saturday night and the moon is out

[feel_human]

Tucked away off the road in Bon Temps, there's a road house. Warm light spills from its windows, and the sound of a jukebox playing drifts out into the muggy Louisiana night. The regular assortment of trucks and Hail-Mary-please-keep-this-lemon-goin'-just-a-little-longer cars sit in the dirt parking lot; what amounts to about half the town's small population... or, at least, of those of the 'drinking age and above' persuasion.

Inside, it's a bar of the type scattered all across the American South: homey, no-nonsense. Booths and tables. A man in a plaid flannel shirt wiping the bar; a crossdresser in the kitchen singing Gospel hymns and rolling his hips in time with the words just to scandalize the prep cook. A handful of waitresses, bustling about.

Sookie makes her way briskly through it all, a tray balanced on her palm and her eyes kept stubbornly front, as voices swarm around her. Aloud, and... less so.

...I’m just going to have one beer tonight Jesus one beer that’s all...

...better not gripe about me eating fries not after what I did for him last night...

...I cannot wait to get the hell out of this podunk town...

 

 "Well, make sure you do, and before it’s too late," she responds, thoughtless, to the young man. "Because every year you wait? You just get more and more stuck here. Believe me, I know."

He stares at her. So do his parents.

So does the other table. And she realizes, too little too late, that he hadn't said that out loud, not at all. She laughs, uncomfortable. "I’ll get y'all some ketchup," she says, brightly, and flees, ponytail swinging against the nape of her neck as she goes.

Stupid, Sookie, she chides herself. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

 

Comments

[gavemea_45]

He trades a look with Merlotte and turns to watch the show, listening hard. Music or not, they're not keeping their voices down, so it's easy enough to hear when one of the guys he doesn't know stammers, "Uh, well, Bud Dearborne and Andy Bellefleur, um-- they asked him some questions, and then they just threw him in the back of the squad car."

Sam winces. Looks like Jason's shiftiness earlier had a reason after all.

[feel_human]

They're all looking at her like she's made of spun sugar, like Jason's already been tried and convicted and sentenced, and it only makes her madder. "Y'all are already acting like Jason’s guilty of killing Maudette, and we don’t even know what they were talking to him about," she snaps, loud enough that more than a few heads turn. "Bud Dearborne just made a mistake, that’s all."

"Oh, yeah," Hoyt says, happy to believe it. He's always admired Jason, though he's got little enough reason to. "Has to be. Jason’s a real stand-up guy."

She sighs. "No, he’s not, Hoyt." She might love her brother, but he's got his share of flaws, and more than. "He’s selfish, egotistical, and a complete horndog. But he’s not a killer."

Shooting a last glare around, she stomps back toward the bar, feeling like a nest of hornets that's gotten kicked up.

[gavemea_45]

He's her brother, so of course she'd believe him, but the thing is - Sam could see it. If Jason had witnessed something no one'd want to believe... he might be in trouble.

He waits for Sookie to reach the bar and gives her a steady look, waiting to see if she's ready to talk.

[feel_human]

Her tray clatters to the bartop as she comes up, fuming, her cheeks in high color and her eyes bright and snapping. "He didn't do it," she says, in response to that patient glance Sam's giving her.

"Jason's an idiot and he's always in some kind of trouble, but he didn't murder anybody. He couldn't."

[gavemea_45]

"Okay," Sam says, easily enough. "I believe you. But someone did, so I guess it's a matter of finding out who."

Or what. He looks over at Merlotte. "I'm new in town, so I don't know about these things here - are the cops likely to want to pin it on him?"

[feel_human]

Sam Merlotte glances at Sookie, then gives the newcomer a steady look. It's not quite suspicious, but it's not exactly friendly, either. "Don't know," he says, finally. "Sheriff Dearborne's a conscientious man."

Sookie scoffs. "Can't say that about Andy."

Sam shakes his head. "I'm not saying nothin' about anybody. But this is a small town. There's gonna be pressure to find the one who did do it."

[gavemea_45]

"Sure there will." He might as well acknowledge it. "Especially if things like this don't happen a lot around here."

[feel_human]

"You're damn right they don't."

He gives Sam a hard look. "But I guess you wouldn't know yet, seeing as you only just rolled in last night. Plannin' on sticking around a while?"

