Title: You
Rating: PG-13
Pairing/Character(s): Leah/Jake, Leah/Sam, Emily/Sam
Word Count: ~3,100
Warnings/Spoilers: Spoilers for The Guide Triology thru "Dalet" of "Manners;" harsh language, underage sex, and infidelity
Disclaimer: All characters, situations, quotes et al are properties of their respective owners and I am merely using them under Title 17 of the US Code, § 107, aka the Fair Use Doctrine, without intents to infringe upon or defame anyone's legal rights. It wouldn't be worth the cost to sue me anyway.  
Summery: Sam's thoughts on a certain someone... Set during "Dalet" and "He" in The Guide universe, but can easily stand alone.


Thoughts of a Werewolf

"Are you gone and onto someone new? I needed somewhere to hang my head without your noose...
I was too weak to give in, too strong to lose. My heart is under arrest again, but I break loose.
My head is giving me life or death, but I can't choose. I swear I'll never give in; I refuse.
Is someone getting the best, the best, the best, the best of you?"


You can't know how hard you make this for me. If you did, you wouldn't do this – even you aren't that cruel. You aren't the same person you were then, I know that, I know that it's my fault, but what could I do? I was always weak, too weak for you.

You were the strong one, with plans. Dreams. And I promised you they'd come true. I never dreamed big, like you. The Rez was all I wanted. It was enough for me, but I promised all the same.

Maybe that's why things worked out like they did. You resented me for making you stay, even though it was your choice to stay. I could see it in your eyes every time you looked at me... I remember the night I snuck into your room – I remember all the nights, and there were many, but I remember this night in particular – right before things fell apart.

I remember that too. I remember how you did not look to greet me – but that was normal. Who else would sneak into your room through your bedroom window in the middle of the night? I had ideas... but you were always too blind to see the effect you have on people – but instead were focused on the books and notes spread across your desk. It was exam week. You'd be graduating soon.

You were nose deep in a history book, holding the end of your pen between your teeth. It might've been the sexiest thing I've ever seen. That's why I came to stand behind you, so you would not see, and placed my hands over your eyes. You jumped then, in a loud whisper, not wanting to wake your parents or your brother, said, "Sam! What're you doing here? I told you I needed to study."

"I had to see you," I said, "wanted to wish you luck."

"I'll need luck if I don't get a chance to go over all this. I've two exams tomorrow and I haven't even begun to go over English yet." You jabbed your pen in the direction of a huge anthology before bringing it back to your mouth, holding it like one of those cigarette holders you see in old-fashioned movies. The kind you never watched. You had broken into peals of laughter a month before while your English class was watching Jane Eyre. It earned you a week's worth of detentions.

Turning and turning in the widening gyre, the falcon cannot hear the falconer; things fall apart; the centre cannot hold; mere anarchy is loosed upon the world, the blood-dimmed tide is loosed and everywhere the ceremony of innocence is drowned... I remember that was the poem the page was open to. There was a doodle of a wolf on the page, or maybe a dog – something with four legs and a tail, anyway. I think that's why I remember.

You hadn't asked where I'd been the last two weeks. I couldn't have told you if you had. Werewolf. You'd never have believed me. Now look at you...

No, I want to remember that night. I managed to distract you long enough to pull you onto your bed, and then...

No, I don't want to remember. You tried to hide it, I know you did, but I could see it in your eyes. Such warm, chocolate eyes. You were never good at hiding your feelings... and they were screaming at me, though you tried so very hard, Is that it?

I knew it was over then. Or maybe a few moments later, when you pulled your clothes back on and went back to your desk, back to studying. I don't remember that part clearly, only that I was so in love with you... and you obviously weren't with me. I had to leave, before I phased in front of you and you knew the truth...

I racked my brain trying to think of ways I could get you to love me – I convinced myself it was honestly okay, that you would learn to, that I could live with that – but you never answered the phone, or came to the door, and then you went to your cousin's wedding on the Makah Rez...

