[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

[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."

[stilljustandrew]

The shudder goes through him again, and he folds his arms around his midsection, futilely.

"Yeah, um."

There's no defiance in his tone; it's little more than a whisper.

"About that."

[gavemea_45]

He raises his eyebrows, waiting.

[stilljustandrew]

"No."

[gavemea_45]

"No what, exactly?"

[stilljustandrew]

"Just no."

There's dread, but no fear. He's gone through fear and out the other side, into this strange calm acceptance.

"I'm not going to work for you."

[gavemea_45]

Lucifer looks amused by this.

"Oh, I think you will."

A beat.

"It's not as though you have anywhere else left to go, now is it?"

[stilljustandrew]

He shakes his head.

"Doesn't matter."

[gavemea_45]

"Of course it does."

He slides both hands into his pockets, a casual gesture that Sam's made hundreds of times, and looks at Andrew.

"Not to mention that I'm finding it a little surprising that you would really abandon Sam, after everything, when you're now the only one who has a chance of restoring him before it's too late."

[stilljustandrew]

That should hit hard, he thinks distantly; it should hurt.

It skids off, like a punch thrown at one of Baby's cell walls.



He raises his head a little. "Is Sam listening to this?"

[gavemea_45]

"Of course," he says, mildly. "He's never not with me, Andrew."

He smiles.

"You might even say we're in close communion."

[stilljustandrew]

"Can I say something to him? Just ... a short something?"