Blood Debt

Chapter 13

Dean's welfare spiraled down the hungrier for blood the vampire in him became. The deadman's blood started taking a worse toll on him. He thrashed, he screamed, he cried and begged as the deadman's blood webbed his body with dark lines that just as quickly faded. Sam stayed by him for long periods at a time whenever Dean was given the deadman's blood because during that time, Dean would sometimes be himself. Those times were getting fewer and fewer.

Eight days after their rescue from Thompson's family, Dean collapsed.

Detroit and Lenore held Sam back.

"No, Detroit said, "He will attack you. He will kill you."

"He's unconscious!" Sam fumed and struggled to go to his brother's side.

"The vampire in him would use every last bit of strength he has if he thought he could get fresh blood," Lenore told him. "He's almost killed you once, Sam. You know he'd do it again."

Sam practically collapsed in their arms as the truth sank in. He shook off their hands and moved as close as he dared. "Is he going to pull through, Lenore?" he asked softly.

Lenore moved up next to Sam and settled beside him. "I wish I could tell you, Sam. His chances are poor, you know that."

"It's not too late to finish turning him, is it?" Sam asked, hardly believing the words coming from him. He couldn't bear the thought that after everything they'd been through that Dean would die crumpled in a cage, chains around his wrists and ankles. After he'd been electrocuted and nearly died, after the semi had t-boned the Impala and their father had given up everything to save Dean. Not like this. No.

Lenore took Sam's hand. "No, it's not, but Dean doesn't want that. We both know that. You're desperate Sam. I understand. Do you really want to condemn your brother to becoming a demon half-breed in an undead body?"

Sam's jaw clenched and he shook his head as his tears spilled down his face. He couldn't do that. But he wanted to. God, he wanted to. Anything to save his brother. He wanted to go to the cage and offer Dean his arm, beg him to drink if it would save him. Even if it cost him his own life. "I can't let him die, Lenore," he whispered.

She smiled kindly at him. "If he becomes a vampire, the Dean you know will be dead. Given time, he'll be just as dead as if he were to die physically, now."

Detroit put his hand on Sam's shoulder. "Why don't we pray for him, Sam? Maybe God, shocked enough to hear a half-demon praying, will grant us with his kind Grace."

Sam turned his tear-filled gaze to Detroit and managed a nod.

Two days later, when Sam had all but resigned himself to the fact that Dean wasn't going to make it, Dean stirred.

"Sammy?" Dean asked weakly.

"Dean?" Sam asked. He'd hardly slept since Dean's collapse. "I'm here Dean. I'm right here," he said excitedly. He moved closer to bars of the cage. He wanted to go to his brother, but he reluctantly kept his distance.

"Sammy," Dean whispered. "Help me, Sam. I'm hungry. I'm so very hungry."

Sam fought back his tears. "I know, Dean. But I think you're through the worst of it. I'll get you something to eat."

Sam dashed upstairs, dumped a can of soup into a bowl, and shoved it in the microwave. He carried it back downstairs and set it and a spoon on a tray. He pushed the tray up to the side of the cage.

"Dean, I brought you some soup. Do you think you can eat it?"

Dean slowly managed to roll on his side and stared through the bars at his brother. "I don't think I can move. My arms feel like spaghetti. Really heavy spaghetti."