I followed you. You didn't know, because you couldn't have been looking for an overgrown wolf even if you thought someone was following you. Your Uncle Eric's house was in the woods and I heard you talking... awkward... empty... meaningless... as if our making love had meant nothing to you. It hurt so bad to hear you say such things! I would do anything for you, but you never gave me a chance. I went back to La Push still hopeful. Old Quil had told me the legends, and I'd felt a pull into the room where you were talking to your cousin. I thought it meant we were meant to be together.

I remember going to your house with flowers. I remember being elated when the door opened, expecting you to be wanting to see me again. I remember seeing her – your cousin, Emily. I remember the flowers dropping and feeling the world snap into place around her. You were all but forgotten.

Until you found us on your couch. And then I could only think of how sorry I was I'd hurt you. Maybe if I hadn't followed you, maybe if I hadn't seen that look in your eyes that night, maybe I could have fought it. The imprinting. Maybe I should have.

I came back that night, you know. It was late and your window was open. From the woods I could see you lying on your bed in the dark, listening to the mopiest CD you owned. I was going to come in and beg you to forgive me, maybe even to take me back so we could fight this thing together... I was disgusted with myself. You knew how I felt about my dad, how I never wanted to turn out like him. Yet here I had... I would tell you the truth. Yes, that was it. I'd tell you the truth and you'd forgive me and things could be as they were.

Then your bedroom door opened, and, after my eyes adjusted to the bright light beyond, I could see your brother shut off the CD player. "I'm not going to let you mope in your room for the rest of your life because Sam's a cold-hearted bastard and Emily's a whore," he said, surprising me that he knew such words. He was a freshman then and, as always, the most annoyingly happy person you could find. He is your brother, though, so he's probably heard a lot worse.

"I'm not moping," you said, throwing a pair of socks in his general direction. "I'm trying to figure out why I'm not feeling sad enough to mope. Now get the fuck out of my room, douche, and go back to watching cartoons."

The socks never hit your brother. He caught them. You know who I mean. He'd been standing in your doorway, and if you'd seen the look he'd given you then – well, given your history with romance movies, maybe you wouldn't have known it for what it was. I did, though. And I knew he loved you. He would kill me for hurting you if you asked him. Maybe he didn't know it yet himself, but he did. And maybe I was feeling cruel, wondering why I was wasting my time on you when it was so obvious you didn't love me and so much easier just to fall into the imprint... Well, he could have you! I thought. And I went back to Emily. Who, at least, loved me. That was more than you've ever done.

Months passed. You were getting better. The pack was getting larger, even though the Cullens had gone. Then he phased, and I couldn't begrudge him that. He was the rightful Alpha, but never tried to take my place. I tried to be kind to him, to like him, because he loved you, even when he thought he was in love with the Sawn girl. You can only see things hidden that deep when they're hidden deeper in you.

Then you and your brother phased. You were so angry. You hated me. You made it so easy to hate you for not loving me, for not fighting for me, maybe I took it too far. We never asked to share minds.

You left, though. You left. With him. You couldn't have known it was easier for me, when I at least knew you were safe and healthy and, if not exactly happy, not terrible either. You couldn't have known how I feared I'd missed something, that you'd already given in to him. I had done my best by him and this was how he repaid me? I hoped if I pointed out his crush on the vampire girl, his denial of his heritage, his failures, you'd come back to me. Futile, I know, but I still hoped. Even when you told me you were with him, I hoped.

And now here you are, in my kitchen, talking to your cousin like nothing ever happened between us. Like I wasn't even a blip in your life. If you knew how hard this was for me, you wouldn't do this to me. Not even you are that cruel. But you were always blind to the effect you have on people. Brady and Colin were half-in-love with you when you left with him. They've convinced the pups you're a goddess, not that it took much convincing. I could tell you right now everything I was thinking, feeling and you'd laugh in my face and think I was joking with you. You hurt so badly.

"Me?" you say so easily, so lightly, it burns for me to think how you can love him when he's the bloodsucker's pet, when he's never loved you even half so much as I still do. He's just a boy. A child. I could've cared for you. I could've made you happy, if only you let me. " I'm trying to convince my cousin she doesn't need to throw me a baby shower. I don't want one, don't need one, and any party without vodka is a party I don't want to attend."

