likely_evil: (Samael - staring)
Sam Winchester ([personal profile] likely_evil) wrote2009-03-20 04:45 pm

for [livejournal.com profile] justprompts: Forbidden Indulgence

What is something forbidden that you want to indulge in?

There are nights were Samael still wakes up and can taste her against his lips; closes his eyes and remembers the press of her body against his, Lilith's cries of ecstasy in his ears that keeps him coming back for more.

To please her. To pleasure her. To be her king to her Queen in Hell.

He had been powerful there. No demon dared to disobey him. He could still feel the hellfire in his veins as he remembered being able to rip demons apart with his bare hands, and then rewarded as her fingers laced through his hair and she pulled him down for a kiss.


There are nights were Samael is weak. Nights that he wants to return to the pit, not caring if he was pulled out by angels for a greater good - one that he still had no idea what for.

He is dangerous - too dangerous to be around his family. He has no friends. Just a mission from God that he didn't even want and keeps him planted on holy ground.

He was happy there - in Hell. At peace. You were promised peace when you die and Sam Winchester had died to give Samael peace in Hell and he was ripped out of there and put back in a world that didn't want him.

A world he didn't want anymore.


These are the nights where Samael falls to his temptations. Night he sneaks out of the mission and stays in the shadows until he's downtown. Then it's a fake credit card from a stolen wallet, a motel room with a blonde hooker who lets him do whatever he desires. And he does - God knows exactly what he does as he lets his inner demon take over as he takes the hooker over and over again. Just trying to find that warmth and peace that he found in Lilith's arms.

But he can't find it. He can't and afterward he returns to the mission and fills a tub full of water, blesses it and bathes in the holy water to wash the sins from his body. His soul is too dirty - there is no way to wash it clean - and he cries over his actions and promises to try better.

But he's not strong enough. He knows he will fail again and again, and there is no one to hold him to make him feel better.


Some of the bad nights led him not to think of the blonde Queen that haunted his dreams, but instead of a soothing pair of hands that were still so human in their demonic innocence. A pair of green eyes watching him through brown hair, tending to his wounds and soothing his demonic soul.

The one who would do whatever he asked. His toy, his pet, his beautiful. His bed had never known coldness until he was brought back to life, and it was her warmth at night he missed when the covers couldn't keep the winter air out. Lilith was his fire that he stroked, but Abby was the warm blanket that he wrapped around himself when he needed to be comforted.

He feared what had happened to her when he had been taken. He wanted to beg the angels to find her and bring her back as well. She was so broken and he was still trying to fix her back into what he had dreamed her to be for him. So much work, and now he didn't know.

Those were the days that he slept in the rectory by the fireplace, the blanket wrapped tightly around him as he stared into the fire. It reminded him of the first time he had seen his bella, taking her on the chaise by the fire, then laying in her arms. It was their place, their moments, their bond. He could close his eyes and feel her lips on his neck, kissing gently and whispering to him. Singing softly to lull him to sleep in the warmth of her arms.


He would stare at his reflection in the mirror after a shower. A face too thin. Lines and bags and limp hair from the water after another bath. He was nothing like the beautiful body he had created in Hell for himself. Weak flesh that trapped him from what he knew he was and he wanted to smash the mirror in and use the glass to free his soul from its prison.

The cross around his neck hung just above the scar on his chest that he couldn't remember why it was there. He could feel his heart beat under it when he touched the skin. A target, that was where the glass needed to go so his soul could just be free. The only thing that guarded the spot was a piece of metal in the shape of the symbol of his faith.

The man who died. Who was buried. Who had risen again.

But Samael wasn't Jesus - far from it. He was something much darker, and it was only a matter of time before God and the Angels realized their mistake and send him back to Hell.

And that dark part of him wished they would hurry the hell up, because the need was becoming too strong.

Stronger than this human soul allowed him to be.

But in Hell...