Summary: Cause' you're restless, and I'm naked. You've gotta' get out, you can't stand to see me shaking. [Godric and Eric's life, start to finish.]
Author's Note: I don't in anyway own or have the rights to the song 'Konstantine' by Something Corporate. I don't own the Bible, either, because there are some biblical references in this story. First time posting! Enjoy! :)

It's to dying in anothers arms, and why I had to try it.

When Eric Northman awoke he expected to see the shining bright light of paradise, the beauty of the divine, happiness and peace. What he saw was the tops of gnarled dark trees looming above him, lining the dusky night sky like the pointed end of a spear. He felt the dry dirt beneath him, the moisture slicked air that encased him like a desperate clinging bubble, and the faint glow of the crescent moon that made shadows dance across his skin. He was still covered in the grime of war, but didn't seem to have the pain that was associated with it. His face was marred by caked on blood that seemed to draw lines across his skin like crude cave paintings.

He wasn't in paradise, he was in the woods, and he was alone, cold and hungry. He heard the animals in the surrounding foliage and shivered. His companions were gone, dead, decaying. He slammed his hands against the dirt in frustration, completely ignoring the large indents the force had left in the ground.

"Why has Death deceived me?" He asked the night sky, hoping that the shining stars that hung above his head would whisper back an answer. They said nothing to him, they gave him no indication or enlightenment. But another did, a soft voice that glided through the night air and startled Eric, making him freeze in place.

"I have not deceived you," Godric whispered, his eyes watching the lean body of his Viking as he sat taut upon the lush Earth. "I have given you life, as I said I would." He sat down next to the other and waited almost disinterestedly for the reply.

Eric didn't understand, and once again he wished the stars would alleviate his confusion. He had thought that the words of the young boy was simply a promise of a swift death, one that would bring him to the after-life he so coveted. Yet he was sitting here, what seemed like hours later, with the same being.

"I don't understand," His accent was thick against the bushes in the forest and Godric enjoyed the depth the tone conveyed, "What have you done to me?" He turned to question the almost angelic face that was examining him intently.

"I have made you into the same monster as me, into a creature that drinks the night away until the dawn crushes the horizon." He pushed a lock of wheat colored hair away from Eric's face, the dried sludge that covered it making the strand thick and stiff.

Eric looked away, his eyes focusing in on the ground. It startled him to see that he could clearly make out all the pebbles that were scattered across the dusty surface, locking onto the sprouts of plants that shot out of the ground in small clumps. He could see as if it were day though the landscape was cloaked with almost impenetrable darkness. Godric smiled as his child took in the world around him, experienced his newly found perspective.

"What have you made me into?" Eric hissed, eyes full of accusation. He dared not look at the man next to him, anger and surprise gripping his mind.

"What we are does not have a name, we are too evil to be graced with one." He rested a hand on the lower part of Eric's lean thigh, his fingers wrapping over the knee cap delicately. "We are burned by the grace of the day, and we long to satiate a hunger with the life that flows through those we once called our brethren." He stated, eyes seeming to focus in and out of awareness. He gripped the leg under his palm more forcefully.

"We drink blood? That is how we live?" Eric felt like a small child inquiring about the world around him. He felt small, insignificant and stupid. "That is disgusting, my friend, Death." Eric tried to make the sentence hold as much finality as possible.

"I am not Death, I am Godric, and you will address me as such." Eric grunted in response to the correction, his back hunching almost provocatively. At least that's how the other seemed to interpret it as.

"What if I do not wish to have anything to do with you, Godric." He put so much emphasis on his makers name it might have shattered into nothingness if that were possible. "What if I do not want this gift, what if I would rather enjoy Death's embrace?" He stiffened his face into a mask, his eyes halfheartedly contemptuous. He was feeling more rebellious than angry or hateful towards the beautiful demon before him.

"If you will not believe, you surely shall not last." He stood as he said this, the pitch of his voice never escalating, and offered a hand to the still sitting Norseman. "Come, you are hungry, we shall feed." Eric gripped the proffered hand and was seemingly lifted with ease. They wandered off into the night together, the pitch black sky dripping down like wet paint and covering them in deaths dark shroud.

