This story was written for the 'Sookie's Secret Santa' fic exchange – much love to Janofarc and Blake's Boogie for all their hard work organising it.

Disclaimer: The SVM characters are the property of Charlaine Harris. Additional characters created by Alan Ball for True Blood on HBO.

The story is set just before the start of Season Four but with a slight twist, as Sookie isn't off with the fairies. It was inspired by the scene where Pam, Hoyt and Jessica confronted the protestors outside Fangtasia – when I saw the trailer for that scene I wondered what would happen if Hoyt died. Of course things turned out rather differently in the real show.

Narrated by Pamela Swynford de Beaufort (nee Ravenscroft)

What is it about humans that forces one to repeat everything three times before they get the point? I may have an eternity but I do have so many better things to do with my time.

"I thought I had made myself clear, Sookie. I really have no intention of being your BFF, or whatever strange expression you young people use nowadays. We will not be hanging out at the Mall together, or swopping cookie recipes, or painting each other's nails."

She stood in front of me, wearing one of those ghastly 'little-girl' sundresses that she favoured, arms crossed, tapping her right foot impatiently.

"I don't expect you to be my best friend Pam. All I'm asking is that you speak to Eric – just try to get him to see things from my point of view, that's all."

Some hope, I snorted. Eric has been seeing things from his point of view for a thousand years. All the fairy blood in the world wouldn't change him overnight. I took her hand and guided her back into the Fangtasia bar.

"Look at all these people, Sookie. Do you know what they would give to be in your shoes?" Stupid question, of course she did, she could probably hear them right now, wondering if the main attraction would put in an appearance tonight. "He could have anyone here and hundreds more besides, but he's chosen you." Really, she was being quite exasperating.

"What do you want him to say: 'Ah lurve yew Sookeh' – would that satisfy you."

Perhaps that was a little unkind. She obviously thought so as she tore her hand from mine and turned to stomp away.

We were both were both stopped in our tracks by the same sight; Bill Compton's wilful child Jessica, who appeared to be engaging in a bout of heavy eye-fucking with a young fangbanger. I looked at Sookie. I had a bar to run, I really did not have time to deal with a juvenile vampire. She's always claimed not to be able to read vampire minds, but she didn't seem to have any difficulty guessing what I was thinking.

"How about if I sort out this mess - will you at least speak to Eric for me?"

"I'll speak to him, but I'm not making any promises."

That seemed to satisfy her, and she headed off in Jessica's direction.

Girls today, they think they have it hard but honestly they know nothing of real life. I wasn't much older than Sookie when Eric turned me, but I'd already been through enough for several lifetimes. I'd been married off at fourteen, at the age when she would have been still in High School. I could still remember the first time I saw my husband to be, Lord Arthur Swynford de Beaufort. I'd thought him so handsome and dashing at first, but how quickly I was disabused of that notion.

My family thought he was the perfect match, a fair exchange of his English title for a large share of my father's self-made fortune. He was the most charming of suitors, right up until the day we were married.

He took my virginity but soon tired of me and decided it would be far more amusing to share me with his friends. So I was passed around from one fat-belly, small-prick, foul-breath acquaintance to another until I could stand it no longer. I ran away to New Orleans and that was where I met Eric, in one of the better class of bordellos of course.

I'd wanted to revert to my family name of Ravenscroft, but he'd persuaded me not to and that was something I was grateful for. We tracked my husband down and killed him, very slowly and very painfully. All I had to do then was reappear as the grieving widow and reclaim my inheritance. My needs may not be great, but they are expensive and believe me being part owner of Fangtasia would not have been enough to keep a girl in Versace and Louboutins.

As I was reminiscing on this sorry tale, Sookie must have managed to get Jessica into the little girls' room where presumably they would do some kind of bonding. Their disappearance from the dance-floor was not a moment too soon either, as they only just avoided the arrival of the shambolic human who was Jessica's boyfriend.

"Good evening, Miss Pamela," he drawled.

I allowed myself to be charmed by his politeness and his thick southern accent and rewarded him with a smile, of the non-fangy variety.

He relaxed visibly, "I was looking for Jessica Hamby, would you have seen her this evening?"

"Why yes, I believe I have. She's out back with Sookie having some girl time together; would you like me to get her for you?"

The relief on his face was almost humorous and, feeling uncharacteristically generous, I settled him at the bar to wait and ordered a beer on the house – if you know me, you'll know that was generous.

I didn't have much time to worry about him as, just to make my evening complete, Eric arrived. He stalked across the room, barely glancing at the willing hopefuls who lined up hoping to catch his eye, and went straight to the back office slamming the door behind him. I didn't think I really needed to ask what had put him in such a shitty mood, but I did anyway.

