I pulled up into the gravel lot and threw the car into park, not even bothering to take the keys out of the ignition. I grabbed the fire poker in my left hand and pulled Sam's gun out of my waistband. I knew that silver bullets wouldn't kill a tangie, but they'd sure as hell slow it down. I took off running down the path, keeping my eyes out for any sign of Kirsten and Niles and silently thanking whoever had designed the trail for putting a lamppost every hundred feet or so.
Finally, after what felt like ages, I saw a small figure sitting on a bench under one of the lamps. As I got closer, I saw the yellow tape and the bloodstains in the grass, and I realized that this was Jane's crime scene. Kirsten looked up as I came closer, her eyes wide and red from crying, and a bewildered look crossed her face. "D-Detective Jones?" she said shakily. "W-what're you doin' here?"
"Where is he?" I asked, ignoring her question. "Where's Niles?"
"He…he left me," she sniffled. "He brought me out here 'cause he said he wanted to talk about Janie, and then I started cryin', and he got real weird and started gettin' all touchy and I told him to back off 'cause what kinda person goes after her dead best friend's boyfriend and then he got mad and I ran away from him and got here and couldn't run anymore 'cause I saw all the blood and—"
"Kirsten, hey, it's okay," I broke in gently, and I put my hands on her shoulders to steady her. "Did he hurt you? Did Niles hurt you in any way?"
She shook her head. "N-no, but I think he was followin' me. He kept callin' my name and tryin' to get me to come back. He looked funny. His face…it wasn't right." She looked up at me then, and there was fear in her eyes. "When I was runnin', I kept hearin' somethin' in the water beside me. I don't hear it anymore. Was I imaginin' it?"
"No, Kirsten," I assured her. "You weren't imagining it. It's Niles."
"What?"
"I need you to listen to me, okay? Niles is…" Ah, shit, am I really gonna tell her the truth? I can't do that to her—I won't; not if I can help it. "Niles is the one who killed Jane," I said finally, getting as close to the truth as I could. "And all the other girls who've gone missing. I know you don't wanna believe it, but—"
I broke off as Kirsten froze beneath my hands and terror etched itself across her face. I glanced over my shoulder to see Niles stepping out of the shadows—Kirsten was right; something was off about his face. It was a slight greenish-brown color, and his features kept changing; they were fluid, like water: one moment, he looked like Niles, and the next, his teeth were long and sharp and his eyes were glassy and white. His bracelet was gone now, and there were weeds in place of his sandy blond hair. "Detective Jones," he said pleasantly, but his words slurred, running together like the river. "What a nice surprise."
I turned back to Kirsten and spoke quickly. "Pay attention, Kirsten!" The girl's horrified eyes snapped back to mine. "I need you to run, okay? Run all the way back to the gravel lot at the edge of the park. Your cousin is gonna be there, and he's gonna get you home." I pulled my phone out of my pocket and handed it to her. "If he's not, go through my contacts, find the name 'Sam Winchester,' and tell him what's going on. He'll keep you safe. Nod if you understand me." She nodded slowly, and I smiled at her. "Good. Now go!" I gave her a small shove, and she spun and sprinted back up the path. I turned back to Niles, and I wasn't afraid. Kirsten was safe, and this was going to end tonight, one way or the other.
"So you're a hunter, huh?" Niles asked me, and I noticed that he wasn't moving closer. Was he not going to come after me, even though I'd just cost him his prey? "I should've known."
"The fact that you didn't means I'm doing my job right," I replied with a smirk.
His eyes drifted down to the gun in my hand. "You know those won't kill me."
"I know." I aimed a shot at his leg and grinned as he cried out in pain and dropped to one knee. "But getting shot is never fun."
"Where's your partner?" he hissed through clenched teeth as he forced himself back to his feet. "Car trouble again?"
