As always, I own nothing. That privilege belongs to Charlaine Harris and Alan Ball.

"No, Eric," she said with a touch of exasperation. "You can't kill Bill."

"Why not? It really would be for the best," he replied with amusement lacing his voice. "Not to mention how thoroughly satisfying it would be."

"I can't live with a man's death on my conscience," she stated firmly. "No matter how much satisfaction you'd get - which, by the way, is really quite gross."

"A vampire, not a man," he corrected, suppressing a laugh. "A vampire who was willing to trade you into slavery, if you will recall. You would be safer if he were dead, and I can hide my satisfaction if it offends you."

"You can't just kill him. Your bloody lunatic Queen is the reason he did what he did."

It required but a pitiable level of effort on Pam's part before Bill capitulated and confirmed her sire's worst suspicions. Last night's chat had turned into a complex and illuminating conversation, with Sookie learning of the real dangers facing her and Eric learning just how far he was willing to go to protect her.

"It will be much more difficult to get my 'lunatic Queen' to buy this story we're selling with Bill Compton contradicting every damn word. Killing him is something she'd understand and accept if he tried to take what's mine," Eric pointed out bluntly.

"Trust me, I understand why killing him makes sense, but I can't accept it, no matter what it means for me." Her tone was unwavering and his respect for her climbed another notch. Character. It was an abundant trait, if an inconvenient one.

"If she is to believe you are mine, you must smell like me," he broached the new topic delicately. "We will have no claim otherwise."

"What are you saying?"

"When she calls us to New Orleans - and she will - she will expect us to smell like the couple we claim to be," he replied diplomatically.

"Is this another one of your not so subtle invitations for sex?"

"No. This is life and death serious. We don't have to have sex, but we're going to have to get up close and personal right before we see her. You're also going to have to take some of my blood and I'll need some of yours."

A long moment of silence greeted his statement. "Is that completely necessary?"

"Yes."

"Promise this isn't a trick? You're not lying to me?"

"I haven't lied to you yet and I'm not going to start now," he answered seriously. "Taking my blood is the only way to make it plausible."

"You do realize how blatantly unfair all of this is, right? Your crackpot Queen wants to add me to her exotic animal collection and my only recourse is to take even more vampire blood. This is America. I should have every right to tell her to kiss my ass, not have to grovel and pretend to be your frickin' toy."

A brief impulse to correct her terminology was squashed. The proper term would only further the exotic animal narrative, one he was not eager to explore.

"I'd avoid any offer of body parts, if I were you. She would undoubtedly find your ass as delectable as I do."

"Oh, my God! I'm trying to be serious!"

"As am I. If she succeeded in luring you to her court, I can assure you she would try to lure you to her bed, as well," he relayed honestly.

"Well, that's sure as hell not happening!" The girl's head swung back and forth with indignation. "All right. If I wasn't convinced before, I am now. What do we have to do?"

"We have to hope to hell she falls our story," he said grimly. "She will assume I have no reason to lie to her, but will question why I haven't told her of your talent."

"How long am I supposed to have been your fake girlfriend?"

"A couple of months, at least. She will be surprised I've given you blood, but her suspicion would rise on a shorter time frame."

"Okay, so if we're still supposed to be in the 'getting to know you' phase, you can say I only told you recently. It's not like I run around telling people all the time. Tell her I decided I could trust you with all my secrets when you saved me from Bill," she suggested helpfully.

"That could work. I plan on downplaying your strength, in any event. Should she call us both to New Orleans, you will have to go along with whatever I've told her. Matching stories; a united front." The game he played with the Queen was exquisitely dangerous; one misstep and their entire story - their world, actually - could collapse around them.

"No matter what, this is going to change my life, isn't it?" A moment of clarity dawned. "I'm never going to go back to being plain old Sookie Stackhouse, am I?"

"No. I'm afraid not." The unfamiliar empathy twisted his insides. "I will do what I can to protect you, but there's no putting the genie back now."

The line was silent for what seemed like long minutes. The telepath considered the ramifications of his help while the vampire still struggled to understand why he was helping at all. A deeper connection than he'd anticipated came from their innocently flirtatious conversations, but his resulting behaviour was unprecedented. Explanation eluded him, but he found himself strangely unwilling to step back and let any harm befall her.

