𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐠𝐧 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬. sam uley

𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐲

Sam stands until the sun bleeds into the trees and the moon lights up the forest in a silvery hue. He does not move from his spot, watching the spot where Ez was. The kid's going to come back. Sam is certain.

Seth, not so much.

"He does this all the time," Seth says easily, unperturbed. "He gets a certain amount of time up here, then leaves. Let's just go home." He sounds defeated, tired. Sam glances away from the spot to stare mournfully at him.

Now that Ez is gone, the shadows are underneath Seth's eyes again. He's wearing Sage's pendant around his neck, and Sam's eyes track Seth's hands fiddling with the chain, the way Sage used to do.

Sam turns around. Starts walking home.

Seth follows silently.

They get home late enough that his mother's in bed and Leah is gone, a note that their food is in the fridge and she couldn't wait up for them because she had a date with someone.

Sam raises a brow when he reads it, glancing at Seth, who goes straight to the couch, curling his knees into his chest when he sits, sock-clad feet hanging off the couch. "What's this about? Why didn't she specify who she was going on a date with? Where's Elis?" Confusion is thick in his voice.

"She doesn't mean--" Seth cuts himself off then says, "He left. Gone. Who cares though? Good riddance."

"What do you mean gone?" Sam asks, feeling something swoop in his stomach at the thought of him being gone. Leah hadn't looked like she had lost her imprint--had only said her apologies to Sam. She never mentioned Elis being gone. "Is he--"

Seth shakes his head, presses a cheek into his knee. "No. Not dead. He's traveling."

"Without Leah?" Sam asks. This couldn't be. Leah had loved Elis fiercely and loyally. She would never let him leave without her going, too, no matter what he had done.

"Yeah." Seth nods. "He is. . . he's human."

Sam freezes by the fridge, one hand in. He looks over his shoulder, voice strangled when he says, "He's what?"

"Human," Seth says blankly, picking at the cushion. "Masika gave him the cure."

"The. . . cure?" Sam's head whirls. "She really. . . she can make someone human?"

"Mhm. Apparently, it hurts like hell, sort of like vampire venom, but she changed him." Sam pulls his food out, sees Seth shrug on the sofa. "He changed directly after Sage--"

He doesn't finish the sentence, almost like he can't. Sam sighs, asks, "Do you want something to eat?"

Seth shakes his head. Sam puts his in the microwave, and then pulls it out when it beeps, going over and sitting beside Seth on the couch. He pulls the tray out from beside him, setting the food up between them, setting two forks down gently. Sam can see now the gaunt, hollowed out look of Seth; he hasn't been eating. He frowns, slowly starting to eat.

He says, casually, "It's not your fault," because he knows Seth blames himself for it. Partially.

Because Sam does, too.

He should have ripped into the Ancient One, should have pushed harder to get to Sage. Her flames wouldn't have stopped him. He could have saved her.

Seth whispers, "I didn't think it--" He clenches his eyes closed. "I could have saved her."

"She wouldn't have let you, Seth," Sam says softly, trying for a soothing baritone. "She wouldn't let any of us."

"But we all just--why'd we just watch?"