A/N: Haven't forgotten about any of the other projects I've got on the table (and there are at least 2-3 others, eek). This just popped up in my brain the other day and kinda took over. Already have a few chapters waiting in the wings, but no idea where this is going long-term. It'll be like a surprise, even for me!

Sookie POV

I woke up feeling like someone had set my throat on fire. I had never been so thirsty in all of my life. I must have set a new personal record for drunkenness last night. I couldn't remember much of anything just yet, but it was the only thing that could explain my current state.

The more I woke up, the more I realized I had no idea where I was. I could see well enough, regardless of the lack of light in the room. It was clearly a hotel room; I could smell all of the people who had been here before more. Ugh. Perhaps it was an after-effect of the alcohol that had made my nose so sensitive.

I reached over to the night stand to turn on the light, and almost knocked over the bottles that were perched there. Had I been drinking alone in this room? How depressing.

Once the light was on, I noticed that those weren't just any bottles: they were synthetic blood. True Blood, to be precise. Also on the night stand was a piece of paper; I picked it up and saw that someone had left a note: I'm sorry. There was no other way.

Well, that just made no sense whatsoever. I didn't recognize the handwriting; it wasn't mine, and it wasn't Tara's. For that matter, where the heck was Tara?

I tried to remember what we'd been doing last night. We'd driven down to New Orleans to have a girl's weekend together. If I'd known how much drinking was involved, I would have said no. We'd gone bar-hopping, and each place we went to was more and more of a blur in my mind.

I wanted to call her, but this thirst was getting worse by the second. I walked into the bathroom and got a cup from the plastic bag that the hotel had put them in. After filling it with water, I took a huge gulp and promptly retched it all back up.

That wasn't good, not at all. Did I really drink enough to get alcohol poisoning? That would certainly explain why I couldn't remember anything, and why I felt so disoriented.

I looked up at my reflection in the mirror. My skin was several shades lighter than it had been the night before. If I was that pale and couldn't keep anything down, maybe a trip to the hospital was in order. I frowned at myself and was confused at how strange that felt. I opened my mouth and leaned closer to the mirror to see what…

Okay, last I checked, spontaneous fang growth was not a symptom of alcohol poisoning.

I felt panicked, and normally that should have sent my pulse racing. Instead, there was a curious calm feeling to my body. Calm other than that damn thirst.

This was bad. This was very, very bad. What the hell happened last night?

I sat back down on the bed and eyed those bottles of blood like we were having a staring contest. The thirst was almost unbearable now.

I grabbed a bottle, uncapped it, and started chugging away before I could stop to think about what I was doing. Sweet Jesus, it was so disgusting. It did help with the ache in my throat, but only barely. One by one, I went through those bottles until they were all empty.

It wasn't until I was done with them that I read on the label that you were supposed to heat them up. I guess that made sense. And oh look, there was even a microwave in the room. I could only hope they weren't so gross when they were at body temperature.

I wasn't going to get anywhere just sitting in this strange hotel room. I needed to call Tara. But I needed to know where the hell I even was. Duh, the note: it was written on hotel stationery. Apparently I was at The Inn on Bourbon.

I picked up the phone and dialed Tara's cell phone. She answered on the second ring.

"Hello?"

"Tara, it's Sookie…"

"Oh my God, where did you go? Are you okay? Where are you?" she sounded frantic.

"Um, I'm at the Inn on Bourbon hotel." I rubbed my face. I didn't think I was okay, and I had no idea how to tell her I was a vampire now. Even with all of the evidence, it still felt like a bad dream to me.

"You gave me such a scare, disappearing like that. Tell me you at least got lucky."

I snorted. "Shoot, Tara. I don't remember what happened. But something definitely did happen."

"Do not tell me someone drugged you. Shit, girl…"

"Worse, if you can believe that."

There was a moment while she considered that. "Worse? Sookie, talk to me."

"I woke up thirsty. Like, for blood. And I have fangs now."

"You what? You're joking, right?"

"Right, because this is something I'd joke about."

"You… you're serious."

I sighed. "As serious as the heart attack I'll never have."

She was silent. I held my breath until I realized I didn't need to breathe anymore. I was terrified that she'd hate me or be scared of me. Hell, I was scared of me. I had no idea what I'd be like when I left this room. I'd read enough news reports of new vampires going crazy with blood lust.

How was I going to tell Gran? Or Jason? I didn't think Gran would hate me now, but I couldn't imagine my older brother taking this too well. Could I even go home at all? Was there some super secret vampire hotline I could call? Where could I go for help? Who had done this to me? There were too many unanswered questions here.

All I wanted to do was go home. No, scratch that. I wanted to go back in time and have never come to New Orleans. I'd settle for waking up and finding out that this was just a bad dream.

"Tara, we need to go back to Bon Temps. I can't stay here."

"Are you… is it safe?"

I sighed. "I don't know. I woke up alone in this hotel room with a note and four bottles of blood. I drank them all and I feel better. But I haven't seen anyone yet."

We went over some options. She thought it would be best if she came to my hotel room alone, to see if I would go nuts in her direction. She had some silver jewelry, and would stop by a store to pick up some garlic as well. There wasn't much in the news about vampire weaknesses, but she'd read somewhere that vampires couldn't tolerate silver or garlic. It was worth a shot.

