Disclaimer: I do not own any recognizable characters featured within the story especially not the Winchesters, though a girl can dream…

Another story from me as I keep having these ideas clogging up my brain making me has to write them down. This is not Wincest; the boy's aren't related in this fic. Read and hopefully enjoy. As I always say reviews are awesome and they always mean that I carry on with this story as quick as I can.

The man leant against the car, his eyes searched throughout the parking lot however they seemed not to focus on anything in particular. His arms were crossed over his chest in what only one could presume as a bored manner but those he knew him would know better. This was how he remained for the next ten minutes or so. Not moving an inch or making a single sound.

No one bothered him or spared him a second glance. Most who passed where either desperate to get to their rooms to finish off their so called desert, too drunk to care or streetwise to know not to approach random strangers in the street at two o clock in the morning.

After another three minutes the lonely man drew in a deep breath, closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose all at the same time. His thoughts whirled around inside of his head, taking him into the deep dark crevices within his mind.

Trust me when I say that is never a good place to be especially if your name happened to end in Winchester.

It had been twenty four years last night since that faithful night had torn the once happy family to pieces. Twenty four years since the fire claimed all four of their lives, two now suffered at the hands of death while the remaining two wished that they had. Out of the remaining two, one became driven by his obsession to the edge and back again while the other was left behind to pick up the pieces.

In that one night four lives had been destroyed along with three different types of relationships.

Husband to wife.

Wife to son.

Brother to brother.

Ever since then nothing had been the same for that once happy family. The family that had so many plans and aspirations. The family that once had a future.

And now once a year the two surviving members drown their sorrows in their own ways. The eldest finds his form of relief at the bottom of a bottle, well many bottles to be exact but this was his current normal almost nightly regime. While the youngest of the two…the other took relief in isolation where his thoughts are allowed to run wild and where for once in his life he allows his emotions to break through his near indestructible walls that made him who he was today.

A lone tear slithered its way down the man's cheek before being hastily scrubbed away by a gentle hand. Drawing in another deep shaky breath his eye's fluttered open once more showing the world that yet again he is still here.

Sniffing the man made sure that there was no more tears present upon his face. Satisfied he pushed himself off of the hood of his car and made his way over towards the nearest motel door. Pausing slightly in front of it he seemed to listen for a brief moment, as to what was unclear at this moment of time.

With one more breath he placed his key into the lock, opened the door and entered the motel room closing the door as quietly as he could behind him.

The first sight Dean was presented with wasn't an unusual one for him. He had come home many nights to find his father in a state which wasn't so dissimilar to this moment in time. The only difference being that the quantity of alcohol consumed this particular night would be at a higher level than most others. Purely because of the date and past events associated with it.

Scrubbing a hand briefly across his face his green eyes locked onto his father's drunken form within one of the motel's cheap plastic chairs. Beer bottles, whiskey bottles, hell even one vodka bottle lay at the elder man's feet proudly showing off his nights work for all to see. The tables was overturned, bedding thrown across the other side of the room, shards of glass from a certain TV glittered the floor like undiscovered jewels and salt covered the entire span of the floor making it seem like Christmas.

Groaning slightly and muttering some unintelligible curses under his breath Dean maneuvered his way over towards his seemingly unconscious father's side. Sliding one arm under each armpit the young man heaved forcing the elder one reluctantly to his feet.

"D'n," the man slurred in his alcohol induced state awaking at the sudden human contact.

"Yes Dad," Dean replied grunting slightly underneath the deadweight in his grasp. Shuffling to the side Dean managed to turn John so that he was facing towards his bed, the one nearest the door as always. With some more effort and determination the young man forced his father to take small steps towards the desired destination.

"D'n wot doin?" John slurred his tongue feeling three times as thick in his mouth. He could feel the vice like grip underneath both arms and the increased pressure which caused his legs to move involuntarily.

"Taking you somewhere more comfortable," Dean managed to struggle out a reply while continuing to force the stubborn ass who happened to be his Dad over towards his bed. He had managed to make three quarters of the way there when something inside of John Winchester snapped.

The elder man managed to break free of his son's grip easily and his right fist flew up connecting with his only family's right eye. This in turn caused a gasp of shock to emit from Dean's mouth while he staggered back due to the force of the impact.

Dean brought a hand up to the newly forming bruise. His green eyes locked onto the glassy, infuriated and confused ones of John's.

"Here we go," the youngest muttered under his breath knowing full well what happened next. It was the same every single fucking year and he still had the scars to prove it.

"You want me dead…gonna kill me s'n…put a bu…bullet in my brain," John slurred out, his words merging together until it was almost incoherent. Almost. His stance changed until he was showing off his defensive manner, just like what he would adopt upon a hunt.

