Wayward Traveler
"I'm sorry, honey, but I swear I'm on my way now."
The Mercedes GL450 SUV twisted its way around the curvy lake shore road; the headlights blaring through the heavy fog that had shrouded the small town of Naples, Maine in the early evening hours.
"Okay, Shawn, be careful. I don't want you to hurry; it's just that you've missed dinner with Luce the last three nights in a row, and now's really not a good time."
"I know, honey," Shawn replied earnestly, winding his way around yet another bend in the road, "but I have to keep taking all the extra shifts at work I can get. We need the money. Look, I'll be home in ten minutes, I promise. Have Lucy set the table for me so we can sit down right when I get there."
"Okay baby," his wife replied, comforted by his reassurances.
"I love you."
"Love you, too."
Shawn hung up his cell phone and reached over to place it back in his glove compartment. He took his eyes off the road only for a moment but when he looked back up he saw a strange green light stranded right in front of his car.
"Shit!"
Shawn swerved and slammed on his breaks at the same time, sending his SUV screeching straight into a wild thicket on the side of the road. He turned off the ignition, breathing heavily from his sudden fright. As he was claming down, Shawn looked in his review mirror to make sure that whatever had been standing in the road was okay, but he couldn't see much due to the thick fog. He rolled down his window and leaned his head out of the car.
"Hello?" he called into the still night air. "Hello, is anyone there?" He waited for an answer but all he could hear were the gentle waves of the nearby lake lapping at the shore.
Shawn felt panic begin to set back into him. What if someone is really hurt and can't call for help? Shawn put the key back in the ignition, intending to drive back down the road to see if there was anyone wounded. For all he knew, it could have been a stray deer that had run back off into the woods; he was pretty sure, after all, that he had missed hitting whatever had been there. But then what could explain the bizarre green light?
He turned the key and heard his engine sputter. "Damn it."
He tried it again and the car started briefly. The lights began to flicker, the radio rapidly changed static-filled stations on its own accord, and the engine made a strange whining noise before dying completely.
"Figures."
Shawn reached back into the glove compartment and pulled out his cell phone. "Call Home," he said loudly and clearly. The phone began to ring on the other end and Shawn heard his own voice respond as the answering machine clicked in.
"Hello, you've reached the Sampson's. We can't come to the phone right now so please leave a message after the beep."
"Abby? Abby, if you're there pick up. I had an accident, the car won't start." Shawn waited for her to pick up and start panicking, ready to reassure her that everything was okay and he just needed a ride but there was no answer. "Abby? Come on, I'm really not trying to get out of dinner, I swear! Someone may be hurt!" Still no answer. Shawn took the phone away from his ear and checked his reception. His phone was dead, no warning. "Weird," Shawn said confused, tossing it aside into the passenger seat.
He tried the key in the ignition one more time, but having the same result, decided to give it up and trek back on foot to make sure no one needed help. He stepped out of his car and on to the slick road. He wasn't entirely sure how far he'd gone before being able to stop his car, so he just started walking in the general direction, calling out for anyone to hear him.
Shawn had walked quite a way without finding a clue as to what could have been in the road, and was just considering giving up and heading back to his car when in the distance something caught his eye.
Shrouded in the fog but not more than fifteen feet away was the small green light that had been the cause of Shawn's accident.
"Hello!" he called, but again there was no answer. Perhaps whoever is carrying the lantern is too shaken up to answer, he thought, taking a few more steps closer to the eerie green glow. However, the closer Shawn got to the object, the further away it seemed to move. "Wait," he called to it as it continued to push farther away. "I just want to make sure you're alright."
The light stopped moving and as Shawn took a few more tentative steps toward it he could clearly see the silhouette of a small, delicate person through the lit up fog.
"You're… You're just a child!" Shawn said shocked as he reached a hand out to the young girl. But just as his hand got close enough to the lantern, the light went out and Shawn was stranded in a stark darkness.
Both the fog and the night had settled so firmly now that Shawn could not see his hand in front of his own face. He didn't bother calling out again for the girl had not replied even when Shawn knew she was there. Instead he took a few more steps forward, feeling around him. When he was quite sure the girl had gone, he turned and attempted to find his way back to his car.
