Dead to Love

By: Demon Tsunami

A/N: This is set in Season Two, during the episode where Godric dies, I always felt that was a senseless waste of a hot character, not to mention the fact that the Bill/Sookie romantic arch was already getting pretty repetitive by that point, she trusts him, she doesn't, he tries, he fails, his ex is psychotic, we get it, let's move on, preferably to something hot, blonde, and Viking. Anywho, this is my take on how I would've liked to see that episode turn out, told from Sookie's POV. Fair warning, I only watch the show, I haven't read the books.

'In the middle of a gun fight...
In the center of a restaurant...
They say, "Come with your arms raised high!"
Well, they're never gonna get me,
Like a bullet through a flock of doves...
To wage this war against your faith… in me,
Your life...will never be the same.'
-My Chemical Romance

Prolog: Fooled You…

Starting is easy, but beginning is hard, Gran used to say it, and I know that as long is the sky is blue and the grass is green, Gran is probably right. It's one of those 'just is' things. Anyone can be smart, but my grandmother was wise, and right now, I'm yearning for that wisdom, that guidance, the love wrapped around every word, harsh or praiseful. I think I'll always miss her, but as she would likely say, 'Sookie, stop blabbering and start talking'. Alright Gran, I'm on it.

I know where this all started, at Merlotte's, when a tall, ruggedly handsome vampire sauntered in, and stole my heart from the first whispered Sookie, and boy can Bill talk, like a Louisiana night his voice is hot, thick, and full of mystique, with that gravel undercurrent that keeps you grounded, I used to think the whole world was right when he said my name, Sookie, like a damned prayer, or a reverent plea, it used to make me feel like a Woman, from my painted toes to my blonde as sunshine hair, it used to make my body sing and my head empty, until there was nothing but Bill and I, just us two, in this perfect gossamer bubble, suspended in paradise. Of course, it just started with Bill Compton, but I suppose it began with Eric Northman. Although, that particular Viking has enough of a ego, so I'd rather not let on as much to him, so to be fair, or noncommittal, and to save myself from another Always Right Eric grin, I'm going to just tell everyone it really began with Godric.

The first thing I think of when I see Godric is serenity, not a usual vampire associated word, scary and treacherous come to mind, but not with Godric, from his nearly black doe eyes to his twisting tar black tattoos, the slender, ancient vampire makes me feel as safe and serene as soaking in the sunshine with a glass of ice tea at my side and Gran cooking in the kitchen. Protected, happy, and Lord do I need a solid dose of happy, being around vampire politics sucks a lot of enjoyment out of life, and sometimes it just sucks, period. Speaking of sucking, that is precisely how I got myself into trouble, or out of it, depending on who you ask. Don't ask me, I'm a victim of my own life, seriously…

When that bomb went off, spraying chunks of that poor Fellowship of the Sun fanatic everywhere, amidst bits of silver, shrapnel, and explosive, I thought I was a goner. There was no human way to save myself, I was too close to the detonation, too vulnerable to the debris, and way too damn slow to avoid anything, being human has that disadvantage I suppose. There was a vampire way to save myself, although I didn't expect that to pan out, Bill was nowhere to be found, and I figured that eliminated that option on principle, not many vampires like to risk their lives for blonde bar waitresses, they wouldn't have lived so very long if they made it common practice. Okay, time to swallow my pride and just spit it out: Eric Northman saved my life.

Yes, that Eric Northman, the devilishly gorgeous, leather jacket wearing, narcissistic, self centered egotist actually risked himself for me, and boy howdy, color me all shades of shocked. It was dusty, more than dusty, it was hell, smoke and cinders, wails of agony and death, splatters of blood and other yuckier remnants I'd rather not discuss, it looked like someone had taken Godric's beautiful home and let Chucky redecorate. Splinters of wood, hazy faces in the plumes of grey ash and smoke, the scent of explosives and blood in the air, and Eric Northman, beautiful vampire extraordinaire, splayed on the carpet like some fallen angel, his pale blue eyes wide in pain. There are some moments that you'd like to freeze frame, rewind, and begin anew, some that just aren't meant to be, or so it feels at the time, but when Eric rasped, in his convincing, pain filled voice that he was dying, dying because of me, I didn't give a single thought to denying him, not one. Damn that's hard to own up to, and I hope to heaven Gran's up there right now nodding her head in approval, because admitting how easy stupid can come to me sometimes, is a darn right humbling process.

He told me he was dying, and no matter how insufferable or annoying he'd been, no matter our numerous differences, I knew the world would be poorer for the loss of Eric Northman, his beauty, his flirtatious nature, his love for his maker, all gone, dissolved into blood and organ goo, just because he'd wrapped me in his arms and shielded me from that blast. However, the only thing grosser than watching a vampire die, in my personal opinion, is being told to suck bullets out of bleeding wounds, that's right, it's icky, as in, the top line of EWWWW. I don't care how nicely sculpted his chest is, how magnetic those blue eyes can be, especially when filled with vulnerability and pain, the end of the line is: laying down and playing doctor with Eric was the nastiest, grossest, vilest thing I've ever done, and believe me, that's saying something.

The bullets were warmer than his blood, thick metal chunks I gripped in my teeth and spat on the floor like chewing tobacco, and his blood was no picnic either, it tasted like sucking on a dirty penny, it made me feel like I was a champion boxer right before a match, all high and giddy as it soaked into my blood stream, but it still tasted like licking a penny. Not pleasant. Later, much later, I heard Eric was grinning as I did this, pleased as the cat with the canary; apparently my doing so turned the sadomasochistic bastard on, and can I just say, what a treacherous a-hole!

Ahem, sorry Gran, but that's as true as me being stupid.

