Sam Winchester (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
likely_evil) wrote2009-03-14 11:40 pm
likely_evil) wrote2009-03-14 11:40 pm
for ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
mad_muses: Steinbeck Quote
ooc: 3 years after this.
“Men do change, and change comes like a little wind that ruffles the curtains at dawn, and it comes like the stealthy perfume of wildflowers hidden in the grass.”
-John Steinbeck
New Orleans in the summertime was hot and sticky, but at night when Sam opened the windows to his apartment and the breeze from the Gulf swept into their living room, life became easier. Jazz music from the street players and the smells from the restaurants downstairs filtered up. It mixed with the flower smells from the trees and gardens nearby, making the curtains dance with the mixture of life.
Sam sat at his desk, a large book open in front of him, writing in a pad while holding up an old coin. He had left the hunting business after killing Lilith, and - with the help of Johnny's grandmother, Angeline - moved here to start anew.
But while you can take the boy out of the hunt, you can't take the hunter out of the boy. The Winchesters were considered experts in the field, and even if Sam refused to be in the 'game', it didn't stop people from coming to his door asking for help. The word spread, and soon he had not only hunters, but half of New Orleans coming to him for help with their ghosts, potions, and hoodoo questions.
"Now ya know how I feel," Bobby had said with a laugh the last time he had visited, the two of them sitting on his balcony with some beers while Johnny was asleep in his room.
Sam had shrugged. "At least doing this, I know I'll be around to keep Johnny safe. He may not have his dad, but I'm going to make sure he's got someone around who will let him know how good of a man Dean was."
Taking his glasses off his nose, Sam rubbed his eyes and looked past his work. Johnny sat on the ground with a large stack of blocks, carefully building buildings and then running little toy cars through them. He smiled a bit, seeing the dark hair and hazel eyes playing with the Hot wheels Impala that Sam had found especially for him.
Johnny was even making little sounds that really did sound like the engine. He had changed them three times to make them right, and now they were really good.
The doorbell went and Sam got up, padding to the balcony and looking down. A woman with deeply tanned skin and long black hair looked up, smiling. "Got your delivery, Sam."
"Come on up." Sam went over to the front door, opening it as the woman got to the top of the flight of stairs. He gave her a smile as she walked past him and into the kitchen, pulling out some take out containers.
"I dunno why you can't cook a meal for yerself, Sam Winchester. Not like dat mind o' yours couldn't learn how to take some food an' mix it up." She then leaned against the counter and smiled at him. "I could give ya cookin' lessons if ya persuaded me da right way."
"But then I wouldn't have an excuse to have you come over every night with dinner for me and Johnny. And think of all the business you'd lose, Desiree." He crossed his arms, leaning in the archway between the kitchen and the front door.
Desiree saw the grin and walked over to him, placing a hand on his chest and getting up on her toes and be closer to him. "Da only business I'm losing, Sammy boy, is da business I don't get at the end o' da day, if ya know what I'ma sayin'."
He blushed, biting his lip a bit and looking away. "I know what you're saying. And you know what I do here. Can't have you getting caught up in this."
"My mama is in all dis hoodoo business too, and you know I know my way 'round da block. Don't you be telling me you trying to protect me." He shrugged a bit and she laughed. "OH Sammy boy, still got a lot ta learn 'bout me. Don't ya worry though. We got time."
She got up on her toes and gently kissed his lips before sliding her body along and past his for the doorway. "Dinner's here Johnny boy. Don't you be letting yer Uncle wait till it's cold again before he be feeding ya."
"I won't!" Came the voice from the living room, still playing with his cars.
Desiree gave Sam a smile. "See ya tamorra, Sammy boy." She shut the door behind her, and Sam just closed his eyes a moment, enjoying the feel still of her lips having been against his before going into the kitchen.
"Come on, Johnny. Time to eat."
Dean's son stood up, grabbing the little Impala and rushing over to climb into his chair. "What did she bring today?"
Sam made the plates, putting it along with two slices of bread and a plastic cup of milk in front of his nephew. "It looks like Shrimp Creole with rice and beans. Eat up."
Johnny looked over his opposite shoulder like he was talking to someone, and Sam watched with interest. "My imaginary friend says he wishes he had a hamburger."
"Well, your friend doesn't have to eat with us and can go and get his own," Sam replied, sitting next to Johnny and starting on his own food.
"He likes Desiree. He says she's a really nice girl."
Sam just shook his head, stabbing a shrimp and taking a bite of it. The imaginary friend routine was not new - Sam had them when he was growing up. It was a way to have a playmate when a child was bored. "Is that so?"
"Uh huh." Johnny stopped and looked in that direction again. "Uncle Sam, my imaginary friend said a bad word just now," he said in a tattling voice.
"Bad word?"
"Yeah. He says you're still a bitch."
Sam blinked, then looked over at the spot Johnny had been looking at. "Well... that's not a nice thing to say. I don't want you saying it, alright. And tell him that you don't want him saying those words to you again."
"Okay."
"Now finish your dinner, then it's bath time, then story time, and then bed."
"Yes Uncle."
Once Johnny was in bed, Sam sat on his balcony with a beer bottle in his hand, eyes closed as he enjoyed the breeze and the music from the street. He thought about what Johnny has said - what his imaginary friend had said - and it was bothering him.
New Orleans was a city where ghosts walked the streets. But was it just a spirit who could see Sam's past and know words that could be said to him... or was it...
"Dean, if it's really you... I miss you..." he said softly to the wind as his fingers lost grip on the bottle which was already resting on the balcony floor. He drifted off to sleep, smiling softly at the images of the beautiful creole woman that was slowly working her way into his heart.
