Thanks to Jenjoremy for the awesome beta job. She really does make the story so much better. Also thanks to Gredelina1 who talks me through each chapter and helps me get the ideas down. Finally, thanks to all of you that are reading, fave'ing, alerting and reviewing. I really appreciate the support.
Chapter Five
"Who's Dean?" Wes asked with interest.
"Shut it!" Sam turned away from the man, thinking hard. Dean was here, in town, and apparently Uriel had brought him. He didn't know what the angel's motivation was, but it definitely wasn't in hopes that they would set aside their differences and come out a stronger team. Uriel had no problem driving a wedge between them last time. He'd told Sam to ask Dean what he really remembered of Hell—that hadn't been to improve their honesty. Whatever it was that had made the angel do this, it was going to cause a lot of problems between Sam and Dean.
It wasn't the end of the world, Sam reminded himself. If this was the thing that broke him and Dean, it wouldn't be the end. Sam was still the crux of the apocalypse, so as long as he stayed on path and didn't kill Lilith, things would work out for the world. Sam could go on alone, taking the hunts they'd taken before when necessary to protect. It wouldn't be easy for him, he wanted and needed his brother with him, but he could do it. The real fear was what world he would return to when this was all over. Without an apocalypse to end the world, Sam could find his own, personal world ruined. His relationship with Dean, which was just starting to make sense again in the future, could be destroyed.
But what could he do? He couldn't tell him the truth, not with angels apparently spying on him and ready to whip him back to his correct time in the name of their mission. The only option available to him was to lie, again. He was an accomplished liar, after all, he did it every day as part of his life as a hunter, but he hated to lie to Dean. The first time he had lived through this year had been nearly impossible for him, as he'd been lying to Dean at every turn. The whole point of this was to change things, and yet all he'd done so far was avert Samhain and lie continually to his brother.
He took a deep breath and released it in a rush. "Okay, Cas, you take Wes back and I'll go deal with Dean."
"What are you going to say to him?" Cas asked.
"No idea."
Cas stared into his eyes, searching for something Sam didn't think he possessed. "You cannot tell him the truth, Sam."
"I know," Sam said bitterly. "I'll think of something. Don't worry." As soon as he said the words, Sam realized how stupid they were. What could Cas do but worry?
"Who is Dean?" Wes asked again.
Sam turned away from him. "Cas, get him out of here."
There was a hand on his shoulder, a comforting gesture of solidarity, and then the faint fluttering sound of an angel taking flight.
Sam looked around the ruined restaurant, at the water dripping from the vinyl booths onto the puddled floor, and he sighed. He couldn't stay here forever, but it was a very tempting prospect. It didn't matter how long he delayed though, Dean would still be there, waiting for him, probably at the motel, wanting answers and deserving an explanation that Sam knew he couldn't give.
He had to face him though, so he sloshed across the room to the door.
It was dark outside. It seemed impossible to Sam that so much had happened in the space of so few hours. Thankful that he had left the car at the motel because the more time he had to think, the better his explanation for Dean would be, he trudged back along Main Street. It was entirely possible that Uriel had brought Dean to town merely to hurry along the confrontation, but Sam doubted it. Uriel had to have told Dean something, and until Sam knew what it was, he couldn't plan how to deal with it.
He felt a presence behind him when he was a couple blocks from the motel, and he turned, hoping for Cas but expecting Uriel. His expectations were met. It was the imposing, dark-skinned angel that walked beside him.
"Uriel," he spat.
"Sam Winchester," he said in his deep measured tone. "I have a surprise for you."
Knowing he should be oblivious to Dean's appearance, Sam said, "Is it that you're retiring? Because you could have just sent me the announcement. I could've celebrated alone. I don't need company."
"So cheery. I wonder if you will be so happy when you see the surprise."
"Whatever it is, it can't be worse than talking to you."
Uriel grabbed his arm and twisted him to look at him. His grip was tight, too tight, but Sam allowed no sign of pain to break his stoic expression. "You need to learn a little respect," Uriel said.
"You need to earn it," Sam replied calmly. "So far all you've done is threaten to annihilate a town. That doesn't earn you points."
Uriel's fingers tightened for a moment and his lip curled back over his teeth in a snarl, but then he seemed to come back to himself. He released Sam and brushed his hand against the front of his suit, as if removing the taint left from touching Sam. "I have been watching you," he said calmly. "I know what you have been doing, tapping into those foul powers."
