The taste of his skin was exotic.

It was one that Bellona savored when it reached her lips and, when she would allow her mouth to trace the outline of his neck, she could perceive a hint of almond in the flavor of his integument. Mixed in with almond were the rays of the sun. The same rays that she basked in as she lay on a picnic blanket, letting the heat reflect off of her glistening skin as she stretched her fingers, the tips yearning to stroke blades of grass that rested just out of her reach. They danced in front of her elongated hand, shifting to and fro in the wind as if they knew the torment they could put her through by resisting her desire.

So, she turned back to Sam. The essence of her soul, of all that was in the universe and of all the wisps of it that lodged themselves in her body, sighed when she thought his name. He would not gaze upon the bosom of her yearnings and so much as whisper a 'no'. She curled pieces of his hair between her fingers. The satisfaction of it filled her with euphoria, and when her fingers had drifted to the crest of his thick-laden head, her body curved into his once more. Her lips melded with his, in sync and one burst of passion away from destruction, much like the labyrinth of celestial bodies that roamed the night sky.

The trees would not dare tread the same land that Sam and Bellona did. The uncharted territory of intimacy and a once-innocent action that became worship every time Bell looked in Sam's eyes. In that moment as they lied, entangled in one another's limbs, beneath the seclusion of a circle of trees, Bellona swore she would dote on Sam for all of eternity, for as long as-

"Bell!"

Bellona's head jerked upwards, and her heart jabbed at her throat as Summer's voice shook her out of her reverie. It had been a rude awakening, to say the least. Her fragmented daydreams had been more than joyous. They were gleeful and exuberant - a taste of pure bliss.

Bellona groaned and rubbed her fingers in circles over her eyes. "What do you want?"

"You're drooling again," Summer piped up, her smile coy.

"Shut up."

Bellona's tone had boasted a tinge of vexation, but even so, she lifted her hand to her mouth to check for any signs of a wet substance. There were none. Summer laughed, and Bell rolled her eyes.

She was in deeper than she'd originally thought. Of course, she'd always had a bad habit of imagining complex futures with boys she hardly knew, but this time the symptoms were much worse. She'd known Sam Winchester for one day - one - and already, just a single glance in his direction was sending her into spirals of daydreams.

Her gaze lingered on Sam where he stood across the library. He was talking to Mrs. Darrow at the admissions table, his shoulders curled in as if he wasn't confident enough to present himself at his full stature. This sliver of scrutiny sent a pang through Bellona's heart. If anyone deserved to have self-confidence, it was Sam Winchester.

Mrs. Darrow must have said something agreeable, because Sam nodded his head. On the downward curve of his nod, he froze, and his eyes shifted deviously to land on Bellona. Bellona jerked upright. Crap - he'd caught her staring. The strand of curled hair she'd been twirling around her finger slid off and began to droop at her side, and the pen she'd held between her teeth fell to her desk with a soft thud. Sam smiled.

When she caught a glimpse of his smile, Bellona knew her picnic fantasies had been mistaken. The sun didn't make Sam's skin glow, because he was the sun. She could see it in his eyes, in the way they pulsed when the corners of his mouth shot to the sky. And, if the shackles of life weren't so restricting, the luminescent beams that emanated from him would allow others to dip their toes in the golden ichor he bled, too.

He was a boy, ready to give the world his tonic that would heal all its ailments. It was tragic that the world was too afraid to trust a boy with such a task.

"Real smooth," Summer muttered from where she sat a few feet away from Bell, and her comment was accompanied by the sound of a stack of papers getting stapled.

Bellona leaned back in her chair and spun it around to face her friend. "He caught me off-guard! How was I supposed to know he was going to look at that exact moment?" The tips of her cheeks reddened. "Oh God, that's so embarrassing."

Summer shrugged. "I told you, you should've dropped that pen-chewing habit months ago."

"I did."

Summer raised a querying eyebrow. She rose from her seat, her wave of brilliant blond hair reminiscent of a canary's alluring plumage, and strode over to where Bellona sat. Bellona was often jealous of the facile way Summer moved, like she was sitting atop an altar and the whole world lived for no reason other than to bow at it. Her extravagance was coruscating. The swing of her arms when she glided across the room like a swan in disguise, and when paired with the way she held her head higher than was often necessary - Bellona was surprised she didn't own the world.

Summer pressed her lips to Bellona's ear and whispered, "Go talk to him."

"No way," Bellona shot back, as if it was a practiced reflex to the words Summer had uttered. When she saw the accusatory frown on Summer's brow, she added, "He probably thinks I'm stupid or somehthing."

"So? I think you're stupid and I still talk to you."

Bellona cocked her head to one side and grumbled, "Very funny. You know, the circus is hiring, why don't you pay them a visit?"

Summer narrowed her eyes, but it only took a moment's pause for the two girls to burst into a spasm of giggles. The bubbles that were fizzing over their open lips bounced off of each other, playing off of the other's laugh until they were interrupted by the ringing of a telephone.

