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English
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Published:
2022-06-19
Updated:
2025-01-08
Words:
1,797
Chapters:
2/?
Comments:
10
Kudos:
20
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Survive Me

Summary:

There were few names for what Sam was. The few that discovered the extent of his abilities called them demons, hellhounds, freaks of unholy creation.
He didn’t age. He didn’t need to eat or sleep.
What he did need was violence. It sustained him.

Or, Sam's an inhuman creature who needs violence to survive. Paulie decides Sam needs a friend.

Notes:

Hia!

So my motivation and ideas have flown out the window, but I managed to scrape this together. Hope it's not too shit.

This started as a vampire fic, but I preferred “unnamed monster” better. And I wanted to do feeding off violence instead of blood.

I’m sure there’s a way of turning this into a dom/sub fic, but I know I’m not capable of writing anything close to that. If you want to, go ahead.

Also, lemme know if you want more of this, otherwise my motivation can and will take a holiday.

Slap me in the face with a kudos or a comment, if you so desire!

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Chapter 1

Chapter Text

Salieri’s Demon, they called him. The Savage of Lost Heaven.

No one truly knew what he was, and no one dared ask.

Bodies ripped to shreds, blood splattered across walls. Heads that were found miles from their bodies.

There was no job too violent for The Demon.

 

The younger recruits whispered amongst themselves, sharing rumours and gossip about the Demon. He was the devil, summoned by Salieri directly from hell. A serial killer who had turned to the mafia to pay the bills. No one knew for sure, they only knew the horror stories of the Demon’s victims.

His name, not that anyone ever asked, was Sam.

 

There were few names for what Sam was. The few that discovered the extent of his abilities called them demons, hellhounds, freaks of unholy creation.

Sam had been born, made, or created in the late 1900s. He had no recollection of his life before he awoke in a dank American alley. He knew of the world, could read, count, and even recall historical dates. But he knew nothing of who he was or where he came from.

He’d chosen his name from a rain-soaked poster on his first day.

 

The surname had come later, when he learned that his accent was Italian. He felt that whatever or whoever he had been before, he must have come from Italy.

So he chose a surname to add to his image, picked from a map at random.

Trapani, a coastal city in Sicily.

 

He didn’t age. He didn’t need to eat or sleep.

What he did need was violence. It sustained him.

For the first week of his… existence, Sam had gradually become weaker and weaker, and no food seemed to sate him. But when he had found and caught an alley rat, torn it limb from limb and listened to its screams as it died, he was refreshed.

Invigorated.

 

Guns did nothing to him. A shotgun blast would only ache. Knives could scratch a little, but no one ever managed to get close enough.

He was faster than others, stronger than others and could see in near-complete darkness.

A fall from the highest building would barely bruise. A gun to the head made no difference. Enough guys had tried to kill Sam, but whatever he was, it was near unkillable.

Which was exactly what Salieri needed. A loyal lapdog, vicious towards all but its owner. A horrific tale to strike fear in his enemy’s hearts.

Even when Salieri was dead and gone, Sam would be there as a protector of the family. Securing the legacy of the Salieri family.

In return, Sam got a decent apartment, decent pay, and a place in the world. He got the violence his body craved.

He didn’t quite belong. There would always be something different about him.

But it was as good as it could get.

 

***

 

Sam had always intrigued Paulie.

When Paulie had first joined with Salieri, he’d chased any information he could.

For sure, Sam was murderous and violent. No one smart would go within three metres of him.

But it was their job to be murderous. Murders and violence were part of their everyday routine.

No one questioned what Luigi had done back in the day, and everyone knew not to ask Vinny about his most dangerous or violent jobs.

So sure, Sam was a little different. But that didn’t mean the guys should isolate him the way they did.

They avoided him like the plague. Paulie knew there was something a little off about the guy, a little unnerving.

A shiver went down the spine of anyone Sam approached. The world held its breath when Sam spoke.

He could stand so still, it was like he could stand there forever, unmoving. Sometimes he seemed just a little animalistic in the way he searched for the exits in every room and catalogued every being in the room in a glance.

He never seemed to relax.

Paulie was determined to get to know Sam, to be his friend. Or at least get the guy a pal or two, even if it wasn’t necessarily Paulie himself.

Chapter 2

Notes:

To the shock of everyone involved, including me, I have written another chapter. Let's all ignore how long it's been.
Special thanks to the 2 people in the comments who asked me to continue this, it wouldn't have happened otherwise.
I'm not sure if I'll keep going, but if people want me to I will. It was fun to write, so maybe there'll be more chapters. Hopefully it won't take another 2 and a half years.

Any typos are officially artistic license, as I've lost my respect for grammarly now that they've got ai and I don't trust it. If anyone knows a grammar checker that doesn't use ai, I'm all ears.

Thanks so much for reading! If you're still here, you get a free hat. Chuck me a kudos or comment if you like!

Chapter Text

Sam doesn’t know why Paulie started hanging around him. Salieri liked him to work alone, so his gruesome approach to jobs didn’t put off any of his employees.

