"Hey!" I snapped. "Get away from her."

The ghost girl – Maheen – looked up at me. She was crouched over Sam, who had been unresponsive for … I don't know how long. Too long. The only thing keeping me even slightly sane was that I could see the slight rise and fall of her stomach, her tight dress making the movement obvious.

"I'm here to help her," Maheen said, glaring at me. "It's more than you're doing for her."

"I can't." It came out as a whine, and I didn't even give a fuck. "I can't go any further than … this."

I gestured in a circle around me, although I wasn't completely sure the exact limits of my boundary.

Her eyes flicked to my chain.

With no effort on her part, she slid her arms under Sam, manipulating her and bringing her to the very edge of my little bubble. She laid Sam down and I couldn't help but bend over her. Sam's face was still blank with unconsciousness – at least Maheen hadn't injured her.

"Just so you know, I am here to help."

"Just so you know, I still don't believe that this isn't some plot of Vlad's."

She didn't look impressed with me. "I'm going to go get some bandages and medicine. Unless, of course, you want to do it."

I crossed my arms over my chest and glared. I didn't like her. Once more, she vanished. I wondered if she would actually come back – if she could actually do anything to help Sam. I leant over Sam as much as I could, trying to get a look at her wound. My throat constricted as I looked at the damage. Vlad had stabbed her. It didn't look deep; didn't look like there would be much damage to her besides a ridiculous amount of pain. It wasn't even bleeding that much anymore. It could be worse, but it could also be better. She didn't have to be here. She didn't have to suffer.

I resisted the urge to take her hand. If she woke up and found me holding her, in any capacity, she would only get mad at me. I didn't want her mad at me.

A blue wisp emerged from between my lips. I looked up from Sam's face to see that Maheen had come back. I backed away to give Maheen and Sam their space; Maheen's hands were overflowing with materials to help Sam with. She crouched next to Sam's wound, studying it. She placed a roll of tape down next to her, and worked the bandage in her hands, holding it up to Sam's wounds.

"Do you even know what you're doing?"

"It's not like I'm a doctor!" Maheen cried. "I'm just trying to do my best!"

She looked back down at Sam's wound. She wasn't able to patch the stab wound through the cut in Sam's dress, so finally, Maheen just had to rip the side of Sam's dress open. I watched her steady blue hands as she positioned the bandage over Sam's wound, and then reached for the tape to secure it. Watching her tend to Sam reminded me of all the nights that Jazz had been my nurse; all of the nights when I had shown up at her window at all hours of the day, fucked up beyond belief, needing her to put me together enough that our parents would never notice. Jazz was as selfless as I was selfish, and I wondered if I'd ever said 'thank you' to her.

"There," Maheen said. "That's all I can do for now."

She placed her hands against Sam's face.

"What the fuck are you doing?"

"Trying to wake her up," Maheen said, her tone letting me know that she thought what she was doing was obvious.

"She'll be in pain if she wakes up!"

"She needs to prove she can wake up!" Maheen argued.

"Stop!" I snapped at her.

She took her hands away from Sam for a moment.

"It's not like you're a doctor," I reminded her.

"However, I do have common sense," Maheen sniffed.

She ran her fingers across Sam's face again, and this time, Sam groaned aloud. Maheen let her hands wander down to Sam's hand, and she gave her something. I leant forward, trying to see what it was. Poison? A weapon? I refused to believe that Maheen would help us – why would she?

"Tylenol," Maheen explained to Sam. "It was all I could bring."

Tylenol. For a fucking stab wound.

Maheen picked up the water bottle. "Water … I must go now, I'm so sorry. I'll try to bring more later. Maybe food, if I can steal it."

I watched Maheen, still suspicious. She just conveniently had to go after bandaging Sam? She could just conveniently steal food?

Sam groaned, and my attention was redirected to her. Her head lolled so that her face was pointed up at the ceiling, but she didn't open her eyes or anything. I wondered if she was actually awake. I looked down at the pills in her hand. No matter how stupid Tylenol might seem, it was still better than nothing.

"Sam? Do you need help taking the pills?"

"Yes." It sounded like a croak.

I slid back to Sam's hand. I reached down to her hand and picked the two small pills up from her palm. I almost slid my hand into hers; just to hold onto her and to assure myself that everything was fine. A voice in the back of my head reminded me that nothing would be fine if I tried to take her hand.

"Are you going to be able to swallow the water?" I broke the seal of the water bottle, looking at the liquid. My own dry throat making itself known. I clenched my lips tight. Now was not the time to be fucking selfish.

"Pour … slow …" Sam instructed me.

"All right." The last thing I wanted to do was fucking drown her, after all. "One pill at a time or both?"

"One," Sam decided.

"Okay," I agreed.

I brought my hands up to her lips and, when she opened her mouth, I dropped the pill inside. I took the top off the water bottle and placed it against her lips, trying to control the flow of the water. When Sam had enough, she closed her mouth off from the bottle without warning, causing water to splash down her face. I pulled the water bottle away from her, dabbing at her face with my sleeve without thinking. She didn't blink at my care – and just opened her mouth for her second pill. We did the whole thing over again, except this time I was smart enough to take the water away from her before I spilled it.

"Hopefully that will make you feel better," I commented, trying to sound more optimistic about it than I actually was.

We lapsed into silence. I desperately tried to think of something to say, but every time something leapt onto my tongue, I pushed it away. There wasn't anything I could do to comfort her – we were both equally aware that whatever happened to her was my fucking fault – and I knew she wouldn't want to hear me apologize. There was nothing I could do for her.

