Untitled; SPN/Buffy Crossover Fic - Part 2 / ?
Title: Untitled (Part 2 / ?)
Author: talynn27
Fandom: Supernatural / Buffy crossover
Rating: PG-13? R? Hell if I know.
Pairing: None, so far
Spoilers: Supernatural - Pre-series. Buffy - Oh, right after Passion, I guess.
Warnings: Light/Implied torture, Some sexual innuendo, Sam whumpage
Disclaimer: Not mine, never were, never will be
Word Count: 1281
Summary: The Winchester Boys are having a very bad weekend, in a very bad town...
Author's Note: Well, this was written back in January, I think, though I am just posting it now. Point being, dear reader, that Dead Man's Blood had not yet aired in my universe, so you will have to disregard the fact that Sam and Dean have supposedly never heard of vampires :)
Light fingers, dancing across the skin of his bare chest. A soft breathy humming in his ear, silken hair draped against his cheek. The air cool and damp, the world filled with pain.
*****
Sam came awake slowly, drifting up into a haze of pain and dark confusion. His head was filled with a sharp rolling ache, and for a while he could not even remember who he was. When he started hearing the voices, he wasn't sure if they were real; he was still trying to figure out if he was real.
A woman's voice, high and warbly and singsong. A strong British accent, a stronger edge of madness. "Yes… that's the one… It shines, it sparkles. Glows and sparkles, twinkles and glows…"
She kept on, chanting the words, as another voice cut in. This one was male, with the same pronounced accent, "Yeah, yeah, glows and sparkles, that's nice, Dru," Then he seemed to speak to yet another person in the room, his voice dripping with sarcasm and venom, "Why didn't you just bring her a sodding Lite-Brite?"
A rumbling chuckle from somewhere else, higher up, further away. God, how many of them were there? Sam tried to clear his thoughts, tried to concentrate, remember. Dean, where was Dean?
"She didn't want a Lite-Brite, Rollerboy. She wanted him. And, you should know, I always give Dru what she wants." The third voice, this one sounding American, sounded full of amused contempt for the one he called "Rollerboy."
"Glows and gleams, oh, it's a million midnight skies brimming with stars…"
The two men seemed to be ignoring her as she rambled on. Sam remained motionless as he listened, tried to maintain the illusion that he was still unconscious. Memories were returning to him; home alone with Dean, the pizza, the dark haired delivery guy in the incongruous black trenchcoat, then the unexpected blow and the darkness. Not even a chance to yell out, to call to Dean. Just waking up here, lying on his side on what felt like cold cement, surrounded by these strange voices and suffused with pain.
"Oh, it thinks it's tricky," her voice suddenly sharp, "it glows and it sparkles and it listens…"
Pain, a sudden savage kick to his ribs, and Sam thought he felt something crack inside of him. Despite himself, a cry escaped his lips and his eyes flew open. He was looking up into the dark gaze of the pizza man, though, of course, this guy was no more a pizza man than Dad was.
"Hi there!" the man grinned and crouched down beside Sam. "And how are we feeling, hmm?"
Sam wanted to look around, wanted to start trying to make sense of where he was, of who the others were, but he was unable to tear his attention from the man before him.
"Oh, don't be rude, now, little friend," the dark eyes burned merrily from the man's pale face, the smile was wide and exuded charm, "I am Angelus. And you are…?" Angelus reached out, offering Sam either a handshake or a hand up.
Sam hesitated, licked his lips, tasted dried blood. He knew that this man was dangerous, that he had abducted him from his very doorstep, but he also knew that belligerence rarely helped. "I-I'm Sam," and he carefully took the stranger's offered grip.
Angelus grasped his right hand, pulled him sharply forward, and drove his left fist into Sam's face. The world dropped back into darkness.
*****
Light fingers, dancing across the skin of his bare chest. A soft breathy humming in his ear, silken hair draped against his cheek. The air cool and damp, the world filled with pain.
Sam opened his eyes. He was lying on his back, on some sort of hard slab, and a woman was leaning over him. An eerily beautiful woman, with long dark hair and mad, hungry eyes. She smiled at him, and his blood seemed to freeze.
"Good morning, pet," she purred. He recognized the voice from earlier, the thick accent. This must be Dru, then. He also realized that he was tied down, arms over his head, to what he could now feel was a metal table. "Such a pretty one, you are…"
She pulled herself up onto the table, slowly, sensuously, and straddled Sam's hips, her flowing white dress settling around him. He still wore his jeans, but his t-shirt was gone, and he could feel the chill air against the shallow bloody scratches that covered his thin chest.
Dru writhed, settling herself firmly against him, and leaned forward, running her hands along his upstretched arms. Sam could feel himself hardening, feel his breath coming quicker, and he tried to stop his body from reacting. He didn't know exactly who this woman was, but she was certainly not to be trusted.
