I finally found you - DevilAna54 (2024)

Chapter 1: Not mine

Chapter Text

‘f*ckin’ Bill Compton, can’t this undead sumbitch just leave Sookie alone?’ Jason thought as he sat, stewing, on his grandpa’s trusty old chair in the lovely company of his sister, Gran and the living dead all looking at him like he was crazy.

And his night had started out so well… being released from the police station after hours of interrogation, stress fueled anxiety and pure guilt for the perceived accidental murder of a woman Jason could barely remember on a good day… only to be confronted with the disconcertingly weird Norman Rockwellesque picture of his small family entertaining their newest neighbor, a vamper, while serving tea and cookies like nothing was amiss.

After everything that had happened in just one day, Jason simply wanted to relax, to enjoy his Gran’s cooking and decompress… a notion that seemed miles away as he sat across from the ‘gentlemanly’ vampire, trying to study the ‘man’. Blindsided and a little more than simply upset by Sookie’s new ‘acquaintance’, his analysis yielded little, Jason’s temper obscuring any thought unrelated to the vampire’s nerve, sitting as close as he was to his baby sister looking like the sun came up just to hear him crow. Jason could acquiesce, yes he knew smart words, that the vampire seemed to genuinely care for his sister, nonetheless he wasn’t going to accept their ‘friendship’ if he could help it. Seeing as Sookie was more stubborn than a mule, the evening wore on Jason and by the end of it he resigned himself to the inevitable. He couldn’t stop her from seeing a corpse, knowing said corpse could easily rip his ass nine ways to next Sunday so he gave up on convincing his sister to get rid of Bill, for now. Needing to cool off and distance himself from Sookie’s newest drama, Jason decided to go down to Sam’s.

Distracted as he was, the boy didn’t realize just how fast a rumor could spread, especially in a town as small as theirs, but found the answer as soon as he opened the small roadhouse’s greasy, wooden door. The energy inside simply… shifted, the laughter and cheer stopping faster than a roadrunner at a crossroad as Jason entered the bar. Pleasant conversations ceased soon after, being replaced with swift and quiet whispering as most people, even the women who usually leered at him, began eyeing him suspiciously. Bewilderment crossed the boy’s face, before sadness took hold and the voices inside his head started pestering him to get out, to leave. He thought about it, about going back to his empty, dark house full of even more doubt and decided to try and find a friendly face in the crowd, managing to spot Tara manning the bar. She greeted him as she always did, with an easy smile and a cold beer, but he just felt empty. After the Maudette incident, Jason was more than a little shaken, not to mention vulnerable… trust Dawn to sniff that out faster than a hound and relight a sh*tty old flame that should have died long ago.

Jason, as always, went along with it, after all why not? That’s what he was, the town’s communal vibrator, always reliable, with no feelings and just as disposable. Most of the time it didn’t bother him, after all, what kind of man complains of getting too much action? But sometimes… now more than ever, a tiny voice in the back of his head would make itself heard, screaming from miles away a message that the boy could barely hear on a good day: ‘Say no, go home, sleep and calm down’. A message immediately followed by another voice, much louder and closer to the surface that chided: ‘Then what’s the point of you livin’ at all?’.

He didn’t like to think about how people always saw him as the token dumb, pretty boy that was only good for one thing and discarded if he couldn’t provide… it always made him sad so… he didn’t. When the voices started arguing in his head, he just silenced them all and went along with whatever. He didn’t think about how hollow sex felt, how empty it had been for years and how little he was worth to others outside of it. The only people who saw him as him were few and far between and, even with them, he couldn’t express his feelings. Every time he tried, they wouldn’t take him seriously… ‘Jason you horndog’ said Sookie and Gran’s disapproving voices…’You lucky sonovabich, what I wouldn’t give to be you’ said his friends from his football days…They didn’t understand that if he wasn’t the town gigolo, he wasn’t anything at all, just a regular road worker with no brains, no future and nobody to love.

Arriving at her house later that night, he got into the same old routine and was halfway to an org*sm when he saw them… Tiny red pinprick pairs dotting her flesh like intentional paint splatter, from her long neck to her wrists and all the way down her thighs. The numerous puncture wounds could be nothing else then… he didn’t want to think about it, much less picture it, but he was helpless to avoid his own mind’s vivid ruminations… the unbidden image reminding him of Maudette…. of her limp and pale corpse, of the bald headed and demonic looking fanger f*cking her roughly…. The disturbing thought sent a bolt of fear and mild disgust through Jason’s body, draining every milliliter of blood from his extremities... and his appendages. Dawn, obviously sensing the change, asked what was wrong with him, because, in her mind, of course it was his fault. Jason, defensive in his shame and not really realizing how jealous he sounded, demanded to know why she had the marks of a ‘fang-banger’. Incensed, Dawn contemplated the boy like one might a slimy bug stuck to the bottom of one’s shoe, but restrained herself and simply stated that it was her business. Confused and disturbed by what happened with Maudette, Jason looked away, trying to control the hollow, burning feeling constricting his lungs, before he announced that he could not continue. Dawn, being the lady that she was, decided to really make his night.

“You are so full of yerself and dumber than a box of hair. And now you can't even get it up? Is there any reason why I should be seein’ you anymore? You know what, this is a real waste of time, get out!”

Mind abuzz, hands shaking and legs made of lead, he somehow managed to quickly get dressed before being thrown out like a kicked puppy… all this time trying to find comfort in the notion that even though HE wasn’t appreciated, at least his bedroom skills made him relevant, at least that meant something…. all this time and these vampers come outta the coffins and he isn’t even worth that anymore…

Leaving in the middle of the night, emotionally drained and more physically tired than an ant in autumn made Jason seek comfort in the only person who would understand and who, conveniently, was close by and still awake to receive him… his Gran.

“Jason honey, is that you?” The sleepy old woman asked from the porch, having heard a truck pull up. She knew, as soon as he stepped out, that something was wrong. “Are ya alright? Come in and I’ll get ya some peach pie.”

Jason, or the sad shell of what he used to be, walked through the doorway and sat down at the nearest table, his gaze zeroing in on a random magazine and its eye-catching front page. He stared at the title and it’s referred article about vampires and 10 fun facts about them… pin-prick pupils glued to the smiling fanger’s fangs as a disembodied hand reached out to tear the page right off. A few seconds passed before the distressed boy realized two things: one - it was his own fist that was clenched tight around the piece of paper, and two - a strange moisture had decided to gather in his inner corners.

“Sweetie, what’s wrong?” Gran’s distant voice reached the young man’s ears and he finally looked up at her… eyes full to bursting with despair. He didn’t know why he felt like crying, telling as much to his grandmother through blurry eyes while tightly holding on to her. Pie forgotten, the old woman embraced him back, trying to support her boy however she could. A few minutes into the hug, Jason’s breath evened out enough for the disheveled boy to close in on himself, slowly disentangling, face awash in shame and tears, from the loving embrace to attempt a swift retreat all the way back to his own home, dark and dreary as it was…

“Oh no you don’t Jason Stackhouse! You’s sit right back down and tell me what’s going on in that noggin, I ain’t havin my grandson driving off into the night in such a state!”

Reluctantly, he sat down, looking at the shiny, parqueted floor and wondering how to explain the hollow feeling inside his chest. “ Gran… I… I just don’t know. I ain’t that smart and I know I ain’t…. but I ain’t… I’m not dumb, and I’m not just a thing that people can throw around. Maudette, Dawn, Becky, Lenny, Ashley and I don’t know how many other girls want me but they don’t really want me… I’m always poor dumb Jason only good for a good time not a long time. ‘Bless his heart’ they say every time I try an’ be something else ‘sides a really great body… And now I ain’t even that anymore…” Jason said in a harsh whisper pointing at the vampire article. “Now that there’s these… these fangers out here I’m second rate, a has-been great body… a dummy with a minimum wage job that nobody wants…’

Looking down at her grandson, at his hunched position and tense shoulders… the old woman felt like a pit had opened up inside her chest. Filled with sadness, anger and determination in equal measures, she slammed her hand down onto the tabletop, making Jason almost jump out of his seat. Looking into her boy’s frightened, doleful eyes made the hurt just a little worse, but she composed herself just enough to continue:

“Oh Jason honey… I really love ya but if you’s keep saying these awful things ‘bout my grandson I’ma have to really slap some sense into ya!” The old woman said, pleased by Jason’s now stunned expression and visible attention. “Now, I don’t think this outburst really has that much to do with vampires, I think that its more to do with how alone you’s feel, how untrustworthy the people around, who should know better, have made you feel, how low you put yerself…”

Jason’s eyes watered anew at his Gran’s words, confused yet joyful at the level of understanding. “And sweetie… you’re so much more than what you or other people say, so much more than just your physical appearance or you’s brain capacity. Jason, listen and listen good, you are not dumb, maybe a bit innocent in a’ adorable, gullible kinda way, but not dumb. You can see yerself outta most situations and can figure out a problem in a zip. And that Jason, that is called intelligence. I know you doubt yerself too much to use it ‘round other people… BUT, don’t you dare belittle yerself like this! Just cuz’ the women in ‘dis town are looser than a half-tied knot and just as simple don’t mean you ain’t worth the world! Honey, with some direction, a lot less self-doubt and a bit’a understanding, I know you can accomplish whatever you’s set your mind to!”

Gazing at his grandmother, his one and only beam of stability and acceptance, and looking into her love filled eyes Jason felt like he could do it, he could get back up, he could do more, be more than what he was… he was going to.

Seeing his small smile, his Gran began broaching another subject: “With that bein’ said, now we must have a lil’ talk ‘bout vampires. Again, I know you’s anger and frustration don’t really lie with them, but some’of you still believes a few of those awful things people say ‘bout them. Like them bein’ less than human, feral animals with no feelings… but honey, it just ain’t true. Most of’em were regular ol’ humans livin’ simple lives ‘fore somethin’ horrible happened that changed ‘em… death. Imagine wakin’ up after you died and tryin’ to live the best you can, only for people who don’t know anythin’ to judge you for something that you ain’t chose and can’t really control. Picture not bein’ able to touch sunlight, not be able to eat nothin’ but blood and bein’ seen like a monster for the rest of you’s life…”

Jason resumed watching the floor as his Gran continued, her sensible words and apt descriptions of vampirism and its hurdles surprising the boy quite a bit.

“I know… Lord knows that there’s some bad ones, but you’s can’t go wagging your finger at the lot of’em for the actions of a few. How many bad, terrible… absolutely heinous acts has humanity done over them years? Do we, as humans, get a pass ‘cuz we’s weaker? No! But here Jason lies the issue, we are weaker, and ‘cuz we can’t stand to be, we fear, condemn and sometimes destroy what we ain’t understand. Now, just ‘cuz you don’t like Bill Compton ain’t mean that other vampires deserve you’s animosity and disrespect. There’s a reason the saying ‘Don’t judge a book by it’s cover’ is so popular, so please Jason, try to really get to know someone before judgin’em.”

Jason carefully considered the woman’s wise words and, after a few tense minutes of contemplation, realized that she was right. How many fangers, or no, vampires had he actually seen and spoken to in real life? One, and that one vampire happened to be the creeper hanging ‘round his sister which, he realized, was probably why he disliked him so much. Bill, after all, was nice and courteous during his last visit, even confronted with Jason’s animosity and snide comments, when he could’ve confirmed his every bias. The other vampire, the bald headed one he saw on the tape, was scary, but he didn’t actually harm Maudette, it was consensual, and the one who bit Dawn followed the same trail. Now, remembering every negative, borderline hostile news story and interview, not to mention the antagonistic laws put in place, depicting and concerning vampires over the years juxtaposed to the ones he knew and knew of… he finally recognized the truth.

Appropriately chastised, Jason understood his prejudice, feeling embarrassed and quite foolish for his unfounded judgement of vampires in general. After stewing a bit in his feelings, realization dawned, making the boy cringe… he was behaving just like the other towns folk, judging someone for something he didn’t know and couldn’t understand. Promising himself he would give the next vampires he meets the benefit of the doubt, the boy looked up yet again, meeting the patient gaze of his Gran.

“And Jason sweetie, I think the reason you attached you’s feelings of inadequacy to vampires is not cuz some of them is, in your eyes, better than you… I think it’s ‘cuz you ain’t feel appreciated enough when you are with these women.”

Seeing the ostensibly confused expression on her grandson’s face, the old woman continued: “Most people wait ‘til they get intimate… Makin’ love is called that for a reason… but many people don’ reduced it to some animalistic need to get off… Sorry honey, didn’t mean to get upset, but… the act is so much more than just the physical meetin’ of two bodies, it’s ‘bout connection, understanding, love and respect.” Pointedly raising her eyebrow at the boy’s bewildered yet guilty expression, she said: “And maybe you should wait to find someone who sees you for you, who understands and loves you ‘fore sharing yourself with them.”

He… already kinda knew what she meant to say, what she wanted him to understand, and he did, to an extent… Jason recognized that sex wasn’t just for fun, that bein’ with someone you actually care about did bring something special to the table… what that something actually was he didn’t understand, but he imagined it was really… something. Unfortunately, Jason could not, in that moment, think of anyone who cared enough to want that sort of connection with him…

The insidious line of thinking drove the unstable boy just that much deeper down the rabbit hole, his sadness creeping back up as he thought about how many people unrelated to him actually gave a sh*t in general… as another thought crossed his path, crashing into Jason’s mind like a freight-train. And just like that he understood… of course no one cared, it was obvious why most people saw him as nothing but a toy, had he ever seen these women as more than a chore? No, of course not, thus perpetuating the cycle of indifference ad infinitum. How could he expect care, compassion and more in general from women he himself labeled as nothing more than a bit of fun. Maybe… maybe he should wait until he felt something. Maybe this something would be worth it, after all, why were so many people desperately searching for it instead of casually hooking up? Hell, he would, he was a man and a man makes decisions and he, as the man he was, decided to wait until the right time, place and person… hoping beyond hope that it would be worth it.

“Thanks Gran …. I really needed a sweet word from a kind ear…or how was that saying? Never mind, thanks again…I… I feel better…” cracking a small smile, the boy searched his grandmother’s gaze as he said: “…and yer’ right, it should mean more… it will… I’m gonna try to wait.”

Relieved by her grandson’s decision, the old woman released a big sleepy yawn, a gesture that was involuntarily copied back. “You mind if I sleep ‘ere tonight Gran?” the boy asked in a much more relaxed tone.

“Of course, take the couch honey and I’ll make ya some pancakes in the mornin’.” said the old woman as she kissed her grandson on the forehead.

Jason slowly made his way to the couch and sat down, after the emotional roller coaster of today he couldn’t really sleep so, he just thought… about Dawn and if he ever loved her… if he ever liked her… ok so he kinda didn’t like her, but other parts of his anatomy sure did. The notion drove the boy down a memory spiral, trying to remember the last time he had ever actually liked someone for more than just looks. He couldn’t remember… and what a sad truth that was, so he thought about his first crush… and his mind, surprisingly, allowed Jason to remember their actual name and not the altered memory put in place to keep him a straight shooter. Ryan… Ryan Daley in 6’th grade.

The name brought back so much… He had moved to Bon Temps for the summer and they became fast friends… and Jason started to feel things for the new boy, things he knew he shouldn’t feel but he couldn’t help himself. Ryan was beautiful and kind, funny and fun to play with… and one day Jason just… kissed him. They were sitting together under a tree, trying to shade themselves from the August heat when Ryan told a very funny joke and Jason just did it. He could still remember the fear, excitement, but most of all, the hope that filled him in that moment… a feeling quickly dashed away by the look on Ryan’s face. When he opened his eyes, the other boy seemed surprised, at first, before his whole expression changed into anger and finally, the emotion that still hurt… disgust. Ryan and his family moved away quickly after the incident and they never spoke again, none of his other friends found out and Jason decided to never tell... keeping the pain locked away deep inside. As he grew up, he realized that he was attracted to girls too and, having the option, he chose the safest choice in such a small southern town. This thought brought him to Lafayette, the proud gay man living in Bon Temps that easily swatted away the many slurs and threats brought his way just for being himself. Jason admired him for his bravery, but he could never do it, still to this day seeing Ryan’s expression of betrayal and revulsion every time he even looked at a handsome man. These days though, he didn’t have to worry much, after all, there were no men around that piqued his interest so why wonder what could be? He stopped at that thought, adrenaline seemingly gone and, feeling dog tired, found a comfortable position to sleep in. Still awake enough to acknowledge the curiosity that bubbled deep inside and whispered what could be... the voices, distant yet audible through his sleep-addled mind, still whispering that all he needed to do was try.

Chapter 2: The inconvenience of power

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Loud blaring music, dark shadows and the smell of desperation enveloped the bar, clinging to the air like bacteria to white blood cells. The foul, revolting smell of so much lost potential and boredom reached all the way to the back, beyond the bar and the throngs of the similarly repelled undead to their throne bound ‘king’ playing on his phone. Eric, the vampire Sheriff of area 5, could almost feel his control slipping as he whispered: “Another tedious night of sitting on this iron chair and I’m going to drain the first blood bag that approaches.”, knowing his progeny would hear.

Pam, displaying, yet again, an incredible Hellraiser/Blade leather couture ensemble that showcased her vampiric nature and unnatural curves waltzed over to her maker on new Louboutin heels. Her hair, nails and makeup were, as usual, perfectly styled and coordinated to her outfit, making her look truly gorgeous. The sight of her awoke a tiny amount of pride in the seemingly indifferent vampire, even as uncomfortable as he was. In moments such as this, when she was so very near perfection, he liked to remember the 80’s and the truly heinous animal prints and loud colors worn back then, not to mention the perms…. oh the perms always managed to make him grin, but not now. No fond memory of hideous outfits and disgruntled looks from his childe for having to dress in such a way in order to blend in could muster up even a tiny smirk on a night such as this…

“Yes master?” she said next to his ‘throne’, a lot louder than necessary to incite gossip among the mortals, igniting their little lives with intrigue regarding the tall and mysterious vampire that always occupied that particular seat.

He decided to abandon his phone for the following conversation when his gaze wondered, landing on the surrounding humans for the first time in about an hour. Disappointment tinged distaste dripped from his steely eyes as he watched them clamor for his attention in their interpretation of ‘vampire bait’ attire. Of course, when you open a vampire/ human bar decorated like the fantasy version of Dracula’s bedroom it is of no surprise when the clientele, over time, tends to mimic said decor. Still, the interchangeable pleather, not even leather, outfits, the extremely pale complexions, the smeared makeup and the combined stench of old sweat, alcohol and drugs were wearing on his patience.

Looking up at his progeny, he prepared to speak when a very disturbing shift in the atmosphere managed to catch his attention. Being as old as he was, it was very easy for him to sense movement without having a clear view of its source. Not many vampires had such developed reflexes, but the ever-present axes and swords following his head’s trajectory honed the viking’s already deadly abilities long before his death. Thus, Eric’s eyes, sharper than two steel-tipped arrows, landed on a very skimpily dressed goth woman seconds before her pale hand dared to make contact, presuming it was welcome on his thigh. She seemed incredibly… confident in her idiocy, more than likely suicidal when it came to unsolicited touching of the area’s vampire Sheriff. Focusing on the… being’s disturbing levels of inebriation and ingrained audacity, Eric contemplated the tenderness of her still beating heart.

Luckily, for her, she seemed to sense his glare, a long dormant part of her brain supposedly awakening through the fog of drugs and alcohol to the realization that she was closer to prey than companion to the affronted vampire authority. Finally sensing the danger of her gesture, she quickly averted her now frightened eyes before entirely removing her presence from his line of sight.

Her distasteful smell lingered, as they tended to do when one of the sheep’s approached slaughter. Sighing, Eric tried to relax, only for his body to stiffen yet again in the notion that such encounters would happen again and again. Though, he couldn’t really blame the little humans, he was very aware of his presence and physical appearance. And who wouldn’t try to at least approach the seemingly caged tiger? Still, the look and feel of these breathers truly disgusted him, such boring and wasted lives, such affected depravity, such monotonous existences that will be forgotten before they even registered on any kind of radar. It was almost sad, but not nearly with the way they seemed to think their cheap costumes and undulating bodies could in any way interest him.

‘Patetisk...'

“Pam, please check in with Lydia and Eddie, they informed me earlier this week that they would be here tonight to entertain the horde and, as you can see, they remain absent.” The two young vampires were quite peculiar, in the sense that they were made at the turn of the 21^st century and were very much, still, mostly human, at least trying to be, clinging to their lost lives and trying to appear as nonthreatening as possible. These delusions brought a sneer out of any older vampire, even Eric, who believed in free will. Still, they were vampires in his territory and he was responsible for them.

As the night dragged on, he couldn’t help but wonder why he still cared… He had more money than he knew what do with, more land and power than anyone knew or even suspected, but he decided to take up the mantle of Sheriff and open a shabby bar in the middle of nowhere for… he couldn’t remember what reason. Probably with the hope of bringing some excitement back into his death. Oh, the elusive yet ever present hope. It was truly the only answer. Hope that some night, soon, dear Odin be it soon, something entertaining would happen, someone or something would walk through those dingy doors and relight the long lost spark inside the ancient vampire’s dried up soul.

Gaze now trained on said doors, the Sheriff watched, hoping they would open up to something thrilling and new… only for a new group of pseudo goths to walk through, freshly sprayed with the stinging scent of cheap cologne and stale cigarettes. Sighing, Eric returned to his phone, deflated and bored beyond belief as he failed to fully analyze his dilemma yet determined to truly consider it later, when the fog of offending smells and grunge music wasn’t slowly killing him.

Chapter 3: Dragon house pivot

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Waking up to the smell of pancakes, eggs and bacon, Jason arose with the firm decision to start his new outlook on life right. So, he took a quick shower, brushed his teeth, got dressed in a few spare clothes that were still around the house and joined Sookie and Gran at the table, bright and early.

“So, how are you feeling Jason?” asked Gran with a gentle smile on her face as Sookie’s radar for drama beeped, the young woman quickly asking what was wrong.

“Relax Sook, I was just feelin’ lousy after the Maudette thing and came to sleep ‘ere last night.” It was the truth, well part of it, and he just didn’t want to get into the whole Dawn thing again, so he trusted Gran to go with it and let the matter drop. Being the wise old lady that she was, the true story was left to lay where it should, on the porch like an old greyhound, while they had a very nice breakfast. As soon as the clock’s alarm rang out, Sookie left the table, running off to her job while Gran washed the dishes and put any leftover food away.

Jason, not really knowing what to do next, sat back and really thought about his life and what he wanted his future to look like… and couldn’t really come up with anything. Feeling restless, he went to chill with his road work crew, maybe get some advice on what to do… only to end up working for the rest of the day. Most of the guys acted normally around him, key word being most. A few stragglers were avoiding him and whispering among themselves, all the while shooting him not too subtle glances. Jason was a little hurt, but rationalized that he too would probably be a little cautious around a murder suspect, and continued with his work for the day.

After a long while of digging and laying down concrete, Jason couldn't wait to take a shower, eat some fast food and relax in front of the T.V. Not wanting to be alone for the rest of the night, only because there was a killer on the loose, not because he was lonely, he asked if Hoyt wanted to watch The Terminator series and drink bear, typical guy's night routine. Hoyt, being the same old cheerful and friendly Hoyt, agreed and they stayed up until 3 in the morning, watching some Rocky too.

Jason slept wonderfully that night/morning, feeling the tension leave his body, but he didn’t wake up to pancakes and bacon, oh no, he woke up to loud bangs threatening to smash the door in and a flashlight in his face at 10 AM. Why use a flashlight in the morning? He didn’t know, but the police had to police so flashlight in suspect’s face was the M.O. he guessed. Andy, or as he always asked to be called, Detective Bellefleur, unceremoniously tackled Jason to the ground and violently handcuffed him before the boy could even get a word in or out. As he was escorted to the police station, Jason had to wonder, what had he done now?

As it seemed, the last 2 girls Jason f*cked turned up dead within 24 hours. If he were a cop, he would’ve arrested himself too, but knowing he didn’t do jack sh*t just made the boy mad. ‘sh*t… Not this again, not the questionin’ and the screamin’ ‘til I can’t take it anymore and just say what they’s want to hear’. Letting go of his initial anger and focusing on the situation at hand, Jason did what nobody expected him to do, he used his brain. Replaying every movie/tv show with cops in it in his mind, the boy remembered something quite important. Looking deep into the pudgy officer’s deep, baggy eyes, he smirked, before promptly demanding a lawyer. Andy was shocked he even knew he had the right to one.

“Well Andy, you’s never know what clinks ‘round this brain, and you know what, I’ve seen a lot of cop shows, weren’t you supposed to read me my Amanda rights ‘fore you’s started questionin’ me?” Jason exclaimed triumphantly from the small metal chair he was sitting in.

Detective Bellefleur was now truly flabbergasted, not only regarding Jason’s ‘Amanda rights’, but the boy’s surprisingly accurate police procedural knowledge. Flustered, sweaty and eager to convict, Andy excused himself from the room, knowing that if he stayed even one more second he would have done something truly illegal to the little ‘punk’.

Jason sat in the tiny steel chair, now less smugly confident as he looked at the small metal table holding his handcuffed wrists, contemplating this new tragedy. Dawn was dead… he should feel something, anything, but he was just numb, and only slightly surprised by the whole situation. He had spent his entire life in a town full of people that he thought he could trust, people that supposedly knew him… people who should have his back… that now thought he was the killer. Jason knew they considered him stupid, but there’s a big leap from town dummy to murderer… Wow. The boy tried to further analyze his life and the interpersonal relationships developed in that time, but Andy’s arrival and subsequent ‘questioning’ interrupted his introspection.

After two miserable hours of screaming threats from Andy’s part and silence from Jason’s, the boy finally got a lawyer and, due to a lack of evidence and police incompetence, got out of custody that day. Still… sleeping with a girl and hearing she got killed after was weird and disturbing enough, but sleeping with 2 and both dying in the same week was downright ridiculous. Paranoid, he isolated himself inside his home for most of the day, trying to think everything over. Even with his perceived limited brain capacity, Jason could see that the situation had something to do with vampires… maybe that creepy looking bald one killed both girls and was framing him, knowing he was the town slu*t. Ok, far-fetched but a possibility, so much for the benefit of the doubt, but what could he do about it? The police in Bon Temps were lousier than the soggy fries served at Merlotte’s on a Monday night and he didn’t want to talk to Bill about his problem. His sister’s new ‘friend’ had already been interviewed by the police and was acting shiftier than a greasy salesman peddling premium air. Jason just… didn’t want to owe him anything, but what to do.

Deciding that one head wasn’t as good as two or three, he went out and found Hoyt and Lafayette talking in Merlotte’s parking lot.

“Hey guys, you mind helpin’ me figure somethin’ out?” asked a very worried looking Jason. Of course, his friends listened to his theory and after thinking on it, Lafayette spoke first.

“Baby, you’s up sh*t creek with no boat, even less a paddle, if this murder sh*t keeps happnen’ around these uncultured motherf*ckers you’s ending up in jail guilty or not.”

“Jason man, I don’t know what to say, I mean, you was with me watching movies last night, so I know you ain’t killed Dawn, but the police want to blame someone and if you ain’t find some answers soon it’s gonna be you they pick.” Said Hoyt right after.

Hearing the reality of the situation spelled out for him made Jason that much more nervous, he started hyperventilating and sweating profusely. His friends, now really worried, took Jason inside and ordered him some water and an aspirin. After sitting down and drinking his fill, he kept wondering: ‘Why me? What did I do so wrong in my life to deserve this?’… and then he realized how that sounded. At least he was alive, unlike the 2 girls the police found strangled. ‘Was it maybe my fault? Am I cursed or somethin’?’ he then thought, feeling more sad and awful by the minute.

Seeing the expression on his face, his friends tried to reassure him it was all ‘gonna be ok’… ‘But how?’ he thought. He was a murder suspect and whoever was doing this to him wasn’t going to get caught, not unless he did something about it. Looking up he saw a news story on the small bar TV talking about the Vampire Authority and how to contact them regarding any vampire-related issues or questions. It was the sign he was secretly hoping for, like a beacon of light, shining onto Jason’s head and filing him full of adrenaline and rage.

“You know what? I’m sick of this sh*t! I ain’t done nothin’ wrong! Just because I slept with some women, all of a sudden, I’m a killer, f*ck this sh*t, I’m going to the vampire authority and getting this sorted.” Jason made to leave, when Lafayette caught his arm.

“Jason baby, you ain’t want to get into them vampire politics, if you’s talkin’ to the wrong one they might want to silence you’s pretty mouth before you expose nothin’. I know impulse control ain’t words you know, but I ain’t letting you die like a two bit hooker that ain’t watch her mouth. Now… there’s a vampire bar where the boss of all them vampires in the area is, you’s can maybe tell him what’s happenin’ and see if ‘e helps, other than that baby it’s a wrap.” Lafayette told him with as much conviction as he could muster looking deep into Jason’s eyes.

The boy carefully considered his friend’s words and agreed, it would be easy to kill him and avoid any future issues regarding vampires and their modern image, but he had to do something. “Ok man, I believe you, I ain’t going shootin my mouth off for nothin’ though, I’m gonna talk to the vampire boss and see if he’s gonna help.”

Lafayette looked at him, smiled and told him: “Baby be careful, I’s don’t want that pretty face damaged, whose derriere am I gonna watch while working if you’s get beat up? Sho, Imma get in touch with one of my hookups and see what the big boss man’s name is and you’s good to go.” Jason was seeing a light at the end of this stupid murder tunnel and he was going to take it. “Thanks man, can I drop by tonight and get the info?”. Lafayette agreed and Jason went on his way, thinking over his decisions.

“Ok, Lafayette I get it’s a crazy situation, but don’t you think sending Jason alone to talk to the vampire boss is pretty damn dangerous? I mean, I wouldn’t wanna go alone.” said Hoyt in a harsh whisper.

Lafayette looked back towards the nervous looking hunk of a man, smirk at the ready: “Now Buba, you’s don’t get it do you? If he shows up with friends, he ain’t getting that talk with the big boss. Remember when you’s hanged out with him before and he’d act up ‘cuz he’s in a group? If he goes alone, that terrified bunny is gonna’ really think about what he saiz and not get eaten up by the wolves.”

Now that Hoyt thought about it, Lafayette made a lot of sense, Jason did think himself invincible when he was in a group and that wasn’t going to aid his situation with a powerful vampire.

“Sides…” The gorgeous black man continued, now fully grinning as he sipped his co*cktail: “Jason Stackhouse is sex on a stieckk, and if I’s know what I know, he’s gonna’ get a lot more than just a conversation outa the Sheriff.”

Hoyt looked at him for a few minutes, not really understanding what he’d just said but going with it. He really hoped his friend was gonna be ok.

Chapter 4: Spark of hope

Chapter Text

That night around 9 Jason got ready. He showered, brushed his teeth, put on a simple white shirt, rolled the sleeves up to his elbows, added some jeans and let his hair do what it wanted. Hopping into his truck, he drove to Lafayette’s place, all the while trying to stay calm… it was going to be a long night.

Lafayette was on his porch enjoying a blunt and his new smooth satin caftan when Jason showed up looking, as the gorgeous black man put it, ‘like the only Chippendales that counted’ with his sexy casual look. "The bar’s called Fangtasia, it’s just out of town in Shreveport and the cat’s name is Sheriff Northman. Now, you ain’t gonna just walk in and demand to talk to’em, he’s the big boss, you’s gotta use that pretty face and be nice when you’s voice your intention to speak to’im and maybe he’ll hear you." Jason listened patiently as his friend explained this to him and thanked him for helping.

‘Wow, vampires have Sheriff’s too.’ Jason thought as he revved up his old but well cared for truck, imaging what the vampire Sheriff would be like… and feeling a shudder run up his spine. He really hoped that the tattooed bald scary looking one wasn’t him, but no matter what he looked like he would still be a vampire and scary as sh*t. He wanted to back out of Lafayette’s yard, turn around and just go home, ‘But then who’s gonna help you?’ a voice whispered in his head, making Jason remember that the few people he had in his life couldn’t really do anything in this situation. Not having any other options, the boy buckled down, physically and mentally, and put his car in gear.

He drove to the bar, thinking over everything he knew about vampires, which considering his situation was very little, and remembered his talk with Gran. ‘Just cuz they’s vampires don’t mean they can’t be descent.’ the sound vibrated in his ears, resembling his Gran’s voice and encouraging him onward. Getting to the bar was easy, but getting inside seamed more difficult. The line to the door was long and slow going, but he was relieved by that, it gave him time to think on what he would say to the Sheriff if he were lucky enough to talk to him.

Seeing the black décor on the outside of the club/bar itself made him that much more nervous, he’d never seen, much less entered a vampire establishment, and now he was going into the big boss’s one. Fidgeting, he raised his eyes above the other patron’s heads, curious to see if the entry process was the same as the ones of human bars. He couldn’t see much, but he’d have to be blind not to notice the gorgeous blonde woman at the door checking ID’s. She was wearing an elaborate red and black leather outfit that squeezed her waist so tightly he was surprised she could even breathe. Her bored expression and domineering aura made him realize that she probably didn’t need to. While he waited, many people were turned away at the door and he slowly started to panic wandering if he would be too, looking around he didn’t really fit the leather theme. When he reached the beautiful vampire lady, she stilled in a very unnatural way, her eyes glinting like polished steel as she stared at him for a while.

"ID." Her monotone voice almost whispered. Jason, feeling a little flustered, had a bit of trouble coordinating his finger movements, but managed to pull out his ID that stated he was 27. The vampire looked at it for a while and then smiled a thin smile, more like a sneer, before addressing him: "And what brings you to our establishment this evening?".

He wasn’t prepared to be asked about his business so soon, and at the door mind you, but he didn’t want to seem rude so: "I umm… I was hopin’ to have an audience with Sheriff Northman… if umm… if it’s not too much trouble?".

Pam had trouble believing her eyes, such a delicious morsel walking right into the lion’s den and asking to ‘speak’ to the beast? Just incredible. Her poker face was unbreakable most of the time, but this human’s sweet innocence and big brown, puppy dog eyes almost shattered it. Oh, her master would enjoy him. "I believe Sheriff Northman will have no problem speaking to you, enter and sit at the bar, tell the barman Pam sent you and the drinks will be free. Enjoy". She said the last word with as much emphasis as she could, oh she couldn’t wait to see her master enjoying him, and maybe she’ll also have a taste after…

Jason entered, trepidation quickly leaving him as he saw the inside of the bar. It wasn’t as scary as he thought it would be, many normal humans were inside, many vampires also, a few tourists and finally the actual bar. He sat down and eyed the drink menu, he didn’t want to drive drunk so he got a sprite from the tattooed barman. As he sipped his drink, he waited and watched the other people milling around him. It was a pretty busy Saturday night, a lot of people came dressed up in Goth couture and danced to some very interesting rock music. Most of the leather clad humans were huddled near a chair at the back of the room… a fixture that, at closer inspection, resembled more of a simple throne. A seating fit for a king, or, as Jason came to realize, fit for the Vampire Sheriff. Deciding that staring at the empty seat was unproductive, he returned to scanning the crowd, noticing the steady decline in diversity. As the clock struck 12, most of the lights went out, plunging the bar in a very eerie reddish light that by itself purged the rest of the tourists and any remaining ‘normal’ humans from the place. Being one of the last ordinary looking people in the club/bar Jason stuck out like a sore thumb, which made the other patrons really pay attention to him, and not the good kind of attention. Jason guessed they were mad he didn’t adhere to the dress code, and he kinda understood their point of view, but it still hurt to be looked at like a nuisance. As he thought this, the boy suddenly felt like he was being watched. The eyes roaming across his body were so intense Jason could almost feel their piercing gaze as a physical touch.

Deciding to face the human or vampire eyeing him, he turned towards the source, only to meet the gaze of the ‘king’ now occupying his previously empty throne. Jason gulped down his momentary fear at seeing the big boss of the area himself, trying to focus on the man, no, Vampire, intently watching him. A difficult task, seeing as the Sheriff’s hypnotic, dark eyes were sucking Jason into the void, but the boy gripped his feelings tight, slowly focusing on other aspects too. The room’s limited light could not obscure the vampire’s appearance for one, only highlighting his striking, angular features, perfectly framed by his light colored hair. Its shoulder-length guided Jason’s eyes lower, now focusing on the vampire’s frame, securely held up by defined muscles shown off perfectly by his black wife beater. And, even sitting down, Jason could tell he was tall, a lot taller than him, his stance in general reminding the boy of a predator locking down onto prey. The small shiver trailing up the boy’s spine at the thought surprised him as much as the small twitch in his pants did. Jason… kept staring, mesmerized yet perplexed by the confusing feelings and physical reactions he was experiencing. The boy couldn’t pin point what exactly made the vampire so magnetic, his handsome yet menacing face, his casual though dangerous stance, or his presence, that seemed to absorb the entire room. Jason couldn’t even hear the music or feel the other human’s glares from staring into those captivating, dark eyes. And when he thought he couldn’t take much more, the Sheriff smirked, an expression that shot a lightning bolt straight up the boy’s spine and into his brain spelling: ‘That is the most attractive man you have ever seen!’

Jason’s already surging pulse rose at the realization, sending copious amounts of blood into his system, especially to his cheeks and legs, a natural response when confronted with a superior predator, telling the boy to run. Only, Jason didn’t run, couldn’t even if he wanted to, he was too absorbed by the vampire’s presence… at least until his mind awoke and flooded his head with derision and nerves. Feeling self-conscious and ashamed of his interest, Jason broke eye contact, bowing his head and turning around to leave, but before he could, the beautiful lady from the door, Pam, appeared. "Sheriff Northman will see you now." She said before guiding a very anxious Jason towards his ‘doom’.

-10 minutes ago-

Eric was having yet another tedious night, only dispersed by a modicum of annoyance, someone was stealing from him under his own roof, and a troubling news, Eddie had not checked in again. After trying to contact him for a while with no results, he appointed Long-Shadow to do a wellness check on Eddie at the end of his shift.

As he contemplated the thefts, a text appeared on his phone from Pam: ‘Tasty treat, bar’, her texts were always very concise. Curious, Eric got out of the office and made his way to his throne, hoping it wasn’t another anorexic goth chick that apparently ‘didn’t smell that bad’. In his temporary state of displeasure, he had no problem commanding Pam to drink the sewer water the human’s peddled as artificial blood.

He was very surprised, and mildly offended, to hear Pam whisper the ‘tasty treat’s’ request to speak to him. It was ludicrous, a random human seeking an audience with the vampire Sheriff of the area, but as he sat down and began scanning the room, he saw him and… he could not help but stare. The boy, this ‘Jason Stackhouse’ stood on one of the bar stools looking like a bloom in winter, white dress shirt and tight jeans curving, bending and arching around a beautiful tan body. Looking up, the Sheriff’s eyes darkened at the sight of unruly blonde curls, lightened by sun exposure, accompanied by a handsome face with stunning doe brown eyes.

Such sweet innocence in such a sinful place was delectable to behold, even sweeter to smell and possibly taste. Every human had a certain glow to their skin, an ‘aura’, varying in intensity and color depending on their degree of savoriness to the vampire’s individual taste. Most humans barely glistened, but even the most delicious human Eric had ever tasted could not compare to the boy’s ethereal glow. Every light in the room seemed to gather and exude from the young man in a kaleidoscopic blaze of pure luminosity, sprinkled with tiny glittering particles that commanded his attention. He could not refrain from studying the boy even more closely, watching his every move, every twitch, every heartbeat. The delicious beauty, having strong prey instincts, sensed his intense stare and turned, catching his eyes. Jason’s aura and heartbeat both sped up as adorably dilated baby brown eyes stared back, ohh… he will enjoy this cute boy quite thoroughly. As if sensing his intentions, the boy tried to shy away, only to be impeded by Pam’s presence. His progeny’s marvelous discovery and prompt intervention deserved to be rewarded, with a bag, maybe even a new pair of shoes.

-Present time-

Jason gulped the last bit of saliva in his throat as he was brought closer and closer to the tall vampire, now known as Sheriff Northman, ‘sh*t!’ his brain conjured at being so close to the imposing vampire boss.

The closer the boy got, the more he seemed to radiate in Eric’s eyes. Tan skin glistening as he moved, big puppy eyes almost begging to be treated gently and…something else, a deliciously sweet fragrance. He expected the boy to smell appetizing from his intense glow, but could not predict the magnitude with which it would affect him, making his teeth elongate into fangs without permission. Sitting, night after night, in a bar full of dancing bodies that emanated increasingly more fowl scent combinations had left Eric with a very bitter taste in his mouth, and Jason’s delectable scent was like a balm to his abused senses. After what had felt like an eternity of waiting and observing, the beautiful boy was finally in front of him.

"Jason Stackhouse, it seems you have something to discuss with me, please, sit." Eric said as he gestured to the chair closest to his throne. Not wanting to be rude and, maybe, also wanting to be closer to the man, Jason sat down. Being this close to the Sheriff made the boy even more anxious. His attractive physical appearance aside, the commanding and deadly aura that enveloped the vampire was cloying his brain and displaying ‘Danger’ and ‘Run’ in big bold letters, but it was his only shot at speaking to someone that could actually help. After a beat of silence and nervous staring, Jason finally spoke up.

"Th… Thank you, Sheriff Northman, for takin’ the time to umm… talk to me, I wasn’t expectin’ such a warm welcome and I… I appreciate it." He tried to smile, hoping that the vampires couldn’t hear the slight stutter that showed off just how nervous he was. Eric, in turn, was charmed instantly by his southern accent and nervous smile, he was still a blood bag, but a cute one.

"Please, call me Eric, and it is no trouble, I had time and couldn’t refuse such an…. interesting request from such an unusual guest." Said the blonde vampire. Jason instantly loved his voice, it was so authoritative and masculine, but he had to stop himself, just because he was attracted to men didn’t mean anything was gonna happen. It didn’t mean the man, or vampire, in question was even looking at him like that. ‘What am I even thinkin’, he’s a vamper and I ain’t even that gay!’ he kept telling himself, but looking into his icy eyes he couldn’t ignore the way his heart kept beating out of his chest.

"Yea, didn’t know there was a theme, sorry. I umm… I don’t even think I own any leather, maybe my really good belt but, that’s ‘bout it. I umm… really stick out huh?"

"You most certainly do…." Jason felt and saw the way Eric hungrily looked at him, all of him, from his unruly hair to his slightly worn boots… maybe he wasn’t the only one feeling the attraction? But it didn’t matter, just because one vampire was being nice and a bit flirty didn’t mean they were not still blood thirsty beings that could spring on you at the drop of a hat.

"Now, what exactly did you wish to discuss with me?" The Sheriff said in a very calm, but much less friendly, tone.

Chapter 5: Menacing attraction

Chapter Text

"Now, what exactly did you wish to discuss with me?" The Sheriff said, in a very calm but much less friendly tone. Jason, glad for the abrupt change in conversation, tried to explain his situation.

"Well umm… Sheriff Northman sir, sorry, Eric, I’m… I’m in a real bad place right now, some real sh*tty things happened and I… ain’t really got someone to talk to…, well no one who’d be able to help anyway. Umm, you see, I slept with 2 women this week, and now they’re both dead… found strangled in their homes. Seein’ as I was the last guy ‘dat saw’em alive, the police think I done it, but I didn’t. I swear I didn’t, but they’s don’t believe me and ain’t really tryin’ to find the real bad guy, why bother when it’s just easier to blame me right? They keep sayin’ that the boyfriend is always the murderer, but we wasn’t even like that, we just had fun sometimes, I’m, apparently, not boyfriend material…Anyway, I ain’t ever been able to hurt a fly, much less a person, and I’m tryin’ to find out anythin’ that could help me, even if it’s a longshot. See, both them girls liked vampires and had…um ... ‘relations’ with them near when they… died, so, here I am. I got photos of’em, can you tell me, was they by this place?" Jason took out the pictures he had and handed them over.

The women depicted had frequented Fangtasia for a while, one of them managing to catch his attention for a night, but he never focused on the comings and goings of most humans, much less these ones. Still, the death of two humans who associated with vampires in his area coupled with Eddie’s ‘disappearance’ was quite troubling to say the least. Eric did not believe in coincidences, and these events happening simultaneously were suspicious indeed.

"Both of these women have entered my club, one I have tasted… the other was too pathetic to indulge. I remember that both left unharmed and alone." Eric said as he handed back the photos.

"Ok, umm… I also saw one of’em vampires that had umm… relations with a girl, he was bald headed and had tattoos, do you…think he had anythin’ to do with ‘dis?" The cute boy asked, obviously scared to even voice the question, as he should be. Any other breather that implied a certain vampire had been killing humans was usually quickly dealt with, but Eric was feeling particularly indulgent towards the charming human.

"Tell me..." Eric said, now holding on to Jason’s hand, gently pressing on the adductor pollicis "... were these women exsanguinated?" He deliberately lowered his tone, knowing that his commanding voice and seductively articulated words were affecting the boy, thoroughly enjoying Jason’s squirms.

The small contact and deep baritone voice sent shivers down the boy’s spine, Eric’s hand was much larger and cooler to the touch than his own, not to mention the restrained strength hidden beneath the surface of his alabaster skin. He tried to voice an intelligible answer and managed when Eric moved his finger in a gentle soothing motion.

"Exsanguinated, um… you’s mean no blood in the body, right? No, they was just choked to death. The police tried to find evidence, but I think they wasn’t much there." Jason answered, feeling proud of himself for knowing the term, watching crime dramas paid off after all, he thought.

"Yes, that is the simple definition and, if that was not the case, the killer is most certainly human. No vampire would dare waste a fresh corpse full of blood. I’m afraid this information is in your detriment dear Jason." Eric said, breaking physical contact. "Now that I have answered some of your questions, perhaps you would be so kind as to answer some of mine. I’m quite curious how you knew to seek my council in this matter since no other vampire live in Bon Temps.". Eric said, intensifying his eye contact, "Who revealed my name and authority?"

Jason paled in that moment, gone was the flirty, nice vampire who asked him to call him by his first name only minutes ago, in his place stood Sheriff Northman, a vampire of obvious power and age. Jason was expecting to be looked at in such a way, but it still frightened him. His eyes were cold and captivating, slowly trying to bend Jason’s will, he could almost feel the tendrils of compulsion weaving around his brain, that for some reason were not able to penetrate.

"Umm, I’d… like to tell ya, I don’t wanna upset you cuz I know you’re the boss ‘ere, but I… don’t wanna cause trouble for the guy that told me…". Jason knew he couldn’t outright refuse to answer, the Sheriff was trying to help him, coupled with the fact that the vampire could probably kill him in an instant…. but he really didn’t want to get Lafayette involved, he was his good friend that did him a favor.

Eric was astounded, the human was immune to compulsion. He was so shocked he momentarily lost control of his impervious veil. He felt his eyes widen minutely and mouth open slightly, a slight slip of his mask that normal people would never dream of witnessing. Pam, being his progeny for over a century, immediately saw his surprise, an expression that matched her own. For a few seconds both vampires held still. Only other supernatural beings could not be controlled in such a way, a human being impervious to it was unheard of. Deciding to make sure of such a momentous discovery, he tried again, this time using the full capacity of his very potent mental ability without uttering a single word and looking deep into the beauty’s eyes… and still nothing. The boy was becoming more interesting by the minute, from his gorgeous packaging and interesting motivations to his very rare ability.

It was apparent that Jason did not grasp the importance of what had transpired, that his ability was still undiscovered by even himself, so Eric continued: "I do not wish to harm your friend, merely to understand where the information originated. Humans are not usually privy to our kind’s hierarchy and, as I have stated, there are no other vampires living in the vicinity that could have enlightened you."

Jason had a hard time keeping up with the conversation, he understood what the Sheriff said, barely, but at the same time he was confused by the information: "But… there is other vampires? Bill Compton moved to town a week and a half ago and… two more came to stay at’is place, but left after a night or so. He lives just next door to my sister and I saw’em last night havin’ a party or sumthin’ at’is place…" Jason said and watched as the Sheriff became increasingly more statue like. He didn’t move, didn’t breathe, and his eyes turned even colder than before. Jason’s heart started pumping hard for all the wrong reasons and he tried to get up and leave, but was stopped by a strong hand, this time on his knee.

"You are certain that at least 3 vampires are currently residing in Bon Temps and that one of them is named Bill Compton?" Eric said, trying to keep the steel from his voice, he didn’t want to scare away the rabbit any more than he already did.

"Y…Yea, he… moved to town ‘cuz his last relative died and started sniffing ‘round Sookie, my baby sister. When ‘dis whole mess started, I… I thought ‘bout going to’im for help, but I just get this real bad feelin’ from’im and didn’t wanna owe’im anything." Jason was glad that Eric had, apparently, forgotten about Lafayette and focused on Bill, he didn’t mind giving that creeper up to his boss.

The night was edging towards a very deep ravine of curiosity and circ*mstance that could not be ignored. A most delicious and beautiful boy, with a very rare ability, came to speak about 2 very suspicious deaths with the vampire Sheriff himself on the same night that one of his vampires ‘disappeared’ and brought with him an even more interesting piece of information. The queen’s procurer was residing in his area without his knowledge for more than a week with at least 2 other vampires. Eric would be a fool to ignore such a sign, he didn’t exactly know how his destiny was tied to this boy, but he knew that a lot of moving parts were brought together on this particular night and most of them involved Jason somehow.

Deciding to find out just how deep this rabbit hole went, as well as spend time with the young man, Eric said: "I see, thank you Jason for the unexpected information provided tonight, it has been most welcome. Due to some of your statements, I will be forced to confront Bill Compton as soon as possible for his transgressions and, as such, travel to Bon Temps. Seeing as I am now in your debt, I would like to help dismiss any accusations regarding your involvement in these serious crimes. Though, until then, would you be so kind as to direct me towards Bill’s current address?".

Jason couldn’t believe his luck, talking to the vampire Sheriff, getting him to help out and possibly getting Bill arrested while freeing Sookie from the creeper’s influence, he was having a great night. As Jason relaxed into the notion that, finally, someone was willing to hear him out and help, he noticed the pressure on his thigh. The hand that had grabbed his knee slid up a lot more throughout the conversation, ending up mid to inner thigh and awakening his libido. His emotions and feelings went through an entire roller coaster ride that, apparently, wasn’t over yet. Blushing, he gazed down to the hand gripping him and answered in a much more hushed voice: "Yea, I… I can take you to’is place."

Eric hadn’t really noticed his hand traveling the length of Jason’s muscular leg until the boy, in his uniquely enchanting way, spoke to him in that husky tone. Such a tempting display of modesty and lust, gazing up at him with his big, doe eyes through thick lashes and blushing while, at the same time, emanating copious amounts of hunger and pining through his mouthwatering scent.

"But umm… what did’e do? I don’t wanna pry, it’s just that he’s been ‘round my sister and I’m… starting to get worried." said the adorable beauty. Eric had a sudden urge to grab onto the boy and press and pull on his body, to consume him, to destroy him. He knew he would not do it, such a unique being could not be mishandled, but playful aggression was something he never thought he would feel towards a human and his surprise was, again, palpable.

"I understand your concern and, in this case, I can explain his transgression to you, but time does not favor this conversation. I need to inspect this matter quickly, before it devolves even further, but if you would accompany me, I could expand on the reasons why." Eric said, punctuating his sentence with a firm squeeze of the boy’s strong thigh.

Jason felt the pressure of Eric’s hand and eyes on him and could not concentrate on the conversation very well, but he understood the gist of it, go with the vampire boss to Compton’s house and get help in return. Not a bad deal, but he was very unsure how to interact with Eric now that there was obvious evidence of his attraction. He would like to say that he didn’t want to anger or offend the vampire boss by turning him down, before he had even really voiced his interest, but his heart and mind both knew it was a lie. He didn’t want to even acknowledge the mutual attraction there for fear of where it would lead. Leaving aside the fact that he was a vampire, a dangerous and ‘untrustworthy’ predator, the fact that he was a man, a very powerful man, the fact that he didn’t want to see the disbelief and disgust in people’s eyes when they found out he also liked men, ignoring all of these things…he was afraid it would be just like his other ‘relationships’. Fueled by an immediate attraction, followed by great sex and some nice moments before he was discarded yet again for being just a dumb jock with nothing more to offer. He couldn’t have a normal relationship with a girl, how could he even think of one with a guy, even worse, a very scary and powerful dead guy. No, it wasn’t going to happen… he just wasn’t meant to have love like that in his life.

Even though he was feeling pretty lousy thinking over these facts, he agreed to travel with Eric. When the vampire Sheriff arose, Jason did a double take, his distress and sadness vanishing to make room for amazement. Eric was at least 6’4 if not taller and he looked like a bonafide viking warrior, strong, tall and blonde as he strode towards him. Jason had never felt smaller or more helpless, but the vampire’s hungry eyes and predatory stride did not ignite fear in him, only mutual desire.

Placing his hand on the boy’s sculptured lower back, Eric made his way to the employee exit with a grin plastered onto his face. ‘Oh, this night will be quite interesting.’

Chapter 6: Slated encounter

Chapter Text

"What is she?" Bill pondered the ever-present question and its mysterious answer in the privacy of his dilapidated sitting room, sipping on a delicious glass of blood courteously supplied by his ‘acquaintances’ before they departed for the night. To further gain Sookis’s trust, he had to mimic disgust in regard to their actions in front of her, but, with the girl safely back in her grandmother’s home, he didn’t feel the need to act. And it was, indeed, an act, a very exhausting and quite annoying act to put on, but he had to do his queen’s bidding and procure the girl somehow.

Everything would have been so much easier if she could be compelled…. Without such convenient means of forced obedience, he had to resort to an unquestionably distasteful pageantry, seduction, made easier through a forced blood-bond. Compelling the putrid couple that attempted to drain him to mercilessly damage Sookie’s body to such an extreme degree that she would require his lifesaving blood was easy. Watching the girl’s brutalization, knowing her kind soul and sincere eyes, was not, but sacrifices had to be made. Even though he usually had no trouble using deceit and manipulation to prevail, and she was a very attractive specimen, this particular mission was grating and he could not wait to succeed in this endeavor and forget it as quickly as possible.

Shelving his thoughts regarding the gullible young woman, Bill rose up from the ‘vintage’ chez lounge he was unknowingly displacing with his weight and, deciding that the night was still quite young, took a stroll outside to enjoy the visible milky way and the sounds of the forest.

Jason was a little worried about leaving his truck at Fangtasia for the night, but after seeing Eric’s red Corvette, he couldn’t even remember his ‘baby’s’ license plate number.

"This’ your car?" he asked with obvious excitement, making his aura sparkle in the almost pitch-black private parking lot. Eric was being drawn in more and more by the boy, every smile, every speech quirk and every eyelash flutter making him want to capture the beauty’s perfect lips, press into his body and dominate him. He held back, barely, not wanting to manhandle the unique being that came into his death and ignited such interest in him, not yet.

"Yes, I assume you enjoy the model? Its efficiency and speed are excellent for late night driving, if you will…" Eric said, punctuating his sentence by holding the door open for the boy.

Jason, not really noticing the vampire’s gesture, got into the gorgeous car and almost launched himself at the controls, but, remembering his place, and car manners in general, restrained himself to only reverently touching the leather of the seats as Eric got in. "It’s really awesome man, wish I had one of these, not that I ain’t love my truck, but sh*t, it’s a real nice car." Jason said, almost affectionately touching every little detail, even the window switches.

Eric took a moment to instruct Pam, who was still inside watching the masses, to call a towing company for Jason’s car. As he took the driver’s seat, he couldn’t help but watch the beauty’s awed expression. Such adorable gesticulations and quirks wrapped in such a luscious package. Spending the rest of the night in bed with the boy was quite a tempting notion, but he had more pressing matters to attend to.

After successfully acquiring Compton’s address, he virtually flew there, explaining, on the way, the process of a normal vampire relocation in simple terms: the formal greeting made within a week of the vampire’s arrival in a new area, the pledge that must be made to the residing authority, in this case him, if the vampire wished to permanently reside in the chosen area and, in much less detail, the consequences of not obeying such formalities.

Jason listened quietly to the whole speech, enjoying the breeze coming through the open window. He didn’t really get to feel it that much, with not driving through the winding roads at night and suffering the arid summer weather during the day, so he laid back into the leather seats and thought about why Bill hadn’t talked to Eric until now. Wondering eyes landed back on Eric’s prominent form, as they often tended to do, yet again marveling at the vampire’s visage and his defined arms holding the stirring wheel, tracing small patterns on the leather.

The vampire was a rigid yet fluid construction of marble that seized even the most ignorant person’s attention. A silhouette that inevitably caught Jason’s, and the boy tried to divert his obvious interest, but the minuscule tensing of those strikingly cut muscles kept it engaged. The small town he lived in had a narrow pool of relatively attractive men, but none of them were as physically stunning as the vampire sitting next to him. Jason tried to convince himself that his curiosity was benign, but the boy’s body objected vehemently.

The cute morsel’s interest was sensed and appreciated, but not returned for the moment, at 120 miles/h it was the safest choice. After a much to fast car ride, they stopped next to a crumbling structure that may have once resembled a home. Its ruined appearance, ironically, perfectly represented the sorry excuse of a vampire residing within its ‘comfort’, run down and battered by years of neglect and decaying from the inside out.

"This’ the place, you mind if I just… stay in the car? I know he’s gonna be real mad that I told you ‘bout him and I ain’t lookin’ to be in the strike zone…" Jason asked, feeling a little scared by the situation, he was strong and all, but vampires, especially angry ones, could easily kill an unarmed human. Eric quietly regarded him, not really understanding the boy’s plight… did he think he would let Compton even breathe near him?

"Jason, I do not know what caused you to think that Bill is in any way a threat to you, but let me assure you... " Eric said, slowly crowding Jason in the now very small car and holding his gaze, "I am at least 5 times his age and Odin knows how many times his strength and speed, he will not touch you… " leaning in even more, with a small smirk "…provided you stay close to me".

Jason heard the words coming out of the Sheriff’s mouth, saw the pleased grin and the hungry look on his face, he did, but the vampire’s proximity did things to his body that oscillated between arousal and fear, so he could not register the message right away. When he did, when he realized that ‘Wait a second, you’s at least 1000 years old?’ he couldn’t help but ask.

Eric smiled "Yes, I was turned before the turn of the millennium." Jason wanted to keep asking questions, who wouldn’t when confronted with an ancient being, but Eric continued: "Now, I don't sense his presence in this moth infested structure, and I need to investigate it before he returns and attempts to deceive me." Eric said, moving his hand to the boy’s heated cheek and seizing his beautiful eyes yet again "When he returns, it would be in your favor to be as close to me as possible." Eric said, disembarking and holding Jason’s door open in less than a second.

Jason blinked and realized he was right, being left alone in the middle of the night like a sitting duck when Bill could be behind every tree was not a good idea, so he followed Eric inside the house. He didn’t want to admit that the vampire boss’s promise made him feel safe, but standing now only 2 inches away from him at all times sure did.

Jason wanted to be cautious and concentrate on the situation, but he really didn’t know what to look for or how to help, everything inside Compton’s house was pretty damaged, some objects more deteriorated than others, but in general he was afraid of touching anything breakable, which was everything. Walking around the rooms with the Sheriff, who kindly moved at a human’s pace, and mostly only seeing his athletic back and wide shoulders only partially covered by a tank-top distracted Jason. The very old vampire moved slow and sure through the rooms, analyzing every piece of furniture, every crack and chip in the walls, until arriving at a suspiciously sturdy, intact desk. Jason, getting lost in the vampire’s feline physicality, did not notice the thin folder he was holding, or the moment he hid its contents.

Most people thought that by becoming a vampire, a person devolved into a savage predator, that sacrificing the better part of one’s intellect was necessary in order to acquire such advanced physical traits, but they were wrong. There were many sacrifices, but judgement, intelligence and common sense were not among them. In order to easily navigate their super speed, they also had an accelerated perception, which in this case allowed Eric to read, understand and easily remember the whole file in less than 10 seconds. Had he read the documents before meeting Jason, he would not have been as intrigued by the information present within, but as it stood, he could not ignore the interesting turn of events. Hearing of Bill’s presence in town and in Jason’s life had mistakenly led Eric to believe that the wonderful boy was the procurer’s target, but even he could be wrong on occasion. His sister, Sookie, was the actual target, materializing a very important, yet simple, question into the Sheriff’s mind, ‘Why?’, after all, the boy was radiating pure deliciousness, why go for the sister? This was becoming one of the most interesting and confusing nights of his death and the tide had not yet receded, promising a potentially even more curious resolution. He couldn’t wait to confront Compton, oh…and speak of the devil. Before the invertebrate could get any closer and possibly flee, Eric positioned himself near the door and texted Pam some instructions as well as his current address.

Detecting a familiar presence inside his home, and not really paying attention, Bill entered, only to be met with a crushing grip around his throat by none other than Eric f*cking Northman. Seeing the pleased yet terrifying grin on the older vampire’s face, he couldn’t help swearing, knowing that his plan would now be slowly dismantled by the cunning Sheriff of area 5.

"Bill, how kind of you to grace us with your presence, please… sit down!"

Chapter 7: Caged

Chapter Text

"Bill, how kind of you to grace us with your presence, please…. sit down!" Eric said in a condescendingly sing-song voice, punctuating his annoyance with a vicious shove into the younger vampire’s chest, almost slamming him down into the fragile chez lounge. Jason didn’t move a muscle, he was partially hidden behind Eric and decided it was better to be invisible than be made collateral in this whole mess. He believed that Eric would protect him, even though he should NOT trust him, but he did in this case, he trusted the obviously stronger vampire to handle the situation, but that didn’t mean getting involved unprompted, so he stayed still and quiet.

Eric was now really towering over Bill, more imposing than ever, danger exuding from his seemingly casual stance while enjoying the younger vampire’s bewildered expression. Most humans that saw a vampire’s strength like this would be doling out fear in droves, but the boy was only mildly uncomfortable… the Sheriff was impressed. Deciding to ease the beauty’s slight stress, Eric sat down on the opposing couch and motioned him over.

Jason saw the gesture, at first not really sure if he should follow the silent request, but ultimately listened to it. As it were, he was standing between Bill and the door, a very precarious position to occupy, so he sat down close to Eric, almost feeling the vampire’s answering pleasure at his chosen positioning. Eric, well, really anybody, could detect Bill’s surprise through his poorly made mask, his large, dumb eyes and parted lips like a shining beacon of stupidity. Being so young and foolish was almost amusing to the Sheriff, almost. Deciding to further confuse his prisoner and also longing to touch the beauty sitting next to him, Eric put his arm around Jason, cradling his supple waist and silently staking his claim on the boy.

Jason didn’t really know why he was getting a side hug right at that moment, but, not wanting to break the very thick tension in the room, he stayed quiet. He guessed, apart from mutual attraction, that the Sheriff was trying to better protect him, pressing him into his much larger frame and unwittingly calming him down.

"Now that we’re all comfortable, care to explain yourself, Billy boy?" said the Sheriff in a mocking tone, a tone that hid his threatening growl from Jason, but not from the vampire in question.

Hearing the implied menace, Bill tried to be polite and maybe prolong what would most certainly be a very unpleasant conversation with feigned naiveté: "Good evening Sheriff, it is good to see you again, but I am unsure as to what I have to explain?".

Eric was having none of it, and although he could have easily displayed his superior strength and forced the weasel to stop squirming for an escape, he rather enjoyed these moments. Silently watching the performance of a caged rat, trying to appear dead, thinking it would no longer hold the cat’s attention, such amusing displays of idiocy were rare. The Sheriff let a smirk escape, making his dark expression that much more terrifying and kept watching Compton’s subdued, yet noticeable, twitches.

"Bill, while I certainly enjoy these riveting showcases of perceived modesty and gullible innocence, tonight my patience is thinner than your morality, so I suggest you calculate just how little time you have to explain yourself before I rip your, presumably existing, spine out and confess, quickly."

