This fic is dedicated to rAbiDmutt03 in hopes that it will compensate for my broken promise. I hope this is to your liking. So, everyone, sit back, relax, and enjoy (SRE).

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Summary: Years I have been with him, wanting nothing and no one but him, but as I reflect on my life with him, is he really what I need, or is there another? Is he my angel, or just a demon that took but never gave? SamXSeth

My Fateful Genesis

It is winter. The sun had long ago fallen ill to the night. It is three in the morning, and still I lie awake, silent. I didn't want to wake him. He didn't enjoy being woken from his sleep at such untimely hours of the night. He gets angry; first at me, but then with himself for what he would then do to me every time he became infuriated with anyone.

Anytime anyone or anything upset him, I was the bag of sand he punched to relieve himself of all of his anxiety and frustrations, every time. It didn't matter if I bled, or even if I cried and begged him to quit, if I begged for his forgiveness for whatever it was I had done, though I would have done nothing at all. Even still, I would still beg and promise him it would never happen again.

Sam Uley, that's his name. That is the name of my fiancée. Some argued that he technically wasn't my "fiancée" because he never did bend down on one knee, I didn't have a ring, and because he never even asked my permission on marriage. He came home one day and announced it. I didn't dare reject him again, not after the first time when he actually had asked me to marry him and I answered no because I didn't feel ready for such a commitment. Right then and there, in the little two-in-a-half out of five stars restaurant, he did nothing but smile and say, "Okay. I understand. You want to wait. Babe, I respect that." Everyone had been watching us.

Once we got home though, his understanding turned into insatiable fiery. He had forced me to wear my black shades to work for the next three weeks. Both of my eyes were blackened. I had learned my lesson then, so when he said that we were getting married, I grinned and squealed as loud as my hoarse voice would allow me. I hugged him tight and I kissed him. He smiled back at me and pulled me to our bedroom and slammed the door shut behind us.

Our bedroom. I look around "our" bedroom. It is small. It's plain, and littered with filth, and his clothes were haphazardly thrown about the floor while some of our own blood stained the carpet. Our blood would lie there, night and day, and day after day it reminds me of the life that I chose to live with Sam. Every day those stains are constant reminders of how I should escape him, and how I should hate him, have him locked away or just have him killed…or worse if possible. I know I deserve so much more, so much better than he is giving me.

I turn my head to the side when Sam turns his head and his warm breath is ghosting against the hairs on my neck. His eyes are closed and I study the rhythm of how his body rises and falls with his every breath. His arm is thrown around my body, keeping me in my place. Without even having to be aware of it he is constantly keeping me in my place; beneath him, under him. He is the man. He is the top. I am to take his name when we finish reciting our vows, and sternly he's told me over and over that I cannot hyphenate my individual name with his. His was special, he said.

But I didn't care about my name. It is just a name. It doesn't matter what people call me. It doesn't matter what people call him, us. Some know of Sam's rage, and they, with every opportunity they get when Sam is not around, tell me that I should leave him or call the police, and that I should do something to protect myself, build myself. That I need to look out for me and stop worrying about what would happen to him just because he already has two strikes against him.

I look to his face once more. He's beautiful. How could I leave someone so utterly beautiful? It is impossible. I deserve so much better, but in some sensible and unknown universe, it would be immoral for me to leave him. I would be immoral, insensible, insensitive, and foolish to leave him.

The stark white ceiling caught my gaze and as a picturesque memory stole my perception of it, I wandered along with the image of my past…for just a while though, knowing of the pain that came with it…

X:~/~:X

I remembered waking up a little before dawn, around five-thirty in the morning. I had slid from underneath Sam's arm and disappeared into the bathroom to relieve myself. I had stripped myself bare of the clothes Sam had bought me the week before and stepped into the shower and allowed the stream of water to rinse me clean.

When I finished I stepped out and looked at my reflection in the mirror. I was handsome. My eyes had gotten darker. Unlike when I was younger when my eyes were a rich and youthful honeyed color they were now deep obsidian spheres, deep, gorgeous obsidian spheres. I loved them.

