For those who wondered why Sam and Dean would have remained vampires, when they know the cure...
Dean wakes in pain and he knows, he knows the unnatural piercing light and the gnawing hunger and the slow pounding lub dub of someone's heart pulsing in his ears, he knows what he is now, and the hunger is
ten thousand demons screaming in his head
hellfire coursing through his veins
all of Alastair's knives tearing away at his belly
and the Dean who could (did) resist that hunger is gone now, dead for years, burned and buried, and the heartbeat stutters and slows, the person attached to it clearly dying, there's no reason not to, all of his reasons are gone, long gone, so he creeps closer to his doomed neighbor and oh god, oh god, it's Sam, it's Sam, battered and broken and nearly bled dry, wounds still seeping sluggish (and oh fuck the need) and the memory hits him like a fist to the face, the pack leader sneering this one killed our father, our alpha, we don't want him, let him be his first meal, and Dean gathers his brother up in his arms, shakes him gently until his eyes open, bares his teeth, watches Sam flinch and say god, Dean, I'm so sorry and then dips his head to whisper in his ear, Sam, you don't get to die on me, you promised we'd go together, and this is our Butch and Sundance ending now, and Sam nods once and closes his eyes and tips his head back, baring his wounded throat, and Dean latches on and drinks, just a little, just enough to slake the worst of it, and uses his virgin fangs to tear his own wrist open, placing it against Sam's lips, and the feeling of his little brother's tongue lapping up his own tainted blood is
- - -
(The title is from "The Freshmen" by the Verve Pipe.)