The . Dawn . Will . Come .

AUTHOR's NOTES

Hello, new fandom! Because my head refuses to shut up, I present you with a different approach to the Mike/Sam relationship from Until Dawn, a game that basically is to blame for this story. This pairing isn't nearly as developed as it deserves, so I am hoping to contribute this ship by adding this story.

I'm shooting for around 40k words total or more. Chapter will vary in length. This is intentional. I don't mean to spoil you one chapter and deprive you with another. This is the first story that I'm not concerned with a chapter number to word count ratio. I'm letting this story develop as it does naturally.

The title of this story comes from Dragon Age: Inquisition. That game has no other affiliation with this story. I really love the choral song similarly titled.

ADDITIONAL NOTES

To my faithful readers who may see this in their emails, I do recommend you either watch gameplay (cutscenes) on YouTube or read on the game's wikia pages for context if you wish to read this story. This has nothing to do with Marvel.

This story will be rated a heavy rated M. For now, though, I've lowered the rating to the current rating of these chapters. I will raise it when I feel it needs to be. Cursing is prominent in the game, so I'm keeping up with this as a style choice.

Spoilers will occur for those who forgo research or those who have not finished the game.

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Chapter 1

A night like that night in the cabin in Canada was something people fed through the stream of dreams, a nightmare. The word didn't quite grasp the hells and horrors of that night on the mountaintop. But what did someone do when no word in existence underlined the severity of a night like that one?

Sam thought they would forget it altogether.

She both had and had not forgotten, though. Sometimes when she went places familiar to her past friendships with the Washington siblings, she would hear their voices or their laughter.

She'd forgotten what she could: the survivors, the fear, the place, the life from before, mostly.

She was changed. Then again, they all had.

Josh was still missing/at large, but no one had suggested they go back to find out what became of the friend. Not even Sam.

Samantha stretched across her twin bunk bed in her dark dorm room. She had no roommate. This dump was all hers.

Joy.

Emily, Ashley, and Jessica hadn't tried to talk to her for a while. They'd given up. Good on them, Sam idly mused.

The girl wanted to be left alone with her head full of demons...and Wendigos. And her memory of Josh.

She was for the most part…alone.

Chris approached her occasionally, usually to insist she talk about that night. At the beginning of this fall semester, they shared two classes. The next day sat in two new, different classrooms to classes she was sure wouldn't contribute much to her targeted degree.

She wanted out of this school, but transferring would cost her more of her inheritance. Her parents would question her about the abrupt decision, and she would have to stick to a story for the rest of her life.

And that sounded tiresome.

She tolerated the sociology class she opted to enroll in. It was pretty remedial, but it allowed her to bypass another semester of being reached out to from the others.

Problems persisted in her plans to forgetting everything: Mike.

He was in the sociology class with her, but he minded his own business on the opposite side of the room. Sam sat a few rows lower than him to avoid seeing him. She felt him stare down at her occasionally, but he had allowed her ignorance when the others demanded her awareness.

He was the one that escaped her ignorance. He changed in the same way she had. He was the only other survivor aside from her. They fought the Wendigos together and kept each other alive.

He meant more to her than she cared to admit, but she still insisted in treating him the same. Mike only ever caused more problems than he intended.

Peace forgot about her, but ignorance was a kind decoy; however, it only existed in the real world. Falling asleep was a real chore. She saw everything again, so some nights she threw slumber to the wind.

Her health had taken a hit. Sleep deprivation was not a kind substitute for the hellish horrors of the mountain, but she graciously accepted it. She preferred to avoid sleep anyway.

A knock at the door stole her away from her reverie. A groan lowly festered at her throat, but Sam reluctantly got up to answer anyway. As she cracked the door, she instantly saw Mike.

He didn't appear changed. He looked the same, but she only saw a flash of the wounds that battered his face just before they escaped the cabin before it blew up. The reminder caused her to wince, but she quickly adjusted herself to appear cool, aloof. "What do you want? It's late."

His brow rose, "It's only six-thirty."

"Still dark."

"Evening," he playfully amended.

"Good night," she flatly said as she started to close the door.

He reached out and stopped it from closing, opening it up slightly. "Sam-"

"Do you want me to rip your face off?" she curtly interrupted with a bored, yet aggressive tension in her features.

His angular face scrunched inward, "Interesting choice of words."

"Don't mean nothing by it," she said, her southern drawl a bit more obvious. Despite her brain commanding her to shut the door on his face, Sam rolled her eyes and stubbornly opened the door and walked away to sit down on the bed. (BUTTERFLY EFFECT)

As she crossed her legs on the bed, she noticed her shorts were her old volleyball shorts. They were tight over her somewhat adequate ass. She wore a sports bra with no shirt. Mike had seen her in worse. "What do you want?"

He grabbed the rolling chair at her desk and mounted it backwards so that his arms crossed over on the high back of the chair. He offered a cavalier grin, "I want to join your dancing club."

"Fuck, Mike," she groaned without raising her monotonous tone, "Be serious."

His brows twitched closer together, but he still smiled, "I am."

"Why the hell would my dance club be of any interest to you?" she asked, her curiosity too demanding to ignore.

He held up his hand, "I can't play football or basketball anymore."

"Did your ass get hard from warming the bench, or did they kick you off the team?" she asked instantly.

