InsaneJournal

Tweak says, "Chacha!"

Sam Winchester (demonboyking) wrote in vas_captio_rpg,
@ 2009-08-14 16:13:00

Entry tags:

!shelved, andy gallagher, day 18, location: church, sam winchester

Who: Sam Winchester and Andy Gallagher
What: Sam tells Andy what really happened at Cold Oak
Where: The Church
When: Day 18, mid-afternoon
Rating: TBA
Status: Complete

The meeting with the management had not gone well. Sam had no more answers than he had upon waking up that morning. He still hadn't heard from Shannon or heard from anyone who had seen her since the return of the others and he was beginning to worry. He thought he knew her well enough to know that she would've at least dropped him a line to tell him she was alright, even if she didn't necessarily want to come back to the museum. She knew he worried and if she'd had access to her journal at all, she would've known that they'd though she was dead. Her not speaking up said something that Sam didn't really want to think about just yet.

He tried to push those thoughts back as he approached the church and the familiar blue van parked beside it. Even though the majority of those who had been believed to have died were back he had not changed his new attitude towards the "management" as they'd taken to calling themselves. He was going to stop lying and making promises he couldn't keep and he was finding a way out for all of them. There was no question about that. Andy needed to know the truth about what had happened in Cold Oak. He needed to know that he would have to protect himself against Ava in case actually breaking the glass wall or finding a way out of it resulted in each of them going back to their own times.

It was a conversation that he wasn't looking forward to, one that he'd very carefully managed to side step until now, but he felt like it was the right thing to do. He stopped a few feet away from the van and took a deep breath before reaching out and knocking on the back door.

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brain_ninja
2009-09-22 11:38 pm UTC (link)

Opening his eyes again and staring back out the windshield now clouded by his own marijuana smoke, Andy shook his head. "You've never gotten stoned, clearly," he said softly. It wasn't an insult and the tone in his voice wasn't condescending. He was matter-of-fact; making a statement. Anyone who had never gotten high couldn't understand that it didn't turn everyone into a bumbling idiot who could do nothing but think of White Castle or munchies. Sure, that happened to some people and once in a while, Andy was one of them; he was more than willing to admit that. But when it was important to focus, Andy still could. Right now, it was important.

After a long pause, he rolled his eyes and closed them again. "Yeah, man. I fuckin' understand you. No matter how I slice it, I'm meant to die. Either I stay here and continue to be tortured until I kick the bucket or I go back and fight until you, Jake, or Ava snuffs me out. Pardon me for not wanting to wax philosophical about it. It is what it is, bro. I'm going to die. I mean, we're all going to die; that's what people do. I'm just...gonna do it a lot sooner than most. That's life. ...or it's mine, anyway," he replied. "I just don't wanna sit here and talk about it. If you're worried about me going dark side, you can stop. I'm too damn lazy and resigned even if I wasn't already dead-set against becoming what Webber was."

Sam's sigh and remark about everyone making the decisions rather than some higher power doing so was given a sigh in return. "So then why are we here? Why do we even exist if it's just to be born, live some shitty life, and then die? If not for someone else's amusement, why bother? Whatever man, think what you want. I've had plenty of experiences where yeah, I made a decision, but only because I didn't have a choice. You think I chose to kill my brother to save yours out of the fuckin' goodness of my heart, man? No offense, but no. I had to choose between letting my brother die and letting yours die. Yours helped save Tracy, mine tried to kill her. No brainer. Doesn't mean I fuckin' liked it and it sure as hell wasn't because I was tryin' to do you guys a favor. Again, no offense. So don't give me that shit that we make decisions. I didn't decide to be here, did you? I didn't decide to be a freak, either."

Shaking his head, Andy sighed again. "Anyway," he said finally. "Whatever, I get contemplative when I'm stoned and I get shitty when I have to think about my own impending goddamn doom. It's nothing personal, bro, and I'm sorry." The last three words took a lot of effort, but even though Andy hated to say them, he did mean them.

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demonboyking
2009-10-01 07:21 am UTC (link)

Sam regarded Andy for a moment when he said he'd never gotten high. Normally the comment would've been brushed off, maybe even laughed off, but Sam's state of mind made him defensive. What was that supposed to mean? "Can't say I have," Sam said, taking his attention off Andy and turning it forward to the windshield. Marijuana was for the most part for people who didn't want to deal seriously with reality. As appealing as it sounded, Sam knew that it wouldn't solve anything, just put it off. If he was going to bury his head in the sand, he'd rely on the bottle, the way his dad had before when he needed a release. There was more than hunting techniques and bad parenting Sam had learned from John.

"No, you're not listening," Sam said, frustration edging into his voice as he looked over at Andy. "I'm not going to kill you Andy. I'm trying to help you. If you go back, just do whatever you can to get away from her until I can get to you." Sam shook his head. "Yeah, you're going to die if you can't make yourself care about fighting to stay alive," Sam said, knitting his brows together. "I never said you'd turn into Webber, I just...we have to be careful."

Sam listened to Andy talk about his brother and realized for the first time just how close Dean had come to dying that night. Andy had known Webber longer, hell he'd just found out the guy was his brother, being forced to kill him must have been one of the hardest things Sam could think of. "We're not freaks," Sam said, his jaw tightening. He hated that word. It more than any other managed to get his hackles up. "No, but you decide how to deal with being here," Sam clarified. "You don't have any control over being here, but you have control over that."

Sam sighed and swallowed. "I'm sorry too," he said, his voice rough. He cleared his throat. "I know this is a lot to lay on you and I'm not trying to pick a fight, I just... I just thought you should know."

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