Moving on. The Eric Northman's Oscar performance wasn't at its completion, I figured sucking out the bullets would allow him to recover, to heal, and I think my poor stomach dropped to about knee level when he informed me (using a good century's worth of acting skills, the prick) that it wasn't, that he needed my blood, that he was still too weak, too injured to heal himself, convincing me he wasn't out of danger yet. Why doesn't someone just go ahead and paint gullible hick on my forehead, then no one would doubt Jason and I were related, and maybe I wouldn't be so surprised every time I prove it to be true.

In other words, I bought it, hook line and sinker.

It's not just his looks, although those probably don't hurt, it's his eyes, his voice, his everything, Eric is usually one arrogant, teasing, domineering, cryptic jerk, but right then, right there, he looked like one of those angel mosaics people put up in stain glass windows at church. Saintly, beautiful, and sort of sad, and all three of those on him, put together, had me kneeling in the dirt, blood, and silver debris to offer my wrist, wincing as he tore my flesh, lips clasping my wrist, throat swallowing my blood in gulps, as he drank, and drank, and drank…and HEY. I pulled back, scowling, as he smirked at me wickedly while licking his lips in a suggestive manner, eyes filled with wonder and delight. You know that phrase 'give someone an inch and they'll take a mile'? The person who came up with that must have known Eric Northman.

Suddenly, playtime, or as I like to call it, fool Sookie time was over, Eric sprang up like someone had lit a fire under his finely shaped ass, eyes wild and frantic. Later, Godric explained he'd been shielding his child, keeping Eric from knowing his pain, because he'd been observing my administrations and saw no dire need to interfere. I don't blame him, interfering is sort of hard with a three foot metal pipe going through the middle of your rib cage, and he could sense Eric's pain as well, although in his unstable state, he had a hard time separating the two, and therefore gauging how truly bad off Eric was (join the club), it was only when his strength was well past weakened that his mental block dropped, and Eric felt every inch of his maker's agony flare through his ancient body. That's why he shot up faster than a July 4th firecracker, dragging (yes dragging) me along for the ride in a super fast vampire movement by my freshly bitten wrist (which hurt by the way, badly, I might add) towards his fallen maker, who stared up at us both with pain glazed, nearly unseeing eyes. To Eric, he gave a soft, fatherly smile, a smile of utter peace, his hand reaching out as if to smooth the horror from the Viking's features. As if to say, this is alright, this is what I want. But Eric was having none of that, no way, no sir.

"Heal him!" He growled, nearly breaking my bones as he shook me, my head flopping like a fish in his violent grasp. I would've done so right then and there, but he was panicking, I believe, and felt the need to add, "Do this Sookie, or I will end you as he dies." Sheesh, what a charmer. I sympathize with Pam, if she has to put up with this sort of thing all the time it's no wonder she's always cranky.

"Eric," Godric's weak, musical lilt reached us, chastening his emotional child's behavior, eyes amused through the glaze of agony. The blonde, furious and frantic, ignored his maker in favor of forcing my wrist to his lips, misery and dread etched across every plane of his handsome face, his lips quickly whispering a foreign prayer as he waited for Godric to drink from my still bleeding wound. Brown eyes met mine in askance, even as Eric began to growl cruel threats in my ear, body pressed alongside mine as he kept my dripping wrist at his maker's lips, promising me worse than death should I fail either of them, like I said: A-hole. I watched as my blood dripped on pale lips, inviting him to drink, to heal, but even then, Godric refused to accept it, to open his mouth and swallow, his brown eyes pinned on mine, waiting.

"Please!" I yelled above the din of noise the explosion's aftermath carried, my own eyes tearing as I thought of how horrible it would be to lose Godric, the nicest vampire I'd ever met, the one who'd saved me from Bill's nasty ex, who'd ensured all those humans lived, just to be subjected to this. The pipe in his chest was horrifying, coated in a thick layer of blood, and his stomach and pants were dyed a sickly rust red. His already fair skin was bleached far too pale, even for a vampire. "Do it, please, I want you to!" I pleaded, pressing my skin further into his lips than even Eric's brutal grip had done. A few drops pressed through the fleshy barrier, allowing my taste into his mouth. I noticed the moment he decided, at that very instant his nostrils flared, and with a look of regret flashing so quickly I nearly believed it an illusion, brown eyes fluttered shut in acceptance and his now elongated fangs pierced my already torn flesh.

As I writhed in pain, my wrist being suckled at by a man who was alive before Jesus, Eric worked on getting the pipe from Godric's chest, his thick, corded muscles bulging as he ripped it free, spraying the three of us with Godric's blood, and I'm ashamed to admit, I think some of it got into my mouth. I mean, I was panting in pain okay, I wasn't focusing on Eric, I was focusing on OWE! It was an honest mistake, anyone could've done it, but don't try and tell Bill Compton that, the control freak. As far as he's concerned, I should've denied them both, I mean, Eric I understand, the overdramatic whiner would've made it, little did I know at the time, but still…

However, Godric was going to die, really die, if I didn't step up to plate, and pardon me, but no one else was volunteering. He was real polite about it too, nice even, (unlike a certain blonde playboy) only drinking what he had to out of absolute necessity, even as a still rather painful looking hole remained in his chest, healing slowly but surely yet not fully recovered, he stopped, his brown eyes clouded with blood lust, and yet, he stopped. Godric was a proper gentleman, licking the wound closed (and not in a wanton fashion like one might expect, or I expect, given my experiences with Bill) but in a nearly clinical manner. Then, with his own blood still spilling on his jeans from a wound that had yet to heal fully, he gave me one of those magnanimous Godric smiles, his eyes afire like amber jewels.

"Thank you, Sookie," he near whispered, awe in his tone, "You are very kind." I nodded, exchanging a smile with the mysterious, and confusing vampire before one of his subordinates came up to inform him of the damage and casualties. That was my cue to scowl at Eric.

