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.

Co-written by Sendintheclowns

Every Breath You Take – Chapter 6

Sam woke up slowly and stretched, touching the middle of his chest which was sore to the touch. He shrugged the discomfort off as he sat up and looked around. A surge of adrenaline slammed through his body; he didn't recognize the room.

Trying to slow the hammering of his heart, Sam took in the queen-sized bed with its pink and green floral pattern on the bedspread with concern. Where the hell was he?

Movement in the doorway caught his eye. Heather was lounging against the doorframe. "Hi, Sam. Are you feeling better now?"

Sam racked his brain. What did the apartment manager mean by better now? The last thing he remembered was sitting on the floor, doing a meditation exercise with her. Not that he'd ever admit that out loud to anyone. "I'm fine. Thanks."

Throwing his legs off the side of the bed he pushed himself to his feet. His head swam as he felt the effects of a head rush. An arm wrapped around his waist tightly and guided him backward until he was sitting on the bed again. "Fine, huh. I'll let that go for the time being. Let's see if you're sea-worthy enough to make it to the couch."

Not wanting to accept Heather's assistance but not sure why, Sam forced himself to submit to the hand on his elbow as she pulled him to his feet. This time there was no roaring whoosh in his ears and his vision didn't fade. "Um, thanks."

Sam found himself deposited gently on the large couch in Heather's living room. His hostess was deceptively strong despite her fragile appearance, having lowered him to a sitting position without effort.

A glass was pressed into his hand and Sam sniffed it cautiously. It smelled like water so he sipped at it gingerly. It tasted fine, too. He wished he could explain his distrust of Heather but he was baffled.

Draining the glass, Sam set it down on the coffee table before relaxing back into the soft cushions. He was beginning to think he was coming down with something, what with the way he craved sleep and didn't even remember lying down in the first place.

A soft, cool hand brushed his forehead, startling him. "Hmmm, you feel a little warm. Maybe you're coming down with something."

Sam couldn't keep his eyes from widening in surprise – Heather had used the exact same words he, himself, had been thinking mere seconds ago. The woman rested a hand on his arm and a shiver rippled through him. In fact his whole body was achy.

The hand retreated and Sam instantly missed it. Which was weird because he wasn't sure he liked Heather. And he sure as hell didn't trust her. A soft, fleecy blanket was draped around him. "There, why don't you just relax. Do you think maybe we should call your father?"

Another chill ripped through his body as Heather tucked the blanket snugly around him. "No, I'm okay."

Heather sank down next to him on the couch. "In that case, I think I know a way to pass the time. Just relax, Sam."

Unable to hold his eyes open any longer, Sam gave in to the urge to rest.

-0-

Heather hadn't meant to listen in on Sam's thoughts. In fact after feeding on his Heart Chakra, she'd intended to leave him alone for a day or two, so he could recover his strength. But the most interesting idea had crossed her mind and she gave in to the capricious urge to follow it.

Sam felt like he was coming down with something so Heather was going to use that to her advantage. Because a sick Sam would need to be left home, hopefully with the "Wilson's" helpful neighbor and new friend.

Due to the life force feeding, Sam's color still hadn't rebounded. He was exhibiting signs of fatigue, fever, and chills – also due to the feeding. However, all of these symptoms had something in common with a teenage malady that Sam easily could have contracted. Mono.

Leaning forward, Heather tilted Sam's head so that she had an unimpeded view of the left side of his neck. Playing with his hair, enjoying the silky texture of the brown strands, she tucked it behind his ear.

Without even trying the incisors lengthened and Heather nuzzled Sam's neck. She easily located the facial artery and let her teeth sink in deeply. Enjoying the sultry taste of Sam's blood for only a moment, she harshly reminded herself that this feeding wasn't for enjoyment; she was on a mission.

Closing her eyes, Heather summoned her power and targeted the lymph nodes located on each side of Sam's neck. Smoothing her hands around the dazed boy's neck, she could feel the cluster of glands rising. With a groan of denial, the incisors were retracted and Heather used some of her saliva to cover the puncture wounds. She used it very sparingly because she wanted the evidence of her feeding to fade but the swollen glands were integral to making John and Dean believe Sam was sick.

