I own nothing

True Blood S4

This takes place after the events of "Spellbound". I refuse to have the vampires be bested by the witches, so in this story the dust has settled and Bill and Tara find an opportunity to talk.

"You know why..."

There wasn't a day that had gone by since that night that his words hadn't reverberated in her head.

It took quite some time for the dust to settle in Bon Temps after that fateful night in the cemetery four months ago, but it all seemed like yesterday to Tara. God, what a holy mess. So many things would stand out about that night, moments burned permanently in her brain that could never be erased.

She sat on Lafayette's porch smoking a blunt. LaLa always had the best shit. He didn't sell it anymore; he didn't sell any illegal drugs anymore—he was out of all of that, for good. Lafayette had finally embraced his true spiritual selves and begun to study in earnest in the British Traditional Wicca. He was also becoming quite the scholar of world religions, in general. As a matter of fact, along with his theological Wiccan studies he was preparing himself for Hajj, the greater pilgrimage to Mecca, that was coming up in November. LaLa was all about tolerance and embracing the God and the Goddess in all living creations. Two years ago Tara would have run screaming from him if he'd talked of the things he talked of now. But in the time since the vampires had come out of the coffin and made themselves known to the world, Tara's fragile belief system, if she'd ever possessed one at all, had been forced to open up to the impossible; had been forced to embrace patterns of thought—years ago—she was sure had been reserved only for the craziest amongst us all. How wrong she had been. It was amazing that all of this had been a by-product of the crazy confusion that had been Marnie, and by extension, Antonia Gavilan.

She was learning a lot from him even though he was not even remotely trying to force his beliefs on her. It was in his manner, his new-found sense of calm, the joy of learning how to be a positive part of Creation that was soaking into her consciousness from just being around him. LaLa was happy, and Tara had seen very few truly happy people in her lifetime. And his happiness was infectious.

She was in a mellow, calm place at that moment as she sat comfortably in the cool chill of the night. She didn't fear the same things that she used to. LaLa was away, in Shreveport at some official gathering. He was always away, it seemed, and Tara admired his ability to not fear the next step, whether into the known or the unknown. His spirit was taking him places, far from Bon Temps. Tara had only ever been as far a Mississippi—not a stretch at all from Bon Temps. She fled from that memory quickly. One day, she too would travel beyond the borders of Bon Temps; that time was just not now. Not yet.

Her thoughts now wandered to Naomi. She had really loved Naomi, but she sent her away to save her life. Tara knew she had done the right thing. She never went back to New Orleans, would never see Naomi again. It was still the right thing to do even though it continued to break her heart.

She thought of Sookie. God, they had grown apart over the last months since Sookie's return. Tara didn't even begin to know where to try and heal the rift, or if she should even try. And even though that broke her heart as well, it felt like the right thing to just leave it alone. At least for now.

And then there was Bill.

Bill, who had once left her for dead at the hands of one psychotic vampire and then saved her life from the deadly grips of another. "You know why..."

That one moment in time still haunted her waking thoughts as well as her dreams.

How she had hated him; hated him from the moment she set eyes on him at Merlotte's as he zeroed in on Sookie. Sookie, whom she didn't even speak to anymore. He had saved Tara because of her. She didn't fool herself for one minute thinking that it was for any other reason. Bill had moved on from Sookie in his cold dead heart, but she would always reside in it. And it was that love that compelled him to order Pam to release her from her rotting death grip in the cemetery that night. But there was something else that plagued her in all of that time since. It was the way he had looked at her as he pulled her up from the damp, cool ground; it was the electricity of his touch that sparked in her a feeling that she had, as yet, not been able to name coherently; it was all the hate she had always felt for him and those of his kind that had made life hell for countless humans through the ages, had made life hell for her—all of those conflicting emotions at war within her as he performed a kindness so great that it left her dumb and speechless on the path where she stood before him. He didn't look kindly upon her at all as he did it; there was no gentle smile, no look of abject apology—no tenderness at all. But she'd felt it pouring from him, nonetheless, emanating from him and enveloping her total soul. It was, to that day, that very moment, still driving her to complete distraction.

There had been many things she'd had to reconcile within herself after that night. She'd been sitting out on the porch contemplating how best to achieve a thing she knew was necessary to get her over the last hump, the last obstacle on the road to her peace of mind; the last thing that must be done to free Bill from her thoughts forever.

