Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters from the books or True Blood. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Author's Note: In the True Blood series, this would take place immediately following Season 3.

Second Author's Note: In True Blood, foreigners think in other languages than English (Yvetta), unlike SVM where everyone is understood by Sookie, no matter what their preferred language (Eric).

What inspired this? Well, in the coming attractions in Season 3 when they showed the fairies in the cemetery, it appeared someone borrowed Godric's white shirt and pants. The brief hope that Godric would be back.

Then with our sneak peek of Season 4, this will become an obsolete 'what if?', I thought I better get a chapter out to start it. Even though I portray the fairies as enemies in one of my stories, till now, they hadn't openly deserved it. TB S3, and Bill's know-it-all attitude, made them out to be almost exinct creatures hunted to that point by vampires for their tasty blood. That's what we get for listening to Bill.

I already had the idea about not eating and drinking while somewhere 'foreign' because that has long been a fairy myth, along with being incorporated into other fiction, such as Spirited Away.

Not Another Weird Dream

After a night like she had, Sookie was not in the mood for another weird ass vampire dream. The strange thing about this was, she had never had Godric's blood. It was probably Eric's playing tricks with her mind since Godric was his maker, and would never be lying naked on his back with his arms stretched out, on her bed, even if he was still alive.

She knew it was a dream because it was morning. There was sunlight, and he looked fine, as in not burning up fine. Godric was also not vampire resting because his eyelids moved, he was breathing and making noise. His skin was warm to the touch, and he had a heartbeat.

This was better than other dreams because Sookie found herself able to leave the bed, and put on a robe over her Tweety bird nightshirt. Eric dreams had her diving into and rolling around beds, and Bill dreams had her running around outside, getting naked and rolling on the ground. She was even able to step out into the hall to put distance between Godric and her.

Okay, so not a weird sex dream, she hoped with her fingers crossed. She didn't think of Godric in that way, even if he wasn't wearing anything. How old was Godric when he was turned anyway? He was young looking, as in if he was a girl he'd be illegal, but now Sookie was thinking maybe younger. Godric didn't even have black hair on his chest, legs or even his armpits. She shouldn't even be looking at there. Size wasn't everything; Eric was unliving proof of the unfairness of life.

Sookie went to the foot of the bed, and prodded one of Godric's feet. He snorted something, curled up and rolled over. He did not have a tattoo on his butt. Just what Sookie didn't need to know. The hand that had gotten moved up to his mouth slid away onto the bed, and Godric's eyes opened.

Godric had felt the rough sheet under his hand, and knew he was not in his own bed. Flowered sheets? No, his were white, a much higher thread count, and he did not have a ridiculous dark wood useless headboard and flowered wallpaper. He sat up, and knew there was sunlight. It was not hurting him. He burned on the roof of the Hotel Carmilla, and was now here.

Another existence? What would have created an uninteresting room like this for him with Sookie Stackhouse in it, watching him? It was dull. Not what he remembered about the sun at all. Didn't colors used to be brighter in the sun? He felt sluggish in the light, and things appeared visually unclear. Was she here because she was the last person he saw in life?

In his native tongue, Godric asked as he stood, "What is this?" His voice sounded odd to his ears. He remembered it, but it was wrong.

"Can you speak English?" Sookie asked. His thoughts were in some other language too, but she got a general sense of confusion.

How presumptuous to think that English would be the language of the afterlife. Maybe this was Hell or some sort of purgatorial place. The gritty feel of the worn flowered carpet under his bare feet that had no relation to the yellow flowered wallpaper led him to believe that, along with the mismatched furniture. There was a white closet needing a fresh coat of paint next to the dark wood of the bed and nightstand, and the flowered green lamp with a crooked white shade was hideous. The window glass was smudged, and the lace curtain was not in good shape. Some polyester blend. Godric did not like flowered prints, found traditional stale, and embraced the modern look of Bauhaus, which he discovered in Germany in the second World War. Harmony between function and design, and the absence of ornamentation. This interior was purposely offensive to him. So why was Sookie Stackhouse here, except to pester him to speak English?

