Naughty or Nice Contest

Title: Dead Until New Year's : A Southern Vampire Carol

Your Pen name: Pixiegiggles

Beta'd by: My own three guardian beta spirits: Nyah, LanYap, and VampLover1. Any mistakes remaining are strictly my own.

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Charlaine Harris's world and characters are my puppets, Dickens provided the strings. I just wiggled 'em around a bit.

A/N: A Viking sized thanks to FarDareisMai2, who polished up the final product to an even brighter shine, and to all my Sookieverse gals, who convinced me that this wasn't a crazy idea, and slapped my procrastubating hiney when I needed it ;D I am so amazed and grateful for the warm welcome I've found in this community. You girls really are like a second family!

*runs away all teary eyed and shit*

PREFACE

We first meet our heroine when she leans into her lover's arms, and melts into his lips. It starts out sweet and tender; it is all Hollywood happy ending, fluttering hearts, and Jello knees.

Then, it deepens into overwhelming desire as their hands grope every contour of the other's with hungry grasps and their faces are shrouded in the tumble of their intertwining golden locks, so close in shade that it's hard to tell where hers ends and his begins.

And that's the problem, really. She could no longer tell where her world started and his world ended. Until her world ended. And he wasn't there to pull her back in.

The tempo changes again.

It becomes the intense yet melancholy pitch of a sad lover's melody in some beautifully, haunting minor chord. It makes you smile through your tears, at the beauty and hopelessness of a love so strong, so fierce, that it cannot stand its own skin; it's everything before it bursts into nothing.

It is too perfect, and the farthest thing from perfect, all at once.

She breaks away, but remains in the circle of his arms, resting for a beat, her forehead pressed against his. Their eyes lock for a moment that stretches, silent and infinite.

"You told me once that you would be my friend, but only as long as you could be my friend without jeopardizing your own life," she breathes against his lips. "Well, I think that goes for me, too."

She leans up on her tiptoes, pressing her lips to his forehead, almost for a moment too long. Almost.

"I can no longer stay with you," she adds, "without risking irreparable damage."

Their world becomes hot lips and cool skin, demanding hands and loud breaths and pounding blood, all wrapped up in a blond veil that they could almost hide behind. Almost.

It's just too close. The veil hides her from the world, but not from him.

She pulls away, and stares her truth into his eyes. And then, the girl who never had an ounce of self preservation suddenly stocks up, gathering it up greedily and stuffing it into jars, for safekeeping.

His arms drop to his side, and he watches her stumble away, his lips curling into a proud smile even as he tastes his bloody tears.

LIVING WITH GHOSTS

Hadley was dead, to begin with. There is no doubt whatsoever about that.

This must be distinctly understood, or nothing wonderful can come of the story I am going to relate.

In fact, most everyone whom Sookie had loved was dead. And many others as well, in her name; to keep her safe. So, she decided she had to lower her danger quotient.

Trouble. She seemed always to be running headlong into it. So, she'd figured she would be proactive and run the other way.

After the Fairy War, Sookie decided that her friend Pam had been right when she had warned her that she was too soft. So, Sookie made it her life's purpose to turn every vulnerable soft spot into hardened steel.

She spent every free moment that she could spare at the gym, seeking to transform every inch of soft tissue into strong muscle.

While she strengthened her body, she tried to eliminate all sources of danger from her life. That meant severing all ties to the supe community, except, of course, for her dearest friends, Pam and Amelia.

Walking away from the Vampire had been the hardest, but it had to be done. She was thankful and relieved that he had let her go and didn't follow.

But truly letting go of him was even harder. She cared for him deeply, but love? Well, what did it matter when loving him seemed to cost her everything else she cared about? Once upon a time, she could have deluded herself, that it was a possibility. But now she knew better. She had grown up dreaming of Prince Charming and happily-ever-after, but now she knew that true love was about as real as unicorns and Santa Claus.

Happily-ever-after. What a goddamn crock of a fairy tale. She could no longer even say the words without bile rising up in her mouth. As the years passed, she grew more and more disgusted with the notion, not even able to look upon it without disdain.

She thought that she had finally smartened up, but closing her heart had turned Sookie into a hard, bitter recluse.

Even though she was religious about maintaining her tan, you could sense the cold within her: it froze her beautiful features, hardened the line of her ever-frowning lips, and darkened the blue of her eyes from sunny skies to stormy seas. The ice gathered in the lines that worried her face, and even her voice was chilled by the cold that spread its frosty tentacles to the tips of her fingers and toes.

External heat had little influence on Sookie -- it could not warm her skin, her bones, her heart. The sun only seemed to cast shadows on her, never fully reaching the murky, frozen depths within.

***

It was on the morning of Christmas Eve twenty years after the fairy war when our story begins. Sookie was driving home, hurrying back after her Krav Maga class, trying to avoid Christmas as much as possible. Of course, her plans were dashed almost as soon as she turned on the car, in the form of holiday cheer blaring from the radio.

And so this is Christmas

And what have you done?

Another year over—

Ewwww. Sookie rolled her eyes, lips snarling with a growl, and changed the station.

Rockin' around the Christmas tree

Let the Christmas spirit ring

Oh, just great. Stuck in Christmas fucking wonderland. Fa la fucking la.

Please come home for Christmas
If not for Christmas by New Year's night

The radio yielded yet another reminder of the holidays, but at least this one had the requisite melancholy edge, she thought as she pulled into the driveway. She gave the large pile of seasonal mail that she had tossed onto the passenger seat over the past few weeks a dread-filled side-long glance, refusing to bring it into the Christmas-free refuge zone of her house.

