Closer: Bay City Paranormal Investigation, Book 4

the fact that the six of them were all alone in this place, which had seen so much pain and death, gave Sam the shivers. He opened the SUV, found the water bottles Dean had brought, grabbed one and started back as fast as he could.
When he returned, David and Cecile had already left to continue their work. Andre and Dean stood talking in low tones. Dean had positioned himself so he could keep an eye on Bo, who was sitting at the table with his gaze fixed on the laptop.
“Andre, heads up,” Sam called. He tossed the keys to Andre, then plopped into the empty chair beside Bo and set the water bottle on the table. “Here’s some water for you.”
“Thanks, Sam.” Smiling, Bo leaned sideways and planted a kiss on the corner of Sam’s mouth. He twisted the cap off the bottle and took a long swallow. “Mm. I needed that.”
Andre shoved the SUV keys into his pocket and started gathering equipment. “Okay, Dean, you ready to get started again?”
Dean nodded. “Yep. Bo, radio me if you start feeling bad again.”
“We will,” Sam promised, cutting off whatever Bo was about to say. “Thanks, Dean.”
“Yes, thank you,” Bo echoed. “Don’t worry, I feel completely back to normal now.”
“Good.” Dean leaned both hands on the table and fixed Bo with a serious look. “I know you don’t think this is anything to worry about, Bo, but I think you need to take what just happened seriously. Your passing out was most likely the result of you being dehydrated and feverish from whatever bug it is you’ve caught, but…” He glanced behind him to where Andre stood staring into the empty courtyard, evidently lost in thought. “But I’m not sure I’m ready to blame these blanking-out spells you’ve had on that. Not until I know more about it. I think you need to be watchful, and careful. And I think you should stay at the house tomorrow night.”
Sam tensed. Oh, fuck. Here we go.
Bo’s expression hardened. “Dean—”
“Look, if you’re really sick, you should be resting, not staying up most of the night working.” Straightening up, Dean took a video camera and audio recorder from the equipment scattered across the tabletop. “You and Sam can review evidence, if you really want to help. But my medical opinion is that you should do not a damn thing all day tomorrow except relax, then after a hard day lying around doing nothing, you should go to bed early.”
To Sam’s surprise, Bo laughed. “Whatever you say, Dr. Delapore.”
“Good boy. I do love a cooperative patient.” Dean winked at them and strolled off. He handed Andre the video camera. The two of them headed off into the darkness, and Sam and Bo were alone.
For a while, they didn’t speak. All the things Sam wanted to say formed a hopeless jumble in his brain, preventing him from expressing any of it. It was probably just as well. Nothing he had to say was likely to make Bo happy.
They’d been sitting in silence, Bo watching the laptop screen and Sam pretending not to watch him, when Bo laid a hand on Sam’s thigh. “Thank you.”
Sam raised his eyebrows. “For what?”
“For putting up with me the last couple of days.” Bo’s lips curved into a wry smile. “I’ve been feeling a bit short-tempered lately. You may have noticed.”
Sam laughed. “You could say that.”
“At least I know why now. I’ve never handled sickness well.”
“Don’t I know it,” Sam said with feeling. The days he’d spent taking care of Bo while he recovered from that near-fatal bite had been trying, to put it mildly.
“Forgive me?” There was a vague flinching quality to Bo’s voice, as if he wasn’t sure Sam would forgive him.
Sam didn’t even hesitate. “Of course.”
Relief flooded Bo’s face. Scooting his chair closer, he leaned sideways to rest his head on Sam’s shoulder.
Sam put an arm around him and nuzzled his hair. He drew a deep breath of the musky-sweet scent that was uniquely Bo.
I should talk to him, right now when he’s relaxed and might actually listen. I should tell him about what I felt before he passed out. It might not have anything to do with what’s been happening to him, but we can’t ignore the possibility, even if it’s a slight one.
The problem was, the last twenty-four hours had shaken Sam’s faith in Bo’s rationality. Maybe Bo would accept the possibility—however remote—that his most recent episode was related to whatever Sam had felt, and maybe he wouldn’t. If he didn’t, if he grew angry again, Sam