Fic: Purgatory Pt. 4
Title: Purgatory
Author: Xanateria
Crossover: Sanctuary/Supernatural/Buffy
See Fic Master Post for rating, warnings and author's notes.
Dean moved so that he could get a better look and felt his heart begin to pound hard enough to choke him. No, don’t get your hopes up. It probably just looks like him. That doesn’t mean it is, he told himself as firmly as he could manage. But when he looked closer, nearly beside the man, Dean fell to his knees because they wouldn’t hold him anymore. He was bruised like he’d come out on the wrong side of a long and vicious fight, his arm was at a very bad angle, and he was so skinny he was barely himself, but it was Sam. There was no doubting it, he would know his brother anywhere. And thank God or whoever was behind all of this, he had a strong, steady pulse, though he was unconscious on the ground.
It was Helen who found them a few minutes later. Unable to keep from smiling at the very personal note to their success, she didn’t try to separate the two brothers, only moved Dean over and urged him to drink some of the bottled water she offered him while she checked Sam’s vitals. “We’ll get you both down to the infirmary so he can recover in comfort as soon as we can,” she assured him, clasping his shoulder briefly, before she stood to ask one of the men to bring over a stretcher. Nodding in acknowledgment, Dean tried to say thanks, only to find his voice didn’t want to work. Magnus didn’t seem to mind, she’d already been waylaid by a staff member, who was walking with her to another grouping of new arrivals.
It worried him that Sam was unconscious. Part of him was screaming about what he had probably been through, what Dean had been through. He buried that all behind a very thick wall, and moved to follow the stretcher that Tesla and Will had picked up and were moving smoothly towards the main complex.
“He’s stable,” Will murmured reassuringly. “Hopefully, it won’t be long before he wakes up.” Nodding his thanks, Dean concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other. Now that the whole thing was over with, he has about as much energy as a spaghetti noodle.
They had just about made it to the door when a strangled exclamation from the other end of the courtyard made everyone turn. Druitt had been checking the last group of arrivals, three semi-conscious women who looked worse for wear. The tall, bald man had gone dead white and something about the look on his face made Dean’s stomach clench. He wasn’t surprised when both Will and Tesla carefully set Sam’s stretcher down to move in that direction. When John spoke, it was with a mixture of pain and absolute joy in his tone. “Helen, come here,” he directed.
Watching this play out, Dean thought the arrival of the doctor would make things clearer, but when Magnus joined them, she seemed to freeze. “It’s not possible. It can’t be,” she barely managed to say, voice choked with tears. She stumbled forward and wrapped her arms around the youngest blonde. After a moment, Druitt joined her, which was really surprising, as he hadn’t ever expected to see the menacing man show anything remotely resembling affection.
Tesla explained when he came back to pick up one end of the stretcher, gesturing to Dean to pick up the other. “Magnus and Druitt lost their daughter, Ashley, to the Cabal. It appears she has been returned,” he said, with a slight smile. Well, that explained the reaction. Dean nodded as the pieces made a clearer picture. Now they just had to hope that everyone woke up safe and sane.
Magnus had to find space for the sixty-some people in the infirmary wing. The new arrivals took up several long rooms laid out quite similarly to all the hospital wards Dean had ever been in. For convenience’s sake, Sam, Willow, and Ashley were all made as comfortable as possible in the same room.
Willow hadn’t woken up, but her vitals were stable and Henry reported she had left contingency instructions for them. Apparently, it was a simple case of overload from doing a snatch and grab of far more people than she expected. Dean didn’t see sixty as that many, but what the hell did he know about the energy involved in moving anyone with magic? According to her instructions, once her body had a chance to rest and replenish itself, and the IVs she was hooked up to balanced her electrolytes, she would be right as rain.
No one could tell him much about when any of the survivors, most importantly Sam, would wake up, so Dean pulled a chair next to Sam’s bed. It didn’t surprise him to see Druitt doing the same at Ashley’s bedside. It caught his interest when Henry moved to Willow’s bedside. It was none of his business, so he simply filed the note away and settled in to do some waiting of his own. There wasn’t much to look at in the room other than the bed and the monitoring equipment. The confirmation of Sam’s heartbeat was reassuring, but barely five minutes of listening to the muted beeps had him wishing he could pace, or turn on loud music.
A little later those who were in the best shape of the group showed signs of stabilizing, and brief periods of near consciousness, but hadn’t woken up. Striving for patience, Dean repositioned in his chair, tipping his head back to stare at the off-white ceiling. An hour after that, Big Foot brought a tray with food and blessedly hot coffee, which Dean gulped gratefully, before biting into the tasty sandwich. He wasn’t hungry, but at least eating helped kill time.
The hours and the daylight trickled away. Kate came over to Sam’s bed at one point and offered to watch him while Dean got some rest and a shower or whatever, but he declined. It just wasn’t in him to leave Sam so soon after finding him. He was half afraid that if he did, his brother would somehow go missing again.
He must have dozed off, because the next thing he knew, the sounds of a commotion in the other corner of the room had his hand groping for a gun. Seeing that Sam was still safely tucked into his bed and the monitors attached to him were quiet, he relaxed.
“Calm down, sweetheart. It’s okay, you’re home,” Magnus was saying soothingly, over at Ashley’s bed. He assumed the commotion was her waking up. He moved a bit closer, not wanting to intrude, but curious about how the process would go when Sam came to.
He couldn’t see the young woman in the bed very well, with both her mother and father in the way, but from what he could hear, she was agitated and afraid, and not yet aware that she was safe. Dean thought that was a reasonable reaction. Wherever she had been before they had pulled her back here hadn’t been pleasant.
He made sure he had his own memories of Hell firmly under control. The last thing he needed to was to be stuck in some damned total body flashback when his brother woke up and needed him. Besides, he owed these people a lot for their help. He didn’t think they would appreciate it if he began repaying them with a complete meltdown.
It took more effort than he liked, but he got his mind back to the here and now. Ashley appeared to have calmed down and come closer to consciously coherent. He could hear her muttering, though he couldn’t make out the words. He considered going closer to observe, but he figured they needed time to reconnect as a family. It wasn’t everyday a family member came back from the dead. He had reason to know how big of an adjustment that was. Waiting and watching from a distance made him twitchy, but he stayed in his chair. No one was paying him any attention.
Ashley was getting louder. “No. Stay away from me. Get away,” he heard her cry out. He gave her parents both points for smarts when they backed away to let her have space, but she remained upset. “Where am I?” She demanded. “Who are you?”
He would have eavesdropped on what they told her, but Sam became restless, muttering nonsense syllables. Everything else in the room vanished. When Sammy was in trouble, he was all that mattered.
“Wake up, bro. You’ve been asleep long enough,” Dean told him, careful to keep his tone as gentle and non-threatening as possible. Sam was going to be scared enough without anyone adding to it, even if the someone was his own brother. “It’s me, Dean,” he explained. “It’s really me, not some illusion or whatever,” he added, knowing it was going to be tough to convince Sam of the reality of his situation. In the back of his mind, Dean started contemplating how to convince him, but when he opened his eyes, Sam didn’t look scared, only confused.
“Where am I?” he asked, his voice rough, though whether it was from disuse or pain was impossible to tell.
“You’re safe, Sam,” Dean told him. “We’re with friends. With their help, we managed to get you back here.” He didn’t want to go into too much specific detail until Sam’s brain had a chance to catch up with his body. “Take it easy, man. You’ve been through a lot,” he instructed.
It took a minute, but Sam relaxed against the bed and closed his eyes. When he opened them again, it was easy to see the effort he was putting into staying calm. “I know you said your name is Dean, but who are you?” he asked.
For a moment, Dean thought he was kidding, that it was a coping mechanism gone wrong. But the confusion was complete and genuine. Resisting the urge to shake him, or yell at him, he breathed out carefully. “It’s me, Dean,” he answered. “Your brother,” he repeated.
The same confused stare, took on the first hints of fear. “You keep saying that,” Sam spoke slowly, “but I don’t know you. And you keep calling me Sam, but that’s just a name. I’m sorry, I don’t remember.”
***
Old City Sanctuary
Main Infirmary Laboratory
9:01 pm
There were so many feelings rushing through her that Helen was a bit dizzy. She had plenty of practice putting personal feelings aside in crisis, so she pushed them all to one side and went on with the work that needed her attention. Although her heart wanted to believe Ashley and Sam had been returned, her logical mind wouldn’t accept it without proof. There were swabs to be taken and samples to be scanned. With Dean’s permission, she took a sample of his blood to compare to Sam’s.
With the Big Guy’s help, she hooked both Ashley and Sam up to IVs to replace fluids and nutrients. Though it made her feel disloyal, she left the main infirmary long enough to be sure that every other person who had been rescued was resting comfortably. She focused on the job until there was no more work to be done.
Then, she sat at her daughter’s bedside and tried not to think or feel too much. When the scans came back positively identifying both of them, the room actually went dark for a moment, the relief was so great it swamped her. Without needing to be told, John guided her to a chair. He knew what the paperwork was that Will had rushed in, and he smile was so reminiscent of his old self that it was a separate stab of pain. He wasn’t his old self and she wasn’t sure that he could be again.
That pain couldn’t dim her joy. The wound she had carried since Ashley’s death, the weight of the guilt and loss, had become such a part of her that the absence of it felt strange. It didn’t seem real, and she had no doubt it wouldn’t until she could talk to her, hear her voice, see her smile, all the things that made her distinctly Ashley. Helen was enough of a realist to be waiting for the other shoe to drop. Though she hadn’t actively prayed in years she had caught herself bargaining with God, or whoever was listening while she had watched over her sleeping daughter. If they would just let Ashley wake up and be okay, she would never ask for anything else, for herself, for John, for anyone. But this wasn’t some happy ever after fairly tale.
Part of her wasn’t surprised when first Ashley and then Sam had woken no recollection of themselves or their life. The pain of that blank look had sliced through her like a blade. Willow had warned them there would be a price to pay. This must be part of it.
The important thing was they were back. Everything else was merely details. Not even in the deepest, most hidden part of herself had she considered that the spell Willow had brought to her could save her daughter. She’d had to close the door on those hopes to survive with her sanity intact.
It was a miracle, a wonderfully unexpected miracle. If the price was having Ashley without being able to know her, to get the relationship they’d shared back, Helen would find a way to live with that. She would have to, but it didn’t make the pain of the awkwardness they felt around each other any easier to deal with.
