A/N: Many of my stories are personal. Recently, I wrote "Training Wheels", a story inspired by an eerily similar event happening to me. If only I could have had a Viking vampire to help me home with my busted bike. Oh well. C'est la vie. That said, this story is extremely personal. It will probably be the most difficult thing I have ever written, and I include "Dead from the Waist Down" in that summary. On that note, I ask you, my readers, to bear with me. I expect this to be long. I expect it to be a personal journey. I want it to make you feel.

This story contains adult themes, including sadomasochism, "BDSM", and D/s. This is a story for mature readers. Because of its personal nature, I beg of you to be kind on the comments (If you can't say something nice or at least constructive, keep it to yourself. If you have to share, send me a PM.) I know that some writers of this material have gotten strange or inappropriate or downright mean reviews. Remember folks, we're pouring our hearts and minds out for your enjoyment. We're not getting paid for this. There are no publication contracts coming out of these stories.

On that note, I say, enjoy!

Oh yeah, this is AU. You'll probably figure that out pretty darn fast.


It's About Power

I met him at work. It was just another busy night at Merlotte's, the bar I've worked at for the last couple of years. I knew, immediately, that he was a different kind of man. Perhaps it was his pale skin, or the disarray of his dark brown hair. Maybe it was the gauntness of his face, or the unusual choice of a ratty Henley shirt and a pair of brown trousers. Maybe it was simply the fact that he reflected absolutely nothing in my mind. I'm a telepath, and I have been for the last twenty-five years of my life. I can read people's thoughts, and I tell you, they're usually a bit worrisome, or gross, or downright awful. This man, my customer, didn't have any of those thoughts. His brain was a black hole of nothing, and that was mighty intriguing. I sidled up to his table, and I just knew he was a different sort of man. He was mighty attractive too, with shining blue eyes and pale flesh and dark hair. He looked like a brooding sort of guy, and he instantly reminded me of the school-girl crush I'd always had for Angel, the character Buffy Summers loved. I smiled and leaned my hand on my hip.

"You're a vampire," I beamed at him, my voice a mix of awe and surprise. I hadn't even realized I was going to say it until I said it. Sometimes I just got the word vomit. Things just sorta…came up.

"Heh, yes," he nodded, perhaps a little shocked that I'd noticed, or that I'd admitted it out loud.

"What can I get you?"

"Do you have any of that synthetic blood?" He raised an eyebrow.

"Well, actually, no. We had some, but we never get any vampires around these parts, so it went bad. We threw it out. Isn't that awful? I mean, it just went bad last week, and then we get our first vampire in Bon Temps!"

"Well how about a glass of red wine then?" He nodded solemnly, and I went to fetch it. I hurried back, but I managed not to spill the wine on the floor or on myself. That was a first. I was pretty impressed.

"Can you drink wine?" I asked, all curious-like.

"No, but I can swirl it," he smiled. He had an unusually handsome smile. There was something both beautiful and deadly about it. I closed my eyes for a moment like I was snapping a picture of him.

"Well, next time you come in, I promise we'll have some True Blood."

"Excellent," he replied. He swirled the wine in the glass and sniffed it. I walked unsteadily away from his table and returned to the bar to find my boss, Sam, staring.

"He's a vampire!" I breathed. I was so blown away by the chance to meet a real live vampire that I thought my heart would beat right out of my chest and dance across the floor.

"Yes, I see that," Sam frowned. He looked almost territorial, like a dog or a shark or something.

"What are you getting so worked up about? I think it's great! It really puts Bon Temps on the map. I hear there's all kinds of vampire places in Shreveport."

"Maybe, but this is Bon Temps. We're a nice normal place, Sookie. We don't need vampires running around here, messing things up."

"Oh stop. I know you support the Vampire Rights Act!" I frowned at him.

"Only the principle of it, Sookie, not the practice."

"Sheesh," I shook my head. Whatever Sam thought, I was astounded by the vampire.

