Immortal Disasters

Seeing my best friend get off that steam train was a shot of euphoria-laced air straight to my lungs.
After waking up in my own grave, spending years looking for answers, and all the while having to regularly wash blood out of my clothes... I felt like everything might be alright in the world again.

The biggest shit-eating grin spread across my face. My feet started moving on their own, just like they had done a million times before. It wasn't a matter of thought of place or time or... anything logical, really. It was instinct. Memory.

A pull I had no name for, but had been there ever since we met.

"Silas!"

Those familiar, piercing hazel eyes locked on my gray ones from under that same black Stetson he never went anywhere without. Only, it wasn't nearly as rugged and worn.
Didn't look like it was held together by sheer willpower and spite.
But it was him. I'd know him and that damn hat anywhere.

Time stopped dead in its tracks.

He cocked his head a little to the side; that small tell of his when he was thinking way too hard about something. "I beg your pardon?"

The world imploded on itself, exploded, and fell into a million scattered pieces that I didn't know how to put back together.

Right. We weren't in 2013 anymore.

This was 1860.
The Civil War was about to start, and it didn't matter that I had nearly a decade's worth of memories of Silas Whitlock being my vampire best friend. It didn't matter that with one look, I suddenly understood he spent that decade keeping something monumentally important from me.

Right now, he was very human, staring at me across the platform like I was insane.

And that still didn't matter.
I had to make sure he lived to see 2013 in the first place.
Even if that pistol on his hip, that I suspected was loaded with iron rounds, said he might try to kill me.

Fuck my life.