I dried myself and walked out. Sam was still sleep. I dressed and vanished into the kitchen to prepare breakfast for him when he woke and had to run off to work. I didn't have to work today. Around six-thirty he had walked into the small kitchenette. His food, which had been cooked already, had to be thrown into the oven and reheated. He sat the highchair behind the thin counter, waiting, as I washed the dishes in the sink.

"Sammy?" I started with my endearing pet name for him, but was quickly corrected.

"How many times have I told you about not calling me that? I hate that name." He said gutturally.

"I was going to Jake's today, so the four of us would hangout. You know Embry and Quil too." He just hummed indescribably. I knew he did not like Jake or Embry too much, and that he absolutely hated Quil, so I didn't know if it was an approving hum or disapproving hum.

I pulled his tray of bacon and sausages from the over, scrapped it onto a plate and placed it before him. He indulged immediately. "I don't care…Whatever makes you happy. Have fun." He said thickly around his mouth full of food. Although ecstatic, I did not show it. Sam became envious far too easily, so I just turned back to the dishes and allowed a tiny smirk to curve my lips as I scrub the grease-stained pan from the night before, clean.

X:~/~:X

I turn away from the stark white ceiling as my remembrance ends. I can't recall much else that happened afterwards that day. How long ago was that day? I don't remember. The only other thing I can remember about that day is that Sam had gone to work and that Jake and the others had been telling me to leave my beloved Sammy.

I don't exactly recall why, but as I am recollecting this, the remembrance of bitterness is consuming me, daggering into me and filling me with aghast.

That was the last day Quil and I have spoken or seen each other since. Something had upset him. Something I had said, but I can't recall what it was. It doesn't matter, I think to myself and turn to peer out the small wooden framed glass window into the night sky from our sixth floor apartment bedroom.

Quil wasn't really my friend anyways. It didn't matter if I had upset him. It didn't matter that we hadn't spoken to each other in over a year. It didn't matter. Our relationship didn't matter. He didn't matter to me anymore.

I turn to the side and bask in the smooth caramel visage that is softly caressed by the copious moonlit skies. Tenderly, I stroke the milky skin, while his slight breaths delight the hairs across my face. I hum, appeased. Quil doesn't matter. Only he matters, only Sam matters, I think to myself.

It would be a crime to leave him, an absolute atrocity to abandon someone so utterly remarkable. I would first rather lose myself to the darkness of night than forsaken this sainted being. Yet at times I conspire to committing that crime, to foolishly committing that crime. But then I would recompose my rationality and continue on.

…Only he mattered, no one else. Quil was no one to me…

X:~/~:X

After I had returned home from Jake's, I thrust open the door to my tiny apartment, stomped through the doorway, ill-manneredly shrugged off my coat, and carelessly I tossed it over the wooden coat rack.

It was well after eleven-thirty. Sam had returned home from work by now. I should have been in bed resting for my twelve hour shift that started at six in the morning, but I was too wired up; too angry and too disgusted to rest.

I thundered into the confined kitchenette parlor to procure a glass of water, and I drank it thirstily. I couldn't believe those three, telling me to leave Sam, that I could find better, calling me a liar. I would never leave him. He's been nothing but good to me, and there is no one else better than him. How dare them.

I sat the glass in the sink and grabbed my reddening wrist, feeling anger contort inside of me. Damn Jake. How dare he grab me like he had, jerk me around as if he owned me. He'd twisted my arm in an effort to prevent me from storming out of his apartment. I didn't want to hear any more of their nonsense, and to hell with all of them for trying to make me stay and brainwash me against my beloved Samuel.

Sam was right, I slammed my hand against the countertop. It hurt, but my friends betrayal hurts so much more the physical pain was instantly nullified. He was right. They're nothing but trouble and I should've just stayed away from them like he told me to. Damn them all, and I hope they rot in hell for deceiving me for so many years.