I went home that night thinking about him, about that strange smile, about the fangs that might caress the inside of his lips. I shivered as I curled up in bed. I thought back to an old episode of Buffy because it was really the only reference I had for vampires. Angel had been all evil at one point, and he'd come into Buffy's room and watched her while she slept. He'd brushed her hair back from her face and talked about passion. Even when he was all evil and scary, he had been obsessed with her, maybe even in love with her. I imagined the vampire from the bar watching me while I slept, and as I imagined it, my eager hands dipped between my thighs.

I had never had sex, not in all twenty-five years of my life on Earth. When you can read the thoughts of your dates and you know all they're thinking about is getting you home so they can wiggle into your pants, it sorta turns you off. Of course, that didn't mean I wasn't giving myself a good time the old fashioned way. I imagined the vampire coming in through my window sill, his messy hair pushed over his high forehead, his piercing eyes staring at me from across the room. He'd come to me and push my arms up behind my head, pinning me to the bed. His knees would squirm between my thighs and push me apart. He'd suck on my neck, bite me, draw blood from me like water gushing from pinholes in the garden hose. His hips would thrust roughly against mine, and he'd hurt me.

And I'd love it.

He was there again the next night, and I made sure to bring in True Blood so we'd have some on hand. The bar was quieter on week nights, and I had few customers, so after I'd attended to them all, I sat down in the booth opposite our new resident. I tried to bounce my telepathic mind off of him, but I got nothing in return. He was completely devoid of response, and the sensation was incredible. Have you ever looked up at the stars on a summer night and pointed a flashlight? Well, I have, and you know what? The beam doesn't bounce back. It just goes on and on forever because there's nothing to reflect it. That's what the vampire was like. I was staring into the great beyond, and I'd keep staring forever. When you're a telepath stuck reading minds all the time, well, that's a pretty powerful thing.

"So what's your name?" I grinned. The vampire tilted his head to one side. He licked a trace of synthetic blood from his lips. His eyes squinted a little, like he'd been forced to eat spinach.

"Bill." He grunted.

"Bill?" I giggled involuntarily. "Vampire Bill? You're kidding, right?"

"No," he said. He gave me a tiny glimpse of fang, and I stopped giggling. I'd thought maybe something with more charm or old world grace, but not Bill. Didn't matter. Bill or not, the vampire was a thing of erotically charged beauty.

"Well, it's a pleasure to meet you, Bill. I'm Sookie Stackhouse." I stuck out my hand to shake his, but he didn't respond. I stared at my outstretched arm awkwardly for a second, and then I put it back on my lap. I guess vampires don't shake hands. Maybe it's that whole mysterious thing.

"Tell me," Bill said. His voice was icy and cold, stony and dark. It gave me shivers. It was like I could feel it caressing me. "How did you know I was a vampire?"

"Well, Bon Temps is a pretty small town, so I know just about everybody. Also, I don't know, you just sort of have a vibe." Also, you don't reflect my thoughts and that makes you distinctly not human.

"A vibe…" Bill repeated me as though he were categorizing the words in his head like some kind of human (vampire) dictionary.

"Yeah, you know, like a gut feeling? I just sorta knew, I guess."

"You are an unusual woman, Sookie Stackhouse," Bill said.

"You don't know the half of it." I replied with a grin.

"Would you allow me to escort you home?" Bill asked. He sounded so perfect. He had those perfect Southern manners, and a perfect Southern accent to match. I shrugged my shoulders.

"Sure, if you want to. I live pretty far out though. But if you want, you're welcome to come. I get off at two."

"I will take another True Blood." Bill nodded.

When my shift ended, Sam gave me a dirty look. I gave him an innocent smile and walked to my car to find Bill waiting for me. My car was the only one left in the lot, so I guessed he'd figured out that it belonged to me. I looked around. Okay, so how had the vampire gotten here in the first place? Could he fly? Did vampires fly? I had no idea, so I asked.

