(no subject)

Apr 27, 2009 01:12

WHAT THE HECK. It's like I'm on a writing frenzy. I haven't been able to write dick all in YEARS and all of a sudden I'm writing stories left and right? I knew this would happen as soon as I started RPing with Jess and Tae again.

Blood of Fire
Supernatural. Something happened to Merle and she needs help figuring out what. Probably Dean/Merle, cause I'm like that. Don't judge me! I know she's a sue. ;>__>


Chapter One: Save Us

She stood in the church tower, her heart beating faster and faster every second. This would not stop them from coming to her. This would only delay, until they called in someone more powerful. Someone who could step onto Holy Ground. The ice cold wind whipped through her dirtied hospital gown, biting her bare arms. She had stopped shivering some time ago. Now, she was just numb.

"Please," she whispered, looking upward. It was the only place she could look without feeling empty. The night sky was so vast, so beautiful. If they really did exist, they would be there - among the stars. "Please, save us."

Tears slipped down her cheeks, drying quickly, freezing her cheeks and leaving streaks in the blood and the dirt. Her hands shook, so she put them on the railing, holding as tight as she could. She would wait here until they broke through her small, hopeless barrier. She had managed to escape their hell, but for what purpose? She had only been able to run so far, for so long. And it was so cold...

"Merle," a steady voice came from behind her and she jumped, turning around so fast she nearly fell. Her eyes widened in fear as she stared at the strange man who knew her name. She sobbed and fell to her knees. This was it.

She felt his hand on her chin, lifting her face so she was looking up at him. He was kneeling on one knee now. She shook, more afraid by this gesture of kindness than anything. Was he toying with her? Was he going to drag her back to that dungeon she had been in so long, she couldn't even remember who she was anymore? Only her name... Only the name they whispered in her ears when she screaming as that unquenchable fire ripped through her veins.

"I am Castiel," the man said, his blue eyes so bright in her unfathomable darkness. It was like they were looking into her dark soul, dispelling the shadows. His hand was so warm. "You are safe now."

She couldn't believe the words. Perhaps she was hearing them because she wanted so desperately to hear them.

There was a screech of tires barreling down the lonely road that lead to the church.

No! She thought desperately. You can't be here tonight. Not tonight.

The sound of an engine sputtered to a halt. Doors opened and shut.

"Castiel?" a man's voice shouted into the dark, low and overpowering. She was frozen to the spot where she knelt, her hands shaking so hard. Her fingertips were blue from the cold. The man before her put his other hand to her cheek. It was so warm, full of healing energy that wanted to seep beneath her skin. Quite suddenly, it felt as though the hand resting against her cheek was an open flame pressed to her skin. And then the fire was running through her.

Her head fell back and her back arched. She lurched forward and such a scream tore from her lungs, it filled the entire churchyard. She clawed at her skin, desperate to pull the fire out. To let the blood that burned in her out. That demon blood, the blood they had injected into her time and time again. She screamed and screamed, the pain too much.

She was unaware of the flurry of activity around her - the two men climbing the bell tower steps, the Angel in front of her trying to keep her from tearing her own face off.

"Please," she choked between screams and sobs. "Let me die. Let me die."

"Not today," the Angel's voice whispered in her ear, and her eyes rolled back into her head and she fell into a dark abyss.

Chapter Two: Forgotten

She felt so heavy, sedated. Her body was numb. She tried to open her eyes, but they wouldn't open. Her eyelids were just too heavy. It was a strange feeling. She'd never felt this way, waking up in the morning. A memory of something dark and oppressing flitted through her mind - something left over from a dream, perhaps?

Merle tried again to open her heavy eyes, and this time she managed. She must have been sick. She had felt fine last night, hadn't she? She tried hard to remember what she had done last night. She'd been out with her friends - or, no, she had stayed home with her mother, playing a game. Scrabble, maybe? Her mother loved it.

