milliways_bar | (no subject)

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As soon as the shower had started running in the motel's bathroom, Sam had seized his chance. He yelled something indistinct about lunch, grabbed his laptop and messenger bag, and headed straight for Milliways without waiting for Dean to answer.

Now he's sitting at a booth, the laptop open in front of him, staring at something on the screen.

(From time to time he stares at a note, instead.)

Either way, it doesn't look like he's making much progress.

[ooc: open until it scrolls, with a break at 9 MT for tonight's episode of Supernatural.]

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Andrew takes the seat, and shakes his head.

Heavily: "She was done lying, I guess."

"Maybe so."

A beat.

"She told you everything, huh."

"I think so. I think she did."

Beat.

Andrew looks up.

"She said ... you're okay with people here not knowing about it."

"Uh-huh."

Sam glances down at the closed computer.

"I guess I am."

You guess? he almost says. Doesn't.

"I've put it under conditional lock in the Security office," he says, "so it'll ping if anything like that demon attack last year happens in the bar again, but ..."

(Distantly marveling: I spent time in the cells because of that.)

(It doesn't seem relevant.)

"Other than that, I'm not gonna spread it around."

"She told you about that?"

He sounds surprised now, and his gaze swings back up to Andrew's face.

Andrew blinks back at him. "I was there for that."

Half a beat. "We talked, afterwards. I, I thought ..."

He looks aside. "Anyway."

Sam looks utterly startled.

"-- wait, what? You were there?"

"Did I not tell you about --" he starts, sounding puzzled, and then abruptly closes his mouth.

"No," Sam says.

Steadily.

"You didn't."

Andrew's looking at the table, and a dull flush is heating his ears.

"Yeah," he says heavily, "no, I wouldn't have. 'Cause that was when I was still not talking to you about Ava."

"... oh."

Awkward.

"Yeah. That, uh, makes sense, then."

"So yeah," he says after a moment, very low. "I don't think she's gonna do it again. But, well." A touch bitter. "She's fooled me before."

"Hey."

Firmly. Sam leans forward a little.

"Not just you. Remember that."

Is that supposed to make me feel better?

It sounds petty even before he says it. It would sound petty even if it weren't for the fact that he's talking to Sam.

(Because: he's entirely aware that it wasn't just him. it wasn't even primarily him.

He wasn't even important enough to her to be the main person she was lying to.)

He nods instead, looking down at the tabletop.

Silence, for a few seconds.

"... for what it's worth," Sam says, finally, "I think you're right."

Beat.

He looks up. "About what?"

"About her not doing it again," he says.

"Especially if she doesn't feel she doesn't have a choice, maybe."

The ache is sudden and sharp and completely unexpected.

He swallows, trying not to show it. "Yeah."

"Anyway, that's... that's a big part of why I'm okay with word not getting around."

Sam hesitates, then adds, very quietly,

"And, uh... I remember that kind of did a number on you and Mac, when... you know."

"Yeah, but ..."

He trails off.

Whatever comes after the but, it's too complicated to articulate right now. Even to himself.

"But we're okay now," is how he finishes instead; that's part of it, at least.

Sam nods.

"Still."

(Go ahead, follow me around and tell all my friends --)

"Still," he repeats, low. "Yeah. It should be up to her."

"Yeah," he agrees.

Besides which, the more that word of what happened in Cold Oak gets around, the more likely it is that people will find out more about the Winchesters' situation than either of them want known, although Sam doesn't say that.

Instead, he hesitates, and then slips the piece of paper out from under the laptop and unfolds it. Sam glances down at it, then back at Andrew.

"So, uh..."

Beat.

"You, um, got Buffy involved?"

Pause. Blink.

"Yeah. I -- did she write to you?"