Random Drabbles

That Killing Pain (Supernatural)

That Killing Pain (Supernatural)

Season 3 Episode 7: Fresh Blood

It was instinct, his action to rush forward and protect his brother. Adrenaline was a high in his blood and Dean was going to use it wisely.

After he took care of that poor blonde and broke back into the dark warehouse, Dean cautiously glanced around. Since Gordon turned, it meant he had new, freaky vamp abilities that Dean certainly didn't want sprung on him. Then again, Sammy was probably fighting him off.

He surged forward as a loud crash echoed in the next room. Gordon's dark figure was standing over Sam, like a predator about to attack. The sight made Dean sick.

Pulling out the Colt in a flash and aiming for the scumbag's fat head, he wasn't actually surprised when Gordon turned and caught Dean's arm. A blur later and Gordon was breathing down the back of his neck, panting whistling through his new fangs. Dean held down the urge the urge to vomit.

He groaned as his back hit the wall, a sharp pain like lightning up his spine. Dean felt hands on him, tugging him up and pushing him back against the wall again. And suddenly, it happened.

It was like slow-mo, a chronological series of little events that led him to being bitten by the douche that was out for his little brother. He felt Gordon lean in, a heavy weight pressed against his chest, the sharp intake of air right before the bite. No one should ever be this close to Dean Winchester, except pretty women and Sammy when they needed to hug it out like chicks.

The pain in his neck was like fire, tiny daggers with vacuums and a never-ending hunger for something warm and thick and crimson. Distantly, a million miles away, Dean heard his brother call out "No!" and wondered why Sammy was so far away.

Gordon grunted and growled and sucked and wouldn't stop. The faintest light from the window across the room caught Dean's attention, the kind that one would see with their eyes closed and from across the room. Dean's stomach dropped and faintly wondered if he was going to die before the rest of his last year was up.

The light was shadowed by darkness for a second and Dean actually felt fear, like he would really die. But the pressure against his chest beat against him for a millisecond and then the draining stopped. Black Douche Wonder fell away and Dean breathed for all he was worth. Dean's knees hit the floor, then the rest of him slumped against the wall.

His eyes flickered open for a second and the world came back in a rush.

Sam.

Sam was fighting Gordon. A jab there, a swift kick to the head, and Sam fell backwards. Dean wondered why his brother always fell backwards. He shut his eyes again. Sam had it under control.

Rattling of chains. More grunting. The hollow clunk of Sam's head smashing into something. And then gurgling. The sick sound of a knife cutting throat and Dean mentally cheered for his brother. Quiet.

Dean let out a groan to fill the silence. His hands found purchase as he lifted himself up and oh hey the Colt was still in his hand. Sweet.

But he glanced up and saw Sam, a brotherly blur specked in red. His vision swamp for a moment and his foot slipped, but he managed, bringing himself up.

He took another breath and holy shit did his throat hurt! His hand fumbled for the wound and he stumbled toward Sammy. He coughed again and pulled his hand away. Blood was smeared on it. Great.

Dean looked up and and caught Sam's eyes. Shit. They looked...tired. Exasperated. And...something else that Dean pushed out of his mind. Gord-...Gordon's body was slumped dead nearby, the head not too far from it. He looked back to Sammy and Sammy looked down, then walked forward. Dean fell into step as they made their away out of there.

Dean decided to point out the obvious. "You just charged a vamped-out Gordon," he paused a moment to catch his breath,"without a weapon. 'S little reckless, don'tcha think?"

Sam didn't answer, walking beside him in a daze. Dean suddenly decided they definitely needed a few fucking beers.