He struggled, pulling against the ropes, trying desperately to ignore the feeling of her body above him, the scent of lilies that surrounded her…
"So pretty, so sparkly…" she was now caressing the side of Sam's face, running her nails lightly along his throat, smiling dreamily as her thighs clenched at him.
"Uh, Dru? Isn't this one a little young, even for you?" the voice of "Rollerboy", sounding annoyed.
"You hush, Spike," the woman hissed, "You are not here, remember? Just me and my pretty…"
Spike? Sam thought, His name is Spike? What the hell? And he managed to catch a glimpse of the man. Thin, pale, hair bleached platinum… sitting in a wheelchair. Rollerboy. Everything suddenly seemed so absurd that Sam almost laughed.
But Dru took hold of his jaw, turned his face back up to hers. "He's not here…" she advised Sam, solemnly.
"Bloody hell, I'm not!" Spike called out. Suddenly Sam understood; Spike was jealous.
Dru started to hum, softly at first, then rapidly louder. Tuneless, spiralling, as she squeezed her eyes closed. "Not here!" she finally shrieked, and Sam winced at the sound, and at her fingernails digging into the flesh of his jaw.
"What do you want?" Sam managed to ask through clenched teeth.
"Ooh, it speaks," Dru sighed, "Do you see it, Spike? See it's breath, and the colours of its words? It smells of fear, fear and honey and sour earth…"
"I thought I wasn't here?" Spike muttered, but it was as if the woman didn't hear him.
She leaned down, pressing her body against Sam's, and began to gently lick the blood from the place where her nails had pierced his face. Sam's eyelids slipped closed, and he was keenly aware of how she pushed against his growing erection, her soft breasts against the stinging skin of his chest, the feel of her tongue against his cheek.
Sam knew that this was bad, knew that he was in serious trouble, and he tried to ignore the feel of her, tried to pull himself as far away as possible. But he was trapped, tied, completely at the mercy of this obviously deranged woman, and his obviously aroused young body.
He felt her sit back, felt that she was no longer covering him, and he opened his eyes. Her once snowy dress was now spotted and striped with his blood, and her face…
Oh, god, her face! Sam was completely overcome with terror, and all rational thought left him. He began to whimper, thrashing against her, against the ropes, shaking his head violently, closing his eyes again to shut out the sight. He had seen her true face, the one she wore when the feed was upon her, vile and dreadful, bony ridges and jagged teeth…
Anyone would be horrified by what Sam had just seen, anyone would be afraid. But for Sam, it went beyond fear. Sam knew, truly knew what it was that sat atop him. He knew that this was a vampire, and he knew that it meant to kill him.
*****
To Be Continued...
Author: talynn27
Fandom: Supernatural / Buffy crossover
Rating: PG-13? R? Hell if I know.
Pairing: None, so far
Spoilers: Supernatural - Pre-series. Buffy - Oh, right after Passion, I guess.
Warnings: Light/Implied torture, Some sexual innuendo, Sam whumpage
Disclaimer: Not mine, never were, never will be
Word Count: 1281
Summary: The Winchester Boys are having a very bad weekend, in a very bad town...
Author's Note: Well, this was written back in January, I think, though I am just posting it now. Point being, dear reader, that Dead Man's Blood had not yet aired in my universe, so you will have to disregard the fact that Sam and Dean have supposedly never heard of vampires :)
Light fingers, dancing across the skin of his bare chest. A soft breathy humming in his ear, silken hair draped against his cheek. The air cool and damp, the world filled with pain.
*****
Sam came awake slowly, drifting up into a haze of pain and dark confusion. His head was filled with a sharp rolling ache, and for a while he could not even remember who he was. When he started hearing the voices, he wasn't sure if they were real; he was still trying to figure out if he was real.
A woman's voice, high and warbly and singsong. A strong British accent, a stronger edge of madness. "Yes… that's the one… It shines, it sparkles. Glows and sparkles, twinkles and glows…"
She kept on, chanting the words, as another voice cut in. This one was male, with the same pronounced accent, "Yeah, yeah, glows and sparkles, that's nice, Dru," Then he seemed to speak to yet another person in the room, his voice dripping with sarcasm and venom, "Why didn't you just bring her a sodding Lite-Brite?"
A rumbling chuckle from somewhere else, higher up, further away. God, how many of them were there? Sam tried to clear his thoughts, tried to concentrate, remember. Dean, where was Dean?
"She didn't want a Lite-Brite, Rollerboy. She wanted him. And, you should know, I always give Dru what she wants." The third voice, this one sounding American, sounded full of amused contempt for the one he called "Rollerboy."
"Glows and gleams, oh, it's a million midnight skies brimming with stars…"
The two men seemed to be ignoring her as she rambled on. Sam remained motionless as he listened, tried to maintain the illusion that he was still unconscious. Memories were returning to him; home alone with Dean, the pizza, the dark haired delivery guy in the incongruous black trenchcoat, then the unexpected blow and the darkness. Not even a chance to yell out, to call to Dean. Just waking up here, lying on his side on what felt like cold cement, surrounded by these strange voices and suffused with pain.
