Author's Note Just letting you know now that this is one of my first fanfictions- and my very first Supernatural fanfiction. I tried to keep in character as much as I could, though there are bound to be slip ups somewhere. This is not beta tested, so if something seems awkwardly warded or hard to understand, please feel free to notify me.
Disclaimer I do not own Supernatural, nor any of it's respective characters. Please be advised that this sexy can't be made from such a mind as my own. Just too sexy.
A creaky hinge, a soft footstep, and a quick click. Sam sighed heavily, leaning himself against the pale white hotel room door he just finished closing. The edge of the peep whole stabbed uncomfortably him in the high of his back, but Sam didn't move. His thoughts skipped across his mind as he stared up at the ceiling. He noticed how dirty and dust it looked, but his mind was more focused on other things. Instead mental images popped into his head, playing back from recent events.
Sam threw a fist into his older brother's face causing Dean to stumble back. He noted how weak Dean was being and Sam couldn't gold back a surprised, yet stringing feeling erupting in his gut. He felt that same feeling now as the string of recent memories flooded in. He immediately regretted leaving. But he was persistent. He was going to do what he thought was right and screw Dean for holding him back. His anger triggered more of the memories. Most of it was a blur from being flung to and fro by his brother. They punched each other, and punched each other. Sam took a finger and touched right under his nose. The blood had only crusted over slightly.
His emotions were running high now, each bruise from his physical beating started to inflict their own mental bruises. In an effort to control this, Sam lifted himself off the door and started to walk to the bathroom. Cleaning up would be a good start to pushing this behind him. Until he could prove to Dean he had the guts to do the right thing no matter what obstacle was in his way- brother or not. However, he was soon met with hands slamming into his face. Suddenly he was brought to his knees, those same hands pulling at his forehead and chin, opening his mouth wide. His muscles tensed in his legs as the hands pushed him to his knees. One knee hit the ground and the other soon followed pursuit. Sam darted his eyes back and forth, trying to get a look at his attacker- or perhaps attackers. This was futile for all he could see was the one light fixture fastened to the ceiling.
"Sam Winchester." A rough, deep voice spoke quietly. Same couldn't move his head, but he fought as much as he could. His throat and mouth was becoming dry and he wasn't sure what the hell was going on. His questioned came out as odd noises from the back of his throat as he was unable to move his jaw to mouth the words. He wanted to scream these questions, but was soon confronted with the voice.
"Don't have a fit. I'm not going to hurt you." The voice was surprisingly soothing. The voice seemed to wash a feeling over him then, calming him only enough for it to continue speaking. Sam was still scared, terrified- almost. He hadn't consumed any demon blood for well over a week meaning he would only be left with his natural strengths. He started to nudge his arms, but that only seemed to provide him with more hands to secure him down.
"Actually, I'm here to assist you." The voice continued after a few moments, letting Sam settle and take in what she had just said. Sam could hear her footsteps trail from the linoleum floor to the carpet. She was circling him slowly, intensifying the moment for Sam. He gave up fighting finding it useless. He'd wait for an opportunity to slip out and with his saved strength, he'd probably be able to over power his constraints. He counted just how many hands were on his. It had to be at least four.
"I'll cut to the chase, I see that you are getting impatient. But that's alright, so am I. Impatient with your lack of common sense. I'm sick of watching you foul your mouth with that offensive demon's blood. I pity you, yet I still seemed to understand what you are trying to accomplish. I know you want to help people. I know it's why you keep hunting even after Azazle's death. That being said, I cannot keep watching you jump blindly into this spiral. I'm going to help you help others."
The footsteps stopped now. He could sense that the voice was now in front of him. It was softer then before her long monologue- more sincere. And that was when he realized that the voice belonged to a woman. She had to be in her early twenties at the most. Her voice was kind and confident. And the earlier feeling of calm became security with her voice's new found tone.
"If blood is what gives you strength, so be it. I will give you enough blood to cleanse your clouded judgement and ever darkening soul."
Sam's heart began to break the sensations her words were creating. His heart pushed up the security and it broke into worry. There were now even more questions he wanted to ask. Some consisting of 'what are you?' and 'what are you going to do?' His adrenaline was high and he could feel his pulse pounding into his neck as it was being stretched back by the hands. A pale hand appeared above his head now. He noted a marking on the bottom side of her write as she clenched her fist. A silver blade reflected off of the light he guessed came from a window near the entrance of his hotel room. Sam tried to shake his head, almost pleading with those odd noises again.
"Hush, it will be alright." Were her final words before she slit her wrist carefully. The blade reflected of the moonlight, taking Sam's vision into white for a split second. Everything seemed to slow down at that moment. He saw the blood rushing to catch up with the knife's path. Soon, one single droplet pooled at the end of her wound. She squeezed her fist, allowing the blood to separate from her skin. The droplet landed on his tongue and he shook his head violently, trying to brake himself free to spit it out.
It slid all the way down into his throat sending a burning trail. It burned so intensely his mind flashed back to the first time he had taken Ruby's wrist and sucked up her blood cautiously. It had hurt so much going down his throat. He felt like hellfire was in her blood, scorching the very insides of his esophagus. But this blood was different. It burned for only a split second. It was as if it was burning up the trails that Ruby's blood had left.
The hands let go of him and he swung his head forward. The blood's sensations distracted him and all he did was stare at the floor. He felt calm for a minute, but then his temple was throbbing. It felt as if a thousand pound weight had crushed him into the floor as he flung backward. His back slammed into the floor and his hands quickly reached up to his throat. It felt somewhat like going through withdrawal all in a matter of minutes. He sweat, his heart raced, he felt palpitations, his muscle tensed, his chest felt as if it was in a tug-of-war match, his breaths hitched, his body was shaking, and he felt like he was going to vomit. And then he felt nothing.
Author's Note Thank you for reading. You're a brave soul.