I now have inspiration again! Thanks for reviewing! And I warn you: this story is not meant for young readers. All characters are not mine. Except for Zoe, Drake, and the demon.
"Drake! Stop it!" Zoë hissed. She slapped his hand away.
"Ah, show a little humor." He grinned. She wondered what she saw in him in the first place.
Shit. And now they were almost two miles away from any sort of civilization, trapped inside a forest. At least he brought camping supplies.
"I'll show a little humor when you stop being so damn serious." He tried again, only to get a hard slap to the hand. "Stop it, you perv!"
He laughed again, but put his hands up. She turned back to her hotdog, trying to eat around the stick. "Can't you be a gentleman and get some more firewood? The thingy's dying." She motioned to the dying fire. There were a few lit embers left, but not much more.
"What about the witch? Isn't it a blood moon tonight?"
"Oh my god. Don't mess around. And if you want to stay warm, I suggest one of us go out and get some firewood." She gave him the look.
"Alright," He got up, "whatever Zoë wants, she will get." He went into the tent, and emerged, placing something inside his pants with one hand and holding a flash light with the other.
"What's that?"
"A flashlight."
"I know that, smartass. The other thing that you put in your pants."
"Something to help me get the branches."
She said nothing else, and watched Drake disappear into the forest. When he was gone, she took his blanket. It was November, she was freezing cold, and she was camping with a sick pervy jock from school. God. Zoë took out her cell, checking the time. Quarter till' eight. It was getting dark out now; the sun was almost completely down.
After almost a half hour, she finally heard footsteps coming from behind the brush. "Drake?"
No answer.
Turning around, Zoë didn't see anything. "Huh."
More rustling, this time closer.
This time, she got up and turned around. "What the hell Drake? Do you have the fire-" She stopped ranting. This time, Drake was in sight. But he was holding a knife.
"Oh yes, Zoë. I have the wood. I have a lot of wood, honey." He took a step towards her. "A lot."
"Drake?" She took a step back.
You sick perv!
Pick you up at seven, then we'll head our for the site. The trip'll give us plenty of time to spend some . . . quality… time together.
Don't you dare touch me there!
Quality time . . .
Drake continued walking towards Zoë, snarling. She backed up, and tripped over part of the tent. She got tangled in the blankets, while Drake came up in front of her. Zoe gave up as he came right up to her, and instead watched his eyes as he lifted the knife, searching for any hints of mercy.
Wait a second. They were . . . red? Both eyes, they were red. Zoe gasped. "Drake!"
Drake dropped down to his knees, plunging the knife into her shoulder. She started to cry and scream, trying to kick the psycho off. He sat on Zoe, holding her arms down, slowly cutting off her shirt.
(Not gonna go into that . . . Please remember that this is a Supernatural story as well. And I warned you, didn't I? Thank you.)
Drake slowly sat up, moaning. Something had just called him. It was Her. She emerged from the brush, arms held out like a hug. She was smiling. He grinned back.
He got up, the wind blowing against his nude form. She didn't tell him to put anything on.
"Come my child. Come to me." Her voice was a soft whisper, and sounded so much younger than she looked.
Drake looked her up and down. She didn't even look like a witch, put aside the snow white hair. She just looked like an upper-class older lady, wearing what any woman would wear to a dinner party.
Drake went to her, kissing her passionately.
"Soon, you'll be with me. Forever. And ever. And ever."
"My lady?" He withdrew. "What do you-"
With a simple flick of her wrist, Drake felt something cold whip against his neck. At first, he thought she missed, since he felt nothing.
She missed . . . She missed?
He lifted the tip of his finger to his face . . . The slightest touch. Blood began to run down in sheets, pouring out of the finger-nail thin slice that ran from his left ear, through the neck, and up to the right ear.
She didn't miss.
His eyes rolled back in his head as his soul slowly drained away. But not into death. As he slowly dissipated, the witch hovered at his head. Her mouth was agape, sucking something pale and . . . Almost ghost-like inside.
Drake fell under fast. The witch looked around for several moments. She had collected the girls' already. It was time to go now.