"Why?" he replied in English, approaching the dresser to examine the items. Godric could see her in the mirror.

"That's all I speak."

The items here appeared inconsequential. He opened a covered dish, and it was filled with hair pins. Was this some sort of punishment for him?

He opened a drawer. Pairs of white socks.

The next drawer contained feminine undergarments.

"Hey! Get out of there."

Godric closed the drawer and asked, "This contains your things?"

"Yes."

He cleared his throat before asking, "Why?" Something was still wrong with the way he heard things.

"It's my bedroom."

"Why am I in your bedroom?"

Frustrated by the conversation and his thoughts not giving a clear direction, Sookie suggested, "If we're supposed to have sex, let's get to it."

Godric looked pained for a moment, then looked around, before glancing at her to respond, "I don't understand. Why would this room, you, your attire, speaking English, and the phrase 'let's get to it', accomplish that? Have you achieved success with this method of seduction in the past?"

"No, this is a dream with a vampire, so isn't sex supposed to happen?"

"A dream? I am at your command to have sex because you wish it so?"

"No."

"I am not understanding the purpose of this existence." Godric opened another drawer since Sookie seemed to offer no answers. She was a distraction. Perhaps to keep him confined to this room in senseless fornication? He felt no inclination towards it so she was unable to truly command him.

He closed the drawer and went to the doorway. The outside of this drab room appeared to be more of the same structure. Godric stepped over the threshold. The painted floor was dirtier under his feet than the carpet. The doors open to other rooms here showed nothing of immediate interest. The stairs leading down had some framed photographs on the walls. He went to look at those for a clue.

Godric did not recognize the subjects of the photographs until he turned to head down the lower half of the stairs. There were some photos of Sookie and her brother, Jason, at younger ages. What was this supposed to mean to him? There were brighter spots where other frames used to be. More than half were missing. Was something about this incomplete?

Sookie called, "Hey!" down the stairs.

He glanced back at her. At least she was still dressed, rather than trying to lure him back to that first room by disrobing.

Godric looked at the rooms down here. The one to the left had books and photos in it. He went in there and looked.

"What are you doing?" Sookie asked.

"Looking for anything of consequence."

"What?"

The problem with being a vampire meant that when he opened a book in a dream, it was full of print due to his memory being flawless. He didn't recall seeing this particular encyclopedia set before, but it contained what he expected, so did the National Geographic magazines on the shelf beneath it. He looked at them more closely. Was there a pattern, other than the cover dates? The 1980s seemed distant in his mind. Godric remember he resided in Dallas, Texas then.

Annoyed that Godric was ignoring her, Sookie shoved his shoulder. He tipped over from where he was crouching in front of the bookshelf, examining her magazines, and looked up at her indignantly.

"Why did you do that?" he asked.

"I didn't expect you to fall over."

He rose. Looked at the bookshelf, put his hands under the top section, and strained to lift it. With a set of encyclopedias, it was too heavy for a human teen. Interesting. Why would he be human in this existence? Was it a demonstration to make him feel weak? He had not enjoyed being human, since his entire life was spent in slavery. Was he enslaved to Sookie Stackhouse here? Is that why she demanded sex from him? As a human, he did not get such urges until he had vampire blood.

He briefly felt his scrotum with his hand. No, his testicles were still gone. The blood supply had been cut off when he was crushed with pliers … he remembered the pain. No matter how long he was a vampire, he remembered that. It was days of agony. Godric was unsure of when that was in his human life, except he used to have testes in his scrotum and then sometime later they were no longer there. The pain was in between. Once he became vampire, he had few lovers, but it did not matter. Vampires did not reproduce with that fluid.

His voice. That's what was wrong. He was no longer imitating the voice he preferred as Godric's. He was using his natural voice, which was soprano.

