Written by: KariGorsuch

"Dean said that the vampire's leader was toying with her," Sam said finally, his voice low, almost like he didn't want to hear himself say it out loud. "Made her choose between killing him and sparing his life. And- she chose to spare him. They took her right after that."

"She put herself in their hands for him." I swallowed hard, my hands shaking. "Dean's got fucking hell to pay when I get my hands on him."

"Hold on-" Sam started, holding up a hand like that would stop the fire from building in my chest. The way he was able to keep his cool grated on my nerves, and I could feel my body tremble with anger.

"The next words out of your mouth better not be 'calm down', Sam," I snapped, my voice sharp enough to cut through the tension. "She's out there, with them, because of him. Because she chose to save him." My hands clenched into fists at my sides. "And where was he when they dragged her off? Lying on the floor? Watching?"

Sam's jaw tightened, his hazel eyes narrowing. "That's not fair," he said, his tone even but laced with irritation. "Dean did everything he could- he wouldn't have let them take her if he had a choice."

"Oh, so now we're defending him?" I bit back, the frustration and worry bubbling over. "You don't think he could've fought harder? Done something to stop them?"

Sam took a step closer, his towering frame imposing, but his voice stayed level. "You think this is easy for him? Do you have any idea what it's doing to him, knowing she's gone because of that choice? He's tearing himself apart over it."

I opened my mouth to argue, but Sam's words hit me like a punch to the gut. My anger faltered for a moment, replaced by the sickening weight of guilt.

Sam's voice softened, and he gently cupped my cheek. "Come on. The sooner we get there, the sooner we can get her back."

I swallowed hard, the fight draining out of me as Sam's warm, calloused hand rested against my cheek. His eyes softened, the flicker of determination beneath them undeniable. "We'll get her back," he said firmly, his voice low but steady, grounding me.

I nodded, shouldering one of the bags of books. Sam picked up the other two and led the way out to the Mustang. Shoving them into the trunk and backseat, we both climbed into the car. The engine roared to life, and I shifted into reverse and backed out of the driveway. Quickly navigating back onto the freeway, I shifted into 4th gear and let the mustang eat the miles between us, and Dean.

The engine purred beneath me as I pushed the Mustang down the open highway, the speedometer climbing as the miles blurred past.

The low hum of the tires on the asphalt was a constant background noise, a steady reminder of where we were headed. My hands tightened around the wheel, my knuckles white against the leather. The weight of the situation hung over me like a dark cloud, and I could feel the tension in my chest with each passing second.

The mustang was a smooth ride, but I found myself wishing I could safely push it even faster. I wanted to be there already.

A soft ding caught my attention and brought my gaze down to the dash. "Fuck," I swore under my breath as I eased off the accelerator, steering the car toward the nearest gas station.

I pulled up to a pump, leaving it in gear and killed the motor while swinging the door open. As soon as my feet hit the pavement, a sharp pain shot up my leg. My knee buckled beneath me, and I nearly collapsed. Grabbing the door frame for support, I cursed again under my breath. "Damn it."

Sam was out of the car before I could steady myself, his hand on my shoulder as he guided me to lean against the rear quarter panel.

I fumbled for my wallet, only to realize that Sam had already pulled out a card and was swiping it at the pump. He glanced back over his shoulder, catching the glare I shot his way. He just raised an eyebrow, unfazed.

"Don't start," he said dryly as he turned with the gas nozzle in hand.

I crossed my arms, muttering under my breath as I leaned into the car, feeling the tension in my knee as I tried to adjust my weight. Sam was efficient, and before I knew it, the tank was full.

"Let me drive," Sam said.

I straightened up as Sam stood between me and the driver's door, blocking my path. His expression was firm, no room for argument. I shot him a look, one that would usually prompt a fight, but I knew my body was against me.

"Fine," I muttered, using the Mustang as a crutch to hobble over to the passenger side. "But you better not drive like a grandma."

Sam smirked, a brief flash of amusement crossing his face. "I'll get us there in one piece. No worries."

I didn't bother to respond as I slid into the passenger seat, settling back against the leather, finally giving my knee the relief it desperately needed. Sam climbed in, adjusting my seat back before starting the car with a smooth motion, quickly pulling back onto the highway.

The hum of the engine and the rhythm of the tires on the asphalt sent me into a sort of trance, not noticing the hours creep by.

