I know where I'm going... I should not know where I'm going.

But it did all seem familiar. Not like he'd been there before, but like he'd dreamed of it. And he was starting to get used to this body. Smaller than his, but just enough taller to throw off his balance. This man was lithe and lined like a panther and everyone seemed to notice. Especially women.

Especially him.

But that wasn't right either. Sam knew he shouldn't be able to feel this man's feelings, or have such a close awareness of his body. He'd been in men, women, children, women with children inside them... the whole nine. Not once did he ever forget that he wasn't them. He could share pain, understand them, know them inside and out, but he always knew who he was. He'd never become his host.

Before.

He could see Harry's memories in his head. It almost made him want to claw out his own eyes to get at the places they were stored and rip them out. Some of them limped in circles around his brain, playing over and over and distorting more and more every time. Things he had done, bodies swimming in blood, self-important men in religious pomp with ugly, godless faces screaming things he couldn't understand...

But there were other things too, and Sam found that if he thought hard enough, he could see them. Silent desert sunsets, intricate inkdrawn images from books he'd read and imagined, symphonies and symphonies of music of every kind... Harry must have just logged it like a little tape recorder whenever he heard some. And women...

A young thing, she smelled like baby powder and stolen kisses with a bubbly little giggle. Sam tried, but Harry couldn't remember what she looked like. Then the image of being tossed repeatedly to the mat of a sparring ring. A cadet, flushed with victory and begging for conquest just the same. He'd loved her, but there was still no face to her. Sam flipped through a few more saucy memories, but the women were all obscured, remembered only as scents, the feel of their hands, the sounds they made.

He'd amassed an almost shameful number of these faceless females when one stepped forward and it was as if a shaft of light came from nowhere inside his head to light her. Brown eyes, chestnut curls...

... the barrel of a gun.

It was this one. She was the one. The only one.

Sam broke into a run.