"Are you sure he made you?" I demanded, still pissed at the blonde. "I mean, really, cuz you two are nothing alike." I had to ask, because as far as I can tell Godric and Eric are as similar as night and day, one's a selfless purist, and the others a selfish prick. Opposites. It's like they're from totally different poles, hemispheres, planets even, that Godric was responsible for someone like Eric just didn't seem to fit. Like a square block trying to go in a circle hole.

Eric gave me his sexy 'aren't I cute' grin that he likes to flash like some sort of 'get out of trouble free card' (which by the way, does not work on me) and uttered in a smug, teasing way, "Would I lie?" My eyes narrowed, because asking if Eric lies is like asking if the sun will rise tomorrow, better chance than not. Given his previous performance, he better thank his lucky stars I wasn't aware of how bad he had lied or he would've gotten more than a slap across the face. My palm connected to his face with a crack, and it felt like smacking a brick, to be perfectly honest, it probably hurt me more than it hurt him. He seemed stunned, fangs distended, eyes narrowed as he slowly turned back to face me, violence in his stare.

"I am not a drink box!" I yelled at him, "You don't go around offering me to your friends as you please! Don't you grin at me mister, you're a right pig!" I smacked his chest for good measure, well past the point of pissed. He smirked, snatching my wrist with his vampire speed which is so cheating.

"I love it when you talk feisty," he purred, giving me his best, (and alright, sexiest) slow smile, his thumb lightly tracing the pulse in my wrist. I yanked free, furious, my pony tail cracking like a whip as I spun, stomping off in pure frustration, and smacking right dab into a solid, familiar chest as I did so.

"Sookie," in his mouth, my name sounds exotic, sensual, his large hands cupping my cheeks, "Thank goodness you're alright." Blue eyes poured over me, assessing every gash, every drop of blood, every blonde hair out of place, and then, as if a switch was flicked, his expression morphed to violent hostility and Bill began to growl, a low, angry noise in the back of his throat. Suddenly our sweet reunion wasn't so sweet, the relief I felt at seeing him alive and well vaporized like fog beneath a summer sun, as if it never was to begin with.

"Where is he?"Bill hissed, lips pulled back to reveal his glittering white teeth, his eyes were murderous, his grip on my face wasn't even comforting anymore, it was almost painful, full of tension. He looked like a man on edge, panic in his eyes so acute it was nearly as bad as Eric's expression when he believed Godric was dying the true death. Pure, undiluted fear mixed with a good amount of old fashioned dread.

"Who?" My tone is as blank as my head, when Bill's that close, I can't function properly, let alone think coherently. He snarls again, shaking me out of my 'I love my vampire boyfriend' haze. I was so happy to see him too, so glad that he was okay. Then I start thinking again, and all that happiness fades.

"Eric," He hissed the name like a filthy curse, no longer looking at me, heck, I wasn't even there to be looked at. He'd suddenly shoved me behind his tall frame with vampiric speed, his hand barring me from moving from where I was pressed against his back, sapphire eyes trained on the taller, smirking vampire leaning ever-so-nonchalantly against a still mostly intact wall across from us, arms crossed, chest bare and framed in black leather, arrogantly smug and posed like some GQ model at a photo shoot. He has no right looking so gorgeous while being bloody and shirtless; it's a crime against nature, pure and simple.

Anyway, Eric has a look on his face like he just got everything he wanted for Christmas and then some, and being Eric, he wasn't about to pass on an opportunity to be antagonistic, "She's exquisite," he all but purred, "I believe I'm starting to see the fascination." I don't think he could've provoked Bill more if he'd tried.

"Sookie is mine!" Bill lunged rashly, blinded by jealous fury, only to swatted back by Eric like an annoying fly, thrown into the wall to my left, plaster raining like snow in his midnight hair. The would-be attack only seemed to amuse the older vampire further, luckily for Bill.

"Careful," Eric warned, eyes alight with mirth while he licked his lower lip sensually, "I just might be tempted to change that." This time, I held Bill back, stepping in front of my boyfriend with a bone to pick of my own.

"You will not," I told him indignantly, earning an amused appraisal from the caustic vampire, "You listen here Eric Northman, I just saved your life, the least you can do is behave!" I don't know which part made him laugh harder, that I actually believed he would've died without my assistance, or that I actually thought he'd behave. Both were pretty ridiculous, thinking back on it.

"Sookie," Bill began gruffly, eyes full of skeptical pity, "You did not save Eric's life."

"The hell I didn't," was my outraged sputter, I still had his blood around my mouth from when I sucked bullets from his chest for crying out loud, there was no doubt in my mind that I'd just spared the Sherriff from true death, he should be groveling, thankfully, not provoking my boyfriend. Eric's crystal blue eyes met mine from across the sparse distance, and I fought the urge to strangle him as I recognized the mockery that danced in their depths.

"Actually," his smirk was so irritating, "I may have exaggerated the seriousness of my condition," he flashes me a wolfish grin, teeth exposed, "slightly."

"I sucked silver bullets from your chest! I drank your icky blood!" I squealed in post-traumatic hyperventilation, horror engulfing me as my mind tries to process the sheer wrongness of this all. Eric was on cloud nine and naturally, Bill didn't help matters.

"You did what?" He snapped, eyeing me as if I've grown a third eye, and I gave him the dirtiest look I could muster, complete with lip curling.

"I nearly died," a meaningful look at Eric, "for real, and that-that-that…!" My Gran raised me to be a lady, and so my brain groped for something that described the sheer of audacity of what I felt that didn't counteract with my good upbringing, "jerk saved my life, he took three silver bullets for me, I honest to God thought he was dying!" I pleaded with Bill for understanding, for compassion, for forgiveness, eyes filling with tears, burning with betrayal, "You Prick!" I added towards the now positively smug Eric Northman, his eyes roving my heaving chest in male appreciation.

