Lafayette wasn't used to having dreams. It was something his grandmother had told him; work hard during the day so that the nights leave you alone. He'd believed her, especially when she'd gotten sick, had no choice but to lie in bed all day long. He'd heard her screaming at night.

Growing up had been hard, but he'd followed her advice; he'd fought the boys at school, the ones who hated and feared anything different. He'd worked three jobs. He'd had sex, drunk, drugs, everything possible during the day. And he didn't dream at night.

Until he'd been locked in that basement, beaten, tortured. He still shivered, thinking about it. After that he'd had dreams, oh yes indeed. Dark dreams, with that evil vampire bastard would come lurking at him, saying again and again, "do I have blood in my hair?"

He'd talked to Terry about it, a little. Terry admitted he had dreams, too, nightmare. He said they didn't go away. So Lafayette tried to follow his grandma's advice. Everything tired him out, with his bum leg, just cleaning up his apartment, just getting dressed. It wasn't enough, though. Not to get him out of the nightmares at night.

That white, white face, so close to his, fangs glinting in the light. "Do I have blood in my hair?"

And then, the worst thing that could possibly happen. He came back. His hair was shorter, and he was fully dressed, and he was almost urbane, but nobody fools Lafayette, and he shrank back at first. He wasn't stupid.

But the vamp said it could fix him. What was he supposed to do? If anyone knew the effects of V, it was Lafayette. And this was fresh, and pure, and strong coming from a 1000 year old beast. What could he do?

After that the dreams changed.

That very night he slept, figuring it would be dark, peaceful, endless, like it used to be. He'd worked out all day, he'd worked an extra shift on the road crew, pulled double duty at the dinner, and spent an hour making up for lost time with his adoring internet clients. He was exhausted when he fell into bed, not even taking the time to wash the eyeliner off his lids.

It started the same. . .that dark, dark underground lair, the wheel, the pain, the screams. The dark shape coming down. It looked different tonight. It was still huge, still menacing, but. . .Lafayette licked his lips. But it was just so huge.

And then, without a step between, the creature was at his side, face looming large, blonde hair swishing sickeningly against Lafayette's face.

"Do I have blood in my hair?"

"Yes," Lafayette breathed, and then he leaned forward and licked some off.

That was enough to wake him up, keep him awake for the rest of the night. It made sense, he tried to convince himself. The nightmare was still there, it was still horrible, he was still suffering from that post traumatic mumbo jumbo. It was just that he'd remembered how big the vamp was, how strong. That was all.

He wondered if he should ask Terry about it. Almost laughed at the thought.

He worked Jason's shift again, not even wondering where the moronic kid had gotten to. Sookie was out, too, so maybe it was some kind of family thing. And Sam stayed locked in his office all night. Lafayette shook his head, ran the bar. There was some crazy shit going on in Bon Temps, he would bet anything, and he sure as hell was staying out of it.

That night he didn't even make it to his bed, just collapsed on the couch.

Once again he was underground, once again that dark shape appeared. But this time he noticed the black shirt, the way it clung to the body. The broad shoulders. Lafayette sighed. He might be a badass vampire, but there was no denying that he was a beautiful son of a bitch.

"Is there blood in my hair?"

Lafayette leaned forward, licked it off. Metallic taste in his mouth. The vampire smiled, fangs glinting.

"There's blood on your mouth," he said, and the very sound of that low, stilted voice sent shivers through Lafayette's body. The vampire leaned forward and slowly, sensuously, ran his tongue against the other man's mouth.

"Come upstairs," the vampire said. "Let me fix you up."

Lafayette couldn't deny him anything, couldn't deny himself. He stood, took the vampire's hand. It felt strong, too. He wanted to hang back a little, get the view from behind, but the vampire just crooked an eyebrow.

Lafayette was jerked out of the dream again, now in a cold sweat.

"That's no nightmare, anymore," he breathed. Something was wrong, here. Number one, Lafayette Reynolds should not be lusting after some bloodsucker who nearly killed him. Number two, Lafayette Reynolds always was dominant – he never played the bitch.

Unable to sleep, he ran to his computer, dug up the research he'd done on V before he'd began dealing. Ran through the information. Found something that made sense.

"Damn," he whispered, and reread the line again.

"Ingesting a vampire's blood gives the vampire full access into your inner emotional state, and allows them the ability to identify a physical location at any time. In addition, particularly potent blood can cause the one to feel sexual attraction toward the vampire whose blood was taken. Fortunately, we only distribute the blood of dead vampires, eliminating any worry or cause for concern over the blood bond."

"Damn," he whispered, and then shrugged it off. Hell, if he was going to be stuck having this attraction, at least it was with the Swede. A small smile pulled at Lafayette's lips. And the vamp had to have known this, too. . .why had he chosen to help him?

Laughing a little, Lafayette pulled off his shirt and settled into bed, in a much better mood now that he understood the bizarre twist to his dreams. Maybe, he though, the bloodsucker had a little crush on Mr. Reynolds.

"He knows my emotional state, eh?" he said, grin still firmly in place. He pulled off his pants. "All right, then."

Lafayette turned on his webcam, pictured the big, beautiful blond vampire, and got to work.

His website reached an all-time high rating that night.