***
Old City Sanctuary
Kate Freelander’s Room
11:19 pm
The emotional highs of the week had been intense. It was no wonder she was wired. For lack of any better outlet, she tried the gym, pushing her body farther than she should have. A ride on the bike, a run on the treadmill with the inline maxed out, then free weights, followed by a session with the speed bag left her muscles aching. Then she did enough laps in the pool long enough to turn herself into a raisin. Even when she was physically exhausted, her mind wouldn’t stop turning circles. She didn’t like what they were circling. If there was one thing Kate knew, it was herself: the good, the bad, and all the in between. This time, she just didn’t want to look at how she felt.
Only a truly horrible person would be unhappy that something so fantastic happened to someone she called a friend; even if that friend happened to be her boss. She ended up alone in her room, sprawled in her usual thinking position, staring at the wall. There was no getting around it. The more it sunk in that Ashley was back, the more uncomfortable Kate felt. The entire dynamic of her home had shifted. Everyone else from the Sanctuary had a pre-existing relationship with her.
All Kate had were the rumors about her that had made the rounds of the Cabal and its affiliates. True, it was obvious that the combination of whatever the Cabal had done to her and her time elsewhere had changed her more than a little, but still. The girl-woman-was a freaking legend. Ashley’s return brought back the guilt Kate felt about what she had nearly let her ambition turn her into.
Punching the pillow, Kate reminded herself that she may have crossed some lines working for the Cabal, and a few others before them, but she’d had good reasons. She’d done good work with the Sanctuary since then. That was the problem.
Magnus had only taken her on because of necessity. Ashley’s disappearance and death had left a vacuum for Kate to fill. With Ashley back in the bosom of her family there wasn’t going to be any need for her. Kate knew he’d be needed during Ashley’s recovery period from the whole limbo thing, but if even half of what was said about Magnus’ daughter was true, she was going to land on her feet and hit the ground running.
Turning over to scowl at the ceiling, Kate tried for reason. Magnus wasn’t the sort to turf her into the street after everything. If there wasn’t a place for her in Old City anymore, she could always ask for a transfer. Hell, she could always go back to Mumbai. At least she fit it, sort of. The very thought of leaving made her eyes burn with the effort of holding back tears. Stupid to have let herself get attached to a place, or to the people in it. Now she didn’t know how to get unattached, and had no one to blame but herself.
The soft knock at the door startled her more than it should have, and she shook her head to try and clear it a little. “Yeah?” she called, hoping it wasn’t a work related crisis. The last thing an already shitty night needed was a hunt through the sewers.
“You were thinking pretty loud at dinner,” Will commented, by way of greeting as he walked in. “Thought I’d stop by and ask if you wanted to talk out whatever was bothering you.”
“Just because I’m having an off night, doesn’t mean anything is bothering me.” It came out more defensive than she would have liked, edging close to a whine. She crossed her arms over her chest and willed him to go away. Rather than bothering with a reply to her words, Will looked at her steadily, then raised his eyebrows. Letting out her breath with a huff, she tried again. “Look, I appreciate the concern, but I’m fine.”
“You’re so fine, you can barely eat and haven’t said more than two words to anyone since we did the spell,” Will answered, leaning against the wall at the end of her bed, ignoring the piles of clothes, assorted weapons, and random garbage scattered around her room without comment.
She tried a shrug. It felt forced. “I’ve got a lot on my mind.” That was true, even if it was a non-answer. She watched as Will shifted forward, and wished she had the energy to tell him off so he would just leave her in peace.
“You’re worrying over nothing,” he told her, his voice matching the knowing look he gave her. “Just because Ashley’s back doesn’t mean anyone, even Magnus, wants to go back to the way things were before she left. She’s just happy to have a second chance with her daughter. We all are. But that doesn’t mean there won’t be a place for you. None of us are going to forget everything you’ve done.” He paused, which gave her a moment to blink her eyes against some poorly timed dust, or allergies. She opened her mouth to protest.
“I don’t have to ask her, because I already know. There will always be a place here for you, for as long as you want it.” Stepping forward, he gripped her arm for a moment to make his point. “And you would know it, if you stopped being insecure long enough to consider it.” He shoved her back, gently, and was gone before she could argue. That was alright, because it meant he wasn’t there to see a few traitorous tears slip down her cheeks before she wiped them away. She was smiling when she did. That was a shrink for ya, they just always had to be right.
***
Old City Sanctuary
Main Infirmary Recovery Room
12:05 am
Henry didn’t bother asking if it was okay to relocate to the infirmary, he just set up a work station near Willow. Once he was logged on to the network and able to tell himself he was working, his mind turned to trying to figure out his reaction to the woman.
He barely knew her, yet she brought out all of his protective instincts. He caught himself wanting to hear her voice, wanting to get to know her. What made her laugh, what made her cry? The amount of power he’d seen her handle had been a surprise, but even that hadn’t put him off. His wolf side respected a female who could handle herself. It wasn’t the weirdest thing he’d seen someone do around here, not by a long shot.
After stealing a glance at Willow, Henry let his eyes move over to settle on Ashley. It was surreal, but all the requisite scans and tests had come back as positive as it gets. Magnus had explained that the amnesia was only one of the unknowns: they still didn’t know what exactly the Cabal had done with her. They knew she’d done some bad things. They were not her fault, and they’d all help her see that. That’s what you did for family.
He’d never admitted to anyone how much guilt he carried over what happened to Ashley. Magnus had been carrying enough.When you screwed up, you deserved to carry the consequences. If he had been in better control, stronger, faster, something, he would have seen to it that neither of them got grabbed when they went into the heart of Cabal territory.
The fault was on him, so were the burdens of guilt and remorse. Blinking, he swallowed the sudden lump in his throat, and then took a deep breath. With a little luck, she would remember who and what she was soon. He refused to even contemplate that Ashley might never remember. She had to, so that he could finally apologize for everything.
Given the unfinished business between them, it made more sense to be obsessing about Ashley. Instead, it was Willow he couldn’t get out of his mind. Heck, he’s rearranged his whole day so he could stay where she was, so she wouldn’t wake alone in a strange place. Women were definitely not an area he considered himself an expert in. But if he’d been through as much as she had, he wouldn’t want to be alone.
The sound of a throat clearing caught his attention and he glanced over to see Willow open her eyes and put a hand to her head. Moving carefully, so as not to startle her, he grabbed the water and aspirin that were already waiting on the table. “Here, take these,” he told her softly. “Doc said you’d wake up with a hell of a headache.”
It took a few more sips of water and another try before she was able to talk. “I feel like a whole herd of some very large wildlife just took up residence in my head,” Willow agreed. Out of consideration, he toggled a switch to dim the room lights before he settled on to the chair next to her bed.
“You had us all a bit worried. We were thinking about calling this Giles person of yours if you didn’t wake up today,” Henry told her.
“I’m fine,” Willow told him. Her pale face and eyes smudged with dark circles, said otherwise. “There was a bit more to the spell than I expected. Well, okay, a lot more. I think we managed to save over five hundred people.” Henry whistled as she continued. “Plus, I didn’t think I would get such information overload from the group,” she explained.
It took a second for his brain to catch up. “Information? How much information, and about what exactly?” he asked cautiously. No matter how much he liked her, or how appealingly cute she was, an outsider with working knowledge of the Sanctuary was a bad idea.
Genuine regret showed on her face and in her voice, but she answered honestly. “Well, I pretty much know what it is you do here, the abnormals you protect from the world. But it’s okay, I won’t tell,” she tried to reassure him. “Would it make you feel better if I told you something about myself that you aren’t supposed to know?”
It was an odd question, but the fact that she would offer made him feel a little better. “It might help,” he admitted, running a hand through his hair the way he did when he was nervous.
“Okay then,” Willow began, looking more than a little guilty. “When I’m not taking unscheduled trips to rescue large groups of people from demons, I help protect a bunch of girls who are vampire slayers. Until about a year ago, my one of best friends was one of the only vampire slayers in existence. Some really bad things happened, so we had to change that. Now there are Slayers all over the world. I help set up their bases of operations, and keep them safe with all the magical help I can give them. We fight vampires, demons, and all kinds of other monsters you probably hope never to find in your closet.” This was all delivered in rush, then she caught her breath and waited to see what he would say.
“Huh,” was all he could think of at first. Blinking, he let his brain separate out the words. He had the feeling it was lacking in all kinds of crucial details. Willow had definitely dropped him square in the middle of things he wasn’t supposed to know. Now, she was watching him carefully, and there was sadness creeping into her eyes, like she was expected denial or rejection. Henry could only think of one question. “Monsters, huh? So, how do you feel about werewolves?” he asked.
She cocked her head sideways and stared at him. “I don’t have any problem with them, as long as they’re under control. I actually dated one once, a long time ago,” she admitted. Whether due to injury or fatigue, he couldn’t say, but it took a moment longer for it to click. “Oh,” she managed, smiling slightly.
Encouraged by the smile, he tried one more question. “And would you maybe be willing to give dating another one a shot? That is, if you don’t mind techno geeks.”
This time the smile was wider and the happiness under it was obvious enough for even him to see. “I appreciate geek in a guy. I’ll explain why later, when we have a chat about your security and how to integrate some magical precautions into it,” Willow told him. “As it happens, I think I am about ready to start dating again. I don’t have the best luck at it, so you’ll have to be persistent. I hope you’re not opposed to long distance.”
Barely stopping himself from full on beaming at her, Henry settled for nodding. “Yeah, we can try.” It should have been awkward, the two of them, just staring at one and other, but instead it was comfortable. He spared a moment to wish they were spending time together in one of the guest wings, or even his room. Then his brain came around to the earlier conversation. “Wait a minute, did you say hundreds of people? How is that even possible?” he questioned.
Oh, yeah, maybe she should have glossed over the numbers, Willow realized belatedly. It was easy to forget that the Sanctuary group didn’t have the background in magic that her friends and family did, at least not yet. “We had no way of knowing the numbers until after we finished. I still can only take a guess, somewhere near five hundred or so,” Willow told him, struggling against the fatigue that was urging her to slide back into sleep.
“But we didn’t even manage to pull a full hundred of them here. We can’t just leave them out there, defenseless and not knowing who they are, can we?” The very idea offended Henry’s innate sense of fairness, and he was half way to yelling, though he didn’t seem to realize it.
