Dammit. Just when Sam thought he'd had her, Faith tripped him up and sent him flying square into the ground. The sharp pain in his shoulder was quickly forgotten as soon as her foot found his stomach. For a moment, he felt as though he was going to literally double over and vomit. He might well have if not for the fact that Faith had jumped on top of him, knees slamming into his wrists just enough so that she was able to keep him from grabbing her and shoving her away once more. Groaning, Sam screwed his eyes shut and let his head fall back. He wasn't done for. Not yet. But that blow to his stomach? Yeah. That had hurt. It threw him off long enough for Faith to get herself in place for another hit. He saw her arm go up, muscles already beginning to work at pulling his arms out from underneath her knees, and then -
Then she stopped. For some reason, Faith didn't deliver the blow. Sam glared up at her all the same.
"What are you waiting for?" There was a challenging look in his eyes. He wanted her to strike him. Sam wanted the pain. He was diagnosed with a love for it, after all. And in a place like this? Pain was the easiest drug that Sam Winchester could get his hands on. It was all sinking in. The pain in his arm, the white-hot sting in his gut. He craved it. Sam needed it. "Do it. C'mon." He tilted his chin upward, eyes narrowing. "You know you want to."