#BUT BUCK AND CHRISTOPHER IS ALONE IN A BUILDING LIKE SMELLS LIKE SMOKE

[buddiedaydreamer911]

bucks apartment smells like smoke.

buck is now alone in said apartment with christopher.

eddie is not there.

reasonably i know there is still an episode between now and Ashes Ashes/All Fall Down

but what the fuck

[evanoracronwell]

You've got us.

Read on ao3

Buck took a deep breath as soon as Athena had left with Bobby. He tried to suppress the avalanche of feelings that had been trying to escape him since the moment Maddie had told him about Daniel. Twenty-nine years living in a giant, cruel lie. Now, at least he knew why his parents had never been able to love him. At least now, he understood why he had never felt good enough. It's because he never had been.

A few steps away, he saw Eddie approaching him while he removed his helmet and gloves and threw them in the back of the ambulance right next to Buck.

"I know what you're going to say. I was reckless, stupid, and could have died. I know that I just..."

Any other word died on his lips because Eddie held his face with both hands with such care and affection that Buck felt his throat close; no one had ever looked at him that way, as if he were hanging the moon, as if Eddie was afraid that he was going to disappear before his eyes.

"Never again, did you hear me? Never again do you dare to pull something like that on me. Damn it, Buck, I almost died thinking something might have happened to you."

His voice was hoarse and choked as if he was trying very hard not to burst into tears right there, and Buck wanted to say something, claim that he was fine and that nothing had happened, but then Eddie came closer, standing between Buck's legs, his body so close to Buck's, that he could feel his heartbeat through his uniform.  As if that weren't enough, Eddie touched his forehead to Buck's, mixing their breath. There was nothing Buck could do but raise his hands to Eddie's waist, pulling him even closer.

"I'm truly sorry,” he murmured, watching as Eddie closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Buck followed in his footsteps, closing his eyes and concentrating only on Eddie's breathing, on the feeling of their bodies so close together, on how Eddie slid one of his hands up to the nape of his neck, pulling his hair so softly that Buck could barely feel it, but strong enough to give him the feeling of being terrified.

"Just promise me you will never do something like that again."

"Eddie, you know I can't..."

"No!” He looked away and opened his eyes, staring at Buck with determination. "I don't care that this is the job. You can't put yourself in danger like that, do you understand me? What the hell am I going to say to Christopher if something happens to you? That boy loves you, Buck; you're too important to him."

"I know, but Eddie I..."

"What about me? Damn Buck, what the fuck am I supposed to do if something happens to you? Have you ever stopped to think about that? I know you always put other people above yourself, that you always want to save everyone and you don't care to put your life on the line to do it, but... think of me, okay? If you want to put others above yourself so badly, then put me and Chris first. Every time you decide to risk yourself like this, think first about what it would do to us. "

"Eddie, I'm so sorry... you're right. I didn't think what it would do to you and Chris. Honestly, I didn't think it could affect you so much."

"How could you not know, Buck? How can you not know how important you are to us? Buck, I...” he took a deep breath again and then took Buck's face in his hands one more, making the blonde look at him directly in the eyes. "If anything happened to you, I would completely lose my mind; do you understand that? I would die, Buck, okay? You are everything and... you can't... never... okay? You can't leave me."

"I won't,” he says as firmly as he can, his blue eyes are already wet with tears and his voice breaking slightly. But he holds Eddie around the waist again and pulls him even closer than before, hugging him tightly as he sinks his face against his neck, breathing in the smell that is so unmistakably Eddie even under the smell of all the smoke.

"Please Buck, I know there's something going on inside your head. Please talk to me; it kills me to see you like this."

"I wasn’t enough, Eddie,” he grumbles against Eddie's neck, feeling like he just wants to hug him even tighter, and stroking the back of his neck. "They had me as a baby savior, but I couldn't save Daniel... I wasn't enough, and they hated me for it."