He had taken a mere five steps when all around him the fog was suddenly lit with a fascinatingly bright green light. Shawn stopped instantly and turned slowly to find the source of the strange radiance. Shawn felt his heart skip a beat as he stood staring into the face of the small girl who was holding up the lantern filled with green fire.
"L-l-lucy?" Shawn managed to stutter. "Luce, what are you doing out here!?" Shawn kneeled down next to his daughter and reached out to hold her hand. "Baby, you're so cold. How did you get out here? Where's your mother?"
"Daddy?" Lucy asked curiously.
"Yeah, baby, it's me," Shawn replied, scooping his daughter into a tight hug. "You know you shouldn't be out anywhere alone. It's dangerous out here. God, I'm just glad you're okay. Come on let's get you home."
"We can't, your car's broke, Daddy."
"How'd you know that, baby? Did you come near Daddy's car? Why didn't you answer me when I called?"
The young girl just stared at her father with her big innocent blue eyes.
"Where'd you get that lantern, baby?"
She continued to stare, not saying a word.
"Come on, Lucy. Let's get out of here."
"No!" Lucy cried, pulling her hand out of her father's. "Let's go play, Daddy!"
Before Shawn had realized what was happening, Lucy was out of sight again, trailed only by the shadow of green light from the lantern she carried with her.
"LUCY!" Shawn called, chasing after her. "Lucy, come back right now!"
Out on the lake, an old fisherman sat in a small motor boat, reveling in his good fortune. He'd gone out late in the afternoon but was stranded by the quick onset of the thick fog. With nothing else to do he dropped a line, and before he knew it, he had an entire boat stocked full of fresh water trout. He'd drifted along most of the evening trying to find his way back to shore through the fog. The lake was dead calm making it difficult to hear the water lapping at the shore, but the old fisherman had much experience in his many years living on the lake and he listened with all his might until he found himself in sight of a small dock on the port side of his vessel.
He had heard the water but the fog was still too thick to see anything until the dock was suddenly illuminated by a greenish glow that lit up the low hanging clouds around it. The fisherman was just steering his way over to the dock when he heard a man calling frantically. The fisherman cut his engine to listen more closely.
"Lucy!" The fisherman heard the man call frantically. "Lucy, get back here! Come back!"
It appeared to the lone fisherman that the man was chasing the green light, but, as he noticed, the light had moved off the dock and was hovering over the open lake. The fisherman quickly saw that the man in pursuit hadn't yet realized this, and if he continued at his pace, he'd fall right off the dock.
"Hey!" The fisherman called, but he was still too far away from the dock. He leaned over and turned the key on his boat. The engine stammered and stopped. He tried again and again but to no use.
"HEY!" He called as loud as he could to the man whom he was now sure had no intentions of stopping before the end of the peer. "Hey, lookout!" But try as the fisherman might, he was too late. The man on the dock ran straight off the end in his panic, twisted awkwardly in mid-air, and fell with a mighty splash into the lake.
The fisherman waited, barely breathing, to make sure the man was alright, but he did not resurface. He tried his key again but the engine continued to sputter and spurt half-heartedly. The fisherman scanned the calm lake and was abruptly startled when the green light which was stationary right over where the man had plunged into the icy waters disappeared altogether, once again shrouding the fisherman in complete and utter darkness.
Supernatural
"Can I get you anything else, sugar?"
Dean lifted his head out of the newspaper he had been researching and was pleasantly surprised by the young blonde waitress in front of him. He let the pen he had been unconsciously chewing hang on his lip.
"'Sugar,' huh? That's a new one," he replied sweetly. "Your number sure would be nice."
The waitress rolled her eyes. "I was asking if you wanted sugar for your coffee…"
"'Course you were…" Dean winked and pulled the full cup of black coffee toward him and the waitress left unfazed. Dean watched her go and saw Sam coming back to the table.
"So, bathrooms in this place up to par?" Dean asked as Sam took a seat opposite his brother.
"Let's just say I don't think Robin Leach will be stopping by anytime soon."
"Yeah, that's nothing new for us," Dean said, circling something in the paper and then passing it over to Sam. "I think I got one."
Sam picked up the paper and read the obituary Dean had circled. "'Shawn Sampson, 36, Naples, loving husband and father. Drowned in Long Lake under unclear circumstances.' Unclear circumstances, what does that mean?"
"Glad you asked," Dean said smiling and turning the page back. He pointed to a column on the right with his pen.