"Did you really think you could save them?" The voice echoes around me, hollow and venomous. My breath hitches, panic rising as I try to turn, to find where it's coming from.

But it's no use. I can't move.

That's when I see them. Sam, Dean, and Eve. They're standing just out of reach, their faces twisted in agony, frozen in time like they're stuck in some nightmare I can't wake up from.

Sam's face is pale, eyes wide with betrayal, a trail of blood trickling down the front of his shirt. Dean's lips are stained with blood, and his expression is pure fury and disbelief. And Eve... she looks broken, empty, like the life had been drained out of her.

I opened my mouth to scream, but no sound escapes.

"You failed them, Bri. You couldn't save them." The voice laughs, dark and menacing. "And now... They're gone."

Tears blurred my vision, my chest tightening with guilt, and I reached out. The shadows closed in, cutting off any visibility I had. The weight of failure suffocates me, making it hard to breathe.

"You were never enough."

I shot up with a sharp gasp, my breath coming short and hard.

Sam glanced over, his expression exhausted but concerned. "You okay?"

I nodded, almost frantically scanning our surroundings, trying to convince myself that it was just a dream- that it wasn't real. The nightmare still clung to me, like a heavy fog, and I couldn't shake the feeling that something was terribly wrong.

I swallowed hard, my heart still hammering in my chest. "Yeah... Just a bad dream," I said, my voice shaky as I forced myself to take in the familiar surroundings of the car. The purr of the motor and the steady rumble of the tires against the road grounded me, but the aftershock of the dream still lingered.

Sam didn't seem convinced. His eyes studied me carefully, a flicker of concern in them. "Want to talk about it?"

I shook my head quickly, "It's nothing."

Sam was quiet for a moment, letting the words hang between us. I could feel the weight of his gaze, the way he was measuring my words, but I wasn't ready to talk about it- not yet. Not when the images from the nightmare were still so fresh in my mind. "Okay, Bri," he agreed quietly. "We're about 10 minutes from the Best Western Outlaw Inn."

I nodded again, trying to push the images to the back of my mind. I needed to focus. Eve needed us.

Sam pulled the Mustang into the Inn's parking lot, quickly spotting the Impala and parking next to it.

I exhaled slowly, finally feeling the weight in my chest ease just a little as Sam parked the Mustang. The sight of the Impala gave me a fleeting sense of relief, but it was short-lived.

We both climbed out, and I took a moment to steady myself, my knee still twinging slightly.

Sam's gaze lingered on me for a moment, a silent question in his eyes, but I shook my head, not willing to admit how badly my knee was still bothering me. We made our way through the quiet inn, the sound of our footsteps echoing in the hallway.

When we reached the door to the room Dean and Eve had shared, I hesitated for just a moment before knocking on the door.

Dean's expression was hard to read, a mix of exhaustion and frustration, but as soon as he saw us, his eyes flickered with something darker- regret, maybe. His lips tightened as he stepped aside, allowing us into the destroyed room.

As I stepped past him into the room, the weight of the air hit me, thick with the remnants of something broken. The bed was in disarray, sheets twisted like they'd been torn at the edges. A chair had been shattered, and papers were scattered across the floor as if someone had been searching for something- or running from someone.

Dean closed the door behind us with a soft click, the sound almost too loud in the heavy silence. He didn't speak immediately, just stood there, his posture rigid. I could feel the guilt radiating off of him, a palpable thing. It gnawed at me, pulling the edges of my frustration back up.

"Dean..." Sam started, his voice laced with concern as his eyes immediately locked onto the bloody rag Dean was holding across his knuckles. "What happened?"

"She's with them," Dean answered, the pain clear in his voice, though he kept it low, controlled. "The Vamps– took her." He exhaled a frustrated breath, his hand tightening around the rag. "I tried, Bri. I tried to stop them."

I turned, taking in the way Dean was standing, hunched over as if Eve's disappearance physically hurt him. "You better start fuckin' talkin' Winchester."

Dean's gaze flickered up to mine, his eyes flashing with a mixture of anger and confusion. He didn't flinch at my words, but the tension in the air thickened, crackling between us. His jaw clenched as he slowly lowered the rag from his hand, revealing the bruised and bloodied skin beneath.

"I said I tried," he muttered, voice low but steady. He looked away briefly, the weight of the situation pressing on him like it was on all of us. "They... they had her, Bri. They used her against me."

