The more I learn about Sam, the less I know what to think of him.

He'd told me all about demons and stuff over the seven hours we spent on the road today, but to be honest I didn't understand much. There were too many names to remember, too many 'levels' and 'realms' and too many rules. In the end, I gave up trying to learn anything and just listened. It kept him busy, and he's got a nice voice.

The important thing, as far as I'm concerned, is that Sam can see the damn things and tell if a person is possessed or not. That's good enough for me.

There's been no sign of trouble since the diner, but we've stuck to back roads and we've barely stopped all day.

My truck already stands out, and with a busted window and a few bullet holes, it'll be hard for anyone who's looking for it to miss. I need to get it fixed as soon as possible, so, when our route took us through this little hamlet and I'd spotted the garage with the sweet pickup out front, I knew it was time to call it a day.

I can tell Sam is nervous about stopping, but I haven't had a good rest in three days, and I'm determined to sleep in a real bed tonight—demons be damned.

Now that we've settled in, I figure we might as well get some supplies and some things for Sam.

Sure, it's not my habit to shell out cash for a guy I just met, but Sam is different. He needs me, and I want to help.

This town is small—barely a few streets—but it has a thrift shop, and after making sure it's demon-free, we go in and manage to find Sam a few decent outfits. The rest of what we need I get from a drugstore nearby.

As we're walking back to the motel, shopping bags in hand, my eyes are drawn to a little street-corner pub, and I propose a detour. Sam ensures it's possession-free, and then I treat myself to curly fries, a cheeseburger, and a rich, dark stout.

Not exactly heart-healthy, but no one lives forever, right?

Sam orders a grilled-cheese and a cola, and we pick a small table near the back, away from the window.

When the server brings our food, I eye him with suspicion—he's not the same as the one who took our order—but Sam shakes his head in reassurance. Not a demon this time. Just a waiter.

"Here you go, handsome," he says, setting my plate down with a wink. "Enjoy."

"Oh. Uh, thanks," I say, looking up in surprise.

He flashes me a bright smile, and I'm almost certain Sam's eyes flash red a second later, but it might be a trick of the light.

"Name's Carlos," the waiter says. "My pleasure to serve you this evening. If you need anything, just...give me a call." He winks again and saunters away, and I find myself checking him out. He's looks to be in his late-twenties, has long dark hair in a pony-tail, a medium-complexion, and a nice face.

"Is that your type?" Sam asks, and I look over to find him watching me with an unhappy turn to his mouth.

"No, er. Not really," I say. "I was just surprised. People don't usually peg me for gay at first sight."

Sam rolls his eyes. "I don't think he did. He just took a chance because you're hot."

"I am?"

"Well...yeah."

He blushes, a light pink flush spreading across his cheeks. It's adorable, and I clear my throat and take a drink of beer to hide my smile.

Unlike at breakfast, the service here is almost too good, and after the fourth time Carlos stops by to check on us, Sam tells him "we're fine" with a tone that clearly translates as "fuck off," and he leaves us alone until we've finished our meal.

When he brings the check, though, I notice he's written his name and number on my copy of the receipt.

"'Carlos', eh?" Sam smirks. "You gonna answer that?"

"Nah," I shrug, leaving the receipt on the table along with a nice tip. "I'm not after a casual fling, and we won't be here long enough for anything else."

"But otherwise...you might?" he asks, as we leave and start walking back to the motel.

I consider for a moment before answering. "No," I say. "Probably not,"

"Why?" Sam frowns. "He's hot and clearly into you."

I don't answer, and he doesn't press.

Ten minutes later, we're back at the motel, and so much time has passed that I think maybe he forgot about it, and will let the issue drop. No such luck, as it turns out.

"You should've kept his number," he comments, dumping bags of clothes on his bed. "I mean, you never know."

I take a long breath, studying the awful, confetti-themed carpet at my feet. I've been thinking about how to say this, or if I even should, but Sam is leaving me little choice.

"Maybe I look like the kind of guy who goes after anything that moves," I say slowly, "but I'm not. Not anymore, at least. My last relationship ended almost two years ago, and...I'm still not ready to try again."

"Your boy broke your heart?" Sam asks, halting his inventory to look up at me.

"No. It was my fault," I say, wiping a hand over my mouth. "I hurt him."

"So you found something better, you mean?"

"No," I say quickly. "There was no one better. That's not what I mean. I mean, I hurt him."

Sam stares at me a moment, startled. "Like...physically?"

I nod. "Just once. But like he said, once was more than enough. And he wasn't the first. I'd done it before."