This was wrong. He needed to get out of this building. He refused to serve anyone in this capacity again. Godric did not want a further lesson in humility. Either he was forgiven or not. He was not going to waste his eternity suffering as he did as a human willingly.

Sookie thought Godric hurt himself trying to lift the shelves when he felt his … well, it looked like he felt that, but he might have hurt something in his abdomen. His thoughts were buzzing angrily in whatever he thought in, and he may be scared.

"Did you hurt yourself?" she asked.

Godric pushed past her and went to the front door. He opened it, and went outside. She followed, and saw he was already down the stairs and crossing her muddy driveway. Godric hopped and looked at his foot. He must have found one of the remaining pieces of gravel.

"Hey, come back!"

When he ignored her, Sookie cursed, "Damn it," and went down the stairs after him. He was going into the cemetery.

What kind of dream was this that she was chasing Godric, naked, into the Bon Temps Cemetery wearing her bathrobe in the middle of the day? Sookie began to think a stupid one, when he did not even turn to listen to her, and decided to go back home.

Sookie paced in her living room, wondering about this dream. Maybe she should have followed Godric, if she wasn't going to wake up. The phone rang, in her dream, she guessed, since she did not wake up to answer it, just went into the kitchen, still wearing Tweety and her robe.

"Hello?"

"Sookie, is Tara there?"

"No, Arlene."

"Can you work today? I know you're out till you get whatever settled, but Sam ain't coming in, and neither is Tommy, and Terry and I worked yesterday, and we're here now, and don't want to end up here till closing."

"Uh, yeah, I guess … wait, is this real?"

"Is what real? That Sam's gone crazy? Yes. That you and Tara aren't on the schedule and he's holding your jobs? I guess. If ya ain't interested in working here 'cause you're too busy at night with Bill, just say so, so Sam can hire more people."

"Bill? No, I'm not going out with him anymore, but I thought I answered the phone while I was dreaming. So you really want me to come to work?"

"Yeah, I really want someone to come to work, Sookie."

"Can I call you back?"

"Whatever," Arlene said, hanging up with some swear words flying out of her mouth.

Sookie went back into the living room. There were a couple of National Geographics on the floor from when she pushed over Godric. Shit. Wait, if this wasn't a dream, how come she sensed his thoughts … but he couldn't be a vampire during daylight. What was going on?

Where was he going with no clothes on? Was he heading to Bill's? Did he even know where other vampires lived around here? Was that west, towards Dallas or Shreveport? Damn.

A cemetery … odd. This existence was somewhat dreamlike, as Sookie claimed. An ugly house next to a cemetery. None of the grave markers seemed unusual. This section could either be newer, or they were supposed to be in America. Godric had thought he had heard a vehicle on a road and headed towards the sound. He had to admit his hearing was faulty wherever this was. He found the road. It wasn't much of a road, but hopefully another car or truck would come by soon.

He was not sure that a police car is what he wanted to be the next vehicle. It stopped after putting on its lights, and reversed in his direction. The police officer was a Moor female … wait, that wasn't right. Moor was an old word. Why couldn't he think of the right term? He endeavored to be polite, after all the things he had been called.

"Don't move," she instructed.

Godric stood still. She was resting her hand on her gun. He was clearly unarmed, and not committing a violent crime. Weren't they supposed to render aid?

"Where'd you leave your clothes?"

He shrugged. He hadn't any, so didn't want to waste time looking for what he didn't have, and was ready for the next question.

"I'm gonna toss you a blanket from the trunk of the car. Cover yourself with it, and then come over here."

Godric accepted the blanket, draped it over himself and approached the officer.

Kenya guessed her perp was currently not under the influence of drugs or alcohol since he was cooperating, rather than running into the cemetery. He did not have anything to say to explain what he was doing, so she put a pair of handcuffs on him and maneuvered him into the back of the car.