Another icy glare sent his way and the procurer blurted the first thing he could come up with, groveling and praying for it to work: "I’m extremely apologetic Sheriff for not displaying the respect and courtesy your position deserves and moving into your area without permission. My last living relative suffered a sudden death and, while mourning his loss and trying to get the property in order, time and manners have escaped me.", hoping that the Sheriff would believe him.

‘Ohh this is going to be fun!’ thought Eric as he slowly appraised the lowly vampire before his eyes. Needing a cleansing from the abominable amount of tar that was practically oozing out of the creature’s orifices, he gazed at Jason. Never had the boy looked more luminous than in that moment, compared to the vile leach sitting far too closely for his tastes, the boy was akin to a pure sweet jewel hidden in a mountain of dirty coal, a treasure rarely found that he was determined to keep. Jason, sensing Eric’s attention, turned and looked up at the imposing vampire, who was smirking in such a shamelessly lecherous way down at him it was positively scandalous.

He addressed Bill while still watching the now blushing beauty, not wanting to further soil his mood with the other vampire’s visage: "Interesting ‘explanation’ Bill, very interesting… Tell me…" Eric said, now looking directly into the procurer’s eyes "… how long have you resided in my area?"

"For the better part of a week, but I did not count the nights in my grief. I have been rude and disrespectful of your authority and beg your forgiveness, Sheriff Northman." Bill said, not daring to look up again and hoping that his demure act would save him from the consequences of such an indiscretion.

"Wait a damn minute, you’s been in town for almost two weeks and I ain’t never seen you morn nobody! All’s you’ve done since you came to Merlotte’s that night is sniff ‘round my baby sister like she’s catnip or somethin'. And a night ago, you even had a damn party with them 2 other vampires! Where’s your grief then?" Jason exclaimed, shocking the vampires in the room for different reasons.

Eric thoroughly enjoyed the boy’s angry outburst, the sudden adrenaline coursing through Jason making his dusky skin take on a pink hue, while bulging his neck muscles, thus emphasizing the delicious artery underneath, and deepening his scent into spicy, delicious sweetness. The minute changes, coupled with the increase of his already intense aura, composed a truly mouthwatering display that any normal vampire would seize. Eric Northman, being anything but common, resisted the boy’s siren song, choosing instead to level the odious vampire in question with a devastating glare that easily transmitted: ‘He’s MINE!’. And oh….OHH, Eric realized in that moment that he WILL be, the wonderful creature simmering in his arms for an answer would surely be HIS, in time.

Bill had forgotten Jason was even there, and now, that the ‘dummy’ had decimated his excuses, he wouldn’t forget! He fixed the older Stackhouse sibling with a murderous glare and thought of all the ways he was going to torture the boy when he had the chance…until he saw the Sheriff’s terrifyingly cold expression aimed at him. He didn’t know why or how Jason was in the Sheriff’s good graces, but he could tell from the desolation in his glacial blue eyes that harming the boy would be akin to suicide.

"Well, well Billy boy, it looks like you are not only guilty of trespassing and contempt of ‘court’, but also failure to report the presence of other unregistered vampires in the area as well as aiding them. I’m guessing you know just how serious these charges are, considering you are a loyal servant of her majesty Sophie-Anne Leclerq, which begs the question: Why not respect the laws in place and avoid this whole situation?"

Bill was well and truly f*cked, and not in a good way, his only recourse was to diminish the boy’s statements, which he realized would not be in his favor, to come up with an alternative on the fly, or to simply confess. None of these choices would bode well for him, but he chose to at least try and addressed Jason: "Although vampires may seem very human like in appearance and behavior, grief affects people and vampires differently and I was reserving mine for more private moments. Your sister’s kindness and gracious company has helped tremendously in my rehabilitation, as for the other 2 vampires that have visited me, they are old acquaintances that needed a place to stay for a time."

Eric and Jason were both annoyed by Bill’s ostensibly truthful response, neither believing its sincerity. "Well Bill, your ‘explanation’ sounds plausible and I would be inclined to believe you, maybe even consider diminished responsibility…" Eric said, looking at Bill with a mixture of displeasure and glee, "… were it not for the interesting file you kept locked in your desk." And there it was, fear, not anxiousness, not fabricated innocence, true almost palpable fear coming out of the snake’s every pore.

"Now, I would love to continue this conversation and decide on a fitting punishment, but my beautiful companion is getting tired and would like to retire for the evening, so…" Before Bill could even blink, Eric had him by his throat again, now holding him in the air one handed "Pam, would you like to do the honors?". Jason watched the blonde lady, previously manning the door to the bar, stand directly behind Bill with silver chains and a devilish grin.

In the tiny millisecond it took for Eric to release Bill’s throat in order for Pam to bind him and Pam not moving fast enough, Bill managed to squeeze past the Sheriff and lunge at Jason. In his mind, Jason had somehow caused the horrible situation he was currently in, not his own despicable actions and lack of morals, nooo, it was all Jason Stackhouse. So, he tried to attack the boy, possibly drink from him and take him hostage to secure his release and safe departure, seeing as how the Sheriff was so fond of him.

-Seconds before-

As soon as Eric had Bill in another bruising chokehold, Jason decided that staying unarmed was stupider than ‘herding cats’, so he snatched a small wooden spike from the many littering the dirty floor and hid it behind his back. When he saw Bill shift towards him, crazy eyes and fangs on display, he raised the spike, hoping to get a lucky shot at the bastard. Before Compton could do any damage, Eric was standing in front of Jason, fangs bared, holding the wretched vampire by the throat yet again. Bill, in his desperation to escape, did not consider Eric’s proximity or power.

While most American vampires, even their Sheriffs, were quite young, not even reaching 400 years, he was ancient. Eric Northman was a true warrior from the olden times that had, for the majority of his life, fought in countless wars and killed people and fellow vampires alike in his secret conquest. Only his maker knew of Eric’s purpose, other vampires only knowing him as the savage viking, the North man, that would raze entire villages to the ground in his moments of terrifying anger and unquenchable bloodlust. He was, for the better part of 600 years, the most feared monster in Europe, the daemon of Russia, the djevel from the North and the jiang shi of the east…and this measly 180 year-old child tried to contest his authority, outmaneuver him and hurt what was his.

Eric’s anger piqued to new highs when he smelled the fear and anxiety coming from Jason, from the marvelous beauty, from HIS boy. He wanted to dismember the puny rat writhing in his grasp, to slowly peel off his skin with pure silver and desiccate him for weeks until he died… but at the rate he was going he would grant the miserable fiend a quick death and oh no, he would suffer before his true end. Not wanting to scare the boy any further, he simply broke Bill’s neck and left him at Pam’s feet, who easily tied him up and dragged him out like an old sack of potatoes. Jason watched stunned, holding his breath and not blinking, the whole process of vampire incapacitation and arrest.

After taking out the trash, Eric turned around and approached the boy, impressed by his brave impulse to grab a weapon, and not just any weapon, a sharp wooden spike that would have surely killed Compton if aimed properly. Jason was stunned and a little scared, holding the spike in a white-knuckled grip, but then he felt a large cool hand stroke his hair before coming to rest on his face, grounding him. As he looked up, he saw the Sheriff’s concerned yet proud expression and, before he knew it, the spike fell to the floor. Feeling his eyelids close at the gentle touch and not wanting to seem like a ‘wuss’, Jason tried to make awkward conversation: "Ok wow, never seen that before, why’d he go so crazy? Cuz I kinda got lost halfway in there…" Jason said, rubbing his neck and trying to comprehend what had just happened.

Eric, understanding Jason’s unwillingness to be vulnerable, tried to make him as comfortable as possible, and the first item on the list consisted of exiting the decrepit residence: "I would like to explain to you the grave offence he is guilty of, but in this particular circ*mstance I cannot, perhaps at a later time, until then, may I escort you home?" said the viking vampire, holding eye contact with Jason and gently touching his now empty hand, slowly guiding him from the insect’s lair.

When they exited, Jason went to the car and overheard Eric talking to Pam, telling her to keep their ‘guest’ secured and to have fun until he returned. He should have felt scared, terrified even, and he was still shaken up about the whole thing, but he wasn’t afraid of Eric. Even though the two vampires had fought, Bill tried to attack him and now Eric and Pam were discussing torture as if it was nothing, he just couldn’t muster up any negative emotions for the vampire boss. Before he could ponder the issue any further, Eric returned and slid in next to Jason, much closer this time, managing to touch his arm or leg whenever he moved. After giving Eric his address, the vampire drove much more slowly to his house, giving Jason time to adjust. Now that Jason knew Bill was no longer a threat and they were alone, his heart rate calmed down as he slowly relaxed, enjoying the soft seats and Eric’s slight touches. After a small reprieve, Jason asked, in his uniquely colorful way, the same question "So, how big of a sh*thole has Bill dug himself in?"

"A very large and deep one that must be closed up as soon as possible. His transgressions aside, attacking a human whom I protect, in my presence, is a very grave offense that will cost him a great deal, but enough about Compton." Eric said, looking at Jason and not really paying attention to the road, "Are you alright? I realize that the miserable coward has not inflicted any physical damage, but I feel responsible for your distress." Eric could tell the human had calmed down, becoming more pliant, compared to his earlier disposition, but he could still feel a sliver of anxiety in his scent.

Jason, in the meantime, had resumed watching the familiar landscape of his town, and admiring the languid melding of nature with the familiar rural setting. Tall trees with deep green leaves were swaying in the warm yet cool summer breeze, their trunks dimly illuminated by fireflies and the odd blinking eyes of a deer. The tiny lake he used to go skinny dipping in every summer looked like a funhouse mirror glittering in the moonlight and, after a while, the same old painted houses with chipped fences and curved sidewalks could be seen. Sighing, he turned towards the guilty looking vampire and felt the beginnings of a smile try to break out on his face. He hadn’t apologized for putting him in danger, but Jason guessed that the Sheriff, courtesy of his position, didn’t really apologize for anything, much less feel sorry for his actions. ‘And why should ’e?’ asked a voice in his head ‘He’s an ancient vampire that went out of his way to help and protect you when he didn’t need to, why apologize for it?’ another voice added, making Jason realize that even though the vampire hadn’t actually said ‘I’m sorry’, actions spoke louder than words.

"I’m cool as a carrot, umm… I mean cucumber, I’m cool as a cucumber…umm I’m ok…Not all the way fine but ok, ya see, Bill done visited my Gran’s house the day before yesterday and was actin’ all nice like, but I knew there was somthin’ fishy with’m. He had dis’ look, like’e was dead behind the eyes… I was kinda expectin’ him to try and hit me, but it was still scary as sh*t… But thanks, really, for gettin’ his sorry ass before he tried his luck wit’ me, I ain’t as strong as a vampire, but if I’m goin’ down, I’ma drag that sonovabitch with me." Jason said, conviction present behind his now hard brown eyes. Eric watched him with a small smile, remembering the way the boy had brandished the makeshift stake, body rigid, muscles tight and luscious lips locked into an expression of determination. He was scared, of this there was little doubt, but would not run away nor back down, he would fight, even when he was so obviously outmatched, he would confront his attacker head on.

Not knowing what to say, and that in of itself being a momentous occasion, Eric touched the boy’s arm with his own, squeezing from time to time the deep and superficial muscles of his forearm. Returning his eyes to the road, Eric reflected on Jason’s many attributes, the boy, no, HIS boy was a painstakingly crafted masterpiece of beauty, courage and innocence, with his gorgeous visage and body, his bravery in the face of danger and the gullibility and childlike purity reflected through his eyes.

Eric realized just how ‘sappy’ he sounded, just how close to sentimental and tried to grip the absurd part of his mind, or heart, that could not help but see Jason as an enchanting marvel, and failed. The boy’s glowing presence captivated, delighted and borderline bewitched him, even his slight stupidity was seen as endearing and ‘cute’. Dante’s descent through all the layers of Hell was probably easier than Eric’s acceptance that not all humans were pathetic slithering beasts, that one marvelous human, in his eyes, the true reincarnation of Anteros, could enthrall him so. While the enraptured part of his mind thought of all the adjectives that could capture Jason’s beauty and the phrases in which to include them, the other part was sickened by it. Eric was still a lifetime away from feelings for any living and most dead beings, but this one was closer than most, too close, almost uncomfortably imminent, though momentarily traversing that thin line. Having no real solution to this problem, except killing the boy, a thought that almost materialized a possessive/ protective growl for even considering the appalling action, Eric conceded that Jason was the exception and would be HIS, again, in time.

Loosing himself in the endless loop of thoughts concerning his boy, Eric concentrated on the road and did not remove his arm, his cool and strong hand slowly massaging Jason’s. Now truly relaxed, Jason’s body registered the small contact better, the languid kneading and manipulation of his forearm firing through his synapses and sending pleasure signals throughout his whole system… He was silently thanking God for not being so tranquil or sensitive when Eric ‘hugged’ him, if it could even be called that. He could still feel his blonde hair tickling his temples, hear the husky tone he used way to close to his ear and see those predatory eyes. The feel of his masculine body pressed into his side, his solid arm winding around him and those long fingers, splayed on his clothed torso, tensing sporadically would have surely made his arousal very apparent.

"Jason, now that the Bill Compton problem has been more or less resolved, could you reiterate everything you know of the recent murders in town?" Eric said, withdrawing his arm.

Chapter 8: Curiosity fueled the cat

Chapter Text

"Jason, now that the Bill Compton problem has been more or less resolved, could you reiterate everything you know of the recent murders in town?" Eric said, withdrawing his arm.

Remembering the Sheriff’s promise to help him, Jason tried to focus, racking his brain and recounting every detail that he knew. He told Eric about Maudette’s vampire sex tape that went missing, about how she was found strangled right after having sex with him, then about Dawn and the similar circ*mstances of her death, elaborating on every fact and personal opinion.

Eric listened to his intended’s comprehensive recounting of the events and thought about the suspicious circ*mstances of said crimes. The little town’s underqualified police force, through sheer stupidity or indulgent laziness, could not see the forest because of the trees. It was obvious that the marvelous boy sitting next to him was innocent, though not particularly articulate or eloquent, he was not inept enough to kill women right after bedding them, especially when the whole town knew about their activities. But the boy’s intelligence and perceived guiltlessness weren’t Eric’s true deciding factors in believing the beauty, it was his eyes. After having met, and killed, the most vile wretches the world had ever seen, from accidental or occasional killers to full-fledged butchers, cannibals, rapists and worse, Eric’s murder-dar was indisputably accurate.

He could tell at a glance if a certain human or vampire had killed before, if they enjoyed it and would do it again given the chance. It was quite easy with such developed senses to perceive and analyze micro expressions, but the eyes truly were the windows to the soul, revealing more than sweet words or smiles ever could. Looking into Jason’s big brown orbs was like gazing at the sun and being enveloped by a shining warm embrace. His gaze, unblemished by such extreme acts of cruelty, communicated the boy’s willingness to hurt himself rather than harm another living creature, a testimony to the investigator’s ineptitude. No, the real culprit was likely a human male, possibly more, that knew Jason personally, was aware of the egregious state of the local police department’s staff, saw the boy’s philandering ways and chose to use these facts to his advantage, but who exactly? He considered speaking to the assigned detectives regarding Jason’s innocence, but knew that the sanctimonious humans wouldn’t favor his opinion or testimony, he also contemplated just compelling them to search more thoroughly for evidence and exclude Jason from the investigation entirely, and he would, but it would still leave Jason vulnerable to attack from an angry killer.

"Jason, I would very much like to acquit you of any wrongdoings and help in extinguishing any remaining doubt as to your involvement in this serious case, but daybreak is mere hours away." Eric started saying as they neared the boy’s home, when he was interrupted by Jason’s defeated sigh.

"It’s ok Eric, I didn’t think you’d even talk ta’ me, but… you got rid of creeper Bill Compton, listened to ma’ problems and even drove me home, it’s more than I could’ve ever asked for. Really, thank you!" Jason said, sadly smiling from ear to ear at the vampire boss.

Eric was speechless, seeing humility from such a wonderfully unique and beautiful creature. The boy did not expect anything from him, did not consider himself worthy of even speaking to him. It was laughable, a lustrous angel thinking himself below a mere devil, utterly ridiculous. But he didn’t care for amusem*nt in that moment, he needed to persuade Jason of his assured protection.

Jason, not hearing the vampire’s inner monologue, saw that Eric had grown quiet and decided to exit the car and get inside his house, feeling a little disappointed he would probably never see him again. Before walking a single step, Eric had him pinned to the car, gently holding his supple waist. A few errant fingers managed to trace the outline of the boy’s shirt, pressing in and under, feeling the exquisite heat radiating from his skin. Eric was so close, Jason could feel, yet again, the texture of his long blonde hair, now tickling his cheek, but what made him shudder were the eyes, they bore into him with such intensity that he was getting nervous, from fear or arousal he, again, did not know. His heart beat was so loud, Jason was sure even the crickets had grown quiet in its wake. Eric analyzed his boy’s reactions to his sudden proximity and was incredibly pleased, Jason’s intoxicating scent taking on a more subtle yearning tone the more they stayed close to each other.

Slowly, gently, Eric raised his hand and stroked his boy’s jaw and cheek, searching his big doe eyes: "Jason, did you think I would not aid you? That I would disregard my promise to you? Such simple and useless fabrications are the game of far younger and fairly weaker vampires, and I consider myself neither. I will honor my word and relieve you of your current woeful social standing one way or another. Besides, how could I leave such an innocent, lovely, ravishing and brave beauty to fend for itself?"

Jason was shocked, he didn’t know how to respond, should he be happy someone was helping him and disregard the very gay situation, or should he act angry and shove the vampire away? He didn’t want people to see him like this, but Eric’s hands felt so soothing and nice… should he just accept that being held with such gentleness and passion, like he was something special, and complimented with sincerity for once in his life made him excited, delighted, euphoric? He didn’t know… but for the first time in, well, who knows how long, someone was looking at him like he hung the moon and treating him even better. So, he just kept gazing at Eric as he put his own hand over his, feeling the muscle and tendons move. The hand touching him like he was the most fragile piece of bone china in the world had, mere minutes ago, strangled another vampire with ease, making Jason very confused…why was Eric treating him so gently?

"Umm, I know you’s said you’d help me, but… we just met and I… I ain’t that important or… or special so, I thought you’d get sick of me by the end of the night…", Jason said, looking down and removing his hand from Eric’s.

The confusion apparent on the vampire’s face remained unseen by Jason, who kept his gaze down. How anyone could not be instantly enchanted by such a superbly adorable being, even worse, dismiss the beauty, bewildered Eric to no end. Moving his other hand to the boy’s neck and cheek and lifting his head up in order to catch his sad brown eyes, Eric said: "I do not know, nor understand, how you have managed in such little time to fascinate me so, but I simply do not care. You are entirely to captivating, in every way, to resist. From your gorgeous appearance to your wonderful character, and I am determined to keep you…safe. I will find the person who has threatened your wellbeing and when I do…", moving his face closer until his lips were almost pressed to Jason’s ear "…they will wish for a quick death."

Jason listened to Eric’s declaration and could not help the stutter his heart gave, the shiver or the small intake of air, all of which were sensed by the vampire. He looked into Eric’s eyes and saw the conviction, the pure unadulterated belief in his own words and actions… and he knew the vampire would viciously kill the ones responsible for his problems and again, that should frighten him, but it just didn’t. Jason was an eye for an eye kind of guy and whoever killed those girls deserved Eric’s retribution, but what actually surprised him were his considerations of him. The Viking vampire thought Jason was captivating and wonderful and all the other nice adjectives he used previously, he believed them all… giving the boy the sudden urge to hug the man, to hold him closely… to kiss him….and then he remembered why it was a very bad idea. Eric was first and foremost a male vampire, no matter his sweet words or nice intentions, he could be saying all of these things just to get his blood or get him in bed… and so his thoughts went. Eric, sensing the boy’s slight shift in comfort, visibly confirmed by his diminishing light, let him go. Stepping away, he saw Jason’s disappointment, a flicker of it, until it was replaced with a neutral sort of relief, followed by nervousness.

"Listen man, we… we’s barely know each-other and I don’t really get what’s goin’ on tonight between us and… umm I really don’t know how to finish this damn sentence…". Jason was so very conflicted, on one hand he relished the feel of Eric’s strong hands gripping him, his fingers digging into his flesh and his captivating blue eyes, on the other, he was inches away from an ancient male vampire that could easily kill him if he felt so inclined. Didn’t he hate vampires a few days ago? And now here he was, lusting after one and contemplating ‘seeing where the night went’. It was all very confusing and scary to consider and he just felt overwhelmed from everything that transpired.

Eric could understand the boy’s apprehension, knowing that after the night’s confounding and dangerous activities Jason needed to rest and regroup mentally. "It is alright Jason, I do not wish to make you uncomfortable, I could not, however, help myself from observing and touching your exquisite form. It has been some time since I’ve encountered someone who managed to ensnare me so quickly and intensely…and when I see something I want I can be quite…. Persistent." Seeing the boy’s growing agitation, Eric reassured him: "But do not worry, I have no desire to pressure you, an enduring yet delicately chiseled statue can only emerge from meticulously luted clay. Such a delicate process takes time and patience, of which I possess plenty." After Jason’s shoulders dropped from their tense positioning and his heart rate returned to normal, Eric took a tentative step forward.

"Jason, I would love to continue our conversation, but sunrise is imminent. If you would not mind, I would like to return to this address and speak with you sometime, there are a few things that need to be discussed. Until then, I will converse with the police detectives in charge of this case and convince them to expand their search. While the killer is still at large, I urge you to stay inside as much as possible and not travel alone. The real criminal clearly knows you and has watched your every move for some time, there’s no telling what he’ll attempt when I cannot shield you."

Jason was, not to say surprised by Eric’s intentions, more likely shocked by the vampire’s tenacious attitude towards him. People usually gave up fairly easily when it came to him, in every aspect, nobody really believed in him or wanted to get to know him. He was stunned by Eric’s unflinching gaze, those clear and caring blue eyes making him believe the vampire would really protect him, maybe even more if he really could be patient with him and go slow, letting Jason figure out what he actually felt and thought before prepositioning him like all the others. A small smile wanted to stretch across his face…

…. until he heard a piece of information that left him cold. Someone he knew, possibly even trusted had stalked him for God knows how long before deciding to torment him, to frame him, in such a vicious way…. Great, now the tiny snowball of paranoia and anxiety that rolled around in his brain about the whole situation was catching momentum and mass, becoming an avalanche of panic and dread that would slowly consume him. Eric, sensing the boy’s panic, wanted to embrace him, but held back, only squeezing his hand to soothe him; "Jason, there is no need to panic, this person…" until he was interrupted: "This ‘person’ probably’s someone I’ve known my whole life! I probably work with’m, I probably ate with’m once and I don’t know who it is or why they’d do this to me!". Jason went from contented to furious in less than a few seconds, giving the vampire whiplash and arousing him at the same time.

"This person…will not touch you, I will see to it…." Eric said, calming Jason’s erratic heart and making him listen "…trust me." He said, looking deep into the boy’s eyes. He did… he didn’t want to believe in his words, after all, he had just met the vampire, a being that should not care about his life, a bloodsucking monster born of nightmares and death, and yet, in that moment, being almost consumed by his sincere eyes and comforting touch, he did.

"Ok… I trust you, damn if I’s know why, you’s supposed to not like humans, but I do… So, I just try to keep outta trouble until the sonovabitch is found?" Jason asked, at first wanting to rebel and state that he couldn’t just stand by while a mad-man continued on his killing spree, but then realized that without a badge, he’d probably compromise the investigation and delay the capture of the real culprit, so he kept his mouth shut. The boy’s answer satisfied Eric’s abrupt and quite bizarre protective instincts, the vampire unable to prevent a genuine smile from stretching across his face, a smile that crinkled his eyes and made them that much more beautiful. Jason, lost in the Sheriff’s easy smile and warm gaze, answered with one of his own.

"Yes, in the meantime, I will contact some of my people and conduct a very thorough search of the town’s population. Let’s see if anyone, how you say it, is ‘a card short of a full deck’." Jason accepted Eric’s suggestion, feeling immensely grateful for the extra effort and help. He could not believe his luck and the enormous amount of relief in being listened to, believed and aided by such an authority figure. In his eyes, he was still just a normal, maybe slightly dumb, human with nothing special to offer, that this powerful vampire boss chose to protect for some strange reason. His fears regarding the vampire Sheriff and his own dire situation from earlier tonight seemed like miles away in that moment.

"Now, I must depart, but before I go…" Eric took out a business card and a pencil, writing something on the back "… this is my personal phone number, if anything happens, or you simply miss the sound of my voice, call, but be aware that during the day I may not be available and an assistant will answer."

Jason took the sleek cool grey card and studied it for a bit, noting it’s elegantly embossed letters, until Eric moved forward another step, standing impossibly close yet again. "I look forward to seeing you again Jason, sweet dreams." said the imposing vampire, taking the boy’s hand and gently kissing his knuckles in a gentlemanly fashion. The small contact should not have affected Jason in the least, but the little burst of pleasure jolting up his spine disagreed, making him expel a small squeak/moan of surprise. Jason, thoroughly embarrassed, could feel his blush deepening at the sight of Eric’s self-satisfied smirk. The men, while doing marvelous impressions of famous cartoon characters, featuring Jason as Bashful from Snow-White alongside Eric’s Big Bad Wolf grin, paid no mind to the other party presently watching the scene unfold.

Eric sensed the presence of another human after a few seconds and, with an annoyed infrasound growl, released the beauty’s hand, stepped towards the driver side of his car and got in, giving Jason a wink before departing at top speed. Jason watched the vampire leave his property like a bat out of hell and resumed watching the card and contemplating, well, everything. As he gazed at the card, his eyes focused on his watch and ‘Holy sh*t! It’s 4:17 AM on a work night!’ Jason thought, hurrying inside to get some much-needed sleep.

Chapter 9: Fellowship of the bros’

Chapter Text

Driving was considered by many elder vampires a lazy newborn’s mode of transportation, Eric agreed, in part, most nights choosing to fly, enjoying the harsh wind, the luminous stars and the occasional smell of undisturbed nature, but he couldn’t leave his car behind. Again, not really paying attention to the road, he pulled out his phone and dilled Pam’s number.

"Pam… how is our ‘guest’ enjoying his new accommodations?" Most registered vampires had their phone calls monitored, forcing them to use coded words and phrases to efficiently conduct business. The humans vehemently denied the breach of trust and privacy, but the activation of the recording device could still be heard in the background.

"He wasn’t impressed by our usual suite, so I promoted him to the royal penthouse where he has access to all our amenities. I am bringing him his room service as we speak." Translation: ‘I moved him from the basem*nt to a silvered coffin and I’m bringing him some cold Tru Blood to keep him alive, barely.’ His progeny’s cruel treatment was aptly accentuated by Bill’s faint screaming in the background. Eric was a cruel and sad*stic vampire, there was no denying that, delighting in the desperate wails and shrieks of such a spineless and miserable insect. Though he despised inflicting pain on the truly innocent, the Sheriff sometimes got bored, thus, torturing a being as repulsive as Compton was an opportunity he could not pass up.

"I see, great thinking on your feet, I will be there shortly, has Long-Shadow returned from his errand?" Eric asked, still enjoying the strangely harmonious shouts with a grin on his face.

"He has not, I wanted to follow up with him, but our ‘guest’ kept me occupied, should I go and look for him?" And so, the immense enjoyment derived from Bill’s suffering was snuffed out and replaced with a very disturbing feeling. Two resident vampires were not following orders, first Eddie and now Long-Shadow, and were unreachable at the same relative location. At first, he thought that maybe Eddie had forgotten his responsibilities and went out to hunt, but now…now more nefarious possibilities were emerging. Not wanting to risk his childe’s safety, he told Pam to return to her home: "I’ll rest at the bar and converse with our ‘guest’ until the next night."

Flooring it, he reached the purposely tacky establishment with an hour to spare and went to the basem*nt to prepare his pristine coffin. Eric wanted to keep listening to Bill’s agony, equating it to an interesting white noise machine with unlimited hours, but he needed to see what information could be extracted from the banshee before dying for the day.

Opening the coffin was like entering a sauna, a very disgusting, decomposed sauna filled with puss that emanated the foulest odor imaginable. The revolting stench coming from the heavily burnt creature could not impede Eric’s wide satisfied grin, a sinister smile made larger when meeting the charred animal’s bloodshot eyes and pathetic fangs held open by a gag.

"Billy boy…. Lookin’ good!" The smug Sheriff said, slowly scanning the baby vampire and delighting in the amount of injuries found on his body. "I don’t really have time to interrogate you to my liking, sunrise is closing in and I’d like to get my beauty sleep in peace, so I’ll give you a chance. Tell me everything you know, tell me why Sophie-Ann sent you, why she’s so very interested in Sookie Stackhouse as well as what the girl is and, I may spare you from the true death. Nod if you wish to comply." The extra bit of humiliation got to Bill, making him growl however he could and hold out.

Seeing the small protest, Eric was almost impressed, not many young vampires in Bill’s condition could withstand the amount of damage he was exhibiting, but the Sheriff was pressed for time and could no longer categorize the display: "Bill, Bill, Bill… You’re not doing yourself any favors, I mean I could end your suffering right now if you’d just be more cooperative… I could also just leave you in this coffin, abandon you in this never-ending agony and feed you cold, congealed Tru Blood for however long I wish. You know the queen will not come to your aid after committing so many crimes, she won’t reveal her involvement in your misguided attempt to deceive me, she’ll leave you to me…" dropping his previously jovial tone to a much more appropriate grave one, the viking continued: "And I will stretch out your punishment... for at least 10 years. 10 long years of this particularly cruel brand of torment, pure silver chains digging and scraping the meat off your puny skeleton… only to be made full again with the aid of the most wretched substance designed, continuously hearing your own screams and my laughter. And believe me, that’s just the Cliffs Notes." After delivering his offer, Eric waited for the fear to set in, for Bill to fully comprehend his situation, and then he released the gag lodged in his mouth.

"What do you say Bill? Wanna play a game?"

Being a deep sleeper, Jason needed a heavy-duty alarm, and when the tiny inconspicuous clock began shaking his entire dresser with ‘Reveille’ he cursed his life even more than usual. Slapping the obnoxious contraption into silence, he looked at its hands and sighed in relief, ‘Only 7 AM, still got an hour before haul ass time’.

Waking up was a challenge, but actually getting out of bed was civil war. The thin pillow and lumpy mattress he had slept on seemed like a 5 star bed set with Egyptian 3000 thread count sheets in his exhaustion, calling to him, but he needed to shower and eat before going to work…and get dressed.

The shower’s smarting spray managed to peel his eyelids apart, lock his muscles and reduce the stubborn erection he did not have the energy to indulge. After a cold rinse and a steaming shower, he was more or less awake and ready to eat. The sparse fridge practically glared at him, forcing him to ingest a plain bologna sandwich with some frozen orange juice. He missed Gran, he always missed her at mealtimes, her amazing cooking, her sweet and kind voice and the peaceful atmosphere she seemed to create everywhere she went twisting his stomach. Deciding he was going to visit her at dinner time, Jason dressed for work, or for the strip joint, either way he was wearing tight jeans with a low-cut red tank top with no sides, emphasizing his serratus and oblique’s, a red cap and a tool belt.

As he was tying up his boots, the second alarm sounded, making him trip and almost fall over. Cursing, he stopped the infernal, but necessary, clock and, before reaching for the door, saw the small grey card. It was perched on the end of his dresser like an innocent piece of uninteresting steel paper, like it didn’t come from the most attractive and dangerous vampire he had ever met just last night…after said vampire brought him home….and kissed his hand…’sh*t, that must’ve been the most chick-flick setting of ma life’ thought Jason and, though he was still confused about the whole thing and his feelings, he couldn’t wait to see Eric again. Feeling himself blush and cursing his stupid thought process, he shoved the card in his jeans and walked out into the blazing sun. It hurt his eyes and made him sway, wow, ‘If it’s this sh*tty feelin’ to me, I don’t even wanna know how f*ckin bad it’s for vampires…’ thought Jason and, yet again, cursed himself for thinking so much about vampires. Getting into his truck and not realizing that it should not even be there in the first place, he went to the new road they were supposed to build by the end of the month.

Sookie’s languid awakening that morning was a lot more peaceful and relaxed than Jason’s, she slept well, she could sense the smell of a love filled breakfast wafting from the kitchen and her shift was in the afternoon/night. A perfect day for lazing around and sunbathing in the yard.

After freshening up, she came down the noisy steps of the old staircase in one of her simple sundresses, a light green one with tiny polka dots. The alluring smell of warm omelets guided her to Gran’s spotless kitchen, the old woman standing in her usual spot at the stove.

"Mornin Gran!" Sookie greeted, just like any other day. Warm light flooded the quaint southern kitchen, reflecting off the waxed floor, the clean pots and pans and some odd and old trinkets littering the table. What really caught her eye was the beautiful bouquet of slightly wilted flowers placed in the grand glass vase on the place of honor, the middle of the kitchen table. A courting gift she would have been enchanted by, were it not for its sender. Bill Compton, a man, vampire, that had in less than 2 weeks attracted and repulsed her in equal amounts.

"Mornin dear, how’d you sleep?" asked the old woman, returning to her ministrations.

The seemingly innocent question brought about a great deal of silence from the young woman, who could not even look in the direction of her grandmother. She had dreamed about him again, about his captivating blue eyes and dark hair, his strong hands that held and caressed her heated skin, exploring her curves and dipping lower until…BANG! Sookie was taken out of her thoughts when a glass shattered on the floor.

"Ouu, sorry for scarin’ you sugar, are you ok? Did you have bad dreams?" Gran asked, now looking at her distressed granddaughter.

"No gran, I slept just f-fine, no dreams whatsoever." Seeing the disbelieving scrunch of her Gran’s forehead she embellished a little "Just... feelin a little shook up over Dawn." She really wasn’t, Dawn was a very mean person who treated everybody like they were her slaves, especially Jason… she would always belittle and mock him. Sookie wasn’t gonna cry over spoiled milk, and Dawn had certainly gone bad.

"I’m sorry honey, I know she was one of yer coworkers, but I’m sure she’s in a better place right now..." said the old woman, and in a much more hushed tone "... a real warm place". Gran knew of Dawn’s ‘great’ personality and, after Jason’s mental break a day ago, she couldn’t scrounge up even a gram of care for the young woman.

Sookie heard her grandmother’s whispered thoughts, but knew better than to voice her approval, after all, ‘A lady does not gloat’.

"You know honey, I’m more worried ‘bout Jason, you know how folks talk, ain’t long ‘fore they aiming their bony fingers at’im for her death." Sookie heard her Gran’s worry and didn’t want to tell her about Jason’s temporary arrest, knowing how it would affect the old woman, she didn’t need any more stress at her age.

"Me too Gran, me too… but Jason ain’t done it, he’d rather crash’is truck than hurt somebody, and you’s know how he loves that thing. I’m sure everythin’s gonna be alright." She still didn’t know how he’d managed to get out of the police’s clutches, Andy especially. That tub of drunk disappointment had always had it out for her brother, Sookie imagined it was because he envied him. Most men envied Jason, with his athletic abilities and good looks he didn’t have to struggle to get girls like they did, hell, you couldn’t even buy a carton of eggs without running into 9 girls her brother’d ‘been with’. It wasn’t his fault they were attracted to him, but the men in town still disliked him for it, and now, he was getting in serious trouble because of it. She decided she would call him to voice her support later that day, maybe even meet for a hug, she hadn’t spoken to him since the night she brought Bill over.

Once the name of the mysterious and gentlemanly vampire popped into her head, she couldn’t help concentrating on her dream again. On his lust filled eyes and seeking hands. Feeling her cheeks burn and not wanting to explain herself to her Gran, she went outside, set up her lawn chair and relaxed into a comfortable position. Feeling the sun’s powerful rays, she couldn’t help but let out a contented sigh, any and all problems seemed to float away whenever she was touched by the warm beams of light…. almost every problem. Having nothing to do, her mind refocused on Bill, a memory appearing in her mind, like it was on a projector screen, a very recent memory, from last night in fact. She knew that the events happened and she remembered them, it wasn’t like Bill could compel her, but it was like her brain tried to stash them away, to hide them in the dark recesses of her recollection. She saw herself entering Bill’s home, coming face to face with the 2 vicious vampires inside and then being blocked by a demonic looking bald one when she tried to leave. She remembered the whole interaction and Bill’s heartless and dismissive attitude towards her and the other humans in his company. Chewing her lip, Sookie tried to reason with herself, to understand Bill’s motivations and, the fact that she could disgusted her. Why was she so ok with his actions or lack thereof? Why was she so drawn to him in person and in her dreams, when in the rest of her time she didn’t want to even imagine his face?

She kept asking herself these questions, over and over, but fell asleep at some point, until a cool shadow seamed to consume her from the feet upward. Blinking her brown doe eyes open, she saw that a summer storm was coming, and coming fast. Her tanning session had to be postponed until tomorrow, they weren’t called flash storms because of their tendency to stick around, and so she folded up her chair and entered the creaking house, still wondering about Bill.

Jason arrived early to the unpaved road, surprising the small crew into either passive- aggressive silence or hushed and heated discussions. Not understanding their peculiar welcome, he got out of the truck and tried to interject himself into the conversation, until he saw the exchange of money between almost every member of the crew. Seeing Hoyt and Lafayette leaning against the thick trunk of an old tree a ways away, he approached them with a look that screamed ‘Wtf is going on?’

"Jason baby, you’s survived dancin’ wit’ the bats!" exclaimed the similarly scantily dressed man, waving him over.

"Man I tried callin’ you last night and when you didn’t answer I swear I was ready to come lookin’ for ya. How are you?" said a very relieved Hoyt, good-naturally slapping Jason’s shoulder with his meaty hand.

"Yea, I’m fine, things worked out pretty good last night, but wtf is happenin’ with these guys? Why they all eye’n me like I stole their momma’s apple pie off the windowsill?" Jason asked, looking back to check if the other guys were still giving his weird looks and yup, still looking.

"Eh, don’t mind them rednecks, they just mad the police ain’t caught the killer yet. Some still thinkin’ it’s you, some don’t know and some just wanna win some money bettin’ on if you’s show up for work. I think they’s just missin’ some of that Dawn kitty, you’s know how she threw it around town like it’s on sale right? Well, most of’em caught the cat and its claws, and now, they mad it’s gone." Lafayette explained, seeing how Jason’s face fell with every word.

So that’s what he was now, either irrelevant, a murderer or a betting pawn. His 2 close friends and, most recently, Eric cared and tried to help, the rest of the town didn’t give a sh*t. None of the people who clapped him on the back when he did them a favor came to offer support, none of the ladies that he helped his whole life with an errand or two every day called or tried to comfort him, none of his other ‘friends’ even looked at him. He could still hear Eric’s words, still see those sincere blue eyes telling him he was fascinating and beautiful, that he was innocent, and he tried to hold on to those words, but it was hard when so many people just didn’t see you as being worth much.

"And ain’t that true Stackhouse? We was wondering if you’d have the nerve to show up! What, no other girls to rape and murder?" Old Mr. Fortner yelled over, surrounded by the other spitting crew members voicing similar opinions. It wasn't long before more joined in, yelling a flurry of insults, most hitting the same key words, 'murderer' 'hope you go to hell' 'they's gonna catch you soon' and so on, followed by their vile snickering.

Hoyt saw Jason’s defeated expression and tried to help: "Buddy listen, them idiot’s opinions ain’t mean sh*t! Most of’m barely passed 5^th grade and now thy think they can judge you? There’s no way in hell that I’m gonna let you feel lousy cuz of these sh*theads… You know what? I’mma go smash some of their stupid faces in…"

"You’s know what, bubba, I’mma agree wit’cha." Lafayette said, flexing his impressive muscles and following Hoyt towards the now diminishing crowd of hecklers.

Seeing Hoyt and Lafayette advance on the crew, wearing some very angry expressions, made Jason smile wide, he couldn’t believe he had such amazing friends. He realized that no matter what the whole stinking town thought about him, as long as he had them, Gran, Sookie, and now even Eric, it would all work itself out in the end. Not wanting to lose his and their jobs because of some crazies, he stopped his very determined friends from easily beating up the other 10 crew members. Most of them were older, flabby loudmouths with no opportunities or dreams in life that would have been seeing their afterlife really soon had he not intervened.

Understanding that antagonizing Jason could only lead to a very comfy, but expensive, hospital stay, the men went back to work, trying to concentrate on their jobs while still sending hate towards the young blonde boy, but only with their eyes. Jason kept quiet most of the time, only answering a few questions regarding the concrete mixing process and other work-related stuff. By lunch time, he was exhausted, not from working in the searing heat, but from being observed so closely and scrutinized every step of the way. He couldn’t wait for the day to be over, but contented himself with lunch at Merlotte’s for the moment, joined by his buddies.

Walking into the dingy roadhouse restaurant was, as expected, a Herculean trial of patience and faked serenity. Every eye turned towards him as he entered, like he was Ted Bundy strolling in with a dead girl wrapped around his neck like a scarf. People looked and watched and stared, almost poking holes into his face with their wide, dumb eyes. Some still had food clasped in their fingers, in the air, not daring to take a bite until he moved. Jason almost wanted to remain still and see if they’d let their meals turn cold, but saw an empty booth in the back and decided it was better to take it before someone else snatched it up.

Sitting down, he looked up at his friends who wore similar looks of annoyance: "Is ya’ll done staring like hungry pigs at boiled corn?" Asked Hoyt in a loud tone, closely followed by Lafayette: "Bitches we’s know we look good, and you’s can look this good too, you’s just gotta get off your fat assed once in a while."

The whole restaurant became quiet, truly quiet for the first time since who knows when, it was so silent you could hear the cars passing by on the freeway, which was at least a mile away. In the undisturbed silence, Jason could not hold back his laughter, a sound so loud in the hushed building that it cracked the soundless barrier erected by his friend’s hilarious remarks and made the whole restaurant staff join in too, closely followed by the owner himself.

"Alright people, mind your own business or get out, ain’t nobody in here for anything else but food and drink, now get to yours." Said Sam in his more authoritative voice once he managed to calm his snorting chuckle. As the patrons slowly returned to their greasy meals and bears, the three friends were finally able to order their food in peace. After their waitress departed, Hoyt couldn’t keep his curiosity in check and asked: "So, what happened last night man? You arrive ok? How was the bar? You meet the Sheriff? How was’e? Was’e scary? Is’e gonna help?"

Jason was a bit taken aback by the many questions, but managed to respond, telling his friends about how he arrived and was let into the dark bar, how he was offered free drinks, how he met Eric, how the vampire promised to help him with the murders and how he drove him home. He didn’t want to talk about Bill or about what happened to him just yet, at least not with Hoyt, he was his good old friend, but Jason didn’t know how much he should tell. Lafayette though, he had to talk to him in private, he managed to dodge the Sheriff’s question last night regarding him, but Jason knew that the vampire wouldn’t forget that easily about it.

Hoyt watched him with an awed but anxious expression while Lafayette’s right eyebrow rose higher and higher with every new detail of Jason’s story, confirming his suspicions the moment he called Sheriff Northman by his first name. He hadn’t given Jason the information and was sure nobody else would dare discuss the imposing vampire or give his full name, so that meant that the Sheriff had urged Jason to call him that himself. A small smirk graced his handsome face as he heard how ‘Eric’ had driven Jason home, ‘Oh baby, you’s don’t even know what you’s gotten your fine ass into.’ thought Lafayette seeing the light blush on the blonde’s face.

"So how’s ’e gonna help?" asked a hopeful Hoyt after the story was done. Jason wanted to answer, but their food arrived, carried over by the new waitress, a girl who had, apparently, never heard of him or what he supposedly did, because she winked while sliding her number over to him on a napkin. He looked at the folded piece of cloth, took it, balled it up and tossed it when she wasn’t looking. Both his friends were shocked, the stud of Bon temps never refused an easy f*ck. Jason saw their expressions, thought about explaining his new feelings about casual flings and quickly shelved them back for another occasion. They were much more interested in how he was going to get out of the hole he was in, not if he was going to get into her’s.

"Well, he told me some stuff ‘bout who’s actually doin’ the killin’ around here, gave me some advice ‘bout what to do until things cool off and promised to talk to Andy and get’im off my back. I really didn’t think he’d help me, I mean, I don’t know if you’s guys ever been to that club of his or seen’im, but when I got there I thought ‘That’s a scary motherf*cker’. But, he’s been…nice, real nice to me, helped more than he should, even brought me home when he didn’t have’ta. I kinda trust him…a lot." Jason said, watching his own hands and blushing even harder remembering Eric’s face, his eyes, his towering, muscled form… Looking up, he caught his friend’s disbelieving stares before Lafayette’s turned into a knowing grin.

"Oh Jason, baby you’s got game, I don’t know what yo pretty ass did to twist that man ‘round you’s pinky finger, but baby he’s got it bad! You’s f*cked yet?" Lafayette asked, wiggling his eyebrows and smiling ear to ear. Hoyt seemed lost for a moment, before catching on to the implication and making a very surprised ‘Oh’ face.

"Man you know I ain’t gay, no, he just dropped me off and went back wherever…" Jason said in a harsh whisper, trying to hide his blush and the hitch in his voice while also looking around to make sure no one heard their conversation.

Hoyt watched Jason deny the veiled accusation about his sexuality like a sticky-fingered bear swearing up and down he didn’t eat no honey. He wanted to reassure his friend it was ok if he liked guys too, he was no backwoods hom*ophobe that would cast his good friend aside after such a revelation, but his mom kept frantically waving him over. "Man, I’m real happy he’s gonna help, I hope everythin’ goes ok, now I’s gotta go, my mom’s madder than a wet hen and actin’ like one too, if I can help ya in any way, just holler and I’ma be there!" the big man said, slowly wandering towards him mother’s table.

Jason smiled and nodded at his friend, before catching Lafayette’s eye: "Listen man, we need to talk some important sh*t, let’s go outside." After paying for their meal and pointedly ignoring Amy, the new waitresses, and her heated gaze, Jason joined Lafayette at the back of the bar, near the wooded part of it.

"So, what’s up?" Lafayette asked, sensing Jason’s slight discomfort. Looking into his friend’s eyes, he thought about telling him the whole story, but then decided against it, he didn’t want him getting involved more than he already was.

"It’s about my meetin’ with Eric…"

Maxine Fortenberry, the town busybody, current champion of Louisiana, winning the 2007 golden medal for eavesdropping and snoopery, was Hoyt’s mother, the easygoing and kind bulky man that resembled her like an elephant resembles a shoe. Ever since her husband left her, or, in her own words, ‘skipped town with another whor*’, she made it her life’s mission to know, expose and revel in everybody’s secrets and misery. In her boredom and obsessive self-gratification, she pried and clawed open jars that were obviously marked as closed for a reason. She didn’t really care though, after releasing a rumor and spreading it around like the clap in the 70’, she would sit back and watch the poor sod wrestle with the public’s scrutiny, more often than not while sipping on a lemonade at Merlotte’s.

Hoyt tried to get along with her, she was his mother after all, but the meddlesome woman was also very smothering and, surprise surprise, controlling, not letting him make his own decisions while criticizing his every thought. After so many years of stress and nerves, he chose to move out and interact with her as little as possible, making up excuses whenever he could not to speak to her. Sometimes though, she would burst, like an intentionally dropped can of soda, and he’d have to sit down and digest her acid. Sitting at a booth a ways away from Jason’s, her flailing movements and the crazed look in her eyes told him she would crack sometime soon if he did not release the pressure, so he sat down.

"You silly boy, why’d you hav’ta sit down at that murderer’s table? What will people say, that I raised an accomplice? No, from now on, yer not getting’ close to that Stackhouse!" she hissed, her eyes bugging out when she saw the look of rage flit across Hoyt’s face. Before he could start his rant, she continued: "You know last night I saw a man, a very large man take’im home in this crazy red car, hug’im and kiss’is hand? Now I know this is gonna hurt sugar, but that boy and his gay lover probably killed those girls together and who else knows? You can’t go neer’m, he’ll kill you too!!"

Hoyt had had it, he could barely hold back from slapping some sense into the woman, but what would that accomplish? Not even Vasiliy Khamotiskiy would be able to make her 2 remaining neurons rub together enough to comprehend just how crazy she sounded. She was, and will always be, this way and he could no longer stand to hear her destroy Jason’s image any further. He rose up from his seat with a bang, slamming his hands down on the table, making the other patrons turn around and stare at him.

"You know, I’ve always thought that one day, maybe someday you would stop spreedin’ rumors ‘round like flesh eating lice, that one day you’d return to bein’ the kind woman and mother you used t’be, ‘fore dad left, but I can see now, I can tell, you’s never going to stop. You are a very miserable and heartless woman that’s been harassin’ people since I was a baby, and you know what? Now I’m a man, and this man can choose to have you in ‘is life or not. You’s better think good and long ‘bout what you’re sayin’ ‘bout my friend, ‘cuz if this spiteful sh*t gets out, we are THROUGH! Do you understand?" She wanted to yell right back, to tell him he can’t speak to his own mother like that, but the seriousness of his tone, the anger in his eyes kept her silent, at least for a while.

"H-Hoyt, sweetie …. you can’t just take me outta your life…" she tried to keep talking, but her son was already moving from his seat, all the way through the restaurant filled with grinning patrons and out towards his truck. Maxine stood there, just as humiliated as the day her husband left, tears in her eyes that she would not let fall, not until she was at home, alone, always alone.

Chapter 10: I'm fine

Chapter Text

Jason thought about phrasing what he was about to say in a more pleasing manner, but nerves and Lafayette’s serious eyes got the best of him, so he just lowered his gaze and blurted: "When I talked to Eric ‘bout my problem, he asked how I knew to talk to’im, who told me ‘bout him." Looking up he saw his friend’s features set in a calm expression and continued "I didn’t tell’m it was you, we talked ‘bout somethin’ else and he didn’t ask again, but I know he ain’t forgot…"

"Baby, you’s really actin like you told on me to the principal or somethin’, don’t worry your’s pretty little head, it ain’t illegal to know ‘bout him. I’m seein’ a vampire on the side so I know’em, no worries." Lafayette said, showing Jason a bright smile.

"Really man? I ain’t done somethin’ stupid?" Jason stopped himself from adding ‘again’ at the end of his question, trying to avoid mentioning the frequency of his previous idiotic antics. "Great! I really didn’t want’cha caught up in this sh*t after what happened with Bill last night…" maybe his brain wanted to keep the Bill situation a secret, but his mouth sure didn’t.

Curiosity was a human trait, a very bad, useless and inherently dangerous human trait that Lafayette didn’t subscribe to, not unless it affected him. "Now’s what you mean Jason? How’s Bill and me connected in this sh*t?" he asked, getting closer to the now panicked boy.

"Now I’s know you said that Eric was nice and sh*t, but did’e do somethin’ to you, did Bill?’ Jason didn’t want to answer, knowing his blabbering mouth would get the best of him, but he had to, at least to reassure Lafayette he wasn’t further involved in his mess.

"No man, you and Bill ain’t connected at all, just some vampire stuff happened last night that I… ain’t sure I’m supposed to talk ‘bout, but I’m ok. Eric didn’t do sh*t to me and Bill…well he’s… umm I don’t know if I can tell you that. Just know everythin’s fine."

Lafayette wasn’t convinced, but he reasoned that if Jason wanted help he would ask: "You’s just be careful, now more than ever, until they catch the’m murderin’ sonovabitch we’s all gotta have an ear to the ground. And if you’s need my sexy ass to come help, just call. Now, unfortunately, our lunch break is out, we’s gotta go back."

"Ok man, I really appreciate it, I didn’t think nobody was fixin’ to help… so really, thank you! If you ain’t told me ‘bout Eric, um, I mean the Sheriff, I’d probably be goin’ out my mind right ‘bout now." Jason felt a lot better knowing he hadn’t pulled his friend into the bullsh*t storm surrounding him ever since Maudette’s death. Lafayette assured him that ‘It’s all good’ as they headed back inside to get Hoyt.

Reentering the hushed restaurant was, at the same time, easier and eerier than the first. The few remaining people were whispering to each other, gesticulating and giggling in a disturbing way. Jason, not seeing Hoyt inside, thought about asking one of the patrons about him, but saw a better option, Tara was on the clock. Lafayette approached his cousin with barely restrained glee at her annoyed expression, temporarily blocking Jason’s view of the bar. As they got closer to their mutual friend, Jason noticed there was an older woman sitting on one of the stools wearing an off the shoulder pink top and a very short skirt. He didn’t really judge people based on what they chose to wear, but after seeing her face, he couldn’t help the disgusted shudder from running up and down his spine.

Jane Bodehouse, town drunk and desperate skan*, drinking, as always, a loaded fruity co*cktail in the middle of the day. Not even a full minute passed between Jason’s arrival at the bar and her sad attempts at flirting. Many girls/women/older women flirted with Jason on a daily basis, but this one… this one nauseated him on a primal level… her tired eyes and lusty smile always managing to remind him of that summer in 98’, when he was barely 16 and went over to her house to ‘chill’ with her son.

Jason came out of his mother with a football and kept playing ever since, winning every game in sight, even managing to set a state record before an untimely injury robbed America of its new star. At 16 he was unstoppable, David’s statue come to life and the town’s pride, so every girl, and a few women, wanted him. The women’s interest was, at most, mildly voyeuristic, no big deal, right?

…Well, it wasn’t, not until Jane tricked him into following her into the master bedroom that awful day. ** He could still hear the distinct click of the old lock, see her satisfied smile as she came closer and closer, smelling of stale booze and cheap floral perfume… and started to paw at him, grabbing onto his Johnson and forcing him onto the bed. At first, he was just shocked, confused as to what to feel, he knew what she wanted, a lot of girls wanted him in that sense, but with her it was just so wrong. After a disorienting couple of seconds, he realized he wanted to get her off, to fight her, to pick her up and slam her to the ground, to hurt her… but he really didn’t want people to think he was less of a man, what kind of man refused an attractive woman’s advances? Knowing that eventually it would feel good, he just…let go. It was the first time he had ever let his mind wonder, not allowing his thoughts or the screaming voices in his head to fully form. Skirting around sparsely constructed contemplations, not touching a single one, in fear of what it would urge him to do, Jason stood rigid still and let her touch him however she wanted. Gritting his teeth, at some point he tried to convince himself he wanted this too, forcedly focusing on the nice sensations his body was experiencing and not on how filthy he felt, like being draped in a thin film of pure repugnance. At some point, his eyes started to sting, confliction set into his features like stone and body vibrating with overlapping impulses, striving to stay calm and desperately wishing to remove her detestable touch at the same time.

…He still vividly remembered just how egregiously dirty the sensation of her bony fingers wrestling his jeans from him was, how incredibly revolting her coercive sloppy kisses and fake hushed moans were…**

Somehow, through sheer luck or heavenly intervention, he didn’t have to suffer through the ordeal. Even though the front door was on the other side of the house, the shrill screeching sound coming from its rusty hinges could still be heard. Jane’s husband was home, forcing the disgusting woman to release him, but not for long. Not wanting to waste her chance with the young boy, she tried to get rid of her partner, but it was already too late. As soon as she rushed out, Jason dressed and hopped out the window, cutting himself on a stuck-out nail on the way to freedom.

Arriving home, he tried to tell his dad about what happened, but the old timey man laughed at him, and said that he should be more careful next time, to know when the husband would be home before doing any shenanigans. Seeing his father’s reaction, he tried to emulate it, to tell himself that it was ok, that he was just weird for feeling so very filthy and disgusting… and that he should never talk about what happened again, that people would make fun of him if he did, that it was normal. But every time he lied to himself, his eyes inevitably focused on the small cut, now scar, on his forearm that always reminded him of that day, of what he felt, of what actually happened. Being young, he’d get so frustrated and angry, at himself, at the situation, on not being able to talk or even think about it for too long…so he didn’t, whenever the memories resurfaced and the voices started to argue, he just tuned everything out.

Now, at 27, he could acknowledge that no, it was not normal, it was the attempted rape of a minor, a crime that should have been reported and punished, but never was. He tried, he spoke to the police, he sought a lawyer’s council, he told his sister and Gran, who helped him overcome most of it, but with no evidence it was just hearsay. Seeing the pathetic creature again over the years was repulsive, as it would always be, but after some time and a few of her tired and sh*tty pick-up lines, he almost wanted to laugh. Here stood his attacker, slinging shots and whoring herself to anyone willing to pay her even a little bit of attention. Her husband left her, her son moved away, her friends couldn’t stand to be around her, in short, she was miserable. No normal person would enjoy another being’s suffering, but Jason couldn’t help feeling schadenfreude, just a little.

Tara, not liking her persistence, intervened, effectively stopping the woman’s tiered advances: "Listen to me Jane Bodehouse, I’m gonna cut you off, it’s bad enough you’s come up in here already drunk, askin’ for more, now you’s coming on to Jason? You could be his grandma, ain’t you ashamed of yourself?". Jason and Tara grew up together and, even though the boy loved her like a sister, he could never tell her about that horrible day. Even if he despised the older woman, he didn’t want to have her death on his conscience. The sad drunk had nothing else to say, so she just kept sipping her drink and looking everywhere but at the three friends eyeing her disdainfully.

Remembering his reason for approaching her in the first place, Jason asked: "Hey, um, you seen Hoyt? We was supposed to head out after lunch, work ain’t finished yet." Tara looked at him with so much love, an emotion he always categorized as familial, not knowing its true romantic inkling, and told them what she knew of the incident. "You know old blabbermouth, she said some things that really got under Hoyt’s skin, don’t know what, but it must’ve been real bad ‘cuz he put’er in her place for once. I’ve never seen’im so mad, he walked right out after servin’ his momma some humble pie and I ain’t seen’em since."

"Ok, well thanks, see you later Tara!" Jason said, forgetting about Jane and everything related to her as soon as she was no longer in his sights and going outside to his truck. Lafayette followed him, both calling Hoyt with no success and, not wanting their friend to get in trouble, stopping by his house…and then his mom’s house. Not really knowing where his girlfriend lived, they trudged on over to the old road they were repaving, without their friend.

Arriving to work for the second part of the day was easier now that the afternoon sun was everybody’s enemy. People just wanted to finish faster and could not spare any time, or brain cells, to insult Jason. As they were putting on their construction vests, Jason spotted René, the man who wasn’t supposed to come back to work until next week at the earliest.

"Hey man, was the time off that borin’ you thought about lendin’ a hand or what?" The boy asked, obviously joking.

"Naw man, I’s was asked to comma back ‘ere today, boss man said he ain’t know if you’s commin’ to work or skippin’ town." Said the man in his deep Cajun accent. Squinting in the powerful sun, he wasn’t able to discern the boy’s expression, but when he saw how defeated Jason looked, he added: "But listen ‘ere Jason, I’s know you ain’t the killer, you’s been foolin’ ‘round town with women more years than I’s been ‘ere, but that don’t make you’s guilty! Don’t worry man, they’s gonna find the motherf*cker that did dis and feel like sh*t for bein’ assholes to ya now".

The conviction in René’s eyes made Jason feel a tiny bit better, even if they were not close friends. Smiling more, the boy thanked René for his support and joined the other workers on the road. They worked a solid hour before something in the atmosphere caught Jason’s attention.

His skin started to prickle, every hair on his body standing on end, like microscopic ants were crawling all over him and biting at odd times. Slowly, the feeling concentrated into his hands, then his fingers and finally, his fingertips. The slight tingle was then replaced by a pulsating feeling that visually inflamed his fingers and demanded his attention. He usually ignored these weird sensations, but when he saw the great shadow being cast over the valley he understood, a storm was coming. ‘Why does this always happen?’ he asked himself, knowing what would follow.

Not letting himself dwell on the thought, he tried to finish his work, but the weather had other ideas. The mild breeze and clear sky from earlier became a tempest of heavy rain that clogged any effort to finish, so, they packed up the equipment and surrounded the area with construction tape, deciding to reconvene when the weather let up.

Jason was glad for the extra free time, but not for what he was sure would happen when he inevitably touched his truck. Reaching a hesitant hand out, he grasped the metal handle of the door, and, as it always happened during storms, got electrocuted. The static charge present during such a weather event shouldn’t have shocked him that much, but every goddamn time it felt like he was being put into an electric chair. He really hated the feeling, but, after many similar incidents, he found that holding the metal object longer helped, the charged current almost melding within and easing the burden. After a good 10 seconds of just grasping the handle, Lafayette asked him from the passenger seat if he was ‘a’aight’. Jason, realizing he needed to drive his friend back, got in and started the car, trying to forget the weird feeling and concentrate on the slippery country road.

Arriving home, a very tired Jason showered, wary of any metal surfaces, dressed and decided to just enjoy the storm. He hated the weird feeling still present in his fingertips, but he really loved looking and listening to the downpour when he could. Summer storms were his favorite, he could stand on his porch, drink a cold bear and enjoy the wind, thunder and lightning without freezing to death. So that’s exactly what he did, sat on his porch, wearing just a pair of boxers in an old leather chair while drinking bear and eating some chips, but mostly admiring nature’s wonderfully brutal assault. He relaxed slowly, watching the water rain down the aged wooden beams of his home, the wind sliding over his body, making every hair stand on end, and the breathtaking light show. The weird pulsing in his fingertips seemed to ease, slowing down to a crawl as he enjoyed the peaceful moment.

Just as his eyes started to close, a ringing caught his attention, Sookie was calling. Jason was a bit apprehensive to answer the call, he hadn’t told her or Gran anything about his arrest, hoping to forget the nasty incident, but an average gossip’s travel time being what it was, 187,000 miles/sec, they were bound to find out. Jason was pretty sure she’d have some inventive ways to swear at him that would preserve her southern belle sensibilities and, knowing his sister’s unpredictable mood swings, braced for impact when pressing the answer button. The conversation was surprisingly… pleasant. Not very long but peppered with words of solidarity and comfort from a welcome source that livened up his mood. By the end of it, he was smiling wide, feeling much lighter knowing he still had his baby sister’s support and love.

Hanging up, he kept watching nature’s show from his porch, dazed and content, for more than 40 minutes, until the storm eased up a tiny bit and he registered the silhouette of a woman in his periphery. Of course, how had he forgotten about Sherri, the "my kids are a pest when there’s a storm outside, you mind keepin’ me company until they’s stop crying?" lady next door. She always came with the storm, like a kelpie in disguise, tempting him to touch only to be drowned in a river of self-hatred right after. He contemplated sex with her, knowing that it would not be fulfilling or amazing in any way, just something to do on a lazy afternoon, and was not tempted. His new relationship revelations aside, after seeing Jane today, the terrible mother inching closer to his porch only managed to disgust him with her remarkable resemblance to his aggressor.

He really didn’t want anything to do with her, so, pretending he hadn’t seen her, Jason went inside, thinking she would get the hint… but nope, she didn’t. The woman stood pressed to his door, in her mind, seductively whispering her intentions, somehow managing to sound utterly filthy and demure in the same breath, a great talent of southern women that she used frequently on the passive boy. Her honey trap stood wide open at first, razor sharp teeth sinking into the old door, promising more than a low rated politician near election, but remained empty of prey, so she switched to vinegar.

Sherri started banging on his door, shouting Jason’s name and a lot of "I know you’re in there and I know you saw me!" thinking, in her warped mind, that the show of desperate aggression would act as some sort of aphrodisiac when the sweet talk failed. Jason just ignored her, until she said something that really got his attention: "You thinkin’ you’re too good for me? Who do you think you is Jason Stackhouse? You’s wanted by the police and you’s probably goin’ to the big house soon, ain’t you want to have a woman before you’s become someone’s bitch? I’m beein nice and offerin’ you some great times now and you ain’t gonna take it? Don’t bother playin’ hard to get now, you’s know you ain’t that special! You’s just convenient and I ain’t got time to waste wooin’ you’s like a princess! Now, open this door!"