Satisfied with her day's work, Heather propped Sam's feet up on the coffee table and shifted his torso so that he reclined more comfortably against the arm of the couch. She had made a promise to look after Sam and she intended to keep it.

Pulling out her textbook, Heather resigned herself to working some math problems. It was time she turned her attention from the delectable mortal resting next to her and focused on her studies.

-0-

Dean rapped his knuckles against Heather's door. As much as he was looking forward to flirting with their beautiful neighbor, he was even more impatient to see his younger brother. Something was off about Sam and Dean wouldn't be able to relax until he figured it out.

He didn't care what his dad said, Sam had been out of the hospital for over a week without incident and then out of the blue he passes out. Something was wrong and it was his job to look after his little brother.

The door swung open and Dean was greeted with large, brown eyes that were filled with worry. "Oh, Dean. I'm so glad you're back. I wanted to call but Sam said he was fine."

Dean rudely brushed past the anxiety-ridden woman and moved into the living room where he stopped at the sight before him. Dean was warm in the apartment in just his t-shirt so he knew something was wrong with Sam, who was swaddled in a blanket as he reclined limply against the arm of the couch. He quickly catalogued the closed eyes, dark lashes rested against pale cheeks, and lips drawn into a frown.

Skirting the coffee table, Dean dropped to a knee next to the arm of the couch and spoke softly to his brother. "Hey, Sammy. It's time to take you home."

Dean waited anxiously for a beat before large, hazel eyes stared at him in confusion. "Dean? What are you doing here already?"

Sam's voice sounded soft and husky and he looked dazed. Out of it. "Sam, it's already 4 in the afternoon."

When his younger sibling didn't respond to his words, Dean decided to take another tact. "Heather says you're feeling a little low. Why don't you tell me about it?"

Sam pushed himself upright, bracing an arm against the arm of the couch which proved to be a struggle with the blanket wrapped tightly around him, and frowned. "Man, I'm just so tired. And I think my neck hurts."

A yawn overcame his little brother and Dean winced in sympathy as Sam grimaced. Reaching forward, Dean first touched the back of his hand to Sam's check, not bothering to push away the bangs covering his forehead, and then touched the side of Sam's neck. His brother was warm, fever warm, and the glands in his neck were distended. "Sorry, kiddo. I think you maybe need a trip to the doctor."

His baby brother wasn't so sick that he missed the mention of the doctor. "No way, Dean. I'm not going to a doctor."

All of the Winchesters had a phobia about going to the doctor, possibly owing to all of the time they'd spent in the presence of one due to a number of diverse injuries incurred in the line of duty. And with Sam having just been sprung recently from the hospital he knew it would be a struggle to get his sibling to give in gracefully.

Dean started with surprise when Heather began speaking; he'd forgotten she was even in the room. "It was like a wave of exhaustion hit him and he couldn't stay awake so I had him rest in the guest bedroom where he slept for hours. He woke up around 2 PM and he was dizzy so I settled him on the couch. I wanted to call you but Sam said he was okay."

Impressed by the concern in Heather's voice, Dean smiled at her. "Sammy will always tell you he's okay. He hates the doctor."

The raven-haired beauty smiled shyly and touched his shoulder lightly. Her eyes quickly turned to Sam and Dean could see how worried she was for his brother. Maybe the apartment manager could be trusted after all.

Taking Sam's biceps in his hands, Dean rose to a standing position and brought Sam up with him. He was dismayed when Sam swayed in place and what little color he had blanched out of his face. "Come on, Sammy, let's get you home."

Wrapping an arm around Sam's shoulder and gripping him tightly, Dean maneuvered Sam toward the door. "Thanks for everything, Heather."

Heather stood nervously at the door as Dean guided the visibly ill Sam through it. "I can recommend a doctor, if you like. Or if you want me to take Sam, please let me know. I think the poor thing is really sick."

