Chapter Thirty-Two: Protector
~Little do you know
How I'm breakin' while you fall asleep
Little do you know
I'm still haunted by the memories
Little do you know
I'm tryin' to pick myself up piece by piece
Little do you know
I need a little more time
Our love is here, and here to stay
So lay your head on me
'Cause little do you know I
I love you 'til the sun dies~
"They're on to you, Marty," Isaac warned as he followed me down the hallway.
"Well, good for them!" I cried, throwing my hands in the air.
That Gabriel guy had told the Winchesters something; something that was making them doubt me. Castiel had practically accused me of hurting Jack. After having just spilled my guts to the boy in his sleep, I really wasn't in the mood for this sort of thing.
"They can hear you too. You probably look like a crazy person," Isaac pointed out. I spun around and laughed like a maniac.
"Does it look like I care?!" I yelled at him. Then I whirled back around and stormed towards my door.
"Kinda wanna kill that Gabriel guy..." My brother muttered, glaring at the archangel over his shoulder.
"Uh, huh. Yeah, good luck with that one," I said. Reaching my door I flung it open and slammed it behind me. Isaac walked right through the wood.
I shoved my fingers back through my tangled hair, pacing back and forth. It was all falling apart; I could feel it. My life was one big ball of yarn and it was unraveling and it was unraveling fast. Faster than I could deal with it. Panic rose into my chest and my breathing became ragged. There was this roaring in my ears that I couldn't seem to drown out. It was drowning me. The raging thump of my heart seemed something akin to a jackhammer with each beat.
' What if they catch on? What if they figure me out? What if they decide to kill me? They can't do this. Not yet. It's not ready. I'm not ready. I have to beat Felix first. This is all wrong. They're doing it wrong! They aren't supposed to find out yet! They can't do this! I can't do this!'
' If they find out, will they kill me? Could I get away before they do? Could there be any way for them to see things right? They don't understand! They don't get it! It's falling apart. It's all falling apart. I'm falling apart! '
My feet itched to run, to get out to just get away ! The fangs concealed in my jaw ached for me to bite something, to sink my teeth into soft, warm, juicy flesh. My nostrils flared, taking in the scents of the humans in the bunker.
The humans smelled delicious, the angels smelled better, but the half-angel made my mouth water. My ears perked with just the softest sound coming from Jack's room next to mine.
My head snapped towards the soft rustling of sheets. He must simply have turned over in bed. ' Kill him! ' something within me demanded. I reached for the handle on my door.
"Marty, no," Isaac reminded me. I balled my hand into a fist and resumed pacing.
A door shut in the hallway. One down. Nobody would know.
No! Fight back!
How was I supposed to resist this? The anxiety diverted my focus and I couldn't keep saying no. I pulled at my hair, trying not to breathe. I chanted to myself in my head, reminding myself of why I had to stay in here. I couldn't, shouldn't, wouldn't hurt Jack.
Another door shut in the hallway. Two down.
I needed him. I needed him to remind me why I didn't want to hurt him. It had been two weeks since I had last ... eaten anything. The cravings were getting harder and harder to resist with each passing moment.
Another pang of hunger and desire washed over me, only worsened by my anxiety. Teeth grinding together, I slid to the floor, white-knuckling the leg of my desk.
The sounds were all too much and they wouldn't go away.
' They know what I am. They're gonna find out what I am. They see too much. They're gonna know too much. They wanna hurt me. They're gonna hurt me. It's not supposed to be like this! I don't like this! I don't want this! '
' I just want to be safe! I just want a family! Somebody, please help me. Keep me safe. Don't let them hurt me! Save me! Help me! I don't wanna die, please! I'm scared! Please help me please! '
Jack. Jack would keep me safe.
"Isaac," I growled, "Check the hallway."
"Get it under control, Marty."
"I can't!"
"Yes, you can."
"I want him. I need him !"
I needed to get to Jack. I needed to see him alive. I needed to be reminded why I wasn't tearing his flesh apart. I needed him to protect me. He was the only one who could protect me. I needed him .
"Are you sure?"
"Yes!" I bit out. Isaac nodded and walked through the wall into the hallway, returning mear seconds earlier.
"Coast is clear," He reported, "Don't do something you'll regret."
I didn't respond as I silently pulled my door open and crept outside. The hallway was empty, lifeless, and for that I was grateful. If there had been anyone out there, I probably would have jumped them.
