I consider calling out for Bill. I knew he would still hear me. I'd broken his heart too, but I knew he would still intercede for me. Follow my internal voice wherever I was being dragged, which I knew, the moment we got on the freeway, was Fangtasia. He'd come if I asked him to. But I don't.

As I figure out I'm being dragged before the master of this place, I realize I'm getting the audience I had wanted. I had wanted to talk to him for months. Find a way to let him know I hadn't broken it off because I didn't love him, but because I loved him too much. Or least find out how he was doing. But Chow was the only one who ever answered the phone, and the answer was always the same – that he'd give Mr. Northman the message, who would contact me if he chose to. Never a word about Pam.

I loved both Bill and Eric – two different, but equally dangerous creatures in their own ways, and I couldn't imagine a world without either of them. I loved Bill, and always would. But I wasn't IN love with him, and I hadn't been for a while. Not after I found out everything he'd done to me.

It wasn't that I couldn't forgive him – it was that he had been so convincing in his lies, I realized I would no longer ever know if a word he spoke was the truth. That was the absolute worst thing about sharing blood. You never knew which emotions, feelings, words, or beliefs were your own, and which had been implanted, or mangled by someone else. And which were pure biology, a reaction of being so close to another person, they would literally be part of your anatomy forever.

As much I had loved Bill, it was different, far different from the burning fire of love and hate I felt for …him. The way my skin felt like it was melting off my body when he touched me. The way I couldn't get close enough to him, even when we had been entwined together. The way his embrace fed me the way nothing else could. How my head spun when he pulled me into a fierce kiss …stop…he could sense, even smell, every emotion. Walking into Fangtasia with my skin shining with lust wasn't a good idea. I tamped it down.

Two men had dragged me from my bed in the middle of night. They obviously weren't vampires – the guy whose nose I had broken was still bleeding and cursing.

Yes, I was relieved to see us heading for Fangtasia. It could have been much worse. And yet…

Seeing Eric again….I made him realize he had a heart, then I stole it, then I crushed it. I would have hated me too.

I'm pulled from the car as it comes to a stop in the parking lot.

"Get your fuckin hands off me", I scream, but it doesn't do any good.

One of them grabs the handle of the padded black door of the club, and pushes me inside. I have to fight to keep my balance. Each man takes an arm and leads me through the door.

Like always, the place is hopping. Fangbangers in black leather and dog collars, waiting to be dominated, humiliated, whatever else got them off. Vampires watched them like sharks watched minnows.

I could feel him staring at me. There he was, sitting on that insane throne against the wall.

The room stops. The music stops, and everyone stops what they were doing and turns around. I suppose it was a sight to see a human girl dragged screaming into the club, clad only in a pink nightgown and bare feet.

Eric waves his hand and the music starts again. Slowly, the fangbangers go back to their drinks.

As we approach the throne , he looks me over despite himself. I know he remembers the nightgown. It's the same one I wore when we were cuddled up together in bed, murmuring to each other as I held close to me a scared, confused Viking. His eyes go glassy for a moment, and he shakes his head to dislodge the memory.

One of the men shoves me hard, and I fall forward, cracking my knees against the floor.

"Miss Stackhouse, thank you for accepting my invitation", he says.

"What the hell am I doin here, Eric?" I ask from the floor.

"Do you greet all your old lovers that way?" he asks with a smirk.

"Let me go!" I shout.

"Not yet, I went through a lot of trouble to get you here", he says with a smile.

"I'm sorry, okay! I'm sorry. I know I broke your heart…" I start, then stop, when his baby blue eyes darken until they are almost purple. The muscles in his jaw clench.

"If you recall, I don't have one of those", he points out.

"Then I'm sorry I hurt you", I say, "I didn't mean to, I didn't want to, my feelings never changed…"

He waves me away. "You really are delusional, if you think I have any interest in your feelings." He sighs. " It's my fault entirely. I began to think of a human as something other than livestock to fuck or eat at will."

"You're a cruel bastard", I hiss from my position at his feet.

"Yes. But if you really want to see cruel…" he croons

I follow his eyes until they land on an innocent looking teen human girl. How she had even gotten in was a mystery.

"I can show you if you like."

"No! No", I said. "It's me you want to hurt."

"For once, Miss Stackhouse, you're right." He looks at the goons who dragged me in. "Put her in my office."

They drag me away. "No!" I scream, but it does no good.

They open the door, and toss me in. Again, I fall to my knees on the industrial grade carpet of his office, just as hard, only rougher than the club floor.

I think of begging them to help a fellow human, but it would be pointless. They're paid thugs.

