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.
Not unexpectedly, I was melancholy after releasing Pamela. And I was goddamned impatient! Bill had been due an hour before, but had just called to tell me he’d been “delayed” in Bon Temps.
I tapped my fingers on my desk and then stood up.
Bon Temps—where Sookie was!
Bill was to get in and to get out! He was to quickly check his home for bugs and then come back! He was not to spend an unnecessary minute there—just a graveyard away from Sookie.
For fucks sake! He was being tracked!
By the Authority!
No. He certainly wasn’t supposed to allow himself to be delayed. I sneered; it didn’t take a rocket science to know the origin of that delay either: Sookie.
I found myself striding toward the backdoor of Fangtasia before I could even register that I was moving. As I took to the air, I analyzed what I was feeling through my bond with Sookie—just as I’d been periodically doing all night.
If possible, she was even drunker than before, her emotions that mixture of numbness and euphoria that came just before illness—if memory served. I’d been there before, and—though it had been a thousand years—making a fool out of myself because of drink was not a memory that had left me.
Let’s just say that my mother had “saved” my messes for me to clean. Memorable, indeed. And fucking disgusting—especially with a hangover!
As I neared Bon Temps, I felt a new emotion rising inside of Sookie: lust. Oh, it wasn’t the “good” kind of lust, the kind that rose from unbridled passion for another. No—she was experiencing the kind of thoughtless lust of one who’d lost the capacity to think at all.
Or who didn’t want to think.
I’d never pitied Sookie before, but I found myself doing just that. She was trying to hide her pain—first through drink and then through carnal oblivion. I pitied her because I knew it wouldn’t work. I pitied myself because I hated the way her lust made me feel.
Hypocritical feelings—given the fact that I’d fucked two different women in the last three nights.
And one of them had been because I—like Sookie—had wanted to find sweet oblivion for a moment.
Yes. I pitied her—as I’d pitied myself before I’d fucked Nora.
Of course, as I flew even faster, I was also as mad as hell. The word, “mine,” came to mind—even though I knew Sookie didn’t belong to me. But that didn’t stop the thought from echoing through my thoughts as if I were standing at the bottom of a fucking canyon!
But not mine. Clearly.
I’d already bypassed Sookie’s home and was on my way to Bill’s when I picked up his fucking trail! It led from his door toward her property.
“Fuck!” I seethed inwardly. What was Bill doing? We’d agreed to stay away from Sookie. We’d vowed NOT to do anything to potentially put her on the Authority’s radar! And then I had an equally nauseating thought. What if it was Bill who was eliciting Sookie’s lust?
“Hell! Even one of the dogs would be better,” I said under my breath, not even capable of fathoming the hurt I would feel if Sookie was with Bill.
I stopped in the cemetery for a moment and glanced at the grave of Adele Stackhouse. It was there that Sookie’s trail had ended more than a year before—when she’d gone missing. I contemplated staying where I was, but—again—my feet moved toward my bonded without the permission of my brain.
I was slightly heartened when I saw Bill, standing just inside the tree line of Sookie’s property. He seemed far away from the house, but—with his vampire vision—he was a regular peeping Tom.
And then I, too, became one as I saw my bonded through the window. She was kissing the wolf, and he was practically mauling her. It was a sight I didn’t want to see.
But I couldn’t look away.
After all, I was just starting to accept that I had feelings. I wasn’t about to hold myself accountable for “being adult” about them.
Fuck my thousand years. I felt like a jealous preteen!
“Awkward time for a drop-in, Bill,” I intoned as if I weren’t being ripped apart at the sight of my bonded with the mutt!
Fucking prick! Of course, I would have done the same—if I didn’t have a GPS device from the Authority hooked up to me!
“Hmm. She seems to be recovering nicely,” I said, trying to hurt him and succeeding in hurting myself in the process. In truth, I knew that she was not recovering nicely. I felt her desire to separate herself from her pain. I knew that she was using her body—Alcide’s body—to do that. I could understand that, but it didn’t mean I wanted to watch it!
