He wasn't feeling much like himself right now. Panicked beyond reason, too dizzy to keep himself upright without the help of the wall, body painted with sweat while his lungs ached and ached for more air. Stringing together proper sentences was a process that was beginning to become more and more difficult for him. His mind was getting fuzzy. Having the combination of the injury to his head and the oxygen being sucked out made it hard. He'd probably fall first, he realized. Sam was going to be the first to go. That wasn't right at all. If they were gonna die, he wanted to be there. He wanted to make sure that she wasn't alone.
"You know, when I first met you," Sam released a breathy laugh. "I thought you were something else. Figured you and Dean would end up being buddies, but me...? Nah." Sam looked over at her, forcing on a weak smile. It came out more pained than anything. "Then we started talking. About real serious stuff. Stuff I couldn't talk to anyone else about. The kinda stuff that I never really got the chance to talk to anyone about before 'cause I was too afraid to let them in. Except for you. You looked at the bad stuff, the stuff that would've scared anyone else off, and you kept right on telling me to have some faith. Got so used to it that I decided to start saying it to myself when things got bad. Always thought of you right after." Sam leaned into the wall a little more, inhaling slowly. "I dunno when it happened. Can't remember really. But I think I started trusting you more than even myself some days. I dunno." It was hot. Really hot. Sam brought up a heavy arm and wiped at his brow.
"There aren't too many people out there that I let into my life like that," he admitted slowly, "hell, I didn't even...you knew me better than she did." He didn't mention Heather's name. Sam figured she would just know. Kind of made the point, didn't it? "Should've seen it then. I should've...and now it's too late, isn't it?" Sam looked at Faith, regret dimming his eyes. "I can't tell you now. It's far too late."
What was he even saying? Sam didn't know. His head wasn't feeling very right at all. Things weren't making sense to him. All Sam was certain of was that he had to keep talking. Had to be honest. Faith needed him there. She couldn't be alone. He slid down the wall, one leg stretching out while the other remained bent at the knee, his arm resting on it as he looked up at Faith tiredly.
"I think about you a lot lately," he admitted quietly. "A lot about you. And friendship. And love. It's not supposed to be like this. So..." Sam frowned and looked down. "It's so confusing. I know what I want, but I'm too afraid." Sam laughed at that with bitter amusement. "How do you tell someone you're in love with them? It's so much easier when you're supposed to be. But you...you're not. You're better than this and I'm not. God, I don't even make sense anymore." He rubbed at his face and stared off at her again, looking more weary than ever.
"It took me some time to figure it, but it's true. The way I feel. I know what it is. Haven't really felt it in a long time, not like the way it is now...it's so much stronger..." He closed his eyes, almost as though he were trying to remember something important. If Sam wasn't so certain that they weren't gonna make it at this point, he'd probably have stopped there. He didn't. "If we make it outta here, Faith, I swear to God. I'm gonna find you, take you out to the most expensive restaurant in town, and tell you all about how much I wanna be with you. I promise. And you can slap me in the face, you can spit on me, you can do whatever the fuck you wanna do. But at least you'll know. Then we can move on with our lives."