"Oh, it thinks it's tricky," her voice suddenly sharp, "it glows and it sparkles and it listens…"
Pain, a sudden savage kick to his ribs, and Sam thought he felt something crack inside of him. Despite himself, a cry escaped his lips and his eyes flew open. He was looking up into the dark gaze of the pizza man, though, of course, this guy was no more a pizza man than Dad was.
"Hi there!" the man grinned and crouched down beside Sam. "And how are we feeling, hmm?"
Sam wanted to look around, wanted to start trying to make sense of where he was, of who the others were, but he was unable to tear his attention from the man before him.
"Oh, don't be rude, now, little friend," the dark eyes burned merrily from the man's pale face, the smile was wide and exuded charm, "I am Angelus. And you are…?" Angelus reached out, offering Sam either a handshake or a hand up.
Sam hesitated, licked his lips, tasted dried blood. He knew that this man was dangerous, that he had abducted him from his very doorstep, but he also knew that belligerence rarely helped. "I-I'm Sam," and he carefully took the stranger's offered grip.
Angelus grasped his right hand, pulled him sharply forward, and drove his left fist into Sam's face. The world dropped back into darkness.
*****
Light fingers, dancing across the skin of his bare chest. A soft breathy humming in his ear, silken hair draped against his cheek. The air cool and damp, the world filled with pain.
Sam opened his eyes. He was lying on his back, on some sort of hard slab, and a woman was leaning over him. An eerily beautiful woman, with long dark hair and mad, hungry eyes. She smiled at him, and his blood seemed to freeze.
"Good morning, pet," she purred. He recognized the voice from earlier, the thick accent. This must be Dru, then. He also realized that he was tied down, arms over his head, to what he could now feel was a metal table. "Such a pretty one, you are…"
She pulled herself up onto the table, slowly, sensuously, and straddled Sam's hips, her flowing white dress settling around him. He still wore his jeans, but his t-shirt was gone, and he could feel the chill air against the shallow bloody scratches that covered his thin chest.
Dru writhed, settling herself firmly against him, and leaned forward, running her hands along his upstretched arms. Sam could feel himself hardening, feel his breath coming quicker, and he tried to stop his body from reacting. He didn't know exactly who this woman was, but she was certainly not to be trusted.
He struggled, pulling against the ropes, trying desperately to ignore the feeling of her body above him, the scent of lilies that surrounded her…
"So pretty, so sparkly…" she was now caressing the side of Sam's face, running her nails lightly along his throat, smiling dreamily as her thighs clenched at him.
"Uh, Dru? Isn't this one a little young, even for you?" the voice of "Rollerboy", sounding annoyed.
"You hush, Spike," the woman hissed, "You are not here, remember? Just me and my pretty…"
Spike? Sam thought, His name is Spike? What the hell? And he managed to catch a glimpse of the man. Thin, pale, hair bleached platinum… sitting in a wheelchair. Rollerboy. Everything suddenly seemed so absurd that Sam almost laughed.
But Dru took hold of his jaw, turned his face back up to hers. "He's not here…" she advised Sam, solemnly.
"Bloody hell, I'm not!" Spike called out. Suddenly Sam understood; Spike was jealous.
Dru started to hum, softly at first, then rapidly louder. Tuneless, spiralling, as she squeezed her eyes closed. "Not here!" she finally shrieked, and Sam winced at the sound, and at her fingernails digging into the flesh of his jaw.
"What do you want?" Sam managed to ask through clenched teeth.
"Ooh, it speaks," Dru sighed, "Do you see it, Spike? See it's breath, and the colours of its words? It smells of fear, fear and honey and sour earth…"
"I thought I wasn't here?" Spike muttered, but it was as if the woman didn't hear him.
She leaned down, pressing her body against Sam's, and began to gently lick the blood from the place where her nails had pierced his face. Sam's eyelids slipped closed, and he was keenly aware of how she pushed against his growing erection, her soft breasts against the stinging skin of his chest, the feel of her tongue against his cheek.
Sam knew that this was bad, knew that he was in serious trouble, and he tried to ignore the feel of her, tried to pull himself as far away as possible. But he was trapped, tied, completely at the mercy of this obviously deranged woman, and his obviously aroused young body.
He felt her sit back, felt that she was no longer covering him, and he opened his eyes. Her once snowy dress was now spotted and striped with his blood, and her face…
Oh, god, her face! Sam was completely overcome with terror, and all rational thought left him. He began to whimper, thrashing against her, against the ropes, shaking his head violently, closing his eyes again to shut out the sight. He had seen her true face, the one she wore when the feed was upon her, vile and dreadful, bony ridges and jagged teeth…
Anyone would be horrified by what Sam had just seen, anyone would be afraid. But for Sam, it went beyond fear. Sam knew, truly knew what it was that sat atop him. He knew that this was a vampire, and he knew that it meant to kill him.
*****
To Be Continued...