I'm sorry this is late! I underestimated how crazy this time of year is and how unprepared I was for the holidays 😳
June 22nd, 2006
Growing up the way he had, Sam Winchester had become someone that was hard to rattle. The rest of the world's "normal" was his family's "weird", and he had long since accepted that part of the gig was dealing with all the crap no one else wanted to. It was getting your hands dirty, digging up graves or crawling through sewers depending on what the monster of the week needed. It was watching people die and dealing with the harsh reminder that they just couldn't save everyone. It was the begrudging realization that as much as he saw in shades of gray, there were times he could only afford to see in black and white unless he wanted to pay with his life.
But as he sat across from Dean, listening to his older brother spin his latest plan, Sam felt his gut churning in a way he just couldn't ignore.
"We're not using the kid as bait," he said. He knew Dean well enough to pick up on the fact that, despite it being his idea, he wasn't enthused with it either.
"Well, what the hell else do you suggest then? Because from where I'm sittin', that's the only plan we got," Dean snapped back.
It was just the two of them in the condo – Olivia was still at the hospital and Lorelai had ducked out to speak with the mother of the striga's latest victim - and Sam leaned back in his chair, tiredly rubbing at his eyes and trying to rack his brain for a solution.
It wasn't that he couldn't understand where Dean was coming from – after the explanation Dean had just finally given him for all the extra tension the last few days, Sam doubly understood it even – but there was still such a thing as too far.
"That's not a plan, Dean. There are so many things that could go wrong, I don't even know where to start."
Dean made a noise of frustration and resumed his pacing, too agitated to stay still long, and Sam watched, fighting his own frustration and sense of uselessness.
By the time the front door swung open about fifteen minutes later, they hadn't made any iterative progress, but Sam felt a swell of hope as not only Lorelai, but Olivia too, came through. Maybe fresh eyes would help the situation, or failing that, Sam thought that perhaps Lorelai might have better luck getting through to Dean. The girls were talking in hushed tones but stopped when they noticed him and Dean, both quickly plastering on smiles that were only slightly convincing.
"Well don't you two look cheery," Lorelai quipped as she swept into the living room and Olivia shut the door behind them.
"We're working," Dean grumbled back. Lorelai rolled her eyes affectionately and elbowed him as she passed by, just before she dropped onto the couch next to Sam.
"And we haven't been?"
Dean opened his mouth to retort, but Sam cut in. The pair of them had been getting along better, but he suspected it wouldn't be hard for Dean's bad mood to derail that.
"How'd it go with Annette?"
Lorelai gave a shrug, its casualness belied by the way her expression darkened.
"Oh, just peachy. There's nothing I love better than telling a mother I know exactly what's wrong with her child and who's responsible, but that I can't fix him, I don't know how to stop it, and her other son's probably in danger."
"We can protect Michael," Olivia chimed in, but Lorelai made a face.
"Not without tipping our hand, we can't. Right now, this jackass doesn't know we're anything to worry about and I'd like to keep it that way. If he catches on to the fact that you and I are witches, there's a good chance he bolts, and then we're shit out of luck."
"Actually, Sam and I have something," Dean volunteered before he caught Sam's eye and amended it. "Fine, I have something."
Lorelai's eyes widened in interest and Olivia drifted in from the kitchen. It didn't take long for Dean to reexplain his idea to wait for the striga to come after Michael and shoot at the thing when it tried to feed, but far from sharing in Sam's alarm, contemplative frowns appeared on both of the girls' faces.
"It makes sense," Lorelai mused. "It's probably the best shot we've got."
"Best shot we've got?" Sam parroted, trying to temper his disbelief. "He's a kid, and we're talking about using him as bait."
"Oh, you make it sound worse than it is," Lorelai dismissed, drawing a smug look from Dean that Sam pointedly ignored. "Besides, you got a better idea? Because I don't."
It was so reminiscent of Dean's response that Sam rolled his eyes.
"We'd have to get Michael on board. And Annette," Olivia pointed out. "It's probably not going to be the easiest sell."
"I mean, it's not like we wouldn't be protecting him," Lorelai argued, stifling and failing to hold back a yawn. Next thing Sam knew, she was leaning around him and flicking her wand in the direction of the kitchen before settling back into the couch. Olivia opened her mouth, looking like she was about to protest whatever Lorelai had just done, but she closed it at the warning look Lorelai shot her, and Dean cleared his throat.