Tara didn't like to show up anywhere unannounced. Anymore, anyway. But especially not where she was headed. But she had no choice. She didn't have his personal cell number or the number to the mansion. She was prepared to just leave a message with one of the guards—provided they didn't shoot her first. And it wasn't even eleven pm—still pretty early, by vampire standards. But he could be doing anything: attending to vampire affairs, or more likely, personal affairs. Hell, he probably wasn't there at all. It didn't matter, she just needed to leave a message.

She drove up to the newly installed security gate, stopped and spoke to the guard.

"Uh, hello, sir, I would just like to leave a message for King Bill."

"Name?" the guard asked gruffly.

"Tara Thornton," she bristled immediately. Fucking asshole, why's he gotta be so rude? The guard spoke into a mouth piece and then awaited instruction. Tara was preparing for more unpleasantness when he opened his mouth, but was surprised to hear his next words.

"Proceed, please. Park your car in the first empty stall. King Bill says he will be waiting for you there."

"Uh, thank you."

Tara rolled through slowly, found the stall she'd been instructed to and Bill waiting for her in the spotlight of her head lights. Bill walked to her door, opened it and helped her out.

"Tara, it is so very nice to see you," his face was stern although his voice was warm.

"Thank you, King Bill."

"You don't have to call me King, Tara, although I do appreciate your graciousness."

"Okay...Bill."

"To what do I owe your visit tonight? Is everything well?"

"Well, I wouldn't know—Sookie and I don't really talk anymore."

"Tara," Bill began a little awkwardly, "I wasn't asking about Sookie; I was asking about you."

"Oh, well," Tara felt instantly stupid. "I'm fine. I just..."

"Let us go to the house where you can sit by the fire and get warm," he suggested as he politely cut her off.

"Okay, sure. I won't be taking up much of your time."

"Come on with me, then," he said formally as he led the way to the house.

Tara was blown away when she walked through the front door. The last time she had set eyes on Bill's house it was a charming, hot, ramshackle wreck of place. Now it was like a palace.

Bill, taking note of her quiet surprise, smiled a faint smile. "When I became King I found it necessary to employ the expertise of an interior decorator," he said as he led her to the drawing room he used to receive his human guests.

"I can see that. It suits you. Must feel good to have your ancestral home restored."

"Yes, it does. Please, have a seat, Tara."

He was still all formal propriety. Tara sat down and tried to compose herself as Bill joined her.

"Bill, I'm just going to spit this out..."

"Can I get you anything Tara?"

"No. like I said, I just want to...I never had the chance after the night in the cemetery to thank you for saving my life. I know we have a pretty hostile history; I know I did some things...I know Marnie was...I was involved in, with..." Somewhere a dam broke and Tara started to cry, deep heaving sobs of anguish and release.

Bill made no move to comfort her. It did not surprise Tara that he sat stock still while she tried to compose herself.

"I know you did it because of Sookie, and I just wanted to thank you," she said at last as she hung her head trying to wipe away the tears before she looked at him. When she did at last look upon him she was surprised to see him smiling at her, sadly, but smiling nonetheless.

"Tara, you know better. I didn't do it for Sookie. I did it for you. You know why."

"Uh, no, I don't..." but his last words struck her to her core.

"Yes, you do. I am sorry, to the core of my being for what you suffered at the hand of Franklin Mott; and Russell Edgington—and myself. Had I saved you in Mississippi it would have been because of Sookie. In the cemetery that night I owed you my life. Don't you understand? You have had more than one opportunity to have me as a bane to your existence no more. And because of Sookie you chose to help me instead of harm me. And I let you down severely that night in Mississippi. And still you helped her put me in the van. And after I drained her nearly to death, still you did not finish me off. There was no way I was going to let Pam kill you. I am forever indebted to you, Tara Thornton. I am also sorry that I have cost you your relationship with Sookie."

"Aww, Bill, that was inevitable. Sook is a supernatural, herself. No offense, but the types she attracts? That's always going to mean trouble for her human friends." Tara wiped the last of her tears away and, still sniffling, looked up sheepishly at Bill, who had on his face the warmest smile she'd ever seen directed at her from him. Tara cast her gaze downward, nervously.

"None taken. And you are right. And woe to the man, human or otherwise, that ever truly captures her heart."

"Are you really over her, Bill?" Tara asked as she pushed a stray strand of hair from her eye, still not looking up.

"I shall care about her always; and because of our blood bond I shall always carry a piece of her within me. But I do not love her. I am free of that particular torment." Bill's smile broadened as he took Tara's chin in hand and forced her gaze upon him. Truce?"