Her words perfectly encapsulated his own view on the situation and his life… After years of the same old bullsh*t, he was reduced to just an object and passed around town weather he liked it or not… But he didn’t have time to be sad, to let the few tears gathered in his waterline fall, he needed to stay strong and get rid of the snake hissing at his doorstep.

Jason wanted to respond to her in kind, to tell Sherri that he’d rather get f*cked in the ass with a sandpaper condom than touch her diseased genitals, but he WAS better than her and the only way to make her understand just how pathetic she sounded was to be calm: "Mrs. Corbel, please leave my property ‘fore I call the police." Sherri, he imagined, was stunned by his seemingly unaffected response, but the surprise didn’t last long, after a few seconds she started yelling that the police weren’t ‘gonna do sh*t’ to help him. The sadness he still felt melted away into anger, making his already vibrating fingertips pulse even more, sounding back into his ears like a heartbeat… he just wanted her gone, why couldn’t she just leave?!!

Jason squeezed his fingers together, compressing them into a trembling, white knuckled fist, gritting his teeth and managing to stop the snarl begging to escape from his throat before responding: "Ok then, maybe I’ll just call Mr. Corbel and have a nice long chat with’em ‘bout you an’ me, how’s that sound? Not too good? Then allow me to repeat myself in a form I’m sure you’d understand better: Take your raggedy ass off my land and don’t come back!"

Hearing his harsh tone, she decided to try yet another approach, her last resort from her shrinking bag of used tricks: crocodile tears and fake apologies. Jason was truly baffled by the pitiful spectacle she was making of herself. It truly did nothing to persuade him to open the door, more so prompting him to call child services knowing she’d take her anger out on the kids. As he was searching the proper number up in the phonebook, she finally realized he wasn’t coming out, huffed a loud ‘f*ck you!’ and stormed off towards the town, not her house. He kept searching for the number, but couldn’t find it, then tried to call the police who didn’t even bother taking his statement, then tried to call her husband, who didn’t respond, until he finally gave up and reasoned he would try again later as she didn’t currently pose a threat to her kid’s safety.

Horrible encounter decidedly concluded, Jason wanted to relax, to forget it and her entirely, but the miniscule time between her last statement and his present state of mind was just that, microscopic. He couldn’t control his emotions, he tried to release the tension from his muscles, unclench his jaw, stop his whole body from quivering with barely restrained rage, but he just couldn’t, he wanted to hit something, to scream, he really wanted to hurt Sherri… but as much as the vision of her mangled face delighted him in a disturbed kind of way, he would never physically harm a woman. So, he went into his basem*nt and released his anger out on a useless beam, punching the wood hard and screaming. The insulation and still raging storm ate up his anguished wails and the beam managed to survive the boy’s rampage.

When Jason came too, he felt exhausted and depressed, releasing his anger had, unfortunately, left him with just the sadness of his bleak existence. Trudging back upstairs, he collapsed on his bed. Now alone, hearing the faint sound of heavy rain hitting his window and staring at the ceiling, he noticed a very strange sensation, or better said, the lack of one. Gingerly, he sat up and looked at his hands, the fingers were normal, just as they always were, his knuckles were red and slightly damaged, as expected, but the annoying pulse was gone from his fingertips. He relished the feeling for a time, but didn’t think his aggressive solution would be implemented anytime soon. His abused knuckles stung, their throbbing slowly replacing the earlier pulsing, but Jason didn’t care to treat them, to get up again, so he tried to ignore the pain.

In this endeavor, he focused on something, anything remotely positive to do going forward in life. Jason tried to think about his future, about maybe starting a new hobby, maybe a new career… but the past had a steel grip around his throat, slowly suffocating him until he couldn’t ignore it anymore. The harrowing memories drudged up by Jane were amplified by Sherrie’s statements, piercing and prodding at his hope of a better tomorrow.

At 25 he dealt with his attempted rape, with the trauma and sudden triggers… and nothing else. Just admitting to himself that it was not consensual and seeking help, only to be dismissed and not believed had really taken a toll…so he hadn’t dug any deeper, resuming his ‘town bike’ occupation, advertising free rides and not thinking too hard on anything. Jason knew, on a subconscious level, why he pushed the thoughts away, he knew that if he concentrated on the amount of sexual depravities he had subjected himself to over the years for a few nights of false affection and perceived acceptance… he just knew it would break him… so he didn’t. Now though, alone, in the darkened room, his thoughts got the better of him. Most voices telling him: ‘Why even bother? Nobody will ever see you as something more than a f*ck tool. Just give up, you’re not special, you’re nothing, just a dumb, simple jock with nothing to offer…’ and on and on they went. Jason wanted to listen to them, to just give up and be as he was before, mindless, just a tool, an object, at least then he was useful… he could delude himself into thinking he mattered…

…but a tiny voice struggled against the current, the last small presence rising like Hope from Pandora’s Box. A voice that didn’t sound like his own, a deeper, more powerful voice, repeated the words ‘innocent, lovely, ravishing and brave beauty…. captivating in every way…. gorgeous appearance …. wonderful character… I would do everything to keep you safe!’. Eric’s distinctly dark and masculine voice broke through the tidal wave of misery and despair trying to drown him, seeping the other voices of their volume and importance. Remembering the vampire’s honest eyes, gentle hands and polite gestures, Jason felt a tiny tug on his heart, that kept getting tighter and pulling harder the more he thought about the man, slowly forming a smile on his wet face. Jason brought his hand up to his cheek, feeling the obvious lines of tears silently flowing from his eyes. He hadn’t realized he was crying, the unexpected smile Eric’s words brought forth distracting him. It seemed that, no matter what he was doing, the vampire managed to occupy his thoughts…

Now, alone in his unlit room, he could accept that he was attracted… well, very attracted to the gorgeous vampire, and what a revelation it was. To accept such a simple fact about himself, to himself, that he was drawn to the intoxicating man, vampire, and that it was ok. Jason unwittingly immersed himself into a fantasy world where he and Eric were living a happy life together, where they were in a stable relationship and completely in love, a mirage soon distorted by his own insecurities and shortcomings… He was just a normal human, while Eric was an ancient being that had seen and done everything there was to see and do… he probably just wanted what everyone wanted, to use him…

Though, inevitably, a question appeared in his mind, why hadn’t he? The imposing vampire Sheriff had been courteous and nice, drove Jason to Bill’s house, protected him and arrested the creep in question, then drove him home. Most people would’ve tried to get into his pants by then, but Eric just held his gaze and waist, delicately, complimenting him without escalation and, when it was time to leave, kissing his hand like he was a fine upper-class lady, not some reusable whor*. The sweet gesture affected Jason more than he could express, such a small chivalrous show of interest making him more excited and blissful than any woman’s crass invitation. He wanted to think, to hope, that Eric’s words and interest were genuine…

… but then what? ‘Even if he really liked you, you’re more repressed than John Travolta at an alpha male convention.’ a voice snickered in his head ‘…not to mention the whole vampire thing, would you, could you get past that?’ The voice, a much less vicious one at that, made some very good points… he knew he wasn’t straight…but could he ever really accept it and come out? He didn’t know, he wanted to stop hiding, stop denying such a crucial part of himself, at least with his loved ones. After all, why did he even care what the rest of the town thought about anything? They were either mocking his situation and him in general, spreading rumors or betting on him. The people who he grew up with and around, who he thought of as extended family, turned their backs on him when he needed them most, so why should he care about their stupid opinions? The simple answer was, he shouldn’t. He had the right to be attracted to, date and love whoever he wanted… but it was easier said than done. After so many years of seeking approval as a football prodigy and stud, his conditioning was set in stone and further solidified by the harsh slap of disappointment after getting injured and losing an important game. The people’s downcast and depressive eyes after his accident had left a lasting impression that was hard to shake, even 9 years later as a grown ass man. And the vampire thing… he still didn’t know what to think about it.

Feeling more and more helpless by the minute, Jason decided to zone out in front of the T.V., but when he tried the remote, it didn’t work. Thinking it was a battery issue, he got up and tried to find the light-switch, realizing after a few flicks that the power had gone out. His frustration was palpable, but after the major emotional outpour he couldn’t even muster enough energy to curse, so he settled on the couch, resigned to spend an entire evening alone in the coming dark. After 5 minutes of just sitting with nothing to do, not wanting to revisit his earlier contemplations, he got up and went to the front door. As soon as he was outside, he went right back in to get properly dressed. Feeling foolish was a familiar feeling to Jason and the small incident made him laugh at himself for a bit, until he reached his truck’s door handle and got zapped, yet again.

Chapter 11: Remarkably faint portrait of a lady

Chapter Text

The smell of burning flesh and pure agony lingered in the small silver coffin, soundlessly advertising it’s restfully luxurious lodgings. Most ‘guests’ didn’t possess the necessary ‘qualities’ for its tightly sealed embrace, but Bill was truly gifted. After a full day in his new and improved accommodations, the weasel finally cracked, squealing his willingness to speak. Unfortunately for him, Eric quite enjoyed his melodic agony and, seeing as sundown would not arrive for another two hours, chose to bask in the younger vampire’s gurgled screams. The Sheriff’s advanced age provided the vampire with evolved powers surpassing most supernatural creatures, one such advantage, or disadvantage, was awaking before the sun set. In this case, hearing Compton’s agony from such proximity was a treat, an occasion he would relish before releasing the suffering being.

The delayed intervention didn’t entirely pertain to his fiendishly perverse amusem*nt at the younger vampire’s misfortune, it was a calculated strategy of patience, requiring the refusal of any first offers. After all, a vendor would promise even the cruelest king satisfaction from broken stock, knowing said deal would be the road to his demise, if desperate enough. Following so many years of creatively crafted interrogations and pure torture, waiting had become his specialty. After another hour in the cozy coffin, Bill screamed again, promising to reveal everything he knew. ‘Almost Billy boy, just need to hear you say three little magic words…’ Eric thought as he got closer to the putrid casket. Exactly 47 minutes later, Bill uttered them in a small pathetic voice "Just kill me…", making the older vampire’s evil grin rival even Joker’s.

"Very well, Billy, I’m gonna be nice and hear you out, but if you’re not singing on tune… well, I might just pluck out all your feathers." Opening the coffin’s heavy silver door was just as revolting as the first time, now even more so, the fetid scent fermenting to create one of the most odious odors ever imagined. Compton was unrecognizable, bearing a striking resemblance to The Engineer from Hellraiser, only in an upright position and floating in a rotted soup of his own making, literally. Eric, even after having suffered, seen and committed some of the worst brutalities humanity could ever imagine, was slightly nauseated by the younger vampire’s undistinguishable visage… and maybe a little miffed knowing he’d have to ruin his favorite shirt in order to get Bill out of the coffin.

After some creative manipulation of Bill’s decomposing form, Eric changed and brought the creature formerly known as Bill some Tru Blood, not enough to fully regenerate him, but sufficient enough to allow him to think and speak clearly.

"Now Compton, what do you know of this Sookie Stackhouse that was not present in the files? Why is she so special that you’ve been sent out to procure her illegally for the queen? I think we both know that such devious procedures do not need to be implemented unless the target has coveted attributes. And feel free to expand on the other vampires trespassing into my area." Eric was extremely curious about the queen’s choice, knowing that Compton would indubitably report back if Jason appeared more appetizing than his sister and the target would change. Residing in Bon Temps for over a week gave Bill plenty of opportunities to call dispatch, backtrack and change targets, but he hadn’t, prompting the Sheriff to reach 3 different possible conclusions: 1 - either Sookie was even more appetizing than Jason, if that was possible, 2 - Bill wanted to procure the sister for the queen and keep Jason hidden for himself, but after his reaction at the old Compton house it was unlikely, or 3 - the queen knew the girl somehow and wanted her specifically regardless of her inferior taste.

Bill tried to prolong his momentary reprieve, knowing that the Sheriff would put him back into the dreadful coffin as soon as he was done, but he could only stall the inevitable for so long.

"Sophie-Ann has an entire collection of exotic and delicious pets she can feast from, but for the past 2 years she has only indulged in her long-time favorite, a small blonde named Hadley. The queen saved the girl from an impoverished life on the street and was rewarded with a most flavorful essence, a blood so sweet it is only for her Majesty. No other vampire has had a single taste, but all who gaze upon the human woman want her. One day, Hadley revealed to the queen the name of one of her cousins, a girl very similar to her, but also very strange. She was described as being ‘weird’ and a possible clairvoyant or psychic. As you can imagine, this information intrigued the queen, who acquired my services and instructed me not to reveal myself to the residing authority. I suspect she feared you would see the girl’s abilities and choose to take her as your own. Throughout my assignment, I have discovered that Sookie has a delicious smell and aura, some unknown mental ability and is immune to compulsion. As such, I was forced to seduce her in order to complete my mission, and thus feed her copious amounts of my blood, but it does not affect her as strongly as other humans. As for the visiting vampires, they were a traveling nest that I suspect has already left your area."

Bill’s testimony was most illuminating, answering his questions quite well without Eric having to reveal Jason’s own ability, and after a few more inquiries regarding her and the town in general he was more or less satisfied. So, this Sookie was, at least in Compton eyes, more delicious than her brother, a notion that intrigued the curious Sheriff, forming into a tiny black box in his mind’s eye that begged to be opened. Pleased with Bill’s truthful response, and also not wanting to ruin any additional clothes, Eric merely restrained the weakened vampire to a metal pole in the basem*nt for the evening. He needed to meet the interesting waitress, but first, on to more important business.

Pam, having arrived early, caught the conversation between her maker and the melted wax figure version of the repulsive young vampire. Even after 100 years, Bill Compton was still the same old fledgling that seduced and killed his prey, such boring and tasteless practices spoke loudly of his true character, but being the queen’s lapdog made most other authority figures deaf to his dealings. Her nail filing and bored expression might have fooled most into thinking she had not been paying attention, but her eyes always gave her away to Eric. She was just as intrigued, if not even more so, about the Stackhouse situation, imagining the many possible pathways forming and dissolving as the night went on.

"Pam, please assign Lara to keep an eye on our ‘guest." The order was heard and swiftly followed by the beautiful blonde, still wearing her comfortable clothes, which in her case translated to a vintage pink Chanel suit with matching pumps. After leaving Lara with a very miserable looking Bill in the basem*nt, the Sheriff and his childe made their way up to the bar.

Pam, not wanting to question Eric’s authority in the presence of a prisoner, didn’t ask why the obviously weak vampire needed supervision, not until they entered the Sheriff’s soundproofed office.

"We wouldn’t want him to check-out too soon, now would we?" was the pointed answer. "Now, we need to address some very important matters, please sit."

The vampire’s groomed, painted and brushed brows went up a fraction of an inch, displaying her shock at his chosen tone. After so many years together, she could discern when he was faking concern and when he was truly serious. When the latter occurred, a small shiver still crept up her spine, knowing it would probably end in a bloodbath for whoever managed to incur his wrath.

"As you have heard, Jason doesn’t seem to be the only anomaly in Bon Temps, his sister apparently possessing similar abilities, possibly even more. We need to investigate and decide what to do with Compton. The ‘queen’, a title she will not hold for very long, is adamant on possessing the girl, making me inclined to keep her, in a capacity…" Pam saw the hungry yet caring look in his eyes as he mentioned Jason, the boy had made an impact on her master and, if she were being truthful, on her as well. His beauty and unusual ability aside, the innocence, sincerity and willingness to help were endearing and very scarce qualities in a breather, especially in the 21^th century.

Eric, not sensing Pam’s thoughts, continued: "But even more importantly, we have 2 serious issues to take care of. Firstly, Long-Shadow is not answering his phone and has not returned from his task. He is either blatantly insubordinate, in grave danger or dead, neither of these reasoning’s can stand as is and he needs to be found. We will depart shortly to investigate his last known location, Eddie’s house, and decide on a course of action. I know the bar has only just opened, but this issue has to be dealt with, fast, so I am appointing you to make a decision."

Pam restrained herself from asking the rhetorical question: "Why couldn’t she stay behind and man the bar?", after all she knew the answer, both of them did. Eric was strong enough to handle any situation, he didn’t need the support of such a young vampire, but it gave him an excuse to keep an eye on her. The veiled motivation for protection was sweet, Pam rewarding him with a rare genuine smile.

"Of course Eric, I will accompany you tonight, and I think leaving Chow in charge will be more profitable than closing up the club." Pam said, smile still in place.

"Excellent, secondly, a nest of vampires have come into my area in the same rude manner as Billy boy downstairs. Unfortunately, their current location remains a mystery, but their ages are known to be between 100 and 350 years old. I need them to be found and brought back here by the end of the night, so please summon Nicolette and Syrus and explain to them their tasks for the evening."

"Yes master, I will meet you outside as soon as I’m done coordinating the staff." Her smile had faded, but the enthusiasm remained, she couldn’t wait to meet the waitress, see what happened to Eddie and Long-Shadow and witness the sentencing of the 3 foolish vampires.

Using their super speed flight, the two vampires headed towards Eddie’s residence, a tiny house located in a remote part outside the small town. Feeling the strong wind, the scent of fresh rain still in the air and the glowing stars above, Eric was at his most peaceful, at least as peaceful as he could be in such a stressful situation.

After reaching the town’s border, the older vampire scanned the area. Not really noticing many people and even less lights, the only beacon of electricity being a small establishment, that from its odious odor, served human food. Just when he was about to retract his gaze, a familiar aura caught his attention from the restaurant’s parking lot. Intrigued, Eric signaled his childe.

Descending closer, both vampires caught the scent of old mincemeat, fried potatoes and general garbage…and a deliciously sweet fragrance that forced them to land. Now at ground level, they read the grizzled neon sign of ‘Merlotte’s Bar and Grill’, a fowl eatery run by the only local shifter if the name was any indication. Eric would not deem the roadhouse worthy of his time, were it not for the luminous aura residing within, and, steeling himself for this particular brand of hell, moved towards the rickety doorway. Pam, sensing her maker’s intentions, readied herself for the inevitable, holding her nonexistent breath as they entered.

The small restaurant hosed a variety of sweaty patrons, some more portly than others, though the general theme of hick chick brought the humans together to form an unappetizing picture of greasy laziness. The vampire’s presence was immediately sensed by the wide-eyed humans, prey always recognized nearby predators, who’s heartbeats skyrocketed as their offensive scents mixed to produce a most repellent concoction. Eric was justifiably annoyed, knowing that no amount of agreeable mannered mimicry would, could halt their fearful preemptive bombardment of his senses with their loathsome aromas. Most nights, the frightened response of common breathers was satisfying, even somewhat amusing, but in the enclosed space of the dingy establishment, it was close to insufferably conceited. So arrogant were they in their self-assessment, not realizing how dampened their auras appeared to the ancient vampire. It was akin to a woman declaring she had a lover when posed with a simple question regarding the weather… even close to starvation he wouldn’t indulge in their filthy smelling blood, yet they acted as if he were a desperate fledgling showing fang and terrorizing them. Pitiful.

Scanning the deficient flock and not finding the source of his interest, Eric decided to locate nearby seating. Before he could advance, a small brunette appeared holding 2 menus tightly and avoiding eye contact that showed them to a secluded booth. Being on the same level, at least physically, with the rest of the flock granted Eric some peace from the sheep’s scared visages, allowing him to focus on locating the now faint sweet scent.

After a few minutes he managed to find it, concentrating on a small corridor leading into the bar area that seemed to glow brighter with the being’s slow approach. Just like last night, white shirt clinging to a beautiful tan body, blonde hair and brown doe eyes came into view, revealing a spectacle of color and glitter particles surrounding a seemingly ordinary waitress. Her beautiful yet familiar features revealed her name and so much more to the Sheriff, ‘So, this is Sookie Stackhouse…’

It was barely 10 PM and she had had it. Lafayette’s night off, Tara’s bad mood, Sam’s condescending speeches and inappropriate advances and Arlene’s prying questions, paired with a raging migraine made Sookie’s shift freaking wonderful. Just a few hours into it and she was already tired and cranky, a disposition only worsened by numerous stupid customer complaints. The last straw was a haughty trailer-trash of a woman groaning that her ice water was served wrong and demanding she put the cubes at the bottom of the glass and not on top… Sam, witnessing the idiotic exchange, escorted an irate Sookie over to his office, to have yet another creepy conversation. She, again, wasn’t having it and went to the ladies room. Inside she splashed some water on her face and stared in the mirror for a while, thinking about Bill. She hadn’t heard from him since yesterday night, but she shouldn’t really be concerned, he had his own life and didn’t have time to keep her company… he was probably keeping Diane company. But it didn’t matter, he wasn’t her boyfriend or whatever, she needed to continue with her work and not think about him…but last night’s dream kept repeating in her memory.

Feeling a little better, she silently exited the bathroom and made her way to the restaurant’s floor. Noticing the closed menus on one of the more secluded booths, she made her way over, only to stop in her tracks at the incredible view. Sitting with an air of nonchalance were two of the most attractive people Sookie had ever seen. They looked like models, both blonde with piercing blue eyes, gorgeous faces and sculptured bodies. The man, a really tall glass of water, was looking at her with a small smirk that said ‘I know I’m hot and so do you’ which yea, she would admit was true. Her momentary surprise managed to lower her mental shields, bombarding her with nearby stranger’s gibbering nonsense and flash memories. The sudden mental attack ceased as she came closer to the small booth, being replaced with 2 calming voids that informed her of the new patron’s natures. She felt foolish, how had she not noticed their pale skin and slightly red tinted eyes? Realizing she was staring, Sookie bowed her gaze in shame, before looking up, putting on her best customer service smile and addressing them "Hello and welcome to Merlotte’s, I’m Sookie and I’ll be your waitress for the evenin’, what would you like to order?"

The tiny crack in her voice went unnoticed by the curious vampires, who were more occupied with studying the small blonde woman. Eric was stunned by her glow, it was just as blinding as her brother’s, possibly even more so, he couldn’t really tell without comparing the siblings next to each other. Physically she was very pleasing, with her shiny light-colored hair, glowing tan, big brown eyes and adorable gap tooth, resembling her brother quite well, but somehow lacking… something. She indeed possessed a tantalizingly sweet smell and attractive aura, an engaging appearance and nice disposition… though the more Eric stared, the more ordinary she seemed. Her familiar features, when compared to her brother, became blander, her blonde hair, though agreeable, seemed duller, her brown eyes plainer and her small imperfection glaring. Even the southern accent that pleased him to no end when speaking with Jason, grated on his sensitive ears by the end of her sentence. With these considerations in mind, his second appraisal of this Sookie Stackhouse revealed a prosaically unexciting looking girl that, were it not for her luminous glow and unknown psychic ability, the vampire doubted he would’ve paid any attention to.

"I’ll have a bottle of Tru Blood, a B+ if you have it, Pam?" His progeny’s pointed stare spoke of her arduous loathing for the repellent human concoction, but his answering infrasonic growl communicated more than words ever could. The human’s sharp gazes were now zeroed in on their acceptance or rejection of the synthetic blood substitute and they needed to blend in and not attract any more attention.

"I’ll have an A+, as hot as you can make it… please." Pam’s small politeness dripped with condescension and disdain, a sentiment that Sookie, even without her powers, could spot, making her smile falter.

"Ok, ya’ll, I’ll be right back wit’ you’re drinks." Said a smiling Sookie, although a little disappointed with the woman’s, this ‘Pam’s’, attitude, she wanted to give them a really great service. Not many vampires came to town, and these two seemed nice enough and they needed to feel accepted, not feared, at least by their waitress if she hoped for their return… well, she hoped for the stunning blonde man’s return. Every time she looked into his ocean eyes, she could feel herself being pulled under their depths, not to mention his long hair and gorgeous body.

"Whew, they sure don’t make’em like that no more…" said Arlene, not realizing she was speaking about a vampire.

"Yea, but I’m pretty sure they did a few centuries ago…" Sookie loved Arlene, she was a great mother and a good worker, but her backwoods ideas about vampires always managed to irritate her, so she took some pleasure in her coworker’s suddenly bulging eyes and open mouth.

"Oh my Lord, they’s vampires? What do they’s want? Whatever it is, I’m stayin’ in ma section and I’s got my silver… Ouu, they can probably hear me now, I gotta go Sookie, good luck." Arlene’s panicked escape aggravated Sookie. Just because they were vampires didn’t mean they drained humans, they were just sitting down waiting to enjoy their drinks, in peace. Deciding to ignore Arlene entirely for the rest of the night, Sookie looked for the newly stocked case of Tru Blood under the bar.

Tara, noticing Sookie’s chosen drink, asked: "Ol’ creeper Bill’s back?". Sookie knew her friend barely tolerated his presence, if she told her that 2 new vampires were sitting in her section, she would’ve lost it and brandished a gun. So, she lied, badly, and hurried off after heating up their drinks.

Back at their booth, the redheaded woman’s swift retreat and apprehension, as well as her complimentary comments, amused and insulted the vampires in question, but Eric let it go. Just another country bumpkin scared of anything remotely unusual and arrogant enough to fear for her safety. His mood didn’t improve with the unusual waitress's return, knowing they had to at least make contact with the filthy liquid before disposing of the bottles in another location. If they left most of it intact, the humans would become suspicious, after all, who orders a drink they have no intention of finishing?

"Here you are, two heated Tru Bloods, A+ for you Pam and B+ for mister…" She trailed off, hoping to find out Eric’s name, but instead managing to upset both vampires with her lack of etiquette. Her delicious fragrance and aura could not shield her from their scrutinizing gazes. Addressing Pam in such an informal manner and inquiring about his own name when he had no intention of giving it grated on the Sheriff’s set stoicism.

"You may address me as Sheriff and my companion as Chief Deputy." Responded the now irritated ancient vampire in a cold tone that translated just how done he was with her.

Not sensing his annoyance, Sookie continued: "Oh ok, sorry for callin’ you Pam Deputy, but what kinda name is Sheriff? Sheriff what? Sheriff Stanley? Sheriff Simmons? Sheriff Criss? Sheriff…" Leaving the question open ended again, she smiled, hoping the small joke/innuendo translated.

Eric’s eyebrow went up at her insistence, he imagined that Compton, in his desperate need to seduce her, had painted a very lovely picture of vampirism and their society. An obviously overly simplified rose-colored tableau that hid their kind’s ferocity at the tiniest insult, calculated or not. A canvas he was so very tempted to strip and repaint in bold red streaks, preferably with her blood. The consideration brought a small smirk to his face, but her interesting secrets forced the Sheriff to simply rebuff her until she understood his lack of interest, only to be interrupted by a seriously done Pam.

"Just Sheriff, you can leave now, we’ll call you if we are in need of your … interesting brand of service." Pam’s clipped tone and murderous eyes definitively put a stop to Sookie’s attempts at flirting and, grasping her dismissal, she backed away with a small "Enjoy" and obvious disappointment on her face. Thinking over the interaction, had she done something wrong? Before she could question herself any further, Tara appeared and dragged her over to Sam’s office, to have a three-way sh*tty conversation about staying away from vampires, again.

Relieved of her presence, Eric could hear Pam’s whispered intentions about the rude waitress. She was just as irate with the girl’s behavior and much less forgiving, but also interested in her powers. Eric, though curious about her abilities, knew he wouldn’t get any answers from her tonight regarding them. Her invulnerability to compulsion aside, the lack of time and proper location necessary for a successful interrogation left them with no choice but to reconvene at a later date… Was what he told himself and Pam, but a small part of him, a piece that was steadily growing with visions of Jason’s sad eyes and kind smile, didn’t want the boy to hate him for threatening and possibly hurting his sister. So, the vampires were forced to sit back, pretend to drink the revolting beverages and survey the audience, and Sookie in general, for a bit before departing for their actual mission.

After 10 agonizing minutes of ‘sipping’ their drinks, the wide-eyed humans started to begrudgingly accept their presence and, after another 5 minutes and the last averted gaze, Eric and Pam slipped out, leaving payment and an appropriate tip. The last ‘curious’ pair of eyes belonged to the worst possible source, the meddling woman recognizing the tall stranger, now tall vampire, leaving the quaint restaurant and barely managing to hold her tongue.

Outside, Pam was more than ready to leave, but Eric spotted a most arresting sight, Andrew Bellefleur, police officer of Renard Parish and lead detective on the recent murder case, heaving next to the trashcans, held up by the similarly inebriated Sheriff, Bud Dearborne. An encapsulating imagery of the town’s best and brightest wrapped up in the most opportune setting for manipulation. Eric, using the humans even less guarded dispositions, seized both men by their soiled shirt collars and concentrated on their feeble minds. When he was sure he had both of their consciousnesses in his grasp, he informed them of Jason’s iron clad innocence, commanded them to exclude him as a suspect entirely and pressed them to investigate further and find the real culprit. After compelling them to forget the interaction and go home, the temporarily zombified police officers nodded dumbly, looked at their cars and followed the vampire Sheriff’s orders.

Satisfied, Eric returned to a grinning Pam, understanding her maniacal glee even in the night’s silence and cursing himself for revealing his less then carnal interest in the boy. Before she could voice her opinion though, he reminded her of their important ‘meeting’ and both vampires flew in silence towards the young vampire’s residence.

Chapter 12: Needed comfort

Chapter Text

Arriving at his grandmother’s place, Jason practiced a warm smile in the small overhead mirror, managing to emulate the needed expression after a few tries. He knew that the sight of his Gran would cause one to appear, but soon enough his eyes would shine not from joy, but from his earlier thoughts and he needed to remember the expression. Getting zapped as he got out didn’t help, but, as always, Gran’s beaming smile and cheerful welcoming illuminated his dark mind and allowed him to enter without arising suspicion.

Inside, the older woman was busy finishing up his favorite food, good ol’ steak and potatoes with hush puppies, collard greens and fried green tomatoes, served alongside some sweet tea and lemonade. After scooping up the pecan pie from the oven, she, with the help of Jason, arranged the table.

"How’d you know I’d be commin’ by?" asked a very happy Jason, unable to take his eyes off of the delicious fried food. His Gran stayed quiet while the boy filled his plate, said grace and took the first eager bite. She wanted to let him enjoy his meal, but just couldn’t, she had to tell him. After seeing the dimness of his usually sparkle filled eyes and the worrying state of his knuckles she had to say something, so she reached across the dining room table and held his hand. Jason, not knowing why his next mouthful was stopped, looked at his grandmother with big, bewildered eyes.

"Jason sweety, Maxine and ‘er group of curtain twitchers been callin’ all day ‘bout you…sayin’ some real awful things that I know ain’t true. You ain’t killed nobody, I know you would never do somethin’ like that. I know you’s a man now and not a little baby anymore, but you’ll always be ma baby, the same sweet gentle soul I raised shines in you’s eyes today just as it did when you was ten and wanted to save a little chick that fell from its momma’s nest, cried when the poor bird died and held a small funeral for it…" She had seen him replace the tiny stone of the small grave a few times over the years, polishing the name and the unfortunate date engraved into it, just as he did for every other one. Jason had had a number of pets throughout his childhood, loving every single one and mourning their loss with silent tears every time, always holding in his emotions, resigning himself to digging their resting place, engraving their names with his bare hands and planting different flowers for each one. She still catches him gazing at the worn stones sometimes, but only when he thinks nobody notices.

"When I found out they arrested you a couple days ago I was so mad, I had half a mind to march into Bud’s station and scold’im like he was 7 years old again, but then I heard what you told’im. Honey, I’m so proud of you, you didn’t let them bully you or talk you into nothin’ and got out using that smart head of yours! I told you, you’s so much more than just your looks boy, you are strong, witty and kind, just like your momma, God rest her soul. I know they’s gonna catch the real killer and the whole town’ll look like dirty pigs in a feed trough fightin’ over scraps, but until then, they’s gonna treat you real bad, and I’m so sorry Jason. You don’t deserve this no more than a spring flower deserves to be stepped on by a cow, but you’s gotta fight and get through and over this. I know you can and you will!"

The encouragement, love and trust exuding from the old woman reached and almost broke Jason’s heart. She saw, knew and loved him, all of him and he couldn’t help the few tears that escaped his eyes, or the pained look from showing on his face. Seeing his reaction, Gran ran to the other side of the table and embraced her baby. Ever since their parent’s deaths, she had always seen Sookie and Jason as her own, to love and protect until she no longer could. And now, her baby boy needed her, even if she couldn’t do anything to solve the situation, she knew he needed her there.

Jason hugged his grandmother tightly, committing her kind wrinkled hands, gray hair, comforting scent and warm embrace to memory and thanking God he still had her. When his breathing evened out, he released her, giving her a peck on the cheek and returning to his seat at the dinner table.

"Thanks a lot Gran, I don’t know what I would’ve done without’cha, or Sookie, Lafayette, Hoyt and…" trailing off and realizing whose name he was about to utter, Jason returned to his previous question "So, how’d you know I’d be visitin’?"

Gran caught the small pause and wondered what her grandson was about to say, but chose to answer instead of grilling him after such an emotional conversation: "I didn’t know, I made all this and was just about to call you ‘bout dinner when you showed up, I thought a good home cooked meal might help ya feel better. I spoke to Sookie about havin’ a family meal together, but it was late and she had to work, so it’s just the two of us."

"Ok, yea I get it, she probably needs to call ahead to get the night off, it’s ok, I really like just talkin’ to you…I know we had a…a real important talk a few nights ago, but I still missed you." Jason, having already spoken to Sookie earlier in the day didn’t mind her unavoidable absence.

Gran, seeing the love and sadness shining in her baby’s eyes felt the need to hug him again, but refrained for the moment and just vocalized her unwavering trust and support: "Oh Jason, you can come over whenever you want sugar, I’m always gonna be ‘ere for ya, whenever you need me."

"Thanks Gran…" he really didn’t know what else to say, so he returned to eating, feeling like the food itself was a small form of her love, filling him up from the inside with warmth and affection and making him relax.

After finishing the main course and its hearty desert, Jason was a puddle of contentment in the kitchen chair. Seizing the moment, the old woman asked: "Jason, can you do somethin’ to prove you’re innocent? Can I or Sookie do somethin’?"

Jason, still adopting a liquid state, could not control his independent mouth from forming the one name he did not want to utter in his grandmother’s presence, knowing that he would have to explain his relationship to the man, well, vampire. "It’s gonna be ok, Eric said he’d help." After dropping the vampire Sheriff’s name in his Gran’s lap with no context, Jason wasn’t surprised at all when her face scrunched up in thought.

"Who’s Eric honey?" From the boy’s surprised, then alarmed expression and silence, she knew where to press. "Is he new in town, how’s he gonna help ya?"

He really didn’t want to lie to her, couldn’t actually, she knew him better than the back of her hand, any mistruth would light up like a neon red sign over his head, so he tried to summarize: "Umm, you know, Dawn and Maudette had, umm, relations with vampires right? Oh, you didn’t, well they’s did and I thought that maybe a vampire was settin’ me up or somethin’, but Andy ain’t wanna listen to me. After beein’ in jail for the day I just knew they’d never look for anyone else, they’s just blame me and be done wit’ the whole mess, so I had to find someone to hear me out…and that’s how I met Eric. He’s the vampire Sheriff of the area and runs a bar just outta town. I really didn’t wanna go to’im, but beggars can’t be choosers… so last night I talked to’im, and he was… nice. I ain’t think he’d be so nice, beein’ the boss of the vampires in dis area and all, but he listened to ma story and believed me, even drove me home and promised to help…I believe he’ll do it too, turns out you were right, not all of’em vampires are bad. He was just…real nice." The slow smile and blush that broke out on Jason’s face as he remembered his night with Eric and his parting gesture had nothing to do with the warm atmosphere or the copious amounts of food in his belly, and his Gran knew it.

She hadn’t seen that expression on her grandson’s face since he was in elementary school and had his first crush. She wanted to press, to tell him she knew, to tell him she would love Eric whatever he was as long as he kept bringing that lovely expression to Jason’s eyes, that special twinkle no one has been able to light in almost 15 years, but held back. Her Jason, apart from being a beautiful and kind child, was just as stubborn as his sister, even more so, and would deny any attraction or fondness for the vampire. Even after their discussion about them a few days ago, she knew not to expect his opinion to change on such a small dime, so she settled for: "I’m so glad he’s gonna help honey, this Eric sounds like a very nice vampire and I would love to meet’im. I need to thank’im for helpin’ my grandson when no one else would, invite him over sometime."

Her words were like an excavator, lifting a very large and heavy boulder from his shoulders. He couldn’t predict how feather light his body would feel after hearing her approve of Eric. He didn’t tell her about his less than platonic feelings for the vampire, not even about his like of men in general, but he knew she wouldn’t even blink if he ever brought the Sheriff home to meet her. "Sure Gran, I will." A foolish notion, even if he ever saw him again, the vampire wouldn’t want to be with him like that, he may want a round in the sack, but not more… Not wanting to lose his momentarily relaxed disposition thinking about what would never be, he returned to talking with his grandmother about anything and nothing, laughing and feeling like a little boy again until 11 at night. He could still stay up, but the older woman needed her sleep, so they separated for the evening with a long hug, an embrace that translated more gratefulness and love than words ever could.

The trip to Eddie’s house was quite short, Eric and Pam arriving a little after 11 PM, but certainly not uneventful, the fowl but familiar smell coming from the residence making both vampires very cautious. Eric entered first, knowing that any possible live trap would detonate on him, well, around him after using his super speed, but still. The acrid and disturbing smell coming from the house got stronger and stronger until they identified the source, a large puddle of gore and leather sitting casually in the ransacked living room. Long-shadow most likely, judging from the scraps of fabric still present and his familiar bone chain. Seeing what was left of his employee, the disturbed residence and sensing Eddie’s fading scent, almost completely buried under the stench of humans, broke Eric’s usual composure. The minuscule crack in his control slowly expanded as he examined the scene, incessantly aggravating his already titanic anger and growing until a beastly roar raged forth, uncontrollable and devastating in its intensity, affecting the entire environment. The meager house shook, every object in its vicinity vibrated and all animals present in the forest nearby scattered, sensing a much greater predator. Before the flames of wrath could consume the tattered remains of his fragile mental-wall, releasing the vampire demon of old, Eric exited the house, and tried to focus on the silent sound of the cool night.

After barely reigning in his beast, he looked at Pam and any lasting visage of hostility ceased to be. His progeny, though trying to show no sign of worry, was incredibly distressed, her eyes remaining unfocused and her hands slightly shaking. Eric, sensing his childe’s anguish, embraced the poised vampire, comforting her with whispered words of a now forgotten language and caressing her soft hair. He could still remember and regret his decision to leave her alone that night, traveling for an insignificant visit to the residing monarch to discuss some equally trivial business. Even after 100 years, Pam could still remember them, their stinking breaths on her face and the burn of the silver and wood on her skin after their torture session. The worst though, she would never get over, the lazy stealing of her life-blood still unleashing a pained whimper from the now powerful vampire.

Seeing Eddie’s house, the murder of their own and the obvious signs of kidnapping, she, as well as her maker, knew to expect the worst. A quick true death was favorable to their kind, but a torturous languid draining was unbearably cruel, even for such diabolically imaginative beings. Eddie could still be alive and suffering in some human’s poorly made dungeon, growing weaker by the day until his body gave in and succumbed to an excruciating death. Imagining the young and truly benevolent vampire’s untimely end snapped both of them out of their trance, sending the vampires crashing into a large pool of determined revenge.

Without uttering a single word, Eric and Pam flew back into the ruined home and searched it from top to bottom, memorizing every scent, every miniscule trace of a person or vampire, every lint. Eric, possessing a much more developed sense, distinguished the smells of 3 different humans, 2 men and a woman. The men’s scents were quite common, old sweat and musk, though one possessed a certain flair, a more pleasing aroma. The woman’s smell was more pungent, a mix of, in Pam’s words, cheap fabricated roses, hairspray and old cigarettes. Though, a curious and entirely predictable odor was permeating and overwhelming the tiny space, coming not from the fetid stench of decay and human presence, but from meticulously placed Kerosene containers. The perpetrators, who had unknowingly forfeited their lives by even stepping into a resident vampire’s nest without permission, seemed to realize the magnitude of their misdeeds and were trying to conceal them as much as possible. A pointless effort really, even burned down the Sheriff would have recognized their scents and egregious crimes from within the house. After a few more minutes of double checking the empty residence, they came across Long-Shadow’s empty wallet and a cell phone, a newer model with a security check. Trying and failing to access the phone, they accepted defeat on this front and agreed to seek further aid back at the bar, knowing that whoever took Eddie possessed the credit cards and could potentially be traced.

On the way back, Eric made a list of all the things he would have to do, a short one to start with. He would need to call his moles, blood junkies well supplied and very loyal to him, to find out if any new product has been on the market, hire a new Lieutenant and bring in his old Captain to help keep their well-crafted and imposing image after the drainer news would be spread. Call Long-Shadow’s maker, deal with the straggler vampires in his territory, call his hacker for Eddie’s phone and the missing one and, finally, call his very discreet P.I. to investigate all the residents of every town in his area, with special attention being paid to Bon Temps for his lovely Jason. A very long night was waiting for him, not to mention the weasel in his basem*nt and his employer, the child queen. For tonight though, Compton would be left to his own rusted devices, he had much more important things to tend to.

Chapter 13: Long night at the office

Chapter Text

Hearing people’s thoughts for such a long time, 25 years of voices and images, affected Sookie in some strange ways, mostly towards developing personality flaws. Her confidence, for example, was determined by other people’s considerations, the women’s envious gazes and predictable thoughts, as well as the men’s lusty musings and ideas both disgusting and thrilling her. She was self-conscious about her appearance and personality one moment and resolutely secure the next, fluctuating every day and never finding balance. She kept telling herself that their opinions had no bearing on her attitude, but her seemingly bipolar mood shifts would beg to differ. Every day she would waver and sway, oscillating between confidence and insecurity, never truly finding herself, always perceiving her worth through other people’s skewed lenses and unknowingly acting like a puppet on a string for their perceptions.

Analyzing tonight’s vampire interactions, Sookie felt somewhat embarrassed. She knew, deep down, that she acted impulsively, being a people pleaser a moment and entirely rude the next, but she couldn’t halt her curiosity or personal interest. Not having any thoughts to go on, she tried everything to be liked, only to end up self-sabotaging into smitten schoolgirl cheekiness, well, more like brashness. For a moment, the young woman accepted her mistake, but only for a moment, quickly dismissing the thought and self-soothing. She had nothing to be ashamed of, after all, ‘They was in the wrong for being so stuck-up and unfriendly’. She had done nothing wrong, besides engage in cordial and open conversation, they were the problem. Repeating the sentence to herself over and over, she kept working, acting oblivious to the steady decline of the chosen words might until the end of her shift.

On the road home, her thoughts strayed to Bill again, from his dreamy eyes and sexy smirk to his strong hands and delicious muscles…and on and on. Her brain, sporadically, sent small reminders of his cruel behavior, flashes of his empty eyes and vacant smile, but it never landed with much fanfare, at no time reaching the spotlight in her mind’s eye and deterring her from slowly drifting towards him. Reaching her Gran’s house, she wanted to see him, to run to him, but her neurons were finally able to transmit a very damning mental picture to the forefront of her consciousness. Remembering the way his cold eyes lit up at the mention of killing one of the human donors traveling with the other vampires stopped her in her tracks, the fog lifting for a time, making her realize she should stay away. This clarity would not last long, but it was enough to push the confused girl into Gran’s old farmhouse and into her comfy bed.

‘How dare they?!’ were the most common phrases slamming down the Sheriff’s normally serene expression into one of pure hatred and rage. Some lowly humans dared kidnap and drain one of his vampires, the other one, Long-Shadow, courtesy of Ginger’s returned memory, no longer deserved his attention. Knowing that his trusted employee and enforcer had been the slithering thief all along would have made his mood even worse, were it not for his timely demise. Such an opportune favor would have granted the perpetrators a quick and painless death, but the meat sacks were as arrogant as they were human. Now, he focused on the ticking bomb of Eddy’s capture and imminent death, he needed to find these creatures and teach them the meaning of suffering, fast.

Consulting his list of revised priorities, the irate vampire was reminded of a certain nuisance, a pesky annoyance that over the years had become exasperating. Eric pitied, despised and was occasionally amused by young, entitled vampires, they were quite prevalent since the big reveal, the queen of Louisiana being a prime example. She was but a child compared to him, barely out of puberty and prodding at his patience. Being, in fact, an infant, she could not understand the word ‘no’, a simple appellation that evolved quite quickly into ‘bankrupt’. She insisted that she didn’t, in fact, lack the necessary funds to support her extravagant lifestyle and made her delusion reality through corrupt means. Mainly, forcing her Sheriffs to sell vampire blood and giving her 50% of the earnings, thus funding her increasingly exorbitant tastes. Eric, not wanting to occupy the position of King for many reasons, let the child keep her puny crown for many years, that is, until her latest money-making endeavor. Selling vampire blood, even as a vampire, was a grave offence punishable by the true death, not only for the vampire responsible, but for his childe. Now, Eric could evade capture and the AVL if he had to, but he would not endanger his progeny because of a little girl’s power trip and greediness. So, he made a show of ‘respecting’ her order and began gathering evidence, pictures, clips, testimonies and the like to present to the Magister. As a means to such an end, simply ripping her head off had crossed the Sheriff’s dark mind, but the monarchal succession responsibilities were tedious, so, employing the slithering creep’s services remained the only feasible option. As much as Eric despised the swine, he knew the vampire would have to side with him when the moment came.

Until then, he had to do her bidding and, loathe as he was, interact with the local ‘junkies’, that in this instance, were potentially useful… so he gave Pam their phone numbers and directed her conversations. The dazed yet fully conscious humans were, unfortunately, not aware of any new product and, after instructing them to be very vigilant, he commanded Pam to some other secretarial tasks, namely speaking to Long-Shadow’s maker, calling their best trusted hacker and procuring some tasty blood bags to enjoy when she was done.

Returning to his office chair to further ponder strategies, Eric was surprised to find a large stack of papers under his desk, though, after perusing their contents he understood the placement. Being a very strong and ancient vampire, he was perpetually bombarded with proposals, requests and CV’s from a variety of eager vampires, some of which caught his attention. A young, yet fierce, vampire with a lot of potential had sent in her letter of intention only a week ago, and to such a coveted spot, aiming to be a Captain at only 200. Eric, when first assessing the grave situation, wanted to re-employ Julia, his old Captain and longtime friend, but a calmer mind managed to focus on the improbability of her accepting such an offer. Remembering her long chestnut tresses, dark eyes and sinister smile made the Sheriff recall the bloody massacres left in her wake, the shrill sound of her laughter over the screams and the reason she had left his employ. Her brutal nature, though despised by many elder vampires for its conspicuousness, endeared her to Eric. The Sheriff would have loved to extend her contract, but the elusive vampire was quite fond of the southeastern portion of Europe, choosing to travel and, currently, spending time with her new progeny. Her memory further dowsed Eric’s conflagrating anger, making the Sheriff consider the promising young vampire’s bold request, attached to a lovely photo, alongside Chow’s expected appeal, also sitting neatly on his desk. The Korean man had been a loyal employee for more than 10 years and a ruthless adversary when needed. At 460 it was a true feat to be recognized by the Northman, an attribute that, along with his silent disposition bumped his request above all others.

Eric, still needing a Lieutenant, decided to call Alexandra, the young vampire, to an interview in a few night’s time. The timing and hurried conversation made her feel as though the Sheriff was desperate, maybe desperate enough to promote her to her initially chosen position, not knowing said position was, mere moments ago, occupied by Chow. The newly appointed Captain was entrusted to supervise the straggler vampires capture, Nicolette and Syrus now being under him, and oversee Compton’s lengthy visit.

After resolving most issues, the Sheriff phoned the P.I. to acquire his discreet services, his tone and briskness conveying the seriousness of the situation to the reliable human. While instructing the man to focus his investigation on the residents of Bon Temps, he remembered Compton’s file, and paid a separate fee for the Stackhouse family in general, and a double secrecy fee for Jason and his sister. He needed to know what they were. At first he considered them human, but Sookie’s puzzling abilities made him think that they could be some kind of other. His P.I.’s information was prompt, private and comprehensive, sometimes almost too thorough, but he never complained when the man exhausted every last bit of information about a certain subject. It usually gave him the edge he needed and, hopefully, it would in this case.

Knowing the investigation would be at a stalemate until Eddie’s phone was unlocked, the missing one tracked and the credit cards used, he relaxed in his office chair, indulging in some vintage wine, made that much sweeter by the fresh blood he always kept in his desk. After drinking the sewer swill that was a Tru Blood, his ‘homemade’ concoction tasted divine… at first. The blood infused wine slipped past his lips, engulfed his mouth and set his evolved taste-buds aflame, slowly transporting him to a relaxed and sated state of mind. But, as the elixir sat there on his tongue, slowly sliding down his throat, it gradually became akin to the horrendous beverage previously mentioned. Finishing his dinner, Eric was compelled to cleanse his palette, but surveying the sweaty crowd of interchangeably fowl smelling bodies only managed to revolt his senses even further, forcing him to wash his mouth out thoroughly before reoccupying his seat.

Pondering the reason for such a reaction to his preferred libation, Eric’s thoughts, as they usually did these nights, strayed to Jason. The luminous treasure that came into his death and reignited his curiosity, interest and want. The vampire Sheriff’s romantically worded musings of the boy were just as infectious in his absence as they were in his mouthwateringly candied presence. He would have him, he needed to have the gorgeously innocent yet sinful boy, though from his confusing signals he knew it would not be easy. Eric imagined that living in such a small southern town made the boy quite repressed, scared to accept his palpable attraction to other men and he… understood him. In his human days it was expected to be married and have children, same sex relationships were frowned upon, not punished, but still considered shameful and, in male’s cases, unmanly, so he respected the tradition. For many years, even after being turned, he never strayed, never took a male lover… not until Mihail. Having his people’s teachings ingrained in his brain, always steering in the ‘normal’ direction, after a while, awoke his natural rebelling spirit that navigated him in the young warrior’s path. After many nights of wild passion and sparring, Eric was bewitched by the glorious fighter and tempted to turn his fiery consort, but didn’t get the chance, his beloved dying before his eyes and before his time. From then on, Eric forcefully silenced his heart and hoarded his affection like a mighty dragon, daring any new suitor to try and reach it, before harshly burning their seeking hands.

Most distractions were forgotten mere minutes after meeting them. Lovers were informed of his lack of interest for more than just the carnal aspect of a relationship and discarded quickly after consummation, but even the few that caught his interest in a similar way to the lovely Jason could not compare to the boy. His exquisite and ethereal beauty, his melodic voice, his sweet demeanor and beautiful smile could not be ignored, they were so very enchanting and unique, only a fool would disregard them and the boy in general. Not to mention Jason’s delicious blood. Eric had not tasted even a small drop of it, but he was sure that if the boy’s captivating visage had not lured him, his delectable scent and aura would have.

Contemplating Jason’s potent and luscious aura drew thoughts into far more cunning and immoral corners of his mind, crafting somber images, contorting existing intentions and motivations. After a while in the looming darkness, a devious thought crept into his subconscious… although he did not consider the sister as appealing, her blood was just as, if not even better quality than her brother’s, not to mention her secret ability. It would be so very easy, almost effortless, to enslave the girl to him, a few flattering words here, a scattering of romantic gestures there and she would fall for his nice vampire persona, giving him access to a very rare supply of ‘wine’. The thought, amusing in its simplicity, did not last, Jason’s light reaching even the darkest crooks of his musings and stomping the sinister plan in its infancy. It would be easier, but much less satisfying, he reasoned… though his long dead heart did not agree, sending little jolts that did not register to the vampire’s mind. Eric could accept that he was infatuated with the boy, even after their very brief meeting, and wanted to make Jason his, but would not accredit his interest to anything more than surface level attraction towards a unique and delicious being. The dragon was still awake, just as strong and untamed as that day more than 200 years ago, though now, maybe the beast had loosened its hold, just a little, not enough to panic the stoic vampire, but enough to silently encourage a new slayer.

His musings were interrupted by his childe and new Captain, dragging in the 3, not 2, straggler vampires. Their less than presentable attires were expected, but the appearance of the youngest vampire was not. Bald headed, with tattoos and in Bon Temps when the first murder happened, the night was getting curiouser and curiouser. Though the incident was not vampire related, the youngling may have useful information, potentially leading to the actual murderer. Returning his gaze to the other 2, Eric waited for the right moment, for the familiar millisecond of recognition to pass through their frenzied eyes, before the delicious fear set in. ‘There’, the sad*stic Sheriff thought as their angry snarls and vicious thrashing seized, their presumed leader, a baby vampire Eric had met some time ago, realizing who the residing authority was… and quickly bowing. His companions were shocked by his sudden show of submissive reverence, but slowly mimicked his actions and averted their eyes.

Pam, before the captured trespassers could voice their objections or stupid explanations, came over to her maker’s side and informed him of their ‘extracurricular activities’, as well as their estimated time spent in his territory, all in old Swedish.

His childe’s findings surprised Eric, the 2 young vampires obviously did not know who he was or how precarious their current positions would be, but their leader did. Most Sheriffs were at least 400 years dead, a full century older than all of them combined, yet they dared disrespected him. Such blatant impertinence was akin to a challenge, though provoking older vampires as a youngling was considered brave, idiotic, but courageous nonetheless, these babes’ incitement was purely suicidal. ‘Did they think that by banding together they could somehow overpower me when their insolence was discovered?’ Eric thought, his mouth ticking up, consciously letting a grin escape his impassive expression as he approached the oldest one.

"Malcolm Beaumarchais, it has been some time… for you. I see you have met my progeny and Captain, would you care to take a guess as to their less than hospitable welcome?" Eric said, punctuating his question with an appropriate pop of an eyebrow.

The bound vampire leader tried to speak through the silver chains digging into his flesh, managing, after a while, to form a sentence: "Sheriff, sir, we were only… Ugh… passing by, we did not mean to stay long enough to warrant a formal greeting or permanent stay permission… I apologize if I… Augh… if we presented any affront to your authority, sir… I assure you it will not happen again and we will… be on our way if you see fit." Though young by vampire standards, the bound leader was not stupid enough to beg for release, knowing just how vicious such an elder vampire could be in the presence of weakness.

Eric’s irritation at the young vampires boldness and disrespect was mollified, somewhat, by the leader’s chosen words, especially when most vampires would be unable to speak coherently in such heavy silver chains… but the younglings crimes were not quite so petite, or as easily concealable as his meager apology suggested.

"Hmm, I do enjoy concise admissions of guilt, but feigned remorse and mock promises of betterment will not do you or your weak willed and foolish companions any favors…" Eric began, only to be interrupted by, frankly, comical displays of dominance by an irate, hissing woman wearing a 70’s inspired gold mini-dress and the muscular bald vampire, both struggling in their chains.

"Who you callin’ weak and stupid asshole?" screeched the disco diva as the bald vampire made the most pathetic fang display Eric had ever seen.

The Sheriff’s amusem*nt, showcased through the change in his previously composed bearing, quickly turned to a sneer as he addressed the vocal woman: "I realize that silver, while applied directly to the skin, severely exhausts and enfeebles a vampire, though I’ve never seen it affect the intellect so rapidly, even in hatchlings such as yourselves. I was referring to you darling, to all of you, weak, misguided and stupid little vampires, coming into my territory, not showing the proper etiquette and respect my position demands, delighting in pure debauchery and even killing humans without permission. Truly insolent behavior." Eric’s voice dipped with every word uttered, becoming almost a whisper, a hushed tone louder and more terrifying in the soundless room than a yell would ever be. The 3 captured vampires quickly lost all pretense, lowering their eyes in defeat and implied submission, hoping, but more to the case, asking for mercy through the pathetic showcase of docility.

Pleased, though not appeased, the Sheriff approached the bound group and stood for a minute, silent, until they gazed at his towering form yet again. Having their attention, the ancient vampire slowly released his imposing fangs, grinning widely at the now horrified vampires: "Now, what’s to be done about that?"

Chapter 14: And that's what you call a friend

Chapter Text

Curlers held tightly in what remained of her hair, lipstick and mascara still on in case someone came over and saw her, like it ever happened, and a number of snuffed cigarettes next to a cold bear was how Maxine greeted the day, usually. This particular day found the nosy woman rocking back and forth on her porch chair, hearing each squeak and groan of the old wood until even that miniscule sound aggravated her enough to stand and just stare at her pristine lawn.

In all her life, she had never been more eager, almost giddy, to share a rumor, yet simultaneously terrified of its fallout. Her mind was full of images of Jason and his mysterious man from that night, now analyzing every motion she had seen and remembering the man, now vampire’s actions. She was sure they were ‘together’ and knew, well she didn’t actually know, but to her it was as good as fact that they were the ones to kill those girls. After talking and prodding the police officers around town, she found out that Maudette and Dawn, God save them, had fang marks on them and that Jason was the last man seen with them, it was so obvious to her what happened: Jason, being as stupid as he’d always been, was seduced by that gorgeous, no, scary tall vamper from last night to scout out women for him to drain and kill.

… It was an outlandish notion, but very plausible to the lonely and bored woman. After a few silent hours of turning the idea inside out and not finding the massive holes in her own logic, she arrived to the conclusion that, it was her civic duty to at least inform the police of Jason’s association with the blonde vampire. If she sprinkled in some of her own considerations, maybe a suspicion or two to steer the detectives in the right direction, then it wasn’t gossiping, it was being a good citizen. Her heart gave a little jolt of pain and fear, knowing that one wrong step would make her baby pull away even more than he already did. After so many years of slowly distancing himself, she didn’t want to push him even further away, but she had to tell someone, after all, who knew what that ‘fanger’ had planned with dumber than a headless chicken Jason Stackhouse?

The creaky back door slamming shut, followed by a clumsy fall to the wooden floor barely stirred a sleeping Jason. After the many ups and downs of the last couple of days, he was comfortably numb and didn’t really react to the sudden wake-up tumble from the couch. Being so out of it, he attempted a continuation of his very relaxed state of mind on the cool floor, stretching out and trying to grab the fallen pillow, until his Gran walked in, opened the curtains and blinded Jason into full consciousness. Sitting up, hair rumpled and slow blinking, he remembered that he had a shift to get to in the afternoon, it was already 11AM and he needed to wake up. A good old cold rinse and a steaming shower later, he changed, had breakfast, more like lunch, and was on his way out. Just as his hand left the doorknob, he knew he had to give his Gran a crushing hug and a kiss before going, so he came back into the kitchen, where he saw a tired looking Sookie munching away. His sister hadn’t even opened her eyes yet, hair in a similarly tangled heap and pajamas still on. After embracing his Gran, Jason thought about hugging his sister, but, knowing she wouldn’t even recognize him until she had a few cups of coffee, he just gave her a small kiss on the head and ran out to his truck.

After picking up Lafayette, he went over to Hoyt’s place, who was waiting for them on his porch, as he always did. Seeing their friend healthy and in one piece, Jason wanted to ask why he’d just up and vanished the other day, but Lafayette beat him to it: "Bubba, where’s you’s been yesterday? We’s searched fo’ your big ass all over this motherf*cker and ain’t found you’s." Hoyt remained quiet, his sad expression turning into one of anger the longer the silence stretched, until he calmed down enough to say: "Man, Jason, we’s need to talk, pull over to that bench, we’s got some time ‘fore work start."

Jason, not really seeing his friend’s expression, just thought that something had happened with his mom. Lord knows nobody would shed a tear if that lady mysteriously died one day, but she was still Hoyt’s mother, so he pulled over to a lonely picnic table set in the middle of nowhere. The three friends sat down on old and slightly damp benches, leaning on the table carved from one of the nearby trees, a sapling from the oak currently lending them its shade and looked over at Hoyt.

The gentle giant kept his head down, thinking about what to say, or how to say it to Jason, until he realized there was no way to word his mother’s viciousness into something resembling polite conversation, so he just said: "My momma’s seen you the night ‘fore yesterday with what I think is that vampire Sheriff outside you’s house. She said that cuz he was, um, kissin’ your hand, you’s two are… sh*t man, this is so f*ckin’ hard to say… She saiz you’s are gay lovers and that… the both of you’s been killin’ them girls."

Finally looking up, he saw the puzzled looks on his friend’s faces change, Lafayette’s turning to rage and Jason’s to sadness, so he continued, hoping to ease the situation: "Now, I’s know it ain’t true, you’s not guilty of any of this sh*t, but you’s know how ma momma is, she’s gonna spread this ‘round faster than fleas on mutts and pretty soon, even them cops is gonna hear ‘bout it. I’m real sorry man, I tried talkin’ to’er, even said if she does say somethin’ I ain’t gonna talk to’er no more, but it’s just a matter of time."

"Bubba, you’s better keep yo’ sad excuse of a momma in check real fast, cuz is she gets Jason in any more sh*t wit’ this ridiculous bullsh*t, she ain’t got to worry ‘bout what you’s gonnna do to’er…" Lafayette said, standing up to get in the truck and find the older woman, before Jason stopped him.

Grasping Lafayette’s arm, Jason convinced his friend to stop, all while not uttering a single word. Seeing the serious expression on his face, the friends all took their original seats, waiting to hear his opinion, idea, something. The boy kept watching the grooves, spirals and stains that covered the old table, nature’s design prevailing humanities crude handling giving him a small modicum of hope in the face of such revelations.

His body was completely still, rigid like a freshly turned statue, desperately trying to control the sinking feeling in his belly. Throat closing up, hands shaking and vision going white were the sensations he was expecting, not the emotional onslaught trying to destroy what was left of his already fragile mental state. He could feel his conscience trying to rearrange every thought and feeling he had, striving to protect at least some parts of his memory and self from imploding. After a few minutes of silence, of getting used to the tornado of conflicting emotions, he no longer knew what to feel. Should he be mad, angry, shocked and outraged? Most people would be, getting ‘outed’, even through such an absurd rumor, was horrible. Not controlling who knew about his true orientation, not being able to decide for himself when to speak about it, seeing the town’s predictably bad reaction to finding out their good Christian southern boy liked men, was truly appalling… and yet the anger never came.

Jason wasn’t happy, he knew that much, but the tangled web of feelings his head was striving to process and quantify did not spell out the familiar sentiment of rage, it mostly whispered a very different emotion. The tiny sound reverberated inside the boy’s mind, opening up a well of deep sadness and grief, a place where Jason had, unknowingly placed every betrayal suffered throughout his life, a reservoir that spilled over into his entire being in that moment.

He hadn’t questioned the townspeople’s reactions following his accident, accepting the distant, sometimes cruel, treatment. He hadn’t realized back then that their resentful disappointment was very inappropriate considering their distant affiliation to him and his family, he just took it. He took their fowl words and nasty behaviors that seeped through the thin walls of his hospital room, tuning them out while desperately reigning in his emotions, trying not to break down after such a devastating, life-changing moment. The sorrow of his future dying in front of his very eyes was more painful than anything they could have said at that moment, but it didn’t last long. Not wanting to gaze into the abyss that used to be his golden destiny after a full physical recovery, he focused on something outside of his own feelings, doing everything he could to turn the people’s disappointment around, to regain their acceptance, subconsciously equating it to his own value in life. When his good deeds and chores turned to sexual services, he conformed just as easily, satisfying their needs while struggling to suppress his own… And now, everything would repeat all over again…

Before he could spiral any further, a hand grasped his forearm, grounding him. He didn’t look up, just kept watching the table, feeling the warmth seep into his skin, unwittingly soothing his frayed nerves… when realization struck. This rumor, as stupid as it was, gave him a unique opportunity. A chance not many people got to exploit in their lifetime, to be able to see people’s true faces, to hear their actual thoughts on the situation and know who was going to be there for him and who was not. Being a famous ladies’ man, most people wouldn’t believe he liked men, but even while doubting the ridiculous rumor, they would still voice their opinion on hom*osexuality and its association with Jason, telling him everything he needed to know. And those who did believe it, who thought the rumor was true and avoided, mocked or were cruel to him would obviously reveal themselves too.

