avengeful: (pic#6358808)
Sam  Winchester {020  »  085} ([personal profile] avengeful) wrote in [community profile] ataraxionlogs2013-09-14 08:02 pm

[closed] needs a little more dead man's blood

CHARACTERS: Sam Winchester and Mr. Vampire Brother ([personal profile] faithlessly)
LOCATION: A hallway on the 17th of September.
WARNINGS: Little bit of gore mentioning? Little violence? Probably some cursing idk.
SUMMARY: Sam sees Dean chomp into his neck. But that can't be, can it? Well shit.




Sam sees it while he's nodding off in the kitchens -- thoroughly exhausted, gray-rimmed eyes pop open from the sudden mind-numbing pain, and then he sees it: a hallway teeter-tottering in his vision, Dean's intense expression, Sam's alarmed voice, shadows moving violently, and then the clear image of Dean ripping out his throat effortlessly, as though his teeth were razor sharp and merciless to human skin. And then there's the gurgle, the slow loss of blood --

Sam snaps into reality with a gasp, covering his head with his hands as though it'll protect him from another blast of imagery to his consciousness. He knows exactly where that hallway is; knows what might be waiting for him if he goes there to see his brother now -- knows just how horribly wrong everything is. His heart's hammering in his chest and the dawning understanding that, maybe, something supernatural got a hold of his brother. But that doesn't make sense; isn't he supposed to be the freak? Not Dean. No, shit, not Dean. He's gotta go to him and see if what he saw was true. He's got to hurry. Is that what the--

He hurries, grabs the machete Dean left, takes a few precautions, hurries as fast as he could, though he's practically blurring at the edges of his vision from the headache blasting in his skull. Jesus Christ, his head. Just a few hours of sleep -- why can't he sleep --

But he goes regardless. Heads to that hallway to intercept Dean (that graffiti he saw -- he knew that graffiti), using the wall as leverage when he's not feeling so hot. He's been killed in a vision before. It's never stopped him from going anyway.

Fuck it.

He's gotta find Dean. He'll be ready. He has to find him, now that he has the chance.
faithlessly: (pic#5142729)

[personal profile] faithlessly 2013-09-15 03:55 am (UTC)(link)
Contrary to what some might think, Dean does actually venture outside of his hiding place. Just... you know, secretly. And why in secret? Well, if there's one thing he's learned after years and years of hunting, it's that a monster can't control its urges, its very nature, no matter what. And now... now Dean's no different. He's just like those he's hunted, just another thing that'll end up hurting someone sooner or later. There's no way around it, not on this ship, which is why he's locked himself up into the room shown to him by Castiel...

Up until now, anyway.

Sleepless, hungry days and nights have passed, and now find Dean out in the very hallway Sam sees in his vision.

Hand against the cool wall of the hallway, he's stopped there, fighting off a wave of something-- something not right, something that brings about an itchiness in his mouth, something that leaves his nerves hard with effort to keep whatever it is that his gut is screaming at him to do. It's been overwhelming lately, a scent in the air he'd been hit with the moment he'd crawled out of that pod after the jump.

But he's managed before, he can do it again.

Or thinks he can, right up until he hears that approaching hectic heartbeat he knows, just knows belongs to the one person he doesn't wan to see.
faithlessly: (pic#5130123)

[personal profile] faithlessly 2013-09-15 06:22 am (UTC)(link)
Found you. Can we talk now. What happened, Dean.

He almost wants to laugh, would even if it didn't mean a slip on his control. It's been... over a week now since the jump, a week of no sleep, no food, and-- and it's weighing down on whatever little control he has.

Dean turns to see Sam, the exhaustion clinging to his brother obvious in the dark circles under his eyes. It's been over a year for Dean, since he's last seen Sam like this -- young, from the past, way past -- not the... version from his time. The Sam that wasn't quite right, the one who'd let him get turn-- he shakes his head. It's a rough, sudden gesture, as if he's trying to shake something but. But you can do that with sounds or smells, with fatigue and hunger.

"Turn 'round and walk away, Sam." His hand curls into a fist against the wall as he turns his back to his brother again, eyes screwing shut tighter, all in attempts to block out everything. Of course, it's not like it works, not like he can dull out the hammering of his brother's heart, or the ever growing itching of his own gums. How Sam had found him, how Sam of all people is beyond him at the moment, the memory of his brother's special mind voodoo skills under a hazy layer of lost information.