I took a step closer, my frustration boiling over. "Used her how?" I demanded, my voice sharper now, edged with panic. "What the hell happened, Dean?"

His eyes flicked to Sam, then back to me. "They made her choose," he said, his voice strained, like he was trying to force the words out. "Between me... and her. She had to decide who would live."

I felt my stomach churn as the words sank in. "And she... she chose you." My voice cracked, the thought of her making the choice gutting me.

"After what I did? She should have chosen herself."

The words hit me like a physical blow. My heart stuttered in my chest as I processed what he said, the weight of it sinking deep. Dean's face was a storm of guilt, frustration and regret, like he didn't know how to carry the burden of what had happened.

"After what you did?" I echoed, my voice trembling. "What the hell are you talking about, Dean?"

Dean scoffed bitterly, brushing past me to grab Eve's familiar duffle bag from the floor, tossing it onto the wrecked bed. "We had a fight," he muttered, his voice low and rough. "It was about... us."

He hesitated, his gaze flickering up to Sam, then back down, as if the weight of his words was almost too much to bear. Finally, he exhaled sharply, rubbing the back of his neck. "...She said I needed to prove she wasn't just another notch in the bedpost. That she mattered. And I- I screwed it all up."

I shifted my weight, my glare narrowing on him, a warning in my silence.

Dean's jaw tightened, his voice growing quieter, laced with regret. "She left. Said she needed to cool down. And me, being the idiot I am..." he faltered, his hand curling into a fist at his side. "I went and- hell, I don't know what I was thinking- I hooked up with someone else."

The room felt like it had dropped twenty degrees. Dean's shoulders sagged, his voice barely above a whisper. "Eve saw her leaving the room."

Rage surged through me, my vision tunneling. Before I even realized what I was doing, I launched myself at him, fist raised. "You son of a-!"

Sam's arm shot out, wrapping around my torso and hauling me back before I could land the hit. "Bri, stop!" His voice was sharp, his grip firm as I struggled against him, the anger coursing through me like wildfire.

"Let me go, Sam!" I yelled, twisting against his hold. "He doesn't get to walk away from this! Not after Eve fucking tells him that she needs him to prove that he gives a damn, and this is what he does?" My voice cracked, the sheer rage and disbelief in my chest spilling over. I thrashed in Sam's grip, every muscle in my body burning to make Dean feel even an ounce of the pain he'd caused.

Dean flinched at my words, his shoulder slumping further. He looked away, unable to meet my eyes. "I know," he muttered, voice hoarse and broken. "I know I messed up, okay? I don't need you to remind me."

"Don't need me to remind you?" I snapped, still struggling in Sam's arms. "You think that's enough, Dean? You think just saying you know you screwed up erases what she's going through?"

"Bri," Sam warned, his voice low but firm as he tightened his grip on me. "Focus."

I stopped fighting, my breath coming hard and fast as I stared daggers at Dean. "She's out there, because of you," I hissed, my voice shaking with barely contained fury. "Because she trusted you to be better than this."

Dean finally looked up at me, his green eyes raw with guilt and something deeper- self-loathing. "I know," he repeated, quieter this time, almost a whisper. "And if I could take it back, I would. But right now, standing here beating the crap out of me isn't going to bring her back."

That hit me like a slap to the face, my anger giving way to the cold, hard truth. Eve was still out there, and every second we wasted here was another second she was in danger.

I shifted, no longer struggling against Sam's hold. "You better hope we find her," I said, my voice low and deadly. "Because if we don't..." I trailed off.

"I'll give you the knife myself," Dean replied.

The room fell into a tense, suffocating silence. Even Sam seemed taken back by Dean's words, his grip slackening.

I broke the silence first, my voice steady but still clearly pissed. "Have you called Bobby?

Dean looked up, his face pale and drawn. His lips pressed into a thin line, and he shook his head. "Not yet."

I rolled my eyes, pulling away from Sam. "What the fuck were you waiting on...?" I muttered, yanking my phone out of my pocket and stepping closer to the door. Meanwhile, Sam and Dean sifted through the pile of papers Dean had pulled from Eve's duffle.

"Yeah?" Bobby's gruff voice rumbled through the phone as I slid my finger across the screen, switching the call to speaker. "What is it?"