During the car trip, Godric contemplated what was happening. Did he pass some test by escaping from Sookie Stackhouse, or was this … Nubian was not the right word either, returning him there? Things were unclear, both here in this existence and in his mind.

The drive was too long to take him back to Sookie, and this woman drove them into a town. Godric did not recognize it, and the sign on the way in claimed it was Bon Temps. That sounded familiar. Good times? Comparable to Sodom and Gomorrah? Or was it some tribute to the excessiveness of Mardi Gras? Either way, his nudity should not be a problem, he found any thought of the place name quite agitating. Why was this happening to him?

It was barely reassuring that the police officer parked in front of a building with a sign that said it was the Renard Parish Sheriff Department. Renard was fox. Foxes were symbolic of different things, depending on the culture. Celts considered them as knowledgeable guides. They were also considered sly by many cultures in Europe. Outside Europe, a messenger from the afterlife, sexuality, shapeshifting … what could it mean? Follow this woman, or try to run?

Kenya had glanced at her passenger frequently in the rear view mirror. He had not offered any information. Despite the tattoos, he could be an adolescent. He appeared scared, rather than puffed up with bravado. She could send a photo over to the high school once one was taken at the station. Kenya had done some work with the DARE program, but there were simply too many students to remember them all.

There was a huge problem with being restricted to humanity. Godric did not have the strength to break his restraints, nor the necessary speed to move and disappear once the back door of the car was opened.

She certainly had not been expecting her perp to come tumbling out of the car when she opened the door. Kenya had radioed ahead, but had not requested help. She tried telling him, "Get up."

Embarrassed, Godric stood as instructed. He truly was helpless. This was some sort of hell.

Jason had been asking about what was being done to find Crystal or his pick-up, while on lunch from work. Andy was ignoring him. Rosie was ignoring him. Then Kenya brought in her barefoot, crying prisoner, wearing a blanket and handcuffs.

"Is that your public lewdness?" Andy asked.

"Wait," Jason said. "Godric?" It looked like that vampire from Dallas. He even saw the tattoos, but what was he during here, during the day, and not burning?

By now, Godric was fearful of what awaited him. Someone knew his name, and he looked, ready for some demonic creature to tell him why he was here, and how he would suffer for eternity. This was an odd form for it to assume. To be sure he understood, he asked quietly to disguise his voice from ridicule, "Mr. Stackhouse?"

"Yeah, what are … oh shit, can you get him away from the window?"

"I'm taking him for fingerprinting and photographs," Kenya informed Jason.

"His feet are bleeding," Andy pointed out. As acting sheriff, his mind was racing to think of proper procedure. Probably should not let Kenya handle this, if he was naked under that blanket.

"What did you arrest him for?" Jason asked.

"Public lewdness and indecent exposure."

"That's a ticket and a fine," Jason responded. He'd had that one a couple times himself, along with urination in a public place.

"We got a report to fill out," Andy added. "What's his name anyway?" Even with only 2,712 in the parish, Andy did not recognize everyone, especially if this was this young man's first offense. Though with Jason Stackhouse as a buddy, he'd probably see a lot of more of this one. "And age?" he added. Parents needed to be notified, if 17 or younger.

It did not help matters that Jason started laughing at Andy's age question.

"Stackhouse," Andy growled. "I don't have any information about your stolen truck. Get out."

"Isn't he entitled to representation?" Jason asked. He couldn't just leave. Godric had tears in his eyes.

Kenya laughed, "You a lawyer now, Stackhouse?"

"No, but at least let him make his phone call."

"He'll get his call, when we get some answers out of him," Andy stated. Turning to Godric, he said, "Come on." He couldn't leave half-naked boys or men standing around where the public could walk in and see them, unless it was New Year's Eve, the Superbowl, or Mardi Gras.

Jason got a hold of Godric's arm and asked, "Do you want me to stay?"

A choice. What was the right one? What if both choices were the wrong one? Wasn't that how hell worked? Punishment followed by punishment. There would be no reprieve for a sinner such as he. No forgiveness.

