This takes place sometime after Sansa's betrothal to Tyrion is announced but before their wedding. It's something I wish had happened in the books. I love Sandor and Sansa fanfics and just had to make one.

Disclaimer: I'm a girl, not George R. R. Martin. I own nothing.

Sansa heard her door unlatch, felt his presence enter the room. She sat, staring out the window while brushing her hair and did not turn.

She had been waiting every night. Ever since he had left she had been harbouring a secret hope he would come back, save her from this terrible place and take her home like he had once promised.

But mostly she had just wanted him.

"I knew you would come," she said into the darkness and was slightly comforted when she heard his chuckle.

"And how did you know that Little Bird?" His voice rasped from somewhere near the door but Sansa heard it perfectly. She had been waiting to hear that voice again longer than she cared to admit, and she made sure not to miss anything he said.

"I don't know." She admitted finally, setting her brush down and turning to him. "I just knew you would."

He didn't say anything to that, just looked at her. She looked right back at him.

She couldn't make him out clearly in the dark but she did see he was wearing armor and had a sword belted at his waist. She could not see his face but did see his eyes.

They drank her in as she knew she drank him in and when their eyes finally met Sansa felt warmth course through her.

"I hear you're to get married to the Imp. Do you want my congragulations?" His voice was different when he spoke, almost angry but there was a hint of resignation there as well.

She looked down. "I don't want congragulations. I don't want to marry Tyrion."

"I suppose it would be a step down. First you were promised to the monster of a King and now you get his scarred uncle who barely reaches your waist."

She closed her eyes and took in a breath. "Why are you always so cruel? At least Tyrion is nice, at least he won't hurt me or scare me."

The Hound spat on the floor. "I'm sorry Little Bird, I didn't know you liked nice men. I'll try to refrain from poking fun at your betrothed."

Sansa shook her head. "I don't understand how you can be so gentle and kind one moment and so mean the next."

He took a long drink from the wineskin. Finally he wiped his mouth. "There's a lot of things you don't understand. Especially about me."

She had no answer to that and a long silence followed his words. When he didn't say anything else she spoke again. "I missed you."

Grey eyes shot to her face, but she refused to meet them. Finally he spoke, his voice slightly hoarse. "You shouldn't have."

She shook her head. "Why? You came to me during the chaos of Blackwater and then I never saw you again. Why wouldn't I miss you."

He ignored her questions. "I told you I was leaving. Didn't I? I did say that."

She looked at his hand and saw a wineskin tightly clutched in it. "Yes," she told him. "You did. That did not make missing you any better."

"Why would you miss me? What had I ever done for you?" His voice was strangely devoid of emotion.

She stood up and made her way over to him until she stood directly in front of him. "You saved me," she said quietly.

She stared down at her gown and started when she felt his fingers on her chin. He drew back at her flinch but then continued on to raise her face so he could look in her eyes. "I saved you from nothing. All I did was keep the mutts here from completely destroying you."

And there were so many mutts he protected her from. Cersei, Joffrey, Payne... so many more. Once Sansa would have included the Hound in them, but not now. Not anymore. Really, not since the riot where he had made his way over to her and saved her from the raging people.

"You saved me," she said again. "Like a knight from a song."

"I am no knight Little Bird. You seem to think that deep down I am better than I appear, that I will be your Florian. But I'm not." His eyes bored into hers, and Sansa repressed a shiver at the insistence in his voice. "I kill because I like it, I do not love, I am scarred and the only emotions I feel are anger and hatred. I get drunk almost every night and still you seem to think I can be good."

"Because you can. I know you can."

He lent down and his drunken breath hit her face when he rasped, "I can't. I am a hound, Little Bird, nothing more than a dog. There is no good left in me."

She shook her head adamantly, closing her eyes so as not to see his face. "I don't believe you."

Suddenly he laughed and stood up, taking another pull of wine. "Fine. Don't believe me; it makes no difference in the end."

She raised her eyes to meet his. "You aren't evil Sandor. Despite what you or anyone else says, you aren't that."

He froze and suddenly grabbed her arm, jerking her towards him. She cried out and tried to get away but his grip was tight. When she finally looked into his eyes, past the tears forming in her own, she saw they were furious. But behind that she could see.. something. She wasn't sure what it was, but there was another emotion there, one he didn't want her to see.

"I may not be evil but I'm pretty damn close. Sansa, I've killed women and children, I've raped and stole and then I laughed about it. So don't try to tell me I don't know what I am."

Sansa shook her head again. "You aren't evil. Evil men don't cry."

Again he froze, and Sansa continued, despite the fact she knew he could kill her. "I know you were crying, I felt it, that night when Blackwater burned. I know you were."

Suddenly he pushed her roughly away and took steps back from her putting more distance between them. And Sansa felt his body heat disappear when he did.

"But don't worry," she pushed on, "I won't tell anyone. I haven't and I never will. I just want to know something."

"Careful Little Bird, someday you might chirp something that will end with your head up beside your father's." His voice was rough and harsh, making Sansa pause for a moment before speaking again.

"You don't scare me."

It was the truth. She had realized it, that night when he asked her to come with him north. She had wanted to say yes, to go with him, and she realized that it was because he made her feel safe. In his own way he had protected her, and she was sure at least once he had tried to talk to Joffrey about her when she wasn't there. He had given her his cloak after she had been stripped naked in front of half the court, and he had wiped away blood. He had stopped her from pushing Joffrey to his death when the boy king had shown her his father's head, but whether that had been for Joffrey's sake or her's she wasn't sure.

Despite everything he said, all the things he did to others, she knew he wouldn't hurt her. She knew he wouldn't do anything other than scare her.

