∆Sammie's POV∆

Sammie and Angela hadn't cooked together in quite a while, come to think of it. She really missed just hanging out with her. Now that she was training all night with Samuel, she was too tired to go visit. This afternoon had been nice, once the dust had settled. Angela had helped shake Sammie and Alex out of that weird, apprehensive mood they'd been in lately and she was grateful.

Eating some of the spaghetti, she mulled it over. She jumped at Alex's sudden excitement.

“Hey, I got an idea! We should make something tomorrow, since we're off tomorrow.” Alex leaned back in his chair, his hazel eyes twinkling slightly.

"We both are? You got another job?" She was sure he wasn't working at the grocery story anymore.

"Yup, it's uh, at an adultish type shop." He blushed, and cleared his throat. “Uh, so about the cooking something new. You wanna? There are limitless possibilities!”

He made an expansive gesture that threatened to overbalance him off his chair, but caught himself. That actually sounded like fun. Especially when it was so rare that Alex wanted to do much of anything. That was even better than normal, even now that normal had been elevated to the level of an unattainable ideal. How could she say no?

Sammie didn't bother to question whether Alex intended to do this just to keep an eye on her tomorrow. She found she didn't much care.

“As long as it's not one of those awful sugary brownies,” Sammie said.

Alex chuckled, and blinked as though surprised at himself. “It wasn't a normal brownie, and you didn't even try it. You'd have liked it if you tried it.”

That was unlikely, but Sammie wasn't going to say so.

“Heh, I know you're gonna go stir-crazy in here while you're mending dresses, but this might be kinda...” Alex's grin slipped as he trailed off. All four legs of the chair rested on the floor again. “Listen,” he said. “About today, with Angela… Don't tell her about all that magic stuff, okay?”

“I won't,” Sammie said. She frowned, feeling the awkwardness creeping back in like a curtain drawing closed between them. “I'm not going to throw you under the bus just because I feel guilty.”

And she did feel guilty. Angela had tried to play it off as a minor offense, but she could tell Sammie had cut her, colluding with Alex to lie to her face like that.

She was hiding things on different levels now; it was getting complicated and messy. And the more complicated it got, the more likely it was that she'd make a mistake. She pushed her plate away. She wasn't hungry anymore.

Alex shook his head. “I don't care about that. If Angela has a bone to pick with me, I got two hundred of them she can choose from. To be honest, I don't care what she thinks of me. I just don't want you to lose your closeness to her.”

Sammie figured putting distance would keep Angela safer. Was Alex, of all people, telling Sammie not to be aloof? Now that felt weird.

“I'm not sure what you mean,” she said. She stood, collecting their plates. Alex followed her to the kitchen.

“I'm just saying,” He said, leaning against the counter while Sammie put the leftovers away. “Pushing people away won't fix anything. I don't even know why you are closing her off, but I know you. You're not wired for loneliness, ya know."

She sighed, focusing her attention on finding a free spot in the fridge for the container.

"Sure,” she said, monotoned. “I have to consider everyone around me, not just what I want.”

Not that she knew what she wanted anymore. Or, she knew she couldn't have what she wanted. Nothing could make all of this un-happen. She couldn't go back to the life she'd had before. She couldn't unlearn things, and even if she could...would she?

"Ah, geez," Alex said, quietly. Sammie glanced quickly over to see him hunched over slightly, arms wrapped around himself. “I hope this shit isn't contagious, or something,” he muttered.

“What's contagious?” Sammie said, just realizing that she was still holding the fridge door open. She shut it.

“Nothing.” Alex flinched under her sharp glare. “I mean,” he said, “you know.” He gestured at his own head. “The...the bad brain, um...stuff.”

What did he mean by- oh. Right.

“I hope not,” she said, for lack of a better response.

Sammie knew why she felt the way she did; it wasn't anything she'd caught, not that Alex could know that. Or could ever know. But did that mean Alex had been hit with his so-called 'bad brain stuff' out of nowhere? At least Sammie had something to blame!

She couldn't even imagine what it would be like, to feel her soul going numb without even knowing why. 

“I'm sorry,” she said. The words felt small in her mouth.

Every day was bad. For how long? Why? Why?

“Quit apologizing so much, it feels weird.” Alex mumbled, walking to the entrance of the kitchen.

She caught herself just before saying 'sorry' again. They stood there for a moment, neither of them very motivated to move or speak, pretending Silent Kitchen Hangout Time was a normal occurrence.

“Um, unrelated to anything in particular,” Alex said, gathering himself. “I was wondering how long you've known about your magic?” He wouldn't look in her direction, much less make eye contact.