It was a sunny Louisiana December day, pleasantly warm in the car; there were a million things she'd rather do, but it was time. With a heavy, shoulder-heaving sigh, she set to her task. The music played softly as she began to sift through the envelopes.

So won't you tell me you'll never more roam
Christmas and New Year's will find you home
There'll be no more sorrow no grief and pain
And I'll be happy, happy once again

The large red vellum envelope stood out, as it always did. Sookie picked it up and put it to her nose, inhaling deeply. She didn't open it, because she didn't need to; the invitation to Eric Northman's Yuletide dinner had been sitting in the car for weeks now, just like it had every December for the past twenty years. She tossed it to the floor, beginning her trash pile.

She made slow but steady progress through the mail, enjoying the warmth of the sun on her skin, even if her joints still creaked around pockets of cold. When she finally looked up, her task completed, the sky was just beginning to darken.

She scanned her surroundings several times before taking a deep breath and walking toward the house. Yanking the door open and hurrying inside, Sookie rejoiced in the comforting clanking the multiple deadbolts made as she locked them into place.

That walk was always the hardest part of her day.

The paralyzing terror that had gripped her for months after being kidnapped had gradually been replaced with a numb and weary watchfulness, soothed by the daily ritual to which she lost herself as soon as she was safely inside. She began her inspection of the house, searching for any sign of an intruder, her breath growing steadier as she went. She scoffed at so-called experts and well-meaning friends who frowned upon this behavior as a sign of mental instability. Sookie was proud that after too many near-death experiences to count, she had finally learned her lesson. If she had exercised this caution when she had first gotten involved in all the vampire shit, she could have very well avoided countless broken bones and bruises. Maybe even saved some lives.

Pushing aside the memories, she distracted herself with the task at hand. She knew all too well that it was always better to be safe than sorry. Better to check under every bed and inside every closet and laugh at your crazy neuroticism, than to be kidnapped and tortured to within an inch of your life.

Having assured herself that she was indeed alone in the house, Sookie headed to the kitchen to scrounge for some food. After scarfing down Chinese leftovers, she went back to her room and closed the door behind her. She took a long, hot shower, slipped into her favorite flannel nightgown, and snuggled into bed, eventually drifting off to sleep.

Hadley Delahoussaye is like a picture come to life – everything that Sookie covets from the shadows of her loneliness. She's pretty, and popular and glows with perfection – all snapping bubblegum and bouncy cuteness and careless youth. Her radiance oozes from her with dewy gloriousness.

Her stick-straight chestnut hair is piled on her shoulders in loose pigtails, the pleated skirt of her cheerleader uniform floating and clinging to her slim frame, as she flashes her thousand watt smile.

Suddenly, the room darkens all around her, and an object on the cheerleader's head sparkles, the brightness standing out against the darkness. She raises her hand to her head, and when she removes it, the shiny rhinestone crown is revealed. She makes her way down from the stage, bathed in the spot light that seems to emanate from her. She shuts her caramel eyes when she reaches the bottom, holding the moment in her palm, thick, dark lashes curving with perfection above her flawless milk and honey skin.

When they open again, she wraps her arms around the tiny waist of her red headed companion, hair falling down her back like the licking flames of a wild fire, as the two sway to the lazy beats of the romantic love song that is now booming from the speakers. The prom queen fixes her gaze straight ahead, and her dark eyes shine and sparkle, her cotton-candy pink lips turning up into a smile.

But suddenly, she goes from the wholesome beauty-next-door of a milk advertisement to an after school special poster child.

Within seconds she is transformed into a living ghost: the skin grows paler, to an unnatural shade of whiter than white; the lips darken to a crimson red; the eyes become hidden in layers of thick, dark makeup; and the hair turns into the darkest shade on the spectrum – a blue-black flame of darkness.

In another second, her companion embraces her more tightly as the cheerleader wastes away in her arms, cheeks growing gaunt, skin growing thin, and a web of veins growing more prominent with every passing beat. The light in the eyes dims as the tears stain the sunken cheeks.

In the next moment, the tears dry in forked rivulets along the skin, tinged the very lightest of blush pink, while the skin begins to glow. It is still paler than pale, really more on the transparent side of white, but no longer seems unhealthy, unnatural. It is beyond natural; ethereal and haunting. Some life returns to the golden brown orbs – but death is fluttering behind it – just underneath the surface, raising its head intermittently.

Now it is the cheerleader's turn to grab for her dancing partner, and she grasps and clutches at her, desperate to hold on. Her eyes grow wider, rimmed in red, as her ruby lips form a sickeningly large "o" shape. The blood-curdling scream that rips through her is such a foreign, otherworldly sound, filling the air so completely, that it takes a second for Sookie to register that it is coming from the cheerleader. As the horrific noise saturates the room, her eyes contract again, and dull, as if drained.

Lights out, princess.

And then, in an instant, blood spews out of every orifice as she contracts into herself, shriveling up like a balloon losing its air, until all that remains, for a horrible, infinite moment, are those dark, deadened eyes, staring into nothing and everything. Then, the hair and skin and guts and life collapse and decompose, falling to the ground in a smoking pile of black goo.

Sookie sat up in bed with a start, clutching at her pounding heart as the horrific images clung to the periphery of her consciousness. After the kidnapping ordeal, she had expected to be plagued by nightmares of the torture twins. Instead, her cousin, Hadley, haunted her dreams.

