Title: Ghoulish Delights
Author: FauxFoxx
Warnings: Graphic depictions of violence and gore.
Disclaimer: It's probably a good thing I don't own them. I would do evil naughty things if I did.
Moonlight glinted along the edge of the blade. It glided down his arm leaving a trail of blood to well up and spill onto the cold stone slab she used as a table. Sam bit back a gasp and pulled at the manacles binding his arms to the stone. He didn't care if it was futile. He had to get free. He had to. He refused to believe he would be the next skinned victim found washed up on the lake shore.
The manacles refusing to snap open and let him free he tried again to reason with her. "It doesn't have to be like this. You don't have to kill. Let me go." Her glazed eyes never left the knife and she made no reaction to his words. She had to know this was wrong. Ghouls fed on the dead, not the living. Why were all the monsters lately breaking script? Werewolves on the half moon, Okami in Michigan, Lamia in New Hampshire... it was all wrong lately.
She watched with sick fascination as his blood pulsed up and out of his arm. He watched her carefully as she bent over to put her face right by the cut. The ghoul closed her eyes and took a deep breath as if she were smelling a bunch of flowers, not the copper tang of blood. Opening her eyes she pressed one hand down on his elbow to steady his arm and started to lick at the wound. Sam tried to jerk it away, but she bore down on it and refused to let it move. Her tongue forced its way into his body.
Sam tried to squirm the arm away. The ghoul took no notice of his efforts. Instead she set her teeth carefully into one side of the cut and worked at pulling the wound open wider. Sam grunted in an effort not to cry out as the cut tore wider. As he glared daggers at her she calmly met his eyes, his skin still in her mouth, and grinned at him. This monster wasn't just evil, she was seriously unbalanced. Driven insane by the living flesh she ate. This was not looking good for him.
Biting down on the side of the wound still in her mouth, she worried at it like a dog with a chew toy. Sam's eyes skittered to the ceiling and he tried to keep his mouth shut but a smothered cry escaped his lips anyway. She let go of this skin long enough to give him a happy smirk, then clamped her clammy wet lips around the wound. Sam thought he was gonna be sick as she sucked greedily at it. He didn't think the cut was deep enough for him to bleed out fast. He closed his eyes against the sounds of her pleasure thinking that it wouldn't need to be deep if she kept drinking his blood like this.
With a final lick at his arm she stood up. Knife clutched tightly in her left hand, her right idly stroked his chest up and down. The suit jacket was still laying on the back seat of the rental car where he left it this afternoon, but the button down dress shirt kept her hand off his bare skin. Bracing her hand on his chest, she threw her leg over him. Straddling his waist she brought the knife up to his throat. A tiny warm tickle along his neck told him it had cut him there very shallowly.
Sam froze afraid that even a deep breath might cause her to tip forward and slit his throat. He needed to stay alive. He didn't want to die, but it wasn't death that he feared the most. It was the thought of his brother being the one to find his skinned body. Hell might have broken Dean once, but Sam dying like this would shatter him beyond repair. He had to hold on.
The deranged ghoul moved her knife down and started to cut the buttons off his shirt. One. At. A. Time. She pulled his shirt up and out of his pants so that it flared around him. Studying the lightweight tee shirt he wore under the dress shirt she slipped the knife under the bottom edge and slowly, deliberately pulled the knife up. The fabric parted before the sharp blade easily.
Goose-flesh crawled along his skin as the chill air in the crypt greeted him. The ghoul scooted down his body so she could lay her face against his unprotected belly. He could feel her breath, hot and rancid, move up his stomach. Her mouth was parted and her teeth grazed against his skin almost gently until she got to his collar bone. She paused, panting ever so slightly over his left shoulder.
He knew he wasn't going to be able to get free of the manacles on his own and knew she wasn't going to let him go. He was almost out of options. The only thing left he could think to do was stall and hope an opportunity to escape presented itself soon. Or a rescue. A rescue would be nice. "Please listen. Something isn't right. This isn't what you're meant to do. You don't have to..."
She bit into his collar bone. Hard. He bucked on the slab trying to dislodge her, but she just bore down, harder and harder. Not chewing, just hanging on.
The snap of the bone beneath his skin sent an electric jolt of white hot agony coursing through his body. His mind blanked and he howled with the searing pain that shot up and down his arm. He gasped and panted as he tried not to pass out from it all. Breathe his father, and later his brother, once said. Breathe through the pain. Get past it and move on. Breathe. It took him longer than he liked, but he did finally manage to control it. As he came back to his senses he found the ghoul was laying across his chest. Was she... was she nuzzling him? Humming tunelessly, she idly stroked his anti-possession tattoo just below the broken bone.
"Pretty." She croaked as she petted the tattoo. The only word she had spoken since this nightmare had begun. He had no idea what to say. This ghoul had been skinning her victims alive. He really didn't want her to admire a piece of his flesh. She might decide to keep it.
"Let me go." His voice was harsh with suppressed pain.
Her eyes narrowed and she frowned at him. Whatever she had wanted him to say, that wasn't it. Bringing the knife up again she made a quick slice on the right side of his chest. He pulled away in reflex to the sudden sharp pain, but the movement jerked his broken shoulder. He took in shuddering breaths and worked to manage the pain again. Breathe. The ghouls sat transfixed at the sight of the new cut. Almost reverently she touched the edges of the slice and blood spilled out over her fingers. She traced the outline, dragging his blood around. She looked back up and into Sam's eyes. Never breaking eye contact, she pushed her fingers into the wound.
Sam screamed. He didn't even try not to. She continued to watch his face as she dug in. Sam's vision grayed out and he was slipping into unconsciousness when she puled her hand out. Like a cat delicately cleaning her paw she licked her fingers clean.
He had to hold on. Had to... hold on. He couldn't feel much in his left arm anymore. He worried it had something to do with the broken bone. Almost absently he felt her lapping at his chest, cleaning the blood from it. The ripped remains of his shirt was starting to stick to his side, glued there by his own blood. His thoughts were growing distant. He was starting to lose a lot of blood. Much more and he wouldn't be much use in the fight when Dean got there.
Dean... where are you? I'm not sure how much longer I can keep this up...
Dean paced the length of the motel room. The university library had closed two hours ago and the historical society three hours ago. The shabby little motel they were staying at was only 20 minutes away from either. Sam should have been back by now. Should have beaten him back by a long shot. He called Sam's cell phone again only to have it ring through to voice mail. Again. Something was wrong. The nagging feeling that started in his gut the moment they split up, him to interview witnesses and Sam to do research, simply would not go away.
Making up his mind, he grabbed his keys and headed to the Impala. He was just gonna have to go find his little brother.