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 18
Sam was being pitched up and down as choppy waves broke beneath him. He cracked his eyes open and saw the off white ceiling above him. He wasn't bobbing on the ocean, he was being held captive in Heather's apartment.
The sensation of being tossed about on waves made his empty stomach cramp and lights sparked on the peripheral of his vision. Sam wished he could obey Heather's suggestion "to rest" but he was stubbornly conscious. Of course his body obeyed her suggestion "to stay still."
Plan B had turned out to be so simple; he hadn't realized how easy it would be to mentally check out. He knew it was freaking out Heather. If he'd had the ability to think clearly, it probably would have scared Sam as well.
While he'd struggled to get out of the handcuffs, bruised and aching, Sam had come to the realization that if Heather really loved him then she might let him go if he was sick. Sam couldn't make himself physically sick on command but he could refuse food and drink.
And disconnect his mind from what was going on around him. Withdrawing a little from the world had been a coping mechanism since Sam hit his teens — reading, planning, dreaming. At first it had been hard to ignore Heather's attempts to talk to him as well as his own body's need for nourishment. Now he lacked the energy to do anything, including reverse his plan.
At least in his current state, Heather was leaving Sam alone. She hadn't fed off of him for three days and Sam was pretty sure Heather had been forced to go out and find a different power source. He should have felt guilty. Hell, he should have felt something.
Sam was empty. Apathetic.
Eyes closing against the brightness of the light colored ceiling, Sam emptied his mind and drifted.
-0-
Heather entered the apartment quietly and deposited her purse on the kitchen table. She'd been lucky on her hunt, finding a young woman with untapped psychic potential. Lizzy was very similar to every other source Heather had tapped into — a nice little snack but nothing too substantial. That is until she'd met Sam.
Easing her way into the bedroom, Heather watched silently from the doorway as Sam reclined on the queen sized bed. He was sprawled on his back, arms folded on top of the covers, in the same position he'd been in when she left. Only right now his eyes were lazily blinking at the ceiling instead of closed.
In the last three days, since Heather had stopped feeding on him, Sam had steadily declined. She thought she'd been helping him but letting him build up his strength but that didn't seem to be happening. Maybe now that Heather had something to sustain her, she could give Sam's system a little boost of power. Sinking onto the edge of the bed, Heather carded her fingers through Sam's hair. So far Heather had been able to compel Sam to shower in the mornings despite his fatigue so the light brown hair was silky and clean but it had lost its luster.
As had Sam. The love of her life, her soul mate, was fading away before her eyes. Moving her hand to the side of Sam's cheek, Heather willed Sam to acknowledge her. "Hey, sweetie. Did you miss me?"
Sam no longer tensed when Heather touched him but he also didn't lean into it like he had before they'd fled Omaha. Heather received no outward response to her question. The eyes were dull and unfocused and the skin beneath Heather's hand was cool, lifeless. "Come on, Sam. I want you to listen to me. Breathe deeply and concentrate on the pressure of my hands."
Heather proceeded to rub gentle circles over the crown of Sam's head. She could feel the power slipping out of her body but instead of sinking into Sam, it buzzed around above his head. Static electricity built up in the air and Heather's darker, long hair crackled with the energy while Sam's shorter hair actually lifted at the ends and waved gently as though in a breeze.
Next she focused her hands and power on the third eye. Not only did her efforts fall flat, but Sam's face scrunched as if in pain.
Heather's hands bounced from Sam's throat, heart and solar plexus, searching out a connection and finding none.
Hesitant, but still unable to give up, Heather next approached Sam's inguinal area, dipping her hands beneath his sweat pants and boxers and applying her hands gently but steadily on his muscular upper thighs and hips. When that failed to gain a response she summoned all of her power and directly touched Sam's penis. The last time she had done this both of them had enjoyed an orgasm just from the power exchange. This time Heather felt nothing.
The last of the meridians, the root which is housed at the base of the spine, was also her last hope to break through to Sam. It represented security and grounding as well as health. Heather closed her eyes as she reached awkwardly around Sam's still body with her right hand and tried to punch the last of her power to that spot. Electricity seemed to dance along her fingers for a moment and then fizzled out.
When the last of her spare energy was dispensed, Heather collapsed flat on the bed. She linked her hands with Sam's in a bid for closeness.
Despair washed over Heather. She'd been unable to properly connect with Sam. The give and take they'd experienced from their first meeting was missing.
That which made Sam unique — his quest for knowledge, his compassionate nature, his sweet soul — were absent.
Sam was gone.
Heather was heartbroken. She'd done this to Sam. She hadn't meant to, she'd only wanted the best for Sam and thought she could provide it, but he was withering away.
Dragging herself to her feet, Heather shuffled into the kitchen and pulled out a chocolate Ensure drink. She poured some of it into a plastic cup and returned to the bedroom.
Setting the glass down on the night stand, Heather eased Sam up until his upper body was leaning against several pillows. Slipping one of her hands behind Sam's head, she angled him forward so that he could sip from the cup she retrieved with her other hand.
Sam's slender neck refused to hold up the weight of his head and Heather was soon fighting to keep his chin from sinking into his chest. She managed to line up his dry, cracked lips with the cup and tipped it forward.
The light brown liquid spilled down his chin and streamed onto his chest. Confused hazel eyes now stared into Heather's.
