Continued from [x]
「 ,.., — 𝓓. 𝓢𝓪𝓵𝓿𝓪𝓽𝓸𝓻𝓮: @hunterfated 」
— Damon HATED the nearly extinct species of vampire that hunters tended to find more often than his own (which there was an overabundance of). The nests, the hierarchy; they were like animals more so than the humans they once were and now impersonated. It was disgusting. And they reminded him of piranhas to boot with their nasty teeth.
He had seen Dean taken. The fight. The hunter knocked unconscious. Like hell he was going to intervene. Everything had to eat. But why was the human so familiar to him?
By the time Damon realized WHO it was, they were long gone.
Luckily not too far.
Damon tore through the nest with ease, overpowering and decapitating one after the other with a simple karate chop of his hand backed by the inertia of his Power— luckily for Dean he had fed on that pretty shopkeeper earlier in the afternoon.
Dead. Dead. DEAD. All five of them.
Damon easily destroyed the restraints binding the hunter with disgust, one arm going around the other male's waist to support him. "Easy buddy," he cooed, "You gotta stay with me. I'm gonna get you out of here. Just stay with me." he urged, propelling the other out of the warehouse and toward the waiting Camaro.
Obviously he wasn't a vampire— he would have healed already if so— but if this guy was really Dean Winchester— well— he'd be either very old or very dead by now since they had met in the 1940's. So how the hell did he look the same? Maybe he was a relative? At the moment Damon didn't care. After abandoning Stefan to journey on to Cairo by himself without even so much as a goodbye, Dean had been the one person to cheer him up. To UNDERSTAND about little brothers. They had bonded. And if there was any chance... Damon wouldn't let anything happen to the severely injured guy he was now easing into the passenger seat of his car.