"Hey, no. Buck, you can't blame yourself for that, do you hear me? Your parents had no right to put that weight on you, much less the right to walk away from you after Daniel died. That's on them, Buck, not you. "

"Maybe. But they were also right, weren't they? I always do everything wrong, Eddie; I was a handful to Bobby when I walked into the fire department, always being irresponsible and reckless. I wasn't there when Maddie needed me, I... Eddie, I lost Christopher; you trusted me, and I... I lost him. "

"No, Buck!”Eddie moved away again, just enough to look into Buck's eyes, but close enough to still keep him in his arms. "You are an excellent firefighter, and Bobby couldn't have anyone better than you at 118. You took care of Maddie and protected her ever since she came to LA; you were there, Buck, every step of the way you stood beside her. And Chris... Jesus, Buck, you need to stop blaming yourself for this. You never lost him, Buck, a tsunami happened and you did everything to make sure he was safe, nothing that happened was your fault. "

"Yeah maybe, but I..."

"God, you have no idea how much I wish you could see yourself through my eyes. Maybe that way you would see the wonderful man you are. You care about everyone, you are loving and caring, you are always willing to help and reach out to anyone who needs it. "

Eddie smiled tenderly and ran his fingertips over Buck's face, wiping away the tears that were starting to trickle down the blonde's cheek.

"You are the man who spends his nights off playing video games with my son or watching cartoon movies; you help him with his homework and read about the subjects he’s interested in so you can talk to him about them later. You play lego with him on my living room floor, read bedtime stories to him, and make pancakes for breakfast because you know he loves them and that I can’t keep from burning them. You’re the man who assures me that I’m an excellent father every time I doubt myself, the guy who helped me build a skateboard so my son can feel like any other child. You are... something, Buck. You are unique. You are special. "

"Eddie..."

"And above it all, Buck, you are enough. You are more than enough for Christopher, and you are more than enough for me. Maybe your parents can't see it, but then, it's their fault, it's their loss. I just need you to know that you're not alone, Chris and I are here; you've got us, ‘cause we're not going anywhere, but I need you to stay too, okay? I need you to promise me you won't go anywhere either, Buck, because I wouldn't know how to survive if you did. "

"I promise."

"Do you mean that?"

"Yes, I promise, Eddie. I'm here and I'm not going anywhere."

"Good, because I love you, Buck; I'm completely in love with you and I can't lose you, do you understand?"

Buck was going to answer, he really was going to say something, because, honestly, he had a million things to say in that moment. He wanted to say that he was also completely in love with Eddie, he wanted to say that he couldn't lose him either and that just the thought of something like that happening had left Buck awake for several nights. He wanted to say that when he had seen Eddie buried under all that mud, not knowing if they were going to get him back alive, that at that moment Buck had almost died, that for a few minutes he’d had to imagine his whole life without Eddie and that he would rather die than face that future. He wanted to say that he loved Christopher so deeply that it scared him sometimes, that he would give his life for that boy. There were a million things he wanted to say; but how could he say anything when Eddie pressed his lips against Buck's so firmly and so smoothly at the same time? How could he speak any words when he was being kissed by the man he loved with all his heart and soul? There he was, living a moment that he had lived countless times in his dreams, but that he had never thought he would be able to experience in reality.

And it was beautiful, it was intense, it was passionate and it tasted like a bright future. It was not the scene he had dreamed of; it didn’t have the romantic atmosphere of a candlelight dinner and music playing in the background. What they had were sirens and voices echoing everywhere, and the smell of smoke and the fumes of whatever product came from that factory.

It was messy and sloppy and perfect, and Buck wouldn't change a thing.

"Come home with me," Eddie murmured against his lips. Home. That sounded good.

When they were finally released from their shift, Eddie drove through the streets of Los Angeles holding Buck's hand against his thigh, refusing to stop touching him even for a second, as if he needed a guarantee that Buck was there, alive, beside him. And Buck would never deny Eddie's touch.

