[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.

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[feel_human]

"I don't know anythin' about it," she muses. "It's kinda scary to think about goin' that far away."

It is, but it sends a thrill of excitement through her, too, and her grin doesn't dim at all. "You know I'm gonna want Tara to be able to come visit, right?"

[gavemea_45]

"I think we need a two-bedroom apartment, for guests," Sam says. "It may not be a big one, though."

[feel_human]

"Well, we gotta have a place for Dean to stay when he visits," she agrees, practical. "Can't just have him sleepin' on the floor. Tara, either."

She'll definitely need a job, and a good one, too. Maybe she'll have to start working as a bartender instead of waitress to afford all this.

[gavemea_45]

For a moment he can't speak past the sudden lump in his throat at how easily she dreams, and how bright her optimism is, where Sam himself is still working on believing that he hasn't lost his family. Sam reaches to take her hand in his again and holds on, instead.

"Yeah," he manages, rough.

[feel_human]

She squeezes his hand back, curling her fingers around his. If he wants her to come with him, then she's going to make sure she takes care of him... and that includes making certain he and Dean don't fall out of touch. "I can just see it now," she murmurs.

Windows she'll make curtains and flowerboxes for. Second-hand furniture. Sam surrounded by books, hard at work on his laptop.

[gavemea_45]

"I can't wait." He squeezes her fingers. "It'll be wonderful. You'll see." A flicker of mischief enters his glance. "California's really sunny, too."

[feel_human]

She wrinkles up her nose in a grin at his teasing. "It better be," she teases back. "You know I need sunshine. I'm like a plant."

[gavemea_45]

"A flower, maybe." Sam lies back down, still keeping loose hold of her hand, and turns his head to look at her.

"What's your favorite flower, anyway?"

[feel_human]

She relaxes on her own towel, scooting a little closer to the edge so she can comfortably hold his hand. "I guess I should say 'magnolia,'" she says, grinning.

"Like a good Louisiana girl. But I like when the wild plum blooms. And daisies, and violets."

[gavemea_45]

"I don't think I've ever seen wild plum flowers," he muses. "Daisies and violets, sure."

[feel_human]

"They're real pretty, and they smell so nice. The bees just love buzzin' around them."

She laces their fingers together and shifts, digging her hip a little into the sand beneath the towel. "I guess there probably won't be so much green in California, huh?"

[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."