Chapter Text
There was a lot of things Sam Winchester was prepared for when he moved to a small town in the middle of South Dakota. Crazy fanatics that secretly worshiped the devil in their basements, the odd neighbor that pretended to not have a video camera trained on his yard to catch wayward trespassers, and even the slightly suspicious mail-man that had had a funky red stain on the front of his shirt. All of these he'd encountered in his past small town experiences, so he had felt totally prepared to settle down for a couple months in the town of Periculum.
And at first glance, the town was perfectly normal in that old city kind of way. There were lots of trees that towered to the sky, casting shadows over carefully maintained sidewalks and artfully done benches. Plenty of small parks were laid out strategically around old style homes that stood proudly on their manicured lawns.
Downtown was the kind of place artists dreamed about. Almost every building was adorned with a mural depicting some sort of event, whether it be historical or mythical. Since most of the shops were squished together and brick, the paint sometimes tended to peel away after being subjected to hard weather. It wasn’t unusual for a muralist to be seen fixing up his or her masterpiece after a particularly harsh bout of rain.
There was, of course, newer buildings that surrounded the old town, but they were sort of ignored in light of this peaceful little image of normal.
If Sam hadn’t already been thrilled that he’d be staying in one place for an entire year, he’d probably say that Periculum was the best place to settle down in.
As it was, he was practically vibrating in his seat as his father pulled up the driveway to one of the Victorian like homes. It was by no means an old house with its orange and red brick outsides gleaming a little too newly in the sun. It was about three stories and there were french style windows neatly aligned from top to bottom. There was a wrap around porch that was painted white, contrasting wildly with the brick and startling red door.
The grass was short enough to be springy underneath his feet, but long enough to actually be considered mow-able. Dark river rock paved the way to the front door and was bordered by brightly colored flowers. It was exactly everything that Sam dreamed it would be.
John Winchester seemed unaffected and after helping Sam get all of his stuff on the porch, he mumbled a gruff goodbye before climbing back into the vehicle and driving away.
Luckily, Sam was too excited to feel slighted from his father’s lack of attention.
Instead, he knocked evenly on the door, taking a moment to wonder why there wasn’t a screen as well.
There was a pause where no sound was to be heard. He twitched uncertainly and hoped he was actually at the right house. Nervous, he reached into his back pocket to pull out his phone, but just as he turned it on, the door opened with an audible
, revealing probably the most beautiful woman he’d ever encountered.
She looked about the same age as him with curly, fiery red hair that, even in a ponytail, reached her back. Pale, unblemished skin pulled taut over lean muscle, shown off by a pair of well fitting jeans and a tight black tank. Her almond shaped eyes were a forest green that were sharp and observant, set over a perfectly straight nose and almost full mouth. Sam wasn’t sure she was wearing makeup, but if he were taking a wild guess, he’d say she wouldn’t have needed it.
She was obnoxiously chewing gum and staring at him in a totally unamused manner.
“If you’re not here selling girl scout cookies, then I suggest you turn around and leave her alone.” She said, tensely leaning against the door frame. Her voice was surprisingly deep for a woman, but it was still distinctly feminine. It was a little bit like dark chocolate if Sam was going to get poetic.
However, her dismissal confused him. “Um…” He said intelligibly. He wanted ask ‘what the hell,’ but his brain couldn’t get past her posture. She looked ready to beat him down, which would have been impressive seeing as he was nearing six foot four and she couldn’t have been more than five foot seven.
With an exaggerated sigh, she rolled her eyes and pushed away from the frame, grabbing at the door as if to slam it his face. “Irene doesn’t want to deal with overzealous suitors today, so do us all a favor and vamoosh.” Her words were pointed and cutting, accompanying it with a fierce face that would have scared a lesser man.
But, Sam was more confused than anything else. “Who the hell uses the word ‘suitors’ anymore?”
She stared at him as if he had grown another head. “Are you really going to argue with me about my choice of words?” She asked, tone dipping about a thousand degrees.
“Well not really,” Sam said, looking down at his watch, “But, it does kind of strike me as odd. I’m trying to figure out if it a regional thing that I’m going to have to get used to, or if you’re trying to use the word as an added intimidation factor.” His watch confirmed he was on time, so the open hostility he was receiving was baffling. “Is this the home of Cecelia Graceland?”
Apparently those words were enough to drop her defensive posture. “You’re not Bryant, are you?” She asked, stepping out onto the porch.
“Oh, uh, no,” He replied, reaching out his hand, “Sam. Sam Winchester.”
Her grip was firm when she took his hand. “Your that vague art kid that wanted to learn under my Aunt?”
It took more effort than he thought reasonable to not blush. “That’d be me, but I wasn’t expecting the Spanish Armada to greet me.”
Instead of looking embarrassed, the woman smiled brightly at him. “Honestly, three people were suppose to show up before you and by default I assumed you were going to be late as well. Good on you for being early, you’ll get heavy points later in the future. Just don’t expect anyone here to notice.”
“Everyone is use to being punctual?”
“Good God, no. We are a chronically late town. If you show up early, you’ll be waiting a really long time.”
With that she stepped back and grandly spread her arms. “Unavoidable tardiness aside, welcome to the Fine Arts Institute of Periculum, South Dakota. FAIP for short. My name is Cai Tate and I will be your guide.” She accompanied her mini-speech with a deep bow and swung out an arm, giving him leave to step into the house.
The front foyer was surprisingly bare of anything and the walls were painted a vibrant yellow that was almost terrible, but managed to not be. There was a staircase directly in front of him that ended at one landing then turned the opposite direction and went up another flight. There were french doors that opened up on either side of him leading into what Sam could only guess to be the formal sitting room and formal dining room.
The floor and railing on the stairs were stained a beautiful mahogany red.
