This is my dream storyline for LuSam. I wish something like this would happen on the show, but since it's unlikely (unless the GH writers read this and uses it on the show, and what are the chances of that happening?) The prologue is pretty boring but it's only an introduction to the JaSam relationship and how it ends, Chapter 1 is where the story will begin. Have fun reading and let me know what you all think.

Oh, and the disclaimer: I don't own these characters, or at least most of them.

Black Rose

Prologue

They say that to dream of a black rose foretells of an unexpected death. Now that death had occurred.

Back in history, when witches roamed the earth, and magic was a believed in art, when people feared what they couldn't understand and called it magic, witches believed in the power of dreams. They said that dreams foretold of the future. Witches were burned at the stake for practicing magic, real or imaginary. They were destroyed, and throughout ages, magic became nothing more then a fairy tale. Throughout ages, science explained why certain herbs healed, and they explained that no magic was involved. Over the years, science also explained why certain dreams came true for the dreamer. It wasn't that the dreamer had magical powers and was therefor called a witch. It was because circumstances in the dreamers life mirrored their fears, preventing them from fully noticing what was right in front of them, and therefor the mind informed them of it in a different way, a way they couldn't overlook or avoid.

Samantha McCall didn't know of any of this when she first had that dream, but now she understood how her mind was only trying to tell her, to warn her, of the death she should have seen a while ago.

The first time she had that dream was two months ago. In that dream, Jason Morgan, her boyfriend of two and a half years, came to her with a dozen roses. All red except one. One was black, as black as the eye of the storm. That night, she had woken up almost screaming. She didn't know how she knew, but she knew that dreaming of a black rose meant dreaming of death. She had cried to Jason about her fears and he had held her close to him, softly whispering "Don't worry. It's only a dream. I'm not going to die."

She believed him that time. But it was the last time that she believed him.

The next time she had that dream, it was that Jason had given her a romantic dinner, full of candle light and roses, all of them red. She had walked through a path of roses, their petals soft like silky sheets. She had walked toward him, and they grew deeper in shade as she approached the man she loved. His face was shadowed by the flicker of the candle light, and even in the distance she could see the love around him. But as she stepped closer, the roses grew deeper, into a purple now, then a dark midnight in a storm, and finally the black shade of death. And all the love around him, became the look of frozen ice and blazing hate. That night when she woke with tears burning her eyes and a scream icing out of her throat, she realized he wasn't there.

She had waited up all night, waiting for a phone call to destroy her world. She didn't know if the call would come from the hospital or the morgue, but either way she suspect that the man she loved would die soon. The call of his death didn't come, and with the light of dawn, he came home. She had been so happy to see him that she'd forgotten all about the dream. She was so happy to see him, she didn't smell the floral perfume on his shirt and a soft pink lipstick smeared barely visibly on his neck.

It was the third time that she dreamt of the black rose that the death actually occurred. That time, the dream was simple. It was daylight and Sam was walking around the penthouse, their penthouse, and she spotted the bouquet of black roses that he had given her. She had walked over to them and sniffed, feeling their soft aroma filling the air. She didn't fear the death, she welcomed it, and when she woke in the morning, she wasn't screaming or crying. With that dream, came acceptance and realization.

That day, she had woken in his arms, his warm and secure embrace, and as he stirred, Jason whispered sweet nothing's in her ear. She grimaced. She wasn't sure if he was sleeping next to her, or was he dreaming of sleeping next to another woman. She suspected the later.

That day, she realized what her dreams of the black roses really meant. He wasn't going to die, not literally. But it was the death of love those dreams foretold.

Sam had thought that she loved Jason, and for a while she really did love him. But with time, they drifted apart.

She should have realized that he was already out of love with her the moment he dumped her after she woke up after a surgery. There she was, broken, damaged, fragile, hurt, and in a desperate need of a friend. He wasn't her friend then.

While broken up from him, she had slept with another man, a married man she had hated with everything inside her. The one night stand, wasn't romantic, or planed on, or spontaneous for that matter. It was simply a drunken night of bad judgement. Her life was going down hill and fast, and one night, she drank more then her share of alcohol. That night, she slept with her worst enemy. That night, she woke up full of regret and self hate.

That same night, Jason slept with a married woman, got her pregnant, and didn't regret a damn minute of it.

Sam had forgiven him for his liaison on that tragic night. She knew they weren't lovers at the time he made love to another woman. Jason, however, never fully got over it.

At that moment, Sam should have known that Jason no longer loved her. As life went and days turned into nights and back into days, she and Jason found their way back to each other. She though that it will last for good. But it died.

Now as she looked at the penthouse, that had been her home for years, for the last time, Sam understood that once love died, there was no chance of resurrecting it. You can't take a dead rose and make it bloom again, and like a rose in a vase, their love was temporary and came to an end.

Jason hadn't been as ready to accept the truth as she had been, and so she had to convince him that their relationship had to end. But now, as he walked her to the door the last time, they whispered their good byes.

Many times in their relationship, Sam had done this before. Packed her bags, walked to the door as he fallowed her, and walked out expecting never to return but she always did. All of those times, Jason had presented her with a gift of money. This time was on different on that account.

"Take it," Jason said, pushing the envelope toward her.

But unlike the previous times when she was tempted to take it, this time she was repulsed.

"When have I ever taken your pity money?"

"View it as a gift."

Looking straight at him, she said, "When have I ever taken your money?"

He was silent.

"That's what I though." Turning to leave, she glanced back at him and whispered. "Goodbye, Jason."

In deed it was a death. There was no fight, no tears, no begging, no emotions or feelings or thoughts. It was a death, a cold, silent, dark death where they simply grew apart.

But out of the death came a life. The first night Sam moved into her own little apartment, she dreamed that she was laying on a bad of black rose petals. The bed was outside and the wind was harsh in the night sky, and then the sun came and it's warmth cascaded over her. The winds died down, and the black rose petals turned to a brilliant white. Innocence.

That morning when she woke up, she realized she was free. She had the freedom she had always craved.

Little did she know that danger was lurking in the shadows. Little did she know that she wasn't free at all, but rather she was a prisoner in the game of danger, and the stakes in the game have just gone up.