Privilege

"What are you - " Gabriel stared at him in astonishment. "Your JOB?"

Sam looked puzzled. "Yeah. Of course."

"Uh-huh. I see. Well, maybe you ought to take that hefty salary of archangel puke and book a trip to Fort Lauderdale. Dad knows you've earned your vacation time."

Sam waved him away. "It's just the usual. You know."

"No, I don't. Because you never say anything."

Sam shook his head. "Look, buddy - you don't need this. It's okay. I don't expect you to take it on, so don't feel bad."

"I'm not taking anything on. Consider it a, ah, distraction for me. See? Look at it like that and it's just part of your" - he crooked his fingers in air quotations - "'job.' Come on, I could stand five minutes of not feeling sorry for myself. Now start talking because you KNOW I can keep this up all night."

Sam studied him for a moment. "You're like me, you know that?"

"Don't insult yourself."

"I mean that you get more comfortable expressing yourself a little when you're trying to help somebody else."

"Well, look at it however you want. As long as it gets you to tell me what's wrong."

Sam turned his gaze to his lap.

"Sam."

"I can't," Sam muttered.

"Look. Really think for a second, okay? What's this compared to everything else you've had to put yourself through?" Gabriel paused. "The crap you've been dealing with your whole life. And ... and me."

Sam straightened against the wall. "I don't really know how to say this, but I think it might hit a little close to home for you."

"Then I can help!"

"Except that - "

"Please." Gabriel's voice grew softer. "Please, I don't want to see you upset like this. Counterproductive for you, counterproductive for me. So just let me do what I can."

Sam went a full minute without answering, during which time Gabriel could really look at him.

"Hey." Gabriel wound his fingers around Sam's forearm, clutching it. "Once you start shaking you're not gonna be able to stop. It's all right, kiddo. I'm here."

Sam closed his eyes but made no move to try and shrug Gabriel off. "I don't expect you to be."

"In that case," Gabriel told him, "You mis-expected."

Sam fixed his eyes on the floor. Gabriel waited, maintaining his grip.

Finally, Sam spoke in a hoarse whisper. "Your - your brother, he ..."

"He's a slut for bloodshed," Gabriel agreed.

"Well yeah, that too; but I meant something different." At last, Sam met Gabriel's eyes. He didn't speak, but there was no need.

Gabriel's breath caught.

"Yeah," Sam said. "This is why I didn't want to bring it up. It's bad, and ... it's bad. It is. But I'm used to having those dreams and I know how to wait out the aftermath."

Gabriel pushed himself up from the floor and offered a hand. "Come on, come sit with me."

With some reluctance, Sam allowed Gabriel to pull him to his feet.

"Don't knot yourself up over me," Gabriel told him once they were settled on the bed. "We've seen a lot of the same stuff, Sam. Too much. And I know that. Man, I KNOW. And I know how fragile I am, and I hate that you have to watch. But" - he rested a hand on Sam's back - "I also know I'm not the only one in this bunker who's had one of the bad guys tear me open in every possible way."