Sookie flipped on the bedside lamp and picked up a book, trying to distract herself from thoughts of how her cousin's life had unraveled. For most of their childhood, Hadley's life seemed picture perfect – everything Sookie imagined she could be, if not for her disability. Hadley was the popular cheerleader, practically radiating with her perfectness, while Sookie hid in the shadows and kept her head down, hoping not to be noticed. Because when she was noticed, it was only for her craziness.

The seams started to tear on Hadley soon after her father left. By junior year, she had turned to drugs and adopted the Goth look. Soon after, she ran away from home, and somehow ended up finding her way into the arms of New Orleans's vampire queen.

Sookie's lips curled into a bitter sneer as she thought of how her cousin's life had ended. Hadley had a beautiful and powerful vampire who loved and adored her, and what did she get for it? Pain and sorrow … and she still died alone.

The faint yet unmistakable sound of dragging feet pulled Sookie out of her thoughts. Her eyes darted to the bedroom door, throat turning dry and palms becoming slick. She gripped the edges of the book tightly, knuckles turning white, as the sound of shuffling footsteps grew louder—human-sized chalk scratching across a blackboard.

Someone was definitely approaching her room, and the intruder wasn't even trying to be quiet. How was that possible? She had secured the multitude of locks on every door, and checked every inch of the house, just as always.

As the sound grew nearer, Sookie realized that it sounded exactly like those silly urban myths of ghosts walking through a haunted , if there were vampires, and werewolves, and even fairies, why not ghosts?

The thought that a ghost might exist did not alarm her. No, what had her shaking, and pulling the blanket over her head, was the thought of what a ghost might want with her.

Then the horrible noise finally stopped; but the quiet was even more terrifying. Sookie remained under the blanket, trying to quiet her breath as much as possible.

"You can stop hiding now, cousin."

Sookie's breath came out in labored pants as she slowly lowered the blanket just past her eyes, which bugged out with sheer terror at the figure before her.

Her cousin Hadley sat next to her on the bed, in that skintight, how-low-can-you-go, red sequined dress that she had worn on the night she was murdered. Her figure shimmered and glowed, clearly not of this world.

Sookie swallowed hard. "What do you want from me?"

"I'm here to warn you," Hadley replied. "If you continue on the path you're on, you will soon be deader than me. You're already colder."

"I don't understand," Sookie said.

"Yes, well, that's the problem," Hadley said, leaning forward. "You've ignored your heart for so long – you no longer know how to listen to it. But you need to learn how, Sookie, before it's too late!"

Sookie glared at the ghost of her cousin, exasperated.

"You had someone who wanted to give you the moon and the stars and the sun," Hadley continued. "And even that wasn't good enough for you!"

"What are you talking about?"

"The Vampire! You had true love and happiness in the palm of your hand, and yet you chose to run away and hide."

"Which vampire?" Sookie scoffed. "I know too many."

"Oh, cousin, we both know there's only ever been one vamp for you. Do you really need a hint? He's... tall," Hadley said flatly, not amused. "Graciously and plentifully ... tall."

Sookie's mouth dropped, her cheeks coloring. "But … being near him put me in danger," she protested. "I had to protect myself."

"Protect yourself from what, Sookie?"

"Oh, I dunno," Sookie sneered. "Maybe from being cold and buried six feet under?"

"And how has that worked out for you, dear?"

Sookie snorted. "What is this, Dr. Phil?"

Hadley leaned closer, peering into Sookie's eyes. "You think my fate was so terrible, but how are you any better off?"

"Seriously, Hadley? Look, I know the queen actually loved you very much, but … you gave up your life for her. And for what?"

"For love."

Sookie snorted. "And how did that work out for you, cousin?"

"I may have died alone," Hadley replied, "but at least I didn't live alone, because of some misguided fear."

Sookie sat in stunned silence, eyes widening.

"But, it's not too late," said the Ghost. "You still have a chance to escape your fate. That's why I'm here tonight. You will be haunted by three spirits—"

"Oh, that's rich," Sookie sneered. "You're going Dickens on me now? Didn't you fail English, Hadley?"

"Sookie–"

"Oh, no, wait. Let me guess. Will it be the spirits of the past, present and future?"

"Are you quite done?" Hadley demanded in a low voice, strong yet wispy. "Should I continue?"

Sookie waved her hand to indicate that her cousin should go ahead.

"Each of your visitors will arrive when the bell tolls twelve."

"I hate to break it to you, Cos, but we don't have any tolling bells 'round here."

Hadley's Spirit raised a pale, shimmering hand, pointing at the window. Sookie's eyes widened, as she looked in the direction her cousin had pointed, and to her utter shock and dismay, saw an ancient clock tower staring back at her, shrouded in mist. She swallowed hard before gathering the courage to look back at her cousin. But when she did, she found that she was once again alone in the room.

She was suddenly overwhelmed by exhaustion. She told herself she would think on this crazy turn of events tomorrow, before she drifted off to sleep.

THE FIRST OF THE THREE SPIRITS

Sookie woke to the feel of cool, strong arms wrapped around her.

She didn't quite understand how the Vampire had gotten into her bed, but she was too groggy with sleep to do anything but be relieved, wrapping her arms around him. He stroked her hair tenderly, and she laid her head against the cool chest and nuzzled, sighing contentedly. Finally, everything could go back to normal, she could return to the world that made sense.

But something seemed off.

Instead of musky earth, she smelled an intoxicating sweetness surround her. When she opened her eyes, instead of seeing broad and pale muscular pects, she found herself nestled into an extremely well-endowed pair of breasts.

She jumped back with a horrified shriek.

"It's me," said her visitor.

Sookie gasped when she saw who was lying beside her. The fairy's soft, dark curls cascaded around her shoulders, and her eyes sparkled.