"'Another Mysterious Death Dumfounds Local Police,'" Sam read. "'Shawn Sampson, 36, of Naples, died mysteriously last Friday on his way home from work. Sampson was reported missing when local authorities found his car Saturday morning, crashed and abandoned, off Long Bend Road next to Long Lake with no trace of Sampson. Local townsman Bob Michaels reported seeing Sampson while fishing late Friday chasing a mysterious green light.
"'Oddest thing," Michaels said to reporters, 'There was this green light hoverin' over the lake off Long Point Peer and he was chasin' it, callin' out to it. I tried to call to him to stop but he fell right in and ne'er came back up.'
"'Michaels was stranded on the lake due to heavy fog conditions when he claims to have seen Sampson fall into the lake. Authorities dragged the lake and found Sampson's body where Michaels is said to have seen him. Michaels claims to have tried to get to Sampson after seeing him fall in but was unable to re-start his boat.
"'[The boat engine just died, right there," Michaels said. 'Never happened to one of my boats before; must have been some sort of electrical mishap. Then that light just disappeared and I was stranded again.'
"'Clues to the earlier crash show Sampson swerved in the middle of the road. Information as to why is still unclear as is any further descriptions of what Sampson may have been chasing. Sampson was the third victim claimed by the lake in the last month alone.'"
"What do you think?" Dean asked when Sam had finished reading.
"Three drowning victims on a popular local lake in a small town all during one month is slightly suspicious," Sam answered taking a drink of his coffee. "And that boat not starting…"
"And how about that eerie green light? Sounds fun, right?"
"We've looked in to a lot more for a lot less."
"Great," Dean said. "Let's get going. Florida's a long drive!"
"Florida?" Sam questioned. "Dean, you know this is a local paper, right? They're talking about Naples, Maine."
"Maine?" Dean groaned. "Man, I thought we were gonna get to go somewhere fun."
Sam watched as his brother grumpily packed away the newspapers. "Let's go to Florida."
"What?" Dean said, looking up at his brother skeptically.
"Why not? Like you said, let's go somewhere fun. Hey, maybe we'll even find a case while we're down there."
"Sam…"
"I'm sure there are plenty of problems in Florida that we can deal with—"
"Sam."
"This doesn't sound like a good case anyway, ya know; probably some drunk guy thinking he was seeing things—"
"Sam!" Dean shouted loud enough that people in the small diner stopped their own conversations and turned to see what was going on. Sam stopped talking and looked bashfully at his brother. "Stop it okay," Dean said angrily, but lowering his voice. "Look, it's possible this is one of the bastards we let out, alright? So it's our job to send the son of bitch straight back to hell. And even if it's not, we can't let it keep taking all these innocent people."
Sam sat quietly, staring at his folded hands on the table.
"I just… This is what I want to do, Sam. I figured you of all people would understand that." Dean took another drink of his coffee while his brother sat motionless across from him.
"Why aren't we getting help from Bobby?" Sam asked. "That's what we should be doing."
"For some possible water wraith? Do you honestly think we need help?" Dean laughed.
"That's not what I meant," Sam said seriously. "We should be spending every second trying to get you out of—"
"No Sam, what we should be doing is trying to kill all the sons of bitches that escaped. That's the number one priority. Now come on. We're going to Maine."
Sam sat disgruntled and didn't say anything as Dean waved the waitress over and handed her his credit card. She returned shortly with the receipt.
"Ha," Dean laughed to himself, tucking the credit card back in his wallet.
"What?" Sam asked, speaking up. Dean looked down at the receipt smiling, and then handed it over. Sam took it and noticed a phone number scribbled on the back.
"Damn, I'm good!"
Sam rolled his eyes playfully and handed the receipt back to Dean, smiling.
"Too bad I don't have enough time to take her out," Dean said, crumpling it up and throwing it on the table. "Oh come on," he said seeing the gloomy look that came across Sam's face. "I meant 'cause we're leaving for a hunt."
"Dean—"
"Give it a rest, Sam," Dean said, finding it especially difficult to further attempt a cheerful mood. "Finish your coffee and let's go."
It had been almost two months since the Army of Darkness, as Dean had recently taken to calling it, had escaped from the Hell Gate in Wyoming. Surprisingly, time had passed normally for a while. Dean and Sam had spent some time at Bobby's researching old legends and scouring their father's journal over and over again. They listened for any indication of possession or demonic activity and distributed case lists through the hunting community to those willing to take up the call Ellen had put out.
