theshot_yougot | (no subject)

(no subject)

The drive home, one minor breakdown aside, is pleasant and chatty; unusual mostly in being more chatty than usual. Occasionally Leah will let a silence fall for long enough to be comfortable, but she always pushes for a conversation when a topic occurs to her.

She wants to hear him.

When they get to her apartment, she's acting more or less like herself, finding her way from the car to her door, inviting Sam in and immediately heading for the kitchen.

"I don't know about you, but I'm dying for a drink."

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"Fine."

Or better than she is. The only thing Sam's lost in the last fourteen years or so is an inability to shut up.

More or less.

When Leah bows her head, it's because she's missing that inability to shut up - chatty little Sam and his questions would do her a favour. Just as he did last night, if she's honest.

It's not the eyes - those are major, but it's not just them. It's that 13 year old Leah carried a whole lot of pain with her and the memories are fresh again.

It's the emotional equivalent of re-opening an old war wound.

Still, after a second, she nods, smiles, and sits back against the couch, letting silence fall again, more comfortable than in the car.

She can hear him breathing.

The silence is what he wanted. But now that Sam has it, in distinct contrast from what she'd been doing so far, it feels... forced.

He sips his tea, which tastes something more like sweet flavored milk now, and looks over at the woman beside him.

"...are you okay?"

Leah breathes out into a smile.

"Yes."

Beat.

"No. But I'm going to be. It's just - stuff."

Sam hesitates. He's been doing that a lot.

But even if she wants to share it, he's not sure he's the one that should hear it. And at the same time, he's not sure - despite what she's said - that Leah has anyone else to talk to.

She has Barbara, of course, but Babs is not the same. For a start, she's so rarely here. And there are things that she probably isn't the best person to go to. Like killing people.

She doesn't think she has to talk about it - refuses really to admit she'd need something like that. Instead, it's more like she thinks he deserves to know.

"Not my eyes. Just all the emotional shit I was carrying back then. I don't like being reminded of it."

Sam nods slowly, still looking at her sideways.

"Makes sense," is all he says, quietly. But he agrees more than those two words can say.

She can pick up at least some of that, and it makes her smile that she probably doesn't need to say more. Smile, and shift a little towards him - not enough to fully close the space, but so she feels closer.

She has no idea where the next sentence comes from.

"I miss my family."

Dark brown eyes catch that little shift, but Sam doesn't actually turn his head. He's very still, almost casually so, except that it's a reflex he learned out of being a hunter. He's no more relaxed now than he was when he first came into the house, and that shift is...

He takes another sip of his tea.

"I'm sorry," he says, because that's what you say.

And with that there's silence for another few seconds, as Leah sits in her own thoughts for a few seconds, just listening to him breathe. Because as long as she's listening to him breathe, she's not thinking about anything else.

Except that she's Leah, and she's always thinking of everything else.

"Sam?" she says finally. "Do you mind staying over?"

Sam freezes. There's not much breathing to listen to for a moment.

But only a moment. Then he's swallowing, keeping his eyes down on the cup in his hands.

"Leah..."

She swallows back the sudden 'I take it back' that's bubbling up in her throat - physically swallows, as well - and instead tilts her head, waiting for the end of what he's going to say.

It doesn't have to mean anything. She's had a hard time today. He's one of her only friends.

He glances at her.

"Okay."

She smiles again - it's doesn't reach any further than her mouth, but it's definitely relieved.

"I know you probably want to get to Dean, but I don't want to be alone, yet."

Though even saying it out loud makes her wince.

Sam shakes his head automatically, still looking down at his drink. "Dean's been staying with Jo for a couple of months. He'll probably go straight to her place."

He doesn't have anywhere else to be. And even if he did... well, that's not the point.

At least that's something else for them to talk about.

"Yeah? I should really get to know Jo better."

Dean, too, for that matter.

"Good luck with that," Sam notes, smiling a little. "She doesn't make it easy."

Or maybe that's just on Winchesters.

"So what else is new?" Leah says, a teasing element in her voice. "You're not exactly Mr. Transparent."

All right, she's got him there. But she's at least got him a little sheepish for it.

"Back at you," Sam points out.

"Not true," Leah objects, sounding only a little put out. "You just never ask."

Okay, fine. She's got him again. The silence at the other end of the couch is just a little more uncomfortable now.

"The answers," Sam says quietly.

She bites her lip, knowing instantly which question this is an answer to. But as it's on the table...

"...what about them?"

"You asked why I quit asking so many questions."

Sam hesitates, fiddling with the handle of the little cup in his hands. It settles onto the coffee table with a small clink noise.

"Part of it... you start getting answers you don't want to hear. You don't need to hear, sometimes."

"Oh."

Which is better than asking for examples. She can imagine examples.

"I think I'd rather have the answers than not know."

Sam's hesitation this time has little to do with discomfort.

"Somehow, I doubt you were getting the same answers."