Come With Me...
Warnings: Very Dark, angsty, violent, (in other words, Dean is VERY naughty and has no guilt over that fact.)
Spoilers: All of Supernatural & if you haven't seen BtVS yet, there's no hope for you LOL.
A/N: Thanks to Ava
for her twisty, dark advice and MusesInspiration
for watching my back.
Disclaimer: This story is intended for entertainment purposes only and provides absolutely no financial compensation. Recognizable characters belong to their prospective owners/writers. Some lines from the show are used either as is or altered to fit the story.
In plain speak: I don’t own anything, just my imagination.Pt 2 Come With Me...
Once Dru agreed that Dean was ready, they searched for his brother constantly, usually only stopping to feed the hunger that clawed at him. After each kill, he could detect a small twinge of… something. It was usually too faint for much notice and Drusilla was always there to distract him from investigating further.
They managed to steal a decent car and even though it wasn’t his baby, the limo tinted, cherry midnight blue Dodge Challenger they found in the parking lot of a diner made up for some of the indignities he’d had to suffer since dying and waking up in suburbian purgatory. White minivans with flower stickers in the back windows should be outlawed.
He quickly found out that traveling cross country with Drusilla was a definite change from the norm. The Challenger drove with a satisfying rumble and after he explained that sex while driving wasn’t gonna happen, Dru entertained herself with the dolls she had nicked from one of the kids in the neighborhood. Dean suppressed a shudder. It was an uncomfortable reminder of that haunted hotel in Connecticut. He wouldn’t ever admit it to anyone, but the doll thing still freaked him a little and so Dean ignored the creep factor by thinking about everything else. She didn’t mind his music, so it was a win-win situation for all.
There were several benefits to being a vamp, and driving straight through without sleep was one of them. Dru needed more rest than he did and couldn’t handle the sun anyway so she would sleep under a blackout blanket in the backseat during the day and Dean would don his sunglasses and cruise, keeping to the back roads to avoid attention. He used the relative quiet to think, mostly about what had happened to him since his death. Drusilla was so different from the vamps he and Sam had hunted. Those vamps had been able to walk out in the sun with little discomfort.
The hum of the road lulled Dean into his memories…
He surfaced into the waking world with a scream, hellfire still searing his lungs. Cool hands stroked his face, assuring him that he wasn’t really ablaze even though the smell of brimstone still clogged his sinuses. Leaning into the cool touch, he tried to regain a sense of something more than pain and torment; even his name would be a place to start. A woman’s voice crooned at him, singing so softly, he had to strain to hear. It was the first thing he heard that didn’t make his ears bleed and it soothed him enough that he could focus on something other than the slowly fading memory of unending torment. The fading of hell made way for other sensations and another type of burning began. It originated in his belly and spread outward in a demand that he didn’t have the strength to resist, even if he’d wanted to.
A tantalizing scent washed over him and he turned his head toward it, his mouth watering as his stomach growled and cramped painfully. Something happened to his face and then his sense of smell ratcheted into overdrive. His mouth was suddenly too full to close and another tantalizing odor added itself to the first one. Something soft pressed against his mouth and fingers pressed against his chin, opening his lips wide. His teeth sank into the soft surface and a gush of warmth flowed down his throat.
He pulled and drank until nothing was left and still his hunger burned.
“Open your eyes my luv.”
The voice asked in a sweet lilting tone, almost childlike in its quality and he obeyed. Her face hovered near his and she smelled like family and home and everything good. Only… not complete. He met her gaze and she smiled softly, indulgent pride glowing in eyes the color of a Kansas winter sky. The hunger burned through him again, even more demanding now that it had received a taste and a whimper escaped his throat before he could clamp down on it.
“Such a hungry boy you are!” She cooed. “There’s more my precious, but we must finish the bond first.”
The words only made sense in an abstract way and he nodded slowly, hoping she would ease this blazing hunger soon. She held up a finger, its nail wickedly sharp, and he watched with fascination as she drew it across her wrist, the pale flesh parting easily. Dark blood welled up from the cut and she held it to his mouth. The scent was overwhelmingly strong and he latched on immediately, groaning as her rich potent blood flowed over his tongue. Although the hunger raged through him, he stopped after two mouthfuls and looked up into her eager eyes. She stroked his head and he felt like he was falling into her as her face drew closer. She placed a soft kiss onto his lips and he watched with fascination as she brought his wrist to her mouth. She placed another kiss there and then gazed deeply into his eyes again, making him dizzy and aroused instead of hungry.