Sammie rubbed absently at her arm. So he did see it. Great, now to explain it all.

“The one you shook off.” Alex plucked at the drawstring of his hoodie. “You know, when...after I shoved you, and you ran. It didn't have color yet, so it looked off to me.”

“Oh.” She stood up straighter, fighting the urge to slouch. She wanted to crawl into a dark hole, but there wasn't one handy. “I didn't see it; was something wrong with it?”

Now that she thought back to that night, not that she wanted to, whatever that attack had been had pulled hard on her, drawing more magic from her soul than a single attack really ought to. Alex was the blue magic one. How many of them were there?

Alex looked up at her, dumbfounded. “You didn't even look?”

“I was more concerned with not letting it go off,” She said, looking away.

They spent several seconds examining the floor. Huh. It was much dirtier than it usually was. Not that she's been cleaning.

Finally, Alex coughed. “It was sort of a...” He raised hands up as if to gesture a ..house? ..tree? “Like a... kinda like tall.."

What did any of that nonsense mean? And why did he say she didn't have a color?

“Alex,” Sammie said, “I have no clue what you're talking about. Could you try using words?”

“Like,” Alex said, smiling tense and brittle. “Like a bird. Like a bird on fire. A white fire."

Sammie blinked. “I don't have magic like that,” she said. She was sure she'd know by now if she could shape her magic into animal shapes. “I have the same attacks you have, right?”

Their magic manifested in very similar ways, right? His was just blue magic to her green magic? It wasn't like anything could be expected. She figured that the rest of the people who were like them would have the same kind of attacks. But what if each had there own magic? There own dynamic twist on it?

“Don't know what to tell you, babe. I know what I saw.” He shrugged. “I was staring right at it. It was staring right back, even.”

Alex laughed, but didn't sound very amused. His smile looked pinned on, stiff. How was that possible? She felt herself shiver.

“Not that I don't believe you,” she said, marveling at this new level of disturbed she'd managed to reach, “but are you sure? It was only there for a second. Maybe...maybe it was just malformed…?”

She hadn't consciously formed that attack, after all, and a lot of her attacks tend to get messy when she panicked.

“I wish,” Alex said ruefully. “No. I saw it clear as crystal.”

Maybe this was what true coldness felt like.

“Do you know what it is?” she asked.

“Never seen it before in my life.” Alex answered just a little too fast, hardly waiting for her to finish her question. He looked Sammie in the eyes when he spoke, face a bland mask. “I was just curious, that's all.”

Then why had he seemed so…? Something didn't sit right about Alex's behavior. Just as Sammie was starting to get better at lying, she was getting better at spotting when she was being lied to.

“It hasn't even been one day,” she said, unable to keep some of the bitterness from creeping into her voice. She had thought they were on the same team again. This was beyond exhausting. Who cares if Alex has his own agenda, its not like she has been honest with him either. “Can't we just skip all this for now?”

“Right,” Alex sighed. “Maybe this isn't a good time.”

The echo of her own weak excuse slipped in between her ribs like a knife, intentional or not.

“I think,” Sammie stated, after a long, uncomfortable pause. “I think I'm going to go to bed. I'm tired.”

Alex nodded. Sammie passed the rest of the evening in her room trying to rest. She chatted over her laptop with Melissa about inconsequential things. Angela had made it back, apparently, and was sleeping after the serious scolding she got about sneaking out. Sammie couldn't picture the soft-spoken (and much shorter than Angela) woman really scolding anyone, but the idea of worrying her was probably enough.

She knew nothing about the 'strange things' show that Melissa was talking about now, but it was a distraction, and that was all she was after.

She could probably tell that she was just agreeing with her criticisms without really comprehending what she was saying, but Melissa didn't call her out on it. She was very nice.

When the time came, she messaged Melissa to say she was going to bed, and shut down her laptop. The house was quiet, not that Alex was ever all that loud.

She threw on a jacket over T-shirt, she could take it off during the training. She pondered if she should just wear a long sleeve, but it would only burn with her magic. Enough of her clothing has been burned already, like her favorite jacket.

She cracked the door, peering out into the dark. The TV and all the lights were off; she couldn't hear any signs of movement. Quietly, she crept down the hall to Alex's door and listened. Silence. No light under the door either.

Sammie slipped into the living room, successfully skipping the creaky area by the entrance of the hallway. She shut the front door behind her carefully, with only the soft click of the latch to give her away, if anyone had been awake to hear it.