Sam frowned. "I haven't exorcised anything in weeks now."
"The power to exorcise wasn't the only one Azazel gave you. I have been watching you today. I wondered what could have made you come so far alone, leaving your brother behind, and I saw many things."
Sam bit back a groan. Uriel had either seen the conversation with Wes in which Sam told him he was psychic, or he had surmised as much for himself from the way Sam had honed in on each portion of the hunt.
"Did you tell Dean?"
Uriel chuckled, a low, dark sound. "No. I thought that pleasure belonged you to. I merely told him of my concerns and what I have seen."
Which meant Dean already knew or would be able to guess soon. He wasn't stupid. Sam's mind raced ahead, explanations and excuses and lies rushing through his mind only to be disregarded as soon as they were there. The only option here was some portion of honesty. He had to tell him he was psychic again, and that he had seen the hunt play out before it had happened. The only honest thing in that was that he had seen the hunt play out, only it had been years ago and he hadn't seen it as much as he'd lived it.
He sped his pace but Uriel easily fell into step beside him again. "You're not happy."
"No, I'm not. Having angel dicks interfering with my life will piss me off every time."
"Ah, but, Sam, I am merely doing my best to help."
Sam snorted. "Sure."
The motel came into view and Sam ground to a halt and fixed his eyes on Uriel. "You coming in? You want to see the fallout for yourself, or are you going to screw off and mess with someone else's life?"
Uriel considered. "I think I will go. As amusing as it would be to see your grappling excuses for your brother, there are more important things for me to do."
Sam walked away, not looking back to see if Uriel was following. He heard a rustling sound and knew the angel was gone, or at least gone from sight. For all he knew, the dick could be lurking unseen still. It was the sort of douchey thing he would do.
Sam took a deep breath before he opened the motel room door, bracing himself for the crap storm to come.
Dean was sitting on the edge of the bed with his back to Sam. His head snapped up as Sam entered, but he didn't turn. Sam could see the tense set of his shoulders and knew he was pissed. He understood it, expected it even, but that didn't stop him from wishing that Dean had had a different reaction to his arrival.
"Hey," he said awkwardly.
Dean didn't even twitch.
"What are you doing here?"
"Thought I should check in," Dean said in a low, tense voice. He stood and turned slowly. The moment seemed to last forever as more of Dean became visible and his fury was exposed. "Wanted to make sure you're okay."
Sam wanted to flinch back from his rage, but forced himself to stay still. "I'm fine."
"Oh, I know. I've heard all about just how fine you are." Dean's hands clenched into fists. "Uriel told me."
"What did he tell you? That I've been hunting? Because I have. That I've been saving people, too?"
Dean shook his head. "No, he left that part out. What he told me was that you got to the bottom of this hunt in a few hours; running from one place to another like someone gave you a map. He said you knew things about this case that you couldn't know through any natural way."
Sam shook his head desolately. "It's not what you think."
"Really?" Dean laughed brutally. "See, I've been thinking here, had nothing else to do, and I think I've worked out what's been happening. I've got to be wrong though, because there's no way you've been hiding something this big from me, is there? You wouldn't do something that stupid."
Sam closed his eyes and counted to ten in an attempt to calm himself. He heard movement, and when he opened his eyes, Dean was standing in front of him, too close, in his space. "Tell me you haven't been hiding this, Sam, this from me!"
Sam stepped back to give himself space. "What do you think I've been doing, Dean?"
Dean glared at him. "Don't do this. For once, just be honest with me."
If only he could. Things would be so much easier if Dean knew the truth. It would even be okay that he knew about the apocalypse, because his anger over that couldn't be worse than what he was already feeling toward Sam.
He took a deep breath and spoke in a low voice. "I took this hunt, took it alone, because I knew you'd want answers, and I didn't want to give them yet."
"Not telling me anything I don't already know, Sam," he growled.
Sam went on. "I didn't want to give them because I knew how you'd react. I knew you'd be pissed, and I didn't want to deal with it."
Dean fixed him with an icy stare and Sam felt the tension in the room increase exponentially.
"I took this hunt because I saw it happen before I even left Bobby's," Sam said. "I knew what was going to happen because I had a vision."
Dean's fist collided with Sam's jaw. Sam rocked back and clasped a hand to his face. The pain was bad but the disappointment was greater. Dean had every right to react like this, Sam knew, but that didn't make it any easier to deal with.
