The Seven Times Dean Winchester Tried To Kill Me

Title: The Seven Times Dean Winchester Tried To Kill Me
Rating: R for language, some sex, and probably other stuff I can't think of just now.
Words: 6387
Characters: Dean/OFC:Erev, Sam/OFC:Erev
Warnings: Yeah I mess with some trippy Christian stuff that devoutly religious people might get offended by. As I read over it I think some people might see some Wincest here, though it's not intended to be written that way. However, let your imagination run away with you if you want.

Written like a diary from the OFC's point of view.

 

December 2008 (The bar was decorated for Christmas)

"You want to get out of here?" he asked me.

"Bad idea, honey. I’m that girl your mother warned you about, " I told him.

He smirked, a combination of bitterness and cockiness, and tipped his beer back, draining it easily though it was damn near half full. The sweat from the cold beer dripped down onto the aged, and worn wooden bar. One single drop of water splashing onto the dark wood, a sound no one else could hear.

It sparked a memory long buried.

I pushed it away.

Best if it stayed buried.

He set the empty bottle on the bar, the glass making a dull thud in the mostly empty run down dive I had decided to stop at. A ramshackle place with a broken jukebox, watered down whiskey and a bar maid who had seen better days. He leaned forward, forearm on the bar’s edge making his muscles flex a little to support his weight as he talked to me.

"I’ll take my chances," he said in a low, deep, and gravely voice that no doubt made many a woman shiver themselves right out of their panties.

I knew where he’d been of course. Be hard not to see it, and I’d seen a lot after all. I’d have had to have been blind to miss the tiny flickers of Hellfire hiding just behind those green eyes of his.

I regretted stopping then. I was bored, and I had thought it a good idea to be around people. Maybe play pool, listen to music, and pretend to be one of them. In the end though, it was a bad idea.

Because as surely as I knew where he had been, I knew what he was too.

A hunter.

Not much else to do then, but fess up. I have this self destructive streak that I never could get rid of. Used to make David nuts.

Besides... I figured: what if? What if he was the type into danger? I could get lucky. Right?

So when the bar maid turned away from us to throw away his empty bottle, I showed him my fangs.

That was the first time Dean Winchester tried to kill me.

When he failed and ended up on the floor, banged up and panting, the smart thing to do would have been to hightail it out of there and hope he wasn’t the type to make a vendetta out of it. After all, there was nothing worse than a hunter with a freaking grudge.

I was never very smart, and it’s really a miracle I’ve lived as long as I have. Well, if you believe in miracles, and I don’t. Not even a little and I’d bumped into Jesus once. That was in Nazareth, and a really long story so we’ll have to get to that another time.

So, instead of leaving before he had time to get his drunk ass up off the floor; I instead tossed my phone number down at him.

“What’s this?" he asked me, looking at the paper like I was a god damn nut case.

Which, I probably am. You try and live for as long as I have, and tell me if you’re not a bit unhinged from it.

"My number. If you ever stop being such a fucking racist, give me a call." I told him on my way out the door.

I can move fast when I need to, and was already well out of sight by the time he made it to the door, looking for me in the night a few minutes before finally scratching his head and then staring down at the cell number I’d given him. He no doubt wondered why I passed on the free meal.

Hell...if I wanted to I could have had him a thousand different ways by the end of the first game of pool.

Guy like that though?

Too damn interesting.

‘Sides...I gave up red meat a long time ago.

************************************************************************

2009 I think and maybe around December (There are Christmas decorations everywhere, but now people seem to start in October so I’m not sure.)

The second time Dean Winchester tried to kill me I tried not to take it too personal.

It started out friendly enough though.

I was casing a museum trying to get something that belonged to me once. Which makes it retrieving personal property and not stealing, no matter what he might think about it. I know he steals what he needs to survive: hell, he was hustling the night I’d met him. The first time he tried to kill me.

Fucking hypocrite.

Turned out the museum had some kinda ghost and they were casing it too. We ended up meeting somewhere between the Pteradactyl and the Tyrannosaurus Rex exhibit.