The night air was cold and still, but of course it didn't bother her. There were never many people about at this time; this side of town didn't have much of a night-life to speak of, and everyone was either at home or at Martin's bar. She skirted around the edges of town, regardless. She couldn't risk being seen by anyone. Everyone in this town knew she was Angela's little sister, and she didn't need them to report back to her sister.

☆☆☆☆☆☆Samuel's POV☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

“Ready?” Samuel inquired.

She shuffled her feet. She looked already tired.

“Yeah,” she said, hugging herself though the chill couldn't be affecting her. “Whenever you are.”

“Say,” he said, “We were interrupted this morning. There's something I wanted to ask you.” Samuel scratched his chin, looking up at Sammie. “You remember what we were discussing, right, sweetheart?”

Sammie nodded. Between the rumpled clothing and all the scuffs and bruises, she looked extra pathetic. Which was heighten by how slumped she was, possibly trying to make herself smaller.

“What would Alex do if you died, Sammie?”

That got through the fog. Sammie head snapped straight, and she took a step back. “W-what do you mean?”

“I mean what I mean, duh!” he winked. She wasn't as skittish as she used to be, but she was plainly freaked out. “I know you've been thinking about the opposite all day, but that's kinda selfish, isn't it? After all, his troubles would finally be over!”

“Samuel, I don't want to-”

“But, really!” He cut her off. “What if a monster got to you and you couldn't beat it? What if something happened to you, huh?”

The look on her face spoke better than words that she'd never considered this before. She frowned, opening her mouth to say something before changing her mind. Samuel gave her a moment, while he made himself a flower crown out of skeleton flowers.

“It's tough to think about this kind of thing, isn't it? Especially if you've never thought about death before, right?” he said, with a wry smile.

Sammie kept quiet. Perhaps she thought it was a rhetorical question. Well, she wasn't wrong. Samuel would have enjoyed hearing her thoughts on the matter, actually, but he wasn't in the mood to push for it.

“You don't know?" Samuel giggled.

Hesitantly, she shook her head. Her eyes not leaving him, as if he'd attack her while she was distracted. Rude!

He places the flower crown on his head, taking in the smell the flower gave off. A soft, sweet smell.

“Well, I bet I can guess,” He said. “You know what Alex would do if you died? I'll tell you.” He did jazz hands. “Nothing!”

Sammie blinked, then shook her head. She probably thought Alex wouldn't care. Aww, how cute. She's butt-hurt.

“Don't take that the wrong way, now.” He didn't need or want to listen to Sammie defend her worthless roommate. “I don't mean he wouldn't be sad. I just mean that he'd do nothing! He wouldn't go to work, wouldn't leave the house, wouldn't clean, cook or take care of himself.”

She was quiet listening to him. She just stood there listening, staring in his direction without quite focusing on him.

Samuel went on. “He wouldn't talk to anybody, answer the phone, the door or anything. He'd stop trying and stop caring about anything at all. He'd just stop! And he wouldn't ever start again. Even his parents coming back for him wouldn't help!”

Samuel laughed loudly. It was funny because it was true. Even if his parents forgave him, he'd refuse them. He'd refuse everyone.

“That's why you shouldn't pin your happiness on another person,” he said. “Because then when they're gone, you're left all alone forever, and you have to deal with it. Or not!”

He shrugged. Just as Samuel was starting to get annoyed by Sammie's silence, the short girl spoke up. “Why do you say things like this?”

“You know I'm right, don't you? You do.”

She gave him a wounded look, then nodded slowly. Good, she knew.

Samuel grinned. “That's right! You're the only reason he even gets out of bed. It's unhealthy, if you ask me,” he said, “but I guess I'm not in a position to judge. I mean, after all I'm the 'insane' one.”

Sammie looked dangerously close to tears. God, was she emotional. If only he could get her to be empty, like him. Then she'd be perfect.

“Aw, don't be a crybaby,” he said, gently scolding. “I'm only trying to motivate you! This is why you need to keep getting stronger, right?”

Sammie nodded, sniffling. This is good, his favorite toy understood now. If only she could hit her magic peak.. He might not even leave her after her magic was perfected. He liked being around such a strong source of magic.

“I'm not going to attack you this time, friend. We're going to try something new.” Now he would find out just how well Sammie could follow directions. “I want you to attack me with everything you've got, okay? I won't counterattack, or anything, so it'll be easy.”

“I-I can't do that...” she said, without much conviction. He knew deep down, she really wanted to though.

Samuel sighed. “Of course you can. You know I can take it, and I can't really feel anything, anyway.” He blinked up at her, frowning. “You want to get control of your magic again, don't you?”