Looking up and seeing his friend’s worried expressions made him smile, made the hurricane of clashing thoughts and feelings slowly smooth out into a tepid storm. He no longer was that stupid little kid that needed acceptance so badly that he essentially transformed himself into a slave for other people’s sake. Jason was done trying to please and conform to what essentially strangers wanted him to be. He wasn’t ok with the circ*mstances of revealing his sexuality, the whole situation was just awful, but he had them, his true friends. They would never treat him any differently if they knew, how could they when Lafayette was openly gay, had been for the past 10 years, and Hoyt was still his old friendly self to him? Jason wanted to ease their minds, to tell them he was going to be ok, but he also wanted to be real with them... the whole town would hear of his not so very straight tendencies in the near future, may as well let them know first… let them know the truth.

"Guys, it’s…ok, well, really, it ain’t… I’m not ok, don’t think I’ll be ok for a while, but… people been talkin’ ‘bout me anyway, that train’s been sailin’ since the first murder happen’. I hoped this sh*t pile wouldn’t be getting’ any bigger, but where there’s a will, there’s a way… I knew as soon as another stupid gossip hit the town, everybody and they’s momma would be talkin’ about it and forgettin’ all ‘bout me, but it’s just ma luck that this rumor be about me too, huh?"

Jason stopped talking for a bit, trying to keep the sadness at his own misfortune at bay, but the boy’s anguish was just as blinding as his aura, enveloping his friends and bringing forth similar strained expressions.

"Let’em talk… my real friends and family’ll know the truth and be there for me, like you’s guys been." He knew this was the moment, he didn’t want it to be, he wanted his own brain to ignore his attraction to the same sex, but after so many years of denying it, of avoiding any relatively attractive man and being scared everyday of people finding out and shunning him, he would tell them, finally.

Jason wanted to look his friends in the eyes, he did, but there was still some insecurity, a tiny voice in his head telling him they would feel betrayed, that they’d leave and not be his friends anymore, but Jason was done listening to it:

"The rumor, it ain’t all lies… I mean, I ain’t kill nobody and Eric, I mean the Sheriff, ain’t done nothin’ to them girls either, but he did kiss my hand and I… I liked it, a lot."

After a few more deep breaths, Jason clenched his fists and continued: "I like women… but I… I also like men, always did, just didn’t… couldn’t really accept it. On some stupid level I still can’t and… knowin’ that the whole town’ll hear ‘bout it… it scares the sh*t outta me…"

And now came the saddest part, the most painful in Jason’s eyes: "But they’s won’t believe it. I almost want them to, just to be over the whole f*ckin’ thing, because I can already picture it, me walkin’ into Merlotte’s and them sayin’ that I ain’t no… no ‘fa*ggot’, that I could never be ‘one of them’, that they’re proud I ain’t one… I’ll hav’ta hear they’s stupid jokes and nod and pretend to agree that I ain’t never be ‘that’ when…" Jason felt his eyes water and his throat constrict painfully, but, knowing he’d never be able to continue if he stopped, the boy sucked in a harsh breath and kept going, not looking up. "I just wanted you’s guys to know… I’ve wanted to tell ya’ll for such a long time, it’s just… It’s so much easier when you’s bi to go with girls… nobody there to laugh at ya or… or look at you like you’s… like you’re disgusting just for likin’ them…"

A lonely tear slid down Jason’s cheek, but he didn’t want to acknowledge it, instead looking up at his friend, who looked as pained as he felt: "Lafayette, man I really respect ya for always beein’ who you are, not lettin’ people tear you down and pushin’ on forward… I don’t think I’s ever gonna be that comfortable… so I didn’t say nothin’…"

The small amount of confidence he had to look his friend in the eye died just as quickly as it had appeared, and, looking down, he moved on, trying to say what he needed to, what he could utter before a full sob escaped and he died of embarrassment: "I wanted to take it to ma’ grave, but it was eatin’ me up inside more and more every day… and now, now I’m almost grateful that I’m here, finally tellin’ somebody, I just hope you’s still here listenin’… I wouldn’t know what I’d do if ya’ll left me now…" Sucking in another harsh breath and barely keeping his tears at bay, Jason slowly raised his gaze, catching his friend’s weird happy sad expression, tears in his eyes and smiling like the cat that caught the canary.

"Jason baby, it’s about damn time, I’ve always felt there is some more to’ya than just that sexy ass, but I didn’t wanna confuse ya more than you’s already was. I ain’t ever gonna discriminate against ya, it’d be just f*ckin’ ridiculous, a black gay man livin’ in the south not acceptin’ you’s cuz of your sexuality, Lawd have mercy. You’s know I’mma be ‘ere bitch, whenever you’s need me, to talk, to give ya some advice and beat any motherf*cker tryin’ ta harass you’s pretty ass." Lafayette said, smiling towards his distressed friend, before adopting a more serious expression: "But seriously, I’mma always be wit’cha when you’s need it baby, I know how sh*tty it is to be forced to confront them ugly truths, it’s easy to conform, ‘specially in this po-dunk town, but you’s need to be you, even if it ain’t to people’s likin’, after all, who’s happiness matters? Yours, or them nasty bitches drinkin’ downtown who wouldn’t give a flyin’ shiiieeaattt if you’s die tomorrow, maybe even celebrate?"

Lafayette’s funny speech and kind heartfelt words touched Jason, giving his perspective a much-needed push towards not caring at all what the townspeople thought of him. He expected his gay friend to understand and was not disappointed, now it was just Hoyt.

His oldest friend looked at him with such sadness, hope and fundamental conviction: "Jason, man, your ma’ best friend, since first grade and that ain’t ever gonna change, no matter who you’s like. I ain’t leavin’ you now cuz there’s some sh*t in the road, I’mma be there whit’cha, shovelin’ it away best I can, whe’s gonna be there for ya through thick and thin and Gran’s gravy, always!" The big lug couldn’t keep from hugging his oldest friend, he was so happy that Jason had trusted him with so much, with his truth after such a long time of denying it, he was only mad at the circ*mstances and the familial involvement. He would need to speak to his mother again and remind her of the consequences of her present and future actions, hoping to deter her from slandering his friend any further.

The hug turned into a group one, the guys smothering Jason with love and warmth, too much warmth on a summer day in fact, Jason ending the moment with a few stray tears and a quiet "Thanks guys.". People say they can’t believe the positive outcome of a sh*tty situation, but in this case, Jason could believe it, he knew they’d accept and support him, but it was still amazing to finally voice his truth and hear, see and feel their encouragement and understanding. Feeling so much better, a new bolder risen from his crumbling foundation, he suggested getting some non-alcoholic beers before work. The guys were up for it, getting up to head to the truck, before Hoyt remembered bringing his cooler with him, which had 10 cold ones already inside. Sitting down on the worn benches yet again, drinking their bears in silence, they heard the faint sound of the radio playing a familiar song, a catchy tune that the boys could not help but sing along to:

‘When the good times roll, count your friends

When the chips are down count again

There's just a precious few

Who'll be standing there with you at the end

And that's what you call a friend.’

Lafayette, being all about friendship and none about country songs, pulled up his iPod, cued up some Riri and joined in, singing Umbrella of-key and making them all laugh.

Chapter 15: Slice of (after)Life

Chapter Text

The sun's rays glistened off Sookie's tanned skin, warming her from within and calming her thoughts as she sat in her Gran's garden. Any stressful concerns were quickly dismissed in such moments, allowing her to be alone with herself, without the influence or considerations of others.

Well, almost all concerns, Bill's image still lingered in her mind, now more than ever following last night's dream. It began like any other, with them making passionate love in her bed. It wasn’t the sensual part that made her nervous, it was what Bill did after, when they were cuddling. He had gone from a relaxed comfortable weight at her back to a heavy statue, leaning on her soft body, slowly suffocating her and looking down at her with sheer terror in his eyes. His lips were moving, desperately trying to form words that she could not hear, could not understand, and then, she woke up. Sookie didn’t know what prompted dream Bill to disrupt their romantic moment in such a frightening way, but a very uneasy and strange feeling kept nagging at her every time she recalled the crippling fear in his eyes.

Not wanting to dwell on a silly dream, she returned to sunbathing, a relaxing activity that soon transitioned into boredom. Her body’s self-imposed stillness was making Sookie twitch and squirm with nothing to do, so, she got up, retrieved one of her favorite romance novels and an iced tea from the old house before returning to her seat. The mighty oak her great grandfather had planted more than a century before her birth provided plenty of shade, which Sookie used to her advantage, shielding her face from the warm caress of the star while reading. From time to time, the leaves would shift in the breeze allowing some light to protrude and distract her, though she didn’t mind. The mingling of the familiar radiance with the skin on her face and fingers delighted her for unknown reasons, and, as she played with the trickle of light bleeding through the foliage, another glow appeared, this luminosity having a different source than the mighty orb. Not noticing the shift, the prickling of her own skin or the additional amount of light, Sookie continued her reading, enjoying the heroine’s struggle to find the truth.

Arriving to work was easier than Jason expected, with Lafayette, Hoyt and now René backing him up, the boy had no trouble getting to his station, putting on the safety equipment and doing his job in peace. He could still hear the hushed conversations, the not so very subtle revolted looks and the occasional muffled insult, but he didn’t really care, these people had turned on him faster than a bull on a red painted matador, why care? The answer, many long years of caring, of thinking these people loved him and would stick by him, only to be proven wrong and having to now rewire his brain to not feel sad, or angry or betrayed by their reactions and to not blame himself. It was a difficult task, which Jason tackled with the tactical knowledge of a very well-trained quarterback, pushing against it until the last hinge gave in. He still had a ways to go, their attitudes and harsh words getting to him after a while even with his friend’s support, but he soldiered on, reminding himself who’s opinion counted and who was full of sh*t.

After a few hours, they had their lunch break, the crew ordering some takeout and not inviting Jason’s group to dine with them, effectively reinforcing their stupidity. The guys, not wasting time on their coworker’s coldness, decided to dine, yet again, at Merlotte’s. Jason wanted to refuse, knowing Maxine’s rumor could already be underway, but he remembered Sam and Tara’s support from before and decided to face his fears. No use hiding now, he had to interact with these people at some point, better it be on his terms, flanked by people who supported him and with his head held high, than cornered by a flock of old ladies in the supermarket when he did his next grocery run.

Walking in, Jason answered any curious eyes with a challenging look of his own, only to be deemed as uninteresting and dismissed seconds later. Baffled, Jason and his friends occupied a booth in the back, all of them looking around for something that could be more entertaining than a suddenly gay Jason 3-girls-a-night Stackhouse… and finding none. René, not knowing about Jason’s sexuality or the impending rumor regarding it, was just as baffled by the inconspicuous welcome shown to the perceived serial strangler of Bon Temps. The crowd’s apathy was quite strange, but after a few tense seconds, the crew focused on the small restaurant’s menu.

Sitting quietly at the table’s edge, Hoyt was able to hear a soft voice whispering about his mother, something about police and the drunk tank. A sinking feeling came over the large man who easily envisioned his mother coming into the station, causing a scene while drunk and getting herself arrested. It wasn’t an unusual event, but he hoped it had nothing to do with his friend. Getting up, he asked Jason if he could borrow his truck, giving the excuse of forgetting something back at his place and promising to bring it back before lunch was out. Jason, not hearing the stress in his friend’s voice, gave him his keys with no further questions and went back to perusing the menu. He delighted at the new burger being advertised, only to be steered away from it moments later by the establishment’s part-time cook. Just as René was about to raise his hand and signal Arlene, the new waitress came to take their orders. Her fake smile and lust filled eyes disturbed Jason, making him order the first thing he could think of and retiring his gaze to the stained window until his other friends were finished.

René, seeing Jason’s dismissal of the pretty waitress, questioned the young man in the most appropriate manner: "Yo, Stackhouse, you’s ain’t gonna give that honey the time o’day? She done prettier than all you’s old lays an’, from what I’s gather, interested in you’s."

"Man, after what happened to me in the last 5 days alone, I ain’t gonna be givin’ nobody the time of day or night, she’s nice and pretty and all that, but I ain’t interested in what I know she wants from me right now." Although René was a friend, he was closer to the term acquaintance than pal, so Jason didn’t get into his newly changed mentality concerning relationships and his emerging sexuality, giving him a good, though not encompassing, answer. Easily accepting Jason’s excuse, René continued the conversation, stirring it into lighter waters and discussing the newest football game and the chances of their team winning.

Tara was working when Jason’s group entered the restaurant, giving her another chance to observe her secret crush, to admire his perfect physique and, well, maybe just his body, even she could admit that it was his greatest asset, as he walked by her. She kept gazing at him and would have gladly done just that for the rest of her shift, were it not for the customer’s orders and Lafayette’s condescending smirk. Her cousin knew about her infatuation with his friend and had tried to help, but Jason was either really thick when it came to her specifically, or was trying to avoid an awkward rejection… and neither of those things reassured Tara. Thinking about her cousin made the young woman remember her aunt, her bedridden aunt that needed money for the hospital she was currently residing in, so she called Lafayette over, intent on discussing payment options.

René, like any other person, was quite curious about Jason’s recent bumps with the law, after all, when the ‘town dummy’ talks himself out of police custody it’s bound to raise some eyebrows. When Lafayette got up from the booth, leaving them alone, René seized the opportunity to ask some questions: "So Jason man, how’s you got outta them police’s clutches? I hear you’s been slicker than a greased up liftgate hinge when talkin’ to them pigs."

Jason didn’t really want to talk about his current situation, but he understood his friend’s curiosity, so he told him the gist of it, broad strokes of the brush that didn’t really paint the whole picture, just enough to see the view. René was very insistent though, grilling him about what the police knew, what they suspected and if they thought that a vampire had done it. Jason was becoming increasingly more uncomfortable and tried to change the subject, but the man didn’t let up, not until the actual ‘pigs’ entered.

Andy’s distinct gut walked in, dragging the balding older man into the roadhouse with it. Jason made the mistake of looking up and catching the officer’s eye, seemingly constipated expression in place as usual. He knew Andy would find him sooner or later and consoled himself that, at least it was in a restaurant while clothed and not outside his house in his Spider-man undies while at gunpoint. The ‘Detective’ walked towards their table with the gait and confidence of a much better man, wanting nothing more than to be respected, when his manners demanded the exact opposite, and stopped in front of their table, right next to Jason.

Andy enjoyed the view, mighty Jason Stackhouse looking up at him with what he considered fear, not being able to differentiate between the primal emotion and a more complex one such as contempt. "Well well, Stackhouse, enjoying the day? Nice weather?"

Jason really didn’t have the patience for Andy, he never did, but after his arrest he needed to project some level of kindness and respect in the hopes of a real investigation, loathe as he was at the mere interaction: "Hey man, yea, it’s a nice day an’ all, how’s you fairin’?"

Andy chuckled, preparing himself for what he needed to say: "Alright, let’s cut the sh*t, you’s know I ain’t like ya, but I… I hafta apologize… ‘bout how we handled your arrest. It was unprofessional and I hope it didn’t affect ya in the long run."

Jason was stunned, he expected another barrage of accusations, getting arrested or even shot before an apology from the town’s self-inflated officer. His brain shut down for a few seconds, booting back up at Andy’s increasingly angry expression: "Yea… um, it’s ok, my life’s not been a picnic since but… I don’t blame ya… I woulda’ve probably arrested myself too with how many coincidences done happened."

Andy inclined his head, shook Jason’s hand with a small "No hard feelings" and walked away. Jason was still shocked, staring off into space and not noticing René’s similar bewildered look. Lafayette’s return, waitress and hot food in tow, caught both men’s attention. René thanked the waitress and began eating, stealing glances at a certain person between bites.

Hoyt couldn’t believe his mother. To start a vicious rumor about his friend was one thing, but to actually go to the police station intoxicated and demand to have him arrested based on pure hearsay was on a completely different planet of absurdity and capsized morality. He didn’t know what to say to her, what to do, he didn’t even want to look at the disheveled mess that was his parent. With her smeared makeup, wrinkled blouse and curled hair sticking out in every direction, she looked as crazy as she sounded, more akin to a drunk college girl at a frat house than a respected housewife.

Maxine, seemingly sharing the same sentiment, followed her son out of the police station and into Jason’s truck without uttering a word, until she realized who’s car she was sitting in: "Oh my good God, this ain’t that Stackhouse boy’s car is it? Oh, maybe he done killed some girl in ‘ere, now we’s accomplices if they’s ever get them’s heads outta their asses and charge that sick boy already!"

He really wanted to just get her home and drive away, intent on having this discussion at a later time, maybe tonight after work, but no, she just had to say that: "Listen ‘ere you, my best friend, the boy you used to care for, feed and love all his life until just a few days ago has been accused of murder, insulted and shunned by almost everybody in town… and you care more ‘bout spreadin’ some stupid rumor than his peace of mind and safety. I don’t know you anymore… and I don’t know if we’s ever gonna be close again, but I’m tellin’ you, right now you’s still got a chance. If you’s stay outta this sh*t and mind yo business until they catch the real murderer we can still have a relationship, if not, you’s got yourself to blame for what happens."

Without another glance, Hoyt opened the door and left his mom back at her place. She wanted to argue, to tell him why she was so determined to tell the people around about Jason and the real threat he could bring, but he didn’t give her the chance. She watched him go, resentment almost shooting out of his ears like steam. Inside her disheveled home, she looked into the hallway mirror, saw her own matching state and… cried. Fat tears spilled down her rounded cheeks, smearing her makeup even further, as she thought about what to do. She still felt some form of affection for her son’s oldest and dumbest friend, how could she not? After so many years of watching him grow up, of seeing him play with her baby Hoyt and listening to his laugh… but her actions were noble, at least in her mind. More girls were going to get hurt because of her inaction, she couldn’t let that happen… but she could tell that her baby was serious, he would never speak to her again if she went in half-co*cked. Drying up her tears, she didn’t try to make herself presentable and just climbed into bed, managing to fall asleep with the resolution that she would wait before doing anything again.

After an awkward lunch, Hoyt’s hasty return, the dramatic news about his mother’s actions and another afternoon full of side-eyed contempt and muttered slander in the blaring heat, Jason was exhausted. Entering his cool house on such a hot summer day managed to keep him sufficiently alert to realize just how filthy it was. He wanted to clean it up, but couldn’t muster up even an ounce of determination, so he showered, ate some plain toast with a gallon of water and fell into bed. As soon as his head hit the pillow he was out, but not before a certain blonde, blue-eyed hunk’s face flashed in his mind’s eye, making him smile just a tiny bit.

While Jason slept, said vampire conducted business. Following a routine torture session, he managed to extract every detail concerning the straggler vampire’s presence in his area. Nothing more than passing through they said, such stupid resistance was amusing, even somewhat admirable, at least for the first few minutes, then it became annoying, prompting more grizzly practices. When blood and limbs started decorating the macabre basem*nt, it came back around to amusing, especially with the youngest one’s confession.

Eric’s first observation of said bald-headed youngling gave the Sheriff high hopes of resolving sweet Jason’s predicament, but the pathetic excuse of a vampire begging for his life possessed more hair than crucial information, at least pertaining to his boy. Useless as he was in solving the murder-mystery of Bon Temps, his weak resistance to torture resulted in a very interesting piece of insight, the feeble vampire yelling out a name, a name that caught Pam’s and Compton’s attention immediately.

"Why Bill what a surprise, who knew Lorena still had such a soft spot for you after all these years? Oh yes, everyone did, does, I’m surprised the milk companies haven’t printed your picture on a carton yet, under a ‘Return to owner’ bold title."

The mocking comment awoke Bill’s male pride, what was left of it, resulting in a shaky growl. Smirking, Eric continued: "She has become quite desperate as of late, what with all the cold shoulder treatment and all, still, why would she seek your little group’s assistance in sniffing out dear Billy boy here?"

The Sheriff waited for a response, when none came, he pressed the heel of his boot into the now disheveled vampire woman’s shin, not stopping until a splintering crack and crunch could be heard over her screams. "Most nights I appreciate silent company, but when I ask a question, I expect it to be answered. Now, I also hate repeating myself, so I suggest this be the last time you test my patience and speak." The Sheriff’s normally calm tone transitioned to a more vicious snarl, a cadence resembling the demon viking of old, at the end of his sentence, prompting the leader to hastily respond: "She didn’t hire us specifically, she promised any vampire money for information on Bill Compton. So, we thought about coming to where Diane knew he used to live. We were going to call about him when your, um, progeny found us."

A pained whine could be heard from the direction of said surveillanced vampire, a pitiful sound to accompany the equally miserable creature. Eric had heard of his maker’s obsession, most vampires had, but couldn’t muster up any sympathy for the leach. Although Lorena hadn’t been informed of his presence, it was only a matter of time before she arrived, magister in tow to demand poor little Bill’s release. Eric needed to decide what to do with said prisoner, fast, but before he could afford the situation any more thought, Chow appeared bearing news: "Sheriff, please excuse the interruption, but the Lieutenant candidates have arrived."

He had almost forgotten about the interviews scheduled for the night, 3 in total and as tedious as ever. He could send Pam, but he needed to appraise these potential subordinates himself after Long-Shadow’s betrayal. Climbing up the stairs, Eric left Pam in charge of their ‘guests’ care.

At precisely the same time of night, in the heart of Bon Temps a certain weasel was conducting his own business, alongside his recently sourced lover and partner.

"How much product we’s got?’ the vile man asked, not acknowledging the suffering vampire tied in silver at his feet.

"Enough to tie up some loose ends, but we’re gonna need more, and soon. Don’t think this one’s gonna last the week." The woman answered, looking towards the silent creature wheezing and shivering on the cold concrete. She didn’t hate vampires, not really, but she needed the blood, she needed to feel, to smell and see the world in technicolor, whatever it took. So, she bound the innocent looking fanger to the sturdiest pipe with pure silver, forcing herself to see a monster, not the youth pastor lookalike that begged for mercy, only to realize there was none to be found in his captors.

The pleading had stopped after a few days, replaced by sad resignation and purposeful silence. Eddie knew he would most likely die in their dirty basem*nt before the cavalry arrived, if his Sheriff ever found him at all. He kept quiet most of the time, trying to conserve his depleting energy while conversing with the only being that was still with him, at least in spirit, God. He reminisced on his life, the sad turn of it into death and the continuation of said uninspired and lonely life after, wondering on the what ifs of every interaction, every choice and word uttered. He didn’t ask why he was here, if he deserved this torture, he did not plead, or beg, or try to make some sort of deal with the Almighty if he was freed, he just thought. About the happiest moments he could remember, about his family and friends, about his long-lost puppy Sniffer, about the only good thing to result from his death, meeting Lafayette, and the few tender moments shared with the gorgeous man before the pain of the chains and his bleak reality set in.

Finishing any business talk with the young woman, the putrid mesh of a human male ingested some blood and, leering, suggested on burning up the drug in bed. The junkies moved towards the stairs, intent on leaving the bound vampire to suffer in the dark, but not before kicking him in the ribs, just to hear him squirm and try to hold in the screams. Laughing maniacally, they turned off the light and left, leaving Eddie alone with his thoughts.

Being in constant pain afforded the vampire little sleep, but after losing so much blood, he almost welcomed the dark embrace of unconsciousness he came to wish was the true death. Before sliding into blissfully painless nothingness, he dared ask God one question: ‘Why he was considered a monster, when such cruel people walked the earth, bathed in the light of their own perceived righteousness, untouched by their own atrocities and unseen by the law?’ He could try to answer his own query, but the truth didn’t really matter, it wasn’t going to save him from the slow death creeping ever closer. Embracing the dark abyss of sleep, Eddie let go, wishing, hoping it were the last time he saw the grey tinge of the basem*nt’s floor.

Chapter 16: Shadows filled with surety

Chapter Text

The copious amounts of stress, confusion, sadness and sheer bone-tired exhaustion of the last day alone contributed heavily to Jason oversleeping, until a sneaky streak of light beamed straight into his line of sight. From the moment his eyelids slid open, Jason knew there was no going back to sleep, once awake he was awake, at least during the day. With no work scheduled, he thought about lazing around in bed, but of course his stomach chose that moment to remind him of its presence and synchronous emptiness. Getting up, somewhat lucid, he almost bumped into the bedside dresser before steadying himself, visualizing his goal and trudging on towards the kitchen … and colliding into the doorframe. He was awake alright, just not conscious.

The imposing fridge taking up most of the kitchen space, older than Gran herself, was, yet again, sitting mostly empty, almost mocking him with its sparsity. Jason inspected the few products he had, thinking of doing some shopping, but with such a thought came the reminder of his recent bout of depression…

Hoyt’s mother and her stunt at the police station, winning gold in the race against the truth, all in the name of trying to ‘keep people safe from him’. Jason scoffed, though still hurt by her undertaking, he knew this would happen, after all, he knew the woman, had known her his whole life. She was like a seasoned RPG player running a speed-run in a linear style game, not listening to the conversations or the story, just checking out quest boxes as quickly as possible and making the fastest choices, regardless of NPC, story or world consequences until she won. He could almost picture her latest objectives: Appear just and conscious while spreading unsubstantiated rumors about Jason, Engage sad*stic game of broken telephone with the town’s gullibly unquestioning population to incubate said allegations, her quest ending in his lengthy stay at good old LSP, or Louisiana State Penitentiary.

Short, simple aims Jason could easily envision and fear, though could not change nor appeal. Depressive mindset now fully engaged, the boy reconsidered leaving one of his few remaining safe spaces, his house, choosing instead to munch on a pitiful PB&J sandwich, a banana and some orange juice.

Sad breakfast and shower done, Jason dressed in his comfortable green shorts, an old white, more Jackson Pollock than white, paint-stained t-shirt and some boots, intent on relaxing outside with one item that never ran out, beer. Keeping a few cases in the garage freezer guaranteed their presence and preferred temperature. Getting his beers, Jason remarked an odd red shape sitting at the back of some boxes and, with nothing to do, reached for it, only to discover one of Sookie’s tanning lounges. The chair was in fair shape and, with the somewhat good weather, nice clean smell of wet grass and nature sounds coming from his backyard, he set it up.

It wasn’t the most comfortable seat, but Jason couldn’t care less, he wanted to relax, let go of the mountain of stress suffocating him at every breath, at every fleeting thought regarding Maxine, the investigation and the still at-large killer stalking him, comfortable lounge or not.

After a few hours of mindless repose, Jason heard the sound of a child laughing in the distance. It was faint, but notable, the joyous noise triggering a memory… a cheerful evocation of his past depicting simpler times filed with fun and games by his best friend’s side. He remembered playing terrible football and cheating at cards, making that rickety fort by old man Nash’s yard that, for some reason, still held up to this day, sneaking out to play pranks on their other friends and so much more.

Such golden-bathed reminiscences managed, for a time, to skirt around the other milestones in Jason’s life, mostly due to their negative associations… until they couldn’t anymore. At some point, this skip down memory lane darkened, stretched and twisted beyond reason, arriving at an unescapable crossroads. Both selectable choices were as dark as his current situation, though just as magnetic as Jason’s need to blame himself for their existence. Unable to stop himself, Jason somehow walked down both paths, distorting the innocent and joyful dreamscape of his childhood with barely suppressed recollections of despair, crashing down everything around him. He remembered Jane and that horrible day in the small room, he remembered his dad’s dismissive words towards his abuse, the fear and hopelessness of the situation and, finally, his accident, the culmination of a barely suppressed horde of trauma…

How many times had he wished to erase these experiences from his mind, how many? Just how many continuous hours had he prayed to forget, only to now wish he had never asked? The saying, ‘Be careful what you wish for!’ is truer than anything else to Jason, now that such horrible events no longer seem to occupy his top 5 worst moments. Those coveted spots being easily replaced by his murder accusation, consequent framing, public crucifixion and, most recently, being on the cusp of a forced outing and soon to be arrested for a crime he did not commit.

Similar dark musings kept Jason seated in the increasingly confining lounge, his mind simultaneously attacker and hostage of his own ouroboros thoughts… leashing every single crumb of focus towards the futile battle… and caging his body in a semi-catatonic state…

Through nebulous imaginings, nine concentric circles of torment and somber conclusions, an unexpected ray of actual sunshine managed to crack the thinker’s statuesque modern positioning, raising the boy from his own damned seating like Beatrice from Inferno.

Jason didn’t look back at the lounge, didn’t get his still cold beer from its seemingly banal hold, he left. Briskly, the boy hurried inside, somehow expecting the building itself to protect him from the latest threat to his well-being, from an unescapable foe, his own mind. Reaching the welcoming cool of perceived safety, he relaxed, allowing the despair to slither and cloy around and away from his form… for now.

After a few minutes of deep breathing, Jason needed a distraction, he needed something to do to occupy his mind, or body, before those slimy dark thoughts could ambush him yet again.

Looking around the room, the boy noticed its less than pristine state, accentuated by rumpled sheets, unchanged for the better part of a week, dirty floors, tabletops and general disarray. Though not the most pleasant picture, these sights depressed and motivated him in the same breath. He took of his now sweaty clothes, put them in the dirty pile and, now in just his underwear, started cleaning up.

Three hours of tedious chores later, he felt like Max from How the Grinch stole Christmas towing the great big slay, drained beyond imagination, dog-tired and somehow still standing. His newly changed bed was calling to him, whispering of the amazing sensation of nothingness that only sleep or death could provide. But, being sweaty and a little dirty, he sluggishly marched towards the bathroom, passing by the forgotten and unloaded washing machine.

"Oh, for f*cks sake…" groaning he started separating the clothes, rummaging through all the pockets before separating them into piles. He found a few bucks, some tissues, a handful of change and a slightly crumpled steel card. Pressing his fingers onto the embossed letters, Jason was reminded of blue eyes, strong muscles and a devilishly sinful grin, forming the irresistible image of the proud predator he’d met just a few days ago. A being that had no right treating him so gently, whispering compliments into his ear so softly, kissing his hand and holding him so possessively.

The strings of arousal were slowly being pulled from Jason’s inner harp, his consciousness desperately clinging to any positive feelings and sensations. Attempting to steer him away from the anguish cloying just outside his periphery, Jason’s mind formed a muted song that slowly pulled him towards a fearful looking abyss of pure indulgence. After a while of just staring at the card, his rationality kicked in, reminding him of how tired he was, how sleepy...

Standing up from the floor after putting in the first load to be washed, Jason also realized how important the personal number of the vampire boss of his area was, how lucky he was to have it and that he should put it into his phone before he lost the card.

With all perceived tasks done, Jason was finally able to enjoy a steaming hot shower before bed. Most people took cool showers during the summer months and wondered why they couldn’t retain the chilly sensation after leaving the cabin, Jason took boiling showers and came out feeling col and pliant, more than ready for sleep.

Getting into his chilly sheets boneless and naked, after such a long and hard day, gave Jason a rare pleasure high. He couldn’t help stretching out in them… gently squeezing his sore muscles and feeling the glide of smooth, clean fabric on heated flesh. The boy kept caressing his skin while scratching his thighs and arms until he shivered in delight.

The remaining streaks of light coming through the shaded window, the sound of birds chirping in the wind and the occasional creak of the bed frame slowly relaxed him, silently luring him to explore further, to touch more… to seek the growing pulse vibrating underneath his skin. Indulging in his skilled ministrations steadily flared and grew his inner fire, transforming it into an incandescent blaze of arousal as he got closer to his center in the tranquil environment.

Undulating on the bed, knowing he had all the time in the world, Jason indulged in a highly stimulating activity he rarely got to enjoy, foreplay. The boy loved to tease himself, languidly stroking every bit of skin he could touch before even acknowledging the pink rod of flesh turning to steel between his legs. Using his fingertips, Jason began his voyage, starting with the back of his head and gently, then roughly, tugging on his short locks, needing to feel the mix of indulgence and pain surge into a full-body shudder. The boy’s eyes closed on their own at the feeling, hands moving down over them to his lips, outlining their soft, slim yet plump texture, before going lower, past his throat, corded pectorals and abs, reaching, but not touching, his hardness while leaving a trail of shivers in his path.

His muscled hands went back up to his chest after rubbing against thick thighs, firm calves and brushing against taut gluteus, to reach his overly sensitive nipples. He loved playing with them, softly mapping them out, flicking them to full hardness, only to pinch them as hard as he could. He often encouraged his partners to do so too… but the girls he hooked up with didn’t really care about his pleasure, they just wanted him to stick it in and be pleased he got that much…

The glum line of thought was quickly clipped, Jason’s highly aroused mind not allowing any interruptions on such a rare moment of pure indulgent bliss, replacing the image with someone else entirely. Someone who would pay attention to his wants and needs, who had a lot more experience than him and would certainly know how to handle a man’s body. The thought evolved into the sleek yet solidly built line of a much larger frame hovering over his, maybe settling between his legs and caressing his heated skin… before pinching his stiff nipples, pulling them hard only to gentle them with his tongue.

The erotic image drew a soft moan and copious amounts of precum from the boy, the sudden jolt of bliss following it breaking Jason’s remaining resolve, urging him to finally touch his peak. Palming the scorching erection elicited more uncontrolled moans, every quick pump and interspersed languid stroke sending him further down the edge. The seemingly tangible fantasy made his oversensitive body that much more stimulated, borderline aching as his flushed sex throbbed. Jason could almost feel the cool body pressing down on his scorching form. The imagined feel of his skin, his soft hair and blown out eyes making the confused boy open his legs even further, inviting something he had not realized he wanted.

Picturing the vampire with him in such a sensual position took Jason out of the fantasy for a minute, his brain trying to remind him that if they ever shared such an experience, he would be on top, not the Sheriff… but his body’s subconscious desires seemed to run in the opposite direction. Hand independently snaking down, gently cupped his taut balls while slowly inching towards a rarely touched, though highly tender area, a spot most men avoided with a vengeance, fearing it would diminish their ‘raging’ masculinity. Jason, not giving the action any real consideration and still stroking his impressive column of flesh, tentatively traced his most guarded region.

Enjoying the novel sensation found in his first furtive exploration, the curious boy rubbed just a little bit harder, pressing in more on the sensitive spot. Just as he was about to delve further, his brain awoke to the feeling, sending massive amounts of ‘STOP’ signals through his muscles, effectively ceasing any further examination. Still feeling aroused, his hand continued with its practiced self-stimulation, squeezing his co*ck harder and enjoying the small amount of pain dispersed within the sea of pleasure slowly dragging him under. The delicious pain offset the base carnality of his masturbation, heightening the experience in a most delightful way. Returning the touch to his stimulated nipples elicited another burst of hedonic ache, making the boy even harder.

Fingers sliding along satin covered steel, feeling the smooth glide of arousal and pure male pheromones brought Jason close to the edge, so very close… but not over it. Stroking faster, harder only helped retain the high and, after a few minutes of consideration, he returned to his earlier fantasy. Yet again, feeling rough cool hands kneading his flesh like dough, a strong stature dispersing weight onto his body, slowly slotting between his wet thighs, and applying acute pressure onto, into a certain untouched part of his anatomy. The lucid dream version of a certain blue-eyed vampire smirked down at him, eyes shining with omniscient knowledge of Jason’s true wants and needs, of his deep, dark, dirty wishes, willing and wanting to preform every single debauched act just for the pleasure of his moans. Gushes of pure desire slipped over his rough fingers, onto his rigid co*ck and down his balls at the sinful image. He kept pumping, widening his thighs and releasing breathy moans as the imagined body covering his own slipped their member lower, brushing it against his hole.

Feeling so very close, Jason roughly gripped his left nipple while clenching his hand around the base of his tumescent co*ck, imagining it was the blonde of his fantasies doing it, and coming, violently. Torrents of thick cum surged, squirted, cascaded from a very satisfied Jason in quick succession, flowing down his arm, chest and thighs in rivulets of org*smic joy. Jason moaned loudly at the feeling, pumping his manhood for a few more seconds after such a massive explosion and delighting in the well-known sting of overstimulation.

Still panting and trembling after such an org*sm, Jason closed his eyes and smiled wide, his mind rapidly diving into rest and much needed sleep… until he realized what had just happened and sat up abruptly. One of the best org*sms of his life had come, more or less, from imagining sex with another man as the submissive party… and enjoying it immensely. Staring at the remnants of previous activities, he pondered what that meant, what it said about him as a person and as a man.

Jason’s elevated breathing and heartrate betrayed his seemingly calm demeanor, making him shiver for all the wrong reasons. The previously relaxed atmosphere turned hostile, volatilely shifting to slowly revive his earlier worries and awaken the dark splotches of ink hidden in the unseen shadows of his mind. The boy’s sheets were now cold, the calming sounds of nature ceased and the light was slowly running out, mimicking his declining mental state.

Frustrated and confused, Jason got up to take another shower and change the now filthy sheets. Getting into the cabin and feeling the scalding water raining down on his stimulated body evoked images of his prior imaginations, sending jolts of new arousal and shame through him. He didn’t want to think about it, wishing to forget how the vivid image of the dominant vampire pinning him down, spreading him open and making him submit stimulated him so, awakening a long dormant part of his psyche that wanted it to be real.

Getting out, Jason still felt a bit filthy, but there was no water on earth that could cleanse and soothe his conscience, so he tried returning to bed. Settling in and seeing the faded outlines of darkness creep over, ever closer to touching him and reigniting yet another depression filled paralysis, he got up. His brain was still going around in circles, voices arguing and yelling at him familiar phrases in long forgotten voices that should have no hold over him anymore, but they did. Not knowing how to feel, how to categorize the experience and come to terms with his budding inclinations, he decided to consult an expert.

Dressed and in his truck while overwhelmed by shame and trepidation, he wanted to just go back inside and ignore everything, but he could not stomach returning to the now pitch-black house. He could stay in his truck, drive around and try to calm down, but he somehow knew the shadows were not real, not actual things that could be left behind, they were going to follow him wherever he went.

Alone, with just the shadows in his own mind, Jason had never felt more isolated, abandoned, forsaken… ‘Only because you choose to be alone’ a tiny voice whispered, silencing Jason’s other self-deprecating inner voice with a flash of kind smiles, warm hugs and laughs when all he wanted to do was cry. He wasn’t alone, he had people in his corner, amazing people who cared and were there when he needed them most… Deciding to try and reach out to one said amazing person, he started the truck and soldiered on over to Lafayette’s place, hoping his friend might understand and be able to help.

Waking up, Eric instinctively knew the hour, at least 3 standing between him and nightfall. The still blinding sun was held back by state-of-the-art blackout blinds and curtains, a necessary system controlled through special voice commands that never faltered. Dying for the day was supposed to be for the whole day, but after so many centuries of technological advancements, Eric was relieved he didn’t have to suffer like his maker with more than 10 hours in a slim, cramped coffin because of flimsy drapery.

Rising before the sun set gave the busy Sheriff a precious commodity in life, one scarcely appreciated in death, even by him… time. Minutes trickling into hours to enjoy however he pleased in the night’s dark embrace, for however long he wished… a bargain made long ago in exchange for his days, yet the notion of voluntarily sequestered warmth always saddened him.

Back in his human days, the imposing vampire cherished the sun’s multihued rays gliding over his features, shining into his eyes and warming his chilled skin. While most men chased mead, gold or women, mostly a mixture of all, he craved the celestial body’s tender touch, seeking the elusive rays in the frozen lands of his home. He still craved women and mead, but none of the world’s flimsy possessions could compare to the sun, the warmth of its fugitive embrace reminding him of long since passed childhood days… Of those few tender moments with his mother in front of the fire, of her gentle hands combing and braiding his hair, of her kind, love-filled voice telling him stories of old and laughing when the logs crackled and made him jump in surprise.

Even obscured by so many layers of black shades, the star still shined outside, calling to him. Eric wanted to answer, to reach out and feel the lost warmth of such precious times… but the tepid caress, he knew all too well, would soon turn to a scorching deviancy of regret and irrecoverable moments, that would burn and char far deeper than any of its now lethal flashes of light ever could.

Remembering his mother always led to reliving his last moments with her and their destroyed family, of finding them in their own little pool of blood on the icy stone floor that night, kneeling over each one, seeking their voices only to be met by cold dead eyes that whispered of the horrors they had seen… until he reached his father. Barely alive, the old king’s labored words sung in his head, embedding themselves into the foundations of his reasoning, leading him for most of his extended life and infallibly fanning the eternal conflagration of vengeance searing in his chest.

Eric took a few moments to compose himself, to reign in his beast, it was not yet time to unleash its particular brand of cruelty, at least not tonight, he had more pressing matters to attend to and a lot of strategizing to do before leaving for the bar. Having so many new issues to deal with was a far cry from apathetically sitting in his throne and cursing the great revelation, a welcome change mostly attributed to a certain glowing blonde he was living to meet again.

Getting up, he completed his morning routine as slow as humanly possible. He quite liked the feeling of boiling water cleansing his body and soothing his tight muscles. Having lived so very long on mostly cold rinses and mild baths, he didn’t use his superior speed in this aspect of his life.

Finishing his usual hygiene process, Eric, in all his nude glory, considered the vast wardrobe, sliding his pale fingers along the casual lane and inspecting the neat rows of dark t-shirts and leather jackets. Similarly, he savored the process of selecting his attire for the evening, generally choosing to defer to familiar color palettes and material combinations that tonight, for some reason, left him feeling uninspired. Turning towards the more business/pleasure side of the closet, he chose a particularly figure-hugging dark blue suit paired with a similarly tight dark-gray shirt. Dressing in the seldomly elected selection, Eric moved over to the full body mirror next to his bed to inspect the garments.

He looked, as always, amazing in the suggestively tailored suit, the sleek lines and powerful muscles of his body being showcased perfectly, accentuated even more by the dark shirt’s opened collar. The Sheriff particularly enjoyed the silken sensation of decadent Italian wool, present in this exquisitely constructed ensemble, sliding against his cool skin.

Satisfied with his choice of outfit, he almost walked out of the room, before catching a parting glance at his reflection and grimacing. Over the years, his personal style had evolved and involved accordingly, but his hair had remained the same, long, tangled and always in his face. It was a subconscious decision, the Sheriff wanting to always keep at least one part of his old self with him, lately though, he kept wondering if it really mattered, maybe it was time for a change, but first, business.

Calling his secretary, he received the few messages left for him during the day, usually coming from his public phone number, a report on any urgent meetings and the mail. Being a vampire, it stood to reason that he would be unavailable during daylight hours, but humans were ignorant to the most basic information regarding another species and frequently disturbed his rest. After some attempted explanations regarding basic vampire information that went mostly unheard by the self-absorbed humans, followed by threats and the tiresome need to hold said promises true, he hired Sarah. She was a people pleaser at the beginning of her career, but after 10 years of answering stupid phone calls from the most idiotic breathers, her attitude shifted, now blending seamlessly with her employers and exuding confidence while silently urging the caller to get to the point. Eric had no qualms with her way of handling rudeness, especially when it came from the bumbling junkies tasked with finding new product.

The little rats were useful for once, sniffing out new cheese in their miniscule labyrinth in less than a day. And, if this new brand of ‘Pule’ was proved to be originating from his recently declared missing goat, they would need to be rewarded. From their slightly incoherent messages he could distinguish the name of the latest batch, aptly titled ‘Murphy’, a little on the nose, but it did help in identifying that it would most likely be coming from Eddie, as well as some useless information on the blood’s quality, the general location of the first exchange and a description of the seller. A slim pretty brunette with green/blue eyes selling on the outskirts of Bon Temps. It seemed, at least recently, that a strange force resided in that area, beckoning him back to the small-town night after night. Curious.

Eric contemplated the bizarre fixation for a moment, before returning to his meticulously arranged schedule. Tonight would be quite busy, he would need to check up on the partially dismembered and defanged vampires keeping Billy company in the basem*nt, speak to his hacker regarding Eddie’s phone, the missing one and the credit cards, interview vampires for the new Lieutenant position and find some time for himself before sunrise.

Not to mention following up on the junkie’s info. As it stood, finding the specific brunette seemed to climb to the top of his priorities list, but having the description of the soon to be tortured drainer, though useful, didn’t equate to immediately finding the pesky little co*ckroach.

After a minute of consideration, he picked up his phone and called his P.I. Being human, the man was awake, as conscious as one could be after a long day’s work suffering from insomnia, but alert nonetheless and informed the Sheriff of his findings. Eric, having put emphasis on the Stackhouse family and Jason in particular, was not surprised when the man had not been able to work on the entire town’s population quite so quickly. After instructing him to redirect his focus and search for the unidentified brunette, the handsomely dressed vampire hung up, calling his hacker shortly after. The supremely intelligent weasel was successful in de-blocking Eddie’s phone and searching for clues, managing to secure the address of the missing vampire’s lover. Another clue, another path to follow and interesting questions to answer, busy night indeed.

Eric could feel his mind drifting, combing through the millions of circ*mstance inspired threads in his subconscious, many lengthened by his own effort in discovering the core of the newly created dilemmas. Just as he was about to reach the center of the proverbial skein, his masterfully carved antique wall clock chimed, interrupting his musings and alerting him of the sun’s descent. Careful deliberation, recalibration and scrutiny formed a new plan, a plan Eric intended to follow as he got into his custom dark blue Bentley.

Chapter 17: From the South to the North Pole

Chapter Text

Slowly, steadily, from dusk to night, the sheer temperature discrepancy of southern desert climates could be felt… the cutting winds beating craven trees, the sedate, ballad sounds of previously blearing cicadas and the smell of dying leaves signaling the turn of August to September. These small, increasingly more obvious signs of transformation, of universal change… of Persephone’s yearly trek into the underworld and Demeter’s ensuing agony, gently brushed against Jason’s dulled senses, tickling his nose in hope of recognition. The tired, oblivious boy was more concerned with looking forward, towards the darkening road, desperately trying to keep his eyes glued to the pavement in fear of the incoming night’s contoured phantasms.

Two miles later, the old, cracked path transitioned into a newly paved, flexible asphalt lane hosting a familiar looking house. Having arrived, Jason hesitated, yet again, body rigid and slightly trembling, wondering how to even broach the subject, how to explain his fears and insecurities, to ask if… he didn’t even know how to finish his thought. Lafayette knew, in part, just how heavy the stress lined burden was, how awfully hard carrying it could be, how could he not? In just a few short days, his friend had gone from happily living his life to being framed and accused of murder, ostracized and heckled at every interaction, he must know how difficult the whole situation was on Jason. And now, here he stood, the man of the hour, on the cusp of being outed with yet another weight to add to the near overflowing amount he was already carrying.

Jason’s mind needed comfort and support, but the rest of him could not stomach dumping the heavy load of panicked concern onto his friend all at once. He couldn’t deal with it all, why force Lafayette, one of his best friends, to? Jason wanted to leave, get drunk and forget for tonight, maybe even for tomorrow, why he started drinking in the first place, but his body remained still. Some part of him wanted a kind ear to listen, to understand, he knew Lafayette would, but he did not want to worry or stress his friend who had done nothing but be there for him. Debating the issue for another few tense, anxiety filled minutes, he settled on addressing the one thing, problem, load he could somehow yield, the latest, most urgent one… his ‘shameful’ fantasy.

After living as a totally straight man his whole life, only to accept his bisexuality at a later age and not have any normal tools of learning was, at the very least, difficult. He reasoned he had to accept everything that came with liking men… but how to talk about it? How to even express his thoughts on the weird fear sporadically gripping his heart, steadily increasing in grip and speed the longer it went unaddressed? The alarming feeling, he knew, would sooner or later push him into a full-blown panic attack…

Jason was saved from any further mental combustion by said friend, coming out of his house in another signature Lafayette branded style combination, wearing a tight light green tank-top with some heavy chains, a gold durag and a gold and denim cap, all while fanning himself.

"Jason, that you? Shieat, did I’s forget you was commin’ by? Momma’s been smokin that good good and you’s know how it is…"

Seeing the laid-back attitude, Jason tried to emulate it: "Naw man, was just drivin’ by and wondered if you’d wanna watch the game tonight?" Jason didn’t even stop to consider the existence of said game, but knowing Lafayette, he wagered the man didn’t either.

"Sure Stackhouse, come on in and sit down." Jason entered the colorful living room, admiring the many trinkets he could see before settling on the comfy floral couch. The loud décor and TV should have added to the stress filled burden on his back, but the notion that he wasn’t alone, that he was safe relaxed the boy in slow increments.

"Now, I’s know how you love them football games, shiet, I’s like em too, if only for them tight costumes and extended, full-body contact, but first, I’s gotta watch this sh*t..." His friend pointed towards the TV, where a black and white movie was being shown. "Mmhhmm, dis my favorite part!" Jason didn’t recognize the movie or the actors, but the nonexistent game and old-timey film weren’t his reasons for seeking his friend’s company and comfort. Just as he was about to blurt out his problem, Lafayette continued: "Ooohh, Georgia! Your replacement just showed up…". His friend’s love for the film was made even more obvious by his subsequent immaculate recital of every line, ending with a: "Bitch I love you, you scandalous whor*! Take yo man, take his asss!".

The unknowingly pointed sentence pierced Jason’s resolve like a clumsily thrown dart landing center bullseye on a balloon, deflating the boy’s poorly constructed determination in less than a second. His eyesight became blurry as he stood eerily still on the soft couch, unblinking, trying to keep his mind and body relatively near each other, hoping to somehow recover from the shock of hearing his exact fear framed in such a way. As coincidences go, it was yet another example of divine intervention in Jason’s mind, after all, what were the chances that the next person he meets after almost having a panic attack regarding his sexuality as it pertained to that particular part of his anatomy somehow mentions said area in relation to ‘taking’ it?

For some strange, cathartic reason, a laugh escaped his throat… and then another, and another, until he was in full blown hysterics, still staring at the vintage movie without actually seeing it. After a while, the frequency and sound slowed down, becoming something a tad… darker, something that, to the uninitiated, seemed almost jovial, managing to barely hide the rapidly inundating self-deprecation. The distorted racket quickly turned to an equally troubled chuckle before suddenly dying off, like the screech of a stylus skidding through the lacquer of a record, allowing the piercing clutch of panic to set in. He stared, wide eyed and still as a statue, at the TV, the wall, the table, anywhere other than in his friend’s direction, afraid of what he would see reflected in his eyes.

After a few seconds… minutes of clutching to a couch pillow like a lifejacket on the sinking Titanic, he managed to calm down, regulating his breathing and blinking normally, but not before Lafayette noticed his bizarre reactions and goldfish-like wall gape.

"You’s aaight Stackhouse? I mean, I know some of them kush fumes ain’t cleared out yet, but you’s actin’ like you’s on crack or sumthin’."

Jason tried to swallow, failed due to insufficient saliva production, and just kept staring. His friend had just given him a ‘get out of weird conversation jail free card’, a true golden opportunity. He could pretend to be high, say he’s not feeling very well and just go home, no suspicion, no questions and no embarrassment… but thinking about going back to his empty, silent house, filled with darkness and regret, shadows creeping along the walls waiting to convert his thoughts into similar somber images of despair and feeling the heavy, loud pulse of his erratically beating heart kept his mouth shut. He wanted to respond, to tell the truth of his panic, to remain in the comfort of friendship and light, but didn’t, couldn’t visualize conveying his reluctance, hope and shame into an intelligible discussion…

Lafayette watched Jason, not understanding the boy’s reactions, especially when knowing said ‘fumes’ had long since dissipated. Analyzing their most recent interactions, the still high black man almost slapped himself. How could he forget about Jason’s forced closet flushing? ‘Matherf*cker, of course he actin’ cracked out, how’d you’s feel if yo’s sexuality was public news ‘fore you’s even come out? Not to mention the murder sh*t it’s connected to and the f*ckin’ stress he must be feelin!’.’the most competent voice in his head supplied.

Finally registering the pained laugh, the vacant, hopeless stare and his tensed posture for what they were, obvious signs of extreme distress, Lafayette approached Jason, putting his hand on his friend’s shoulder. He felt the flinch, saw the tight line of Jason’s arms constrict around the pillow and waited, patiently, for the petrified boy to raise his gaze and meet his eyes.

"I’s don’t think I’ve ever told ‘dis to you before, but when I was a kid, I always wished I could be just like eerybody’ else, normal and sh*t, you know? Not interested in makeup and my momma’s pink blouses, not lookin’ at guys the way they’s looked at girls, just average. I used to pray at night… so many damn hours for ‘God’ to help me, change me into something people liked, if nothin’ else, at least into someone people left alone… but it never happened. I kept trying though, pretendin’ I like girls, doin’ sports, hittin’ the gym and actin’ tough any chance I got, just to feel accepted by people who ain’t really care ‘bout me…"

The vulnerable confession seemed to unfurl his friend’s self-imposed mask of flawless confidence, not replacing, more like revealing the beautiful soul hidden within. Lafayette could see the surprise in Jason’s eyes, quickly overpowered by true understanding, of kinship and solidarity in the face of the same difficult journey towards self-acceptance. The expectant look he could see in his eyes, finally appearing less defeated and lost, spurred Lafayette to continue:

"After a few years of that shiet, I’s couldn’t take it anymore, so, I bounced. Packed ma bags, flew to San Francisco to stay wit’ one of ma cousins and enjoyed life like my real gorgeous self for the first time in ever." The gorgeous black man paused, smiling wide at the memory. "I met openly gay people holdin’ hands and kissing on the street, talked to so many people from every motherf*ckin’ corner of the country, discovered my fabulous current dress style and... little by little, the gapin’ hole inside began to close, ‘til I ain’t feel it at all one day."

Jason’s heart was gripped tightly by… something in that moment, the same something, somewho, somewhat, that spurred him to seek comfort in the first place… an unstable shift and blend of emotions he could not fully grasp. So many types merged into a moving amalgam, kinetically roving in a small Brownian pattern around his mid-section, a mobile shape the boy could only categorize as his own hollow puncture wound. Jason wanted to close in on himself, to tighten his arms even more, to somehow blend and add the soft material of the now deformed pillow like gauze into his metaphysical wound.

The perceived speed and rotational vibration of said cavity like the pull of a black hole, all-consuming and near unavoidable, yet still, he kept trying to patch the imagined damage, alleviate the pain… to make it stop. The pillow’s sturdy seams were slowly ripped apart, like the strings of his rationality’s inner cello bow, by sheer panicked pressure. Jason heard the stinging sound, but couldn’t really stop from squeezing the pillow, his only emotional shield left, thin and useless as it was, hoping the last snap would mean the end of this emptiness… until he focused on the last remaining source of light in his discomposed darkness, Lafayette’s warm hand repeatedly squeezing onto his shoulder. The small, tender touch managed to keep him focused, in the moment, until the compulsory feeling subsided enough for him to listen again:

"That day, a dozen years ago, was the last day I ever doubted myself, the last moment I ever felt ashamed of what I liked and who I was… Now, you have to find that day, that moment for yourself… and it ain’t gonna be easy. You’s right now like I was before El dorado del America, scared of them stupid townsfolk and theis motherf*ckin’ inbred opinions, scared of you’s own family’s thoughts and, I’m guessin’, terrified and ashamed of you’s own… I can’t stop you from stressin’ over this, I know I did, but Jason baby, you’s got nothin’ to be scared of. I know right now it’s like me saying hell’s no more than a sauna, but you can’t change how you’s feel, what you want and who you like, you can only accept it or go crazy and, after today, I think you’s on the right path."

Feeling the comforting touch, seeing the sincerity in his friend’s eyes, the small encouraging smile and hearing his experiences and hope filled words finally broke Jason out of the dark seclusion of his own mind, like a ray of sunshine somehow penetrating through vantablack skies. The hollow feeling was still there, muted and compact, but present nonetheless… still, Jason could not help the deep relief from overtaking his senses, a sensation that could only come from true understanding. His eyes watered, the boy marveling at the level of awareness and compassion shown before he even broached the painful subject, or how it concerned his latest fantasy and subsequent self-doubt. He didn’t know how to express his gratitude, how to tell Lafayette just how much it meant to have someone who understood what he was going through, someone who was willing to talk to him even if he could not express himself and offer relief in the face of anguish. Not questioning his instincts, the boy hugged his friend, tightly, like a sloth holding on to a tree for dear life… silently shedding a few tears and a quiet "Thank you…".

"I know baby, it’s scary and sh*tty now, but don’t you even think about being ashamed of who you is and who you’s wanna be with. Today wasn’t the best, coming out cuz’ of that old hooker’s rumor, but it was a step forward… with time you’s gonna realize that you’s wants, needs and selfish desires are normal, that it’s ok to want a man like that and that there ain’t no shame in it." Ending the hug, Lafayette’s eyes took on a more devilish quality, his mouth mirroring them in a grin: "'Sides, the sex beats any straight shiet you’s ever tried, specially with a vampire…"

Jason’s surprised expression quickly turned into a blush at the implication, remembering his earlier activities. Lafayette saw the rapid changes occurring on the boy’s face and couldn’t keep from continuing: "When they’s get into it, that super speed comes in real handy, and when you’s…"

Still somewhat frustrated, Jason realized he could not listen to his friend’s explicit recounting without imagining Eric like that and feeling a very awkward and still somewhat shameful shiver of arousal: "Ok, ok, I get it, just stop.", so he stopped his friend while laughing, truly laughing.

"I get it, I got’cha Stackhouse, you’s don’t want me spoilin’ the surprise, I’ll stop…" Lafayette said, getting up to grab the remote and find the ‘game’ Jason wanted to watch, before progressing: "I’m sure Sheriff Northman will teach it aaallll to ya when you’s ready."

Jason didn’t get to respond, the new channel’s volume being so loud he had to shield his ears. When Lafayette managed to find the ‘game’, his point was mute, why argue when his friend was kinda right? He… did want Eric that way, every way really, just wasn’t comfortable with the roles his mind assigned them to… yet… and wasn’t that a kick in the head? His own desires betraying his rational mind to form such debauched fantasies, with him as the submissive partner, only to attack him after indulging in them. He was beginning to get sick of this scenario, always doubting himself, being scared and ashamed of his own wants and needs to the point of mental combustion, so he didn’t correct his friend. Reasoning to cross that bridge when, in this case, if he got to it, Jason grabbed two bears, gave one to his amazing friend, sat back and enjoyed a rerun of the Minnesota Vikings vs Green Bay Packers game from last year.

Pam’s night began like every other, with a warm bath, blue this time due to the new bath bomb and salts. As she was enjoying her relaxation time, the image of the tortured vampires came to mind, making a disgusted shudder run up her spine… her reaction stemming from the exact thing you’re imagining:

Their filthy blood just had to ruin her favorite pumps, a vintage Manolo pair that was as rare as her smile.

She had wanted to castrate them for that, but deferred to her maker, now somewhat regretful of said choice. The torture was… nice, but lacked a certain creativity, a particular je ne sais quoi that Eric’s brutality used to hold in her and other terrified vampire’s eyes not too long ago. Not to say that their suffering was any less delightful to watch, Eric’s execution was as precise and cruel as always, but by the end of it, their mangled appearances were almost… pedestrian. A word she never would have thought could be used in relation to her maker, yet here she stood, remembering seeing, tasting their sweet torment, yet not truly feeling it. Pam could not imagine that Eric’s treatment of the lowly rats derived from any sort of concealed sympathy or remorse on his part, a conclusion that forced the gorgeous female vampire to consider other options… arriving at the more plausible explanation of something, more like someone, preoccupying a large portion of his mind, making the usually vicious Sheriff less inclined to spend time hearing his prey’s whimpering pleas.

Such a majority share seemed, for the meantime, to be occupied by a certain blonde doe eyed morsel of a curiosity. It was obvious her master was smitten… and she could see the appeal, after all, the beautiful breather had the sinful body of an incubus, the innocent visage of an angel and the smell of both damnation and salvation… a truly unique combination that practically begged to be ravaged. It was quite irresistible to true predators, not to mention his aura… But, as mouthwatering as he was, she knew her maker’s possessiveness went deep with this one, and such attention could only lead to disappointment from an ancient vampire, a fate akin to death for the oblivious human.

She had not felt most feelings in years, but she could recognize when a small crumb of emotion slithered through, this time the pesky sentiment was identified as hope sprinkled with anxiousness. Most breathers disgusted her, but this one, this one was, for a lack of a better word, cute, like a wide-eyed puppy you could not help but fawn over and want to crush at the same time. Her monotone face and tone might suggest otherwise, but she had a fondness for small animals, and Jason resembled a skittish bunny more and more in her recollection of that fateful night. So, Pam hoped against reality that her maker would not abuse the adorable creature in his mounting obsession.

Eric might not recognize his emerging fascination for the boy as the beginnings of addiction, but she could tell, especially after going out of his way to protect the beauty from the town’s police with no expectation. Pam chose to remain silent on the matter until the serious situation involving Eddie and Compton was resolved, but she could not help but wonder, could Jason keep her maker’s expectations afloat, maybe even surpass them?

A laugh escaped the eternal beauty, after a century of seeing emperors, kings, queens and alluring exquisites throw themselves at his feet, only to be used and discarded shorty afterword, she could not fathom Eric, the original viking demon, lovesick after such a simple-minded southern boy. The foolish notion was truly amusing, Pam still laughing as she got out of the tub. Her laughter ceased as the vintage pink wall-phone rang, the ringtone a loud, slightly deeper rendition of ‘Barbie girl’ by Aqua. ‘Speak of the actual devil’, she thought as she read the caller id. Air-drying in the spacious living room, Pam answered in her unique way:

"…Hey."

Sufficiently high and emotionally worn out, Lafayette began cleaning up for the night, intent on spending his last conscious moments in bed.

Before heading towards said bed, a knock sounded at the door and, thinking that Jason had forgotten something and not realizing that if he had, he would have heard his truck pull up, opened it without checking the peephole.

Lafayette’s mind had but a split second to realize exactly who was stationed outside his house, having seen and heard about the vampire since he began his relationship with Eddie, before quickly lowering his eyes and muttering a small "Shiet…" into the chilly night air.

Eric’s mouth ticked up a fraction of an inch at the display, amusing in its futility. Humans equated compulsion to eye contact, and they were right, most of the time, but with age came wisdom, and if not, came sheer power and skill. The ancient vampire did not need to hold a breather’s gaze to control them, he just had to be in his intended target’s proximity, the shared eye contact mostly acting as a lubricant in easing the process and sparing the vampire of any wasted energy.

Still amused, the Sheriff advanced, getting closer to the petrified human, and sensed the one bit of information that would surely spell out death for any breather he encountered… the same scent encountered in Eddie’s house the night of his presumed kidnapping. A tall wave of blistering anger threatened to wash away any remaining resolve and patience he still had, little as it was, but the vampire calmed down, not intent on using any more energy on the lowly human than he had to… at least not by way of interrogation, the Sheriff imagining all the ways he will maim him when done extracting information. Taking in a quiet, steady breath, the Sheriff spoke in a deceptively calm tone:

"Good evening. Mr. Reynolds, I presume? Allow me to introduce myself, I am Sheriff Northman, vampire authority of area 5 and this is my lovely Chief Deputy, Pam. Please excuse our late visit, my companion and I have some urgent business to attend to and would like to speak with you, if you please."

"Um, hello. Yea, I’s gets it, being vampires, this is probably early for you’s… um listen, I don’t know why you’s wanna talk to me, but I have some real important sh*t to do, so can we reschedule, to like, never?" Lafayette knew he was taking a risk speaking to the Sheriff like that, but hearing the vampire’s deceptively stolid tone and noticing the other high-heeled vampire’s presence, he could imagine the unique occasion of their ‘visit’, having feared it immensely.

After trying so many types of drugs, Lafayette considered himself a connoisseur of all illegal, and fun, substances. So, when a new one hit the market, he was all in, loving the seemingly all positive effects… but why try bottled instead of fresh? With such a mindset, he went online, searched and found a lonely, gay vampire nearby that was willing to share some fresh-squeezed premium ‘V’ for his own brand of squeeze. Meeting Eddie, the gorgeous, muscled black man was a little disappointed at the visual, but the ‘V’, unique sex and informational conversations regarding the sacredness of vampire blood and it’s consumption tied illegality made up for it.