Entering Eddie's house brought a warm feeling to his chest; here he felt welcome and at home... but then again, home always seemed to be wherever Eddie and Chris were.

"We need to clean up," Eddie whispered as he took Buck's hand and led him to the bathroom. There was nothing sexual about the way they slowly undressed each other, nor the way they got under the shower, washing away any traces of soot and dirt from their skins. Eddie hugged him under the jet of hot water, his hands running down Buck's back, stroking him tenderly. He kissed Buck's hair, his forehead, his birthmark, his cheek, his nose, his lips. The second kiss was even better than the first, and the third better than the second.

They kissed without the slightest hurry, only concerned with savoring the taste of one another exploring every inch of each other's mouths, memorizing every second; because now they can.

And later, when they were both lying on the bed in nothing but their underwear, Buck curled up in Eddie's arms, feeling calm and welcomed in the warmth of Eddie's skin and the feeling of his breath against his neck. The darkness in the room seemed perfect at that moment, and Buck was lost in the rhythmic beating of Eddie's heart against his back.

"Eddie?"

"Yes, cariño?"

"I love you, too."

He was finally home.

[unchartedterritoria]

Dangerous (Sam Drake x OC) - Chapter 5

In case you don’t want to read it here, you can find it on A03:

Dangerous Chapter 5 A03 Link

Previous chapters: Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4

Chapter Summary: Faith and Sam are stuck together until morning, will they make it through the night?

Sam flung open the door and walked inside his shabby motel room. He threw the key on the wooden table near the window and drew the faded green plaid drapes closed. Faith shut the door behind her and looked around the room. Double bed with flowered comforter, bathroom with yellow lighting, cheap wooden table with two chairs. All the staples of your sixty dollar a night motel room. She sat down on the end of the bed, putting her head in her hands grinding the palms of her hands into her eyes. Nothing in the last two hours made any sense. She was told that she held a priceless piece of history in her possession, with the possibility of finding more, and it came to her mysteriously from her dead mother's hope chest. She had just witnessed a gunfight and more anarchy than a Michael Bay movie. And to top it all off, she was now sitting in a hotel room with a perfect stranger in an evening gown and heels. She thanked god that they were of a sensible height or running out of that museum in them would have been impossible.

Sam shucked out of his tux jacket and threw it over the back of one of the wooden chairs. He fished his phone out of his pants pocket and dialed Nathan's cellphone. 'You've reached Nathan Drake-'. Shit. Straight to voicemail. He pulled up Sully's number and dialed, holding the phone to his ear while he undid the buttons on his shirt. The line rang, and rang, and rang. Nothing.

"C'mon guys," Sam whispered to himself. He pushed end on his phone and threw it down on the table next to his key. He pulled the suspenders down from his chest, letting them fall to his sides, allowing him to wiggle out of his dress shirt. He fished his smokes out of his pants pocket and turned his attention to Faith.

You okay?"

It had been a silent cab ride back to Sam's motel room. The only conversation had been Sam telling the driver where to go and then to keep the change when he pulled up in front of the building. This is the first time he had said anything to her since the pandemonium at the museum began. Faith raised her head and stared at Sam, standing there nonchalantly with his white undershirt, head tilted to the side, freshly lit smoke hanging out his mouth, calm as a mountain lake, as if this was just another ordinary day at the office for him.

"Yeah, I'm good," Faith answered positively in a small voice while her head shook unequivocally no. Sam nodded with a small smirk and headed towards the small mini fridge tucked in the closet. He popped open the door and grabbed two of the three small bottles in the door. He shut the door with a thunk and swung one of the chairs around to face the end of the bed. Sam stood in front of Faith, arm outstretched.

"Here, it'll help, trust me." Faith took the small airplane sized bottle of Jim Beam and opened it with unsteady hands. She hadn't started shaking until she sat down. She took a small swig, letting the bourbon run down her throat and into her empty belly like a fireball. She took another couple of good sips and replaced the cap. She closed her eyes and took a couple of deep breaths, feeling the liquor start to work it's way through, calming her nerves a bit.

