Eliot was fully aware of the approach, and although he remained unmoving on
the ground like a newly dead thing, his senses were heightened and body
ready to move. But no attack came, no taking advantage to drive the point
home. No, Sam only crouched down beside him and sounded almost reasonable
as he offered Eliot his options.
Cracking open his eyes, Eliot shifted so he could see the demon again. They
were both a mess, Sam covered in a sheen of his own sweat, and of course
blood and cum, and Eliot, he was covered in much of the same.
It didn't matter whether he screamed or gagged himself. Hollering would fit
right in with the setting, and it didn't make him less of anything. For
some reason, he doubted Sam would think less of him either.
"Do you care?" Eliot asked, surprising himself in speaking and honestly
waiting for an answer. Torturers were still human, and at the end of the
task, the ones who did it for a reason, who weren't the sadistic sons of
bitches who enjoyed it, they tried to cope with what they've done. Everyone
was different; some distanced themselves from their victims, some got
closer even though that made it harder for them to continue next time. Sam
was a demon in hell, but according to him he was human once. How much of
that was left? Eliot wanted to know.
"Of course I care. I don't want to hurt you, Eliot--I have to. I can't wait for the day to come where I don't have to; the day where you let me touch you without fighting, when you want it. The sooner you give in to me the better."
The implication being that the sooner the better wasn't just for Eliot, it was for Sam too.
He stayed close, raising his hand to cradle Eliot's cheek, looking down into his eyes. "But I understand that you can't give up without a fight. I know you won't, and I know why, because I was just like you once upon a time. Hell wears on you, but we don't expect miracles down here. Besides, all the angels I knew are dead, and God doesn't care about any of it."
His hand pulled away, and he brought his fingers to Eliot's arm instead, only touching very gently.
That sounded almost convincing. It could all be an act, a deliberately
crafted exchange, lines used on all the tortured souls down there, and in
the long run it didn't matter. Now, though, here and at this moment, it
humanized the demon and was the behavior Eliot was familiar with. It eased
his guard, not dropped, but pushed back so it wasn't choking his existence
and allowed him some breathing room for recovery.
He looked up into Sam's gaze, not quite warm but not cold either, jaded,
but not dead. No sadism though, at least not what Eliot could discern.
Maybe demons were great at pretending, natural liars and all, but Sam
seemed as sincere as he was capable of. Eliot met it with his own reserved
expression. He didn't hate Sam for what the demon did, it was just the way
Hell was.
"Ain't much for talkin'. Just do it." Eliot took a deep breath to brace
himself, and when Sam righted his arm, he didn't hold back. His scream
echoed off the walls of his cell, one short loud burst that lasted only
seconds but exhausted him more than the whole ordeal did. When it was done,
he was heaving and shaking from the effort to stay still, and he couldn't
raise his guard if he wanted to.
It was quick - very quick - and when Sam was done he moved in closer, catching Eliot across the chest. With all the pain he'd inflicted he was sweating and shaking, and Sam didn't really blame him, but if it stopped even a portion of his fight next time it would be worth it.
For now, he wrapped his arms around Eliot's back, supporting him physically, Eliot's arm raised across his shoulder to support it.
"I've got you," he murmured, softly. Sam wobbled a little as he pulled upward, supporting Eliot's weight with his own strength. He was sapped, off guard, probably just wanted to sleep--sleeplessness was a trait for angels and demons, and for those souls who lost track of time in the monotony of their torture, and forgot what made them human. "It's okay, you'll be able to sleep it off. Just a little walk, and it'll all be over."
Sam kept Eliot's weight mostly across his shoulders and made the walk, half dragging him if he had to. The room he 'shared' with Lucifer was the next one down, and Sam led him there. It was lavish, gothic, with an enormous bed that looked immaculate, a seating area with a huge TV set up in the middle of it, and a step down to one side which led into a huge sunken wash basin. There was no need for fluffy towels. But a closer look? A closer look would point out the various hooks and hidden ropes, the length of chain under the bed, the cage in the corner, the long tapestry that hid something behind it, the suspicious bedding box in the corner.
Sam released Eliot when they made it to the cage.
"Hurry now. Lucifer's coming. You should be asleep - or at least pretending to sleep - when he gets here."