Unfortunately, that didn’t mean there was anything she could do about it. “I have no way to find them,” she admitted. “Right now, I’m so drained, I couldn’t even try if I wanted to. Our society sees victims of memory loss all the time. I built enough safe guards into the spell that whoever they were, they were returned to places they felt safe. All of them are alive and well, even if they don’t know themselves. They have a chance now, to live their lives. We gave them that. It’s the best we can do, and it’s more than they had before we did this.” She was right and she knew it, but the words comforted her.
Most people who were thinking about dating got to think about what to wear, whether to kiss goodnight or other ordinary things. Then again, ordinary was overrated.
***
Old City Sanctuary
Ashley Magnus’ Rooms
9:47 am
It was strange living in her skin but no recognizing the face in the mirror when she saw it. The doctor - her mother - had told her that there was no way of knowing how much of the amnesia would be permanent. Sitting at the vanity table, brushing her hair in the bright morning sun, Ashley wondered if she couldn’t remember because she didn’t want to.
Getting out of the infirmary had taken some time; her body was battered and weak, and didn’t heal as quickly as she got the feeling that it should have. She’d been glad to go back to the rooms they said were hers, had been since childhood. Even if they weren’t familiar, they were bright and cheerful and helped keep the flashes at bay.
That’s all she got from before: flashes, shards of memories that didn’t fit together to make pictures that made sense. They were too dark, too ugly and far too violent. The muscle memory she could access proved she was no stranger to fighting, but the psychiatrist had assured her that her violence had always had a purpose, been used to defend her family and her home. He’d looked haunted when he said it. She knew it was because as much as he meant it, and wanted it to be true, he couldn’t know.
None of them, not her mother, her father, or any of the people, who claimed to be her friends, could really know what she had done when she was taken. Her time in limbo didn’t bother her as much as knowing that she had been taken, changed and used. Everyone kept telling her to give herself time. She still couldn’t figure out how she was supposed to settle back into a life she couldn’t remember. She was nothing like the pictures in the Sanctuary said she should be. When the flashes came, and she couldn’t help but feel threatened, the changes made themselves known. The first time her claws and fangs had extended, she’d ruined a shirt and nearly put a hole in her bedroom wall.
When she tried to using the gym to get rid of some of her nervous energy, she’d knocked a punching bag completely out of the ceiling, then broken a support beam when she punched the wall in frustration. All the power, but none of the control. It was terrifying.
Her mother had explained that the Sanctuary protected and helped all abnormals who asked, and only ever destroyed as a last resort, when a being was killed without cause and wouldn’t be contained, or was deemed to be suffering too greatly. When she wasn’t occupied with other things, it was impossible to forgetthat she had killed without cause, and was definitely suffering. She kept the parallels to herself, but it added to the stress.
Despite numerous questions and protests, no one would tell her anything about her life except the essentials. The shrink said it was best to let things come back in their own time. Well, screw that.
She’d gotten up early that morning and helped herself to a file from the database: her own. Just because she didn’t remember the things she’d done didn’t mean she couldn’t find out. She’d gone through the whole file, twice. It had helped, somewhat.
Slivers of cases she’d worked with her mom and the others had come back. So had a clearer picture of what she had let the Cabal turn her into. How many people had she killed on their say so?
It didn’t make sense that the spell had reached her and brought her out of whatever limbo her last teleport had left her in. She deserved to stay there. Torn between wanting to scream and cry and the urge to throw up, she stood up and headed for the door. The bright sunshine sure as hell didn’t suit her mood, but she needed to move, to walk. It beat destroying the room she had been given as a coping skill.
Caught up in her own thoughts, she forgot how much faster she could walk, and plowed into Dean on one of the paths in the garden. She muttered an apology and would have kept going, but he stepped in her way.
“You’re in a hurry,” he commented. “Everything okay?”
“Yes, I am and no, it’s not. Thanks for the talk,” Ashley told him abruptly. On the list of sins she’d committed lately, rudeness ranked pretty low. Besides, it would get him out of her way.
“You know, it’s not a good idea to just wander around that upset. You never know who might take advantage of your distraction,” Dean cautioned, looking at her closely.
Obviously, he’d missed the memo about just how capable she was at taking care of anything, or anyone that got in her way. The thought triggered a memory. Instead of seeing the lush green grass, ornamental hedges, or the man opposite her, she was back in some tall glass box of an office building.
She was slitting the throat of a security guard whose only crime had been getting in her way. The hot gush of his blood over her hands had only been an inconvenience because she would need her hands to deal with the safe and had nothing to wipe them on. She’d snuffed out his life without even blinking and her only annoyance had been the lack of a towel.
It made her wonder what kind of person she was or had been. She didn’t realize she spoke aloud.
***
Watching Ashley’s eyes go blank and far away, Dean took a careful step back to give her some space. He’d seen how hard coming back was on Sam, so he had a pretty good idea what had the lady so upset. The last thing he wanted was for her to feel threatened.
He was still near enough to hear her wonder what kind of person she was. Magnus and the others had only given him the briefest summary of what had happened to Ashley before she ended up in Purgatory. But he was an expert in guilt, especially the kind that came from knowing you had the blood of innocent people on your hands.
It wasn’t going to do her any good to bottle it all up, he determined. Sometimes these things were easier to tell to someone you didn’t know well. Those reasons skipped over the sympathy he was trying to ignore, but that was no one’s business but his.
“You’re the same kind of person you were before you for were taken,” he told her, pretending she’d intended to ask him. “Whatever happened after wasn’t your fault. You couldn’t have stopped it. They wanted you to think that you could have.”
The words hit the mark, he could tell, because her face went even paler and her hands began to shake. “You didn’t know me before, you don’t know me now, and you sure as hell don’t have a clue what you’re talking about,” she brushed him off, anger radiating off her in waves.
He took a second to think about it, wondering if he wanted to share something so personal. Ashley was right, he didn’t know her but she’d fought hard to recover. None of what happened to her was any fairer than what happened to Sam.
Sam was still distancing himself from everyone, so Dean couldn’t help him. Maybe, he could help her. Maybe he could help himself.
“I could tell you, to the second, how long it takes to torture someone until they break. I could tell you that about more people than I can count easily,” he told her, pitching his voice just loud enough to reach her, trusting the flat, matter of fact tone to do the rest.
It didn’t look like she was entirely willing to listen, but she stopped walking away. “You don’t understand,” she argued.
“I understand that instead of being thankful for the second chance your friends - your family-bought for you, you’re busy pissing it away feeling sorry for yourself.” It was harder than he should have pushed, probably. But he’d always been a go big or go home kind of guy.
Color washed into her cheeks and her head snapped up. “Go to hell,” she screamed at him.
“Been there,” he told her, “but it didn’t stick. So here we are.” He waited until she met his eyes, and let her that he meant it literally. “Look, I’m not arguing that what happened to you, to Sam, to everyone else, didn’t suck. But you can’t live your life dwelling on all the shit you did wrong. You make up for it as best you can while you live whatever is left of your life.” It wasn’t much, as philosophies went, but it was all he had to offer.
Still, maybe it got through at least a little, because she mustered up a smirk. “That’s pretty pathetic, you know,” she told him.
“If you can critique my technique, that must mean you can do better,” he smirked right back, feeling a spark of accomplishment as they walked down the path. If there was another spark of hope that maybe he could transfer this to helping Sam, well nobody had to know that but him. “Do yourself a favor, Ashley. Go do something that will get your mind off the anger. Just because you’re carrying it around doesn’t make it a good idea to focus on it. Trust me on this one,” he added, adding his most persuasive smile, since it usually helped him get what he wanted.
Ashley didn’t look impressed. They were still walking, albeit a bit slower, and she turned to look at him thoughtfully. “Don’t ask me why, but I do,” she murmured, shifting to look where she was going. “You’re probably not the trustworthy type, and I get the feeling it could get me into all kinds of trouble, but I do trust you.”
How things had gone from angry to light and then so serious so quickly was a mystery but Dean sensed that he needed to step carefully, and it had nothing to do with where he was walking. “Look, Ashley, I’m no saint. Some of what I’ve done is pretty horrible,” he admitted, fighting back the despair those bleak memories always brought. Stopping abruptly, he put his hands on her arms to stop her. “But I’m not going to hurt you. Whatever else you might be having trouble believing right now, that’s the truth.” Though his voice had gone lower and rougher than usual, he managed to get the words out, despite the pounding of his heart.
Though he could feel her trembling, Ashley seemed in control of herself as she faced him. Her eyes were a bit wider than normal and she was breathing a bit quickly, but they had just been arguing. They stood like that for another handful of heartbeats, just long enough for the silence to start making him edgy. Then she shifted until her slender body was draped on him, barely giving him enough time to shift to accept her weight before she kissed him, deep and wet and definitely not shy about getting what she wanted. “I believe you,” she murmured when she pulled back. “But I think that means we might both be in trouble.”
Tangling a hand in her hair, Dean tugged gently so that he had better access to kiss his way along her jaw line and throat and then returning to her lips. “That’s alright. I’m an expert in trouble,” he whispered, before his mouth was much too busy to talk.
***
Old City Sanctuary
Will Zimmerman’s Room
1:10 am
In the days following the spell, Will expected to be busy. With so many partial or total amnesia victims, it was only natural that there was a higher demand for his professional services. Helen Magnus might have been one of the most formidable woman he’d ever known, but she was still a mother who had lost, and then found, her only child. It took some juggling to make sure he had enough time to check on her as often as he liked.
He enjoyed the chance to use his skills, and he was thrilled that Ashley had been returned to them. It was a little overwhelming but he was handling it the same way he always did: by making sure that everyone else was handling it. As an added bonus, he got to see Henry and Willow feeling their way through the beginning stages of what looked to be a serious long distance relationship.
The one thing he hadn’t counted on was that his dreams continued. Now, instead of dreaming of Dean and Sam and their various hunts, he was dreaming of Sam, and what he assumed were the man’s very private nightmares. With the crisis over, there was no good reason that he would still be being sent dreams. The only thing he’d been able to come up with was that there was some kind of message that he just wasn’t getting.For the life of him, he couldn’t figure out what it was. He had to admit it made him uncomfortable to be eavesdropping on such private moments, even if it was unintentional.