"So, you two're on board?" he asked.
"Need to figure out how exactly we're gonna protect the kid, but yeah, I think we are," Lorelai agreed as the smell of brewing coffee began to fill the air and Sam realized what she'd done.
"You said you had a theory the other day," Dean reminded her, coming in to settle on one of the other seats. "When you two were talking about… what the hell was it? Dem-something."
"Dementors," Sam finished for him, remembering the same conversation, though the uncomfortable look that passed over Lorelai's face didn't leave him with much hope.
"Theory being the operative word," Lorelai grumbled, but Olivia crossed her arms and shook her head.
"Please. Theoretical and experimental magic is your strong suit."
"It still takes time," Lorelai complained, shooting a dark look in Olivia's direction. "Besides, you know perfectly well the kind of magic we're talking about isn't exactly in my wheelhouse."
"You're selling yourself short," Olivia insisted, and Sam couldn't help but find his eyes darting between the women curiously. He knew he didn't know Lorelai as well as Olivia or Dean, he knew that, but she didn't strike him as the kind of person to freely admit much was beyond her capability. Lorelai rolled her eyes and flicked her wand in the direction of the kitchen again.
"No, I'm being realistic. Look, if this thing is feeding off of spiritus vitae, you could just cast a patronus when it shows up. I assume we'd all be right there watching?" she asked, sitting up straight just in time to intercept a mug of coffee that Sam hadn't noticed floating through the air. The movement was smooth in a way that spoke of years of practice and from the corner of his eye, Sam noticed the way Dean sort of jumped when he saw it too. Lorelai and Olivia paid neither of them any mind, however, too locked into the conversation they were having, which Sam was starting to realize went a lot deeper than the words they were saying on the surface.
"Yeah, definitely," Dean agreed, determinedly keeping his voice even, and Sam nodded.
"We'd have to be," Sam added. "But what's a patronus?"
"They're hard to explain," Lorelai said slowly, sipping at her coffee. "But they're the only way to protect against a Dementor. And given that the striga seems to be some bastard offshoot…"
"You're thinking it would keep the kid safe," Dean theorized, and Lorelai nodded, a grateful look in her eye. But Olivia frowned.
"Except it won't kill it, and if you're worried about tipping our hand or scaring if off too fast, a patronus isn't exactly subtle."
"What's that mean, it's not subtle?" Sam questioned. Lorelai and Olivia shared another look before Lorelai waved her wand again, and Sam felt his jaw drop in awe.
By then, Sam had seen plenty of magic, but he'd never seen anything like this before. Silvery-blue light erupted from the tip of Lorelai's wand and quickly coalesced into a shimmering, somewhat translucent bird – a magpie, he realized after a moment. It surveyed the room with intelligent eyes and Sam found himself holding his breath, captivated by what he was seeing. The magpie radiated a sense of warmth and safety that seemed to fill the room, chasing away the tension that had been building while they'd all been debating the situation at hand.
To Sam's surprise, the magpie seemed particularly drawn to Dean. It swept around the room but landed on the arm of the chair Dean had settled in, cocking its head as if studying him. Dean's eyes were wide with wonder, the usual edge Sam noted when one of the girls performed magic absent, and his usual mask of bravado completely stripped away in the face of this otherworldly form.
"Holy shit," Dean breathed, echoing Sam's own thoughts. He began to reach out a hand but then froze, as if thinking better of it, but the magpie hopped forward and nuzzled against him anyway.
Sam glanced at Lorelai, curious to see her reaction to this display. He was startled to see a faint blush coloring her cheeks as she watched the patronus interact with Dean. There was something in her expression, a mix of embarrassment and perhaps… was it longing? Before Sam could puzzle it out further, Lorelai seemed to sense his eyes on her, and waved her wand again, the magpie vanishing as suddenly as it had appeared. The warm feeling disappeared with it, leaving behind a certain emptiness.
"That was amazing," Sam said before he could stop himself, his curiosity bubbling over as it so often did when he got these glimpses into the wizarding world. "Is it always a magpie?"
"Mine is," Lorelai answered, her voice taking on a somewhat academic tone, though Sam noticed she seemed a bit uncomfortable. "It's different for each witch and wizard."
"They're very personal," Olivia added, "and very difficult magic. Plenty of us can't cast them."