Eliot was worn and it was lucky that Sam wasn't trying to hurt him, his
response would've been sloppy at best. Especially now, with no splint and
nothing to physically hold the broken pieces of his arm in place except
Sam, Eliot was racked with pain from each movement and supporting himself
upright was all he wanted to do.
It wasn't beyond his pride to accept the aid of the demon who raped him and
broke his arm, this wasn't personal. He wanted to get a shower and, yeah,
sleep, but he wasn't going to get the former, Sam was clear on that, and
the latter didn't sound like a good idea despite what Sam said he should do.
He managed to get to the room without any dragging involved although he
allowed Sam to support more of his weight than he really wanted to. The
place was just what Eliot expected a rich bedroom in Hell to look like,
luxurious, Gothic, and full of subtle malevolence. It was no more than a
lavishly decorated dungeon, the meat hooks replaced by chains under the bed
and solid rings in the overhanging frame.
Eliot wasn't particularly surprised when Sam led him to the corner where an
overlarge dog cage sat with blankets and pillows. At least there were
those, which was more than Eliot expected in this place.
Eliot thought about fighting, he probably could try again, but in the end
he bowed his head and crawled in. Maybe next time when his arm was healed.
He put his slashed back to Sam but looked over his shoulder at the demon.
"Lucifer?"
"Lucifer," Sam repeated. "The archangel. The devil. My master."
Sam actually looked frightened. He'd gone pale, clearly aware of something that Eliot wasn't, and a few moments later he was back on his feet, pushing the cage door closed and turning the key. He hung it around his neck, with shaking hands, and moved over to the bed, kneeling down at the foot of it as though in prayer.
That was when Lucifer entered, barely even looking at Eliot as he strode over to the bed. His hand curled in Sam's hair, stroking almost tenderly.
"Hello, puppy. Busy day? You haven't even washed up."
Sam mentally cursed himself, flinching just enough that Lucifer felt it.
"It's okay, I know you've been working hard. You don't have to bathe until tomorrow. Face on the bed."
It was a threat, and Lucifer flicked his hand out, summoning a pair of chains out that lashed themselves around Sam's wrists, throwing him forward, pinning him down. Lucifer moved up behind him, loosening his fly. A moment later - without hesitation, without pause - he was forcing himself upon a soundless Sam, thrusting deep and steady, growling softly into his ear, grunting insults. Just before he came, Lucifer pulled free, spilling himself across Sam's back.
He patted him on the shoulder, gently, murmured something else at him - possibly a goodnight - tucked himself away, and left, leaving Sam chained, filthier, ass still up in the air.
The changes in Sam weren't even subtle, they were blatant and obvious and
left little to doubt that it was fear that sparked behind those eyes. Eliot
didn't say anything to Sam closing the door and moving away, and that was
when he heard the sound of footsteps as well. He turned quickly too,
putting his back to the scene although he kept his eyes and ears open for
what came next.
The voice of the Devil was like any other man's. It wasn't particularly
deep or evil, sounding as normal as Eliot or Sam, yet there was something
malicious in its carefree tones. Eliot heard the distinct sound of chains
rattling, the hard impact of a body thrown onto the bed, then the
unmistakable rustle of clothes being removed and then... fucking. It was
over in minutes and the Devil was saying something too softly even for
Eliot's good hearing to make out. It marked the event as over though, and
instead of staying, Eliot heard Lucifer's footsteps retreat. Eliot waited
until the soft tread were completely gone to carefully look over his
shoulder.
Sam was alone, chained ass up on the bed, and left there with a sheen of
fresh cum coating him in messy splatters that reflected the room's light.
Carefully he turned in his cage, grimacing when it jolted his arm, and
rolled do he faced Sam.
Eliot didn't feel any better seeing his torturer raped in return, and Eliot
didn't think for a second it wasn't that. While it appeared that Sam was
used to it, submitted to it, it didn't look like he enjoyed it.
Eliot brought back the words Sam said to him earlier. "Have you learned to
want it yet?"
It was still very raw when Eliot's voice cut into the room, and Sam shifted over just enough to lay his opposite cheek on the bed instead. Once upon a time he'd have cried his way through this, but in the grand scheme of things it wasn't so bad. Lucifer hadn't prolonged the experience, hadn't beaten him or cut into him or burned him. He'd left him tied up, but Sam could untie those himself, and would after the required time was up. An hour, to let the sticky come on his back air dry.