It didn’t help that the more they spent time together, while he tried to help Sam through what was understandably a difficult time, the more he liked him. He was dealing with a situation that would be enough to make anyone lash out, or sink into melancholy. Yet Sam was doing his level best to get on with his life. Given what he’d observed of the dynamic between the two brothers, it actually surprised Will that they were still staying at Sanctuary. Whatever the reason, he was glad of they stayed.
Sam still had large gaps in his memory, and some fairly major injuries. But as long as he was being honest with himself, Will had to admit his interest in Sam went beyond that of a doctor for his patient. He’d caught himself thinking more and more about the man, even before he’d started dreaming again.
Sighing, he slid out of bed and pulled on an ancient sweater to go with his admittedly baggy flannel sleep pants. If he was wrong and he was just being a shade too empathetic or something then he could always get a snack to make getting up worthwhile. If he was right, and Sam had just finished the nightmare he had just experienced, then maybe he could help. He was already moving before it occurred to him that he had absolutely no explanation for why he would be looking for company this time of night. It wasn’t like he could just knock on the door of Sam’s room at this hour to chat. Still, he kept moving. There was no way he was going to be able to sleep and he hadn’t gotten this far on his intuition to stop listening to it now.
He padded through the guest wing first, to see if he was wrong after all. Sam’s door was open and the lights were off. Continuing on, he pondered where the other man might be, letting his feet take him wherever they felt like. He ended up headed into the kitchen, the pool of light spilling out the doors answered his question. “Guess it’s snack time after all,” he muttered to himself. Quietly, he walked over to the coffeemaker, and helped himself to a cup. It was fresh enough that he knew the Big Guy must have made a point of making more recently, in case of wandering insomniacs. He had to appreciate the consideration, as he lifted the pot to carry it over to the table. “Hey.” He tipped the pot towards Sam as he got his attention.
Nodding tiredly, Sam attempted a smile, and held up his own mug. “Sure why not?” he asked. “Not like I’m going back to sleep.”
Will couldn’t ask for a more perfect opening than that. Dropping into another one of the chairs, he made sure to keep his tone even when he spoke. “Rough night?”
Another tired nod was Sam’s answer, but Will was encouraged he was even willing to admit to that much. Looking without it appearing that he was studying his subject closely took a very specific skill set. He’d had a lot of practice, so he buried his face in his mug, and took note of the signs of stress and strain in the other man. More specifically, he noted the signs of internal conflict. That only left the question of what Sam was fighting with himself about, but that wasn’t hard to guess either.
“I know you have no reason to trust me,” he began slowly, working around his point. “But I don’t mind listening, and you don’t have to worry about burdening me with whatever it is that you can’t stop thinking about.” He kept his tone reasonable, and tried to ignore how much he hoped it worked.
Sam looked at him sharply, but said nothing, so he tried again. “Look, I know your brother’s been through some kind of trauma and that you worry about this all being too much of a reminder for him.” That got him another look, this one more intense, and an eyebrow raised in question. Shrugging, Will shook his head. “He didn’t tell me, if that’s what you’re wondering. I read people, pay attention, that’s all.” It didn’t sit well that he had to skirt around his other source of information, but Sam was in no shape to talk about prophetic dreams, no matter who starred in them. Giving himself a mental shake, Will refocused on what was in front of him. “I know a little bit about the kinds of things you used to do,” he said, carefully casual, hoping the assumption would be that Magnus had told him. “I get that you’re not the most talkative. I got that much from the sessions you’ve allowed us to have.” Tipping back in his chair, Will met Sam’s eyes, letting him see the sympathy, the sincerity and how much he really did want to understand. “All I’m saying is, whatever you might need to get off your chest, I’m willing to listen.”
And still there was no answer.
They sat in silence that felt comfortable, drinking coffee for a long few moments. Swallowing his disappointment, Will shifted his weight to stand. The least he could do was not push, or pressure. As Will was about to force himself out of the room, Sam spoke. “I just don’t know what’s real anymore,” he admitted, voice gone rough and raw with a depth of pain that was hard to listen to. “I heard so many lies, saw so many horrible things that it just seems like none of this is real. I hear everyone telling me that the ordeal is over,” he continued with a rising bitterness. “But it’s not over. All of it, every obscenity, it’s still here,” he explained, tapping a finger to his forehead. “I can’t break out of it, and I don’t even know if all of it was real.”
“Well, without knowing the details, I would say that if you have to carry the memories, that’s real enough. Like it or not, you’re stuck with it now.” Will moved back to his chair and sat down, tilting his head as he considered the problem.
“Damn right,” Sam agreed, with a bitter laugh. He shifted the subject then, and they talked about the generic details of trauma recovery for a bit, but when Will went back to bed, it was with the sense that both of them might actually be able to sleep.
That night’s discussion set the pattern for the next few days. Each time Will had a nightmare, he would get up, and go for a walk, each time finding Sam. Sometimes they only talked for a few minutes, more about generalities than anything else. Other times he did more listening than talking, as Sam spoke of things that worried him, or details that he wished he could forget. Though he used some of his psychiatric skills, it was less about that than simply being present, and hearing what Sam needed to say. Sometimes they simply sat together and didn’t say much at all. That was alright though, Will remembered enough times of his own that he would have given anything not to be alone. Spending time with Sam wasn’t exactly a hardship.
The kiss was more accidental than anything. On his way to seat himself at the kitchen table again, Will had tripped and nearly gone sprawling. Only Sam’s quick reflexes had saved him from a painful impact with the cold tile floor. Later he could never say which one of them had moved first, and when their lips met, it hadn’t mattered. Even a truly excellent kiss couldn’t turn off his mind though, and he drew back. “This isn’t a good idea while I’m still involved in your treatment,” he murmured, hating the fact that he had to say it, even if it was true. “And there are a few other things you should know about me before you decide we should be doing this,” he admitted.
For the first time since he woke up in the infirmary, Sam full-on grinned, and Will felt an answering grin spread across his face. At least he didn’t have to worry that he was gonna freak out.
“Yeah, I’m sure there is,” Sam agreed, without even trying to move. “But what about after I’m done treatment? I’ll tell you my secrets if you tell me yours,” he offered.
Knowing the effort it took for Sam to say that, there was really only one answer he could make. “Deal,” he agreed, giving into the impulse and leaning down for one more kiss.
It hadn’t been as simple as that. It took time for Sam to reach a point where he wanted to talk about more than his most recent trauma. The day that happened, Will knew he needed to come clean about how he knew when Sam had bad nights. He’d been chalking it up to good intuition or unrelated nightly wanderings. Now that Sam had progressed a bit in his recovery, he deserved to know the truth.
This time they decided their usual territory wouldn’t work. The kitchen tended to be a busy place during the day, and this was one conversation they didn’t need an audience for. The weather was decent and the out-of-the-way garden might have been overgrown but it was deserted, except for a lone figure already seated on the far bench.
“Thanks for coming to sit with me,” Sam told him, though his voice was so low it barely carried.
“No problem,” Will replied. “I know how it gets when the walls start feeling like they are closing in.” The Sanctuary was more of a home to him than anywhere else he’d ever lived and he was so comfortable there that sometimes it surprised him, but that didn’t mean there weren’t days he felt like he had to get out or he would go crazy. Shaking his head, he reminded himself they weren’t out here to discuss the intricacies of cabin fever.
“Look, I meant what I said before, I am always willing to listen to anything you need to tell me. But I need to tell you something this time. There’s something you don’t know about me, and it might change your mind about confiding in me, in my capacity as a psychiatrist.” Determined as he was to be honest, he felt his body start to tremble.
“I don’t see that happening, man,” Sam told him, still quiet, though his eyes showed curiosity. “Besides, I don’t talk to you because you’re a shrink. I talk to you because we’re friends. Whatever else we might be feeling our way to, we’re friends, aren’t we?”
“We are, yeah,” Will agreed, feeling a renewed surge of guilt. “That’s kind of the problem. Whatever we’re working our way towards,” he paused and carefully avoided the word relationship. “I don’t want to keep being less than honest with you.”
“Less than honest? Okay…about what?” Sam paused, and stared back rather intently. “Wait, is this where you tell me that you’re actually an abnormal?”
That startled a laugh from Will. “No,” Will answered, “I’m human, at least as far as I know.” Taking a deep breath, he began his explanation. “The thing is, I’m as human as the next guy, but I’m also different. I have these dreams.” Somehow saying it out loud seemed like it made it bigger and scarier, but he’d come too far to stop now. “I dream about things that come true sometimes, and lately, I’ve been dreaming about you. I haven’t got a clue why, but I’m pretty sure I’m sharing your nightmares. Not all of them, but a lot of them.” Sam opened his mouth to respond, but Will just kept talking. If he didn’t get it all out now, who knows how long it would take him to get up his nerve. “And the thing is, I know some of your background Sam that you didn’t tell me. Before your brother showed up here, I was dreaming about you, both of you.” Looking at his hands, clenched tightly in his lap, Will couldn’t make himself look up. He didn’t want to see the anger, or the judgment, even if he knew he deserved it.
He heard a quiet chuckle in response. “Well, of all the things I was picturing you confessing, I gotta tell ya, man, that didn’t even make the list.” Shifting slightly closer on the bench, Sam waited for a moment, obviously collecting his thoughts. “Look, I’m not thrilled about having my privacy invaded, but if it’s going to happen, I’d rather it be you than anyone else, Will. Besides, a lot of what happened to me is so hard to talk about, maybe this is just someone’s way of making it easier for me.”
The rather intense sincerity made his stomach jump, but the lack of judgment had Will looking up at last. “Wait, you’re not mad?” Oh, that was great, he sounded like a scared kid. But like it or not, the answer mattered.
Shaking his head, Sam smiled at him crookedly, showing his dimple for a moment. “Nah. I know what it’s like to have things like that happen that you don’t ask for and can’t control. And I know the last thing you need is to have someone look at you like you’re a freak just because dying changed you. And hell, who am I to judge? Most people can’t say they’ve been to hell and back and mean it literally. I can, and there isn’t anything that is going to change that. If you can live with that, then I can live with a little clairvoyance, no matter where you get it from.”
Closing the distance between them, Will paused just before touching his lips to Sam’s. “You have no idea how glad I am to hear that.” He might have said more, but the kiss went from light to intense quickly enough to focus all his attention on the heat between them. They could talk later.