He smelled like gasoline, leather, salt and sweat. Not anything to swoon over, but so very human that I want to grab hold of him and savor it for awhile. Pretend I was human again, even for a few short minutes. That I had warm skin, and a soft body with a heart that could still feel things.

I don’t know why I torture myself this way.

"You," he said when I let him see me. I can do that you know. Be invisible if I want to be. I'm not bragging or anything, just showing you another example of my self destructive nature. I could have just left and he'd have been none the wiser. Always wanting to play with fire David used to say. I'm just glad he's not here to see me sneaking around a dark museum taking back something that doesn't even matter. It's worthless really.

But, it was mine once and I wanted it back. A small dagger that some lucky old bastard dug up in Megiddo and promptly alerted the media about his incredible, and stunning find.

Stupid ass. I knew right where to come to get it back. I had paid for that dagger after all, not in coin, but it cost me my soul. It's a damned long story but that dagger? The one with the ruby in the handle, and made from stone with a razor sharp edge even after all this time? Let's just say it's got quite a history.

You'd think I would have kept better track of it.

All I can say is that I didn't really start getting romantic and nostalgic until this last thousand years. By then though, I'd forgotten where I'd left it. Like I said before, you live as long as me and tell me if you can keep everything straight. I got all the important stuff filed away right proper, but the little things get jumbled up.

Anyway..."You," he had said somewhat accusingly, with a shot gun in his hand. Like I’m the reason there's an angry spirit around. Fucking people dig shit up, and put them on display in glass cases, just begging for trouble, and he looks at me like that.

"You never called," I said, raising an eyebrow at him. I could have missed the call, since I had gone underground for a few months to sleep. Have to sometimes, or else I'd go completely insane. But I had checked my voice mail after my nap, and nothing.

He gives me another look like I'm a god damn nut.

"Racist," I scowl at him. He still has that fire behind the green, faded a little now that he's been back awhile. How long though? A year? I wish I could keep track of time better but I just can't. David was always good at that, but he's not around to tell me what year it is. Not any more.

"You're a vampire." he said then and another man comes up behind him then, looking back and forth between the two of us trying to figure out who I am, and what I'm doing there.

"No, I'm THE vampire," I correct him. "They had something of mine; I just dropped by to get it back." I explained, though why I'm explaining anything to him, I have no idea. Back in the day, he'd be my slave, not worthy of speaking aloud at all. My temple was always silent since I never allowed anyone to speak, and coveted the beauty of a dark stillness.

The good old days, when the ignorant humans thought we were Gods instead of just cursed humans doomed to walk the earth until time endeth, forever and ever; always thirsting for the blood that we had spilled.

See...someone handed Qayin the knife after all. I'd made it myself, thinking it would help Qayin in the fields. We could sever things with it; what a great idea right? I can't even say I didn't know what he planned to use it for. I knew and didn't care. I never much liked Havel anyway. There wasn't even a law against it then. Right after that though?

Well, murder is against the law now. You slay one person and God considers it an act against all people. You go directly to Hell, but back then, since it wasn't against the law, God came down Himself about it, cursing the both of us; instead of just killing us right then and there. Havel was always such a freaking brown noser, so God noticed right off when he went missing. Qayin, the stupid ass, tried to lie to the Alpha and Omega, creator of both Heaven and Earth.

Sometimes I wish men would just cease to exist. Seriously, they are all SO stupid dating all the way back to Adam and his sons.

Though sometimes, I miss Qayin and David. Long days stretched out into a never ending plateau of existence, they helped pass the time. I'm not sure why I've been thinking so much about them and the past lately. You can't go back and change it after all. They're gone, and I can't change that either.

"THE vampire?" the tall one asked me. He reminded me so much of David that it hurt to look at him.

"Never mind. Too long of a story," I sigh wearily. I am weary. Just so tired of it all. I look him over again and try to forget about how much he looks like my brother. I study him, while they study me for several long seconds, the time it takes my heart to beat just once.

Huh.

If Dean has a bit of Hellfire dancing in his soul, making pretty patterns behind his eyes for me to stare at and admire, this one has enough in his to end it.

All of it.

