that he couldn’t leave the town defenseless and wouldn’t ever leave Sam behind. Instead, he pulled the car back into town and down Main Street toward the jail.

Parking in front, Sandra drew in a sharp gasp when she saw where he stopped the car. He knew she’d be reluctant, but right now, Dean couldn’t think of a more defensible place.

“Stay here, leave the doors locked. I’m gonna go check it out. I’ll be right back,” he instructed.

Bounding from the car, Dean took the steps leading up to the door to the station two at a time. He opened the door to the jail quietly, listening intently for any signs of the nocturnal party crowd. The office showed every sign of a struggle: papers scattered, chairs overturned, desks pushed askew.

Most troubling was the large pool of blood on the floor, still glistening and wet, yet no sign of any bodies, the sheriff’s or otherwise. Dean quickly canvassed the remainder of the building, but other than more disrupted housekeeping, there was no sign of life, human or vampire, which in itself was not entirely a good sign. Silently, the young hunter began to wonder just how many of the townsfolk of Mann’s Choice were now sporting an extra drop-down set of fangs.

Dean returned to the Impala, inadvertently startling Sandra and a lightly dozing Beth, snuggled onto her mother’s lap. The young woman pulled up the lock on the passenger’s side door as Dean opened it. He slung the crossbow across his back, then reached in and gently lifted the sleeping child, hugging her closely to his chest.

“It’s empty inside. Everyone’s gone. We’ll be safe in there. It’s a fortress,” he assured the brunette.

Sandra looked at him warily, but eased out of the car, following Dean up the stairs while fearfully looking about the surrounding darkness. Once inside, Dean laid the still sleeping little girl down on a nearby leather couch. He returned and bolted shut the main door and then checked all the other entrances to the building. When he returned he found Sandra sitting in a chair, her head buried in her hands, weeping softly.

Dean looked about the empty office nervously, running a sweating palm across his face. Dealing with crying women was generally not his forte. Where was Sammy when he needed him? Sam could say just the right thing, offer just the right consoling words. He knelt down beside the chair, placing a tentative hand on Sandra’s knee. She lifted her head, wiping stubbornly at reddened eyes and tear-streaked cheeks.

“It’s gonna be alright. You and your daughter will be safe now,” he attempted, knowing the words were weak and hoping that they sounded more believable than he actually felt.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” she bemoaned. “You and your brother, you saved Elizabeth’s and my life tonight. I don’t know how… I can’t ever thank you enough.”

Dean was uncomfortable, never one for accepting thanks even though he frequently complained to Sam that they never received any appreciation or recognition for the things they did or the people they saved. He looked away from the woman, was prepared to actually leave altogether when she spoke once again.

“My husband, do you suppose he’s dead? I mean, I know I saw that thing biting him, but I never really went back to check. Should I have checked? Is there any chance he could still be alive?” she asked, her eyes searching Dean’s.

Dean forced himself to look back at her, a dozen different answers floating through his mind. “Sure honey, he’s alive and feeding… er I mean kicking.” “No, Sandra, if you would’ve gone back and checked, then that vampire would’ve made a family meal deal out of the three of you.” “Yeah sure, go back and check, whatever happened to ’til death do us part’?”

Shaking his head, Dean brushed aside all the inappropriate answers that teased at his tongue but thankfully for once managed to stay behind his lips. Instead, he merely shook his head, his silence conveying more than any words could. Sandra’s head fell down once again as the tears began to trickle down her cheeks. She pushed Dean away from her when he attempted to console her. He took the hint and rose to walk away from the grieving woman.

Dean stood in the silent jailhouse, watching as the first rays of daybreak began to filter through the Venetian window blinds. If he was still naïve enough to believe Hollywood, sunrise would have been a welcome blessing, but events in Colorado had taught him differently. Vampires might not like sunlight, but they certainly weren’t going to spontaneously combust if they were caught out in it. No, they still needed some way to protect themselves and standing here watching the sunrise wasn’t going to help their situation.

The hunter looked back to Sandra; the woman had now managed to compose herself and was sitting on the end of the sofa quietly stroking the little girl’s head. He looked out the nearest window and seeing that Main Street was still empty, decided to act.

“Sandra, I need to go out and get something. I won’t be gone long, I promise,” he assured her.

She stood up, a slight tremble in her hands, a visible panic in her face. “What’ll I do, if… if one of those things comes here while you’re gone?” she asked.

Dean grabbed the keys to a row of cells just beyond the open offices. “Look,” he began, “if there are any problems, just grab Beth and lock yourself in one of the cells. Stay there till I get back.”