Sam surprised me by saying my name – my last name. I couldn't think of a time when she had called me 'Danny', and the realization caused a strange pain.

"Yes, Sam?"

"Distract me, please."

"Sure … Any requests?"

Please have requests. I don't know what I'm doing, I internally begged her.

"Just no singing."

Well, there went my first idea. But I could understand why she would say that.

"Fair enough," I agreed. I thought about something I could tell her about. Preferably something funny … maybe even funny enough that she could forget where we were. Oh! I laughed at the memory, and knew it was the perfect thing to share with her. "I'm going to tell you the ecto-weenie story, because, in hindsight, it really is kind of funny. So, unfortunately, this happened a couple of times but the first time something like this happened, it was with hot dogs. J –"

I stopped short of saying my sister's name. I never imagined that it could hurt so much to say it aloud, knowing that she was dead … she had probably been buried by now. For the briefest second, I visualized her, and I took a breath. I couldn't fix Jazz; I couldn't resurrect her. But, maybe, if I did her memory justice, if I never let who she was die out … maybe it would be some sort of penance. Maybe it would be enough that she would forgive me for not doing what I should have.

"Jazz and I were only kids," I began to explain, and a sense of relief washed over me. Jazz, suddenly, felt present.

(-.-)

"Dad's cooking," Jazz whispered.

I pulled a face and twisted around in my chair to see Dad standing at the counter. He had a package of hot dogs in his hand and I licked my lips. I loved hot dogs. He opened the hot dogs and stuck them in the microwave. I looked back at Jazz.

"Hot dogs are okay."

"We'll see," was all she said.

"Okay kids," Dad said, turning around to face us. "I'm going back down to the lab. Shout for Mom and I when the microwave beeps, okay?"

Jazz and I nodded, and I looked at the bright green numbers, ticking downward. Dad left and I looked back at my homework – I had to colour and cut out the stages of a tadpole becoming a frog. Jazz was doing math, which I thought was gross. I picked up my green coloured pencil again and pressed it to the paper. Then, something growled. I jumped. I knew all about ghosts, and they were scary. But I had never heard a ghost growl before! I looked at Jazz, who pointed at the microwave and screamed. I yelled too, turning around to look. There was thick black smoke coming out of the microwave.

The hot dogs were notokay.

I grabbed onto Jazz, but she was freaking out. I freaked out with her. Jazz was always the calm one. Jazz took care of things. But Mom and Dad should be taking care of this. Where were Mom and Dad?

The door to the microwave burst open and Jazz screamed again. The smoke got thicker, but I could still see little … things … jumping out the door. When they landed on the floor I realized they were the hot dogs! But … but they didn't look like hot dogs anymore. They were bright green and they had eyes and arms and legs and teeth. Sharp teeth!

This time, Jazz and I screamed at the same time.

The hot dogs started getting closer and closer to me and Jazz, but neither of us knew what to do. I could hear Mom and Dad on the stairs. I wanted them in the kitchen now! I watched as one of the green hot dogs jumped and landed on Jazz. It bit her and she yelled. I crawled up on the table, wanting to get away from the hot dogs. I crawled across Jazz's math homework and I reached down and grabbed the hot dog. I pulled it away from Jazz, because no one touches my sister!

But then Jazz started bleeding!

She shrieked and I yelled and, finally, Mom and Dad were here!

There's a big bangfrom the gun Mom was holding. While Mom fought off the hot dogs, Dad picked up Jazz and took her away from me, over to the kitchen counter and the first aid kit. I almost forgot about the hot dog I was holding, but then it bit me! It bit my wrist and it hurt so much that I shoved my arm against the wall, trying to make the pain go away. The hot dog exploded all over me, and I wailed.

(-.-)

"So, I'm sitting there, bleeding and crying with hot dog guts everywhere, Jazz was sitting on the counter doing the same thing." I finished up my story to Sam with a laugh. Then, I added, "She and I have matching scars from the hot dog bites. She always says it's better than matching tattoos."

Said, I internally corrected myself. Jazz didn't say anything anymore.

"Show me the scar," Sam said suddenly, "Or it didn't happen."

I recognized what she was doing and became all the more grateful for her. She could read me like a fucking book, although I was sure she would deny it. I reached for my left cuff sleeve and undid the buttons. I turned my wrist so that it was facing her, and pointed to the little circular scar from the hot dog's deformed mouth.

Sam rolled her eyes at me. "It's the size of a dime!"

"I was seven!" At the time, it had been the most traumatic thing I'd ever gone through. Still, I laughed, and Sam laughed with me.

"Are you feeling better? Even a little bit?" She sounded like it; she sounded stronger.

"Yeah. Just a bit."

It was better than nothing.

"Good," I said, adding, "I'd hate to have anything happen to you."

Jazz was gone. Tucker was probably well on his way, if Vlad had anything to do with it. And Vlad had his sticky fingers all over my parents – God only knew what kind of state they were in. Sam was the only thing left that I had any chance of protecting, although I knew I was failing miserably with that. As I stared down at Sam's face, her expression changed. It had hardened into the angry mask that I had gotten so used to seeing – something that I had swept away while I was sharing my story with her. I knew the moment had broken, and that we were right back to where we had been, but it still hurt when she rolled over and turned her back to me.

I don't own anything recognizable. Thanks to my betas: Forever Sky.

~TLL~