strangetrip | [GP] All we can do is learn to swim

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[GP] All we can do is learn to swim

Grief is like the ocean; it comes on waves ebbing and flowing. Sometimes the water is calm, and sometimes it is overwhelming. All we can do is learn to swim. - Vicki Harrison

"You're sure?" Regina already knew the answer but demanding that Sam tell her what she already knew satisfied something petty in her. Or maybe just something hurt that hoped he'd have a different answer than her locator spell had already provided.

"Yeah." Sam half-rolled his eyes at her as he leaned across the pink bar counter to grab bottles of beer from the Silver Bar ice bin -- probably the results of Rebekah's last work-effort at the Inn -- for himself and his newly arrived companion.

Briefly, Regina considered burning a hole in the seat of his jeans, but it wouldn't bring Rebekah or any of the absent ones back. Instead, she took refuge in straightening her A-line and walking around the stylish counter Sam lay across like he was surfing the waves of grief. She took down a bottle of pointlessly pricey champagne, and then found the precise cut-crystal glasses Rebekah and Miss Fisher had preferred for their afternoon indulgences. She poured herself a glass and one for the person who dared her openly bitter expression.

"So who all are we missing?" they both said at once, glared at each other and sighed. They both knew the answers, in their own way and for their own reasons. And neither of them wanted to say.

Rebekah Mikaelson. Henry Winchester. Jack Robinson. Phryne Fisher. Dorothy Williams. Angua von Uberwald. Jaime Vegas. Harry Dresden. Lydia Martin. Raleigh Becket. Yasmeen. Joanna Beauchamp. Constance Bonacieux D'Artagnan. Lindsey McDonald.

"Grief is like the ocean," Sam clearly quoted from some fucking where, and Regina tuned him out until he added, "All we can do is learn to swim. Rebekah told me that."

Now Regina rolled her eyes; they weren't friends. "Shut up, Sam."

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Regina had, as Regina did, been watching her people deal with their grief, ready to help if she saw a way that she could. The compassion of providing comfort didn't come naturally to her, but she had a lot of grief-giving to make up for. So if she felt discomfort, so be it. The people in this Inn were her responsibility, whether they knew it or not.

Caroline, however, was her responsibility a little more directly, and she'd been concerned that her blood donor might be among the fourteen. So when she saw Sam approach her, she took note but gave them the courtesy of not casting a listening spell. Her gaze was still on them when Caroline glanced up and over at her, and Regina smiled small and nodded as minutely. It's okay, along with a touch of an invitation to come talk to her if she needed.

Sam caught the direction of Caroline's gaze but didn't turn to see who she'd looked at. What she was saying mattered more than who was behind him, as long as they weren't close enough to hear.

"It doesn't have to be," he said low and quietly reassuring. "I'll help."

Caroline started to ask why, then remembered where they were. Instead, she focused on Sam, her gaze a lot more sober than she wanted to be. "Can we talk somewhere else?" Regina's nod had been reassuring, but Caroline wasn't taking chances with anyone else overhearing. There were a lot of people in the bar today, pretty much all for the same reason.

"Yeah. Of course." He'd have suggested it before now, but she'd always been pretty wary of him. Public had some built in protection for her (and him, although he had no reason to think he'd need it), and dumb as it was to think it about a vampire, Sam wanted her to feel safe. He stood. "Wherever you want."

Caroline grabbed the bottle and stood, waiting for Sam to do the same before she headed toward the door back to the lobby and eventually to the back offices. No one went there but Regina, Caroline and the staff so it was a good place to talk.

She shut the door behind them, then with a toss of her hair and a stubborn lift of her chin, leaned against the desk and folded her arms. "Do you really know what you're saying?" she asked bluntly.

Sam followed her into the back offices. He'd been here a few times when they first arrived and he'd checked the entire place out, but there hadn't been any reason since then. Still, he was familiar enough with the space to feel comfortable in it, and immediately identified exits, bottlenecks and safe spaces without consciously doing so.

