𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐠𝐧 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬. sam uley

𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐲-𝐟𝐢𝐯𝐞

{trigger warnings; some blood and graphic descriptions of bodily harm. not too much, but if it bothers you can skip it.}

❧

"This isn't how you bring her back," Aro calls as Sam drags him through the forest. The sun is quickly setting, the moon shining so bright he thinks of leather jackets and cool skin against his own.

Sam ignores Aro.

"I am serious, wolf," Aro says.

Sam turns, glowering in Aro's face. His body trembles from the need to shift, but he won't give this asshole the satisfaction of dying before they reach the meadow.

"Keep walking."

He grips Aro's wrist tighter and keeps walking. Aro stumbles behind him, but Sam keeps his pace. The sun is fully set, which means Aro probably can't see, but Sam doesn't worry about him stumbling over branches or debris; he doesn't care enough.

"You are being ignorant."

"If you think I'm not going to sacrifice your life for Sage's, you're even dumber than I gave you credit for." Sam scoffs rolling his eyes.

After a moment of thought, he pushes Aro in front of him. Aro glances back, and Sam sees the first hint of nerves flutter across his face, a trickle of rain before the clouds pass.

"Think about this logically," Aro says, turning towards Sam. Sam pushes him forwards and he stumbles on a branch. "Sage had a prophecy that needed to be fulfilled."

"And it wasn't." Sam sneers, the thought of Aro thinking Sage's sacrifice was the prophecy being fulfilled forcing rage through him. "Sage died because she loved you, not because of the prophecy."

Ez had stated so. Sage's death was an anomaly to the ones she visited--a shock to the one who created her. That's why Sam is doing this. That's why Aro has to die.

"Sage's downfall was her love," Aro states.

Sam tries not to shift. "No, it wasn't."

Aro sniffs, bothered. "Where is she now, dog?"

"About to come back," Sam snarls, reaching out and clenching Aro's arm tightly. They were almost at the meadow now. Wind blew strands of his hair back, and he wiped at the sweat on his brow before they hit the clearing. "I'm sure you remember this, don't you?"

Aro remains silent, his face deathly white. It seems there's nothing for him to say anymore now that they've reached his place of death. Sam almost wants to laugh. How the powerful become powerless.

"Walk."

He pushes Aro forward harshly. Not enough to make him stumble, but enough that Aro snaps out of his reverie. As he walks, Sam notcies that his steps are hesitant, shaky.

"What's wrong, Aro?"

"Nothing." There's a waver in his voice that suggests otherwise.

The moon shines brightly on them, almost the perfect night. Clouds are scattered about here and there, but the temperature is cool--not refreshing like Sage curling up on him, her legs tucked between his own, but cool enough--and it eases something in Sam's chest, the relief that he's going to see Sage soon.

It makes him feel better about murdering Aro.

"You don't have to do this," Aro mutters, begs. "You can let me go. I won't be a problem."

"You living is a problem." Sam laughs then, a cold sardonic sound. He raises a brow at Aro. "You've done too much, killed too many people, to be considered anything but a monster."