Sam sauntered into the kitchenette and stood against the frame of doorway, rubbing away his blurred vision. "What the hell is all of that noise going on in here?" He spat annoyed. "Shit. Yo ass know I gotta get up in a few hours, man, shut that shit up."

"I know. I'm sorry." I answer him. He stared at me, his brows furrowing more and more as his eyes ran up and down my body, glazing over me.

"Did you just get in here?" He was angry, and I bowed my head, avoiding the ominousness of his eyes. He stomped over to me. "And what the fuck is this?" Roughly he grabbed my bruised wrist and held it up in front of me to see. I winced from the intensity of his grip.

Immediately I tried to expound. "Jake—"

"Jake?" He echoed boisterously into my face. "What the fuck was you and Jake doin' that you comin' home at fuckin' three in the morning with bruises all over you, huh?" Violently, he threw my wrist, the sight of it presumably disgusting him, and with the force I fell back into the small wooden table that was only suited for one.

It wasn't three in morning, but I didn't say that. Again I tried to explain—only to fail like every time before. "What?" Sam roared, looming over me. His eyes were dark embers, burning with inextinguishable flames. "You fuckin' Jake now? Huh?" I couldn't get a chance to say a word, and that chance will never—and never has—present itself.

"I swear to god you're a fuckin' slut!" On the outside, my body is trembling, but on the inside I was angry. Never before have I cheated, or even thought of cheating on Sam. "You fuckin him just like I caught you and Mike, and Garret, and Edward," he jerked me forward by the collar of my shirt so that we were face to face.

My fear, I thought, would make him see the error of his ways and in turn change, but he never conceded to those terms that I knew, deep down, he knew, was wrong. My fear, on the other hand, only delighted him, it made him feel special, powerful, like the man of our shanty household.

"You ain't shit, little bitch! You gone fuckin' cheat on me...on me!" He accused, incredulously. "I work every fuckin' day…every day I go to work for you, for us, and this," he squeezed my wrist, forcing a pained whimper to elicit around my pursed lips. He slapped me. Then he did it again, with so much of his strength that I could taste the metallic flavor of my own blood rinsing in my mouth. "This, is how you fuckin' repay me!" Punitively threw me to the ground, hard on my back and head. Again he assumed his looming position over me, literally this time as I laid helplessly on the rough floor.

"I give you everything!" He continued to tirade. "I anything yo ass want, I get! I'm the reason we got this far together, if it was up to yo cheatin' ass we wouldn't have made it off the Reservation. If it wasn't for me you wouldn't be shit!" His face had turned scarlet, his fiery insurmountable. "I pay to take care of yo broke ass!" He tried to kick me, but reflexively I eluded it.

I was on my elbows, using them to support me as I tried to back away from him. All the while though, he followed me, still looming, still threatening, still spitting fire until I was cradled into a corner, my back to the wall while he exerted his strength over me, his dominance, his royalty as king in our one bedroom, one hundred-thirty two by one hundred-thirty two inch living room.

He was the king of this castle, and he wanted me to know, even though he had to lie to prove that point. I also had a job, not a career, but a job, and I paid to take care of myself. I pay more than half the rent, groceries, clothes (mine and his), furniture, and even finance his and mine car. But he was the king of this puny domain, and he so desperately wanted me to know that, so desperately needed me to know that in any way he could, and he fatigued every opportunity that opened for him to do so.

"I paid for those close on your back!" He belittled. "I pay for that car outside that you drive in, for the heat, water, and electricity that you waste in my house! I pay for all this shit!" And though I know what he's saying are all lies, I can't help but begin to believe him; from the way he pointedly advocated all his lies to be true, because of how angrily solemn his face is, and from how incredibly loud and barbed his tone reflects his anger. All of these reasons are why I begin to believe his every word. He paid for everything, and I'm just here wasting his time.

