This is a very AU fic. The True Blood world is property of Charlaine Harris and Allan Ball/HBO. I am privileged to be allowed to write in it.

AU elements (spoilers):

Sookie married Bill after S3 instead of going off to Faerie-land. Eric's incident doesn't happen.

Just as a footnote (as a header), I would like to point out that the story may start out fast (or slow), but it will definitely slow down over the next few days. Our kitchen is slated to be remodeled on the 5th, and we have to remove all of the cabinets before they can do their part. So please be patient if updates are patchy. Though, honestly, I'm always a little patchy with them, so... expect it. :p

This will have STRONG adult themes of fear/dominance, reluctance, dub-con, etc. Please be aware.

The Sins of the Son

1. Flat Tire

Alexis didn't like dark country roads. In fact, Alexis didn't like the country at all. And ever since her sister Haley had gotten caught up in 'vampire culture' and disappeared, Alexis liked dark country roads even less.

So how did she come to find herself standing there in the middle of nowhere looking at a flat tire on her car?

"Is it flat? Do you have a replacement?" her grandmother asked as she climbed out of the car.

"Mormor," Alexis told her, "please get back inside. I'll fix it and we'll get going. Okay?"

And that was why she was squatting at the side of the road in a dress, trying to change her car tire. Because Mormor wouldn't fly. She didn't like standing in lines. She didn't like the Earth falling away from her.

But she sure didn't mind dark roads in the middle of nowhere.

Alexis leaned hard on the crowbar, heaving with all of her strength. The nut wouldn't budge and she cursed men with impact wrenches under her breath. She tried Triple-A again, but there were no bars for her cellphone there.

She stood looking at the tire for a few minutes. There had to be a way to leverage it so that she could break the nut loose enough that it would start moving for her. She was a curator. More accurately, a cataloger. She knew what to do with books and antiquities. But the tire sat staring balefully at her as if she were a foreign invader bent on domination.

Lights came down the road, and Alexis felt fear rise. She hustled Mormor into the car, overwhelming her objections with adamant pressure.

Relieved, Alexis watched as the other vehicle passed them, and went back around to try again with the tire iron. She looked up in surprise when the other car backed up beside her before she even realized it was coming.

"Need help?" a man asked as he unwrapped his long frame from the fancy sportscar.

"No," Alexis told him, pushing her glasses back up her nose.

He chuckled. "You're lying."

Before she could retort, he had changed the tire, moving in a blur. She stepped back against the car, her heart thundering and trying to climb out her throat. It was a vampire. Did he know what she knew? What she suspected?

Her grandmother climbed out of the car, and Alexis's heart sped up even faster.

"Are you one of those vampires?" she asked, excited.

"Of course," he said with a smile. "Who else would rescue such a lovely lady in the middle of the night?" he asked her, reaching for her hand and raising it to his lips.

"Mormor," Alexis admonished her. "Get back in the car!"

"She is your grandmother?" the blond vampire asked.

"Yes," Alexis said, stepping in front of her. "Please don't kill her."

He smirked slightly, raising an eyebrow. "Such an archaic attitude. Haven't you heard? We don't kill people anymore."

"Could have fooled me," Alexis growled, her mind on her lost sister.

"Alexis!" Mormor chided her. "Why are you being so rude?"

"He's not a person, Mormor," she answered. "He's a vampire. They don't care. We're just food. You're just food."

"Alexis Montrose, you were raised better than that! You apologize right now!" she snapped her cane on the ground.

"Do not be concerned," the vampire said. "Her attitude is not new. We have come to expect it over the centuries."

"That's no excuse!" Mormor told him. Then she turned to Alexis, "You apologize, young lady!"

"I won't!" Alexis told her. "A vampire ate Haley, Mormor!"

She gasped. "What? That's not true! That's utter rot! Now you tell that handsome fellow that you're sorry!"

"You're very cheeky for someone who's so afraid," he said, smiling at her. It was not a nice smile.

"She doesn't mean it," Mormor said. "She's been like this since her sister took off. Girl ran off and got married, or I miss my mark." She took him by the arm and waddled toward his car with him. "What's your name, young man?"

"I'm Eric Northman, Fru," he answered her.

She positively beamed at him, and Alexis bristled.

"You know Swedish," she said. Fru was Swedish for 'madam' or 'lady', as Alexis knew all too well.

"He probably knows everything, Mormor. He's probably a thousand years old and been everywhere. So what?"

He smiled over his shoulder at her. "You're right. I am a thousand years old." He turned back to her grandmother. "And I was born and raised in Sweden. I guessed you might be Swedish when your granddaughter referred to you as Mormor. Which is, of course, Swedish for 'grandmother'."

"No!" she gasped, clearly delighted to learn he was raised 'in the old country'.

"Mormor, we must go," Alexis said, desperate to get her away from this dangerous man.

She tried to pull her away, but Mormor snapped her cane on the ground. "Stop this immediately!" she commanded Alexis.

Desperate, Alexis said, "But Mormor, he will eat you! He's glamoring you or something! We need to go!"

"Ah, she is wrong, as I will certainly not a eat a dowager as lovely as yourself," Eric said to Mormor, kissing her once more on the back of the hand. "But she is right. You should go. It is not a safe time to be out and about. I have things to which I must attend, as well, Fru."