I take another breath and scrub my fingers through my hair.

"It's like, I get to a point in a relationship where the other person knows me pretty well, and I just can't believe that they still like me anyway. I feel like they shouldn't—like I have to make them hate me as much as I..." I trail off, leaving the rest unsaid.

"So...you hurt them?" he asks quietly.

I nod again, feeling shame burn my face and sting my eyes, but refusing to look away from him. It seems like Sam likes me for some reason, and he needs to understand why that's a bad idea.

"Sometimes when I lose my temper, or if I drink too much, I talk with my fists. You know the Form you take when you Shift reflects your true nature?" I ask, trying hard to conceal the cracks in my voice.

He shakes his head, but I go on anyway.

"Ever since I first Shifted and took the form of a bear, I've been afraid it means I'm just a stupid brute. That it means...something inside me is bad."

"But, bears are really smart," Sam says, frowning. "They're like, really resourceful, and playful, too. I mean, if you were an alligator or something I'd be worried," he smiles. "I watched a lot of nature shows the last few years."

I look up at him, knowing my eyes must be red with buried tears.

"Yeah? Well, I've only met one other Shifter who took a bear form. He was my boss when I was working to get my contractor's license. At first, it was such a relief. Another bear, and a decent guy. And then," I take a breath and run my hands over my hair, "he got arrested for all kinds of terrible shit—not the least of which was murdering is first wife."

Sam frowns at me. "Ian, just because he was a bad guy, doesn't mean that you're bad."

I cast him a glance. "I hurt people, Sam. People I love. People I care about. They get hurt either by me or because of me, and I'm pretty sure that's bad."

He looks like he wants to argue, but I go on before he can.

"That's what I'm going to Alaska for. There's a clan of Shifters up there who are all bears. I want to meet them—to understand what it is that makes us take that shape. Maybe if I see it with my own eyes—good people, with the same nature as me—I'll be able to forgive myself for my mistakes, and maybe even convince myself that I won't make them again."

Sam regards me with his head tilted slightly to one side. "I don't know, Ian. I've seen a lot of bad people, and you don't look like one to me."

His reassurance carries the lure of some sweet drug, and I want it bad.

I just can't let myself have it.

"Like I said, I hurt people I love," I snap. "Not random kid-demons I barely know. Anyway, I'd rather be alone the rest of my life than hurt someone again. So no, I wouldn't call 'Carlos' even if I wanted to."

I stare at him a moment and see that he looks suitably upset—as well he should after learning the guy he picked to save him is no knight in shining armor after all.

"I'm taking a shower," I say, and retreat to the cramped, mildew-scented bathroom to do just that. When I finish, Sam is sitting on his bed, watching TV. He takes his turn at the shower, and comes out dressed in nothing but a pair of underwear and a tank top.

I don't know what I expected—pajamas, or something, even though we didn't buy any—but he takes me off guard and my eyes go on a little journey before my higher brain functions can stop them.

He's not tall—not compared to my six-four frame—but he's trim and compact, his skin looks almost impossibly smooth, and he's got barely any body hair. I feel like a ginger beast by comparison. His form is graceful, and his beauty lands somewhere just to the masculine side of androgyny.

He looks back at me—dark, lash-veiled eyes flicking up to meet mine—and his pink lips part, as though he, too, is taken by surprise.

I feel a shock like a little bolt of lightning through my soul.

And then he laughs, breaking whatever spell he'd been weaving.

"Gotcha," he smirks, and flops onto his bed. "Although..." he adds, "you know if you want this, it's all yours." He trails his fingers up his own leg to his hip and across his taut stomach.

"You said you would stop that," I remind him, feeling almost angry. "So stop it."

"Fine. But damn, you're no fun," he says, lying back with puff of frustration.

"There are other ways to have fun, you know," I grumble.

"Yeah like what?"

"Fuck, I don't know. You gotta find that shit out for yourself. Where your passions lie—all that crap." I lie back on my own bed and turn out my light.

"You'll help me though, right?" Sam asks, quietly. "I mean...I don't think I know where to start."

I don't answer right away, letting the silence settle between us like a curtain. Finally, I let out the breath I've been holding and answer him.

"Sure," I say, "I'll help you."

"Thanks, Ian. You're a good...friend," he says softly.

I make a noncommittal noise in return and close my eyes.

But the vision that was planted in my brain—as the song says—still remains, and I find myself in a very uncomfortable state.

A hard pinch and a good mental shake take care of it though, and pretty soon I fall asleep, listening to the quiet drone of the TV as Sam sits up late.