Even with Genevieve insisting he had nothing to apologize for, Sam still battled the guilt eating at him. It was too new an emotion, too pervasive and unwelcome, and he didn’t know how to redirect it. Even if he had believed she was right, that he had no reason to be sorry—and he didn’t believe that at all, with how much of a burden he was already proving to be—he didn’t know how to quell the need for him to apologize. Not wanting to bother his hostess, though, he tried to silence it, bottling his emotions until he had time to unpack them later.
Sam turned back to Genevieve, a question on his lips, but he swallowed it before he could make things even more awkward. She was saying his god had better things to worry about than her kindness, than him, and maybe she was right. Sam didn’t want her to be right. He wanted to believe his god still cared for him. He cares about all of his creatures, he had been told, a dogma recited since his very birth, and that had always included him. Until, perhaps, now. Wasn’t that why his god had banished him? So he no longer had to care about him? The guilt was returning, the regrets and the shame and the teary-eyed sadness, so Sam shook his head, trying to move on. He wondered if Genevieve could tell she was tormenting him, if she somehow was mentioning the home he could not admit to on purpose.
When she suggested getting some rest for the night, Sam nodded absently, not realizing how tired he had been. He followed her gesture with his gaze to the spare bedroom, and once again he wondered who Genevieve lived with and why they weren’t here now. She couldn’t have lived alone… right? Such a lovely young woman unable to find someone to share a home with? That didn’t make sense. Perhaps, Sam considered, she just preferred the solitude. To have such a home all to herself, that was even more impressive, and he found himself wondering just what kind of person his hostess was. He bowed his thanks, then thanked her a couple more times, before going into the bedroom and shutting the door behind him.
It was a cozy little room, with a soft bed and quaint furniture, and a window that let in a gentle nighttime breeze. Sam delicately climbed into the bed and burrowed under the covers, then stared blankly at the ceiling. As an angel, of course, he’d never needed sleep, but now, exhaustion consumed him, sagging his shoulders and shutting his eyes. He had wanted to stay up, use the solitude to better formulate a plan for his immediate and distant future, but that, he reasoned, could wait until tomorrow. For now, he had no choice but to give in to the night’s call.
Dreams were such human things, and the unfamiliar bright colors and thundering sounds born of his subconscious mind startled him. He was in a field somewhere, perhaps the one just outside Genevieve’s house, and wolves sang all around him. He tried to run for his life, but his legs were fused together and turned to stone. One wolf approached him, dark and gigantic and maliciously smiling, and its face morphed into a different one, a human one, the face of a boy Sam had been supposed to protect, the boy Sam had killed. That was the face that tore into him, ripping his flesh from his bones and making quick work of his human body, until Sam jolted awake with tears streaming down his face.
It was still dark out. He could see the moon from his window, bright and full, and he watched it while he struggled to find his breath. Such a horrid nightmare… Why had his god wanted him to see such a thing? Unless it hadn’t been god’s will at all? Did god’s will still extend to Sam? He shook the thought, not willing to work through his complicated emotions about his home and his father quite yet. Sam found his way to the bathroom, and when he finished up there, he wandered the house in search of Genevieve. Not finding her in the halls or opened rooms, he returned to the guest bedroom and planted himself on the bed.
His human heart was beating too wildly for him to sleep anymore, so he forced his focus on what he would do now. It would take something colossal to get his god to reverse his decision about him, nothing short of saving the entire world. But Sam was just one person; he couldn’t do something so drastic, especially not now with his celestial blessings gone. What else could a god want…? To be rid of all his enemies, Sam thought. Demons. He had no idea where to find those, or how; he had a feeling he wouldn’t be sensing any auras in this form. He wondered if they could still sense him.
As always, when Sam was trying to concentrate, his mind wandered without his consent, and eventually, it got too difficult to think about his plans anymore. His body ached with the need to move, to do something, so he again wandered the house, deciding to clean anything he found out of place. When the kitchen was finished, he fell into a chair at the dining table and heaved a proud sigh. Hopefully Genevieve would appreciate his work, too. The sun was beginning to rise, and he wondered what his day would look like. Maybe Genevieve could show him around town. Sam wondered if he might be able to integrate into this society any more fluidly than he’d ever belonged up there.
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