My eyes drifted to Jack's door, the sound of his peaceful dreaming sounding from just beyond. As I gasped and turned the handle I steeled my nerves and tried my best to focus.
I pictured Jack's eyes; the dangerous, celestial beauty of them. That golden light dripping out of him like sparks bleeding from the universe itself. Those eyes would protect me. Those eyes would keep me safe. Those eyes brought me courage, and right now I needed that courage.
The door swung inward with a nearly inaudible squeak and closed behind me with a tiny click. When my eyes came to rest on the sleeping boy I expected everything to simply snap into place.
It didn't.
My pulse kept pounding. My ears kept roaring. My fangs kept aching. My stomach kept twisting. My thoughts kept racing. I still wanted to kill him.
Though I don't remember doing it, I must have crept to Jack's side. I peered down at him, brushing two fingers along his throat, feeling the thrumming of his pulse in his carotid artery.
'He's alive.' I thought, ' I used to be alive. I wish I could be alive again. Don't take his life away, let him live it. '
With that thought, everything just calmed away. I let my hand fall back to my side but I didn't turn for the door. If I left, I didn't trust that I'd stay away. Instead, I took hold of his hand, which rested by his face on the pillow and tangled our fingers together.
"You're gonna be my protector," I whispered. Then I slid down to the floor, leaning my back against his bed, I let my eyes slip closed.
As long as I was here, I was safe. Jack wouldn't let anyone hurt me. He would be my protector.
Jack dreamt of the bunker.
This occurrence was not unusual. There were two places that Jack usually dreamt of, those places being the Men of Letters bunker and Bobby Singer's camp in the Apocalypse World. Contrary to what one might guess, the setting of his dreams had nothing to do with their subjects. He'd had plenty of pleasant dreams of good times spent with his friends in Apocalypse World and he'd had more than enough nightmares of horrors invading the bunker.
So, as he wandered the halls of this dreamscape version of the bunker, Jack wondered whether or not tonight's dream would turn out a nightmare.
His sock-clad feet shuffled noiselessly through the empty halls. The emptiness didn't bother him, however, seeing as how only four people really occupied the enormous building. Jack checked various rooms for any sign of life. He checked the bedrooms, the war room, the library, several study rooms, the dungeon, the Dean Cave, and the gun range. There seemed to be nobody anywhere.
Shrugging with utter indifference, Jack shuffled his way to the kitchen. He figured that, so long as he was apparently home alone, he could break into the stash of Milky-Way's Cas kept hidden in the pantry just for him, and Sam wouldn't be able to do a thing about it because Jack was dreaming and he could do what he wanted. Jack let out a quiet cheer of victory when his hand latched onto the cardboard box hidden behind the rice boxes.
His third candy bar was halfway into his mouth when Jack heard the faint sound of a voice speaking from somewhere beyond the kitchen door. He listened for who it was in order to determine whether or not he should fly to his room to escape discovery but, to his frustration, he couldn't determine who was speaking, they were just too quiet.
He groaned. Seeing as he was only two years old, Jack was a curious creature, so he found himself quite torn between identifying the speaker and shoving more candy in his face while he still could. He desperately wanted to do both. So in a compromise, Jack stuffed the rest of his candy bar into his mouth and put the others back in their hiding spot. Then, padding over to the door, Jack poked his head out into the hallway.
Dean was talking to someone on the phone as he walked down the hall towards the kitchen. His curiosity satisfied, Jack ducked back inside and fished his nougat from the pantry once again. At the thought of someone to share it with, a small smile stretched across his face. Jack didn't particularly enjoy being alone.
Well, actually, that wasn't quite true. Jack did appreciate the freedom and independence that came with the absence of supervision, but he found it difficult to get comfortable with the silent stillness. It wasn't being alone that he minded so much, Jack just didn't fancy being lonely.
So, when Dean pushed his way into the kitchen, hanging up the phone, Jack offered him a smile like sunshine on a crisp spring morning.
"Hello, Dean!" He greeted, raising his hand but not actually waving it.
Dean didn't respond. He didn't nod, he didn't grunt, he didn't even glance in Jack's direction. That wasn't right. Something about the elder Winchester's complete lack of reaction caused a shiver to run down Jack's spine, sending his body into high alert. He felt the electrical tingling of his grace igniting in his core and the comforting weight of his wings sprouting invisibly from his back, their feathers ruffling up, readying for a fight.