A voice sounded in his head and it had the same tone as the one that woke him from his dream of hellfire.‘I am Drusilla, Dear One. You were pulled from torment to be with me always. Would you like that sweeting? To never be alone, be together until dust?’
A sense of peace washed through him and he found himself answering aloud, his “Yes” spoken in a raspy voice.
“I Claim you Dean Winchester, to be Mine until dust.”
His eyes opened wide at the name she called him and he watched her face morph into prominent brow ridges, her teeth growing and sharpening against the skin of his wrist. She hesitated until he met her golden gaze and Dean was startled to see a flash of insecurity in her eyes. Want and need welled up from deep inside and he nodded, reaching out to her with his free hand to press her mouth firmly against his wrist.
He swallowed hard and said, “Yours until dust.” Tensing in anticipation of the pain, he instead moaned in pleasure as her teeth sank into his flesh. By the time she had swallowed once, Dean was hard and aching, his desire fighting a battle with his hunger. He writhed on the bed, unsure of which need to answer first.
Drusilla solved the dilemma. “Can you hear it Dean?”
He stilled, and noticed that when he concentrated a little, he could tell that there were no heartbeats in the room, but a faint sound could be heard nearby. Neither he nor Drusilla were the source and he sat up, all senses on high alert. His hunger raced to the surface, urging him to leap out of the bed, his instincts leading him to search out the source.
He stalked through the house on high alert, listening for the tantalizing sound. He found the source hiding in the basement behind a storeroom door. The man cringed away from Dean, whimpering and mewling like a wounded animal. A small part of him was embarrassed and disgusted by the man’s behavior, but the hunger was on him and Dean pulled the man to him, draining him in moments. His bloodlust finally sated, Dean turned to find Drusilla behind him, leaning against the doorway as she eyed him hungrily. With his bloodlust gone, he was once again aware of the raging erection he’d yet to give attention to and Dean held out his hand to her.
Sex with Drusilla had been like nothing he’d ever experienced before. Even though his memories were spotty at best since waking, he remembered physical pleasure, but knew he’d always held back for fear of hurting his partners. Drusilla didn’t flinch when he clutched her hips in a bruising grip and her sounds of pleasure actually increased as he treated her with escalating roughness.
Dean’s first coherent thought after sating his hungers was about Sam.
His desire for Drusilla still burned bright, but another need had pushed its way into his consciousness and Dean whispered in her ear, “Where’s my brother?”
She bit her lower lip, drawing his attention to the full redness of it and murmured, “he’s with the singing man Precious. You’re not strong enough yet for them.” Her eyes drew him in and he didn’t try to struggle against her. Why struggle when everything with her felt so good?
How they ended up in the living room, Dean couldn’t say, but Drusilla was asleep and sunlight peeked through the drawn curtains so he searched the house until he found something halfway acceptable to wear. His memories had started to return in bits and pieces soon after their first round and Dean wanted to test his limits. He had to know what he could and couldn’t do before he started looking for Sam.
Hours later he was still reeling with shock. He’d discovered the hard way that exposure to direct sunlight caused instant third degree burns on Drusilla’s delicate skin and could quite possibly give her final death if she was unable to find shelter fast enough. After sleeping off their excesses, Dean had wandered out into the yard and hissed in pain as the sun blinded him unexpectedly. Dru had called to him from the covered porch and he stumbled up the stairs, following her voice. He’d tripped on the step and fell back just as she grabbed his hand. Despite her considerable strength, he outweighed her by at least a hundred pounds and his falling body had pulled her out into the light.
Her screams would haunt him forever. When he realized what was happening, Dean tossed her over his shoulder and leaped the stairs in a single bound, rushing into the living-room to grab the afghan and put out the flames. It was a good thing that a curious neighbor had chosen to offer assistance before calling for an ambulance. The neighborhood busy-body was just what Dru had needed. Drusilla had burned herself to help him and although the neighbor’s blood had healed most of the damage, she was still badly burned.
