A/N: Thank you, thank you, dear ones, who have read this through to its end, with all its starts and stops, its worries about whether to plot or not to plot, to feel or not to feel. Your kind attention and smart critiques have taught me so much about the world of fiction. It has been an absolute pleasure. I would love to hear your thoughts, whenever you read this. Much love. xo

Teeth in the Grass Conclusion: Chapter 18

A month had passed since the incident with the doctor. Eric and his security team had worked overtime at first to make sure any threats were anticipated and neutralized, but none really came. We lapsed into the tenuous calm that always follows periods of heightened vigilance. There simply wasn't energy to keep it up.

A rhythm had returned to our interactions. While Eric still managed Fangtasia and held his usual twice-a-week sheriff meetings, he had started taking an extra night off, much to Pam's annoyance. It happened to be Wednesday—my day off from Merlotte's. He spent them all with me. I never asked why; I suppose his "because I fucking want to" answer to Pam was good enough. I didn't believe it was out of fear or anxiousness. It was just better to be together.

More nights off meant more shared downtime. I kept waiting for Eric to get fed up with my small town habits, but he didn't. He seemed genuinely amused. I got the feeling that the details of human existence had escaped him for so long they had rounded a corner from skull-crushingly dull to fascinating again. Although he handled technology at the club better than I ever could, I often found myself having to explain in detail little things like the automated self-checkout at the drugstore. I frequently teased him about it, but he didn't seem to care.

These day-to-day exchanges were both a comfort and a distraction. They helped me resist thinking about the future. It was true—as the strange, dangerous little doctor had suggested—that we didn't know what to expect, how to prepare, how to defend against what was out there waiting to harm us. That wasn't what bothered me most, though. My main worry was about Eric and me. Some of my earlier doubts about the sustainability of the relationship, the impossibility of permanence had returned to me. It wasn't that I doubted Eric. I didn't trust the future itself.

When I wasn't obsessing over what was to come, I found myself returning to a moment in the recent past. It happened a few weeks before. We had the night off together, and Eric took me to the roof of a local church, the tallest building in Bon Temps, to see the full moon rise. We sat in silence, hand in hand, watching the bright, heavy, silver orb climb the night sky.

The conversation replayed in my head.

"There is this old Norse poem called 'Völuspá,'" Eric began. His eyes were unfocused—timeless and alluring, distant and wise. "A shaman tells Odin about the creation and ending of the world. The universe is unordered at the start, and the gods have to find places for all of the bodies in the cosmos. There are a few lines about the sun and the moon… I wish I could remember them."

I pulled out my phone to one-up him. "Way ahead of you, kid. Can you spell 'Völuspá?'"

The text appeared and I read to him, "The sun from the south, the moon's companion, her right hand cast about the heavenly horses. The sun knew not where she a dwelling had, the moon knew not what power he possessed, the stars knew not where they had a station."

"Exactly," he breathed. "Beautiful."

I waited, not knowing what he was referencing.

When he still hadn't explained after a few moments, I joked, "…you like it because the sun is a woman and the moon is a man? You only get to see the one, so you're glad it's the most masculine?"

"Not quite. Although I agree; the moon is hot," he smiled. "No, I like the idea that there once was a time outside of the order we know now. When the moon and sun…were companions."

In the moment, I hadn't responded. I wasn't really thinking beyond the obvious: Eric only saw the moon, missed seeing the sun, and longed for a time when they weren't separated. But the exchange kept coming back to me, nagging at the back of my mind every time I thought about our relationship. I wasn't sure why, but it made me feel profoundly sad. I pushed the thoughts away again.

It was a lazy Wednesday evening. Eric was absent-mindedly pushing my shopping cart through the grocery store. I looked at him every once in a while with wry disbelief—no one, not even Eric, had the right to look so immaculate under fluorescent lighting. As I tried to decide between soft drinks, I noticed an older woman in a pink flowered bathrobe giving Eric some strong side-eye. Her mental commentary kept snapping between how good-looking he was and how much she disapproved of vampires preying on innocent girls. I was surprised her mental script referred to me. She must not have been in town very long.

Of course Eric sensed her gaze immediately and snapped around to meet it. He gave her a lascivious grin, fangs extended. She hurried on her way, startled and a little excited. He shrugged back at me with a wink, leaning casually on the cart handle. I had to smile. It reminded me, in contrast, of how hard Bill used to try to blend in, to make everyone feel at ease, as though he belonged. Though I now felt opposed to anything Bill did or said on principle, I knew the impulse. It was nice to pass as normal every now and then.

Eric, on the other hand, did not give a fuck. In fact, he went out of his way to emphasize his strangeness, his difference. It was a mark he wore proudly, and one I was learning to bear with confidence, too.

Why wouldn't I? As the doctor had pointed out so abruptly and painfully, we were easy to get to. Others who wished to do us harm could find out about us with a simple investigation, even if we didn't actively draw attention to ourselves. That left us with two choices. We could live on the defensive, in constant apprehension, trying to hide from others who we knew intended harm and from still more who we didn't. Or. We could be ourselves, unashamed.