“Can we go back to looking for Russell now?” I asked, hoping against hope that Bill would just agree. We could go and question Doug, leaving Sookie behind in relative safety—at least for the night.
Of course, Bill had to choose “douche-dom” in that moment.
“We are looking for Russell. Clearly without any success,” he said. “Sookie could be useful.”
Bill was speaking and acting like a lover scorned. There was an edge to his tone—one that told me that he wanted to somehow punish Sookie for seeking comfort with the Were.
I suppose that a baser part of myself wanted that too. Sookie had, after all, rejected both Bill and me only days earlier—after telling us both that she loved us!
Yes—the green-eyed monster wanted to reign in me. Hell—he wanted me to run into Sookie’s home, which I thought of as our home, and kill the fucking Were!
He wanted me to hurt Sookie for hurting me. He wanted her to suffer for the suffering she’d caused.
But that monster wasn’t me. Sookie was young. Her confusion had led her to what I felt was an error, and—as much as cursing her with a “fuck Sookie” had been my mantra since she’d rejected me—I couldn’t wish her danger, pain, or suffering.
I simply wasn’t capable of it.
Thus, I tried to dissuade my king. “I don’t think she wants anything to do with us again,” I said, allowing my hurt—and maybe a little of my love—to come through in my voice, hoping it would remind Bill of his own hurt and love.
“I don’t think we give her the choice,” he said bitterly.
I reminded Bill of what we’d discussed the night before. “We agreed that she was not to become a target,” I said in a rushed whisper.
“Even when we are not involved, Sookie excels at being the target of someone or another,” Bill reasoned. “And she could very well be Russell’s primary target, given what she did to Talbot. Best for her if Russell is out of the way, and I believe she could help with that. The man with whom we are to speak, Doug—what if she can hear his thoughts despite any glamour?”
My teeth clenched. “If we use her, the Authority could learn about her.”
“Not if she merely listens to Doug and then goes on her way,” he insisted.
“She won’t,” I responded. “Not her. If she thinks she is helping us, she won’t just leave.”
“We’ll make the wolf take her away,” Bill smirked, walking toward Sookie’s home.
I closed my eyes. I could stop Bill—defy my king. But—if I did—I would lose my ability to keep a watchful eye on him. And—certainly—any conflict between us would lead to immediate Authority intervention.
And that would lead to even more danger for Sookie.
“Why did Bill come to Sookie’s?” I silently asked myself. But even as I asked, I realized the truth: no matter the words he spouted, Bill wouldn’t be leaving Sookie alone—no matter what.
I realized that it was even more essential that I keep my eye on Bill now—and keep him thinking that I was his obedient subject—or, at least, his somewhat obedient subject.
I sighed and played follow the leader to my king.
I heard the Were moan out Sookie’s name as if it were a question as Bill and I approached the house.
I heard her respond that she didn’t want to talk any more.
Herveaux picked her up and took her upstairs.
He should have insisted that she think for a moment. Hell—if he had any honor—he would have denied his baser instincts and insisted that they wait to fuck until she was sober.
As soon as Bill and I entered the kitchen, I smelled blood—the blood of Debbie Pelt, covered up by ammonia, lemon cleaner, and baking soda. But there was blood still, though the scent was faint. I opened the refrigerator and took out a TruBlood, kicking a tooth from the Were-bitch further under the appliance.
“Hungry?” Bill asked impatiently.
“Habit,” I smirked.
He rolled his eyes and gave me a disapproving look—as if I craved his approval.
To placate him, I put the blood back and shrugged. “Some habits are difficult to break,” I remarked.
Yeah—like loving Sookie Stackhouse.
As we went up the stairs, I couldn’t help but to put together the pieces of the puzzle I’d felt from Sookie during the previous nights. Alcide’s Were-bitch was dead. Tara was turned. Sookie had felt terror and then trepidation and then anxiety and then guilt several days before.
I was good at math.
Debbie had likely broken into Sookie’s home, planning to kill her. Why Herveaux had ever taken the bitch back after she’d tried to kill Sookie before was beyond me!