He tried to think rationally, however. Perhaps Dean simply hadn't heard him.
"How are you?" Jack asked, pulling himself up to sit on the kitchen island. Jack knew how much Dean despised it when people sat on his counter space, and he was sure that his actions would elicit some kind of reaction.
But again, no answer. Dean walked over to the fridge and ducked down, retrieving a slice of some sort of pie from the very back, and began munching on it. He didn't even bother to grab a napkin. Then he kicked the fridge shut and turned towards the hall leading to the library.
"Dean?" Jack pressed, a nervous edge creeping into his voice. Dean just kept walking. This wasn't right.
Seeing as how this was a dream, Jack knew he could ignore what just happened and continue to do whatever he wanted. Why walk towards what he was pretty sure was the start of yet another nightmare? But Jack also knew that if his sleeping mind was incessant on giving him a night terror then there was very little he could do in terms of escaping it. Forcing himself to wake wasn't an option and he couldn't sit there and outrun his own mind forever. So, Jack hopped down from his seat on the kitchen island and followed Dean out into the hall.
"Dean?" Jack called out. Nothing. "Dean?!" The feathers of his wings ruffled, both annoyed and anxious, as Jack rushed to Dean's side. "Stop ignoring me! If this is a joke, Dean, it isn't funny!" Dean just shoved his last bite of pie in his mouth, smacking his lips with a satisfied and thoroughly manly grunt. The young boy stared at him. He could feel a thick lump forming in his throat.
" Listen to me !" Jack cried, his eyes flaring gold as his grace ignited within him. Dean didn't so much as flinch. The light in Jack's eyes flickered out. "Dean? Please! Just-just say something," He pleaded, "Anything?"
"I need to pick up more pie... and beer..." Dean mumbled to himself. He felt around his pockets for his keys, cursing under his breath when he realized they were in his room. Turning on his heel, Dean wandered back down the hall a ways to his room to grab them.
Jack shook his head with a huff. Dean was just trying to be funny, that was all. He had seemed to be headed for the door to the garage so Jack threw an annoyed glance in that direction and startled when his eyes landed on a familiar head of blond hair.
The blond hair was a golden color and shoulder-length with natural ringlet curls. (It was also absolutely filthy, streaked with dirt and grime. Some of the blond strands were coated so heavily with undefined gross they looked brown. She always said it made her look like a llama but Jack told her it made her look bad-ass. Secretly, Jack agreed with the whole llama thing, though he would never say that to her face.) The woman's hair hung down, covering most of her face which she kept propped up by her hand as she sat at a table reading some dusty, leather-bound lore book. Her clothes were tarnished with dirt and blood that thankfully didn't look to be her own and Jack figured that she must have just gotten back from a hunt.
"Mary!" He cheered, running into the library.
"Hey, Jack," Mary said, sounding tired. She didn't look up, instead simply waving a little before gently turning the delicate yellowed page of her book. Jack glanced over his shoulder at the open door to Dean's room, he could still the other hunter moving around inside.
"What's wrong with Dean?" Jack asked abruptly, turning back to Mary who chuckled a little but continued reading.
"Well, typically I'd tell you that he's being Dean but I don't think that's what you're getting at. Is it?"
"No, it's not. I keep trying to talk to him, but he won't say anything back. He won't even look at me!" Jack explained, worriedly, "Why won't Dean talk to me?"
Mary Winchester's voice was cool and calm. She still did not look up.
"Because he can't hear you, Jack."
"What do you-"
Jack's voice was cut off by the sound of Dean's door shutting behind him.
"Goin' on a pie run, Sammy! Be back in twenty!" He announced.
"Kay! Don't do anything stupid!" Sam's voice hollered from somewhere in the bunker.
"Same to you!" Dean called back.
"Jerk!"
"Bitch!" Dean swung his keys around his finger as he made his way down the hall towards the library.
"Dean!" Jack shouted, once again trying to gain the man's attention.
"He can't hear you," Mary's voice repeated from behind him.
"No, that doesn't make any sense. He can hear Sam. I'm right here!" Dean was just pretending; two could play his game.
Jack stepped into Dean's path and stopped in his tracks, determined to let the elder Winchester's game go no further.
Jack expected Dean to stop.
Dean didn't.
