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The Demon Within 

by Tasha


This story is a New Professionals/Charmed xover and is rated NC-17 for violence and sexual situations.

Part 7

Sam looked like hell; of that much Chris was one hundred percent sure. How he'd actually managed to walk from the crime scene without Malone or any of the rest of the team suspecting that he was about to keel over was a mystery to Chris. What Sam had talked to Leo about at the Halliwells was anybody's guess and the Englishman had not spoken to his partner since. The half-demon had seemed less and less aware of his surroundings from that moment on.

As it was Chris made sure Sam never left his sight all the way up to the older man's hotel room. For once they were actually in separate rooms rather than sharing, which was more often the case. The one time Chris wanted to be damn sure he was as close to Sam as possible they were on different floors. It was only as Sam pulled his key out of his pocket that he actually noticed he had a shadow.

"Aren't you on the wrong floor?" he asked quite reasonably.

"If you think I'm leaving you to fall face down in the tub, think again," Chris replied pointedly. "You're hurt, and you didn't get the proper medical attention because you've been hiding it. The least I can do is patch you up."

"Oh," was all Sam managed and went about trying to put his key in the lock. As far as Chris was concerned his friend was having way too much trouble with the simple task. "Thanks," Sam added as he finally pushed the door inwards.

Chris trailed into the room after his partner and couldn't help being more than a little worried. The absent tone and the vaguely uncoordinated movements were totally opposed to Sam's usual behaviour.

"Sit," Chris decided firmly and pointed to the bed. "I assume you packed the first aid kit as usual."

Sam nodded and also out of character obeyed Chris' instruction without protest. Setting his worry aside as useless, Chris went about the task at hand. Sam's case was neatly stowed above the wardrobe and the ex-SEAL pulled it down. With ritual efficiency he opened it, retrieved the first aid kit and put it back in place. When he turned back to his friend the anxiety jumped right back up and bit him again. Sam hadn't moved at all, he was perched on the edge of the bed staring straight ahead, doing nothing. The Englishman hadn't even attempted to take off his jacket. With a worried frown Chris walked over to his companion.

"Sam, you in there, buddy?" he asked, his tone a little more anxious than he would have like.

Sam blinked and then slowly looked at his partner.

"Yeah," he said a puzzled expression filtering across his features for a moment, "just tired."

"Well, let's get you patched up and then you can sleep for as long as you like," Chris put on a cheerful tone that he didn't feel. "Jacket off first."

There was a little more life in Sam as he tried to be helpful and do as he was told, but he seemed to be becoming less co-ordinated by the minute. Chris moved to help and Sam accepted the assistance gracefully.

"How the hell are you upright?" Chris said the moment he managed to pull the clothing off his friend's back.

Sam's shirt was covered with blood at the back. How it hadn't shown through, even on a black leather jacket, Chris would never know.

"What?" was his friend's reply.

"You've been bleeding," Chris said and tried to inspect the damage, "and I don't mean just a little bit. We should get you to a hospital."

"And how exactly would we explain that?" Sam replied pointedly, awake enough, it seemed, to be annoyed.

Chris glared at him, but he couldn't actually think of a reply to that one. A trip to the hospital would not go unnoticed no matter what they tried. Malone had a way of finding out everything.

"If it's as bad as it looks from here," Chris said firmly, "you might not have a choice."

He moved round behind his partner and gingerly began to move the soaked material. To his surprise Sam did not react at all. There were several nasty gashes in the shirt and Chris was a little afraid of what he might find.

"Can you manage the buttons or shall I do them?" Chris asked, unwilling to abandon what he was doing, but realising the whole shirt had to come off.

Sam didn't reply, but he did move to tackle the challenge. After thirty seconds of fumbling Chris decided to intervene. There was no protest from his partner and Sam just looked at him vacantly as Chris slipped the buttons from their holes.

"Stay with me," Chris said as he monitored Sam's bleary-eyed gaze. "If I think it's okay, then you can go to sleep, but not before. If you're going into shock you are not going to sleep and we're getting you the nearest ER."

Sam just blinked at him. The shirt came off with a messy squelch and Chris realised the first thing he needed was something with which to clean Sam up. Dumping the once white shirt in the trash he headed into the bathroom. Sam's sponge and wash things were neatly arranged on the shelf above the sink. Unfortunately the largest container he could find to hold water was one of the glasses also on the same shelf. Swearing under his breath he filled one with warm water, picked up the sponge and a towel and returned to the other room. He stopped just through the doorway. From that position he could see Sam's back quite clearly and there were two criss-crossing sets of claw marks across it. They looked ugly and painful, not to mention worrying.

Pulling himself together Chris walked back towards his partner and knelt on the bed behind him.

"This might hurt," he warned, but Sam just grunted something unintelligible.

Wincing for his friend Chris dipped the sponge in the warm water and began his task of cleaning the wounds.

"Can't feel it," Sam mumbled as his partner began.

