"Look, let's just get these sons-of-bitches dead and then we can go and drink to our hearts' content. Deal?" You grin, bumping your hip against that of the oldest Winchester. Dean smiles slightly, nodding.

"Definitely. You're buying the first round."

"Sure thing, Winchester." You grin right back at him, before the three of you fall into a comfortable silence. You're both on high alert, knowing fine well that the vampires will be just lurking in the shadows, waiting for a moment when you're not watching so they can pounce. You pause, doing a quick 360 before giving the guys a nod and disappearing off into the shadows, hoping to take a couple down before the main fight breaks out. You catch sight of one – a woman – waiting in the shadows, and you slip up behind her.

"Psst!" You hiss into her ear and as she turns to look at you, you slice off her head. She doesn't have time to scream and before you know it, her blood is pooling on the ground around your feet.

You quickly back off after that, knowing that the scent of blood will attract the other vampires like moths to a flame. You hide a little way away, watching as one vamp comes over, sniffing the air delicately as if she's having difficulty locating the source of the smell. Once she sees the body, however, her lips curl back in a vile sneer and she hisses, air escaping from between her bloody fangs. Everything in you screams to recoil as she yells for another vampire – the leader of the clan, by the looks of it. Before the leader arrives, you dive in and take her out, too.

The leader is bigger – a huge man, at least Sam's height and a lot broader, like a wall of muscle – and a lot scarier. Blood from his last meal still stains his chin a dark reddish, brown-y colour. You look him up and down, gaging your chances – you're strong, but he's stronger. You'd probably be faster if he were human, but his speedy abilities are a cut above those of even the most agile of humans.

"Come out, little hunter." He croons, his eyes so dark they're almost black. He'd be exceptionally good-looking if it weren't for the obvious evil coating his face like a mask. You weigh up your options and decide you have two options – make this a stealth operation, or run.

You don't run.

You press your back against the wall in the darkest part of the shadows, praying that it'll be enough – the metallic scent of blood coats the air and you hope it'll cover your scent. You breathe in and out slowly, begging your heart to slow down. He comes closer and closer, apparently aiming towards a spot of wall a little way from you – the second he steps into the shadows, you leap out, swinging your blade towards his neck.

You hit him clean, and under any other circumstance, it would have taken his head straight off. In this case, however, he grabs a hold of your wrist and stops you before you get the chance to slice through anything remotely fatal. Your blade just nicked his neck enough to draw blood – and just enough to piss him off.

"Oh, oopsie!" He grins, taking too much joy. He slips a hand behind your neck and is about to take a chunk out of your jugular when you give him a harsh kick, sending him reeling. He's not hurt, though, and comes straight back for you. You run for the doorway, knowing you only have one hope against this thing.

"DEAN!" You scream, just as a pair of arms wrap around your waist and yank you back.

"Oh, no, no," He sings into your ear, "Don't yell, that ruins my fun." He runs a thick, calloused finger down your neck and bares his razor-like fangs. His tongue runs the length of his lower lip.

He dives in. There's a sharp pain in your neck and he drops you to the floor. You hit the concrete with an ungraceful thud and you're pretty sure the landing breaks your wrist. You have bigger concerns, however, as blood is flowing thick and fast from your neck. You have no hope of staunching it.

"Y/N?" Dean's arms are suddenly cradling you, pulling you into a half-sitting position, "Y/N, what the-?"
Upon looking around, you realise that the huge man is dead on the floor, his head a few feet away. Your vision is quickly blackening around the edges and the eldest Winchester is hovering above you, his eyes full of tears and his grip tight on you.

"D-Dean," You choke out, finding your mouth full of liquid iron. You spit it out onto the floor, staring up at him in panic, "I'm sorry."

"Y/N, hang on." He hisses, trying to pick you up – it only results in a cry of pain from you, however. Dean cries out for his brother, but the sounds of fighting are still echoing through this little side room.

"Dean," You whisper, reaching up to grapple at his cheek with a broken, bloody hand, "Don't let me die." Tears are gathering in your eyes and Dean chokes back a sob.

"You're not going to die, Y/N. Hold on." He promises – both of you know it's empty, but he says it anyway, "You're going to be fine."

It's like someone has flipped a switch, and your breath disappears. Your body goes into fight mode, trying desperately to survive. You force in and out on rattling, pathetic, blood-laced breaths that do nothing for your oxygen intake. Tears fall down your face and you look at Dean's helpless, desolate face as everything fades. Fear floods your stomach and you let go of five more words:

"Don't leave me alone?"

Your request is enough to set Dean off, heaving sobs shuddering him like earthquakes. He cries into your chest long after it has stopped rising and falling, unable to let you go for even a moment. You'd been so tough and brave for so long, and seeing you so scared would kill him under any circumstances, let alone as you bled out in his arms.

***

"Dean, you have to eat something." Sam says softly, trying to coax his brother into so much as touching the stone-cold burger in front of him, "She wouldn't want you to starve yourself."

"You don't know what she'd want." Dean murmurs into his glass, knocking back another generous serving of the amber liquid.

"She wouldn't want this. I know you're blaming yourself, Dean." Sam says, sitting down on the other side of the table, "This wasn't your fault."

"Of course it was my fault!" Dean hisses, "She yelled; she needed help. I was too slow! She's dead and it's my fault. I loved her and it was my fault."
"Dean..." Sam trails off as his brother gives him a glare that would send a spirit back to the grave. He backs off, shaking his head, "Try not to drink too much. Get some sleep."

Both of them know he won't do either, but Dean nods anyway.

***

There's a knock at the motel room door in the early hours of the morning. It wakes Dean from his restless slumber – one filled with memories of you, your sweetness and light turning to a bloody death on a concrete floor – and surprises him: the people who tend to visit him at this time don't tend to knock.

He looks through the peephole and sees nothing. He's about to dismiss it as part of his dream and go back to bed, but part of him – something deep down inside – screams at him to open it up. He slowly, gently eases it open, grimacing as the cold air hits his bare legs, and-

A body falls into the room. He yelps in surprise, clamping a hand over him mouth. Sam is awake by this point and just stares at the unconscious being on their floor.

"Is that-?" Sam whisper, looking at the familiar mess of hair tangles around your shoulders. Dean nods, equal parts horrified and stunned by your appearance. You're lying on their floor, living and breathing – unconscious, but alive.

They transfer you to a bed and call on Cas, who looks you over with a sceptical eye. He remains quiet for a long moment, before his eyes narrow and he looks to Dean.

"Her soul," He says softly, as if he's concerned about waking you up, "It's fighting."

"What with?" Sam asks, sat on the other bed. Dean looks to the angel.
"Grace. Angel's grace. She's becoming an angel, Dean." Cas says quietly, "This is all but unheard of, but-"

"Will she be okay?"

"She'll live, if that's what you're asking." Cas says, "But she'll be different. It's difficult to know. I've never... I've never seen this before."
Dean lets out a sigh of helplessness – yet again, he can't help you against the forces acting on your body and mind. He reaches out and takes your hand in his, feeling its warmth.

"Don't worry, Y/N." He whispers, "We'll fix this. Everything will be back to normal soon, you'll see." He says. He knows it's an empty promise, but he says it anyway.