A is for Amuck

I had always loved that no matter where Sam, Dean, Chloe and I were, we always seemed to find a way to have fun. No matter the hellish adventures we'd been through beforehand, we'd get ourselves back to the hotel room, or wherever it was we were staying at the time, and find a video game or…something to do to keep us occupied. That night, it was only Sam and I, since Dean had gone to some bar and Chloe was probably with him, I pictured them doing shots or whatever--Chloe tripping all over herself, but still refusing Dean's advances. The funny thing was, they'd probably forget it in the morning.

I looked at the TV screen in the cheap hotel room we were staying at that night, and half-smiled. Sam was playing some bloody, gory, violent video game. His eyes were fixated on the screen as he made the character shoot at a zombified lion, then turn and run in the other direction as the lion became pissed off. Sam was one of a kind. Really. No matter how hellish (literally and non-literally) our lives were, he could always take solace (though I'd hardly call killing virtual zombified lions and toppling virtual evil Corporations bent on world domination solace) in those video games. He really was a nerd.

I took a seat on the bed, noting inwardly that it was my turn to sleep there tonight. See, when we stayed in hotel rooms like this, with two little single beds that were too short for Sam and Dean to sleep on without their feet hanging off the edge, we alternated nights in said beds. Sam and Dean got them the first night, and then we swapped. Chloe and I slept on them the next night. Simple traditions that seemed like nothing to me at that point--just things that needed to be done to get by…seem to stick out in my head now. But that's beside the point. I sat on the bed and looked at Sam, who was completely wrapped in running from the lion. "Don't we get enough of that on the job?"

Sam's eyebrows furrowed a little more and he reluctantly turned his attention toward me. Retrospectively, that's one of the most fun things about Sam. His facial expressions and body language. You could, and still can, almost always tell what he's thinking and why he's thinking it. He just gives off these vibes, and it's really easy to read him. Right then, he was pretty much dead-set on killing that zombie-lion, and when I snagged his attention, a little tinge of annoyance crossed his face as his character fell to the ground, dead. "Well, this is mindless. It's different. Plus, I can't get two black eyes and a blood nose from here. When are Dean and Chloe getting back, anyway? Or at least Dean. We were supposed to play together."

I chuckled. Boys would be boys, I supposed. "I'll play with you…" I smiled. I was quite the video game aficionado, and I could always help/take down either of the boys when they asked/challenged me. Sam never admitted it, though, so he always tried to avoid playing with or against me. I found that relatively amusing.

Sam looked from the controller beside him on the bed, to me, then back to the controller. He was debating. I could tell. Handing me the controller meant that he admitted that he needed my help. And as much as he liked to deny it, he was just as stubborn as Dean in that respect. Never needed a woman's help with anything. Especially not video games. But this time, he gave in and handed me the controller. "This is ONLY because you killed me and owe me the help now."

I laughed. "I killed you?" I shook my head.
"Yes." He responded simply.
"As if! You were on your way there before I even came into the room!" I scoffed. "I saw you dragging your 'red caution' ass around, clinging to your last thread of Resident Evil life!"
He watched me pick my character, rolled his eyes, then picked his own. "I just…it's on hard mode!"

I laughed. Sam NEVER played on hard mode. Especially considering he could never win, even on easy mode. "Right. Hard mode. You keep telling yourself that, Sammy."
"Why do you ALWAYS pick Cindy? Don't you think you'd wanna be a tougher, male character?" he asked as he picked his character, Kevin, the 'rough and tumble cop with a heart of gold.' Convenient.

I made Cindy, the waitress, run around a corner and down a zombie in one shot, then shrugged my shoulders. "I seem to do all right with Cindy," I mused as I watched Sam struggling with another zombie, then rushed over and downed the creature in one shot. "Waitresses have to fend off jackasses like Dean all the time. Zombies should be nothing…"

I saw a small grin spread across Sam's adorable puppy dog looking face. "This is true. The zombies put up less of a fight…" he made the character take a shot at a zombie and then walked over to help one of our other partner characters stand, as they'd fallen on the floor.

Things went quiet between us for a second, other than commands of 'go over there!' or 'shoot the bastard!' as we handled a boss fight, then I glanced sideways at Sam, chuckling a bit. "You know, I'm glad we deal with the type of shit we deal with? Corporations like Umbrella would really…freak me out. I'd be tempted to punch Wesker's sub-human face in…"

"And break your fist in the process?" Sam added with a slight laugh as he fired at an explosive barrel, knocking half-a-dozen zombies onto the floor with that one shot.

I laughed, too, though I was hardly amused at the fact that I was in the line-of-fire on the explosion. My character pulled herself off the ground, and I immediately brought her health back to 'fine' condition. "Something like that…" I said as I returned the favor and blew his character back, sending him from 'fine' to 'danger.' "Oops…" I half-smiled.

He scoffed and healed his character. "Oops, my ass!" he spoke in an agitated tone, as the boss we'd just beaten busted through a wall and took both his and my character to the floor, along with our other two partner characters. "I wonder what would city they'd take first if they were real, though…"

I laughed, then thought for a second. "Probably some big city that no one really thinks about. Like Cincinnati. Who ever thinks of Cincinnati? An attack like that would put the place on the map…" I ran a hand through my hair. "And, don't you think that maybe, eventually, all these people would get suspicious of all the freaking radiation leaks? Seems as though our characters are the only ones with any idea…"

He laughed. "Right?" he asked as he looked at the clock. "Two-thirty? Damn, how are Dean and Chloe going to drag themselves out of bed in the morning?" he asked as he leaned forward and switched the Playstation2 off. "It was Dean, after all, who said 'We leave at nine o'clock; no earlier or later…'" he quipped as he lay back on the bed, preparing to go to sleep.

I scoffed and prepared to boot him off, when I realized that, since Dean and Chloe hadn't gotten home yet, I could stretch out on the other bed. They snooze, they lose. "They'll probably stumble in at about four a.m., and Chloe will try to kick you out of bed…"

"Either that or, like, climb in with me…" he chuckled, then lay against the wall, flicking off the light switch. "Good night, Rhys."

And in that moment, I, Rhys Griffith, was jealous. Jealous of my verybestfriend for possibly getting a chance to sleep in the same bed as my other verybestfriend. Stupid reason to be jealous, especially considering that I knew that Chloe and Sam had no interest in one another--whatsoever--and, oh yeah. I didn't like Sam.

What? I didn't! So not my type! Who would want to date a guy with an emotional side, who you could cry with, instead of cry to? Who wanted to date a guy who loved kids, and always laughed and enjoyed with you when you passed by a playground with kids playing? Not me. Seriously! I didn't--I don't…like Sam. No. Not me.

I don't think…