Dean walked through him.
With an awful, freezing, tingling, Dean's body passed right through Jack's as if he wasn't there.
"Wh-what?" He gasped out in shock. Jack wrapped his arms around himself, trying to make sure he was still there. He was. So, how had Dean-
"Jack!" A tiny voice squealed in delight, interrupting his thoughts. He turned towards the sound of the voice just in time to see the black and grey blur streaking towards him with a wind-chime giggle he would recognize anywhere. He let out a huff of surprise as she collided with his chest and wrapped her arms around him in a tight, warm hug.
"Marty?" The girl only giggled, nodding her head and squeezing him tighter.
"It's about time, kiddo! I missed you so much!" She cried, happily.
"It hasn't been that long..." Jack said, confusion and concern drenching his voice.
"Shut up and hug me, Ding-bat!" She demanded. Jack just shrugged and did as he was told, lifting Marty up and holding her tight. She laughed lightly and buried her face in his neck. He could feel her smiling.
"Did I scream?" She breathed against his ear.
"What?" He asked. He couldn't have heard that right.
"Did I scream, Jack?" She whispered, still holding on to him. Her voice was gentle and soft, not angry but not exactly sad either. She sounded almost mournfully resigned.
Jack lowered Marty to the ground, slowly. He kept his eyes trained on her head which she still buried in his chest. What was she talking about?
"Wait, what? Wh-when?"
Marty lifted her head to look up at him, smiling softly. Her eyes held an innocent sadness and a twinge of heartbroken betrayal; yet, there was acceptance in her watery grey orbs also.
"When you let them kill me."
Jack's brows pushed together and he groped about his mind for words but he came up short. Marty fisted his shirt in her hands, blinking her long eyelashes. A fat tear slipped down her soft cheek.
"Did I scream when you let them kill me, Jack? Did it hurt? Did I die in pain?" She asked brokenly.
Jack watched in horror as a thin, crimson line wrapped itself around Marty's pale throat. The line thickened, the skin around the wound turning black as thick, scarlet blood dripped down her neck. Her face paled and purple rings formed beneath her eyes.
"You promised you would protect me. Why did you let them kill me? Why did you break your promise?" She whimpered.
"What's going on?!" Jack demanded, tearing his eyes away from his friend to look at Mary.
With a sigh, Mary closed her book. Then she finally looked up at him.
Mary's eyes were gone.
In their place were two empty holes surrounded by charred, black flesh. Just two empty eye sockets like a matching pair of wells, maws stretching on into an infinite blackness with nothing but a hopeless, freezing, inescapable prison waiting at the bottom.
"We're dead, Jack." Mary's voice was cold and lifeless.
"What? No!"
"Why? Don't you remember? Don't you remember how you failed us?"
Jack remembered now. Mary was dead, she had died in the Apocalypse World. She had never come home.
"We're dead because of you. I'm glad my boys put you down before you could fail anybody else," She spat.
"What?" Jack gasped, backing away.
"Didn't you notice, Jack?" Marty spoke up with a sweet tilt of her head, "You're dead too."
Jack bolted upright with a gasp, his forehead covered in a sheen of sweat. Though his angel senses could see everything perfectly, Jack recognized the absence of light in his room. The darkness was like a blanket and Jack took that as a comfort. The darkness meant that it had all really, truly been just a dream, just his imagination, and nothing more.
Unless, of course, he was developing the ability to perceive the future. That would be new. However, if he were being honest and he had stumbled upon the capacity for some form of precognition, considering the sheer number of new abilities he'd discovered since his birth and the frankly ridiculous rate at which he'd discovered them, Jack just really would not be surprised. He probably couldn't rule anything out as impossible anymore. So, he supposed he should probably consider the possibility that he might somehow be seeing the future now.
Jack considered it. Then, he decided against it and let his head fall back to his pillow while logic calmed his frantic grace. (If Jack ever got too frightened in his sleep, his grace would rouse him, ready to fight off an attacker.)
After all, Mary Winchester's body had been burned and her ashes buried in a music box six feet underground somewhere in Ohio in an alternate dimension. Besides, taking into account the rate at which corpses decompose, even if Jack and the other survivors of Apocalypse World hadn't burned Mary's body, there still wouldn't be much left of her. She would be only bones and tattered clothing by now.
