Episode Ten: Writhe

By Thru Terry's Eyes

Part One

Heavy, rhythmic music throbbed through the dimly lit room. Shafts of blue and red laser pierced the intimate darkness and starbursts of spot lightning swept over the crowded dance floor in time to the deep trembles of music so loud it consumed the twisting figures locked in its embrace.

Bass vibrated the walls, floor and furniture, shifted the glasses on the bar and tables ever so slightly and thrummed across the skin of the dancers pressed against each other in the limited space allotted for public sex.

With each passing second the beat grew in intensity and speed, the friction of heated flesh against heated flesh as the dancers wound around each other, offering a teasing promise that only time and luck might see fulfilled.

Matt had lost himself in the pulsing sounds. His tall, leanly muscled body, dark hair and slightly exotic looks that hinted at a mixed parentage, assured he would always have a willing partner. He was especially pleased with tonight’s choice. His eyes closed, enjoying the feel of his body against hers, holding them both clasped together at the hips with his hands. His partner, a slim creature with long blonde hair and fingertips that were dancing and drifting across the skin of his arms in time with the music, likewise had her eyes closed. The drag of her nails on his arms sped up his breathing as the music built to a slow crescendo.

Across the floor, body draped languidly against the bar, dark, up slanted eyes were watching as Matt shifted and swayed with his blonde trophy, their bodies moving as one. Elana’s tongue drifted across her red lips as she studied him. Her chosen prize for the night.

A diamond sparked and glinted at the corner of each eye. Silver dust shimmered across her olive skin, almost nakedly on display in a low cut, high rise dress with no back, composed of tiny sparkling silver discs that hugged the fullness of the body contained within it. Thin ropes of silver serpentine chain dangled from her ears and strands of it wound around her wrists. Her full lips, high slanted cheekbones and mane of long dark red hair caused a sensation with every man who looked at her while pretending he wasn’t. She gave none of them a second glance. Her eyes were for Matt alone and hunger stirred her body the longer she watched.

Elana stretched out long fingers tipped in chrome polish and plucked the cherry out of her drink. She slid it between her lips, caressing the juice off of it then slipped it back out of the prison of her mouth and began to move toward Matt and his partner, cherry dangling from her fingers. The eyes of several of the males at the bar followed her movements with open mouths after watching the cherry disappear and reappear. She undulated through the dancers with surprising ease, adjusting her body easily to accommodate the shifting crowd, every movement a study of sinuous grace.

Matt and his partner had separated and were momentarily facing away from each other. Moving closer, Elana insinuated herself into the small space between the two dancers and with a gentle pressure and the touch of her free hand against his waist, used her body to move Matt away from his partner.

Matt, enjoying the warm contact, turned and was surprised to see a dark beauty in place of the blonde whose name he didn’t know anyway. His confusion was short lived and he smiled at this definite step up in the evening’s plans, taking in the slow roll of her body as she moved against him, brushing her lips with the cherry as she watched him from under her lashes. Her lips parted against the cherry’s flesh, revealing small white teeth and she smiled back. His hands brushed against her hips and they start to move with the music.

Matt’s eyes were locked on that cherry as she parted her lips enough to slide it in halfway between her teeth and she stretched her face upwards to tease his lips with the stem. Matt’s breathing quickened with every tickle across his mouth and her eyes never left his face.

Finally, he caught the stem between his teeth, as close to the cherry as he could get, their lips not quite touching, looking at each other over the red fruit. As the song ended she bit into the cherry and pressed her lips against his, the sweet juice mingling with their kiss. She pulled back from him, taking the rest of the cherry with her and leaving him tonguing the stem. Her head tilted slightly and she watched him from the corners of her sparkling eyes. Chewing on the cherry slowly, tongue lazily collecting juice from her lips, looking up at him.

Matt swallowed and after two efforts, choked out. “Hi…”

* * * *

Moonlight lessened the darkness in Matt’s bedroom as he lay shirtless on the bed, scarcely believing the sight of this silver goddess straddling him, her hands moving over his body with a skill and touch unlike anything he had ever experienced. The trace of her nails on his skin shot fire through his body. She leaned closer and he drank in her scent, his body aching with need. He didn’t know how much more of this he could stand. She took his mouth with hers and he couldn’t stop the groan that came out of him. His hands tangled in her long auburn tresses and he pulled her tightly against him as she undulated her body over his.

“Do you want me?” her throaty voice a purr in his ear. “I want you.”

“Oh, God….please…” he moaned the words brokenly as she brushed her lips against his ear, tongue flicking.