"So...What the hell what that?" Faith asked. Sam took a drag of his smoke and sat down in the chair, sliding the ash tray on the table closer to himself. He kicked off the dress shoes on his feet and let out a heavy sigh.

"That was a warning shot."

"What do you mean?" Faith asked.

"Victor and I had a little trouble a couple of weeks ago and this was the other guy suggesting subtly that we 'Fuck Off'," Sam said, took one last drag and stubbed his smoke out in the ashtray.

"In what world was that subtle?"

"Okay, maybe not subtle but he got his point across." Sam reached down pulled the dress socks off his feet and pitched them into the corner of the room near his duffel bag. He leaned back in the chair and closed his eyes. Sam opened the little bottle of whiskey and drained a couple of healthy swallows, digging his toes into the green carpet, rhythmically he clenched and unclenched his toes, pulling at the fibers. The jumping, live wire like nerves running through him that he was trying desperately to keep hidden from this girl finally dissipating through his lower extremities. He was worried about Sully, he was very worried about his brother, he was even worried about the girl sitting on the end of his motel bed. Sam grabbed his phone and pushed the button, hoping fruitlessly for a message to be there from his brother, lighting up the home screen. He really hoped he would hear from Nathan soon. Sam set the phone down on the table and turned his attention to Faith.

"Doin' a little better?" He asked.

"A little, thanks for this," She replied, holding the small, empty booze bottle towards Sam. He grabbed it and set it next to his. He grabbed the last bottle and held it up to Faith with a raised eyebrow. She shook her head and pulled the dark heels off her feet, letting them fall to the floor with a thump. She slid back a bit on the bed, allowing her to cross her legs Indian style under her dress and hunker down, elbows on her knees.

"Is Sully gonna be okay?" Faith asked.

"The old bull's been through worse. He'll be fine." Sam lied through his teeth, tipping back the last of his bourbon. He pitched the empty bottles into the trash can next to the bed.

"So now what do we do?" Faith asked tiredly.

"We stay here until we hear from Nate and we get the all clear."

"Here? I can't go home?" The scope and realness of the situation began to creep into her brain and her voice.

"Nope."

"I'm pretty sure whoever you pissed off doesn't care about me, let alone knows who I am."

"I promised Victor I'd take care of you. I don't need Lagina or Jasper's people figuring out who you are or where you live."

"You're telling me the hotel room registered in your name, a name they know and are actively looking for, is safer?" Faith asked, voice thick with sarcasm. Sam pulled his head back slightly in defense.

"Phony name, fifty bucks to the front desk guy, and I'm checked in as Christopher P. Bacon." He said with a slight smirk.

Faith wasn't impressed, there were too many emotions swirling in her head at the moment. Angry to be stuck in this sketchy motel room with this strange guy, Concerned if Sully was okay. Worried that getting involved with these people, however cursory, had put a target on her back. Frustrated that she couldn't go back to the familiar, cozy surrounding that was her apartment. And, above all, she was absolutely exhausted. Faith scooted to the end of the bed and stood up, hands on her hips so her thumbs could massage the spot on her lower back where her dress pinched.

"Well, Chris, if I'm stuck here, I need to take a shower. I'm sweaty, I have glass in my hair and I really need some sleep, even if it's an hour. I do realize there's only one bed. I promise to share the bed itself, I make no guarantees about the covers. Unzip me please." Faith spun on her heel, giving Sam access to the zipper up the back of her dark dress. He pulled the zipper down steadily, taking in her back as it became exposed. Sam caught a glimpse of the clasps of her bra and the lace waist of matching colored panties, even the edge of a tattoo before Faith whirled around, clutching the top of her dress to her chest, hoping to retain a tad bit of her modesty.

