Longhorn

Chapter 10 | Vampire's Lair

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Sam

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John had spoken to cops. Dean read the journal, learning more about the vamps - they hunt in groups of eight to ten. Of course, Sam is already starting to argue with his dad, a never-ending cycle. The two had a full blow-out on the side of the road, damn near trying to kill each other.

Now, the three of them are hidden in the trees above the vampire's lair. One of the vamps just walked inside.

"Son a bitch," Dean mutters, his voice low. "So they're really not afraid of the sun?"

"Direct sunlight burns them like a nasty sunburn," John says. "The only way to kill 'em is by beheading. And yeah, they sleep during the day, doesn't mean they don't wake up."

Just his voice alone makes a ball of rage gather in his chest. He's never really seen eye-to-eye with his father, but the way he treated you and the way he spoke about you just added fuel to the fire.

"I guess walking in isn't our best option," Dean whispers, bringing Sam back to the case.

"Actually." A smile grows on his father's face. "That's the plan."

Moments later, the boys are grabbing weapons from the trunk of the Impala and John is grabbing his own from a hidden compartment that slides from the back of his truck. John's muttering a story about the colt Dean wants to know about so badly, but Sam is hardly listening.

They haven't seen you since you stormed out last night. You didn't return to the motel room, and you haven't been answering his calls or texts.

They head towards the barn - the vamp's lair, as Dean dubbed it. They're barely ten yards from the door when it sounds like the whole fucking place is being torn down. Screaming and hollering, wood splintering, thunking inside.

By the time they get to the barn doors, it's barely a minute, but the majority of the commotion has died down. John kicks the door open just as the last body crumbles onto the floor.

You're feral. Blood covers so much on your skin that Sam can barely see it, your hair is ratty and knotted, clothes torn. You're breathing heavily, teeth bared, with a machete in hand. Your eyes are aflame as you look at them, then grab the woman standing behind you. She's pale and shivering, and you storm toward the doors, stepping on bodies rather than over on your way there.

You glare at them, wiping blood from your eyes as you shove the woman towards Dean and damn near throw the machete at John. "You're late," you snarl, storming toward the Camaro the vampire they'd seen was driving.

Sam is the first to snap out of his stupor. "Wait!" he yells, jogging after you. "Are you okay? Where have you been? What the hell just happened?"

You twist on your heels, your boots kicking gravel. Your fingers curl around the horns of your longhorn buckle and you whip out the silver blade, pressing it against his chest. "Don't even, Samuel," you hiss. "Don't try. Don't even try to talk to me. Not after you and your brother didn't even bother to look for me, not when your father treats me like shit. I'm capable of murder, Sam. Look in the barn - it's a fucking massacre. And I did it. Me. I want you to remember the gore, the blood, the bodies, when you look in my eyes. Remember what I can do, Sam, when you or your brother try to be touchy, or caring."

His chest tightens. "Are you... are you leaving?"

"Leaving?" you eye Dean as he slowly moves forward. John stays where he is, arms crossed. Your machete lays at his feet. "No, Sam, I'm not leaving. Not yet. But I will never forget this. I will never forget these last twenty-four hours."

"Tell me if you're hurt." Dean's voice is soft, his brows furrowed.

You turn, arm straight with your knife facing him, waving it. You're acting like a cornered animal. "Of course I am, Dean." Your hand moves to press against your upper arm, and Sam notices blood redder than is on your skin. Your blood. "I just fought a whole fucking nest of vampires. I'm lucky the motherfuckers didn't kill me and have me for lunch."

"Why did you do it alone?"

Your attention is brought back to Sam, and your brows twitch. "I couldn't very well ask you guys for help, could I? I caught their trail before you even knew there was a trail to catch. I couldn't ask for your help when you're following your father's every will and wish."

You shove them aside, stomping toward John. The woman you saved is standing a few steps away from him.

Sam can do nothing but watch as you backhand his father. When John straightens, there's a fire in his eyes, but he doesn't say a word.

"You ever speak about my mother like that again, I'll peel your fucking skin from your bones," you threaten. Sam believes every word you say. "Just because you heard things doesn't mean you know anything. You can say whatever you want to and about me, but if you even think of my mother that way again, I'll make sure you don't have a fucking tongue to talk with."