Hey, guys! So this is kind of weird. Never thought I would write a story for True Blood. Actually told myself that I WOULD NOT do this. But here I am. Eating my promises to myself. Just a kind of warning: I really don't know if I'm going to continue this. I don't know how active this fandom is anymore and I do have other stories so if no one's really out there then I'm just going to take it down. I really hope that I get some reviews and follows/favorites but as far at that goes I am testing the waters. SO, that being said this is kind of a practice chapter. It's just to test the waters - that's why it's so short.

Chapter One: The Fourth Man in the Fire

Sometimes it felt like I couldn't control myself.

"We need to go." Sookie's voice was quietly insistent in my ear, her hands firm as they tugged me away from the four, large coffins bubbling over with vampire guts and blood. The ratty slabs of plywood on all four looked like they were barely holding on. One good kick would send them overflowing to slop onto the lawn. Out of the corner of my eyes, I saw Sookie glance around and then lean into my side, tears starting to brim over and dot her lashes. "Now, Runa."

Beside us, the charred wood of the house stilled smoldered, the wood cracking and popping in the Louisiana heat. Whatever these vamps had done, I wasn't sure that this was worth it. I gulped, my eyes going blurry as I stared too long at the mess.

"Ugh," John Billingsley muttered, giving the appropriate shiver of disgust. My mind shook with fury. We all knew that Billingsley was one of the creepiest motherfuckers that inhabited Bon Temp. Guts and gore was what he made his living from. And they didn't disgust him in the least - vampire, human or fucking unicorn. "Hope ya skipped breakfast."

Sookie's eyes fluttered back to the bubbling mess in front of us and I saw her already pale skin go two shades lighter. My stomach turned. Four vamps dead and Bill Compton was the last person to glimpse them. His sorry ass was probably stuffed, boiling and burning in one of these crates. And my sister was left here with her broken emotions and fear - Their lost couple of days shadowed by the three other motherfuckers lining their wood holding cells like last weeks chili. Gasping softly, I felt Sookie whirl and dash down the hill to our little, run down car.

Leaving me standing there with Coroner Billingsley and his newest pet, who barely looked above the legal age to drive a car.

"Did I do something to upset her?" Billingsley asked, his salt and pepper brows furrowing as his assistant glanced down at his notepad in embarrassment. At least the kid still had a bit of humanity.

My mouth thinned, my ears picking up on the distant call of Andy Bellefleur. "You okay, Sookie?"

Obviously she wasn't but it was nice of him to inquire. Particularly when he still thought that our brother was the prime suspect in a bunch of fang banger girls' deaths.

Billingsley still had that stupid look on his face, his eyes wide as they stared after Sookie. My eyes narrowed, bitter rage filling my mouth. I knew what he dreamed of. I knew that it involved Sookie and most of the girls in this town - one after the other dripping in blood on his examination table.

"The sight of you upsets most people, Coroner Billingsley," I said, my words tinted with a heavy southern drawl as I turned to find my sister.

It was a sweltering day. But then again most days in Bon Temp, Louisiana were, the air so thick that it felt like fog being breathed in. And that kind of heat only breeds the kind of scents that of death and - I shivered, curling in on myself as I wrapped a hand around myself. It was coming back again. I had never had nightmares. Not before - I gulped down bile as the crumpled body of my Gran flashed through my mind, her favorite nightgown soaked in blood and her hair tangled around her face over her blank, staring -

"Runa." I jerked, stopping suddenly beside Andy as he leaned down to look into my eyes. Right now I was the good Stackhouse. I wasn't running around killing girls or banging the undead. I was normal. The word swam murkily in my mind. The Stackhouses were never normal. "You all alright? I know-"

"Thank you," I cut him off, falling back on the Southern belle tendencies that Gran had instilled in my sister and I. "Thank you very much for your concern, Detective Bellefleur."

I forced a smile for Bud Dearborne who was staring at me like he was trying to unwind a ball of yarn. He was smarter than Andy and - I hesitated, wanting to say something but instead skirting around the two and heading in the direction that Sookie had wandered off to. Both men feared the collapse of Bon Temp under the new order of things. The new order of living opposite the dead. They had dreamed about it more and more in the past weeks.

"Sookie," I whispered, creeping around the side of our car after pushing past the throng of hungry people, their eyes avid on one of the three Stackhouse siblings. They wanted news. They wanted gossip. Our Gran's death wasn't good enough. They wanted more. Always more.

The blonde haired girl was curled up against the driver's side of our beat up car, her shoulders shuddering in silent sobs. I crouched down, running a hand over her back.

"I can't take this anymore," Sookie sobbed, turning into to my shoulder to wail like she had when we were children. "How can this - I don't - Gran's gone and now Bill - What else am I supposed to do? Tell me what to do, Runa!"

"I-" The simple answer was that I didn't have one. What was I supposed to say? I wanted to say something but I was just as lost. I was just as - "Let's go home. We need to go home."