Sammie rubbed at her hurt arm. “Yes, of course,” she said. “I don't know how beating you up is supposed to help.”

"Just do as you're told Samitch. There's no need for me to tell you twice."

“Do I have to?”

Samuel rolled his eyes. Well, that was better than an outright refusal, at least.

“You know the answer to that one.” He smiled, though it was nowhere near comforting. “Remember, I'm the one who says when we stop. And you should probably start before I lose my patience.”

Like a light-switch being flicked on, the familiar dark green will-o-wisp fire caught hold of her hands.

Rather than having to muster it, it seemed that she had been spending effort to keep it in check. Perhaps last night's light show had bled off enough pressure that Sammie had bought herself time to regain some measure of control, though how much and for how long remained to be seen.

As amusing as her little meltdown had been, Samuel was pleased that his favorite toy was adapting so quickly. Maybe she would be one to rid this town of all it's monsters. All the ugly things he despised. So far, everything they were doing was simply the crucible making her stronger. Sammie couldn't afford to be weak, like his sister.

Samuel felt a hint of pride as the first wave of attacks hit him. He really was pretty good at this whole coaching business. It would seem the ones he coached before were just too weak to handle him.

Sammie was getting better at doing as she was told. Grim misery etched on her face, she nonetheless ran through each of her attacks, progressing in strength and complexity. Without having to split her attention or dive around the clearing, she could focus on her attack patterns fully, and it showed.

As the session wore on, the grimace that Sammie wore on her pretty face  faded into a look of detached concentration. A look that would send anyone running for the hills. Samuel felt excited. She truly was empty inside.

His clothing hung in tatters from his body, and his crown was long gone.

He could have swore he felt heat hit his skin but saw no burns. He was surprised by the fact that his bare skin hadn't bothered her, in fact Sammie was doing well. She usually went gaga over his bare chest.

She sent more flames his way, even making a near by maple tree fall on him, knock him down.

He lay staring up at the distant night sky for a moment. Straightening up, Samuel couldn't help laughing. He felt a gash on his chest from the tree landing on him. It stung slightly and he couldn't help poke at it.

This, at last, made Sammie pause. The wave sliding toward Samuel halted when she raised her hand, but didn't dissipate. For a few seconds, she didn't say anything, just looked at Samuel with that closed-off expression.

“Problem?” He asked, throwing her a crooked grin. “You're doing a good job, samitch!”

She frowned, brows knitted. "Why are you doing this?”

The flame wave sank into the ground, gone but not without setting a small fire to the grass. It died out quickly though.

Samuel raised a hand to his chest, patting it thoughtfully. That wasn't a question of panic; it was genuine confusion and interest.

“I guess I did say I'd tell you, huh?” He smiled. “Because you're my friend, sweety,” he said. “I like you. You're my favorite.”

“That's not much of a reason,” Sammie said. Making a new fire wave which circled Samuel, ready to continue on their training at a moment's notice.

“I disagree! It's the best reason.” Samuel extended a hand to his head, brushing his blond hair back. He held it back, looking at her. “I don't want you to be a victim, I want you to be stronger than Anna was, and get the ending we should have gotten.”

He wanted to see that ending. One where they won against the bad guys. One where he could feel happiness. He'd seen people reap the rewards for their misdeeds. Now it was his turn. Even if it took years. He could put up with Sammie for years if he had to.

He would make sure he won this time. No matter what, or who stood in his way.

Samuel had gone through two others before Sammie. Good old purple and yellow. Good old Mary and Frances. They turned against him, though.
So he made sure they wouldn't tell another soul. Or should he say they did something that would make it so they couldn't tell. Training someone of their magic was fun, but even that had begun turning to gray mush like everything else.

But seeing Sammie, dopey, loveable, harmless Sammie, become something different…?

Something sharp-edged, strong and cool, someone who could kill rather than meekly be killed? Samuel hadn't expected to see that. It was shocking, even to him. It would be almost like feeling happiness.

Sammie was still his favorite toy, boredom aside. His favorite was still maintaining that attack, fire held suspended but ready to rush onward as soon as she let the leash slip.

“I don't understand,” she said.

“One day, you will,” Samuel said, tilting his head at her. “I don't think I could explain it fully if I wanted to. And I don't really want to, anyway. I want you to trust your best friend!”

An odd look passed over her face at that, like she'd mistakenly drank vinegar instead of water. It was gone in a second.

Samuel grinned at that. There had been a time not long ago when Sammie would have wept tears of joy to hear that anyone considered themselves her best friend. She only ever had her sister and Alex, so anyone else to be her friend would have been her dream come true.