Now, sitting just inside his house, looking at the elegant clothes and shoes of the reigning vampire authority of his area having knowingly consumed the aforementioned revered and illicit blood, Lafayette finally realized just how f*cked he was, and not in a good way... Eyes darting from the rickety low staircase, to the stilettoes, black leather shoes and back again, he could vividly picture all, well, maybe not all, but most gruesome scenarios stemming from his curiosity driven addiction.

Eric was, at first, surprised by the response, expecting the human to comply for the simple fact of his initial frightened reaction… but the longer he waited to hear the requisite apology, a small courtesy that differentiated between a slow, painful end and an eternal one, the more he could hear the sea. The initial wave transitioned to a steadily forming tsunami of pure rage that rapidly eroded the wall of lived in, painstakingly created tolerance, beating against it in synchronicity with the human’s terrified myocardium. Seconds away from metamorphosing into the famed balaur of past ages, late night fire pit fables and babes’ nightmares, he restrained himself, roughly breathing mere smoke through his nose, and asked, though in a much darker voice:

"Unfortunately for you, Mr. Reynolds, the matter at hand is crucial to an ongoing investigation and must be addressed posthaste. Seeing as you are currently alone, and considering the lengthy subject matter and classified nature of our inquiry, we believe this conversation would be best had in a more private setting, so, would you mind inviting us in?"

Lafayette’s surprise was palpable, the man almost raising his eyes to see if the Sheriff was joking or not before regaining his composure:

"I ain’t know all there’s to know ‘bout vampires, but I at least know that, as long as I’m over here and you’s over there, I’m safe. Now, why would I invite you’s in and lose the only safe-guard I’s got?" Composure quickly turned to frustrated anger at the polite request, the vampire boss’s cold, controlled delivery sending a terrifying shiver up his spine.

Eric’s graphene thin patience had officially run its course at the human’s bizarre display of irritation and confidence, especially when said assurance came from such a poorly constructed shelter of interlaced straw. Not wasting any more precious time with false pleasantries, the Sheriff applied his vast concentration on the breather’s limited mind, connecting and detaching synapses as he went. The process took longer than strictly necessary due to the drug aided positioning of the human’s disarrayed consciousness. When most of the mental footwork was done, the ancient vampire applied one last bout of pressure, like the grimm wolf releasing a large gust of wind, knocking down nearly all of Lafayette’s simply composed mental structure in one fell swoop. He could have razed the entire assembly, but stopped, just to marvel at the idiotic man’s final mental tether, his last remaining fodder… before pulling it viciously. The amount of wrought power and its user’s intent needed no further verbal instructions, the human complying immediately with a robotic:

"Sheriff Northman and Chief Deputy Pam, would you please come in?"

As soon as the phrase left the human’s lips, the justifiably impatient vampires entered, immediately ordering the human to raise his gaze, making the interrogation that much easier.

The initial who, why, when, where and how questions regarding Eddie Fournier’s presence in the man’s life were answered easily and quickly, as to be expected, garnering minor information and not much else. Revisiting the human’s initial reaction to their presence, Eric now understood the man’s fright and anger. The recreational consumption of vampire blood was, after all, illegal, but in his case, the vampire in question had given his consent, making Lafayette’s usually requested torture filled check null and void, at least pertaining to his addiction.

When asked about Eddie’s disappearance and his recollection of said night, the Sheriff became even more frustrated at Lafayette’s lack of pivotal information, the man having no idea such an event had even occurred. The first crumb of aspired information, a critical morsel of intel that would tie the other fragments together into a trail leading to the outskirts of the woods, towards the freedom of truth, had, in fact steered them around the path to a promising candy house, only to enter and discover its actual lack of substance.

The Sheriff’s exasperation, fueled by his missing vampire’s ticking clock hands coming ever closer to reaching midnight, consumed his rationality, reaching new heights when taking into consideration the sheer volume of power consumed to uncover irrelevant frivolities and not much else, not even a glass slipper. Catching the useless human by the throat, Eric brought him closer, deciding to enjoy his blood before killing him… and then he sensed the smell of crushed roses, honey and pure sunlight on heated skin. The breathtaking aroma had haunted him since that fateful night, the sweet fragrance a reminder of doe eyes, blinding smiles and luscious lips… not to mention his boy’s cute innocence and unique magnetism.

Eric immediately zeroed in on the delicious scent, futile rage transforming into confusion as he realized it permeated the room as well. Before any suspicion’s framework could be constructed, the Sheriff addressed the still hazy-eyed human:

"How do you know Jason Stackhouse?"

Lafayette, as calm as compulsory provided, answered: "We’s been best friends since we was kids."

The human’s short response, coupled with his vampire lover and innate familiarity with their kind, answered a lot of the Sheriff’s initial curiosities regarding his boy’s knowledge of vampire hierarchy and justice. Understanding that Jason’s presence in his bar that night had, most likely, been influenced, if not fully coordinated by said compelled human, Eric was tempted to let him go, but only just, the notion of mercy mere fantasy in the present situation:

"And why can I sense his presence?"

Questions asked under compulsion were a full-proof method of attaining truths… but what most vampires knew, something the ancient vampire currently holding the mentally restricted breather’s attention realized but could not really circumvent was that, to get the whole truth, you had to ask the right question. Only the most all-encompassing inquiries were met with valid answer, while some were met with:

"I don’t know, I think it’s cuz ya’lls got a real good sense of smell."

Eric watched the human’s seemingly placid expression, unaffected by his tightening grip, wondering if he was actually awake and f*cking with him. If he was, the Sheriff’s anger and self-realized stupidity held some respect for the brave man, even a small amount of amusem*nt at the ridiculous answer, but from his sluggish heartbeat he knew him to still be under control.

Fighting a smile at the absurdity of the situation, Pam looked around, cataloguing Mr.… whatever his name was’s collection of small objects, fans, loud interior decor and smells, trying to distinguish if the other two human scents perceived at Eddie’s house could be recognized here too… and failing.

Still wanting to hear the reason behind his boy’s presence, Eric reigned in his mounting frustration, the increasingly all-consuming desire to eliminate the source of his latest grief, reminding himself that corpses could not speak and asked, again, though with much more clarity:

"Why does Jason’s smell linger in your home and on your person?"

That particular question resulted in a much more detailed answer: "He came over to hang out cuz of what happened lately and hugged me ‘fore going home."

From sheer luck or divine intervention, Lafayette’s response managed to skirt around Jason’s exact reason for stopping by, while giving enough information and reasonable doubt to convince the vampire of its comprehensiveness.

Accepting the simple yet apparently thorough explanation, Eric beheld the breather, considering his continued existence and it’s exact length, wondering if he should kill the man for unknowingly wasting their time and energy, not to mention his rude behavior when posed with civility. Contemplating the usually simple matter, the Sheriff was, again, reminded of chestnut eyes, amber locks and gentle smiles… recent yet far away images that slowly drained his wrath, leaving only vestiges of futile irritation behind. With a barely audible sigh, Eric decided, ruefully, to let him go, compelling the human to forget everything from the last half-hour and go to sleep as soon as they left.

Pam was quite shocked by her maker’s benevolence towards the blood junkie, leaving him alive while indiscriminately slaughtering others of his ilk, especially after his impudent attitude and stance, but after a few seconds of consideration, a grin broke out on her face.

"My, it seems that everywhere we go, someone knows Jason Stackhouse, that boy is quite popular, I wonder what he’s doing tonight?" She asked, reminding the irritated ancient vampire of his obsession with the boy, while simultaneously creating a small pit of concerned jealousy in his subconscious.

Pam’s carefully constructed strike hit the Sheriff head-on, making him wonder, yet again, just what was it about Jason? The beautiful boy always seemed to be surrounded by a torrent of swirling coincidences and curiosities, like the eye of a mythical storm steadily turning into a destiny tied hurricane of intrigue and mystery. The Sheriff was, as before, enthralled by the enigma that was Jason Stackhouse, but the realization that his progeny had remarked said fascination and was trying to ridicule it, to tease him for it kindled a civil war inside Eric’s mind.

The considerate gestures shown by the viking vampire were, in his estimation, small divergences from his baseline of even-handed brutality, miniscule incongruencies that other vampires would dismiss, but, of course, his marvelously intelligent and observant progeny would not. The Sheriff almost wished she hadn’t beheld them, wanting to seem, on the surface, indifferent to the delectable boy… while also abhorrently distancing himself from any reflection as to why he intentionally desired to seem apathetic in the first place, why he had to continually force his mind to ignore his Jason’s well-being and feelings… such endeavors never truly succeeded, but he kept trying to find the balance between admitting he cared in some capacity and vehemently denying any non-hunger related feelings for the beauty.

The mental gymnastics and turbulent in-fighting of his own thoughts caused another bout of irritation to bloom in the Sheriff’s eyes, making his response as short as possible: "I imagine we will find out, and by we, I mean me. Take the car and return to Fangtasia to instruct Alexandra on her new duties, I will be indisposed for the rest of the night."

Not waiting to hear her thinly veiled snide response, Eric used his favorite mode of transportation to seek his boy out, flying. Pam watched him depart, her grin widening at his haste, before embarking on her own journey.

Chapter 18: Reunited and it feels soo good

Chapter Text

The pathetic whimpering, occasional curses and the fetid smell of decay kept Bill passably awake in the spacious basem*nt… and he was somewhat grateful for it. The constant stimuli kept his mind from drifting into the sweet embrace of an ostensibly dark oblivion, though he knew his death no longer belonged to him.

The first of many missions in his queen’s name established his superfluous nature, his lack of direction and choice in even such a personal matter, death. Now, sitting on the cold concrete of his final resting place, burned, defanged and missing a leg, he was proven right… only in the most frustratingly, stupidly dreadful circ*mstance, the viking now holding the reigns to his very soul.

One of the oldest, cruelest and most vengeful vampires to ever reside in the western hemisphere was brought on him, like a tsunami on a sunny day, by a simple boy’s ‘testimony’. The imagined skinned visage of this Jason Stackhouse delighted the hopeless vampire, for a moment, Bill’s devious grin turning upside down at the reality of his situation. The dull boy was, for some reason, under the Sheriff’s personal protection and only the cold-hearted Northman could offer him the sweet release of death, or salvation, but Bill didn’t think the latter was possible at this point, not without incentive.

Sitting up, as much as the heavy iron chain allowed, Bill inspected the gashes, rips and bruises he could see, marveling at the extent of pure brutality the vampire body could sustain. Sometime in the last few hours, Bill’s substantial wounds no longer occupied his mind, after all, you can only focus on the pain for so long when your life is slowly coming to a close. So, the injured vampire used his momentary state of lucidity in the most efficient way, thinking of a way to escape.

He tried contacting Sookie at first, the powerful blood-bond granting him some control over her dreams, but mutilated and starved as he was, the finesse and intensity he usually exhibited in manipulating nighttime fantasies was not quite enough to send an actual message. Bill had hoped that, through the erotic nature of her dreams, she would try to find him, realize he is missing and somehow manage to release him. The ludicrous illusion of such hopeful deliverance made the vampire laugh, a small, desolate laugh that went unquestioned by the other prisoners.

‘Abused and ignored in hell as I was on earth by the same caliber of damned souls, yet I still hope.’ Sensing the brisk pace of his diminishing rationality, Bill analyzed every single plausible solution, of which there were few, debating on their degree of success before addressing them all over again.

Bill’s fanciful musings were interrupted by a torturous, scraping sound, like the opening of hades gates themselves, followed by a streak of almost heavenly light, like Paradiso, brilliantly shining into Inferno, lifting his soul up through the thin theater of mortality as a feather in the wind… at least that was what the soon to be desiccated vampire’s mind associated with the basem*nt door opening, spilling shoddy fluorescent light into the dark room as the Sheriff’s new Lieutenant appeared with their rations for the day.

Adjusting to the brightness, Bill’s eyes lost their anticipation, the small spark of optimism dying in the face of grim reality… still, nightly Tru-Blood rations spoke of a different kind of surety, he would not die tonight… he could still hope for salvation, as silly of a notion as it was.

The sound of nature’s night symphony replacing the clatter of a dying engine after a somewhat long, slow drive back to his house calmed Jason’s racing mind. Getting out and feeling the chilly breeze grace his sweaty skin made the boy’s heavy eyelids that much harder to keep open, but he had to, at least until he got inside.

Not bothering with another shower, 3 were his daily limit, Jason took of his jeans and socks, put them in the hamper and climbed into bed. As soon as his head hit the pillow, he was out, exhaustion limiting his disrobement and leaving him in a dress-shirt and underwear. As the house settled in the evening’s sleepy embrace, so did Jason, dreaming of bacon and eggs as he breathed in the smell of freshly washed laundry.

Not too long after falling into a very restful sleep, Jason’s subconscious registered a loud, screeching sound that it tried to pass of as nothing, adamant on stimulating a fulfilling REM cycle. After a few seconds of silence, his mind relaxed, indulging in its successful warding off any true alarm bells, until the same noise appeared again, though much louder in its proximity to Jason’s bedroom window, sounding like a tree crash coupled with vicious snarling.

Jason shot up out of bed at the noise, almost falling to the ground with the amount of sudden anxiety and fear, before glancing through the window to see two cats having a disagreement, meowing and hissing loudly as they tumbled. Opening the window, Jason threw a sock at them while shouting, managing to scare the MMA felines away and into the dark night.

Frustrated and tired beyond belief, he felt like screaming into oblivion, but settled on a conversation with God:

"What is it with today, for f*ck’s sake? Is I supposed to stay awake for some reason? Is that why I can never just fall the f*ck to sleep?"

Breathing heavy for a few seconds, Jason recovered his cool and realized he needed some in liquid form as well, so he headed downstairs to drink some ice-water. Feeling pretty stupid and a little ashamed for shouting at divinity, the rehydrated boy addressed God yet again:

"Sorry… I ain’t mad at’cha, I’s know that whatever’s you do is cose you love me and all that, it’s just real annoying that I can’t sleep… I’m just so tired you know? From everything… from the murder sh*t, to people lookin’ at me and talkin like they’s don’t even know me no more… like I’s the killer… what a joke, me the killer, the skies sooner turn Barney purple than I’s hurt a woman, no matter how much they’s deserve it… like Maxine, now Is gotta be forced to come out ‘couse of her f*ckin’ peepin’ tom tendencies. f*ck I hate that woman, can’t she just f*ckin’ go away?"

Realizing that he was gripping, not simply holding, the empty water glass, Jason relaxed his hand, uncurling his fingers and breathing deep before continuing: "Please don’t come for ‘em, I’s know karma’s a bitch, but they’s just people, curious, old-timey folk that ain’t hurt a fly intentionally… please forgive them… and me… for whatever I did to cause this mess…" Jason lowered his head, seeking forgiveness for a matter he had no hand in causing, but could not justify as being something other than his fault somehow. As his tired mind considered his self-imposed guilt, memories of the last few days resurfaced, reminding him of the people he should actually be praying for: "And please God, bless Gran, Sookie, Hoyt and Lafayette for keepin’ me afloat through all the bullsh*t… and bless Eric too… even with no evidence, he believed me, a total stranger and tried to help…" He said, smiling down at his lap after remembering the people in his corner, who had his back and truly cared.

"Well, I should try to get back to sleep, thank you Lord for listenin’, people think you ain’t, but I know you is… I don’t know why you kept me awake today, maybe it was to have this lil’ conversation… or I might be thinking too highly of myself, but either way, thank you for the blessins’ in my life."

Getting up, Jason headed for the stairs, expecting to finally reach the illusive dreamworld he craved, only to be halted on the first step by a loud: ‘KNOCK, KNco*k, KNOCK!’ coming from the front door.

Anxiety and fear skyrocketed through the sleep-deprived boy in that moment, locking every muscle in a tight vice of indecision. Fight or flight, what to choose? His feet were steadily planted on the cold hardwood floors, while his body turtled in, trying to appear as small as possible for his escape attempt, but instincts were something else, because no matter what you thought you were going to do in a situation, you will never actually know until it happens. So, in a rush of unexpected courage, or blind faith and stupidity, Jason flew towards the main door, halting in front of it to try the peep hole, before remembering he no longer had one.

His body was slightly trembling from the now almost empty adrenaline and norepinephrine back-up supplies, not eating or sleeping, coupled with continuous hours of bipolar mood swings filled with stress depleting his regular stock. Still, his hands were steady enough to grab the closest melee weapon, a hefty umbrella, and control his panting before ripping open the one barrier between him and whoever was outside, but again, instincts and curiosity were a bitch to control.

Whatever Jason imagined he would find on his porch, it surely wasn’t the vampire of his dreams, literally, standing tall and proud in the most stunning suit he had ever seen, looking like he just stepped out of the latest issue of sexiest man undead and gazing at him like a starved man eyeing a well-seasoned steak, all while wearing his signature smirk.

"Good evening Jason, I hope I’m not intruding." The short sentence, uttered in Eric’s specific breathy, dark yet silky tone, traveled down Jason’s entire body like a snake, leaving goosebumps on every inch of flushed skin.

The gob smacked boy could only stare, jaw hanging open ready to catch ever fly that came near, at the poster come to life in his doorway. After a few seconds of awkward silence, an umbrella thudding to the floor and a raised eyebrow from the expectant vampire, Jason blinked and remembered himself and his southern manners:

"Eric, hey, hi, come on in… you ain’t botherin’ me, sorry I ain’t invite you in sooner… You want something to drink?"

No sooner had the words left his mouth than the breeze slowly trickling in through the door changed to a gust of wind, ending with the vampire in question standing a few inches away from his chest. Jason felt his heart lurch forward at the vampire’s speed, proximity and implied danger, could actually hear it beating loudly in his temples, but the frustrated boy could not distinguish fear from arousal at this point. Looking up, Jason caught the Sheriff’s piercing blue eyes, gazing deeply into his own, sending messages he could not interpret in a language lost by time, before sliding smoothly up and down the rest of his form and reflecting only pure satisfaction and lust.

When he was sufficiently done appraising his beautiful boy, the vinkig’s winter frosted eyes returned to his Jason’s caramel ones, melting into an arctic and cerulean sea of fondness and longing before he spoke:

"Are you offering?"

10 minutes ago

Flying above the little town in the peak of night, relishing in the cool air and rhythmic hymn of slumbering nature gave the vampire Sheriff a few moments of respite… allowing Eric to compose himself and rid his memory of the exasperating human he had the dissatisfaction of letting go. The merciful gesture went against so many of his tried and treasured believes he was tempted, more than once, to turn around and finish his intended meal, but the delayed action would only affirm his weakness. So, he kept drifting through the starlit sky, at high speeds, intent on sticking to his decisions rather than trampling them, thus avoiding some modicum of perceived indecisiveness or, dare he or others say so, emotionality.

A disgusted shudder consumed his stoic constitution at the thought, hardening his already diamond like exterior and fortifying the iron curtain around his heart… but only for a moment. The determinedly impassible viking, through considering his impulse in granting an undeserved mercy, unintentionally evoked the basis of such a momentous decision and the sole reason for his impromptu journey… Jason. The powerful covalent bonds keeping his outer structure as dense and impenetrable as earthly possible slowly dissolved at the image of his intended, the rigid drapery lifting just as easily at his sweet boy’s bright smile and adorable, doe brown eyes… dread and exhilaration combining into one confused sensation at the mental picture.

Arriving at Jason’s residence, though with much less clarity or composure, Eric was hit, yet again, by the boy’s wonderful scent… a spring bouquet of pure radiance, royal honey and dew speckled roses… it permeated the area like the cloying balm of fresh blood after a battle, irresistible to vampires and positively seductive to him specifically.

Jason’s concealed visage and aroma beckoned him closer and closer to the source of its profound sweetness, but before he could reach the front step, the vampire held back, his confusion regarding his own wishes and desires about the boy making him consider a silent retreat. A rather unpleasant, pit like feeling formed at the thought of not interacting with the beauty, overshadowed as it was by the increasingly disturbing mushy sentimentalities Eric could feel well up in relation to him.

Just as he was about to fly away, a light turned on inside, beckoning the Sheriff closer, like a lighthouse in a turbulent sea… or an angler fish’s lure in the night’s dark abyss. His legs moved on their own, no longer fighting the pull of Jason’s presence, arriving at his front door in the blink of a human eye. He could hear his Jason inside, stumbling around, the irregular pattern of his steps and the small noises of discomfort signaling his hour appropriate somnolence.

Arduously striving to pry his rooted lower extremities from the squeaking porch, the Sheriff’s senses didn’t immediately pick up on his boy’s hushed words, until they did and any attempt at leaving the residence ceased.

At first, Eric didn’t understand who the sleepy beauty was conversing with, not sensing any other human or creature in the boy’s vicinity, but then he considered that maybe Jason was speaking to someone through the phone… a notion quickly dismissed due to the lack of any discernible static. His query was answered soon enough with the evocation of this millennia’s most popular deity, the so called ‘God’ of the Cristian faith.

Still listening, the viking could not help the grin from spreading across his moonlight features, making him appear as monstrous and frightening as he did so many centuries ago, when those cross wearing-devotes arrived at his village, promising salvation and purity through penance… while they murdered, tortured and raped any atheists they encountered, all in the name of a truly benevolent God. He had enjoyed turning them into true angels, with bloody wings of their own making while they pleaded for mercy from an absentee creator, only to abscond their father when tested in the fires of earthly agony. Satisfied at the memory of such easily fallen beliefs, the vicious vampire returned his attention to the boy’s speech, his power and lighting speed process time allowing the Sheriff to not miss a word.

Eric sensed and partly saw the swift turn of his emotions, converting from unpleasant sadness, to anger, to resignation and then to a mix of hope and contentment, a point at which Jason uttered his name. All inspection and analyzation of his prayer was put on hold as his darling boy said his name, like the sweet melody of longing personified, all while voicing his appreciation for the aid and trust given without expectation, even praying to a higher power to ‘bless him’.

The Sheriff stood motionless on shoddy porch steps, clenching his hands around the only matter he could not crush, air… trying to resist the need to grab the adorable, yet unknowingly condescending, creature inside and just squeeze. From seer frustration or pure delight, he did not know, nor did he consider the notion of ever stopping… desisted he remained, though yet again, from using such a heavy-handed approach. He wanted to feel and taste such beauty and innocence directly, he needed to, but Eric reasoned there were a few ways he could go about such a task, the most pleasurable of pathways springing up like snowdrops in winter in the Sheriff’s devious mind.

Unconsciously fashioning his earlier sneer into a lust coated smirk of assurance, Eric knocked on the old door. He didn’t ponder the repercussions of such a moment, how his continued presence and association into and with the boy’s life could and somewhat already did change him… the small doses of benevolence and consideration shown in the beauty’s name like dust covered fog, observable yet intangible in that moment. He waited, his earlier misgivings sounding further away the closer his Jason got to the door, the boy’s loud heartbeat slowly silencing their desperate pleas.

When the flimsy door opened, Eric was, yet again, incredibly grateful of his vampiric nature, for a lesser man or creature would have surely suffocated at the ravishing sight standing before them… Jason looked… indescribably beautiful, disheveled as he was, all tousled hair, hazy eyes, damp, sun-kissed skin on show, wearing only a large white shirt that barely reached mid-thigh… like a 6 course, 5-star banquet before Famine himself. Eric could not stop the low growl from emerging, almost like a big cat’s purr, from deep within his chest at the luscious sight… his boy’s chromatic aura and sugary sweet scent like the whipped cream and cherry on top of a personalized gorgeous Sunday.

Regaining his composure, the vampire appraised his beauty’s reaction, seeing and sensing his growing arousal at the sight before him. Smirking that much wider, the smitten vampire spoke, intentionally using his most seductive cadence:

"Good evening Jason, I hope I’m not intruding."

Now

The surprised, frightened and slightly aroused spikes of emotion he could register in Jason’s expressive features, aroma and aura were expected, but when one overpowered the others, the one sentiment he wished to never see on his boy’s features, explicitly fear, he continued, stepping back a few feet:

"I would take a Tru-blood, if you happen to possess the blood substitute, please."

Jason kept staring at the vampire Sheriff just standing in his hallway, looking right back at him like he was in the most natural setting ever… and not the worst amalgamation of conflicting thoughts and feelings he had ever experienced on a certain occasion, or as Jason aptly supplied: ‘Like watchin’ yo mother-in-law go off a cliff in a Cadillac’ – translation: he had mixed feelings.

Not saying a word and gawking translated to the Sheriff helping himself to Jason’s tilted couch. Sitting down, Eric looked like a regular sized person on a hobbit’s seating. On one hand, he wanted to laugh at the absurdity of the situation and sit down, on the other, his sleep ladled mind registered the presumedly hungry vampire’s request for a drink and scrambled to please, overexcited and still a little scared. Running over to his fridge, he opened it, looked inside and found exactly what he already knew he would, nothing aside from an old soda, bottle of water and some salami in a plastic covering.

The blaring light of the popular kitchen appliance aided in fully turning Jason’s mind on, making him realize how stupid he was to look for something he knew he had never owned.

Eric watched, enraptured, the way Jason moved, the almost sensuous tilts of his well carved muscles, flexing and ever shifting under the flimsy covering, as he bended over the slightly outdated fridge model… the vampire’s gaze like a moth to Michelangelo’s true Igundo, draped in light and so much more beautiful than any painting could ever capture.

Embarrassed, he shut the refrigerator’s door and turned around, expecting to find his visitor where he had left him and not leaning on the kitchen counter, looking like the cat that got the cream.

While appreciating the view, the Sheriff’s attention was briefly drawn to the kitchen appliance’s odd sparsity, though the lack of any real sustenance could not hold it for very long, Eric resuming his appraisal from a different angle.

Finding his voice, Jason said: "Sorry, don’t got any Tru-blood, reckon I ain’t ever had the need to buy that stuff…" while looking down and around, before catching the Sheriff’s eyes again "… but I think Gus’s station be open ‘round this time, he sells that there, I could be back in a few with some… if you’s don’t mind waiting?"

The shift in positioning seemed to alert his boy, who turned around swiftly to regard him, somewhat coquettishly embarrassed to admit his lack of any synthetic vampiric refreshments. Though his beauty held the majority of the vampire's focus in a tight vice, Jason's dubious offer to venture into the night in search of such repellent concoctions managed to overwhelm it, frustrating the Sheriff, who couldn't give, in his words, a single flygande f*ck about the drink in such a moment. Eric's need for the boy seemed vexingly amusing in the face of his fleeting nature, but, after a few seconds of consideration, the Sheriff stomped his mounting irritation towards such a simple, caring boy who, the vampire realized, only wished to accommodate him. After all, Eric was almost certain he was Jason's first vampire visitor, an ostensibly unusual occurrence most humans would turn to tragedy in their lack of appropriate manners, a feat his Jason was obviously trying to avoid, yet somehow almost fell into. Acquiescing the trip wire like maze such a situation might pose to any human, Eric relaxed, resuming his perusal of the boy's blushing visage.

"Do not trouble yourself, but most importantly, do not deprive me of your… company." The Sheriff said, his dulcet words lingering on a particular section of the boy’s golden thigh. "Please, sit, we have much to discuss."

In the span of a moment, specifically, Eric’s distinct pause, Jason realized his less than modest state of current dress, blushing wildly at the situation, before contemplating rushing upstairs to repair the already inflicted damage… but a thought occurred to him, whispered in a tiny voice inside his head… a challenge. So, with little shame, he crossed the room and sat down, closer than strictly necessary, next to the gorgeous vampire:

"Ok, what do we got to discuss?"

Chapter 19: Ambiguous revelations

Chapter Text

"Ok, what do we got to discuss?"

The vampire’s deeply camouflaged instincts protested Jason’s proximity, the boy’s presence near narcotic intoxication, still, Eric’s sad*stic, sometimes masoch*stic, nature enjoyed the flirtatious danger of the situation and continued:

"Well, a few things spring to mind… " the Sheriff said with yet another perusal of the boy’s delicious form "… but the matters that need to be disclosed and addressed pertain to a certain… shift of mood, one I am not too keen on hurrying along."

Jason saw the glances and outright up-and-down stares of the grinning vampire, but didn’t stop to consider them further, after all, he was in his underwear. What he did try to acknowledge were his words and turn of phrases, that the boy swore Eric complicated on purpose to try and divert his attention. Only partially understanding what he meant, Jason asked:

"And why don’t you wanna, um, ‘shift the mood’? I don’t really get what you mean…"

The confusion was obvious in the boy’s eyes, the Sheriff acquiescing his rather highfalutin, or pompous speech patterns, resolute on untangling his web of usual discourse.

"Excuse my penchant for clogging dialogue, what I mean is, I would rather gaze at you all night… and talk about much more… palatable matters than what I will inevitably have to tell you…" he didn’t quite say it, but a small ‘I missed you’ slipped though, the sentiment registering to the sleepy boy, who blushed hotly at the underlying declaration.

"Yea, I get it, with everythin’ that’s happened, I don’t really wanna talk shop either, but I’m guessin’ there’s no avoidin’ what you came’ere to tell me, right?" Jason asked, smiling a little at the notion that the vampire boss of the whole area came all the way from Shreveport to see little ol’ him.

"Unfortunately…" the boy’s tiny smile and sparkling aura brought a rather odd genuine smile out of the vampire in question, an expression quickly stashed away at the turn of his next words: "… I have found the vampire you spoke of, the one suspected of framing you for the recent murders…"

Jason’s relaxed posture and smile disappeared in a blink at the vampire’s revelation and, sitting up a little straighter, he interrupted: "He really done it?"

Eric stopped, watching as the rising anger engulfed the boy’s features, adding creases and narrowings that contrasted beautifully to the hope shining in his eyes… making Jason even more alluring in his intensity and aroma, before continuing:

"Regrettably, no, he was not involved in those crimes… making my search for the real culprit that much more exasperating in its tediousness." Before Jason’s expected melancholy turned to despair, Eric hurried along with what he hoped was a reassuring: "But, as annoying and mundane as this search seems, and actually is, it will continue until this… slippery rat is found. The groundwork for his capture has been laid quite thoroughly, with the lack of police misdirection and valuable resources directed towards his identification, our little pest’s cage is getting smaller as we speak… reaching critical mass by, oh… the end of the week."

The Sheriff’s confident speech helped in lifting Jason’s crummy mood, at least a little bit, the boy acknowledging his somewhat confusing oration with a lopsided imitation of a smile and a wistful: "Thank you Eric, so much for doin’… um, well, everythin’ that you could to help me… I didn’t really think there’d be much anyone could do, but… you gave me some hope." before retiring his gaze to the ground. He wanted to be happy, to really express his gratitude for Eric’s help, in whatever way he provided it, but Jason’s fuzzy brain couldn’t really understand how or what he did to aid him, it only registered that the culprit was still in the wind, capable of murdering again and blaming it on him, again… and he just couldn’t take another public lynching… another pyre to strap him to and set ablaze… he just couldn’t take it anymore…

Observing his boy’s demeanor, the Sheriff was unsurprised to see it darken, as predicted, when confronted with the dim reality of his ambivalent irresolution. Jason’s bitterly sad disposition, an expression that, by most accounts, should not have troubled the stoic vampire, pulled on the last remaining frayed string of his condensed feelings, urging Eric to, Godric forbid, offer… comfort… not superficial pleasantries or crude, lustful remarks, but pure solace towards his boy… though words eluded him for the moment. Using his swiftness, no longer trying to analyze every aim and its purpose, Eric moved closer, gently touching the silken flesh of Jason’s cheek, a slight brush of cool marble over heated satin that instantly captured the beauty’s attention.

The Sheriff’s touch was still somewhat rough, his calloused fingers and knuckles speaking of a past filled with violence, obviously not used to expressing consolatory gestures, but to Jason, the tepid touch was enough to shower his body in a warm balm of empathy, a feeling further aided by his next words: "You are entirely too beautiful, in every way, to even consider polluting your mind with the presence of such scum…"

Touching the boy’s heated skin and gazing into his molten eyes drew the Sheriff in like a death’s head moth into the great fire of London… nearer and nearer until he was but a few inches away.

The sleepy, anxious, aroused yet bumfuzzled boy could not fully grasp the Sheriff’s words, hearing and understanding but a few of them. Still, he didn’t have to, the torrid incandescence of his cerulean eyes and the feel of his cool flesh and tender tone conveying more than any taradiddle phrase could. Jason’s usually stagnant adagio heart began to truly beat, stimulated by the extended contact and intense stare to a cacophony of Prestissimo summersaults, heating his flesh in all the wrong, or wright ways. Not being able to handle it, Jason quickly averted his eyes, trying to control the now gradual staccato rhythm of his inner drum, looking more demure than uninterested to the engrossed vampire.

Such innocence, such sublimity in an earth-bound cherub’s pretty blush and disrupted locks were more enticing to the ancient viking than blood could ever be... a bafflingly unique revelation that, for a moment, petrified the vampire, only to be tossed to the back of his conscience with a ‘To be examined at a later date’ tag. For the moment, no thought beyond wishing to touch, feel, corrupt the boy in every conceivable way could occupy Eric's mind… but he restrained himself, again, only reaching to smooth back a few of Jason’s errant golden locks, enjoying the texture of his flaxen strands. Such a fleeting touch soon turned more intentional as he caught the beauty’s caramel orbs, continuing, though in a much darker tone: "Trust that his true nature will eventually reveal his identity, if Bon Temp’s truly ‘sound’ policework will not…"

Jason felt a weird, but compelling urge to close his eyes at the Sheriff’s hypnotic, tender yet somber tone, his confidence and earned trust lulling the boy to sleep in millimetric increments… before he heard the rest of the vampire’s speech and remembered who he was dealing with: "Know that, when his midden is uncovered, and he is pelted with filth and exhibited for all to see, a tarred and feathered spectacle of misery… that I will come for him… to release him to whichever god he desires."

Even half asleep and confused, Jason understood the gist of what the vampire currently touching his face and hair was saying, imagining… fantasizing about the source of all his recent woes, the murderer, tied up and tortured in some dingy, soundproof basem*nt... A small, sad*stic grin appeared on the boy’s formerly angelic face, slowly turning more impious as he said: "Yea? Then I better get a few licks in too when we catch’m!"

The pure, gluttonous pleasure the Sheriff derived from Jason’s ruthless mindset, his lack of care for another member of his kind, possibly even a friend, could not be measured, though it could be guessed by his accompanying bestial grin.

"Oh, don’t worry, you will get your pound of flesh, this milksop has to be tapped and slowly drained before termination anyway…" Eric said, in the most pleased, deep dark tone, before segueing into the next topic clue, one he hoped Jason didn’t latch onto: "…there’s plenty of room left in my basem*nt… and Bill might enjoy the company."

Jason’s smile disappeared as his mind clicked into place, remembering Bill’s crimes and his required punishment, well not really, the boy only knowing that he had done something to incur Eric’s wrath… like the unsuccessful attack on him, a notion that made his inquiry less emotional, more curiously objective: "Bill? He’s in your basem*nt?"

Eric’s surprise at the boy’s detached query lasted for a second, time spent consciously taming his rising eyebrow, before he responded in a similarly uninterested, bordering on distant, tone: "For the moment, I have… yet to decide his worth to me" before switching to his signature mocking voice: "…so, he is grounded for the time being, no more fangs or fresh blood for a year."

Jason laughed a little at the Sheriff’s joke: "Wow, did’e really do that much bad sh*t?", before realizing that he was essentially mocking another person, vampire’s suffering, and stopping himself immediately. "I mean… I know he tried to attack me and all, but, well… I don’t know, he was nice ‘fore that?" He asked, the boy’s eyes one with the floor again, trying to control his mind from having another panic attack in the face of his own cruelty… and failing miserably.

Eric, sensing the shift, considered offering support to the yet again depressed boy, but, knowing what information and revelations lie ahead, he refrained, wanting to see how he took it all: "Well, see, Bill’s been a very bad boy..." he continued with the teasing tone, hoping to skip this conversation altogether " his disastrous manners aside, daft little Billy boy has partaken in a very stupid quest against me and my authority, actions that demand severe consequences… bad boy indeed."

"Umm… can I ask what exactly he done?..." Prodded Jason, his dangerous curiosity on display, before reconsidering, averting his stare with a hurried: "Or, you know what, don’t tell me, not sure I should even know…"

Eric’s grin returned, an expression rarely seen in relation to humans and their devious prying, a twist of his cunning mouth that spoke of immense enjoyment, before consciously being pressed down into a neutral expression for the conversation ahead: "And now we move on to the truly dark portion of our evening… but before we can, there are some things that I must explain. Do you remember the night we met? Our interaction and subsequent conversation?"

"Yea?" Responded a still curious, though more confused Jason as he, again met the piercing stare of the vampire Sheriff.

"Well, at a certain point in that conversation, I attempted to… compel you." The Sheriff admitted, no line, frown or twist of shame or regret on his perfectly arranged features.

"…what?" Responded Jason, in a small voice, his brain working into overdrive to compile everything he knew of vampire trivia in relation to the word. When the information came, it was like a crisp waterfall descending onto his tired face, icy water and pure pressure shooting his eyes open and his body as far away from the relaxed vampire next to him.

"WHAT!??"

"…Without success, may I add" continued the still very chill vampire, who’s only change in positioning came with a slight head tilt. Eric expected the boy to react in such a way, had seen it affect many breathers since the great reveal, and the truly ‘righteous’ news stations and papers demonizing vampire abilities didn’t help… still, a bit of hurt slithered through, fueling his next words: "A very disconcerting notion."

Jason’s sudden outrage lapsed, overtaken by his rampant curiosity: "And that’s a… bad thing? Good? Weird? Gimme a f*ckin’ bone or something cuz I ain’t real familiar with this sh*t!"

Eric watched the cacophony of emotions sparkling from within the boy, conflicting and disorienting in their number, as they appeared to use Jason’s visage as battle ground, fighting to occupy center stage and yet never reaching said title. The boy’s aura and scent following said rapturous changes further fascinated the vampire, making Eric want to memorize every minute shift in expression, color and aroma. The Sheriff wanted to quantify such a fixation with a biologist discovering a new species of plant life… but the comparison could never justify the vampire’s compulsive need to touch, to envelop and devour everything that was Jason in that moment, nor could it explain his less than carnal whishes for the boy…

Returning from the short perusal of his own thoughts, Eric responded: "It is indeed ‘weird’, because, as it stands, you are the first human I have ever encountered that possesses an uncontrollable mind."

Jason’s train of thought stopped short in that moment, confusion and fear acting like a 20-mile roadblock, making the boy gape for a few seconds before settling on: "Wow… um, and that means what?"

"It means that, whereas most people’s minds are sheltered with flimsy cardboard or straw, yours is shielded by a gilded cage of pure diamond… essentially impenetrable." ‘Even to me’ went unsaid, the vampire both loathing and relishing the impossibly stable fortress that was Jason’s consciousness. Eric’s fascination for the inner musings of his boy grew from their first meeting, the Sheriff now coveting Jason’s secret contemplations with a vengeance, wanting, needing to discover their unique shape and sound. Being deprived of them tortured the insatiable vampire every rich, luscious moment he was in the beauty’s presence, yet he yearned for more. He watched, as his calm voice traveled through Jason and into every corner of the quiet room, the remnants of fear and confusion battling the new challenger, aptly named surprise, on his boy’s charming features… until his eyes strayed, transfixed by a jolt in Jason’s juicy quadriceps. The Sheriff, even in the middle of a very important conversation, could not stop himself from admiring the peak of male perfection that was Jason. His muscular, golden thighs, barely, seductively, cruelly covered by the tips of his unbuttoned shirt and his tight boxer briefs driving the vampire’s bloodlust up a notch.

Jason stared, not able to form a proper response to such a revelation, before he saw the Sheriff’s placid gaze turn ravenous as it edged lower on his body and unfroze. Analyzing the situation, as much as his tired, sleep deprived brain could in that moment, he decided that, as much as he wanted to scream in catharsis, he needed to calm down… and that standing, still in his sleepwear, might not be the best idea. Sitting down, on the other end of the couch with a big pillow bridge between himself and the relaxed Sheriff, Jason tried to think of something to say.

After a few seconds that felt like loaded hours, he just verbalized what was on his mind: "That… that’s like, um, yea, just… weird, I ain’t that smart and I ain’t ever meditated ‘fore, so I don’t really know why my brain is like that…"

Eric’s pleased expression transformed at the boy’s self-deprecating comment, his eyes darkening more at the simple tone used, like the notion was common knowledge, like it could ever fully describe Jason’s beautiful mind, like his boy was used to it. Anger overtook the Sheriff’s voice as he addressed the beauty: "Firstly, do not demean yourself in my presence, especially with such a simple way of explaining your unique mental processes."

"Huh?"

"Secondly, I think you know why… at least you suspect it, especially in regard to whom you are related to…" Eric’s words traveled and dissipated like gravely sand down desert dunes, swiftly enveloped by the room’s darkness and Jason’s confused furrowed brows back to a simmering silence.

"Wut do you mean…" as he prepared to ask the question, a small voice in his head presented numerous others: ‘Who are you related to? Which one of your relatives would the Sheriff of this area know of? And which one of them has any kind of unique ‘mental processes’… or more like mental powers?’. Jason’s eyes widened as the realization struck him, before turning suspicious and borderline aggressive as he asked: "What does Sookie have to do with this?"

Surprise was such an undervalued emotion to breathers, mostly due to its sparse presence in their short, uninteresting lives, but to vampires, especially ones as old as Eric, it was pure, decadent bliss. Jason’s protective fury, his ever-shifting emotions and cleverness delighted the Sheriff anew, constructing a dark, cunning smile upon his relaxed features… evidently the wrong expression to present to his boy in that moment, Jason’s anger and distrust rapidly magnifying with each passing millisecond.

Before the volcano of emotion could truly erupt into the space between them, Eric answered: "Nothing, if I had anything to do with it… but, unfortunately, I cannot control the actions and childish schemes of other vampires.". ‘At least not yet’ thought the Sheriff as he watches the bellicosity leave his boy’s visage in heavy drips of red hues and spicy scents.

"Ok… I’m too tired for this… dis’ spelling bee pretentious bullsh*t of a merry go round… can you please just tell me wut you mean? Spell it out like I was stupid, cuz I am! I ain’t got no ‘unique mental processes’ or anythin’ like that, I’m just a plain ol’ dummy from a backwoods town nobody knows or cares about and that ain’t gonna change just cuz you say so…" Jason stopped himself from saying anymore, head lulled to the side and facing the wall, embarrassed beyond belief for admitting exactly what he didn’t want the clearly intelligent vampire to discover… as vulnerable as he was while dressed like a complete fool.

In his shame, a dubious sense of relief washed over him, a feeling that perplexed Jason… until he understood it’s point of origin. Now the unattainable man, vampire knew, he knew that Jason was just a shell, pretty on the outside with no real substance within… mitigating the dreaded moment when he discovered it on his own… when he no longer looked at Jason with hunger and admiration, but with amused indifference… like the boy knew he would.

The relief emboldened Jason to turn his head, eyes misty, towards the vampire in question, assurance in the Sheriff’s current and future disinterest in him tugging on a trembling, wretched smile of expectancy. What he saw… made his blood turn to ice.

Eric’s previously relaxed position had transformed, making the vampire look like the great Impaler sitting on a throne of bloody spikes, his jaw set and eyes hard, the cerulean turned to slate cobalt in a peaco*ck display of outraged fury. The perpetually active, instinctual part of Jason’s brain pulsed in rarely seen terror at the aggressive body language, the boy’s limbs locking painfully around the arm of the old couch, undecided in either fight or flight. A few, strained, rigid seconds later, both sides won, Jason flinging himself from the couch in search of escape and a weapon.

As his legs shifter, towards the kitchen and the only remaining source of light, everything stopped. His breath, his brain, his taut muscles, everything just… halted… as the boy gazed, yet again, into Eric’s eyes, heart and hormones still present in the foreground. The terrifying sharpness was gone, replaced with warm, reverent adoration as he held his boy’s wrists against his chest, close enough to scent.

The indignation, ire and rage remained, though buried behind the Sheriff’s need to console and reassure his painfully insecure boy of his inestimable worth… but he held back, waiting for the last pulse of adrenaline to leave Jason’s system, poised for the expected laxness of previous trust and tiredness he knew would come.

Jason’s heartbeat slowed down, ticking more in minutes than seconds as his muscles slacked, breath and mind finally coming back into play as the boy realized just how scared he had been… of the vampire standing so close to his body, gently holding his wrists, grounding him.

Eric, sensing the change, proceed to tug his boy even closer, wanting to embrace his sweet form, but resisting all the same. The vampire then lightly, carefully rubbed Jason’s heated flesh, right at the pulse point, before moving down his arms, to faintly squeeze his elbows and transition the touch to his supple waist, where he generously squeezed. The situation’s volatile transition from anger and fear fueled escape to gentle touch contentment, the whole day’s oscillating environments and Jason’s subsequent mercurial feelings truly exhausted the boy, who closed his eyes in surrender to whatever fate desired of him.

Not wanting to destroy the tepid calm and silence of such an… intimate moment, but needing to speak nonetheless transitioned the vampire’s usual timbre and resonance to a rugged, whispered version of itself, making Jason shiver in unwelcomed arousal: "Jason… please excuse my reaction, it was not my intention to frighten you… but I could not control my anger at your considerations of, well, yourself. As any normal creature, you possess flaws, have limitations…" Even knowing the truth, that he did have flaws, major, gaping imperfections and shortcomings just near the surface could not stop the full body flinch from emerging, could not deter the shameful strain from appearing on his features…

Seeing and sensing the turn in his boy’s bearing, Eric raised his left hand, seeking the direct heat of a bronzed cheek and those beautiful, sorrow filled eyes. When Jason opened them, raising his gaze at the vampire’s cool yet caring touch, he continued: "But they are mere drops of water in the ocean that is your beauty, your wonderful, vicious personality and instinctual intelligence."

Jason’s wide-eyed stare and luscious, plump parted lips tested the Sheriff’s control, the need to kiss and devour the oblivious beauty near overwhelming… only near, before the outrage reappeared: "’Stupid’, such elementary labeling of a truly honest cognitive mechanism is entirely preposterous… You, my dear, diffident boy are the holder of a timeless relic, as fragile in its scarceness as it is beautiful, a trait rarely found in breathers anymore, one I have not encountered in many centuries and intend to preserve… pure instinct. You do not prescribe to this modern time’s boorish… civility, you see the truth of a matter, you speak it and act on your insightful logic. Instinct Jason, is something I value quite highly, having had to rely on purely that for the majority of my existence, extended and not… and you, sweet, vengeful boy are the epitome of it. Do not doubt yourself or your intelligence, but more importantly…" Eric emphasized, flexing his hand on Jason’s waist: "Do not doubt mine and refrain from comparing your exceptionality to simple humanity’s ever changing value system."

The complicated, pompous yet captivating speech somehow fully registered to Jason, exhausted and perplexed as he was, the boy hearing and absorbing every word… seemingly understanding the meaning of it. Still looking up, into caring yet rigid eyes that whispered: ‘Don’t you dare argue with me on this!’, Jason smiled, a wide toothy smile of contentment… relief flooding his body. Not the shameful, coolly resigned feeling of earlier contemplations, but pure, undiluted solace that his biggest, ugliest flaw was, somehow, seen as some sort of treasure by the ancient vampire.

The laxness of the situation and his entire body, Eric’s accompanying handsome smile and sparkling eyes, his firm yet gentle touch and the closeness of their bodies made Jason’s mind simmer to a whisper, his eyes transfixed by the vampire’s desirous lips. The shy boy slowly, unconsciously leaned forward an inch, blood pressure rising with each second as he arched his feet, lifting himself higher.

Eric, astounded by this development, stayed still, wanting to see what his boy would do, if he would actually press forward and seal their lips together… but fate had other plans, his phone ringing like Big Ben’s hourly chime and disrupting the precious moment in an instant. Jason, realizing what his sleep intoxicated body attempted to do, retired from the near embrace, staggering back out of the vampire’s proximity and touch, seemingly mortified and exhilarated by the interaction.

Frustrated fury engulfed the Sheriff yet again as he silently vowed to skin and dagger whoever had the misfortune of disturbing him in such a moment, but such plans were laid to rest as he glanced the caller id.

"Excuse me for a moment." Without another word, Eric sped away, leaving Jason behind, leaning on a wall of the living room, mystified and agape.

After a few seconds of barely standing up, his body simmering in nervous excess of aroused despondency, Jason trudged back to the couch, laying down at a snail’s pace. As soon as he was stationary, his mind started to whirl, the same old gears turning, sending copious amounts of insults and shame in his direction: ‘What the f*ck were you doing? How could you think that was a good idea? Oh, wait, you didn’t think, like you always do, and now he’s gonna leave and never come near your slu*tty ass again. Or maybe he would, for some fun in the sack and then he would leave for good, cuz he ain’t want a simple dummy like you’s when he could have anybody, certainly not for any kinda relationship…’ and on and on they went, sounding more like himself than the usual voices…

And then, Eric appeared in the doorway, looking perturbed, his stance making the voices even louder, before instantly zapping in front of Jason, on one knee to meet the yet again somber shadow of the boy’s doe eyes: "I… must depart."

The way he said it, the regretful tone and lowered eyes sparked hope in the boy, hope that maybe he… hadn’t f*cked everything up, that Eric didn’t instantly dislike him, that he would return.

Eric understood the distressed nature of Jason’s latest turn of page, his swift exit surely adding to the boy’s insecurities, but he had no choice, the matter was urgent. Usually, he would not spend any extra time to inform anyone of his departure, but he could not resist Jason, could not allow himself to leave without kissing the boy… but the moment had passed, so he settled on grasping the beauty’s forearm, sliding his own cool hand over the corded muscles towards a rough palm and slowly, sensually kissing the back of it.

Jason watched, mind silent, the same sweet gesture from a few nights ago, a gentle, cool kiss to the hand, and almost melted through the floor. Shivers and a small exhale followed as he watched the Sheriff open his cerulean eyes. The intensity of his gaze and the complete control over that want told Jason everything he needed to know… but the boy’s constant self-doubt and disrupting inner voices remained, unable to translate the silent declaration such a look unveiled. Still, Jason blushed, a rosy pretty blush that urged the Sheriff to stay, to deepen it, to use his considerable skill to spread such a flush to the rest of his boy’s delectable form… but he needed to go.

"Until next time… Jason Stackhouse." Eric said, as he stood up and left the house. Outside, he checked his phone again before taking off, flying into the night sky at top speed, unaware of the ever-present eyes on him.

Jason’s mind whirred again, back to half-life, trying to dissuade the boy further, to misconstrue the whole interaction and Eric’s parting gesture, but it slowly died off as Jason brought the hand in question up to his chest and immediately fell asleep on the old couch… forgetting he had never actually gotten an answer to his question.

Chapter 20: Sweet misunderstandings art the flavor of life

Chapter Text

‘Red, so much red…’ was the first thing she thought of when her eyes were unconsciously pried open, for the 4-th time that night, by the same awful feeling of anxiety. As she blinked, the bloodshot color morphed, slowly, into a digital clock’s display, the numbers mortifying the woman even more than the last time she had awoken for no reason. Shutting her eyes, she tried to go back to sleep, but, of course, the drink she had the last time she awoke made itself known, applying constant pressure on her bladder.

With a muttered "Darn it all…", Maxine got up and went to the bathroom, stumbling the whole way there to find that the lightbulb had fizzled out. She thought about going outside to get a spare, but reconsidered, choosing to do her business in the semi-dark, thanks to the unusually large window, then look for a ‘f*cking lightbulb’ in the middle of the night when all she wanted was darkness ladened sleep.

After, as she was washing her hands in front of the mirror, she saw a shape move behind her. Swiftly turning around, she realized it was just the window being reflected and calmed down a little bit, but being the nosy woman that she was, she still peeked outside to see what was going on.

The older woman’s eyes were still fuzzy at the edges, providing a blurry half-formed image of reality "What in tarnation…" she whispered before they suddenly focused, turning to saucers as she took an actual jump backwards and covered her mouth. There, on Jason Stackhouse’s porch, stood a stranger, seemingly talking on the phone in the middle of the night. ‘What is ‘e doing over there?’ thought Maxine as she came closer to the window, the woman’s curiosity outweighing her fear.

She watched the man, not really seeing much, excitement increasing the longer he stayed in the shadows… and then he moved, entering Jason’s house like he owned it. Maxine stayed where she was, plastered to the window’s adjacent wall, her hair and one good eye peaking out for a few torturously long minutes before the man emerged again. Her eagerness to discover his identity was almost palpable, peaking considerably when the man stepped in front of a dimly lit window, only to plummet when the only thing she could distinguish were his suit jacket and… and shoulder-length blonde hair.

The woman’s breath stuttered in her chest as she watched the man… the vampire fly straight up into the sky, leaving behind nothing but a gust of wind. Maxine kept vigil for a few more minutes, before finally detaching from the wall, an air of eerie calm surrounding the woman’s visage on her way to bed.

As she arranged her pillow and blanket the way she liked them, the woman wondered why she wasn’t more upset, more outraged, more scared… but the answer was simple… so she closed her eyes, drifting completely relaxed into the safe dream-world of uninterrupted blissful stasis.

After so many decades of mastering the art of levitation and flight, of constant blistering winds mixing sounds of pure speed and local flora, the process posed no further concern to the ancient vampire… at least it didn’t use to, until tonight.

Eric was a bag of angry dogs and one lone cat mixed in a blender of stoicism, marble on the outside while almost crashing into a full-grown sycamore, but who could blame him?

His P.I. and hacker, working simultaneously while miles apart, managed to track down Long Shadow’s credit cards to a local bank, then, using a few traffic light and store front cameras, as well as classified documentation, pinned down the target’s location to a house on the outskirts of town, perfectly parallel to Eddie’s own residence. The anticipation and rage the Sheriff felt kept clashing with pure sad*stic delight at the prospect of finally catching the kidnappers/ maybe killers he was looking for… not to mention the rollercoaster of desire and abstention that was Jason’s, unfortunately, lost presence, but Eric had to concentrate, to zero in on one thought and roll with it. Slowly closing his eyes, the Sheriff visualized the peeled visage of this ‘Amy Burley’, bleeding on what remained of her knees, begging, pleading for mercy in his basem*nt, to be healed only to be tortured yet again.

Opening his eyes, the Sheriff smiled a wide, sinister smile before flying even faster towards the small house, focused entirely on his goal.

"Yea… yea, I got it, he isn’t going to last much longer, think we could swing by a bar and pick up another one without raising any red flags? … Oh, yea, I get what you say, but…" and on and on Amy went, talking on the phone right above where she and her partner kept Eddie.

The weakened vampire didn’t want to listen to her speak, didn’t want to hear another word uttered in that dismissive tone, like he was a thing and not a person… but he couldn’t really control his senses anymore. His eyesight was failing while his hearing was increasing and decreasing in concerning, random patterns… he wanted to scream, to cry his frustration and the last drops of his blood away… he couldn’t take it anymore.

"Forgive me lord for what I am about to do…" he whispered in the dark, conjuring memories of his late family, his former life… and of Lafayette, the only caring touch he knew in death.

Scarlet droplets were rapidly forming in the vampire’s eyes, it would take very little to let them fall, but something was holding him back, a feeling of… loss, of giving in and letting his torturers win…

Seconds ticked by, small tears clotting into rubies of pure pain in his line of sight, his own weakness whispering to just let them go, let them fall and be free, when he heard a knock.

"Hey, hold on…" Amy heard it too, confirming it wasn’t just his imagination, and opened the door slowly, "Yea?"

She could hear him, hear his small whimpers and cries, as well as smell his blood… but she couldn’t intervene. Watching and waiting, those were Pam’s latest orders from her maker. So, she kept out of immediate sight, leaning on a somewhat clean tree trunk near the woods, periodically readjusting her high-heeled feet in the ever-shifting mud and scowling at the front door.

Pam never disobeyed Eric, ever, but she wanted to, badly. Usually, a vampire’s cries of despair didn’t even scratch her high torture tolerance wall, but this one… was hard to tune out. She could, of course a vampire of her age could… but a small, though substantial part of her tattered conscience wanted to make sure the vampire, Eddie, was still alive. Still alive to see his temporary jailor die an excruciating death…

As she contemplated new ways to preserve the body’s homeostasis before the fun could really begin, Eric landed right in front of her, suit wrinkled and hair sticking every which way.

She raised an eyebrow at his disheveled, though still chic look, stocked the image in her vault for later use and just strode past him, annoyance plain as night. Eric raised an eyebrow back, maker and childe resemblance as uncanny as ever, before making his way ahead. He knew it was difficult for her to wait, to listen at a standstill and refrain from tearing the wretch’s guts out, especially when said interference could result in the release of a fellow vampire… but he would never intentionally put his progeny in a drainer’s path. So, he ignored her rude behavior and intentionally positioned himself ahead of her, before firmly knocking on the flimsy door.

As the Sheriff waited, he concentrated on every olfactory and auditory input his senses could detect, discerning and categorizing each foul, miserable odor and sound, mainly coming from the homeowner herself, though not quite. Eddie’s small whimpers and haggard inhalations were easily distinguishable from the human’s sweet as manzanilla voice, but his scent was, in a word, fused, not just entangled, but merged in a truly terrifying fashion with the breather’s.

… The human wretch had truly drained Eddie… "Även efter 10 århundraden av varje tortyr som möjliggjorts kan jag fortfarande bli förvånad…" said Eric, in a low, icy tone, not expecting an answer, like the words had somehow escaped his thoughts, and judging by the haunted look in his eyes, they may have.

The genuine surprise and marveled horror of the situation held some novelty to the ancient vampire, but it’s perplexing oddity could not compare to the pure, livid rage he could feel burning just beneath his frozen skin, pulsing and beating against its outer shell, demanding he unleash it, now.

The sudden, gentle touch on his arm felt like a branded manacle, smoldering hot and made of strong iron, but the furious vampire didn’t attempt to shrug it off, letting it sting and burn like the very sun, knowing it was the only thing keeping him from tearing apart the very house from its foundations.

Pam kept her hand on his arm as the human approached and, as soon as the thin door opened, let go as Eric pounced… figuratively. He took control of the woman’s mind, halting any words of alarm from leaving her vocal cords and traveling through the phone to her companion… but not quickly enough. In her initial shock, ‘Amy’s’ grip loosened, not tightened, around the phone, making the device slip and fall to the parqueted floor with a loud thud.

After a few tense seconds of rigid restraint, the vampire exhaled a tiny, unneeded breath and just looked into the human woman’s eyes, mentally congratulating himself from not succumbing to his mounting anger. Though it is a difficult thing, to ignore one’s baser instincts as quickly as he had done, it came with the territory of being a somewhat political figure… but it only worked for so long. Such a skill, borne of need and conditioned by time, relied on the assurance that the beast raging within, thrumming and begging he skin her alive, would get its fill.

The Sheriff, regaining most of his composure, very quietly instructed the woman to pick up the phone and end the conversation in a normal way… which went as badly as you can imagine, with Amy’s voice and demeanor becoming as robotic as Siri, most certainly alarming the other culprit just as easily as her scream might have.

Frustrated and more than enraged, the vampire still managed to obtain Amy’s invitation, but as he stepped through, the true, pure smell hit him. So many miserable, pain filled day’s stench rolled around the Sheriff’s tongue, like decade old, already chewed gum that needed to be spit out as he got closer to the basem*nt door. The Sheriff had to use a sizable amount of his millennium aged restraint to focus on his task and not turn around and decapitate the pitiful insect still standing in his presence… Pam was less capable of such a feat. He could feel the way the bouquet of rotten, twisted anguish floating in the air was affecting his childe, making Eric stop in his pursuit.

"Pam… later." Two simple words said everything she knew would happen, she would get to enjoy the breather’s suffering, she just had to wait a little longer… but the vampire couldn’t, Pam's body flashing right next to the disgusting woman’s form, before her mind could fully comprehend her actions, and grabbing her by the throat.

Eric, regrettably, had to stop her, mainly because the human’s mush of a brain still contained valuable information regarding the other party involved… but also because he wanted to inflict as much torment on the pathetic excuse of a life form as possible.

"Please Eric, if not physical, that at least a little mental torture… to give her a taste…" Pam pleaded, her tone spilling like honey over the twisted, thorny vines of her steel eyes. "After all… livet livnär sig på sin egen grymhet och nu kommer mänskliga händer att klyva och be desperat." She continued, mixing a few of her maker’s favorite verses together, hoping to please.

Eric’s mouth pulled up in a tiny, sad*stic smile as he agreed, infinitely pleased by his childe’s beautiful cruelty and sugary manipulations: "Fine… but don’t spoil the surprise, at least not too much.", before descending the cold cement stairs into apparent darkness.

Sitting in the dark for so long, weak and starving, emotionally and physically damaged beyond his own belief, Eddie couldn’t imagine something worse, but the distorted sounds coming from upstairs stoked the flames of somber predictions… forcing the baby vampire to huddle into a ball, even closer to the wall as he shivered.

After a few seconds, the sounds stopped, every sound stopped, even the crickets he used to hear from outside stood motionless in their accompanying fear of the nearby predator… all sounds except Eddie’s erratic breathing. The terrified vampire tried to keep it under control, not remembering in his fright that vampires had no need for air.

Another few seconds flew by, precious time his brain used to boot back up, cease all needless inspirations and forcefully calm him down. When nothing else happened, another emotion resurfaced, one that always seemed to get humans into trouble, curiosity… what had made such a racket, what happened? Eager to find out, Eddie uncurled from his defensive position, and dragged himself a foot closer to the stairs, just as the door opened.

The light temporarily blinded him into another state of panic, and he tried to back away, but the figure had already moved, lighting fast to his level. As Eddie looked up, he almost wanted to cry, tears already springing up, but not from fear of expected pain, but from relief… Sheriff Northman had found him.

Eddie tried to speak, to form the necessary words of appreciation for his impending release, but he could barely even feel his own tongue anymore… or arms, or legs… or anything…

"Well… Buffalo Amy sure did some damage…" Eric said, real concern and anger crammed into a posturing tone. "Pam, would you be so kind as to bring the blood bags down? Mr. Gauthier is currently indisposed." Looking at the pitiful mess of decaying flesh and loose skin that comprised his charge struck a nerve with the Sheriff… a particularly cruel one he was more than ready to unleash on the other blood bag staring, placidly, into nothingness upstairs.

Or at least she should have been, had Pam not misinterpreted his order, thus bringing the zombified woman with her into the basem*nt. Eric looked at her, then at Pam and raised his signature eyebrow: "The plastic covered blood bags, Pam."

When his childe didn’t move, staring passively into his eyes, Eric had to contain a sigh… he understood her plight, her need to torture the disgusting woman in every non-lethal way she could, but bringing her down into the makeshift cellar, where a very hungry, though unconscious, vampire lay, was simply shortsighted.

Briefly closing his eyes in obvious exasperation, Eric addressed her: "Pam… you know I live to amuse your every whim, but we, more specifically I cannot afford to lose our only substantial lead to a hungry, undisciplined youngling such as…" Before the distracted Sheriff could finish his sentence, Amy disappeared in the same trivial breath, stunning the vampires for a brief moment. A second too long apparently, for when they followed Eddie’s trail into the surrounding woods, the evergreen trees were splattered red. Wet bloody chunks and misty arterial sprays decorated the natural scenic view, delighting and vexing the vampire duo in increasing increments of pure gore.

Following the crimson path into a smaller emerald alcove, they found Eddie, draining Amy, well, Amy’s torso in big gulps of pure pleasure. It was quite a sight, a true Goya’n masterpiece, the old, battered god devouring the being destined to consume his life force, his blood, in a vicious display of instinct and fear laced excitement. When the woman’s still blinking eyes ceased their panicked, fluttering motion, when the essential spark left her body, Eddie stopped, raising himself up and away from his pray… a few tears beginning to sprout from his own eyes.