"No Dad, I'm not going to kill you."

"Please D'n," John begged silent tears running down the length of each cheek.

"No," Dean replied calmly inching his way closer towards his distraught and very pissed father. He held his hands out in front of him to show that he was unarmed and meant no harm. This method he had learned after his first experience of a drunkard John. Let's just say that night didn't end too pretty, not with an inch thick knife sticking out of his shoulder.

"Too weak too…have no guts…pathetic," John rambled on his eyes darting furiously within his sockets without him really seeing anything at all.

"Coward for son, can't do anything right," the rambling continued as Dean neared the older man's side. Sighing deeply he placed a gentle hand upon John's shoulder however this caused a violent reaction in return.

In a flash John's hands flew to his son's neck, pinning him up against the nearest wall. His eyes glistened murderously with ill intent.

Dean began to gasp, attempting and failing to draw in the much needed oxygen into his lungs. His eyes widened through shock and ashamedly fear. Fear towards his old man, fear for him and fear against him.

"Dad…" Dean managed to choke out of his abused throat.

"Why couldn't it have been you? Why them? Why do you get to live when my Mary doesn't? What makes you so special? All I see is a pathetic excuse for a son who can't do anything right. It should have been you! IT SHOULD HAVE BEEN YOU!" John shouted before removing his grip from around his son's throat. His anger dissipated leaving a strong sense of sorrow and guilt behind.

Tears continued to roll down his cheeks while meek sobs racked his body.

"S'rry, s'rry," he cried out pulling Dean into a tight embrace and softly soaking his jacket through with his tears.

For a while the broken family stood like that. The drunken father crying softly on his only son's shoulder while the son rubbed his back trying to suppress unwanted tears of his own. Finally after a few more moments Dean broke the hug, dragged his father back over to his bed this time without any form of protest from the elder man, and settled him into his bed before undressing and collapsing into his own.

Dean pulled the comforter up over himself while he pulled his knees into his chest. One hand subconsciously stroked at his abused neck as he allowed the suppressed tears from earlier to fall. Only one thought ran through his head before he lost his fight with sleep.

I need you mom; I need you Sammy more than ever. I miss you so much…

The next morning Dean was awoken by the smell of fresh coffee filtering in from the kitchen. Groaning at the lack of sleep he had managed to consume his green eyes flickered open and searched around the small motel room before settling on the now awake and sober form of his father.

John was slumped in one of the motel room chairs with the now right side up table. In fact the whole motel room looked like it had before the episode of the previous night minus a TV set. No that didn't survive the events.

In his hand John nursed a hot cup of coffee while his heavy eyes were glued to the screen of his laptop. His journal lay open upon the desired page beside him and it was another few minutes before he noticed Dean staring at him from his position on the bed.

"Morning Kiddo, a fresh cup of coffee waiting here for you," he greeted his son who merely yawned while nodding in response. Dean knew that the coffee was a way of saying what John couldn't voice in his own words. Sorry.

Throwing the blanket from around himself Dean pushed himself off of the mattress, walked over to the table, grabbed a cup of coffee and sat opposite his father.

For a while no one spoke, each pretended to find something interesting to focus all their attention on. For John it was his computer screen and for Dean it was the cardboard coffee cup. This charade continued for one more minute until the awkward silence became too unbearable for the youngest Winchester.

"Found anything?" Dean questioned drawing his eyes up to focus upon his father's face.

"I think you were right." Was the reply. Nodding softly to himself Dean continued to focus all his attention upon his father while John did everything he could to avert his attention away from his son's face. He didn't want to think about let alone see those ugly bruises made by his own two hands apparent upon the young skin.

"Vampires?" Dean asked.

"Yeah it appears that bodies have been discovered over the past couple of months, each been drained completely of their blood with unidentifiable scaring upon their necks and bruising of a private kind. All have been of the male gender so far so I think it is safe to assume that we are dealing with a female vamp."

"An incredibly horny one by the sounds of it," Dean pitched in smirking to himself slightly even John found himself chucking lightly at this statement. It was as if nothing had happened last night and for that John was grateful for. He knew that Dean was making light of their situation to tell him that there was no hard feelings for last night.

However that didn't stop the increasing amount of guilt and regret bubbling up inside of John's stomach. It had slowly been building each and every year as his drinking increased with 'accidents' becoming more and more frequent.

Yet Dean still acted as if nothing had happened, as if everything was normal, well as normal as it could be for their family. For that John was very thankful for even though he knew he didn't deserve it in the very least.

"Dad?" Dean called out pulling John out of his thoughts immediately.

"Yeah?"

"What's the plan…?"