I'd heard rumors, of course; I talk to demons in passing on occasion. Sam Winchester is his name, and he's supposed to be a big fricking deal. I’d checked around as soon as I gotten up from my nap since I'd seen them before. Would be Anti Christs, and not a one of them worth a damn thing. Every few generations of man, one would pop up and get Hell all freaking excited. Every one evil and all that, but nothing backing them up to end the whole mess.

Him though? Could be interesting. I suddenly felt a little less tired. Could be a good show and I wanted a front seat to the action that would finally make time endeth forever and ever. I could finally be free.

Had to be sure though.

Which is why I bit him.

Which is why Dean Winchester tried to kill me for the second time. He got a big ass lock of my hair too, the bastard. Contrary to that stupid vampire book, I cannot just regrow my hair at will. Aging slows to an imperceptible crawl, which would make growing hair just as fucking slow. Obviously. That writer chick is such a stupid bitch, that sometimes I think about tracking her down and giving her a good damn show.

I got what I wanted though. I got my answer from his blood and left with my worthless stone dagger: the one that committed the first murder, and cursed me for all eternity.

You might wonder why, if I'm so tired of being alive, didn't I just let Dean kill me?

You ever see someone beheaded? Fucking terrible and I've seen lots of beheadings. I ain't going out like Qayin or quitting like David. I'm gonna ride the world down to it's fiery end and when it gets bumpy, and tries to buck me off, I’ll just squeeze tighter till I see the end of it all. I saw it all in his blood, and I know what I want now.

I wanna burn to death with the rest of the world and Sam Winchester is the one to do it.

I went home feeling a little less weary in my black soul and thinking about how he had tasted. I'd given up red meat and all, but that doesn't mean I don't crave it constantly. Having that small taste, (and it was just a small taste no matter what either Winchester will whine about later if you ever ask them about it) made me crave it all the more.

I packed up the few things I bother to carry around and found myself a nice, tiny village way down south, and found a cozy spot to sleep underneath of it. I wanted to dream about better days while the earth ended. David and I walking, and laughing together.

Man, was I pissed when I couldn’t get to sleep.

That village isn’t there any more.

************************************************************************

May 2, 2010 (I looked at a newspaper)

Mankind is doomed to fail.

I might as well spell it out for you right now.

You will all die eventually even if Armageddon doesn’t come. You’ll all just eventually kill each other. I’ve even joined up in your petty wars, drawn to the rivers of blood like a fucking moth to a flame though I denied myself even a small taste from the dead and dying. I used to feel guilty about being the one to make the first weapon, but not any more. Fuck you people. You’d have figured it out eventually anyway.

Murder is the dominion of mankind.



I learned to stop feeling guilty a long damn time ago. I learned to stop feeling anything at all. It was making me crazy, and I didn't want to end up like Qayin, muttering things to myself and going on silly rampages, drinking when I wasn't even thirsty.

I wish Sam would just get on with it.


It’s been a long time since I’d looked forward to anything, and feeling excited was kind of overwhelming me a bit. I’ll admit that much. Long days were followed by long nights, and nothing much was happening. Pacing and talking to myself, sounding more and more like Qayin every day.

I left, and went to New York and stood in Times Square.

Sometimes, time goes so fast it is like the world is on fast forward. I just stood still, and millions of people passed me by in a matter of seconds.

Or days.

Sometimes I can’t tell and that’s one of the few things that can scare me now.

I decided to track them down, those Winchester brothers, and see what in the fuck was taking so long.

I watched them for a few weeks, and I’m sure they knew they were being watched. I could see the problem at once.

They just didn’t get it. They kept thinking man would live on forever and ever and did everything they could think of to keep it going.

To me, you all live for just a blink of an eye. What a waste of a life, helping people doomed to die anyway. So short and fragile your life spans are, that I would probably pity you all if I could still feel emotions.

Since I can’t...

I decided a few months ago that a direct intervention was necessary to speed things along.

I let him see me on a bright, sunny, hot day in the middle of a small town called Mockron, Utah. They were just finishing up a job there, and I would have his full attention now. I still remember the exact moment, it had been raining a lot and it was the first sunny day in weeks; the humidity was so heavy that it felt like a hot wet blanket had been tossed over the whole damn town. They drove by in that pretty car of theirs, and I just stood on the corner as if I planned to cross the street.