But the sight that slowly came into vision as she opened her eyes was not a familiar one. This wasn't her bed. This wasn't her room, or her home. This was - a motel room? She turned her head, ever so slightly, blinking the sleep from her eyes. A wave of nausea passed over her. What had she done last night? Maybe she had gone partying with the girls and this is where they had ended up.

She was hung over. The heaviness, the nausea, the unfamiliar territory - she had done some serious partying, and this was the result. She was never drinking again.

Glancing around, she noticed the second bed. It wasn't empty either. A man lay face down in the pillows, short hair sticking up in tuffs. He was at least half naked, because his chest was bare, though all she could see from this angle was his back. In which case, his back didn't look familiar at all. Morning light was just seeping through the pale curtains.

"Oh god," Merle moaned, putting her hand to her mouth as another wave of nausea swept over her.

"You're awake."

Merle spun around, tangling herself in sheets. Her eyes widened. A handsome man, probably a bit older than herself, stood in the doorway of the bathroom, toothbrush hanging out of his mouth. His hair was longer and darker than the sleeping man in the bed beside hers. She glanced down at the queen size bed. Horrifying thoughts ran through her head.

What if she had slept with this guy? Or worse, what if she had slept with both guys? If she was completely wasted, would she do that? Would she have no scruples? Where were her friends? They would have stopped her! Unless they had been as drunk as she had clearly been.

Don't let go. Hang in there.

Something flashed through her mind so quickly, it had her reeling. That voice - it was his wasn't it? But he hadn't opened his mouth. He was watching her curiously and absent-mindedly brushing his teeth.

Her fingers tightened in the sheets. She averted her eyes, choosing to stare at her fingers. And then at her sleeve. Wait. She was wearing a very large shirt. Too large to be hers. Too large to be a females. And - she shifted her legs beneath the blankets - she wasn't wearing any pants.

She was sure to be a bright red by now. She felt even more sick at the realization. She wasn't the type of girl to do this! She was shy, and stumbled over her words when she talked to guys, even when she was drunk. She was clumsy and spilled drinks on people and tripped and this wasn't her at all.

"What - what happened?" she squeaked out. She was almost hysterical.

"You don't remember?" the man said, retreating into the bathroom a moment to rinse his mouth. He came back and sat on the edge of the bed, staring at her. She swallowed thickly.

"Please tell me we didn't - we didn't..." she couldn't even get it out. He looked severely confused.

"What's the last thing you remember?" he asked gently, and she shivered slightly. To be looked at like that. Why did it feel so foreign? Her mother was that gentle. Her friends - well, not all the time, but they could be. Why did she have this deep longing to be held in that gaze? It was warm and kind.

"I - I don't really... I mean, I think... I was out with my friends. We were - we were at the bar, and I guess I had one too many drinks or something because... well, this, I just don't -" she stumbled.

"That was eight months ago," the man said incredulously.

"Eight - what?" Her eyes widened. Eight months? That was impossible! No one was asleep for eight months! How could that be? It couldn't! He was lying! But why would he lie? Why would he say something so outrageous? And why couldn't she remember?

"Here," he stood up and went over to the small table that sat beneath the window. He grabbed the paper that was sitting there and handed it to her, pointing to the date.

July 12th, 2009.

She almost threw up. It wasn't July. It was November. It was 2008. She was still only twenty-one! She was having a panic attack, her heart beating faster, her hands shaking. No, this wasn't right at all. She tried to calm herself. It was a practical joke. This wasn't real. Her friends had set her up. But then, why couldn't she remember? Why did it feel like there was something lingering on the edge of her memory that she couldn't quite grasp?

Pain seared through her so suddenly that she gasped in surprise, clutching at her chest. Every part of her ached, felt like it was being lit on fire. She shook violently. The man jumped forward and grabbed her arms away from her, holding them tightly as her fingers grasped at air.

"It's okay, you're okay," he said quickly, looking alarmed. "No one is going to hurt you anymore."

Hurt me anymore? Someone... hurt me?

Was that why she couldn't remember? Was that why the last eight months were nothing to her?

fanfiction, [tv: supernatural], [ff: oneshot]

Previous post Next post
Up