Title: Demons
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Characters belong to Ryan Murphy, I'm just borrowing them so they can do my bidding for a while.
Summary: We all have them.
A/N: I'm not sure where this is going yet. It was an attempt to deal with some of my own, and is beginning to evolve. So who knows.
Demons
Prom. The word causes Sam to shudder, having become one that makes her literally sick to her stomach. Every time it left someone's lips, icy hot waves swept through her body and it took all of her strength, and sometimes the support of a chair or table, to keep standing.
Because their's had almost killed them both.
At night, when everything was quiet, Sam could still hear the sirens. Could still see the flashing lights behind eyes that were screwed closed in a desperate attempt to sleep. Which was something that had not come easily for some time.
Sam had seen Brooke die a hundred times. At first it was always the same. Screeching tyres, blinding head lights, Brooke's name ripped from her throat when the blonde had no time to utter a scream of her own. A sickening crack and the world stood still.
Then the visions began to change. Nicole turned into a stranger who had taken a corner too sharply. Then Brooke was behind the wheel of the car, the front end of which was unrecognisable. As was the driver. Brooke had been shot, stabbed, her plane had gone down and she'd vanished off the face of the Earth. Sam had put up 'missing' posters, crying.
And the thing Sam didn't understand, was that the night that had caused her state of sanity to be altered, hadn't turned out as tragically as the things she envisioned always did. The list of injuries repeated themselves during those quiet hours. Brooke had suffered a broken hip, three separate fractures to her right arm and hand. Two of her ribs had cracked, puncturing a lung and her leg had been almost shattered. The head trauma she'd sustained put her in a coma for two weeks. But she had survived. Sam reminded herself that countless times each day, but it was something her brain seemed intent on changing, every single night. And if the events in her head had come to pass, Sam thinks she would have died too.
The feeling she experienced upon waking and finding Brooke to be very much in the land of the living was indescribable. At least, after the initial blind panic and cold sweats. The occasional need to wipe away errant tears. Her stomach only stopped turning when Brooke's smile sent the warmth of reassurance through her. But even seeing her alive couldn't stop the thoughts that kept her up at night. The dreams that plagued her sleeping moments.
Every time she'd close her eyes, she'd see it. See Brooke's broken, rapidly paling form lying crumpled on the concrete, bloody trickling from a mouth Sam would do anything to make turn upwards in a smile. Even before the accident.
She wasn't stupid, she'd know what her feelings towards Brooke were, from the beginning to the exact moment they'd began to change. She'd just decided living in denial was easier, less complicated and less likely to result in people being hurt.
Or so she'd thought.
Then she'd entered into that ridiculous race for Harrison's affections with her. Agreed to go to Prom with them as some kind of threesome. At the time, she'd convinced herself it was the right thing to do, that if she won Harrison and they started dating, she'd forget about Brooke. But deep down she knew. The only reason she fought for Harrison, went to Prom under such a scandalous truce, was because in some twisted way it brought her closer to the person she really wanted.
Like anyone could forget about Brooke.
And all the while she was pushing her further away, because if Harrison had chosen her, Sam didn't know if their friendship would have survived. After all, Brooke had been in it for a very different reason.
Maybe Sam's lack of stupidity was debatable.
Maybe that's why she saw the things she did. She felt guilty. If she hadn't been such a coward, so lost to the depths of denial, then the night might have turned out differently. She could have confessed, at least to herself, how she felt and Brooke would have had no competition. Harrison wouldn't have had to choose and Nicole wouldn't have had a target.
But then, Sam has occasionally wondered why Brooke reacted so… badly, that night. Hadn't winning Harrison been the point of it all? Why then when he'd made his choice, Brooke, had she fled? She had been so sure if that had been the outcome, they would have become Kennedy's new, sweetest power couple. But no, Brooke had said "This wasn't what I wanted". And Sam had replied the same. But she knew why she had said it. Brooke's reasons were a mystery. And then after the accident… nothing. Harrison had visited Brooke a lot to begin with, even before she'd woken up. Sam hardly left her side except for those moments, wanting to be as far away from them as possible, but still close enough to hear that reassuring beeping. Then, almost over night, the visits stopped. Brooke explained without prompt that she'd told him that them being together wasn't in the cards right now, maybe never would be. He'd been hurt, of course, and asked if it was because of Sam. And had left before Brooke could answer. Weeks on, Sam still hadn't heard from or spoken to him. Not even when she'd told Brooke not to worry about her. That Harrison was himself a card very much off her table. That she should do what made her happy. Which, she supposed, meant Harrison was still not in Brooke's imminent future. In her lowest moments, she allows herself to smile at that, then feels the pangs of guilt. Because he was her best friend, and she misses him. But that same thought makes her angry, because the loss could have been far greater and he doesn't seem to see that.
Like Sam does. Every single night.
People have begun to notice. There's only so much concealer can cover and the bags under her eyes have become too dark a shade. She thinks she's fooled them all with false answers about late night study sessions, but Brooke is beginning to look at her worriedly when she thinks Sam isn't looking. It makes her nervous, because she doesn't know what she'll do if Brooke corners her to question her alone. Breaking down seems like the hypocritical option, after all… the whole thing was her fault. But she's sure it's only a matter of time. The mixed signals if nothing else will push Brooke into action. Because Sam is so torn. Half of her wants, needs to be around Brooke as much as the blonde will allow, and she's allowed a lot. Sam was sure she'd get sick of having her at her hospital bedside day in day out, but the big boot never came. Not even when Sam nervously but adamantly insisted on accompanying her to physiotherapy. Brooke had just smiled and given Sam the words, "I'd like that" to repeat over and over again inside her head. Even now, at home, when Sam was at the very least in the same room as her almost every minute of the day, Brooke didn't seem to be tired of her yet. And Sam is eternally thankful for that, because being with Brooke makes her feel something other than dread and fear.
The other half pulls her away, furious. How dare she take comfort in the presence of the girl who's life she'd almost stolen. In Sam's eyes, she might as well have been behind the wheel. In her dreams, waking and otherwise, sometimes she was. Her demons were her own to deal with, her punishment to suffer through, a product of her own selfish cowardice. So she would confess to no one. They didn't deserved to worry about her. They'd worried enough because of her for a lifetime. But if this was the price she had to pay for having Brooke alive, but Sam's estimate it was a small one. She'd pay in full to be able to look into hazel eyes full of life and shakily touch reassuringly warm skin. To see her smile.
Sam has seen Brooke die a hundred times, will see her die a hundred more, but she'll take it all and manage. Because Brooke is in a room two doors away. And she's breathing.