Warning- This story is rated M, for erotic content. The story deals with an adult psychic vampire obsessed with a teenage Sam Winchester, and due to the erotic nature of her feedings on a young Sam we felt the need to warn you.
Every Breath You Take - Chapter 2
Dean crossed his arms and leaned casually against the doorframe while Sam set the box of his belongings gently on the floor and nudged it under the bed with his foot. His brother used to whine that he was treated like a baby because Dean made Sam bunk down in the bed furthest away from the door. But the years of persistence, and a few well-placed cuffs, had finally won Sam around to his way of thinking and his brother no longer complained. Well at least he didn't complain about which bed to take.
Sam had found other things to complain about. Like why the family moved around so much during the school year and why he couldn't participate in extracurricular activities and lately, why their dad didn't listen to him about the family business.
His baby brother had been caught in the crossfire of the last hunt, a whirling dervish who had taken his oath to stand between the material and cosmic worlds a little too seriously. Sam had spent two days in the hospital, having his blood supply replenished after his femoral artery had been sliced open.
Dean cringed when he thought about the wild ride to the hospital after that incident, with their dad driving the Impala like a madman, breaking every traffic law known to man, and Dean trying, and failing, to staunch the blood flow as Sam's skin blanched white and then gray as the sticky, red substance pumping out of his thigh coated everything. Nothing was ever going to get a crack at his brother like that again, not if Dean had any say in the matter.
But that didn't mean Dean couldn't bust his brother's chops once in a while. And right now Dean was going to ride him about that hot babe, Heather. "So Geek-boy extraordinaire, I think the apartment manager is totally into me and while you're helping her with math, I want you to mention what an awesome, mature, older brother you have. Got it?"
Sam didn't even try to hide the eye-roll or the look of disgust on his face as he crinkled his nose. "Jeez, Dean, she's like what, 40? She's so out of your league."
Dean pushed off from the wall and stalked over to Sam. As usual Sammy held his ground but Dean was shocked to notice his baby brother was no longer a runt; the top of his brother's head now came to just below Dean's chin. At this rate his little brother was going to surpass him in height and that was not acceptable.
Dean reached forward and lightly thumped the top of Sam's tousled mop of brown hair. "Young Grasshopper, you must listen to the wisdom and beauty that is your older brother. And although Heather is classier then my usual conquests, did you see that piece of tail on her? It's well worth the effort."
Pushing away, Sam laughed an honest-to-goodness-amused laugh. Dean couldn't remember the last time he'd heard that sound and his lips twitched into an involuntary smile in response. "Wisdom and beauty, my ass. You don't stand a chance with Heather."
This time Dean advanced on Sam until the younger, smaller boy was trapped in the corner. His brother tried to dart under his arms but Dean anticipated the move and he soon held a wriggling, giggling Sam as he commenced tickling him.
John Winchester's no-nonsense, deep voice boomed down the hallway into the room. "Boys, quit screwing around. Dean, I need your help with unloading the truck. Sam, you need to go next door and help Heather with her schoolwork. Now move!"
Neither boy dared counteract a direct order from their dad and instantly the tickling session ground to a halt. Dean was saddened to see the levity leave his brother's expressive eyes to be replaced by stoic resignation.
-0-
Dean immediately left the room to do his father's bidding. As Sam picked through his stuff, looking for his calculator and an algebra book, he could hear his dad laying into Dean. "You know Sam isn't fully recovered yet. You really need to take it easy on him."
Sam was grateful that Dean's response was drowned out by the slam of the front door. He didn't need to hear how helpless and useless his family found him. He was well aware of their feelings on that score.
He knew it was a drag for Dean, having to share a room with his little brother and always looking out for him, so Sam sucked it up and let the older boy call the shots most of the time. But this constant moving around was wearing on Sam's soul and he was beginning to feel beat down. Refusing to dwell on his deficiencies any longer he scooped up the calculator and dumped it into his backpack along with some other stuff. He wasn't looking forward to hanging around their new apartment manager but it beat having to unpack and spend time under the dissatisfied eyes of John Winchester.
Sam left their apartment and walked by the staircase until he was standing in front of the manager's unit. He took a deep breath and knocked on the door. The door whipped open before he could lower his hand and he found himself face to face with Heather.
