On his way to the club Dean Winchester contemplated his life and thought back to how he became who he is now.
It had all started back when he was fifteen and he went into the basement for the first time. Everything he saw in there fascinated him. Especially the body in the corner. It was cold, unmoving, and had already begun rotting. He didn't think there was something wrong when he found he liked the smell of rotting flesh. It reminded him of his dad. Every night after that he went back. Back to the basement and saw the whores his dad had brought home strapped to tables, cut, bleeding, and crying. They all begged him to help them. Imagine their surprise when when he picked up a knife and started carving into their sweet flesh.
If John and Mary ever saw the marks they didn't say anything.
Everything changed, however, when he met Castiel Novak. The Novak's had just moved onto the farm next to the Winchesters. Cas and Dean became fast friends and before he knew it Dean was falling for the blue eyed boy. And what was better, he knew that Cas was just as sick and twisted as him.
Dean shared his secret one night and they carved up the girls together.
"Their blood looks so pretty don't you think? I wonder if it tastes as good as it looks," Cas mused aloud one night under the cover of dark.
Dean looked at his best friend. "You wanna go see?" he asked.
Cas nodded slowly.
"We could drain her, watch that pretty blood fall and then you could drink it," Dean said, his voice lowering with every word.
Cas nodded again, "Can we, please Dean?"
It was Dean's turn to nod. "Sure. We can do it right now. Dad just brought in a fresh one."
The boys made their way downstairs to the basement. The girl was pretty enough with delicate features and long blonde hair. As soon as she saw them she began struggling against her restraints. Their smiles were too wide, too sick. Dean sliced into the girls arm, drawing a red line from elbow to wrist. Beads of blood pearled on her beautiful, pale skin. When her blood started dripping Castiel's eyes followed it to the floor.
"Go ahead and taste. She's gonna die anyways. She might as well be useful, right?" Dean said staring into the dying girls eyes.
Cas nodded and bent his head to her skin. His pink tongue slipped out and sampled the beautiful scarlet liquid. He stood a moment just tasting it. Then he bent again and licked completely up her arm. He latched his lips around the pulse point at her wrist and sucked. When he came away his lips were covered in the enchanting substance. Cas looked at his best friend doe eyed, the taste of blood giving him a high like nothing else.
Dean was slightly taller than Cas and he had to bend to lick the blood from the boys lips. It tasted good. Intoxicating. It tasted of salt, iron, copper, and, best of all, fear. And there was the underlying flavor of Cas. The flavor Dean didn't let himself crave. But now there was no stopping it. Dean let his lips press against Castiel's and felt butterfly wings in his stomach. They flapped harder when he felt Cas kissing him back. That was the night that things changed. Dean had everything he ever wanted with Cas. Someone who understood him. Someone who was like him. Someone who literally had a taste for blood. And Dean couldn't be happier.
Two years later John and Mary died in a car crash. You should never drive in a blizzard. It could be deadly.
By that time Dean had introduced his brother, Sam, to his secret world. Sam had in turn introduced his boyfriend, Gabriel Shurley, to the art of murder. One problem arose though. Now Dean had to capture his own prey. As the years wore on it got easier. It helped that everyone wanted him. And he wanted them-for a different reason.