A/N: Okays, so… I couldn't resist. So, uh… more reviews=more chapters. I have this mostly outlined, but I won't write more unless someone's gonna actually read it, lol.
So, here's the deal. Leave all your attachments to cannon and timelines at the door… otherwise this will make less sense than Inception ;D
The setup: Basically, we join Pam towards the end of season 2, right after Eric has left to seek the Queen's counsel on the Maenad. The SPN timeline is during season 4-ish, after Dean has discovered that Sam has been drinking demon blood.
This little plot bunny started poking me when I began to wonder… just what did Pam do after Eric left to see the Queen (aside from going to give Laff a good scare)? What were Pam and Eric up to during the last couple of episodes of Season 2, when we saw exactly zilch of them? And why were they not involved in rescuing Sookie (and the town of Bon Temps in general) from the Maenad?
And then, my evil brain wondered… what would Pam think and do if she happened on Sam draining a demon?
Okay, that's enough blabbing. I give you: Monsters Have Feelings Too
Pamela Ravenscroft was worried.
And she wasn't exactly the fingernail-biting type.
No, in fact, her flawless manicured nails were her pride and joy; the better to examine them studiously, or tap them against her hip when exuding her trademark exasperated boredom and/or barely-contained impatience.
Yet now, she couldn't help but be worried for the welfare of her master. And not because of the immediate danger in which he had placed himself by seeking the counsel of their volatile bitch of a queen, unsolicited and uninvited.
No, that was the least of her worries.
What really did worry her, however, was a telepathic barmaid from Bon Temps, Louisiana; one Miss Sookie Stackhouse.
Or, rather, the things that Sookie Stackhouse was making Eric do—without so much as raising a finger.
That a shifter would be so bold as to actually show up at their establishment and ask for help—no, scratch that—demand it, all upon the premise of good will towards Supes, or some such shit, was bad enough. That Eric would even consider agreeing to such a thing was even worse. But, most alarming, was the fact that not only was he willing to barter his services in exchange for Sookie, but that he would carelessly admit to such a desire to a shifter who would obviously never even consider agreeing to such a tradeoff, or a tribute, or whatever you want to call it.
Had her master really not known this was the case, or did he simply not care? He had either lost all touch with reality, or had simply chosen to ignore it, and she wasn't sure which one made her more scared.
Not to mention the fact that he'd allowed those nasty little mutts to tag along with the shifter, into their bar. Not even a foot away from where she'd stood, for Chrissake. God, the repugnant smell of those horrid little humans would remain stuck to the back of her throat for days. Just thinking about it now made her spit in disgust, yet again, trying to get it out; but to no avail.
It was stuck, worse than gum at the bottom of your fucking Jimmy Choos.
So, she was more than a little distracted, to say the least.
If vampires slept, instead of dying for the day, she would probably be experiencing insomnia. As it was, she was currently experiencing a permanent state of pissed as fuck. She found herself wanting to fuck a zombie—and not in a good way. Well, at least not in a way that would be pleasurable for the zombie.
So she took to running, as she often did when she needed to let her mind roam free. She might grumble at the suggestion to her master when he demands it of her, but they both knew it was just for effect. Seeing as she wasn't gifted in the flying department, vamp-speed running was the next best thing. You could almost say it made her feel alive. But, then, that would be a pretty corny vampire joke. Even for her.
So she ran, letting her feet take her where they may, at a speed that made her invisible to the slow eyes of breathers. As she did, she grew more and more frustrated, because this was not helping her to see things any more clearly. Not in the least. If anything, she felt like she was sinking deeper and deeper into the muddy mire. She could not see any plausible path out.
In fact, her mind was so preoccupied that she didn't notice the man and his victim until she was practically right on top of them.
Sam knew he'd found his dinner as soon as he passed her, running along the side of the road.
It had been a long week, possibly the longest of his life, he thought bitterly. That is, since he'd developed a taste for demon blood. And it wasn't even over yet.
When Dean had insisted they go investigate a string of gruesome murders in some backwater suburb of Shreveport, Louisiana, he'd had no choice but to follow his brother dutifully. Even if it meant being far away from Ruby, his only source for the blood he now craved.
After sniffing around town for a few days, Dean finally admitted that while the murders seemed excessively weird, and the town of Bon Temps even weirder, it wasn't their kind of weird. But, of course, they were way too close to New Orleans for Dean to pass up the chance to practice his bead-granting skills.
Who knew how long it would be before Sam would be able to drag Dean out of here?
So, just as soon as they were settled in their motel and Dean had zonked out for the night, Sam snuck out, looking for a demon to feed on. He'd been driving around aimlessly for over an hour now, and he knew that the longer he stayed out here, the higher the risk he was running that his brother would wake up and realize he was gone. And the less likely it was that he would buy some lame ass excuse, like that he'd gone out to grab a soda.
Yeah, he'd already used that gem one too many times. And his brother was much more suspicious now that he'd found out about Sam's taste for the demon juice.
It only made Sam hate himself that much more.
So, he was just about to give up and head back, when he finally found his target. Pulling over to the side of the road, he watched her approach in the rearview mirror. She was running pretty fast, but she had her eyes closed, like she was enjoying it, so he wasn't quite sure if she was running from something or just running for the hell of it.
One thing was certain though; she had demon in her. He didn't know exactly how he knew this, nor did he care.
You see, hunger does strange things to you.
Suddenly, her eyes flew open and met his in the mirror. Unblinking, straight on. She'd obviously spotted him.
Lookin' at me, lookin' at you ….
Sam shook his head, chiding himself for being ridiculous.
After a quick scan of his surroundings to make sure that they really were the only two people around, he sprang out of the Impala. They both stood there for a moment, frozen, sizing each other up. Then, she took one, two and three tentative steps back, before spinning around and booking it in the same direction she'd come from.
Sam followed, easily closing the distance between them. As he neared, the smell of her blood hit his nostrils, infusing his movement with an urgency that granted him beyond-human speed.
Oh yes, hunger definitely did strange things to you.
He tackled her from behind, dragging her just far enough off the road so they would not be visible to any passing cars. He hunched over her body, ripping at her throat savagely. Chugging the sweet elixir down greedily, he let out a moan that was half pleasure, half pain at the guilt of that pleasure. He totally lost himself to it; his eyes rolling back in his head as the liquid slid into his throat and across his mouth and down his chin, utterly oblivious to his surroundings.
He knew it was dangerous; his decades as a hunter of all that went bump in the night would have told him that, even if his instincts hadn't. But he simply couldn't bring himself to care for anything but the blood meal.
And that was why he didn't even sense the blonde vampire as she approached, not even when she halted abruptly when she noticed him, with far more noise than she would normally allow herself to make, nor when she stalked over to him and knocked him out cold.
All he knew was that one minute his mouth was filled with the blood he'd been craving so badly, and the next … everything went black.