The manager's dark hair was artfully arranged in layers around her face and her eyes were expertly made up with layers of goop. Dean didn't stand a chance.
Heather's face burst into a wide smile and she grasped Sam's forearm, drawing him into the apartment. "Sam! Thanks so much for helping me out. Your daddy said you're a wiz with math."
A frisson of energy sparked where Heather touched his arm and a shiver shook Sam's frame. "No problem, Ma'am."
The manager grasped Sam's left hand in both of her tiny hands and tugged Sam through the living room and into the kitchen. "Oh, Sam, please call me Heather. Ma'am makes me feel ancient. Now can I get you something to drink? Maybe a Coke or ice tea?"
Those tiny hands pushed Sam gently into a kitchen chair. Heather opened a cabinet and standing on tiptoes, she dug out a couple of glasses. Sam was about to ask for a Coke, an unhealthy treat but on moving day he thought he deserved it, when he was distracted by the view; he couldn't help but notice the tight jeans cupping Heather's derriere. Dean was right, Heather had a great body.
A sultry, deep sound bubbled out of Heather. She was laughing at something and Sam could only hope it wasn't him.
Sam was mesmerized as he watched her fill a glass with ice cubes before filling it with the contents from a red can of classic Coke. Their fingers brushed as she handed him the glass. He's so delectable and I'm going to make him mine.
Startled by the words, Sam almost dropped the glass. "Excuse me, were you talking to me?"
Heather grabbed a glass filled with tea and dropped gracefully into the hard backed chair next to Sam's. "Why no Sam, I didn't say a thing."
Her large brown eyes blinked innocently at Sam and he shook off the feeling of unease. His imagination was really working overtime these days.
-0-
Heather couldn't stop the ripple of amusement from escaping her lips. So young Sam thought she had a great body. Well not only did Sam have a great body, big shouldered and thin-waisted, but his psychic ability was blazing forth out of him like a neon sign. It was amazing to her that no one else had helped themselves to what he had to offer.
Easily plucking out of Sam's mind that he wanted a Coke, she poured it out for him. As she was handing the glass to him, she was struck by his beauty, his internal goodness. Overcome with a rush of desire she thought, He's so delectable and I'm going to make him mine.
Sam almost dropped the glass, his soft lips rounding into an "o" of amazement. "Excuse me, were you talking to me?"
Heather's heart fluttered in her chest and her brain buzzed with the chemical reaction of being so close to such a strong psychic. Sam didn't have a clue that he was so gifted. And wasn't it interesting that John Winchester, hunter of all things supernatural, didn't recognize the prize he had living under his own roof.
Suppressing the shiver of excitement rippling through her body, Heather dropped into the seat next to Sam and set down her ice tea. The thrill of the hunt was the most exciting part of the game and she intended to toy with her victim a little longer and milk it for all it was worth. Or should she say, milk him.
Reaching across the table, Heather dragged a textbook closer. "Why no Sam, I didn't say a thing."
Ignoring the attraction to Sam, Heather made herself ask him a couple of questions about sine, cosine and tangent. She didn't want to seem like a complete airhead yet she needed Sam to feel as though his help was needed. Sam patiently answered her questions and surprised her with the depth of his knowledge and his ability to explain things in a way that made sense.
Heather couldn't believe she was successfully grasping the concepts. It was so much clearer when Sam walked her through the problems. Giddy with her intellectual achievement, she reached forward and squeezed the top of Sam's left thigh. "Thank you so much. I never thought I'd say it, but this is kind of fun!"
Instead of being met with the same expression, Heather was distressed to see Sam flinch in pain. Immediately she read Sam's mind; she saw the young man falling under the onslaught of a warrior's sword, blood flowing from a deep wound on his thigh. The same thigh she had just squeezed.
Summoning some of her power, she drew the tips of her fingers back and forth across the previously injured area. The frown between Sam's eyes smoothed out as did the lines of pain bracketing his mouth. The big hazel eyes dilated.
Heather couldn't believe her good fortune. Without enthralling Sam through a blood bond, he was showing signs of enchantment.
