God, this was all so fucked up. This Ryan kid screwing with Arthur, Elisabeth going back and doing the same to him. Sam ran his fingers through his hair and drew in a breath. What was he supposed to do? Tell her that it was all okay? It wasn't. Not at all. She had gone out and did something horrible and there was just no way that he thought that she'd ever really be able to come back from that. But, judging from her reaction toward it all, it was obvious that she regretted it and he knew that meant something. It had to, right? "You shouldn't have done that," he said quietly. "You should have found another way." He wanted to hug her, but he wanted her to understand that she had messed up. She needed to understand that before he offered her any comfort
Elisabeth howled something awful, on the brink of a scream, shaking her head again (over and over), slumping over in the position she hadn’t much moved from. She wanted to run, but she didn’t have the energy to do so. “Don’t hate me,” she whispered, something she knew she would be begging from the others when the time came to tell them what she had done. “Don’t hate me, I can’t deal with that right now, I can’t, I can’t, I can’t!” It wasn’t so much that, in the long run if Sam chose to end their friendship, she wouldn’t be able to accept it, but tonight she was too much of a hysteric wreck to deal with rejection.
"I don't hate you," he told her. "But I'm not exactly going to cheer you on and say that what you did was right. It's not. It was sick and wrong and you should probably consider --- this isn't something that you can just let go, you know? You hurt someone. Badly. And he was just a kid!" Sam didn't want to make her feel worse, but it seemed as though that was probably all that he was doing. "I'm sorry for making this harder than it already is. You're upset." He rose from his spot beside her and frowned. "Look, go sit on the bed. I'm gonna get you some water. Let's get you to calm down a little before we get into this, okay? I can't talk to you if you're gonna be all hysterical."
“What is wrong with you?! Do I look like I am in a celebratory mood? That I’m not so fucked up I can’t even function correctly at the moment?” She barked incredulously, blinking at Sam rapidly. She ripped a hand through her hair, taking in a shaky breath and trying to make it into three deep ones.
“Sorry. Bed. Right.” Elisabeth moved robotically, slowly pushing herself up and just as slowly walking towards what she hoped was Sam’s bedroom. “You know you don’t help when you call a person names….right?” She stared down at the floor, curling and uncurling her fingers into the sheets, playing with the fabric in order to distract herself.
You don't help when you beat and torture a person up," he countered, walking over to pour some water into a glass. He returned at her side and handed it to her, sitting on the bed opposite her (Dean's). "Look, Elisabeth. You need to find a way to make this right, because there's honestly only but so much I can do in this situation." Honestly, right about now? Sam would be the one chasing after to turn her in or something along those lines. Under the circumstances though, he was letting her slide. But for how long?
She rolled her eyes, taking the glass with minimal shaking of her hand. “Are you honestly trying to tell me you wouldn’t have gone after the bitch that killed your brother?” It wasn’t an accusation, as much as it might have sounded, because her eyes were pleading with him, begging for some understanding or someone to be just as vengeful as her. Had it been over some bloke…but it was family. If Sam was this resistant, how the hell would the others see her? She was terrified of them seeing her negatively and leaving.