"Thank you!" She said and shuffled towards the bathroom, stopping when her eyes caught sight of a pile of hastily folded shirts on top of Sam's duffel bag.

"And because I refuse to sleep in this dress or naked, I'm stealing..." She walked over to the pile and pulled out an orangey brown t-shirt, holding it up and giving it a sniff to be safe, "This shirt. Cool?" Sam gave Faith an amused smile as an answer, causing her to turn and stalk towards the bathroom. She stopped in the doorway and turned to Sam.

"One last thing. Do you need to pee?" Faith narrowed her questioning eyes at Sam, turning a simple question into one full of intent and gravity as if the truth was of vital importance to the world.

"I'm good," Sam nodded, trying to contain his smile.

"Okay then." Faith looked down at a pair of Sam's already worn boxers on the floor of the bathroom, discarded from a previous shower. She kicked them out into the main room, looked up at Sam, who had been watching her with interest from the moment she stood up, gave him a quick smile and closed the bathroom door with a thunk click, as she locked it behind her. Sam stared at the closed door from his spot in the chair, head tilted in bemusement. He just wasn't sure what to make of Faith. She was pretty and absolutely peculiar. He like the way she handled herself and the remarks she made intrigued him. He had no idea how Victor knew her. For someone he was so adamant about being kept safe, Sam had never heard him mention her name before. Sam turned and eyed Faith's purse that she had left on the bed, knowing what was inside the bag. The priceless artifact that rested in that bag, and the potential treasure it could lead to, intrigued him too.

Faith emerged from the bathroom feeling much lighter after having washed away the day's dirt and some of the stress down the shower drain. Her dark auburn hair hung in damp waves that grazed the tops of her shoulders, leaving little droplet marks on the shirt she wore. Sam's t-shirt was slightly wrinkled but the scent of bargain detergent under the set-in smell of his cigarettes ensured her it was clean. It was thankfully big on her and the hem landed just beneath her butt, but she still tugged it down self-consciously. She walked across the room and put her clothes that she was carrying down on one of the wooden chairs. Sam sat on the edge of the bed, a cigarette smoldering between his fingers, attentively watching the news broadcast on the small TV. He had changed out of his tux, opting for the comfort of a hunter green t-shirt and dark tan cargo pants instead. His eyes flicked up to Faith as she passed in front of him, then back to the program. The shootout was the lead story but gave few details. Big on the where and when, not so much on the who and the why.

"Anything?" Faith asked, settling onto the bed and slipping her exposed lower body under the cool sheets. Sam nodded and stubbed out his smoke in the ashtray.

"Just a lot of filler bullshit, but no talk of dead bodies at least," Sam said, flipping off the TV as the broadcast started to repeat itself again. Faith reached for her purse that still lay on the bed and pulled out the towel wrapped Bible and a glasses case. She put on her glasses and gave a couple of blinks as the edges of the world came into sharper focus. She unwrapped the book and took out the paper full of speech notes from between its thin pages. Faith ran her eyes over the page. She still couldn't believe this was possible. Why would her mother have anything that had anything to do with Abe Lincoln? No one in her family was into politics, no one had ever lived in Illinois and they sure as hell weren't related since she was almost full blooded Italian. Faith rested her elbows on her sheet covered crossed legs, her head tiredly propped up with one hand. She started to flip through the pages of the Bible, hoping that some clue, any clue, as to how it ended up in her possession would jump off the pages and scream at her, Here I am! She sighed, mindlessly clicking her tongue against the roof of her mouth.

Hearing the sounds behind him, Sam slid around, propping a knee up on the bed. She was wearing his favorite t-shirt and was making one of the most annoying sounds on Earth. Despite both of these things, which he had always hated, he found her simple actions endearing. Sam hated it when exes wore his shirts. They always seemed to think it made them look sexy, but to him, it made every one of them look like they were a coat hanger in a potato bag. Except for this one. Faith was taller, curvier and the Fletcher Clarke's t-shirt she had on of his still gave the hint of her shape under the fabric. Leave this one alone Samuel, it won't lead anywhere good, his conscience warned him in a Victor Sullivan voice.