That thought made Jack cringe. He didn't want to remember his friend that way, as merely lifeless pieces of what had once held the soul of someone he loved. He shook that thought away but his body wasn't quite calm yet, his heart still beat frantically against his ribcage.
Jack continued rationalizing. He liked it when things made sense when everything fit . It brought him comfort to think these things out, it solidified his knowledge of himself and further distinguished the lines between imagination and reality. So, Jack continued to think his nightmare over in his head, analyzing the details, identifying the flaws, and reassuring himself of all the reasons it simply couldn't happen.
He rolled over to glance at the Avengers clock on his nightstand. The big red numbers glowed in the darkness, broadcasting to him the time. According to the all-knowing Avenger's clock, it was three o'clock in the morning. Jack thought that was rather unfortunate. Three in the morning meant he had to read a book; Sam said he couldn't watch Netflix until at least five. That was the rule.
(Not one that Jack understood because Dean was allowed to watch whatever he wanted whenever he wanted with the volume up past seventy, so why couldn't he watch Clone Wars with his headphones on while everybody was asleep? But it was the rule!)
Jack rolled onto his back again, wondering if he should just lay there and not read until five purely to spite Sam's rules. As he was debating this, Jack noticed something rather odd. Actually, two things.
First, his breathing, made rapid by his nightmare, had yet to calm.
Second, his first observation was incorrect. His breathing was calm. It only sounded fast because the rhythm of his breaths was split in the middle by the rhythm of another's. This could only mean one thing.
There was another pair of lungs in the room with him.
Jack was not alone.
He held his breath, listening to the other person breathing. At first, he thought it was Castiel; the angel sometimes came and watched over him seeing as how angels didn't sleep. But Jack quickly realized that the other person's breaths were much too quiet and shallow to belong to Cas or either of the Winchesters for that matter.
"Hello?" Jack whispered into the dark. He cringed at himself a second after doing so. Announcing his awareness of the intruder's presence wasn't the smartest move he had ever made, he had just done it on instinct.
"Heya, puppy." A soothing voice whispered from the darkness. The voice sounded shaken and weary. It seemed to come from the floor close to the right side of his bed. Jack slid out of bed, kneeling beside the young girl curled up against the bedside. She held her knees two her chest and had her head buried in her arms. Marty lifted her head and smiled at him weakly before putting it back down.
"Marty?" He reached out but unfortunately, Jack didn't know what sort of touches would be acceptable in this situation. So, his hands just sort of hovered over her.
"Morning, sunshine." Now Jack realized that Marty was not whispering. For whatever reason, her voice was just that hoarse.
"What are you doing in here?" He asked, his face scrunching up with confusion.
"Does it bother you? I can leave," She offered, sighing weakly.
"No, no. It's fine - you're fine. I was just wondering..."
"I-I don't think I should, um, I just- I can't be alone. I shouldn't - not right now." Jack nodded his understanding. Her voice really was quiet and thick. She must have been crying for a while.
"Did you have a nightmare?"
"Yes."
"Did I die... again?"
"Something like that," She answered.
"Do you want to talk about it?" Jack offered.
"Do you want to talk about yours?" Marty flashed him a smirk that said 'you ain't foolin' nobody, kiddo ' and Jack figured that lying was useless.
"No," He admitted, "But I will if you will. Deal?"
"You first," She agreed, playfully biting her lip. "What does a Nephilim dream about?"
"I dreamt I was in the bunker," Jack began, "Dean was there but every time I tried to talk to him he couldn't hear me. Then I saw Sam and Dean's mom who I met in the Apocalypse World. Her name was Mary and I couldn't- I couldn't save her. But you were there too, except somebody had slit your throat. So, you were both dead and it was my fault."
Marty nodded and Jack felt that she actually understood.
"How did Mary die?" She asked. Jack sighed, even though he was guilty of nothing.
"The Winchesters had made a portal back to our world and we were trying to get all the refugees through it. Once we had done that, we were going to close it and trap my father in the Apocalypse World. Mary was stationed at the end of the line of refugees so Lucifer got to her first." Jack shuddered at the memory. "He burned out her eyes."
"Your dad kinda sucks," Marty said, dryly.
"He does, yes," Jack agreed a slight chuckle escaping his lips, "So, what did you dream about?"
"I was all alone. I came here so I wouldn't be."
She didn't have to say much for Jack to understand.
