Revenge - Chapter 1
Title: Revenge
Rating: NC-17
Fandom: BTVS/SPN x-over
Parring: Buffy/Dean
Summary: Dean crawls his way out from his grave.
Disclaimer: I don't own anything. I'm just borrowing.
It was cold, dark. The frosted grass beneath his fingertips slowly melted. He could hear muffed sounds off in the distance. He painfully looked to the right, through his blurred vision he see mounds of dirt. How did he get here? Where was Sam? He could hear voices approaching, or was it simply that his ears had finally popped. He reached with his hand and felt it, dripping down from his ear, liquid. He brought it before his eyes to inspect it. It took a moment for his eye to adjust but it was clear, the red liquid was blood...his own blood. He rubbed it between his fingers, testing the texture, the feel. It was different now, strange, but oddly intriguing.
He breathed in, his nose more aware, taking in the coppery sent mixing and overpowering above the smell of fresh soil and early morning dew. He brushed his tongue tentatively over his finger, tasting the blood, giving into a hidden urge. As soon as his tongue made contact he groaned in elation, the taste was like anything he’d had the pleasure or displeasure of consuming. He couldn’t get enough, he greedily sucked the remains off his digits. So sweet, so good. With the final drops his eyes closed in pleasure, all previous concerns washed away.
He was in bliss. He almost didn’t hear the sound of footsteps approaching. They were soft, delicate; too quiet for most to hear. Distinctly one set. Even with eyes closed he could feel their approach, like his being could sense the movement. They stopped moving, standing still next to his head, silent...seeking a reaction. He played the fool, stayed still. Their sent drafted into his nostrils, a sickeningly sweet perfume. He could smell the smile on her pale face as she made soft murmuring sounds of glee.
She dragged him, there was more strength in her small frame than he had expected. He knew he should fight but something inside him prevented it. She gently placed him in the ground, and lovingly stroked his cheek; like a mother would. “My sweet sweet boy, rest now in mummy’s garden. The time will be ours soon little boy.” In a swift movement she was gone from his side, humming soft nursery rhymes as handful after handful she poured dirt over Dean Winchester’s grave. “Come now Miss Edith you naughty girl, the fun’s about to begin.”
Chapter 1
Blackness, he woke to the dark. Cold, he could feel but there was no warmth.
Dirt, he was buried alive. Panic, he needed to get out. The dirt was in his lungs, he couldn't breathe, he couldn't move, he needed to get out. His hands desperately clawed at the soil above him. He struggled, feeling as if he would never get out, that he would always be trapped. Then he felt it, wind; air. He could feel the wind, he quickened his pace moving the soil more efficiently and with a greater determination. He was almost there, he was almost out, almost free. He was so close he could feel it in his bones. So close...
Dean woke, covered in sweat. The perspiration made the thin sheets cling to his body, he sat up and studied the small bedroom. The thick drapes were drawn blocking out the harsh light of day. He ran his fingers through his damp hair as he swung his legs over the side of the bed. He felt the thirst fill him. He was silent as he slithered across the room to the door. He relished in the feel the soft carpet underneath his toes, the simple pleasures.
His long fingers curved around the knob, he slowly opened the door. Two eyes instantly locked with his. He paused, studying them. He walked forward cautiously, waiting for a reaction. She watched his movements, never looking away. He finally stopped in front of her and crouched down so that he was eye level with her. She was enthralled with him. His hand gently caressed her cheek, fresh tears staining his fingers. She struggled, finally spanning out of the revere that she was stuck in. She was trapped, her back against the wall and his large figure blocking her front.
She whimpered as he trailed a single finger down the column of her neck. She tried to push him away with her hands only to have her movements stopped by the chains encasing her wrists. Her heart was pounded in her chest. She was helpless. "Please," the word slowly fell from in her lips in quiet desperation.
"Now sweetheart," he gently stroked her matted hair. "There's nothing to worry about. I'm not gonna hurt you."
She relaxed, her body going slack under his touch. He wasn't going to hurt her, she was going to be all right. She could go home, back to her family, back to the safety of her own room. She closed her eyes and prayed that his hand slowly trailing down her own would release her from her bonds. His voice broke her from her thoughts, "she is."
Dean smirked back at the woman over his shoulder. She was wearing a long pale gown, the peach color accentuating her features. Her long black hair fanned around her face and shoulders, she returned his sediment.
The girl before him panicked, struggling against her bonds. Dean ran his hand over her neck once more, loving the feel of her quick pulse against his finger tips. She shuddering in disgust and spat on him. He closed his eyes in frustration, the little bitch. He wiped the saliva off his face and stood up stepping back.
"Miss Edith didn't think that was very nice." The woman stepped forward, the look in her dark eyes, sending chills down the girl's spine. The woman stood next to the blond man, taking a brief moment to scratch her long black nails down his bare chest. She stepped forward and slapped the girl across the face, her nails drawing blood. The girl screamed out.
The dark haired woman looked back at her companion noticing that he was now at the door frame. "Are you going to stay?" Her voice pleading him like a small child.
He casually leaned against the door frame, "you know I like to watch."
She smiled up at him as her true face came forward, she eagerly bit into the girl's neck, the blond's face contorting in a silent painful scream. "Oh and Dru, save some for me." He grinned as the blond's body went limp.