His breathing was level, barely winded, and there was no ragged emotion in his voice as he spoke--it was the same level tone as he'd used earlier, matter of fact.
"I always want it," he answered. "So that when he lets me, when he's in a good mood, I can give him everything he asks for. That's what I want. I put up with this, but I live for the days where he lets me blow him, when he lets me swallow; the days he ties me up and watches my face as he makes me come." He shivered, and paused for a moment. That edge of cold was still ever present--Hell wasn't warm. "If I didn't want it, I'd never survive everything else."
Eliot could call Sam a hypocrite, he was fairly certain he wouldn't be
completely wrong, but Sam wasn't trying to be. He had the tone of someone
truly believing what he was saying only for the sake of survival. The
difference was it wasn't heartfelt, he hadn't grown to want it, but was
forced to and had developed a coping mechanism to deal with it.
"If that's the case, then why d'ya want me to break so desperately?" Sam
had mentioned Eliot was his ticket out, and unless there were other things
he could escape from, otherwise what Sam wanted was for it to stop
badly enough that he would make Eliot take his place.
Not that Eliot could blame him. If first impressions were indication, Sam
had it far worse than Eliot did, dealing with the Devil himself. What Eliot
experienced was probably just a shadow of what Sam went through.
"Because it has to stop. It has to. If you just break..." Sam's voice almost rattled. "I don't want to torture you. I don't want to rape you. Everything I do is just one more step down the path of my own undoing. But this? There were times, this last year, when I realized that I'd forgotten my own name. I was just the puppy."
He licked his lips, shoulders tensing. "I know what happens at the end of this path, Eliot. I forget who I am, what I used to stand for, what I used to fight for, forget my family and my brother, and I become just like all of them. I become a demon."
And there was the bombshell that Eliot probably didn't expect, having believed all this time that that was just what Sam was. Maybe he thought it was hyperbole now, too, but Sam said it with such stress, and aching pain.
Everything Sam said sounded like the sinner trying to justify his actions,
and fit so poorly with Eliot's image of demons that it half convinced Eliot
it was an elaborate lie until Sam said the one most unexpected thing. He
wasn't a demon?
Eliot lifted his head a bit to get a better look at Sam. He didn't know
what the difference was, but there was a difference. This was a man spread
out there, still struggling to maintain his identity against the odds that
Hell had stacked up against him. He was a victim and never stopped being
one. Breaking Eliot was another form of torture for him.
In the light of all that, Eliot's gaze softened a little. He didn't intend
to give in, but now he understood, even partially, what went on with Sam.
"I thought you said there's no point in fightin' it, or was that meant only
for me?"
Sam shifted his knees forward, very slightly, so that he was stretched out longer, his arms as long as they could comfortably be, even if most of the stress was on the tops of his thighs. An hour was a long time to wait, but he'd survive.
Even with Eliot watching him, staring across at his naked ass from the other side of the room. Sam was past the point of ever being humiliated by that, but it lessened his ability to perform on Eliot the same way as he had before.
"You're dead," he told him, after a moment. "I'm not. I was brought here alive--I'm still living. This is your Hell, but it's my punishment. This is my punishment for saying 'Yes', for not stopping Lucifer when I had a chance."
That was more information, more tidbits of knowledge that made little sense
to Eliot at the moment, but he sensed were important in the long run. It
didn't sound right for a man to be in hell without dying first, which
probably meant Sam was a very special case. Special enough to warrant the
attention of the king of Hell himself, and that this so-called punishment
was something that was personal for Lucifer. An enemy brought low most
likely, which meant Sam must have been formidable once upon a time.
"You're still livin'... How'ssat work?" The more information he got, the
easier the pieces would fit together for him. Eliot was starting to glimpse
the picture that was painted for him, and he wondered, what did that mean
that he was placed under Sam's control. "Can you still die?"
"Of course, but I don't stay dead. Lucifer brings me back."
Once upon a time. Once upon a time, Sam had thought that death was a solution. He'd only been brave enough to try it twice, and Lucifer had made it frighteningly uncomfortable both times. It hadn't been worth it.
"This really is... It's what I have to do, Eliot, that's all. We all have things that we have to do. Hell wants you on their side, they want you to work for them, they want you to torture for them. But this is all just a test for me; one I can't fail, because I have forever to get it done right.