"It won't be all bad," he consoled her teasingly. "You do get to be the girlfriend of a handsome and charming vampire."

"The pretend girlfriend of a conceited and arrogant vampire," she retorted. "This is not real, Eric."

"It could be."

The silky sweet words teased every sensibility she possessed, leaving her to wonder if he were perhaps right. He had proven without a doubt he was not the man, nor vampire, she'd believed him to be. The fantasy he offered looked doable in the right light, but she knew it was what lurked in the shadows that counted most.

"Neither of us can say that. We've never even been on a date. You've already taken on extraordinary complications for me; you don't need to dig yourself deeper like that. You may find I'm not all that exciting when the chase is over."

"Do you really believe I would have taken these steps if I wasn't sure?" His question was phrased confidently, as if the answer were a foregone conclusion. He was sure of his intentions towards her. Reason completely eluded him, but he was sure. "And we can remedy the date situation anytime you like. Tonight?"

"It's too late tonight. I'm all ready for bed."

A deeply appreciative hum sent shivers down her spine.

"What are you wearing?" The grin on his face could almost be heard in his voice.

"Oh, Lord! Are we back to this again?"

"That's not an answer," he chided playfully.

"Pyjamas, then," she capitulated quickly.

"The same plain old flannels from before?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact," she lied easily.

"Tsk, tsk," he tutted deliberately. "I have it on good authority that it's a bad idea to start a relationship with lies."

"What makes you believe I'm lying?" Sookie tried hard to keep the guilt from her tone, but the emotion swamped her as she took in the thin cotton camisole and panties adorning her curvaceous frame.

"Even vampires know you don't wear flannel in this heat," he informed her smoothly. "And you simply don't strike me as a flannel pyjamas kind of girl. You'd be magnificent draped in the finest of silks, but I suspect you're most fond of cotton."

"It's the fabric of the South," she replied smartly, trying not to let his seductive tone drown her.

"And a magnificent fabric it is," he murmured in reply. "Almost as soft and appealing as warm skin, stretching and clinging to all your curves. Pretty in pink is how I see you; your skin glowing as golden as your beautiful hair."

That pesky guilt caused the breath to hitch in her throat as her eyes squeezed shut. It was if he could see her lie. His description was as accurate, almost as if he could envision her. Almost as if he could actually see her.

"Eric Northman!" His name came out of her mouth like a scandalized curse. Her golden mane swung around her tanned shoulders as she spun around to face the window. "Are you spying on me?"

"No," he chuckled. "I prefer to call it watching. And you are pretty in pink, lover."

"You're a perverted jerk, you know that? How long have you been out there?" She huffed before stomping off to slide a robe over her revealing outfit.

"Wondering how much I saw, lover?" His laughter could be heard through the phone and the thin pane of glass separating them. Glaring at the window, she hung up the phone before moving to slide the old wooden frame open.

"Nope. I changed in the bathroom, Mr. Smarty Pants," she retorted snarkily, all the while trying to keep her heart from beating out of her chest. "If you'd been here that long, you'd know that. But it's still rude - and creepy - to spy on girls through their bedroom windows, I'll have you know."

"I was going to knock on the door. But then, since you said you were ready for bed already, I thought it might be more considerate to use the window. Was I wrong?" His seemingly innocent question had the telepath shaking her head and sighing with exasperation. How in the world could she expect a thousand year old being to change his stripes to accommodate her somewhat antiquated Southern ideas of modesty and all that's proper and right?

"If you're gonna have me breaking all the rules, I'm not starting with this one," she admonished with a shake of her head. "If you must come calling unannounced at this hour, you will use the front door, Mr. Northman."

A smirk graced the vampire's handsome face as he took a moment to watch her spin on her heel to walk from the room with her head held high and hands tightening the belt on her white robe. The smirk turned into a hearty chuckle as he flew around the perimeter of the old farmhouse to gracefully land at her front door just as she disengaged the locks. Controlling his amusement, he waited for his future lover to open the door and invite him in.

Yes, Sookie Stackhouse was going to make a fine 'pretend' girlfriend.