Rating: NC-17
Fandom: BTVS/SPN x-over
Parring: Buffy/Dean
Summary: Dean crawls his way out from his grave.
Disclaimer: I don't own anything. I'm just borrowing.
It was cold, dark. The frosted grass beneath his fingertips slowly melted. He could hear muffed sounds off in the distance. He painfully looked to the right, through his blurred vision he see mounds of dirt. How did he get here? Where was Sam? He could hear voices approaching, or was it simply that his ears had finally popped. He reached with his hand and felt it, dripping down from his ear, liquid. He brought it before his eyes to inspect it. It took a moment for his eye to adjust but it was clear, the red liquid was blood...his own blood. He rubbed it between his fingers, testing the texture, the feel. It was different now, strange, but oddly intriguing.
He breathed in, his nose more aware, taking in the coppery sent mixing and overpowering above the smell of fresh soil and early morning dew. He brushed his tongue tentatively over his finger, tasting the blood, giving into a hidden urge. As soon as his tongue made contact he groaned in elation, the taste was like anything he’d had the pleasure or displeasure of consuming. He couldn’t get enough, he greedily sucked the remains off his digits. So sweet, so good. With the final drops his eyes closed in pleasure, all previous concerns washed away.
He was in bliss. He almost didn’t hear the sound of footsteps approaching. They were soft, delicate; too quiet for most to hear. Distinctly one set. Even with eyes closed he could feel their approach, like his being could sense the movement. They stopped moving, standing still next to his head, silent...seeking a reaction. He played the fool, stayed still. Their sent drafted into his nostrils, a sickeningly sweet perfume. He could smell the smile on her pale face as she made soft murmuring sounds of glee.
She dragged him, there was more strength in her small frame than he had expected. He knew he should fight but something inside him prevented it. She gently placed him in the ground, and lovingly stroked his cheek; like a mother would. “My sweet sweet boy, rest now in mummy’s garden. The time will be ours soon little boy.” In a swift movement she was gone from his side, humming soft nursery rhymes as handful after handful she poured dirt over Dean Winchester’s grave. “Come now Miss Edith you naughty girl, the fun’s about to begin.”
Chapter 1
Blackness, he woke to the dark. Cold, he could feel but there was no warmth.
Dirt, he was buried alive. Panic, he needed to get out. The dirt was in his lungs, he couldn't breathe, he couldn't move, he needed to get out. His hands desperately clawed at the soil above him. He struggled, feeling as if he would never get out, that he would always be trapped. Then he felt it, wind; air. He could feel the wind, he quickened his pace moving the soil more efficiently and with a greater determination. He was almost there, he was almost out, almost free. He was so close he could feel it in his bones. So close...
Dean woke, covered in sweat. The perspiration made the thin sheets cling to his body, he sat up and studied the small bedroom. The thick drapes were drawn blocking out the harsh light of day. He ran his fingers through his damp hair as he swung his legs over the side of the bed. He felt the thirst fill him. He was silent as he slithered across the room to the door. He relished in the feel the soft carpet underneath his toes, the simple pleasures.
His long fingers curved around the knob, he slowly opened the door. Two eyes instantly locked with his. He paused, studying them. He walked forward cautiously, waiting for a reaction. She watched his movements, never looking away. He finally stopped in front of her and crouched down so that he was eye level with her. She was enthralled with him. His hand gently caressed her cheek, fresh tears staining his fingers. She struggled, finally spanning out of the revere that she was stuck in. She was trapped, her back against the wall and his large figure blocking her front.
She whimpered as he trailed a single finger down the column of her neck. She tried to push him away with her hands only to have her movements stopped by the chains encasing her wrists. Her heart was pounded in her chest. She was helpless. "Please," the word slowly fell from in her lips in quiet desperation.
"Now sweetheart," he gently stroked her matted hair. "There's nothing to worry about. I'm not gonna hurt you."
She relaxed, her body going slack under his touch. He wasn't going to hurt her, she was going to be all right. She could go home, back to her family, back to the safety of her own room. She closed her eyes and prayed that his hand slowly trailing down her own would release her from her bonds. His voice broke her from her thoughts, "she is."
Dean smirked back at the woman over his shoulder. She was wearing a long pale gown, the peach color accentuating her features. Her long black hair fanned around her face and shoulders, she returned his sediment.
The girl before him panicked, struggling against her bonds. Dean ran his hand over her neck once more, loving the feel of her quick pulse against his finger tips. She shuddering in disgust and spat on him. He closed his eyes in frustration, the little bitch. He wiped the saliva off his face and stood up stepping back.
"Miss Edith didn't think that was very nice." The woman stepped forward, the look in her dark eyes, sending chills down the girl's spine. The woman stood next to the blond man, taking a brief moment to scratch her long black nails down his bare chest. She stepped forward and slapped the girl across the face, her nails drawing blood. The girl screamed out.
The dark haired woman looked back at her companion noticing that he was now at the door frame. "Are you going to stay?" Her voice pleading him like a small child.
He casually leaned against the door frame, "you know I like to watch."
She smiled up at him as her true face came forward, she eagerly bit into the girl's neck, the blond's face contorting in a silent painful scream. "Oh and Dru, save some for me." He grinned as the blond's body went limp.