Amanda woke up, disoriented, and looked around. She was lying on the floor of the van, with her back pressed against Gripps' back and a loudly snoring Cross in front of her. Martin and Vogel were silhouetted in the front seat. She relaxed again and wrapped the blanket around her tighter; the air in the van was cold. She was almost asleep again when a shock of pain from her hands pulsed through her.
In the light that filtered into the back of the van from the front windshield, she lifted her hands and examined them. Nothing seemed to be wrong at first, and she frowned at them in sleepy confusion for a while. Pain pulsed again, her horror blossoming as she watched the lines on her palms and whorls of her fingerprints lift upwards off of her skin and writhe like worms.
Blood dripped down from where the skin had pulled up, pain shooting from every split. She scrambled up with a cry, eyes fixed on her hands. She whimpered, and the nightmarish tentacles jerked towards her face at the sound. It was too much-pushed over the edge, she began screaming as fear overwhelmed her.
She wasn't sure how long she remained locked in the hallucination, but she was suddenly aware of Martin's face three inches from hers. Her back was up against the van's front seat, and Cross and Gripps pressed close to either side of her. She blinked at Martin.
Her head was cupped in Martin's hands, "Alright there, Drummer?"
She breathed shakily, trying to recover, "That was a bad one."
"Yeah, that was awesome!" Vogel declared cheerfully from above, and she was surprised into a laugh.
Martin snorted and released her, backing away as she groaned up at Vogel, "Glad you're happy, but it was not awesome for me," she settled herself back into her pillow, exhausted. After a few seconds, she began to drift off and mumbled quietly," Would have been worse if you guys weren't here…."
Cross put an arm over her, murmuring, "We got you."
Eyes closed, she slurred while falling back to sleep, "I know. Thanks."
Amanda was the last one awake in the morning, and rolled out of the van into a cold and oily dawn. They had spent the night in a truck stop parking lot, and she grunted a good morning at the Rowdies before stumbling off to the bathroom, feeling cranky and drained.
Martin was waiting for her outside, "You ready to roll?"
She began to reply, but was immediately distracted by the smell of breakfast from the truck stop diner. Her head turned towards the smell, stomach growling loudly, and she swayed on her feet a moment before walking toward the entrance.
"Amanda?" Martin's voice stopped her only a moment, tilting his head at her expression.
"I need something to eat. I need something to eat right now," she pushed past him, ignoring the delighted amusement in his eyes and the small smile that sprang to his lips. She heard a whistle behind her and resolutely did not turn around to check that they had followed her in, though she could feel them assembled behind her when she told the young waitress in front, "Table for 5, please."
The waitress surveyed them with wide eyes for a split second, and then gave a too large smile and chirped, "Go ahead and sit anywhere you want!"
"Thanks," Amanda led the way to a corner booth, the boys filing in around her wearing innocent smiles. Cross promptly picked up the syrup bottle and began to pour some into his open mouth. Amanda leaned across the table at him, grabbing his jacket and putting her face up to his, "If you get me kicked out of here before I get a chance to eat pancakes, I will pour that pancake syrup over all of your underwear."
He grinned at her, "Sounds like a good time to me!"
She kissed his cheek and exploded into laughter with the others under the disapproving stare of an older, grizzled waitress who walked up to take their orders resignedly (steak and eggs for Martin, pancakes with bacon and eggs for everyone else).
Thirty seconds later, they had broken their first coffee cup, and Amanda decided to run interference. The young waitress at the front handed over kids' menus and crayons cheerfully, and Amanda distributed them. Martin gave Amanda a Look and pointedly ignored his set, but everyone else colored happily together.
From where they were sitting, Amanda could hear the chirpy waitress interact with customers, and commented, "God, I wish I was a morning person like that waitress."
"What do you mean?" asked Vogel, his tongue sticking out in concentration as he focused on coloring his menu.
"You know—she's just so happy and cheerful," Amanda shrugged.
This comment elicited a snort from the four psychic vampires at the table. Amanda looked around with a frown, "What?"
"Just because she looks happy don't mean she's happy," Martin commented, sipping his coffee and gesturing towards the waitress, "Actually, Gripps…."
Gripps nodded without comment at the trailed off remark, humming a little while he finished shading in a complicated pattern on the paper in front of him.
At that moment, the food arrived and drove away all conversation. Amanda dug into her food with an intensity usually reserved for Discovery Channel specials, forgetting about everything but the glory of bacon for a while. The Rowdy 3 weren't far behind in their zeal for the food—the entire meal was finished in about four minutes.
"Better?" Martin rumbled at Amanda as she sat back with a blissful sigh and a full stomach, and she nodded happily. He huffed, "Good. Let's go, boys!"
She joined the scramble out of the booth and allowed herself to be led out by Martin. They were halfway to the van before she noticed Gripps' absence, "Where's Gripps?"
"Paying the bill," Martin commented, lighting a cigarette as they reached the van. She leaned up against the van next to him familiarly, watching Gripps hand the ticket to the young waitress at the front. She straightened when she saw Gripps grasp the waitress' hand between his two and speak to her solemnly. The waitress looked at him in shock for a moment, then with an unmistakable expression of relief; then she hugged him.
Amanda's jaw dropped, "What is he doing?"
Martin's eyes slid over to Amanda and nodded towards Gripps, "She's depressed. He's telling her not to give up."
"He's taking away her depression?" Amanda asked, awestruck.
"No," Martin corrected softly, "She don't need him to take it away; wouldn't do any good anyhow, because it'll just cycle back. She just needs to know someone else sees her. Needs to be told that she can keep going. That she's strong enough," he waited until Gripps was walking his way out of the diner towards them, then gestured, "Come on, Drummer—let's get out of here."
Amanda waited long enough to study the waitress' face through the glass before climbing into the van; she was absolutely certain it mirrored her own.