The choice wasn't difficult. There was a stubborn fierceness in me, just like there was in Eric. I felt it growing stronger every day. Dangerous future or not, we would meet it. Until then, we intended to continue our lives, in whatever form that took.

And on Wednesday, it took the form of a shopping trip. I paid for the bag of groceries and headed to the car.

The moment we were out of the store, Eric snatched me to him from behind.

"Ok. We did your normal. Now it's time for mine," he said, before rocketing us into the night. Although I was more experienced with it now, the feeling of flying was still exhilarating. I fought to keep a hand around my grocery bag. I laughed. A vampire and a fairy hybrid soar through the sky, trying not to rain toiletries on the unsuspecting citizens.

"Where to?"

"My place, obviously!" I shouted, brandishing the groceries. I had underestimated how close we were by Eric speed, though.

"Whatever you say, lover," he grinned as he took us into an accelerated, panic-inducing nosedive.

After we were safely on the ground and my voice had returned to me, I reprimanded, "I'd think this would be self-explanatory, but humans don't typically go grocery shopping and then skydiving."

"What about half-humans?" he teased.

I just rolled my eyes and unlocked the backdoor, pushing inside to put away the purchases.

Eric hadn't followed me. I glanced out the window to find him stretched across the grass, face to the sky, eyes closed. The image amused me. I had never seen anyone moonbathe before.

After I finished, I walked out to join him. Eyes still shut, he pulled me close. His breath sent shivers along my neck. I felt his fangs extend with a soft click.

"Midnight snack?"

"I could go for a nightcap," he whispered sensually. "You too?" he offered, stroking a long index finger across my teeth. I shook my head.

"Go ahead." I had learned lately that I liked being fully aware when Eric took my blood. It was beyond arousing. Though tasting him was a tremendous turn-on, the raging onslaught of feelings also made me miss the subtler points of Eric's experience—the way his breathing changed, his eye color deepened, his cock swelled… My pulse sped just thinking about it.

I felt Eric's fang scrape ever so gently along the length of my neck. My blood had barely left my body, but Eric's chest was already rumbling with deep satisfaction. Desire dropped into me hot and strong. I turned in his arms to watch.

My heart caught in my mouth. Startled, I pulled away from him to get a better look at his face.

Eric's features had begun, ever so slightly, to glow.

"Eric!" I gasped.

"What?" He shifted back with momentary alarm until he realized what I was referring to. With a laugh, he stretched out his arm in the darkness and shifted it to and fro. A dim outline of it followed in the air.

"You mean this?" He looked at me with an incredulous smirk before turning serious. "Have you really never noticed it before?" I shook my head, concerned. He paused for a moment and blinked. "It's you, Sookie," he finished simply.

It took me a moment to realize what he meant. Maybe my previous experiences of pleasure had blocked me from seeing it. It was also possible that a steady intake of Eric's blood had sharpened my senses over time. Or perhaps the current flood of moonlight just made it blindingly apparent. Whatever the case, there was no denying it. Eric's recent feed had left him flushed with a faint, luminous glow.

I stroked my hand against his pale, radiant face. He turned his mouth to kiss my pulse point. "I didn't think it was possible," I breathed, mesmerized. "How could you get any more beautiful?"

"It's you," he repeated. "I am reflecting you."

I brought my mouth to his softly. I kept my eyes open. It hurt to look away from him, so I didn't. His face broke into a thousand smile lines, and he pulled me against him, cradling me in his arms. The smell of crushed grass, bright and sharp and green, filled the air.

All at once, the conversation that had been replaying in my head came back. The image did not sadden me this time. In fact, it broke my heart open with assurance.

"Companions," I said, finally.

"What, lover?"

"The sun and moon. Companions." I slid his hand over my heart. We looked at it together. His glow. From my light.

He sat up and turned to face me with import.

"Companions," he echoed. "Until the remaking of the world."

"You're damned fuckin' right," I grinned, giddy with the declaration. He stared at me cryptically for a moment while I waited for his response. I expected him to laugh. I was wrong.

It turned Eric wild. His eyes flashed at me fiercely before he crushed my mouth to his.

And suddenly we were in my bedroom. I flushed hot against his cool skin and met his piercing gaze, and soon he was backing me against the wall, pulling off my clothes, rocking into me on the floor, straddling me on the bed, sliding me onto him, gasping and crying out my name and leaving a hot, gentle, furious trail of marks with his dangerous, beautiful mouth. My senses were flooded, colors dancing before my eyes, my heart pounding. We swept each other along in our passion until we both were full.

For a long time afterward, I lay still—just breathing—my head against his chest, enjoying the sensation of being alone together. I pressed myself into Eric's naked frame. He stroked my hair softly.

Comfort swept over me. I felt…settled in a way I never had before. Because I realized, no matter what occurred, the future could never erase this. I knew, the way that I knew my own story, my own blood, that somewhere in time, we would always be.

Dark, fire, terror, pain—these things would never touch the two of us cocooned in this place. There would always be a version of Eric and me here, silent and happy—companions.

The sun and the moon. A fae and a vampire.

Together.

At the end and the beginning of time.