"He's just back-up," I bluffed. "He hangs back and lets me do the dirty work—I'm better at killing. He's waiting a few yards back right now, making sure you don't try to run. He doesn't always have the most faith in me." Okay, a little too truthful there. Don't get all personal.
"Huh. I think he's onto something, sweetheart, because you're about to lose me." I barely had time to process the words before Niles turned and ran. I was impressed by his speed—the gunshot wound didn't seem to slow him down at all, and I was falling behind. I realized then that I wasn't going to reach him in time. He was almost to the river's edge and I was still too far away. He threw a charming, mischievous grin over his shoulder at me before he jumped into the water.
I had no choice—now that he knew that I was onto him, he wouldn't show up in the area again—I had to kill him now, no matter what. So I did one of the dumbest things I could remember doing: I dropped the pistol, gripped the fire poker tighter in my hand, and dove in after him.
Niles grabbed me as soon as I hit the water. His hands were squeezing my neck, causing me to take in big gulps of water and almost lose my hold on my weapon. As his teeth elongated again and his mouth opened abnormally wide, I knew that this was it—my final hunt, and I was going to be taken down by Nessie's distant cousin. But I'll be damned if I don't take him out with me, I thought stubbornly, and, with the last dredges of my strength, fighting against the current and the spots appearing in my eyes, I moved the poker through the water and shoved it through Niles's heart.
A look of utter shock crossed his face as he fell apart in front of my failing vision, becoming weeds that still clung to me in an attempt to finish killing me. I released the poker and scrabbled at the weeds around my neck, but they were wound too tightly and I had no air left. I couldn't fight against the current anymore, and I had no choice but to let myself drift down the river as unconsciousness started to claim me. Panic had made me completely immobile, and, while I may not have seen my miserable life flash before my eyes like the rumors said, all of my fears and regrets hit me at once, and I found myself thinking of the Winchesters and Ella, the little family that I couldn't remember and had pushed away from the moment I'd gotten back.
I'd do it differently, I thought hazily. I'd try to change. It wasn't Ella's fault—it was mine for freaking out. Dean has done absolutely nothing to me—he doesn't deserve my distrust. And Sam… We've made so much progress in just one day. I really, truly like him, and there's no reason for me to be afraid of that. Maybe being attached to someone else wouldn't be too bad. Maybe I could let someone care about me for once. Maybe I could get used to it. I think I'd like to try. But those thoughts were too little, too late. I was going to die—apparently for the second time in my life—and there was nothing I could do about it.
Suddenly, I felt something wrap under my arms and pull me against the current, and I didn't have time to wonder what it could be before I blacked out.
~Supernatural~Supernatural~Supernatural~
"Gari? Gari, c'mon, baby, wake up!" The voice was frantic, and it was suddenly accompanied by a heavy weight on my chest that pressed down in short intervals. I wanted to bat whatever it was away, but I couldn't move my arms. It was uncomfortable, painful even, and it wouldn't stop. "Gari, c'mon, you can't do this to me! Not again!" the voice cried. "Garideth, you can't leave me again!" The pressure was becoming unbearable and then, finally, water forced its way out of my lungs and up my windpipe, and I coughed once before rolling over and vomiting onto the riverbank. "Oh, thank God," came the worried voice from behind me, and I finally realized that it was Sam. I was sure he thought I had been too out of it to hear him freaking out, but I did hear him, and the absolute terror in his voice had scared me, too. I think sometimes I forget how close we were before. It's kinda scary to think about. And did he just call me "baby?" "Babe," I can deal with. But "baby?" Really? One of Sam's hands pulled my hair away from my face as I continued to puke up a whole river while the other hand rested on my back, just like his brother had done for me only a few days before. And, like before, I appreciated the action but was a little freaked out at how normal this seemed for him. When he started rubbing his hand in small circles, however, I jerked away from him and curled in on myself as I continued to cough.
"Gari?" he asked hesitantly.
"G-Greg used to do that," I rasped.