“Do you love me?” she whispered in his ear, her hot breath against his skin a maddening sensation, teasing him on. “Do you love me?” she whispered hoarsely, over and over, more intensely with each repetition, driving her own desire on, her hunger...

Matt writhed helplessly beneath her, teetering on the edge of insanity, gasping for breath. “God, yes I love you!” he finally cried out, clutching desperately at her body.

Elana cried out in return, her body arching back away from him even as he sought to grasp it. Her head was thrown back, arms crossed over her chest, hands grasping opposite shoulders. Her breath rushed out as a deep shuddering groan, drawing back in as a sizzling hiss.

Matt’s eyes snapped open at her sudden movement away and he gaped in horrified disbelief at what he saw before him. His mind was screaming but no sound passed his lips. He no longer commanded his body and lay there, paralyzed, as his body was squeezed tightly with a slow, upwardly rolling persistence that caused the blood in his body to pound in his skull and the breath to rush from his lungs, leaving no room to draw in more.

He could do nothing but lie there as the greenish drops of liquid dripped onto his face, burning into his skin like acid, with no way to vent the searing agony.

Through a superhuman effort he somehow managed to get his mouth open and was trying to summon the strength to scream. It was a mistake.

To Elana, hunger burning, the hot softness of Matt’s open mouth was an invitation. She took it.

* * * *

Athens, Georgia

Sam idly flipped through the seven channels on the TV with the sound off, looking for anything interesting to watch. It was six a.m. and he had been awake for the last hour and a half. Sleep was successfully remaining out of his reach and he finally tired of trying to capture it.

The room was airless, the A/C working spasmodically. Sam had complained repeatedly but the unit simply refused to respond to the manager’s clumsy repair efforts. Sam was sweaty and uncomfortable and so tired of laying in the bed he wanted to scream.

Two runs of channel surfing made it clear he would find no relief there unless he wanted to watch infomercials for exercise equipment for every specific part of the human body or cartoons with cavorting dinosaurs. He clicked it off.

Rubbing a hand over his face, sighing, he toyed with getting on the laptop to do a little research but didn’t want the tapping of the keyboard to disturb Dean, although Sam doubted a solar flare blasting their room would have awakened his brother at the moment.

He glanced over at Dean, out cold, face down on the bed next to him, one arm dangling down, fingers touching the carpet, covers kicked down over his feet. His pale face sparkled with a fine sheen of sweat even though he wore nothing but his boxers. There was a frown line between his eyebrows but otherwise, he seemed to be sleeping fairly peacefully. It had been a rough couple of days, especially for Dean.

They had intended to pass through Athens, Georgia two days earlier, when Dean had become violently ill. The sickness had come over him so suddenly they both assumed it was some type of food poisoning. Considering the type of places they generally ate, it was a wonder it didn’t happen more often.

Continuing the journey was out of the question, so Sam had located a suitably cheap motel as quickly as possible, bundled Dean into one of the beds and hovered anxiously over him. After more hours than he cared to think about and just before he was ready to stuff Dean back in the car and haul him to the hospital, Dean had finally stopped throwing up, the fluids Sam coaxed into him started to stay down and Dean had fallen into a restless sleep.

Sam was almost as exhausted as Dean and had ordered some food delivered, eaten it and fallen into a dead sleep, waking only to check on Dean from time to time. Dean seemed to be doing better so he figured it was a fair trade.

Dean shifted, groaning, as Sam watched. Dean’s eyes blinked open and stared blearily at Sam. Drawing in a deep breath, he lifted his hand to rub his eyes.

“Why you awake…?” Dean drawled in a thick, hoarse voice. He yawned, which turned into a stretch as he rolled onto his back.

“Woke up and couldn’t go back to sleep,” Sam replied, tossing the remote to the end of his bed. He flipped on the small bedside lamp. “How you feelin’?” he asked, swinging his legs off the bed and sitting up.

“What time is it?” Dean's eyes drifted shut again. He coughed a little and cleared his throat, a hand brushing across his stomach.

“Little after six.” Sam moved to sit on the edge of Dean’s bed. He rested the back of his hand on Dean’s forehead. “How’s your stomach? Still feel queasy?”

Dean knocked Sam’s hand away, rolling his head to the side. He swallowed and took a quick stock of himself. “Maybe a little…feel better than I did.” He made a soft humming noise, looking up at Sam through narrowed eyes. “Did I ask you to shoot me?” he asked, recalling a vague memory.

Sam laughed softly and nodded. “Yeah,” he shrugged. “I figured you really didn’t mean it, though.”

Dean moved his head in a negative, grimacing. “Trust me, I meant it at the time.” He rubbed his hands over his face. He felt sticky and uncomfortable. “I hope it’s really hot in here and not just me.”