"Claudine?"

"Yes?" the fairy answered, brushing Sookie's hair off her face.

"Wh-what are you doing here? How is this even possible?"

"Um, snuggling? You seem like you really need it."

"I'm dreaming, right?" Sookie murmured.

"No, little one," Claudine replied. "I'm afraid you aren't."

Sookie's eyes widened, first at her visitor's answer, and then at the tolling of bells, that shattered the stunned silence with twelve long strokes.

After another moment, Claudine continued. "I am the Ghost of Christmas past. But, yes, in life, I was your fairy godmother, Claudine."

"Oh, god, how old was that Chinese food?" Sookie wondered out loud.

Claudine patted Sookie's knee and rose to her feet. "C'mon little one, we have a lot of ground to cover tonight. Are you ready?"

"Ready for what?" Sookie asked, narrowing her eyes.

"Time to go, Sookie," said the Ghost, reaching out her hand.

As soon as Sookie placed her hand in Claudine's, the room began to spin, and then Sookie was looking at a younger version of herself, lying on the bed.

"Jesus Christ, Shepherd of Judea," Sookie whispered in disbelief, her lips trembling as she watched her younger self sleeping, tears drying on her cheeks.

"You remember this moment?" asked Claudine.

Sookie nodded.

"She feels like she's all alone in the world," said the Ghost.

"She is," Sookie croaked through choked sobs. "Everyone she's loved has left her."

"Oh, not everyone has deserted her," said the Ghost, and they both looked toward the door as it opened.

A tall, blue-eyed Viking entered, long golden hair cascading around his shoulders as he approached the bed. He watched the broken woman with blonde hair to match his own, taking in the smudged makeup of her eyes and her fitful sleep.

He sat down next to her, tenderly caressing her tearstained cheek. She nuzzled against it, but the furrow in her brows did not smooth out, and she continued to whimper and fret in her dreams.

The vampire spun his head around, and seemed to stare right at older Sookie. He took a long, shuddering sigh as one blood-stained tear ran down his own cheek.

Sookie gasped, clutching at Claudine's arm.

"These are but shadows of the things that have already taken place," the Ghost reassured her, patting her arm. "They cannot sense us."

As the Ghost and Sookie looked on, Eric rose to his feet and stripped with vampire speed, then lay in the bed and rubbed her lower back, soothing the pain away, as he rested his chin in the crook of her neck.

Sookie wept silent tears at the tender embrace, watching the Vampire try to soothe the pain of her first lover's betrayal.

Suddenly, the lights dimmed. When Sookie's eyes adjusted, she saw the Vampire, his pale skin glowing, sitting on the bed with his face in his hands. They all stared at the door when they heard it open, watching her younger self enter the room cautiously.

The Vampire began to speak, but his voice came out so low that both Sookies leaned forward, straining to hear the words. "Sitting here on your bed, smelling your scent," he paused, listening to Sookie's heartbeat. "Sookie . . . I remember everything."

There they were: those words. The ones she had fervently wished for even as she utterly dreaded them.

She watched panic stiffen her younger self's body, before she muttered an entirely too loud "Oh, hell," and rushed into the bathroom, slamming the door behind her.

Sookie looked from the shut door, to the beautiful, sharp-angled profile of the Viking, glowing pale in the soft light of the room. If a smile could shed tears, his would; it was the most heart-wrenching combination of happiness, smugness, amusement, and fear, all tinged with a breathtaking sorrow.

She trembled, as she remembered the pure joy she felt with the childlike and carefree memory-less Eric, and the pain of abandonment that followed. It was better to resign to being alone, than give someone the chance to leave. Better safe than sorry.

Sookie snapped out of her thoughts when her younger self finally opened the door.

The Vampire looked up and started on her. "I can't believe I—"

"Yeah, yeah, I know, loved a mere human, made all those promises, was

as sweet as pie and wanted to stay with me forever," she cut him off. She didn't have to scan the room with her eyes for an exit; her entire body screamed which choice she preferred when any fight or flight scenario loomed before her.

But he wasn't letting her get away that easily.

"I can't believe I felt something so strongly and was so happy for the first

time in hundreds of years. Give me some credit for that, too."

She froze, bracing herself for the worst. She picked a door and reached for it with hope and fear.

"Can we talk about this some other time, if we have to talk about it?" she requested. She may as well have batted her lashes and sprinkled sugar on top.

Sookie's lips curled into a sad smile as she whispered, "I'll think on it tomorrow."

"But tomorrow never came, did it, Sookie?" the Ghost whispered, and the scene faded to black.

When things came into focus again, Sookie found herself looking at her younger self, sweaty limbs and hair entwined with the Vampire hunk.

The vampire was looking at her younger self, waiting. Sookie could see the panic in her smile, the frustration and fear that her answer wasn't right.

She started rambling, but then she took a deep breath, and found the courage to ask him what he wanted. But as soon as she stepped through the door, she regretted it.

"You're mine," he said. His statement teetered between a question and a demand, and still brought him miles short of assurance.

He's asking if she'll be here tomorrow, but she's the girl who pushes tomorrow away. How can she give him something that will never be?

Her younger self finally formulated an answer. "I don't know if the—comfort—I feel with you is the blood exchange or a feeling I would've had naturally," she said. She should have known better, and kept her head down. She scrambled now to get back to the shadows, to close the door without making too much noticeable noise. "I don't know what's real and what's not."

Yes, she could almost convince herself that they weren't real. That he wasn't real.

The Vampire's pale brows knit together, the flawless, glowing skin tightening over his beautiful features as her younger self ran away from him, from them.

