best be gone from here by dark

[stilljustandrew]

They're up at first light, huddling in their sleeping bags against the lingering chill, drinking coffee and eating breakfast bars, not talking much. By the time they're done, the air has warmed; the locator spell is still glowing underneath the dig site, and they pick up work where they left off.



It's just past noon when their shovels first start turning up things that Andrew thinks he recognizes: fragments of rotting fabric in familiar patterns, pieces of wood that might have once been furniture in Buffy's house.

Jonathan's shovel strikes metal, and a shaft of brilliant light shoots up from under the dirt.

Comments

[stilljustandrew]

Packing up all their gear, climbing back out of the crater, and reloading the car takes the better part of another two hours. It's afternoon by the time they're on the road back to LA, and Andrew spends the first half-hour of the car trip arranging their plane tickets home; miraculously, there are still seats available on tonight's red-eye to New York.

"Okay," he says, looking up, "got em."

[jonathanparagon]

"Something must be on our side," Jonathan says with a grin. "Or nobody wants to go to New York anymore. One or the other."

[stilljustandrew]

"Whichever," Andrew says, "I'll take it."

The road scrolls out ahead of them, open and empty in both directions. There'll be more traffic the farther they get from what used to be Sunnydale, he knows; and once they get off the road, they won't have any privacy until they get to New York.



"... listen, there's something I should tell you before we get back to Milliways."

[jonathanparagon]

That gets him a slightly startled glance.

"Yeah? What have you been up to?"

[stilljustandrew]

He squirms a little.

"'Up to' is such a harsh way of putting it."

[jonathanparagon]

"...okay, now I really want to know. Out with it."

[stilljustandrew]

"I might have ... maybe talked to a couple of people about the chance that I wasn't gonna be coming back."

[jonathanparagon]

There's a beat, then Jonathan brakes sharply in a way that would have been unsafe if there was another car in sight, and stares at him. He knows, knows... Andrew isn't talking about the risk of them both being eaten by a demon.

"Define 'a couple of people'."

[stilljustandrew]

"One person without the details, and, um, two people with. And Baby."

That's all delivered into his lap, before he bites his lip and turns to meet Jonathan's stare.

[jonathanparagon]

"And those people were...?" he prompts, not relenting. "And what the hell did you think I was going to do?"

[stilljustandrew]

"The first one was Felix Gaeta," he says, "and the others, um, Sam Winchester. And Nita Callahan."

He swallows. "I told them I didn't know for sure, but, but there was a chance ..."

[jonathanparagon]

"You thought I'd do that," he says flatly. "And you thought I'd do it without even telling you I had to?"

[stilljustandrew]

"I knew you wouldn't want to." Barely a whisper. "But if it was, if you had to ..."

[jonathanparagon]

"Then I would have told you, Andrew!" It's not the shout he might have been expecting, more a pained wail. "This wouldn't have been the First, this would have been just me and I would have told you. And made it not hurt."

[stilljustandrew]

Shame scalds through him as though he's been doused in boiling water.

He presses a hand to his mouth to stop it from trembling, and hunches over in his seat, and for his life he can't make a sound.

[jonathanparagon]

"I thought you trusted me," Jonathan says quietly, and that's the heart of it, really, right there.

[stilljustandrew]

"I do," he whispers. "I -- that's why I needed to tell you it was okay, in case -- in case you had to do it but you didn't want to --"

[jonathanparagon]

"Andrew." He shakes his head. "This entire trip, you've been thinking I might be secretly plotting to sacrifice you. Enough to make preparations. You didn't even talk to me about it before you went to them."

[stilljustandrew]

"I couldn't." He shakes his head, unable to lift his eyes. "I thought about, about asking you ... I couldn't. Because if it wasn't true, you'd be like ... well, like this."

He swallows. "And if it was, and you told me, I didn't know if I could go through with it."

[jonathanparagon]

"If you trusted me..." Jonathan starts to drive again, focusing more intently on the road than strictly necessary. "If you really did, you'd know I'd never do that to you. Like I said last night."

[stilljustandrew]

He's seeing Sam's face, guarded, suspicious: you trust him?

"It's not like that," he whispers.

[jonathanparagon]

"I think it is." His voice is steady, but just as quiet. "Deep down, I think it is. I just don't know why."

[stilljustandrew]

"You don't know why?"

His voice cracks. "You don't know why it made sense to me that you should do to me what I did to you? If that would fix it?"

[jonathanparagon]

"No, that's not what I -" He glances briefly over at Andrew. "There is a symmetry to it, I can see the logic, if logic or... or perfect balance is all you're looking for. What I don't know is how you could think I would ever accept it as an option, or go behind your back if I somehow did."

He breaks off again, then asks suddenly, "Do you remember the last thing I said to you in the school basement?"

[stilljustandrew]

He faces out the passenger-side window, closing his eyes against the slowly westering sun.

"Only every day."