[dated to September 15]

[jianhuo]

It had seemed like the flu, at first. Saffron had been sure it would pass, had spent a day at home resting and drinking hot water with honey and lemon. That had been the day after she ran into Russell, but she'd refused to make the connection. By the time she resigned herself to it, it was already too late.

It had been too late the moment she'd touched him.

Now, her mind comes and goes, spotty and unreliable. She's walking down some street, familiar one second and a blur the next, and she keeps going back to the same thing. Blood. She wants to see it, wants to watch it spray red and wet across skin. She wants to get something, or maybe she can just use her fists, it doesn't really matter. She passes a brick wall, thinks about punching it, about the glorious red across the back of her hand that would be caused by her split knuckles.

She doesn't know what the hell is happening.

A moment of clarity strikes, and she thinks she might see about getting to the hospital. But then there's a pain in her hand, one she can't figure out, and she looks down to see she's got her hand clenched into a fist, her nails digging so hard into the skin of her palm it's a wonder she hasn't drawn blood.

Blood.

Saffron starts to walk again.

Comments

[theprodigalson]

There's something going on here again. It's not like the Silent Hill incident from a few months ago, not nearly so obvious and dramatic. But Sam knows down to his bones that it's just as sinister, and not only because of the little showdown in the alley yesterday, not just because of Neil or even because of Dean. It's everywhere. This sickness.

It reminds Sam too much of a place he and Dean had visited only once, years ago. Reminds him of begging Dean to shoot him and how, in hindsight, he really should've begged harder. Just ended this whole destiny bullshit once and for all and without the heinous body count.

But he goes to work. He tries to keep acting normal. He tries to ignore the fresh memory of aiming a gun at Mike's forehead, of being only milliseconds away from pulling the trigger, itching with it. Tries to ignore the sick knowledge that he'd been almost gleeful with the opportunity and almost disappointed when it'd slipped away.

He's just shaking the uncomfortable feeling aside when he notices a familiar figure up ahead, thick red hair tumbling over her shoulders as she sways along the sidewalk, catches her weight against the brick wall and it comes back in full force, landing heavy in his stomach. She's shown up in his bar only a couple times, her presence strangely discomforting, though Sam can't say he dislikes her exactly.

And he certainly can't just ignore her.

Frowning, he jogs closer, careful once he nears. He has a knife in his boot and a gun tucked into the back of his jeans (old habits) but he's really hoping he won't have to use either. Despite what Dean seems to think.

"Helen?" he asks once he's cose enough for her to hear. "That's- It is Helen, right? Are you okay?"

[jianhuo]

She just stops when she hears her name - she's been using it so long now, it pretty much has become her name. Saffron blinks, looking up at Sam, and she can't understand why he's suddenly just there, standing in front of her.

"I'm fine, Sam," she says, a strange giggle bursting out of her before she can even attempt to stop it. "Why wouldn't I be fine?"

[theprodigalson]

If Sam wasn't sure before he certainly is now, every muscle in his body going tense as he eyes her more carefully. She's clearly disoriented, something behind her eyes more than a little manic.

"You look like you've... seen better days," he says, trying to choose his words carefully. "There's a clinic just down the road. I can walk you there if you want."

[jianhuo]

"No," Saffron says, suddenly vehement. "No doctors, I hate doctors, these doctors don't know twenty-sixth century medicine, it's practically primitive." She shakes her head, moving to step around Sam and stumbling in the process. Why does he have to be so large and in her way?

[theprodigalson]

Twenty-sixth??

Frowning, Sam shakes the thought of the way, but otherwise doesn't move. He really doesn't want to have to use force on her, but he will if he has to. Considering she claims to know him, he's betting she can guess that, too.

"Helen," he says, voice more firm. "You don't have to let them touch you if nothing's wrong, but at least let them take a look."

[jianhuo]

He's blocking her way, and she wants to hit him. Anger flares up, white hot and sudden, and Saffron just wants to make him feel pain. She wants to get an axe, chop through his ankles, yell 'timber!' while he topples over like a long-haired, muscular tree. She wants to claw at his face and draw blood.

Her head is swimming.

"Get out of my way, Sam," she snaps, her gaze unfocused as she plants her hands against his upper abdomen and pushes as hard as she can, like she's trying to push open a door that needs to be pulled, beads of sweat starting to appear on her forehead.

[theprodigalson]

The push is more forceful than Sam's expecting and that alone makes him stumble a step or two. But he still has a solid foot and close to a hundred pounds on her and he recovers quickly, grabbing her wrist tightly with one hand and spinning her close, his chest to her back, his other arm winding around to keep her immobile.

"I'm taking you to the hospital," he tells her, voice quiet, but cold and firm. "You can either cooperate or I can knock you out and drag you there. Your choice."

A part of him can recognize the discomfort in this situation, that can understand how this might look - a large male threatening to incapacitate a woman to drag her somewhere against her will - but Sam's spent too long now blurring the lines between good and evil. He can only do what feels right in the moment and getting Helen to a doctor as soon as possible feels like the best option regardless of process.

[jianhuo]

Saffron lets out a frustrated screech as Sam flips her around, pinning her against him. She hears his words but they don't quite register, and she squirms in his grip, wriggling this way and that but not getting far at all.

"Let go of me!" she growls, throwing her head back, a move that proves worthless since all that's behind her head is Sam's broad chest. She isn't breaking free of his grasp but she fights anyway, kicking into the air. "You can't do this!"