The demon was trying to negotiate with him. It was logical, what she was saying. He could fight them off. He could free himself. All it would take was a little blood, then he could high tail it out of here while Eve was busy trying to find a way to replace the head that he would have ripped from her shoulders. He wondered how her immortality would have enjoyed that. The thought of that alone raised the temptation to lean forward and start sucking in that blood another bar. Escape. Freedom. And a little bit of revenge on the way. All he had to do was given in. Drink.
"No," he protested, shaking his head. His body was angled oddly, shoulders thrown back, feet pushing at the ground so that he could get as much leverage away from the demon as he could. He kept his eyes away from the gash, knowing that the mere sight of the blood would only drive him into even more of an awful state than he was in now. His mind was filled with thoughts of blood - how it tasted, how it made him feel, how everything was so much easier when he had it pounding through him. Blood. It had been months since he had tasted any. His mouth watered at the realization.
"Get it away." Sam kept his eyes shut. He could do this. He was stronger now. He knew better. "I don't want it. I don't need it. STOP."