Chapter 3
Sam was having trouble keeping his eyes open. Sure, the drive had been long, but he had been raring to go only an hour before. Maybe it was the reading, the old notes poorly written on archaic papyrus, that was fogging his brain. He yawned hugely, then chuckled. "Sorry, Bobby. Guess this stuff's putting me to sleep." He stood up to stretch his legs. Suddenly, he was hit with a rush of dizziness.
"Oh, it's not the books, Sam," Bobby said in a low, soothing voice. "It's the Flunitrazepam. I put it in your Coke."
Sam grasped the back of his chair in an attempt not to sway, "Fluni… huh? Bobby, what gives?" He blinked several times to clear his vision.
"Rohypnol, I believe, is another name for it. They call it a roofie on the street," the shifter got up and began walking towards Sam. "Main side effect: major cooperativeness." Now that he was only two feet away from Sam, the shifter chose to reveal himself with a flash of those urine colored eyes.
"No!" Sam tried to back away. He knew he was fighting a losing battle. "Where's Bobby?"
The shifter's answer didn't surprise Sam in the slightest. "Now, Sam….I wouldn't worry about him. I'd worry about you."
Do these guys learn this stuff in Shifter School? Was Sam's last coherent thought before he slid to the floor.
.oO0Oo.
The shape shifter wearing Bobby Singer's skin was practically vibrating with desire. When he'd downloaded Bobby's memories and thoughts, he was blown away by certain little secrets the man had buried deep. One in particular was his unrequited lust when it came to Sam Winchester. A lust that had been growing since Sam was well below the legal age of consent. Bobby would have never, never acted on those thoughts. But then, Bobby wasn't here right now.
He'd been hoping to use Bobby's form merely to rid himself and his shape shifter brethren of the Winchesters once and for all. But now that he'd inherited Bobby's looks, his skills and desires had become part and parcel of the deal.
Shifter-Bobby had spent the afternoon researching an age-regression spell. Bobby's stores were so well-stocked he hadn't even needed to go shopping for ingredients. And the final ingredient had just dropped on Bobby's library floor.
He slid his hands under Sam's armpits and dragged him into the bedroom. He had given Sam a bit more of the drug than he'd wanted to, but he had to make sure Sam was unconscious early enough for him to squeeze all the evening's festivities in before Dean returned to pick him up. He grunted and pulled Sam's lanky frame up onto Bobby's bed, positioning him on his back. He removed his shoes and socks, then used a pair of scissors to cut open Sam's shirts from the waist to the neck. Peeling back the layers, he revealed Sam's chest. For a brief moment, he dared only to stare. Then, he reached out a trembling hand and placed it on Sam's abdomen. Heat rolled off Sam in waves, as it always seemed to. The shifter moved his hand to Sam's pecs, his neck, until he was cupping Sam's chin in one hand. He cocked his head to the side, trying to figure out just young he wanted Sam to be before he began molesting him.