"Queen Sophie-Anne?" I simpered, a big false smile plastered across my face.

"Queen Sophie-Anne I can handle," he snapped back, "but I expect you to be able to run Fangtasia in my absence. Would you like to tell me what the fuck is going on out there?"

I honestly had no idea what he was talking about.

"Have you not been checking the monitors?"

I winced. We had a bank of cameras covering all angles of the building and were meant to check them for any threats whether internal or external; but with all the drama of Sookie and Jessica I hadn't looked at them for at least half an hour. Now I could see that there was a small gathering of people outside the front door, and they appeared to be holding placards.

Eric took the remote control and zoomed in. It was some kind of protest, and from the hate-filled anti-vampire messages on their banners, I guessed that the Fellowship of the Sun was probably behind it. As we watched, another SUV load of kids pulled up in the parking lot and joined in.

With a sigh and a scowl, I sped out of the office to deal with it. Hoyt Fortenberry was still sitting patiently at the bar when I passed, and that gave me an idea.

"Mr Fortenberry?" I asked with all the politeness I could muster when addressing a mere human. "Could I ask for your assistance with a small matter. Am I right in assuming that you are a Christian?"

"Why surely ma'am," there was that wonderful Southern politeness again. I found myself warming to him, just a fraction.

"Good, well perhaps you could come outside with me and talk some sense into these people."

I have to say that he was magnificent. He was tall and broad, and when he started to speak he had a surprising amount of presence. He launched into a lecture on tolerance, and goodwill to all, asking them what Jesus would have done. One of two of the crowd, mainly girls, appeared swayed by his arguments, but the young men at the front were having none of it. Their faces were red with anger and hate – nothing anyone could say would make a difference.

When one of them launched himself at Hoyt, brandishing a placard, he didn't hold back, flying in with both fists. Then two or three others joined in and soon the big man was on the ground, curled up to protect himself from the kicks and punches.

Jessica must have sensed that there was something wrong as she raced out behind us, followed by a breathless Sookie. She was about to hurl herself into the seething mass, but I grabbed her just in time and held her back. The last thing we needed was a bloodbath, and with Jessica in full fang, that would be the inevitable result. I'd spotted someone in the crowd who was video-recording the whole incident.

"Pam, you've got to do something." A hint of bloody tear was showing as she wailed in distress.

I gave the arm I was holding a squeeze, intended to be encouraging but which, from her expression, was probably tighter than I planned.

"I am doing something," I assured her, keeping my voice low so the humans wouldn't hear me, "I'm protecting you from a murder charge.

"That's not what I mean and you know it," she hissed back, her voice rising in fury.

I ignored her growing panic and anger. "We are going to smile for the camera," I flashed a fangy grin at the boy with the camcorder "and wait for the human police to do their job."

Jessica was twitching in my grip. It's not easy to watch someone being beaten to a pulp and not to react. I was torn between disgust and a desire to join in. Bloodlust: it's a terrible thing.

Finally the faint sound of sirens echoed in the distance. It took a few moments for the humans to hear them and longer for them to react. By the time the crowd had fled the scene, the human who Jessica had taken as her lover was just a still, bloody pulp lying on the concrete of the parking lot. I loosened my grip and she was at his side in an instant.

"There's still a pulse," she gasped desperately as she lifted him by his shoulders and pulled him back into the club.

It was faint though, very faint. Her blood wouldn't be enough to save him this time.

"You need to get out of here," I hissed at Jessica, ignoring her bloody tears. "There's nothing you can do. The pictures they took will be all round Shreveport in hours, and you'll be recognised. Take my SUV, go back to my place and lie low." I put particular emphasis on the last two words. The disappearance of Jessica Hamby had been the biggest news story in Shreveport last year. She was pretty, innocent, white – all the things the media love.

Her parents still kept yellow ribbons round all the trees in their yard and made regular appeals for news of her whereabouts. Discovering that she had been made vampire was not going to go down at all well. It would certainly mean more trouble from the AVL for Eric, and Nan Flanagan had never been his number one fan.

I lifted the dying body carefully and carried it down to the Fangtasia cellar. When I got back upstairs, Eric was waiting for me. He wasn't happy.

"That seems to have gone well." Heavy on the sarcasm, "are you going to enlighten me as to why I can smell dead human all over the parking lot?"

"He's not dead, he's in the cellar. And anyway it wasn't my fault, I was trying to keep things under control, then the idiot goes crazy and launches into the crowd. At least I managed to stop Compton's child from draining anyone live on camera."

