A story told from three POVs, hints of Eric/Sookie and Bill/Sookie. This was a little thinkpiece of mine about how these three seem to keep each other alive almost out of masochistic spite. The POVs overlap at the end; it's intentionally confusing. Hopefully you get the point by the end. :)

You were not in the plan.

You push and you push into every situation that just doesn't concern you, and you never listen to reason. No matter how I try to tell you, it doesn't get through your head that there are those who want to drain you dry. And I can't let that happen.

I won't examine why.

I wanted to resolve this myself, in my own way, even if it meant the True Death. It would have been kinder than Fate, who trotted you into my office in the guise of saving grace. I took what I wanted, thinking to clear my mind of you, but you just burrowed deeper. You resisted. You responded. You ended it. Couldn't even let me end my own goodbye, and damn it, why did you look at me like that? I close my eyes and I see yours, even now as I walk to you at the table.

Pam intervened. She cares too much. But she was right, and I knew it. I know it. You were not in the plan, but you gave me no choice, and I must use the resources I have.

I know the rules, I know the game. And this will work. We will be rid of him. Though you will hate me, I will rid you of him, and I will die with one less regret.

I have chosen my end. I take a moment, run my fingers over your cheek. It's burning with fright. You're always so warm, and your pulse is rioting into my fingertips.

Fuck, it wasn't supposed to be like this. I wanted time. I wanted privacy. I wanted you under me, gloriously naked, clinging to me. But there are people, and repercussions, and I'm taking too long. He yanks your wrist across the table and tears into your flesh. I hear your scream and I know he's killing you. But I take up my part in the gauntlet at your feet.

I use 1,000 years of practice to make my bite clean and painless, kiss you as I drink, curl my fingers in your hair because I finally can.

You taste like sweetened sunlight. And not even the screams can pull me from your reverie. I indulge, smooth my hand through your hair, attempt to soothe as I drink while he steals what is yours, what should be mine.

No time. I leave your neck and catch a glimpse of fading light in your eyes. I must leave you with others, leave him to care for you. I cannot say goodbye, but you've given me a parting gift.

The light is warm on my skin and I can smell life in the rays. My eyes are confused, take so long to adjust to natural light, but eventually I can see. It's beautiful. I breathe deeper than I have in centuries, filling my lungs with the life you've given me.

It is momentary.

The sun's gentle fingers grow nails that claw, but I hold my expression steady, still. Russell has to believe it. Don't let them see it. My flesh is peeling, burning, smoldering, but Russell has to believe it.

I hear steps behind me and turn my head away. Not close enough yet. I finger the silver in my hand and take a sick delight in the burn. It's working. I turn and watch him see, but I'm faster this time. The silver's around his wrist before he can do anything about it. He's screaming, and we fall to our knees. I welcome this. I've freed you from him, I've done my part, and this is my reward.

Sunlight. I'm dying in the warmth of your sunlight.

They're too busy watching the fucking television to realize you're dying on me.

I'm not above begging when it comes to you. I shout and yell until Russell's outside. We'll be rid of him if I can save you now.

Pam snaps out of it long enough to undo my chains, and I rush to your side. Barely breathing. Heart straining to wring your veins of blood, fighting like hell to stay alive.

I didn't do all this for a deathbed confessional. I didn't lie and break your trust and demolish your heart so I could hold your hand while you die. I bite my wrist, squeezing until the blood trickles into your mouth. You start to cough and sputter, but eventually you drink on your own. Your body recognizes life even though you're less than pleased with me, and you take what I offer, drink me into you.

I watch as you drink, feel our bond strengthen. I hope it's enough to hold you to me.

It has to be.

Everyone always talks about a light. No one ever mentioned it was a chandelier.

The longer I stare, the foggier it gets; I lose the edges of the crystals, the definition of the light, until it fades into a face. A face I don't ever want to see again.

I'm done with explanations. I'm tired and disoriented and all I want to know is where you are. Because your bite wasn't the one that frightened me. I felt your lips and your tongue and tried to focus on you, not the animal savaging my wrist. It didn't work, but I tried, and I felt you, and there's too much to let you die like this when I can save you.

And you say I'm dramatic.

He tries to stop me, but he doesn't understand. I'm not his anymore; I'm mine. And strangely, you feel like mine, too.

The sunlight only burns my eyes for a moment, but I see what a wreck it's made of you. All I can do is yell at your idiocy. You don't even sound grateful. How is it better if you die for me?

I break your bonds and throw Russell away, drag you back to life against your will. I know it before Pam says it. I haven't saved you yet.

I give him my arm and a stern command—

You give me your arm and expect me to save him—

I watch you falter, but if you won't, Pam will—

I quickly break your skin, taste your blood and release. I'm helping you save him—

You're helping me save him, and even though I hate you right now, I'm grateful for this. I'm asking too much, but I need you to watch—

You're making me watch, but I can't look away. I have to make sure he's not killing you—

This is killing you, and I truly am sorry—

Sunlight was killing me, but now its taste is on my tongue. Heavy with life. How could…Sookie—

Even now your mouth feels like seduction—

He's taking blood from the life I gave you—

You're taking so much, if I hadn't drank, we'd both be dead—

You wouldn't let me die, now you're nursing me alive. I want to kiss more than your wrist—

He's taking too much, he's alive enough, the rest will heal—

I pull away, he takes my arm—

I bite my finger, smear my blood on your wrist—

I slowly sit up, wipe your blood from my face—

I let him close the wound, watching you and him. Watching me. This is what we do to ourselves. We're all bleeding for "we"—

I helped him for you, Sookie—

I would have died for you, Sookie—

I saved you, and he saved me—

I saved you—

I saved him because he saved you—

My head falls in my hands, my wrist still sore from your mouth. We will be the end of us. I know it.

Hope you liked, it was a fun experiment to write.