The look on his face was priceless.

Guess he’d seen too many B.S. movies about vampires and sunlight. The weak offspring hate the sun of course, and prefer to stay indoors, but we always liked it. The sun on my face made me feel a little bit warm again, almost like being alive.

Anyway, I made sure I was seen. I didn’t want him to be surprised, and later, when I showed up knocking politely on his motel room door, he wasn’t.

"What do you want?." he asked coldly.

"I’m here to see you," I told him, and waited to be invited inside. Not that he needed to, or anything, that’s more folklore bullshit.

"Why?" he asked suspiciously.

"I’ve been alive since Man’s expulsion from Eden. Aren’t you even a little curious about me?" I asked him.

He seemed surprised at that. "Come on Sam. All that reading, and you’ve never heard of the Mark of Cain?" I asked him, pulling up my thin cotton shirt and showing him the famed mark, two inches left of my belly button. Which incidentally, is fucking insulting that it’s even called the Mark of Cain, and yet another example of gender bias. Men wrote the stories, and I was never even given a mention. Assholes.

"Who are you?" he asked me.

"I’ve used thousands of names over the years, but I’ll tell you my real name," I decided. Only right, since he was my Savior after all. "When I was born, my mother named me Erev. It’s two Hebrew words combined, meaning evening and heart. I was born at night, and they weren’t too original back then," I explained dryly.

"So, I’m at your doorstep and now we’ve exchanged names. You gonna invite me in?" I asked him.

He hesitated, and I wasn’t surprised. "You didn’t ask me who my mother was."

"Who was your mother?" he asked, playing along, and looking like he was going to slam the door in my face any second.

"Lilith."

"I killed your mother." he informed me, holding his chin in a defiant way, and I laughed.

"Good. She was always such a bitch."

***********************************************************************

"Uh, do you drink?" Sam asked me nervously that first night, and holding a cold beer in his hand.

"I had something on my way here," I lied slyly since it would make him uncomfortable. It did, and I laughed. "Just animal blood. Other than you, I’ve been fasting for thousands of years," I told him. I didn’t even drink any at that village; I took a vow after all.

It didn’t involve killing though, just feeding on humans.

I should feel bad messing with him, but I’m fucking tired as hell and can’t sleep. It’s his fault we’re all still here anyway, and I needed to take it out on someone. Better him than what Qayin would do, when he was pissed. Find a sleepy village, and drink them all dry, down to the last infant. When there was nothing but dried out husks left, we’d go to the next, and David and I would watch him go on again. And again.

So, if I want to fuck with Sam Winchester’s head a little, to cheer myself up, then I will.

"You’re for real, aren’t you?" he asked, sitting down a few feet from me. I figure he thinks it’s a safe distance, and it makes me want to laugh again.

Laughing. Damn, ain’t done that in a long time. Maybe I should have come by sooner.

"I’m for real. Got any questions for me?" I ask him.

He did, and I answered them all. It was weird. Like confession or something. He was my Savior, and I was there confessing my little black heart out. I told him all about my mother Lilith, how I was in love with Qayin at first, and when I was cursed I went back for my twin brother to take him with us, unable to bear being without him..

How one day David saw me feeding, and innocently asked me what it tasted like.

How I ripped open my own wrist, thinking nothing of it since it was David; my blood was his blood, letting him taste, and finding out I could curse others too.

How I always wished I had never done it, even though David kept me sane long after Qayin lost his mind.

All the ways to kill the offspring of Qayin, knowing he’d share it with other hunters, and not caring a whit for them.

How I’d never cursed another after David, and never would.

Not all in one night, of course. Too much to tell in one night. No, I kept coming back when Dean had that itch that needed scratched by a busty blonde, in whatever local bar they were closest to.

I told him about the crusades, wars, and the eradication of whole peoples. The crimes of man as I had witnessed them.

Eventually I told him about how Qayin died, completely insane, and caught by a band of hunters outside of Jerusalem. Before I could get away, they had beheaded him while David and I watched.

I can’t blame them really. He was so fucking out of control by then.