Her expression, the hair flip, the lift of her chin reminded him sharply of Bex. She'd asked almost exactly the same thing and his chest tightened painfully. "Yeah, I do. You need a steady blood supply. More than that, you need discretion and probably a friend." He couldn't help Bex anymore, but he could help Caroline.

Caroline wanted to believe him. She preferred to believe in people. "What...did Rebekah tell you it meant? Being an Original?" This felt like pity, which Caroline didn't like. He wasn't wrong though. She couldn't count solely on Regina. Losing Lindsey made it clear that there was danger in only having one source.

"That her family was first. That her mother made them vampires and that she and their father both now wanted her and her brothers dead. That the things that killed other vampires wouldn't kill her. That if I wanted to resist her, I should drink vervain tea." Sam sighed and moved toward Caroline, but aborted that and moved to lean against another nearby desk. "As far as I know, the only secret Rebekah kept from me was you, and that was because it wasn't her secret to share."

He ran a hand through his bangs and then let it fall again. "Look, I know this sucks for you. Regina fed Rebekah sometimes, so if you're not comfortable with me, she's probably an option. I just wanted you to know. And I thought maybe... I don't know."

For a moment, the misery that Sam kept as locked down as possible showed through in his eyes. "I thought maybe, now that I know why you've always been wary of me, we could finally be friends."

Caroline took a moment to look at him, to think about what he was saying. Vampires were emotional, they couldn't help it unless they actually turned off their humanity, and Caroline knew that the surge of panic was mostly just reflex.

"It sucks. But it's always sucked from the moment I was murdered and turned into this. The alcohol helps. I assume she told you that too." She shook her head. "I'm not an Original. And I do need help."

Sam watched the emotions slide over her face, similar to the ones he'd seen from Rebekah that first night, but stronger, more of them and the fear seemed more real. He waited, let her work it out, and when she said 'murdered', all of his protective instincts fired at once. Because... Jess.

"Murdered," he said repeated tightly, anger flowing through him like a current. "My first girlfriend..." Sam shook his head. "I'm sorry, Caroline. That shouldn't have happened to you." He couldn't change it, but if he could, he would hunt the vampire that had turned her and rip their head off. As steadily as he could, he asked, "Do you need to feed now?" Because that was what he could do for her.

"I'm sorry too. About your girlfriend. I've lost a lot of friends recently. It doesn't get easier." As for the rest... Caroline shrugged. "Weirdly, I'm better off in a lot of ways. And no, not right now. Now is for drinking." She picked up the bottle to cap off the statement. After a long drink, she gave him a long, seriously look. "We weren't friends, Rebekah and me. In case that makes a difference to your offer. We kind of hated each other actually."

It stung but he'd figure that out eventually and frankly, Caroline wasn't looking forward to being rejected for it after she'd already gotten used to having someone to rely on.

"It doesn't."

He reached across the space between them, hand extended for the bottle. When she released it to him, it was a lot emptier than he expected. And lighter. His hand flew up slightly but not enough to splash the remainder.

Without wiping the bottle (what was a little spit compared to blood?), Sam took a long swallow and then held the bottle against his thigh.

"I know Bex well enough to know that if you don't like her, she probably earned that. Her not liking another pretty, smart, blonde vampire is a day that ends in y." As much as Sam adored Rebekah, he had no illusions about her.

He hadn't given back the bottle, but she got the sense that it was more because he'd forgotten to than because he thought she'd had enough. "She mostly just likes hot guys with soft hearts."

Caroline did too, but not as nice. That was why she'd loved Tyler, and why she'd been drawn to Klaus even though he was probably the worst decision she'd ever made. Rebekah was older, but Caroline was harder. Harder to love, and harder, she thought, to break.

A small gesture, a minor flutter of her hands or a slight drift of her gaze, Sam couldn't have said what specifically, but something called his attention to the bottle she wasn't holding. He gave her a quietly apologetic half-smile and offered it back to her.

"She likes people she thinks she can trust," Sam offered, not so much a correction as an adjustment. "Being indestructible never stopped her from getting hurt. Just like being a 'monster' doesn't make you less human. I get that." And plenty in his tone said he wasn't calling her the monster in this conversation.