Sam didn't appear to be in any distress if his expression was anything to go by. But he now had cold liquid smeared on his chin and puddling on his chest and Sam wasn't in the least bit concerned about it. Heather shifted Sam back so that his head rested against the pillows stacked behind him and his head rolled to the left. More Ensure dribbled from the corner of his mouth and dripped onto the bed.
Heather was in a panic. Sam would waste away if she couldn't get some sort of sustenance in him. His severely cracked lips already indicated the onset of dehydration.
Setting the cup back down, Heather clutched Sam's face between her hands. "Listen to me, Sam. You have to drink this."
Tilting Sam's head back, Heather trickled some of the fluid into his open mouth. Reaching behind her to set the cup down she missed the edge of the night stand and heard the cup hit the carpet with a muted sound.
Heather held Sam's head back at a slight angle as she rubbed her hand over his throat as she summoned her power. "Swallow, Sam. Come on, baby."
The compulsion fell on deaf ears and Sam began to weakly cough and sputter. Heather pushed him forward and smacked him on the back, trying to coax the liquid out of Sam's lungs and into his stomach. More of the liquid sputtered from Sam's lips and sprayed across the bedding. Each inhalation caused a tight wheezing noise and Sam's cheeks paled.
Afraid that Sam might drown if she laid him flat, Heather pulled him into her arms. Wetness splashed down her face and before she could rein in her feelings she was blubbering over the limp body in her arms.
They couldn't go on this way. Heather loved Sam too much to watch him suffer like this. As soon as the storm of emotions passed, Heather knew what she needed to do.
-0-
Missouri was pacing around her kitchen, tired of doing nothing but worrying. She worried about John and Dean, who both looked ready to collapse, as they frantically tried to find Heather. Most of all she was worried about Sam; that poor, sweet boy had now been in that hussy's presence for just under a month. She didn't doubt the boy was strong, after all he was a Winchester, but there was only so much a person could take, especially from a psychic vampire.
So far neither John nor Dean had asked the tough question – why did Heather pick on Sam if she's a psychic vampire. Both men were savvy and smart and she didn't doubt they subconsciously knew the youngest among them was gifted but no one had said it aloud.
The phone trilled in a double ring. This was John Winchester's phone number from Omaha and they'd forwarded it to Missouri's house. Just in case. It was always just in case.
Missouri snatched up the phone. "Yes?"
Silence met her greeting. Missouri closed her eyes and reached out with her gift. Bull's-eye! "Listen you little witch, I know what you are and the jig is up. You'd better not have harmed a single hair on that boy's hair. Do you hear me?"
A snuffle. The bitch was crying. How dare she? Missouri was winding up to let this psychic vampire have it when the creature began to speak. "Please, is John Winchester there?"
Missouri wanted to shake the young miss on the other end of the line but that wouldn't do Sam any good. "He's not at the moment but he'll be back soon. I suggest you tell me what this is all about before I lose my patience."
Her voice might be high pitched but Missouri knew how to make it sound menacing. Friends and strangers alike recognized it and didn't mess with her unless they wanted the wrath of Missouri to fall upon them. "You're her, the one from the store. At the time I didn't realize it but now it makes sense. You're a psychic, too."
Impatience simmered deep within Missouri's mind and she finally snapped. "Yes, I'm the psychic from the store. Why don't you read my mind?!"
A sharp intake of breath was her response. "You're right. Sam is…he's special. But he wasn't ready for what I have to offer. I should have left him alone. And now he's paid the price."
Fear burrowed sharply behind Missouri's eyes. She couldn't quite pick up this creature's thoughts but she was scared. And that made Missouri scared. Spacing each word precisely she tried to slow her galloping heart. "What do you mean Sam has paid the price?"
More sobbing breaths. "Sam is sick. He needs help. Please, you must help him. Tell John and Dean I'm sorry. They can find him at this address."
Missouri lunged toward the table and scribbled down the address as quickly as she could. The line was disconnected before she could say anything further.
Missouri hadn't been lying when she'd said John would be back soon. She recognized the simultaneous slamming of the truck's doors. Bracing herself, Missouri prepared to share her news.
John and Dean let themselves into her house. Missouri found she couldn't move. She didn't know if she believed Heather but she had a place for John and Dean to look for Sam. "In here, boys!"
Tears trickled down Missouri's cheeks. She thrust the paper with the address into John's hands before he could even greet her. "Heather just called. She said you can find Sam here. She said he's sick and he needs you."
Dean paled and swayed where he stood. He closed his eyes for a moment and when they reopened, his face was set in fierce lines. He grabbed his dad's arm. "Come on, let's get Sammy."
John rubbed his weary face. "Dean, this could be a trap."
Missouri touched John's arm in comfort. "It's hard to read someone over the phone but I think she was telling the truth. Let's go get Sam."
The Winchesters pulled out of her house in a flurry, with guns, ammo, holy water, silver and iron strapped to their bodies, Missouri's short legs working to keep up. She hoped like hell Heather had made a get-away. Not because she didn't think Heather deserved what she had coming to her, but because she wanted the Winchesters to concentrate on the youngest Winchester.
She had a hunch they were going to face some obstacles once they had Sam back in their midst.
A/N: Wow, we are down to the wire. Two chapters left! We really appreciate everyone who is reading and leaving reviews!