Bloodthirsty Secrets

chapter eleven | definitely bad

Dean awoke, tied to a tree in the middle of a forest. The sun was shining down on him from a single spot in the branches that looked like someone had made it themselves.

"Your friends will never find you," the vampire who'd taken him spat. Dean knew it had to have been the same one they'd been hunting. She had weeks old makeup caked on her face and hair that looked like a bird might mistake it for a nest. "I've made sure of it, after last time. At least you're less annoying."

"Rain's not annoying," Dean retaliated, but then said, a little quieter, "Okay, well, sometimes they are, but most of the time they're really nice. You know, why don't you judge yourself instead? Do you know what a makeup wipe is? I mean, even I do, and I've never even used one. Well, except for that one time--"

"Whatever." She whipped out a knife, and dipped it into a jar of the dreaded dead man's blood Dean had hoped he wouldn't have to deal with again.

Dean closed his eyes, and tried not to flinch as she stabbed it into his chest. "Did you really have to do that?" he croaked out.

She ignored him. Sure, they were outside and it was pretty breezy, but Dean felt as though he were on fire. Literally. He should've tried to reach Cas before practically being poisoned.

"Where-- Where even are we?" Dean asked, drowsily.

"Deep within the Ozark Mountains," she laughed.

"Oh, awesome," he said sarcastically. "Could be worse."

After that, Dean found himself drifting off. When he woke up, it was daylight. His kidnapper was nowhere to be seen.

"Cas, I really hope you can hear me," he said aloud. "That vamp we were hunting, she got me. Apparently I'm somewhere in the Ozarks--"

Dean was cut off by a forceful hand against his mouth.

Come save me, he finished in thought, before sinking his fangs right into the hand covering his mouth.

"Ah!" It was the vampire; she screamed. "You..." Without hesitation, she slapped him across the cheek with the same already healed hand.

"Disgusting," Dean whispered, mostly to himself. He spit off to the side. "Why did that hurt so much..?"

"Because you're weak, idiot," she laughed.

"Oh. Still?" he asked. "I thought it would've worn off by now."

"Not from dead man's blood, but from a lack of blood," she said, rolling her eyes. "You've been out for two days."

Two days? Surely someone was close to finding him. But now, he was also aware of his bloodlust, and that definitely wasn't a good thing.

Dean closed his eyes tightly. "It still feels like everything's burning..."

"That would be the sun."

"You're horrible."

"No, you're horrible," she threw back at him.

"You know, you're doing this all to me," Dean pointed out. "I don't see how that makes me the bad one here."

"Okay, maybe you're not horrible," she took it back. "You're just...strange. Like, what kind person kills their own kind, just for doing what's natural to them? I don't care if you don't care for fresh blood like the rest of us, but don't gatekeep it under penalty of death."

Dean sighed, and tried to will the blazing sun away. "I don't know. I guess I'm just an exception? At least I didn't try to kill myself."

"Hm, true," she said, and pursed her lips in thought. "Or, maybe you're just extremely fucked in the head."