"Keep staring, I might do a trick!" She quipped after more than a few uncomfortable seconds had passed, her eyes never leaving the book. Faith had seen Sam turn around in her peripheral vision as she perused the pages in front of her and she had never been fond of being stared at.

"Is there props involved?" He retorted. Unimpressed, Faith peered at him over the tops of her glasses. He dropped his head, rubbing the back of his neck and mumbled something Faith assumed to be an apology under his breath. Sam cleared his throat and scooted a little further up on the bed.

"You finding anything?" He asked, eyeing the book up.

"This person begot this person and this person begot that person. Nothing but normal Bible stuff," she said, closing the book and putting the notes safely back inside.

"You got no idea how your mother got it?"

"Not a damn clue."

"And she doesn't know either?"

Faith paused a moment. "Never got a chance to ask her," She replied, casting her eyes down at the book to hide the sadness that quickly filled them.

"I'm sorry," Sam said. He knew that look. He had lost his mother and he knew what the hurt looked like that went along with it. He would rather get shot or go back to prison than relive the days and weeks after his mother had died.

"It's alright," Faith lied, flicking the statement off with a nonchalant wave of her hand. It still wasn't even close to being alright, this unique find of hers moving a state of okay further and further away from her sight.

"So you're really gonna donate this to some charity?" Sam asked Faith almost painfully.

"If it's real, why not? What am I gonna do with it?" She replied, taking off her glasses and putting them back in their case, thankful to have the topic steered away from her mother.

"How about tryin' to find the rest of it?"

"And if I find that, again, I ask, what the hell am I gonna do with it?"

"Sell it to the highest bidder, buy an island and retire before forty."

"Meh," Faith said with a shrug of her shoulders.

"Are you kidding me? There's a treasure out there worth millions of dollars, just waiting to be found and you don't want it?" Sam asked, absolutely stunned at the thought.

"It's just money."

Sam felt as if she had slapped him. He had never felt that way about money in his life. The last time he heard that phrase, Rafe Adler had said it. It angered him then and angered him now. She was just another rich person in the world that doesn't realize how lucky they are.

"Ah, to not give a shit about a couple million dollars, must be nice." He said as he stood, his accent becoming thicker as his attitude bloomed.

"Excuse me?" Faith questioned, the attitude in her voice growing to match his.

"I'm guessing a couple million, it's just a drop in the trust fund bucket for you," Sam said, grabbing his cigarettes from the table and sticking one in his mouth. As he lit it, Faith climbed out of the bed, modesty be damned, to face down this unprovoked attack.

"What the fuck is your problem?" Her question laced with anger as she stood in front of him, staring him down. He was a good half foot taller than her but that didn't stop her from getting in his face. "You don't know fuck all about me or my life. Just because I don't give a shit about money doesn't mean I have a ton of it!"

"Bullshit."

"No, it means I give a shit about things that are more important than money, a concept you obviously don't understand, you greedy motherfucker!" Faith spat the words at him, face growing redder with every sentence.

"What the hell's more important than bein' rich?" Sam asked, convinced that she would not be able to give him an answer that would be justified in his book. Faith pushed down a hard swallow.

"Family," Faith said, trying to hide the lump in her throat the word gave her with a gruffness. Her tactic failed miserably but her pride held, never dropping the stare she gave Sam as she willed the tears to not form for once.

Waka waka waka. Bzzzz. Waka waka waka. Bzzzz.

The weird noise broke the tense moment. Sam turned and reached hurriedly for the phone while Faith's brow wrinkled. "Was that Pac-Man?" She asked, talking to herself more so than to Sam. Phone in hand, he navigated to the new text message that came in.

sully OK, magna carta 9 am

"Thank Christ," Sam said, voice full of relief. Faith shifted next to Sam to read the text message over his shoulder.