***
Concluded in Part Five
Author: Xanateria
Crossover: Sanctuary/Supernatural/Buffy
See Fic Master Post for rating, warnings and author's notes.
Dean moved so that he could get a better look and felt his heart begin to pound hard enough to choke him. No, don’t get your hopes up. It probably just looks like him. That doesn’t mean it is, he told himself as firmly as he could manage. But when he looked closer, nearly beside the man, Dean fell to his knees because they wouldn’t hold him anymore. He was bruised like he’d come out on the wrong side of a long and vicious fight, his arm was at a very bad angle, and he was so skinny he was barely himself, but it was Sam. There was no doubting it, he would know his brother anywhere. And thank God or whoever was behind all of this, he had a strong, steady pulse, though he was unconscious on the ground.
It was Helen who found them a few minutes later. Unable to keep from smiling at the very personal note to their success, she didn’t try to separate the two brothers, only moved Dean over and urged him to drink some of the bottled water she offered him while she checked Sam’s vitals. “We’ll get you both down to the infirmary so he can recover in comfort as soon as we can,” she assured him, clasping his shoulder briefly, before she stood to ask one of the men to bring over a stretcher. Nodding in acknowledgment, Dean tried to say thanks, only to find his voice didn’t want to work. Magnus didn’t seem to mind, she’d already been waylaid by a staff member, who was walking with her to another grouping of new arrivals.
It worried him that Sam was unconscious. Part of him was screaming about what he had probably been through, what Dean had been through. He buried that all behind a very thick wall, and moved to follow the stretcher that Tesla and Will had picked up and were moving smoothly towards the main complex.
“He’s stable,” Will murmured reassuringly. “Hopefully, it won’t be long before he wakes up.” Nodding his thanks, Dean concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other. Now that the whole thing was over with, he has about as much energy as a spaghetti noodle.
They had just about made it to the door when a strangled exclamation from the other end of the courtyard made everyone turn. Druitt had been checking the last group of arrivals, three semi-conscious women who looked worse for wear. The tall, bald man had gone dead white and something about the look on his face made Dean’s stomach clench. He wasn’t surprised when both Will and Tesla carefully set Sam’s stretcher down to move in that direction. When John spoke, it was with a mixture of pain and absolute joy in his tone. “Helen, come here,” he directed.
Watching this play out, Dean thought the arrival of the doctor would make things clearer, but when Magnus joined them, she seemed to freeze. “It’s not possible. It can’t be,” she barely managed to say, voice choked with tears. She stumbled forward and wrapped her arms around the youngest blonde. After a moment, Druitt joined her, which was really surprising, as he hadn’t ever expected to see the menacing man show anything remotely resembling affection.
Tesla explained when he came back to pick up one end of the stretcher, gesturing to Dean to pick up the other. “Magnus and Druitt lost their daughter, Ashley, to the Cabal. It appears she has been returned,” he said, with a slight smile. Well, that explained the reaction. Dean nodded as the pieces made a clearer picture. Now they just had to hope that everyone woke up safe and sane.
Magnus had to find space for the sixty-some people in the infirmary wing. The new arrivals took up several long rooms laid out quite similarly to all the hospital wards Dean had ever been in. For convenience’s sake, Sam, Willow, and Ashley were all made as comfortable as possible in the same room.
Willow hadn’t woken up, but her vitals were stable and Henry reported she had left contingency instructions for them. Apparently, it was a simple case of overload from doing a snatch and grab of far more people than she expected. Dean didn’t see sixty as that many, but what the hell did he know about the energy involved in moving anyone with magic? According to her instructions, once her body had a chance to rest and replenish itself, and the IVs she was hooked up to balanced her electrolytes, she would be right as rain.
No one could tell him much about when any of the survivors, most importantly Sam, would wake up, so Dean pulled a chair next to Sam’s bed. It didn’t surprise him to see Druitt doing the same at Ashley’s bedside. It caught his interest when Henry moved to Willow’s bedside. It was none of his business, so he simply filed the note away and settled in to do some waiting of his own. There wasn’t much to look at in the room other than the bed and the monitoring equipment. The confirmation of Sam’s heartbeat was reassuring, but barely five minutes of listening to the muted beeps had him wishing he could pace, or turn on loud music.
A little later those who were in the best shape of the group showed signs of stabilizing, and brief periods of near consciousness, but hadn’t woken up. Striving for patience, Dean repositioned in his chair, tipping his head back to stare at the off-white ceiling. An hour after that, Big Foot brought a tray with food and blessedly hot coffee, which Dean gulped gratefully, before biting into the tasty sandwich. He wasn’t hungry, but at least eating helped kill time.
The hours and the daylight trickled away. Kate came over to Sam’s bed at one point and offered to watch him while Dean got some rest and a shower or whatever, but he declined. It just wasn’t in him to leave Sam so soon after finding him. He was half afraid that if he did, his brother would somehow go missing again.
He must have dozed off, because the next thing he knew, the sounds of a commotion in the other corner of the room had his hand groping for a gun. Seeing that Sam was still safely tucked into his bed and the monitors attached to him were quiet, he relaxed.
“Calm down, sweetheart. It’s okay, you’re home,” Magnus was saying soothingly, over at Ashley’s bed. He assumed the commotion was her waking up. He moved a bit closer, not wanting to intrude, but curious about how the process would go when Sam came to.
He couldn’t see the young woman in the bed very well, with both her mother and father in the way, but from what he could hear, she was agitated and afraid, and not yet aware that she was safe. Dean thought that was a reasonable reaction. Wherever she had been before they had pulled her back here hadn’t been pleasant.
He made sure he had his own memories of Hell firmly under control. The last thing he needed to was to be stuck in some damned total body flashback when his brother woke up and needed him. Besides, he owed these people a lot for their help. He didn’t think they would appreciate it if he began repaying them with a complete meltdown.
It took more effort than he liked, but he got his mind back to the here and now. Ashley appeared to have calmed down and come closer to consciously coherent. He could hear her muttering, though he couldn’t make out the words. He considered going closer to observe, but he figured they needed time to reconnect as a family. It wasn’t everyday a family member came back from the dead. He had reason to know how big of an adjustment that was. Waiting and watching from a distance made him twitchy, but he stayed in his chair. No one was paying him any attention.
Ashley was getting louder. “No. Stay away from me. Get away,” he heard her cry out. He gave her parents both points for smarts when they backed away to let her have space, but she remained upset. “Where am I?” She demanded. “Who are you?”
He would have eavesdropped on what they told her, but Sam became restless, muttering nonsense syllables. Everything else in the room vanished. When Sammy was in trouble, he was all that mattered.
“Wake up, bro. You’ve been asleep long enough,” Dean told him, careful to keep his tone as gentle and non-threatening as possible. Sam was going to be scared enough without anyone adding to it, even if the someone was his own brother. “It’s me, Dean,” he explained. “It’s really me, not some illusion or whatever,” he added, knowing it was going to be tough to convince Sam of the reality of his situation. In the back of his mind, Dean started contemplating how to convince him, but when he opened his eyes, Sam didn’t look scared, only confused.
“Where am I?” he asked, his voice rough, though whether it was from disuse or pain was impossible to tell.
“You’re safe, Sam,” Dean told him. “We’re with friends. With their help, we managed to get you back here.” He didn’t want to go into too much specific detail until Sam’s brain had a chance to catch up with his body. “Take it easy, man. You’ve been through a lot,” he instructed.
It took a minute, but Sam relaxed against the bed and closed his eyes. When he opened them again, it was easy to see the effort he was putting into staying calm. “I know you said your name is Dean, but who are you?” he asked.
For a moment, Dean thought he was kidding, that it was a coping mechanism gone wrong. But the confusion was complete and genuine. Resisting the urge to shake him, or yell at him, he breathed out carefully. “It’s me, Dean,” he answered. “Your brother,” he repeated.
The same confused stare, took on the first hints of fear. “You keep saying that,” Sam spoke slowly, “but I don’t know you. And you keep calling me Sam, but that’s just a name. I’m sorry, I don’t remember.”
***
Old City Sanctuary
Main Infirmary Laboratory
9:01 pm
There were so many feelings rushing through her that Helen was a bit dizzy. She had plenty of practice putting personal feelings aside in crisis, so she pushed them all to one side and went on with the work that needed her attention. Although her heart wanted to believe Ashley and Sam had been returned, her logical mind wouldn’t accept it without proof. There were swabs to be taken and samples to be scanned. With Dean’s permission, she took a sample of his blood to compare to Sam’s.
With the Big Guy’s help, she hooked both Ashley and Sam up to IVs to replace fluids and nutrients. Though it made her feel disloyal, she left the main infirmary long enough to be sure that every other person who had been rescued was resting comfortably. She focused on the job until there was no more work to be done.
Then, she sat at her daughter’s bedside and tried not to think or feel too much. When the scans came back positively identifying both of them, the room actually went dark for a moment, the relief was so great it swamped her. Without needing to be told, John guided her to a chair. He knew what the paperwork was that Will had rushed in, and he smile was so reminiscent of his old self that it was a separate stab of pain. He wasn’t his old self and she wasn’t sure that he could be again.
That pain couldn’t dim her joy. The wound she had carried since Ashley’s death, the weight of the guilt and loss, had become such a part of her that the absence of it felt strange. It didn’t seem real, and she had no doubt it wouldn’t until she could talk to her, hear her voice, see her smile, all the things that made her distinctly Ashley. Helen was enough of a realist to be waiting for the other shoe to drop. Though she hadn’t actively prayed in years she had caught herself bargaining with God, or whoever was listening while she had watched over her sleeping daughter. If they would just let Ashley wake up and be okay, she would never ask for anything else, for herself, for John, for anyone. But this wasn’t some happy ever after fairly tale.
Part of her wasn’t surprised when first Ashley and then Sam had woken no recollection of themselves or their life. The pain of that blank look had sliced through her like a blade. Willow had warned them there would be a price to pay. This must be part of it.
The important thing was they were back. Everything else was merely details. Not even in the deepest, most hidden part of herself had she considered that the spell Willow had brought to her could save her daughter. She’d had to close the door on those hopes to survive with her sanity intact.
It was a miracle, a wonderfully unexpected miracle. If the price was having Ashley without being able to know her, to get the relationship they’d shared back, Helen would find a way to live with that. She would have to, but it didn’t make the pain of the awkwardness they felt around each other any easier to deal with.
