I don't want a whole lotta might-have-beens

"I don't know!" Sam insisted, his voice raising and his fists balling in frustration. Everyone he was close to was suddenly turning against him, simply because he was who he was. Because of who had made him. "There was no organised march into the woods to spread the blight. I. Did. Not. Do. It." The calm edge to his voice was gone now, tears clearly not far away. He did not understand why Remi believed these accusations. The only evidence he'd heard so far was that the other Gods thought The Voice was to blame. Well, of course they did. They hated her, hated the ones she had made, hated him. He supposed Remi had chosen a side, then. "I think you are, Remi. She told me to go to Sidhe. Because we hadn't seen it yet. I walked around for a little, looked at the stars - but not to spread the blight to them.." He was angry, so angry, a feeling he had not been connected to in a long time bleeding out, and while he meant what he said he also regretted it the moment it came out of his mouth, knowing he was being very harsh to someone who had just found out their husband was going to die. But he did not apologise or backtrack. He couldn't, not when it seemed everyone had suddenly decided he was the cause of the problems here. Not when they all suddenly hated him. "I don't know anything about the blight. I know just as much as you." SAMUEL How could a night so frozen Be so scalding hot? How can a morning this mild Be so raw?