“Depends,” John says, and he rubs at the patched up wound. “This Sam got a last name?” There’s little to no doubt in his mind that this hunter Sam she knows is his son, but it pays to be certain. It’s good to know he’s making friends, but this girl, she doesn’t look like any hunter. Part of John feels like he should be taking Sam by the ear and shaking him for putting people in danger; but hunters don’t have to even say who they are or what they are to put people in danger, he knows.
John lets out an unexpected, surprised laugh, sipping from his whiskey flask and then tightening the lid and saying, “You invite every old bleeding man who stumbles into your church home for dinner?” It’s a little trusting for his tastes, but that’s not why John shakes his head. “I’ll make my own way. And I gotta go back and burn that spirit’s bones.” He gestures at this leg. “Thank you, uh - for this.”
“Yeah,” he nods. “Staying in-city, actually. This case got my attention, though.” John puts his things into his bag, casually reaching under the pew for his shotgun and hefting that in his hands. “Why?”
"Winchester, like the gun. Sam Winchester." He was a hunter who had a son named Sam who happened to also be in Dallas. There was no doubt in her mind now that John was Sam’s father. The situation made her giggle softly into her hand.
She nodded in understanding, a soft smile still on her face. “You’re welcome. It’s become a bit of a habit of mine, patching up hunters and other people. Always stumbling into my path. I think it’s fate. I am here to feed and patch you all up. That’s certainly what I do for Sammy.”
"Be careful." She didn’t say anything else, she stayed right beside John as the two left the church. They never locked the doors, it was against the Pastor’s ways. He believed every man had a right to the church, to come and go whenever he or she pleased. It was an open sanctuary for any soul that ventured into the holy walls. She watched him worriedly, arms held up slightly just in case he needed something to brace himself on if his leg became too painful to walk on.
John sighs and relents, setting his hands uneasily on the pew. She’s as stubborn as anything, John can tell, and although he isn’t exactly comfortable with letting a stranger clean up his thigh of all things - it’s a wound that needs a closeness that John doesn’t allow with anyone. The last time he let anyone near his leg to treat an injury there - hell, it was probably Dean, or if we’re talking the last time anyone in Hell got near his legs it was most definitely Alastair. Still, America’s stubborn, and so John can deal with it.
“I am,” he confirms gruffly, his brows furrowing. “And what do you know about ghosts and hunters, hm?” He bites his tongue to keep down a hiss of discomfort, looking at America with quiet intensity, trying to figure her out. John is a paranoid old goat but he considers himself a good enough judge of character, and America seems… friendly. A little too much, perhaps, but she doesn’t seem like an enemy, is the point - and she already knows about hunting.
Watching the patchwork she makes of his leg, he says, “I got kids in the city. If you know about huntin’, you’ve probably seen them around.” Sam and Dean and Adam, his boys, all of his blood. Sam, who’s probably the most like him after their losses, Dean with his disconcerting acceptance of John’s shortcomings - and Adam, who makes John a villain. And yet Adam’s probably got the smartest view of all three of his sons. John sighs heavily, scratching his beard and digging a hand into his bag for a flask of whiskey.
"Sam, Sam is the only hunter I know, well knew, now I know you too." America started to pack up the kit, using one of the disinfectant wipes to get the blood off her hands. She’d wash them in a bit, she knew the rules with blood. "That’s who you remind me of. Is he one of your sons?" If this was Sam’s father, than did Sam know he was in town. What about Sam’s brothers, who she has yet to meet, know? As America brought the pack back into the office and stepped into the small bathroom to wash her hands she mulled over and wondered what Sam would do when he found out.
He had told her they had butted heads about everything. When she walked back into the room, she smiled warmly at the man. “Would you like to come over for dinner? It’s around four now and if I put the chicken in as soon as we get back it should be ready by six thirty.”
She went to grab the rest of the bibles, placing them on the small table near the front entrance. She could finish these another day. It was getting late anyways and she had told Pastor she wouldn’t be staying any later than four fifteen. “Have you been into town yet?” The demon count had apparently risen, along with the angel count, and then she was told of a creature called the Leviathans also coming to Dallas. America wasn’t sure which she feared more.