"What?"
"The circles—Greg used to do that."
"Oh…shit." I could hear the sympathy in his voice, but I ignored it as I massaged my throat where Niles had tried to strangle me. "It's always worked—you never told me—I'm so sorry." I expected him to stop there; I figured he'd be staring down at his hands with his hair hiding his face as he kicked himself for upsetting me again. I looked up at him, about to try to reassure him, and I found that, instead, his jaw was set and his eyes glinted angrily in the moonlight. "No, y'know what?" he said heatedly. "I don't think I am sorry." I blinked in surprise at his reaction. "I mean, maybe I would be if you hadn't just done the dumbest thing I've ever seen you do—including drinking demon blood! What are you now, suicidal?! Seriously, all you had to do was wait twenty minutes for me to meet you at the hotel and we could've gone after him together!"
Then my shock wore off enough for me to fight back. "What if he'd killed Kirsten, huh? Because that's who he was going after! He killed Jane, and he was gonna kill Kirsten, too! I found the two of them at that park bench back there and chased him off! If I hadn't been there, it would've been her who died! I couldn't let that happen! I couldn't let anyone else get hurt because of me!" The words were out of my mouth before I could stop them, and I stared at Sam with wide, scared eyes. He looked just as stunned as I was, and I took that opportunity to change the subject. "Look, it's done. Let's just go, okay? I'll meet you back at the hotel." I got to my feet a little shakily and started back up the path, not waiting for him to follow.
He caught up to me quickly, and I noticed him tucking his gun into his waistband as he slowed his pace. He must have picked it up before following me. And yet he still managed to catch up with me? Damn those long legs of his. "No way you're driving after that," he said, and I rolled my eyes and groaned. Before I could speak, however, he said, "Look, we'll talk about all of…this—" he gestured wildly "—later; just let me drive you back to the hotel and get you outta those clothes." I raised my eyebrows at him, waiting for him to realize what he'd said, and I wasn't disappointed by the blush that sprang to his cheeks. "Shit, sorry, not like—well, uh—y'know what I mean. So you don't get sick. Not for…for anything else."
I fought back a grin, deciding to stick with my lingering anger and despair and to ignore the revelation I'd had when I'd almost drowned. "You're not driving Greg's car."
"Okay, we'll take the Impala and come back for Greg's tomorrow."
"Well, you're not leaving it here! This is a really shitty part of town!"
"Will you make up your mind?!" Sam said exasperatedly. "D'you wanna leave it here or let me drive it?!"
"Here's a solution: I drive Greg's car and you drive John's! Everyone's happy!"
"Gari, you're not driving. You almost drowned ten minutes ago, and you've still got weeds wrapped around your neck."
"Ugh, you're so fucking annoying!" I whined as I pulled the weeds away from me and threw them on the ground. "Stop trying to take care of me! I'm—I'm twenty-something years old! I can take care of myself!"
"Then prove it and don't jump into the water after a fucking tangie!"
"I'm not having this conversation right now; I'm not. I am too tired to fight with you about this."
"But not about cars, huh?"
"Never about cars."
He almost grinned, but that faded as we entered the gravel lot where our Impalas were parked. "I'm driving you back to the hotel," he said stubbornly.
"You're really not."
"Gari—"
"Okay, look, how about we compromise?" I suggested reluctantly.
"I'm listening."
"How about you drive John's Impala and I drive Greg's and you follow me back to the hotel? That way, I don't have to let you touch my dad's car and you can keep an annoyingly close eye on me. Sound like a plan?"
Sam huffed, and I knew that it was a sign of defeat. "Yeah, okay, but only if you promise you're gonna crank up the heat the whole way back and take a really hot shower as soon as you get there."
"I'm not even cold," I protested, and it was true—I was just sort of numb all over.
"And that's what I was afraid of," he muttered.
I rolled my eyes. "Alright, fine. It's a deal. I'll make sure to drive like a grandma so you can keep up."