Godric started shaking, and fresh tears spilled from his eyes, before he gave a brief nod. Andy and Kenya exchanged a glance. It was only a stupid kid thing. Not worth crying over. Jason Stackhouse was a prime example of the way these sorts of things just rolled off someone's back.

"Listen up, Stackhouse, I don't want you fuckin' this up too. You're merely here for counseling, since you seem to know him. Nothing else. You ain't even qualified to give legal advice."

"Stop being such a dick, Andy, and get your stuff filled in so I can get him out of here."

"You're not takin' him anywhere."

"Why not? I'll pay his fine. It's the least I can do."

"Why's that?"

"Uh … 'cause that's the kind of guy I am," Jason said. It was too long a story to explain, and Andy certainly didn't look in the mood to listen.

"His parents need to be called."

"What?" Jason asked.

"He looks like a minor to me."

"Do you have a driver's license or something, Godric?"

He whispered, "Not with me."

"Oh, right," Jason answered.

"Sit down," Andy said, pointing at some chairs. He sat down and got the form out. "Okay. Name?"

"Godric," Jason answered.

"That his first name? G O D R I C?"

"Yeah, um … do you have a last name?" Jason asked.

"E S T was my last one," Godric muttered.

"Est?" Andy repeated.

Godric nodded.

Andy filled in 'male', then asked, "Date of birth?"

Godric murmured, "I'm not sure."

"How can you not know your birthday?"

"It's not important," he grumbled.

"Next question," Jason demanded.

"Address?"

"On my license, it's 3102 Maple, Dallas, 75201."

"Texas?" Andy asked.

"Yeah," Jason answered.

Rather than letting this go on too long, Andy got on the computer and went over to a database to look up Godric Est of Dallas. He got a quick hit on it. Only one match. Andy clicked on it. The photo was terrible. DMV idiots, let the subject look down. Hair looked like his, and the tattoo across the collarbone matched. Only one huge problem, as Andy zeroed in on the DOB. This was a V license. Vampire, not human.

"Very funny, Stackhouse."

"What?"

"Take your friend, and get out of here."

"Huh?"

"He's no vampire. Stop wasting my time, Stackhouse. Get the hell out of here."

"We can go?" Jason asked.

"Don't make me say it again, or I'll lock the two of you up."

Godric wondered what this meant. Was he being freed for telling the truth, or was the company of Jason Stackhouse the more dangerous option? He raised his hands in the handcuffs.

Andy grabbed them, taking out the key to unlock them, and said, "Be smart and stay away from Stackhouse. He's no good."

Was that the answer he needed? Godric wondered.

Jason said, "C'mon," and took his arm. Attempting to stay completely still and wait for another hint did not work, since Godric did not have his normal strength.

Giving Godric a bit of a shake, Jason said, "Don't bother listening to Andy. I'll call Hoyt to let him know I'll be late so I can take you to my house for some clothes. I had some spare clothes in my truck, but that's been stolen. Andy and Kenya should be lookin' for that, rather than draggin' ya in here."

He let Jason lead him, and when Jason asked, "Are you all right going outside during the day?"

"I was before, but I don't know why," Godric whispered.

"Why aren't you speaking right?"

Godric shook his head. Maybe the man's reaction would guide his course. Since Jason did not take the opportunity to taunt him, Godric allowed him to continue leading.

Jason paused before the glass doors before opening them. The sun from outside was not burning Godric. That shouldn't be happening, but sometimes you just had to go with things.

After climbing into the parish pick-up truck, Godric found Jason's driving style similar to a vampire's. He did not pay attention to the road even when he was no longer having a conversation on his cell phone, drove over the speed limit, and sometimes crossed over the line into the opposing lane because there was no one else using it.

Jason asked a couple questions, but Godric's continued response of 'I don't know, Mr. Stackhouse,' ended that. He truly did not know what he was doing here, why he was immune to sunlight, or why he had no clothing.