However, why Herveaux hadn’t kept his bitch from harming my bonded was unforgiveable!
Very bad dog!
I worked hard to calm myself so that I didn’t rush in and snap the Were’s neck.
If my supposition was correct, then Debbie had tried to kill Sookie, but had killed Tara instead. Looking for me, Pam had come to Sookie’s home and had been begged by Sookie or Lafayette—or both—to turn Tara. Pam had agreed in exchange for Sookie making sure I came back to speak with her—thus the, “Sookie did it,” comment from Pam the night before.
Adding to her guilt, Sookie had likely received the blame for the entire situation from everyone around her: Tara, Lafayette, Sam, her brother, and Alcide. Taking a life—even a bitch’s life—and suffering the judgment from those around her had likely been the sources of her pain during the past days.
I ran down the list of people Sookie counted as her loved ones.
She would have heard their derision and “heard” their scathing thoughts—except in Tara’s case. But that was small comfort.
And—now—the fucking Were was about to fuck Sookie over in another way—while his bitch was still warm in the ground!
Couldn’t he tell that Sookie was broken? Hopeless? Alone? Vulnerable?
I heard clothing hit the floor.
“I’ve waited so long for this,” Alcide said, making me fucking sick. I’d arranged for his services to protect Sookie, and he’d been hung up on Debbie even then. He might have been attracted to Sookie. Who wouldn’t be? But he’d waited? I could count maybe a day or two that he’d pined! He’d certainly not helped me when it came to searching for Sookie after she’d gone missing. Oh—he’d been ready to take my money when it came to fixing up Sookie’s house, but he’d put in a high bid, thinking I’d choose him because of his previous dealings with Sookie.
I hadn’t. Instead, I’d chosen Scott Cusmano, a contractor with more experience in restoring homes the age of Sookie’s than Herveaux did. Cusmano was a human, though gracious when it came to vampires. He was also willing to learn—and be glamoured—when it came to resting places and such. Most importantly, he was willing to work only at night so that I could oversee everything. Alcide had scoffed at my request to have only night crews—despite the fact that I’d already installed lights enough to simulate the noon sun.
However, on the work being done during the night only, I’d refused to compromise. I’d wanted everything to be put back to rights as much as possible—even as I’d made some upgrades.
Cusmano had turned out to be the right choice. He’d been thorough and conscientious, and he’d always understood when I needed to halt the crew’s progress in order to make sure that things were just right. I’d paid the contractor twice his asked-for price, and when he tried to refuse the bonus, I’d glamoured him to accept!
I scoffed. I wouldn’t sell Sookie short by saying that Alcide didn’t truly want her. In my mind, only a fool would not. However, I would sell Alcide short. His “wanting” came only when he wasn’t otherwise occupied.
“Alcide,” Sookie said, replying to the Were’s previous ‘confession’ that he’d been waiting so long for her. Her voice was passionate, but I could hear that there was something ‘off’ about it. I’d heard her cry out in passion enough to know that there was something wrong.
That something ‘wrong’ turned out to be vomit—on the Were’s feet.
Gods—it smelled foul! But it was fucking beautiful, nonetheless!
“Alcide, you sure know how to treat a lady,” I couldn’t keep myself from saying, making sure my tone was edged with both sarcasm and judgment toward him.
I chuckled. In that moment, my eyes were for her only. And I kept the pity from them, for I knew she wouldn’t like that.
“Alcide, please,” Sookie said, her voice tired. She looked at us all one by one and then, gagging again, ran to her bathroom.
Bill and Alcide both looked a little uncertain, so I hurried to the kitchen to get a glass of water for Sookie. I was sure she’d need it, and she never kept a glass in the bathroom as some humans did. During the day I’d been under silver, we’d spent a good deal of time talking about inconsequential things. One of those things was her unusual habit of putting a plastic bag over her toothbrush. She told me about an article that she’d read. The piece had talked about how tiny particles of water and human waste were released into the air when the toilet was flushed. She’d rambled on and on about how she’d told Jason all about the article, but that he still kept his toothbrush uncovered and a glass in the bathroom—a glass which hardly ever got washed.