Sookie grimaced in Claudine's arms. "That so wasn't the right answer," she whispered, then whipped her head around to look at the Ghost. "Okay, Claudine, you've made your point," she seethed. "Take me home now. Please."

The Ghost smiled sadly at Sookie and said, "Oh no, little one, I'm afraid we have one more thing to see."

As soon as she spoke those words, the room faded away again, and they were standing in front of a hospital bed, where the younger Sookie's broken form was laying. She looked even worse than Sookie had remembered feeling. Sookie shut her eyes, but she could still see every inch of her younger self's body.

When she opened her eyes again she saw the Vampire standing next to the bed. Sookie's whole body trembled as the Vampire lifted the hospital gown, exposing the revolting damage.

"What is it, little one?" asked the Ghost.

"Oh, it was the soft spots." Sookie moaned. "All those goddamn soft spots."

They stood in silence, staring at the damage along with the Vampire, wanting but unable to look away.

When he covered her back up and walked out of the room, drowning in rage, the older Sookie followed him with her eyes, before turning to Claudine.

"Please take me home," she pleaded. "I've seen enough."

"I'm afraid I can't do that, little one."

Sookie opened her mouth to beg the Ghost to end her misery, when the door opened again. She remained silent, watching the Vampire walk past them to the bed. She stayed as she was, glaring at Claudine, refusing to turn around. The Ghost spun her around, forcing her to watch as she wrapped her arms around Sookie's shoulders for support.

The Vampire was now holding Sookie's younger self in his arms.

"Where were you?" she croaked, the hurt and anger filling the room.

The Vampire flinched and looked away, death seeping into his eyes. Sookie knew that he was staring into nothing, but she couldn't help gasping, eyes widening, as his ice blue eyes seemed to bore right through her.

She was now equal parts embarrassed and relieved that Claudine was holding her, because she steadied her body as it shook and shuddered, along the fault lines of a thousand old scars.

"Ah, but the vampire got the softest spot of them all, didn't he dearest one?"whispered the Ghost in her ear.

Sookie's only answer was a whimper and a lone, renegade tear, sliding down her cheek. She tried to blink it away as she watched her younger self continue, unrelenting.

"It's not like you were obliged to come find me … but I hoped the whole time—I hoped you would come, I prayed you would come, I thought over and over you might hear me ... "

Tears blurred Sookie's vision, even as she became vaguely aware of a warm light surrounding her. "I–I've wounded his softest spot," she murmured.

When Sookie's vision finally cleared, she saw that Claudine was glowing with an almost blinding light. The heat of it was painful, searing every crack in her carefully constructed shield. She closed her eyes tightly, trying to shut it out.

"No more! Please!" she choked out between sobs. "You're killing me."

"No, little one," said the Ghost. "I'm bringing you back to life."

Claudine placed a light kiss on each of Sookie's closed lids. Even though Claudine's lips had barely brushed against her skin, they burned like hot coals, the light branding her.

When Sookie's eyes next opened, she found herself back in the present, lying in her own bed. Just before sleep overtook her, she touched her fingers to her still-burning lids.

THE SECOND OF THE THREE SPIRITS

The ringing of bells startled Sookie out of her deep sleep. She opened her eyes cautiously to find that her room had been transformed into a Christmas wonderland – the kind she had kept locked out of her house for so long. She sat up in the bed, surveying the holly, mistletoe, blinking lights and ornaments, and gazing at the beautiful young woman who sat beside her, bluer than blue eyes staring at her, unblinking.

"Do I know you?" Sookie whispered.

"I am the Ghost of Christmas Present," the ethereal beauty said.

"Oh, right, I should have guessed as much." Sookie said, rolling her eyes. She immediately regretted her poor manners and apologized. "Sorry, I was kind of expecting you. But what I meant was – you look so familiar. Do I know you?"

"No," the Spirit said, her voice filled with sadness. "I don't believe you have laid eyes upon my kind in quite some time."

Sookie's eyebrows furrowed at this statement, which seemed to be quite accusatory in tone, but the Spirit soon interrupted her pondering.

"Come, Sookie. We must proceed. Our time is short … and we have a long road to travel."

Sookie nodded her understanding as the Ghost of Christmas Present reached for her hands. As Sookie placed her hand in the Ghost's, she was quite shocked at how warm, soft and oddly comforting the Spirit's hand was.

"Are you ready?" the Ghost asked.

Sookie could only manage another silent nod.

The room faded away; the lights, the ornaments, the mistletoe all vanished instantly. So did the bed and the ugly, yet beloved, afghan,and they were now standing in a dark parking lot, the only light coming from the building they were moving toward rapidly. As they drew closer, Sookie's eyes widened as she recognized the red neon letters that read Fangtasia.

Sookie was not surprised to hear the raucous laughter floating out of the bar. Her body stiffened as she recognized some of those voices, not particularly looking forward to seeing the flavor(s) of the day at the vampire holiday buffet.

When they finally reached the window, Sookie was surprised by the scene which unfolded before her. The bar was filled with the oddest assortment of beings, but perhaps that was what made it all the more touching. They numbered maybe fifty, with delegations from almost every Supe community: several contingencies of Weres and Shifters, goblins, witches, and, of course, the beautiful glowing vampires. Sookie was shocked and pleased to see that there were no scantily clad goth vamp hos, or heavy grinding on a crowded dance floor, like she had expected; there was just food (real, human food), and drink (True Blood for the non-breathers, of course), and laughter.

And one very striking, gracious host—tall, blond and drop-dead gorgeous.