He handed her the keys and smiled confidently, turning away before she had a chance to ask questions or worse yet, turn on the water-works. Dean headed for the door, unlocking the deadbolt and heading out into the burgeoning sunlight.

He spotted the funeral home two blocks down and briefly considered driving there. Considering the streets were empty, he chose to walk, figuring he could take a quick look into each building as he passed by and besides, there weren’t any other cars on the streets either. As a matter of fact, his earlier reference to the town being right out of a Stephen King novel was looking to be dead on right.

“Friggin’ Salem’s Lot,” he mumbled to himself as he started down the sidewalk.

He passed several storefronts, each silent and empty in the early morning hours. Even the local diner, which should have been opening and preparing for a breakfast crowd, was ominously still. Dean approached the mortuary, the hair on the back of his neck standing on end, warning him like a sixth sense.

Pulling the lock pick from the interior pocket of his jacket he quickly gained entry. Inside, there were more of the tell-tale bloodstain patches on the floor, but no bodies to match, making Dean worry even more about the possibility of an entire town full of “turned” vamps.

He made his way to the prep room, relieved when he found a body left behind on the cold metal table. His hand went immediately to the machete at his hip, cautious not to fall prey to another sneak attack, but a careful examination of the cadaver’s throat revealed no puncture wounds at the neck or strange tattoos on the wrist.

As luck would have it, the dead man’s body had apparently been embalmed before the mortician had met whatever fate had caused the large bloodstains on the carpeting in the entryway. Dean easily located the container holding the discarded blood and as he had done so long ago in Colorado, he grabbed the jar and prepared to make his way back to the jail.

Once back outside, the sun having risen slightly more in the sky, Dean looked around the silent streets again. He couldn’t help the feeling that he was being watched, wasn’t sure if the eyes that he felt boring into him were human or inhuman. He pulled the cell from his jeans pocket, flipping it open and scrolling down to the Sam’s stored number, seriously considering calling his brother and telling him that …

“What? ‘Sammy, come on back to town, ’cause I’m scared shitless to hunt alone without ya? Yeah, right! Get your shit together Winchester!” he chastised himself as he closed the phone and broke into a run back to the jail.

* * * *

Bastian Laboratories – Sunrise

Sam pulled the lime green Honda into the parking lot just as the sun was breaking to the east. The three story building in front of him seemed empty, a few sporadic windows showing an occasional light likely left on by a careless worker from the day before. There weren’t any other cars in the lot, at least not that Sam could see, and he could only assume that it was simply too early for any of the workers to arrive, although he was fairly certain a place this large likely had a security guard on duty.

Killing the engine, he struggled to pull his long legs from the tiny car and swore softly when he struck his knee on the steering wheel only to hit his head on the door frame a split second later. Cursing Dean helped take some of the bite out of the large bump he could feel already forming on the top of his head, but deep down, Sam laughed just slightly, remembering the threat he’d once voice to a nearly drowned Dean about trading the Impala in on a Honda. In retrospect, it was a good thing his brother had survived, since Sam wasn’t sure his own body could have taken being crammed into the smaller car for any length of time, deathbed threat or not.

Sam slowly worked his way around the building, choosing to enter through a service entrance and avoid the more obvious main door. The metal double doors were locked and had a small keypad mounted on the right side door.

Surprisingly, it took Sam less than five minutes to manage the pass code and then pick the door lock to gain entrance. He was strangely proud of himself, but then obscurely curious if that particular talent had any useful purpose on a college application.

Once inside the facility, the first several rooms were mainly offices, non-descript in their appearance and unlocked, solidifying in Sam’s mind that there was nothing of importance in any of them. Continuing down the corridor, he came upon a large lab with glass windows. From the hallway, he could see a long line of exam tables within the lab, each of them equipped with metal restraints.

Sam walked cautiously toward the lab, surprised when he found that the door was not only unlocked, but slightly ajar. Inside the lab, there was an almost sterile, hospital-like quality to the place and for a moment, Sam could even smell the disinfectant. Mayo stands beside each exam table bore a myriad of diagnostic tools and other medical instruments, leaving the room looking more like a surgical suite than a laboratory.

As he walked in further, Sam saw that not all of the exam beds were empty. The last in the long row still held a fairly large-looking man strapped into place and unmoving. Slowly and guardedly, Sam approached the still body. The man lying before him was huge, bigger than huge, gargantuan. Nearly six and a half feet tall and well over three hundred pounds, Sam knew the man on the table would easily dwarf him if he was alive, but it would seem that that the body on the table was just that, a lifeless body.