“A/C’s bad. Works off and on. Sorry.” Sam shrugged again. “Didn’t have a lot of motel choices at the time.” Sam got up and ran a fresh glass of water for Dean, tossing the remaining ice into it.

Dean pushed himself up, leaning against the headboard, and gratefully took the glass. “Thanks.” He took a few small sips, relishing the cooling sensation in his throat but mindful of his still edgy stomach. “How long have we been here?” Dean looked around the little room. He held the sweating water glass to his temple. “Speaking of which. Where is here?“ He had no memory whatsoever of where they had been at the time he became ill.

“Two days. Athens, Georgia,” Sam replied. “We’d just hit town when you got sick.”

“Oh, yeah,” Dean grunted. He ruffed his sweaty hair, making a face. “God, I feel gross, I need to take a shower.” He took another sip of water and gave Sam a small push to get him off the bed.

Sam eyed Dean suspiciously but got to his feet. “You sure you’re up to it? ” he asked. “You were really sick, Dean. Maybe you should take it easy today.”

Dean moved his legs off the bed, sitting the rest of the way up. The room swayed a little and he pressed his hands to his eyes until it stopped. Sam reached out a hand, Dean smacked it away.

“I feel better, Sam.” Dean snapped impatiently. “Seriously, dude. Just give me a minute.” Dean was surprised at how weak he was, and his stomach muscles were very sore, but he felt better over all. He got to his feet and moved carefully toward the bathroom, using the wall as support, aware that Sam’s eyes followed him every step of the way.

The hot shower worked wonders and he stepped out of the bathroom feeling better than he had for a while. He had been disgusted to find his hands were shaking too much to shave so he blew that off and slowly pulled on his clothes. He sat quietly on the bed to rest a few minutes before he pulled his boots on but Sam wisely let him be. Just cast a watchful eye Dean’s way from time to time.

By the time Dean was dressed and Sam had also taken a quick shower and dressed it was 7:30a.m. Dean had lain back on the bed while Sam got ready and was surprised when Sam shook his leg gently to waken him.

“Hey,” Sam said. “Do you think you can eat something? You could stay here and I’ll go get something and bring it back.” Sam had the Impala keys in one hand.

Dean shook his head, trying to clear the fog. “No, I’m okay. Let’s go. I could use some air, it’s too hot in here.” He sat up after a brief struggle to get his bearings, opened his mouth and reached for the keys.

Sam pulled them out of reach, cutting him off. “Don’t even think about it. Not until you’re a lot steadier on your feet.” Sam fisted the keys and opened the door.

Dean groused under his breath but gave in just because he did feel really shaky. He followed Sam out to the car and slid into the passenger side of the Impala.

It was a brightly sunny day with a light breeze, much cooler outside than the stifling room.

“Do you care if we drive down by the University?” Sam asked a trifle reluctantly as he started the car.

Inwardly, Dean groaned but he owed Sam for the last couple of days, which couldn’t have been much fun for Sam either.

“Wherever you want, bro.” Dean replied magnanimously. He rolled down the window to get the wind in his face, leaned his head back against the seat and closed his eyes.

Sam smiled and headed toward the buildings he could see in the distance that had to be the school.

They had driven for a short while to look around a little. This early in the morning, on a Saturday, the sidewalks were fairly empty. The streets along the old down town area were spilled over with bars, small cafes and restaurants. They passed several cafés with tables on the sidewalk and a few solitary early risers drinking coffee, eating rolls and doing their laptop magic.

Sam enjoyed the charm of the old sprawling houses that had been converted into apartments, frat and sorority houses, the shady, tree lined streets and the general scholarly feel. Dean wasn’t impressed with the atmosphere, but wasn’t surprised that Sam had gravitated to it.

Sam parked the car in a central lot and they walked the short distance to one of the sidewalk tables with large maple trees shading it.

“This okay?” Sam asked, resting a hand on the back of one of the wrought iron chairs.

Dean grinned to himself. Frankly, the short walk had done him in and he just wanted to sit down anywhere. “It’s fine, Sam.” He sank gratefully onto the chair and sighed. Sam sat down across from him and picked up the menu on the table.

“You all right?” Sam asked, as Dean rested his head in his hands.

“Nothing coffee and a sugar hit won’t fix,” Dean grumbled.

“You guys are out early!” A pert voice said at Dean’s elbow. They both looked up to see a young woman with an order pad and large blue eyes standing beside their table. Her dark hair was tied into a long, bouncy ponytail and she wore tight black shorts that showed off long tanned legs. Sam took one look at her and knew her bust size was larger than her IQ. Just the way Dean liked ‘em. A walking, talking, blow up doll.