"Most people would assume their girlfriend had a good reason not to like someone." She accepted the whiskey back and kept drinking. Rebekah had her reasons, just like Caroline had good ones of her own. It was more than being one too many demanding blondes in a small town.

His comment made her tilt her head. "What makes you say that? About being a monster?" She held the bottle back out. It seemed like a good way to keep things friendly.

"I'm sure it was a good reason in her mind," Sam replied and took the bottle back again. "And maybe you did do something. But I know her, and I know she overreacts." He met Caroline's gaze steadily. "She's a vampire. She can't help it."

He lifted the bottle and took a small sip. There wasn't much left, and she needed it more than he did right now.

"I know what that's like. I'm...I've got demon blood in me. It's like this-- this disease. This curse. I'm a freak. Even my dad and my brother think I'm a monster."

Rebekah had told him about how she'd become a vampire and how her parents had turned on her and her siblings. Caroline...she couldn't do that. Her father had hated what she was, hated it so much he refused to live if it meant being like her. But he was still her father. And she loved and missed him. She lifted the bottle and finished the rest, then dropped the empty into the trash can next to her desk.

"Monsters aren't what's in you. They're what you do," she said. "Monsters - real monsters - can't be saved."

"Semantics." He offered the word with a hint of humor. "I also belong to the school of 'it's what you do, not what you are' that matters. But then again, I kind of have to."

He frowned down at his hands, wishing that he'd thought to grab another bottle on their way out. "I'm a hunter. So if demon blood makes me a monster, I'm the thing I'm supposed to kill."

She would have stepped back if she wasn't already pressed against her desk. She slid to the side, instead, putting distance between them. She'd feared that since they'd met, from that first day. She remembered too well how Jeremy hadn't been able to help himself. It didn't matter what he'd wanted. Being a hunter meant he had to hunt.

"It's not semantics." She remembered being delirious, dying. She remembered looking up at Klaus and seeing the pain behind the arrogance. 'Anybody capable of love is capable of being saved.' she'd told him. He hadn't let her die.

"I didn't ask for this. Did you?"

Sam read the fear in her movement and her expressions and said first a simple, "No," and then, "My mother made a deal with a crossroads demon to spare my father's life. I was the price of that deal."

There was no self-pity in it, not this time. This time, he just wanted her to understand where he was coming from.

"My father raised Dean and I to be hunters, but I've never wanted to be one. Dean says I'm shit as a hunter because I always try to save the monsters. I don't. I try to save the people like you and me, who never wanted to be monsters and try not to hurt anyone."

"What do you mean by save?" It sucked that Klaus had been right about that, but he had been. She liked being stronger, powerful; she liked knowing that she had unlimited time to do anything she wanted. There was nothing to save Caroline from, except people like Sam and Dean.

"I'm not a monster, Sam. I thought I was for awhile but I'm not. I'm a vampire."

"Protect. From hunters, mostly." That was all the answer he had, at least that didn't get into how much he'd wanted to save Madison, and couldn't, or how personal it sometimes got for him.

"I know you're not." He ran his hand through his bangs again and just looked at her, with his hand still gripped behind his neck. When he let his arm fall again, he said, "And I'm not a hunter. I never wanted to be. I'm not going to try to hurt you, Caroline. I don't want to."

Caroline sighed. "I don't think I need to be protected either, but--" she smiled, a little bit because it was polite but also because she really did appreciate having a hot guy say he wanted to protect her. She was, in spite of being a vampire, only human. "It's nice of you to offer. And the blood too."

To show she meant it, she moved back around the desk, reversing her previous flight.

Aware he'd passed some Caroline test, Sam relaxed a bit and settled back into his lean against the desk. "You probably don't, but everyone needs someone to watch their back."

That said, there wasn't much left to talk about. At least not that needed to be discussed in private. So he offered her a small, pained quirk of a smile. "If now is still for drinking, I know a great little bar. It's not far from here..."

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[GP] All we can do is learn to swim

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