The sequel to Sight. Angelus arranges a bit of a family reunion for the Winchesters.

Disclaimer: Supernatural belongs to Eric Kripke; Angel: the Series belongs to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy Productions, et. al.



He was not easy to find, even with the help of their newest fledgling. Angelus had to admire a man so calculating, he made it this difficult for even his own flesh and blood to seek him out. Yesterday…

Angelus might have cut out the tongue of the vampire who said there was anything admirable about John Winchester. But today was such a good day. Angelus was feeling unusually generous. Winchester senior was going to get away… Angelus understood that. Even if the vampire hunter could be coaxed out of his farmhouse cum fortress…the would-be vampire hunters-in-training he had amassed would stop him.

But they hadn’t stopped his eldest son.

Little Samuel’s big brother stood, beaten but not yet fully broken, in the center of a loose circle of vampires Angelus had brought to witness this touching family reunion.

The elder Winchester son held his crossbow steady before him. The glow of the fires that burned throughout the village glinted off of the crucifix that hung from around the human’s neck. His face was pale and blood-streaked.

He was driving Angelus’ minions wild. They salivated at the scent of his open wounds. He had held up too well for one so young and so ridiculously mortal. They were not only hungry for his blood; they felt as though they’d been challenged to draw it from him.

Only Angelus’ command held them at bay. This was not their kill.

It was Samuel’s. He also stood in the circle - opposite his brother. Unlike the other fledglings present, the blood and gore surrounding him seemed not to effect him. He stood tall and straight and still. And his countenance was calm, almost pleasant. And entirely human.

“Dean.” He spoke for the first time since stepping through the crowd of vampires circling his former kin.

“S-Sammy.”

Angelus had awaited this moment, ever since he’d heard something soft and curious in Samuel’s voice…the night he’d tormented Sam with promises of what would become of his family once Angelus had drained him dead. Samuel had screamed. And wept. But he hadn’t begged until a single name had passed Angelus’ lips.

Angelus sat back in the winged back chair he’d had brought out for him, Darla at his side. Drusilla knelt at Darla’s feet, dark hair spread out over her sire’s skirts so Darla could brush it.

“I have to tell you, Brother,” Dean was saying. “When you wrote that you’d made new friends at the university… This isn’t what I’d pictured.”

He was surprising. So much so that Angelus considered denying Samuel, and saving this one for himself.

“Don’t even think it, Angelus.”

Angelus looked at her through the corner of his eye, amused more than irritated.

Darla did not look back at him. She merely smiled a serene smile, and pampered Drusilla as Dru hummed strange songs to the voices in her head.

“The boy will never forgive you if you don’t let him have his brother. It was bad enough you didn’t let him have the girl.”

“True.”

And when John Winchester lost another child to Angelus, it would be so much more satisfying if the instrument of his suffering was his very own ‘Sammy‘.

The Winchester brothers had continued speaking as Angel considered this, and when he next looked, Samuel had moved several paces closer to Dean.

“I will do it, Sam. I will kill you.”

“If that were true, you would have killed me already. You wouldn’t even have come out here. You know as well as I do, Dean…” Samuel changed, his face forming their still new ridges. His brown eyes turned gold, and fangs elongated within his mouth. “You couldn’t kill me. Even if I weren’t already dead.”

He batted his brother’s crossbow aside and it skittered in the dirt, stopping at the other end of the circle. His movements were, of course, inhumanly fast. In his brother’s eyes… Samuel had been standing a few steps away in one moment. In the next he was almost nose to nose with Dean. The slender fingers of one hand had wrapped themselves around his brother’s wrist. Those of the other had wrapped themselves around his brother’s throat.

“No!” Their father was screaming, as he had been throughout it all. His cries became low and rough, and there were others shouting, also. “Dean, no!”

Angelus laughed.

“Papa wants to join the fun,” Drusilla sing-songed. “Naughty humans won’t let him come out and play.” Darla shushed her.

Neither Samuel nor Dean spoke. But slowly, Dean raised his arms at his sides as though in offering, eyes on his brother’s. He let himself go limp in Samuel’s grasp, and Samuel let him fall to his knees.

“And you could, brother?”

Samuel knelt beside him, hands framing Dean’s face. Angelus could see each flicker of emotion that crossed the human’s features in the firelight. It was perfect.

“Dean!” Winchester senior continued. “Sam! Sam, don’t-“

Samuel ignored all but his brother. “No,” he said. And even Angelus had to listen closely to hear him. “No, Dean, I couldn’t, either. And I wouldn’t want to. I don‘t want your death.”

Hope blossomed, short-lived and sweet, in Dean’s eyes.

“I want you,” Sam finished. His left hand slipped around the back of Dean’s neck like a lover’s, and his right arm wrapped around Dean’s shoulders in the parody of a brotherly hug. And Samuel’s face found the curve of Dean’s neck in the blink before he bit.


[ end. ]