I couldn’t tell him about David. Not when he looked so much like him.

I saved that story for Dean. Some nights when he went out, I followed him instead of going to Sam. At first, he made another attempt on my life.

Which makes for the third time Dean Winchester tried to kill me. I didn’t take it personally though. After awhile, we reached an uneasy truce with cold beers, and at least a hundred games of pool.

Him, I told about David, though not all of it of course, and I think we bonded a little over it. He had a brother after all, not a twin, but still, he’d been without him for a short time and had sold his soul to get him back. Hence, his trip into Hell.

Not that either of them really ever trusted me, and only listened out of curiosity, and sheer awe of my tales. I had information that could help them, and I was able to get a few things off my chest, so I figured it was an even trade.

They were most interested in the fact that God was real. I wanted to laugh in their faces when I realized they had been spending their lives helping people, fighting evil and they hadn’t really ever been sure. Dean was so far over the line, he hadn’t really believed in God at all.

Plus, I was slowly convincing them that mankind was doomed to fail, and they were just wasting their time.

Not in so many words, but it was there.

Which brings me to the fourth time Dean Winchester tried to kill me.

This time, I did take it personally.

First off, Sam kissed me tonight, and not the other way around. I can’t say I was surprised all that much, his brother had kissed me weeks ago. Men get in kind of a thrall over me, not to mention there was the danger factor. I’m the other side, get it?

With Sam though, we weren’t in public, and one thing led to another. Later, when we were naked, and in that old, creaking bed in the crap motel they were staying at, he bit me. Hard.

While I was surprised at that, I let him, knowing that the fasting kept me from having any kind of blood near the surface of my skin. He was safe, but I did bite him back. I’ve got thousands upon thousands of years of experience, and he didn’t even feel my teeth break his skin. He did feel my tongue though, just tasting a little. I swear.

Damn, if he didn’t like it too. He came hard then, with his teeth in my shoulder, and my teeth in his.

That’s when Dean walked in.

You can imagine what it looked like, and I even had a little blood on the corner of my mouth. I could tell by the look on his face, that trying to tell him that his kinky Anti Christ brother started it, was a total waste of time. He rushed me with that same damn machete.

Something else, too.

I’d swear he was jealous.

**********************************************************************

October 15, 2010 ( I bought a new Cell phone and it has the date on it)

Dean Winchester tried to kill me a fifth and sixth time.

The details are so mundane that they aren’t really worth mentioning.

I will briefly say this though: Just before the fifth time, I took Sam to a club known to be frequented by demons. My family name still garners me a lot of respect, and no one even thought about touching him. I was just trying to prove a point to Sam, and I delivered him back safe and sound, and still breathing oxygen. Dean was clearly over reacting.

I forget how many months later passed when I caught Dean alone. I told him why I kept coming back, the truth of it.

Just before he tried to kill me for the sixth time.

Somewhere in between the fifth and the sixth attempt, I realized something.

I want both of them, and neither of them, and everything in between.

************************************************************************

May 2, 2011(My cell phone display broke when Dean tried to kill me that fifth time, but I found a newspaper in the gift shop)

Dean’s dying, and Sam’s finally ready to deliver us all into oblivion. I could hear it in his voice on the phone, the way it trembled and cracked as he confessed that he’d tried everything, and nothing had helped his brother.

I wanted a front seat for the Apocalypse, and hurried to his side all the way from Africa.

"What else can I do?" he asked me, his eyes begging, all red and swollen.

"Nothing," Dean told him. "Forget it, Sammy. I can’t believe you fucking called her. IT." he corrected himself then.

I ignored him. I was SO close now. "Nothing will help him," I lied, since I knew of ten different ways to heal his brother’s terminal disease.

I left then...nothing to do, but wait. He’d snap as soon as Dean died.

************************************************************************

June 15, 2011( I looked at asshole's chart which had the date on it)

Dean Winchester is the most stubborn, fucking human, in the history of the whole fucking planet.

And I would fucking know.

I checked on him every day, though he knew when I was there. Too wily, and smart not to, even as sick as he was.

Two weeks ago, he slipped into a coma, while Sam was off looking for a way to save him.

Still alive though.