Still wary, Sam used the tip of the machete he’d brought with him to poke the massive brute in the side. When there was no response, he relaxed slightly and lowered the weapon letting it rest on the side of the table. Sam then turned over the manacled wrist, again, not shocked when it revealed the same corporate tattoo that the two other vampires in Mann’s Choice had borne.

Laying the wrist back down, Sam reached up toward the thing’s mouth. Just as he was about to lift up the creature’s lips and peel back the gums to look for the additional set of fangs, the man’s eyes flew open and it lunged for Sam, chained restraints rattling against the metal of the table.

Sam fell backwards startled, the fangs he’d been searching for missing his face by scant inches. The vampire hissed at him as it struggled against its fetters, shaking so hard that the entire exam table rocked with its movement and knocked the machete to the floor.

The hunter wasted no time in retrieving the weapon and with little remorse, Sam brought the sharp blade down across the vampire’s neck severing it with one blow. Out of breath from more than exertion, Sam looked at the massive body of the dead vampire. Dean had been right, these vamps had been bigger, stronger, somehow more souped up, and now Sam knew why.

Someone was playing God or worse yet, mad scientist, and was creating some sort of jacked-up vampires, as if regular vampires weren’t bad enough as it was. Heading for one of the nearby computers, Sam knew he needed information. This was way more than just a nest of vampires cutting loose on a small community, this was a plague being launched on a town that had no way to defend itself.

Sam worked feverishly on the computer, trying desperately to work past passwords and internal corporate memos to dig into the real crux of what was happening at Bastian. On the surface, the place had all the appearance of being a respectable pharmaceutical research facility, but underneath the corporate gibberish, something much more sinister was going on.

Sam was so intent on his research, he didn’t see or hear the white-coated man enter the lab. Stealthily, the older man walked up behind him, closing in until he was only a hand’s breadth away.

“Who the hell are you? What the hell are you doing in here?” The voice demanded so loudly that Sam nearly jumped out of his seat and across the desk. Instead he whirled around in the chair, holding the machete hidden behind his back.

“Uh, I’m an investigative reporter with the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette. We’re doing a story on animal testing of medical products. Bastian Labs was mentioned as being on a PETA hit list,” Sam fumbled out a lie.

“Bullshit! Is that the best that a hunter can come up with?” the older man shot back. “I know what you are, I can smell your kind from miles away.”

Sam’s grip tightened on the machete, suddenly worried that this man had so keenly identified him. Looking up, he spotted the man’s name tag identifying him as one Dr. Karl Denholf and remembered seeing that name appear on many of the internal documents. Deciding to play along for information, the young man confronted the scientist.

“Okay, so you know so much about me, then you know why I’m here and you also know that whatever you’re doing here, we’re gonna put a stop to.”

The white-haired man laughed, shaking his head from side to side. “You have no idea what you’re up against, hunter. For once, my kind will triumph over yours. You think you can drive us from the earth, well, no longer. You see, I’ve created a whole new breed of vampires. Ones that will be stronger, invincible!”

“Invincible?” Sam laughed. “You need to take a look around. I just killed one of your freaks over there and my brother killed two of them back in Mann’s Choice”

The doctor looked briefly concerned, but readily regrouped, defiance returning to his weathered face. “It doesn’t matter,” he explained, “there’s nothing you can do to stop what I’ve set in motion. Already, my special children have already begun turning the townspeople. By tonight, there won’t be a full-fledged human left in the place. By tomorrow, they’ll be moving on to another larger community and like locusts they’ll sweep across the countryside, creating more and more vampires until they’re an unstoppable force. So, you see, we will rise to the top of the food chain again, right where we belong. I’m only here to destroy the evidence of what we’ve created.”

“You know, my brother’s back there in Mann’s Choice right now and I gotta tell ya, I’ll lay ten to one odds that by nightfall, he’s gonna still be alive and kicking with a whole bunch of your Nosferatu wannabes lying in a pile around his feet,” Sam threw back.

Denholf sneered at the young hunter as his fingers typed frantically on the nearby keyboard. When he finished, all the monitors in the room suddenly blossomed to life, data flashing across the screens as the mainframe servers began to erase all record of Denholf’s clandestine activity. The scientist turned back to Sam, the mocking smile still broad across his face.

“So, just one final question for you, hunter,” he began. “Are you as good as your brother?”

As the final syllable of Denholf’s question landed on Sam’s ears, the ceiling above his head came crashing down with a thunderous sound. The scientist ducked away leaving Sam to take cover amid the cloying dust and debris just as two massive bodies dropped through the newly created hole in the tiles.

As the debris settled and Sam coughed out the dust that threatened to choke him, he saw the two colossal vampires advance on him, tattoos in plain view, fangs bared.

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The Winchester Chronicles