"Bobby, it's Bri," I said, glancing back at Sam and Dean. Their heads snapped up like two kids caught red-handed. I raised an eyebrow at their reactions, a flicker of satisfaction curling in my chest as I continued. "We've got a problem..."

Dean's face dropped, like I'd just ratted him out, while Sam's sharp gaze locked with mine, silently questioning my approach.

"What kind of problem?" Bobby asked, his voice steady, but laced with suspicion.

I passed the phone to Dean without a word, crossing my arms as if daring him to explain himself. He sighed heavily, clearly reluctant but knowing there was no way out of it.

"The Vamp cult took Eve." Dean said, his voice rough. His shoulders slumped slightly, and he glanced at Sam before bracing himself for Bobby's reaction.

There was a tense silence on the other end of the phone before Bobby growled, "How the hell did that happen?" The sound of papers shuffling and muttered curses filtered through the line as Bobby waited for an explanation.

Dean exhaled sharply, starting to pace as he spoke. "The Leader of the cult... he messed with her head. Made her choose between me and herself." He paused, his voice tight with guilt. "She chose me. And they took her."

"You're telling me a nest of Vamps forced her into some kind of twisted moral dilemma?" Bobby's voice was low, simmering with barely- contained anger. "What the hell kind of nest are we dealing with here?"

"They're not like any other nest I've seen," Dean admitted, running a hand through his hair. "They're underground- organized as hell. They move like soldiers, like they're all following orders. The Leader... He's different. Smarter, more calculated."

The line crackled with Bobby's soft muttering as he flipped through more papers, the sound of a lighter clicking in the background. "Vamps that move like that don't just happen," he said finally. "Someone- or something- is pulling their strings."

Sam stepped forward, his voice cutting in. "Do you know of anything like this, Bobby? Any lore about cults like this?"

Bobby exhaled sharply, his tone grim. "I'll dig, but this ain't something I've seen before. If they've got Eve, you'd better be damn sure they've got a reason. They're either going to torture her until she's too weak to live, and eat her, or they're going to turn her."

My stomach dropped at the finality of Bobby's tone.

"You better find her before then," Bobby's voice sharpened. "You boys won't want me breathing down your necks. Not after what she's done for you."

I reached over and took the phone from him, my fingers tightening around it. "We'll find her, Bobby."

There was a beat of silence before Bobby responded. "You'd better. Call me as soon as you've got anything."

The call ended with a click, and I lowered the phone, tucking it back into my back pocket. "Where's this nest at, Dean?"

Dean shuffled through the papers Eve had gathered, pulling out a picture of an old townhouse. "Here. There's some underground passages from a tradoor though. They aren't on any of the city maps."

I took the picture from Dean's hand and studied it. "Then you know exactly where we're going."

Dean nodded reluctantly, his jaw tightening as he avoided my glare. "Let's go."

The picture landed on the bed as I turned on my heel, my boots hitting the floor with a resolute thud. "You're driving," I called over my shoulder, already reaching for the door.

The three of us moved in silence through the inn's hallway, Sam and Dean flanking me like guards on either side. The faint hum of the vending machine at the end of the hallway was the only sound accompanying our footsteps.

Dean's keys jingled in his hand as we stepped out into the cool night air. The Impala and Mustang sat waiting, gleaming under the dim glow of the parking lot lights.

Tracing my fingers lightly over the hood of the mustang, I turned away from her and climbed into the backseat of the Impala, while Sam and Dean slid into the front seats.

The engine rumbled as Dean turned the key, the vibrations of the Impala humming beneath us, but the silence in the cab was deafening. Each of us seemed lost in our own thoughts, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife.

Dean's grip tightened on the wheel, his knuckles turning white, while Sam's jaw was set, eyes scanning the dark road ahead as Dean turned into the driveway of the old townhouse.

Dean killed the engine, cutting the silence like a blade, and for a moment, none of us moved.

Finally, Sam pushed open his door, stepping out into the cool night air, followed by Dean. I followed closely behind, my feet heavy with the weight of everything that was coming.

"We need to gear up," Dean muttered, his voice low, as he popped the trunk.

The familiar clink of metal and the sharp sound of blades being tested brought me back to the moment. Sam handed me a knife, and I twisted it in my hand, running my thumb along the edge to check the sharpness. Each of them had their own blades, testing their edges with the precision of men who knew the job all too well.