One evening, after Sam returned from work, soaked through with rain and a little blood, Paulie had popped up, like a bright flower. He’d introduced himself and politely steered away from the concerning amount of blood Sam was covered in.

Everyone knew the Demon didn’t get injured. Any blood would always be from whoever Salieri pointed him to.

But he didn’t mention it. He seemed a little out of his depth, but determined to have a normal conversation with Sam.

Not that Sam knew what a normal conversation was; he’d never had one. Most of his conversations were between him and Salieri, and occasionally Frank.

But it was nice. Paulie stayed away from the concerning amount of blood, and instead discussed his own day, the guys he’d punched, the girls he’d see tonight. He joked and didn’t seem to care that Sam didn’t laugh at one.

 

From that day, Paulie kept popping up. He was around the bar as much as the other guys, but now he actively sought Sam out, who normally stood by a wall in the bar, watching passersby through the windows.

His being outside always put a damper on whatever was going on outside. None of the young guys wanted to wrestle Vinnie when they couldn’t keep their eye on him. He used to stand and wait beneath the stairs to Vinnie’s, until he realised no one wanted to go up them while he was there.

So he did his best to keep out of the way and wait until he was needed. Salieri always wanted him within easy reach.

He’d always stood alone, trying not to make eye contact with anyone, lest he hold it for too long, or not long enough, and make people think their number was up. It was a good way to discourage rats, but also drove away new guys.

But now, Paulie was there. He’d stand with a cigarette, or a drink, and talk. And the touching. A pat on the arm as he left, a bump of the shoulder at a suggestive joke, a nudge and a gesture to point out the latest gossip target.

It was new, and strange, but not unwelcome.

 

---

 

Usually when Sam did his job, Salieri asked that he clean off somewhere before returning to the bar. Having a guy show up soaked in blood and bits wasn’t terribly good for business, and Sam never had anything to report that wasn’t the messy deaths of whoever he was sent after.

But Salieri had a temper, and he hated rats. No matter how much he spoke of Morello’s temper, Salieri was just as bad when it came down to it. Anyone with a decent head on their shoulders knew that.

So when a trade partner moved to Morello after a near ten-year partnership, swindling them of locations, multiple men and supplies in the process, Salieri was steaming.

He sent Sam, because that’s what Sam was for. Sam was the punishment for the worst betrayers, the sleaziest thieves. That was standard.

What wasn’t standard, was ordering that Sam not change a thing before his return. Show every employee exactly what they were getting into when they signed over their souls. Show them what their due was, for double-crossing the family.

Sam did as he was bid. Salieri demanded, and he would always deliver.

 

He came through the back, as even Salieri wasn’t stupid enough to have him walk on the open street in his state. The cops didn’t need to see his state, it was for the family’s eyes alone.

And what a state it was. The blood was the first, most striking feature. It splattered across his face and turned his shirt checkered. His hands were completely coated, as were his shirtsleeves, as if he had plunged his hands into the very veins. Not one item of clothing was spared.

Once you got past the blood, more out of ordinary things became noticeable. The holes peppering his shirt, the glint of metal where something had hung on all the way home. The tattered and burnt pant leg, showing a clean, uninjured leg.

Not a single hair on his head out of place. Not a drop of spilt blood was his own.

 

He stood in the bar and felt their eyes on him. Watched their stomachs drop, and their hearts speed. Watched them learn the price of the wrong decision.

Once the message sunk in, he went to report to Salieri.

 

Paulie found him later, once he’d washed off the blood and discarded his ruined clothing. Sam hadn’t expected him to show up again, after such a public display of his abilities.

But there he was, casually leaning against the wall while he waited as if nothing had happened at all.

Sam hesitated. It wouldn’t be the first time someone tried to take him out, certain that Sam had some supernatural hold on Salieri somehow, and to kill him would result in great reward. Either that, or they despised what was different, whether it was to their benefit or not. Sam never bothered asking, and didn’t let on to Salieri. No one had dared pull it on his turf before, so it didn’t matter.

Salieri was his livelihood and a businessman. Sam didn’t want him to decide the assets weren’t worth the cost.

Paulie reached out an arm, and Sam let it come. The instant Paulie turned, he would be on him, but he didn’t want a reputation for biting the hand that fed. Besides, unless Paulie knew more about Sam than Sam did himself, he could take any attack Paulie could give.

Instead of an attempt to injure Sam found a warm arm around his shoulders, leading him towards the bar. To his surprise, Paulie ordered them drinks.

The eyes were still on him, weighing him down and thickening the atmosphere. By some bizarre happenstance, Paulie was somehow even more cheerful and loud. He was the only bright spot in the entire wary bar.

It was only when Paulie ordered another round, also on his tab, that Sam realised what was happening. Paulie was celebrating. Like it was any other win for anyone else. As if what Sam did wasn’t a threat to anyone else who dared try the same.

“You’re happy I did what I did?’ Sam asked quietly.

“Of course!” said Paulie. “The way I see it, they got what they deserved. Loyalty is everything that matters.”

Sam hummed in agreement and drank his beer.

Notes:

Please if you want more, let me know.
Any comments and feedback are more than welcome.

And Trapani is an actual city in Sicily, for those that didn't know.