***
Old City Sanctuary
Kate Freelander’s Room
11:19 pm
The emotional highs of the week had been intense. It was no wonder she was wired. For lack of any better outlet, she tried the gym, pushing her body farther than she should have. A ride on the bike, a run on the treadmill with the inline maxed out, then free weights, followed by a session with the speed bag left her muscles aching. Then she did enough laps in the pool long enough to turn herself into a raisin. Even when she was physically exhausted, her mind wouldn’t stop turning circles. She didn’t like what they were circling. If there was one thing Kate knew, it was herself: the good, the bad, and all the in between. This time, she just didn’t want to look at how she felt.
Only a truly horrible person would be unhappy that something so fantastic happened to someone she called a friend; even if that friend happened to be her boss. She ended up alone in her room, sprawled in her usual thinking position, staring at the wall. There was no getting around it. The more it sunk in that Ashley was back, the more uncomfortable Kate felt. The entire dynamic of her home had shifted. Everyone else from the Sanctuary had a pre-existing relationship with her.
All Kate had were the rumors about her that had made the rounds of the Cabal and its affiliates. True, it was obvious that the combination of whatever the Cabal had done to her and her time elsewhere had changed her more than a little, but still. The girl-woman-was a freaking legend. Ashley’s return brought back the guilt Kate felt about what she had nearly let her ambition turn her into.
Punching the pillow, Kate reminded herself that she may have crossed some lines working for the Cabal, and a few others before them, but she’d had good reasons. She’d done good work with the Sanctuary since then. That was the problem.
Magnus had only taken her on because of necessity. Ashley’s disappearance and death had left a vacuum for Kate to fill. With Ashley back in the bosom of her family there wasn’t going to be any need for her. Kate knew he’d be needed during Ashley’s recovery period from the whole limbo thing, but if even half of what was said about Magnus’ daughter was true, she was going to land on her feet and hit the ground running.
Turning over to scowl at the ceiling, Kate tried for reason. Magnus wasn’t the sort to turf her into the street after everything. If there wasn’t a place for her in Old City anymore, she could always ask for a transfer. Hell, she could always go back to Mumbai. At least she fit it, sort of. The very thought of leaving made her eyes burn with the effort of holding back tears. Stupid to have let herself get attached to a place, or to the people in it. Now she didn’t know how to get unattached, and had no one to blame but herself.
The soft knock at the door startled her more than it should have, and she shook her head to try and clear it a little. “Yeah?” she called, hoping it wasn’t a work related crisis. The last thing an already shitty night needed was a hunt through the sewers.
“You were thinking pretty loud at dinner,” Will commented, by way of greeting as he walked in. “Thought I’d stop by and ask if you wanted to talk out whatever was bothering you.”
“Just because I’m having an off night, doesn’t mean anything is bothering me.” It came out more defensive than she would have liked, edging close to a whine. She crossed her arms over her chest and willed him to go away. Rather than bothering with a reply to her words, Will looked at her steadily, then raised his eyebrows. Letting out her breath with a huff, she tried again. “Look, I appreciate the concern, but I’m fine.”
“You’re so fine, you can barely eat and haven’t said more than two words to anyone since we did the spell,” Will answered, leaning against the wall at the end of her bed, ignoring the piles of clothes, assorted weapons, and random garbage scattered around her room without comment.
She tried a shrug. It felt forced. “I’ve got a lot on my mind.” That was true, even if it was a non-answer. She watched as Will shifted forward, and wished she had the energy to tell him off so he would just leave her in peace.
“You’re worrying over nothing,” he told her, his voice matching the knowing look he gave her. “Just because Ashley’s back doesn’t mean anyone, even Magnus, wants to go back to the way things were before she left. She’s just happy to have a second chance with her daughter. We all are. But that doesn’t mean there won’t be a place for you. None of us are going to forget everything you’ve done.” He paused, which gave her a moment to blink her eyes against some poorly timed dust, or allergies. She opened her mouth to protest.
“I don’t have to ask her, because I already know. There will always be a place here for you, for as long as you want it.” Stepping forward, he gripped her arm for a moment to make his point. “And you would know it, if you stopped being insecure long enough to consider it.” He shoved her back, gently, and was gone before she could argue. That was alright, because it meant he wasn’t there to see a few traitorous tears slip down her cheeks before she wiped them away. She was smiling when she did. That was a shrink for ya, they just always had to be right.
***
Old City Sanctuary
Main Infirmary Recovery Room
12:05 am
Henry didn’t bother asking if it was okay to relocate to the infirmary, he just set up a work station near Willow. Once he was logged on to the network and able to tell himself he was working, his mind turned to trying to figure out his reaction to the woman.
He barely knew her, yet she brought out all of his protective instincts. He caught himself wanting to hear her voice, wanting to get to know her. What made her laugh, what made her cry? The amount of power he’d seen her handle had been a surprise, but even that hadn’t put him off. His wolf side respected a female who could handle herself. It wasn’t the weirdest thing he’d seen someone do around here, not by a long shot.
After stealing a glance at Willow, Henry let his eyes move over to settle on Ashley. It was surreal, but all the requisite scans and tests had come back as positive as it gets. Magnus had explained that the amnesia was only one of the unknowns: they still didn’t know what exactly the Cabal had done with her. They knew she’d done some bad things. They were not her fault, and they’d all help her see that. That’s what you did for family.
He’d never admitted to anyone how much guilt he carried over what happened to Ashley. Magnus had been carrying enough.When you screwed up, you deserved to carry the consequences. If he had been in better control, stronger, faster, something, he would have seen to it that neither of them got grabbed when they went into the heart of Cabal territory.
The fault was on him, so were the burdens of guilt and remorse. Blinking, he swallowed the sudden lump in his throat, and then took a deep breath. With a little luck, she would remember who and what she was soon. He refused to even contemplate that Ashley might never remember. She had to, so that he could finally apologize for everything.
Given the unfinished business between them, it made more sense to be obsessing about Ashley. Instead, it was Willow he couldn’t get out of his mind. Heck, he’s rearranged his whole day so he could stay where she was, so she wouldn’t wake alone in a strange place. Women were definitely not an area he considered himself an expert in. But if he’d been through as much as she had, he wouldn’t want to be alone.
The sound of a throat clearing caught his attention and he glanced over to see Willow open her eyes and put a hand to her head. Moving carefully, so as not to startle her, he grabbed the water and aspirin that were already waiting on the table. “Here, take these,” he told her softly. “Doc said you’d wake up with a hell of a headache.”
It took a few more sips of water and another try before she was able to talk. “I feel like a whole herd of some very large wildlife just took up residence in my head,” Willow agreed. Out of consideration, he toggled a switch to dim the room lights before he settled on to the chair next to her bed.
“You had us all a bit worried. We were thinking about calling this Giles person of yours if you didn’t wake up today,” Henry told her.
“I’m fine,” Willow told him. Her pale face and eyes smudged with dark circles, said otherwise. “There was a bit more to the spell than I expected. Well, okay, a lot more. I think we managed to save over five hundred people.” Henry whistled as she continued. “Plus, I didn’t think I would get such information overload from the group,” she explained.
It took a second for his brain to catch up. “Information? How much information, and about what exactly?” he asked cautiously. No matter how much he liked her, or how appealingly cute she was, an outsider with working knowledge of the Sanctuary was a bad idea.
Genuine regret showed on her face and in her voice, but she answered honestly. “Well, I pretty much know what it is you do here, the abnormals you protect from the world. But it’s okay, I won’t tell,” she tried to reassure him. “Would it make you feel better if I told you something about myself that you aren’t supposed to know?”
It was an odd question, but the fact that she would offer made him feel a little better. “It might help,” he admitted, running a hand through his hair the way he did when he was nervous.
“Okay then,” Willow began, looking more than a little guilty. “When I’m not taking unscheduled trips to rescue large groups of people from demons, I help protect a bunch of girls who are vampire slayers. Until about a year ago, my one of best friends was one of the only vampire slayers in existence. Some really bad things happened, so we had to change that. Now there are Slayers all over the world. I help set up their bases of operations, and keep them safe with all the magical help I can give them. We fight vampires, demons, and all kinds of other monsters you probably hope never to find in your closet.” This was all delivered in rush, then she caught her breath and waited to see what he would say.
“Huh,” was all he could think of at first. Blinking, he let his brain separate out the words. He had the feeling it was lacking in all kinds of crucial details. Willow had definitely dropped him square in the middle of things he wasn’t supposed to know. Now, she was watching him carefully, and there was sadness creeping into her eyes, like she was expected denial or rejection. Henry could only think of one question. “Monsters, huh? So, how do you feel about werewolves?” he asked.
She cocked her head sideways and stared at him. “I don’t have any problem with them, as long as they’re under control. I actually dated one once, a long time ago,” she admitted. Whether due to injury or fatigue, he couldn’t say, but it took a moment longer for it to click. “Oh,” she managed, smiling slightly.
Encouraged by the smile, he tried one more question. “And would you maybe be willing to give dating another one a shot? That is, if you don’t mind techno geeks.”
This time the smile was wider and the happiness under it was obvious enough for even him to see. “I appreciate geek in a guy. I’ll explain why later, when we have a chat about your security and how to integrate some magical precautions into it,” Willow told him. “As it happens, I think I am about ready to start dating again. I don’t have the best luck at it, so you’ll have to be persistent. I hope you’re not opposed to long distance.”
Barely stopping himself from full on beaming at her, Henry settled for nodding. “Yeah, we can try.” It should have been awkward, the two of them, just staring at one and other, but instead it was comfortable. He spared a moment to wish they were spending time together in one of the guest wings, or even his room. Then his brain came around to the earlier conversation. “Wait a minute, did you say hundreds of people? How is that even possible?” he questioned.
Oh, yeah, maybe she should have glossed over the numbers, Willow realized belatedly. It was easy to forget that the Sanctuary group didn’t have the background in magic that her friends and family did, at least not yet. “We had no way of knowing the numbers until after we finished. I still can only take a guess, somewhere near five hundred or so,” Willow told him, struggling against the fatigue that was urging her to slide back into sleep.
“But we didn’t even manage to pull a full hundred of them here. We can’t just leave them out there, defenseless and not knowing who they are, can we?” The very idea offended Henry’s innate sense of fairness, and he was half way to yelling, though he didn’t seem to realize it.