"Just get in the car."
~Supernatural~Supernatural~Supernatural~
"So did you not bother to get a hotel room or d'you just like hanging around in mine?" I asked Sam as I came out of the bathroom to find him sitting on the edge of the bed. He had been right: the shower had helped me warm up considerably, and, after sitting under the stream for about ten minutes, I had regained the feeling in my body. The only negative side of that was the fact that now my neck hurt like a bitch and I was sore all over from being buffeted by the river.
"I was gonna get one last night, but we ended up researching instead of sleeping, so…" He glanced at me then and quickly looked away as he saw that I was only in a towel, and it took all of my strength not to roll my eyes at him. He's just being respectful, okay? Yeah, he's used to seeing me in little to no clothes, but he knows that I'm not used to him seeing me that way. He's trying to respect me, and that's super sweet and just a little adorable.
"So, what, you were just thinking we wouldn't be sleeping tonight, either?" I wiggled my eyebrows at him. "Did you have something else in mind?"
He blushed and managed not to stutter as he said, "No, I just got back too late to get a room. I was gonna ask if I could take the floor. If that's not okay, I can just sleep in the Impala."
"Can you actually fit in John's Impala?"
"Eh, good enough," he shrugged. "You'd be surprised at how roomy it is."
"Was that supposed to sound a little dirty?" I teased. "Because it kinda did. A little bit of an innuendo, y'know?"
"Yeah, okay, I know. Shut up. I didn't mean it like that, and you know it."
"Hey, man, I dunno what you get up to in that car. I know what I got up to in Greg's car, so I have a few ideas, but I've got no specifics."
"Can we change the subject, please?"
I laughed. "You're so easy to mess with. Now, look away," I said as I leaned over my duffle bag and grabbed a tank top. "I'm changing clothes, and I wouldn't wanna scar your poor, innocent eyes."
"Oh, ha, ha. Very funny," Sam scoffed, but he still averted his gaze and stared at the wall.
"Hey, you're the one who freaked when I wasn't wearing a bra."
"I was just caught off-guard, okay? I didn't expect you to start taking all your clothes off right in front of me!"
"I'm sorry I offended your gentlemanly values."
"You're hilarious."
"It's a natural talent." I finally found the old plaid pajama pants I was looking for and pulled them on. "Okay, it's safe now. Nothing unseemly here—unless my shoulders are too distracting for you."
"No, I graduated high school. Shoulders don't really do it for me anymore," Sam chuckled, looking proud of his joke, and I couldn't help but to laugh with him.
"See, you've got me beat: I never graduated high school. Ella finally got her GED, but I just didn't care."
He frowned. "You never told me that."
"I was probably scared you'd disapprove; y'know, since you're such a fucking nerd and all."
"Well, I am the smart brother."
"Yeah, I'd say so, Mr. Pre-Law."
Sam blushed. "How did you—oh. The books. I forgot about those. How far are you?"
"Just finished In My Time of Dying." I was worried that I'd have to fake some sorrow over reading about John Winchester's death, but I found that I really did feel bad for him. In the end, he cared about his boys, and he put Dean before the cause. And I didn't have to pretend to feel sorry for Sam and Dean. The death of a father was something I could sympathize with far too well. "I'm sorry about your dad," I said quietly, not meeting Sam's eye.
Our comfortable, joking atmosphere was gone as soon as I uttered the words, and Sam managed an awkward, "Thanks."
Instead of changing the subject, I decided to keep going. Apparently, I'm just a glutton for awkwardness. "And, uh, I'm sorry for how I treated you and Dean when I first got back. I mean, I'm sorry for the first time, too, but I'm guessing I already apologized for that." Sam almost smiled, and I continued. "You're not your father—neither of you are—and I'm kinda starting to realize that being like him wouldn't have been the worst thing you could be, anyway. Close, but not quite." I attempted to joke about it, and Sam's growing smile made me feel better. "And I just want you to know that I knew you and your brother were different a long time ago—everything between us lately hasn't been because of John; it's been because of me. I'm the one who's fucked up—I'm the one who's made this so much harder than it needed to be."
