milliways_bar | (no subject)

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The front door opens, and in steps Andrew Wells, hands in his pockets and shoulders slightly slumped.

He's got a note to leave -- but it turns out the intended recepient is already here.

After that conversation, Andrew finds himself in a somewhat better mood -- right up until he reads the note that's been left for him since he was last here.

He's sitting at the bar reading it. Feel free to interrupt him; it's not like the words have changed since the last three times he read it.

[ETA: Mun has gone to bed. Thread is open until it scrolls off the front page.]

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"Yeah."

Silence again, for several seconds, and then Sam says,

"The dream -- the vision she had about me -- in it she saw me die."

A beat.

"Obviously I didn't. But if she hadn't warned me... who knows. Because she was right. Someone was trying to kill me. Because of -- because of the psychic thing. His name's Gordon Walker."

A beat. He meets Andrew's eyes.

"He's a hunter."

Andrew's opening his mouth to ask -- because of the psychic thing why? -- and, at the last words, closes it.

"So he thought," he starts, and trails off.

"Are you getting it now?"

Sam's tone is frighteningly matter-of-fact.

"Dean and I know Gordon; even did a job with him once, sort of, before he found out. I'm not gonna say we were friends, or anything even close, but -- "

He shrugs, but his gaze remains steady on Andrew's.

"He's been a hunter for a long time. And he's not the only one who'd think like that. Most would, probably, if they knew."

Even Dad did.

"Telling anyone anything about it at all is a risk. Dean and I talked it over before we came back here. We decided you were okay. And then...."

"...and then."

His voice is husky.

"I think I'm getting it, yeah."

"Good."

Sam holds his glance for a moment more, then looks away and reaches for his Coke again.

"So when the yellow-eyed demon told Ava that you guys would hunt her if you knew what she was...."

Andrew swallows. "There's hunters out there who would."

"Yeah."

He flicks a sideways glance at Andrew.

"She'll be fine, I think. No one knows about her."

"Except you guys."

He lets out a long breath. "This sucks," he says unhappily.

This gets another quick, sharp look, but --

"Yeah, well, we're not telling. So."

A beat; long enough for Sam to take the last swallow of Coke and push the glass back to the other side of the counter. When he turns back to face Andrew, his expression is pretty well neutral, save for the slightly wry smile that's playing at the corner of his mouth.

"Uh-huh. Tell me something I don't already know."

That's supposed to be my job.

A beat goes by, while Andrew fumbles for the thread of the conversation.

"...So you want to get Dean's okay before we start looking into whether it could work?"

"Yeah."

He's not moving forward on this alone again, not after how talking to Ash and Ellen about it turned out.

"Anyway, you said the spell's not even finished yet."

That wry smile doesn't look like it's going anywhere.

"It's not like there's any rush."

"Guess not," he says, glancing down again.

His eye falls on the folded note, lying on the bartop.

"Listen, though, in the meantime -- something I should probably tell you."

His focus sharpens along with his curiosity.

"What's up?"

Steadily: "You remember I told you about the First Evil?"

Sam tenses.

"Uh-huh. And?"

Andrew taps the folded paper with his fingertips. "Someone sent me a note saying that the First knows about Milliways and has expressed an interest in showing up."

His voice is flat. "And that it knows Buffy's here, and likes the idea."

"Wait a second."

He looks ready to face a sudden strike from any direction: every line of him drawn in stark relief, every muscle and nerve set to react in an instant, and every bit of him focused.

"It's here?"

"It could be. Note only said it sounded interested, and it wasn't signed so I've got no idea whether it's to be trusted, but that kind of message you pay attention to no matter what."

"Andrew."

A beat.

"Does it know you're here?"

His throat works.

He's clearly had this thought already, and just as clearly been trying not to entertain it.

"I don't know."

Sam nods.

"Okay."

Grimly determined.

"How did you guys stop it before?"

"We stopped it from opening the Hellmouth by ... kind of caving in the city over it."

He shakes his head. "It's not gonna be doing that here. Whatever it's planning, it'll be something else."

"Whatever it's planning," Sam throws back, "it's not gonna get away with it."

Andrew searches his face for a moment, as though for reassurance against a fear he doesn't want to admit, then nods.

"It can't touch anything," he says, and now his tone's level and matter-of-fact again; reporting on the situation. "Or anyone. It's incorporeal. But it can look like any, like anyone who's died. Even if they've been brought back."

(He's thinking of Jonathan. And Warren.)

He reaches for his pocket notepad. "In terms of physical threat, what you've got to watch out for is its minions, the Bringers. I can show you how to recognize them."

"Anyone who's died, huh? Around here, that's gonna be a problem."

Something dark and haunted flickers in his glance for an instant before he shakes it off and cranes his neck to see the notepad.

"Let's have it."