"What's magna carta?" Faith asked.

"Code, it means sit tight until morning."

"And Sully's ok."

"Told ya he was a tough old goat."

"Bull." Faith corrected him.

"You get the picture. Which means we're here til the morning at least." Sam put the phone back on the table and moved towards his duffel bag. Faith slid back under the covers of the bed, the new hopeful news squashing the uncomfortable argument that was bubbling between them. Sam rooted around his duffel between the shirts and odd socks until his hand touched on what he was looking for. He put the handgun on the table. Faith, watching from the bed, sat up nervously, scooting back on the bed until her back was flush against the headboard. Sam stood up, raising a hand in defense when he saw the uneasy look on Faith's face.

"Just a little extra security."

Faith relaxed slightly as Sam took a seat in one of the chairs, keeping the gun on the table within arms reach. He slid the ashtray closer to himself and propped his feet up on the end of the bed, settling himself in as acting century for the night.

"Can I ask you a question?" Faith asked.

"Fire away."

"You work for Sully, right?" Faith relaxed and stretched out on her side, propping her head up with one hand.

"Business partners." Sam corrected.

"Business partners...doing what?"

Sam thought for a moment.

"How does Victor put it? Extraction and acquisition of relics and rare antiquities." He said diplomatically. Sam reached for his cigarettes and frowned at the weight of the pack. Two left. He put them back on the table and pulled a large bronze coin from his pocket and began to flip it end over end around his fingers. Keeping his hands busy was key when he was low on smokes. Faith pondered this fancy wording for a moment before letting out a small laugh.

"You're thieves!" Faith exclaimed.

"You know, I always preferred the term buccaneer."

"Buccaneers are only on water. Swindler."

"Privateer,” He offered.

"Con Man."

"Treasure hunter."

"Pirate," she said, smiling, eyes droopy with sleep.

Sam smiled and flipped the coin at Faith. It landed on the sheet in front of her, a worn relief of a skull and crossbones adorned the one side. She picked it up and turned it over in her hand. A pirate ship ringed with a Latin script. Faith squinted to try and read the dirty, well-worn words.

"Hoodie mecome...ear-, Oh I'm way too tired for Latin." Her head dropped onto the bed with a groan of frustration.

"Hodie mecvm eris in paradiso. 'Today you will join me in paradise'," Sam translated expertly.

"Holy shit, this is real pirate treasure, isn't it?" Faith marveled at the coin and at Sam's knowledge of Latin. Sam gave an indecisive 'maybe it is, maybe it isn't' shrug and Faith flipped the coin back to him. She grabbed a pillow from behind her and shoved it under her head. "Were here until morning?" She confirmed.

"You got it sister, so you might wanna get some shuteye while you can," He said, sliding down in his chair, crossing his arms in front of him.

"I told you, you could have part of the bed," Faith said.

"I'm good sitting watch here."

"You're gonna watch the door all night?"

Sam nodded.

"Whatever, I'm not gonna turn down a guard dog right now." She grabbed the graying comforter and pulled it to her shoulders, getting as settled in for the night as she could. They sat in silence, Faith stared at the creases in the sheets while she waited for sleep to take over. Sam watched a sliver of the streetlight outside through the gap between the heavy drapes and the window frame. The minutes passed and with how exhausted Faith had looked, Sam was convinced she was asleep. He looked at the alarm clock on the nightstand. 11:32. He knew he was in for a long, uncomfortable night. He grabbed his smokes from the table, figuring on one now and one in four hours until he could get more, once he talked to Nathan. Faith's head popped up.

"Wait. Treasure, guns, people chasing you. You're Indiana Jones," Faith proclaimed quietly with squinted eyes.

"Ha! Indiana Jones. He wishes he was as good as I was. He's not even in my league," Sam said, lighting his cigarette.

"No Nazis, fedoras or destroying cities in your past? Fear of snakes? Can't land a plane?" She questioned.

