WHO: Sam, Faith; a bit of Claire, mentions of John. WHAT: He can't stand the idea of waiting around long enough to lose her entirely. WHEN: Late afternoon. WHERE: Claire's place. RATING: TBD. STATUS: In progress.
It was difficult for him to accept that he was wrong. The acceptance was strong, the knowledge of what he had done, who he had hurt, how badly things had gotten screwed up; all of it stood out, rather strongly, and it left Sam realizing that he, personally, was one big old mess that needed to be cleaned up. The acceptance of the fact had been one thing. Difficult, particularly after Ruby threw the truth of her intentions into his face, but at least it was done. Sam might have been able to admit about being confused about a lot of things ever since having that blood ripped from him and the truth revealed, but where he stood on a few particular matters failed to exist as one of those things resting within his list of uncertainties.
Faith was one of those things. Right up there with his family, Sam felt a sense of self disgust and intense concern whenever he thought of her lately. He hadn't seen her since that night, walking straight out when all he could see was Ruby's blood, but ever since he had been shoved into that room within the Winchester home she had failed to leave his thoughts.
She probably hated him. Sam really didn't think he'd be able to blame her if she did. No, he wouldn't. He wouldn't blame her at all. Yet, despite the thoughts of how badly Faith must have wanted to pummel him with her fists, Sam just couldn't let it go like that. He wanted to see her. Sam didn't know what he was going to say or how he was going to say it, but one thing was very, very clear to him: he didn't want to lose her. And if he wasted time, sitting around, worrying over how much she hated him, she was going to slip - if possible - even further away from him than she was now. He had to see her. Had to make her understand that what he did, fucked up as it all was, wasn't because he wanted to rip them apart. He wanted to make things better. For everyone.
And look at how that turned out, Sam thought quietly, shoulders slumped over as he looked at the mirror resting before him. It was an uncomfortable process, thoroughly explaining, and then having the doubtful looks that followed when he informed everyone that he was headed out to Claire's to talk with Faith. He was used to just leaving. Doing what he wanted. Having his family trust him to do the right thing wherever he went. Did they trust him now?
No. The answer was very simple. They did not.
Sam waited a bit after his father had departed out to the same location in which he was headed. To do what, God only knew. The only thing truly known was that Sam was far too conflicted on the inside to bother trying to fight John on this one. Adding more heat to the fire was the last thing anyone needed. So Sam let him go. He didn't object. And he waited. When all seemed clear, Sam placed a hand to the edge of the mirror and watched carefully as the image of the interior of Claire's closet shifted into view.
Right. Claire's place. That was going to be fun, with her supervision and all. And Dad. Lurking somewhere nearby. With Faith around. Angry. He would have backed out now, normally. But he wasn't going by what was 'normal' anymore. Sam was barely able to identify as to what the term meant lately. He had forgotten what his lifestyle had used to be. He'd forgotten how to live without lies, secrets, and a comfort lying in the dark.
He had to go.
Palm rising to press against the glass, Sam screwed his eyes shut and grit his teeth tightly as the uncomfortable process, in his own opinion, of being transported from one place to the other struck him hard. Stumbling among the various articles of clothing strung up around him, Sam swayed dizzily before shaking his head, as if to clear it, and straightening out. It took him a few long moments to compose himself, thoughts of how much easier the transport would have felt if he were fixed on demon blood momentarily overwhelming him, before Sam found the ability to shove those very thoughts away and step out into the open.