The characters of True Blood belong to Mr. Allan Ball. Charlene Harris owns the SVM characters. No infringement on my part is intended.

True Blood: Season Seven. Jesus Gonna Be Here. Aired: June 22, 2014

This story will have multiple endings to Jesus Gonna Be Here.

Ending One. He Would Never...

Pam was still staring at the map. "Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck!" It was time for a new plan. Not that she had an old one. Eric was in the Rhone Valley. That could only mean one thing. He was at the Chateau Chave! Vlad Drac's summer place! "Oh fuck," she said as she stood up straighter and squaring her shoulders, she went out of the building prepared to do battle.

"Oh fuck Eric," she silently sobbed as she made her way back to her lodging. "Just what the fuck?" she choked back the horror.

That fucking Sookie and her suck-ass way of doing things in regards to her maker! "I need time to be me," she simpered, her voice that of stupidest twat on the planet. "I need to know who I am. And yes, thank you for restoring my house and then moving you fucking ass out of it so that fucking, stupid, Were could move in. Maybe we can make baby Weres and I will be fulfilled and known as the stupidest twat on the planet. Because, Eric, I really am just as fucked up as your child thinks I am."

"Oh Eric, oh Eric," she sighed. "Removing yourself from that stupid shit of a breather was an excellent idea. But my maker, I would have loved to have known where you were." She was more than pissed because she had not heard from Eric since he had left. When the vamp/Fae died, chances were good that he had been caught out in the sun. Since she had not heard from him, phone or maker-bond wise, she thought this to be true. He was hurt and Vlad had him or other wise, he would not be in the Rhone Valley.

Of all the unholy places he could have wound up, Vlad's was a nightmare! The worse fucking scenario imaginable! They were sworn enemies! Godric had killed Vlad's Roman maker and Eric had come close to ending Vlad in Paris one night brawling over a breather. Yes, with her maker it always came down to a fucking breather!

Vlad and he laughed about an uneasy truce when they had to be present for some vamp bullshit something or another here in the Old World.

"Pull yourself together," she said wiping at her eyes. "Get your head on straight. If nothing else, I will get in and end whatever is left of him. It will be a mercy."

There was a howl in the distance. "Full moon," she seethed. "Just fucking come on," she said out into the night. "If you think I won't slit your throat with a silver knife, you are a very stupid Were and deserving death."

The Grim Reaper lurked about her features. Apparently her contact had gotten a little greedy. When she was done here, she was stopping by and paying him a little visit. She would not drain his daughter, but she could watch while she helped herself to her old man.

There was another howl and the smile played about her lips. "Oh help," she said. "Please help...I am just a poor defenseless vampire being tracked by stupid-ass Weres. Won't someone please help me? I am Eric Northman's child, only the very best at killing Weres and I am so afraid.

Wait for it," she grinned, remembering the lesson Eric had taught her and she had practiced more than once. "Crunch, crunch, crunch goes their big assed clumsy feet then up I go and down I come and land on their back and break it and then...oh-h-h, with a twist of their head and a thrust of my knife well would you look at that. I have gutted myself a Were.

That makes me fell a little better," she sighed as she wiped her knife on the corpse. Her phone buzzing brought her back to reality as she continued to walk on.

"I got your call," she heard her child say. "I was in the middle of a really good fight with some wired up trashed out zombie riddled vamp. Lord he had the uglies. Staked his ass and got someplace so I could phone. Where are you?"

"Right now Marrakesh, headed for France. Vlad Drac has Eric. I am going in after him. You keep your ass in Bon Temps and stay off my maker wave lengths."

"Like that is fucking possible," Tara spewed. "Or is that another skill you did not fucking teach me? And who the hell is Vlad Drac? Like I said, I was in the middle of a really good fight when you come blasting across."

Pam exhaled and actually smiled. "Kicking ass were you?"

"Fuck yes, just like my maker showed me. Now, I'm raiding the bank and buying a ticket. Pick me up in Paris when I land. I'll call."

"Tara..." There was no response from her phone. "That fucking child," she seethed, "she hung up on me! No fucking respect," she spit out into the darkness. "Just like her fucking maker and her maker," she had to admit to herself.

Eric's brain was still very much intact. Not much could be said for his body. All the skin was burned off and with what he was being feed, which was nothing, he was not likely to heal anytime soon.

That aside, in the belly of Vlad's dungeon was not a bad place to be. It was light tight and quiet and so far he had no visitors which meant there was no torture going on. He had been in worse. Of course, he had been in a lot better shape then he currently was at the moment.

Inviting Vlad to his chateau in the Swiss Alps to perhaps brag and show off about day walking had been a bit over the top. Perhaps sunbathing nude was not the best idea he had ever had. That had been fun, though. Especially when the ski bunnies had come tchussing by and had stopped to join him for all kinds of fun and frolic.

Going up in flames had just been embarrassing. Throwing himself into that snow bank had been a mite bit embarrassing as well. Because when Vlad had found him that moonrise, well, his ass was now in the Chateau Chave Rhone. He could be nowhere else. The smell of wine country was overwhelming.

Fortunately, there were one or two or Vlad's payroll that would get the word out that he was here. Simmons had been on board the helicopter when he was hauled on board. Compared to Vlad, he, Eric Northman, was a saint and paid handsomely for any personal favor.

Vlad was going to let him heal, maybe. That pervert was intrigued about being able to day walk. Eric had a very good idea that he was going to be the lab rat. Vlad and Edgington thought a lot alike. Give me my time in the sunshine. I deserve it. Well fuck...and he actually laughed. Fuck...that was something he was not going to be able to do for a while. Not until parts of him grew back.

Fucking fairies and their fucked up ways! Could they make nothing stick? Apparently something had happened to the tasty vampire/Fae. And day walking might be gone, but the fairy's blood was still a magic elixir in his body. He knew he must look like he was dying, gasping out his last and was not a threat. But that was not exactly true. He still had some strength. And with his age and the element of surprise, he just might be able to kill one or two before they ended him.

When Pam returned to her rooms, she settled into a corner, a machine pistol with silver bullets in her hand and another on the floor in front of her. Just in case someone came calling while she shut down. Stupid fucking Weres.

She was close enough to Eric...more than close enough. Emptying her mind of everything except her maker, she stretched out with her will and her love for this man that had rescued her. Taught her the ways of vampire and how to kick ass and survive.

In her mind there was darkness. No sound, just void. Eric was blocking the bond. That fucking asshole!

"I am not giving up and I am not going home. My child is on her way to Paris and we are not leaving," she screeched at him. "Do you hear me Eric," she screamed at him in her mind, then she was sobbing. "We are not leaving, you bastard. We are not leaving you."

Numbers started bombarding her mind. Then they started repeating. "Phone number," she said committing it to memory. "It is a phone number.

We are coming," she flashed Eric and then there was static where before there had been her maker.

Taking out her satellite phone, she punched in the number.

"Shalom my brother," she heard the voice say in Hebrew.

"Shalom," she said as tears caught in her voice. "This is Pamela, Eric Northman's child. Vlad Drac has my maker and I need your help."

"Dearest child of Eric, my brother. This is his brother Samuel Da'vid. Tell me where you are. I am on my way."

Dear Readers,

Well okay. If the writers of TB can lite Eric up, by golly, Samuel can pull his ass out!

This is Ending One. This tiny little one shot will probably not progress any farther. I have a couple more different endings for our hero in mind that will fall under this title heading. So, they will pop up as chapters 2, 3, etc..but they are just short blasts for a different ending.

As always, thanks for reading.

Somebody, anybody please...stake Compton, bring on The Viking!

CES