Unfortunately, that didn’t mean there was anything she could do about it. “I have no way to find them,” she admitted. “Right now, I’m so drained, I couldn’t even try if I wanted to. Our society sees victims of memory loss all the time. I built enough safe guards into the spell that whoever they were, they were returned to places they felt safe. All of them are alive and well, even if they don’t know themselves. They have a chance now, to live their lives. We gave them that. It’s the best we can do, and it’s more than they had before we did this.” She was right and she knew it, but the words comforted her.
Most people who were thinking about dating got to think about what to wear, whether to kiss goodnight or other ordinary things. Then again, ordinary was overrated.
***
Old City Sanctuary
Ashley Magnus’ Rooms
9:47 am
It was strange living in her skin but no recognizing the face in the mirror when she saw it. The doctor - her mother - had told her that there was no way of knowing how much of the amnesia would be permanent. Sitting at the vanity table, brushing her hair in the bright morning sun, Ashley wondered if she couldn’t remember because she didn’t want to.
Getting out of the infirmary had taken some time; her body was battered and weak, and didn’t heal as quickly as she got the feeling that it should have. She’d been glad to go back to the rooms they said were hers, had been since childhood. Even if they weren’t familiar, they were bright and cheerful and helped keep the flashes at bay.
That’s all she got from before: flashes, shards of memories that didn’t fit together to make pictures that made sense. They were too dark, too ugly and far too violent. The muscle memory she could access proved she was no stranger to fighting, but the psychiatrist had assured her that her violence had always had a purpose, been used to defend her family and her home. He’d looked haunted when he said it. She knew it was because as much as he meant it, and wanted it to be true, he couldn’t know.
None of them, not her mother, her father, or any of the people, who claimed to be her friends, could really know what she had done when she was taken. Her time in limbo didn’t bother her as much as knowing that she had been taken, changed and used. Everyone kept telling her to give herself time. She still couldn’t figure out how she was supposed to settle back into a life she couldn’t remember. She was nothing like the pictures in the Sanctuary said she should be. When the flashes came, and she couldn’t help but feel threatened, the changes made themselves known. The first time her claws and fangs had extended, she’d ruined a shirt and nearly put a hole in her bedroom wall.
When she tried to using the gym to get rid of some of her nervous energy, she’d knocked a punching bag completely out of the ceiling, then broken a support beam when she punched the wall in frustration. All the power, but none of the control. It was terrifying.
Her mother had explained that the Sanctuary protected and helped all abnormals who asked, and only ever destroyed as a last resort, when a being was killed without cause and wouldn’t be contained, or was deemed to be suffering too greatly. When she wasn’t occupied with other things, it was impossible to forgetthat she had killed without cause, and was definitely suffering. She kept the parallels to herself, but it added to the stress.
Despite numerous questions and protests, no one would tell her anything about her life except the essentials. The shrink said it was best to let things come back in their own time. Well, screw that.
She’d gotten up early that morning and helped herself to a file from the database: her own. Just because she didn’t remember the things she’d done didn’t mean she couldn’t find out. She’d gone through the whole file, twice. It had helped, somewhat.
Slivers of cases she’d worked with her mom and the others had come back. So had a clearer picture of what she had let the Cabal turn her into. How many people had she killed on their say so?
It didn’t make sense that the spell had reached her and brought her out of whatever limbo her last teleport had left her in. She deserved to stay there. Torn between wanting to scream and cry and the urge to throw up, she stood up and headed for the door. The bright sunshine sure as hell didn’t suit her mood, but she needed to move, to walk. It beat destroying the room she had been given as a coping skill.
Caught up in her own thoughts, she forgot how much faster she could walk, and plowed into Dean on one of the paths in the garden. She muttered an apology and would have kept going, but he stepped in her way.
“You’re in a hurry,” he commented. “Everything okay?”
“Yes, I am and no, it’s not. Thanks for the talk,” Ashley told him abruptly. On the list of sins she’d committed lately, rudeness ranked pretty low. Besides, it would get him out of her way.
“You know, it’s not a good idea to just wander around that upset. You never know who might take advantage of your distraction,” Dean cautioned, looking at her closely.
Obviously, he’d missed the memo about just how capable she was at taking care of anything, or anyone that got in her way. The thought triggered a memory. Instead of seeing the lush green grass, ornamental hedges, or the man opposite her, she was back in some tall glass box of an office building.
She was slitting the throat of a security guard whose only crime had been getting in her way. The hot gush of his blood over her hands had only been an inconvenience because she would need her hands to deal with the safe and had nothing to wipe them on. She’d snuffed out his life without even blinking and her only annoyance had been the lack of a towel.
It made her wonder what kind of person she was or had been. She didn’t realize she spoke aloud.
***
Watching Ashley’s eyes go blank and far away, Dean took a careful step back to give her some space. He’d seen how hard coming back was on Sam, so he had a pretty good idea what had the lady so upset. The last thing he wanted was for her to feel threatened.
He was still near enough to hear her wonder what kind of person she was. Magnus and the others had only given him the briefest summary of what had happened to Ashley before she ended up in Purgatory. But he was an expert in guilt, especially the kind that came from knowing you had the blood of innocent people on your hands.
It wasn’t going to do her any good to bottle it all up, he determined. Sometimes these things were easier to tell to someone you didn’t know well. Those reasons skipped over the sympathy he was trying to ignore, but that was no one’s business but his.
“You’re the same kind of person you were before you for were taken,” he told her, pretending she’d intended to ask him. “Whatever happened after wasn’t your fault. You couldn’t have stopped it. They wanted you to think that you could have.”
The words hit the mark, he could tell, because her face went even paler and her hands began to shake. “You didn’t know me before, you don’t know me now, and you sure as hell don’t have a clue what you’re talking about,” she brushed him off, anger radiating off her in waves.
He took a second to think about it, wondering if he wanted to share something so personal. Ashley was right, he didn’t know her but she’d fought hard to recover. None of what happened to her was any fairer than what happened to Sam.
Sam was still distancing himself from everyone, so Dean couldn’t help him. Maybe, he could help her. Maybe he could help himself.
“I could tell you, to the second, how long it takes to torture someone until they break. I could tell you that about more people than I can count easily,” he told her, pitching his voice just loud enough to reach her, trusting the flat, matter of fact tone to do the rest.
It didn’t look like she was entirely willing to listen, but she stopped walking away. “You don’t understand,” she argued.
“I understand that instead of being thankful for the second chance your friends - your family-bought for you, you’re busy pissing it away feeling sorry for yourself.” It was harder than he should have pushed, probably. But he’d always been a go big or go home kind of guy.
Color washed into her cheeks and her head snapped up. “Go to hell,” she screamed at him.
“Been there,” he told her, “but it didn’t stick. So here we are.” He waited until she met his eyes, and let her that he meant it literally. “Look, I’m not arguing that what happened to you, to Sam, to everyone else, didn’t suck. But you can’t live your life dwelling on all the shit you did wrong. You make up for it as best you can while you live whatever is left of your life.” It wasn’t much, as philosophies went, but it was all he had to offer.
Still, maybe it got through at least a little, because she mustered up a smirk. “That’s pretty pathetic, you know,” she told him.
“If you can critique my technique, that must mean you can do better,” he smirked right back, feeling a spark of accomplishment as they walked down the path. If there was another spark of hope that maybe he could transfer this to helping Sam, well nobody had to know that but him. “Do yourself a favor, Ashley. Go do something that will get your mind off the anger. Just because you’re carrying it around doesn’t make it a good idea to focus on it. Trust me on this one,” he added, adding his most persuasive smile, since it usually helped him get what he wanted.
Ashley didn’t look impressed. They were still walking, albeit a bit slower, and she turned to look at him thoughtfully. “Don’t ask me why, but I do,” she murmured, shifting to look where she was going. “You’re probably not the trustworthy type, and I get the feeling it could get me into all kinds of trouble, but I do trust you.”
How things had gone from angry to light and then so serious so quickly was a mystery but Dean sensed that he needed to step carefully, and it had nothing to do with where he was walking. “Look, Ashley, I’m no saint. Some of what I’ve done is pretty horrible,” he admitted, fighting back the despair those bleak memories always brought. Stopping abruptly, he put his hands on her arms to stop her. “But I’m not going to hurt you. Whatever else you might be having trouble believing right now, that’s the truth.” Though his voice had gone lower and rougher than usual, he managed to get the words out, despite the pounding of his heart.
Though he could feel her trembling, Ashley seemed in control of herself as she faced him. Her eyes were a bit wider than normal and she was breathing a bit quickly, but they had just been arguing. They stood like that for another handful of heartbeats, just long enough for the silence to start making him edgy. Then she shifted until her slender body was draped on him, barely giving him enough time to shift to accept her weight before she kissed him, deep and wet and definitely not shy about getting what she wanted. “I believe you,” she murmured when she pulled back. “But I think that means we might both be in trouble.”
Tangling a hand in her hair, Dean tugged gently so that he had better access to kiss his way along her jaw line and throat and then returning to her lips. “That’s alright. I’m an expert in trouble,” he whispered, before his mouth was much too busy to talk.
***
Old City Sanctuary
Will Zimmerman’s Room
1:10 am
In the days following the spell, Will expected to be busy. With so many partial or total amnesia victims, it was only natural that there was a higher demand for his professional services. Helen Magnus might have been one of the most formidable woman he’d ever known, but she was still a mother who had lost, and then found, her only child. It took some juggling to make sure he had enough time to check on her as often as he liked.
He enjoyed the chance to use his skills, and he was thrilled that Ashley had been returned to them. It was a little overwhelming but he was handling it the same way he always did: by making sure that everyone else was handling it. As an added bonus, he got to see Henry and Willow feeling their way through the beginning stages of what looked to be a serious long distance relationship.
The one thing he hadn’t counted on was that his dreams continued. Now, instead of dreaming of Dean and Sam and their various hunts, he was dreaming of Sam, and what he assumed were the man’s very private nightmares. With the crisis over, there was no good reason that he would still be being sent dreams. The only thing he’d been able to come up with was that there was some kind of message that he just wasn’t getting.For the life of him, he couldn’t figure out what it was. He had to admit it made him uncomfortable to be eavesdropping on such private moments, even if it was unintentional.