"Gari, when I told you earlier that you didn't need to apologize," Sam started, looking so sincere that it made me feel even worse for treating him badly, "I meant it. You've been dealing with so much; I can't even begin to understand what you're going through—coming back from the dead, losing your memories, getting stuck with me and Dean—it would be hard on everyone. I'm just happy you're still hanging around."
"Well, it's not like I have anywhere else to go." The hurt that flashed across his face had me reconsidering my words. "Shit, Sam, not like that," I said hurriedly. "I didn't mean it like that. Really. I just kinda always say the wrong thing in serious situations. I'm always—"
"—putting your foot in your mouth," he finished, looking marginally happier. "Yeah, I know."
"But, seriously, I'm glad I ended up with the two of you. At least you have some clue of what's going on. If Ella had been with some normal guy, we'd have had way too much explaining to do."
Sam laughed. "Yeah, well, coming back from the dead is something we Winchesters are pretty used to."
"That sentence should not be as comforting to me as it is."
"Hey, can I ask you something?" Sam said, and I was a little unnerved at how serious he became.
"Is it gonna start a fight?" I asked warily.
"Maybe."
I sighed. "If you really wanna risk it."
Apparently, he did. "What was that about not letting anyone else get hurt because of you?"
Looks like I was right to be nervous. Am I really gonna answer this? I mean, it's not like I can lie. And if I say that I don't feel comfortable answering the question, he'll probably back off and never bring it up again, but I owe him some sort of explanation, especially since I just almost caused my second death in a year. Ugh. Looks like it's time to bare my soul.
"After what happened with the Trans…" I started slowly, "…I just kinda felt like a failure."
"I'm with you there," he agreed sullenly.
"I mean, after I came back, I had just wanted one thing to feel normal, and I'd hoped that hunting, even if it was with two near-strangers, would do the trick." The words spilled out of me fast and frantic, and, for once, I didn't try to calm myself down. "And then it got so complicated, and then Kevin almost got sold and Mrs. Tran got possessed and went all lobotomized and they ran and I just felt so useless. I mean, I literally only killed one demon from the moment we started the hunt. And I managed to get shot. What good did I do?" I didn't want an answer, and Sam seemed to realize that, for he just stayed silent and let me continue. "And then Ella made it worse when she told me what I'd done—how I'd killed people, killed a frigging kid—and I just couldn't take it anymore. I needed to be able to prove to the three of you and to myself that I was still good for something, that I could still save people. I thought that, if I killed what was supposed to be a simple kelpie on my own, you guys would see that I was still just as capable as I was before I died, and I would see that I could still keep people safe, even if I couldn't do that for the Trans. But, well, you saw how that went." I shrugged and stared down at my hands. "I just wanted to feel like me again, and I fucked it up."
Sam was quiet for a minute, apparently considering how best to reply. Finally, he said, "You never had to prove yourself to me. I shouldn't have called you incapable yesterday because it was a lie; I was just pissed off. I know how great of a hunter you are, and I've heard plenty of stories about how great you were before I met you, too. Hell, you told the wendigo story about twenty thousand times, especially when you were drunk." He chuckled then, and seeing him even slightly happy was making me feel more relaxed. "And you can't keep beating yourself up about things you don't even remember doing—believe me, I've been there, and it's pointless. That guilt is gonna tear you apart if you let it, and you can't let it. You just have to promise yourself to do better, but you have to know you can't save everyone. That doesn't mean you shouldn't try or that you shouldn't be upset when you fail—it just means you have to accept that it's part of the job and move on."
"But how do I even begin to do that?" I asked him. "Even before, I always felt so much guilt for letting people die. Moving on's just not in my nature—I hold grudges like nobody's business, especially against myself."