"This is more serious than you know," Bill uttered gravely, his expression intense, entirely indiscernible in emotion to my desperately searching eyes, "He will be able to sense you now, know your emotions, where ever you go, he will be able to find you," Bill's words are harsh, laced with loss, tinted by regret, his lips pull downward as he says the last, eyes hard with jealous rage, "You will dream of him, desire him," his voice was all gravel then, no sweet crone to lessen the pain his callous words fill me with, "I warned you of his treachery, and still you fell prey to his manipulation."

Shame is like an itchy wool blanket, it envelopes a person, thick and uncomfortable. I couldn't breathe, I couldn't think, all I felt was wrong, lost, like I'd suddenly been walked to the gallows and told to jump, with the noose hanging tightly around my neck.

"I will never forgive you," I told Eric, my chest heaving, eyes slitted in fury at the knowledge that this entire hopeless situation was the product of his selfish impulse. I let myself fill with a righteous anger, let it cook and bubble in my gut at the thought of how much his actions would cost me, both then and there, and in my future as well. It shocked me how easily Eric had taken from me, used me, all for his own twisted amusement, I knew he wasn't exactly choir boy material, but this was way beyond anything he'd done to me so far, this was unforgivable.

"You were superb," he complimented with a wink, and Lord help me, I never wanted to throttle a man so much in my entire life, undead or otherwise. I stomped my foot, letting out a frustrated cry of pure, guttural irritation with the vampire before me. He turned to Bill, the picture of false innocence, "You know, you're right, I can feel her."

"I can't do this," I announced to them both, flinging up my hands for emphasis, "I need to find Jason." How could I have forgotten Jason was there as well? At that point, finding my brother was a blessed distraction, and a desperately needed one. I left them to their vampire politics, deceit, and possessive male tendencies with a distraught glare in both their directions, not turning back once to see how my exit had affected them.

True, untainted relief flooded me as I discovered Jason's familiar, and safe, profile across the room, that nearly blank, yet simultaneously grateful and awed look on his face as he stared at the surrounding carnage, thankfully unharmed. I rushed to him, arms wrapping about his leanly muscled form like we were still kids, the scent of his cologne flooding me, memories of family, home, warmth, all of them coming too quickly to be stemmed off. The sum of their emotional pull was almost strong enough to break through the broken remains of my crumbling façade of outward calm, but I refused to be reduced to a sobbing mess, not there, not then. Jason held me as if he knew I needed to be kept together, squeezing me as if he could make the pieces stay, he may not be the brightest, but when it matters most, my big brother is there for me, willing to protect me, loving me in his own, understated way.

He began mumbling apologies into my hair, calling the Fellowship of the Sun a bunch of 'fuckers' (his words Gran, not mine) cursing them for their treachery, for his own stupid belief in their bigoted practices and delusional justifications. At that moment I knew exactly what it felt like to be taken in by a bunch of people you thought you could trust. My forgiveness was swift, unconditional, the boy once let himself get talked into wearing a dress on Sunday for Pete's sake, he wasn't exactly NASA material, and people like those bigots at the FoTS would only have preyed on that. Much like a certain century year old vampire had preyed on my naivety, used it against me, making me do something I would've never, ever done of my own free will. I understood Jason's regrets perfectly, because at that moment, they reflected my own perfectly.

"Let's go," I implored. Jason, God bless him, stared at me in that dazed manner that showed he was trying to work something out in that empty storage space he uses for a brain. Okay, so maybe that's less than gracious, but older brother or not, that boy's skull is filled with rocks, rocks and good intentions, but mostly rocks.

"What about Bill?" He gave me that lost, puppy dog look that never fails to make Tara smile, his eyebrows drawing downward as he took in the state of me, bloodied, clothes torn, hair a wild dust and debris filled mess. "He got out okay, didn't he?" Any other time, I would've marveled at the genuine concern in Jason's voice, he'd never exactly been supportive of Bill and I, but even a blind man could see he was set on trying, maybe something good did come out of the FoTS after all.

"Yes," was my clipped response, expression disgruntled.

"Shouldn't we wait for him?" Jason shifted from foot to foot, scratching his sandy brown hair with his fingers as he tried to suss out what was going on with Bill and I that my attitude has suddenly shifted so much on his behalf. I shook my head, the lank tendrils of blonde hair from my pony tail smacking my face as I dismissed the suggestion.

"He'll catch up." I didn't want company, not the sort that would put demands on me anyhow. Jason was blissfully simple, a reprieve from all the other men in my life.

So to keep myself busy, and my thoughts off what had just transpired, I meditated on the bath I so badly needed. All I could think about right then was a good long soak, to sit a spell and wash off all the grime, blood, and shame on my skin, to let the bubbles and steamy bath water just marinate my troubles away, soothe out the stiffness and pain in both my body and soul, not to mention the pain in my suddenly bruised heart. Gran told me soaking up sun and water was like medicine for the soul, it cleansed a person, washed them of their troubles, and seeing as there wasn't much sun to be found in the middle of the night in Dallas, Texas, I'd settle for a good amount of hot water and a few of those bath oils.

We ended up making it into a cab at the end of the street that drove us straight to the vampire hotel we'd been staying at, I didn't even blink as I sauntered up to the front desk, smiling my working girl smile, all sweet country charm, and told the unimpressed and perpetually unfazed receptionist standing there to get my brother a room, and to put it on Eric Northman's bill. As far as I was concerned, the bastard owed me.

Jason blinked in confusion at the name I gave the posh brunette woman behind her thick, glossy black counter, but then shrugged it off with his usual good natured ambivalence, apparently deciding it wasn't worth the comment. He was eyeing the whole place curiously, like a country kid thrust into a big city for the first time, his eyes seemed to get more and more saucer-like the farther we went, and by the time I handed him his key card he looked plain old dumb struck, and slightly over whelmed. I patted his shoulder in reassurance and promised him I'd come and get him as soon as I'd freshened up. Pacified, he had a fine time playing with the key card, eyes lighting up as the thick black door swung open, a boyish grin of delight spreading across his tanned face as he gave a long, impressed whistle at the nicely decorated interior, before running into the room gung ho and leaping feet first onto the snow white bed that occupied the far wall. I left him to his explorations, knowing any damage he caused while playing with things would be charged to Eric's bill, and that thought made me smile for the first time that night.

