At the Council Library

[stilljustandrew]

Sam's been here before, a couple of years ago.

Very little has changed; it still has the timeless feel of most libraries, the central rotunda still vast and hushed and reverent.

Comments

[stilljustandrew]

"So it was right after that when I talked to Mac. And I thought ... I thought maybe you deserved to talk to someone who wasn't, you know."

His mouth works for a half-second, lips pressing together unsteadily.

(you meant about Ava)

"Too busy obsessing over the person who tried to kill you."

[gavemea_45]

He shrugs.

"It's not like you didn't have reason to be upset. I knew that. I figured you would be."

[stilljustandrew]

"Yeah. But I shouldn't have been so upset that I forgot to think about what you went through. Not ever."




To his hands, still resting on his lap: "You deserved better than that."

[gavemea_45]

Now Sam looks awkward. He shifts uncomfortably in his seat.

"Come on, man--"

[stilljustandrew]

Andrew's shoulders hunch slightly.

"You did," he says, low. "You asked. That was why."

[gavemea_45]

"Yeah, I asked, but--"

Sam shakes his head.

"I didn't, though. I wasn't able to help her. And it's my own fucking fault I got killed, anyway."

There's something very grim about the way he says that.

"Don't do me any favors for being a damn fool, Andrew. I don't deserve it."

[stilljustandrew]

Andrew stares at him.

[gavemea_45]

The disbelief on his face is hard to take. Sam looks away.

"It's true. If I hadn't turned my back on Jake, he wouldn't have gotten the drop on me. I wouldn't have died."

Dean wouldn't have sold his soul to get me back.

"That goddamn gate --"

His voice trembles, just for a second.

--Dad--

"--would have stayed closed."

A beat.

"So."

[stilljustandrew]

"So nothing," Andrew says, low -- some part of him is still mindful of the fact that they're in a library, after all -- but with vehement force.

"So nothing. You trusted a guy to do the basic decent thing and he stabbed you in the back. Don't you dare blame yourself for that. Don't you dare."

He's leaning forward, hands fisted on his knees, and his eyes are burning.

[gavemea_45]

"And then later I shot him in the back," Sam points out. "But it still wasn't soon enough."

He turns back to look at Andrew, and shrugs, very slightly.

[stilljustandrew]

"That doesn't mean --"

Andrew's hands turn palm up on his knees, pleading.

"You didn't deserve to die. You didn't do anything to die for."

[gavemea_45]

The phrase rings familiar for some reason, and a second later he has it.

Sam shakes his head again.

"I didn't do anything," he says, finishing the reference. "Yeah. I know. That's sort of the point."

[stilljustandrew]

"How is that --"

He has to drag his voice down.

"How is that the point?"

[gavemea_45]

He glances around, then leans over and lowers his own voice.

"Because I was stupid," Sam hisses back. "I should have known better."

[stilljustandrew]

"So should Jake," Andrew counters. "So should Ava. Hell, so should Andy, he let her get the drop on him. Did he deserve to die?"

[gavemea_45]

It slams into him, even though he knows what Andrew's doing -- hell, he's even using the same words, and Sam's sure deep down that he's doing it deliberately.

But what Andrew doesn't know, can't possibly know, is that there's something else, too.

"Looks like I was right... Andy's a killer after all."

"No, he's a hero. He saved his girlfriend's life, he saved my life."

"Bottom line, Dean-- last night, he wasted somebody."

"What's your point, Sam?"

"Right circumstances, everyone's capable of murder. Everyone."

He looks down and away, back at the book, and doesn't say a word.

[stilljustandrew]

"Neither did you."

He wants to reach out and put a hand on Sam's arm.

Doesn't. It's hard to say what stops him.

"And even if you did. Which you didn't. Even if you did -- that's not the same as not deserving to have anyone care."

[gavemea_45]

"I know that."

His gaze is still fixed on the book. A beat of silence, and then Sam sighs, and finally glances back up.

"I'm not saying I deserved to die, Andrew. And it's sure as-- it's not like I wanted to, either."

"But what I'm trying to get through to you is that it's my own fault that I did."

[stilljustandrew]

"Nope."

Quiet, and steady.

"Sorry. Not buying it."

[gavemea_45]

Sam shrugs, and looks away again.

"Anyway."

After a moment.

"You didn't have to send someone else. Is what I meant."

[stilljustandrew]

A long beat.

"Okay." Soft. "I'll know that for next time."



"...You know what, let's not have a next time."

[gavemea_45]

He glances back at Andrew, and cracks a small, wry smile.

"Right there with you on that one."

[stilljustandrew]

Andrew returns it, with a touch of hesitancy that dissipates mid-gesture.

"So, uh." Half a beat. "...where were we?"

[gavemea_45]

"Um."

He has to think back.

"... library closes at 4 AM," Sam recalls.

[stilljustandrew]

"...yeah." A bit rueful. "And right now it's only about ... five-thirty in the afternoon. So we're good for time."