After they leave and close the door, I get up, and sit on the black leather sofa against the wall. It's freezing in here, and my thin, short nightgown isn't doing anything against the chill.

I jump when the door slams.

He takes his time sitting in the big chair behind his desk.

"Bill Compton is missing", he says.

"You dragged me all the way here from Bon Temps to tell me that?" I ask. "You ever heard of a telephone?"

"I think you're harboring him", he says.

"Then you'd be wrong", I say. "I have no idea where Bill is. If you recall, I broke it off with both of you. "

"I figured that was for my benefit, and he found his way…" his eyes rake me over, "Back into your bed."

"No, Eric. I meant what I said. I walked away from both of you for your own good. To protect you."

"Tell yourself whatever lies you need to tell to get you through the night, Miss Stackhouse", he says.

"Why won't you call me Sookie?" I ask.

"We'll need to search your house from top to bottom…" He pauses and curses under breath, then starts again. "Protect us…protect us from what?" he asks. The shake in his voice is unmistakable.

"From me. I kill people. They drop like flies around me. You need to count up how many times you've volunteered to die, Eric. And most of them were for me. After what you and Bill did, after you nearly sacrificed yourselves for me…I couldn't take the chance with your life anymore. And…I felt that whoever I chose…I would hurt the other too badly." I could feel tears slipping past my cheeks.

"Stop that!" he commands.

"I can't…control it", I say, hearing the sob in my voice.

"Fuck", he hisses, and opens his desk draw. He throws a few napkins at me.

I dry my eyes as best I can. "I don't think…" I cry, "That you can ever forgive me, and in my wildest imagination I don't think you would ever believe anythin I tell you again. But…I still…"

"Shut up", he commands.

He takes a deep breath. "I need you to set me free, Sookie. Remember everything I did? To you, to your friends, to your family…I'm not the one. You hate me, and I need you to make that clear."

"Is this why you really brought me here? Or was it because of Bill?" I ask, but he ignores the question.

"Say it", he whispers. "You hate me."

"I don't hate you, Eric. Though the Lord above knows I have reason to. Lots of people have reason to."

"Say it, Sookie, tell the truth. Say you hate me. Say it now!" he threatens. He's terrifying.

"I won't", I say.

He jumps up, grabs me, and yanks me over to his desk.

He squeezes my wrist painfully. I yelp and try to pull back, but his grip gets tighter.

"Tell me you fucking hate me", he insists.

He bends down and puts his face no more an inch from mine. "Say it! Say you fucking hate me!"

Tears start to spill down my cheeks. "I'm not gonna say it, Eric!" I yell.

He sees my tears, and looks instantly contrite. He releases my wrist and scoots away.

"Just go away", he says softly.

"I'm not goin anywhere", I respond and his head drops into his hands.

"Why do you want to torture me?", he moans. "You left, you're the one who walked away."

"Not because I wanted to, because I had to", I say.

"You didn't have to do anything", he says. "You rejected us both. You rejected me."

"So I wouldn't hurt either of you. I didn't reject you, Eric. I hurt myself to try not to hurt you, but it didn't work", I say.

He struggles to hold back a cold chuckle, but can't do it. "Only to you, Miss Stackhouse, would that make sense."

He holds my gaze like a cobra looking at a rabbit.

"I need", he starts, and then sucks in a breath. "I need you to put me out of my misery", he says. "I need you to tell me you hate me."

"No", I say, wiping away tears.

"I need you to end this once and for all", he says. "Just do it. Release me!"

I move closer to him and push him- 6 feet, 4 inches, 220 pounds of pure muscled, thousand year old strong Viking, into his chair. He allows this and sits down. I think he's curious. For the first time, I'm looking down on him.

"I will never, ever tell you I hate you", I say.

It's half a second, not even that. He jumps up and grabs me. My feet are dangling as he holds me up only by squeezing my upper arms, snarling at me. He puts me down, and I try move back, but he captures my face, cupping my chin. He cups the back of my head with his large hand, pulling me closer.

"Then tell me you love me", he asks suddenly, like a child, and crushes his mouth to mine.

"I love you", I say. And I do. Strangely. All of him, not just gentle, innocent Eric, but the one who is as vicious as he is vulnerable.

His mouth falls open, and his smile goes all the way to his eyes. Joy. Unmistakable. He needs me. This powerful creature needs me to take him in my arms and tell him everything will be all right.

He moans with desperation. "Sookie", he whispers, his arms going limp, his eyes blurry with want, with love, with obsession.

He blinks and that need is gone, and the hard glint in his eye is back. Then he stops. And laughs coldly.

His fangs snap out. "It seems you have a splendid imagination after all."

I hear my own scream, and then everything goes black.