not_sally wanted to know if Sam got a vampire kitten to go along with Dean's zombie dog. I think he does!
Chronicles of a vampire cat
She hissed and spat when Dean pressed down on the retracted fangs, and caught him with a four-clawed swipe to the back of his hand.
Dean pulled out his knife.
"Dean, it's a kitten," Sam said, as the kitten crawled up his shirt and clung to his shoulder, rubbing her head against Sam's neck.
"It's a bloodsucking freak," Dean said.
The kitten hissed low and swished her tail. Sam soothed her with a chin rub. "That doesn't mean you get to saw off her head."
Dean tested the edge of his knife. "That's exactly what it means."
Sam extracted the kitten from his shoulder and tucked her in the curve of his elbow, away from Dean's knife. Dean rolled his eyes. The kitten purred.
Sam called her Lolita. Dean asked if he had any issues he needed to work out.
He woke with Lolita wrapped around his foot, claws extended and a crazed look in her eye. "Fuck fuck fuck," he muttered, and carefully extracted her. She pounced on the other one.
"Just keep that cat away from my car," Dean said as he cleaned the Glock, knife resting meaningfully on the table.
Sam rubbed the base of Lolita's neck, and she stretched out on the comforter, basking under his hand. Dean was looking away, so he gave her a quick kiss between her ears.
"I saw that," Dean said.
A week later, she brought him a mouse, two neat fang marks at the base of its neck.
"It's feeding," Dean said.
"On rodents!" Sam said, and murmured, "Good girl." She licked her paws.
The farmhouse was cold at night, and Lolita liked to sleep draped over the warmth of Sam's neck. He woke with her purr rumbling through his throat and two fangs pressed lovingly to his skin.
"Fuck," he said, and scrambled up. Lolita bounced off the bed and yowled at him until Dean woke up.
"We gotta do it," Dean said, and to his credit, he sounded a little sorry.
"I know," Sam said, and rubbed the side of his neck. She'd barely broken the skin. "It's just -- I can't, Dean."
Lolita jumped back on the bed and bumped her head against Sam's knee as if in apology.
"Dean," Sam said, choked.
"Aw, fuck," Dean said. He put away the knife.
Lolita disappeared the next day. Sam called her over the empty fields for days.
Dean clapped him on the shoulder. "We'll get your pussy back, Sam," he said, and Sam settled for punching him in the arm.
They were packing the car to leave when she showed up, at the head of five strays who sat and stared at them with watchful eyes.
"Sam," Dean said.
"I know," Sam said, but Dean just shook his head and got in the car.
Lolita came over to him and rubbed up against his leg, and purred when he leaned over to scratch behind her ear. "Be good, girl," he said, and she gave him a headbutt before loping off to rejoin her pack. He watched as they disappeared into the woods.
"We get called back here because a pack of vampire cats are sucking the locals dry, I'm kicking your ass," Dean said, ten miles down the road.
"Yeah," Sam said, and stared out the window.
Twenty miles down the road, Dean said, "Fucking cats." He rubbed his eye. "Fucking allergies."
Sam grinned. "So next time we get a turtle."
"No we fucking won't," Dean said.