It doesn't take me long to catch the hidden meaning in your words. Baby shower. Baby. You've let him touch you. You liked him touching you. What's he got that I didn't have, tell me that would you? Because of him you're living in the woods and being fed by vampires. Real love is safety and security and-

You're talking again, talking about leeches like you care about them. Like they're anything short of murderers. You hated them worse than anyone, once. Now you're friends with them, because of him. You're telling me you're somehow, magically, pregnant with his children. Plural. When we were together, you told me you hated children, never wanted any. How things really have changed...

I want to hate you. I really do. I want to love Emily with all my heart, but you're the wolf in the room. And now you're his wife, the mother of his children, and I want to hate you but I'm busy breaking inside. I don't understand what I did wrong. I don't know how you can be with him.

"...But they're just like people. Some are Hitler-evil and taken care of, and some are Princess-Di-good, and some are bitches like me or and others are assholes like you..." you say, and I want to tell you maybe, if you weren't such a selfish bitch, we would still be together. You wouldn't have had to risk your life for vampires. We could've been happy together, I want to tell you, if only you had let us.

What I say, though, is, "But they still kill people. And they'll kill more, be it on accident or to change more of them or because they're not decent and how are we supposed to abide by that? Kill here on the peninsula or across the country or across the world, if we have the power to stop it-!"

You're not one for reason, though. "Power! Is that all you ever fucking think about? Power over your pack? Over La Push? Over me-?" you yell back.

"What's that supposed to mean?" I ask, and you tell me, mocking everything I did for you. "Don't even begin to bring that up a-" again, I don't think I could stand it. I loved you, I still do, and look at you now. Look at what I've done to you.

"I wasn't the one who fucking brought it up in the first place!"

"Me? You come into my house smelling like him-" and you expect me to think straight? When you come into the room, I can't think clearly at all. Is it too much to ask that you don't flaunt everything I've lost like this?

"God, you making this into another Alpha pissing contest? 'Cause Jake sure isn't playing, and I'm the hell not..." This isn't about him. It's about you. It's always ever been about you.

But that, of course, isn't what I say. You're screaming and yelling at me, not letting me talk at all, but it's still only about you.

This is my last chance. I know it. I've blown every other opportunity I've had to make this right. I shouldn't have done what I did to you. I should've fought for you. I should've found a way to make you love me. You won't listen to me, so I have to show you, but you look like you're about to bolt, so I throw myself at you, and, for a moment, its like no time has passed. You're warm, even to me, and you feel so soft and perfect and you taste so right that you're breath is like water for a dying man. Your hands are even coming up to wrap around my neck, like before-

"What the fuck Uley!" you yell, pushing me away with strength you certainly hadn't had before. Then, more quietly, when if I knew you at all I'd've thought you'd only get louder, "I don't know what the hamster-fucking hell is wrong with you, but get a grip on it. I am not yours. I will never be yours. And, all that time ago, when we were dating, I wasn't yours then either. You touch me again and I swear to God that they'll never find the pieces."

"It doesn't matter," I have to make you understand, no matter how much it hurts to hear you say these things, "you can't be with him. He's wrong. He gave up the Alpha. He gave up his heritage. He protects bloodsuckers. You can't be with him. You just can't."

I search your face, hoping you understand, that you'll listen to reason for once in your life. You have to know what you do to me. You have to know how much this hurts, to see the disgust in your eyes, the hatred written all-over your face. I wonder how I could have ever loved a girl as cruel as you.

...Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold; mere anarchy is loosed upon the world, the blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere the ceremony of innocence is drowned; the best lack all conviction, while the worst are full of passionate intensity.

I'm the one feeling empty now you've taken my last hope from me. I try to say something, anything, that'll make you stay, but you're running out the door now, little red riding hood realizing who's wearing her grandmother's clothes.

But I'm getting married to your cousin in a month's time and you've fallen in love with someone else. What is there that I can say to keep you here?

You make it so hard to love you.

"Is someone getting the best, the best, the best, the best of you?
Has someone taken your faith? Its real, the pain you feel.
The life, the love you'd die to heal. The hope that starts the broken hearts.
You trust. You must – Confess.
Is someone getting the best, the best, the best, the best of you?"
Foo Fighters "Best of You"


  • Current Mood: discontent
  • Current Music: Foo Fighters "Best of You"