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In the Dark	By : jensencat Category: Supernatural > Crossovers Views: 1622 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural or The Vampire Diaries. I am making no profit from this story, nor will I ever. The characters of Supernatural and The Vampire Diaries do not belong to me. Only my story and plot belong to me.

Chapter List
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Sam sat on the motel bed, his heart still beating erratically, not having recovered after his fight with Dean. The sound of the slamming door still echoed in his mind, and he clenched his fists beside his legs, digging his nails deep into the palms of his hands. All you ever do is run away, Sam. You don’t even care that you’re abandoning the only family you’ve got left. He could still hear the last words his brother spoke to him, and it stung, like pouring alcohol over an open wound. He wanted to scream at Dean that he was running from the life, not from his family. He could feel the rage building up in his chest, and his hot, panting breaths started coming in audible snarls. What he needed right then was to put a fist through something. And suddenly, that something presented itself.
“Well, aren’t you cheery today?” a female voice rang out from the corner of the room. Sam leapt to his feet and spun around, backing up into the wall and flexing his hands.
“Meg,” he growled, “I thought you were in hell.”
“I was,” she smiled. “Guess Crowley got bored of me after a while; he has bigger fish to fry now anyway.”
“What are you doing here?” he was practically frothing at the mouth.
“I crawled out of hell and thought I’d pay my favorite Winchester a visit,” Meg crooned, brushing her wavy dark hair away from her face.
“Maybe I should throw you right back in the pit,” he suggested.
“You wouldn’t do that,” she stated confidently. She took a step towards him, and he inched closer to the corner of the room to keep the distance between them. “I thought we were closer than that.”
Sam started spouting Latin, beginning the incantation. Still, she didn’t flinch. She took another step towards him, and he no longer had any room to retreat into. She pulled a knife from her waist and held it loosely in front of herself.
“Besides, you wouldn’t want to miss the chance to get a taste of this,” she continued, completely ignoring Sam’s chanting.
She pushed up her sleeve and slowly drew the knife across the pale skin of her arm. Dark liquid oozed out of the wound, and Sam pressed himself into the wall. She continued to press the sharp metal into herself until she was satisfied that she had captivated Sam. She lifted the bloody knife from the wound and let it dangle loosely from her hand. Its path no longer obstructed by anything, the hot, pulsating liquid began to come in spurts, spilling over her skin. Soon, it began to drip from her outstretched arm down onto the cream colored carpet.
Sam had stopped reciting the exorcism. Meg smiled and cocked her head, studying his reaction. “Don’t you want it?” she asked, her voice low and seductive. “You can be honest with me. It’s just us; no one else has to know. You just drove away the only person who gives a crap about you, anyway.”
Sam’s nostrils flared, and he growled from the corner. “You don’t know anything about that,” he told her. White hot rage burned inside him, but more prominent was his hunger. He couldn’t pull his eyes from the throbbing river of blood pouring over her arm. More and more of it spilled over the sides, forming a large stain on the carpet.
He pressed his eyes closed for a moment. He couldn’t want this. He’d been clean for so long; he wasn’t about to just throw it all away. He tried to disappear into the wall, to get as far away as Meg as possible within the confines of the tiny room.
“Just give in, Sam,” Meg purred, taking a few more steps toward Sam.
He could smell the blood flowing out of her, hear the soft sound of it falling onto the carpet. He opened his eyes again, and she was standing by the foot of the bed. She lifted the knife in her hand and tantalizingly ran her tongue over it, licking off the blood.
That sent Sam over the edge. He was in the middle of the room in an instant, clutching Meg’s arm in his hands. He dove in, lowering his mouth to the dark, bubbling fountain. The coppery taste overwhelmed his senses, and he clamped down, closing his eyes. Meg gasped, dropping the knife to the floor, and Sam slammed her up against the wall, writhing against her as he began to suck harder.
“That’s it,” she muttered, appeased by the sweet pain of having the life drained out of her. She let her free arm slide around his neck, encouraging him. The deep slit in her arm was beginning to close up quickly, the process of the skin trying to reconnect sped along by Sam’s saliva. He raised his head, revealing the blood on his lips and around his mouth.
Meg looked up at him. His eyes were dark with hunger and need. He could see the small amount of blood still on her full lower lip from the knife, and she looked delicious. He swooped down to assault her lips with his own, crushing them with bruising force. She kept up easily, pulling herself up to wrap her legs around his waist and jamming her tongue into his mouth brutally to taste her own blood.
Sam grasped her ass to support her, though she was easily strong enough to cling onto him on her own. One of his hands slid down to her thigh, feeling the rough texture of her fishnet stockings. He pushed her skirt upward, and she began to put more pressure on his shoulders, sending him staggering backward into another wall.
He felt her hand in his jeans, sliding under his boxers to massage his cock. Her other hand pressed into his shoulder, shoving him into the corner of a picture frame. She slid her palm over his impressive length, and he felt himself hardening. Newly powerful from the blood, he telekinetically summoned the knife from the carpet and closed his hand around it. He sliced into the top of Meg’s breast and closed his mouth over it.
Soon, her caress became painfully crushing, and Sam growled into her breast with both annoyance and arousal. He stepped forward and threw Meg onto one of the beds. She was lying sideways on it, so her head wasn’t quite supported by the mattress and her legs were hanging off on Sam’s side.
Her skirt had ridden up almost to her hips, so Sam could see the soft bare skin above her stockings. She threw a kick up at him, and he caught her boot. He unzipped it and dropped it to the floor. He rubbed the bottom of her foot with his thumb, pressing lightly between her first two toes. She was evidently extremely ticklish, because she rolled over on the bed and pressed her face into the mattress in an attempt to suppress her giggles.
Sam climbed onto the bed, sliding his hands over her back under her clothes, running over the bump of her spine and up to follow the curve of her waist. She rolled back over and sat up a little, unzipping her vest and letting it slide down over her arms and fall to the floor behind her. Sam’s hand slipped under her skirt and yanked on her thong, pulling the tiny piece of fabric down to her stockings. She stretched out her arm, and he watched as the knife flew from where she’d dropped it on the ground into her hand. She came up, pushing him down into the bed.
“Now, was that really so hard?” she crooned, letting her hair fall beside his face.
Sam growled angrily, realizing what he’d just done. “You bitch,” he said, rolling her over.
“What?” she asked innocently. “I just gave you what you wanted. You’re the one who took it.”
Sam snatched the knife from her hand and slashed into her stomach through her thin black shirt.
“By all means, drink to your heart’s content,” Meg offered, prompting Sam to glare at her. She ran her hands over his firm ass, sliding his jeans down as she went. “That is why you just slashed open this poor, poor girl’s stomach, right?” Sam threw the knife down onto the bed angrily and grunted as he slammed into her. She cried out in pain, and he could tell that she hadn’t been ready for that. He pulled out almost completely, only to thrust in again even harder than before.
Meg screamed, experiencing excruciating pain that overwhelmed her. But as Sam continued to repeat the same cycle, it became increasingly pleasurable. The friction decreased considerably, and his blinding rage turned her on. There was even something enjoyable about the pain. She was bringing out the beast in him, molding him slowly into the passionate, erotic man she knew he kept buried somewhere inside.
- 10
- 11
- 12
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In the Dark