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My Konstantine came walking down the stairs, and all that I could do was touch her long, blonde, hair.

"A king is not saved by a mighty army." Eric stated, his eyes dragging over the form that lay stretching on the freshly overturned soil of their personal graves. He breathed in the smell of rain as a monkey hung lazily from a tree, staring at the vampire in mild curiosity. Eric hated tropical jungles. Godric adored them, and because of that fact he endured it's hot temperament, sticky atmosphere, and bizarre creatures. Though he thought they were probably more strange than any mammal inhabiting this rainforest, the cream of the strange crop, the apple pie a la mode.

"A warrior is not delivered by great strength." Godric replied in that even tone of voice that aggravated and calmed Eric at the same time. He looked at his companion heatedly for a moment, his eye almost twitching at the mention of his human "profession."

"You know nothing of warriors, Godric." He absently fiddled with a bright green leaf about the size of a small end table, his index finger tracing it's luminous outline. He had been traveling for so long with his maker, his father, his brother, whatever you wished to call him. Almost 400 years, though it did not feel that long. To the once Viking it only felt like yesterday that he was being asked to accompany Death. If he'd known what that particular offer had entailed he might have reconsidered accepting it.

He chastised himself for such thoughts, he was content living like this, even if it was in the shadows. He knew Godric was not of the same wavelength at times, and it worried Eric, forcing him to adapt the ability to pull his love out of his states of trance-like melancholy.

"No, but I know enough about you, and that counts for so much more." His eyes held a certain lightness that Eric enjoyed, and he didn't mind it as much when Godric began running his fingers through the mess of knots he called his hair because of that small fact. He reclined his head backwards minutely, his eyes locking with the still curious monkey. "You were the greatest warrior I had ever witnessed." He smirked.

"Do not tease me," He mumbled, not having the will to put any effort behind the statement. He watched the stars twinkle at him from far above while long delicate fingers tore at his rats nest. He grunted, trying his best not to tell how much it hurt to have his blonde locks yanked, even if it was for the sake of untangling them. The noise did not go unnoticed, and instead of the tug on his scalp he felt feather light touches running down along his spine in a strange pattern of ups and downs and lefts and rights. He hissed when the touches became nails running down the ridges of his vertebrae sensuously. The little strings of yarn that were now a light pink raveled themselves back up as they healed over.

Godric moved his hands to Eric's hips, pulling the larger against his chest roughly. If there had been a bated breath in those lifeless lungs they would have been shoved out forcefully at that moment. The ancient of the two rested his chin on the naked shoulder blade in front of him, since he was much shorter than his love and couldn't quite rest upon his shoulder. He nipped at the chilled flesh beneath the pink lines of his lips, his fangs only half-way extended.

"Do you remember our first years together, Eric?" The accent that was so close to the one Eric still had made him shiver slightly. "You thought we were God's gift? Divine?" Godric's chuckles were like little blue jay's feathers falling into a nest on the contours of his back.

"I was very young, and foolish." He couldn't bother to come up with a better excuse for his almost childish stupidity. He knew better now, much better.

Eric turned to face Godric from his position on the ground, sliding his way slowly onto the lap before him, his long legs wrapping around bony hips in a strange embrace. Their faces were inches apart, their non-existent breath mingling as they stared into each others eyes. The moonlight grabbed at their exposed flesh, searching for purchase. Eric hoped a tiger might come prowling through the underbrush, so at least he'd have dinner and a show.

Godric leaned forward, his teeth biting down on Eric's lower lip, drawing blood in tiny drops. He lapped them up until the small cut healed. His teeth were stained a light red as he smiled a rare smile, "Precious in the sight of the Lord is the death of His godly ones."

We don't have much room, to live.

Eric stared out the window of the room they were staying in for the night, the thick fabric of the curtain brushing his bare arm as the breeze forced it to dance. The street lights flickered faintly on the ground below, the road looking like a long stretch of darkened blood traveling the length of the city in a monotonous flow.