Sam opened his mouth tentatively, feeling the burn in his jaw but relieved it wasn't dislocated. He shook his head, and said, "I get that you're pissed, but, Dean, this isn't something I have a choice in. I can't control what happens to me. I can't control what I see."
"No?" Dean huffed a laugh. "I get that, I do. What's got me pissed is that you're lying to me about it all. You're hiding things, things I need to know. How long has this been happening? Did the visions ever stop, or have you been lying to me ever since Yellow-Eyes died?"
"No," Sam said quickly. "This only started a little while ago, when I was pulling demons. It's like tapping into that power made the other come back on its own."
"So the witches?"
Sam nodded. "I knew who they were and what to do to stop them because I'd seen it before. But, Dean, when I saw it, I was too late. Samhain was raised and I had to exorcise him to stop him. I stopped the angels from leveling that town by doing what I did."
"I know," Dean said in a defeated tone. "And I'm glad you did, but you should have told me. It's like…I don't know." He shook his head. "Things aren't right anymore, Sam. You're hiding this crap from me, crap I needto know about. We're broken."
Sam felt a burn of anger in response. They were broken, but it wasn't only because of him. Dean was hiding things, too, hiding things about Hell and what he'd done there. He was laying all this at Sam's feet, things he had no control over in the lie, and wasn't sharing a damn thing himself.
"We are," he said. "But that's not all down to me, is it? You're hiding things, too."
Dean's expression became a mask. "I'm not hiding anything."
"What about Hell?"
"I told you, I don't remember anything between the hounds coming and waking up in that box. You want me to make crap up so you can feel better? I don't remember, Sam."
"Sure," Sam said sarcastically. "Let's go with that."
He didn't blame Dean for not wanting to talk about it; it must have been awful suffering like he had and then what happened when he'd come off the rack, but for him to lay all the blame for lies at Sam's feet wasn't fair. It was hypocritical.
He was suddenly tired, tired of this conversation and this situation. He wanted to be at Bobby's. He wanted to sleep and drink and do anything that would erase the frustration and hurt he was feeling.
"Look, Dean, I've got to get out of here," he said tiredly. "I've created a few problems with this hunt, and people will soon start talking. There's a particular restaurant owner who's gonna be baying for my blood. Let's just get out of here, go back to Bobby's and take a few days to chill."
Dean stared into his eyes, and Sam knew what he was thinking. He was weighing up the benefits of leaving this discussion behind, evading Sam's questions and accusations, against getting some answers for himself. Eventually, he nodded. "Okay. Pack your crap and we'll go."
It only took Sam a few minutes to gather his belongings and stuff them into his duffel. He was going to have to drop his fed suit off for dry cleaning when he got back to Sioux Falls. That would be good. It would give them a reason to stay in town at least a couple days before taking on their next hunt.
When he was packed and ready, he made his way out to the car with his duffel slung over his shoulder. He stowed it in the trunk and then slid in behind the wheel. Dean scowled at him and Sam said, "It's only for a while then you can drive. There's something I need to check out first."
They drove across town and came to Audrey's street. Sam pulled up a few houses away and took in the scene before him. There was a locksmith's van outside the house, and Sam could see a man fiddling with the door. Watching him with horribly sunburned faces were Audrey's parents. Audrey herself was sitting on the front steps, her knapsack between her knees and a wide smile in place. Sam watched her for a moment, and she looked up. Catching sight of Sam she beamed and waved at him. Sam returned her smile and waved back.
"Who's that?" Dean asked.
"Someone I helped today," Sam said, "someone who made the vision worth it."
Dean sighed. "Okay. I get it. Visions aren't all bad. But lying is, Sam. Can you honestly tell me there is nothing else you're hiding from me?"
"No," Sam admitted. "There's more, but I can't tell you yet. It's not the right time. There's still stuff that needs to happen first. But when I can, as soon as I can, I will tell you it all." He twisted in his seat to look at Dean. "Because when I do, I'm going to need your help."
They didn't stop to sleep on the journey back to Sioux Falls. Sam took the first shift driving while Dean slept in the shotgun seat. At least Sam thought he was sleeping. His eyes were closed and his breathing steady, but he could just as easily have been pretending to avoid talking to Sam again.