Dean silently agreed. But with Sam's reluctance, or more like flat out refusal, it would be up to their dad to make the call.

-0-

John was sorting through supplies on the kitchen table when he heard the boys return. Setting aside his project, he went out to see how Sam was faring. He'd been a little nervous about leaving Sam for the day but no one had called so he'd figured things had gone fine.

His mouth gaped open as he took in the bedraggled sight before him; Sam, wound in a blanket, was drooping against Dean's side, barely keeping on his feet. "What the hell…"

Moving forward with a speed that belied his size, John tugged Sam out of Dean's grip. Tilting Sam's head back he took in the unfocused eyes, pale skin, and lines of pain evident on his baby's face. As Sam wavered, John pulled him against his side to stabilize him. "What's wrong Sammy?"

When his youngest son failed to answer him, Dean jumped in. "Sam's got a fever and the glands in his neck are swollen. And he's exhausted. Look at him! I think we should take him to the ER."

John simultaneously heard the distress in his oldest son's voice and the violent reaction garnered at the suggestion of a trip to the ER by his youngest. "No, no doctor. Please don't make me."

Despite what his sons thought, John wasn't immune to their suffering. And when Sam turned his hazel eyes on John with pleading, there wasn't much he could deny him. "How about we start by taking your temperature and giving you some ibuprofen. We'll just play it by ear. But if I decide you need the doctor, that's the end of the discussion."

Dean crossed his arms with a mutinous expression on his face, not at all pleased with John's words. Sam turned a watery smile toward John and whispered his thanks. "Dean, please get the digital thermometer while I settle Sam in his bed."

With Sam leaning heavily against his side, John was able to pull him into the boys' bedroom and tuck him into bed. Dean appeared silently at his side and proffered the thermometer. After sliding the instrument under Sam's tongue, John perched on the side of the bed.

After a brief wait, the thermometer signaled the completion of its job. Leaning forward, John tugged it out of Sam's mouth and frowned as he saw the read out. "102.3, Sam. That's not so great."

Panic flashed on his youngest son's face and John straightened the covers. Sam nodded his head with reluctance before his eyes slid shut. John turned to Dean, who paused in worrying a fingernail with his teeth, to make a suggestion. "Heather said she can recommend a good doctor."

Brushing the damp bangs from Sam's forehead, John frowned with concern. "Why don't you go talk to Heather, I think we need to take her up on her offer. I know some viruses will cause a fever and swollen glands but the kid cannot keep his eyes open."

-0-

Heather had been expecting the knock on the door but skillfully rearranged her features to reflect surprise. "Dean, what can I do for you?"

The young man before her looked dejected with his shoulders slumped. Raising a weary hand to his face he blinked before answering. "I'm sorry, I'm worried about Sam. You said you knew a doctor?"

Dashing back into the apartment, Heather grabbed her purse. Touching Dean's arm with apparent concern, she said, "Come on, I'll take you to him."

Continuing to hold on to Dean's elbow, Heather let him pull her along in his wake. It was obvious he was agitated and she hoped she hadn't overplayed her hand and made Sam too ill.

When they entered the apartment Heather was greeted by John. "Oh, Heather, you don't have come. We just wanted to know the name of a good doctor."

Summoning a smile, Heather touched the hunter on the shoulder. "No, really. Please let me take Sam. I actually know the doctor and I think I can get Sam seen more quickly."

Heather had to exert extra effort before she saw John relax in agreement. She knew there was no way getting around Dean's coming along, but she'd have her hands full trying to control both men and the doctor. "Thanks, Heather."

Dean cleared his throat hesitantly. "Can we get this show on the road?"

Swallowing a laugh at the short-tempered patience, Heather silently agreed. Once she got past this hurdle she'd probably have unrestricted access to Sam. "I'm going to pull my car around front. Why don't you get Sam and meet me there?"