Back in my own room I shed my filthy clothes, stripping them from me with careless abandon and tossing them in a heap on the bathroom tile before filling the white porcelain tub with a surplus of steamy, oil scented water. I immersed in the water with a croaked groan, every sore point in my body began to soothe at the heated temperature. Somewhere in the midst of lavender soap, grapefruit conditioner, and rose bath oils, lethargy began sneaking up on me. It started with my feet, then my legs, spreading to my belly, back and shoulders, my body going lax, limp, the warm water lapping at my freshly scrubbed skin like a tender lover, the flowery scent of roses mixed with a tang of citrus enveloping my senses, causing me to breathe deeply and lean my head back against the cool porcelain, the contrast of cool and warm delicious on my sore, overworked body. Kidnapping, almost rape, and near death experiences can take a lot out of a girl.

Somewhere, distantly, I registered Bill's entrance into our shared room, but instead of my natural reaction of relief and comfort, I just felt queasy, uncertain, and even more shocked that one night could so completely change my reactions to him, to the man I loved. Lorena aside, his earlier judgment had been swift and absolute, and I realized, sinking farther into my cocoon of sudsy water, he'd hurt me with his careless words, damaged something in our relationship that I was too darn tuckered out to try and figure out, let alone fix. Tomorrow, I told myself, I'd think about that tomorrow. Gran would've laughed and called me Scarlet O'Hara for putting things off like that.

It wasn't long until the steamy water and long night took its toll, submersing me in a hazy, unconscious state, my body limp, my brain drifting into slumber.

When my eyes flicker open, I'm swathed in the sensation of cool silk, velvety soft muscle, and a heavy weight across my very bare belly, a man's arm, to be exact, and the fact that it doesn't look at all like Bill's, my rightful boyfriend and lover, jolts my heart into a thudding tempo of confusion. In fact, a quick cursory evaluation reveals I've got a lot bigger problems than a naked belly, as in a naked everything else, and a smug, equally underdressed Viking wrapping his two hundred plus pounds of gloriously cool muscle around me like a human blanket, his mirth filled aqua eyes boring into me expectantly, his dexterous fingers toying with the smooth flesh of my shoulder, tracing the silky texture of my hair.

"This is not funny," I mumble, disgusted, or so I should be. He cocks his head, letting me pull away from his explorative embrace with a wry, quirky smirk, his eyes glittering in predatory delight as my seated position puts my far too exposed breasts at his eye level, making matters worse instead of better. There's a peculiar blush enflaming my cheeks, tinting them apple red, a deep, pooling heat building in places that have no business responding to Eric Northman!

"Do you have any idea how pissed I am at you?" I hiss, snatching the silk sheet and clutching it to my chest like a life preserver. Eric's looks are dangerous as a rule, naked Eric is a lethal assault on my senses, and even his dream self is aware of it, smugly raising his leg so white silk cascades like rippling cream from his ivory skin, riding devilishly low on his muscled thigh, I can't resist the temptation to peek, although it'll probably be the ruin of me. Cad that he is, he notices, lips twisting in satisfaction.

"Why don't you show me?" He suggests in a fiery purr, raising his eyebrows in expectation. Oh boy, he's even insufferable in my dreams. Sexy, flirtatious, but undeniably insufferable, and heaven help me, I am suffering.

"Why are we naked?" I ignore his suggestion petulantly; I won't cheat on Bill, even in my sleep. A slow, lazy smile spreads across his features, his distended fangs proving he's excited, and causing me to swallow convulsively.

"Because while possible, lovemaking while dressed is rather less than enjoyable," he supplies in a wickedly arousing manner, voice like sin and damnation, his lips quirk in amusement, "We could always try it, though, I do enjoy a challenge..." Boy howdy, Lord have mercy and ect…

"Stop seducing me!" I protest in outrage, only to earn myself an amused chuckle from my naked companion. He slowly slides his hand across the silk, fingers stroking, toying, the most obscenely suggestive look in his eyes, and my breath grows labored as I imagine white silk being replaced by bronze flesh, my flesh, to be exact, all that wondrous control and experience lavished on me, it's more than tempting, it's nearly irresistible. Crap and corruption.

"Stop letting me," he suggests, arching a blonde eyebrow in challenge. I suck in a greedy, shaky inhale, fighting the excess amount of heat in my belly, the tingling need building at the apex of my thighs. Think of Bill, I tell myself desperately, and only Bill.

"Don't you dare," I warn, pointing a finger at him so he can see how very serious I'm being, "this is all your fault, you big faker." His teeth catch the extended digit, velvet tongue stroking the flesh before I can yip and snatch my poor, tingling finger back.

"Big, yes," he half growls, arms snaking about my middle, fingers grasping the lush curve of my hips, his bright blue eyes bear into me, piercing me, "But there will be no faking tonight, lover." His grin is pure sex, temptation and desire, "When you scream my name," he adds, hands massaging my hips in a totally unfair way, "there'll be no more faking," his thumb brushes my lower lip, voice a husky purr, "no more denying."

"The only way I'm screaming your name is if you don't quit molesting me, you oversexed Neanderthal!" His eyes brighten further, nearly feverish as in my temper I foolishly allow the silk to slip from me, white fabric dripping down to reveal perky sun kissed skin, and erect, rose hued nipples.

"Your lips say no," he growls, voice thick with arousal, and suddenly I was beneath him, his face inches from mine, his sweet breath pouring over my face, his hard thigh nestled between my legs, "But your body says Eric, fuck me until I can't stand."