One thousand years, 46 days, 55 minutes and six seconds. He thought that by now he might know his Maker better than any other, yet he felt so wrong in thinking that. He knew much, but very little. He knew he loved the way Godric had a tendency to speak as if he were quoting biblical texts, that he was inadvertently elegant, very intelligent, and enjoyed Eric's sometimes convoluted sense of humor. He hated how Godric fell into states of self-loathing and sadness, he hated watching him feel tortured inside, he despised that almost all the time he was right, disliked the fact that Godric could see he was changing.

Hardening. Loosing emotions. Cutting off. Becoming his own. Godric saw this, knew this, and accepted it. And Eric loathed that fact to the very last layer of hell.

He heard the door of the lobby fly open and then shut, signaling his companion's return. The wind blew warningly, rolling over his pale cheeks in a soft whisper of the night to come. He smelled the rain that lay waiting on the edge of the clouds in the luminous night sky, the big, saturated circle of moon looming above watchfully.

Godric was next to him within seconds of entering the room, his hand instinctively trailing over Eric's jaunty knuckles. He watched as the moon dodged behind a storm cloud, sneaking.

"Have you fed yet tonight?" The question was so simple yet it had Eric scraping his nails over the window sill, raking small trails in it's lead paint garden. Godric cared about him, and it made him feel so simple, so plain. But he wasn't, he was intricately woven into the most complex and confusing pattern to ever exist.

Eric shook his head back and forth, his bangs bouncing like a striding lion across the African plains. He moved agilely, perching his lengthy body on the window's edge, his legs facing inside. "We have been together for a very long time, Eric Northman." Godric smiled his rare smile again, flashing all his pearly whites at the Norseman stretched almost languidly in front of him.

"Yes, we have." He couldn't force anything more out of his throat, the words that he had managed burning a trail as they had crawled out.

"It is time we parted and you become your own, my son." He wished he would've called him love instead. Eric nodded at the statement, his mind keeping calm and open, but his heart raging. He felt empty. "You must make your own, find others and do as you is required of you." Godric continued. His eyes were slicked with sadness as he said the words.

"When we see each other again it will be a sad day." Eric whispered, his fingers reaching out to run along his beautiful Godric's jaw. "I feel it, and that is why I am sad."

"You are not sad, Eric, you feel nothing." If Eric had ever heard an emotional inflection in Godric's voice it was right then and there, the slight change in pitch hinting at the smallest bit of anger. "How blessed is the man who fears always, but he who hardens his heart will fall into calamity." Eric was out the door before the last word left his lips.

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As Eric crawled into his coffin inside the hotel room they were staying at in Dallas he remembered when Godric and he had been dirt poor and sleeping in the woods on the outskirts of Milan, as they had many occasions. He remembered that he had gone to feed and had found that his victim had been holding a bible in his left hand when Eric had drained him. He had brought it back to Godric, hoping he would be happy to have something to read and enjoy since they had no money to do exciting things with.

He remembered that soft smile, how it had shown in his eyes. Only he had been able to make him smile like that, he thought as more tears rolled down his cheeks in crooked rivers. Godric had read the entire book in two days, had buried it in a special spot in the woods and had never said a word about it to Eric again.

Now, this had been only 30 years after his change. So, still slightly naïve and unaware, he had thought the silence meant his Father's displeasure. That he had hated the book Eric was so excited about sharing with him.

But the subject went years without being discussed, almost 200 years actually. 200 years and they were back in the same woods, on the outskirts of the same damn city. Eric had observed that this would be a very opportune moment to inquire about the Bible. So he had asked,

"Godric, what did you think of the Bible I brought you?" As if a long elapse of time had never passed. Godric smiled almost knowingly at his lover, his fingers intertwined with Eric's larger ones.

"It was nice, thank you." Godric hadn't seemed as enthusiastic as Eric imagined he should have, so he pressed the subject further.

"What was your favorite passage?" He has asked, his eyes not betraying his slight eagerness to impress his Maker. Godric smiled for a few minutes before laughing lightly.

He never answered.

Over 1,000 years later, he crawls into his damned coffin at dawn and sees a note taped to the inside of the lid. Just as he feels sleep tugging at his eyes incessantly he opens it,

Habakkuk 1:2

How long, O Lord, will I call for help,

And Thou wilt not hear?

I cry to Thee, "Violence!"

Yet Thou dost not save.