At first Chris barely seemed to make a dent and he realised he was being a little too careful. With Sam's lack of reaction he decided to be a little bolder and dabbed relatively hard at the top of one scratch. The partially dried blood flaked away and then Chris had to check he wasn't seeing things. What he expected to find was a raw wound, open, in need of cleaning and dressing, what he actually found was pink, somewhat sore looking, but nevertheless whole skin. Not sure what to make of this Chris continued further, and he was halfway along the first scratch before he believed it.

"You've healed," he said quietly.

Sam glanced vaguely in Chris' direction, puzzlement in his face.

"The wounds on your back," Chris said slowly and plainly, "they're gone. I don't even think you're going to scar much."

Bemusement was not a state of mind that really suited Sam, but he didn't seem capable of much else. Chris came to a quick decision.

"Okay," he said evenly, making sure Sam was following him, "I think this is going to take too long. If I let you fall asleep in the state you're in you're going to wake up in a foul mood with me as your target. We need to get you clean and I mean now."

He stood up and walked to the point directly in front of Sam.

"You're filthy and you stink," Chris stated bluntly, "you need a shower."

Sam peered at him dubiously.

"I don't think I can stand up," he replied plaintively.

"Then I'll just have to help you," Chris replied, surrendering completely to the mother hen instincts that seemed to have invaded his body.

He took Sam's arm and, bracing himself for however much of Sam's weight he was going to get, hauled his partner to his feet. Surprisingly Sam was more stable than his outward appearance suggested. He needed quite a lot of help with direction and balance, but Chris didn't have to put a great deal of effort into helping his companion to the bathroom. Closing the lid of the toilet seat with his spare hand he sat Sam on it and surveyed the situation.

"Just run a bath," Sam said, or at least that was what Chris deciphered from the garbled sounds that came out of his friend's mouth, "I'll be fine."

Chris crossed his arms and glared at his companion.

"I thought I already explained I wasn't about to let you drown yourself," he replied pointedly.

"Can't stand for long," Sam said quietly.

"Then you sit," Chris said firmly, "I'll worry about how to clean you."

Sam's eyes actually opened at that, he looked vaguely scandalised.

"Don't go all modest on me," Chris continued, a grin appearing on his face at his partner's reaction, "it's not like I've never seen you naked before. Remember Stockholm?"

An answering grin spread across Sam's face, it appeared he did remember Stockholm. There had been a small incident involving a mixed sauna and the theft of towels. Chris took the expression on his friend's face to mean he had accepted the inevitable, and the ex-SEAL knelt down. Sam's boots came off easily, although there was a worrying moment when Chris thought his partner might be about to fall off the toilet as the ex-SEAL pulled at his footwear. As it was, by the time Chris had finished the same job with his companion's socks Sam had actually managed to undo his own belt. He was, however, having a few problems with the button on his trousers.

"You worry about staying upright," Chris said as lightly as possible, "I'll tackle the complex stuff."

For a moment Sam actually looked like he might protest about that, but eventually he sagged in defeat. There was a little problem with actually getting the Englishman's trousers off, but they hurdled that one quite quickly. In only a couple of minutes Chris had Sam sitting in the tub, right where he wanted him. The American pulled the showerhead off the wall and turned on the taps.

"If it's too hot, yell," he instructed his companion and set about the task of playing nursemaid to his almost catatonic partner.

With the help of water and soap, Chris soon had most of the grime off Sam. By the looks of things only one of the marks would leave any scar, but Chris couldn't help remembering how Sam had received the marks in the first place.

The fight had been the most incredible thing Chris had ever seen. It had been wild, fever pitched and incredibly exciting. Two demons trying their damnedest to kill each other had spoken to the more primitive side of the ex-SEAL. There had been an almost mystical quality about it and Chris couldn't get it out of his head. He was very well aware that Sam was no longer the man he had first been partnered with, and yet the Englishman still needed his help. When the whole mess had started Chris had wondered if their partnership would survive, now he was sure. Sam may have been part demon, but he was still his friend, and the ex-SEAL was sure the Englishman was going to need all the assistance he could give adjusting to his new life.

"Leo never said anything about sleeping," Sam said suddenly, as if he'd found a moment of clarity.

"Yeah well, looks like our white-lighter friend doesn't know everything," Chris replied, glad that his friend had managed a coherent sentence.

Sam made a sound which, if listened to in the correct manner, Chris thought might actually have been a laugh.

"What's so funny?" he asked and rinsed off the last of the soap.

"You'll never guess what he told me I had to do?" Sam replied and leant against the side of the bath.

"Well if I'll never guess, you'll just have to tell me," Chris shot back and surveyed the bathroom to find out where the towels were.

If Chris wasn't imagining it, Sam actually giggled. The ex-SEAL wondered if his companion might not be losing it.

"Have sex," Sam mumbled almost coherently.

Chris wasn't quite sure he heard the correctly.

"Did you just say what I think you said?" the American asked slowly, totally frozen by the conversation.

"Umm," Sam responded sleepily. "When he took me aside he asked me if I was in a relationship. Said no so he told me to find one or an alternative source of sex. He said I should aim at about once a week at least or, and I quote, 'I might not like what I eventually do.' Can you believe it, I actually have a valid reason to get laid at least once a week."

