Disclaimer: I don’t own the characters in True Blood or the Southern Vampire Mysteries. So neither copyright infringement nor offense is meant. I simply want to make the characters do what I wanted them to do for a while. I am especially “unownerly” when it comes to this story. You will recognize a lot of the dialogue throughout as being quoted from Season 5 of True Blood, though I’ve tried to use Eric’s thoughts to make this story “different” from its source. That said, I claim no ownership to the quoted material and have placed it in bold so that it is set apart from my own words.
Pamela had proven to be a charming companion and a skilled bedfellow, and—for several months—we had enjoyed much time together.
A cynic might say that I was merely using her. But the truth was that I appreciated her company. She was witty and intelligent, and she’d graced my arm at many a show. I was especially amused when one of the affluent gentlemen in the audience—or one of their wives—would recognize Pamela as the Madame of the whorehouse he or she frequented. The looks on their faces were often quite humorous. But Pamela—being the pro that she was—would masterfully find a way to reassure them that their secrets were safe. Moreover, she always managed to schmooze in order to find new clientele.
Truly, she was one of a kind.
During our months together, Pamela made no demands upon me, and she certainly didn’t expect anything close to fidelity from me. Like the savvy businesswoman she was, she had negotiated an “arrangement” with me. On the nights that I took her out on the town, I was required to pay her for her time—given the fact that I sometimes took her time away from her brothel.
However, on the nights that I simply came by after the brothel closed in order to enjoy her body, Pamela would take no money.
Of course, that was the closest that she would ever come to telling me that she cared for me.
Thankfully, Pamela was not opposed to my biting her—though it obviously didn’t give her the kind of physical pleasure that it gave many. Still—she tolerated it when my passions compelled me to take her blood during sex. However, I tried to refrain, knowing it wasn’t her favorite of things.
I wanted to ensure her pleasure and comfort. But—of course—I didn’t express this care out loud either.
However, as much as I enjoyed Pamela’s charms, I was restless in the way that most vampires become after they’ve spent a significant amount of time with a single human. It wasn’t that Pamela was boring—per se. It was simply time to move on—both for her and for me.
After all, neither one of us was comfortable with the concept of caring for another. Thus, after one more night in her company, I had resolved to end things with her. I planned to leave her a substantial amount of money. Also, I was going to glamour away all of her memories of vampires. Though I knew firsthand how discreet she could be, there was no need to take unnecessary chances.
It being our last night together, I took Pamela to a fine dining establishment and then I took her in her bed—several times. Afterwards, I could sense her melancholy. Always intuitive, she’d probably recognized that our time together was almost done.
Never one to “cuddle” following sex, she’d turned her back to me, and I ran my fingers over the soft curve of her shoulder. She truly was lovely, and I knew that a part of me would miss her.
“What’s it like? Being what you are?” she asked.
What was it like? That question had no easy answer. It depended on the place I was in or the profession I was pursuing. It depended on my monarch. It depended on the company I was keeping. I told Pamela that it would take lifetimes to explain it all. And it would.
It certainly wasn’t a conversation to have in bed on our last night together.
She turned around to face me and gave me a smile that did not reach her lovely blue eyes. In fact, those eyes looked a little desperate to me.
I contemplated her request for a moment, but only that. I liked Pamela. There had been a time when she’d intrigued me, but I’d never felt a “pull” toward her.
“You don’t know what you’re asking,” I returned.
I knew she wasn’t and I told her as much, but her lack of fear wasn’t really relevant in the equation.
“Most humans beg me to spare their lives,” I said, “and you want me to take yours.”
“I want you to give me one worth living,” she countered.
Our conversation went back and forth for a while—her trying to convince me to change her, and me arguing otherwise. She shared that she wanted a life other than the one she’d found herself trapped in. Pamela was smart enough to understand that women like her didn’t have long shelf lives. Already, she was too old to be a “regular” working girl. If her brothel got into trouble with the law—or if the “morality police” decided to make an example out of San Francisco like it had with some of the cities on the east coast—then she would have nowhere to go. She told me her greatest fear—that she would die diseased and alone.
That she would die in the dark.
How ironic that statement was—considering that she now wanted to give up the day to live only in the dark!
I had to, once again, admire her for refusing to allow her own fears to cripple her. Instead, she turned around in order to face them.
Even embrace them.
But admiration wasn’t a “pull.”
“If you had any idea what kind of life awaits me,” she pleaded, “you wouldn’t hesitate to turn me.”
“Then make me and leave me. I’ll take care of myself. I always have.”
My frustration turned to anger.
She didn’t understand the implications of what she was saying, but I was damned offended nonetheless! Those who abandoned their progenies were considered pariahs among other vampires.
She might as well have just suggested that I had no code whatsoever!
“Would you toss a newborn baby in a gutter? Abandoning a new vampire is no different,” I said, even as I moved to get out of her bed—her life.
“An honorable vampire,” she intoned sarcastically, though I heard mostly hurt in her voice. “Isn’t that a contradiction?”
“No more than an intelligent whore,” I volleyed back, knowing that I was being unnecessarily hurtful even as the words left my mouth, “yet here we are.”
As angry as I was, however, I also understood Pamela’s motivations. She was merely trying to make the most important choice that she could—before all of her choices were taken away from her.
I sighed. It was clear that I had waited too long to end things with Pamela. My greediness to have a companion who knew about what I was had gotten the best of me. I’d enjoyed our time together, even though I’d intuited—almost from the start—that caring for me was costing Pamela something profound. I’d cracked into that hard shell of hers—and though part of her had been grateful—that piercing had also allowed her heretofore repressed fears to surface.
I had, long ago, reconciled myself to the fact that I was a selfish creature, but—perhaps—I had been too selfish with her.
As I continued dressing, she stood and put on her robe. I could hear a sob from her and smell her tears. I closed my eyes for a moment.
I didn’t like feeling regret.
Or feeling at all.
Yes—it was time to sever ties with Pamela. I resolved to glamour her and to give her even more money than I’d planned before. Also, I would make the “suggestion” that she leave San Francisco behind and settle somewhere that she was unknown. She could pretend to be a rich heiress or widow. She could set up a nice household and live comfortably. Yes. That was what I would do for Pamela Swynford de Beaufort—in order to make up for what I had unfortunately done to her because of my egoism.
I heard her gasp and smelled her blood in almost the same instant.
She turned to face me. Long and deep gashes were cut into her arms.
“What have you done?” I asked, even though I already knew. She was forcing my hand.
As the scent of her blood permeated the room, I tried to keep my fangs in check, even as I considered my options.
I could, indeed, watch her die, but I sincerely liked her, and I hated the thought of her killing herself.
I looked back at Pamela. No—I decided—if I gave her my blood, it would be to make her my progeny. I quickly ran through the list of things about her that had attracted me in the first place and that had kept me interested for longer than I’d been interested in most other humans during my thousand years.
I made a child.
[End of Flashback]
A/N: I loved writing the 1905 scenes from Eric’s POV! Once again, I have to thank Seph for the inspiration of Pam’s character banner, which convinced me to go for it. Hope you liked it.