After we hung up, I dialed down to the front desk. They were a bit reluctant to tell me who the room was registered to, but eventually I got a name out of them: John Smith. Super. That was so incredibly unhelpful.

An hour later, there was a knock on my door. I could smell that it was Tara, which really freaked me out. I went to the furthest corner of the room and shouted, "It's open!"

Tara came in slowly, holding a garlic-laden cross in one hand and a four-pack of Red Stuff in the other. She had no less than three silver necklaces around her throat. In any other circumstances, it might have been funny.

"Oh man, that stuff really reeks!" I said, covering my nose. "But I'm not bursting into flame or anything, so that's good."

We stood at opposite ends of the room and stared at each other. I could hear her heartbeat from where I was standing. I could smell the blood under her skin. I closed my eyes and realized I didn't have the urge to attack her.

"I think we're in the clear," I said.

"You sure?" Tara asked.

"As sure as I'm gonna get. Let's get out of this damn city."

Tara had already packed our bags from the hotel room we'd gotten last night, so the car was all ready to go. I didn't bother checking out of this hotel room, since it wasn't registered in my name. Let someone else figure out that mess; my hands were already full with my own problems.

Once we were back on the road, we started going over my options. It was only Saturday, and Gran wouldn't be expecting me back until tomorrow afternoon. I wasn't scheduled to work at Merlotte's until Monday, but I had the lunch shift. That was going to be a problem.

"The first thing we need to do is figure out where I'm going to be staying. I can't go back home until I know for certain that I won't attack Gran."

Tara thought about it for a moment. "There's a vampire-friendly hotel in Shreveport. And there's that vampire bar I heard about. Maybe someone there could help you out?"

"The hotel sounds like a good option. I've heard that bar was kinda freaky, though."

She laughed. "Girl, you're kinda freaky, now."

I glared at her. "Thanks a lot, Tara."

The brief bit of anger that flared up in me made me thirsty. That was bad. I grabbed a bottle of the Red Stuff and started drinking.

"Holy crap, this stuff is horrible!" It took the edge off, but I was not looking forward to the next three bottles.

She laughed. "It's blood, what did you expect?"

"I know, but it's even worse than that True Blood stuff. That was bad, but this is just vile." I shuddered.

Everything hit me all at once, and I started bawling. Not in that quiet, silent tears running down my cheeks kind of way; this was in that awful, sobbing hard enough to shake the car kind of way. It only got worse when I pulled my hands from my face and found them covered in blood. That was all I needed: bloody tears. I guess that came with the new territory I found myself in.

Tara pulled the car over to the shoulder of the highway and dug up some napkins. She tried to console me, but she did it at arm's length. I could tell she was scared to get too close; that just made me cry harder.

I shook my head. "Just drive, Tara."

She cursed under her breath and apologized to me as she got back onto the highway. Eventually I stopped crying, but it was still an uncomfortable drive; neither of us knew what to say. I was almost relieved when I realized I could still hear her thoughts. All of my life, I'd thought of my telepathy as a curse. Now I was glad for it: it meant that on some level, I was still me.

She was blaming herself. She thought it was all her fault that this happened to me. She remembered last night better than I did: she'd gone off with a handsome man with beautiful eyes, and she'd thought his friend would be a good date for me. Her mind felt different to me, now. There was a strange blank spot there, something I'd never encountered before.

Several very awkward hours (and three disgusting bottles of Red Stuff) later, we were at the hotel in Shreveport. Tara offered to stay with me, even though I could tell she didn't want to. I declined, and even though I knew she didn't want to stay, it still hurt when she didn't protest. I told her I'd call her in a night or two, and she promised she wouldn't tell anyone what had happened.

The hotel turned out to be more expensive than I'd hoped. I had enough money to cover a few nights, but after that I'd be up poop creek without a paddle.

My room was small, but it was light-proof and had a bed. That was all I cared about. The clock in the room told me that it was only 1am. Since it was already fall, the nights were getting longer. I had another five or six hours until I'd be dead for the day. Sighing, I realized I might as well get this ball rolling. As much as I wanted to put off thinking about this until tomorrow, it felt like time was working against me.

There was a phone book in the room, but I couldn't remember the name of that vampire bar that Tara had mentioned. I called the front desk, and not only did they know the name, they told me that Fangtasia was open until an hour before sunrise. I got directions, and found that it was within easy walking distance.

I had no idea what to wear to a place like Fangtasia, but my options were limited to what I'd brought for the weekend trip to New Orleans. Tara had ribbed me about my choice of dresses, saying that they looked like I was going to church instead of a bar. She'd loaned me a dress for last night, but it stank of alcohol and cigarette smoke.

For that matter, I looked a hot mess. I took what I'd intended to be a quick shower, but the feel of the water hitting my skin was almost hypnotic. All of my senses were stronger than what they had been, and apparently touch was no different. By the time I dried my hair and gotten dressed, almost two hours had passed. That meant I only had about three hours until pumpkin time.

Disclaimer: All of the characters contained in this story are property of Charlaine Harris. I don't own them; I just like to play with them a bit.