"No I don't believe it," Chris said with a laugh. "Then again, when have you ever needed an excuse? Okay, now you're clean. Next problem, how to get you dry."

"Wrap me up in a robe, let me sleep," Sam mumbled; the water had done nothing to wake him up.

For once Chris decided Sam was right, and he went about his task as quickly as he possibly could. He thanked every deity he could think of when getting Sam out of the bath turned out to be easier than getting him in. It took only a minute or so to get him standing up and in the robe from the back of the bathroom door. Chris briefly considered making sure more of Sam was dry and then decided there was only so much mothering Sam could take no matter what state he was in. Looping the Englishman's arm around his neck the ex-SEAL got himself and his friend into the other room as fast as possible. Sam groaned gratefully as his partner lowered him onto the bed.

"Thanks," Sam mumbled and then much to Chris' relief seemed to drift into the sleep that he had been holding off for so long.

Chris covered his friend, surveyed the room and content that Sam was in no immediate danger headed for the door. Another mission successfully completed and both of them in virtually one piece; Chris felt vaguely cheerful. Sam would probably sleep for hours, but the ex-SEAL was on a high from the adrenaline. With a smile to himself he headed for his room to take a badly needed shower and then he was going to hit the hotel bar.


They had been back in the UK for a little over twelve hours and Sam was incredibly glad when Malone let them out of the office. There were obviously some things that had bothered their controller about their report, but they seemed to have pulled off the con job eventually. That, however, didn't change the fact that Sam was having great difficulty concentrating. Every member of the female species with whom he came into contact was causing parts of his anatomy to gain lives of their own. He felt like a kid in a candy store with no pennies.

"Okay," he finally decided as he and Chris headed to the car park, "where can I find the fastest and loosest female company in London?"

"If Backup hears you say something like that you'll be recovering corrupted files for the next six months," his partner said lightly.

"Yeah, well just at the moment I couldn't care less about Backup," Sam replied tightly, "in fact the less I think about Backup the better."

Chris grinned at him.

"I heard Spence and Richards talking about a place called the Rising Moon," the American provided eventually. "They seemed to think it was full to the brim with sex starved women. Then again I'm sure you already know the way."

Sam gave his friend a long hard stare over the top of the car.

"Contrary to popular belief," he said pointedly and opened the driver's door of the Nissan, "I have never been this desperate before."

"Is it really that bad?" Chris asked, finally showing some mercy.

"Chris," Sam told his friend slowly, "I'd shag you if I didn't think you'd shoot me later."

With that comment he started the car, put it in gear and roared out of the parking lot.

The club was dark, smoky and loud, but Sam didn't care. As he walked in he was hit by a wall of sexual desire and he knew he was in the right place. He was just about in control enough to realise that Chris didn't follow him as he dived into the sea of people, but he didn't care. The next few minutes passed in a blur as Sam let his instincts take control and he entered into the mating game. He really wasn't sure how many women he danced with or why he suddenly singled one out and followed her as she walked off the dance floor, but he wasn't arguing with his instincts.

"Hello," she said and turned to him as they reached the bar, "I'm Genevieve."

"Sam," Curtis replied and graced her with one of his most charming smiles.

"You look hungry," his companion said and smiled back. "Am I on the menu?"

"Only if you want to be," Sam replied.

"A polite sex demon," she said whimsically. "How nice."

Sam stopped dead in his tracks totally at a loss of what to do.

"How?" was as far as he got.

"How did I know?" Genevieve finished his sentence for him. "You leak power," she explained, "you should really learn to control that. I would never have known otherwise. I'm a witch by the way which really means I should do something about you. It would be a shame if my favourite club suddenly gained a reputation for disappearing guests."

Sam leant towards her.

"I'm not going to hurt anyone," he said quietly.

"And I'm not a nymphomaniac," the witch replied lightly. "I have wards up around this place. I'm surprised you managed to get in in the first place. Oh well, it shouldn't take much to get you back out again."

Almost nonchalantly she pulled something from the small bag she was carrying and held it towards Sam.

"Now we can do this the easy way or the hard way," she said politely. "This potion will make your life distinctly unpleasant for a good few weeks. Now I can use it on you or you can just leave. It took me a long time to perfect this recipe and I'd rather save it for a more desperate situation, but the choice is yours."

After a furtive glance to make sure no one was paying any attention to them Sam did the only thing he could think of, he let his demon half out. Letting his companion see his face clearly he smiled at her.

"I'm only half demon," he said quietly, "you'd be wasting your time and effort. We could have much more fun if we agreed not to try and hurt each other."

Genevieve's eyes widened in surprise and Sam let his other half fade again.

"I need sex," he said in no more than a whisper, "that's all."

The witch regarded him for a few moments.

"I'm friends with the owner of this place," she said finally. "There's a back room. I have it set up for sex magic. You couldn't hurt me there even if you wanted to. A liaison could be mutually beneficial to us both."

Sam smiled.

"I think we can come to some arrangement," he said lightly.

End of Part 7