Dean’s eyes moved up and down her long form appreciatively, lighting up for the first time in days, and he managed to pull a brilliant smile out of his trick bag and offer it to her.

“Well, hi there...” he said, eyeing her ID badge, “…Ashley. I’m Dean and if I’d known you were here, I would’ve been here sooner.”

Ashley laughed, tapping her pen against her lips. “You know, that’s not much of a line.”

Dean shrugged with an eyebrow, looking down briefly. “Sorry, I’ve been sick. I’m outta practice. You know anyone that could help me with that?” He traced his fingertip across the top of the table and rolled his eyes up at her without raising his head.

Ashley laughed again.

Sam rolled his eyes.

Dean opened his mouth to say something else to make her laugh, but a shrill scream from down the street turned them all to stare in the direction of the sound as a girl came shrieking down the steps of one of the old homes and ran straight into the street, right into the path of an approaching truck.

Sam and Dean both jumped up before they heard the thud of the girl’s body as the pickup struck her, brakes screeching. The vehicle wasn’t going that fast and it was a glancing blow but it still knocked her sideways onto the pavement. Sam ran toward her followed by Dean and the waitress he’d been flirting with. Sam stopped the girl from getting up. She was crying and shrieking in hysterics. She didn’t appear to be badly hurt but he knew she needed to stay quiet until help came.

“My God! Oh, my God!!” was all she kept screaming.

The driver, a young kid, eighteen or so, stood horrified, wringing his hands. “I didn’t see her!” he cried. “She ran right in front of me!”

Dean, breathing heavily after the run, caught the kid’s shoulder. “Chill, man, it wasn’t your fault. It’s okay. It was an accident.”

Sam was trying to calm the girl. Her hysterics were starting to draw the interest of the few people around. Ashley knelt next to her with an arm around her and began to talk soothingly. Sam’s opinion of her rose as he realized he might have misjudged her.

Sam got to his feet and eased over to Dean. “Something in that house scared the crap out of her.” Sam commented softly.

“No argument there,” Dean agreed.

He and Sam exchanged looks and quickly crossed over to the house the girl had run out of. They walked up the wide steps and across the porch, pausing on either side of the open front door.

“What are we looking for?” Sam hissed, hand in his jacket for the .45 he kept there.

Dean shrugged. “Damned if I know. I guess we’ll know it when we see it.” He palmed his own gun and stepped through the doorway. The adrenaline rush wasn’t doing his stomach any good, but he tried to ignore it as he moved into the foyer and looked left and right.

Several people were standing at the top of the stairs in robes and various stages of dress.

“What’s going on?” a heavy set blonde girl demanded, as Dean hastily shoved his gun back into his jacket.

“There was an accident, “ Sam replied smoothly. “Some girl came out of the house and a truck hit her as she was crossing the street.”

There was a chorus of gasps and some of the watchers thudded down the stairs and out the front door. The remainder shuffled back toward their apartments, curiosity satisfied.

Sam glanced at Dean and shook his head. Dean moved on down the short hallway to the right of the staircase where he saw an open door, Sam following on his heels. He paused at the door, then followed as Sam cautiously entered the open apartment.

It was neatly furnished, not opulently, but pleasant. A pair of boots had been kicked across the floor, a blue shirt lay on the ground between them, leading to what Sam assumed was the bedroom.

It was a few short steps across the combination living area/kitchen to the next room. Sam glanced at Dean, who nodded, gun at ready, as they flanked the door.

Sam crossed the threshold into the bedroom, looked around swiftly, and stopped dead. He couldn’t help the soft noise he made, the gun falling slowly to his side.

Dean blundered into Sam as he stopped.

“What are you doing, man--“ Dean broke off as he pushed past Sam and saw into the bedroom.

Sam, at a loss for words, gestured loosely with his gun. “I think we found what we were looking for.”

“What the hell?” Dean murmured, looking past Sam. He gagged suddenly, making a face.

Sam leaned in and very gently touched the muzzle of his gun to the shriveled figure on the bed. It made a sound like paper rubbing together. His lips curled back in distaste as he took a really long look at what lay on the bed.

The discolored, twisted body was half covered by a blanket. Whatever had happened had to have been terrible. The body was arched upwards, frozen in a position that suggested great agony, arms splayed tautly out to the sides, hands clawed so tightly into the sheets the fingers had torn through the fabric and were buried to the knuckles in the mattress. The body’s head was thrown as far back as was possible, mouth open widely, exposing all the teeth, a withered tongue curled over the lips.

