What Must Be Done
Summary: Dean’s deal has come due. The boys have not found a way out, but someone else has.
Disclaimer: I definitely don’t own any of these characters.
Notes: At this time, I only planned this as a one-shot, but tell me if you want me to continue it. This is a KtE/SPN story that has nothing to do with What Makes A Family, but presented an interesting image in my head of how to save Dean and yet complicate The Winchester’s lives incredibly.
In a darkened room lit with candelabras and hurricane lamps, six people sat around a large wooden table. Every person at the meeting had a look of dread mixed with determination on his or her face. One by one, they all cast a vote in the affirmative of the proposed plan of action.
“The motion is carried. It will be done tonight. May God have mercy on all of our souls.”
In a motel room, not far away, Sam and Dean Winchester were spending Dean’s last night on Earth drinking beer and talking about the happy memories they shared as children. Though those memories were few and far between, Sam realized that almost all of them were because of Dean’s presence in his life. He was truly miserable that he had not found a way to save his brother from Hell and he wanted to spend every possible moment looking, but Dean’s desperate plea that Sam give him a night of memories to hold onto in his suffering won out.
Sam was just reaching into the mini-fridge for another beer when the door burst open. Though alcohol had dulled their senses slightly, both men had at least one weapon at the ready by the time that several figures charged them. Unfortunately, the sheer numbers were against them and they found themselves disarmed and held in place by incredibly strong men. Sam started an exorcism ritual immediately, but stopped when one of the beings holding him just laughed and told him that it wouldn’t work on them. The ‘just try to relax and this will go much easier’ was probably meant to comfort him, but Sam really didn’t think there was anything that would be able to do that at the moment. He managed to glance over at Dean and found him struggling uselessly against the two men who had pushed him against the wall and held him there. He could hear Dean yelling his name. Even now, he was still ‘Sammy’ to his big brother.
Before Sam’s mind would find a way out of their predicament, three men entered. Two of them wore business suits while the third had on a leather jacket that looked like it had seen better days. All three of them screamed power, even more power than the ones holding them immobile. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Dean’s struggles begin anew, though just as futile as before. The man in the middle, his hair slicked back, carried an air of authority as he surveyed the room from corner to corner, stepping right over all of the wards they had placed on the doorway.What the hell is he that he can do that? He sure as hell isn’t human,
the analytical part of Sam’s brain wondered even as he could feel the grip on his limbs tighten well past the point of being painful.
Obviously in charge, the man stepped forward and examined both of them. He met each of their eyes briefly and Sam could hear Dean cursing the man out. When the man met his eyes, for a brief second, he fell into them, seeing more than he ever wanted to. A moment later, the contact was gone and the man nodded to his two colleagues, “Take them.”
The other suit came toward him even as the one in the leather jacket moved toward his brother. Sam barely registered the scream his brother released before he found his head yanked to the side, neck exposed. Unlike any other vampires that the had seen, Sam was still gripped with fear as he saw fangs descend from the man’s mouth and was unable to protect both himself and his brother. Looks like our hunting days are really over,
Sam realized as he felt the fangs pierce his skin.
As the blood flowed from Sam into the stranger, he could feel the fight leaving him. Hands that had previously held him immobile now seemed to be supporting his weight until they laid him gently across the one of the queen size beds. His head still forced to the side, he saw that Dean was now in a similar state of blood loss. He met his brother’s eyes for a moment and saw the anguish within them. Even now, he could read Dean like a book. Dean hadn’t planned on living through the night, but he never thought that Sam would join him in death and Sam could read the regret that his life was being cut short plainly in his older brother’s eyes.
He tried to convey something back to Dean in return, but his eyelids were getting too heavy to keep open. Right before he closed them for a final time, he saw the man in the leather jacket press his wrist to his brother’s mouth. With the intense blood loss, Sam couldn’t contemplate what was really going on. All he could do was concentrate on breathing, but in the next moment, something was pressing to his mouth and a warm liquid was pouring into him. He tried to resist, but his blood volume was greatly depleted and he felt so dehydrated. The liquid tasted coppery, but helped him to replace what was lost and he instinctively reached suddenly free hands out and clutched at the source, pulling it closer to his needy mouth. It seemed like only seconds before the source was torn from his grasp, even as he frantically tried to catch it again, desperate for more of that liquid.
When his body suddenly wracked with spasms, a firm hand pressed him back into the mattress and a strong voice cut through the pain with calm assurances, “Just give into it. Fighting makes the transition harder. Your brother will be here when you wake up and so will I. Your life will forever be changed, but it will be a life. Rest now, Childe.”
When the pain finally subsided, tortuous moments that seemed to last decades, Sam found that his body was so very tired that even the slightest of movements seemed to take too much energy. Even so, years of their father’s combat training kicked in, and he forced himself to open his eyes and look for Dean. He found his brother on the other bed, body shaking, human screams having turned first primal and then into a keening sound, gathered into the arms of the man in the leather jacket. The wild-haired man was whispering to Dean even as his brother’s body went limp against him.
Sam’s throat was sore from his own transformation and some part of him realized that he probably would have woken the neighbors if the run down motel had rented out more than just their room. Unable to control his body any longer, Sam finally succumbed to his body’s need for sleep. They slumbered through the rest of the night and into the daylight hours. Once they had fallen asleep, the majority of the men took up sentry duty outside, leaving only the three power players to stand guard over them in the room itself.
When the Hellhounds came to collect their quarry, the Winchesters would never know how these men defended their vulnerable forms against the onslaught until the demon holding the contract, herself, appeared for her bounty. Unprepared for the unique talents of their hidden Enforcers and refusing to relinquish Dean’s soul, Lilith died under the force of the Nosferatu Alchemy worked against her.
Several hours later, nearly as one, Dean Winchester, newly made Gangrel, and Sam Winchester, newly made Brujah, took their first breaths as Kindred. Let the fallout begin.
The End (unless people want me to explore what happens when two brothers are Embraced into perpetually warring Clans…)