This didn't include Dean finding himself tied to a tree within the nearest park exactly twelve hours later. His wrists were bound tight along with his ankles. His head lolled to the right hand side in his current unconscious state and there was no John in sight. Nope only Dean and the sexually frustrated vampire twins.

One of the vampire women walked over to Dean's side and yanked a fistful of his hair. With a short sharp tug she forced his head up to face her and in response his eyes opened bringing him crashing back to reality.

"Oh look Kyaka our little friend is awake," the girl holding onto him spoke, her cold breath ghosting the side of his face sending chills to run down the length of his spine. Her brown hair tickled at his exposed and equally bare chest while she ran a seductive tongue over her full lips. Her pupils were blown in what Dean could only assume was a mixture of lust and hunger.

Kyaka smirked as she stood the other side of Dean. One of her hands wrapped around his left bicep and she squeezed slightly giggling with joy in the process.

"He is strong. Look at these muscles Mickala," Kyaka squealed in delight.

"And pretty too…can we keep him sis?"

Dean snorted attempting to yank his head away from the vampire's death grip to no avail. His green eyes searched his surroundings trying to make out his father's silhouette against the trees but he seemed to be nowhere in sight. Cursing silently under his breath his brain began to whirl attempting to create some form of a plan.

"Let's see how good he plays first before we decide," Kyaka replied. Through his conversation Dean came to the assumption that Kyaka was the one in charge, the elder sibling bossing the younger one. Just like Dean should have been able to do with Sam…

Another hard yank of his hair brought him hurtling out of his own self musing. His green eyes glared daggers towards the vampire holding onto his hair.

"Watch the merchandise," he spat out in hatred.

Both of the girls have found themselves laughing in unison at that retort. Mickala loosened her grip within his hair and settled for stroking her hand through it softly while Kyaka placed her palm upon Dean's chest right above his heart. Both wore seductive grins upon their faces and their pupils were fully blown glowing an eerie crimson.

"Don't worry baby we intend to," Kyaka breathed into his ear, her scent filled his mind in one sharp intake scrambling his thoughts instantly. His heartbeat sped up to twice the normal rate and suddenly he found himself wanting and needing more.

"Well you're a fine looking creature aren't you Dean," Mickala whispered in his other ear. Her scent mingled with her sisters almost reducing Dean to a panting mess. He could feel the heat rising through his body with his body reacting nicely to this.

Every single one of his hunter's instincts screamed at him, telling him to kill the bitches as soon as possible and not let them get to him but at the moment he couldn't care less what they wanted him to do. His desires overwhelmed these screams instantly and at the moment he was reduced to the state of a lovesick puppy and there was nothing he could do about it.

"How do you know my name?" he asked his voice sounding desperate and breathless. The twins leaned in closer by now both had their hands upon his chiseled chest hearing what effect they were having upon him first hand.

"Everyone knows about you Deanie. How brave you are, how heroic and how devilishly handsome you are," Kyaka responded.

She leaned in closer to his face and ran her tongue down the side of his cheek taking in his scent and taste in that one action. Her eyes seemed too brighten in the process.

"My oh my how delicious you taste. Mickala I think we have to keep Deanie don't you?"

"Please Kyaka can we?"

Kyaka merely smiled sweetly in response, her right hand lifted to cup the young Winchester's cheek while her eyes connected with his. She leaned in closer once more but this time her lips connected to his. Her front teeth nipped at his bottom lip causing a whimper of pleasure and a dollop of blood to swell from this now opened wound.

Kyaka's tongue lapped at the sweet tasting nectar. Her senses buzzed around her, lust and desperation for more slowly began to creep into her system. At this moment of time she had never tasted something so delicious in the whole of her existence. It was like a new high that she never wanted to come down from. While she was working his mouth Mickala stroked circles upon his torso, getting the blood to pump faster through his circulatory system.

"Is it my turn yet sis?" Mickala whined softly hating the fact that she was once again left with the short straw all because she was the youngest. Whoever created those dynamics deserved to be hung, on her opinion.

Kyaka paused in her current teaser feed to lock her murderous eyes onto her sister. Her lips were stained a deep ruby red with the man's natural paint and these curled upwards to show her unimpressed and disgusted manner.

"No, you know how this works. After you can play as much as you want but for now his sweet ass is mine."

"But…"

"No…no buts no whines so shut the hell up and let me enjoy my moment in piece!" Kyaka shouted turning her gaze from her twin sister back towards the man currently under her glamour. Leaning in to take another taste before the kill she was interrupted by yet another whine of "You fucking always get to do it." Her retort was set and ready to roll off of her tongue until the sound of a bullet making contact with skin beat her to it.