"They shoved their boot so far up my ass, I thought my head would expand," he joked.

Sam exhaled almost in the manner of a single laugh, but it sounded more like indigestion. She still didn't smile, "Dancing won't help your hand any more than catching balls would."

"It will keep me in shape. If we were to be partners, we could work together to find a nice balance for us both," he started. After swallowing, his smile dimmed quite a bit and he scooted in closer to her, "I know you have a sustaining leg injury from that night. I watched you dancing a few days ago." As sudden as it vanished, the smile returned, "You need the support of a strong man."

Finally, she laughed, even though she was supposed to have scoffed. "Mike, stop."

She stood up and stood by the window, glanced down and grabbed her phone. She scrolled through the music app, and selected a slower, percussion-filled instrumental piece. When she turned, she glanced down at Mike, "Show me what I would have to fix."

He took her outstretched hand and gently squeezed it as he stood from the rolling chair. She reached around him with her other hand and shoved the blasted object away from them.

He was so much taller than she was, she mused. This information wasn't news to her, though. Michael Munroe stood higher than most of the individuals in the original group of 'friends.'

Mike snaked his arm around her bare back and lifted her toward him when she began to pull away, "Like I said, support of a strong man."

When he smiled at her, she glanced away. Her eyes settled on his inflicted hand, "Does your hand still hurt?"

"Every fucking day," he replied amiably as he stepped back.

She followed his wavering lead. Sam didn't think he knew how to properly hold a partner, but she didn't want to talk about dancing anymore. "How are you able to smile and laugh after what happened?" Sam timidly whispered.

When she glanced up, his eyes were distant, but he still grinned stupidly. She followed the moving bob of the Adam's apple as he swallowed, "You're not the only one trying to forget, Sam."

"Sometimes I hear Josh joking from outside this room," she softly said. Her lips stretched, but it still wasn't a smile. "He would sneak in the dorms just to hang out with me for a few hours when I studied too much."

Mike continued to sway them slowly, "You liked him, didn't you?"

She narrowed her eyes as she attempted to ponder the question. "I didn't have romantic feelings for him, but we connected differently than I have with anyone else."

Her answer seemed to entertain him from the way he chuckled, "You're so out of touch with your emotions." It was a statement. She didn't think he meant to offend her. He hadn't. His eyes guided down to her lips quickly, but he was quick to move his hues back to her eyes, "Even from before."

Sam stepped on his foot. When he winced dramatically, she apologized. For a few seconds, neither spoke. She exhaled and inhaled, "Mike, we weren't friends before. Not really."

"We're hardly friends now, Sam," he commented as he stepped on her toes with a playful glint in his eyes, "Sorry."

She rolled her eyes even though her lips stretched slightly, "I'm serious. You didn't really know me."

Mike's eyes narrowed. He pulled her closer to him and dipped her lazily. She followed his lead for now, and dramatically arched her back so her head slowly rose as he brought her back up to him. A passing of exotic friction and quiet intrigue flowed between them as his nose touched hers.

"Did Josh like you?" he continued quietly.

Mike leaned down as she finished moving up from the dip. She relaxed her body against his strong arms and looked down at his lips. Her lashes ticked his cheek.

As she glanced up, Sam saw a shift in his expression. It was nefarious and hot. It was metallic and questioning. She didn't pull away, though. His expression matched how she felt. "I'm sure he was interested."

"What makes you say that?" he asked roughly.

Their noses brushed again, and Sam moved her head up so it knocked against the tip of his gently. "He never treated me like he told you and Chris to treat girls. He was kind and attentive to listening to me about things I thought mattered."

"Like what?" he continued hoarsely.

Sam moved her hand slowly from his shoulder to his stomach, "Vegetarian shit, saving the local wildlife, and small bunches of feministic opinions."

Mike laughed, which tightened his abs underneath the thin shirt he wore, "I bet you hated me before."

Sam moved her hand lower to find the edge of his shirt. She felt the elastic band of his basketball shorts. Deliberately, her hand moved underneath the shirt at her fingertips, brushing burning, exposed flesh at his waist.

The contact made him squirm away from her touch. Mike awkwardly laughed and heaved as he turned around toward the door. "So am I in?" he loudly probed.

The odd reaction shook her out of her reverie: whatever spell she was under in his arms. "Yeah, sure," she spat. Sam hadn't meant to add such venom beneath the words, and she winced in response. (BUTTERFLY EFFECT UPDATE)

He didn't seem to notice, though, because he waved his hand over his head and left the room without another word.

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Butterfly Effects

Sam let Mike in her dorm room, and let Mike join her dance club.

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Status Updates

SAM:

Mike: Highest
Jessica: Neutral
Matt: Low
Chris: Neutral
Emily: Lower
Ashley: Lowest

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AUTHOR's NOTES

Thanks for reading. This story has a focus on life after the ending of the game. Everyone survives is the ending I'm going with. SPOILER ALERT! Josh lives as a Wendigo.

I'm also deciding to honor the lovely majority who enjoy Sam with Josh by incorporating Josh in small pieces throughout this story in some way. I don't hate Josh! I just dislike him for Sam, especially after playing through the whole game! Sam and Mike have SUCH good chemistry, and they are both strong.

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BREVIARY-ROSE