Bloodthirsty Secrets

chapter one | bullet wound

Other than that one time Sam had brushed up against his hand and freaked out because he was so cold, this was by far the most damning thing that had happened to Dean since he'd turned.

"Dean, I saw you get shot! That's not a bullet wound, that's barely even a bruise!" his brother yelled, running his hands through his long, sweaty hair.

"No--" Dean raised his hands in defense. "The bullet just missed me."

Sam motioned maniacally. "Your shirt is soaked in blood!"

"It's the demon's?" he tried to fib, but it sounded like a question.

And now he could smell the blood from a scratch Sam had gained in the fight. Usually, it didn't affect him much because he was so used to it. But now, after healing so fast from a bullet wound, he was starting to get hungry.

"Dude, we got rid of the demon, and neither of us got banged up too bad," Dean said, trying to shift the subject. "Now, could you stop worrying?"

"Whatever." Sam shrugged it off, and turned to head back to the Impala. "Sorry, you've just been acting weird lately."

"Have I?" Dean didn't think he'd been acting any different.

"Yeah. You've been...cold. And anytime I bring anything up, you get all defensive."

Dean could've laughed, if he wasn't trying so hard to keep his fangs from sliding out. This was surprisingly the first time he'd healed from a bullet wound since turning, so maybe the extreme thirst was normal.

He wished he could ask Benny; he'd probably know. But, his friend was gone.

Sam's pulse had slowed down, but it quickened when they started walking. The sound thrummed on and on in Dean's ears, growing louder and louder. It was almost like his stomach was rumbling, telling him to eat. His control wouldn't last much longer.

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"Slow down. You're driving way too fast. We have nowhere to be," Sam scolded. 

They were about twenty minutes away from the bunker, and Dean was on the verge of losing it. If he did, he'd be no different from the things they hunted. He'd rolled down the windows to try and clear his head, and within the last five minutes the air rushing by had became his final defence.

He didn't dare open his mouth, as he slowed down just enough to satisfy Sam. They didn't talk the rest of the way, and Sam didn't say anything when Dean ran straight to his room, passing by Castiel and not even acknowledging his presence.

He slammed his door shut and went quickly over to the mini fridge he kept in the corner, grabbing a bag of blood from the diminishing supply. He guzzled it down, and immediately grabbed another one.

He used the back of his hand to wipe off his mouth. "Fuck, that was close," he sighed, shutting the fridge. He hoped his fangs would retract sooner than later. Just so he could go say hi to Cas, because running past him was sure as hell not the kindest thing he could've done.

But, even then, his fangs had been out, and he sure hoped Cas hadn't seen them. Now, that'd be difficult to just pass off as something else entirely. He'd never come so close to being found out; he'd have to start being more cautious.

Who knows what Sam would do if he found out his brother was a vampire? Maybe he'd be sympathetic and reasonable... Or, perhaps he'd kill him on the spot -- if not because he was a monster, then because he'd kept it a secret for so long.

At that thought, his fangs retracted, and he changed out of his blood soaked clothes before coming out of his room.

"Hey," he said, waling into the kitchen area where everyone was seated.