Sam looked like he was about to agree; then he seemed to think better of it and said, "Honestly, it takes years of practice. I can't tell you the amount of times I almost let the guilt crush me when I was younger, and especially after getting my soul back and finding out everything I'd done. But it gets better. It gets manageable." Something in his voice sounded strained, and I saw in his deep hazel eyes that he didn't fully believe what he was saying. I decided not to confront him about it because I realized that he needed this conversation almost as much as I did.
"And the Trans?" I pressed.
"That's not on you," he said quietly, and it was his turn to look away. "If it's on anyone, it's on me. I should've tried to find Kevin; I should've kept him safe, and none of this would've happened." Yeah, okay, he was definitely lying to me.
"It's not all on you," I assured him, and I hesitantly placed my hand on top of his. In a seemingly subconscious move, he turned his hand to where his palm was pressed against mine, and he twined our fingers together and squeezed once. I had thought I would've wanted to pull away, but the contact actually felt nice, and I squeezed his hand back. I considered bringing up his near-panic attack he had while giving me CPR, but I didn't want to ruin the moment, and I knew that even joking about him calling me "baby" would embarrass him and make him feel uncomfortable. Since that wasn't something I wanted to do, I just glanced at the TV that was outdated even by my standards and said, "You wanna find some cheesy movie and order Chinese food?"
He gave a somewhat forced laugh and said, "Sounds like a plan."
Twenty minutes later, we were eating lo mein and watching Dirty Dancing while I braided my hair in between bites and tried not to react to the not-so-discreet glances Sam kept giving me. Finally, on a commercial break, I couldn't take it anymore. I threw my finished braid over my shoulder and raised my eyebrows at him. "Got something to say, Winchester?" I prompted.
He blushed at being caught and stuttered out, "N-no, nothing, I-I just—"
"You just what?"
"I just…didn't expect this to feel so normal, is all. I didn't expect you to be so…relaxed."
"And why wouldn't I be? It's not like I nearly drowned and then spilled my emotional guts to you earlier."
"Gari, c'mon."
I started to feel insecure. Am I not supposed to act this way? Is he not cool with me being so close to him right now? "Is relaxed a bad thing?" I asked jokingly, only getting out part of my worried thoughts. "'Cause I can freak out again and kick you outta my hotel room if you want."
"No, no!" he said quickly. "Relaxed is good. I like relaxed."
"Alrighty, then." We went back to watching the movie in silence for a few minutes until it was my turn to speak. "Okay, so, since you got to ask me a personal question earlier, do I get to ask you one now?"
Sam stared at me warily. "What d'you wanna know?"
I wanna know why you came after me. I wanna know where you've been the past week or so. I wanna know why Dean isn't with you and why you've barely mentioned him the entire time since you got here when the two of you are practically joined at the hip. Instead, I settled for a simple, "Where's Dean?"
Apparently, Sam realized how loaded that question was, for he hesitated for a long time before answering. "We're…kinda not talking right now."
"What?" I pretended to gasp. "Don't tell me Sonny and Cher broke up!"
I had yet to be on the receiving end of what Ella called Sam's "bitch-face," but that changed in one instant. "Cute," he said sardonically.
I stifled a laugh at his expression once I realized how upset he was. "Okay, no, seriously. I'm sorry. What's going on?"
"Long story short: he made a friend in Purgatory who's a vampire, and I'm just now hearing about it."
"Why does it matter if the vamp's in Purgatory?"
"He's not. Dean let him hitch a ride back here."
"You can do that?!"
"Apparently so."
"So what's the big deal, other than him not telling you?" I asked. "I mean, you're cool with me, so you can't have that stupid 'all monsters are evil' ideal going on, can you?"
Sam shook his head. "No, it's not that; it's just…" He sighed. "Dean's just a very hypocritical person."