"I believe she told you to shut the hell up?" a male voice from behind the trio called out. Slowly the two sisters turned on their heels, Mickala now supporting a whole above her heart, to face the newcomer.

Standing directly behind them and brandishing a rather impressive looking gun was a male about six foot four tall. He was unmistakably handsome with his chocolate colored bangs falling in front of his eyes slightly adding to the sense of mystery surrounding him. Those eyes were hazel orbs with an amber tint expanding over the colored iris.

The man smirked while he pocketed his gun but produced a machete. This machete he swung around in one hand while looking from one vampire to the other. For a moment neither said anything until the man dropped the machete on the ground sending it hurtling a few feet along the floor.

"No one likes a hero so run along and leave the adults to talk," Kyaka rose her eyebrows at the newcomer showing her annoyance and adding in a sense of menace behind her words. She kept her desired pet in her peripheral vision at all times but at the moment her eyes were locked onto the male standing three inches from her.

"That's very amusing but don't be quick to give up your day job sweetie. So either one of you fancy telling me what two skanky bitches like you happen to be out at this time of night?" the stranger asked his gaze moving from one twin to the other.

Mickala moved so that her shoulder brushed alongside her sister's. Both of their eyes glared daggers at the mysterious man and the crimson deepened further. Vampires are particular creatures especially with their eating habits. They attack and then they feed. But if there feed is interrupted then hell doth has no fury upon that person who did the interrupting.

"What the hell has this got to do with you?" Mickala spat out earning a sharp jab of the ribs courtesy of her sister's elbow.

"Listen boy this doesn't concern you so run along before I make it concern you!" Kyaka shouted flashing her pearly white fangs at the young man who didn't seem fazed as he should have been. However neither of the sisters showed their sudden suspicion and surprise from their visitor. In response the man chuckled a deep throaty laugh.

"Oh but I am making this my concern. You girls don't seem to realize just what you have gotten yourself into there with your current choice of a hunt and location to hunt in…" the man hesitated watching the small frowns filtering over both of the female's faces.

"Wh…" Mickala began to speak before she was cut off by the man continuing speaking.

"Amateurs," the man breathed underneath his breath but loud enough to be heard by both of the twins and the man tied behind them.

"Excuse me!?" Mickala almost shouted clenching her hand into fists.

"I think he just called you amateurs. I'll have to agree with him there!" a voice from behind the woman called out and in one swift movement that the twins didn't predict Mickala's head separated from her body.

Kyaka let out an anguished scream bending down into what was her defensive stance. Her fangs were fully descended by now, her eyes the purest shade of crimson. She opened her mouth and unleashed a horrific cry, a cry of loss and sorrow.

Now all she saw was red. Her anger grew and grew slowly getting the better of herself. Her eyes locked onto the two men in front of her right now.

"THAT WAS MY SISTER!" she screamed.

"Yeah well life isn't fair bitch," Dean replied twirling the bloodied machete around in his right hand. He smirked slightly towards the other man as if it wasn't for him dropping the weapon and distracting the vampires Dean would have never been able to escape. He would right now be vampire chow or worse a vampire sex toy.

"You should know about that Winchester. Boo hoo poor little Dean, mummy and Sammy dying in that house fire and only Daddy and little Deanie surviving. If you call this existence surviving. You're no better than me but at least I had someone. I least I had my sister!" Kyaka shouted lunging towards Dean.

She pummeled the young hunter to the ground which sent his weapon hurtling away from his grip. Her fangs snapped viciously to gain entrance to his exposed throat and it was taking all of Dean's strength to keep the vampire from reach her goal.

Underneath her weight and considerable amount of strength his arms began to shake and slowly the vampire found herself becoming closer and closer to his neck without much effort on her part.

Grunting Dean could feel one of her fangs nip at her skin but soon this was gone along with the weight that had previously been crushing his chest. Lifting his green eyes up he caught sight of what happened to that vampire.

Instantly his stomach rebelled and it was taking all of his self control not to spill the whole contents of his stomach upon the floor beside his feet.

The other man held the vampire by her hair, her neck hung at an awkward angle showing the broken bone through the skin. Blood foamed out of her mouth and ears. There was a gaping hole within her stomach and Dean could clearly see the other man's hands protruding out of the other side.

The man leaned down and plunged his teeth onto the broken bone. With a sharp crack and squelch the head separated landing next to her sister's.

The other man reached into his pocket, wiped his hands on his handkerchief and then leaned down to offer his hands of support out to the young hunter on the floor. His green eyes widened in a mixture of horror, surprise, and sickness and weary.

The man however merely formed a friendly smile on his lips continuing to hold his hands out towards the hunter.

"Nice to meet you Dean, I'm Sam…"

TBC (If you want it continued…please let me know)