"You have such a dirty mouth," my voice is too breathless, too needy, even though I'm trying to be stern and disapproving. He grins roguishly, triumph etched on his full, pouty lips. His extended fangs glint in the candle light, eyes on my neck. I realize his intentions a moment too late, his head flashing down, fangs piercing skin.

"ERIC!" I woke up so suddenly the water in the tub sloshed violently, spilling over the sides in a frothy frenzy. My arms flailing, legs kicking, mouth gasping, it takes me a good solid minute to realize I'm not in some silk covered bed, but in fact, still in the bath, my fingers raisened by the long amount of time I've been soaking. The once warm water had grown tepid, nearly cold.

Bill was there, hooded blue eyes watching me, my dress in his large hands, a pained and yet angry look on his face, lips thin, jaw tense. I swallowed, wincing as I slid back, my hand fluttering uselessly towards my flushed face, I could only imagine what conclusion he derived from my shouted cry, my traitorous mouth screaming another man's name, my body trembling, flushed with rage and to my utter shame, desire. Well shit.

"Bill I'm so-"

"We've got company," he cuts me off, dropping a lilac sundress on the counter, his eyes, usually so warm, are like molten glass. They only reflect, not letting me glimpse what lies beneath. A pair of strappy sandals drop from his fingers next, echoing hollowly on the floor, shortly followed by a selection of white lace under things, the cynical side of me couldn't help but wonder if that was a subtle reminder of who'd had me first, of the virgin girl I'd once been. A lump of distress started to build in my stomach.

"I wasn't-" I tried again, eager to defend myself, to let him know the worst wasn't true, but he sighed, giving me a look of such betrayal my heart lodged in my throat, blocking off my words.

"Don't, Sookie, just don't," his tone was weary, world worn, like a man who'd given up. It made me angry, his psychotic ex comes in and tries to kill me and he's playing victim? What about how he spent the day and night with her, while I was being held prisoner and then nearly raped? As Tara would say, oh hell no.

"Later," He said gruffly, giving me a meaningful look, probably sensing my emotions through the bond, the cheat, and when was he going to enlighten me to all the lovely side effects of blood sharing? I've started to suspect sometime around never, which is just plain deceitful. Gran would agree, she always told me a lie by omission was a lie someone tried to give a long name to, didn't mean it was less of a lie, it just meant they had less of a chance of being caught in it.

"Fine," I snapped, rising from the tub, completely oblivious to the water I sent splashing on the nice floor, my motions jerked and angry, my face set in a stubborn scowl. I toweled myself off quickly, not sparing the vampire in the room with me a single glance, pulling my lilac sundress over me so harshly I nearly ripped one of the delicate straps in the process, and shoving my feet into the sandals so hard my toes smarted. I ran my fingers through my damp hair, not even bothering with a brush and clumped it in a severe pony tail, the glimpse of my reflection enough to convince me it was a lost cause anyhow. My eyes were ringed in purple black, and I had a few gashes and cuts from the explosion, the most noticeable the bruise across my left cheek, where Eric's hand cradled me from the blast.

So lost in my anger, I plumb forgot Bill's saying we had company, standing like a gaping cod fish as I eyed the two new additions to our room. One was Eric, the prick, and I gave him a good and long glare, still as irritated with him as a poked grizzly. The other was less expected, but appreciated, given the first vampire's identity, Godric was leaning against a wall, dressed in a fresh white t-shirt and a pair of black slacks, he looked a little anemic still, but overall much better than last I glimpsed him. As in, not covered in blood and half dead. When he noticed my stare he gifted me with a small, serene smile, his hands idly fiddling with a bottle of cola I'd left on the dresser. He eyed it in brief intrigue before replacing it to its previous spot, his gem-like eyes flickering over the room in interest.

"It's not long before I must retire," Bill announced, prodding me into the room and eyeing our guests levelly. I tried not to notice that Eric had changed too, now he sported a too tight black tank top, and a pair of those painted on leather pants, he looked dangerous, the perpetual bad boy, Lucifer incarnate. It illuminated his blue eyes, enhanced his gold hair, until he appeared every inch the fallen angel, the holy sinner.

"We will be brief," Godric promised, his dulcet tone never ceased to sooth the tension from a room, and I felt myself smile at him before I made any conscious decision to do so.

"Sookie Stackhouse," he began softly, "I believe I am now in your debt." His eyes were kind, smile small but infectious, "If not for your generous interference, I believe I would be dead to this world."

"Seeing as you drank my blood and all, I think it's alright if you call me Sookie," was my interjection, he nodded slightly, "And honestly, given as you kept me from being raped, and then killed, I think we're pretty even on that account." That strange smile quirked his lips.

"Sookie," he revised, showing that he at least listened better than his child, "During the events of the past weeks, I had resolved myself to death," at this he gave a derisive smile, "I did not plan to see another night, at least, not in this form, on this plane of existence, it was my wish to meet the sun, and know the true death," he worded eloquently, drawing a hiss of surprise from Eric. He shot his child an indulgent smile, softly touching his cheek, "When one lives as long as I, merely being is a tiresome, repetitive experience, devoid of joy, and devoid of pleasure. You are yet so young," only Godric would call Eric Northman young, "I envy your sense of enjoyment, your delight in this life has given me great pleasure, more than you will ever know," he told the blonde gratefully.

"You did not tell me," there was accusation in Eric's tone, but hurt as well, and perhaps a sense of latent grief at the thought of his maker's demise. Godric merely sighed, giving the blonde Viking a fond, nearly parental look.

"You would have made a scene," was his nearly teasing assessment. Eric scowled, crossing his arms and looking away defiantly, like a petulant child, suddenly unwilling to comment further. With a chuckle, Godric turned back to me, "In any case, you have changed my mind Sookie, you have shown me something…new." Well, that's a pretty huge accomplishment, given his age and all, even Eric looks surprised.