He almost wants to ask if Sam did as he'd asked, if he'd gotten what he'd requested. As much as he wants to just say it -- you need to gank me, Sammy -- he can't bring himself to, not yet.
faithlessly: (pic#4839019)

[personal profile] faithlessly 2013-09-15 06:38 am (UTC)(link)
What.

Dean tenses sharply, a rigidness forming between his shoulders that hasn't been present since the jump. After he'd managed to hide himself away from the other passengers, he'd slowly managed to relax, inch by inch. But it all gets brushed away just like that, just with a few words and from Sam. At least it gets him to turn to Sam, face pale, almost sickly looking from everything the ship is putting them both through, and the baggage from home. Any other day, and he'd toss his brother a joke about being a goddamn Cullen, but not this time.

"How--" His words cut off though, cut off because he wants them to. It doesn't matter, does it? Sam was bound to find out sooner or later, though Dean had hoped he would have found a way to off himself by then. But this-- it's all the same, no matter what the shock, apprehension and guilt in his body suddenly scream.

"Then you know what you have to do." Something steels in his eyes, turns cold and unshakable. It's a look he often wears on a particularly difficult hunt, or when Sam brings his worries to him, about the nature of his blood, his purpose.
faithlessly: (pic#5937376)

[personal profile] faithlessly 2013-09-15 07:07 am (UTC)(link)
It's simple how easy it is for Dean to snap. He hears Sam say no, that he's not killing him, that they can figure something else out. There isn't anything to figure out though, there is no cure for what he's got, and Dean-- Dean can feel that control slipping, doesn't even know how he's fighting back the urge to sink the fangs he'd never asked for into something soft and warm and alive.

With speed he never had before, Dean's suddenly right there, right up close, something fierce and angry flashing over his face, words snarled. "You don't get to freakin' decide that, Sammy, not about this." And then he's move to slam Sam right up against the wall of the hallway, with strength that would be so much more impressive, so much more scary if he wasn't already so weak from the past week or so. But anger is enough to fuel the grip he has on the front of Sam's shirt, in the small shake he gives his brother.

He'll force his hand, he will, he'll do it, watch him. An insane thought -- I don't want to hurt him that way -- that seems so simple, so logical to him right there and then. He doesn't understand Sam's issue, not one bit.

"Or do you really wanna know? Do you wanna know who just stood there while that son of a bitch fed me his goddamn blood?"
faithlessly: (pic#4952705)

[personal profile] faithlessly 2013-09-15 07:28 am (UTC)(link)
The smell of blood is stronger like this, even while it still runs under skin. But Dean's concentration is all on Sam's face, the anger he feels, how it threatens for him to lose it, is all on watching pain turn to confusion over Sam's face. He wonders if his brother will even care when he does find out about how he'd just stood there, how he'd just watched and-- and let that fucker turn him, just like that. There had been no effort from Sam to stop it, none and that hurt more than the knowledge of what he'd become thanks to it.

"You, Sam." His grip tightens then, knuckle white and trembling almost with the sheer force he keeps him against the wall, words gritted out with every inch of self control he has.

"You're the reason I'm like this, you--" Of course, what he'd seen had only been a fraction of Sam, a heartbeat's moment where anything could have happened, where hesitation could have caused his brother to falter. Nothing more, nothing less. But with his sleep and hunger deprived mind it's so much easier to place blame, especially since they always watch each other backs, always.

And yet, here they are.
faithlessly: (pic#5910593)

[personal profile] faithlessly 2013-09-15 07:45 pm (UTC)(link)
You really think telling Dean what he saw, how he saw it, had to have been his mistake? At a time like this? It seems to ruffle him, angers him further as he all but growls quietly at the words leaving his brother, never mind the clear shock and dawning horror written on Sam's face. It's almost funny that it would all lead down to this; Sam letting the thing they both fear the most happen to him, when it's Sam who has been the freak all along. It's ironic and disgusting, and unfair.

"Help? You've helped enough, Sam. More than enough." And look what it's made him. The pushes and shoves at him go barely noticed, his hands having settled into an iron grip.