Heather wasn't even touching Dean but she could see him jump to do her bidding. She didn't delude herself into thinking it had anything to do with her power of suggestion; he was almost in a panic over Sam's condition.

Perching dark sunglasses on her nose, Heather went to the parking lot and climbed into her silver Toyota Camry. She would have loved a ride in the classic black car parked at the other end of the lot but whenever possible, Heather insisted on driving; she liked having the power to come and go as she pleased, not dependent on someone else.

Heather smoothly pulled up to the curb and got her first look at Sam. He definitely looked peaked and wobbly. She could see why the older boy was in a state; Sam looked more like he was suffering from some grave illness instead of the "kissing disease." She had used too much power on poor Sam but there was nothing for it now. She'd just use his pitiful state to her advantage although she wouldn't enjoy being deprived of his sweetness while she waited for him to recover some of his strength.

Dean bundled Sam into the backseat and Heather quickly steered the car onto the street. In less than fifteen minutes, time spent in awkward silence, she was pulling into an empty spot right in front of the Lakeland Care Center. She'd never been there before, despite her assurances to John and Dean, but she had no doubts that she could secure an appointment for Sam. "Do you need help bringing in Sam?"

Turning her head, Heather saw Dean's lips flatten into a straight line. "I've got him, thanks."

Sam's arms were crossed over his chest and his eyes were averted; there was no doubt that he was here against his will. But his possessive brother was going to see to it that he got the help he needed. Heather would really need to pay attention to Dean. He was more guard dog than brother.

Flashing a smile at the man who held the clinic's door for her, Heather moved into the building and approached the reception area. There was a high counter between her and some bleach-blond with a name-tag which read "Wendy" but Heather was nothing if not a fast thinker. Although always graceful, she pretended to be a klutz and knocked a cup with pens over. When Wendy reached out to corral the pens, Heather touched her hand. Voile'! Sam had the next available appointment with Dr. Samuels.

Dean and Sam had made it into the building and had settled in hard, plastic chairs when Sam's name was called. The older brother turned to her as she walked toward the nurse. "No need for you to go in with us."

Heather realized her mistake; helpful though she may be she was still a stranger and it was odd that she wanted to tag along. "Oh, I won't stay. I just wanted to say hi to Dr. Samuels."

Her answer seemed to satisfy Dean and the trio followed the nurse to an exam room. Heather waved the boys into the room. "I'll just wait out here for the doctor and then I'll meet you back in the waiting room."

Sam's eyes were glazed and he wasn't paying her much attention but the corners of Dean's lips turned up in a parody of a smile. "Thanks."

The door was closed and Heather could hear the nurse instructing Sam to climb onto the table as she commenced taking his vitals. The nurse exited the exam room after a few minutes and gave Heather a strange look but went about her business. After what seemed like thirty minutes of impatient toe-tapping and pacing, Heather finally saw a tall man in a white lab coat moving toward the room. "Dr. Samuels?"

The middle-aged man smiled vaguely toward Heather as he approached her. "Yes?"

Heather held her hand out and the doctor automatically shook it. "Hi, Dr. Samuels, do you remember me? It's Heather."

The man looked into her eyes, compelled by the suggestion of her thoughts. "My friend, Sam, is here to see you. I think he has Mono."

Heather's power must have spiked because the doctor grimaced in pain. Feeding off of Sam not only gave her high but increased her strength. "Mono, yes. That does seem to be going around. But I'll give him a thorough check. So nice to see you again, Heather."

His parting words were delivered as the doctor opened the door and entered the room. Dean was sure to have heard the good doctor speaking to her as though they were friendly. Heather returned to the waiting room, secure in the knowledge that Dr. Samuels was going to diagnose Sam with Mononucleosis, a condition which generally ran its course without complication but caused debilitating exhaustion in the meantime. A condition that would cause the "Wilsons" to turn to her for her help if they planned to continue on with their job. And she'd be more than happy to take care of the stricken Sam. In fact, she was counting on it.

A/N: Thanks to everyone who has left us the awesome reviews and thanks to our wonderful beta, Floralia.