[AU] down to the Gulf

[feel_human]

Recuperating is a long, wearisome process, but she steadily refuses Bill's offers of his blood. "With everythin' that's been happenin', I just need to feel human for a while," she tells him, and he accepts it, if reluctantly.

Sam and Dean keep her swaddled in blankets, ply her with ice cream and soup and oatmeal and eggs, food soft enough not to hurt her bruised throat, and sternly keep her from doing pretty much anything at all but resting, eating, and healing. It feels like ages before her throat has healed well enough for her to eat solid food, but after that point, she gets better faster and faster. After a couple of weeks, she's nearly back to her old self, and the bruises have mostly faded away. She celebrates by baking Dean the long-promised apple pie and by telling Sam Merlotte that she's taking another week off.

There's no chance her little Honda could make it all the way down to the Gulf, even after Dean fixes what René had broken. Jason surprises her by offering his truck – she doesn't take him up on it, but she's touched – but a rental's a lot easier to manage when she's not the only one paying for it.

She leaves the house in Dean's care, warns him that Tara will be stopping by to make sure the place is still in one piece and asks him not to stake the neighbors, then slips into the passenger seat, her bag in the back with Sam's backpack. And then they're gone, gone, cruising southwards away from Bon Temps and vampires and everything that's happened. It's perfect, and that's even before they get to the Gulf.

She's not prepared for the crystalline water, the massive arcing expanse of sky, the soft white sand. It's the most beautiful place she's ever seen.

Comments

[gavemea_45]

"Different green. Not like Louisiana, though. But there's green," he hastens to assure her.

[feel_human]

"I guess that's what windowboxes and houseplants are for, anyway," she murmurs.

"It's so crazy to think about not bein' in Bon Temps. I've lived there my whole life."

[gavemea_45]

"I know it'll be a big change." Sam's gaze is steady on her. "For me, being settled will be what's new, but for you -- well, it's been a lot, for you, these past weeks."

[feel_human]

She glances down, squeezing his fingers. It won't just be Bon Temps she's leaving; it'll be the family she has left, the few friends she has. She'll have to meet new people and either hide what she can do or try to explain it and watch them turn away from her again.

And somehow, that's not even her biggest concern. "I'm a little worried," she admits, meeting his eyes again. "Everyone you're gonna meet is gonna be so smart and... ambitious, and..."

She shrugs, slightly. "I only graduated high school."

[gavemea_45]

"They're just people," Sam murmurs. "Some of them will just be there for parties, or spending their parents' money, or whatever. A big waste, but there it is. They're no better than anyone else. Or worse, I guess."

[feel_human]

That's not the way the world works, but if he wants to be optimistic about that part of it, she supposes she ought to let him. "I'm gonna slip up now and again, too," she warns him.

"Like I do at home. You know people will think it's weird."

[gavemea_45]

"If you want, we can figure out a cover story," Sam says, carefully. "Whatever you want, so that you're comfortable. And if not, that's okay, too."

[feel_human]

"A cover story? For bein' a telepath?"

She studies him, curious. "Like what?"

[gavemea_45]

"Um." Sam squeezes her hand again, gently. "Can I ask a question first?"

[feel_human]

She frowns slightly, but nods.

"You can ask me anythin', Sam."

[gavemea_45]

"Why do you get so upset about being called psychic?"

[feel_human]

She blinks at him, but considers the question carefully before she opens her mouth. "Well, for one thing, it's not accurate," she points out. "I guess everybody hates bein' called the wrong thing. Sam hated it when I asked if he was like a werewolf. But... "

Sookie shrugs. "'Psychic' is like... mind-readin'. I can't do that, or else I'd have found out about René long ago, right? I just hear things. I can't go lookin' for them. I think people are even more weirded out about a psychic than a telepath."

[gavemea_45]

"Not just mind reading," he counters. "I mean, I can't do that. But ... I'm psychic."

It's the first time he's said it aloud as a simple fact, regardless of whatever it means.

"There's lots of different psychic abilities."

[feel_human]

"I guess."

She squeezes his fingers at his confession, her mouth a wry, sympathetic line. "I don't know that it's the word that bothers me so much, or just the way people always said it. Like I was somethin' to be afraid of, or like I was riflin' through their thoughts like... like somebody goin' through their underwear drawer."

[gavemea_45]

He knows she loves her town, but Sam has to wonder again just what the hell is wrong with so many of the people in it.

"The reason I ask... is there's lots of people in California who are a little on the hippie side. Psychics might be more accepted there. And Dad--"

He swallows, and continues, awkwardly, "--he always taught us to take psychics seriously. At least until we figured out if they were faking it or not."

[feel_human]

She frowns a little at him, in confusion.

"You think I should tell people I'm psychic? A psychic?"

[gavemea_45]

"I don't think you'd enjoy scamming anyone, so I'm not suggesting you set yourself up with a shop reading the cards or whatever. But if you're worried about slipping, or what people might think... I bet we can come up with a background that people'll think is special, and they'll give you a lot of leeway."

[feel_human]

It's possible he's right, and she might be able to hide in plain sight, but...

"Won't that attract too much attention?"

Say, the kind that's been shining a spotlight on both of them since he came to town. "For me and you?"

[gavemea_45]

"Maybe, maybe not. It's something to think about, anyway. As long as we don't go around talking about hunter business, vampires, or anything like that, I think we can blend in."

Sam runs his thumb over the inside of her wrist, back and forth. "Something to think about, anyway."

[feel_human]

"Well, you know more about that than I do," she murmurs, shivering a little as he strokes his thumb over her skin. "We can think about it."

[gavemea_45]

"Right." He rolls back to his side and leans over to press a gentle kiss to her shoulder. "We'll figure something out."

[feel_human]

She shivers again as his lips brush her bare skin, and she lets go of his hand to settle hers lightly on his hip. "Okay."

For the first time in her life, she won't have to figure it out alone. Gran and Tara and Jason always loved her in spite of what she can do, but they'd never had an answer or a plan for her that wasn't please try to stop being that way.

But she can trust Sam to work it out with her, she thinks. "If you think we can find a way, I believe you."

[gavemea_45]

"I do. We will." Sam smiles, putting all the reassurance into it that he can.

[feel_human]

He must be real good at this part of the job, she thinks. The part where he talks to people about the crazy things that have happened, and makes them feel like it can all be managed, somehow.

She rolls onto her back and keeps her head turned so she can smile at him. "What would I do without you?" she teases, gently.

[gavemea_45]

He mirrors her action by rolling onto his stomach, props himself up on his elbows, and grins at her. "Well, you wouldn't be lying on a beach right now, for one."