"So can you fly?"

"Um, no," Bill said.

"So how did you get to the bar?" I gestured to the empty parking lot.

"I walked." Bill said simply. He seemed to be a man of few words. That was okay by me. I talk enough for everybody.

"Well okay then!" I laughed. "Get on in."

"I will drive." Bill said promptly. Hm. I didn't know how I felt about letting someone else, especially someone I didn't know too well, drive my car. But okay, I liked the way he'd demanded to drive my car, or at least said he would. He didn't ask. I know that sounds really crazy! I'm an independent woman. I like my independence a lot and I don't like to give it up, but there was something in his tone that made me loathe saying no to him. I handed him the keys, and he unlocked the car and held open my door for me. He even shut it when I was all settled in. It was pretty classy, let me tell you.

I gave him directions to the house, and when we arrived, he got out, walked around the car lickety-split, and opened the door for me. I got out and he shut the door again. Oh Lordy, I wanted him to kiss me. Right there, shoved up against my car door. I couldn't explain it. I was so hot for this complete stranger. I only knew his first name! I didn't know anything else about him except the fact that he was a vampire and he liked O negative blood. That was all! And yet, I wanted his hands all over me, his fangs grazing my skin, his hips shoved up against mine. I hadn't felt this horny in a long time. I couldn't even remember when the last time had been! Everything about him was so rough and wild, but controlled under this thin skin. It was incredible.

"Do you work at the bar tomorrow evening?" Bill asked me after he had walked me to the door. He took my arm in his, like we were on parade at some Old Southern barbeque in Gone with the Wind.

"Nope, I'm off," I smiled.

"I will come and call on you." Bill said matter-of-factly. There he was again, doing that strange not-asking thing. He wasn't asking me on a date and he wasn't asking if he could come home. He was coming over. It was already happening. I didn't have a say. Something about the prospect of that made me giddy, even if at the same time there were little emergency warning lights going off in my head. I wanted him to come over, and moreover, I wanted him to be just like this when he did.

"Okay, I'll be here." I smiled.

"Goodnight Sookie," he grinned. Oh it was a gallant, Rhett Butler sort of grin. He was full of smarmy charm, dashing and debonair. Heck, if he didn't pin me to the wall soon, I was gonna have to jump his bones right here and now. He bowed his head and brought my hand to his lips. His mouth grazed my knuckles and an instant wave of gooseflesh swirled down my forearm. He chuckled, ever so lightly, and walked down the porch steps.

I practically bolted to my bedroom in the back of the house, barely taking time to tiptoe past my Gran's room. I shut the door and stripped off my clothes. I stopped only to open the window and let the early fall breeze in. I darted my head past the whispery curtains and peeked into the shadows. Was he still out there, watching me like Angel had watched Buffy? Could he come into my room? Angel couldn't come into Buffy's house without an invitation, but I didn't know how much of that was movie magic and how much of it was real, honest-to-goodness fact. I stripped out of my bar clothes and pulled on a skimpy pink nightie. I crawled under the light covers of my bed and let my thoughts drift to fantasies of Vampire Bill.

In my head, he was a rough lover. His strained and veiled demeanor was a cover for the animal contained within, an animal with a Rhett Butler-like charm. He was domineering and cold, but in an intoxicating and beautiful way. I wanted to obey his commands, and command me he did. I shut my eyes and imagined him pointing me to the floor. He unbuckled his belt and removed his pants. He demanded I open my mouth, and I did so. He placed the length of his shaft on my tongue. He instructed me in the method of his pleasure, and when I made a move to pleasure myself, he forbade it. It was an unusual fantasy, one I had never had before, and yet was inspired toward when I thought of him. Every dream of Bill, every desire for him clashed with my craving for dominance.

I woke up panting, my thighs and night gown damp. I rolled over and looked at the clock on my nightstand. It was just past six in the morning. The sky was just pinking with daybreak.