Heather ceased rubbing the injured area so that she could grab Sam's face between both of her hands before sliding a hand up to the top of his head. Without intending to she had sought out his crown Chakra which, when developed, brought spiritual connection and bliss. His eyelids lowered and he swayed toward her until their lips gently met. A jolt of power jumped between Heather's fingertips and the top of his head and Sam sagged into her embrace.
Staring down at the loose-limbed young man in her arms, Heather was swamped by a wave of protectiveness. And of ownership.
Tugging Sam out of the kitchen chair she arranged him on her kitchen floor. His skin was pale and the area under his eyes looked bruised. Anyone coming into her kitchen would believe that Sam had passed out. And that was integral to her plan if she was going to secure the trust of John Winchester.
The psychic-succubus had never felt such energy before. Her own body was singing as if she had finished a full feeding.
Heather knew one thing – Sam was going to be hers and no one was going to stop her.
-0-
John was entering the apartment building with yet another armful of supplies when the dark-haired manager ran headlong into him, nearly tipping the box out of his arms. "Please, you have to come, Sam just passed out."
Before John could gather more information from the panicked woman, she fled back into her apartment.
Dean entered the building with his arms full. "Dean drop that stuff and follow me. Heather says Sam passed out."
John didn't miss the stricken look on his oldest son's face or the way the color bleached out of his skin. But Dean heeded the order and was soon bursting ahead of John as they ran into Heather's unit. "He's in here!"
Sam was stretched out on the kitchen floor, pale and still, with his head in Heather's lap. Dean carefully elbowed the woman out of the way and set Sam's head gently on the floor. John kneeled down and put Sam's feet on his thighs in an attempt to elevate his extremities.
Heather stood off to the side as Dean chafed Sam's hand and spoke quietly to the downed Winchester. Sam groaned and his eyes fluttered. "What happened?"
Sam's voice was soft and slurred and his eyes still hadn't fully opened.
John looked to the manager for answers and she wrung her hands for a moment before straightening her shoulders. "Sam was helping me with a problem and he suddenly stopped talking. His eyes rolled back into his head and he fell forward so I guided him on to the floor and ran out to get you. I wasn't sure if I should call 911 or if he has a medical condition I didn't know about."
This last bit about a possible medical condition was delivered in a slightly accusatory tone and John couldn't be positive but he thought Heather was insinuating that he didn't take very good of his son. He wanted to refute that but then he looked at the pale features of his baby and thought maybe she was right. "No, no chronic condition. But Sam just got out of the hospital last week so maybe he's been pushing things, doing too much."
Dean said something quietly to his brother before kneeling behind him and sliding his arms under Sam's armpits. His oldest son smoothly hoisted Sam to a sitting position before letting the younger boy lean against his chest. John sat Sam's feet back on the vinyl flooring, studying his son's face. Sam was still shaky and pale but he was conscious.
Heather slid a glass of water into John's hand. "Maybe this will help Sam."
John was touched by Heather's thoughtfulness. She was helping their family who were complete strangers. And she seemed to have a maternal streak, which is something neither he nor his sons were accustomed to. John felt good about this recent move. It was just what the family needed.
Shifting so he was next to Sam with one knee on the floor, John held the glass to his son's lips so he could take some sips. Sam turned his head away, signaling he was finished and John passed the glass back into Heather's waiting hand.
John braced a hand behind Sam's back and scooped his other arm beneath Sam's knees. He smoothly rose to his feet and paused to let Sam adjust to the change in altitude. Sam's lashes brushed his cheeks and his head relaxed against John's shoulder. "Come on Sam, I think that's enough excitement for one day."
Dean, silent as a wraith, moved ahead to usher John and the recumbent Sam out of the apartment. John paused before they stepped out into the hallway. "I'm sorry, Heather. We generally don't pass out on our new neighbors."
The manager inclined her head toward John but her eyes were glued to Sam. "Please, if there's anything I can do, let me know."
Watching Sam swoon like that had probably scared the daylights out of the gentle manager and that accounted for her interest in his young son. John refocused his attention on Sam as they moved toward their apartment.
His youngest had been pushing himself and John had let him. But that was going to change now; Sam was going to slow down if they had to sit on him.
A/N: We just wanted to thank everyone for reading and especially those who took the time to review. We also wanted to thank our wonderful beta, Floralia. She is awesome. We should have more up in a couple of days.