The Sheriff was initially perplexed, until a deep sense of disappointment seemed to settle in his midsection at the, frankly, revolting display of guilt, of such humanity in the face of one’s torturer. Not desiring to be a witness to Eddie’s the pathetic breakdown, he turned towards Pam: "Contact Syrus and let him know of our… current situation, than recruit Alexandra to help redecorate this spontaneous Jackson Pollak recreation, I’m thinking, bear sighting and subsequent attack, nothing too conspicuous…" As he uttered the word, he looked around the bloody scene yet again "…well, at least nothing that could lead back to us."

After giving his orders, he began to walk away, but a wet thud turned his attention back to Eddie, who was still quietly sobbing, now on the ground, his knees digging into the soft blend of mud and congealed blood… The image, though pathetic, managed to briefly circumvent the Sheriff’s composure, the vampire uttering a rusty sigh as he said: "Though, I suppose Syrus can be a bit… abrasive, get Laura instead, I think she can handle out little ‘problem’ with more tact."

Pam watched him, her stoic expression unchanged in almost every way, except her eyes, widening just a fraction, surprise and contentment evident by her following small smirk. Before she could open her mouth to comment, he continued: "… after all, if our charge kills himself out of some ephemeral sense of… guilt, any and all collective efforts consolidated towards his retrieval would thus amount to a big pile of f*cking nothing on a platter, topped with a human waste cherry on top." After a sufficiently long amount of eye contact, Pam regained her seemingly bored expression and nodded in agreement.

Ostensibly appeased by his level of displayed apathy, Eric took off, flying swiftly towards his latest home, more than assured of Laura’s form of care, the former psychiatrist having plenty of experience and far more patience in dealing with human-vampire emotional hybrids than any other well-adjusted vampire… Still, Eddie’s face kept appearing in his mind, the young vampire’s utter devastation in the face of his own potential and factual brutality no longer bringing forth just pure repugnance… but also an old memory, frayed by time and conscious concealment… his own first kill.

The life of a viking was of particular interest to scholars and researchers from around the world, at least until the 20^th century, where objective curiosity turned to adaptive personalization and later to outright fantastical depictions of savagery, constant battle, vicious pillaging and sodomy interspersed only by the consumption of drink. This more than a little skewed modern depiction of his culture and people used to enrage Eric, but he had to concede that, well, they weren’t that far off, at least when it came to common men. Eric, first born son of king Ulfrik, Great Bear of the North and queen Astrid, was no common man, he was a prince, that in his early years was mostly shielded from combat, from the grizzly battles his father’s men fought, spending his days in a maiden’s soft bosom high on mead and lust.

Until… a strange man appeared at their gates, asking for food and shelter, only to leave that very night, surrounded by a dozen blood-soaked wolves and holding his father’s crown. Over 1000 years later, he remembered very little of what followed that bitter night, a somewhat deliberate choice in the long path to acceptance…but he could still see him. A boy no older than he, with the face of an angel and the deceitful eyes of Loki himself attempting to flee town while the other men and women searched for their leader’s murderer.

Leif… was his name, the name the shrouded man spoke had let him in, the same man that had graciously let the mysterious man out after he was done, but not before getting his 20 pieces of silver. Eric didn’t feel any remorse for his deed, not at the time, in fact, he greatly enjoyed gutting the young man, seeing the shine leave his terrified eyes… but his death brought no change… it only made Leif immortal in his mind’s eye, a permanent fixture of his own failure and viciousness. He didn’t break down like Eddie did, but, then again, he didn’t have the luxury to…

Shaking his head like the action could somehow lurch the memory out, Eric flew even faster, wishing to relish in the quiet release of sleep, to dream and forget yet again.

Ring, Ring, Riiingg… the wall-phone sung, ringing and ringing until it finally stopped… only to start again mere seconds later. Sookie groaned, stretching in her comfy and warm bed before yelling: "Gran, can you get the phone please!?" and collapsing into her makeshift cocoon.

When the ringing didn’t stop, Sookie graced the world with an indignant huff and got up and out the door, all the way downstairs determined to give whoever had the nerve to wake her up a piece of her mind, before she saw the time, that is ‘9:27 AM, shoot, I should’ve been up hours ago, why didn’t Gran wake me up?’ she thought before taking a calming breath and answering the phone like a lady: "Good morning!"

"Mornin’ Sook, sorry to disturb ya on your day off, but could you please drive over to Amy’s house and wake her up? She was supposed to be at work no later than 8 and I’ve been callin’ for the past half hour."

Her bosses voice so early in the morning and his subsequent request had the young woman’s eyes rolling all the way to the back inside her head, a gesture she never thought humanly possible: "Hey Sam, don’t wanna be rude but, couldn’t you just give her a day off or somethin’? Maybe she’s not feelin’ that well?" Sookie tried, using the sweet, kind tone she knew her boss loved, wanting to seem considerate to his plight, instead of lazy, sleepy and just really annoyed at his existence in that moment.

"Any other day I would’ve given her a pass, but I already gave Arlene the day off on account of her kids bein’ sick and Daphne’s on bed rest from sprainin’ her ankle last night sooo, Amy’s kinda the only available help right now, unless you wanna come in?" Sookie wanted to bang her head against the sturdy table in the kitchen, but she knew Gran would never approve of such hysterics from a lady, so she took another small breath, cursed in her mind, and responded in the fakest sweet tone she could muster:

"Oh Sam, of course I’ll help ya out, you know what, I was already headin’ her way before you called, we’s outta… um" she racked her brain thinking of what was near Amy’s house "We’re almost outta Mirabelle plum preserves, you know how Gran is about plums in fall, ha ha…" Before the awkward silence could settle ‘like an itchy porcupine throw blanket over sunburned skin’, Sookie ended the conversation with a hurried: "Ok, so I’ll go by her place and tell’er to get movin’, see you later Sam!"

"Goodb…" click.

Sam usually acted like a small puppy begging for pets around her, mostly because of his secret not-so-secret crush, but presently tired, pissed-off Sookie really wanted to just club him. Still scowling, she looked up into the hallway mirror and was not pleased to see the morning-day-monster looking back, so she walked upstairs to get ready.

10 minutes later, she was in her day off clothes, comfy shorts and weather appropriate tank top with small strawberries as she came back downstairs for her keys. "Gran, I’mma step out for a couple’a minutes." She yelled into the spacious house, before cringing at the loud volume of her shrill voice and waiting for the expected reprimand: ‘A lady does not cause a commotion!’, that for some reason never came. Confused, she came back and entered the true heart of any southern home and her Gran’s favorite spot, the kitchen, where a small note that read: ‘Went to get groceries, will be back by 11, love Gran.’ was placed delicately against the flower vase on the table. Sookie smiled when reading her pseudo mother’s words and, feeling inspired, wrote a note back explaining her own situation before placing it in the same spot, but not before adding her own ‘I love you’ at the end.

Feeling a lot better, she started her small yellow car up and headed over to Amy’s place. Looking out the window and seeing the the same old views, she turned the radio on, leaving it on the random station and listened… to an old airy song:

‘Ten years ago, on a cold dark night

There was someone killed 'neath the town hall light

There were few at the scene, but they all agreed

That the slayer who ran looked a lot like me…’

The beat could fool you into a nice little head bop if you didn’t pay much attention to the lyrics, but Sookie did, and when the song got to the: ‘Nobody knows, nobody sees, Nobody knows but me’ part she turned it off. The song gave her chills for seemingly no reason, and she tried to focus on something else, to just enjoy the clinging aroma of summer and the image of her Gran’s apple pies… but the more she drove the more the silence settled, and the more the silence settled the more paranoid Sookie got.

‘That random song ain’t mean sh*t, stop beein foolish, get there, find Amy, wake her ass up and then drive back… easy peasy, lemon…’ Sookie didn’t get to finish her internal pep-talk, her thoughts spiraling as she got closer to the rented house.

Miles…miles and miles of haphazardly strewn police tape covered the entire property, looking like the world’s worst Halloween decoration, which the young woman really hoped was the answer to its presence and not the… alternative described in the ominous song… or sign. To what? She didn’t know, probably to turn back, to just forget Sam’s request and go to sleep blissfully unaware of any suspicious activity… but now she couldn’t, now she needed to know what was going on.

Steeled in her feline curiosity, Sookie marched right up to the fence and was prepared to lift the thin yellow tape, before an officer appeared, one Sookie wasn’t very fond of.

"Hey Sookie, what’cha doin ‘ere? You know ‘dis here tape means you ain’t getting’ in, right?" said a very sweaty and fidgety Kevin Ellis, grimacing in a failed attempt at a calm smile. ‘sh*t, now she’s ‘ere, next’s gonna be Maxine and then the whole town’l be havin’ a conniption…’

Sookie heard his thoughts, of course she did, she was listening for them instead of tuning them out, but they were giving her major anxiety, just what had happened? "Hello Officer Ellis, um, Sam asked me to come by, said Amy’s not been answerin’ her phone and it’s time for her shift… is everythin’ alright?" She asked, in the most dumb-blonde tone she could muster, even adding a few slow blinks in, hoping to sell.

"Would love to tell ya sweetheart, but we ain’t even taken the picture yet, much less developed it, could be anythin’ right ‘bout now… and we wouldn’t want to agitate the public for no reason, now would we?" The sleazily man asked, looking not so subtly down Sookie’s tank top. She wanted to slap him, but she was too preoccupied trying to listen in for any details, when she saw them.

Two people, in scrubs, wheeling a slow-moving gurney… carrying several differently shaped black bags instead of a full body one. In that moment, Ellis’s thoughts, his voice, his entire existence no longer mattered, because she knew… after what kept happening to the other girls in town, after that dark sh*tty song, she just knew that it was Amy, or what remained of her.

Wanting to prove herself wrong, she got closer, unresponsive to the cop’s distress and subsequent flailing attempts to stop her. Maybe she was being punished for her curiosity, maybe for being a lazy and inconsiderate person, maybe she was just unlucky that the universe decided to strike her down… no reason truly mattered when Amy’s severed leg fell out of a poorly sealed bag, painting the grassy yard a vivid carnage red… and unlocking Sookei’s inner banshee.

She screamed, unblinking, at the disturbing sight, and kept screaming until she chocked, alternating to jumbled, sobbing cries of shock and terror. Kenya Jones, the only female officer on their pathetically small police force held her, as Sheriff Dearborne tried to soothe and reason with her.

After a few more seconds of incoherent words, Sookie stopped, she wasn’t ok, but she could be spoken to. "Sookie, please look at me." said Kenya in the gentlest tone possible, waiting until the frightened young woman finally looked up to continue: "Breathe, in and out, in and out, that’s it, keep going."

Sookie did what she was instructed to do, looking anywhere else than at the drying patch of red on the lawn. After a minute, she calmed down, relieved and annoyed at herself for her reaction.

"Ok, I’m ok… I, I just… what happened?" Sookie whispered, pleading with her eyes for reassurance that her dark imaginations of what transpired were wrong. Kenya looked conflicted, but knowing how news traveled in such a small town, not to mention murder gossip, decided that it was better to tell her now than later, and risk a frenzied riot.

"As far as we can tell, it’s a bear attack, a f*ckin’ vicious one at that, but no signs of an actual murder." Sookie was about to breathe a sigh of relief, but she caught the small twitch of hesitancy in the officer’s lip, followed by a passing ‘Hope that’s all it is, but there’s no way of tellin’ if someone disguised a murder as an animal attack to get away with it…’ voice reverberating inside her skull.

Suddenly, Sookie needed to get away, she no longer felt as safe around the officers as she did just a few minutes ago, they seemed so detached and borderline useless that she just couldn’t stay near them. She needed to get home, go to sleep and forget everything she had seen and heard all morning, so she did. With a hasty ‘I need to go’ the young woman left the scene, got into her car and drove in complete silence all the way back to Gran’s place, where the house was still blessedly empty.

As she walked by the phone, it rang, again, but she didn’t answer it. Sookie knew it was most likely still Sam, asking about Amy, but she just couldn’t deal with it or him in that moment, so she climbed all the way into her bed, stuffed her face in the cool pillow and forced herself to sleep, head completely empty of thoughts and emotions, dreamless in respite as in life.

He could hear something buzzing in the distance, could smell, even taste the fresh air, as well as sense the intense morning light lasering into his closed eyes, but Jason didn’t awake. His body was conscious, but his mind kept hitting the snooze button, at least until the actual alarm blared its ear-splitting song at 10 AM and forced the boy’s rested eyes open, pupils pinpricking automatically in annoyance.

"Ughhh… 5 more minutes Gran, school ain’t stop runnin’ just cuz I ain’t there…" said a sleepy, frowning Jason, before forcefully punching the clock and turning over. Just as he was about to fall asleep again, another noise caught his attention, a rusty, cracking sound coming from outside that the boy ignored, before reaching its crescendo of crashing wood and debris, startling Jason awake as 'a high-tailed rooster drinkin’ mentos’d Cola'.

Stumbling around, he looked for his pants, finding a few shirts and a lone sock instead, decided investigating the weird noise was more important and dragged his groggy ass outside to see… nothing out of order. Confused, the boy looked around, inspecting every wall and window, finding well known wear and tear, some stains and a bit of mold, but nothing that could explain the loud sound from before. As he went towards his fence to look past it into the surrounding yard and forest, he looked back, finally seeing the top part of his home. A quiet "Oh, f*ck my life…" crossed his lips at the massive hole in his roof, caused by a nearby tree’s fallen branch.

He stood in his yard, pants less and barefoot, hands on his hips marveling at yet another example of his bad luck. A nippy gust of wind flew around the boy’s ankles, making his legs move like fuel in a car towards his supply shed. Retrieving the ladder, Jason climbed up a few steps to peer at the damage, seeing a smaller hole than expected and minimal surrounding shingle damage. Somewhat relieved, he climbed back down, hearing a few groans and squeaks that he prayed were from the old ladder, and finally looked around to make sure no one saw him in his underwear.

Jason wanted to go back inside but didn’t move back towards the house for fear of collapse, choosing instead to circle the culprit. The big oak tree stood motionless, obviously, annoying Jason even though the boy knew it was not its fault, as he muttered curses and a few realistic ways to fix the situation. His notorious uselessness before breakfast coupled with the still dazed feeling of a truly restful sleep impeded Jason’s already unreliable critical thinking abilities, prompting the boy to disregard his initial caution and enter his home, at least in order to eat.

A little less bleary-eyed, Jason found his kitchen, opened the fridge and sighed defeatedly. Of course, it was empty, the boy chastising himself for forgetting the most basic information, especially when he himself had verified the kitchen appliance’s profusion just… last night.

Jason felt a shiver travel from his spine all around his body, settling after a while of reminiscing last night’s events in the boy’s lap. He could still feel the ghostly touch of the vampire Sheriff, holding his face, his hands, his waist, oh so gently, while gazing at him with such intensity, speaking to Jason like he mattered, whispering compliments and goodbyes with such conviction and sorrow… and the kiss. Such a small gentlemanly gesture, bestowed on a guy, a regular nobody like him, should have made the boy recoil, but Jason couldn’t fool himself anymore… "I liked it…" he said in a similar whisper, a blush coloring his cheeks from the admission. He had enjoyed the attention, the many displays of care and attraction from the ancient and gorgeous vampire. Smiling, Jason relished the minute shivers that kept emerging as he thought about Eric’s glances and small smiles, all facilitated by Jason himself… before remembering his massive blunder.

"sh*t… Why’d I get so mad again?" the boy asked himself, before recalling the turn in conversation, the shift that caused a majority of last night’s drama: "f*ck! I forgot about Sookie!" he yelled into the empty room. "Dammit!" Jason exclaimed as he barreled towards his nightstand to get to his phone, food and roof-hole forgotten. Finding Eric’s name in his contacts, the boy was about to dial the seemingly innocuous number, before catching sight of a bright streak of sunlight peeking through his blinds.

"sh*t, maybe Dawn wasn’t wrong, I really am dumber than a box of rocks…" Sighing, Jason closed his phone and dejectedly returned to the kitchen, yet again opening the fridge to find Ta-Da, nothing! Jason had an overwhelming urge to rip the refrigerator’s door off in that moment, whishing to punish it for mocking him in some way, but, as he regained his senses, a cathartic laugh bubbled up. ‘What a weird, f*cked up thought, I really need to wake up.’ His brain supplied, finally registering his partial nakedness and imparting the notion that food and the necessary roof-mending supplies could be bought from the supermarket, hopefully. It was a small town, and they didn’t have Walmart, but they had a thrifty version where he could probably find everything he needed.

Game-plan somewhat in place, the boy dressed, putting on a simple black t-shirt, his usual jeans, belt and trusty boots, before exiting the house. He knew he needed to fix the roof as fast as possible, and it was a good thing it was his day off, but still, first order of business was getting food. Hopping into his truck, he drove over to 'Wally’s everythin’ store', parked and began shopping, filling his cart with plenty of meat, preferred stake and chicken occupying top priority, then vegetables, mostly potatoes, onions and tomatoes, before heading down to the wood-working section.

As he looked at the supplies, noticing their different uses and specifications, he realized that, well, he wasn’t Bob the Builder. He knew how to assemble small structures and mend some stuff, but roof work really wasn’t in his skill set. Disappointed in himself and more than a little frustrated, Jason was about to leave, when a familiar voice called out to him:

"Jason! Hey man, how’s it goin’?" came the cheery sound of his oldest friend bounding over to him, ‘Grinnin' like a possum eatin' a sweet tater’ uttered a small voice inside Jason’s head, sounding just like his Gran.

"Hey man, nothin’ much, just lookin’ at some supplies, you?" said Jason, pointedly not looking Hoyt in the eyes, hoping to avoid his current issue at all costs. The boy didn’t care if other people knew about his latest situation, because he was sure they wouldn’t offer to help, but Hoyt would, he would give anyone the shirt off his back and more, and Jason just… didn’t want to abuse their already strained, in his opinion, friendship by burdening him with yet another of his never-ending problems.

The man watched his friend, Jason looking more nervous ‘than a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs’ the longer he peered at him. Hoyt was more than a little suspicious at his presence in the store already, so bright and early and in the wood-working section, a place the man knew Jason never frequented, that the added fidgety prodded intensely at his curiosity. "Was gettin’ some bread for my breakfast sandwich, you know I like the whole-grain kind, but forget that, why’s you lookin’ for supplies?"

Jason mentally cursed himself, why couldn’t he just say he was walking by, got distracted by the colorful half-off sigh and stopped to look, Hoyt would’ve believed it. Jason did a lot of stupid, random things, why would this be any different? But no, he had to say what he was actually doing, now having to lie to his friend when he knew Hoyt would be able to spot a lie from a mile away.

"Umm, was just thinkin’ of maybe, you know, redoing the porch steps? Not right now, cuz I’m real busy with other sh*t, but I was, you know, lookin’…" Hoyt’s eyebrows climbed all the way to the top of his forehead at his friend’s response, before narrowing in annoyed understanding.

"Jason man, I don’t know why or what you’s trying to cover up, but at least learn to lie better… Now, I know you’s been stressed as f*ck lately, but whatever happened, I’mma always be there for you, so, come on, tell me, what’s up?"

Jason knew outright lying to Hoyt was fighting a losing battle, he had tried before, but his friend would always wind up finding out a few hours later, coming over to his house and helping him, every single time, so he closed his eyes in defeat and explained the issue to him.

"Seriously man? Just a hole in yer roof? I thought you’d done somethin’ real bad, like burn the whole house down cuz you forgot the gas on or something… Don’t scare me like that!" Hoyt laughed merrily, shaking his head before asking for more specific details. Jason told him everything he knew, every sentence followed by a: ‘But it’s fine man’ or ‘I’mma just patch it myself, got the whole day free’ or a forced ‘Really, no need to waste yer time babying me like I was four, I got this.’ Hoyt barely heard anything that wasn’t wood or tool related, picking up a bunch of two-by-fours and a tarp before telling Jason that he had the rest of his tools in his car.

"Go home, get some grub ready and I’mma be there in a few with everythin’ we’s need." Jason was about to voice his next argument, when a loud sound registered to both men, his stomach deciding to make its presence known in grand fashion.

Jason knew he should have fought his friend harder on the issue, but the pure determination Hoyt’s eyes sometimes showed was truly unbelievable, quieting any and all protests, except his still grumbling belly.

Nodding stiffly, Jason headed to the register, paid mechanically and loaded everything into his truck before heading back. As soon as he was home, he decided that if his friend wanted to help, he would pay him back in a similar currency, T-bone steak and potatoes.

Meanwhile…

If Hoyt hadn’t known the location of his friend’s house, the smell of well-cooked meat would’ve transported him there like a looney tunes character, almost floating on air. As he came closer, the aphrodisiac effect of home-cooked food lost most of its appeal, being in direct competition with the man’s surprise at the tree-branch created hole right through Jason’s roof.

Stepping out, Hoyt adopted a similar pose to Jason’s, hands on hips and squinting at the unfortunate picture, grimacing at the thought of his friend having to fix everything by himself. ‘Why didn’t ‘e want me helpin’?’ thought the brawny man, shaking his head at the question, he would find out, but first, the inspection.

Jason wanted to help his friend, but he, southern, Christian boy that he was, wouldn't dare burn the king of all meat, delicious stake, for anything, only burning chicken would be more blasphemous, so, he kept cooking while Hoyt worked.

After half an hour, his friend was three quarters of the way done as Jason strolled outside to ‘help’, two cold ones in hand.

"Hey, thanks man! Ahhh, I really needed this." said Hoyt as he inhaled the cold beer, the can sweating almost as much as the man holding it.

"Thank you Bubba, I was up real sh*t creak and more confused than a fart in a fan factory' fore you's come over." Confessed Jason, his rigid frame and slightly embarrassed stance clashing with the gratefulness present in his eyes and tone.

"Jason, you know you can't get rid'a me, ‘specially when you's got problems I actually know how to fix... stop thanking me for doing normal sh*t like this."

The sun was up, scalding the very air they breathed, truly beating down on them, providing the day's menace an opportunity to earn its continued keep by partially shielding them from it. Through the branches, the ones still stable, Jason could swear a halo formed above Hoyt's head, framing his friend's easy smile and kind eyes in perfect harmony. The heavenly show, though mesmerizing, could not stop Jason's ears from ringing or his entire body from going cold.

"A problem you can fix..." The boy silently repeated, face blank. 'Of course he' think like this, what'd I expect? I just told'im and Lafayette... Why'd I let myself believe it then?' thought Jason, sadness oozing out of every pore at his friend's words, before another voice answered, clear and concise:' Because you really, truly wanted to believe that your oldest friend still saw you as you, and not some project to fix, not some little fa*ggot to straightened up...'

The pit inside his core, the one he thought he could now live with, expanded instantly at the thought of losing Hoyt to something he could no longer keep inside, could no longer suppress or hide. Before Jason' s mind could really spiral out of orbit, he felt... warmth, a soothing warmth slowly spreading from his shoulder down. Looking up, he saw it was Hoyt's hand, keeping him from crashing off the roof. His friend had wild, frightened eyes and a tight press of lips in place of a smile, indicative of many things, but in that moment, all Jason saw was disgust. The boy felt his heart stutter, so close to devastation and still hoping, but trudged forward:

"Hoyt... its… I… I get it... You don' t know how to fix... well, me, but... but there's nothing here to fix, dis is who I am, this is how I've always been, and I… I just can't hide it anymore... "

"Wai, wai, waaaiittt a minute! Hold up! What's you takin' about man?? " Asked a very confused Hoyt, interrupting Jason' s monologue.

"Wh... What’cha mean ‘What am I talkin' 'bout?’ You just said..."

In that moment, Hoyt understood his mistake, face contorting from confusion to depressed anger, before yet again interrupting his friend:

"NO MAN! I ain' t mean THAT! I was refferin' to the stupid murder-mystery on an ice-cream cone tipped with gossipy bullsh*t of a situation happenin' in town, you know, the one where you's been accused of being the murderer??!!"

Jason's sadness and a good portion of his hopelessness dispersed just as easily as they happened to occur, though, as energy is never destroyed, only converted, the space left was swiftly occupied by cautious relief and joy. BUT, before an actual smile could surface, Jason asked a question, the one that bothered him the most, while keeping his eyes glued to the shingles: "So... you don' t see me... you know, differently?"

Sighing, Hoyt looked up, asking God and all his angels to give him strength.

"Jason... of course I see you differently.", the man said, using a calm tone, not believing he had to explain something so obvious while also not realizing the effect his response could have, at least not until his friend looked up, pure dread shining in his eyes. Not wanting to prolong the misunderstanding, he hurried the rest of his statement along: "Now, with you accepting and bein' who you truly are, I respect you even more."

As Hoyt spoke, the stress and worry seemed to visibly fall away from the boy in thick rivulets, Jason's formerly coiled form unraveling, slowly detangling itself from the sad, invisible wall of his own doubts and into the bright light of reality.

A lazy, self-satisfied smile bloomed on the man's face as he watched his friend reappear, finally back from the worried and dejected place that always seemed so far away, when it was actually just beneath the surface of portrayed normalcy.

Speechless, Jason let his friend continue unimpeded: "Remember in third grade, when that sh*tstick, wut was'is name… Jake! Jake f*ckin' Laurey, 'member when he started pickin' on me? I know ya do, you found me in that classroom, beat up with no backpack, crying a whole ass river over losin' my favorite Spider-Man toy...'I still remember Jake's face the next day in gym class..." as he recalled this particular memory, Hoyt pointedly looked into his friend's eyes: "What remained of it… ‘e was more bruised than a peach tetherball." Both men started laughing at the horrible image, time forging it into a beloved memory of friendship and trust. "You… you got suspended for a month, but ’e never tried sh*t again, never even looked at me, all cuz you were ma friend, from then on my best friend!" Putting his hand on Jason's shoulder again, he said, eyes a little misty, more than a little hurt that Jason could even fathom a world where they were not friends: "That ain't ever gonna change, no matter what you's do or say, you's stuck wit' me!" Letting a small amount of the hurt bleed through, Hoyt continued: "I... I don't know what I'd do without ‘cha... I love you man, never doubt that."

Touched, Jason broke through his selective mutism to nod at his friend and say a simple: "Thanks Bubba... I love you too."

"Ok man, so, now that the mushy sh*t is kinda done with, can I ask you a question?"

Curious by nature, Jason agreed, immediately regretting his decision when he saw Hoyt wiggle his eyebrows.

"How hot am I? Like, could even a dude be interested?"

Jason rolled his eyes, smile easily reappearing as he answered: "Why man, you's wanna give my team a try? If ya do, I know a place, but if you's askin me, well, to me you look like you'd make a freight train take a dirt road straight into a ditch."

Hoyt guffawed in indignation, responding with an equally sarcastic: "Yea right, you's as windy as a sack full'a farts, admit it Stackhouse, I'm a hot piece of ass you'd looovee to have a go at, but you's know you' s too ugly for me!" Huffing and puffing, the beefy, sweaty hulk of a man began doing a very convincing impression of famous and infamous diva Sharpay Evans, flipping his hair over his shoulder, crossing his arms and turning his nose up, though barely holding in laughter. Jason wasn't as composed, immediately cracking up at his friend's antics, but Hoyt wasn't done: "I' m serious man, you's soo ugly, if you was a dog, I would've shaved your but and taught you to walk backwards, at least you'd be less offenfin' then." Jason' s laughter turned to hysterics, bringing tears to the previously depressed boy's eyes, a sound so infectious, it finally broke Hoyt, both men chortling until their bellies hurt.

Slowly, their uproarious laughter turned to giggles, before dying out into smiling bliss, both friends stretching, completely relaxed, on the warm roof. But, sooner rather than later, the sun's death rays penetrated the tree's natural defenses, turning the warm shingles into lava, hotter than Georgia asphalt and twice as sticky, reminding the men of their location and its associated tasks.

Rising into a seated position, Jason and Hoyt stashed their beers in a cooler before hurrying along with the repairs, a process that took a mere 10 minutes to finish, before heading down to the cool kitchen.

The friends ate with gusto, enjoying the taste, texture and freshness of a good home-cooked meal from scratch, telling old and new stories, laughing at their past selves and mourning lost time, before departing, hearts and bellies full.

"Oh, f*ck’s sake…" whispered a very annoyed Sam Merlotte after yet another unanswered phone-call from Sookie, before slamming the phone down, trying to calm himself and not shift in the office, in the middle of the day, while still wearing clothes.

He could, the restaurant was as busy as it always was on a steaming afternoon, almost empty that is, but Sam did have some customers, mainly a few of the road-work crew, some older ladies that frequented the place when it was too hot to cook anything and a few scattered men that didn’t cook on principle. Still, if Arlene, or Sookie or f*cking Amy were here, he wouldn’t even have to stop to consider it, but no, not one of them were, so, the boss had to take the orders, gathering snickers and a few pointed comments about not handling his employees like he should, testing his resolve that much more.

Sweatier than a greatcoat wearing northerner in August and just as bad tempered, Sam didn’t pay much attention to the uniformed officers entering his establishment, or their motive for being there when they usually preferred to order in.

"Hey, Sam…" said Bud Dearborne, in a somewhat quiet voice, catching the ear of the owner as quickly as his smell did. ‘Blood… fresh blood…’ thought Sam as he turned to look at him, noticing the officer’s forced blankness, as well as his inferiors’ copied expressions.

"Hey Bud…" responded Sam, intentionally roving his eyes around the squad, trying to appear confused, like he didn’t know why they were there. "Something… wrong? Why’s yall all here? Did my license to serve alcohol expire or some sh*t?" The shifter tried to laugh, playing his instinctually driven apprehension and aggression as a joke.

"Whew, I wish that was why I’s be commin’ by, but it ain’t that simple…" said Dearborne, looking up into the shifter’s eyes: "Can we talk in yer office? This matter is… quite sensitive.", before pointedly looking towards the suddenly very quiet patrons, intently listening in.

"Sure… right dis way." Sam led the whole team to his hole in the wall private space, securing seats for all of them. He didn’t know what was going on, other than that a murder happened, ‘But who was it? Could it be Sookie? Nah, I memorized her scent years ago, ain’t no way that’s my sweet Sookie… Dis is someone else… but who?’

Sam kept cataloguing every scent he could think of, not really listening to the Sheriff speak, until he heard a name that made his stomach drop: "…Amy, she was found dis morning, dismembered in the woods after a presumed bear attack…"

In that same moment, the quaint roadhouse’s doors swung open, out walking a certain someone, gruff and visibly upset at the unfortunate news, only heard through the aid of illegally consumed vampire blood, high doses of it even, as in walked the queen bee of Bon Temp’s own rumor beehive, Maxine Fortenberry, glammed up and buzzing with excitement at the prospect of even more ‘news’.

The Sheriff’s pause was obviously intended to assess the listener’s reaction, to determine their level of distress when faced with such information, or the lack thereof, both responses possibly hinting at the same result, depending on the person. Sam’s parted lips and wide eyes clearly expressing shock and horror assured the officers of his lack of any prior knowledge, but the Sheriff wasn’t as easy to convince, continuing like he never even stopped:

"… last seen leavin’ dis bar just last night, after talking to you about her schedule, so, seein’ as you was one of the last people to see’er alive, we came over to ask you what you’s remember ‘bout yesterday and if you know of someone who would try to do’er any harm? You know, that kinda thing."

Sam’s brain short-circuited for a second as he repeated the girl’s name, his employee’s name, a person he had just seen and talked to… already dead.

"Yes, Amy Burley, brunette, long hair and green-blue eyes, worked for ya for less than two months before dying because of a brutal and unexplained incident, same as Dawn Green, your other dead former-employee…" as the Sheriff talked, the room darkened, resembling the human’s and shifter’s moods, though for different reasons.

Coming back to himself, Sam thought over the Sheriff’s questions, one standing out more than the others: "Wait a minute, did ya just ask me if someone wanted to harm her? Ain’t you just say it was a bear that attacked her?" relayed the shifter, eyes narrowing in suspicion.

"Presumedly, we don’t really know, we’s considering every possibility ‘til the forensic results come in, and until then, we’s lookin’ at the people closest to’er." Said a similarly sour looking Bud, displeased at the other man’s expression.

"Now, I ain’t accusin’ you of anything, we ain’t even got probable cause, but you gotta admit, it ain’t normal, two young, brunette, green/blue-eyed girls dying a week from each-other, both workin’ for the same guy… kinda strange don’tcha think?" Inquired Bud, using his patented sweeter than molasses wise old-man voice, hoping to lull Sam into a false sense of security and maybe get something good. The hyper-aware shifter wasn’t having it though, and, even if he did actually feel bad for Amy and wanted to show it, he couldn’t. Going into the emotional side of his existence brought forth the animal and its instincts, making his brain fog and possibly even causing unknown damage to his credibility and innocence. Taking a breath, Sam calmed himself down and answered the questions with just enough confusion and concern to seem believable while keeping the full-force feelings within.

The Sheriff eased off after a while, finally ending his stink-eye bombardment and giving him a nod of agreement, before departing with his squad in tow, leaving Sam alone with his thoughts. The shifter inside wanted to come out, was almost tearing at his insides to emerge, but he couldn’t set it free just yet, he had to leave the restaurant’s manning position to someone else.

Trudging outside, Sam found Lafayette, the man fanning himself continuously, especially near the stove, trying to beat the weather, and relayed the news to him. Lafayette responded with similarly startled eyes and a loud: "Oh shieat!", before calming down enough to comment further: "Dis f*ckery just happened? What was that girl doin’ in the motherf*ckin’ woods at night?" the man asked in quick succession, more quietly uttering to himself: "Lord, what is it with white bitches and investigating shiet you’s ain’t supposed to f*ckin’ be curious about?".

Before Sam could say anything else, Lafayette continued, asking about the most pressing issue someone who didn’t really know or even like the victim of such an attack could ask: "Now who’s gonna cover her shift? Cuz baby, I’m sorry, I ain’t a waitress… although, I could be a butler for some cash upgrade…" Sam rolled his eyes, threw the keys to the shop at him and took off, wanting, needing to get out and shift.

As Lafayette made drinks and manned the bar/front desk, Maxine lurked, asking every man, woman and man-child in the room about the police presence. No one knew a thing, except the bartender, who always knew everything but never told anyone, just as Lafayette never told the lipstick wearing pig of a woman that her dreams had come true, there was actually more to gossip about.

As the sun shined and the birds chirped, so did scumbags lurk, in a dark corner of a less traveled side street to be more precise. This certain someone kept pacing back and forth, mood alternating between anger, euphoria and confusion, made all the worse by the drugs running in his system, trying to decide what to do. Due to a few revelations, he didn’t know who to trust or how to continue moving forward… Frustrated and high as a kite, he called:

"Hello, you’ve reached the Bon Temps police department, how may I…" the person answering didn’t get to finish as the man began: "What the f*ck happened to Amy? Is the supply safe? Did you find the vampire or any melted remains in the basem*nt?"

The person on the phone was silent for a long time before answering in a seemingly polite tone: "We’re sorry sir, this information is unavailable to the public…" before transitioning to quiet rage: "… but if you have any other concerns, I am here to help."

The pacing, now profusely sweaty man could barely keep his rage from flying out of his ears like steam out of an overheated crock-pot, a sentiment shared by his phone buddy as he hung up.

Murmuring to himself, the man stopped to lean on a solid brick wall, trying to cool down his body as well as his mind, sluggishly forming ideas and solutions to his current predicament, before his phone beeped, displaying a text from BBJ (buddy blood junkie): ‘I gather you didn’t take her out, in that case we’ll meet at the usual spot and talk.’ Immediately followed by another text: ‘Oh and FYI, if you ever call my place of work again to ‘talk business’, well, we both know how far I can f*ckin’ bury you.’

The man smirked at the text, knowing that if any physical fight broke out, he could easily overpower BBJ, but his amusem*nt faded quickly, replaced by a heavy uneasiness at the prospect of everything tumbling down, of people finding out… of his family finding out.

Straightening up, a certain someone emerged from the side street, oblivious mask in place as he strolled forward, anxieties and feelings quiet as he contemplated his next move.

Chapter 21: Light comeuppance

Chapter Text

Cold… so very cold… not the normal tepid temperature of his own undead existence… a deeper, harsher chill that seemed to envelop his entire being, from his limited sight, filled with blood tears and almost human at this point, to his smell and touch.

Touch… a sense not yet lost but just as broken, his brain barely registering the rough and slightly damp texture of the old rag he was still clutching. Found a few nights back, the rag, though filthy from fluids he’d rather not consider, was studiously kept hidden from the other occupants of the frigid basem*nt. Well… not the rag per se, more so what was hidden beneath it. After the first night of meager rations and ignored woes, a handy Tru Blood stash seemed like a good idea to Bill, who kept holding back some, not very much… just enough to have at least 2 full bottles at the ready. The other ‘guests’ residing at Motel du Torture seemed almost resigned to their fate, drinking the awful concoction as soon as it was handed out, seemingly unaware of the concept of escape. Even Malcolm, the group leader and resident senior sat slumped over in one of the corners, chain around his neck slack and lifeless, just like the rest of him.

Not Bill though, he knew that if he didn’t get out soon he never would. So he waited, fingers twitching around the worn rag, impatient and somewhat exhilarated for the old wall clock to strike 11 AM, signaling Ginger’s descent into the basem*nt and Bill’s ticket to freedom.

But, as fate would always have it when it came to him, the expected time came and went, the door remaining as ominously sealed and unbreakable as it always had. At first, Bill thought she was just running a bit late, but after an insurmountable amount of time for the starved vampire, translated into 40 actual minutes, his fingers clenched around the rag, fear and adrenaline fueling his atrophied muscles.

After so many centuries of living, feared around the world as the Beast of the North, Bill was sure Eric Northman knew just how long a vampire body could last without blood before breaking down and thus ruining his sad*stic f*cking fun. That could only mean one thing… it was their last night. Chancing another look at the old clock, the tattered vampire just knew Ginger would not be coming down, so, in a moment of clarity he saw an alternative, changing plans fast, it was now or never.

But… Bill’s plans, as of late, seemed to limp towards the proverbial crash and burn of a truly spectacular wreck. Removing the rag, though the action barely made a sound, had caught the other vampire’s attention, all three now watching Bill with trepidation. The determined vampire ignored their gazes, instead grabbing the first bottle and chugging it, intent on not tasting the assuredly foul drink. As he drank, he could actually feel his senses returning, animating his body like pumping air into a deflated tire. But, before he could reach for the other bottle, the unmistakable sound of screeching metal caught his attention, coming from one of the corners, Malcolm’s corner. The older vampire was snarling, eyes crazed while straining against his bindings trying to reach Bill, the others not far behind on the uptake. Bill could actually see their skin breaking against the heavy chains, muscles tense and ready for when, more likely if, they snapped.

Bill froze for a second, before remembering this wasn’t fiction, a show or film to entertain an ephemeral audience, but real life, and he needed to act. He rapidly grabbed the second bottle and drank, quickly and heavily, seeing the disappointment turn to rage in the other vampire’s eyes. Their previously brutal show of desperation turned beastly, fangs fully extended, mouths chomping on air, extremities swiping in every direction in a futile attempt at contact, truly sad… but not pitiful enough.

Faster than even Bill thought possible, he reached the youngest vampire, easily dodging his staggered attacks and grabbing his neck hard, before breaking it with a resounding crack. Usually, such an act would only send a vampire into a temporary state of unconsciousness, but the fangs in his neck and Bill’s still pressing hunger made it a permanent one.

Standing over the corpse, Bill sighed in relief and… hunger. Draining Liam was supposed to quench his thirst, it was supposed to give him enough power to step away and hopefully break down the basem*nt door on his way to freedom, but he had miscalculated… Drinking another vampire’s blood was considered taboo for a reason, a reason never more poignant than in that very moment. A red haze had taken over, Bill no longer hearing any other sound than the slow trickle of blood inside the other two vampire’s bodies, a misty veil lifted only by the lack of that particular ringing in his ears. Opening his eyes again was like awakening from a long nightmare, a vision of carnage depicted in paintbrush red strokes of bleak reality. Refusing to take another look around himself, Bill shut his eyes and silently moved over to the staircase, shoes squishing.

As he reached the door, a painful stinging sensation shot through his arm, opening his eyes in a blink, an action followed by a litany of profanities and aggressive wall abuse… the door was silvered. Now, tank filled with vampire blood, Bill could theoretically touch the door and push it open through sheer force of will, but it wasn’t just a normal door... oh no, Eric was a special kind of monster. The ‘hatch’ was almost two inches of thick iron and bolted from the outside, truly impenetrable, at least for his age even with the steroids. Mind a lot clearer, he realized his plan was shot from the beginning. Bill didn’t necessarily need Ginger for her blood, he needed someone to open the door from the outside in order to escape…

The anger and adrenaline that had previously fueled him began to slither away like so much lost hope the longer he stared at his damnation… The rapidly weakening vampire knew then, he would die in this basem*nt…

Unless…

Slowly, Bill’s chapped lips ticked up, forming a smile that quickly turned into a shark like grin… He still had her.

Closing his eyes yet again, he searched for it, for the strongest link he still possessed and whispered in calculated longing: ‘Sookie…’.

She was drifting, eyes closed and body open, floating between consciousness in a river of smooth, thin silk when she heard him.

“Sookie....” His voice, while whispering, reverberated off every cell in her body, curling her toes and her spine in anticipated delight. As he approached, the wispy layer enveloping her bare body parted, revealing the smooth line of an exposed thigh. His touch, always warm in her dreams, seemed.... cool…cold. Icy.

As his hand glided higher, she shivered, almost feeling the tiny icicles forming along her sun-kissed flesh. Curious and a little apprehensive, she opened her eyes... as pure horror gripped tight.

Sookie's mouth opened on a silent scream as she watched Bill, or what was left of him, place his disfigured hand on her bedding. He looked gaunt, eyes hollow and mouth thinned in suffering... and bloody, so much blood, dried and flaky in places, bright red and new in others.... Overall, the living dead embodiment of all her nightmares.

As she watched him seize and shiver, clinging to the last dregs of alternative life, he spoke, in a disturbingly clear voice: “Sookie... Please... find me! I am underneath a vampire bar called Fangtasia, a prisoner of Sheriff Northman's. Talk to your brother, talk to Jason… he knows everything. Please Sookie, this is not a simple dream, heed my words. I am afraid my body will not last much longer. Sookie... please...Find me…”

Her eyes shot open, perceiving the beige ceiling of her bedroom... alongside a shrill scream. After a few confusing seconds, she realized the God awful sound belonged to her. Slowly, determinedly, she stopped, releasing a chilled sigh as she now concentrated on containing the powerful shivers racking up her body at an alarming rate. Deep breathe in, then out and repeat was the way it went for a few minutes until she was somewhat calm.

Eyes closed, Sookie revisited her dream, slowly remembering the details... Bed... feeling relaxed... Bill... cold... blood.... Help... please.

The young woman fought with herself as she debated the meaning of said dream turned nightmare... Could Bill truly be in danger and asking for help? Fate answered her inquiry in the form of her Gran’s soothing voice calling for assistance: “Pumpkin, are you alright up there? Been callin’ your name for a while now… I know these late shifts make you too weak to whip a gnat, but could you please help me with the groceries? ”

Sookie’s eyes roved around the familiar room yet again, all thoughts pertaining to Bill and his plight suspended somewhere above the beige ceiling, there but out of immediate sight and reach, for now. Sluggishly, the confused young woman rose out of bed, stabilizing herself before descending the stairs, toffee legs on rubber joints following one misplaced step at a time.

Reaching the bottom, she advanced a bit, stopping just shy of the kitchen door, still somewhat in the hallway’s shadow, as her Gran spoke: “Oh sweetie, good, you’re up and about, now just grab that bag and…” As soon as she turned around, the old woman’s cheery voice died, words sounding like wet ash on her tongue as she continued: “Sookie… are you alright?”

The young woman didn’t immediately understand the meaning of the words, at least not until she looked sideways and met the visage of an unfamiliar face in the hallway mirror. Pure exhaustion shrouding large, bloodshot brown eyes framing the ashen, drawn expression of a makeup smeared face stared back in confusion and disbelief. Sookie watched the dour portrait, mouth agape and lashes blinking in time with the other woman’s, a woman that looked eerily familiar, before realization dawned. Quickly averting her eyes seemed to make the reality engraved upon her face dissipate, like Schrodinger’s cat, if you don’t look, it may be simultaneously there and yet not.

Sookie kept her head down, dreading the answer. She didn’t want to upset her Gran, didn’t want to explain all that had happened… Heaving a heavy sigh, the young woman conceded, approaching the kitchen table and taking a seat directly opposite her grandmother: “No Gran… I’m not f*ckin’ alright…”

A stable community, like a thriving bee hive, is often thought to rely on the hard work and cooperation of every individual, whatever their job may be. In reality, no collective group can coexist without trust, trust that your neighbor will not harm you for no reason, trust that your work is appreciated, trust that what you do and don’t do has consequences… but sometimes, an intruder may sneak in, slowly destroying the hive from the inside out while receiving no reprimand. Maxine and other people like her have been infesting Bon Temps since its inception, trailing their silken threads of deception and gossip like giant wax moths encasing a hive, confusing and alarming the bees to feed on their resulting paranoia filled honey.

Seeking another dose, and soon, the parasitic older woman sitting inconspicuously in one random booth eyed the other patrons and staff with varying degrees of anger, turning her lip up as she waited. It was unbearably hot in the old roadhouse, the dusty drapes doing little to shield its customers from the sun’s mid-day glare, not to mention the sticky tables and poor service, but Maxine had to hear the latest news.

Her previously jovial mood had shifted, countless scattered light-beer bottles signifying the time passed, transforming to a fowl concoction of frustration and curiosity. Without another murder case, she could never justify disclosing her late night snooping. Not that she wanted anybody to die, she loved everyone in her hometown and would never wish harm upon them. Well, except Merlotte and his wanderin’ eye… and Arlene and her habit for spreadin’ her legs for every trucker that came through… women who wear red shoes in general really… and maybe Mable who kept spreadin’ rumors ‘bout her ‘late’ husband and their marriage… Ok, so maybe she did have a bone to pick with a few people, but she would never want them to die… just to suffer a bit… a lot, preferably in a public setting to really humiliate them, for their own good of course.

Tapping her foot in impotent frustration, Maxine waited, and waited, and waited, her anger growing exponentially, quickly spilling over the approaching waitress.

“Good afternoon mam’, is there anythin’ more I can…” the black-haired waitress didn’t get to finish her standard line, being tersely interrupted by a loud: “You can do well and tell me what those officers done been here for! Did somethin’ else happen? I’ve been waitin’ ‘ere all day and nobody’s said sh*t, now tell me!”

Having no knowledge of current events, the wide eyed young woman didn’t respond, blinking slowly to try to come up with something. Her silence went unaccompanied for a bit too long, the whole bar now gazing curiously towards the bewildered waitress.

As the moment stilled, it also seemed to stretch towards infinity, swallowing any thought the woman could or had had, until a booming voice interrupted: “Ohh shieat, here we go again… now nobody can take a sh*t without Maxine knowing ‘bout it! What is it girl, you’s jealous of the toilet? Angry them hunky officers won’t take you’s dirty mouth for a spin?”.

The moment, stilted and stiff like a scene from a snow globe, cracked, laughter and relief spilling out of its confines like rivers of water from a dam. The customer’s howls, chortles and muttered “Goddamn!”’s somehow managed to cover the older woman’s piercing shriek of indignation as well as her predictable: “How dare you?”, but they immediately died down to hear the man’s certainly iconic clap back.

“How dare I? Bitch you’s come into ma f*ckin’ place and start yowlin’ like a cat in heat, talkin’ about ‘What were they doin’ here?’ umm, take a guess, they either here to eat, drink, piss or sh*t, which one turns you on more?” The patron’s laughter died down, too delightedly stunned to interrupt Lafayette’s glorious speech.

Sporting a wide grin, the man continued: “It’s the eatin’ ain’t it? Yeaaa, you like it when they shove those burgers in, smearin’ that juicy uniform with drops of fat and oil, mmMMM, girl I see you…”

There are no words to describe the older woman’s expression, mortified, livid, disgusted and vengeful are too plain and borderline to encompass just the look in her eyes. “You foul, miserable … I don’t even know what to call you, I ain’t interested in… whatever the hell you just said, I was just worried that…”

Lafayette knew the truth concerning Amy’s situation would come out sooner rather than later, but he couldn’t stand the cow’s voice, much less her accusations about Jason, so, before she could continue: “…That the officers would leave ‘fore you could spin you’s typical gossipy sh*t. Well too bad white Big Momma, ain’t nobody wanna hear that crap!”

“Why I never! You…”

“And you’ll never again if you’s don’t move that flabby, bony, pancake stuck to the refrigerator ass outta ma bar!”

Defeated and unwilling to suffer any more indignities, the portly woman unstuck herself from the seat before attempting to run outside, but her pride couldn’t take it. She turned around, ready to mouth off when she met the eye of the muscular black man behind said bar. Lafayette, always ready to f*ck around, tell jokes and mildly harass some customers, wasn’t kidding now, looking at Maxine and daring the woman to say anything more.

“Oh, ‘fore I’s forget, you’s banned from commin’ ‘ere again, if I’s seez you a near dis bar, I’mma take ya out like to the trashcans and perfume you’s myself with some Eau du Cesspool… probably be an improvement too from that febreze you’s always suffocatin’ us with.”

Maxine’s eyes bugged out farther than a looney toon character’s, her shock descending to her mouth, hanging open and silent at the news. Her feet, similarly catatonic, kept the woman inside the restaurant, a very precarious position considering Lafayette’s statement. But, after a few moments and the muscular black man’s advancement towards her, the vile woman left to the general applause of the other patrons.

"Sookie! A lady does not use such foul language!" The admonishment was more reflex than actual ire, but it still stuck, the young woman straightening up in the kitchen chair like a lady attending a formal tea party.

Mollified but still eyeing her granddaughter warily, the old woman sat down as well, hands clasped in front of her on the pristine table as she continued: "Now… I see somethin’s troublin’ you… What’s the matter sweetie?"

Fidgeting in the rigid chair, Sookie tried to think of an excuse, knowing that Gran wouldn’t be swayed by any old explanation. If she had woken up earlier and taken a shower, eaten, just breathed the fresh air a bit before going downstairs her contentment would have been easier to fake, now though, it was like dousing a forest fire with a straw.

"Gran… I…" Looking up and seeing the kind yet sad eyes of her Gran almost broke her, a tear gathering in her water line, wanting, needing to spill out so she could unload everything that had happened… but she just couldn’t.

"I had a real bad nightmare… ‘bout Dawn… I don’t really wanna talk ‘bout it…" The averted eyes and lip tremble sold the act, her Gran backing away from the subject with a considerate: "Ok honey, I understand, I’ll leave you to it then, I’m just gonna make some raspberry pie… if you need me for anythin’ just holler."

Nodding her head, the young woman arose, turning towards the stairs intent on falling back to sleep when she registered her Gran’s words… raspberry pie, her favorite. A small smile graced Sookie’s lips as she returned to her seat to watch Gran’s magic.

Registering the lack of creaking steps, the old woman, brows scrunched, looked back over her shoulder, accompanying smile rising to the surface at her granddaughter’s continued presence and seemingly uplifted mood.

Cooking together always brought families closer, and in the Stackhouse family, making and eating a good pie almost always brought clarity. The berries’ red, flowing juices, the thin yet crusted appearance of the pastry and their fleshy intermingling… looking so much like blood on old skin… brought Sookie back to the moment just before her awakening… to her scream, to Bill’s crimson corpse… and its message.

Not wanting to waste another second, she sprung up and out of the house, fake excuse in place before fleeing into the late afternoon sun. The light of the celestial body stopped her in her tracks... Was it ok to disturb a vampire during the day time, even close to sunset? Answer: no. But her mind whirred, remembering his plea... remembering that he couldn't afford for her to wait until night time to check.

Hesitantly, she approached the old Compton house, cringing at every squeaky step and groaning wood plank, until she reached the door… the slightly open front door. Goosebumps rose on her skin as she considered the implications of such a sight... Could Bill have forgotten it open? After being nearly kidnapped by a couple of drainers, at night, leaving his front door unlocked while at his most vulnerable seemed like the stupidest idea ever... if he was indeed inside. If not... Sookie didn't continue that line of thinking.

Steeling herself, she pushed onto the old wood, its screeching hinges opening to reveal a dreary entrance, leading into a shadowy hallway. The old Compton house was as dark as pitch, even during the day, but Sookie stepped inside anyway. The wind, barely a breeze, turned ferocious in a second, slamming the front door closed and plunging the young woman into inky nothingness. For a few seconds, she expected something to happen, for someone or something to jump out and attack her like the trapped mouse she was... but nothing did.

She waited, legs stiff, for what felt like hours before proceeding forward, looking for the light switch. She found the infernal thing after palming the damp walls for a while, but when the lights came on, she wished they hadn’t. Her fears were amplified in the harsh fluorescent lights’ glow... where several destroyed furniture pieces lay, alongside prominent scuff marks, a makeshift stake and... drops of blood. She didn't linger, didn't stay to analyze further, she ran through every room screaming Bill's name... and finding nothing. Distraught, she contemplated calling the police... ‘Scoff... Yea right, like they’s answer ‘dis close to sundown… or actually do anything…’

She fidgeted again, contemplating her options… and realized there were very few in place. The best one was to head over to the station and talk directly to the Sheriff… the other was too preposterous to consider… like her brother actually knew anything… ‘Yea right…’ she thought as she dashed over to her yellow car to fight with the engine.

She couldn’t, wouldn’t accept the public humiliation she’d been subjected to… she would find something, anything to bring that boy down, him and his friend and every person inside that small roadhouse that dared laugh at her!... thought the older woman, though not in so little words. Excluding expletives, Maxine was beyond furious, her mood devolving steadily as the day passed…

Unwilling to suffer through her own vitriol, she decided to screw it and headed to the police station. As she walked towards the quiet sliding doors of the establishment, ready to complain and demand Lafayette be arrested, or at least finned for his derogatory insinuations and general language… an angel, more likely the devil, seemed to shine upon her.

"Yea I know, it’s a real sh*t show… Nah… that Stackhouse kid ain’t a suspect…" Maxine’s bat ears perked up at the mention of her newest obsession, the older woman tip-toeing towards the familiar voice like a cat burglar. Peaking around the old building’s corner, she immediately recognized the man’s identity from his stance and lit pipe.

"Well… nobody is ‘til we’s get the forensics back… yea those guys couldn’t really get much since she’s been there all night… who knows what critters done scattered her ‘round…" The old woman’s eyes widened in intrigue tipped pure delight at the Sheriff’s insinuations, head tipping forward to listen even better to the one-sided conversation.

Oblivious of the uninvited audience, Bud continued: "It’s strange though… her body was… I mean it looked savage yea, but… her arms and legs were torn completely off in seconds, almost… at the same time… Now, bears are vicious f*ckers, I’ll tell you that… but I ain’t ever seen one do something like that…"

Pulse surging, the older woman leaned in even more, almost falling onto the cement path as she drew nearer. Tentative hope began to blossom in Maxine’s chest cavity, though only just as she listened, praying for Bud to be referring to a real, local case and not a TV show or something, when she heard it:

"Yea… right… for now though, Amy Burley’s case is classified as an accidental death - bear attack…"

… parfait, a smoke after good, rough sex, fresh apple pie with a golden crust, destroying someone’s life with just a few words, a cold beer on an August afternoon… life’s delightful habits, simple joys and perverted pleasures all put together could not, in that moment, be spared even a fleeting glance as Maxine grinned a sinister, vindicated smile. ‘Finally’, she thought as a blissful shiver crept up her spine, spurring the woman to forget her initial dilemma and return home… thoughts and considerations forming into a solid plan on the way… until she bumped into someone.

After a long while of trying and failing to start her car, curses and steering-wheel punches galore, Sookie huffed in frustration. Siting there, looking at the wheel and willing it to start was doing nothing, at least not until she gripped it as fiercely as she would a shovel, concentrating before turning the key… and finally igniting the engine. A grateful sigh escaped the young, tired woman before she departed at top speed for the Station.

Arriving in record time, at least for her car, she hopped out and speed walked towards the sliding doors, not really paying attention to anything around her objective… when she ran into someone.

"Watch it! Can’t you’s blonde head register me walkin’ here?" screeched the most easily recognizable and annoying voice Sookie had ever had the displeasure of knowing. The wrinkled, disgusted face cracked in heavy makeup that accompanied said voice didn’t help her mood either.

Retort at the ready and eyes hard, Sookie prepared to unleash hell on the gossipy woman, but held back at the last moment. Knowing Maxine and her victim mentality, not to mention her propensity for making a mountain outta a molehill and needing to hurry up and save Bill, Sookie gave her patented backwards apology: "Oh Ms. Fortenberry, I’m sorry I didn’t see you there, the sun must really be doin’ somethin’ to my head these days cuz I don’t know how I didn’t see you…"

The narrowed eyes and pursed lips said it all, but Maxine didn’t respond, her features slowly morphing into a knowing grin as she attempted to walk away with a: "Careful Stackhouse, maybe you’ll end up in jail next…". ‘Attempted’ being the operative word, Sookie’s hand stretching out to grasp the older woman’s meaty arm before she could slink away.

Under normal circ*mstances, the young woman would have never even attempted to touch the sweaty, seemingly greasy skin of the town snake, but the older woman’s thoughts were so loud and all-encompassing that she couldn’t help herself.

Most people’s inner feelings and beliefs were like whispers on spider silk threads, thin but graspable and not overly loud, but Maxine’s… she was like a wrecking ball painting a picture on a reinforced cement wall one bash at a time. Touching her enhanced Sookie’s powers, the loud yelling turning into a sort of film reel of her latest thoughts… about Jason and a… a blonde vampire… THE blonde vampire that visited Sam’s bar… the Sheriff.

She could somewhat register Maxine’s confused yelp, swiftly followed by an annoyed squall and her subsequent attempts to physically remove Sookie, but the young woman wouldn’t budge. For 10 long seconds they stood in a tidal flow, Sookie holding on for dear life trying to piece together this puzzle, brought on by confusion and united through circ*mstance.

“Sookie... Please... find me! I am …. Fangtasia … prisoner … Sheriff Northman's…. your brother, Jason… he knows everything.”

She gasped, Bill’s plea entering her mind yet again and suddenly… she could see the pieces aligning, morphing to form a very dark picture she would rather not consider… but one she could not ignore.

Releasing Maxine’s arm, Sookie gasped, realizing she had held her breath the entire time, unable to focus on anything else other than the terrifying truth. Ignoring Maxine’s shrieks of indignation, she fled the premises, mind abuzz with questions.

Sated and content, Jason settled down on the comfy couch, mind quiet and ready for some mid-day zzz’s. Sleep, though elusive as of late, embraced the boy immediately, covering Jason’s mind in a deep fog of relaxation.

He slept peacefully, slipping down a column of silk into pure tranquility and abandonment… for a while. How long of a while he couldn’t tell, but it felt like forever, until he woke up, slowly and easily, to a room bathed in gold. The boy looked around, puzzled, before he realized it was close to sunset, the sun’s dying rays distributing pinkish golden light around, forming interesting shapes and shadows onto the walls. Feeling hungry yet again, he rose up, body stable, lacking the normal sleep remnant dizziness, before heading towards the now well-stocked kitchen… and hearing the sound of someone else.

For some unexplained reason, the boy didn’t panic, didn’t even flinch or try to hide his presence, he somehow knew everything would be ok. Entering the kitchen, Jason found the eggs, feeling peckish for some sunny-side-ups. Preparing the meal, he began to feel the presence of someone at his back, but the boy wasn’t concerned, Jason just knew whoever was behind him would never do harm. Humming along to the crackling hot oil and the smooth sounds of Billie Holiday and her famous ‘I Can't Give You Anything But Love’, the boy felt the presence shift, closing in fast with an appreciative, and deep closed-lip moan.

A small sigh escaped Jason as long, alabaster arms encircled him, embracing the boy from behind, his breath catching entirely at the man, vampire’s, his mind supplied, closeness. The arms, cold and incredibly strong, softly squeezed his waist, before lowering to his hips and grabbing them harshly. A smooth baritone voice followed the sensual gesture, coming from just behind the boy’s right ear.

‘Mmmm, sweet thing…you didn’t have to bother.’ said the vampire, his cool breath caressing the boy’s sensitive ear helix and throat in velvety strokes of arousal.

Jason knew who the vampire was, he couldn’t image anyone but Eric holding him so, and didn’t’ resist… beginning to feel his body’s responding pleasured hum. Heart beating faster, palms sweating, mind lacking any and all disparaging thoughts, he wanted the vampire, Eric, to distract him from his meal, to make him lose control… all without his direct input. So, Jason concentrated on cooking, at least he tried to when the Sheriff’s hands began to roam. Slowly… sensually they pressed, caressed and kneaded his clothed stomach and chest as the vampire drew closer, scenting his neck, lips but a millimeter away from making contact.

Pure abandon whispered in his ear, its dark delights clouding Jason’s mind as Eric consciously, or unconsciously, flicked his nipple, sending a lightning bolt all the way down to the boy’s co*ck. Closing his eyes in concentration, he tried to resist, to stop the moans clawing to escape his throat, to control his rapidly increasing breaths, to deflect any and all stimulants from affecting him… but it was all for naught. Meal entirely forgotten, Jason knew, from the smirk he could feel pressed against his tender neck, that the vampire had sensed his visceral reaction, that he could probably even smell the arousal wafting off his every pore… and loved it.

'After all…' the Viking said in a foreboding, yet sensual tone, before tightening his hold, slightly lifting Jason off his feet. The boy didn’t feel constricted, though he should considering the deadly vampire’s grip. Content, free, protected, as well as small, light and at his mercy were the words and feelings running around the boy’s mind, none as powerful as the arousing helplessness of being in a deadly predator’s grasp. With a shudder, Jason tilted his head, further displaying his neck in a deliciously submissive show of supine want.

With a dark purr of satisfaction, Eric adjusted his embrace, placing one hand underneath Jason’s shirt, squeezing a deliciously large pectoral and its attached nipple in tiny strokes as his other hand caressed the boy’s Adonis belt.

'… you are everything I need…' Eric uttered, kissing his boy’s neck gently, lovingly, before unsheathing his considerable fangs and ever so softly… pressing in. The boy shuddered as the massively elongated laterals penetrated his thin flesh, the pain/ pleasure of them burying in deeper and deeper increasing as the vampire’s hands roamed.

Jason could feel his blood’s departure, the sensation of the Sheriff’s lips on his throat, sucking, sending a pleased shudder all over his pliant body. The fangs themselves seemed to pulse against his flesh, need and desire building, pumping through the boy’s veins and arteries all the way to his heart. Eric, seemingly finished with his tasting, extracted his teeth with a pleased groan, a sound shared by both predator and prey, before using his tongue to lick at the puncture wounds.

'Delicious…'

Was the last word the boy heard as his eyes shot open, looking around the golden room yet again, hand clenched around a random cushion. Confused, Jason sat up, only to feel the expected dizziness and slight blurriness of a good, long sleep.

Looking around the room, Jason slowly came to realize what had happened, his cheeks burning at the memory of those strong arms, of that voice and the sensual bite… A shudder, real and trembling, overcame the aroused boy at the phantom sensation of Eric’s tongue on his sensitive skin, licking and prodding at two small bite wounds he expected to feel when his hand rose to inspect the damage. Only they were no more, a simple and disappointing dream fantasy… ‘Hol’ up, disappointing? What the f*ck? Do I actually want to get bitten? I… I ain’t…’ The ominous thoughts regarding his sexuality and attraction towards the vampire returned with a vengeance, making the boy hyperventilate in sudden anxiety.

His vision blurred anew, though its cause was much less conventional. Imagined shadows accumulated around the boy’s weakened senses, their cloying presences oppressing Jason’s mind with doubt and insecurity filled whispers. Unrelenting in their malignity and always present just beyond the boy’s limited field of view, they pressed, their silk thin tone’s converging into clear words and phrases… though none less scornful or mocking than ‘You are nothing… nothing but a dummy, a disappointment... a fa*ggot… and now a fang slu*t.’