"Why Sookie?" Bill demanded, midnight eyes brimming with suspicion.

"I will be brief," Godric eyed Bill solemnly, "for I know your time is short. I believe Nan Flannery intends to relieve me of my duties as King of Texas," I gasped in surprise, Eric growled in anger, "I will accept her decision graciously, I have no more desire to rule this land. My attitudes and beliefs no longer coincide with the goals and ambitions of my kind; I feel this is the right decision to make."

"Godric-"

"Silence!" he hissed. Wow, can he ever shut Eric up, I wish I knew how to do that, turning from his now sulking child, he continued, "We have matters of importance to discuss, but I can see now is not the proper time. I would request your presence at sunset, at which point I hope that you will kindly hear me out in entirety," he then turned to Bill, "The matters I have to speak to you about are grave, Mr. Compton, I confess I hope you will prove yourself to be the vampire Sookie speaks of, but as of this point, I must insist Miss Stackhouse remain with Eric during the day's duration."

"WHAT?" That's my loud, shocked outcry. It was all going so well, too… I think at that point I was too exhausted to manage more than 'what', but that cry in and of itself summed up my entire reaction to his statement. Godric's announcement seemed to provoke two equally intense reactions from the other vampires in the room. Bill looked slightly lost, and very upset, while Eric perked up, getting that viciously amused look that just proves how utterly delighted he was.

"Sookie stays with me," Bill corrected, draping an arm around my waist and pulling me to him. At this point I was too tired to fight, mutely eyeing the room's occupants in weary acceptance. I slumped into Bill's solid, cool weight, holding his protective arm like a comfort pillow and pressing my back along the ridges of his front, melding into him as I'd done so many times before. He nuzzled my head with his chin, eyes hard as he mutely challenged the two other vampires in the room.

"Do not press this," Godric suggested, "I have given Eric very specific instructions in regards to his behavior towards Miss Stackhouse, he will not disobey me," and probably for my benefit he added, "he cannot."

"I will not allow Sookie to be trapped with that animal," Bill growled, eyeing Eric in loathing. The Viking's blonde eyebrows shot up in mocking surprise, a smirk teasing at the edges of his mouth.

"Tough words for such a little boy," was Eric's nearly bored observation. I felt Bill's silent growl vibrating through my back, his frame stiffening in hostile tension.

"It is not Sookie I worry for," Godric replied in a blasé lilt, earning a startled look from myself, "I believe she can hold her own against my child very well," he gives me a briefly amused look before turning back to Bill, "and as I have promised, no harm or discomfort will come to her, it is in all our best interests that Sookie remain safe and protected. She has nothing to fear from me or mine."

"She stays!" Bill argued loudly, desperate, even I know vampires shouldn't show their emotions so obviously. It seems the events of the night had shaken Bill more than I'd originally guessed. Between his psychotic Maker nearly murdering me, the explosion that resulted in my exchanging blood with two more powerful vampires, and the consequent incident in the tub minutes ago, I could understand his reluctance to part with me. It seemed each time we separated, our situation only worsened. His possessiveness, something I was still getting used to, was warranted, but not welcome. Godric sighed, disappointment heavy in his luminescent gaze as he surveyed Bill, the older vampire seemed almost sad to have to speak his next words, but perhaps that is because, in my eyes, Godric always appears somewhat sad, despondent even.

"As King of Texas, I order you, Bill Compton, guest in my territory, to release your human into the care of Eric Northman, Sheriff of Area Five, until sunset has fallen," it was all so formal, so final, the musical lilt in his words could not dull their harshness. Bill snarled beneath his breath, frantic eyes as they jumped between the blonde leaning menacing against the wall, and his slighter, yet stronger, Maker standing in the center of the room, looking like a fallen angel, or holy prophet. A tattooed angel, with lean muscle and deep, sky colored eyes.

"Sookie is mine!" Bill took a precautionary step backwards, wrapping me to him more fully, his other arm encasing me tightly, as if to grab me and flee. Funny how those words always come out of his mouth sooner or later. Eric growled between his teeth, obviously not pleased to see any form of aggression against his Maker, no matter how laughable the threat truly was in comparison to Godric's centuries of cultivated strength and battle prowess.

"Not today," Eric taunted, obviously trying to pick a fight. Come to think of it, when is Eric ever not trying to pick a fight? I could sense the tension filling the room, thick and vibrant, it stemmed from all three men, and unlike my boyfriend, who seemed momentary blinded to the rising danger, I was sensible enough to know that this fight would not be won by us, not that night. Besides, hadn't we all seen enough bloodshed and gore for one evening?

"Sookie is tired," I corrected Bill, stifling a yawn behind my hand. I twisted in Bill's arms, my expression indulgent, I knew that this entire scenario must have been difficult for him, but with Godric's word of honor that I would be safe, I felt nearly ambivalent to spending the night in Eric's room. Nearly.

Perhaps it was foolish to trust someone I had just met, in hindsight, I can see how rashly I acted, but Gran was always telling me to trust my instincts, and my instincts said that Godric wouldn't allow me to get hurt, and I trusted that. Trusted the slender brunette in a way, strangely enough, I could not trust Eric or Bill, who were always keeping things from me, trying to manipulate my reactions.

I touched Bill's cool cheeks, cradling them in my warmer palms and gazing into those soulful blue eyes making sure to speak each word clearly, sincerely, to show him the faith behind my words, "We don't have a choice, and if Godric says I will be safe, I believe him."

His deep blue eyes winced, "Sookie, you do not understand the vampire definition of the word 'safe'," was his soft response. I could only admit he had a point.

"Godric," I used my best, most polite tone, and he tilted his head towards me, indicating that I was allowed to address him, vampire politics are so sexist, or perhaps the term I'm looking for is specie-ist, "Will Eric be allowed to drink from me? Touch me? Force me to drink his blood?" I felt this were the most serious of offenses, given Eric's earlier actions, I felt I could trust him as far as I could throw him, and let me tell you, I wasn't lining up to play toss the six foot four two hundred pound Viking vampire anytime soon.