"I have forever, but I won't take that long. I won't. Because every day you're not broken is a day where I am."
Eliot narrowed his eyes at the blatant admission of the trade off. It was
honest, that much he gave Sam, but it wasn't something he intended to give
over if he could help it.
"Guess we'll see which of us lasts longer." Eliot knew it would be Sam.
When forever stretched on for eternity, there was no way Sam would not
eventually break him, it was simply a matter of time.
Seeing there was nothing to say anymore, Eliot shifted and carefully turned
back around so his back was to Sam. He assumed Sam was chained in that
position, used hard and put away wet by the Devil, and as sympathetic as
Eliot was, there was nothing he could do to help. And, really, he was
having trouble staying awake after everything that happened today. So
closing his eyes, Eliot left Sam to deal and he went to sleep.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
no subject
Eliot was fully aware of the approach, and although he remained unmoving on the ground like a newly dead thing, his senses were heightened and body ready to move. But no attack came, no taking advantage to drive the point home. No, Sam only crouched down beside him and sounded almost reasonable as he offered Eliot his options.
Cracking open his eyes, Eliot shifted so he could see the demon again. They were both a mess, Sam covered in a sheen of his own sweat, and of course blood and cum, and Eliot, he was covered in much of the same.
It didn't matter whether he screamed or gagged himself. Hollering would fit right in with the setting, and it didn't make him less of anything. For some reason, he doubted Sam would think less of him either.
"Do you care?" Eliot asked, surprising himself in speaking and honestly waiting for an answer. Torturers were still human, and at the end of the task, the ones who did it for a reason, who weren't the sadistic sons of bitches who enjoyed it, they tried to cope with what they've done. Everyone was different; some distanced themselves from their victims, some got closer even though that made it harder for them to continue next time. Sam was a demon in hell, but according to him he was human once. How much of that was left? Eliot wanted to know.
no subject
The implication being that the sooner the better wasn't just for Eliot, it was for Sam too.
He stayed close, raising his hand to cradle Eliot's cheek, looking down into his eyes. "But I understand that you can't give up without a fight. I know you won't, and I know why, because I was just like you once upon a time. Hell wears on you, but we don't expect miracles down here. Besides, all the angels I knew are dead, and God doesn't care about any of it."
His hand pulled away, and he brought his fingers to Eliot's arm instead, only touching very gently.
"Do you want to talk, or shall I do it now?"
no subject
That sounded almost convincing. It could all be an act, a deliberately crafted exchange, lines used on all the tortured souls down there, and in the long run it didn't matter. Now, though, here and at this moment, it humanized the demon and was the behavior Eliot was familiar with. It eased his guard, not dropped, but pushed back so it wasn't choking his existence and allowed him some breathing room for recovery.
He looked up into Sam's gaze, not quite warm but not cold either, jaded, but not dead. No sadism though, at least not what Eliot could discern. Maybe demons were great at pretending, natural liars and all, but Sam seemed as sincere as he was capable of. Eliot met it with his own reserved expression. He didn't hate Sam for what the demon did, it was just the way Hell was.
"Ain't much for talkin'. Just do it." Eliot took a deep breath to brace himself, and when Sam righted his arm, he didn't hold back. His scream echoed off the walls of his cell, one short loud burst that lasted only seconds but exhausted him more than the whole ordeal did. When it was done, he was heaving and shaking from the effort to stay still, and he couldn't raise his guard if he wanted to.
no subject
For now, he wrapped his arms around Eliot's back, supporting him physically, Eliot's arm raised across his shoulder to support it.
"I've got you," he murmured, softly. Sam wobbled a little as he pulled upward, supporting Eliot's weight with his own strength. He was sapped, off guard, probably just wanted to sleep--sleeplessness was a trait for angels and demons, and for those souls who lost track of time in the monotony of their torture, and forgot what made them human. "It's okay, you'll be able to sleep it off. Just a little walk, and it'll all be over."
Sam kept Eliot's weight mostly across his shoulders and made the walk, half dragging him if he had to. The room he 'shared' with Lucifer was the next one down, and Sam led him there. It was lavish, gothic, with an enormous bed that looked immaculate, a seating area with a huge TV set up in the middle of it, and a step down to one side which led into a huge sunken wash basin. There was no need for fluffy towels. But a closer look? A closer look would point out the various hooks and hidden ropes, the length of chain under the bed, the cage in the corner, the long tapestry that hid something behind it, the suspicious bedding box in the corner.