Tara relaxed a little and returned a genuine smile. "Truce. Well, I should get goin'...I'm sure you have much more important matters to attend to. I thank you for taking the time to see me. Especially unannounced and all."

Bill took her hand and helped Tara up as she rose to go, and there it was—that electric spark she'd felt so many months before; a surprising heat that betrayed the cold dead thing that was his hand. She yanked her hand out of his as she backed away from him.

"So you felt it too, as I did that night," he accused her, that warm, all-inviting smile still on his face.

"Felt what?"

"The attraction, Tara. It's alright, you can try to deny it, if you feel that you must," he said as he advanced slowly towards her.

"Okay, I felt something, but even though you saved me you looked pretty damn mad," Tara took slow steps backwards, until she found that she'd hit a wall.

"I was. I wanted you, Tara, right then and there; but—well you know what was going on," he said as he drew upon her at last. Bill leaned in close to Tara, took her hands in his and raised them high and pinned them to the wall. Tara could feel her body going slack; she did want him, wanted his hands on her, his mouth upon hers.

Was she crazy? Was she dreaming? Was she being glamoured? She was none of those things. She could feel the heat in her loins and that feeling in the pit off her stomach that started to turn flip-flops; that feeling that all of the stupid love songs ever written paid homage to. She hadn't felt this—ever. She'd had hot sex; tawdry sex; awful sex; tender sex. She'd never had sex with someone she loved. Not like this was promising to be, not with her soul.

She had loved Eggs, but she had been under the influence of a demon; she had loved Naomi, but she hadn't really given Naomi her true self. And Sam, sweet Sam; both of them had been angry and lonely and so at cross-purposes, trying to fill the voids in their hearts yet never succeeding.

Had she been angry at Bill? Always. Had she truly hated him? Yes, with all of her being. So where had the attraction come in? When she saw how he was with Sookie; when he showed them all that he truly could love; when he damn near killed her but Sook still loved him anyway and enjoined her closest friends to help him stay alive; even when he betrayed her; when she broke his heart with Eric Northman, long before Antonia ever showed up; when Sookie was gone and he grieved her loss in front of all. So crazy that their love and then its ultimate demise had planted the seed of her own; because Tara had finally seen the humanity in him that Sookie had always known was there. And because Sookie had loved him, Tara had grudgingly loved him, as all family members do, when your loved one's significant other pisses you off to all hell. You love them because they make, or made, your loved one happy. And somewhere along the line Tara's hate had turned to tolerance, and then to solidarity in uneasy alliance. At some point they were grudging friends, now with a history between them, familiarity—even some things, other than Sookie, that they had in common.

It was confirmed in the cemetery four months ago, that unspoken desire that came crashing down upon them in the middle of chaos and disorder, that made the world stop for them for just a moment in time, now finally to be realized in his imminent embrace.

Just his nearness caused Tara to gasp, the first orgasmic burst that was a result of his touch alone.

Bill lowered his hands slowly, sensuously down the length of her, down the sides of her torso even as Tara's arms remained against the wall, raised up high in surrender. She could feel his arousal as he pressed in to her, feel the smooth fangs on her neck as he grazed her delicately.

"I've been waiting for you to come to me, Tara," he murmured into her neck.

He planted sweet kisses along her neck, her mouth, her closed eyelids; her hands came down at last and she grabbed him by the nape of his neck, holding him to her. Her legs went up and encircled his waist and Bill banged her playfully into the wall. But she was lost in his kisses and would not open her eyes. Bill grabbed a handful of her hair and yanked it just so, until she opened her eyes at last and looked upon him. No words were needed. Up the stairs he carried her, his gaze never wavering from hers, to his waiting bed. He undressed her slowly and then she, him. He laid her down upon his sumptuous bed and they kissed liquidly, languidly for quite some time. When at last Bill trailed the last of his tender kisses that led to the sweetness between her legs she was ripe with anticipation. He pleasured her for what seemed forever, until Tara almost passed out from exhilaration and exhaustion; she came explosively, needing him to stop but unable to let him do so.

"This is just the beginning," he assured her as he turned her over now, bringing her to all fours on her knees. He entered her slowly and then raised her up, kissing the back of her neck as he rode her, her breasts cupped lovingly in his big cold hands.

He wanted her blood; he wanted her for eternity; but knew not to ask such a thing from her. Yet. No, he could wait. She had been through so much...he could wait. He would not feed from her unless she asked it of him. And if she never did? Well, he thought scandalously to himself, never say never.