It had come from the phone at the front desk. Summer and Bellona exchanged glances.

"It's your turn," Summer quipped, careful not to miss a beat between that phrase and her next. "I answered it last time."

Bellona opened her mouth to offer a retort of her own but, realizing Summer was right and arguing with her would come to no avail, she snapped it shut and rolled her chair over to the phone. The plastic receiver was cool beneath her fingers, and the crisp material tickled her ear when she held it to her lobe.

"You've reached Robert Crown Law Library at Stanford Law School. This is Bellona Wesson, how can I help you?" The words slid off Bellona's tongue like she was once more a child reciting the alphabet, and her tone reeked of boredom as it had then.

She straightened the stack of white pages that lied in front of her, flicking the edges with her free hand as she prepared to direct the caller to a different line. Even so, her tenuous movements of preparation would not be enough. It didn't matter that she knew as much protocol as Mrs. Darrow, or that she knew the name of nearly every book that collected dust on the library's shelves. In fact, it wouldn't have mattered if she'd spent her whole life poring over instruction manuals on how to receive a phone call. Nothing would have prepared her for the words she heard on the other line.

"Wh..." Bellona struggled to push the words out of her mouth, but they repudiated her pleas vehemently. "What did you say?"

The voice on the other line was hesitant. It was one that made Bellona's icy insides melt, and the diluted remnants of her insides swept through her veins, chilling her bones and sinew. The feminine voice knew something - syllables that were too petrifying to utter, for fear that it would dismantle a person's entire being.

"You said your name was Bellona Wesson, right?" the voice responded, her speech slow and heedful, like she was treading on thin sheets of ice. "I'm from Kaiser Medical Center. Your mother came into the emergency room earlier today. She has an urgent surgery scheduled for a few hours from now, and she's requesting that you be here."

Bellona didn't answer. She was petrified. She'd thought she had a will of steel, that not even the worst punches the world threw could splinter her resilient character. Yet, here she was - shattered. And only a few moments before, she'd been giddy, traipsing through the fantasy worlds she built in her mind.

If only she could escape to those worlds once more. But now, they were an infinite number of lightyears away, and she was stone. A statue, frozen because she'd dared to look in the eyes of a monster. And that monster - a doe-eyed belief that things would turn out alright - had shifted into Medusa overnight. Trust had turned Bellona Wesson to stone.

"It's a biopsy, ma'am," the voice said, but Bellona hardly heard it. Her ears were ringing. She'd visited her mother over the weekend - she'd been fine. Healthy. She always was.

Bellona set the phone down on the receiver, the click it made ringing pounding on her eardrums like a gunshot. She knew she was breathing. Her chest was rising and falling in a steady procession, so she, of course, knew she was breathing. But she didn't know. The hitch that caught in her throat at every other breath - it was indecipherable to her mind, because the shred of knowledge that she was alive and breathing didn't reach her chest. She didn't feel like she was breathing, so she didn't truly know. Her mother - Agnes Wesson - was the only family she had left. So if there was even the slightest chance that Agnes would soon cease to walk among the living, then how could Bellona be?

"Bell? What's wrong?"

It took Bellona a moment to register that someone was speaking to her, and by the time she did, Summer's hand was already on her shoulder, unwittingly tugging on the strands of her mahogany hair that fell across her collarbone.

"I..." Bellona swallowed, and it felt like she'd forced a rock, abrasive and leaving scars in patterns on her larynx, down her throat. "I have to go. My mom is in the hospital, and she's about to have surgery."

Summer's lips parted and then pressed tightly together again. She looked like a fish on land, gasping for oxygen to fill its rasping lungs with every caustic breath it took. She looked like Bellona felt.

"Go to Mrs. Darrow. Tell her you're leaving and I'll take care of your work for the rest of the day." When Bellona didn't answer - only sat there, stagnant, in her chair - Summer's azure eyes widened and she shook her friend's shoulder. "Go. And call me when you get a chance so I don't have to worry about you and Agnes all day."

Bellona nodded. With another push from Summer, she rose to her feet and began to stumble over to where Mrs. Darrow stood. Her fingers twiddled the frayed strands of her white knitted sweater, her eyes drifting aimlessly around the premises. It was confounding how one phone call could turn a person into a blubbering fool.

But what was more surprising than her sudden onslaught of tense nerves and twitching left eye was the fact that, when she asked Mrs. Darrow to be excused for the remainder of the day, she didn't even notice the concerned look in Sam's eyes. The way he swayed closer to her, the way he nearly fell on top of Mrs. Darrow in an attempt to discern what was upsetting Bellona so much.

Though just a moment earlier she'd been wishing to know Sam more intimately - to be allowed the privilege of gracing his lips with the touch of her own, to be able to whisper his name without encountering social repercussions - now, it seemed as if her glazed over eyes couldn't even detect his presence. It was an enthralling revelation, if somewhat grievous, that in the wake of losing someone she'd known for a lifetime long gone, she was willing to neglect the company of the person she could still spend another lifetime with.