"They're incredible. You're right though," Dean said, speaking for the first time since the patronus had vanished and looking to Olivia before turning to Lorelai. "That thing'll chase away the striga before we can even get a shot off."
Lorelai sighed, but Sam could already see from the set of her jaw that she knew they were right.
"Well, I don't know what else to suggest, aside from we just can't miss when we shoot. A regular shield charm won't do jack." The frustration coloring her tone made both Sam and Dean frown, but that was when Sam noticed Olivia fidgeting, suddenly seeming nervous.
"There's always your necklace," she offered after a moment with a pointed look at Lorelai, her voice barely above a whisper. The effect was immediate – Lorelai's eyes narrowed and the hand that wasn't holding her coffee mug flew to a silver chain hanging around her neck. Dean clocked the movement too, though Sam noticed a flicker of recognition cross his face before he caught Sam's eye, the two of them sharing a confused look. "You could lend it to Michael."
"Liv –"
"What's with the necklace?" Dean asked before Lorelai could finish her reprimand. For a moment she froze, a silent battle of wills seeming to take place between her and Olivia while they stared each other down, until Lorelai finally exhaled slowly, her eyes drifting to a spot on the wall.
"It's… enchanted, and it's one-of-a-kind," she explained slowly, almost as if she had to chew on the words. "There was a point in the war that the Ministry lost control of the Dementors, and they were everywhere, and… like Olivia said, casting a patronus isn't particularly easy, and I was… going through some stuff. So when it became apparent that casting a patronus was not within my capability, Fred started working on this."
She fingered the chain, holding it so that the charm swung for them to see. It was unassuming and simple, silver with very small accents that Sam guessed might have been diamonds and emeralds, but his stomach flipped when he realized the pendant was a magpie.
"It works like a shield," Olivia interjected. "But instead of activating just a simple shield charm when the wearer's attacked, it activates a baser version of the patronus charm. Creates a sort of barrier between the wearer and the thing attacking. It's not as strong as an actual patronus, but it's effective. And should be more than enough in this case. You said it still works, didn't you?"
Sam felt something twist in his chest, and noticed a similarly stricken look on Dean's face. Neither of them knew magic the way Lorelai or Olivia did, but it didn't take a genius to realize recognize the magnitude of what they were discussing. Lorelai, however, avoided eye contact with all of them and only nodded.
"Not sure how," she admitted, "but yeah. I felt it working when I went out to deal with the latest incident at Alcatraz last month."
There was an uncomfortable silence that followed, and Sam was surprised when Dean was the one to break it, his voice significantly gentler than Sam was used to hearing.
"Lor, you don't have to. We're overthinking this – getting the shot off in time shouldn't be a problem."
Dean was offering her an easy out, but rather than taking it, the option only seemed to strengthen her resolve, and Sam watched as sheshook her head, her eyes getting that determined gleam in them he had become familiar with.
"No, it's fine. It makes sense, and if I were Annette, or Michael, I'd feel a hell of a lot better saying yes with the necklace being part of the deal than if we just offer to 'do our best.' I just need it back."
"Of course, sweetie," Olivia assured her quickly, and Lorelai nodded, busying herself with her coffee. Dean watched her for a moment before turning back to Sam and Olivia, drawing them into a discussion of next steps – who would go talk to Annette and Michael, what they'd need, when they should plan on getting there, etc. Eventually, Lorelai slipped herself back into the conversation, and if Sam didn't know any better, he'd say Dean had taken the heat off her on purpose, sensing her need to compose herself and creating the opportunity for her to do it without it being obvious.
It was the kind of thing Jess would have done for him. The kind of thing she'd done even that last night they'd gone out, stepping in when Luis had been pressing him about his family. A subtle show of support given so instinctively and without being asked... the kind that was only possible to offer when you knew someone deeply and intimately.
His conversation with Dean from just that morning echoed in his head and Sam resisted the urge to shake his head. He knew his brother was right, that the situation between him and Lorelai wasn't simple – even from the outside looking in Sam could tell that, but he hoped the pair of them would pull their heads out of their asses soon. His brother deserved to be happy… and so did Lorelai. There was a part of him that worried… but it was small, and easy to push to the side if he tried.
"Alright," Dean said eventually, clapping his hands together. "So we've got a plan. Now we just need to get Annette and Michael on board."
"Yeah," Sam agreed, trying to force his head back into what was going on. "That's not going to be an easy conversation."