Unfortunately as time went on Dean found himself alone more and more often. Sam had become so obsessed with finding a loophole in Dean's deal that he had stopped hunting. Try as he might, Dean couldn't convince Sam to leave the books and research and actually go after one of the demons. Sam and Bobby just continued to pour through book after book, leaving Dean to join Ellen and sometimes Jo on hunts when staying inside became just too much.
After about a month of endless searching wielding absolutely no results, Dean gave Sam an ultimatum: Stay at Bobby's alone and waste time searching for a way out while countless innocent people died or go back on the road with him and try to hunt these things in the flesh…so to say.
Sam had refused to give up until he saw Dean pack his things in the Impala and drive off. Frantic, Sam called his brother who refused to come back and pick him up unless he promised to drop his search. In the end Sam agreed to let it go for at least a little while and accompany his brother on a few hunts, if for no other reason than to keep an eye on him. Sam didn't think Dean was necessarily in the right mind set to be left to hunt on his own; he wasn't entirely sure what his brother was capable of these days.
The short drive to Naples, Maine was stiflingly uncomfortable. Sam was still angry at Dean, having spent weeks on the road with him, following up on stupid leads and wasting time on pointless hunts that any other hunter could have handled when they should have been back at Bobby's researching demonic contracts. Dean was tired of trying to keep the peace with is brother. Saving people and hunting things was what they did; nothing was going to change that, especially now. However, the more they tried to be angry at each other, the more they realized how important it was to reconcile. Of course, neither wanted to dare admit the other may be right, so the boys kept their mouths shut until the air had cleared and then went about their business as if nothing had happened.
The town of Naples was small and surrounded by lakes. Brandy Pond and Long Lake lined the edges of the downtown Causeway, which seemed rather empty for a Saturday evening as Dean drove through. On the North shore of Brandy Pond was a small motor motel that seemed to Dean like a nice place to stay. Parking outside the main office, the brother's entered the Romah Motor Inn in slightly better spirits.
"Look Sammy," Dean said, pointing to a sign on the door, "WiFi! That's like heaven for you, right?"
"Whatever; just get us a room." Sam rolled his eyes and waited in the lobby by a half dead potted fern as Dean went to the counter.
"Hello," Dean said to the girl who was flipping through an old People Magazine. She looked up and smiled pleasantly and Dean realized just how attractive she was. "Uh, hello," he repeated, more smoothly. "Special Agent in Charge John Panozzo, that's my brother Special Agent Chuck Panozzo, FBI." Dean pulled out a badge and held it open in front of the young woman. She barely took her eyes off Dean and didn't notice that the name Dean had just given her didn't match the name on the badge.
"What can I do for you, Special Agent… in Charge?" She asked, closing the magazine and leaning on the counter in a very flirtatious manner. She leaned in a little further and gave a small wave to Sam. He smiled uncomfortably. This was Dean's area of expertise.
"Well, we just need a room for a few days. We're up here working a case. Top secret, you know, very dangerous."
"Oh, yes, very dangerous."
"So can you help us with the room…?"
"Carrie," she said with a giggle. "I think I can come up with something." She winked and left the counter to head in the back room.
Dean turned around to face Sam and mouthed "Oh my God" to his little brother. Sam looked as if he was about to respond but then Dean noticed his eyes shift focus. Turning back around, Dean was surprised to be greeted by a different woman, also extremely beautiful but not quite so…friendly.
"Can I help you gentlemen?" She asked, adjusting the small brown wire framed glasses on her petite nose and tucking a long strand of dark hair behind her ear. She was wearing an old Styx t-shirt.
"Uh…" Dean said speechless. "Uh, yes," he recovered, finding his voice, "yes, we need a room, please."
"Name?" She asked without looking up but quietly typing on the computer in front of her.
Dean cast a weary look back to Sam. "Uh, John Panozzo."
The woman looked up, a small smirk on her lips. She nodded towards Sam, "Let me guess, Chuck?"
Sam looked down at the ground guiltily until the woman turned her attention back on the computer, then he shot a very pissed off glare in Dean's direction. Frustrated that his plan had already been foiled, Dean rubbed his eyebrow with his middle finger deliberately in Sam's direction.