Sam had an idea of what his brother was thinking and the dilemma it presented for him. He wanted to know more, to talk about Sam's visions and the fact he'd hidden them, but Sam was pushing for a Hell talk. The last thing Dean wanted to talk about was that place, so he stowed his own curiosity and stayed quiet while Sam drove. Sam was grateful for it. As much as he wanted Dean to be honest with him and tell him about what he had suffered and done there, he knew it would hurt Dean to have to talk about it. He didn't want to hurt him, especially when there was already so much more hurt waiting in the wings for him.
When they reached Mid-Montana, Sam stopped at a Gas-N-Sip. It was morning again; he'd driven all night and was exhausted. He climbed out of the car and stretched his arms over his head. Dean climbed out too and made for the store door. "Want anything?" he called over his shoulder.
"Coffee, please," Sam replied, feeling oddly formal.
He unscrewed the cap and set to refilling the tank for their journey. He watched Dean through the store window as he fetched coffee and queued at the register. When the tank was full, Sam set the nozzle back in place on the pump and screwed the cap on again. He watched Dean as he smiled at the young girl behind the counter, saw the way his head tilted as he spoke and he wondered what they were saying, what Dean was saying to her. He wished for his brother's ability to turn off the things that were hurting him and turn on the charm. He'd once scoffed at the ability before he realized it was Dean's defense mechanism for their lives. Things were screwed up as all hell and Dean was worried, but while he could get a smile out of a girl and maybe a little blush, he was in control of something, and that would satisfy him. He was still Dean.
He turned to look out of the window, smiling widely, and Sam looked away. It was probable that he was talking about the car rather than Sam, but Sam's cheeks still flushed. He wondered if Dean was planning to stay in the town a little longer to allow him to spend some time with Miss Gas-N-Sip. It would be a good distraction for him, and Sam figured it would even be good for him, too, as it would delay his honesty session with Bobby. He would need to be told about Sam's 'visions', too. Bobby's reaction would likely be more violent than Dean's had been because he wasn't going to be diverted with Sam's own questions the way Dean had been. As for the angels… It was too much to hope that Uriel hadn't been lurking around listening to every word Sam and Dean spoke in that motel room, which meant Heaven would know. Sam felt physically weighted down by the lies. He wished he was with Cas again, the Castiel of his time who understood what was happening and why; the one who didn't judge him anymore.
A pair of worn boots appeared in Sam's vision and someone punched him on the shoulder. Sam looked up, not even aware that he had been standing with his head bowed, to see Dean standing in front of him with a paper cup of coffee extended. "Here," he said.
Sam took it and thanked him quietly. He climbed into the shotgun seat and adjusted his tall form into as comfortable a position as he could manage. He sipped his coffee and was pleased but surprised that Dean had doctored it for him with milk and sugar, just the way he liked it.
Dean threw himself in behind the wheel and fiddled with the radio for a moment, trying to find a halfway decent station. He settled on a local station that they would probably lose soon that was playing Bad Company, then he turned the key in the ignition and pealed out of the lot, tapping his hands on the steering wheel as if he didn't have a care in the world. Taking his cue from Dean, Sam slugged back his coffee and then settled down to pretend to sleep. They were both pretending, and Sam was grateful for it. He didn't want to talk anymore.
Sam's pretense became real at some point, and he gasped as he jerked awake from a nightmare. He didn't remember clearly what he had dreamed of, but he had burned simultaneously cold and hot, and there had been a duet of laughter in it.
"You okay?" Dean asked beside him.
Sam scrubbed his hands over his face, the heels of his hands rubbing at his eyes. "Yeah. Fine."
"Was it a vision?"
"No, just a dream."
"Good," Dean said, sounding satisfied.
Sam didn't speak anymore. He looked out of the window and saw they were on Rattigan Road - Bobby's street. He sat up straight and tried to shake the weariness from his head. He had just about succeeded when Dean turned the car off the road onto Bobby's property. They wound their way through the junkers under the late afternoon light. Sam had slept a long time. When Dean stopped the car beside the Impala in front of the house, Sam sighed and tried to brace himself for more lies, comforting himself with the fact that the lies this time were for the greater good rather than for his own protection and freedom as they had been last time.
Dean was first in the house, and he was the one that called to Bobby. Sam followed him inside, greeted by familiar scents and sights. It was interesting that there was little difference between this version of Bobby's house and the one he'd left behind in the future. There were more books in the future and the windows had been daubed with sigils that should have kept away angels, but that was all. Bobby's house was a constant, just the way it had been since their youth.
Bobby was standing at the counter doling out bowls of stew from a large pot. On the table was a plate of bread and cutlery set out for them. Sam guessed Bobby had been forewarned of their return by Dean.