My body starts to jerk. "…And I pay for this fuckin' house; utilities, rent, deposit, all of that shit came from me. Had it not been for me , you would be out on the streets some goddamn where, hoein' yo self off like the fuckin' slut you are to get a few dollas in yo pocket! I give you a roof over yo head, clothes on yo back, and food to eat, and this is kind of shit you do…this is what the fuck you do to repay me!"

He went silent for a moment. Only a moment, before erupting again. "What the fuck you cryin' and shakin' for? Huh? Scared you got caught. Thought you was gone get away with that shit, huh?" I hadn't even known I was crying. I didn't known when tears had begun to fall, or when my body started shaking so terribly, but it was. I was balling, trying to talk, trying to get him to forgive me for my mistakes. I didn't mean to cheat on him. I never meant to. I wasn't even attracted to Jacob.

"You would be fuckin' dead without me!" Then he got right in my face, and over my loud wailing I barely heard him, but with sharpness in his tone, and a disgusted expression painting his visage, which I could hardly perceive through my blurred vision, he said, "I fuckin' hate you! I can't stand lookin' at yo ugly ass face no more! After tonight, you get the fuck out of my damn house, and don't you bring yo ass back here no more either." Then he tried to storm away from me, but my heart wouldn't allow it and instantly I found myself clinging to his leg, and screaming for him to forgive me with a voice I couldn't find earlier.

"N-no! Sam, pl-please!" I hiccupped. "I'm s-ss-soo sorry! Please no. D-don't leave me." He tired kicking me off, but not with all of his might. "NO!" I shouted. "Don't l-leave me. I don't have anyone e-else. Please." He kicked me with his other foot, and although it hurt, it was nothing compared to the emotional pain that was tightening around my heart. I couldn't control myself. I was on hands and knees, begging him for forgiveness for something I did not do. "I-I'm so sorrryy."

"What the fuck you cryin' for!" He screamed at me. I was at his feet, my hands clutching at his bare ankles. I didn't answer him. I just kept begging, and kept crying, hoping that he would just forgive me and move on. "You know what…Imma give yo ass something to cry about! Come're."

My heart stopped, because I knew just what that meant. Instead of cradling desperately at his feet I tried to crawl away, but he had already gotten a grip on one of my ankles, a line of obscenities stringing passed his lips as he potently drug me across the carpet.

"No, Sam! Please!" Frantically, I clawed at the carpet, and onto the TV stand, and the leg of the couch. I clung on to anything, but each time he would just yank me harder and force my grip to enervate until I released whatever it was I clung to.

"Wake me up at five in the fuckin' mornin', makin' all that damn noise and expect not to get caught." He muttered to himself, and then said to me, "You just fucked up, you know that?" And all I could do was plead with him, which seemed to fall on deaf ears. "Everything I do for you, and you go out and cheat on me? Then turn around and start cryin' like that shit gone help you…alright, I'm about to give yo ass somethin' to cry about." And all I could do was plead with him.

He drug me into our room and slam the door shut before I started screaming in pain for someone, anyone to come and get him off of me.

X:~/~:X

I turn back to the window and stare out at the night skies. The sky is so dark. I can see it crying as I watched the snow fall from it. Tonight, it seems to understand me. The darkness of the sky seems to reflect my despair, my loneliness, and it is crying sympathetic flakes for me.

I am hurting, so badly. How could I let this become my life? This life of nothing but misery. How could I have forsaken myself to this despair, to this darkness, to this dragon that lies beside me, whose warm breath is wafting across the back of my neck? My darkness, which I have finally come to realize after so long, is the love of my life, because I let him control my life.

How could I be so foolish as to leave everything I knew, and everyone I loved behind for him, for…for this evil? Was I not smart enough to realize it? Was I too weak to accept who he was back then? No, I thought, answering my own questions, and I turn towards him once more, but this time, the softness in my eyes have simmered, and I glare into his closed lids. He is just a master of deception, a demon that has escaped the confines of Hell…He is just evil that, because of my young age and naivety, managed to slip by me.