Cai stopped just short of the stairs and turned back to look at him. “So, informal tour of the house. This, of course, is the foyer. All guests must be approved before stepping anywhere further into the house. These two rooms,” She spread out her arms and pointed like she was a flight attendant, “Are the formal rooms. Honestly we never use them, but it’s nice to pretend they serve a purpose. Anyway, through those rooms you’ll find a door that leads into the kitchen and yes, the kitchen really is that big. You’ll be able to access the sun room through the back door. Now! Upstairs!”
She bounded up the stairs and he was barely able to keep up with her. Once he hit the top step, the floor crinkled under his foot. Looking down, he saw that the entire hallway was covered in plastic.
“Don’t underestimate the plastic.” Cai said, her voice dipping low in seriousness. “We are art students. Cleanliness has never been our forte.” She whipped around and did the same pointing motions she did downstairs. “Anyway! This is the studio floor. If you need anything, chances are you’ll find it behind one of these doors. However, if a door is closed, don’t open it. It’ll be a lot easier living with people that will respect your privacy. Now upwards!”
Again, she run up the next flight of stairs with Sam lugging his suitcases up behind her. The next floor was a little smaller than the first two and more pointed, like it had a one time been an attic. There was a small hallway of boring cream and six doors. All but one had a nameplate on it.
“These are the residents that are living here. The first door on you left is Anna Novak. She’s super sweet, so if you want to make a quick friend she’s the one to go to. In the room across from her is Gabriel Novak… you’ll probably want to avoid him if you can.”
“Why? Is he terrible?” He couldn’t imagine anyone in this kind of house to be a horrible individual.
“No! No! Well….. He’s….. I’m not sure how to explain him. He’s nice to the people he likes, but his personality is somewhat of an… acquired taste. You’ll find out once you meet him.” She looked very much like she didn’t want him to.
Soon she swept off to the room next to Gabriel’s. “This is Clide McDougal. He’s fun, and a charmer. It doesn’t matter to him if you’re a male or female. If you look good, chances are he’ll want to do you.”
“So… Moral of that story?”
She gave him a somewhat amused look. “Honey, you better watch your ass.”
Sam wasn’t totally sure how to take that so he just shrugged as she pointed to the room across the way. “That one is my sister and I. You’ve already met me and Irene is notoriously unlucky with men.”
He did a visible double take. “Wait. Why is that an important fact to know?”
“Because sometimes I have to rough them up a bit to get them to back off.”
“... Was that the cause of the posturing you did when I first showed up?”
Her smile was unrepentant. “Yes, sir. I was expecting some man she met at a party last week, but of course like everyone else in this town, he was-”
“Late.”
“See! You're getting a hang of things already!” Sam wondered why she didn’t sound all that happy about that.
“Alright so next to us is Zara Monk. She’s quiet and you probably won’t see much of her and off course, you get the room across from hers.” She opened said room with a flourish and Sam was almost dazzled by the canary yellow that attacked his senses.
There were birds everywhere. Not real birds of course, but pictures and stuffed ones along the walls and window sills. The ceiling fan had little parrots hanging from the blades and even the bedspread was a miss-mash of alarmingly bright colored winged beasts.
“Uh…” He wasn’t sure what to say. Lying wasn’t exactly a skill he had, but at the same time he didn’t want to offend his host.
Fortunately, Cai must have known how he was feeling. “The last woman who stayed here was a little… eccentric. But! Have no fear, because you can decorate this room anyway you please.”
“So it doesn’t have to stay yellow?”
“If all you're worried about is the wall color, I’m evicting you now.”
For some reason, he found that funny so he was almost surprised when his laugh was a little strained.
A soft expression fell over Cai’s face, dulling the almost present edge of defensive pride that she carried around. It wasn’t quite pity, but it was too close to understanding for his comfort.
It wasn’t any surprise that she thought she knew what he was going through. FAIP wasn’t only an art institute, but it was also a safe house for people who were trying to get over a way of life. Sam had been running away for so long that when he found a place to stay in the general vicinity of his brother, he jumped at the chance.
Because of a disagreement between John and his oldest, Dean had packed up and left in a whirlwind of angry words and bloody fists. Sam knew his brother had felt guilty leaving him behind, but Dean was smart enough to know that he had no way of supporting them, so leaving him with John had seemed logical.
Sam didn’t have the heart to tell him any different.
The assumption, however, that this stranger thought she understood him, made anger bubble uncomfortably in his stomach. Any other time, he’d have lashed out, but on a closer look, he noticed something about the woman in front of him.
She was beautiful angry and defensive, but she was absolutely stunning when she was relaxed. Well, relaxed was a bit of a strong word, so maybe it was just that she wasn’t looking like he was going to attack her.
Suddenly, he found himself curious about the woman in front of him and with that came the realization, that maybe, just maybe, she was feeling the exact same way about him.
Somehow, it felt wrong to be mad then, so instead he turned away from her and set his luggage on his newly acquired, hideously decorated twin bed. There were two dark wooden end tables on either side of the bed and one was equipped with an alarm clock.
2:37 it said.
There was shuffling behind him. “I’ll let you settle in.” Cai said to his back and he heard the gentle click of a door closing. A moment later it opened again. “Oh, by the way. Dinner is at seven. You’ll meet the staff and everyone then. Be prepared for thoroughly invasive questions.” Then the door was shut again.
Sam huffed a bit of a laugh and turned around so he could plop unceremoniously onto his bed.
Loneliness settled bone deep over him and he dropped his face into his hands to stave off the tears that he’d been holding back for about five years now. It was sad that now that he’d finally gotten away, he still couldn’t shake his depressive manner. South Dakota was suppose to be a new start. There was no reason for him to feel lost already.
He could do this.
Even with telling himself that didn’t make the tightness in his throat go away.