"Let's try real names this time, shall we?" The woman asked, addressing Dean specifically.
"Dean and Sam Werner."
"Method of Payment?"
Dean pulled out a credit card with his alias and dropped it on the counter. The woman checked it twice before sliding it through the machine and handing him a room key.
"Number 9," she added, writing down on the Motel planner. "Anything else I can do for you?"
"Uh, yeah," Dean said, "can you tell us if there's anything to do in this town?"
She looked at them both curiously. "I take it you're not water sport fans then?"
"Well," Dean replied, "with all those mysterious deaths on the lake recently, I'm not so sure if I'm up for quite that sort of adventure."
"Maybe you've come to the wrong place then," the woman said quickly and testily. Dean was taken aback by her sudden rudeness. "I'm sorry," she added quietly. "If you're not that into the lake, there's some great old antique stores downtown."
"Oh, boy," Dean said with a look at Sam. "Well, we sure do love antiquing, but before we head on out to do that, actually, we are interested in the lake. Is there anything else you can tell us about what's been going on out there?"
The woman looked ashamed for a moment.
"It's okay, we're with the FBI, researching the local environmental hazards, making sure they're not affecting the lake in any way that could be leading to the deaths of all the local people." Once again Dean flashed his badge. The woman was still too upset with the questioning to pay much attention to it.
"It's just everything that's been happening has shaken our town pretty hard," she said. "I mean, three people in one month? It's strange, you know? And there have been stories of course. My father actually saw one of the victims drown. He swore there was someone else out there."
"Really?" Sam asked, piping up from next to the brown fern. "If you don't mind me asking, who's your father? We'd like to have a word with him, if that's alright."
The woman looked from Sam to Dean and back again. She seemed resolved to the fact that at least Sam looked trustworthy enough. "Bob Michaels. He owns his own bait shop down on the Causeway. It backs up to a boat rental on Long Lake, but he closes early on Saturdays. You'll have to wait until the morning."
"Thank you for your help, Miss Michaels, is it?" Dean asked.
"Yes. Tayla Michaels."
"Thank you, Tayla," Sam said, holding the door open so Dean could follow him out and back to the car. "We'll be in touch."
"And you may want to water that fern," Dean said, pocketing his badge and pointing towards where his brother still stood. "You know, save the planet and all. Go Earth!" He fist-punched the air, smiled and left the office with Sam.
Tayla watched them go, confused but oddly impressed. Her young employee came out of the back room.
"Wow. Real FBI Agents," she squealed. "And totally cute. I think the hot one liked you!"
"Don't you have something you should be doing?" Tayla asked.
The young girl rolled her eyes playfully. "I guess I'll go take out the trash."
"Please do."
Tayla watched her go and only when she was sure she was gone did she let herself smile.
Dean drove down the lot and parked in front of the very last room. He and Sam removed the bags from the trunk and unlocked the door. The motel room was fairly large, equipped with mini-fridge, cable TV, microwave and even a coffee maker that Dean was rather excited about. Sam dropped his bags by a small wooden table and immediately pulled out his computer.
Dean sat down on one of the burgundy comforted beds and took in all the fishing décor. There were 4 different kinds of stuffed fish on the walls, a large picture of a serene lake over the headboard of his bed and one of an empty fishing boat over Sam's. There was a small trout magnet with its mouth open on the fridge and plush towels labeled with many types of fresh water fish in a basket leading to the bathroom. On the nightstand was a Bible, an alarm clock, an old telephone and a local map. Dean leaned over and grabbed the map, opening it curiously.
"Hey," he said as Sam looked up from his computer. "That guy's shop isn't far from here, right back the same way we drove in."
"Yeah, but it's closed. We'll check it out in the morning."
"Well maybe we can find out where that Sampson guy lived and check out his place. Maybe talk to his wife."
"It's a little late, don't you think?" Sam was back to typing on his computer, only responding shortly to Dean's questions.
"Well don't you think it's a little strange she didn't report him missing herself?" Dean inquired, trying to gain back Sam's attention. "I mean, her husband doesn't come home from work, you'd think she'd be a little suspicious. She wasn't quoted or mentioned in that article at all."
"Yeah," Sam said, not looking up. "Weird. Maybe she had her reasons."
"Reasons? What reason could prevent her from noticing her husband was missing, Sam?"