In spite of his guilty conscience, Dean brought up the subject of leaving to Dru. He wanted to leave right away, knowing that three days was a huge gap to make up. Dean had been of the opinion that they could take the old man down, but Dru emphasized her opposing point via a leather strap and a creative use of the kitchen cutlery. Girl had wicked skills with sharp edges. Dru exerted her will over his and after much persuasion; she managed to convince him that he wasn’t ready to go after his brother. They had to wait until Sam and Bobby parted ways.
After Dean finally agreed to wait, her voice had been proud and smug as she told him that he had held out much longer than she’d expected. Waiting would make Sam harder to track, but easier to take down. Then he would be brought into the family and they wouldn’t be separated ever again.
They soon ran out of neighbors to prey on and she decided it was time to start hunting. She’d been adamant from the beginning that he not go out hunting without her and so as soon as she was physically able, she took him out and they picked up a few teenagers. Goths were so easy and they were distrustful of authority figures so by the time anyone suspected something was wrong, he and Dru would be gone.
The afternoon before they were due to leave New Harmony, they lay in bed, Dean’s head pillowed on her breast as he skimmed callused fingers over the soft skin of her stomach. The scent of blood was a subtle addition to her natural perfume and Dean nuzzled her throat, smiling against the soft flesh as she hummed in contentment. The burns had finally faded and with the anticipation of the approaching road-trip, he felt confident enough to ask one of the many questions that whirled in his mind.
“Dru?” She hummed again and he kissed the underside of her chin before asking, “Why are we so different than the vampires my brother and I hunted?” Her hand stroked through his hair and he responded by cupping her breast in his palm. He hadn’t thought it was possible, but she shifted closer, pressing her cheek to the top of his head.
“Princess is not of this world, my Precious. The moon spoke and sent us through the glowing door. I woke to this new world of bodiless demons and viral vampires. Miss Edith fell apart in the storm and a rumbly tummy found tasty treats. So spicy they were. All pretty shark’s teeth and they made Princess stronger. A dusty end there is for a stake to the heart or losing your head, but the sun won’t hurt you as did me.”
As each night passed, he found it easier to interpret Dru’s babbling. Maybe it was their bond, he couldn’t know for sure and he couldn’t ask anyone that could explain with any coherency. So far, decoding Drusilla was a crapshoot at best, but if he understood her correctly, their screwed up world was merely an alternate ‘reality’ to hers and she came to this … reality… via a portal of some sort and fed on one of this world’s vampires. His thoughts whirled dizzily. Despite what his dad or anyone else might’ve thought, Dean wasn’t just a blunt instrument. He had a brain and it was just as fast as Sam’s when he wanted to exert the effort. Which was why Sam would get so exasperated at being left with the majority of the research duty. Sam hadn’t been fooled by Dean’s act.
Calling the vamps here ‘viral’ was a pretty accurate description. Caution against contact with vamp blood was warned against due to the high probability of infection or contamination and if she was right, the vamp’s blood she’d ingested had altered Dru and she was a hybrid now; by default, that meant he was one as well.
Since waking to this new life, Dean had discovered that he was faster and stronger than ever before. Demon strong if the crushed banister on the porch was any indication. The claws were pretty useful; he could pop the top off a beer in seconds, rip out a throat with little effort or trace hairline cuts into soft skin. It seemed as if he’d received all the good parts from both species of vampire. He’d missed out on inheriting Dru’s seer ability, thank whatever deity, but discovered that he had a weaker version of her thrall. Which was pretty freakin cool, even if he didn’t need it.
Their last Gothling… Dean snickered at that memory; had whimpered from his spot in the corner of the bedroom and Dean gently extricated himself from Dru’s wandering hands to bring the boy’s quivering body to her. The kid was pretty large, but unresisting as Dean hauled him toward the bed. He’d been fairly defiant in the beginning, demanding that they turn him and his girlfriend. It took about twenty minutes of Dru’s special attention to break the boy. Of course, the red mess in the opposite corner had a lot to do with it. The girlfriend had managed to last for about thirty seconds. In his defense, it had been Dean’s first time at the whole torture thing and he got a little carried away. Very disappointing.
