[Detroit!AU: dreaming]

[stilljustandrew]

In the dream he's sitting on the ground, in deep fragrant grass, leaning back against the hood of a car. There's another presence there, a shoulder a few inches from his, close and reassuring; there's a cold bottle of beer by his hand, resting in a slight depression in the earth.

And the night sky overhead is jeweled thickly with stars, more than he's ever seen before.

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[gavemea_45]

"It's okay," Sam interrupts. "You--" He's still looking off to the side, into the night around them.

A pause.

"Whatever you said can't have been as bad as what I did to him, so."

His voice is carefully steady. Sam looks back at Andrew.

"He's gonna be mad, yeah. Probably for a while. A long while. Might get in your face about it, maybe be cold and hard, I don't know which. It all depends. But--"

He swallows.

"But ... "

Whatever he's trying to say, it looks as though he's not able to choke the words out.

[stilljustandrew]

Andrew reaches out and takes Sam's hand again, this time to offer comfort instead of ask for it.

He doesn't say anything; just waits to see if Sam's going to finish the sentence.

[gavemea_45]

Sam's fingers close tight around his, almost desperately so. He ducks his head, breathing rapidly.

"I, I can't," he manages, finally, and looks up. "But you can."

[stilljustandrew]

"I can what?" he whispers.

[gavemea_45]

"He doesn't stay mad forever," Sam tells him. A wry smile's there and gone in the same instant. "Usually."

"You can-- can work it out. Fix it."

He swallows again, and can't hold Andrew's eyes. Sam looks out at the trees.

"I just don't want him to be alone."

[stilljustandrew]

Andrew squeezes his hand.

(Because even though he's pretty sure that Dean would prefer being alone to his company, and that there's nothing to fix --)

"I'll do what I can."

[gavemea_45]

"Thanks."

He shifts, just enough to settle his back more comfortably against the car while leaving his arm around Andrew's shoulders, and looks up at the stars again.





"I always liked it here."

[stilljustandrew]

"Where are we?"

It hardly seems to matter. Safe. We're safe.

[gavemea_45]

"Indiana, maybe. I don't know exactly. Could be lots of places," Sam tells him.

"Off the road a long way from anywhere, outside at night under a clear sky -- that's where."

[stilljustandrew]

"Under the stars," he says softly.



"Sam?"

[gavemea_45]

"Yeah?"

His glance stays on the sky above. His head's tipped back far enough that his hair's fallen away from his face, leaving his profile starlit. Sam looks almost at peace.

"What is it?"

[stilljustandrew]

Almost at peace.

"I'm sorry I got so angry. When you left. I didn't know."

[gavemea_45]

Sam huffs out a breath that might even be a wisp of laughter.

"Don't worry about it." He glances sideways at Andrew. "Besides, I guess I didn't exactly do the best job of explaining, huh?"

[stilljustandrew]

"I should've known you went back to fight. Even if you didn't say."

He's looking back at the sky.

The memory of that terrible misunderstanding, and the awareness of its dire consequences ... somehow it doesn't seem to hurt as badly, under these stars. In this one place that Lucifer can't reach.

[gavemea_45]

He shrugs and turns his face upward again.

"Now you know."

Matter-of-fact.

[stilljustandrew]

"Yeah."

Quiet descends. Andrew reaches for the bottle of beer, and takes a swallow.

[gavemea_45]

Sam smiles a little wistfully at that, not looking away from the stars.

The fitful breeze flutters past again, rustling the leaves in the nearby trees. The chirping of crickets rises on the air from somewhere nearby.

"It was good to see you, man." Softly. "Take care of yourself, okay?"

[stilljustandrew]

Andrew looks at him swiftly, fear rising in his face. "Don't go."

[gavemea_45]

He glances sideways at Andrew, the small, wistful half-smile still touching one corner of his mouth, and shakes his head.

"I'm not going anywhere."

[stilljustandrew]

"But...."

He swallows in a dry throat. Half-consciously, he tilts up the bottle for another drink, and another.

"I don't want to leave."

[gavemea_45]

"I know," Sam says, very quietly. His arm around Andrew's shoulders tightens for a second, then relaxes.

"Stay as long as you can."

[stilljustandrew]

"I don't --"

He's so thirsty. And the bottle seems as full as it was when he started; he takes another swallow, and feels it wet his mouth and throat, and immediately feels them go dry again.

"Please."

And again.

"I don't want to wake up."

[gavemea_45]

"It won't be for much longer, Andrew, I swear--"

Sam's tone is suddenly urgent and taut with underlying tension, his grip tightening again as if by doing so he could keep Andrew there and safe.

"Remember this and hold on, okay? Just a little longer, they're going to get you out, they're going to rescue you-- don't forget--"

[stilljustandrew]

"Sam --"

Andrew lets go of the bottle, which fails to land anywhere, and reaches up to clutch at Sam's shoulder. It feels tenuous, as though it's not really there. Or as though he isn't.

He clings all the harder for it.

"I won't forget, I won't, I promise -- "





He opens his eyes, and looks without surprise at the wall and floor of the little cloister room.

The thirst is here too, strong enough to have woken him, and the renewed ache in his bound arms.

It's tomorrow.