I completely agree with you. So are you going to do it?
I really want to but I was going to discuss it with the mods first. I don’t want to just run off and do something they may not agree on.
I just feel so bad for asking. I don’t want to tear so far away from the show but I just feel it’s necessary for Lucifer at this point. Luci has become like my baby and I just want to see him grow and be the person he is in my head.
Well if you tell them that, I am sure they’ll let you do it.
He was about to protest when she let the dog into the backseat of the car, but bit his tongue. Dean would threaten to kill him for it, but he never would of course. Not his sweet little Sammy.
Once they reached a Ice Cream bar - obviously a very popular on such a day he got out and looked down at Meri, “So, have you come to a decision or still trying to figure out what you want?” he chuckled and got in line, “Why not keep it simple? Like me. Chocolate and vanilla. Heaven,” he grinned. Heaven had gotten a whole new meaning, but… either way, Chocolate and vanilla made his day. Always and forever.
"Heaven is strawberry and chocolate not vanilla and chocolate. You’re crazy." Meri rolled her eyes at Sam, stepping up to the counter. "Can I get a scoop of chocolate and a scoop of strawberry in a sugar cone with chocolate syrup, please?" She smiled and thanked the man when he handed her the ice cream, stepping back so Sam could order and pay.
"What’s going on in town? I feel so in the dark not knowing anything, it’s quite annoying." America wondered how everyone was. She had plans with Bela for dinner tonight, but she had yet to hear from her on when and where they would be meeting up. Truthfully she was a bit nervous about going into town.
John’s eyes flicker up and then down the girl who runs towards him. She’s a slight thing, and she rattles off at a hundred miles an hour and she’s fleeing before John can tell her otherwise. He makes a face, tending to his leg instead of immediately worrying about the girl, pulling a knife from his pocket to shred the thigh of his jeans so he can get to the wound better. They’re not life threatening by any means, but boy they hurt like a bitch.
When the girl returns, John glances up at her face. It’s not the typical reaction he’d expect from any girl handing out bibles, but then, she could be a doctor, or simply a particularly good soul. Not that John’s a hundred percent sure he believes in ‘good souls’ anymore. “I’m John,” he says. John’s a common enough name that it’s not always necessary to pass off a fake one. Then he says, his voice firm and close enough to parental, “I’ve got this, Meri.”
Sammy? Also a common name, so John tries not to let the drop of it get to him. He hasn’t seen Sam since he got into the city though, and so every mention gives him a little jump of hope. But if he wants to see Sam, he’ll just talk to Dean. “I’ve been patching myself up long enough,” he assures her, but from the first aid things he spies, he reaches out and grabs a wound disinfectant spray. He has to stock up on these things. Usually he ends up wasting good alcohol on cleaning up his body. Spraying it on his wound, his mouth twists unhappily, and he says, “Sorry for bustin’ in like this. Needed somewhere to sit down.”
"No, no let me." Meri pushed his large hands away with her own. Sometimes she didn’t understand men. They had such big, clumsy hands and they knew this yet they insisted on patching themselves up when they could have a woman with softer, steadier hands do it for them. "It’s understandable," Brown eyes flickering up to his then focusing back on the leg wound.
"That was a ghost wasn’t it? That must mean you’re a hunter. Another one. Good." They needed more hunters in town, it would help, not a lot, but every one could make a difference. Meri grabbed the disinfectant away from him, starting to dab at the wound before pressing a rag that was in the kit against the cut. She used one hand to hold the towel, clotting the blood as she rolled out the plaster and tape to bandage him up.
Something about John was familiar to her, and it was nagging at her in the back of her mind but she couldn’t figure out for the life of her what it was. Her brow furrowed as she taped the gauze to his leg. “Do I know you from somewhere…you seem…there’s something about that just, reminds me of someone. Someone I know.” Sam, he reminded her about Sam. It was the eyes, he had Sam’s eyes and his nose. Were they related? It could be possible, Sam is a hunter and this man seems to be too.