Even this wasn’t as strange as the fact that the body appeared so desiccated, every muscle, sinew and piece of skin had shrunk into the bones to the point it seemed as though the papery thin skin was just a casing that held it all together. A mummy would have retained more humanity in it’s final form than this piece of human jerky before them.

“You ever see anything like this before?’ Sam asked. He put the gun away and pulled out his cell phone, opening it up to take some photos. Dean didn’t reply. Sam turned to look at him. Dean’s eyes were closed, the back of his hand pressed over his mouth. Sam grabbed him as he swayed on his feet, Dean grabbing back to break his fall. Sam kicked a chair over and clumsily settled Dean in it.

“Put your head down.” Sam ordered pushing Dean’s head to his knees. Dean was far from squeamish but Sam had to admit that after the last two days even Dean was entitled to a momentary weak stomach.

Dean hung there, head buried in his arms, waiting for the nausea to pass. “Man…” He groaned. “This is not how I wanted to start my day…”

“You really shoulda stayed in bed,” Sam agreed. “Sit tight and let me get these shots and then we need to get the hell outta here before someone else comes or the cops show up.” He went back to getting shots from different angles and close-ups.

As the dizziness passed, Dean straightened slightly and reached out, moving some of the papers on the desk with a pen from his pocket. Mostly unopened mail with the same name, Matt Lewis. There were several matchbooks with iridescent covers. He pulled one to the edge of the desk. It fell before he could grab it and he leaned forward to pick it up off the floor where it lay sparkling in a shaft of sunlight.

Dean’s eyes followed the streak of sunlight shooting across the floor as he snagged the matchbook. He squinted at several shiny spots near the edge of the floor register under the desk that looked like thin bits of plastic. He was puzzled by the fact that the cover for the fl;oor vent itself had been pulled out of the opening and pushed to one side.

Frowning, he leaned forward out of the chair, getting on his hands and knees and reaching under the desk for one of the tiny flashy bits. It stuck to his finger and he brought it into the light for a closer look.

“Dean? Are you okay?” Sam’s anxious voice startled Dean as his brother knelt beside him.

Dean held out the small flake, balanced on his fingertip. “Yeah, I’m fine. Whadaya make of that? There’s a bunch of them by the vent down here.”

Sam studied the small object with puzzlement. It was sort of triangular in shape, translucent, delicately tipped in black. There was a reflective sparkle to it where the light hit it.

Sam’s head jerked toward the door as he heard a siren in the distance. He grabbed an envelope off the desk and shoved it at Dean. “Put ‘em in there. It’s time to go!”

Dean brushed the other flakes into the envelope and backed out from under the desk.

The siren screamed to a halt out front and Sam and Dean shot back through the apartment door and down the short hall to the next apartment where there was an opening under the stairs.

They could see the flash of a paramedic van in the street and two police cruisers sliding up next to it. A fair sized crowd had assembled. After speaking with the injured girl briefly two police officers came through the front door, moving quickly into the living room of the apartment Sam and Dean had just vacated.

It was easy to mingle into the small crowd that had accompanied the cops inside and work their way out of the building.

Dean turned as they walked away, catching a glimpse of Ashley. She was standing next to the girl as the paramedic treated her. He was disappointed when she didn’t look their way.

“What the hell would cause something like that?” Sam exclaimed, reclaiming Dean’s attention.

“Huh?” Dean replied.

“That body? What could do something like that?” Sam repeated, looking over his shoulder to see where Dean had been looking. He saw the waitress’s dark pony tail bobbing as she spoke with the paramedic. Sam grinned. Dean was definitely feeling better. “You wanta go get her number?” Sam nudged him. “After what we just saw, I think we’ll be around for a few days.”

Dean glanced back again, surprised to see Ashley raise herself up to look over the heads of the people around her. She was obviously looking for something. He tightened his lips and shook his head. “Nah, I can always find a girl if I want one. Unlike some people I know,” he added, with a small grin, giving Sam a push.

“Very funny. Ha ha,” Sam said woodenly. “Well, I want to get on the laptop and see what I can find about this.” He waved his cell phone. “Let’s grab some food and go back to the room. I think you’ve had enough excitement this morning. You can rest after you get some food into you.”

“I’m not five, Sam. I don’t need a nap.” God, the walk back to the car seemed to be taking forever.

Just before he got back into the Impala, Dean looked back down the street to see Ashley walking toward the café where she worked. He lingered by the door, watching her, drawing in a small breath as she suddenly stopped and looked straight at him. She smiled and raised her hand slightly in a small wave. Dean felt his fingers straighten in an answering wave before he realized what he was doing.

“C’mon, Dean, get in!” Sam’s voice drew his eyes and when he looked back up, she was gone.

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