"Nice to see my car back," Bobby said in lieu of a conventional greeting.
Sam rubbed at the back of his neck. "Yeah, sorry about that. Things I had to do."
"Want to tell me about them?" Bobby asked.
"Yeah, Sam." Dean crossed his arms over his chest. "You gonna tell Bobby?"
Bobby looked between them, a crease between his brows. "What am I missing?"
Sam chewed his lip. "Can't we eat first?" e was Hwe He was He was starved. He had grabbed road snacks on the way back from Concrete but that was all.
"We can do both," Bobby said. He set the bowls down on the table at each setting and then sat. Sam imitated him, sitting opposite, but Dean remained standing.
"I didn't spend the day cooking so you could just look at it," he said pointedly. "Sit, Dean."
Sighing, Dean sat down and pulled his bowl over to him. Sam was already spooning up his food, feeling Dean and Bobby's eyes on him. He was in no hurry to talk, and he wanted to get his meal eaten before he was driven from the room by their accusations and anger. Though they were both entitled to react that way, it didn't mean he had to stay to face it. He would take the cowardly way out every time.
When his bowl was empty and he had wiped it clean with bread, he pushed back his chair and finally looked up. Bobby was eating, but Dean was merely toying with his food.
"So," Bobby started. "Some angel appeared and dragged Dean off without a word of explanation to me or him other than to say it was about you, Sam. Now, I can see you don't seem to be hurt, and I doubt that dick would have cared if you were, so I've gotta wonder what was so important to him."
"He wanted Dean to see what I was doing," Sam said evasively.
"And what were you doing?"
"Hunting."
Dean snorted. "That's it, Sam, hunting?"
Sam sighed and fixed his eyes on Bobby. "I was just hunting, nothing wrong there, but it's how I got the hunt that's a little… different."
Bobby nodded for him to continue.
"I had a vision. When we got back from Ohio, I had a vision of a little girl in trouble. I saw the whole hunt go down before it happened."
Bobby nodded thoughtfully. "And you took care of it?"
Sam frowned. This wasn't the reaction he was expecting. "Yeah, I took care of it."
"Then I guess it's okay," Bobby said.
Dean choked on a mouthful of coffee. "It's okay!" he sputtered.
"Yes," Bobby said pointedly. "I'm not saying I like it, or that Sam shouldn't have told us what was happening before he left. He should have taken help, but it's not like he did something wrong. He saved people, Dean. Apparently he saved a little girl."
Dean shook his head incredulously. "Well I guess that's okay then! Never mind that his using his damned powers again."
"You'd rather he ignored it and let a little girl suffer?" Bobby asked with a quirked brow.
"No, of course not, but you can't deny this freaks you out, Bobby."
Sam looked down at the tabletop. He didn't know why it was bothering him so much, obviously Dean was freaked, but to hear it spelled out like that made it harder to bear. Then he realized what the problem really was. Dean was reacting like this and he didn't know the half of it. He was unaware that Sam's visions were a load of bull and the real problem was that he was sucking down demon blood in order to feed his damned addiction and powers. When Dean learned that, and he would, it would ruin everything between them. No more worries about how Dean was going to react to him in the future when he got back where he belonged; it was how he was going to react now that was the problem.
"The thing I don't understand," Bobby said slowly, disregarding Dean, "is that you saw a whole hunt. You didn't see things that clearly before, did you?"
"No. I always saw flashes and they were always connected to Yellow-Eyes, but…" He shrugged. "I guess the powers are all linked, and when I started training them to exorcise the demons, I kicked the visions into high gear as well." It sounded feasible to him. He only hoped it did to Bobby as well.
Dean scoffed. "So because you screwed with them, you're doomed to visions again. And this doesn't worry you?"
"Of course it worries me, Dean. I don't like the things that are happening to me, or what I've been doing, but I am not going to ignore them just so I can pretend to be normal. I save people."
"But you're still lying," Dean spat and Bobby's gaze snapped to him. "Yeah, he told me so on the way back here. He's still hiding crap even though he says he's going to need our help."
Bobby looked at Sam. "Care to share?"
"No," Sam said simply.
"Let me rephrase," Bobby said. "You're going to share."
"I will," Sam said. "But not till it's time. There are still things that need to happen first."
"Like?"
"I can't tell you," Sam said apologetically. "Not until it's the right time. If I tell you now, things won't work out the way they're supposed to, and they have to, or all this has been for nothing."