Sam laughed as he got his face full of dog tongues and fur, “Hey Shakespeare! I’ve missed you too,” he laughed and patted the dog. Once the dog was back on all paws he pulled the tiny girl into a big bear hug before letting her go.
“What’s with this heat? I bet you’re the one to blame for it!” he joked, “Let me buy you the biggest ice cream you’ve ever seen!” he said cheerfully, glad to see her seemingly well, though very flustered from the heat, but he had no doubt he was just as red and sweaty. Hell he would get sweaty on the North Pole.
"Oh, deffinatley, Sam." She almost jumped for joy at the thought of ice cream, and though she wasn’t one for quickly accepting gifts or food from people, with Sam and this heat it was different, plus she’d pay Sam back some how, probably in food.
"Yes, please. A nice big ice cream sundae." She walked with him towards his car, letting Shakespeare in the back and rolling down the window so her could stick his head out as they drove into town to get ice cream. "Strawberry and chocolate, or maybe mint chocolate chip…" She mused to herself, debating on what type of ice cream she’d be ordering.
John usually avoids staggering into public property with his leg pumping blood, but sometimes he’s gotta make exceptions. With a ghost that’s got a nasty bite on it on his tail, John knows the best thing for him: hallowed ground. The Lutheran church is his first and only option - a pretty setting, John notes, but he doesn’t really take it in - and he bursts in, all too dramatic-like, with a grimace on his face and a shotgun loaded full of salt in his hand.
If there are people, John can’t see them right away. He’s in pain, maybe blinded by it, and furious at himself, knowing he’s not a goddamn amateur who makes mistakes like this. It had only taken a second, a pissed spirit getting it’s claws into his legs and then John had no choice but to bail. He waits with an open door, and the spirit screams and rushes at him - then crosses the threshold and dissolves in silver smoke.
It’s gone. For now, at least. John’ll get back to the bones and burn them later to be safe, but for now, inside the Church, John’s okay, and the spirit won’t be around for some time if it’s still up and kicking. He staggers to a back pew, heaving himself down into it and dumping his bag and gun, unzipping the former for a cloth and bandages.
It’s when he’s mopped up the worst of the blood and seen to it that the cuts aren’t too deep that John realises the church might not be totally empty after all, and he uses the foot of his good leg to just-so drag his shotgun closer, tucking it under the pew for the moment.
America knew it wasn’t nice to stare but when in the middle of a hot summer day in Texas a man bursts into the church when you’re there to help the Pastor out and put the new bibles in the pews, she couldn’t help but stare in bewilderment at the injured man.
Then she saw the cause of his bloodied leg, a spirit, chasing him, screaming. But then it disappeared. She stared for only a split second before jumping into action, placing the stack of bibles she held in her hands in the closest pew and running towards the man. He could be her father’s age for all she knew, but he was handsome, and this seemed to be a thing in all the newcomers.
Bending down to the ground beside him, she glanced into his eyes then down to his leg worriedly. “Are you okay? I’ll go get the first aid kit in the office, there isn’t much in there but if I patch you up quickly here you might be able to make it back to my house and then I can really fix you up.” She ran to the back office, rummaging through the draws, closets, and cabinets. “If you don’t mind be asking, what’s your name?” She came back to his side, giving him a warm, reassuring smile before getting to his injury. “I’m America, but everybody calls me Meri. My friend Sammy, er Sam, calls me pixie.” Her mother always talked to her patients when tending their wounds, she said it kept the distracted and made them feel better at times.
Sam literarly hung out of the Impala’s window the moment he had parked the car. The heat was killing him despite being only clad in a white t-shirt. He had decided to take a drive and maybe look for Meri since it had been such a long time since he had seen her, but when he had knocked at her door nobody opened.
“I could need an ice cream,” he mumbled to himself, yelping as the skin of his arm came in contact with the outside of the car. Damnit! Why did the Impala have to be black? Why couldn’t their father have gotten a white one?