Stubborn bastard.

************************************************************************

July 1, 2011( I passed a bank that had the time, date and temperature displayed.)

I felt it.

An electric charge that only the damned could feel. I put ear to ground, and heard titters from every evil thing in existence, all knowing that it had started. Sam had begun to turn.

Fucking finally. Once he got going good, God would reach out and smack the rebellion down, once and for all. Ending it all, bringing his children home. My curse to live until the end of time and thirst for blood was about to be over.

Maybe it’s hard for you to understand the pride I felt in carrying out my sentence to completion. I had chances to take an early out, and didn’t. Qayin failed, David failed, but I didn’t. Think I’ll get credit for that?

Naw, me either.

I tracked him to a hovel outside of Wabash, Oregon. Alone, and sitting in the dark, he wasn’t surprised to see me.

"I can’t save him," he said flatly, "I don’t care about anything any more."

I swear on my miserable long life, that I’ve never felt anything so powerful as Sam Winchester. He was really the one, and he hadn’t even turned yet. It was just a tiny flicker in there, a spark set off by hopelessness, grief and defeat; it threatened to erupt into a full blaze at any moment.

"The world can go to Hell," I told him to egg him on. "You think a single person here cares about you or Dean? No," I told him.

"I’m..not sure...about anything," he said then, his voice cracking just like it had on the phone. It was hot inside that house, even I could feel it, a combination of summer heat and Sam Winchester. The heat was making him sweat, and the dampness made his hair curl just a bit and stick to his face.

Like thorns.

Another memory sprang to my mind then, and I tried to push it away and rebury it where it belonged.

It wouldn’t stay buried, and the more I looked at his broken face, the more the memory assaulted me.

You remember at the beginning, when I told you that I bumped into Jesus once?

He was young then and had just learned that the fate of the world on his shoulders. Qayin had just been killed, we were still reeling that he was gone, and we happened on The Messiah in the middle of a field in Nazareth; on his way back to bring some water from the nearby lake to his family.

I was never sure if he was really the son of God, or not. Sure I’d heard of him, but others had claimed the same title before that, and since then. I sure never witnessed a true blue miracle.

He was sweating under the weight of the water jugs, and David offered to help him. We didn’t know who he was right then, but lucky for him, we’d just fed in the next town over.

Maybe we didn’t know him, but he knew us as vampires right off. Which was amazing, but hardly miracle material. He could have just been psychic.

"You have the mark of Cain?" he asked us in awe, and not the slightest bit afraid.

So, we showed him our marks. Anyone Qayin or I turn gets the mark too, the exact shape of the dagger used to kill Havel, in the exact place he got stabbed. If David made a vampire though, it wouldn’t have the mark, and would be weaker versions of ourselves. We discovered this from Qayin, through his repeated attempts to make a nation like us.

Men are so stupid.

Part of the curse is being unable to cultivate. That means crops, life, and especially a nation. It was a waste of time trying to explain it to him though, what do women know? I was only there after all, and heard God with my own two ears.

Back to Jesus.

"You can turn me?" he asked, looking at me intently, his brown eyes searching mine in earnest.

"I already pissed God off once, not gonna take the chance on doing it again," I told him, though not in those words. We didn’t talk like that then, of course.

He stared at us for a long time, like he was listening to something. It was fucking creepy as hell, and I’m an ancient cursed thing, neither alive nor dead, that drinks blood to survive. So if I think something is creepy, then take my word that it god damn is.

"I will give you my blood, and pray for mercy for you," he said then, looking as solemn as an archangel.

“What?" I asked him, incredulously.

"If you want it, you can take it," he said, and then tilted his head to the side, offering himself up. "It will end your suffering, and you will be at peace."

I didn’t like the look in David’s eye. "Let’s go," I ordered him at once, and dragged him away. I looked back, and he was just sitting there, neck still exposed ,and not moving.

I lost track of David during the night, he’d snuck away.

I knew right where to find him.

I was too late.

While I’m not sure if he was the Son of God, whatever he was took away David’s curse. David had just wiped the blood from his mouth when I had walked into the stable, already beginning to age.