"No, he will only be allowed to place hand on you to prevent harm to your person, and for no other reason. Despite his earlier behavior, I truly believe Eric is now aware such actions would only serve to further worsen his current condition," he lips tilted in a knowing smile, receiving an impassive look in return from the vampire in question, "He will not wish to ruin his standing in your eyes, nor mine." Yeah, I'll bet he's so worried about that.

"Too late," I muttered irritably at Eric. He smirked, shrugging his broad shoulders to show how very little he cared. To Bill I said, "See? It'll be fine."

"Sookie…" He began, a note of pleading in his voice. Men can be such whiners.

"I'll miss you," I placated, kissing his cheek, "And you will know if I'm in danger," I pointed out logically, kissing the other cheek. He sighed, jaw tense but expression finally, if not slightly begrudgingly, acceptant.

"Do not sleep in his bed," was his only request. I rolled my eyes.

"Not even tempted," I promised. Inwardly crossing my fingers and praying it wasn't a lie. Well, it wouldn't have been, if not for Eric's little blood transfusion earlier I would have had no desire what so ever to share his bed, or so I told myself. After all, it's not my fault he's such a good looking flirt! It's not like that means I'll ever act on the attraction.

"Liar, liar, pants on fire," Eric sing-songed under his breath, earning a mildly disapproving look from Godric. My boyfriend gave him a look that could melt titanium.

"Be safe," Bill growled at me in that fierce, romantic manner that always sends my pulse racing. He pulled me roughly into a deep, toe curling, lip searing kiss that left my mouth swollen and my lips on a perma-grin, a goofy smile that lasted even as I collected my clothes and things. As I rushed about the suite gathering human stuff, such as a tooth brush, make-up, and other miscellaneous items, throwing them into a powder blue duffle bag, Bill decided to see if he could get an explanation for Godric's sudden desire to play musical rooms with the telepath.

"I do not see the necessity of this," Bill announced, standing stock still and glowering at the other two occupants to project his displeasure.

"You wouldn't," Eric supplied dryly. Godric gave him a warning look.

"Sookie is very precious, and at this point, I believe her life to be in immediate danger," Godric replied softly, surprising me. However, I quickly stifled my surprise in favor of grumbling under my breath,

"When is it ever not?" As usual, I was ignored.

"Eric is better suited to watch her during the day, as I believe your Maker still harbors malicious intent towards her, and if confronted with one such as her, we both know it would not be you who emerged the victor. Lorena would surely kill Sookie out of her jealous rage. One need not look too closely to see how damaged she is, her sanity has long abandoned her, as well as her logic and self preservation." I blame my not catching it at that point in time on exhaustion, but there happened to be the very good point of argument in the fact that Godric had ordered Bill's maker (and ex) from Texas, and so she was probably the least likely threat I would face that day. However, I didn't think of it, and I suppose Bill didn't either, because he nodded as if it all made perfect sense, seemingly pacified. Bill would always be weaker than that vile woman, by no fault of his own, of course. Eric, however, was stronger by far, Lorena would pose no threat to him, and the way Godric put it, it just seemed so logical, so obvious. Later I'd learn he's got a gift for making everything sound perfectly reasonable, even when it's not.

"Shall we retire, lover?" The flirt tacked the last on just to push Bill's buttons, or mine. Ignoring him, I turned to Godric, smiling perkily even though it was the least genuine emotion I could muster.

"All set, and could you please do that ordering thing now?" I asked sweetly, eyeing Eric warily from the corner of my eyes, "It's not that I don't trust you," I hastened to tell the stoic vampire, afraid he'd misunderstand, "but Eric is a whole other kettle of fish, last time I let my guard down I ended up sucking bullets out of his chest," my nose wrinkled, "which by the way, was totally gross."

"When will you let that go?" Eric demanded, sounding both slightly amused and vastly annoyed.

"Never, you jerk," I told him haughtily, my hand griping my hip, the blue duffle bag dangling from my other wrist like a very chunky bracelet.

"Your honesty is refreshing," come the accented praise, his comment effectively ended my and Eric's spat. "It would be no trouble to allay your fears," he turned to his child, "Eric, as your maker I command you to not lay one finger,"

"Or fang," I interjected petulantly, remembering my dream.

Godric smiled indulgently, "Or fang, upon Miss Sookie Stackhouse, unless in dire emergency, all that is done to her must be of her consent, or out of immediate protection of her well being." Eric rolled his eyes but nodded. The older vampire turned to me, seemingly amused, "Does this suffice?"

"Oh it's peachy," I grouched, not as relieved as I'd thought I would be, "Can we go now, I'm tired, us humans don't exactly like staying awake for twenty four hours."

"As you wish," Godric nodded, "Come, Eric," he called, "We will give them a moment of privacy." Eric opened his mouth as if to object, but something Godric's stare seemed to convince him it was a bad idea. They went.

A/N: A little light on the smut, I know, I apologize. Yet I don't get how people can write Sookie just falling into Eric's arms (no matter how fun that sounds), there's got to be some resistance, after all, he's a undead cad and she's a naïve little Fae from Bon Temps, and as of yet Bill is still in the way. I'm dealing with that shortly. Read on, review if you like.

Eric: Good reviewers get a special reward.

Author: Like what? A Fangtasia lap dance?

Eric: I was thinking more along the lines of my not eating them, but if you want to hand out imaginary incentives, feel free.

Author: You catch my flies with honey than vinegar Eric.

Eric: Good thing I have very little interest in insects. Now review, or she'll never be inspired to write the good parts.

Author: True story.

Eric: *Tsking* No it's called True Blood, idiot breather. *scoffs*