"This seems... seriously lacking," I muttered, glancing at the array of weapons spread out. "Only blades against fucking vampires?"

"Well, sweetheart," Dean replied, his voice dry as he tucked a hunting knife into his jeans. "Decapitation's the only way to kill 'em." He gave me a pointed look. "And I don't need to tell you that."

I rolled my eyes, ignoring the glare Sam sent Dean's way, and picked up a hunting knife as well.

Dean led the way, moving with purpose as he marched into and through the house, wrenching open the trap door, revealing the steep ladder leading into the darkness below. The stench hit me immediately—damp, musty, and thick with the unmistakable scent of decay. I grimaced but forced myself to step forward, my hand steady on the cold metal of the ladder as I descended after him. Sam followed close behind, his footsteps almost silent.

The further down we went, the quieter it got. The air was thick, heavy with the weight of whatever lay ahead. I could feel the tension building in the pit of my stomach, gnawing at me like a hunger I couldn't shake. Every instinct told me to stay alert, but the silence down here felt unnatural. Too quiet.

At the bottom of the ladder, we landed on solid ground, the crunch of gravel beneath our boots the only sound that broke the stillness. Dean didn't hesitate; he moved forward without a word, and we followed, keeping close to the walls, our footsteps muffled by the dirt and stone.

The scent of the underground labyrinth clung to the air, and with every step, the weight of it seemed to press harder on my chest. We were getting closer, I could feel it. I didn't know if that made me want to run or push on faster.

Then we came to a wider chamber. The space opened up, and the air felt thicker. A low, almost imperceptible hum pulsed in the background, like the heartbeat of the place. The walls were lined with crude symbols, drawn hastily in what I hoped wasn't blood, and flickering candlelight cast eerie shadows on the stone floor.

Dean's voice was barely a whisper when he spoke. "This is where we were separated."

I nodded, my gaze sweeping the room. No movement. No sign of anyone. But something was off. A feeling of unease crept up my spine as we moved deeper into the chamber. There was another passage, an opening at the far end, and it felt like the only way forward.

We inched forward, each step calculated, our grips tightening on our machetes. The oppressive silence pressed down on us, the only sound was our own breathing and the distant drip of water. Then-

Clink.

The noise came again, closer this time, sharper. A second later, a low hiss slithered through the air, followed by the unmistakeable scrape of movement against stone.

Dean barely had time to mutter, "Son of a-" before they were on us.

A blue of movement erupted from the shadows, pale limbs and gleaming fangs flashing in the dim candlelight. The first vampire lunged straight for Dean, but he was faster, twisting out of the way as he brought his machete up in a vicious arc. The blade sliced through its neck with a sickening crunch, and before the body even hit the floor, another was diving at him.

I barely had time to register the chaos before one was on me. A pair of cold, clawed hands clamped onto my shoulders, shoving me back. My back hit the rought stone wall, knocking the air from my lungs, but I gritted my teeth and drove my knee into the vamp's gut, forcing some distance between us.

I swung my machete just as it lunged again. The blade bit into its shoulder, not deep enough to kill, but enough to make it reel back with an ear-splitting screech. Snarling, I yanked the weapon free and drove it forward again, this time slicing through the creature's throat. Blood sprayed against the stone as the head toppled to the ground, and the body crumpled at my feet.

"Bri, behind you!" Sam's voice rang out.

I spun just as another vampire lunged, claws swiping for my throat. I barely ducked in time, its nails scraping across my jacket. Sam was there in an instant, bringing his own machete down in one brutal swing, severing its head clean off.

"Thanks!" I gasped, but there was no time for anything else.

More poured into the chamber, their eyes glowing hungrily in the dim light. Five, no- six, maybe more.

"This just keeps getting better," Dean growled, swinging his blade in a deadly arc, taking another head clean off.

Sam was already moving, taking on two at once. He drove his shoulder into one, shoving it back while slashing at the other. A vampire clamed onto his arm, fangs bared, and he twisted violently, kicking its legs out from under it before plunging his blade through its throat.

Dean took a hit then, one of the vamps slamming into his side, sending him crashing against the wall. He grunted, dazed for only a second before driving his boot into the creatures knee, forcing it to buckle. With a vicious snarl, he buried his machete into its neck, wrenching it free as another came at him.