"I can handle it," Lorelai offered. "I've already built up a rapport with her. Might go over better coming from me."
"I can go with you, help put up some basic alarm-type wards around the house while you talk to her," Olivia added and Dean nodded.
"Makes sense. Sammy and I can start prepping, make sure we've got everything we need for tonight."
And as the four of them began to move back into action. Sam found his mind continuing to drift. He thought about the necklace, about the depth of love it represented. About Jess, and the hole her absence had left in his life. And about Dean and Lorelai, the tension that still simmered between them despite their efforts to act like everything was normal.
He hoped, for all their sakes, that this plan would work. They needed a win, and not just against the striga.
It was hours later, after they'd all eaten dinner and Dean had gone to check for the third time that they had everything they needed and Olivia had drifted back to the hospital, that Sam found himself alone with Lorelai. She was sitting at the kitchen table with a spread of papers in front of her – work for another case, she'd explained. Something having to do with a string of disappearances along the Gulf. Sam had settled into doing the dishes. Lorelai had offered to take care of them with magic, but Sam had shrugged her off, finding he had a desire to lose himself in something monotonous, even if it were only temporary.
Sam let the warm water run over his hands as he scrubbed at a particularly stubborn spot on the pot. As he worked his mind continued to wander, processing everything that had happened over the past few days. The nightmares that hadn't stopped that Dean had called him out on, their conversation about Lorelai, Dean's big reveal about the striga and what had really happened in Fort Douglas, and now this tense waiting game as they prepared to face the creature tonight. It was a lot to take in.
He glanced over his shoulder at Lorelai, still bent over her papers at the kitchen table. Her brow was furrowed in concentration, a strand of dark hair falling across her face as she scribbled notes in the margin of one of the documents, a fresh mug of coffee within arm's reach. There was something about the way she was hunched over, so lost in what she was doing, that reminded Sam of the girl that had saved them all those years ago. She was doing better, but today especially, he'd seen flashes of who she'd been back then.
As if sensing his gaze, Lorelai looked up, offering him a small smile.
"You sure you don't want me to take care of those?" she asked, gesturing to the pile of dishes with her pen. "It'd only take me a second."
Sam shook his head, turning back to the sink.
"Nah, I've got it. Sometimes it's nice to just… do something normal, you know?"
He heard Lorelai hum in agreement behind him.
"I get that. Katie's always so baffled I don't use magic around the house more, but sometimes I just need to breathe."
There was something in her tone that made Sam pause, his hands stilling in the soapy water. He turned off the faucet and grabbed a dish towel, drying his hands as he turned to face her fully.
"Can I ask you something?"
Lorelai set down her pen, giving him her full attention. "Of course."
Sam hesitated, not quite sure how to broach the subject. He thought about the ethereal magpie that had appeared earlier, the way it had radiated warmth and comfort. He thought about the necklace Lorelai wore, the one Fred had made for her, and the look on her face when she'd explained what it was to them. That thought was almost enough to deter him – it invoked memories of that first meeting they'd had in Florida, when she'd still been so raw and trying to hide it. But then he remembered what Dean had told him a few nights before, about how he needed to talk to someone and how Jess wouldn't have wanted this for him. And so then, of course, he thought about Jess, about the hole her absence had left in his life, and Sam found himself plowing forward.
"How... how long did it take?" he finally asked, his voice barely above a whisper. "For it to get better, I mean. After Fred..."
He trailed off, unable to finish the sentence, but Lorelai seemed to understand. A shadow passed over her face, and for a moment Sam regretted asking. But then she took a deep breath, her eyes meeting his with a startling intensity.
"It hasn't," she said simply, her voice soft but steady. "It's still… it's still horrible, Sam. Gut-wrenchingly, heart-breakingly awful. I don't think something like that gets better."
Sam blinked, taken aback by her blunt honesty. Especially considering she seemed to share in Dean's tendency to wall herself off.
"But, I mean… it's been years, right? And you seem…"
"Functional?" Lorelai supplied with a wry smile, and Sam reluctantly nodded. "Yeah, well I had to learn to be. It was touch and go there for a while, but I had people counting on me. But that doesn't mean it doesn't still hurt like hell. Or that my head's not still fucked up. Because it does and it is. I wish I could tell you something different but that kind of loss and the pain that comes with it? It's just something you learn to live with. It becomes a part of you."