Eric gave a snort of disgust. I expect that was on account of the mention of Bill Compton, probably his least favourite vampire of all time. He'd never been a great fan of Jessica either. Personally I could identify with her. It's not easy, adjusting to vampire life. It happens so suddenly and without warning. They say that nowadays there are people who are choosing to be turned but neither of us had that option.

"Get it cleared up," Eric focussed on the immediate, as he always did, "I'll call Dr Ludwig."

"I think he's beyond her help."

"Fine, well find somewhere to dump the body, and make sure you come up with a good cover story – I don't want him linked to this place. Now we need to clear up the mess." Sometimes Eric could shock even me with his heartless practicality.

"I don't think we can clean up this mess. Those people are going to be back every night until they get satisfaction. We are going to have to close the club."

"No!"

"Okay, well how about a refit. You have to admit it's getting shabby. The waste disposal unit has never recovered from having Talbot's remains dumped in it – it still spits out blood." I wrinkled my nose in disgust. I have no objection to blood, but in its proper place. That place is not splattered all around the Fangtasia bar.

"I said no."

"Eric, you have to see reason here. The protesters aren't going to leave us alone, not until they've found some other vampire enterprise to harass. We have all the time in the world, just take a short break."

"Pam…" his tone was threatening.

I played my last card. "If we close the club, it will give you more time to try to win Sookie round, and I'll help you." I didn't approve of his obsession with the human, but I was quite willing to use it.

Eric scowled, but I could tell that he was turning the idea over in his head. He got up and stalked off without another word. I knew I'd won, for now at least. Sure enough, just before dawn an e-mail went out to all the staff. Fangtasia would be closed for two weeks for a re-fit. He would find alternative employment for everyone, with no loss of pay or tips. No-one was to talk to the press on pain of..well… he didn't bother to spell it out.

I arranged to meet him the next night, ostensibly to plan the refit, but I knew that the main business would be to discuss the little part-human who had become his obsession. At first I'd thought he had adopted an interest in her just to piss Bill Compton off. He had been adamant that he had no feelings for the woman and I believed that, for a while. Everything changed when he returned from Dallas. Yvetta entertained him for a while. Believe me she was very entertaining, but even her skills couldn't keep his attention for long.

"So Pam, are you going to honor me with the benefit of your advice?"

We both knew he wasn't talking about Fangtasia, even though I had plenty of ideas. I longed for something classy, more upscale with velvets and satins, but there would be time for that later.

"Sookie came to see you last night. Apparently her boss is in trouble and needs your help."

Eric's expression hovered between interest and indifference, but as he said nothing I continued, "the lovely Lafayette has gone AWOL with his boyfriend, his bitch of a bar-tender has disappeared, a waitress is having a baby, his long-lost little brother has run off with the takings …"

Eric waved a hand to indicate that he'd heard enough. I had been going to add that another waitress was never there on account of being constantly tied up in some vampire shit or other but I restrained myself.

"So he wants me to…?"

"Well I don't think he wants you to do anything, but Sookie is feeling guilty, and she thought maybe you could offer to help out with some of our staff. I said you wouldn't hear of it, but of course now things are a bit different, and it would certainly get you back in her good books."

Before he could respond, the front door of the club flew open. Our visitor was a familiar and unwelcome one. Nan Flanagan was preceded, as usual, by her phalanx of guards and the distinctive scent of 'Obsession'. I'd always thought that was a most appropriate perfume for her to choose, obsessed as she was with her own power and position. She surveyed the room with an expression of disgust, as if she would catch something nasty just from standing there.

"So glad to see you flying the flag for vampire tolerance and understanding, Northman," she snarked.

"You're welcome, and may I say what a pleasure it is to see you," Eric responded, making no effort to hide his sarcasm, and earning himself a scowl. "To what do we owe the honour of a visit?"

"Recognise this?" she threw a copy of the 'Shreveport Times' across the bar. A picture of a young man dominated the front page. He was clean shaven and well-scrubbed, grinning stupidly at the camera, the kind of photo you get in a High School Year book. I'd never been in one myself, I was far too old, but I'd seen enough of them to recognise the look. It was the kind of photo that only gets printed when someone is dead.

I recognised the face as well. He hadn't changed that much on his journey from innocent schoolboy to religious fanatic. It was the ring-leader; the one that had led the attack on Jessica's human. I picked it up and read the article. Sure enough he'd been found dead, murdered, and the MO was unmistakably vampire.

My expression gave nothing away, but Eric shot me a glance. It was only the briefest look but I'm certain Nan picked up on it. She didn't get to her exalted position in the American Vampire League without being alert to the slightest nuance of behaviour.

"What do you think this has to do with us? I can assure you that both Pamela and I gave up random killing several centuries ago."