"But you owe me, you owe me to do the right thing right now." Sam needs to man up, to take the blade and poison Dean had told him to get and to use them. He has to do it, has to because Dean's halfway off the sane track and Sam isn't faring much better. They need to do this before it's too late.

Dean's stepping back then, yanking Sam away from the wall and letting go off him with a slight shove. "Or did you think we could both be blood sucking freaks at the same time?"

Because that's not gonna happen, not even if the words are true. He needs Sam to get with the picture, wants the words to sting and hurt his brother into action.
faithlessly: (pic#6614795)

[personal profile] faithlessly 2013-09-15 08:57 pm (UTC)(link)
There's the problem with Sam being so far from the past; he young, and inexperienced despite how much he does know about hunting. They both know there's no way out of what Dean has, no curing Sammy either, but this? They can do this right here and now, do the right thing. Unlike with Sam, they can kill him. But he knows that look, knows Sam can't and it makes him angrier, frustration boiling his own blood, all ready to lash out--

Sam staggers, seems to lose himself for a minute which stills Dean completely, leaves him to watch his brother fight off whatever it is that's happening to him. There's always going to be that part of him that wants to step closer and comfort his brother, to ask him if he's okay, to promise him they'll find a way out of this. He almost has time to do that, to step closer with an outstretched hand which would find Sam's shoulder.

The drops of blood stop him. It's entirely different like this, with the smell so fresh and right there, only some feet away, ruby red and alive. The reaction is instant, no pretense of control to subdue the needle-like fangs that appear in his mouth, sheathing over his own, human teeth. They flash visibly only for a moment, as Dean's hand find and cover his mouth seconds later, a pained sound escaping him as he tries to tear his eyes away from Sam, from the blood. The smell is overwhelming though, especially after not having eaten since he'd come on board, it's like dangling the finest of foods in front of a starving man, asking them to join in, to feast.

Little does it matter that the feast is your own brother.

"Sam--" It's the only warning he's getting, his entire body jerking and stiff while every inch of his self-control is put to making sure he doesn't just leap.
faithlessly: (Default)

[personal profile] faithlessly 2013-09-15 11:00 pm (UTC)(link)
Dean should let him go, let those footsteps and that hectic, panicked heartbeat hammer away until he can't hear it anymore. He should do so much, like gank himself somehow, and yet he can't. No, instead he starts after Sam, after that smell, the need to finally feed driving out any sense. This is what it's all about, the pure instinct that makes a monster dangerous, the lack of control which makes them anything but human. Dean hasn't felt this since Hell, not since he'd lost himself cutting those tied to the rack into pieces, over and over again.

It takes him no time at all to catch up with Sam, one hand shooting out, fingers gripping tightly down before he's flicking his entire arm off to the side, all meant to throw Sam off balance. The smell of blood is a rush in its own right, empowering every other sense in the tight hallway, and forcing Dean to move closer without so much as a beat of hesitation; all fangs and--

"I'm sorry--" It's muffled, not quite right the rows and rows of inhuman teeth in his mouth, said to no one and for both their sakes at the same time.

Just a little bit, just enough to calm down the hunger--

Something in him is glad Sam's so out of it, maybe it'll make all of this easier, more accessible -- quicker.

"Hold still." Is said as he advances, everything focused on that red trickle of blood which still steadily leaks away, like a beacon of rightness that he can't let go of.
faithlessly: (pic#6614787)

[personal profile] faithlessly 2013-09-16 12:00 am (UTC)(link)
It's too late to stop now, too late to change how everything goes down. Dean'll have what he wants, what he needs, and if it's from Sam? Then so be it. He'd told Sam to back off, to not come find him -- but here they are and Dean's seconds away from getting what he's been thinking about since the jump.

Dean intercepts the kick easily, all movements fluid and aimed for one simple goal; the blood. Teeth flash, the sound the leaves him being nothing human, nothing nice-- dangerous. Just like in Sam's vision, he's closing in then, aiming for Sam's neck because that's where the blood flows thick and heavy, close to the surface of his skin and so, so easy to access. Instead of fresh, gushing blood though, all Dean feels in the next half second is something piercing his shoulder--

and then pain, burning, searing pain. The sound that leaves him is somewhere between a scream and a cry, nothing human as he flings himself away from Sam and into the opposite wall of the hallway, the sensation nothing like he's ever felt before. It lags him instantly, acid in his veins.

"Fuck, fuck--"