Alexis bundled her Mormor into the car and started for the other side. She ran straight into a tall, masculine wall. She made a small sound of terror, before her arms were caught in an uncompromising grip.

"What proof do you have that your sister was 'eaten' by vampires?" he asked, stressing the word 'eaten' with a snide inflection.

"None, but I know it's true," she told him, trembling slightly.

"You are smart to be afraid," he told her. His teeth snapped out and she almost wet herself. "Do not make accusations for which you have no proof in future," he told her, his eyes glittering in the darkness.

Then he was gone and in his car and she was gasping for breath. From inside the car, Mormor waved jovially at him, not privy to the fact that he had just threatened Alexis for telling what she knew to be the truth. She hurried around to climb into the car and start it up.

She had never liked dark country roads. Now she hated them. She drove down the road, determined that she would never drive through Louisiana again. Next time that Mormor wanted to go to Florida, she could take a Greyhound bus. Or something.

Though she knew she was lying to herself. There wasn't a thing in the world that she wouldn't do for Mormor.

"I am so angry with you. What kind of heathen devil child have you turned into?" Mormor snapped at her from the passenger seat.

"Those creatures are dangerous, Mormor! You don't understand!"

"Alexis!" she sounded horrified. "What is wrong with you? Did you just call that sweet young man a creature?"

"He's a thousand years old, Mormor! He's older than you are! You can't call him a young man, he can practically call you an infant!"

"I am disappointed in you, Alexis. I've never seen you treat another person like that in my life. Of everyone in the family, I thought you had the grace to continue the family legacy."

"He's not a person, Mormor! He's a monster. He's a killer. No matter how pretty the package is, you have to remember that he has killed people. Probably multitudes of them!"

"He did what he had to in order to survive!" Mormor argued. "Just as we all would."

"Really? You would kill people? Because I wouldn't," Alexis snapped at her.

"Wouldn't you? Would you let someone kill me and not kill him first?"

Alexis sighed. "It's not the same thing, Mormor. That's protecting someone you love, not just getting hungry and snacking on a person! He should eat a cow or something!"

"How do you know they can? What if cow blood isn't compatible with their physiology? You're not thinking like a scientist," Mormor snapped at her.

"I'm not a scientist, I'm a curator!" Alexis argued. "I don't know if they can eat cows, but I know they didn't have to eat Haley!"

"You don't know that a vampire ate Haley." Mormor told her. "You are just assuming that because you are prejudice."

"I'm not prejudice, Mormor. They're killers. They kill people and eat them. How can I be prejudice if I just state the facts?"

"That's what they used to say about negroes." Mormor snorted. "And they were wrong then, too."

"You can't call black people 'negroes' anymore, Mormor. It's racist."

"Fiddlesticks. How can I be racist if I just told you to stop being prejudiced?"

"It's not the same, Mormor. It wasn't that long ago that some vampire killed an anchorman right on national TV. In front of everyone. At least he was honest about what vampires really are."

"I'm ashamed of Katherine and I'm ashamed of you. I thought I raised her better and I thought she raised you better." Mormor turned to look stubbornly out of the window and refused to speak to her again for the entire drive home.

Alexis went to work the next day, and had a nightmare the next night of vampire fangs and a blond Swede chasing Haley through dark alleys and down midnight-dark country roads.

But time passed, and she forgot about the incident on the road in Louisiana. Her life marched on in its endless line of new artifacts, she restored books, and she cared for Mormor.

"So didn't you get a new head curator over at the museum?" Mormor asked her one day.

"Yes, Mormor. No, I'm not dating him. He's fifty and married."

Mormor pursed her lips. "You shouldn't be alone, älskling." It was Swedish for 'darling'.

"Mormor, must we talk about this? I'm fine. I'm happy. What more do you want?" She sighed and put the book she was reading down.

"You can't possibly be happy," Mormor dismissed the very notion. "You are miserable. Just look at you. Your clothing is drab, you wear your hair the exact same way every day, and you even buy clothes that all look alike. No woman who is happy acts like that."

"Mormor, please stop meddling. If I'm meant to be with someone, I'll find him."

"Men in books make bad bedfellows," Mormor told her.

Alexis blushed. "I am not going to talk about men and beds with my grandmother."

"I'm a hundred and seven years old, girl. I know all about bedfellows."

"Mormor!" Alexis covered her ears. "I am not listening to you!"

"Yes," Mormor said. "I know. I'm going out today. I won't be back until later. I've asked Leon to drive me while you're at work."

"Okay. Are you sure? I can take the day off if it's urgent."

"No, no," Mormor said, standing up and leaning heavily on her cane. "You don't want to miss your date with your book men."

"I love you, Mormor." Alexis got up and gathered her keys and coat.

"I worry about you, child. One day you're going to wake up old and alone and realize you've wasted your whole life."

"I'm doing what I love, Mormor. I'm happy. I promise."

She snorted her obvious disagreement. "You're hiding from life, is what you're doing. Promise me you're try harder."

Alexis sighed. "Mormor, please. I'm happy."

She went out the door and off to work.

A week later, Mormor was dead, and Alexis sat at her grave long after the others had left. She had cared for Mormor for the last ten years. Somehow, she hadn't really believed she would ever die.

But she had, and she had been all Alexis had left. It was dark before she got up and walked to her car and drove home to Mormor's cold, empty house. She thought she might never stop crying.