Dean tossed the Goth-ling and the kid’s body sprawled across the middle of the bed. Dru crawled up his insensate form, cooing and singing. Much to Dean’s amusement, she sometimes communicated by quoting song lyrics or poems and he found that most of the time it was a better way than her abstract babbling. The tune she crooned at goth-boy was vaguely familiar, like something he’d fought with Sam over on the Impala’s radio. Little brother had a varied taste in music. Anything from Emo to really hard metal with the exception of Dean’s music and lately, when he took the time to think about it, Dean had a sneaking suspicion that Sam just complained to yank his chain. He’d sung along with Bon Jovi right?
Dru started singing lyrics and he laughed out loud.“Hey you, hey you finally you get it
The world ain't fair, eat you if you let it”
Dru straddled the kid and wrenched his head to the side, exposing his pale neck. His heart was beating so fast, the vein pulsed visibly and Dean bit his lip, trying to reign in his hunger. Dru needed the kid’s blood more than he did.“And as your tears fall on your breast, your dress
Vibrations coming through you're in a mess…”
Her voice stopped as she sank her teeth deep into that sharply curved neck and Dean’s groan echoed the Goth’s. Dean knew better than anyone how pleasurable Dru’s bite could be if she chose to make it so. She kneeled over the Goth-ling like a lioness, her heart shaped ass swaying in the air, transforming his bloodlust into something altogether carnal. He took her from behind as she drained the foolish kid dry.
Pushing the rapidly cooling body to the floor, Dean felt that twinge again. Concentrating would bring it hovering just on the edge of his consciousness. It was a faint howling, like grief and loss. It was especially noticeable right after a kill and Dean couldn't understand it. Sure, he remembered his life before being turned, what his life's work had been and how devastated his dad and Sam would be over what he’d become. He and Drusilla had laughed until their sides ached and then shared the mailman that had had the misfortune of needing a signature.
He was a true predator now and other than his compulsion to find his brother, Dean didn't actually feel prompted to do anything more than hunt and be with Drusilla. It might be interesting to continue to hunt other supernatural creatures, but it was no longer the driving force it had been.
When he asked Dru about the strange sensation, her lip quivered for a moment and then she stared deep into his eyes. He always felt so strange when she did that, but usually after she was done, she'd fuck him until they were both practically blind. This time, to his slight disappointment, she led him out of the house and across three counties to a late night diner. They’d taken the first mode of transportation he found with keys, much to Dean’s disgust. A minivan…. with flowers in the window… That alone had brought out a need to kill someone. Freakin’ suburbs.
The diner was just on the edge of nowhere and it was the first time Dean had been in an actual crowd since waking up. Until now, Dru had either brought him his meal or had him hunt for his food in isolated locales.
She led him to the rear most booth and they slouched in the corner as a perky barely eighteen blonde nothing named Shannon bounced up to their table. She flirted shamelessly with Dean, completely dismissing Drusilla. Dean ordered coffee for both of them, knowing they’d never drink it and wondered how long it’d be before Dru followed the girl into the back to rip her throat out.
“Time to bathe the demon luv.”
He felt her murmur vibrate all the way to his core and something stirred deep inside. He felt it each time his face shifted into his vampire aspect. The first time he saw her face shift, he’d watched in fascination as her forehead transformed into prominent ridges, her teeth elongating into jagged points and her eyes glowing a molten gold. He knew such a sight pre-death would have disgusted him, but now Dean couldn’t help the excitement and arousal Dru’s vamp face awakened in him. Mirrors were useless, but he’d run his fingers over his face and discovered that it didn’t distort quite as significantly and his teeth, while just as wickedly sharp, weren’t as jagged. Dru thought his demon was pretty. And that was what moved within him. A demon. And although he knew it would ravage Sam, it didn’t bother him in the slightest. Sam would just have to get over it. And he would because he would have one of his own soon.
Dru’s hand snaked under the table and squeezed his thigh, the pressure just this side of painful and Dean suppressed a groan. She always knew when temptation was rising and acted accordingly. The expectancy of finding Sam combined with the likelihood of Dru tearing little Shannon to ribbons very soon was both exciting and arousing in turn. Even though Sam wasn’t with them yet, she had laid Claim to them both and was exceedingly vicious to anyone that hinted at trespass. Vicious wasn’t an exaggeration, it was an understatement.
