[Detroit!AU: the first to come was a fair maid]

[stilljustandrew]

Jonathan's vision was pretty well unmistakable. Gabriel's in danger, and doesn't know it -- or at least doesn't know the specifics.

That would be enough on its own, even if Andrew didn't more or less owe him his life.



Gabriel's nowhere to be seen at Milliways, and no one seems to have run into him in the past couple of days. Well, and that's normal enough; there's no reason he'd be here all the time, and plenty of reason to make himself scarce, all things considered. Maybe he's just back home.

Please just let this not be too late.

Andrew writes out a note at the bar giving Jonathan's vision in as much detail as he can, folds it carefully in quarters, and writes "The Trickster (G.)" on the outside.

Comments

[gavemea_45]

"Ah. I see."

For a moment he just continues to watch Andrew, and then suddenly he ducks his head, smiling a small, self-deprecating smile.

It's Sam's smile, and Sam's familiar mannerism, and Sam's bashful, half-embarrassed tone when he admits,

"You know, I confess that I really didn't know as much about you as I should have when we last spoke."

[stilljustandrew]

In all the great wooden room there is no sound but the sharp hiss of Andrew's indrawn breath.

[gavemea_45]

He looks up at him.

"I've since remedied that."

A beat.

"It wasn't hard, in case you're wondering."

[stilljustandrew]

He's shaking again, down to the hard knot at the pit of his stomach.

It isn't fear alone, this time.

[gavemea_45]

"He remembers you very clearly," Lucifer adds.

"Inasmuch as he still remembers anything or anyone, that is; still, you're everywhere in his memory."

A beat.

"And Dean, of course."

[stilljustandrew]

Stop it. Stop it, get out, those aren't yours to look at

Every muscle from his temple down to the base of his neck is taut and aching.

[gavemea_45]

"And then there was -- well, Sam and Dean call her 'Meg,' of course."

He shakes his head, looking sorrowful.

"I'm afraid she doesn't like you very much."

[stilljustandrew]

He can't even think of a sarcastic rejoinder to that, between the anger and the terror.

He can use anything you say. He can't use your silence.

[gavemea_45]

"Still, she was the natural choice to send after you," he concludes. "Aside from her experience with the setting, there is something of a unique bond between us."

"After all, we have both shared this body."

[stilljustandrew]

It's that casual tone that does it, coupled with the memory of Sam describing the violation of the demon forcing herself into him.

Red rage boils up behind his eyes, and Andrew lunges forward with a sobbing snarl.

[gavemea_45]

Lucifer's ready for him.

He doesn't try to avoid the attack, or to dodge any blows. Instead, he closes Sam's arms around Andrew in an embrace, drawing him inexorably in and holding him close.

"It's all right," he murmurs, his breath stirring the curls of Andrew's hair. "He knows you're finally here."

[stilljustandrew]

The sound that comes out of him is somewhere between a scream of fury and a groan of pain, wordless and ragged.

Andrew struggles, trying to pull free, trying to strike, trying to shove away the strong arms encircling him.

[gavemea_45]

He doesn't let go. Instead, he bows his head slightly, letting out his breath in a small sigh.

And then suddenly it's Sam's voice in his ear, hoarsely pleading and raw with agonized guilt,

"Andrew, please-- I'm sorry, I'm so sorry--"

[stilljustandrew]

(Andrew, please)

A deep convulsive shudder wrenches through him, and the hand that was trying for Lucifer's throat closes on a handful of his shirt front instead, and with shocking suddenness he bursts into tears.

[gavemea_45]

Lucifer smiles at that, his face half-hidden in the crook of Andrew's shoulder and neck.

He curls Andrew closer into his chest with one arm, and runs his other hand up and down Andrew's back, comforting and soothing even as he continues to murmur frantic, incoherent, barely-heard apologies.

[stilljustandrew]

There's just been too much, too damn much.

And he's been here before: aching in body and soul, the taste of his own blood in his mouth, Sam's arms around him and Sam's voice telling him that he's sorry, balm for the deepest hurt.

(And he's been here before: the ancient evil wearing the face of his dead friend and saying everything's going to be all right.)

He buries his face in the hollow of Sam's chest, and cries.

[gavemea_45]

Lucifer strokes his hair.




"Don't worry. It'll be over soon."

[stilljustandrew]

It's already over, he thinks.

And a moment later: No it's not.



Slowly, gradually, the weeping starts to subside.

[gavemea_45]

His hand comes to rest on the crown of Andrew's head, and his embrace loosens.

[stilljustandrew]

He wipes his face, sniffs hard to clear his nose, swallows.

He feels empty; completely husked out, as though the wind could blow him away. And for a moment that feeling is weirdly peaceful.




Okay, Wells.

Andrew straightens, lifting his head again.

Break's over.

[gavemea_45]

He meets Andrew's eyes, and smiles, very slightly.

"Feel better?"

There's dark amusement underlying the seemingly-simple question.

[stilljustandrew]

Andrew swallows.

"Yeah," he says. His voice is slightly hoarse; he clears his throat and swallows again.

"A lot better, actually."

[gavemea_45]

"Good."

The small smile doesn't waver.

"That's very good."

[stilljustandrew]

"Yeah."

He draws a deep breath, and steps backward, breaking the embrace.

"Thanks."

[gavemea_45]

He lets him go without even trying to hold on.

"Oh, you're welcome."

Beat.

"I decided I could grant you that much, at least, before setting you to work."