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

[feel_human]

She blinks her eyes open and looks up at him, lightly bewildered by how clearly she can see, how easily she can breathe. "The Rattrays jumped me," she murmurs, and frowns, thinking back. "They got me down and... kicked me... and then Bill was there."

A thrill of fear shudders through her, and she tries to push herself up with a burst of adrenaline, only realizing as she does so that she can feel her legs, she can move them, she's healed. Or healing, anyway. She stares at Bill. "You gave me your blood."

"I had to." His expression is impossible to read, standing as he is with the moonshine behind him. "You were dyin'."

[gavemea_45]

Like hell is he going to feel grateful to a vampire, and yet--

Sam grits his teeth and makes himself lower the gun, aiming it at the ground between them instead as he relaxes the pressure on the trigger. Besides, if Bill goes for the gun first he can use that instant for his backup options, but Sam's beginning to think the other's angling for a different approach here.

"They won't cause you any more trouble," he murmurs, watching Bill's face. He'd be flatly surprised if either of them had survived. "Let me take you home."

[feel_human]

She nods and gets shakily to her feet, then meets Bill's eyes. "I guess we're even," she says, unsteady, and he nods, once.

"Get some rest," he tells her. "I'll call on you tomorrow, as we discussed."

He gives Sam a curt nod, then blurs into motion and is gone, leaving Sookie shivering with strain and reaction at the edge of the calm bayou.

[gavemea_45]

Sam moves to wrap his left arm around her shoulders and draw her to his side, keeping his right hand free just in case.

"Come on," he murmurs. "I'll drive."

[feel_human]

She's trembling lightly beneath his arm, but it's from shock and reaction, only. The pain has gone as if it never existed, and she feels completely healed. "Your bike," she points out.

"You better not leave it here. I'm okay, Sam, I can drive."

[gavemea_45]

She's shivering against him and he wants nothing more right now than to see her safe in her own house, lights on and full of warmth.

"Are you sure? I can hide it in the bushes, it'll be fine," he insists.

[feel_human]

"It'll be more trouble for you to come back and get it," she says, hanging on to her practicality with both hands. "It's not that far. I'll be fine."

[gavemea_45]

He doesn't like it at all, but he has to admit she's not wrong. "You pull over if you have even an instant's trouble," he insists. "If you feel shaky at all. I'll follow right behind you. Okay?"

Even with that grudging agreement, he sticks right by her side as they head to her car.

[feel_human]

He hates it, she can tell, but he agrees anyhow and so she nods to his request. "Promise," she says. "I just want to get home."

And she better hope Gran's asleep already. What she'll do with this blood-soaked and spattered shirt, she has no idea. There's certainly no saving it.

[gavemea_45]

There's no one in the parking lot, at least; no one living, anyway. Sam carefully doesn't look in the direction of where at least one Rattray had fallen, not wanting to draw Sookie's attention to it.

"Here," he says, as they reach her car. Her shorts are dark enough to hide it, but the blood on her shirt is shockingly visible, and if her grandmother's awake it won't go well at all. Sam strips down to his T-shirt and hands her his long-sleeved outer layer. "Wear this."

[feel_human]

She slips the shirt over her ruined one and buttons it with shaking fingers. It absolutely swamps her; if she lowers her hands, the cuffs hide her hands completely, and the bottom reaches lower than than the hem of her shorts. She could wear this shirt as a dress and not turn a single head.

But more than that, it envelops her with warmth and scent, so strong she can't believe she hadn't noticed it before. She hadn't thought he was wearing cologne, but the shirt smells so strongly of him, rich and warm and irresistible, that he must be. It's all she can do not to put her face down into the material and breathe in. "Thanks."

[gavemea_45]

The shirt practically swallows her, making her look even smaller and more delicate. Sam fights back the urge to argue that he should drive, again, and pulls the door open for her instead.

"I'll be right behind you," he murmurs. "With you every step of the way."

[feel_human]

She gets in and looks up at him as she buckles up, then nods. Honestly, she's not quite sure he'd even fit in her little Honda, but there's no need to say it out loud. "Okay," she says, soft. "I'll see you there."

[gavemea_45]

He shuts the door for her, then bolts to his bike, parked nearby. Sam strips the forearm sheath off as he moves and stashes it in a saddlebag, then swings onto the bike and brings the engine roaring to life.

[feel_human]

The drive seems to take so much longer than usual, because her senses feel so heightened. It seems like she can feel the car burning gasoline, the combustions running, the road beneath her tires.

But it keeps her from panicking, at least, and she's careful to stay at the speed limit, to drive as cautiously as she ever has, until at last the tires are crunching over the gravel of her driveway and she can shut the engine off and get out.

[gavemea_45]

He pulls up beside her car and shuts off the bike, dismounting and hurrying to her in the next instant. Sam scans the house, then looks down at her.

"It doesn't look like she's awake," he murmurs. "Want to go up and get a shower and change, and I'll make some coffee or something?"

[feel_human]

She nods, but... "Tea, maybe?" she requests, soft. "There's some... some mint in the cupboard."

She'll have enough trouble sleeping tonight as it is. Adding coffee to the mix just sounds like a bad idea.

[gavemea_45]

"I can do that."

Sam looks down at her, then gives in to instinct and steps forward to wrap both arms around her and draw her in for a moment.

"You're okay," he murmurs. "Just take a second."

[feel_human]

He draws her in and she goes willingly, folding herself against his chest and closing her eyes. Up close, his scent is even more intoxicating, and she breathes deep, letting him soothe her.

She allows herself a long moment of just being held, then looks up at him. "We better get inside."

[gavemea_45]

"Okay." He loosens his embrace and lets her go, then reaches for her hand to walk with her across the yard and up the steps to the porch.

[feel_human]

She keeps her fingers laced with his until they've entered the kitchen through the back door, then lets him go with a promise to be right back down and takes the back stairs as quietly as possible up to the second floor.

In the bathroom, she runs the water as hot as she can stand it, then undresses as steam fills the air. His shirt, she sets carefully aside, before she stares at her reflection in the mirror. She might be healed, but there's blood crusted in her hair and beneath her nose, and her shirt is ruined.

She strips down and takes stock, running her fingers over smooth, unblemished skin, feeling her unbroken bones beneath, before she steps into the shower and lets the water wash over her.

[gavemea_45]

Mint in the cupboard, she'd said. Sam finds it, stares at the coffee maker with increasing dubiousness, then sighs and finds a saucepan instead. He fills it with water and sets it to boil, the mint tea waiting to the side, and takes down a couple of mugs.

It's all he can do not to pace the floor. She'd nearly died, and he hadn't been there. Why had she even gone outside alone in the first place? He can't yell about it - she'd nearly paid with her life - but he wants to hit something. Maybe he'll take it out on Merlotte instead. After all, the man saw her go, for all his claims that 'his staff' are safe.

God, he wishes Dean were here.

[feel_human]

She comes down, barefoot, wearing her light robe over soft shorts and tank top, hair hair damp over her shoulders, his shirt folded in her hands. The saucepan on the stovetop gets a quick, uncertain glance, before she holds out the borrowed shirt.

"Thanks."

[gavemea_45]

"Sure." Sam takes it, drapes it over the back of a chair, and immediately forgets about it.

"Tea'll be ready in just a couple of minutes." The water in the pan's boiling merrily now. Sam dumps the mint tea into it to brew and turns back to Sookie. "Want to sit down?"

[feel_human]

She looks askance at his tea-making, but opts not to say anything. It's nice of him just to do it at all.

Pulling out a chair, she takes a seat and looks up at him, unsure where or how to start.