Momentarily, Sookie found herself sitting inside, so close to the Viking on his throne that she could see the soft, golden curls of hair on his arms as they rested by his side. Try as she might, she could not look away from the joy shining in his sapphire blue eyes.

Feeling the Spirit at her side, she knew without having to ask that they were both as invisible as the air itself.

A sexy, blonde vampire, a female version of the Viking, made her way toward them.

"Master," she bowed deeply.

Taking her place beside him, she allowed him his silence for a good long time, but not forever.

"Shall we play a game, then, Master?"

He looked at her and growled, deep and soft, only meant for her ears.

"C'mon, it'll be fun. It's called yes or no."

Sookie giggled. It was strangely comforting to know that Pam still enjoyed teasing the big bad Viking.

"Oh, you can just nod, to make it easier."

He nodded.

She rubbed her hands together, her fangs running down.

"Okay, you think of something and I'll ask you any question about what you are thinking, but your answer must be yes, or no." She tapped her index finger on her ruby lips. "Hmmm… is it an animal?"

He snorted. Then nodded yes.

"Does it have a beating heart?"

A raised eyebrow. "That's debatable."

"Eric, you're not playing by the rules."

"And when have you known me to do that?"

She smirked with her eyes. "Is it stubborn?"

"Obstinate would be a more accurate description."

"Adorable?"

"Beyond compare."

"Easily broken?"

"Never again."

"Does it have a scary, nervous smile?"

"From ear to ear."

"Does it attack when cornered?"

"Viciously."

"Is it blessed with perfect breasts?"

"The most beautiful I've ever seen."

"Loyal and protective?"

"To a fault."

"Magnificent in bed?"

Her smile had spread into a wide grin by this time, but it dimmed dramatically at the look that he gave her.

"Well, it was worth a shot." She pretended to examine her nails while he turned his gaze to the door.

"It doesn't take a telepath to know exactly who you're thinking about."

His lips turned into a sad smile as he returned his eyes to hers. "Would you like a prize, Pam? Perhaps a pair of Manolos?"

"Oh, Eric. You know I prefer Jimmy Choos."

They both threw their heads back and gave into fangy peals of laughter. But, after it dissipated, his eyes returned to the door, yet again.

"Are you angry with her?"

"That would be pointless, Pamela. I may as well be angry with myself."

"And you really believe one of these years she'll show up?"

"I have to."

"You could just go to her, you know."

"No. I will not be another reaction."

"So you will just keep doing this fucked up dance?" she demanded, placing a hand on her upturned hip.

The Viking suddenly rose to his full, impressive height, grinning widely. "You know how much I love to dance, Pam. Shall we?"

Sookie was so enraptured in watching the two blond vampires glide around the floor together, that she barely noticed her viewpoint had changed. She was standing, once again, outside in the parking lot; outside, looking in. When she turned around to face the Spirit, wiping at an errant tear, she gasped at the familiar blue eyes that stared back at her, now framed in even more familiar silver waves.

"Gran?" Sookie closed the distance between them and reached for her hands. "How – when did you get here?"

"I've been here all along, child," she said. "But my life here tonight is almost over. It ends at midnight."

As soon as the Spirit spoke these words, the bells could be heard in the distance.

"Okay, where the hell are those bells coming from?" Sookie said, turning around as if looking for the source of the sound, as eleven thunderous strokes resounded around them. "There are no goddamn clock towers in Shreveport."

"Now, Sookie, I did not raise you to speak like that. The bells are a gift. Time goes by whether you listen to it or not. At least now you're taking notice."

She wrapped her arms around Sookie, both comforting her, and preventing her from turning around. They stood there like that, in silence, holding each other and watching the vampires float on the dance floor.

When the clock struck twelve, Sookie was smiling even as she tasted her own tears.

As the echoes of the last bell dissipated into the silent night, Sookie spun around, but found herself alone, once again. She sunk to the ground, filled with fear and sorrow, until she sensed a faint movement disturbing the air. She looked up, barely making out the dark form, darker than the night itself, approaching her.

THE LAST OF THE SPIRITS

The Spirit slowly glided closer without making the slightest sound. Sookie's heart ached as it drew closer and the space between them seemed to fill with misery and cold. As it neared, she was finally able to make out that it was a tall form, draped in a black, velvet cloak, darker than the night itself, with only the large, pale hands visible.

She stood there for a few moments, waiting for her final visitor to start speaking. Yet it didn't. When she realized that it was apparently waiting for her, she crossed her arms, trying to put up a brave front. "Well?"

Only silence.

She looked up at the Spirit, attempting to make out its face, but it was obscured by the hood. "So are you the Ghost of Christmas Yet To Come?"

Still no answer.

"You will be showing me shadows of the things that have not yet happened, right?"

The Spirit seemed to nod, the fabric of its hood shifting ever so slightly downward for a fraction of a second. Then, it just pointed its deathly white, index finger straight ahead.

"Okay, I guess I'll follow," Sookie mumbled, dread clinging to every pounding heartbeat that thumped against her chest.

The Spirit moved past her, and she fell behind it as it led the way. Suddenly, she found herself in its shadow, as if magnetically pulled within its cloak of darkness and despair. A comfortable feeling it was not; it seemed to suck the very life force out of her. Yet, she endured it, hoping this would be over as soon as they arrived at their destination.

The next moment, she felt the veil of doom being lifted, as she saw the Spirit move aside, revealing the ancient entrance to the Tall Pines cemetery.