It has been ten years since Sam and I meet each other, and I was only fifteen at the time. It has been eight years since we ran off together, and seven since he's first laid his hands brutally upon my face. I turn to look at the clock atop the nightstand that reads: 5:30am. And now, it has been thirty minutes, and counting, since I've opted for more, for better, for love…for freedom.

Without a moment's reluctance, I move the arm that confines me and throw back the blank that has, so many times, been stained with my blood. I place my feet on the floor, and I stand. I'm afraid to move, to leave, and I silently I debate on looking back at him and covering myself once again, but I fight that usual, and meaningless impulse into the crevices of my mind and I take that first step forward and away from him for good.

After that first step forward, I cannot stop moving. With such swiftness and stealth, I have donned my only pair of sweatpants. They were grey, they were dark, and they were his. I wanted no more darkness in my life. So, I opted for blue jeans instead.

I decided to keep on the thin, white t-shirt I had on in bed. I slipped into my shoes and finally I donned my brown jacket that had the crisp, golden-yellow insignia of an eagle stitched right where my heart is.

Then I'm at the door, my hand on the knob, and again that feeling of apprehension swells in my gut, and the open door to our—his bedroom, is beckoning me back to bed. I want nothing more than to go back, than to lay with him, than to envelop myself in his essence…but demons are meant for Hell, not me. I reason, and in the next instant, I am gone.

Now I am at the front door of the apartment building, and I note the rising of the sun as I push open the door, and I am on the sidewalk, walking uptown in the bitter cold, my hands at my side and my face unhidden behind my jacket collar. I want the air, the freshness, the newness, the liberty of not being confined to anything, or anyone.

I took nothing with me. Not my clothes. Not my pain. Not my suffering. Not even my car. He can have it all. The only thing I have now is the money I stashed away, the clothes on my back, the freedom of the world, and the love for myself that I once lost under his rule. He is the king of that domain…a king without subjects to rule over.

I left the apartment door open for him, as a sign, in case he ever wants a way out, in case he ever wants more out of that hellhole he'll soon be rotting in if he doesn't open his eyes and realize the good things in his life that he pushes away. And also because, I want him to note that, the best thing he has ever had opted for just that, a way out of that hellhole that he created. I want him to know that, I'm gone…and I won't be coming back, "…Sammy."

I want more, and I know where to find it. Hopefully, realization didn't dawn on me too late, because now I know that he is the only one that will ever be able to give me exactly what I need.

X:~/~:X

I am at the end of his walkway, and I'm looking up at his house. It is blue and white. There is no darkness around it. It is still very cold outside. My fingers, toes, and nose had gone numb a while back.

I'm scared. There isn't enough courage or strength in my body to approach that door, yet I find my legs moving to the curves of his walkway. A sudden familiarity rushes to me. Years ago I have come to his very house to see him, each time a warm feeling spreads throughout my chest. This morning was no different.

Now I'm at his doorstep. I don't know what time it is, but I know it is early. He may not even be awake. I tell myself, and any other time that would have been enough for me, but this time my heart was speaking, arguing with me to stay, to try.

I take a deep breath. I'm freaking twenty-five years old and I'm acting as though I'm still a teenager. Get it together, Seth…just one knock, if he doesn't answer, leave. Though I know I have nowhere else to go. I take another breath to settle my jittering nerves, and I knock once.

For a long while I hear nothing. I knock again. Again I hear nothing. I nearly call it a defeat, but I refuse. I ring the doorbell repeatedly, and I am adamant with it until someone answers the damn door. Preferably—

The door swings open, and irately he yells, "Goddamnit! What?" The heavy bags under his eyes were evident indication that he had been asleep. He still hadn't noticed me as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes. I still had a chance to run. I won't. I am done running from him.

I wait for him to open his eyes before saying anything, and when he does, shock, for a lack of better words, shows across his face. I am expectant of him to be angry at the sight of me, but he isn't. I just smile. "Hi, Quil." I lightly say.

"Seth? What are you doing—"

"It's over." I say curtly.

