She kept her eyes fixed on a spot on the roof, if she couldn't smoke out then she could try to focus elsewhere, think of things that weren't about Sam, focus on something else. He might take it from her by force but she would never willingly betray Sam. Not ever. The things Alastair was saying were wrong, Sam had had a hard time of it lately, yes he was dealing with it about as well as he had when Dean died but he was dealing with it and she was there for him. It was a devotion to an ideal of what he could be as well as a friendship borne of the tiny bit of humanity she had managed to retain and his willingness to eventually let himself trust a demon.
"Not the only one who thinks it, not the only one who sees what he can be...and he has me here...he knows he..."
She trailed off into a scream as her own knife plunged into her leg, her eyes smoking over, no amount of mental focus could keep her from crying out at that kind of pain.
He pushed into her mind then her head pounding and a dead girls heart feeling like it was racing. The next few hours passed in a blur of pain and taunting and torture, there were times when he wasn't there himself but the pain never let up, she knew a lot of his tricks but it didn't make it any less painful.
By the time he arrived back her breathing had become slow and laboured, her throat dry and she could feel the blood pooling in her abdomen, and the cuts, deep and shallow and in more places than she cared to name, if she was human she would be dead now, long dead. As it was she just hurt