Sam felt a lump forming in his throat, his chest tightening at her words. He thought about the nightmares that still plagued him again, the way he sometimes caught himself turning to tell Jess something only to remember she wasn't there.
Some part of him had already suspected what Lorelai was confirming… it was hard not to understand what grief could do to a person when he'd grown up watching what it had done to his dad… but he'd hoped. And right now, he just didn't want to hear it.
"So that's it? We just… carry it forever?"
Lorelai's expression softened, and she gestured for him to sit. Sam complied, sinking into the chair across from her.
"I know it's not what you want to hear," she told him gently, "but yeah, in way, we do. The grief… it changes shape over time, but it doesn't go away. Think of it like… if you got into an accident, and you mangled your right hand. It's gonna hurt, and you're gonna be pissed about it, and at first, all you're gonna be able to do is sit there and stare at your hand and wonder what the fuck you're gonna do now. But you can't just do that forever, and slowly, you start to figure out how to deal with it because you don't have another choice and you still gotta get through the day. And eventually, when you're not paying attention, you start to get through it without having to think about how. But your hand's still fucked – that hasn't changed, and it's never going to. In my experience, that is what grief is like. You get used to it, but it's always there."
Sam sat in stunned silence, processing Lorelai's words. The raw honesty in her voice struck him, and for a moment he was flooded with a sense of defeat. He'd hoped that time had healed those wounds, but now he realized how naïve that hope had been.
"That's it?" he questioned, his voice barely above a whisper. "That's the great secret? You just… get used to it?"
Lorelai shrugged, a small, sad smile, almost apologetic, gracing her face.
"You find ways to cope. Some healthier than others," she added with a wry smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "But yeah, you get used to it and you learn to live with it. You have to. One day at a time is what I always remember when it gets… overwhelming."
Overwhelming.
It was a good word. One that summed up how it all had been since early November 2nd. Sam thought about the guilt that gnawed at him, the what-ifs that haunted his quieter moments. He thought about Dean, about how his brother had been there for him through the worst of it. But Dean had his own demons to wrestle with, and Sam knew he couldn't keep relying on him to be his sole support. Every damn day was'overwhelming' though.
"I just..." he started, then paused, struggling to find the words. "Sometimes I feel like I'm drowning in it. Like I'll never be okay again."
"You won't be," Lorelai said, her bluntness softened by the compassion in her eyes. "Not the way you were before. But you'll find a new okay. It'll be different, and sometimes it'll still hurt like a bitch, but you'll get there."
Sam nodded, feeling a strange mix of despair and hope. He looked at Lorelai, really looked at her, and saw the strength that had carried her through her own losses. And then, without really meaning to, he found himself talking again.
"Does it..." Sam started, then paused, not sure how to phrase his next question. "I mean, even with... other people in your life now, it's still...?"
He trailed off awkwardly, realizing too late that he might be treading into dangerous territory. But Lorelai just gave him a knowing look, a hint of amusement in her eyes.
"You mean, even with your brother?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. Sam felt his cheeks flush.
"I didn't... I mean, I know you two aren't..." but Lorelai waved off his stammering.
"It's okay, Sam. I know what you meant." She was quiet for a moment, her gaze distant. A faint blush colored her cheeks, and she looked down at her coffee mug before finally continuing. "Dean is… complicated. He came into my life and he just… got under my skin in a way no one else had since… before. And suddenly I was feeling things I hadn't felt since... since Fred died. And it's real, and it's intense, and… and terrifying because it gave me something to lose again, you know? But none of that took away the grief. It was just different… new stuff on top of what I was already dealing with, I guess."
The vulnerability in her voice struck Sam. He'd never heard Lorelai talk about his brother like this before, and though he'd already suspected, it truly began to dawn on himhow deep her feelings for Dean really went. It made him ache for both of them, for the pain and fear that kept them apart.
"Does Dean know?" he asked gently. Lorelai snorted and shook her head, a rueful smile playing at her lips.
"What do you think?"
Sam sighed, realizing how dumb the question had been. He remembered not just the conversation he and Dean had had themselves earlier that day, but all the other time's he'd prodded at the subject before. He remembered Lorelai's reluctance to discuss any of it in Kinston. And then he thought about Jess, as he so often did, and all the things he wished he'd said to her when he'd had the chance.
"You should tell him," Sam said before he could stop himself. "The both of you, I swear. Life's too short."
Lorelai opened her mouth to respond, but before she could, Dean's voice rang out from the doorway.
