“Who are you and what the fuck are you doing in my bed?”

The angry, hostile words break into your sleep, disturbing your dreams. You roll over sleepily and then, suddenly, your eyes snap open wide.

A rifle is aimed at your head. As you calm your racing heart and look past the weapon, the shock of seeing Martin standing there, holding the rifle, renders you speechless.

He pokes the weapon against your shoulder, the metal barrel cold against your bare skin. “I asked you a question, boy.”

“Martin….” The word, his name, comes out in a voice filled with emotion. Tears fill your eyes and spill down your cheeks, making your vision blurry.

He prods you again, hard enough that you wouldn’t be surprised if it left a bruise behind. “How do you know my name?”

“It’s me. Grant….” Your voice trails off, though. He won’t know you. It’s like before. When he was a spirit bent on revenge and possessing the land you live on. “I thought the nightmare was over now,” you whisper.

Martin’s eyes narrow in suspicion. Then, abruptly, they widen and he takes a step back, the rifle dropping from his hand. “Grant.”

You don’t ask questions. You don’t speak. You launch yourself off the bed at Martin and are caught in a tight, hard embrace. He feels so warm and safe and you cling to him, pressing your face into his shirt and inhaling his scent.

Martin kisses your neck and holds you tight enough, you can almost forget that he didn’t remember you. Finally, however, he pulls away. After a hard, almost bruising kiss to your lips, he strides over to the chest of drawers. Pulling open the top one, he begins to take out clothes for you. “You have to leave. Now. It’s not safe for you. Go to the reservation and find Walter and Ray. Whatever’s happening here will be happening there as well.”

You stare at the clothes and then at Martin. Obeying him is drilled into you, but how can you leave him behind?