"Wha—" before he finished, I meshed our lips together, and almost immediately, I fee his arms wrap around me and his lips pressing back against mine. It didn't feel so cold anymore. I pull away from him though to elaborate.

"It's over, Quil. Sam and I, we're over." Nothing is said between us, but I see him shiver, which reminds me that it is still quite cold outside and he has on nothing but jersey shorts and a tight fitted t-shirt. "May I come in? It's kind of cold out here." He nods and step aside for me.

I step in and immediately motion toward the couch I remember so many years ago, but it isn't there anymore. Nothing is. The house is fairly empty. "Seth," I turn to him, and his face is contorted with the skepticism I was expectant of when he first opened the door, but I take no heed of it. "What do you mean it's over?" He scoffs. "It isn't over. It's never over…" and a flash of disappointment gleams in his eyes and I note it there. "I have come to accept that much as truth," and then he glares, "so for you to come here and assault me like that…what the hell are you really doing here? After two whole years you just pop up out of nowhere at fucking six-thirty in the morning and kiss me? What the hell is going on?"

I sigh. "You're right. I didn't walk all this way—"

"Walk? Where is your car?"

"I left it. I left everything except what I have on me now and the little dignity that remained with me after a decade of my life wasted with Sam." Quil folds his arms over his chest. "I didn't come here just to tell you that Sam and I are over and that we can be friends again. I came all this way to tell you Sam and I are over because I choose you." Again that shocked look welds into the contours of his visage.

"You know," I continue. "I remember why I stopped talking to you before. It was because you wanted me to leave Sam for you, and at the time I just was not ready for that…or rather, I could not see that you were the one I really wanted…from the very beginning, since that week I first meet you, I had an indescribable feeling in the pit of my stomach, that only seemed to stir whenever you were near me. So, when you asked me to do that, I was so conflicted with that feeling and my feelings for Sam I didn't know what to do. But now I know," I step closer to him. "I know now, Quil."

"So now that you ended it with Sam, you think I'm just available? That I'm just at your beck and call. Well I have news, Seth. I moved on from you. Had you ever stopped to consider that much, huh? Like I said, it will never be over between you two, and I have accepted that fact." I move closer to him. I don't care what he says. He hasn't moved on from me, I don't care who he is already with, if anyone at all, and it is definitely over between me and Sam. "Seth, get away from me." I am in his face now.

"Why?" I am becoming angry. He pushes me away, and I grab his wrists and pull myself to his chest. "Don't do that…don't push me." He stills and I can feel the dense breath that is caught in his chest as I lay my head against it.

I feel him exhale. "Why do you do this to me?" he says, but doesn't push me away, instead his arms are wrapped around me again. I look up at him with tears in my eyes, I can feel them there, unlike that night with Sam, and he is looking down at me, gingerly.

"I choose you, Quil. You and only you. No one else…ever." He says nothing, and closes the gap between our lips. My numbed finger and toes are warmed from the heat in my chest spreading throughout my body.

"Seth?" He says softly against my lips. My eyes are still closed.

"Hm?"

"I'm moving away…very far away…" I open my eyes. Trepidation is rising inside of me.

"Wh-where?"

"Seattle, Washington." I still. "…Come with me…please?"

Without hesitation, I nod and kiss him again, for two reasons, but only one that he may know. The first, is because I enjoy doing it. The second, is because Seattle isn't too far from the Reservation I grew up on, it isn't too far from my family, from my friends, from my home.

To think…I was taken from my home by a demon, only to be brought back by an angel.

"Of course…" I smile because he is smiling, and I say with sincerity, "I cannot wait until we get home."

This actually was making me slightly sad as I was writing it. I tried ending on a happy note though. I was going to end it at the point where Seth left the building and headed uptown, but I thought the Quil part was a nice twist to things.

Tell me what you think though, okay? And rAbiDmutt03 I hope this compensates for the promise I broke to you. I try to keep all promises. Let me know if you like it, or if you'd like another pairing in specific.

Till next time lovelies :) Ciao!