I was locked in my own fight, my heart hammering. One of them tackled me, wrenching my knee to the side as it pinned me against the cold stone floor. It grinned, baring its fangs, breath reeking of old blood. I grabbed the first thing I could- the hunting knife I brought with me- and drove it up into its side.

The vamp shrieked, and in the moment of distraction, I swung my blade, slicing through its neck. I barely had time to breath before another was on me.

"Dean!" I called, struggling against the weight pressing me down.

A gunshot rang out, deafening in the enclosed space. The vampire above me jerked violently, a bullet lodged in its skull. Blood splashed all over me, causing a surge of disgust to shoot through me, while squinting at my surroundings through the blood.

"Ew." I exhaled.

"Get up, princess," Dean barked, standing a few feet away with his pistol smoking.

I scrambled to my feet, just as Sam decapitated the last vampire in the room.

The silence that followed was deafening, the only sounds being our ragged breathing and the dropping of blood against stone.

Dean wiped his blade off on the shirt of one of the dead vampires. "That was a hell of a welcoming party."

The moment Dean spoke, a slow, deliberate clap echoed from the far side of the chamber.

Clap. Clap. Clap.

All three of us snapped toward the sound, weapons raised, muscles coiled. A figure emerged from the shadows, his movements unhurried, as if he had all the time in the world. He was tall, lean, dressed in dark clothes that clung to his wiry frame. His skin was pale, almost sicily under the dim torchlight, and his dark eyes gleamed with amusement.

"Well, well," he drawlede, his voice thick with mockery. "You all actually made it this far. Color me impressed."

Dean's jaw tightened, "Who the hell are you?"

The vampire's smirk widened, flashing sharp fangs. "Jessie," he said simply, spreading his arms like he expected applause. "If you don't remember my name, Dean Winchester, you're even more screwed than I thought."

"You son of a bitch," I snared, stepping forward.

Jessie's dark eyes flicked to me, his smirk turning smug. "Ah... The Catalyst. Taking Evelyn brought me both the Catalyst and the Favorite. The Chief will be impressed."

Dean scoffed, tilting his head. "The hell are you talking about?"

Jessie chuckled, slow and amused. "Oh, Dean. Always playing catch-up. I don't know what she saw in you." He took a deliberate steop closer, his movements eerily smooth. "Evelyn was never just 'some girl'. She was special. And now, she's ours." His smirk widened, "You should have heard the way she screamed when she realized there was no one coming to save her."

Dean's face hardened, his jaw tightened and his eyes locked on Jessie.

"You're lying," Sam snarled, looking between Jessie and his Brother.

Jessie's smirk didn't waver. If anything, it deepened. "Am I?" he taunted, tilting his head. "That's cute. You think I need to lie? You're too late."

Jessie exhaled a dramatic sigh, dragging a hand through his dark hari. "She fought at first- I'll give her that. But in the end..." He licked his lips, voice dripping with mock sympathy. "Sweet little Eve- So damn delicious."

I saw red.

With a snarl, I lunged, swinging my machete in a deadly arc. But Jessie was fast- inhumanly fast. He twisted away, sidestepping the attack effortlessly.

"Tsk tsk," he mused. "Sloppy."

Then he moved, faster than I could track. One second he was smirking, the next he was right in front of me. His hand shot out, fingers wrapping around my throat like a vice.

"You think you scare me?" Jessie sneered. His grip tightened, cutting off my air. "You're lucky the Chief wants you... Alive."

A strangled gasp ripped from my throat as Jessie lifted me off my feet, his fingers squeezing just enough to send a warning. Spots danced in my vision, and I clased at his grip, kicking out, but he barely reacted- just chuckled, watching me struggle like I was nothing more than an amusement.

"See," he mused, tilting his head, "Evelyn took a while to break, but you? I bet you'd shatter like glass." His lips curled, exposing his fangs. "Maybe I should give the chief a little... preview."

A gunshot rang out.

Jessie jerked, his grip loosening as a bullet tore through his shoulder. I dropped to the ground, coughing, gasping in air as Dean stood a few feet away, his pistol still aimed, his jaw tight with fury.

"Back. The hell. Off," Dean growled.

Jessie let out a low, guttural snarl, rolling his shoulder as dark blood oozed from the wound. "Cute," he spat. "But bullets won't stop me."

Sam was already moving, swinging his machete with brutal force. Jessie dodged, but not fast enough- the blade sliced across his ribs, drawing another sharp hiss from him.