"Wanna explain a little better, there, Sammy?"
"Dean was always the type that you're talking about, the 'only black and white' kinda guy," he said. "I thought he'd get over it, especially once we met you, but then I realized that you're just the exception to the rule for him, and mostly every other monster is still just a monster. He's killed people—good people—just because of something they couldn't control. He's gone behind my back to finish jobs that didn't need to be finished and shown so much prejudice to anything even slightly monster-like, and now he shacks up with a vampire he met killing monsters in Purgatory?!" Sam frowned. "It just pisses me off, and I know it shouldn't, but it really does."
"No, Sam, you've got every right to be pissed," I said. "Dean keeping a secret like that wasn't cool, especially if he's done what you said he's done to other monsters in the past. But maybe he kept it a secret because he knew it was hypocritical of him to suddenly be okay with monsters. Maybe he was scared of how you'd react."
"Honestly, yeah, I get that. But the fact that he didn't tell me anything about Benny and then disappeared on a hunt with him and almost got himself killed by a bunch of—of vampirates is what makes it so infuriating. If he'd told me from the get-go, I would've been fine. But he's a Winchester, and we Winchesters have just gotta keep our secrets."
"I'm sensing a little bitterness there, Sammy boy," I joked.
"Maybe just a little."
"Well, I know I'm not the kinda person you'd expect this from, but have you tried talking to him about it?"
"That's…not really our style," Sam said lamely. "We kinda just avoid the problem until it goes away or explodes…"
"I feel that. But maybe you could try? Isn't it at least worth a shot?"
"Fine," Sam nodded. "But only if you talk to Ella."
I shifted uncomfortably and resituated myself against the headboard to buy some time. "Okay," I said finally. "It's a deal. We'll talk to our respective siblings and try to smooth out our issues."
"Yep. It's a deal."
"Well, now that all that's outta the way, let's get back to watching one of the greatest movies of all time."
"Look, I know you love Dirty Dancing—"
"Everyone does."
"—and, yeah, it's a great movie—"
"The best."
"—but I dunno if it deserves that title."
I let out a squeak of indignation and slapped his arm. "You take that back right now, Sam Winchester!"
"Or what?" he teased.
"Or I'll kick your ass six ways to Sunday, that's what!"
"I'd like to see you try!"
"Is that a challenge?!"
"Only if you're not too scared!"
"Scared?! Of a moose?! Ha! Don't make me laugh!"
"Aw, c'mon, that was too far!" he whined, his puppy eyes coming out in full force. "We were having a good time and then you just had to call me that!"
"Hey, you insulted Dirty Dancing," I said with a shake of my head. "You brought that on yourself."
"Yeah, yeah, you made your point. Don't insult Dirty Dancing. I gotcha."
"Damn straight."
We fell back into a comfortable silence again, and I could feel myself drifting off. Hey, I had a long day. I've barely slept the past week and almost drowned today; I deserve to sleep without having to defend myself. I wonder if it's gonna make Sam feel awkward if I pass out again. Why does he always find me unconscious lately? And am I really gonna make him sleep on the floor? It wouldn't hurt to let him share the bed—it's a decent-sized bed, and I'm too tired to worry about any weirdness, anyway.
"Hey, Sam?" I said through a yawn as my head rested against the headboard and my eyes fluttered closed.
"Yeah, Gari?"
"What you said earlier…'bout managing your guilt… That was bullshit, wasn't it?"
"Yeah, it was," he admitted.
"Okay. Just checking. And, Sam?"
"Yeah?"
"You don't hafta sleep on the floor…" I yawned again "…if you don't wanna. 'S a big bed and I don't mind sharing." My head drooped onto his shoulder, and I was too tired to care. "Plus," I mumbled, "I think you'd make a comfy pillow."
He didn't reply for the longest time. I was almost completely asleep when I felt his head lean against mine and heard him say a quiet, "Thank you."