Eric's sarcasm cut no ice with Nan, who could match it, and then some. "Since you are Sheriff of Area Five…for now…it has everything to do with you. We've been on the back foot since Russell went nuclear." She gave him a fierce look; he hadn't been forgiven for his part in that debacle. "A vampire is responsible for these murders. I expect you to find them and stop it. How you punish them is up to you."

"Jessica!" we exclaimed in unison as soon as we were sure Nan and her gay storm-troopers were safely out of vampire earshot. We both knew she was capable of killing and, as a young vampire, she didn't have the self-control or awareness of the consequences of her actions. Being immortal doesn't make you invulnerable, but it takes the younger ones a while to realise that and sometimes they never do until it's too late.

"Okay, you win." Eric looked resigned. "We'll close the club and you can supervise the refit. I want you to find Jessica and take her to my place. She can stay locked in the basement there until all this blows over. By the way what did you do with her dead boyfriend?"

"Oh don't worry about him, I found a place to dispose of the body. I glamoured Sookie's brother into reporting that his car had crashed into the lake and sunk without a trace. Everyone will think the 'gators got him."

Eric looked impressed, but glamouring Jason Stackhouse was not exactly the greatest challenge I'd ever faced. To be honest I think only Ginger had fewer active brain-cells.

"What are you going to be doing while I'm sorting things out in Shreveport?"

He responded with a wolf-like grin. "If most of my staff are going to be working in Bon Temps, I think I should be supervising them, don't you?"

"And where were you planning to stay, at Compton's place?" as if I didn't already know the answer.

"That dump; of course not. Seeing as I'm doing such a favour for Sookie I'm sure I can persuade her to have a safe room installed for me below her house. I'll pay, of course and before you say anything, I can reinforce it so water penetration won't be a problem."

We both remembered what a nightmare it had been getting a cellar built below Fangtasia, with the water-table in Louisiana being so high, but we'd managed it eventually.

It appeared to be what humans would call a 'win-win' situation. Eric got to spend time with Sookie. I got to spend time, and Eric's credit card, refitting Fangtasia. There was only one tiny piece of unfinished business that I had to worry about.

Three weeks later

The re-opening of Fangtasia seemed to be going splendidly.

Eric was pleased, although that was probably because he appeared to be making some headway in winning over Sookie Stackhouse. She was wearing red, which was his favourite colour, and although they weren't exactly lovey-dovey, she was talking and laughing with him. Best of all, from his point of view, Bill Compton's invitation had mysteriously gone missing in the mail, so he was the only Area Five vampire not present.

Even as the vampires and human VIPs admired the sumptuous gothic décor, I felt unaccountably nervous. I knew I had every detail right, from the velvet drapes to the Louis Quinze imitation furniture. I'd drawn inspiration equally from the grand New Orleans brothels of the turn of the century, and the ante-bellum plantation mansions where I had spent my human life. Modern touches like a granite topped, stainless steel bar with floor to ceiling mirrors behind were sure to get rave reviews from the style critics.

I was confident that we could make Fangtasia Shreveport's number one nightspot once again. That wasn't what was worrying me. No, I had a little surprise to unveil tonight and I had no idea how it would go down.

"You seem nervous, Pam," Eric had left Sookie's side for a moment, his maker's sense homing in on my disquiet. "Are you going to tell me what's wrong – everything seems to be going most smoothly."

If I'd still been human, I would have taken a deep breath, but as it was, I just launched in.

"Eric, do you remember when you said I should make a child of my own."

"Yes…" his eyes narrowed as he regarded me with a suspicious stare.

"Well, I have. I'm sorry that I didn't ask your permission, but the opportunity presented itself, so I took it."

"Are you going to enlighten me on who has been chosen for this great honor?"

Before I could answer a terrible scream echoed from the basement. We had agreed to allow Jessica out, under tight supervision, and she had obviously discovered the identity of tonight's surprise guest

"What have you done, Pam?" Eric looked worried at first, but then he guessed what I'd done, and the identity of my new child. His face broke into a broad grin and he began to laugh.

I squared my shoulders and prepared to justify my actions. "He is brave, strong, loyal: these are all admirable qualities."

"I agree, but I do believe you've said several times that you can't understand what Jessica sees in him."

"Nothing a good stylist can't fix." I pouted defiantly

"And dumb?"

"Well, maybe he is a little slow on the uptake," I agreed, "but that makes him so much easier to control. Haven't you said yourself many times that there is nothing worse than a child with a mind of their own."

Eric shrugged – he really had no answer to that one. I headed for the basement, ready to begin my new child's induction into the world of the vampire. I suspected that a rocky road was ahead… for both of us.