The Spirit turned its shrouded face toward her before continuing into the graveyard. Sookie's heart sank lower with each step, as the Spirit led her to the most familiar row of graves. They stood there for another moment of heavy silence. And then it turned to face her, towering above her with its imposing murky stature, and reached one ghostly colorless hand into its robe, producing what looked like a bouquet of flowers, though it was obscured by the blood red tissue wrapped around it.

It spun around, as quickly as it had just turned to face her, and placed the flowers at a nearby gravestone. The Spirit stayed there, frozen in place, for what seemed like an eternity to Sookie. It was so still, it didn't even move with breath. Finally, it rose up to its full, impressive height again; yet, this did not bring any relief to our heroine, as it only proceeded to point one ashen finger at the grave.

Sookie took one terrified step forward, her entire frame trembling, from her lower lip to her toes. The Ghost just kept pointing. If she could see its eyes, Sookie was sure that they would be glaring at her.

She took a deep, calming breath, preparing to move forward, but decided against

it. "Spirit!" she implored, unable to keep the desperation from her voice. "Are you showing me the shadows of the things that will be, or are they the shadows of the things that may be?"

The Spirit remained silent and still.

She crept towards the grave, both fearful of and resigned to her task. When she finally came close enough, she shuddered as she read the letters on the headstone: Susannah Stackhouse.

She gasped when her eyes dropped further down, resting on the flowers that were placed there only moments ago. She could never forget those bizarre red flowers, or the first time she'd seen them—thinking they looked like lady's private parts—or the person who had sent them to her.

She spun around to look into the face she had ached to lay eyes upon for over twenty years,but what she saw there knocked the breath right out of her.

He was dead. Not undead. Dead, dead.

Her brain told her this, because her other two visitors had been spirits of the dearly departed. Her heart assured her of this fact, because of the dull, blank nothingness of his eyes.

She sank to her knees, the pain too overwhelming as all those wounds tore open again; a blanket of excruciating, burning bites and cuts covered her entire body.

"No! It can't be!" she cried, clutching at his robe and using it to propel herself to her feet. "You can't be finally dead!"

"Sookie, I am not finally dead," he whispered, taking her hands. "Though sometimes, I think I may as well be."

Sookie stammered, "Wh-what? What do you mean?"

"My heart stopped beating over 2,000 years ago … but I only truly died when you took your last breath, my dear heart."

He grasped her hands tighter as she swallowed this confession, hard. "When you ran away, on this night 1,000 years ago, I let you go, because I knew you had to take this journey on your own. I just never expected that you wouldn't eventually return."

She pulled her hands out of his grasp, teetering between sorrow and anger.

The sadness in his eyes was not making it easy for her to hide behind the indignation that usually made up the walls of her defenses. "What do you want me to say, Eric? That I was wrong? That I was a greedy, cold-hearted bitch who wanted everything and was pleased with nothing? That I ruined both our lives?"

He stood beside her, letting her purge her frustration and fear.

"If I had it to do over again – I don't know that I would do anything differently. I may not have the perfect life right now, but I—″

He put his finger to her lips, shushing her as he ran his other hand along her arm, attempting to calm her. "You can't return to the past and change it, dear heart.

And I wouldn't want you to."

Her lips trembled against him, eyes rimming with tears. "So, you're saying there's nothing I can do? Then what's the point of all this?"

He only stared into her eyes, ice blue melting the stormy sky.

"What do you want from me, Eric?" she demanded again. "I won't apologize for my life."

"No, that's not what I want, Sookie," he answered, in an almost inaudible whisper. "I want you to listen to your heart. And stop running."

He pulled his hands away, and replaced the cloak on his head. Sookie reached for him, grabbing one of his large, cool hands in both of hers, trying to hang on to him and the salvation that he offered. Suddenly, he began to shrink and collapse in on himself, even as she stared with terror into his blue eyes, shining eerily from underneath the cloak. His hand began to change, transform, between her own, until she found herself grasping at her bedpost.

THE END OF IT

December 31, Stackhouse residence, 9pm

Sookie opens the door, grinning wide at the sight of one of her best friends, before being pulled into the cool, slim arms for an embrace, still amazed at the amount of affection that she shared with this vampire. The only vampire who had remained in her life.

"Pam," she breathes into her hair. "It's so good to see you."

Pam nuzzles at her hair, then pulls her back to arm's length. "My little telepathic friend… you are looking well."

Sookie pulls away from her scrutinizing appraisal, and reaches for Pam's hand, leading her into the living room. They sit down, waiting for their threesome to be completed by Amelia.

This was a long held tradition – over twenty years in the making. It started right after Sookie had closed off all ties to the Supe world, including the one tie to which she was eternally bonded.

She always joked that leaving Eric really was like a divorce, even though they were never legally married (at least by human law); he got Pam for Christmas, Sookie got her for New Year's.

Sookie leans in conspiratorially, "So, Pam, you wouldn't believe the crazy dream I had on Christmas Eve. You were in it," she tells her with waggling brows.

"Oh?" Pam raises one eyebrow, intrigued. "What was I wearing?"

Sookie giggles. "Oh, I'm sure you had a fabulous pair of pumps on, but I was a bit too distracted to notice. Though, you were promised some Jimmy Choos."

The doorbell interrupts them. Sookie goes to let Amelia in while Pam heads to the kitchen to grab refreshments, True Blood for herself, a chilled bottle of champagne for the breathers who had somehow wormed their way into her undead heart.

A few drinks, and many giggles later, Pam poses the question they all know is coming. "So, ladies, what are we going to pretend to resolve to do this year?"

Pam had always found this human custom amusing – the making of promises that would never be kept, perhaps not even intended to be kept.