"You have your brother though, right? Doesn't he talk to you?" Jack wondered, tilting his head. Marty shook her head.
"Isaac isn't alive. Isaac doesn't breathe!" Marty grasped his hand, tangling their fingers together, "I need you."
Her voice was quieter. It quaked and rasped, sounding dry as one's voice does when they're about to cry. Jack lifted his other hand to comfort her but it was useless seeing as he still didn't know what to with his hand exactly. Was this the proper time for a hug or would that be awkward seeing as they were only just beginning to get to know one another? Marty didn't seem like she would have a problem with it. She didn't seem to know what ' boundaries ' or ' personal space ' meant. (Not that Jack minded.) But then again, Jack had never been the best at reading people and he didn't want to make his new sister uncomfortable.
Thus, Jack was sort of grateful when Marty let out a small whine and rested her head on his shoulder, at least he didn't have to be the one to initiate the contact. He supposed this granted him permission to give her a hug so he wrapped his arm around her shoulders and awkwardly patted her hair.
"It's okay, just... don't cry. I-I just- I don't know how to fix it when a woman cries..." He said, trailing off. Marty let out a breathy chuckle but it sounded more like a sob.
"Don't worry about it, puppy. I don't think I have any tears left to cry." Her voice cracked a little and Jack frowned, squeezing her shoulders a little bit tighter.
"I'm sorry I don't know how to make things better for you," Jack sighed, shaking his head.
"Please don't be. You've already done more for me than you even realize and instead of finding some way to show my thanks, I just keep dumping my problems on you." Marty sniffed, scrubbing at her eyes with the heels of her palms. Jack found the action endearing as her hands were still drowning in the sleeves of the sweatshirt she had stolen from him.
"No, no, I like helping you. It's good to know that I can do something good, at least." Jack loved helping. He loved being good. "Are you sure there's nothing more I can do?"
Marty shook her head.
"Just you being here is enough," She told him. Then, almost silently, "I need to know you're alive. I need to hear you breathe ."
Jack's brows pulled together and he frowned in confusion.
"You said that earlier - last week after your nightmare - you said something like that. What does it mean?" He asked tilting his head. Marty closed her eyes and fisted Jack's shirt as a shiver ran deep through her bones. "You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to though," He added. Marty shook her head. Jack could almost see her steeling her nerves. When she spoke, she sounded more thoughtful than sad.
"Before I escaped, Felix kept me in a cage in some abandoned warehouse. But I wasn't alone. After he murdered my family, Felix didn't bother to bury them. He left me in that warehouse with my family's bodies for weeks.
"You know, you'd think that it would get worse as time wore on and I had to watch them rot. It was cold there so it was slow. But I think it was easier actually when they were just piles of bones, blood, and hair because, after a while, they weren't my family anymore," Marty took a deep breath before continuing, her voice becoming drenched in despair, "It was those first few days that were the hardest though because they were still my family. They looked like they were sleeping almost, but they weren't, they were dead."
"Marty, I-" Jack's words failed him.
"It was like they were sleeping. But they weren't breathing. I wanted them to wake up but they wouldn't wake up. They wouldn't breathe. I begged for them to breathe but they wouldn't breathe! They just wouldn't breathe!" Marty looked up at him. "That's why I need you."
Jack sighed.
"I'm just sorry I can't-"
Marty pressed a finger to his lips, shushing him.
"Shh! Nuh, uh! No apologizing! If anybody should be apologizing it's me for being so selfish and pathetic."
How could anyone ever want to hurt her? She was so small. Jack wasn't sure how she had survived for five years with a vampire hunting her. Marty just seemed so helpless . She needed a protector.
He would be her protector.
But this time, he wasn't going to fail.
"You're not pathetic. You survived for five years all by yourself! I don't think I could do that." He smiled at her and she returned it, however weakly.
"Yeah, well, you're kind of a moron," She teased.
"And you're kind of a pipsqueak."
"You like that word, don't you?"
"I do, yes."
"Whatever, moron."
"Pipsqueak."
~Little do you know
How I'm breakin' while you fall asleep
Little do you know
I'm still haunted by the memories
Little do you know
I'm tryin' to pick myself up piece by piece
Little do you know
I need a little more time
Our love is here, and here to stay
So lay your head on me
'Cause little do you know I
I love you 'til the sun dies~
Lyrics from: Little Do You Know by Alex and Sierra