"Tell who what?"
Sam's head snapped up, his eyes widening as he saw his brother leaning against the doorframe. How long had Dean been standing there? From the guarded look on his face, Sam suspected it had been long enough.
Lorelai recovered first, rolling her eyes, her normal mask of indifference and exasperation taking hold as she raised the mug to her lips.
"None of your business, don't you worry about it."
Dean looked unconvinced, his eyes narrowing slightly as they flicked between her and Sam.
"Uh-huh. Well, hate to break up the heart-to-heart, but we should probably start getting ready. Sun's going down soon."
Lorelai nodded, pushing back from the table and gathering up her papers with a practiced efficiency. "Right. I'll go change."
As she brushed past Dean in the doorway, Sam caught the way his brother's gaze lingered on her retreating form. There was a softness in Dean's eyes that Sam rarely saw, a vulnerability that made his chest ache with a mixture of hope and worry.
As Lorelai's footsteps faded down the hallway, Dean turned back to Sam, his expression carefully neutral, but Sam could see the tension in his jaw, the way his eyes lingered on the spot where Lorelai had disappeared.
"How much did you hear?" Sam asked quietly, breaking the silence that had settled over the kitchen. As expected, Dean's shoulders tensed.
"Enough," he said gruffly, moving further into the room. He wasted no time grabbing a mug from one of the cabinets, pouring himself some of the coffee Lorelai had made almost as soon as they'd finished clearing dinner. "Didn't mean to eavesdrop."
Sam watched as Dean took a long sip, his brother's demeanor screaming avoidance. It was a dance they'd perfected over the years - Dean deflecting, Sam pushing. But this time, Sam hesitated. The weight of his conversation with Lorelai still pressed on him, her words about grief echoing in his mind.
"Dean..." Sam started, then paused, unsure how to proceed. He thought about Jess, about the hole her absence had left in his life. About how talking to Lorelai had stirred up all those emotions he'd been trying so hard to push down. "Look, I know you probably don't want to talk about it, but-"
"You're right, I don't," Dean cut him off, his voice sharp. But then he sighed, his expression softening slightly as he met Sam's eyes. "Look, Sammy, I get it. I do. But we've got a job to do, alright? I can't deal with this right now."
Sam nodded slowly, recognizing the deflection for what it was. But he couldn't quite let it go, not after everything he'd seen the last few days.
"I know," Sam said. "But Dean, what I said earlier... about talking to Lorelai? I meant it. Life's too short, man. Especially in our line of work."
Dean's grip on the coffee mug tightened, his knuckles turning white. For a moment, Sam thought he might lash out, tell him to drop it. But then Dean's shoulders sagged, and he let out a long breath.
"Yeah, well," Dean muttered, "easier said than done." He took another swig of coffee, his eyes distant. "Besides, we've got bigger fish to fry right now. Striga ain't gonna kill itself."
"Dean," Sam pushed, unable to heed the dismissal, "I know things are complicated with Lorelai, but-"
"But nothing, Sam," Dean interrupted, his voice firm, his typical gruffness coming back. "Whatever's going on between me and Lor, it's not important right now. We've got a job to do. End of story."
The finality in Dean's tone made it clear the conversation was over. Sam sighed, running a hand through his hair. He wanted to argue, to make Dean see that he was pushing away something - someone - important. But Dean was right about one thing – they had a job to do. And so, with a resigned nod, Sam let the subject drop.
"Alright," Sam conceded. "Let's go over the plan one more time. But Dean, just... think about it, okay? When this is all over?"
Dean didn't respond, but Sam saw the slight nod of acknowledgment. It wasn't much, but it was something. And as they ran through the details of their strategy for taking down the striga, Sam found his mind drifting. He thought about Jess, about the pain that still lingered in his chest when he remembered her smile, her laugh. He thought about Lorelai's words, about how the grief becomes a part of you, how you learn to live with it, but it never truly goes away.
It wasn't what he'd wanted to hear, but it had helped, letting some of it out… realizing he wasn't alone. And he felt a renewed determination to face his demons head on, as well as the one that had so thoroughly wrecked his world.
Thank you all for reading! I hope you enjoyed it, but I also apologize because I definitely was not super happy with how it came out. Sam's POV does not always come quite as easily for me, but I'm working on it.
Anyway, Merry Christmas for anyone that celebrates! I'll see you all next week ❤