It didn’t help that the more they spent time together, while he tried to help Sam through what was understandably a difficult time, the more he liked him. He was dealing with a situation that would be enough to make anyone lash out, or sink into melancholy. Yet Sam was doing his level best to get on with his life. Given what he’d observed of the dynamic between the two brothers, it actually surprised Will that they were still staying at Sanctuary. Whatever the reason, he was glad of they stayed.
Sam still had large gaps in his memory, and some fairly major injuries. But as long as he was being honest with himself, Will had to admit his interest in Sam went beyond that of a doctor for his patient. He’d caught himself thinking more and more about the man, even before he’d started dreaming again.
Sighing, he slid out of bed and pulled on an ancient sweater to go with his admittedly baggy flannel sleep pants. If he was wrong and he was just being a shade too empathetic or something then he could always get a snack to make getting up worthwhile. If he was right, and Sam had just finished the nightmare he had just experienced, then maybe he could help. He was already moving before it occurred to him that he had absolutely no explanation for why he would be looking for company this time of night. It wasn’t like he could just knock on the door of Sam’s room at this hour to chat. Still, he kept moving. There was no way he was going to be able to sleep and he hadn’t gotten this far on his intuition to stop listening to it now.
He padded through the guest wing first, to see if he was wrong after all. Sam’s door was open and the lights were off. Continuing on, he pondered where the other man might be, letting his feet take him wherever they felt like. He ended up headed into the kitchen, the pool of light spilling out the doors answered his question. “Guess it’s snack time after all,” he muttered to himself. Quietly, he walked over to the coffeemaker, and helped himself to a cup. It was fresh enough that he knew the Big Guy must have made a point of making more recently, in case of wandering insomniacs. He had to appreciate the consideration, as he lifted the pot to carry it over to the table. “Hey.” He tipped the pot towards Sam as he got his attention.
Nodding tiredly, Sam attempted a smile, and held up his own mug. “Sure why not?” he asked. “Not like I’m going back to sleep.”
Will couldn’t ask for a more perfect opening than that. Dropping into another one of the chairs, he made sure to keep his tone even when he spoke. “Rough night?”
Another tired nod was Sam’s answer, but Will was encouraged he was even willing to admit to that much. Looking without it appearing that he was studying his subject closely took a very specific skill set. He’d had a lot of practice, so he buried his face in his mug, and took note of the signs of stress and strain in the other man. More specifically, he noted the signs of internal conflict. That only left the question of what Sam was fighting with himself about, but that wasn’t hard to guess either.
“I know you have no reason to trust me,” he began slowly, working around his point. “But I don’t mind listening, and you don’t have to worry about burdening me with whatever it is that you can’t stop thinking about.” He kept his tone reasonable, and tried to ignore how much he hoped it worked.
Sam looked at him sharply, but said nothing, so he tried again. “Look, I know your brother’s been through some kind of trauma and that you worry about this all being too much of a reminder for him.” That got him another look, this one more intense, and an eyebrow raised in question. Shrugging, Will shook his head. “He didn’t tell me, if that’s what you’re wondering. I read people, pay attention, that’s all.” It didn’t sit well that he had to skirt around his other source of information, but Sam was in no shape to talk about prophetic dreams, no matter who starred in them. Giving himself a mental shake, Will refocused on what was in front of him. “I know a little bit about the kinds of things you used to do,” he said, carefully casual, hoping the assumption would be that Magnus had told him. “I get that you’re not the most talkative. I got that much from the sessions you’ve allowed us to have.” Tipping back in his chair, Will met Sam’s eyes, letting him see the sympathy, the sincerity and how much he really did want to understand. “All I’m saying is, whatever you might need to get off your chest, I’m willing to listen.”
And still there was no answer.
They sat in silence that felt comfortable, drinking coffee for a long few moments. Swallowing his disappointment, Will shifted his weight to stand. The least he could do was not push, or pressure. As Will was about to force himself out of the room, Sam spoke. “I just don’t know what’s real anymore,” he admitted, voice gone rough and raw with a depth of pain that was hard to listen to. “I heard so many lies, saw so many horrible things that it just seems like none of this is real. I hear everyone telling me that the ordeal is over,” he continued with a rising bitterness. “But it’s not over. All of it, every obscenity, it’s still here,” he explained, tapping a finger to his forehead. “I can’t break out of it, and I don’t even know if all of it was real.”
“Well, without knowing the details, I would say that if you have to carry the memories, that’s real enough. Like it or not, you’re stuck with it now.” Will moved back to his chair and sat down, tilting his head as he considered the problem.
“Damn right,” Sam agreed, with a bitter laugh. He shifted the subject then, and they talked about the generic details of trauma recovery for a bit, but when Will went back to bed, it was with the sense that both of them might actually be able to sleep.
That night’s discussion set the pattern for the next few days. Each time Will had a nightmare, he would get up, and go for a walk, each time finding Sam. Sometimes they only talked for a few minutes, more about generalities than anything else. Other times he did more listening than talking, as Sam spoke of things that worried him, or details that he wished he could forget. Though he used some of his psychiatric skills, it was less about that than simply being present, and hearing what Sam needed to say. Sometimes they simply sat together and didn’t say much at all. That was alright though, Will remembered enough times of his own that he would have given anything not to be alone. Spending time with Sam wasn’t exactly a hardship.
The kiss was more accidental than anything. On his way to seat himself at the kitchen table again, Will had tripped and nearly gone sprawling. Only Sam’s quick reflexes had saved him from a painful impact with the cold tile floor. Later he could never say which one of them had moved first, and when their lips met, it hadn’t mattered. Even a truly excellent kiss couldn’t turn off his mind though, and he drew back. “This isn’t a good idea while I’m still involved in your treatment,” he murmured, hating the fact that he had to say it, even if it was true. “And there are a few other things you should know about me before you decide we should be doing this,” he admitted.
For the first time since he woke up in the infirmary, Sam full-on grinned, and Will felt an answering grin spread across his face. At least he didn’t have to worry that he was gonna freak out.
“Yeah, I’m sure there is,” Sam agreed, without even trying to move. “But what about after I’m done treatment? I’ll tell you my secrets if you tell me yours,” he offered.
Knowing the effort it took for Sam to say that, there was really only one answer he could make. “Deal,” he agreed, giving into the impulse and leaning down for one more kiss.
It hadn’t been as simple as that. It took time for Sam to reach a point where he wanted to talk about more than his most recent trauma. The day that happened, Will knew he needed to come clean about how he knew when Sam had bad nights. He’d been chalking it up to good intuition or unrelated nightly wanderings. Now that Sam had progressed a bit in his recovery, he deserved to know the truth.
This time they decided their usual territory wouldn’t work. The kitchen tended to be a busy place during the day, and this was one conversation they didn’t need an audience for. The weather was decent and the out-of-the-way garden might have been overgrown but it was deserted, except for a lone figure already seated on the far bench.
“Thanks for coming to sit with me,” Sam told him, though his voice was so low it barely carried.
“No problem,” Will replied. “I know how it gets when the walls start feeling like they are closing in.” The Sanctuary was more of a home to him than anywhere else he’d ever lived and he was so comfortable there that sometimes it surprised him, but that didn’t mean there weren’t days he felt like he had to get out or he would go crazy. Shaking his head, he reminded himself they weren’t out here to discuss the intricacies of cabin fever.
“Look, I meant what I said before, I am always willing to listen to anything you need to tell me. But I need to tell you something this time. There’s something you don’t know about me, and it might change your mind about confiding in me, in my capacity as a psychiatrist.” Determined as he was to be honest, he felt his body start to tremble.
“I don’t see that happening, man,” Sam told him, still quiet, though his eyes showed curiosity. “Besides, I don’t talk to you because you’re a shrink. I talk to you because we’re friends. Whatever else we might be feeling our way to, we’re friends, aren’t we?”
“We are, yeah,” Will agreed, feeling a renewed surge of guilt. “That’s kind of the problem. Whatever we’re working our way towards,” he paused and carefully avoided the word relationship. “I don’t want to keep being less than honest with you.”
“Less than honest? Okay…about what?” Sam paused, and stared back rather intently. “Wait, is this where you tell me that you’re actually an abnormal?”
That startled a laugh from Will. “No,” Will answered, “I’m human, at least as far as I know.” Taking a deep breath, he began his explanation. “The thing is, I’m as human as the next guy, but I’m also different. I have these dreams.” Somehow saying it out loud seemed like it made it bigger and scarier, but he’d come too far to stop now. “I dream about things that come true sometimes, and lately, I’ve been dreaming about you. I haven’t got a clue why, but I’m pretty sure I’m sharing your nightmares. Not all of them, but a lot of them.” Sam opened his mouth to respond, but Will just kept talking. If he didn’t get it all out now, who knows how long it would take him to get up his nerve. “And the thing is, I know some of your background Sam that you didn’t tell me. Before your brother showed up here, I was dreaming about you, both of you.” Looking at his hands, clenched tightly in his lap, Will couldn’t make himself look up. He didn’t want to see the anger, or the judgment, even if he knew he deserved it.
He heard a quiet chuckle in response. “Well, of all the things I was picturing you confessing, I gotta tell ya, man, that didn’t even make the list.” Shifting slightly closer on the bench, Sam waited for a moment, obviously collecting his thoughts. “Look, I’m not thrilled about having my privacy invaded, but if it’s going to happen, I’d rather it be you than anyone else, Will. Besides, a lot of what happened to me is so hard to talk about, maybe this is just someone’s way of making it easier for me.”
The rather intense sincerity made his stomach jump, but the lack of judgment had Will looking up at last. “Wait, you’re not mad?” Oh, that was great, he sounded like a scared kid. But like it or not, the answer mattered.
Shaking his head, Sam smiled at him crookedly, showing his dimple for a moment. “Nah. I know what it’s like to have things like that happen that you don’t ask for and can’t control. And I know the last thing you need is to have someone look at you like you’re a freak just because dying changed you. And hell, who am I to judge? Most people can’t say they’ve been to hell and back and mean it literally. I can, and there isn’t anything that is going to change that. If you can live with that, then I can live with a little clairvoyance, no matter where you get it from.”
Closing the distance between them, Will paused just before touching his lips to Sam’s. “You have no idea how glad I am to hear that.” He might have said more, but the kiss went from light to intense quickly enough to focus all his attention on the heat between them. They could talk later.
***
Concluded in Part Five