The Bringer – 13

Sorry for the delay. I just finished the next-to-the last class in my grad program. One more to go and I am done, done, done! Thankfully, I don't have to start until the first of the year, so I hope I will be able to finish this before then. Woo-hoo!

How about a read and review from everyone?

As the knife neared Sammy, NewDean felt his hand begin to tremble. He couldn't do this. Not yet. Not until he had tasted Sammy once more, because if this didn't work he knew he could never touch Sammy again.

Sam flinched when the shifter flung the knife so forcefully that it embedded itself in the wall above the bed. The shifter pushed him flat onto the bed with one hand and stripped with the other. All the while, the shifter was rubbing and kissing Sam's face and neck. Sam listened to the confusing words and phrases flowing from the shifter's mouth.

Please.

Once more. Just once more.

Love you, Sammy.

Sam resigned himself to another rape and tried to relax to prevent further injury to his battered body. The shifter had other plans.

"Fight me, Sammy. Fight back." NewDean wanted this. He wanted Sammy to mark him so that his body would carry the evidence of their coupling for days to come.

Sam fought furiously. He wriggled like a game fish and tried to buck off the man abusing him. He managed to work a leg between the shifters' and brought his knee up in a sharp movement.

NewDean felt the muscles tense in Sammy's abdomen, so he was able to shift aside in time to avoid a debilitating blow. His movement, however, did free up Sammy's leg. NewDean's mistake brought back to painful reality just exactly how long Sammy's legs were and how very flexible the younger man was.

Sammy's knee caught NewDean in the left temple and made him see stars. He shook his head to clear the cobwebs. As the ringing in his head died down, he noticed that Sammy had stopped struggling. He gazed down into that beloved face. At first, NewDean barely noticed his own head wound. All he could see was the look of abject horror in Sammy's eyes as drop after bright red drop spattered onto the young man's forehead.

Sam couldn't remember how to breathe as he felt the screams building, clawing their way from chest to throat as his ultimate fear played out before his eyes. His hero, his big brother, his Dean, was above him. Bleeding onto him. Sam just knew the fire was coming next. It would explode out around Dean like a hellish halo and would destroy the greatest part of Sam's heart. The fire would take Dean just like it took his mother and to a lesser extent his father. Sam would be left alone with his nightmares.

To his credit, NewDean took only a heartbeat to understand Sammy's emotional pain. He used his discarded T-shirt to wipe the blood from Sammy's face and from his own. He ceased his attempt to make love to Sammy and lay beside him instead. He was touched as Sammy turned his head to keep him in sight. The shifter used OldDean's gentle big-brother voice and soft, soothing touches to calm the fear-filled boy. It took time, but eventually Sammy stopped staring at him as if he were going to disappear in flames the moment his concentration faltered. Soon, Sammy's breathing eased, and he fell into an uneasy sleep.

Though he was loath to break the comfortable stillness, the shifter knew he had to finish the spell before sunrise. Besides, it would be easier on NewDean if Sammy were asleep while he performed the ritual. NewDean slipped from the bed and retrieved the knife. He gently sliced a small thatch of hair from Sammy's nape. The shifter returned to the spell circle and began the ritual.

NewDean knew what Sammy had feared when he had asked about the magik spell. Sammy was afraid that the shifter was going to compel his love. He wanted Sammy to love him, yes, but he knew now that the kind of love he wanted from Sammy could only be given, never taken or coerced. That was the lesson he had learned from the gentle spirit that was Sam Winchester. He wanted to make amends. He wanted to make Sammy happy.

NewDean understood that Sammy's happiness would likely be purchased at the cost of his own. As right as this decision was, the shifter knew he wasn't strong enough to relinquish the only bright spot in his black universe. That was why he needed the power of Plei'dot, and Plei'dot demanded a sacrifice.

The sacrifice wasn't Sammy's to make. It was NewDean's. He currently possessed only two things of value: Sammy, and his ability to shift skins. There was no real choice. He would sacrifice his power in exchange for the strength to let Sammy go.

Sam awoke feeling like crap. He hadn't had any truly restful sleep in a long time. He was either thinking late into the night, trying to ignore the smell and feel of the shifter holding him close, or he had been rendered unconscious by one creature or another. Sam stretched as far as his injuries would allow. It took several seconds and him sitting upright to realize that he was no longer bound to the bed and that the shifter was nowhere in sight.

Quickly, he dressed in last night's discarded clothing, grimacing at the mixed odors of blood and sage. Sam's eyes landed on the bedside phone. Should he try to call Dean? What if the shifter came back? It has vowed retribution against innocents if Sam tried to call for help. The decision was taken from his hands as the front door opened and the shifter walked in.

"Hey, Sammy! Little help here." The shifter kicked the door closed with his foot and almost lost his grip on the cups wedged under his chin and the bags in his arms. The enticing aromas made Sam's stomach growl, and he realized how hungry he was. Still uncertain, but feeling some of his battered confidence return with his new-found freedom, Sam approached the shifter and took the drinks. He stepped back and allowed the shifter to move deeper into the room. Now, Sam was the one closest to the door. His unfettered state and the shifter's perplexing actions made Sam jumpy.

What was it waiting for? Was it waiting for him to make a break for it? What would it do?

"Come on, Sammy. Sit down; have breakfast. We've got some things to talk about." The shifter flashed his most charming Dean-smile, which Sam wasn't buying for a second, but he did take a seat at the small table. He almost hoped the shifter would try something. Sam was itching for payback.

"I know you're not feeling so hot this morning. You had a rough few days and then last night…"

The shifter trailed off. Sam was strangely appreciative for its compassion. He had no wish to recall the nightmare in more vivid detail. It would return to him the next time he slept. That would be soon enough. Sam accepted the hot tea the shifter pushed towards him and took a quick gulp, then another. The sweet, spicy liquid spread warmth through his body and he breathed a sigh of contentment. Sam wondered at his calmness while sitting next to his enemy.

A terrifying thought crept into his mind, and he glanced toward the spell circle. Sam felt the sweat start popping out on his body and his formerly calm breathing took on a more rapid pace. The candles had been burned, and, was that hair? Sam felt his own untidy mop and located the patch of missing hair.

Oh, God. The shifter had done it. It had worked a compulsion spell. Was that why he hadn't decked the shifter the moment it came in and took off running out the door? Was that why he had awoken a free man?

Sam gulped around the lump forming in his throat and asked, "What happened after I went to sleep last night?"

NewDean sighed. He had hoped this conversation could wait until after breakfast. His time with Sammy was coming to an end, and he wanted to prolong every moment. He started to explain the particulars of the ritual, but stopped when he noticed Sammy wasn't paying attention. The young man was staring intently at his cup.

"Sammy? What's wrong? Is it a vision?"

"Dean," asked Sam in a small voice, "What kind of tea is this?"

"Chai. It's your favorite, right?"

Sam could feel the numbness in his lips begin to transfer itself to the rest of his face and throat. He stood abruptly and sent the chair toppling behind him. Sam was panting faster and faster, and his hands grabbed the lapels of the jacket the shifter was wearing.

"Cardamom, Dean! Cardamom!"

With that, Sam collapsed in the shifter's arms.

Up next, Dean and a phone call from John.

Please review!