Sam sighed, annoyed. "I don't know, Dean. Maybe the guy was a jerk."
"Whoa, Sammy. Bit harsh for you, isn't it? I'm usually the one being rash and insensitive." Dean smiled but Sam didn't take any notice. "Dude, what the heck are you doing that is so important? A little early for porn, isn't it? I mean, I'm still in the room, man." He got up off the bed and walked over to his brother.
Sam quickly tried to close the page he was looking at but Dean saw it before he could shut off the computer.
"Damn it, Sam!" Dean shouted, stepping away from his brother and putting his hands on his head, frustrated and pissed off. "Didn't I tell you to stop looking that shit up?"
Sam only looked on bashfully for a moment before growing angry himself. "You know what, Dean. I'm sick of this devil-may-care attitude you're pulling on me lately. What the hell is wrong with you? Do you want to end up condemned for all eternity?"
"Drop it, Sam, okay?"
"No," Sam said, standing up and facing his brother. "No, it's not okay. I'm not gonna drop it. I told you I'd leave it alone for a while, and I did. But it's been two months, Dean, and we haven't a single idea how to get you out of this yet."
"Maybe that's saying something," Dean shouted angrily.
"What the hell is wrong with you, Dean? You know, you may not give a shit about what happens to you, but that doesn't mean other people don't."
Sam and Dean just stood, staring at each other, both too angry and both believing they were right.
"Sam, I'm asking you, give it up."
"No. No, Dean. I'm not gonna stop looking. You didn't give up on me, not even when I asked you to. How can you expect me to just roll over and accept this?"
"Fine." Dean walked over past Sam and grabbed his computer.
"Dean, what are you doing?"
"Making sure you keep your end of the bargain." Dean opened the door of their room and walked outside. Sam followed, close on his heels.
"Dean, what are you doing? Put that down; we need that for the case!"
"We've got books."
Sam almost laughed at how absurd that sentence sounded coming from his brother but he stopped short as he saw Dean drop the computer in the middle of the parking lot. It fell flat and hard. Sam looked at his brother incredulously.
"You're just gonna leave it there? What, don't you think I'll go and grab it?"
"No, actually, I don't. And even if you did, it wouldn't matter." Dean walked up to the Impala and got in.
"Dean, come on, what are you doing?"
Dean started the car.
"Dean," Sam warned, watching as he brother put the car in reverse. "Dean! Get out of the car!"
But Dean didn't get out of the car. Instead, he stepped on the gas and Sam watched in absolute horror as Dean backed right up over the laptop.
Dean put the car in drive and drove back over it, just to make sure it was completely destroyed. Then he re-parked the Impala back in the same space, got out and walked past Sam whose mouth was hanging open in disbelief. Dean walked back into the room, leaving the door open, and collapsed on his bed.
Sam went out and scooped up the utterly worthless piece of machinery that had moments before been his only chance of finding a way to save his brother. He walked back into the room, cradling the pieces in his arms. He dumped it all on the table.
"Might as well throw it in the dumpster out front," Dean said when he heard the broken bits fall on the wooden table.
"Dean…" Sam started, but he was too angry to continue.
"Maybe that will get the idea through that thick skull of yours," Dean said, kicking off his shoes and rolling on to his side. "I'm going to bed. We'll go to the shop in the morning." He reached over and turned the light off.
Sam stood in the middle of the dark room, fuming. He couldn't figure out why his brother was being so difficult.
"You know what, Dean? Fine," he said in the dark. "You don't care about getting out of this then neither do I. Go to hell for all I care. Heh, maybe it's what you've wanted ever since Dad died."
"What?" Dean said sitting up in bed. "Don't bring Dad into your own stubborn problems."
"My problems?" Sam said with a laugh. "Right… I'm not the one that has problems letting go."
"Whatever, Sam."
"That's it, isn't it? You'd rather be dead than be alone, right? You know what that is Dean? That's selfish… You want me to drop this?"
"Yeah, I do," Dean said loudly.
"Fine," Sam said, unfazed. "Fine. I'll drop it. Deal with it yourself." And with that, Sam swept the broken computer off the table and into the garbage can by the door.
Dean laid back down in the darkness and heard his brother climb into bed. He stared at the side of the wall, thinking about everything Sam had just said to him. Maybe he had overreacted, but Sam just didn't understand. Or maybe he did, and maybe that was the real problem.