Their first hunting trip after the sunlight disaster had been Dean’s introduction into the madness that was Drusilla’s jealousy. Especially if it involved a blonde female. The first one had been honey blonde, petite and very L.A. The young woman had approached Dean as he leaned against the side of a building, waiting for Dru to finish luring her latest choice. Tiffany, or whatever her name had been, had actually put her hands on him, stroking her fingers down his arms as she leaned into him. Her eyes had been dilated impossibly wide and all he could think about was the blood rushing audibly through her veins. Dru had used their bond to command him, forbidding him from taking prey and he closed his eyes, trying to resist the temptation she presented. The spray of warm blood across his face had been startling and his eyes opened to see a visibly furious Dru standing over the headless corpse of Blondie. She dragged him into the warehouse, sounding like a scalded cat as she hissed with anger.
“Naughty boys always wanting the bright shiny girls. Not having it my precious.” Her voice alternated between commanding and pleading and when she was done whipping him with his own leather belt; he had her against the rough brick wall, the lash marks across his back still hot to the touch as she licked the girl’s blood from his face.
Dru’s breath caressing his ear brought Dean out of his memories once more and he groaned, wanting desperately to lose himself again. Some brainless twit had turned the jukebox on and some stupid, inane teenage, cheerleading crap was shouting him straight into an instant headache. He was still dealing with heightened senses and he hadn’t learned to dial down the hearing yet. Dean looked up and noticed waitress Shannon pouring coffee into a trucker’s mug with a tremble in her hand; her cheeks flushed an attractive pink. Of course the reason he found it attractive had nothing to do with the traditional and everything to do with the fact that it indicated she had good circulation. A blush was a good indication that the prey was healthy. ‘I think you know
I’m damn precious
And hell yeah
I’m the mother-fucking princess’
Dru giggled in his ear and he smiled, catching Shannon’s eye as the smile morphed into a smirk. He quirked a brow at her and the blush returned twofold, making her nonchalant appearance a vain attempt. Dru captured his mouth in a searing kiss, only pulling back when she’d thoroughly rumpled him. His sharpened vision told him his eyes were dilated and after a kiss like that, his lips were definitely swollen. By the scent of arousal drifting across the room, Shannon had apparently appreciated the show. Dru’s voice murmured in his ear, “Be back soon luv. Don’t start without me.” The nip on his chin was a reminder of what would happen if he didn’t obey and as she walked away, Dean debated with himself on whether the chaos and the resulting punishment would be more enjoyable to exerting patience and waiting for Dru. He decided that being good had the greater potential for fun since Dru obviously wanted to surprise him and he leaned back in the booth, watching the room with hooded eyes.
The music changed to something more sedate and Dean was able to ignore it as he counted the patrons. There were a few truckers, an older couple, a pair of high schoolers attempting to look older and two men in a booth nearby that reminded Dean of him and Sam. Dru didn’t realize that he’d figured out she was delaying their reunion, but he now understood she had a good reason, even if he didn’t fully comprehend it. For someone as crazy as she was, Drusilla was meticulous in his training and adamant that Dean learn what she was teaching him so they could better handle his brother. The thought of Sam reminded him of that strange sensation and he pushed it away. He couldn’t do anything until they found his brother and Dean knew he needed more control before they let Sam catch up to them.
A subtle shift in the atmosphere of the room brought Dean out of his reverie and his gaze automatically found Dru across the room. She was leaning against the doorjamb of the only exit for the front of the building, an impish light warming the normally cold blue of her eyes. A lull in the dull noise of conversation made it seem like the room was holding its breath and Dru pulled one hand out from behind her, a handful of wires dangling in her delicate grip. She’d obviously pulled the alarm wiring and Dean bit his lip in anticipation, eager to see what she held in her other hand.
Shannon’s strident voice drifted through the pass-through, “Joe! The back door is stuck again.”
“Yeah, well, it’s not time for your break yet anyway,” a gruff voice answered.