David, my only brother and the only thing I had ever really loved; wrinkled, withered, died, and turned to dust before my eyes.

"He is at peace," Jesus said to me.

"You..killed him," I said, baring my fangs in anger.

"Yes," he said simply, "If you want deliverance, take my blood and be healed," he offered, yet again.

"I will take it all," I told him as I grabbed his hair, and pulled his head back all the way. He never even tried to move against me.

Just before my fangs reached his smooth, sun darkened skin, I saw the look in his eyes. He wanted to die. Now. Not later, and in agony as was prophesied. Now.

He was scared of his destiny, and wanted me to stop it from happening.

I let him go. "If it’s true..that you are his Son..peace be with you," I snarled sarcastically at him, and pushing him away from me roughly, knowing his fate would be worse if I let him go.

He buried his face in his hands, sobbing then, and I left him alone in a stable, surrounded by the dust that used to be my brother.

Time passed quickly for me, and I went to Golgotha and saw him on the cross.

His hair was dark, and damp, and he was wearing a crown of thorns meant to insult him further. He stared into my eyes, and I into his, as a single drop of blood trickled down from his limp right hand; it slid down his index finger, and finally landed on the dark wood of the platform that was holding up his crucifix, with a splash that was inaudible to anyone, except for me.

He was almost gone by then, and fuck if crucifixion wasn’t awful. His lips moved then, and do you know what he said to me with dry, cracked lips in a whisper that a normal human would never have been able to hear?

"If you want deliverance, take my blood and be healed," he whispered, looking at the single drop that fell right before me.

I watched him as he died. Changed my whole fucking life. Is that a miracle?

I never drank human blood again.

Not until Sam Winchester came along.

I felt, and heard the crack of energy surging through him now. It was starting, and there was no turning back for Sam. Soon, he wouldn’t be Sam any more, and it would all be over with.

Done.

I played my role in the Apocalypse well. I walked to where he was sitting, and carefully wiped away his tears. As I stood behind him, I ran my hands over his shoulders, down to his chest and whispered in his ear.

"If you want deliverance, take my blood, and be healed."

******************************************************************************

November 2, 2011 (Sam keeps track of time for me now.)

The world didn’t end on July 1, 2011 like it was supposed to.

Like I wanted it to.

In that moment, with Sam looking at me with broken eyes, talking in a voice that was as cracked as the Messiah’s lips, and damp, curled, dark hair stuck to his face making it look like he was wearing a crown of thorns; I realized I couldn’t let the world end. I don’t know if Jesus was really the true Messiah, or not. But he was willing to deliver me death, and maybe redemption, even as he was in pain and looking at death himself.

So, I gave Sam Winchester the Mark and Curse of Cain and ended his human life, depriving Hell of their Anti Christ; thusly, saving the world.

I’m the last surviving original vampire, and I saved the world because Jesus Christ offered to kill me from his perch on a wooden cross in the final moments of his life.

Life is weird. Even when you’ve been alive...forever. I’ve been doing a lot of thinking, too. If I hadn’t made that dagger which killed Havel, getting myself cursed with Qayin, who would have done the job of saving the world now?

Then, there’s that whole Last Temptation of Christ deal. Where the Devil tempts Jesus. However, didn’t Christ tempt me with death?

Yeah, I’ve been thinking a whole hell of a lot, and talking things over with Sam. We’ve concluded that it’s a big cosmic mind fuck.

Dean somehow recovered from both his coma, and his illness, by the time we got back. He shouldn't have lived.

So, was that a miracle?

We couldn't get there right away when the hospital called. It took a short while to teach Sam what he needed to know about his new body, after all.

Dean was not at all happy to find his brother had turned into a vampire, and even though Sam explained everything to him, he didn’t seem to think I was much of a hero at all.

Today, he got out of the hospital and you can guess what happened next.

Dean Winchester tried to kill me for the seventh time.

Enough was enough. I mean, really.

Sam held him down, while I dripped my blood into his mouth. He didn’t want to leave Dean behind any more than I could leave David.

He’s still pissed off, a pain in the ass to deal with, and complains that the Mark itches like a bitch but...

At least he finally quit trying to kill me.



***********************************************************************

Fin