He grumbled in annoyance and got out of the car, running a hand through his long, brown hair. His brow was sweaty and all he could think of was that icie cream. Just as he had locked up the car he recognized the huge dog and the little girl and smiled.
“Meri!” he shouted to get her attention, walking over to her, “Long time no see!”
Meri couldn’t help the grin that spread onto her reddening face. “Sammy!” She almost dropped Shakespeare’s leash and ran over to him, despite the heat she needed to hug the man. But the dog beat her to it, running over to the large man and jumping onto his, paws on his shoulders, tongue lapping at his face.
While laughing, the short haired girl went on pulling the dog off the man. “I haven’t seen you in ages.” Meri ran her fingers through the fur on top of Shakespeare’s head, the dog settling down between the two humans. “Shakespeare’s missed you.” It was obvious, but she had too. She’s missed everyone truthfully. Castiel, Bela, Sam, her parents.
She felt as if she had never left though, all her friendships seemed to be picking up where they left off. Her and Sam, her and Bela, her and Cas. She was even planning on stopping by her parent’s tomorrow for the day. She’ll bring the pets up to the farm and let the roam the massive amount of land, while they sat outside grilling and drinking sweet tea.
It was hot. Much too hot to do anything besides lay on her couch in the a/c, drink iced coffee, and read. It was too hot to garden. Too hot to walk around town. Too hot to even function properly, for if she did, America was almost certain she’d pass out in a split second. It was quite boring actually, not that she didn’t mind some time to read and relax, but she preferred to do this soft of activity on rainy days, not when the sun is out and shining, and Texas is well, feeling a lot like Texas.
America turned her head, looking over at the mound of fat and hair that was Shakespeare. He needed to be walked, an actual walk, not just letting him out to run around the yard. The decision was made, she’d get off her butt, put down her book and walk her dog, but she’d be bringing the iced coffee with her. She didn’t want to get heat exhaustion and pass out.
The second she stepped outside, the air suffocated her. She was wheezing and she hadn’t even taken a step off her porch yet. Meri tugged at his leash, pulling him down the porch steps and out the front gate. Nobody was out besides a few stray kids on bikes most likely riding to the public pool or their friend’s pool. America turned left down the street, in the opposite direction on the church. This would wear her out, even if she only took the St. Bernard around the block, this heat would have drained all her energy by the time she got back home.
ooc: Sorry I wasn’t really on today, my para-ing sucks today, really badly. I’m in a bit of a funk. Tomorrow and Wed. I won’t been on much either because I’ll be with my family, tomorrow just because I want to go to my Aunt’s, and Wed. because it’s the 4th and my family had a big party.
Castiel let out a strange, cut-off laugh as America barrels into him, hugging her tightly and smiling. “Hello,” he greets. He’s missed her, his good friend, his clear cut normal friend, and he’s sorry for his neglect when she vanished - he should have gone looking for her. Too self-absorbed in problems with Dean and Crowley and the matter of Dick Roman, caught up with werewolves and all manners of people. It’s as if he forgot he had other people to care about.
He won’t make the mistake again. “You’re welcome,” he tells her, and he accepts one of the treats and takes a bite. He pulls something of a face at first; he’d selected the foods based on what looked like things that America would eat. He’s not had something like this before, but after a moment of thinking about it, Castiel decides he likes it. “These are good,” he acknowledges, and licks the last of it off his fingers before asking, “How was your trip?”
America swallowed down another cake, licking the icing of her lips and fingers. Turning towards Cas, she leaned against the vintage refrigerator. “It was good. I got to see my friends, they’re all happy and starting their families.” Something Meri wished she were doing, but at times like this she knew that was the least of her problems. “What has been going? You said things have been getting worse?” Meri bit down on her bottom lip nervously, not knowing how it could possibly get worse and a bit scared to find out.
She wondered how Sam and Bela were doing also, if they were involved with anything. She knew they probably were, trouble followed those two where ever they went, they couldn’t escape it. She also knew they could take care of themselves, yet she still worried, it was impossible not to, she loved and cared about them, they were her friends.