Dean winked at Dru and she held up her other hand as the music changed over again. It was a whispering chant that Dean recognized and he caught the tip of his tongue in his teeth as the fluorescent lights twinkled over the broken key in time to the new song. Dean felt his demon rise up from the depths of his being and it stopped for a moment as he held it back, hovering just under the surface. She blew him a kiss and his enhanced hearing picked up her whisper.
“Time to play my love.”‘Let the bodies hit the floor’
Joe’s annoyed voice bellowed through the pass-through. “Shannon! I told you not to play that damn music when customers were in here!”
Dean watched Dru cross the room to stand near the waitress as she poured yet another cup of coffee.
The blonde answered indignantly, “It wasn’t me Joe! I swear! I… urgh…” Shannon’s voice ended with a gurgle, the majority of her throat clutched in sharp claws. The aging trucker in the John Deere hat barely had time to blink before Dru hauled him across the counter to sink her fangs into his meaty throat.‘Let the bodies hit the.... FLOOR!!!’
Dean jumped up, drawing everyone’s attention and he grinned, cocking his head to the side in a ‘what can you do?’ attitude. “Sorry folks. The lady gets a mite jealous.”
The room held its breath for a second as the occupants began to understand their predicament. Dean waited a moment more, letting the tension build and placing bets with himself on who would break first. It was the teenagers and Dean was impressed, he thought for sure it would have been the elderly couple, but no, one look at his vamp face and the boys broke for the door, screaming in horror when the solid surface stayed locked in the frame. ‘Dru was right, a room full of fear was a better aphrodisiac than… Nah, not better, but as good as,’
he thought with a smirk.
Dean shrugged out of his leather coat, laying it across the seat behind him as the patrons all huddled behind the two men Dean had pegged as his best opportunity for a good fight. Both sported military cuts and while their clothes were casual, the neatness and regulation belts combined with their service issued boots told Dean he was gonna have a helluva good time tonight.
Dean looked up from the rapidly cooling corpses and realized he hadn’t seen Drusilla in too long. He touched the quickly healing cut on his cheek and shook out his stiff leg. The shorter of the two marines had managed a lucky shot to his kneecap, but the biggest surprise had been the old lady. She’d clocked him with her purse and when he’d finished with her, he discovered an impressively sized river rock nestled in its bottom. He stepped over John Deere on his way to the kitchen, following the sound of Dru’s humming.
He caught sight of her from the doorway and marveled at the work of art she was creating.
Ole Joe the cook was an impressively large man. Tall enough that seated, his head reached Dru’s hips. Would have probably given Sam a run for his money if his guts hadn’t been draped around his neck like a macabre rope of pearls. When she was finished, Dru knelt down and looked into Jo’s eyes, singing, “Ring around the rosie, a pocket full of posies…” She snapped her fingers inches from his nose and Joe’s body jumped as if electrocuted. Dean jumped when the man’s eyes started to dart around the room wildly, rough animal like sounds punctuating the bizarre scene.
How she managed to do all that and leave the dude alive was pure genius. Dean clapped slowly and Dru looked up at him with a serene smile. She stood and then dipped into a deep curtsey before moving upright and twirling toward him. Dean wrapped her in his arms, impressed that she’d avoided getting too messy and amused that she was oblivious to his gory state and pressed a kiss to her brow.
“You think Sammy’s gonna flip when he finds this one?”
Dru stiffened in his arms and looked up at him fearfully. She opened her mouth to deny and Dean stopped her with a kiss.
“Don’t ever underestimate me when it comes to family Dru. I know my brother, the authorities will have discovered the bodies in town by now and if he’s not acting like a weeping bitch, he’ll be on his way here. It’s just a matter of time.” She clutched at his jacket and he nodded. “I know you don’t think I’m ready and I’ll accept your reasons; as whacked as they seem. Besides, you’re probably right about the whole Sam/Bobby combo. The old man has a lot of knowledge and he’s tricky.” Dru kissed the underside of his chin and he pulled her up for a real kiss. When he pulled back, her eyes were fully dilated and he smirked. “Who knows, we could run into another hunter.” He kissed her forehead. “It’ll be dawn soon, need to get out of here before someone else decides they can’t do without ol’ Joe’s pancakes.”
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