To Rest » Supernatural [6] | ✓

13

( THE CURE )

WAREHOUSE
[ ☾]

       Dean starts to sneak through the hallway of the run-down warehouse, when his way is suddenly blocked by Robert. "S'up?" Robert says.

      "Hey. I'm..." Dean starts.

       "The guy Boris turned outside the bar, right? Said to look out for you." Robert says.

       "Yeah."

       "Well. Glad you made it, man!" Robert raises his fist for a knuckle-bump; after a second, Dean complies. "Follow me." Robert leads Dean through the hallways. "So you must be starving."

      "Uh..." Dean says.

       Robert walks up to a fridge full of blood bags. He slides the door open and selects a bag. Dean is unhappy with this new temptation. "Here ya go." He says.

       "I'm okay." Dean says and Robert looks at him oddly. Dean smiles. "I killed so many people on the way over here, so..."

      "Yeah, uh, about that... Company line is we, we don't just kill people anymore..." Robert says. "But you gotta tell me what that's like."

       "Yeah. Yeah, first chance I get, I'll...I'll show you myself."

       "Sweet." Robert rips the stopper off the bag and takes a swig. Dean looks like he's a man who hasn't had water in days, and is being forced to watch someone down a frosty bottle of Evian. He eyes the blood bags once more, but forces himself away. He follows Robert down a flight of stairs, through a crowd of more vampires. "Don't worry about them. They're jealous. The recruiters get to bang all the chicks. That's you now, bro."

      "Recruiters?" Dean asks.

       "Yeah. Big man'll explain." Robert says. Dean now finds himself in what looks like the main room of an old bank. Seated at a desk, in front of a laptop, is a newly-turned Kristin.

      Boris leans over her, a hand on her back. "Be with you in a minute." He recites to Kristin; she types into the computer. "'Your skin is the black velvet of the night.' Nice. Stupid bitch'll eat that up, she'll be dying to meet."

      He leans in closer and takes a long sniff of Kristin's hair, and she recoils. Dean looks and sees several newly-turned female vamps locked in cages, sucking down blood from bags. "Go get yourself some blood, sweetheart. Then march that little ass right back here, okay?" Boris asks. Kristin rises. She quickly locks eyes with Dean before exiting the room. "Thank goodness. Thought the hunter chopped your pretty head."

      "Naw. I got away. Sorry, what's a "hunter"?" Dean asks.

      "You'll see if he finds us. You'll see him inside out." Boris says. "You eaten?"

       "Yeah." Dean says.

       "Good. You'll need your strength."

       "For?"

       "Robert didn't tell you?" Boris snorts, a little miffed. He gets up in Dean's face. "How old do I look?"

       "Thirty-three?" Dean asks.

       "You're off...by about...six centuries?" Boris says. "And these are the best days in the last six hundred years to be a vampire." He laughs; he starts to pace around Dean. "'Dracula'? Anne Rice? Please. These stupid little brats are so horny they've reinvented us as Prince Charming with a Volvo. They..." He reaches through the bars of one of the cages and grabs a vamp girl by the hair. "Want a promise ring with fangs, so I give it to 'em." The vamp girl snarls. "You—you go out and you get them, and you bring 'em home to me." He releases the vamp girl; she falls back with a cry.