Sam shook his head. He wasn't even sure which part he was trying to deny. Maybe all of it. And yet, the gesture itself was unconvincing. Because his eyes darkened at her words, drifting away as if to protect himself.

"Vampires and succubi and radio shows," he said, the words pulled from his lips as if unbidden. "No. No. If you were a dream, even a fantasy, this is exactly what they'd throw at me."

Even as he spoke, he knew it wasn't true. Because what he was remembering, what he was feeling, wasn't a fantasy. It was grittier than that. The images, the feelings, coming back to him were the opposite of reassuring and seductive. Sure, the woman before him was attractive. But the associations were not constructed to be easily assimilated. No, they involved self-doubt, and pain, and heartache.

Purgatory sucked.