"What the hell?" I screech at Sam when he walks through our doorway, two weeks after he disappeared. I get ready to launch into a rant, preparing all my insults, readying myself mentally for whatever shit excuse he has for leaving me for two weeks without any warning or note when I see his face. It's scrunched and it's sad and- hell, I don't know how to handle this! Sam looks sad. His head is bowed and even though his shoulders are much wider than I remember and I have to look up higher than I ever had to before, he looks smaller than I have ever seen him. He looks lost and lonely and even though I am so mad at him that I could cry, I decide that that look he has is more important that my anger. "What happened, Sam?"
His head shoots up as if he didn't know I was in the room, and suddenly he is in front of me hugging me as if I was the one who went missing. "Leah." He breathes my name in like it is his first breath in days.
Now I'm really concerned, I haven't seen Sam this troubled in years, certainly not since we started dating. His arms are still holding me in a vice and he hasn't explained anything so I try to ease myself out of his arms only to find them tightening around me.
I let out a breathy laugh. "Sam, unless you're into necrophilia, you might want to loosen your arms a bit." His arms are immediately at his sides and his face tightens in a combination of anger and fear. "Come on. Tell me. What happened?" He opens his mouth and then closes it a little and then opens it again.
"I- I can't tell you."
I give a deadpan look and raise my eyebrows. "Oh, you can't tell me. Okay. That's fine. I guess that explanation makes up for all the nights I spent on the phone calling people or on the streets looking for you. For two weeks. Two weeks. I haven't gotten a night of rest in fourteen days. I've been organizing search parties and worrying about finding a corpse and do you know how stressful that is? Do I look like I give a shit about your goddamned rules? Do I look like I can handle the uncertainty that comes along with you not telling where you were for two goddamned weeks?"
I know what I look like. It isn't pretty. I wasn't lying about not sleeping. I have bags the size of China under my eyes, my face is gaunt, and I haven't had any desire for food since Sam failed to came back home after work that first day. I haven't had a shower in three days and I definitely have a grey hair somewhere.
Sam takes a moment to study my face and his eyebrows pull together to form that little ripple of skin about the bridge of his nose that signifies his worry and he- "Did you just smell me?" I demand. I know I'm not the most hygiene-orientated person at the moment, but it isn't like I smell!
I think.
He looks away guiltily.
"Okay, I'll let that one go. But will you please tell me what happened? And don't give me that shit about not telling anyone. Don't you trust me?" I look at him pleadingly. He slowly nods his head and I sag a little with relief.
Sam looks a little hesitant, so I decide to encourage him. "Come on, baby, you know I love you. Nothing will ever change that." I smile sweetly at him and tilt my head a bit.
"I don't know how to say." Sam says, shifting his massive frame from one foot to the other.
"I am sure the straightforward attempt will work the best. No beating around the bush. Lay it out for me. Rip off the band-aid" I say, my agitation increasing as I wonder if I'll have to kill some random woman for sleeping with him or beat up the mafia because he owes some dipshit money.
Sam nods resolutely, meeting my eyes and taking a deep breath. "You know those old stories, the ones Old Quill used to tell us? The legends about the Cold Ones and the Reservations protectors? I am one- a protector, not a Cold One."
"What."
"I am a werewolf.. I spent two weeks attempting to figure out how to reverse the shift and become human again."
My face goes blank again. "You mean to tell me, that while I was worrying my ass off, you were gallivanting about in the woods?" I manage to control the pitch of my voice this time so its less of a squeak and more like a harsh whisper, with my right eye twitching from lack of sleep and my hands clenched with fury.
Sam just looks confused. "You- You aren't freaking out."
"NOT FREAKING OUT? I AM FREAKING OUT. Do you know how batshit you sound? 'I am a werewolf'" I say mockingly. "I know I said to rip the band-aid off but I wasn't expecting there to be a wolf underneath it!" I yell. I gather myself a little, reining in my temper. "But you are a shit liar so either you're telling the truth or crazy. If you're crazy its best to just humor you until I can contact someone and if you're telling the truth, I'll need some proof." I respond calmly.
Sam's facial expression changes to that of relief. "Okay, I can do that. Let's go outside."
He walks out the back door and I follow. Then he starts taking off his clothes. "Woah, Sam! We're outside! I know we've done some weird shit, but now is not the time!" Sam gives me a sardonic smile and finishes removing his clothes. Then standing in his place a huge ass wolf. Like, as big as a bear. That can't be normal.
I gape openly at the wolf that, if was standing on its hind legs, would tower over me like a two story building. "Holy shit, you're bigger than a truck." I go up to him to run my fingers along the fur on his side and fell the muscles under my hand tense up in response. "And you're built like a fucking brick. I guess I'll have to start working out again to be able to catch up to you." I say with a grin that Sam responds to with a wolfy smile.
We'll be okay.