"All what?" Dean asked.
"Everything," Sam said. "Just…trust that I know what I'm doing."
"What have you seen, Sam?" Bobby asked. "It's a vision thing, right?"
"In a way," Sam said, getting to his feet. "It'll all make sense eventually, I promise."
He turned away, leaving his seething brother and confused surrogate father behind.
Days passed at Bobby's, tense days in which Dean barely spoke to him and Bobby tried to pry more information from him. Sam resisted Bobby's efforts and tried not to care that Dean was treating him like he was a stranger. He guessed he was like a stranger to Dean now. He was hiding so much, perhaps it was better that Dean wasn't pushing, because he didn't think he could stay silent forever.
He saw no sign of Cas, not the angel of his time or this present. He thought that Castiel must be oblivious to his apparent returning visions, because if he knew, he'd surely have made the trip to tell him what an abomination he was. He wondered if Dean would tell him when they next arrived. He hoped not.
He understood why Cas hadn't come, as he was never apart from Dean or Bobby excect when he was sleeping. It was as if they'd made a secret agreement to not leave him alone so they could be there for the next vision when it hit.
He was on the front porch, watching Dean tinker with the Impala's engine, when his phone vibrated in his pocket with a message. He pulled it out and felt a jolt of shock when he saw the name of the sender. Ruby. He hadn't given much thought to her recently. It was fortuitous timing though, as he needed a meeting with her before his next hunt. The text said one word and he deleted it as soon as he'd read it. Thirsty?
He replied with an address, an empty warehouse in town that they'd used in the past, but he made no effort to leave. She could wait for him for once. He remembered how she'd left him hanging in this time before, left him so long that he'd slipped and fed from another demon, right in front of Dean. That had almost saved the world, that slip. Had he not found a way out of the panic room in that time, he would never have been able to kill Lilith. He had never known who had done it, freed him, but he guessed it was an angel or demon as they were the ones that had been so determined that he be free to kill.
He waited until nightfall before he set out for the warehouse. He told Bobby and Dean that he was going into town, an innocent enough story that failed to convince Dean. He offered to go along, and when Sam refused company he declared that he'd have to walk because 'I'm not having you duck out on another hunt alone.'
Sam didn't mind, even though it would take him an hour to get to the warehouse, because it would give him time to come down from the high of drinking before seeing Dean again. Bobby didn't say a word as Sam left, pointedly taking nothing more with him than his wallet to reassure them he was coming back. He set a steady pace to town, ambling along in no hurry to face Ruby again. She text him twice more, asking where he was and offering to pick him up, but he refused.
As he walked, he pondered his situation. He needed this blood, he had a mission, but he didn't want to feed the power of the withdrawal he was going to have to suffer soon. The more blood in him, the greater the hold the addiction had over him and the more he would suffer. He was afraid of that, but not just because of the obvious reasons. Dean and Bobby would know what he had been doing, and they would be so betrayed.
There was nothing he could do though. These mistakes were already made, and he was living with the consequences.
When he reached the warehouse, he took a deep breath before letting himself in through the loading dock entrance. Ruby was waiting for him in the center of the room, tapping her foot but smiling widely. He used to think these smiles were for him, that she cared about him in her way, but now he knew the truth. Each smile was another way she celebrated the fact that her and Lilith's plan was working. Sam was falling deeper into their trap every time he drank, taking a step closer to starting the apocalypse.
The sight of her turned his stomach. He hated every detail of her. She was the woman who had doomed him. He forced himself to return the smile though, to greet her and to walk towards her as if he didn't have a care in the world other than to sate his thirst.
"Took you a while," she said. "Dean playing guard dog?"
"Something like that," Sam said.
"So," she said with a leer. "You ready for this?"
Sam nodded. "Yes."
She bent and drew a blade from her boot then rolled up a sleeve to expose her arm. "Come and get it," she said as she drew the blade across her skin, making blood well and drip down. "
Sam crossed the room in long strides and grabbed at her wrist, temptation and need overpowering him. He brought her arm to his mouth and fixed his lips over the wound. The blood filled his mouth, rich and thick and sulfuric. He felt the power seeping into him, making his nerve endings twitch and his muscles contract.
Giving into the feeling completely, he sucked at the blood, knowing the need but hating the receptacle.
So… Sammy had a little drink. There is a good reason for it, I swear. Trust me a little longer.
Until next time…
Clowns or Midgets xxx