"You may proceed, samitch!”

With a defeated sigh, she lowered her hand, and the fire lurched into motion again.

It took longer than usual for Sammie to reach the point of exhaustion. Not surprising, considering she was standing still and not taking any damage herself. At last, with a final, clumsy tumble of fire that collapsed long before they could do any damage, she stopped. Panting, she looked around.

Samuel watched the her shaking, wondering if Sammie were truly spent. Well, he had said that he wouldn't attack tonight. He supposed he could save that for another time. He almost felt proud of her.

“You did very well,” he said, with a smile that held little feeling behind it. “That wasn't so bad, was it?”

“Can I go now?”

“Aww!” Samuel's face fell. “You don't have to leave just because practice is over. We can hang out for a little while, huh? Like we used to! What do you say?"

What was Sammie in a hurry to get back to? There was nothing in that stupid apartment anyway. As if she wasn't going to spend enough time in her own apartment.

Sammie sat on the ground by Samuel. She didn't argue, just sat and sulked.
Minutes ticked by. Samuel made a star design on the ground with a stick. “So,” he said brightly, “did you do anything fun today?”

“No.”

Samuel frowned, to his own surprise. He hadn't heard her blabber on about her daily life since they started their nightly training regimen, and he was finding that he missed it. Forcing Sammie to talk wouldn't be the same.

Well, this was just more novelty, this new-found silent side of Sammie made her more mysterious, and mystery was one thing that was always in very short supply. He couldn't complain, really.

“If you ask me a question,” Samuel said, leaning closer to her, “and I like the question, then I'll let you go home. Does that sound fair, Sam?”

She seemed to mull the offer over for a moment, arms folded over her knees, glaring at nothing. After her deliberations were over, she said, “What was your sister like?”

That wasn't the sort of question Samuel had been expecting. He chuckled softly. Sammie could always surprise him!

“She was strong,” he said, shrugging. “And she like to use it to her advantage a lot. She was funny in a sarcastic way, and she liked to cook even if she sucked."

A handful of leaves fell to the ground around them as they sat in silence.

To Samuel it was almost like being able to touch through the glass that stood between him and happiness. Maybe this time he could reach through the glass, and pull her through the glass to his side. He wouldn't be alone anymore. He wouldn't be without his soul, even after he ran away.

Grief, sorrow, and fear had exploded through him so long ago. How had he ever been so full of life, only to be so lacking in it now?

"Did Anna look like you?”

"Take a look," he said, opening his wallet.

A picture of them side by side was all he had in it. Their blonde hair and green eyes looked brighter than usual due to being outside when the picture was taken.

"She looks just like you," Sammie said, her glare softening. She hesitantly leaned on his shoulder. "And she sounded like a cool person."

He didn't think about his sister very often. It was pointless. Most people mourn for years, but he wasn't an emotional kind of person. It felt okay to think of her right now, though.

“She really was,” he said. “and I miss her.” He couldn't feel that kind of happiness now, but he remembered.

Slowly, Sammie relaxed into his shoulder. Her warmth made him feel something in his chest, but he dismissed it. He just let himself enjoy this quiet moment with her. Warmth, and the smell of cinnamon.

This feeling was hard to describe, he was finding. It had been so long ago, but he remembered feeling this once. He remembered sitting in the soft grass while Anna cracked jokes. The smell of burnt cookies, and the sound of laughter. As strong as he had felt before this feeling was stronger still, it made him uneasy.

Why was this emotion stronger?

Samuel laughed, he wanted to shake himself free from Sammie, who was still leaning on him. She was pretty, stupid, and pointless. “Stick with me, and we could rule this world, kid."

Sammie made a strange soft sound. She yelped and scrambled backward when Samuel dipped his shoulder to get rid of her. Enough emotions.

“Easy, Sam,” he tutted, then got up. “You didn't think I'd forget to give you more ointment, did you?”

“Oh.” Sammie said, letting him smudge the pink goop on her face.

“So,” Samuel said as he hovered close to her, watching her she try to stand. He was unsure if he should help her or not. “I'll see you tomorrow night!”

Sammie stiffened, but the tension receded just as quickly. “Alright,” she said.

Samuel dismissed her and watched her go. It would be a long, shambling walk back to her apartment. Once she was out of sight, Samuel turned his attention to the bits and pieces of his clothing that littered the clearing. He'd have to use whatever magic he had left to burn everything that could be used against him.

After all, it was very late, or early..

And tomorrow, they could do it all again.