Disclaimer: Finally reached double digits, and still, Kripke owns its all. Except Daniel, and Eric, and Jesse, and…you get the idea. If you don't recognize them, they're either mine, or you live under a rock.Songs used are Nickelback- Savin Me, and Hoobastank- Out of Control
Blue MoonChapter 10: Striking Fear Into The Hearts of Sickos
Prison gates won't open up for me
On these hands and knees I'm crawlin'
Oh, I reach for you
Well I'm terrified of these four walls
These iron bars can't hold my soul in
All I need is you
For the past hour I was alone, something I was more grateful fore then I could have ever imagined.
This bit of time was used wisely. The cage was pure silver, which was actually a very good thing. It's in fact a pretty weak metal. If I could find something to cover my hands, I could break out of here.
I tried reaching out to Danny, but it was pointless. Stupid to even attempt, I know, but I had to try something. You see, I have this mental list of ways I absolutely refuse to die in. Trapped in the basement of my psycho ex-boyfriend turned lycanthrope psycho kill is #2 on said list. The first was being eaten alive.
As long as the salt circle was there, I was stuck here, wherever the hell here is.
So now I was kneel on all fours, blowing a hole in my sodium chloride prison one granule at a time.
Those last words were no exaggeration. The wall was thick, and far enough away (about 2 feet, maybe 3) that my air worked slowly as hell, but it did work none the less. Soon Dean would come, my knight in a shining Impala.
Where should I go?
What should I do?
I don't understand what you want from me
Cause I don't know
If I can trust you
I don't understand what you want from me
"Dean, would you stop the pacing?"
I was pacing? A glance down proved that I infact was pacing the living room floor back in forth with about as much patience as…some…patientless…thing. I was so fucking freaked out I couldn't even think of a decent analogy. Hell, I was putting my trust in a fucking SPIRIT! Yeah, I was a goner.
"Dean's in love with a werewolf."
"Sam wear's women's underwear."
"Good, I have your attention," he said, grin not even flinching from my comeback. What the hell was his deal?
"Dude, what the hell are you smiling about? Jesse could be getting tortured right now, or…worse!"
"Dude…you fell in love with a werewolf!"
"I didn't mean to Sam, damnit! It just happened." I wasn't lying either. Sometime in the past two days I realized it, on our way to go hunt down psycho furball. She was singing along with Ozzy to No More Tears, and it hit me with the same force that damned semi smashed into my car.
"Find anything yet?"
"Nothing useful. What are you going to do, when you get her back I mean?" He didn't say if, smart boy.
"My original plan was to take her with us, now…I dunno. One pain in the ass at a time Sammy."
"I like her."
Well that was the last thing I expected from werewolves-must-die Sammy.
"Really?"
"Yeah. She's not a complete dim witted moron like most of the girls you hook up with, Cassie excluded."
"Thanks…I think. Now enough of the chick flick crap and on with hunting down this sonuvabitch."
Come please I'm callin'
And oh I scream for you
Hurry I'm fallin', I'm fallin
The sun was already over halfway through the sky. Kinda creepy that I knew that, and yet I couldn't even see it. Just another effed up residual lycan thing. My best bet was about 2ish in the afternoon.
I tried to concentrate on the task at hand; to keep a level head. But honestly, I was about 2 seconds and a blink away from tweaking out all together. What if he already killed Dean and Sam? They could be lying on the floor right now, turned into scraps of meat and so much blood.
No. No damnit it wasn't possible. I would have known. I would have smelled it on Eric, even if he washed down 10 times in Lysol. Shakespeare was right, the blood really never does wash off. Just breathe Jesse, breathe and concentrate and soon you'll be talking to Danny and everything will be ok.
I was laying down on the floor now, still working on the wall of white powder keeping me from my dead amigo. Yes, I know, laying down nude on the dirt floor of a basement, not exactly sanitary. But damnit it was comfortable.
A scent was wafting under the crack of the old chestnut door. Old Spice, with some form of herb, and blood. Oh, it was Eric.
I sprawled out on the floor, an attempt at natural. Trying to escape, me? What would make you think a thing like that?
I barely raised my eyes as Eric strode in the room, long black hair pulled back in a ponytail now, wearing his customary ruined jeans and no shirt. Naked from the waist up, except for one thing. A medallion, one I recognized during my search of how people avoid spirit detection. How the hell had I NOT noticed that earlier?
My eyes then came to the thing in his hands.