“Men do change, and change comes like a little wind that ruffles the curtains at dawn, and it comes like the stealthy perfume of wildflowers hidden in the grass.”
-John Steinbeck
New Orleans in the summertime was hot and sticky, but at night when Sam opened the windows to his apartment and the breeze from the Gulf swept into their living room, life became easier. Jazz music from the street players and the smells from the restaurants downstairs filtered up. It mixed with the flower smells from the trees and gardens nearby, making the curtains dance with the mixture of life.
Sam sat at his desk, a large book open in front of him, writing in a pad while holding up an old coin. He had left the hunting business after killing Lilith, and - with the help of Johnny's grandmother, Angeline - moved here to start anew.
But while you can take the boy out of the hunt, you can't take the hunter out of the boy. The Winchesters were considered experts in the field, and even if Sam refused to be in the 'game', it didn't stop people from coming to his door asking for help. The word spread, and soon he had not only hunters, but half of New Orleans coming to him for help with their ghosts, potions, and hoodoo questions.
"Now ya know how I feel," Bobby had said with a laugh the last time he had visited, the two of them sitting on his balcony with some beers while Johnny was asleep in his room.
Sam had shrugged. "At least doing this, I know I'll be around to keep Johnny safe. He may not have his dad, but I'm going to make sure he's got someone around who will let him know how good of a man Dean was."
Taking his glasses off his nose, Sam rubbed his eyes and looked past his work. Johnny sat on the ground with a large stack of blocks, carefully building buildings and then running little toy cars through them. He smiled a bit, seeing the dark hair and hazel eyes playing with the Hot wheels Impala that Sam had found especially for him.
Johnny was even making little sounds that really did sound like the engine. He had changed them three times to make them right, and now they were really good.
The doorbell went and Sam got up, padding to the balcony and looking down. A woman with deeply tanned skin and long black hair looked up, smiling. "Got your delivery, Sam."
"Come on up." Sam went over to the front door, opening it as the woman got to the top of the flight of stairs. He gave her a smile as she walked past him and into the kitchen, pulling out some take out containers.
"I dunno why you can't cook a meal for yerself, Sam Winchester. Not like dat mind o' yours couldn't learn how to take some food an' mix it up." She then leaned against the counter and smiled at him. "I could give ya cookin' lessons if ya persuaded me da right way."
"But then I wouldn't have an excuse to have you come over every night with dinner for me and Johnny. And think of all the business you'd lose, Desiree." He crossed his arms, leaning in the archway between the kitchen and the front door.
Desiree saw the grin and walked over to him, placing a hand on his chest and getting up on her toes and be closer to him. "Da only business I'm losing, Sammy boy, is da business I don't get at the end o' da day, if ya know what I'ma sayin'."
He blushed, biting his lip a bit and looking away. "I know what you're saying. And you know what I do here. Can't have you getting caught up in this."
"My mama is in all dis hoodoo business too, and you know I know my way 'round da block. Don't you be telling me you trying to protect me." He shrugged a bit and she laughed. "OH Sammy boy, still got a lot ta learn 'bout me. Don't ya worry though. We got time."
She got up on her toes and gently kissed his lips before sliding her body along and past his for the doorway. "Dinner's here Johnny boy. Don't you be letting yer Uncle wait till it's cold again before he be feeding ya."
"I won't!" Came the voice from the living room, still playing with his cars.
Desiree gave Sam a smile. "See ya tamorra, Sammy boy." She shut the door behind her, and Sam just closed his eyes a moment, enjoying the feel still of her lips having been against his before going into the kitchen.
"Come on, Johnny. Time to eat."
Dean's son stood up, grabbing the little Impala and rushing over to climb into his chair. "What did she bring today?"
Sam made the plates, putting it along with two slices of bread and a plastic cup of milk in front of his nephew. "It looks like Shrimp Creole with rice and beans. Eat up."
Johnny looked over his opposite shoulder like he was talking to someone, and Sam watched with interest. "My imaginary friend says he wishes he had a hamburger."
"Well, your friend doesn't have to eat with us and can go and get his own," Sam replied, sitting next to Johnny and starting on his own food.
"He likes Desiree. He says she's a really nice girl."
Sam just shook his head, stabbing a shrimp and taking a bite of it. The imaginary friend routine was not new - Sam had them when he was growing up. It was a way to have a playmate when a child was bored. "Is that so?"
"Uh huh." Johnny stopped and looked in that direction again. "Uncle Sam, my imaginary friend said a bad word just now," he said in a tattling voice.
"Bad word?"
"Yeah. He says you're still a bitch."
Sam blinked, then looked over at the spot Johnny had been looking at. "Well... that's not a nice thing to say. I don't want you saying it, alright. And tell him that you don't want him saying those words to you again."
"Okay."
"Now finish your dinner, then it's bath time, then story time, and then bed."
"Yes Uncle."
Once Johnny was in bed, Sam sat on his balcony with a beer bottle in his hand, eyes closed as he enjoyed the breeze and the music from the street. He thought about what Johnny has said - what his imaginary friend had said - and it was bothering him.
New Orleans was a city where ghosts walked the streets. But was it just a spirit who could see Sam's past and know words that could be said to him... or was it...
"Dean, if it's really you... I miss you..." he said softly to the wind as his fingers lost grip on the bottle which was already resting on the balcony floor. He drifted off to sleep, smiling softly at the images of the beautiful creole woman that was slowly working her way into his heart.