Sam released Eliot when they made it to the cage.
"Hurry now. Lucifer's coming. You should be asleep - or at least pretending to sleep - when he gets here."
no subject
Eliot was worn and it was lucky that Sam wasn't trying to hurt him, his response would've been sloppy at best. Especially now, with no splint and nothing to physically hold the broken pieces of his arm in place except Sam, Eliot was racked with pain from each movement and supporting himself upright was all he wanted to do.
It wasn't beyond his pride to accept the aid of the demon who raped him and broke his arm, this wasn't personal. He wanted to get a shower and, yeah, sleep, but he wasn't going to get the former, Sam was clear on that, and the latter didn't sound like a good idea despite what Sam said he should do.
He managed to get to the room without any dragging involved although he allowed Sam to support more of his weight than he really wanted to. The place was just what Eliot expected a rich bedroom in Hell to look like, luxurious, Gothic, and full of subtle malevolence. It was no more than a lavishly decorated dungeon, the meat hooks replaced by chains under the bed and solid rings in the overhanging frame.
Eliot wasn't particularly surprised when Sam led him to the corner where an overlarge dog cage sat with blankets and pillows. At least there were those, which was more than Eliot expected in this place.
Eliot thought about fighting, he probably could try again, but in the end he bowed his head and crawled in. Maybe next time when his arm was healed. He put his slashed back to Sam but looked over his shoulder at the demon. "Lucifer?"
no subject
Sam actually looked frightened. He'd gone pale, clearly aware of something that Eliot wasn't, and a few moments later he was back on his feet, pushing the cage door closed and turning the key. He hung it around his neck, with shaking hands, and moved over to the bed, kneeling down at the foot of it as though in prayer.
That was when Lucifer entered, barely even looking at Eliot as he strode over to the bed. His hand curled in Sam's hair, stroking almost tenderly.
"Hello, puppy. Busy day? You haven't even washed up."
Sam mentally cursed himself, flinching just enough that Lucifer felt it.
"It's okay, I know you've been working hard. You don't have to bathe until tomorrow. Face on the bed."
It was a threat, and Lucifer flicked his hand out, summoning a pair of chains out that lashed themselves around Sam's wrists, throwing him forward, pinning him down. Lucifer moved up behind him, loosening his fly. A moment later - without hesitation, without pause - he was forcing himself upon a soundless Sam, thrusting deep and steady, growling softly into his ear, grunting insults. Just before he came, Lucifer pulled free, spilling himself across Sam's back.
He patted him on the shoulder, gently, murmured something else at him - possibly a goodnight - tucked himself away, and left, leaving Sam chained, filthier, ass still up in the air.
no subject
The changes in Sam weren't even subtle, they were blatant and obvious and left little to doubt that it was fear that sparked behind those eyes. Eliot didn't say anything to Sam closing the door and moving away, and that was when he heard the sound of footsteps as well. He turned quickly too, putting his back to the scene although he kept his eyes and ears open for what came next.
The voice of the Devil was like any other man's. It wasn't particularly deep or evil, sounding as normal as Eliot or Sam, yet there was something malicious in its carefree tones. Eliot heard the distinct sound of chains rattling, the hard impact of a body thrown onto the bed, then the unmistakable rustle of clothes being removed and then... fucking. It was over in minutes and the Devil was saying something too softly even for Eliot's good hearing to make out. It marked the event as over though, and instead of staying, Eliot heard Lucifer's footsteps retreat. Eliot waited until the soft tread were completely gone to carefully look over his shoulder.
Sam was alone, chained ass up on the bed, and left there with a sheen of fresh cum coating him in messy splatters that reflected the room's light. Carefully he turned in his cage, grimacing when it jolted his arm, and rolled do he faced Sam.
Eliot didn't feel any better seeing his torturer raped in return, and Eliot didn't think for a second it wasn't that. While it appeared that Sam was used to it, submitted to it, it didn't look like he enjoyed it.
Eliot brought back the words Sam said to him earlier. "Have you learned to want it yet?"
no subject
His breathing was level, barely winded, and there was no ragged emotion in his voice as he spoke--it was the same level tone as he'd used earlier, matter of fact.