Sandor took a step forward, into the light, and Sansa held back a flinch at suddenly seeing his scars which looked so harsh in the light. A wince escaped her, one that the Hound noticed.

"Your pretty face says otherwise."

She straightened, and looked him straight in the face, scars and all. "I'm not."

He moved forward, casting his face in shadow once again, and knelt down in front of her. "You may be able to fool them with lies girl, but I know better. Everyone is afraid of me. That's just the way it is."

"Not with me. I'm not afraid of you." Her eyes bore into his, and she saw a flicker of doubt go through them before he covered it quickly.

"Then you must be even stupider than the rest."

She raised a hand and rested it on his scarred cheek, hearing him draw a breath when her skin touched his. "Or maybe I see you for what you are, instead of what you pretend to be."

"I'm not pretending anything! It's you who's under an illusion girl." His voice was fierce and slightly threatening but Sansa didn't mover her hand from his cheek; nor did he move away from her.

"Then show me. Hurt me, right now. Hit me, or kick me, or rape me like you said you have done to other women. Show me how terrible you are." She made her voice come out just above a whisper, and knew her breath was hitting his face.

"Little Bird-"

"Kick me."

"Girl-"

"Hit me."

"Sansa!" He yelled, and his breath smelled of wine and his voice was filled with frustration and anger and Sansa couldn't help but not feel afraid even though that was undoubtedly what he wanted. He stood up, and her hand fell from his cheek while he moved back into shadow.

"Hurt me." She challenged him, tilting her jaw up to show she wasn't scared. To show how determined she was.

It was several moments later when his voice rasped from the darkness."No."

She smiled then. "I knew-"

"Quiet!" He snapped at her, a sudden violence in his tone that shocked her into silence. "I won't hurt you, but that doesn't make me good. It doesn't mean I like you, doesn't mean I care. I don't like being bossed about by girls, especially when they're so much younger than me."

She took in his words calmly, but inside she was feeling like they were physical blows.

She had thought maybe, just maybe, he had cared. Maybe he had thought of her with more respect than he thought of others. Or maybe she had hoped.

But no matter. It didn't matter. He didn't care, he didn't like her, held no respect or sympathies with her. And in that moment she realized just how cruel Sandor Clegane really was, as he was the one who caused the awful feeling now taking place in her heart.

She showed none of that however. With what dignity she had left she held herself straighter, her head held high. "I am no longer girl, I am a woman flowered-"

He took a choked breath in at that, she heard it catch in his throat. "You are a mere girl. A silly, non mattering, girl. You no longer have any family, you believe in silly fantasies and songs and you see what you want to see. So go on and hate the world because it's not like you wanted it to be. Go on and hate me because you somehow convinced yourself I'm not who I am." His voice was ragged but he managed to get out another sentence. "You are just another stupid girl that I don't give a damn about."

And then she heard his footsteps and heard him yank open the door. She heard the slam from him closing it and flinched at the loud sound it made.

Not being able to restrain herself any longer she turned and threw herself on the bed, her sobs breaking from her like a wave.

He shouldn't have so much of an effect on her, she knew that. She also knew she shouldn't have expected anything different, he had told her enough times and others had warned her. But she had thought that somewhere he wasn't all cruel words and hurt.

She was a stupid girl, she never should have cared. She should have forgotten about the stupid kiss as soon as it had happened.

But the way her heart was beating, the hurt she was feeling, it was crushing her and she knew then and there that she cared about the Hound. Much more than she should.

She let out a yell, of pure hurt and heartbreak, before once again flopping to the bed.

She really was stupid. Only stupid people fell in love with dogs.

oooOOOooo

He sat against the stone of the wall, feeling the cold work through his clothes to chill him to the bone but he didn't care.

Through the door beside him, he could hear Sansa Stark crying. Sobbing and yelling and throwing things and all he could think was he did that. It was his fault.

Maybe he shouldn't have been so hard on her, Sandor thought. Maybe that was just too much. Despite what she had said to him, she didn't deserve that. His lies or his hurtful words.

Because in truth, Sandor Clegane knew he did care about Sansa Stark. A lot damn more than he should. And he knew that the only way to keep her safe, to keep her away from him, was to drive her away.

He had to end... whatever went on between them. He had to stop it. It was dangerous and only hurt them both.

And if there was one thing the Hound was going to do, it was stop Sansa from hurting.

But the way she was carrying on in her room... it almost made him hope she might feel the same way. Almost.

He had lived too many years with people flinching at his face to know no one could ever love him. Ever care about him. People used him, to fight and protect, and that was it. Nothing more. There was no attachment between him or anyone else, and that was how it was meant to be.

Except for this one girl. This Little Bird that sung all the right songs and chirped all the right words. She infuriated him, but most of all she scared him.

No one had talked to him like she did tonight. No one pretended to even get to know him, and to hear her say she knew him, she knew he wouldn't hurt her, it scared him.

If she knew that about him, what else did she know?

With a groan he slammed his head back against the stone wall, finding sick pleasure in the pain that coursed through him. He took a swallow of wine to numb the feeling slightly before hearing footsteps come from her room.

She must have heard him. Must have heard something, because he could hear her steps getting steadily closer.

He cursed inwardly, and with more speed than he had thought he would have in his condition got up and made his way away from the door. He stood very still in the corner in shadow and watched as she stuck her head out the door and looked down the hallway both ways.

It took everything he had to not say something, not move even slightly to alert her to his presence. But he managed not to, and for a second he even managed not to see the disappointment on her face, or in her blotchy eyes as she closed and latched the door.

And he managed to walk away, looking back only once, and escape the walls. He made it outside, saddled Stranger, and hoisted himself up.

With any luck Sandor Clegane would never see Sansa Stark again.

oooOOOooo

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