Insert disclaimer here.

This will be my first attempt at a True Blood fanfic, so bear with me through the rough spots. Of all the characters on the show, Eric is the most fascinating to me - maybe because we haven't learned too much about him at this point, but whatever the case, he is my muse.

This takes place soon after Season 1. It's only a prologue, so it's on the short side, but please let me know how you like it…

Nocturne

Any sane person would be screaming for help if they were in her shoes, but fear and reason stopped her from doing so. She didn't want to give herself away in the darkness, not when she had just gained a lead on her pursuer. Her breathing ragged, she ducked down between two metal trash cans, sliding herself up against the brick wall of the alleyway and hugging her knees close to her chest. The alley smelled of piss, rotten food and diesel, but she registered none of this. Every muscle in her body was on fire from being on the move for the last few hours. Her nerves were making her hands shake with a mixture of adrenaline and fear. It was nearly impossible for her to regain control of her body at this point, but she knew she had to, because the alternative was infinitely worse.

Calm down, calm down, she told herself. He'll hear you!

How long had she been running? Too long. Since nightfall, but that was hours ago. It was well into the morning now.

She needed to get somewhere public, somewhere with people, witnesses. There was no way she could know if that would stop him, but she had to try. She couldn't just give up. Not now, not after all she had learned. She needed to find someone she could trust with the information she knew, before she ended up missing, dead, or some combination of the two.

She closed her eyes, and listened very carefully to any and all sounds around her. She could hear the street traffic just beyond the alley – she was so close to it – the drip drop of a broken pipe somewhere above her head and…footsteps. They were nearly silent, but she heard them on the damp pavement of the alley. Her heart skipped a beat in her chest and she fought the sinking feeling in her stomach.

Breathe, she commanded herself. Keep breathing and keep quiet.

Pressing a hand over her mouth to help muffle the sound of her inhaling and exhaling, she remained as still as possible as she heard the footfalls travel closer to where she lay trembling in hiding. She could hear her own heartbeat in her ears, the usually slow and steady thump thump had sped up to an impossibly fast staccato rhythm ever since she had left her apartment earlier that night. She just prayed her pursuer didn't hear her heartbeat as well as she did at the moment. When the footsteps had passed, she still held her breath for fear of him catching that minute sound.

She opened her eyes and quietly, slowly, and reached into her jacket to pull out a sharpened wooden post. She had to brace herself for what she was going to do next, because she would either succeed and escape into the streets (hopefully not getting hit by a car in the process) or die trying.

The second of the two options chilled her to the core, but she pushed her fear aside as much as she could and forced herself to focus.

It's now or never, she thought.

She sprang out of her hiding place like a cat doused with cold water, and immediately heard her pursuer behind her as she made a mad, desperate dash towards the dimly illuminated street. She was just a few feet away when she felt an iron grip clamp down on her shoulder and jerk her backwards further into the alley. She tried to instinctively twist out of the grasp, but she immediately felt something snap in her shoulder – and the resulting white hot pain threatened to overwhelm her completely.

As a scream tore away from her throat, she thrust the wooden stake in her hand backwards, bending at the elbow so quickly she thought she'd splinter it in addition to dislocating her shoulder.

The grip released almost at once as a deeper, hoarser scream resounded from behind her. When she turned around, she saw her pursuer crumble to his knees as his hands clawed away at his chest. Blood was streaming from his mouth, nose and eyes in uneven, quick spurts. She felt her gag reflex react at the back of her throat, her stomach threatening to empty its contents onto the ground, however little there was. (She couldn't remember the last time she'd eaten.)

Frozen in place, she watched in fascinated horror as his body decayed before her eyes in a matter of seconds, and then, of a sudden, collapse to the ground in a grotesque plashet of blood on the pavement. The metallic stench of decay overpowered all of her senses.

"Oh God," she breathed, staring down at the sight.

Her mind was completely blank for a few seconds, until she was able to tear her gaze away from all the blood on the pavement, a sight that reminded her of black tar. She looked down at herself and shuttered: her sneakers, jacket and pants were drenched through in blood. She barely even registered the pain in her shoulder as shock began to quickly set in. She vaguely thought that she should leave the scene as quickly as possible, find somewhere to clean up and then head south towards the only person she trusted with what she knew and had just survived.

She had thought to do all of this, but before she could even take a step, she was knocked unconscious by a blow she never saw coming from behind her.

Her body fell to the pavement, next to the pool of the vampire's blood.