Breaths as irregular as his luck, Jason got up off the couch and ran towards his front door. As soon as he was outside, feeling the sun’s last warm embrace for the day, as well as night’s slightly chilly caress, he calmed down. Breath in and out, in and out… were his only thoughts for the time, trying to regulate them to an acceptable degree. After a while in the oncoming dusk, sounds and smells began to return, the boy only then realizing they had seemingly disappeared.

Feeling more stable, he began to analyze his previous thoughts, wondering why his mind kept trying to destabilize itself. No sensible answers came, frustrating and angering Jason to new heights. ‘Why? Why am I like this? Why can’t I’s just be normal?’ he whispered through shuddered breaths, eyes misty with suppressed anguish. ‘Because you aren’t… you don’t need to be to find happiness…’ answered a small voice, sounding far away and yet so very near… its answer bringing no true clarity nor overwhelming comfort to the despairing boy.

Minutes passed like hours at a time, until Jason… accepted that a truly coherent, easily understandable explanation may never arrive, and that it in itself did not truly matter. What he needed was a better way of handling the shadows when they came, a way to combat, even shut them out. He remembered his usual way of silencing the voices… with cheap thrills and lonely silence, but he didn’t want to go back to how he used to be. And what a realization it was, not wanting to go back, to relive those fun, pleasurable… short, sad and lonely times of just last week, to accept that he had changed, at least a little bit, since that first talk with his Gran. He wanted to be better, to not just do or be what other people wanted, to seek a brighter future for himself and not hold on to the past… and he was finally starting to see it.

"f*ck you voices, you ain’t keepin’ me down no more!" screamed aloud a resolute looking Jason, determined to follow on his path and not slide back into old habits… hoping not to, praying not to. With a shaky sigh, leaning on a worn wooden beam on his porch, he watched the sun set, marveling at the kaleidoscope of colors distributed on and around the few fluffy clouds.

When the last ray of red tinted light hit his roof, Jason breathed in deep, finally calm enough to return inside and contemplate the rest of his night… before hearing the sound of an approaching car.

Chapter 22: Incidentally intentional

Chapter Text

His night had started out fine, well… not terrible, but a bit tedious with having to listen to Eddie’s misty, teary eyed, disgustingly blubbery recollections regarding his imprisonment and subsequent torture. A state of boredom not helped by the required and extremely difficult to place secure call to his P.I., that doubled as a sketch artist, to better understand the identity of the other two, not one, two accomplices. Not to mention the rapid meetings with his other employees, human and vampire alike in regard to the bar’s stock and finances, as well as strategy meetings concerning the drainers’ apprehension, followed by the attempted investigation into Bon Temp’s actual killer. Two hours of business later, Eric decided to add a little pleasure to his death and moved towards the basem*nt door to check on his ‘guests’.

The vampire Sheriff expected a multitude of things to happen as soon as he stepped through the vaulted entrance, his torture chamber’s bleakness, lack of nourishment and repeated ‘meetings’ with the staff causing some very interesting behaviors to surface. With that being said, what he didn’t expect to see was the bloodied face of his most ‘cherished’ guest, panting, trembling, eyes bulging out in desperation and sparkling with unlit anger… an emotion that immediately detonated when met with the sight before him.

Eric, Sheriff of area 5, the Devil himself, his jailor and final executioner, was wearing a casual black tank-top, smelling like fresh blood and expensive cologne, while Bill’s rags barely held on to his soiled and decaying body. The all-consuming anger mounted like a physical weight onto the young vampire’s back, followed by an inner voice, slurred but distinguishable, pushing him forward, telling him to attack, to at least give it one last shot before crumbling back to the dirt… so he pounced.

The Viking displayed his surprise for barely a millisecond before proceeding to intercept Bill’s weak attacks and bat them away like he was an annoying house fly. The ancient vampire contemplated continuing the ‘fight’, purely for his own amusem*nt, but curiosity won out and he hauled the younger, weaker vampire away into the bowels of his own personal hell for some answers.

Focus diverted from Bill’s pathetic flailing, the Sheriff finally sensed the strong, pungent smell of old blood and decay. Grizzled scent notes of death that had not changed since time immemorial became even more pungent and heavy, clinging to the roof of the Viking’s mouth as he got closer to the basem*nt floor… where another, more surprising sight greeted the old vampire.

Eric stared at the truly unique, through reverent, interpretation of Jackson Pollack’s Red Composition, intrigued and mildly shocked by its inverted crimson streaks covering the dark room. Most vampires would present a reaction to such a morbid sight, be it positive of negative, but the Sheriff simply stared, his inner voice contemplating the seemingly unending number of ‘surprises’ he had been inundated with in the last week alone.

"Var försiktig med vad du önskar …" he whispered, a small twitch of the lips convening the amusem*nt he felt at his own expense.

Turning his attention back towards the newest curiosity, the Sheriff considered his choices, and most importantly, his needs. He could kill Bill, oh… he could flay him apart and make a very bold statement to any other vampires entering his area… while simultaneously attracting the attention of the child queen. No… that won’t do… he needed more time to dethrone that little nuisance. Time, evidence and compelling testimonies, preferably from a very loyal, somewhat high-ranking member of her court… one that just so happened to be residing within his grasp. A procurer with over 35 years of experience and untapped insight near and around Sophie-Ann and her most recent endeavors. A vile leach that had not only disrespected his position as Sheriff, attempted to illegally procure an unwilling human and attack another one whom he was fond of in his presence… now the poor, unfortunate soul had killed three of his fellow vampires residing in his custody. Oh, how sweet death truly is for those fortunate enough to savor it.

“Had a little fun Bill?” the Sheriff asked, finally addressing the gasping leach, grinning all the while. Silence greeted his question, a likely response, and not feeling inclined to look away from the bloody massacre, the ancient vampire simply continued: “I must say, this is quite the picture, I feel like I could look at this all day… reminds me of old times…”. The Sheriff’s grin grew with every word, his eyes swiveling evilly towards the now twitching young vampire, eager to see the desperate terror reflected in his eyes.

“And you know Bill, this masterpiece of abstract expressionism should not be kept hidden, it should be seen by all vampires, and you know who would appreciate it the most? Do you Bill?”

The Viking’s rhetorical question attained its expected answer, yet again silence, from the thoroughly defeated being dangling limply from his closed fist.

Looking into Bill’s dead eyes and sporting an impossibly large grin, Eric answered: “The Magister…”

Being ignored, even due to abject fear, often resided on the Sheriff’s predictably extensive list of annoyances, right below screaming for no actual reason and above auditioning dancers. In Bill’s case… Eric didn’t seem to mind, the trapped, frightened, royally f*cked, and not in a good way, expression sported by the younger vampire being more than enough to appease the Viking’s eternal well of sad*stic need … always hungry, demanding sacrifices he could not readily offer… until now.

Appropriately satisfied, the Sheriff let go of Bill, wiping his now filthy hand on a close by semi-clean rag. Disgusted grimace in place, Eric paced around the dirty mutt cowering on his knees, rocking back and forth and quietly whimpering at the thought of the Authority.

“Oh, Bill… Bill, Bill, Bill... jokes aside, it’s like you purposefully put yourself into these situations, I mean, what even were your expectations? Did you think you could break down the door?... Hmm, I don’t think you’re that stupid… Well, your intellect has always been questionable at best… and I suppose the lack of blood has caused those smooth ridges to atrophy quite a bit, but not to this degree… you had to have known… Oh, I see… Ginger. She was supposed to bring in today’s meal…”

Looking down at the trembling mess of ex-vampire, Eric continued: “Well then, I must commend you, not many vampires would take such risks in order to stay alive… Bravo Bill… BUT, unfortunately, you took away my fun, and I was going to have so much fun with those three… Now, what to do?…”

The sight of such a pathetic waste of an afterlife would usually disgust Eric, but in Bill’s case, he was more delighted than repulsed. He wanted the little parasite scared, shaking with impotent fear of the unimaginable unknown, knowing his destiny resided in the hands of his enemy, hopeless and willing to do anything to survive as his namesake implied. The sad*stic Sheriff considered extending the mental warfare, planning new and ingenious ways of breaking Bill, when his phone’s ear-splitting ring shattered the moment like a mirror against concrete, derailing his train of thought. Annoyed at the intrusion, he aggressively pressed the answer button and waited.

Bill’s thoughts were more jumbled than a randomly assembled rubrik’s cube, but he still looked up, startled by the loud noise. Seeing Eric’s expression, turning from anger to surprise, to delight before finally converging into his typical cold, neutral mask was mildly disorienting for the young vampire, though not as much as the words spoken by the person on the phone:

“Hello sir, sorry for bothering you… I have… received… files on…. Stackhouse situation… send them over… away.”

‘Stackhouse?’ Bill asked himself, curious as to the Sheriff’s continued interest in the family… before remembering the events that led up to his capture… memories that ignited the last remaining spark of hope left in the young vampire’s non-existent soul.

Looking into the Sheriff’s eyes, Bill grinned, big and satisfied, before collapsing from exhaustion, small smirk still on his face.

“Sookie?” whispered a slightly confused Jason as his sister’s distinct tiny, beat-up car skid to a stop not two feel from his porch, dust clouds galore.

Before he could actually analyze the situation, much less formulate a greeting, the driver’s door opened with a screech and out popped the expected owner, furious in expression and body language, letting Jason know he was in big trouble well before her shrill voice could.

“Jason Remington Stackhouse!” Even when expecting it, Jason still cringed at his full name, the intonation reminding him too much, yet not enough, of his late mother.

“What the H E double hockey sticks is gonin’ on wit’cha!??” hollered an infuriated Sookie, back straight, hands on her hips and mouth set like he’d been caught foolin’ around with old man Bradley’s married daughter.

“Umm… nothin’ much, what’s goin’ on with ya?” responded an expectedly flabbergasted Jason, trying his hardest to understand his sister’s sudden bout of insanity, and failing.

“Don’tcha try that stuff wit’ me mister, you know what I’m talkin’ bout!” Huffed an increasingly more menacing sack of crazy as Jason slowly backed up, confusion and concern plain to see for anyone that wasn’t two bricks short of a load.

“Umm… I… huh?” Squinting, the boy tried to understand, his brain working into overdrive to guess what could have happened to prompt such a response from his sister… before a pit began to form in his stomach.

Had Maxine, even with Hoyt’s warning, spilled his secret? Had that old woman told his sister, his work buddies, the whole town his business? Did she know? Did she see him differently? Did… Did she hate him now?...

Before Jason could spiral further down the recently plugged up pit of self-doubt and anxiety, she spoke again: “Don’t play dumb with me, I’m talkin’ bout Bill! Where is he? What has that blonde vampire done to’im? How do you know‘im and why?”

From one blink to another, Jason’s expression turned to stone, his confusion transitioning to anger just as quickly, an emotion he wasn’t willing to show in front of his hysterical sister: “I don’t know what you mean… I ain’t seen nor heard from that vamper since you’s brought ‘im over. And what blonde vampire you’s talkin’ bout…?”

Jason knew he could never lie to his Gran, the old woman was too versed in spotting bullsh*t, especially when it came from him, and so he never bothered too much. Sookie though… his little sister’s lie detector extended as far as her ‘gift’, meaning not even close to figuring him out.

“Jason! Don’t lie to me! I saw you’s talkin’ to that tall, blonde vampire a few nights ago, I know you know’im and I know you know what happened to Bill! So talk, or I’mma make you!” Huffed the small bundle of crackling cobras that was his lil’ sister, chest heaving in smothered anger.

Jason was somewhat surprised to hear that she had seen him, or well, her gift had through someone else’s eyes, but he wasn’t impressed, nor was he scared, at least not for his safety… The boy always wanted to share with her, be it toys, food or any pressing issue… he loved her, she was his baby just as much as he was Gran’s. With that being said, he wasn’t willing to budge on this, wasn’t willing to steer her down Bill’s path after finally getting rid of him, not to mention stretching his luck with revealing Eric’s involvement in all this sh*t…

Scowling, Jason approached the angry chihuahua fortunate enough to be related to him before speaking, hands now on his hips: “Make me? Sookie, GO HOME! I don’t know what you want or mean and I’m sick of getting’ yelled at for no f*ckin’ reason, go, get some shut eye cuz you’s acting crazier than an outhouse fly…”

Satisfied with his response and knowing she could not go looking for Bill or the vampire Sheriff without knowing he owned Fangtasia outside Shreveport, Jason turned around to go inside… when he felt her tiny hand grab ahold of the back of his head and pull.

Before he could gather his bearings and consciously block her from reading his mind, a trick he had learned when they were children and she would expose his every secret, she had gotten in. Her power had always felt like tiny icicles made of live snakes and shattered steel slithering around his brain, burrowing deeper until they discovered what she needed to see, not stopping ‘til they reached bone. But those digging tendrils of ice barely grazed his unprotected consciousness before pulling back victorious. Catching just a glimpse of his last thoughts, she quickly removed her hand before sprinting back and around to the small yellow car.

“I’m crazy? Well, let’s see just how crazy I am when I go talk to this Sheriff at this Fangtasia place!”

“Wait!” was the only thing Jason managed to say before she was peeling out, uncharacteristically fast for her sh*tty car, down the road and into the encroaching night.

“f*ck…”

Bill’s grin was as disturbing as his general appearance, but the Sheriff barely acknowledged it, more focused on his P.I.’s discoveries.

“… didn’t manage to extract much, but I think you’ll find the information pertaining to Mr. Stackhouse himself very… interesting.”

“I see… very well Mr. Jackson, it was a pleasure doing business with you, as always. Good evening.” Eric ended the call without further preamble, far too curious about said information to focus on anything else, well, mostly.

“Paaamm, would you mind babysitting our dear guest for a while?” he couldn’t quite leave Billy all by his lonesome right at that moment, he needed him scared, not suicidal.

Arched brow in place, Pam argued about soiling her new pumps in her annoyed monotone voice, but eventually agreed to chain Wild Bill up yet again when faced with her master’s own expressive brow.

Moving faster than the naked eye could see, Eric entered his office and immediately locked it before sitting down to read the thick file present on the table. Opening it up, his hyper senses immediately recognized it as Bill’s file, yet not. It was like possessing the last pages of a criminal mystery drama and finally getting to know the killer’s identity. And oh, was the discovery so very satisfying.

The small smile transformed into a full on grin encompassing the Viking’s face, softening hard edges brought on by age while hardening others, making the vampire look somewhat demonic in his glee.

Eric’s enjoyment, though addictive, was quickly stashed away when his phone started ringing, the unknown number slamming down the Sheriff’s eyebrows into an expression of confused irritation.

His personal number was a closely guarded secret, one not many vampires had the privilege of acquiring, and the ones that did were usually contacted first. This bit of information left the ancient vampire to wonder, who could be so brazen as to call him directly?

Answering, he waited, not saying a word while trying to pick up on the background noises as to more easily identify the mystery caller. He could recognize the unmistakable sound of an engine and the humming of wind alongside night’s famous orchestra, which meant this person/ vampire was at least in the same hemisphere as him.

Before continuing to spiral down paranoia river, the mystery caller spoke, bringing back the Sheriff’s gleeful smile.

-10 minutes prior-

Jason’s emotions and thoughts were all over the place as he watched the dust settle on his dirt track of a driveway, unsure as to what to do, feet rooted to the ground in confusion. He could try and catch up to her, but the time had already slipped away from him, the boy too busy cursing up a storm while somewhat simultaneously staring open-mouthed at the empty road.

His only other choice was to follow her all the way there and pray he catches up to her before she gets herself killed. Although he doesn’t think Eric would allow his sister to come to any harm… the chances of her doing something stupid/ the Sheriff not seeing the family resemblance and acting accordingly towards a belligerent human were high.

Fear finally settling in, his feel moved, steering him towards his trusty truck, before his eyes registered his attire… consisting of sleep/comfy day shorts and nothing else. No one who had ever met Jason ‘The body’ Stackhouse would ever describe him as shy or self-conscious, at least on the outside. And he wasn’t, he worked hard to keep in shape and loved to show off… but… the boy got the nagging feeling that going to Fangtasia almost nude would not go down well… He could admit, maybe, that he somewhat wanted to give Eric a skin show, though not, at the same time… ‘at least not yet’, supplied a small snickering voice that Jason didn’t have the energy to argue with. So, the boy hurried inside, throwing on the first things he could see… that just so happened to be his work clothes that would most certainly make him blend in with the strippers if necessary, but they would have to do.

Jumping in the car while still lacing up his boots, Jason barely managed to not crash into the large stump on the other side of the road as he considered his options.

He prayed to God and every saint he could think of for Sookie’s sh*tty car to break down before she managed to reach the vampire bar, but knowing his luck that car would fly all the way there… Distracted, he hit a large pothole that jostled the car something fierce, jabbing something into the boy’s hip. Cursing, Jason dug around the seat and caught the offending object, as in his phone, when an idea struck. Maybe he could outmaneuver his sister…

-Present time-

“Umm, hey, HI, Sheriff, I mean… Eric… sorry to bother ya… it’s Jason, Stackhouse I mean… umm… again sorry for the sudden call and all, didn’t know if you’s still asleep or not… ”

Eric’s smile could not broaden any further form the adorable beauty’s nervous greeting. “Jason… I can assure you this call poses no problem whatsoever, I have been awake for the better part of 5 hours. And even if I were similarly indisposed, hearing your voice would most certainly awake me, now… to what do I owe the pleasure of this call?” Eric purred into the small receiver, tone deliberately low and sultry, as he heard the boy’s answering small gasp.

The Sheriff could almost hear the boy’s sweetened blood pumping faster, gathering in his gorgeous cheeks as he answered: “Umm… not a what per se… a whom, my sister Sookie…”

Eyebrows raised 0.2 degrees higher, the Sheriff waited and listened to the precious boy’s recounting of recent events, minus his sister’s way of acquiring the information that led to said phone call. Thus, he asked: “And how did your… sister… come by this information?”

Curious wasn’t a strong enough word to describe the ancient vampire’s state of mind in the seconds that ticked by waiting for an answer that would make or break Jason in his eyes…

Eric, the great Demon of the North, having survived plenty of wars, seen the horrors, inhumanity and cowardice of many, among the living and the dead, and the mercy and kindness of very few, was a being of miniscule expectations, at least from the general public. When it came to those closest to him, the ones who endured blistering winds and scorching deserts to shine in the light of his temporary trust, those previously petite standards grew to colossal proportions, taking the form of an imposing tower. A seemingly sturdy construction, yet not. It was only a façade at first, the mortar needed to keep those stones together being laid over a long period of time. Some people/vampire’s towers were pristine, nighly indestructible structures of pearlescent granite, while others… were barely held together by duct-tape and a prayer.

Jason, through some unknown miracle that even the vampire in question could not understand, had acquired his own frame-work in the Sheriff’s mind… a burgeoning edifice of trust and desire that, in that moment, seemed frail and ready to shatter… until the boy spoke.

“I… kinda think you know, or you’s suspectin’ somethin’… ‘member when you’s stop by ma place the other night? We was talkin’ and then… stuff happened… and we ain’t finish the conversation. I… I remember you’s sayin’ that my mind can’t be controlled through that vampire eye thingy yall’s do… and that it has somethin’ to do wit’ my sister…”

Jason took a breath before continuing, scared beyond his mind of accidentally outing Sookie’s abilities to someone he barely knew… even if that someone was Eric…

“What you’s said that night made me think that maybe you know… maybe Bill spilled something he should’ve never had the privilege of knowin’ in the first place… But even then, even if you’s suspect, even if you know… my baby sister and what she can do ain’t somethin’ you’ll get outta me… The only thing I can tell ya is I ain’t tell her sh*t ‘bout you or Bill, and any info she has wasn’t given freely.”

The Sheriff was taken aback by the boy’s response, yet again intrigued by his mind and innate ability to skirt around a set topic with more ease and gracefulness than most vampires he knew. Though, not quite, Jason had given him something, small yet prominent, to substantiate his already acquired knowledge regarding the Stackhouse family and its mysteries.

Grinning yet again like the cat that caught the canary, Eric responded: “I see… I believe you Jason, and I can certainly appreciate the level of trust and loyalty you so readily place at the feet of those you hold dear…”

The small amount of silence that followed pierced both parties quite suddenly, Eric only then realizing the implication of his words. Jason’s previously stressed and anguished expression broke out into a small smile at the compliment and the level of trust being reciprocated… before he continued:

“Thanks Eric, for… for believin’ me… it’s been sometime since someone… anyway, thanks! And, OH, right, Yea, the reason I’s been called you in the first place… so, my sister Sookie’s headin’ over to Fangtasia to talk to ya and… considerin’ how mad she was when she left ma place… I ain’t even wanna imagine the scene she’s ‘bout to cause… I just wanted to apologize in advance cuz I know she’s gonna be a handful and… maybe ask for a favor? Please?”

Jason’s small, jumbled speech broke the Sheriff out of his self-imposed stupor, Eric beginning to function normally by the end of it, not that anyone would actually notice the micro fraction of a second his face changed. The boy’s small voice asking such a cute question, not to mention his adorably light pleading, hit all the right points in the Sheriff’s armor, making the fearsome Viking melt… and harden. In that moment, though Jason didn’t, couldn’t know it, he held the power to decimate the entire state if only he asked sweetly enough…

“What would you ask of me my dear?” purred the enchanted vampire, eyes hooded, imagining Jason’s sweet pleading in a very different context, his boy’s enticing visage looking up at him from between the Viking’s thighs, face flushed and eyes big with reactionary tears… A delicious image Eric will indulge in… only later.

Though still jumping from anxious, grateful, joyous, to anxious yet again, Jason’s hypersensitive libido seemed to want to crash the crowded party of his already full mind, courtesy of Eric’s low, suggestive tone that made the boy almost crash into the next light pole: “Umm… well… what was I saying? OH, um, could you… like, I dunno, just… me an’ her fight sometimes… and with her bein’ so small and annoyin’… I sometimes just wanna grab’er and throw her into the air ‘til she stops talkin’… you can actually do that and I just… I ain’t sayin’ you‘s gonna harm’er or anythin’… but I just… shieat I can’t even say what I mean right now… Sorry…”

Taking pity on the stressed boy, Eric interjected: “Don’t apologize Jason, especially when, in most cases, you would be correct. I… cannot say that an incident, specifically involving a belligerent human, has ever occurred, at least not one in which said human managed to walk away whole at the end of the night, more or less… And while I am rarely open to offering excuses, much less exceptions, I can assert that your sister will not come to any harm while in my presence. I will have Pam escort her into my office to discuss her implied offense and, when you manage to arrive, you are more than welcome to join us. Farewell Jason…”

The distinct click of the call line ending seemed to awaken the boy to the reality of the situation even more, spurring Jason to step on it, not even looking at the speedometer on his way to Shreveport.

The same click greeted the silence of the Sheriff’s office, though the vampire in question seemed more quietly amused than anything else, a feeling that rapidly dissolved at the distinct screeching of old, worn tires right outside his bar. The noise was easily heard by his progeny and every other vampire in the establishment, a sensory abuse that would only get worse, spreading to the developed olfactory sense of the undead should the woman approach further. The appealingly appalling image of the small, annoying waitress being slowly surrounded, devoured and rapidly dismembered by his staff reignited the Sheriff’s sad*stic glee… before being reminded of his promise and returning to his standard bored, slightly irritated look.

Sighing, Eric stood, creaking his neck before summoning Pam to discuss tonight’s interesting activities.

"f*ck’s sake… do you know how long I’s been waitin’ for yer ass to show up?" cursed a lone darkened figure sitting inconspicuously on a fallen log a ways away from the small Louisiana based town, right next to a suspiciously clean looking barn.

The second figure approached, smoke billowing from a tightly clasped lit cigarette: "Pipe down, ain’t been that long, considerin’ what happened… By the by, when’s the last time you’s seen Amy?"

Distrustful eyes stared back, recognizing the tense set of the second figure’s lips and white knuckled grip for what it was, suspicion and mindless aggression, and responded quickly: "Seen’er? Few days ago… Now talked to’er, last night."

A few tense seconds passed, neither humanoids uttering a word or making a move, until the second figure moved to dispose of the ash, muttering a terse: "And?"

Looking up, the first figure realized that sitting and being looked down upon were mutually correlated, so he rose. Standing a few inches taller than the smoking figure didn’t seem to lessen the tension, but the first figure didn’t really give a sh*t anymore, feeling slighted by the tone used to garner additional information. With a slight smirk, the first figure simply answered: "Said she was fine…"

The second figure, following a deep inhale, snubbed his half smoked cigarette between steel-toed boots, more annoyed and agitated than he expected to be in the situation… before saying a mental ‘f*ck it’ and slamming the first figure into the side of the barn.

Pumped full of stolen vampire blood, the second figure squeezed the first’s throat, not allowing a sound to escape as he spoke: "Don’t know or care why you’s talkin’ like I’m supposed to bribe you’s to get my answer… just tell me what you’s know ‘fore I take my business elsewhere and leave no witnesses behind… which in this case would be… hmm, who do you think?"

Cowed, the strangled figure pleaded in a raspy tone: "Ok, ok, I got it, just let go…", its request being answered with a huff and the release of the vice-like grip.

"She really said she was fine…but the way she said it… Look, we was just talkin ‘bout the merchandize like usual when she told me to hol’ up, then I think she done opened the door and then… bam! I thought she done hit somethin’…or someone hit’er, but it was just quiet, for a good 10 seconds even. Then she tol’ me she was fine and that we’d talk later. But it weren’t normal, she sounded like a robot or somethin’…"

Eyes steadily becoming wider, the second figure moved away, muttering a quiet "sh*t…", before devolving into animalistic, angry growls and loud "f*ck!’"s throughout the empty lot.

Harsh sounding, enraged swears and kicked rocks aside, the first figure’s trained ears couldn’t avoid distinguishing a peculiar and very alarming pitch to the second’s tone that sounded very much like… fear. Responding in kind, it asked, though uneasily: "Wh… is that bad or? Like what is it? Wut does it mean?".

A few frustrated seconds passed until the second figure seemed to calm down, retrieving another cigarette from its back pocket and lighting it, like its previous tantrum hadn’t even occurred. The small flame, though insignificant in daylight, illuminated the man’s face in splotches of red, the warm light seemingly carving his features into the shadows, making his knowing, bloodshot eyes that much darker.

The first figure, below man but still entitled to the moniker, shrunk back when those dark eyes trained on him, almost flinching at the sinister glint he could see in them.

A smirk swiftly accompanied that insidious gaze, the man’s following words unknowingly sealing his and every accomplice’s fate: "Means… we’s got new blood on the market."

Chapter 23: The why

Chapter Text

Images… real, vivid and intensely affected by Maxine and Jason’s personal considerations kept flashing through the young woman’s mind as she struggled to control the speed and direction of her tiny, beat-up car.

Sookie labored to focus on the facts, not on the roiling emotions that kept trying to monopolize her frayed mind, not on her brother’s lies, not on the hurt she felt at his betrayal… she needed to focus. So, like a hound with a particularly hard femur, she shook her head, cleared her throat and locked onto Bill, onto his face and voice, pleading, begging to be saved. The thought pushed her foot even further down onto the gas pedal, a decision that was audibly protested by the car’s old engine, a sound that soon died down as she came to a sudden stop… right outside the red neon sign she had been looking for.

The young woman observed the insidious establishment for a few seconds, taking in the polished yet dated look of the front entrance, as well as the peculiar yet appropriate attire of its patrons and staff. Stepping out, trepidation seemed to slam into her like a freight train, leaving her body to visibly vibrate with lost confidence. She wanted to turn back, to leave and just be done with vampires altogether… but she just couldn’t. Her conscience wouldn’t let her when she knew Bill was most likely still inside, hurt, hungry and on the verge of the true death.

Steeling herself the best she could while continuously replaying her plan of action: ‘Get in, talk to employee, get to the boss and ask ‘bout Bill’, she took the first steps of many. Though simple sounding, she knew it would be a very difficult tight rope walk of an undertaking, only passed through juggling politeness and assertiveness to perfection… yea right.

Still, determination set into every nook and cranny of her visage, she pushed on, approaching the red haze of ‘Fangtasia’ with sure steps and a hammering heart.

‘I specifically told that woman Crimson… not Carmine… And this shape… Disappointing.’ Thought Pam as she observed her nails, lips slightly pursed contemplating said human woman’s possible demise. Vampire-integration politics aside, nobody f*cked with her nails, not even for one night.

Uttering a small, frustrated huff, the vampire woman’s gaze rose to observe the scene, checking off her mandatory 15-minute cursory glance around the bar for possible incidents… and barely containing her eye-roll.

She almost whished for something to happen, something fun, bloody and filled with drama to disrupt the pathetic mundanity on display. Of course, nothing did, and she supposed she had become spoiled since that little morsel of male perfection had stepped through the doors of their little bar. Bringing, along with his very cute behind, a whole plethora of intrigue and morbid thrill, steadily increasing the overall amusem*nt of Pam’s nights… until tonight at least.

Following a thrilling 2 hours of inventory, wage dispute management, general staff coordination and vampire business, she was bored… simply, painfully, disgustingly bored. Trapped between her last interesting event and the next, the vampiress thoughts drifted back to her maker’s new obsession. Pam saw the boy, at least at first glance, as a sweet little angel… now though, oh, now she could almost smell the beauty’s deliciously cruel intentions. The succubus, promising so much, giving just enough to encourage begging only to plummet their intended’s expectations, while still keeping them on the hook… She should be annoyed with the little minx’s game, but the vampire woman could only watch, silently respecting the hustle, but her maker surely could not.

She could see it in every frayed interaction, every hurried word and annoyed twitch of his expression that his patience was thinning… and sooner or later the boy would become his… or he would not.

Suppressing yet another indulgent smile at the thought of such an ostensibly oblivious country boy holding the reigns of her master’s sanity, Pam looked up yet again, just in time to feel his summons like the crawling of a million ants… alongside a particularly shrill screech of metal from beyond the bar.

Joining the line of scantily clad individuals preparing to enter the club/bar was simultaneously easier and more difficult than she had anticipated. Her short-shorts and white t-shirt, paired with her deep tan and blonde hair were a far cry from the dark establishment’s usual dress-code… an aspect that presented the young woman with plenty of up and down stares and quite a bit of scowling from its more seasoned patrons.

Sookie welcomed the crowd’s gawking at first, feeling superior and a tiny bit vindicated in her considerations of the herd’s, and in extension Fangtasia’s, inferiority. A fleeting feeling as the whispering started, the people obviously gossiping about her appearance and general attire in a fashion akin to someone inspecting a pile of manure.

Fabricated confidence still in place, she held her head high, focusing on the mission and praying her brother had not followed her… well, who was she kidding? Sookie hoped she could enter before Jason found her, which she knew he would, and dragged her back by the ankles, kickin’ and screaming all the way to Gran’s house for a good ol’ southern scolding.

The image frustrated the young woman terribly, and the throng’s murmuring and snide laughter wasn’t helping. A few more seconds in this personal limbo passed before Sookie, face now slightly redder in anger, decided she had had enough and opened her mouth to give the gossiping mass the verbal lashing of a lifetime… when the air was knocked out of her lungs.

The young woman stared at the figure that had seemingly popped into existence right in front of her, her rabbit heart almost doing a somersault in the process, recognizing the vampire immediately.

The woman, no, vampiress sitting way to close for comfort was a live study in the allure of opposition. Being even more beautiful than she remembered, her angelic long blonde hair and blue eyes juxtaposed perfectly with the intricate leather dominatrix outfit she wore, alluring yet deadly.

The small smirk that appeared on the vampire’s face seemed to focus the young woman’s attention all at once on the present, the reality of the woman’s manifestation and what it may imply seeing as she very obviously knew the Sheriff.

Before she could compose herself, the vampiress spoke in a monotone yet anticipatory tone of voice: “Miss Stackhouse… I assume you wish to enter our establishment… Follow me…”

Sookie didn’t get to answer what was obviously a rhetorical question, or ponder how this strange vampire knew her last name, as she quickly followed in her trail. Her stilettoed stride parted the masses like Moses with the Red Sea, swiftly shepherding the young woman to the back of the bar, towards a shiny black door…

The confused waitress was about to question their direction when said door opened… to display every woman’s wet dream come to life. The man, vampire, literal God standing before her wearing the most sinful expression and tight tank-top she had ever seen reminded her of a demon, waiting to make her an offer… or Lucifer himself with his fair, glistening visage, sky-blue eyes and long, blonde hair.

‘God… this is one good-lookin’ hunk of man… sh*t! Focus Sookie dammit!’ her mind supplied, managing to chastise her into coherence as the vampire Adonis seemed to finally notice her presence.

Her pure, cloying scent spread like fog on a calm, cool night, suppressing even the most fowl of odors and commanding the attention of every vampire worth their nose. He knew, in that moment, what Bill’s little smile meant, what he thought he had accomplished through his little massacre… ‘Clever Bill… but not clever enough.’ thought the Sheriff, before sensing the other vampire’s piqued interest and following his own senses towards the prospect of seemingly every night-walker’s ultimate desire… and finding it lacking.

“Miss Stackhouse, how… bold of you to grace us with your presence this evening… please… sit.” Plastic smile in place, the vampire Sheriff addressed the apparently inconspicuous southern girl before choosing to sit himself, though in a much more comfortable chair.

The polite greeting had barely cooled in the icy air of the vampire’s office before the waitress deigned to disrupt its homeostasis with her shrill voice, tone warbling in apparent fear. “Where’s Bill? I know you’s have’im in this place somewhere starvin’ and I ain’t sittin’ and I ain’t leavin’ ‘til you’s tell me where you’ve hidden’im!”

The vampire Sheriff’s eyes stopped their random roving of his desk and attached paperwork, finally offering the young woman their full attention. The steady, intensely glacier stare that had made much stronger men cower in fear, seemed to barely faze the waitress, who had the nerve to cross her arms and tap her foot against his mahogany floor in impatience.

Bloodlust, though not born of hunger, more shaped from pure rage at the breather’s sheer audacity, engulfed the Sheriff in that moment. He managed to control it, barely, leashing the hungry beast before it sprinted across the small distance to tear the arrogant, little human’s arms out of their sockets, only a small though audible growl escaping his seemingly composed exterior.

Staring the still foot-tapping human down, Eric remembered his promise to dear Jason, his boy’s sweet voice pleading directly to the only still living piece of his heart… and forcefully tampered his desire to reveal his true, monstrous self to the stupid breather. After all, aside from her very… interesting origins and supposed powers, she was a very important pawn in this convoluted game of circ*mstance and intrigue, a piece he was quite unwilling to discard… at least not yet.

Blinking slowly, and taking an unneeded but desired breath, the Sheriff spoke: “Miss Stackhouse, I suspect this demanding tone has likely often provided you with everything you would ever need, if and when your powers couldn’t…”

The flippant, bored tone used when mentioning her ‘gift’ dislodged Sookie’s stance, tilting her world 45º to the left and leaving the young woman more socked than she thought she could ever be. The waitress had barely enough time to gasp before the now smirking vampire continued:

“But make no mistake, it will in no way aid you now.” Smirk gone, the Sheriff gestured yet again to the empty chair, its clean and polished metal arm rests seemingly reflecting in his empty eyes as he exclaimed in a dark, final sounding tone of voice: “Sit.”

Without thinking, the young woman dropped down into the uncomfortably uneven office chair, body quivering minutely and heart beating erratically, like a small herbivore that had barely escaped a predator’s clutches. A tiny, though insistent voice whispered its admonishment and juxtaposing giddy relief at the mistake she had barely escaped from, before her brief respite seemed to end.

Sensing the change, and enjoying it immensely, the vampire leaned back, satisfied smirk taking over the previously somber expression as he observed the waitress more closely. He could begrudgingly admit there was a certain prettiness to her, mostly stemming from her big doe eyes and petite frame, features she shared with her much lovelier brother, not to mention her smell… But, enticing as it was, his refined nose could not refrain from scenting the revolting odor of fried grease, stale beer and mildew that seemed to cling to her as she sat opposite him in the enclosed space.

Drawing back even further and praying for Jason’s swift arrival, he stated: “Now, you seem to be under the impression that I am keeping Bill somewhere in this establishment and starving him, am I correct?”

Sookie could barely move her head up and down to signify a non-verbal yes before a flood of emotions and questions seemed to overflow, threatening to break her carefully constructed mental dam.

Ignoring the obviously distressed woman, Eric continued: “Well, then you would be correct…”

The vampire Sheriff’s response followed its intended course, slamming into the frightened waitress and snapping her attention back to the present situation in a heartbeat. Bug-eyed, slack-jawed and trembling with impotent anger, Sookie envisioned herself rising from the seat, storming around the wooden desk and slapping the grin off this smug vampire’s face, Sheriff or not. Before her fantasies could become a reality, she closed her eyes and analyzed the situation. The Sheriff prick was obviously trying to get a rise out of her, clearly relishing in her confusion and fear, and all she could do in this situation was: be polite, not instigate and try to extract as much information as she could out of the situation… a very good plan indeed, only easier said than done.

Exhaling, Sookie let go of her anger and frustration, at least a large part of it, before opening her eyes and asking the only question she could think of: “What?”

Shaking his head slowly, the Sheriff rose, circling his office like a large feline, prowling around the meek gazelle as he spoke, tone bordering on disappointment: “Sookie… May I call you Sookie? Well, Sookie, it’s not really about the what of the situation you should be concerned with…”

She could almost sense his presence at her back, getting closer and closer and making gooseflesh appear on the back of her neck and shoulders as she attempted to respond: ”Th… Then what should I be concerned with?”

Tutting, Eric positioned himself against his side of the desk, taut arms gripping the edges of his chair, coiled strength forged from hard labor and battles hard won inadvertently drawing the young woman’s attention before his words gripped it like a harpy eagle’s claw: “Sookie… it’s not the what… it’s the why.”

Confusion mixed with arousal colored the waitresses’ face and eyes as she stared at the imposing vampire. Seeing her reaction, the Sheriff co*cked his head, grin growing wolfish before his expression froze, becoming cold and unfeeling as he kept staring.

Sookie blinked, and blinked, and kept blinking her large, befuddled eyes, nose scrunching in concentration as she carefully considered the Sheriff’s words… ‘The why? Huh?’ Too confused and impatient to analyze the line of dialogue any further, she caved and simply asked: “The why? What d’ya mean the why?”

Eric held back his amused grin, not wanting to further encourage the little breather’s attraction, although he knew it would be impossible. Far too many women and men have fallen for his charms with barely a glance, while she was getting quite an eyeful from the skin-tight clothing of this decade. Still, he held back from openly flirting with her, even for the fun of it, for… some reason that did not warrant a through dissection, at least not in this particular instance.

Silently clearing his throat and re-taking his seat, Eric explained… in the most indulgent yet condescending tone he could muster: “Yes Sookie, the why. Why? Why would I, as the Sheriff, as the authority in charge with upholding the vampire laws of the area, choose to inflict such pain onto poor Bill Compton? Why would I keep our dear Billy locked up, sad and alone? Why would I starve him until he felt compelled to extend his tether all the way into your neck of the woods?” Eric halted his seemingly inquisitory monologue to marvel at the amount of white he could distinguish in the little human’s eyes, the sclera overtaking her fear-tinged, pin-prick pupils, before continuing in the same tone:

“Why… why would I allow his human to waltz into my establishment and attempt to, not only lecture me, but demand things of me when I could have very easily disposed of her? Tell me, Sookie, why?”

‘His eyes… his eyes are empty…’ were the only words the young woman could fathom in that moment. She didn’t know what to say, how to respond in a situation that could very easily degenerate into the abyss of her worst nightmares. Realization dawned in the in-between of two fast breaths, a revelation she wished had struck her far before she had forcefully extracted the information necessary to reach this place… this man, vampire, monster… ‘Bill is using me… he knew who this vampire was, what he was capable of, and yet he still pleaded with me, a ‘normal’ human, to come to this place and… and do what? What could I even do….’

Eric could almost hear her thoughts roving, fighting and overlapping each other trying to come up with something, to respond before he lost his ostensibly small amount of patience… she didn’t need to know he would never harm her. Smiling, the Sheriff leaned back, enjoying the sound of her inner pump moving, squeezing sweet blood into every organ and nerve at the rate of a dozen hummingbirds panicking over the last flower. His inner self, sad*stic and bloodthirsty, almost purred at the fear response, wishing he could enjoy it more, could draw out the smell for as long as possible… but, Jason wasn’t far behind and Eric didn’t want his boy to panic at seeing his sister’s condition.

With one last gleeful sniff of that sweet fear, Eric cleared his throat, a sound akin to cannon-fire in the enclosed space. Seeing he had regained the breather’s attention, he spoke, though in a much gentler tone:

“The simple answer to those questions, Miss Stackhouse, is that Bill Compton is guilty. Of what, specifically, I cannot expand upon due to our kind’s laws. But, where it concerns you and your presence in my office on this night, I find myself inclined to… elaborate.”

Sookie watched, still just as stiff and frightened as before, as the vampire Sheriff procured a thick folder marked ‘Stackhouse’ on the front from underneath his desk. Curiosity managed to temporarily overcome the fear, making the young woman lean over the sizable desk to see more. Just as the vampire prepared to open the file, his hands stopped.

Eric quickly sensed the change, almost like a drop in air pressure, as his boy arrived, the old, though well cared-for, truck stopping a few dozen feet from the front entrance of the bar. As soon as the beauty exited his car, he was intercepted by Pam, who had been warned of his arrival and nothing else, Eric having enough faith in his childe to not explicitly specify what would happen should Jason come to any harm.

Trepidation slithered all the way to the top of Sookie’s hair follicles as she watched the vampire Sheriff, unprepared for what she would see. His eyes were blown, dark pupils eclipsing the icy blue of the glacial stare as he looked up towards the door, expression shifting from the impassible marble of his usual façade to something much warmer, almost pleased, before it all shut down. Blinking, the Sheriff’s eyes returned to something resembling what she considered to be normal, at least for him, as he rose up to open the door…

Sitting near the sister, having to inhale her enticing scent for as long as he did made Eric consider that maybe, just maybe, he would be able to control himself better when it came to the brother… Oh, how wrong he was. Even through the smog of pollution, hairspray and not enough antiperspirant, the odor of repelling scents and rubbing pleather, not to mention the sickeningly sweet and excessive smell of Sookie Stackhouse, the vampire could feel him.

Opening the door, Eric’s senses were instantly revitalized, like a snowdrop in spring, surrounded by the sight and scent of rain, roses and an inner sweetness that made the boy glow in its subtlety… simply delicious. Beyond Jason’s fragrancy, the Sheriff would never tire of the beauty’s eyes, so big and brown they threatened to swallow him whole, a fate barely escaped from as the boy smiled.

“Evenin’ Eric…” said a suddenly much meeker Jason, looking down and around before continuing: “Or should I call ya Sheriff Northman here?”

Eric’s arms twitched, muscles tensing, as he held back from holding the beauty, from kissing him, from consuming him whole… how this boy could be so damn adorable he would never know. Swallowing the built up of saliva, Eric moved aside, gesturing for Jason to enter: “Jason, welcome, and please… address me as you like.” Smirking, the vampire guided his boy with an inconspicuous hand on the hip towards a comfortable chair near his own seat before settling down opposite a very perplexed looking Sookie.

Jason could feel her eyes on him, like lasers penetrating deep in his subconscious and dredging up the lies… lies he had to tell, lies meant to protect her… lies she had forcefully pulled from him, invading his privacy and autonomy. Choosing to ignore his sister, at least for now, the boy focused on the vampire sitting oh so close. He had missed the black wife-beater, the dark material highlighting Eric’s muscled frame managing to distract Jason in the most amazing way, reminding the boy of their first meeting, of the vampire’s brutal yet protective nature, not to mention… ‘God-damn! That’s one sexy ass hunk of man… sh*t! Focus Jason!’

Clearing his throat, Jason looked towards his sister, feeling guilty even though he shouldn’t have to as she stared back huffing, eyes hard and arms crossed, obviously waiting for an explanation. Looking back at Eric, the boy silently pleaded with the vampire to say something to defuse the tension, but the small smirk and averted eyes conveyed his message perfectly: ‘I’m having too much fun seeing you squirm.’

Frowning, the boy refused to fidget as he turned his head, ready to confront his sister, before being bamboozled in return: “Jason Remington Stackhouse! What in Gran’s goat cheese and strawberry tarts is goin’ on here?”

Eric’s eyebrows rose at the name, amusem*nt surging as she bellowed, demanding an answer in the most southern way he had ever heard. The Sheriff realized a moment later that he should be rather annoyed with the little breather’s tone, especially when addressing his boy, but for some reason hilarity prevailed as Jason sputtered, finally squirming.

Eric enjoyed the picture for a moment longer, before choosing to intervene, tone even as he watched his boy’s cheeks burn, head turned away from the breather: “Miss Stackhouse, as amusing as this situation and your accent may be, I advise you to watch your tone… seeing as Jason had the grace to warn me of your arrival ahead of time.” Eyes hard and tone icy, the vampire turned his attention towards the young woman as he uttered: “A decision you should be most grateful for…”

The implication was there, present and accounted for, obvious like a rotting fish suffocating the room’s inhabitants with its foul odor, well, at least those who needed to breathe. Sookie looked just as shocked as the first time, though her scent was noticeably less afraid, while Jason seemed… perfectly content. The boy’s expression bore no change, posture loose and eyes alight, but when the vampire smelled him just a bit deeper, he could sense the trepidation, the fear that he was, supposedly, just a phone-call away from his sister’s death.

In truth, Jason was terribly afraid, feeling guilty and small when confronted with his own actions as he was of his sister’s stupidity… but he managed to hide it just as well as he hid everything in Sookie’s presence. The boy didn’t know what she had said before he had arrived, but judging from her reaction, his call may have been the only thing keeping her from becoming vampire chow… a very disconcerting thought indeed.

As the boy considered the situation, Sookie, emboldened by his presence, decided to get smart: “Jason! How can you sit there and twiddle you’s thumbs while he’s threatinin’ me!? You ain’t hear what ‘e said? And why do you have ‘is number? Say somethin’ for God’s sake!” The outrage seemed to suppress the young woman’s shock as she stood up, put her hands on her hips and yet again started to tap her foot, impatient and demanding as usual when confronted with the unknown.

As Jason looked at her, at the crazy-eyed expression and twitching movements of her scrawny limbs, he… he couldn’t believe her. The nerve, the audacity to waltz in and behave in such a way in front of and towards the vampire Sheriff of the area… A vampire that Jason knew, from their shared adventure concerning Bill’s arrest, had little patience for disrespect… How she could be so reckless, so… so bullheaded, righteous and unequivocally resolute in her own apparent luck driven immortality that she would intentionally put herself in the worst situations without any prior planning or care for what she would leave behind… he would never understand. Showing such lack of consideration for the way her actions could affect anyone else and being so very selfish, after everything he did to keep her safe, after so many years of almost raising her alongside Gran and loving her however he could… Her attitude and actions were so incredibly stupid and dangerous, so irresponsible… so close to being suicidal that… that Jason had officially had enough.

“That’s it! Sit you’s ass down and be quiet ‘fore I drag you’s outta here weather you’s wanna go or not! Sookie, you’s done some stupid sh*t in yer life, and invitin’ that sonovabitch Bill Compton to Gran’s was up there, but this takes the cake! You got the nerve to come over ‘ere, to a vampire bar, no appointment or nothin’ and make a scene? Do you know who you’s talkin’ ‘bout? Do you know what you’s hissy fits can lead to? No, you don’t, cuz’ you’ve been treated like a f*ckin’ princess since momma and daddy done passed away… This ain’t Merlotte’s Sook, where you’s got everythin’ under control, where people care ‘bout you and will help if ya’s in danger. This here’s a vampire bar and the only thing keepin’ you’s safe right now is… well I don’t really know, but you’s lucky Eric’s such a nice vampire. ‘Cuz if it were me, and someone walked in actin’ how I know you act when you’s reckon ‘ur right… I don’t even wanna think how I’d send them packin’. And don’t ya make that face at me Sook, I’m serious and for once in yer’ life you’s gonna listen to what I’m saying!”

Grumbling, the young woman sat down, looking anywhere but at her brother, slightly embarrassed, but still positively outraged at his reprimand, and in the presence of the Sheriff, this Eric, no less… But as she listened, and thought, Sookie realized just how much she was fixin’ for some humble pie, being as mindless as a buttered lamb in a wolf’s den. So, begrudgingly, she accepted the scolding, unable to gather her previous furiously justified anger, much less blame her brother or the Sheriff for their reactions… now… now she just wanted to bury her head in the sand.

Eric, though just as incensed as the boy, remained calm, barely constraining his volatile emotions and impulses, at least until the beauty spoke. Then, the hue of his turbulent disposition slowly brightened, the boy’s harsh words and tone alleviating most of the Sheriff’s rage… while his flushed visage, taught muscles and blazing eyes managed to quell the rest, a small smirk appearing on the vampire’s stony face. The beauty’s distracting appearance was, at times, quite concerning, a notion deserving of further inspection, only to be, yet again, scheduled for a later date.

Tuning in to his Jason’s words, the vampire felt like interjecting, needing to assure the boy of his intentions… whatever they may be, but decided to hold off the topic for now, at least until they could be alone to discuss it. When the beauty seemed to be finishing his piercing speech, Eric saw and sensed the breather’s shame, her anger and slight disgust focused inward, as it should be. Touching Jason’s shaky shoulder and feeling the stress seemingly melt off the distressed boy, Eric felt grounded enough to speak, finally trusting himself not to do something impulsive, like tear out the breathing meat-slab’s throat, but Jason felt inclined to continue:

“After what you’s done today…” The boy whispered as he looked down, his shoulders sagging, dislodging the tentative touch before straightening out to look his sister dead in the eye, expression and tone set in stone : “You know… you know I hate when you do that… that thing… and you did it anyway… then you’s go off ridin’ into the night like Bill’s personal shinin’ f*ckin’ knight… What’s wrong with’cha Sookie? What’s that f*cker do to you?! He hit ya in the head? You got a cocoshion or what? Now you say somethin’! Cuz I ain’t gotta sh*t’n clue why you’s come all the way ‘ere like a chicken with its head cut off to save that… that f*cker!” fuming, the boy stopped for a much-needed breath, arms on knees and hands grabbing at his hair in distressed panic as he watched the floor, avoiding his doe-eyed, trembling sister’s expression: “Why Sook? Just… just why?”

Tense silence greeted the boy’s question, a few seconds that felt like hours in the enclosed, quiet space of the Sheriff’s office… a stillness effortlessly cut open by the vampire himself with a resounding: “Well… although I hate to ruin this lovely little drama, this may provide the answers you seek.” as he slowly slid the thickest file on his desk towards Jason.

The boy turned his gaze onto the document, confusion tightly encased into his expression as he read the title. “Wh… Stackhouse? Is this… is this whole file on our family?” asked the befuddled boy, fingers dancing on the covers before opening them to read the first of many pages… and gawking at his own findings.

Though heavily chastised and finally lucid enough to understand the magnitude of her own reckless actions… Sookie couldn’t help asking: “You’s composed a file on us?”, but in a much mousier tone, hoping to understand but not directly accuse the vampire of any wrongdoings.

Eric’s previously sky-blue eyes turned arctic when in direct line of sight with the breather, making the young woman want to curl inward, away from the obvious threat. Sookie kept looking ahead though, trying desperately to seem in control… and failing miserably.

After making a very calculated assessment of her person, Eric deigned to respond, adopting his less than friendly tone from the beginning of their meeting: “No… that wonderfully intrusive bit of work was accomplished by a mind… how can I say this? Oh, right, a mind meant to be studied extensively. In fact, I’m positive this century’s scientists would greatly benefit from such a fascinating network of dead neurons… the darkness, it must be what black holes are made of…” Smiling a toothy smile, the Sheriff continued, greatly enjoying the breather’s elevated heart rate: “But… I guess Bill was never much of a thinker…”

He waited, grin growing larger as her eyes grew bigger, and bigger, and then bigger yet again, so large Eric wanted to back away less he be drenched in her exploding fibrous, gel-like tissue as she opened her maw to ask the most obvious question:

“What?”

Jason x Eric Pouty Baby

Chapter 24: Revelations

Chapter Text

He could feel it in the air… The ever-changing leaves, capricious wind and his very own slightly shivering bones all pointing to one single conclusion… summer was almost over. The shifting of the seasons affected many people for various reasons, farmers rejoicing and despairing in equal measure as they waited for their harvest to bear the proverbial fruit, while some were simply despairing, with no shelter or food in store to weather the coming cold… and some, few but hungry, were trembling at the thought of what winter would inevitably bring.

Not a jolly, red suited man carrying presents, or fairy lights to cover the whole town… oh no, these were childish fantasies of the snow infested landscapes of home. They knew what the seemingly joyous season would summon from the cold and the dark… how powerful they would be then, sensing a warm, beating heart from miles away when surrounded by nothing but ice and snow. It would be impossible to act then, to actually catch one off-guard and trap, drain and feed them enough to last until spring came. In just a few short weeks, the nights would steadily get longer, darker, more dangerous… they had to act now.

Lit cigarette held tightly to his chest, shielded from the coming wind, the figure stared at the house. ‘Dark, just how I like’em.’ he thought, taking a large drag of the foul stick before stubbing it deep into the dirt just outside the old Stackhouse porch. Soft footsteps ascended the steps, still making the old wood creak, as gloved fingertips teased the thin railings all the way up to their leading entrance. When breaking in, he usually exploited the nearest cracked window, but considering who owned the house, the shadowy figure immediately tried the door, not considering Jason smart enough to lock it… until the doorknob refused to budge.

Silently twisting the carved object this way and that, with no apparent give, our ‘burglar’ barely restrained himself from smashing the old wood in. Breathing hard and angling his face up to the small sliver of light shining from the celestial body above, the man composed himself, reaching into his back pocket for the lock-pick he had brought just in case. Minutes passed with little progress, until just the right sequence of motions made the lock click open. Door now slightly ajar, our figure, smirking like the cat that got the cream, entered.

“What?”

Dead silence, fingers entwined on the large desk and an eyebrow raised as if to ask: ‘Are you serious right now?’ accompanied Sookie’s question. The Sheriff, palpably sensing his patience slipping, yet not done playing with his food, kept entertaining the breather’s stupidity: “What? As in what do you mean? Or are you simply curious as to what my weekend activities include?”

Two sets of eyes widened as they gazed at him, taking in the small curl of the vampire’s lip as he relaxed deeper into his chair, totally at ease with the tension and shock of the situation. “Well, if it’s the latter, I plan on relaxing with a warm glass of blood-wine and a good book, nude near my roaring fireplace, how about you?”

Sookie’s face warmed, embarrassment, confusion and a dollop of anger verging its shade towards tomato-red, teeth grit at the sarcastic answer. While expected, she still could not fathom this vampire’s blatant disregard for her feelings, or Jason’s for that matter. She opened her mouth to clarify, tone already dialed from sassy to disrespectful, when Jason shook his head.

Drawing his sister’s attention, the boy looked at her and her alone, eyes a kaleidoscope of juxtaposing emotions. He… wanted to laugh, to scream, double over and cry from the absurdity of the situation and Eric’s answers. A hysterical, dark sound almost escaped as he lowered his eyes to continue reading the file. It… nothing made sense. Words were beginning to jumble, expand and contract before Jason’s eyes as he stared, unblinking at something he could not comprehend.

“Eric… wh…Target Sookie… procurer Bill… fae and The Queen… huh? Just wha… what’s all this mean?”

Still smirking, the vampire turned his head, sharp words at the ready before he saw it, his boy’s face, the distress and fear sown into the beauty’s eyes forcibly halting them before they could spill out. Demeanor softened, Eric took the file from his Jason’s hands and handed it over to the sister, exhaling his last breath of the night alongside the cutting remarks still poised on the tip of his tongue. “I will explain, in due time, until then read the first page…” Sookie took the offered document with the trepidation of a groundhog inspecting its burrow’s entrance in spring. When her eyes landed on the first page… she could not believe them.

Credit:Me, tehe

To even attempt to explain the cacophony of emotions and physical reactions Sookie experienced the moment she read those first few lines of text would be akin to me proclaiming this story the most profound piece of art ever to grace the eyes of whomever was fortunate enough to stumble upon it… thus I will refrain. Though, it could be said that she was not pleased… mortified, disturbed and exceedingly afraid for her safety would be more apt terms of description, but it was to be expected. After all, when the world of romance and dating seemed as bleak as the original Grimms fairytales for our young telepath, in stepped her very own dark and mysterious knight in creepy yet alluring armor. He was perfect in our little waitresses’ starry eyes, so different from all the men she had met before, suave, handsome and yet so very polite, not to mention completely blank. Thus began the quickest whirlwind romance of the century, poor Sookie edging ever closer towards the insidious maw of Bill’s trap… until now.

Reading the document, even ignoring the redacted text, the young woman’s conscious mind quickly processed the information, finally understanding what, exactly, her former intended beau saw in her… But, as she kept staring at the page, cataloguing every word she could read and frowning deeply at the ones she could not… a fog began to cloud her racing mind. Utter devastation turned to suspicion, despondent trembling to stilled tension and her pained, rage filled eyes towards the vampire sitting across from her wearing the most disinterested, apathetic expression she had ever seen.

With a snarl, the young woman abruptly sat up, anger spinking even higher at the lack of reaction from the unbothered vampire. “After threatenin’ me, kidnappin’ Bill and compellin’ ma brother you’s give me this and expect me to what? Believe you’s?” Sookie growled, jabbing her spindly fingers into the thick pages of the document like knifes through a pillow: “How’s I know it wasn’t you who’s write ‘dis… ‘dis f*ckin’ thing?” Raising her hand, finger pointed sharp and eyes wide in perceived vindication, she continued, tone going shrill in her hysteria: “Maybe Bill ain’t done nothin’ and you’s just wanna keep’im locked up for… for whatever the f*ck bullsh*t reason you’s have?! Where is’e?! I ain’t believe sh*t ‘til I’s hear it from’im!”

Jason’s eyes could not become any rounder, nor could his eyebrows grow any closer to his hairline, less they detach themselves from his face altogether at his sister’s reaction. Even when not in the presence of their grandmother, the boy had never heard Sookie address someone with that level of disrespect, not to mention cursing up a storm. Mouth hanging slightly open, the young boy was fixin’ to rectify her behavior, not prepared in the least for the blur of movement that brought Eric face to face with her.

The Sheriff’s relaxed disposition transformed, bored expression gone as he came within inches of the now terrified breather’s face. Her straight shoulders and determined eyes that just seconds before seemed to scream of her convictions… dissolved like the feathers of a tiny bird in the acid of his now savage looking eyes. Those eyes… spoke of her immediate fate in their own unique, enigmatic language, words mercurial and bathed in fog, yet their meaning… crystal clear. Sookie could almost see it in the dark and cruel swirls of blue with the slightest specks of green, could almost hear the fathom screams that resembled her own and feel her flesh going cold with the chill of an unknown, merciless gust of wind.

The vampire could hear her throat close shut, trying and failing to swallow the last dregs of her own words like the physical embodiment of undigested thoughts. The Northman stared at the expanse of malleable flesh… wishing beyond reason to show the audacious, stupid little meat-sack what lay beneath their very feet, to drag her down into the darkness of the splattered basem*nt and cut Billy boy loose… see how well she really knew him then. Unfortunately, he could not hurt her, yet, especially in front of his Jason, but the stupid human would never know it by the coiled strength of his arms denting the metal armrests of her uncomfortable chair.

The cold, empty glacier of the vampire’s eyes seemed to almost burrow into her frightened, plain brown ones as complete silence mounted. Hours of tension veering on the side of dangerous stillness seemingly passed before Eric’s fury relented with a put-upon huff, exhaling loudly to instill a sense of artificial tranquility. Instantly, the whole room appeared to take a breath, the vampire’s subsequent withdrawal deflating the atmosphere like a small knife in a pressurized tire… slowly, keenly aware of the imminent explosion.

Satisfied as he was by the pitter-patter of her tiny, confused heart and the unsure exhales of her thin, so easily breakable neck, the Sheriff pondered his next words, wondering if he should be gentle with the frightened breather, before reconsidering: “Should I make you believe it Miss Stackhouse?” Towering form still semi-crouched over her petite one, the vampire Sheriff whispered, tone dark and slow. “Or do you simply have a death wish? Rarely have I encountered one such as yourself, but make no mistake, in no way is it a compliment. Your… demanding attitude and ludicrous accusations, as charming as they may be to some, bring nothing but contempt and aggression out in me… remember that the next time you decide to open your mouth.”

Bewildered and scared beyond belief, the young woman’s eyes shot to her equally shocked brother, both siblings seemingly frozen in the moment, praying it would not be the one bearing witness to Eric’s attack. Elongated seconds passed, tension stretched farther than human nerves could ever accomplish… when Sookie’s chair legs decided to give a booming squeak, snapping the vampire’s gaze down. Lashes lowered, the young woman’s destabilized brain, like a volleyball in the 1979’s Men’s Czechoslovak League, could not help but admire their length, at least until they lifted. Oceanic eyes met her expression, their gaze somewhere in-between rage and serenity as the Sheriff rose to his full, impressive height before speaking:

“Now, Miss Stackhouse, I suppose that under the circ*mstances, I can somewhat understand your response… although, with Bill being as obvious in his deceit and idiotic as he is wont to be, I would never be able to fully grasp how he managed to fool you so very easily…” Grinning slyly, the vampire watched her expression change yet again, the breather’s fear eclipsed in barely a moment by indignant anger. Slowly, and ever so gently, he leaned back, hip connecting with the desk corner as his solid arms gripped it, distracting both brother and sister with their impressive flexing as he continued:

“To address your concerns… no, I did not write that document, I simply recovered it from Bill’s desk, as stated previously… and, I also did not compel your brother as he… seems to possess the same invulnerability to it as you do.” Owlishly huge eyes gazed up at the self-satisfied vampire, whose tone lowered to an undistinguished frequency as he moved away from his desk, eyes focused on the office door: “Disappointing really, that you should share dear Jason’s gifts… would have been much easier if you had not… still, here we are, and seeing as words mean as little to you as dust in the wind… I will simply show you.”

Elegant, sharp click-clacks were heard long before the long, blonde tresses of the younger vampire could be seen just inside the offices’ entrance, her arrival ending all discussion. Vivid red and ink black latex embraced her figure, the outfit seemingly poured right onto her body, as she listened with half an ear and an eyeroll or two to her master’s hushed words… until her whole body stilled, eyebrow raising as she disappeared like smoke into thin air. Immediately, the constant noises of a fun nightlife bar stopped, the laughing, loud screaming and endless background music turned white-noise ceasing with an inaudible record-screech. Loud, blaring silence enveloped the small space, pushing down onto its occupants like a physical representation of glacial pressure.

A second passed, then two before some strange new sounds could be discerned from the outside again… only Jason didn’t hear them at all. Never in his life had he ever felt as lost, as confused and off-balance as in that moment, looking at Eric with trepidation and slight fear. Another few moments scattered like mice in a field before the boy dared to look directly at the vampire… who watched him back, expression somewhere between concern and slight hurt. Five actual minutes of conversation had transformed into an eternity in the small office, and when Eric looked away to open the door fully with a reserved: “Come.” the boy didn’t hesitate to follow, desperate to escape the confusing tension… only to be confronted with its source.

Four thick, gleaming silver chains were wrapped around a sturdy looking chair’s arms and legs… their size and strange placement attracting the boy’s attention half a second ahead of their prisoner. The… thing, not man or vampire, strapped to the sturdy chair had its chin tucked into its neck, obscuring its gnarled face while highlighting its matted, bloody hair. The rest of it wasn’t in better shape either, blood and gore notwithstanding, Jason couldn’t look away from its deformed extremities. The parts that had to be arms and the ones that would be legs looked… switched, and put on backwards. The boy cringed away, his arms automatically rising to cover his vulnerable stomach at the revulsion churning within. Looking around, he saw that no one else besides him, his sister, Eric and Pam were present to witness this disturbing sight… making his gut twist anew.

