Bleeding Love.
Summary. . . . . . . . . . A brother wakes up alone and in a strange place, running the halls he searches for his sibling and for answers, following noises he hears; but does he really want to meet who is making them?
Disclaimer. . . . . . . . . Maybe tomorrow! For now they belong to Krikie and co.
A.N. . . . . . . . . This fic has really grabbed a hold of me, to the point where I've found myself this morning typing out the next chapter when I should have been sleeping. A big reveal is made at the start of the chapter and another follows quickly as you read further. I'm not too sure if you'll like the turn it creates, but here goes anyway! Thank you to everyone who has read and reviewed, I haven't gotten around to replying just yet, will you forgive me now that I've posted really early? Well I think I've rambled enough, lets get on with the show, and enjoy chapter 2.
Dean sat slumped in the oversized armchair, Bobby having dragged down to the panic room after the eldest Winchester had refused to leave following the first of Sam's seizures. It had long since been considered comfortable, it' flowered pattern faded, the stuffing seeping from torn seems in places, the spring digging painfully into whoever sat in it in others; but sat he had, never once complaining, or gripping. For two weeks it had been his home, for two weeks he had used it as a base whilst he cared for his brother, that was how long they it had been since they had loaded an already weakening Sam into this God forsaken room, just a few hours less since he had seen any glimpse of recognition in his brother's eyes. Since then he had taken care of his siblings every need, caring little to nothing about his own; leaving him physically and mentally drained. Fourteen days. Three hundred and thirty six hours. Twenty thousand one hundred and sixty minutes. One million two hundred and nine thousand six hundred seconds, he had waited in that chair, never leaving unless nature required him too, or Bobby threatened. He ate there, he slept there, he pleaded there, pleaded for Sam's safe recovery.
He looked about the room now, a room that had once meant safety and security, a room that now felt confining and claustrophobic. He hated everything about this place now, hated the sparseness of the walls, the coldness of the cement floor beneath him, the constant hum of the fan above him, it's soft whump whump sound grating on his every nerve, making him want to run crazed as far away from it as possible, but he knew he couldn't, Sam might awaken, Sam might need him, and no matter what had past between them, Dean was loathe to deny his brother. For fourteen days he had been there every step of the way as his brother's body was purged of the poison he had consumed. He'd held Sam down as he had seized; held him off as he fought; held him close and comforted as he released his emotions, wracking sobs shaking his very body as he cried in grief, and sadness, and guilt; he'd held him as he vomited the blackness away; wiped tears and sweat and blood as his body began to fight back for control; yet never once had he regretted his actions, never once had he thought to leave his brother's side, Sam was back now, clean and sober so to speak, and once he was awake Dean was determined to keep him that way, so he sat in his chair and waited; he waited fourteen days, what was another few?
He looked over at Sam now, his brother looking so small and childlike as he lay there. His huge frame curled into an impossibly tight ball; his hair framing a face that took back it's childlike innocence in sleep; thankful that the worst seemed to be over. "Sleep well Sammy." He whispered hoping the words would continue to bring comfort to his sibling. Little did he know that beneath lashes that rested against pale cheeks, hazel eyes were captured, and a mind was being plagued by dreams.
Sam lay defenseless beneath the body that had pinned him down, his limbs refusing to obey his brains commands, forcing him to just watch as the spirits caresses increased in intensity, her hands threading through his hair pulling his head back, exposing his neck for her pleasure. He tried to shrink back as she once again began to devour his mouth with her own, her lips no longer as warm and inviting as they had once been, now cold and emotionless. He tried to prevent it as she invaded his mouth with her tongue, but it was as if he were frozen, his mind taken over, and he found himself opening up for her. Tears flowed as she kissed and bit at his lips, the caresses he had loved and cherished now painful and unwanted. He tried to turn his head away as she whispered in his ear words of love, and regret, and it having been so long; the endearments moving like ice through his veins to pierce once again at a heart that had never truly mended.
This had to be a dream, a nightmare. This couldn't be real, could it? But his mind was confused and muddled and battling within itself, telling him one thing and then another until he couldn't tell what was right or wrong. He tried again to remember how he had gotten here, to remember how he had become lost his from brother; because he was sure that he had been with Dean, a small part of him remembering feeling hurt, and betrayed, and angry, and guilty, so very, very guilty; but after that all he could remember was a light so bright it was blinding, a light so bright it should have been pure, but instead it emitted a growing feeling of evil and dread. He shuddered at that feeling, willing it to leave his body and never return, and as her kisses moved down his body he gave in to her. He had loved her at one time, would it be bad of him to want to feel that love again? To go back in time to a person he was happy with? To forget all the darkness and death? As those thoughts began to take hold, Sam found he could move again, found his arms begin to roam up her sides and pull her closer, his own mouth moving to take hers, their lips at the point of meeting when a voice suddenly echoed softly about the halls preventing him from sealing once again their love. "Sleep well Sammy."
This was wrong. This was so very wrong. Free from her spell, Sam pushed away the one true love of his life, and willed his legs to begin moving once again, scrambling down the hallway in a vain attempt to get away, but his body was weak and within seconds he found himself once again at her mercy. This time though instead of love shining in her eyes, Sam found hurt; hurt and a hint of malice.
"Why Sam?" She asked. "I thought you loved me?" She whispered as she drew him close once more. "I will make you love me again."
Frozen and unable to move once more, Sam could only watch as her hands moved down towards his belt, a barely heard plea of "No Jess, please" falling from his lips.
To Be Continued. . . . . . . . . . .
A.N. . . . . . . . . So ziggy, was you right? And supernatfem76 that's where the title came from. Thanks as always for reading, will be back soon with another chapter, catch you then, Peanut x