After another round of giggles, Sookie raises her glass and speaks solemnly. "This year, I'd like to try something a little different." She continues after waving off the snorts and dubious raised eyebrows of her confidants. "I resolve to stop hiding from my true heart's desire. And to stop running."

Her friends' snickers turn to full-out cackles.

She huffs and slams her drink down on the table. "What's so funny, Pam?"

The vampire wipes at her eyes and settles down. "Oh, nothing," she says with a smirk then lifts her bottle of True Blood. "Here's to the new Sookie! May god bless us all!"

Sookie lifts her glass to her friends and downs the rest of the drink. Then she kisses each girl on the cheek and walks out the door.

Her car is chugging along that old abandoned road, the one that is overrun with the potholes of so many memories – they ache, particularly on this night. It almost feels like she's making a pilgrimage. But she's barely halfway there, when her excitement is suddenly soured by incredulity as the car begins to protest. The anger and frustration rise in her in direct proportion to the slowing of the dying engine, until it blows up when the car backfires and screeches to a halt.

January 1, Fangtasia parking lot, 1 a.m.

The night air is biting cold, even penetrating his undead skin. But it was so every New Year's Eve since they had parted. He leans back against the red Corvette, not yet ready to go back in and face the clinging crowds of inebriated vermin.

This night is sacred.

It had become special after his memories of that one New Year's had returned over twenty years ago; of the year that he had run, bare and exposed, right into her arms. After he watched her run out of his arms, it had become holy.

The harsh neon lights of the bar were buzzing, grating on his heightened vampire senses, disturbing the silence of the night which was only otherwise broken by the sound of the occasional car speeding by. He breathes in the night one last time before heading in; an all too human action on this night, the only night of the year when he allows himself to feel the final death of his humanity.

He pauses, his hand hovering above the door handle when he hears the chugging of a choking car in the distance, followed by a bang as it backfires. It's a long way off though, barely within the Shreveport city limits. He shrugs it off and returns inside.

***

The Sheriff had been sitting at his throne for what seemed like an eternity, even for him. New Year's Eve was always the worst night at Fangtasia, because he was stuck enthralling the vermin all by himself, his child having the night off for girl's night. He would almost find it amusing, if it didn't leave him holding the vile end of the vermin stick all by himself.

Tonight he would not feed, preferring to wallow in his unquenchable hunger. He sinks down into himself, almost able to block out the room entirely, only reacting with a swift kick to the occasional fangbanger who dares to intrude into his space.

The night is finally approaching its conclusion, at that crucial point where the crowd intensifies and swells before dispersing, when he hears it. His ears perk at the sound of familiar human footsteps only his vampire hearing could pick up

They are unsure and unsteady, rapidly approaching. Running. Scared.

And then his nostrils flare to take in that delicious sweet scent. Even more delicious than he remembered. She's close by, closer than she has been for many years. Almost an eternity.

The thousand year old Vampire swallows hard at the sight of the woman running into the crowded bar. She's tiny, curvy and delicious—caramel skin and buttercream hair.

And she's half naked, running for her life. At three o'clock in the morning on January first.

He leans forward in his throne ever so slightly, trying to convince himself he is not hallucinating, or fantasizing.

He drinks her in as she shoves the crowd aside, rushing toward him.

She's a mess: her flushed face is framed by a tangle of blond curls, and the sweater that may have been white at some point in the evening is torn and stained, stretching and heaving most enticingly with her panting breaths. Though he appreciates the way the jeans cling tightly to all the right places, he is not happy to see how torn and muddy their bottoms are, and even worse, the bare and bloody feet below.

She has made her way through the drunken crowd, and now stands before his throne, waiting. His eyes travel back up her body, to meet her eyes, and they begin to sway together to the beat of their old familiar song.

He is on his feet in an instant, reaching out to touch her with reverence and concern; he is verifying that it really is flesh and bones in front of him, and not just a shadow of a memory, while his hands roam over every unforgotten curve, inspecting for physical damage.

He thinks of all the times he sat there, waiting for her return, of all the things he'd imagined that he would say. But now, his world is beyond words; it is reduced to warm smooth skin, sweet, panting breath, and a heartbeat that pumps life through his veins.

"Is everything okay?" he breathes into her skin, praying without daring to hope that she will finally relent, and say that yes, it is.

She answers him the only way she can, her body molding into his, pressing her truth into him.

Their kiss is sun-ripened strawberries and salty ocean spray – sweet and tender and heartbroken and earth-shattering and home.

But then the tempo changes again.

He pulls away and breathes against her lips. "What are you doing here?"

"Isn't it obvious? I'm running for my life."

"Well, you are very good at that," he teases. "But you still haven't answered my question."

She reaches for his cheek, stroking it as her truth bell tolls. "I'm here to get a head start for my New Year's resolution. See, I'm not very good at keeping my resolutions. So, I figured, there's no time like the present."

She's babbling, and she knows it.

He's still waiting for his answer.

She smiles and tastes her tears all at once. "Ask me what my resolution was?" she takes his hands, her smile growing wider.

He's happy to play his part. "What was your resolution?"

"To stop running!" she answers him, as self-satisfied as the star pupil, eagerly waving her hand.

His hands run up and down her arms, amusement flashing in his eyes. "I hate to break it to you, lover, but it looks like you've been doing nothing but running."

"Well, yeah, but this time I'm not running away."

THE END

A/N: So… what did ya think? I'm *dying* to know!

BTW – The poem quoted in the summary comes from Thomas Hardy's Her Immortality. There's a link in my profile if you want to read the full poem.