Tearing his gaze away from the gory car-crash dummy was… difficult for many reasons, the main one being the boy’s reluctance to witness what he knew he would, and at the same time needing to. Swallowing drily, Jason finally dared to look over towards Eric, the vampire boss of the area that he had come to trust, even like, like-like… only for his heart to drop. The Vampire Sheriff was circling the suffering being in a lazy, self-assured fashion while sporting a look of enjoyment akin to pure glee… like a kid waking up on Christmas to find the largest stack of gifts. The boy… couldn’t believe it. Not that the 1000-year-old vampire that had lived through the Dark ages could torture someone to that extent and enjoy it, no, Jason… couldn’t believe that he had almost turned a blind eye to it. Looking back, he had thought… no, he knew what Eric was going to do to Bill the second he saw the other vampire’s face pale, he knew what the viking was implying about the actual Bon Temps killer’s fate and even encouraged him to do it. Thinking of punishing the evil of the world in the most brutal, awfully painful of ways was one thing, actually witnessing the results on someone, now something, you don’t even know is… entirely different. Perturbed and incredibly disillusioned with Eric and especially with himself, the boy turned around, ready to run out the back, go home and forget all about vampires and their bloody business… until he heard it.

“Sookie…”

Hurried steps in the wet mud and a curse or two later, Maxine was home. Minutes after, she was sat in her plush, sitting-room chair overlooking the old Stackhouse home, giddiness and revulsion uncontained as she dialed each number carefully. One to two rings later, her frenemies responded, voices laces with fake sweetness as they greeted their gossip queen.

“G’evnin’ sugar, where’s the fire? You ain’t never called ‘dis late ‘fore…” said one of many.

Grinning, the wretched woman readied her speech, before deciding to slow it down, drag it out to really nail the punchline… truthfully, nothing excited the old bat more than being needed, being sought after and pleaded to: “Hmm, nothing really, just getting’ myself some iced tea, you know, and wanted to see how yall’s doin’?”

She could hear the frustrated huff come through the land-line, basking in the moment. “Oh, we’re fine, just getting’ by… but come on Maxie, I just know you’lls got somethin’ juicy…”

Deciding to really sell the act, Maxine got herself that iced tea, making the most obnoxious slurping sounds as she relaxed even further into her chair, counting down the seconds. “Well… I really shouldn’t say this but… Oh, no, forget I said anythin’, I really can’t, it might impede the investigation, you know… Oh, opps.”

Like a good fisherman, the old woman knew how to bait, her ‘friend’s’ loud inhale like the bubbles of a fat catfish on the hook: “Oh, you horrible, horrible woman, you can’t do thaatt! Now you have to tell me! Is it ‘bout the Dawn girl? Did they find someone?”

Fat, stubby finger tapping on her pursed lips, Maxine pretended to consider the question, eyes a little distracted by the lights turning on and off at Jason’s. She didn’t pay the sight much mind the first time a light went on, it was quite late and she couldn’t expect the stupid boy to see in the dark, but then they just kept blinking, all throughout the house… like someone was searching for something.

Suspicion radar activated, she began watching the property just a little bit closer, eventually relenting after not seeing anything else, just the darkness of night and her own reflection.

“Maxie? Maxine!! Come oonnnn, please tell me, I need to know!Pleaseee…”

Focus reverted to the conversation at hand, the old woman began smiling that all-knowing, sinister smile of hers as she complied: “Oh, all right, but you have to promise not to tell anybody else…”

Grinning on her very own, the other woman purred: “Oh, don’t worry, secret’s safe with me…”

“Sookie…”

One whispered word was all it took for both siblings to freeze, to realize, connect the dots and understand, at least partly the who and the what of their unspoken questions... yet again, never the why. Jason’s eyes nearly jumped out of their sockets at his sister’s loud, yet shaky intake of breath, and they almost did as he preemptively turned towards the sound. The boy thanked God and his football lovin’ daddy for his reflexes as he tackled his hysterical sister away from the bloodied thing, now vampire, looking up at her with a small, hopeful smile.

Jason couldn’t believe that that thing used to be Bill, mind racing trying to understand what exactly had brought the vampire to the state he was currently in, while at the same time feeling grateful for his ignorance. The boy’s remaining curiosities and questions were to remain on the backburner for now though, he had a wily younger sister to wrangle before she did something she couldn’t come back from. Sookie kept trying to escape though, thrashing and scratching like a rabid cat, but Jason didn’t budge, hushing her as best he could while watching the Vampire Sheriff approach.

“Miss Stackhouse… can you hear me? Well, even so, I am pleased to present to you… Bill Compton! You wanted to see him, right? Well, here he is, the man of the hour.” With a sweeping motion, the grinning Sheriff turned his eyes towards Bill like he was an animal in an exhibition, his following words not helping the comparison in the least: “As you can see, he is alive and doing fairly well for someone in his position, wouldn’t you agree? I admit his diet has not been that great, but our dear boy found a solution, didn’t you Bill?”

Smiling slyly, the Sheriff waited for a response, from the frenzied breather and young vampire alike, his Cheshire like grin growing wider by the second. Bill retained his composure, the only sign that his remark had hit its target a barely there twitch of his skinny fingers, the human woman though… her reaction was worth the set-up as she turned her furiously overwrought, tear-filled eyes towards him. And, as expected, his boy, like the intelligent little morsel of perfection that he was even when confused and frightened, held her close, keeping the little human from facing a similar fate to dear Bill as she leapt towards him.

Eric was a sad*st, but he never really got into the bdsm world like many others of his kind, not having that much interest in toys in general… though, in that moment, as the meat-sack screeched her boring accusations, demands and most amusingly, threats like a genuine harpy, he reconsidered his thoughts on gags…

“Miss Stackhouse, let’s not resort to childish implications, we both know you hold no power here, just like Bill… but, unlike him, you do pose a lot of intrigue to a certain someone, can you guess who?” Cutting his eyes away, the vampire began strolling the bar like a lion in its domain, with the ease and indolence of assured power.

Sookie… knew she wasn’t getting out of her brother’s hold, a tiny bit of her unfocused brain being grateful for his unyielding grip as it kept her from making a wrong move, maybe her last move, in this stupefying, perplexingly complicated game of cat and mouse. She wanted to break free, to reach out and tear off a chunk of his pretty, blonde hair while at the same time ignore him altogether and run to Bill. Her brain was so very… confused, foggy with little else input besides reach Bill, help free Bill, feed and heal him, quickly, hurry, hurry, hurry!

Sookie took control of her mind every single day, holding back her powers expertly while also managing to steer them however she wished… but this, this single-minded obsession… the young woman just couldn’t shake. Her mental faculties were completely depleted, she was exhausted, scared out of her mind, stressed and more anxious than she had ever been in her whole life. She just couldn’t fight this weird impulse anymore, so she thrashed, not responding, not speaking anything besides: “Let go, let goooo!!! I have to go to him, I have to!”

Jason was lost, he didn’t know how to handle the situation, how to calm everything down, how to just make his sister stop acting like she was wearing steel slippers on a coal lit dancefloor. “Sook, what in the f*ck’s wrong wit’cha? You’s actin’ crazier than one of’em groupies at a Billy Ray concert… Do you’s have that Stockholder syndrome or somethin’? Stop! Just STOP!”

Eric’s focus, ambiguous yet pointed, and always extremely intense, was diverted from, well, everything by the boy’s unintentionally humorous expressions. The vampire Sheriff couldn’t contain a small chuckle as he looked towards his progeny: “Söderlänningar har så roliga fraser…”

Brightly painted lips ticked upward as Pam nodded: “Roligt, om jag bara kunde höra vad Jason sa. Kan du få henne att hålla käften?”, rolling her eyes at the breather’s antics.

A small frown found its way onto the Sheriff’s face as he returned to watching the siblings. Jason’s grip was loosening, the human woman’s ambition growing, making her act more unhinged and possessed the more time her need went unanswered. Eric looked towards his prisoner, all amusem*nt gone from his face, a displeased, upward curl of the lip taking its place as he addressed the bound vampire… whose eyes were just a tad bit too bright for his own wellbeing.

“Bill… oh Bill, you never learn, do you?” Tsk’ing, the vampire Sheriff approached, getting as close as he dared to the filthy youngling. Cold, unflinching eyes bore into Bill’s own blown, blood-shot ones, the ancient vampire admiring his work before addressing the filthy, infested rat loud enough for human ears to pick up: “Do you truly think this will save you? That she can do anything to endeavor such a result? Her artificial infatuation will bring you nothing except maybe a step closer to a formal excursion by none other than your own Queen… So, do us both a favor and release her strings, your puppet has danced enough for one night.”

Leaning back, the disfigured vampire hissed, being yet again reminded of his new jewelry as he watched his jailor, finally looking less than thrilled at his expense. He enjoyed imagining Eric in pain, just as much if not more than his own, fantasizing endlessly of a future where he escaped and managed to employ his own brutal revenge… but, knowing his situation better than anyone, Bill saw this as his only opportunity for control, fleeting and small as it was, and decided to revel in it.

Smirking, the vampire opened his mouth, ready to volley its own smart comment back, when his throat decided to unceremoniously choke on thin air, reducing the satisfying moment to ash. Still, he looked up to meet the ostensibly bored expression of the viking as he croaked: “Why… why should I? Go… ‘cough’ go f*ck yourself.”

Eric’s eyebrow, like the rest of his facial features, was in his mind’s perfect control… most nights. This night, this tedious yet intriguing, amusing yet annoying, fascinating yet entirely lifeless of all nights it decided to rebel, propelling onto the ancient vampire’s massive fivehead as he silently regarded the rebellious little idiot daring to mouth back.

A dazed, true smile overtook the Sheriff’s visage, slightly impressed by the younger vampire’s gall, as he shook his head: “Oh Bill, you truly never learn… Fine. Let’s try it this way then…” Faster than most vampire eyes could see, Eric blurred over the bar, landing right next to Bill’s slumped form, his strong hand grabbing ahold of the youngling’s skinless elbow… and squeezing.

Both humans flinched back at the vicious scream that tore itself from the bound vampire’s throat, faces as pale as any undead at the fear and pain present in his ragged breaths. Jason watched Eric’s hand compress the flayed flesh like a factory steel-grade vice, only stopping when it met bone. The boy held his breath, trying miserably to not be sick at the brutal display as he watched Bill hold back from thrashing, knowing it would only hurt more.

Not being able to stand it any longer, Jason spoke up, with little care what happened should Eric not be who he thought he was: “Stop it! I know’e ain’t the brightest daisy in the garden, but ‘e done got enough!”

Eric… was already bored, and a bit peeved that he didn’t have the foresight to wear a glove before touching the disgusting little parasite… oh well. Seeing Bill’s suffering would always be enjoyable, but after so many scream-filled nights, the whole process got tedious, and fast. He wasn’t even looking to further harm the younger vampire, but he needed him to understand the consequences of back-talk… and then Jason’s voice cut right through everything.

Looking up, Eric saw the boy, his boy, looking at him like he was a… monster. A bolt of pain shot right through the vampire’s chest, near where his heart used to beat, at the fear in his intended’s eyes. He let go, not even realizing he had followed Jason’s words like they were a maker’s command until he was a few steps away from the now terrified humans. This… was the last thing the ancient vampire wanted to happen, though he knew it would. Jason was the personification of goodness, of innocence with just a touch of darkness, but only just a touch, obviously not enough to see and accept Eric’s own…

The Vampire Sheriff didn’t know what to say, or do, how to fix what he had so carelessly broken, so he shut everything down. The blistering pain turned to a phantom ache as he looked away from his Jason, no, just Jason’s disappointed eyes.

“Oh, if you only knew… in fact, I think our guests would love a story, care to do the honors Bill? Oh, but first, be a good boy and release Miss Stackhouse, will you? Wouldn’t want to crush your other elbow… or your knees, well, who am I kidding? I would love to. Your choice.” The Sheriff said with a wobbly smile that didn’t reach his vicious eyes as he pointed towards the human woman.

Frowning, Jason watched the bound vampire as he snarled, wondering what the Sheriff could mean when he felt his sister go lax in his arms. Worry creased the boy’s face before turning into unprecedented concern as he called her name with no response. Jason’s eyes began to sting as he shook his sister, praying she woke up, preparing to slap her just as her eyes began blinking open. Immediately, the boy closed his arms around her, hug/restraint back in place in case she resumed her crazy earlier activities… only she didn’t. It was like a switch had been flipped off and he had his baby sister back. Watching her eyes shift rapidly around the room, he dared ask, in a hushed voice: “Sook, is ya alright? How you’s feel?... Oh, Sook, say something. You brain damaged or?”

Sookie immediately cringed away from her brother, his last question making her want to yell at him… when she realized. She… she could… think again. She felt tired, afraid and incredibly sad and angry, but lucid for the first time in… she didn’t know how long. Opening her mouth, Sookie began to explain, in a soft yet crooked tone, her experiences, the fog that seemed to cover her mind, the strange impulses and the weird need to save… Bill. The name caused the young woman to look over, finally acknowledging the tortured figure slumped over just to the left of them… only to be overshadowed by Eric’s smug face.

“Finally understand, Miss Stackhouse? Or do I have to spell it out for you?” The young woman frowned, still in the dark about what had transpired since coming to the bar… letting her brother take the lead.

“Is… is you saying… that that f*cker there’s been controllin’ Sookie ‘dis whole f*ckin’ time?” Eric was surprised to hear the boy’s voice, so very vengeful and full of rage at the prospect of his sister’s manipulation, though he should have expected it. Watching Jason’s expression morph, from frightened confusion to cruel intentions, sent a shiver of pleasure down Eric’s spine. The ache was still there, though just a little less piercing, burning just a tad bit less since the tiniest speck of hope had slithered in… that maybe, just maybe Jason could accept the darkness… that the boy could accept him.

Deciding to dwell on the issue later, he regarded Jason with open sincerity, wanting to tell the boy everything, yet knowing he could not, not yet: “Most certainly… the document details his intentions and subsequent actions quite well, but I wanted you to hear it from the horse’s mouth…” Tearing his eyes away from the vision the Gods had chosen to bless him with, Eric looked, entirely reluctant, towards the weakening vampire: “So, Bill, start from the beginning, I’ll help – ‘Once upon a time there was a slimy, weak little vampire that had no one and nothing left in the world and decided to serve the Evil Queen of the land’, now you continue.”

Defeated, Bill watched the self-satisfied vampire with a glare, knowing his use was probably coming to an end and not caring in the least. Opening his mouth, he yet again choked on air, coughing loudly and glaring even harder at the ancient viking regarding him with even more distain than before, when he was interrupted:

“Eric… please… please just tell me what is going on? I… I just need to know!” The boy’s whispered words cut right through the Sheriff’s banter, like a knife through butter, severing every humorous remark ready to be delivered as he watched those tired, doe eyes pleading in that sweet, innocent voice to his monster.

The vampire could not, would not deny him as he approached, eyes a gentle sky blue: “Alright, I will explain… I was preparing to do so before your sister arrived, but after our conversation, I considered it prudent to let you hear the details of this scheme laid out by its architect, namely Bill here. I understand, dear Jason, your frustration, your need for knowledge, for answers… but do you trust me to provide them?” The Sheriff’s last words were softer, a question inside a question that Jason didn’t know the answer to… What he knew was that Eric, old, brutal vampire Sheriff Eric Northman, throughout everything, had been nothing but helpful, nice, courteous and protective… he had encouraged Jason, complimented him when he didn’t have to, visited him and paid attention to him… kissed his hand, held him close, whispering reassuringly that everything would be ok…

A small, lopsided smile grew, reaching the boy’s gleaming brown orbs as he regarded the reserved vampire: “I trust ya Eric, would be a damn fool not to after everythin’…” A sentiment made real by the answering relief and happiness he could see plain as day in the vampire’s eyes.

Nodding slightly, the Sheriff clasped his hands behind his back… and grimaced at the sticky feeling of congealed blood. Before he could search for it, a rag was deposited into his hand and with a grateful nod to his childe, he began circling the bar, cleaning off the blood while searching for the inciting incident.

“Do you happen to know a Hadley?” and thus began the long-awaited, dramatic retelling of exactly how and why the Vampire Queen of Louisiana gained an interest in Bon Temps and Sookie in general, how she had sent her best, most successful procurer out to investigate. The young woman, still dazed and more than a little bit traumatized by the whole situation, could not believe what she was hearing… much less understand most of it, a notion voiced by her brother almost as soon as she had thought it.

“Wait a second, I get that ‘dis Queen got word ‘bout Sookie’s… umm, her ‘thing’ from our cousin and she done sent Bill over… but what do you’s mean ‘procure’?” Squinting, the boy pondered his own question, a disturbing, sinister thought crossing his mind as he recalled his trips with Gran at the farmer’s market.

A deep, infuriated frown overcame Jason as he regarded the thing that used to be Bill Compton in a completely new light… “You… you’s don’t mean like how chain stores procure like, produce n’ sh*t right? It… you’s can’t do that with human beings… Right? Eric…”

Bringing pain, sweet, delicious pain and agony to deserving creatures was… unspeakably gratifying to the vampire, feeding the monster and satiating the hole ever present in his being since his parent’s demise… but being forced to bring such torment down upon the sweet, beautiful boy, even considering his amazingly vicious reactions, caused the vampire to rethink his opinions on the existence of Karma.

“Yes, Jason, it is exactly as you would think…” He saw the boy’s anger fall into a deeper, darker pit, one the Sheriff didn’t know resided inside the innocent beauty’s core as he straightened out, moving protectively in front of his sister.

“What the f*ck dj’you just say? You mean ‘dis piece of shieat was gonna what? Like pimp out ma’ sister?” Knuckles tight, forearms and biceps straining, the boy advanced, his wrath combining with the buildup of confusion and crippling fear to create a monster of its very own... one the Sheriff wished he could set free.

‘Not yet…’ whispered his own darkened beast, now awake and hungry yet again, and it was right. Gripping the taught, thick muscle of the boy’s arm, Eric faced him, overtaking his line of sight and grounding the boy’s emotions into solid determination.

“Believe me Jason, there is nothing I would like to see more than your plans for our resident pimp, but I think you and your sister would benefit from the entire story first…” Gleaming, sad*stic eyes gazed down at the furious cherub, watching his chiseled jaw tick in consideration, only letting go when the boy gave his approving nod.

Still, Jason didn’t back away, standing stiff and unmoving while looking into the bound vampire’s empty eyes, trying to find any trace of remorse. Sighing, Eric persevered, eyes shifting between the boy, his confounded sister, Bill and an unexpectedly animated Pam, obviously enjoying the show: “Procurers, though revolting, are common among royalty. They may be despised and regarded as nothing more than loyal dogs at the feet of their master, but they are highly sought after and advantageously paid… if they deliver. Most are tasked with using whatever means possible to reach their goal… Bill is one of the many who use compulsion, followed by seduction to ensnare and later extract a target… This time though, his approach was much more… direct.”

Bill’s form had seemingly shrunk down with the weight of his… shame? Due to what exactly the Sheriff didn’t know, for how many souls had he plied with sweet, empty words and meetings of the flesh only to deliver them to the pits of despair. And now he felt shame… the ancient vampire wanted to laugh at the phoniness of it all. Instead, he closed the small distance between himself and the embodiment of hypocrisy to watch his insincere eyes struggle to gain sympathy.

“Miss Stackhouse…” the Sheriff intoned, watching the artificial glaze of sorrow melt from the bound vampires’ eyes, “… do you remember the night that those two psychos’ beat you within an inch of your life?”

Even turned away from the breather, Eric could feel her shock, at the question, at his knowledge of the event when not even her brother knew of it, take your pick, either way he didn’t care, what we needed was to watch, and see the exact moment Bill’s deceptiveness cracked.

“Wh… who done what?!! Sookie?!” Jason’s unmistakably irate voice shrieked, noise moving in the direction of the breather as she answered: “Y… yes, but how… how do you know about that?”

Eric kept his eyes on Bill as he answered, still waiting: “You can find the whole thing on page 13, in graphic detail… but the what of the situation is, again, irrelevant, it’s the why you should concern yourself with…” and there it was. The weakling’s ‘guilt’ ridden eyes turning to rage, impotent anger surging through the bound vampire as he struggled to break free and escape his own failure.

Eric smirked in satisfaction and, done with his plaything, turned around to regard the complicated expressions of his human guests. “The two humans that attacked you… did they do so out of their own volition?”

Sookie watched the tall vampire Sheriff approach as she stammered, racking her brain in search of an answer, knowing he wouldn’t have asked the question if what she knew was the actual truth: “I… I thought so, they… umm, the Rattrays…”

“The Rattrays done beat you up?! Sook! Why din’t you tell me? I would’ve…” Jason’s interruption, while sweet, did nothing to add to the conversation, being immediately met with his sister’s annoyed: “Done what Jason? Those two… nasty people were… well, they weren’t found dead but…”

Three different sets of eyes zeroed in on the implied culprit, being yet again reminded of everything that happened from the moment he stepped foot into town, before focusing in on Sookie yet again. “Anyway… um, they’s lured B… Bill outside the first time ’e came over to Merlotte’s and tried to drain’em wit’ some small silver chains… I stopped ‘em... saved Bill… they was mad… said they’s come back later…”

Jason listened with wide eyes and a cracked brain to his sister’s recollection, wanting to interrupt, but needing to hear everything that she said… when a thought occurred, whispered into the dim light of the club: “Small silver chains… ” as he observed the thickness and length of the chains actually holding the vampire in place.

Looking up into the Sheriff’s eyes, they both came to the same conclusion, the vampire responding to the unsaid question: “Well, not quite… Bill wasn’t in any danger, he simply wanted to lure you into a false sense of security, to endear you to him by playing the helpless victim. He compelled those humans that night and the night of your attack…”

Bill, finally comprehending the perilousness of his position, decided to chime in, his strained vocal cords crying out: “Lies!”, in a desperate, last-stitch effort to salvage any kind of sympathy from his audience. “I did not conspire with those humans to stage any kind of situation, and I most certainly did not compel them to attack Sookie… I could never… Sookie, please…”

Bill was many things, completely untrustworthy, entirely selfish and absurdly narcissistic, not to mention a horrible vampire all around, but what he was not, what he could not afford to be, was a bad actor. The sniveling, pathetic little insect could truly put on the performance of a lifetime if sufficiently motivated, and Eric could guess as to his current aims… The Sheriff withheld a smile at the fetuses’ despair, letting the scene play out, not particularly inclined to reveal his intentions quite so soon… And then, the little sh*t looked at him, with the tiniest, self-satisfied smile after witnessing the breather’s reaction to his ‘heartfelt words’, before realizing his mistake and regaining control of his face, sad, victim mask back on in less than a second. The human woman was quick to believe, her trusting eyes and open body language a key visual representation of her mental capacity, while the boy, with his disgusted scowl, firmly planted feet and crossed arms continued to eye Bill like a mongoose eyes a slippery snake. Eric was impressed, though not surprised, after all, Jason was also many things, but outright stupid was not one of them.

The breather, in her wishful thinking and utter idiocy, took a few, tentative steps closer to the bound vampire, hoping, actively wishing for his words to be sincere. Well, too bad, Eric was about to crash her fantasy: “Miss Stackhouse…” Two words were all it took to stop her mid stride, eyes a little wider, preparing for the worst, as she should: “… even though the incident was, as I understand, quite violent and hazy, you do remember the moments leading up to it, right?”

The breather stared, her eyes going a bit hazier around the edges as she recalled that night, seeing the events like a sped up movie reel inside her own head… Bill, smiling as he agreed to meet her in the parking lot after work, Tara and Sam leaving her alone to toss out the garbage… the first blow of many, her screams turning to choked gasps for help… then nothing, only to wake up to the vampire in question licking the blood off her forehead.

Gulping, Sookie kept her eyes on the ground, posture shaky as she responded: “Yea… I remember… I remember pretty much everythin’…why?”

Regarding the breather, then her brother, and finally the parasite sporting a much more appropriately terrified look, Eric answered: “As I understand it, you were meant to meet with Bill after your shift?” at her approving nod, he continued: “So why, Sookie, did it take mister Bill Compton so very long to reach you when you were screaming for help?”

A hushed silence enveloped the large, open area, the only noise a constant hum from the ever-flickering fluorescent lights. Frowning, the breather attempted to answer, the words getting stuck in her throat as she contemplated the validity of her hypothesis: “Well, my shift wasn’t technically over… we didn’t really set a time… I mean, I… I can’t say if ‘e was close enough to hear me…”

The small smile was back, Bill, the ever-present performer unable to contain his arrogance at his target’s suppositions. Shaking his head, the vampire Sheriff began leisurely circling the young woman: “Do you truly believe that? That a vampire could not hear the agonizing screams of a human in the dead silence of night?”

Eyes shifting between the two vampires, Sookie didn’t know how to answer, on one hand she knew the truth, on the other… “I… I thought…”

Tsk-ing quietly, the Sheriff raised his face to the ceiling, becoming annoyed with the breather’s naiveite: “Miss Stackhouse… I can assure you that even a fledgling in a 50-mile radius would be able to hear them, not to mention smell the blood… how could a century old vampire, that was supposedly nearby, not?”

Shaking minutely, the young woman blinked her tired eyes open and closed as much as she dared, trying not to cry, striving not to seem as week and fragile as she felt in that moment. She was lost at sea, her tiny boat no longer tethered to the convictions of her barely escaped past, floating aimlessly as the two vampire’s powerful currents pulled it in every direction, threatening to overthrow her.

“I… I can’t…” Shaking her head like the action alone could dislodge the image of Bill, the interesting, charming and polite vampire that she had gotten to know, to trust enough to introduced to her Gran… to dream about… manipulating every single interaction to his advantage, tricking her into trusting and hoping and…

“But… why? Why would ‘e do somethin’ like that? I… I don’t… Why!?” Her last question, though garbled by her constricted throat, was heard loud and clear by the bound vampire... only to be left unanswered.

Eric could sympathize with the breather, even if his face and body language said otherwise, comprehending the pain of such a monumental betrayal more keenly than most, so he answered her truthfully: “To feed you his blood…”

The young woman’s eyes shone with understanding, albeit rudimentary, while the boy’s sparkled with confused anger and unasked questions. Putting his hands inside his jean pockets, the vampire Sheriff began circling the room again, through in a much narrower axis. “A vampire’s life force, their blood, our blood… it can do many things, acting as a drug, a poison or a cure, all depending on the individual vampire’s intentions when shared. In some cases, like yours Miss Stackhouse, when consumed in large quantities, it becomes something entirely removed from remedy... Overdosing a living human gives the vampire certain… advantages over the now bound victim, ones even compulsion cannot achieve. The vampire can sense everything about their victim, know where they are at all times, their emotions, their fears and inner feelings, but most importantly, they will be able to control their victim’s thoughts and actions, even from afar… You and your brother, through some very interesting familial ties, cannot be traditionally compelled, leaving Bill with limited options of control, thus… this convoluted series of unfortunate events.”

The tears, heavy and bitter that she had kept behind the dam of her lashes began to fall, landing on the unforgiving dark wood floor alongside her hope filled dreams. She didn’t have the courage to look at him, not yet, somewhat grateful for the Sheriff’s tree-trunk build as it eclipsed her sight, shading her traitorous eyes from seeking him out. Heart clenching, deep breaths helped her relax, her brother’s soothing words calming the young woman down enough to face her now more than likely true enemy… when she stopped breathing altogether. What she saw, in those cold, ice-blue eyes, more blood-shot and empty than she had ever thought eyes could be would haunt Sookie for the rest of her life.

The mask was off, Bill revealing his true face, the features she had come to know gaining new, terrifying proportions as he gazed at the young woman with nothing but distain and sour disappointment. The look, more than anything, made Sookie realize that: “It… It’s true, isn’t it? You… you made me…” More tears followed, turning to sobs as she yelled: “And I trusted… I trusted you! Oh my God!”

Wiping her eyes, Sookie began to recall every interaction, every word and gesture and smile… fake, all of it. She couldn’t process it, couldn’t understand it in any way even knowing the facts, even fully comprehending the who, what and why of it all… it was just too much. For some reason, she started laughing. At the absurdity of the situation or her own stupidity, Sookie didn’t know, she just kept laughing. The strange sound, like the twinkle of a bell mixed with the thrill of an out of tune violin, began small at first, accompanied by incomprehensible muttering. But then it transformed, gaining shape and weight before her very ears and turning to something else entirely. Her words slurred, throat closing up for good as a new torrent of tears and raw, wretched sobs burst forth, unimpeded by her location, state of being or audience.

Sookie’s body then began to shake, overcome with small but powerful trembles, almost unable to stand under the weight of her realization as it moved on its own, seeking air, freedom and the escape the world outside their small bubble offered… so she bolted. Towards the front entrance, almost sensing the chilly night air, before she met the resistance of a reinforced lock, her hands shaking trying uselessly to open it.

Jason attempted to follow, but his sister, in her fit of despair pushed him off, muttering: “Please… leave me alone, I just… need to be alone.” The boy listened, hanging back and letting Sookie process her feelings, while the vampire Sheriff did not.

“Pam, please follow Miss Stackhouse and keep her company until she calms down enough to speak.” The display of human emotion, so raw and unrestrained, touched the vampire Sheriff, just a little. Though he would never admit it, justifying his command as little more than convenience, for he would find a way to use the breather, sooner rather than later.

Jason had almost forgotten that the vampires’ was there, at least until Eric addressed her directly. He didn’t trust the vampire anywhere near his vulnerable sister, but Sookie didn’t seem to care, renouncing her need for solitude and attaching herself to the only other woman in the room almost immediately, not letting go even as she cursed her undead existence all the way through to the outside.

Then there was silence, more oppressive and tense than any kind of stillness ever to exist in Jason’s limited existence. He had stood quiet for a long time, cataloguing every single f*ckin’ thing the fanged bastard had done to his sister… Wishing he’d staked the sumbitch the night he had the misfortune of meeting him. Still, there was no time like the present.

Face seemingly blank, the boy circled the bar, aware of the eyes on him as he came across an old chair. Perfect. In a fluid, swift move, he broke its thick, wooden leg over one knee, adrenaline and pure rage surging into every crevice of his body, making Jason barely feel the impact. The piece of wood had a sharp, splintered edge that the boy admired as he gripped it tight, arms flexing and jaw tight with deadly determination as his furious eyes zeroed in on Bill.

“Hope it was worth it, you undead motherf*cker!” Jason whispered, not allowing the bound vampire space for a rebuttal as he moved fast towards his target, makeshift stake at the ready…

…To be continued

Chapter 25: Clothes Hanger

Chapter Text

Previously on I finally found you: (said in Lloyd Braun’s voice - I wish)

Face seemingly blank, the boy circled the bar, aware of the eyes on him as he came across an old chair. Perfect. In a swift move, he broke its thick, wooden leg over one knee, arms flexing and jaw tight with deadly determination. The piece of wood had a sharp, splintered edge that Jason admired as he gripped it tight, furious eyes zeroed in on Bill.

Hope it was worth it, you undead motherf*cker!” Jason whispered, not allowing the bound vampire space for rebuttal as he moved fast towards his target, makeshift stake at the ready…

…yet not fast enough. A pair of large, cool hands appeared as if out of nowhere to gently grip the boy’s biceps, keeping him in place as Eric’s voice breathed a soft: “Jason…” into his ear.

“f*ck man!” the boy exclaimed with a jolt, face turning pink as he glanced sideways to see the vampire Sheriff standing barely a hairs width away. He could feel the vampire’s fingers flex as he halted, that deep, subharmonic growl doing a lot more than simply stopping his stride.

As for Eric, one can say that he was simply entranced. The anger, the fury… the muscles on display were almost as mouthwatering as the boy’s scent itself, deepening in intensity and slight arousal the more Eric inhaled... He could feel it now, the hunger, the need more potent after so many nights of drinking barely distilled swill gather into his gums with a painful burst, fangs trembling to drop as his hind brain screamed prey. Still, the vampire Sheriff’s resolve held, onto what? Not even he knew exactly, yet it did. As the blood hungry beast inside screamed and clawed, trying to cut its way out, Eric’s patient and calculated mind held it back like a stone fortress on a steep hill in the middle of the ocean. With every breath, he could feel it climb higher, reach further, its panting, glutinous need ghosting ever closer to the Sheriff’s limit.

The longer he held the boy, the riskier it would be, for both parties, but Eric couldn’t help himself. The feel of the blonde’s warmth, of his smooth, tanned skin near indescribable… yet oddly reminiscent of the sensate, velvet feel of the sun itself, what little the vampire could remember of it following a thousand years of darkness and pale, cold moonlight. That pulsing, inviting heat was more dangerous than anyone realized…

Finger joints twitching, Eric took notice of the boy’s spiking pulse as it ran just beneath his skin, a barrier the vampire’s fingertips could easily rip through… So many thoughts, sensations, so much to consider and consume… all paling in comparison to living in the wait. Most vampires and humans alike preferred the now, gorging themselves on whatever stroked their fancy, without forethought, without shame or consideration for the inevitable consequences… Eric, more devious and strategic than his long dead friend Niccolò, could withstand the pain, the frustration of patience. He could, and would, wait for the boy to be his before daring to be impulsive with his wants…

Slowly, the vampire relaxed his stance, and after a few last, mournful breaths of Jason’s irresistible scent, he spoke, tone like gravel on an old town road: “… it pains me to say this, but I cannot allow you to proceed…”

Confused and slightly aroused by the Sheriff’s deep voice, Jason looked between what was left of Bill and what he could see of Eric: “Wh… umm, what d’ya mean you ain’t lettin’ me stake the f*cker? I thought that’s what ‘dis was all leadin’ to!”, while still tightly gripping his only viable weapon.

Sensing the boy’s frustration, the Sheriff moved closer, daring himself even further while praying to Freyja for the strength to withstand Jason’s presence, lips now inches from the beauty’s sun-kissed skin as he considered: “Hmm… at the end of this meeting with your sister, I would’ve allowed you to play with Bill to your heart’s desire… but, seeing as you intend to break him, well…”

Looking back into the Sheriff’s eyes, Jason tried to understand his point, to figure out the why of the situation, while also getting a little sidetracked by their luminous nature… when a voice like gravel on splintered glass broke the scene.

“Well, ain’t this a surprise?” Eyes like twin lasers turned in the direction of the unexpected sound…

“And I thought you didn’t like me much Northman…” spoke a much too alert Bill, mouth curving into a sad, bloody smile as he looked from the confused, angry boy to his vampire and back, eyes like knowing pinpricks. Even with such a limited mental capacity, Bill knew, he knew what the devious Viking was trying to do, for his death at the hands of a human, even a semi-human, would mean the involvement of the Authority and Jason’s eventual demise. With Sookie out of his control, tied up, bleeding and running on empty, he knew there was only one way out. So, the desperate vampire, giving up on release, on the last specks of his dying hope, came to a decision… and he was going to take that stupid imbecile down right along with him.

Sporting an even wider, toothy smile, Bill continued: “Come on Stackhouse you f*cking idiot! Do it, DO IT! I stalked your sister, had her beat to unconsciousness, drank from her and would have sampled her in every way given the chance! Do IT!!”

Pam had lived through a lot, suffering at the hands of many men and vampires alike since she was born and reborn… yet now, in this moment, attached to her least favorite breather, having her mouthwatering scent so close and yet so far, missing Bill’s torture and possible demise in favor of consoling said breather… oh, how she wished to return to those times and pretend the last 15 f*cking minutes hadn’t occurred.

The woman was testing every ounce of the vampiress’ patience as she clung on tight to her arm, repeatedly trying to initiate a hug that would never happen while sobbing and sniffling up a disgusting storm.

After a few minutes of this new brand of torture, Pam was far too close to her breaking point: “Oh for Eric’s sake, calm the f*ck down country Barbie, the world doesn’t start or end on that piece of sh*t’s dick. Pick yourself up, go to the ladies’ and fix your makeup, if you even can, and stop whining after that pathetic excuse of a vampire!” The encouraging speech had, apparently, backfired seeing as the little human’s stupid little eyes spilled over anew with a torrent of fat tears, her sniffles turning into outright wails and fluid infested blubbering.

Now, officially done with the situation, Pam vanished her arm alongside her entire body from the breather’s gasp, appearing several feet away with a cigarette in hand and a fierce look in her eyes.

“Never thought I would need one again…” she said before igniting the foul stick and taking a very long, very satisfying drag of the poisonous smoke, eyes closed, expression caught in relaxed placidity… at least until she heard the human move closer.

Iced eyes springing open and finger raised up, she fixed Sookie with her patented ‘f*ck off’ look, muttering a small “Självklart var jag tvungen att vara barnvakt den här jävla natten. Knulla.” before crushing the unfinished cigarette, extinguishing it in her palm with ease.

Sookie’s eyes, big as saucers, watched the female vampire, mind briefly disengaged from the topic of Bill in favor of contemplating the moment and Pam’s strange words… but then the vampiress’ eyes zipped over to the bar’s door, body moving faster than lightning inside.

The young woman stood, perplexed and unmoving, as she looked from the spot Pam used to occupy to the now open back door, then around at the deep dark surroundings of the bar… Everything was so empty and quiet, the only sound being the whistling wind and the cracking of the affected trees. She stood there, shivering minutely, when she heard strange sounds she can only describe as foreboding coming from her right. Goose-fleshed and doused in fear, she hurried inside, not wanting to know who or what made those noises. A decision she would come to regret, yet cherish for its closure.

She immediately located Pam, who was sitting back in a chair, seemingly completely relaxed, even joyful as she sported a wide grin while looking at… at Bill. Fresh tears sprung up, angry yet longing, before Sookie averted her eyes, not wanting to revisit her mistakes, or her inability to see what was right in front of her, but most of all, the young woman could not stand to face her budding affection for a man… a being that would…

She didn’t get to finish her thoughts, for lack of knowledge of the vampire’s true intentions or fear of her own hypothesis’s gruesomeness she couldn’t say… but it didn’t matter, Bill finished them for her…

“Come on Stackhouse you f*cking idiot! Do it, DO IT! I stalked your sister, had her beat to unconsciousness, drank from her and would have sampled her in every way given the chance! Do IT!!”

‘H… He… Bill… he would’ve… no… no, no, NO!’ scattered thoughts, frayed and blood-dipped like the shards of a freshly broken mirror imbedded themselves like small knifes into Sookie’s body… from her glistening eyes, to her trembling hands and feet and finally, into her traitorous heart, breaking it for good. The small, microscopic speck of hope that always remained behind every disaster, whispering its magic, fueling the young-woman with fantastical reassurances and rose-colored considerations… dissipated, like the last grains of sand from a broken hourglass, marking the last hour’s end. She knew… even with all that evidence, all the tears shed and wrecked faith… Sookie knew, as soon as she was far away from this wretched bar and from the vampire in question, that she would doubt everything. Her mind would fight the facts, all proof seemingly circ*mstantial and baseless the further away her mind and body went from its destabilizing source… until just now.

She expected to collapse, for her body to give one last twitch before unraveling like so much used tissue-paper… but the breakdown never came. Only one lone tear escaped before everything ceased. She was dried out, of tears, of fear, of questions and overall feelings… just empty. With one last look at Bill’s pitying visage, she walked back through the door she came, unremarked by the occupants of the bar and into the moon dipped darkness of unknown.

Bill screamed his sorrow, eyes glassy from fear, sadness or the terrifying mystery of the true death before he shut them tight, expecting the blow that would surely follow… but never came.

Listening in, he could hear movement and small noises all around, but didn’t dare open his eyes. If he had, the tortured vampire would have seen the mix of confusion and, most surprisingly, pity that appeared on Jason’s face… before those softened emotions morphed into the stone-like, searing fury of his revenge.

Muscles taut and eyes like two weathered stones, the boy lunged on a whispered “With f*ckin’ pleasure”… or tried to, before the steel grate of the vampire Sheriff’s arms came upon him, yet again, with the same tenderness and care of a wind trapped feather.

Utterly ensnared within his own devastating fury, Jason squirmed and bucked, exerting himself in any way he could to fulfill the tortured vampire’s last request. Eric, interrupted from his moment with dear Jason and forced to make use of his considerable force to stop his boy from putting an end to none other than the mangled corpse of Bill f*cking Compton… well, let’s just say that his night could’ve gone better.

“Tillräckligt!”

One word, said in that final sounding tone, was all it took for all parties to halt and gape at the less than amused expression of the leading authority in the room. Cutting his now glacial stare across Bill, dismissing the vampire offhand, the Sheriff looked down to the flushed beauty held impossibly close to his chest, his eyes softening by the second as the boy looked back.

Trembling with unrestrained rage, fear and still a little bit of arousal, Jason listened, daring to look up and into the eyes of the angry sounding vampire keeping him still. The boy, distracted as he ought to be, was still able to witness the change in intensity in those cerulean orbs, like ice melting into a tepid oceanic blue the longer they were tethered to his.

The spell broke when the bound vampire shifted, chains scraping the floor with a shrill squeak, attracting the gazes of the distracted couple like blood in shark-infested waters. Jason’s ire reignited immediately, the flames never really doused, heart beating double time and lungs still working overtime to supply enough energy and oxygen to fuel his strike… but the boy kept still, trying to understand. ‘Why did Eric stop me? Why’s ‘e protectin’ ‘dis piece of shieat!?? Why…’ And so on his thoughts went. Conflicted and no more relaxed than a third-trimester cow with triplets, Jason looked up yet again, prepared to speak his mind, before the vampire interjected with: “Enough, we will discuss everything, but first let go of the stake.”

Frowning, Jason looked down at his hand gripping the piece of wood, and tightened his hold in contemplation. That small, pointy object was his only weapon in a room full of vampires and, even though technically neither one of the two in question were a threat, after what he had just found out… he simply couldn’t let it go.

“No.”

Eric’s errant eyebrow rose at the boy’s final answer, seeing the determination of his set jaw before lowering to his flexing forearms, fingers ground into the sturdy wood to signify his resolve. Jason’s makeshift stake, though sharp and surprisingly swift, was of no consequence to him, but he was getting tired of saving Bill’s life when he was supposed to pretend that the sniveling weasel was as good as dead.

Eyesight rising to encounter Jason’s own brown orbs, Eric conceded: “Very well… than we shall discuss this matter more in my office.” before bringing his arm to the boy’s lower back, firm hand steering the furious beauty towards the previously occupied office.

Just as he was about to enter, the Sheriff stopped for a moment, muttering something the boy could not hear before continuing towards the door.

Stake still held tight, Jason entered and immediately headed for his seat. Eric on the other hand, pivoted towards his drink cart, fangs semi-dropped in need. Opening the cart, the vampire considered his options, offering the boy a drink as well, the human kind obviously. Jason declined, too wound up to add liquor to the mix.

As he sat, watching the office and Eric in general as he poured himself a drink, his muscles kept twitching from the amount of adrenaline left unused, making the boy squirm in anticipation.

The vampire sensed Jason’s curiosity driven eagerness, finishing his meal faster than normal before sitting down to business. “Jason, before we begin, can you answer me this: Why do you think I did not allow you to kill Bill?”

The question sprung up on Jason, the boy blinking in confusion for a second, before frowning in suspicion. “I don’t know… why did’ja?” It didn’t make any sense, Eric had tortured the vampire within an inch of his life, told Jason the truth and goaded him and his sister into a frenzy… only to pop their revenge like a sad balloon.

Eric was surprised, and impressed, by the boy’s apprehensive nature, commending the beauty for not trusting his intentions when considering the facts. And still, with all that in mind, it just wouldn’t do. Eric wanted Jason’s trust, his complete devotion… everything really, but consoled himself with a phrase most common as of late: ‘In time…’

Slowly, Eric raised his hand, fingers ghosting over the beauty’s brow, to his jaw only to settle like pale rose petals on his now flushed cheekbone. Jason’s distrustful eyes fell to a close, mind seemingly empty of everything outside of touch as the vampire caressed his face, before opening to gaze upon Eric’s handsome visage as the vampire spoke: “To save you… and your sister.”

The Sheriff’s words, as opposed to his touch, jolted the boy into full consciousness, confusion on full blast as he responded: “Huh? What’cha mean protect me and ma sis? That f*cker was tied up and as steady as a newborn calf, strong wind could’ve knocked’im over and you’s sayin’ he was gonna what? Attack, do some damage? It don’t make no sense Eric!” Fury reignited the deep, dark pit of tar residing inside Jason, the boy clutching the stake that much tighter, wood creaking ominously in his grip.

With a sigh, the Sheriff grabbed the discarded file describing Bill’s mission, fingers ghosting over the first page before landing on a particular word: “What do you think this means?”

The boy looked at where Eric was pointing, frown deepening the longer he stared at: “Halfling?” Looking up and seeing the vampire nod left Jason suddenly swimming in contemplation addled perplexity. “And what does that have t’do with anythin’? What is that even supposed to mean? That ma sister is like, what? An alien or somethin’?”

The vampire regarded the boy with a small smile, his mood significantly lighter when not sharing space with vermin. “Well yes…”

The Sheriff’s response, though amused, hit Jason like a wrecking-ball, the boy’s eyes bulging out in outrage at the implication. Before he could voice his annoyance and require further explanations, Eric continued: “… and no. It depends on how you would view faeries.”

Jason’s expression had gone blank, mind empty of feelings or possible responses as he looked at the perfectly serious vampire Sheriff mention fairies of all things. Following a dozen tense seconds of silent staring, Eric arose to acquire another drink, even managing to pour out a significant portion of his special wine before Jason’s composure broke.

“What the actual f*ck do fairies have to do with anythin’? Is you making fun of me? Cuz ‘dis shiet ain’t funny!” Jason wanted to continue, to scream and demand answers now, lungs filling in preparation, when Eric approached, expression serious and voice soft as he spoke: “Faeries, not fairies dear Jason… and a lot. They have everything to do with each facet of this situation… seeing as you are one.”

The dramatic line delivery crashed and burned as it encountered the boy, who tossed his stake into a corner as he rose up to ask, voice thunderous: “f*ckin’ excuse me? What’cha call me man?”

Eric blinked, bewildered at the pace and direction this seemingly innocent dialogue had taken. “Jason, please sit, whatever you are thinking I meant, I can assure you, was not an insult. I was simply referring to your, and by extension your sister’s, race.”

Jason, more confused, angry and wound up than he ever remembered being, simply stood, mind whirring trying to reach a conclusion. When one didn’t immediately present itself, the boy sat down, unable to come to a decision, only managing to utter on a sigh: “Git me some whiskey if you’s got it… think I need it right now.”

Eric, pleased by Jason’s acquiescence found his best bottle and served the boy with an almost full glass before sitting down himself. “Jason, I understand your frustration, with me, with the situation… so I will endeavor to explain what I can, but only if you do not interrupt unprompted…” Eyebrow yet again rising, the vampire waited for the boy’s answer.

But Jason couldn’t take his eyes off the too full glass, studying the dark liquid as his mind became considerably less cluttered the moment he sipped it with a small groan of appreciation… at least until he looked back up. The boy could feel the anger, the impatience rise up like a young bucking stallion in his first rodeo as he considered the vampire’s request… but another small taste of rich, smooth tones of vanilla, oak and smoked spices diminished them, leaving Jason to wonder as to what the Sheriff might say, what he could actually mean. Placing the heavenly drink on the desk, the boy made full eye-contact as he accepted Eric’s conditions: “Yea ok, I get it, go on…”

“Very well…” said the vampire, twinkling eyes accompanied by lips set in a smirk, an expression that swiftly fell to the wayside as he began: “The reason Bill came to this town and sought out your sister specifically is quite simple, he was ordered to do so by the vampire Queen of Louisiana. Why would the Queen be interested in your sister? The same reason Bill and every other vampire is interested in her, her blood. You see Jason, every human being is different, even siblings with the same blood type and Rh factor will smell and taste differently… not to mention the others.”

The vampire halted his speech, wondering, questioning himself and the beauty sat upon his chair… could he reveal all? Could he envision the construction of the next level of trust in this boy’s eyes? The answer, though obvious in the light of everything that had transpired, still alluded him…

Jason watched, attention rapt and eyes glued to the Sheriff’s face, cataloguing every expression as he spoke. Thus, when Eric stopped suddenly to avert his eyes in contemplation, the boy was perplexed. Said befuddlement swiftly turned to suspicion the longer the vampire remained silent, and then to mounting fear when their eyes met yet again. Ice, silent and cold, a glacier never before seen encountered the boy’s stare as the Viking intoned:

“Now, what I am about to reveal to you will not seem real, but you must believe when I say that it is as far away from a lie that any fact can be. But first, do you trust me?”

When she was human, tied to her mortal and aging body, subject to the desires and depravities of disgusting, old men, she had hated wrinkles. Lines and spots of aging were the prelude to a life spent on the streets for a penniless woman. Youth, beauty and money were everything in those times, for without them, what could life in an infested land of greed and wickedness even mean? She had worked, hard and long, to become the lady of the house, the matron, for only the most gorgeous and skilled women inherited the position when lacking even a half cent. Diligently training her waist, not eating, applying any and all creams to keep her skin youthful, but mostly, smiling, frowning and squinting as little as possible to avoid any wrinkles had been her only path to survival in a world as cruel and dark as the first layer of Hell. Her views on beauty remained after death, at least in terms of other people and vampire’s appearance, while her own lessened… to a degree. She would smile, laugh, frown and squint, but only when said emotions were strong enough to break through the barriers of her long standing emotional abstinence.

Thus she found herself, laughing uproariously, smile reaching from ear to ear, wrinkles on full display as the disgusting parasite formerly known as Bill Compton thrashed, begging the beautiful human to end his life. She had never thought, when she had encountered the pathetic weasel a century ago, that he would actually pay for what he had done to her girls. Catherine and Brigitte had been but a small drop of blood in the sea of Bill’s sad*stic massacre… simple, polite young women trying to live to see another day, only to never see anything more than the happy, smiling expressions of their killers.

The memory of their pale, lifeless eyes staring into her damaged soul still haunt Pam, so many years later… So, she kept watching the insect as he squirmed, screaming and crying in his anguish and wondered: ‘Does he truly think his death will be so swift?’ before laughing even more… at least until Eric commanded all of their attentions.

“Tillräckligt!”

She loved it when he got angry, and loved it even more when that anger was directed at Bill… but, unfortunately, her maker was not paying attention to him in that moment…

Eric was being drowned in Jason Stackhouse’s doe eyes, his gaze more possessive and beguiled the longer he stared at the truthfully gorgeous boy. Pam likened the beauty to a black hole, attracting everything in its orbit into oblivion… at least until their captor moved, shattering the moment as Eric led the boy into his office with a few parting words for herself: “Du känner till planen, håll dig till den och hämta sedan kvinnan.”

'Ah, yes… the plan’ she thought, still smiling, heels clinking ominously as she approached the tortured being:

“Oh William… stop it already, my face hurts from laughing for so long, please, you’re killing me with this act... it’s exquisitely pathetic.” Pam said, mouth curving even higher as she circled the vampire, cataloguing all of his injuries with glee.

“Pamela… you and I have never been friends…” the vampire started, only to be interrupted:

“Ha! Friends? Where are you going with this? Do you… do you think I would help you? That if you found the right combination of words and turns of phrase you could talk yourself out of this?” Pam wanted to keep talking, but she could not ignore the absurdity of the situation, laughing even harder.

“Pam! Please… I know you would never go against your master… that is not…” He continued, before being forcefully silenced by a rag.

“Go AgAiNsT mY mAsTeR… Bill, I wouldn’t give you a bucket of water if I was burned at the stake, you know why? Because you would rather throw it to the grown than save me, and you think… You know, it’s funny… I believe that Catherine asked you for aid, for mercy and help when your maker started bleeding her dry… what did you do then Bill?”

Face now as close as she would ever dare to be to the repulsive invertebrate, Pam watched the confusion morph and swirl in his dull, bloodshot eyes: “Silly me, you don’t even remember her name, how could you remember what you did… would you want a demonstration?”

New fear surged into the vulnerable weakling as he stared, voiceless and motionless, into the cruel squint of the vampiress’s shark eyes. A moment passed, Pam enjoying every second of fright as it swam into her predator senses, before she retreated to her seat to study her nails.

Bill’s shoulders loosened, his face lazing in relief for the precious few minutes, maybe hours, more he had to live, only to stiffen yet again a few seconds later: “You know what else if real f*ckin’ funny?” asked the seemingly distracted vampire.

Bill tried to answer, giving small gurgles of sound through the rag as Pam started filing her nails. “I’ll take that as a yes, well, you tried to goad Jason to kill you, seduce Sookie to help you, asked me to aid you… but you haven’t even tried to seek help from the one person that counts.”

Finished with her manicure, Pam eyed the bound vampire, smirking as she watched him try to think: “And it’s not Eric…”

“ … do you trust me?”

And suddenly, the ice broke, giving way to the oceanic blue of Eric’s usual regard as the vampire asked his question. Jason had been quiet, listening in and tracking the thread of this convoluted tale, but now that such a question was posed, the boy put aside all the facts to contemplate. His trust had been questioned once before, the boy responding easily… but now? Did he trust Eric? The quick and simple answer was yes after everything the vampire had done to help… and yet, there was Bill, still alive, still hungry for his sister’s blood… Everything was so very perplexing, made even more so by the vampire sitting opposite him… but the boy knew, in his depth, the direction of his inner pendulum’s last swing.

Thus, with another pique sigh he responded: “Yea… I do trust ya Eric, is just… everythin’s so f*ckin’ confusing…” Like searching for the right path in a misty forest… never really knowing if the one you chose will lead you home… or simply deeper into that mysterious wood.

Nodding, the vampire Sheriff continued, small stone relieved from his back at the admission of trust: “I understand… but not everything can and should be shared with humans… especially the existence of other beings.”

Eyebrows raised and questions tittering on the tip of his tongue, Jason held back, choosing to simply watch Eric as he continued:

“Vampires are not the only beings that inhibit the night, the only creatures or monsters seeking human blood, flesh and life… there are others. And, by extension, there are others. There are those that simply are, not dependent or interested in humans and their whims… the faeries, fae, ellyllon or as my sister called them, de gamla. They are an elusive, secretive species that has been hidden from sight of supernatural and humankind alike since before my death. My maker has met a few in his youth and has described them as enchantingly beautiful and incredibly irresistible, attracting humans with ease and grace… and driving vampires to blood frenzies… that is what you are Jason, that is what your sister is, partially. Her scent, diluted as it is, is quite potent and, in Bill’s case quite enchanting… but that is not all. Your sister has a certain… gift, one that has caught her highness’s attention, one that will expose her for what she is and then…”

“And then?” Jason asked, practically vibrating out of his seat with nerves. Fear, skepticism, adrenaline, anger, curiosity, confusion… all inflated to the limit with no way out… the boy was fit to burst at any moment.

She didn’t know where she was headed, nor care what lay in said direction. She was empty, of fear, doubt and any other feelings altogether as she stumbled around in the dark, the bar’s flashing red lights at her back the only constant. After a couple dozen minutes of wandering, she came to a stop right in the middle of a partially lit glade and, looking back, she could not see the bar’s lights anymore. The notion should have frightened the woman, or at least nudged her brain into turning back, but Sookie was tired, physically, emotionally, spiritually… she could no longer go on. So, she sat down onto the cold, slightly damp ground, her back to an old stump’s moss-covered surface, to gaze at the new moon.

Her mind wondered, in the dark and slight chill of the night, as the sounds of nearby cicadas, frogs and strange birds surged into a strange, soothing cacophony that managed to eclipse her thoughts… she was finally free. Of doubt, of secrets and strained integrity… of Bill. She no longer had to wonder, to stress and fidget over the ever-present unknown of his intentions. What he wanted from her, why he kept pursuing her and asking so many questions… why she could not stop thinking about him, why she had had those dreams… Everything made sense and her life… was a joke. A pun she had never found funny… until now. The young woman started laughing, a small, sad sound that grew with every breath into the night, her frayed mind conjuring their first meeting, focusing on the moment she had met his eyes and thought… she couldn’t remember. It didn’t matter anyway as another peel of despair was dragged out from the emptiness her hope used to occupy… wondering if this was the answer to her prayers. Since before she could remember, she had wished, prayed and yearned to be normal, to not hear the inner most thoughts of others, to be free of their sticky considerations and crushing emotions… only for her hopes and dreams to be twisted around to her detriment in the cruelest way imaginable. For the first man she could not read, could not figure out in a second, the one she had thought she could be herself with and relax around to be the same man/vampire her powers would have been most useful on if they had worked… it was just too cruel, to horrible and ironic not be funny. So, she laughed, throat now raw and eyes misty, as her hands buried into the cold earth in a desperate attempt to ground herself. But her laughs just kept going, unchecked and despairing, until her misery had finally reached its howling crescendo of a sob that tore through the last remaining bits of her heart. Her desolation burned, like too cold ice or fresh lava, scorching everything in its path, tainting every tender memory and thought until all that stood was the bitter ash of her reality.

“Just had to f*ck off now of all times…” the young woman whispered as realization struck… it wasn’t about Bill at all, nothing truly was, it was about her… Her power, her ability that she had had since birth, that had on so many occasions saved and protected her from men just as, if not worse, than Bill f*ckin’ Compton… had failed. Or, more accurately, had not worked, on him or other vampires. It was… liberating. To come to such a conclusion, to understand her misery’s epicenter… and to finally start to appreciate herself and her special gift. The crazy laughing fit and the tears stopped as she remembered all the times her power had come in handy, all the people she had helped or understood when they needed someone, all the horrible situations she had avoided from accidentally hearing a small errant thought…

Wiping the tear tracks away, the young woman arose, smiling yet again, though with a much more genuine, happy curl to her lips. She knew firsthand just how annoying and overwhelming her power could be, but now, having finally gotten her wish and been without it, she could not imagine ever letting go of it again. It was a part of her, a frustrating, exasperating, tiresome… amazing, unique, handy and powerful part of her.

Feeling a lot more empowered, Sookie began her walk back towards the bar… only to be met with more foliage. She squinted into the night, good mood plummeting as she turned this way and that trying to find her way… when a nearby bush began to rustle…

“And then?”

“And then… she will be subject to the Queen’s whims, her desires and ploys, however dark and sad*stic they may be, essentially a slave… until her majesty discovers you as well.” Eric could plainly see the beauty’s emotions as they were displayed on his face, ingrained in his body language and his small sounds of either protest or fear… but he needed to continue.

“To avoid such a fate, for you and your sister, Bill must stay alive, for killing him will alert the Queen.” The Sheriff avoided going into detail, not finding it necessary to explain every instance of Bill’s possible death and its repercussions, particularly his devious intentions with the living corpse, at least not yet.

Shaking his head, as if the motion could shake loose the brambles of fear and stress fueled anxiety, Jason took hold of his discarded drink and gulped. Paying attention to not exceed his limit, the boy put the glass down, knowing drunkenness would not aid the situation in the least.

“Umm… I… I just… I mean faeries? Seriously? Now I’mma figurative and literal fairy? f*ck’s sake man… I ain’t mean I don’t trust’cha it’s just… this shiet’s stickier than gumbo soil on wool socks…”

The expression, as random and unexpected as it was, brought a true chuckle out of the Sheriff, a sound that progressed into a full belly laugh so infectious it made Jason smile back. The vampire laughed, happy and free, mind boggled by the sound he didn’t know his body was still capable of making, as he gazed at the beauty. The simple act of making someone smile had been elevated beyond measure in the ancient viking’s case, most only managing to garner a disingenuous smirk for their brave attempt, while the boy… The vampire Sheriff puzzled, how could anyone gaze upon such a marvel and not understand its raw beauty? And what a gem the boy was, besides his ravishing scent and luminescent aura, overlooking his captivating visage and gorgeous physical features, Jason was simply… extraordinary.

Eric’s laughter lasted for a few more solid seconds before tapering off into velvet chuckles. When it was over, and his cheeks hurt from so much misuse, the vampire marveled anew at the beautiful boy sitting beside him.

Stress partially relieved, Jason looked down to his empty hands, only now realizing that his stake was missing and… not really caring. Flexing his strained joints, the boy took a breath, mind no longer in a state of fugue as his shoulders relaxed further. sh*t had really gone f*ckin’ sideways since he decided to follow his sister all the way down to Shreveport, but, knowing what he did, the boy realized that it needed to happen, for both their sakes. Jason, only now truly understanding just how convoluted everything was and how devious and frankly disgusting Bill and this Queen could be, thanked God and whatever else had a hand in this particular pie as they carved his path to finding Eric… With a heavy, relieved sigh, the boy turned his head, eyes yet again pinned by the glowing blue of the vampire sitting oh so close.

Jason’s smile reemerged as he gazed at the handsome vampire beaming right back at him, before his mouth thinned suddenly, smile sadder and more desperate in the dead silence of the office. With a small shake of the head, the boy asked: “So… what now?”

Eric basked in the sense of calm and amusem*nt coming off the beauty, eyes crinkling in delight as he stared at the boy’s flushed cheeks and wide smile, at least until they changed, features hardening as he posed his question. Before the vampire could answer, Jason continued, eyes drawn to the now almost empty tumbler of whiskey as his fingers skimmed the cold rim of its glass: “Bill can’t die, ma sister’s in shambles and still on the Queen’s radar…”

Fingers yet again entwined along the sturdy cup, Jason took his last sip of liquor, throat burning pleasantly as he stared, expectantly, at the now serious vampire Sheriff: “How do we’s come outta ‘dis shiet pile clean as new?”

Eric’s eyebrows, as opposed to previous situations, did not rise at the boy’s question, the vampire having expected it: “Well…”

“And it’s not Eric…”

Bill’s bloodshot eyes blinked, loud as a gunshot in the silence, throat clicking in gulps as he tried to express his confusion through the moist material gagging his mouth.

Having accomplished her task, Pam looked down, feigning nonchalance as she simulated filing her now perfectly even nails. The vampiress kept the act going for a while, resisting the grin her expression couldn’t wait to unleash as Bill started struggling to remove the makeshift gag until finally…

“What do you mean? Then who?” asked the most strained voice box Pam had ever heard. Shivering in delight at her master’s cruelty, she arose, eyes zeroed in on Bill as she approached the center of the room… only to pivot at the last second and head to the bar.

The bound vampire despaired at the clear dismissal, eyes filling with much needed bloody tears lamenting his fate. Pam smirked, enjoying the game, intending to make it last as long as possible. Like a cat with a small, diseased mouse, she played with Bill, granting the pathetic creature the illusion of mercy before snatching it away to revel in its suffering. And revel she did, his small whimpers and silent tears rejuvenating her soul akin to the creams she used to apply to invigorate her skin, every drop of dread and sadness transformed into bliss for the sad*stic woman.

Turning around, now with a full glass of fresh, warm blood in hand, she sauntered over, heels clicking sinisterly as she approached the starving creature. Bill’s eyes dilated, gums aching, missing fangs longing to drop and suck the life-giving liquid away as Pam hovered the drink right under his nose. With a small smile, she swirled the blood around, letting a few drops fall onto the bound vampire’s hands, seemingly burning holes into his hungry palms as she whispered: “Who do you think I’m talking about Bill? Hmm… Who, I wonder, would have the power to grant you absolution… It’s a real brain teaser.”

Rising up and thus taking the drink away forced Bill’s mind to sharpen, to hone in on his prey, to buzz with instinct and pulsing need… when an answer came.

Pam saw the moment his face changed, eyes dumbfounded and despairing as he tried to swallow the saliva that had gathered in his mouth: “You mean… this entire time I could…”

The vampiress didn’t answer, but she didn’t need to, her wide, sharp Cheshire like grin said it all as Bill whispered to himself: “The Authority.”