"Trust me, I'm not Indiana Jones. I'm much better with a whip," Sam said with a suggestive smugness.

"I still say you are," Faith mumbled to herself, dropping her head back to her pillow. Sam finished his smoke, finally hearing the low, quiet snores coming from the bed. He refolded his arms and settled back in the chair. As the hours came and went, the weight of the evening and the strange situation he was in began to seep into his system, a system that was anxious to recharge. His eyes growing heavier, he glanced at the clock. 2:18. Sam stretched and closed his eyes. I'm just gonna rest them for a minute or two, he thought to himself. He was snoring less than a minute later.

Faith's eyes opened groggily at the sound. She raised her head and looked around, momentarily disoriented by her strange surroundings. This wasn't her apartment. When she turned and saw Sam, the events of the previous evening came back like a vivid dream as if her mind was still unable to process what had happened. She glanced at the clock and saw it was already a little after four, though it felt like she had only been asleep for mere minutes. The series of grunts and mumbles coming from Sam caught her attention. He had fallen asleep, which didn't surprise her. She was sure last night didn't go how he thought it would either. He was slumped farther down in the chair, head tilted off to the side with his chin resting on his chest. One hand sat in his lap while the other hung down over the arm of the chair, his fingertips almost reaching the floor thanks to his large stature. Faith's brow furrowed, something was wrong. A sheen of sweat covered his face and beads of perspiration pooled at the base of his neck. His expression wasn't a peaceful one. Sam started to fidget and squeeze his eyes closed tighter. In his restless sleep, Faith heard no and stop. She sat up in bed. This was a nightmare, she was sure of it.

Her mother used to suffer with them horribly and she herself had had her fair share of them since her mother died. The nightmares hadn't started right away, it took a couple weeks for her brain to manifest the horrible thoughts in her subconscious and bring them out in her dreams. In one of them, her mother faked her death. In another, her mom was alive and didn't want anything to do with her. Then there was the one where her mother was possessed by a demon, which was the worst one yet by far. Every dream ended up the same way, waking up gasping for breath and in a complete state of panic, followed by the blow again that her mother was gone. A gasping breath and a low whine escaped Sam's lips and Faith knew it had to be a really bad one.

She flipped the covers off of her and slid out of the bed. She padded across the carpet and around to the end of the bed where Sam had set himself up for the evening. She knelt down, not wanting him to sense her standing over him; She didn't want to startle him awake and possibly get herself shot. Faith got close to him and gently placed a hand against his chest. He was awfully warm, his shirt damp and starting to cling to him and his heart thudded at a quick rhythm. Sam jerked and she pulled her hand away for a moment. He stilled and she brought her hand back to him, pushing just enough to keep steady contact.

"This is a dream, Sam. You're dreaming Sam. This isn't really happening. This isn't real. This is a dream, Sam. This isn't real," Faith said in a soft, clear voice.

She repeated the phrases slowly over and over. She had done this for her mother when she had her nightmares. They had always seemed to settle her without waking her. Hopefully, she thought, this will work on him too. Faith continued for another couple of minutes, unsure if it was working. The mumbles became less and less while beneath her hand, Sam's heart began to slow, the stressful thudding subsiding. His face relaxed, the expression now one of calm instead of chaos, and at last his breathing slowed. Much better, she thought. A content smile on her face, she took her hand away from his chest and got back into the bed. She puffed her pillow and curled up on her side to watch Sam. Sam was greedy, presumptuous, and a thief. She wasn't a fan of any of these traits and their spat earlier didn't exactly win her over but... he agreed to keep her safe, he had tried in vain to keep watch all night. He even suffered from nightmares. There just might be a decent person in there, Faith thought to herself and if she was being honest, there was something that made him quite charming in her mind. She stared at Sam, content that he seemed much more peaceful than when she woke. She closed her eyes.

"Goodnight Sam," Faith mumbled. Then sleep took her again.