Jessie's dark eyes burned as he glanced down at the blood seeping through his torn shirt. "Alright," he muttered, voice dripping with venom. "You wanna play rough? Fine."

A screech echoed through the tunnels.

Then- they swarmed.

"Leave the Catalyst ALIVE," Jessie shrieked, the command sending a chill down my spine, but I had no time to process it. The shadows around us erupted, glowing eyes and gleaming fangs flashing in the dim light. They came like a flood- dozens of them, clawed hands reaching snarls ripping through the air.

"Shit!" Dean barked, firing another shot. The bullet struck one of the vamps square in the chest, but it barely staggered before another lunged for him. He barely managed to sidestep, swinging his machete in a brutal arc. The blade connected, severing its head clean off.

I gritted my teeth and swung my own machete just as one of them lunged for me. The steel met flesh, biting deep into its collarbone, but the vampire kept coming. It slammed into me, sending me sprawling against the stone floor, knocking the breath from my lungs.

A deafening snarl rang in my ears. The vampire was on me in a second, fangs snapping inches from my throat. I shoved my arm up, barely managing to keep it's jaw from sinking into me.

"Sam!" I gasped, struggling against its inhuman strength.

Sam was already moving, his blade slicing across another vamp's throat before he turned toward me. With a powerful swing, he buried his machete in the creature's neck, wrenching it free in one clean motion.

I scrambled to my feet, chest heaving. "Thanks!"

Sam barely nodded before another vampire slammed into him, taking him down.

The fight blurred into chaos.

Dean was a whirlwind of steel, his blade carving through bodies, but they just kept coming. Sam fought with brute strength, using every ounce of power he had to keep them back.

I gritted my teeth and plunged my machete into another vamp's stomach. It shrieked, but I didn't stop. With a sharp yank, I pulled the blade free and swung again- this time, straight through its throat.

Jessie was still watching.

Standing on the edge of the chaos, his dark eyes hungry. He hadn't moved since giving the order, but he wasn't worried. He thought we were as good as dead.

Anger burned through me, raw and sharp.

"Dean!" I shouted, swinging my blade toward Jessie. "Go for him!"

Dean's gaze snapped to Jessie, and I saw the shift- the pure, burning rage.

He surged forward.

Jessie didn't move, didn't react, until he very last second. Then- he was gone.

A blur.

Pain exploded across Dean's face as Jessie reappeared, his fist slamming into his jaw. Dean staggered, blood dripping from his mouth.

Jessie grinned, his fangs gleaming. "Close, Winchester. But not close enough."

Dean wiped the blood from his lip, eyes dark with fury. "Try me."

They clashed.

Jessie moved like a phantom- too fast, too precise. Every strike Dean threw, Jessie dodged effortlessly, his laughter cutting through the chaos.

"You're sloppy," Jessie sneered, catching Dean's wrist mid-wing. With terrifying ease, he twisted, sending Dean's machete flying.

Jessie's hand shot up- gripping Dean's throat.

I didn't think. I moved.

Charging forward, I wung my blade straight at Jessie's back-

He caught it.

His fingers wrapped around the steel, stopping the strike inches from his neck. He turned, his grip tightening until I heard the blade crack.

"You never learn," Jessie murmured, shoving me back. I hit the ground hard, my already battered knee screaming in agony.

As I scrambled to get up, I saw Jessie lift Dean off the ground, his face turning purple as he clawed at Jessie's hand. Dean's legs dangled uselessly, his attempts to break free growing weaker with each passing second.

Sam took the opening, charging forward to tackle Jessie with full force, but Jessie anticipated it. With inhuman strength, he threw Sam across the chamber. Sam hit the stone wall with a sickening crack.

"SAM!" I screamed, my voice raw as he lay motionless.

Jessie sighed, shaking his head. "You're wasting my time."

Then, he turned back to me, tossing Dean aside like a ragdoll, sending him sprawling to the ground. Dean lay motionless, his chest rising and falling shallow gasps.

I scrambled to my feet, every muscle protesting, my chest heaving with each shallow breath. My grip tightened around the machete, fighting the tremor in my hand.

Jessie's smile deepened, dark eyes gleaming with amusement. "I told you, Bri. The Chief wants you alive," he drawled, taking another step closer. "But I never said how alive."