"Home?" She didn't argue as I lifted her, sliding open the door and pushing her into the back seat, her hair a mess and her eyes distant and red-rimmed. Silently, I got into the front seat and started up the car, driving us back towards our house. I tried not to look into the rear view mirror. When I looked it would just be her eyes and I knew - I could feel that invasive press of her mind against mine.

"Stop it," I finally hissed, turning onto our gravel road. The seats had been hot enough to burn my skin and I hadn't thought to turn on the AC so it felt like I was a human popsicle set out to puddle on the seats.

"How can you keep it together so well? How are you doing this?" Sookie's suddenly asked and I jerked, my knuckles going white on the steering wheel. "I haven't seen you cry. Not since we found her. She took you in. She was your Gran. She fed-"

"I know what she did," I snapped, slamming the car to a halt and yanking the keys from the ignition. Breathing in through my nose, I looked around at sprawling lawn and the old styled columns that kept the porch roof from slamming into the rickety, wicker swing and chairs. I also looked at the doors. The doors that had been bloodstained and barely hanging from their hinges. Was it odd that that was what disturbed me most? The doors? Not the body of my Gran or the slick feel of blood pooling between my toes and slapping up onto my ankles. It was the doors. The way that the killer had left his fingers all over the knobs and frames like he had groped it before decimating our home. I held back a shudder, looking down at the steering wheel. "I know what she did for me."

"Well, it wouldn't hurt for you to show it." I flinched at the hissed accusation, staying inside the car to bake as my sister got out and stormed into the house. She was mad. She was confused. In some ways, she felt like she was completely alone. I gulped back my own tears, hating myself for not being able to show her such weakness. As long as she stayed with me, she could take out all her hurt and anger on me. I would accept it without a single word of rebuke.

"So pathetic," I whispered, getting out of the car and heading slowly up the stairs and into the house. The slick sound of soap and water sloshing onto the floor reached my ears and I glanced around the bend to see my sister on her hands and knees scrubbing down the kitchen floor. Again.

She had learned it from our Gran. It was her way to get out of herself and leave it all behind.

I left her, shuffling up the stairs and into my bedroom. I had a shift in an hour at Merlotte's and nothing was going to stop me from taking it. Sookie could have her cleaning supplies and rags and I would keep my apron and shorts. Keeping busy helped. It helped me get away from all the dreams - all the uncertainty.

It had all started a while ago. Maybe we had never been a normal family. I let out a laugh, tugging off my shorts for a clean one that didn't have the stench of rotting vamp on it. We had definitely never been a normal family. Not with Sookie's telepathy and my abilities. I shut my eyes at the thought, trying to force down all the hatred and fear that bubbled up inside me when I thought about what I could do. Distantly, I heard Sookie scream in fury and something slam against the floor.

Last night she had dreamed about Gran dying. Again. I hated seeing it. Pressing my hands to my eyes, I crouched down in front of my bed. Every night I would walk through her dreams and they would be the same - every night since the murder. It was a useless gift. One that tortured me with its insistence. All it showed were fears and hatred. Nothing that made people happy. Only nightmares.

Slowly, my eyes opened and I was staring at the girl with the dark brown hair and the piercing blue eyes. Her lips were lush but beneath them were teeth that seemed a bit too sharp and a narrow nose. Her features were angular and sharp like they were meant for arctic winds instead of the homely heat of Louisiana. I looked so different from Sookie and Jason that it physically repulsed me. Tall and lean, I looked better with my hair wound through with braids or pressed tightly to my skull in a pony tail. Too sharp. Too calculating.

I quickly got up, hurrying to grab all of my outfit and yank it on before heading out of my room and down the steps.

Gran had told me the story when I was little - up until the point when I asked her to stop. An old family friend, my parents had died just before Jason and Sookie's. Gran had always been too kind - too good for the down - home hicks that sucked this place dry. She had taken me in, adopted me and laughed it off like it had been an unspoken agreement. But it wasn't. And when Sookie and Jason's parents had died she had been stuck with three mouths to feed.

Now she was dead.

"Sookie." I moved tentatively around the corner, peering into the kitchen to see that it had all but been torn apart as she brought out every cleaning supply that we had. At the moment she was yanking on a pair of rubber gloves. "I'm leaving for work."

"Uh-huh." I blinked at the sharp reply and then bowed my head, turning to leave. "Bring home some bleach, will you?"

I didn't say anything, heading for the door in sullen silence. I had liked Bill. Maybe that was too strong a word. I had liked the way that he had made my sister feel. I liked that her dreams seemed to subside at night whenever she had been with him. I liked that she was able to forget. I bit my lip. Now that he was gone… I pushed away the thought, climbing into our yellow car and starting the engine. I would think about that later.

Once again, just putting my toes in. This doesn't really get into anything but this story will be a Eric/OC. Anyway, I hope you like it and please follow/favorite if you can and review if you can't. I really want to continue this so I'm crossing my fingers.