[gavemea_45]

He returns it with an easy, relaxed smile. "That's right. And I thought I might," he continues, in a matter-of-fact tone. "You've got a nice town here, and friendly people. Mostly."

[feel_human]

Sookie smiles at him, and Sam Merlotte's glance tracks back and forth between them. "Well, you're right about one thing," he says. "This is a nice town. And we wanna keep it that way."

[gavemea_45]

"Of course you do," he agrees. He gives Sookie a quick answering smile, then says, "Sookie says you own this place. You must hear about pretty much everything that goes on around here."

[feel_human]

"I keep my ears open."

He watches as Sookie lifts her tray and goes off on a round of the dining room, his glance lingering on her retreating back. Even mad, she smells like sunshine and wildflowers and happiness, and he allows himself a deep, guarded breath before looking back at the newcomer. "For example, I heard you stayed at the Stackhouse place last night."

[gavemea_45]

"I did. Mrs. Stackhouse insisted," Sam tells him, watching the way he watches Sookie and putting the pieces together. "She wouldn't take no for an answer."

[feel_human]

"She wouldn't. Adele Stackhouse is a credit. She's a sweet, trustin' lady."

A gaggle of the town mothers come in for their glasses of chardonnay and potato skins, and he watches as they glance at Sam Winchester and whisper excitedly among themselves. Sam's jaw tightens. "She's got a lot of friends here. People who'd hate to think she was bein' taken advantage of."

[gavemea_45]

“Mm-hm. And you’d be one of them, I wager.” Sam keeps his tone mild, just as easy as before.

“I happen to agree with you, just so you know. She’s pretty amazing. I wouldn’t dream of taking advantage of her.”

[feel_human]

"Glad to hear it."

He doesn't trust this guy, with his easy smiles and the scent of the road and gasoline and gunpowder that's all over him. "And Sookie's not so alone as she might seem, neither. She's a special girl."

[gavemea_45]

Something hardens around his eyes, just a little, although he keeps his smile in place. “She sure is.”

Sam studies him for a second, trying to see if Sookie’s mentioned anything about last night.

“You often have her close up late and alone?”

[feel_human]

Sam cocks his head, then tosses his towel over his shoulder and leans on the bar, giving the guy a narrow-eyed look.

"What exactly are you tryin' to imply? I don't keep my staff safe?"

[gavemea_45]

“Just asking,” Sam murmurs, unfazed by the way Merlotte leans in. “Given the trouble in town.”

[feel_human]

"There's never been any trouble before."

He breathes, even, and controls his voice. "And no, I don't have them close up alone. I live right across from the bar. I'm the last one out, always."

[gavemea_45]

Something shifts in his glance, moving from subtle challenge to an instant’s realization. They must have missed by minutes having another civilian walk into the middle of the mess last night.

If he is a civilian. Sam eyes him a little closer. “Good to know,” he says, easily. “That you’re keeping an eye on things. And people. Like me, I guess. Saw you noticing that other guy last night, too.”

[feel_human]

Sam straightens and reaches for another glass to wipe. "Like you said," he points out. "This is my bar. It's my job to pay attention to who comes into it."

[gavemea_45]

“Mm-hm.” Sam draws an aimless pattern on the wood in front of him. “What’d you think of him?”

[feel_human]

Like hell is he going to tell this newcomer anything he thinks, and especially not about the thing that came in here the night before. No pulse. No breath. Smelling of graveyard dirt and blood. And –

His glance lifts from Sam and lands on the door, intent, just before it swings open to admit the dark-haired man himself. Bill, Sookie had called him, and all Sam's attention bends on him in the next second.

Bill's glance runs over them at the bar; there's a beat, and then he gives them a cordial nod and makes his way to an empty booth. In Sookie's section, Sam notes. "I think there are an awful lot of strangers showing up in town, all of a sudden."

[gavemea_45]

"Pretty bold," Sam mutters, ignoring Merlotte, his gaze on Bill. Every muscle in his body is tense. He sure as hell doesn't want to cause a confrontation here, not in the middle of so many people, and it's a sure bet the vampire knows and is taunting them. Him.

He tries to catch Sookie's eye, to see if she wants him to come be nearby.