A chipped white plate held a steak, raw and bleeding, seasoned with some familiar and seductive poison. Sweet and pungent…and—wolfsbane.
Son of a BITCH!
"I might even contemplate eating that if you actually cooked it."
My cold words fell on deaf ears as he laughed it off yet again. I wonder if he ever gets tired of hearing himself chuckle, seriously.
He slipped my meal under a 3 inch tall gap in the bottom of the bars, just a wide enough for the plate to fit.
"It is not a question of if, but when. The moon will rise, and the call of meat, herb, and her sway will bring your beast. You will feast, and then we will hunt, together. When the sun rises tomorrow morning, you will truly be one of us."
Great. Fan-fucking-tasting.
"Sorry chuckles, but eating a person alive wasn't exactly on my list of Things To Do Before I Turn 30."
"Consider it an addendum."
Wonderful. Still, as long as he was here, might as well try to make him of some use.
"What time is it?"
"Sun sets in 3 hours. I suggest you eat. You'll need energy for the change."
I wanted to tell him I wouldn't be changing, at all. That I would not, shall not, shift. But the smell of the meat, the intoxicating aroma of the wolfsbane, and suddenly I wasn't so sure. Did I mention lying was pointless?
"Go to hell you sick son of a bitch."
He laughed.
"Baby, I'm already there."
The evil bastard left me yet again, with only those parting words.
But that wasn't all, he left me something useful too.
I feel like I'm spinning out of control
Try to focus but everything's twisted
And all along I thought you would be there
To let me know I'm not alone
But in fact that's exactly what I was
"Dean, Sam!"
Dead boy had news. About fucking time!
"I found her! She's in Calcutta, just outside of town, number 27 Williamsville Rd. Little over an hour away."
Thank fucking God! I let out a breath I hadn't even realized I was holding. Jesus fucking Christ.
"Is she alright? What's she sayin'?"
"She says 'Dean, Sam, Daniel, if any of you are listening I'm in some musty old basement, locked in a cage, waiting for the moon to rise so Eric can turn me into a female Jeffrey Dahmer. Now get your asses down here before I seriously end up killing someone. Danny, if they don't get here in time, tell Dean…hell..just tell him I love him."
Damn. That changes things. A lot.
"Winchester, sun sets in…47 minutes."
"You wanna tell me something else I don't already know? Cause now, we've got about 45."
"Her supply in the basement was destroyed, but there's a backup, under the bed in an old shoe box. Trust me, you're going to need it."
I could barely think, barely speak, barely take a single fucking breath. It was like everyime Sam disappeared times infinity.
"Dean,"
Speak of the devil.
"Hey man, listen. You have got to keep a clear head on this. I know that look man…you…just keep focused, alright?"
I grinned, quickly slipping my game face back on.
"Crystal."
Heaven's gates won't open up for me
With these broken wings I'm fallin'
And all I see is you
As always, I tried like all hell to concentrate. Keep my sense stretched far and wide and assess the situation. Just like any other gig.
Yeah, right.
The plate was shoved back out of the cage after Eric was out of earshot, making a nice gap in the salt. It disrupted the circle's power, and I spoke to Danny. Even now he was still whispering to me, sweet French nothings to calm and relax my racing heart and frantic breathing. Too bad it didn't work on my mind.
The most effed up part was, it hardly had anything to do with the fact that Dean could die tonight, or I could die. Hell, I could eat Dean, and not in the fun sexual way, I mean actually devour him.
Still, the reason behind my upset was simple, stupid, and sad.
I loved Dean. Wholly, truly, and fatally.
I knew it all along, thought I tried to deny it. Told myself over and over I was just lonely. Too long without friends, or sex, or hell, someone to talk to that held an actual corporeal form.
It didn't work, as I should have known all along. I spend a lot of my life in a form of denial when I can. Sometimes if you ignore something and pretend its not there, it goes away. But some will still bite you in the ass. I accept what I have to, like being a werewolf for example. On some level at least.
A part of me wanted to dance around like a little schoolgirl because Dean loved me. Dean LOVED me!
I'm sure it'd be a sight for Eric, me dancing around a raw poisoned steak, naked, doing the "finger dance", and chanting "Dean loves me!" until I ran out of breath. Oh yes, that would DEFINITELY strike fear into the sicko's heart.
God, I had to get out of here.
(hey all! Sorry this one took so long to write! It was a real pain in the ass, every damn word of it. Plus been busy with prom coming up and school work. Now go leave me lots of love! Cause, I REALLY need it!)