"I always want it," he answered. "So that when he lets me, when he's in a good mood, I can give him everything he asks for. That's what I want. I put up with this, but I live for the days where he lets me blow him, when he lets me swallow; the days he ties me up and watches my face as he makes me come." He shivered, and paused for a moment. That edge of cold was still ever present--Hell wasn't warm. "If I didn't want it, I'd never survive everything else."
no subject
Eliot could call Sam a hypocrite, he was fairly certain he wouldn't be completely wrong, but Sam wasn't trying to be. He had the tone of someone truly believing what he was saying only for the sake of survival. The difference was it wasn't heartfelt, he hadn't grown to want it, but was forced to and had developed a coping mechanism to deal with it.
"If that's the case, then why d'ya want me to break so desperately?" Sam had mentioned Eliot was his ticket out, and unless there were other things he could escape from, otherwise what Sam wanted was for it to stop badly enough that he would make Eliot take his place.
Not that Eliot could blame him. If first impressions were indication, Sam had it far worse than Eliot did, dealing with the Devil himself. What Eliot experienced was probably just a shadow of what Sam went through.
no subject
He licked his lips, shoulders tensing. "I know what happens at the end of this path, Eliot. I forget who I am, what I used to stand for, what I used to fight for, forget my family and my brother, and I become just like all of them. I become a demon."
And there was the bombshell that Eliot probably didn't expect, having believed all this time that that was just what Sam was. Maybe he thought it was hyperbole now, too, but Sam said it with such stress, and aching pain.
no subject
Everything Sam said sounded like the sinner trying to justify his actions, and fit so poorly with Eliot's image of demons that it half convinced Eliot it was an elaborate lie until Sam said the one most unexpected thing. He wasn't a demon?
Eliot lifted his head a bit to get a better look at Sam. He didn't know what the difference was, but there was a difference. This was a man spread out there, still struggling to maintain his identity against the odds that Hell had stacked up against him. He was a victim and never stopped being one. Breaking Eliot was another form of torture for him.
In the light of all that, Eliot's gaze softened a little. He didn't intend to give in, but now he understood, even partially, what went on with Sam. "I thought you said there's no point in fightin' it, or was that meant only for me?"
no subject
Even with Eliot watching him, staring across at his naked ass from the other side of the room. Sam was past the point of ever being humiliated by that, but it lessened his ability to perform on Eliot the same way as he had before.
"You're dead," he told him, after a moment. "I'm not. I was brought here alive--I'm still living. This is your Hell, but it's my punishment. This is my punishment for saying 'Yes', for not stopping Lucifer when I had a chance."
no subject
That was more information, more tidbits of knowledge that made little sense to Eliot at the moment, but he sensed were important in the long run. It didn't sound right for a man to be in hell without dying first, which probably meant Sam was a very special case. Special enough to warrant the attention of the king of Hell himself, and that this so-called punishment was something that was personal for Lucifer. An enemy brought low most likely, which meant Sam must have been formidable once upon a time.
"You're still livin'... How'ssat work?" The more information he got, the easier the pieces would fit together for him. Eliot was starting to glimpse the picture that was painted for him, and he wondered, what did that mean that he was placed under Sam's control. "Can you still die?"
no subject
Once upon a time. Once upon a time, Sam had thought that death was a solution. He'd only been brave enough to try it twice, and Lucifer had made it frighteningly uncomfortable both times. It hadn't been worth it.
"This really is... It's what I have to do, Eliot, that's all. We all have things that we have to do. Hell wants you on their side, they want you to work for them, they want you to torture for them. But this is all just a test for me; one I can't fail, because I have forever to get it done right.
"I have forever, but I won't take that long. I won't. Because every day you're not broken is a day where I am."
no subject
Eliot narrowed his eyes at the blatant admission of the trade off. It was honest, that much he gave Sam, but it wasn't something he intended to give over if he could help it.
"Guess we'll see which of us lasts longer." Eliot knew it would be Sam. When forever stretched on for eternity, there was no way Sam would not eventually break him, it was simply a matter of time.
Seeing there was nothing to say anymore, Eliot shifted and carefully turned back around so his back was to Sam. He assumed Sam was chained in that position, used hard and put away wet by the Devil, and as sympathetic as Eliot was, there was nothing he could do to help. And, really, he was having trouble staying awake after everything that happened today. So closing his eyes, Eliot left Sam to deal and he went to sleep.