When I got back to the bedroom, Alcide and Bill were both looking at me uncertainly—their noses twitching to indicate their displeasure at the scent that had covered Sookie usual ambrosia. Fucking lightweights!
“Inebriated humans often vomit,” I said in my best “bar owner” tone.
They nodded as I walked into the bathroom, where Sookie was “worshipping the porcelain god.”
“Water,” I said, setting the beverage on the counter, “when you are ready for it.” I pulled out a hand towel and wet it with cool water before draping it around her neck. I rifled through her medicine cabinet and found Midol. It would have to do.
I then took out a larger towel, soaked it, and zipped back into the bedroom. I threw it at the Were.
“What’s this for?” the mongrel asked.
“Clean,” I said, pointing to Sookie’s vomit, which had—sadly—mostly missed him.
“I’m not a fucking maid!” he yelled.
I vamped over to him and took him by his meaty throat. “No—but you are the one who would have taken advantage of her while she was drunk and hurting! When she was not Sookie!” I emphasized with a growl.
The Were had the grace to look mildly ashamed—but not enough in my opinion. “Fuck you. She’s the one that made the first move,” he growled.
I squeezed just a little harder, but—for Sookie’s sake—I didn’t do any real damage.
Pity. If the fucking Were knew anything about Sookie at all, he would have understood that she was not the kind of girl who’d like to wake up with both a hangover and a man she wasn’t in a serious relationship with—no matter how “long” the Were had supposedly been waiting for her.
I let the Were go when I heard more retching from Sookie. I glanced over at Bill. His nose now twitching comically, he was looking toward the bathroom door as if a rotting corpse were inside.
“Do you know how to make the human drink—coffee?” I asked him.
“What?” he asked, looking at me cluelessly.
“There is a coffee maker in the kitchen. Instructions are in the drawer below it. Read them and make coffee,” I instructed.
Still, he looked mystified.
“Humans use the drink to sober up,” I sighed, as I went to Sookie’s closet and got her robe.
“What are you going to do?” Bill asked.
I sighed. “Sookie is ill and now has vomit in her hair. I will suggest that she take a shower and then join us downstairs.”
“You’d better not be intending to ‘help her’ shower,” Alcide snarled.
At least he had started to clean up the mess.
I shook my head and went back into the bathroom. Sookie was still poised over the toilet.
“Why is the earth spinnin’ so fast?” she moaned.
“It is spinning at the same rate as usual—as far as I can tell,” I smirked.
She managed to move her head enough to glare at me.
“What are you doing here?” she asked, somewhat angrily.
“I am here to bring you this,” I said, putting her robe onto the counter. “Once you are done with your ‘friend’,” I smirked, looking at the toilet, “you should brush your teeth and shower. Then drink the water I brought you and take two of your Midol tablets.”
“I’m not a baby. I know what to do!” she spit out.
“Do you?” I asked, trying to hide my hurt and jealousy.
She stood up on shaky feet and turned to fully face me—as always. My heart swelled for her—as always.
“I meant why are you and Bill here?”
“There will be coffee waiting downstairs,” I said, turning around, “and answers—when you are sober enough to hear them.”
“I’m tired of everyone judging me,” she said, her voice sounding even more tired than before. “Please—I don’t need it from you, too.”
“I’m trying not to judge either of us, Sookie,” I said softly, before leaving the room.
A/N: Okay, I’m letting out a lot of my frustration with Alcide in this chapter. How does he go from deriding Sookie so much to getting drunk with her and then being prepared to sleep w/ her the next night. I don’t read him as being drunk enough not to know better, so in my view he’s taking advantage of her obvious pain and self-flagellation. Yes-Sookie’s a grown up and can make her own choices. And she and Alcide are both on the “rebound” to a certain extent, but I’m mostly with Eric here…BAD DOG.
I hope you enjoyed the extended scenes! I always wanted to explore how they got from the bedroom to the kitchen table. 🙂