A/N: My sincerest thanks to all who have read and reviewed, followed and favorited my stories so far. I'm so thrilled that you all are enjoying them thus far. This here is a cute extended drabble that sheds some light on what our favorite couple were doing while Eric and Willa whispered sweet nothings to each other in the coffin. Please enjoy! And if you can, leave a review, they make my day!


Eric was right. The cubby was a virtual shit hole. And that was being polite. Tara glared around the tight quarters, arms folded, a decidedly unhappy expression on her face, before turning to her Maker.

"What?" Pam quipped with a roll of her eyes, "You heard what he said. He doesn't trust me not to kill the bitch. And believe me, I am very much inclined to do so."

"Still don't explain why he automatically gets the coffin. Judgin' by the way ol' boy was eyeing her I bet they're gonna fuck or something."

Pam's face took on a look one usually adopted when smelling something extremely foul. "Eric wouldn't want that powder puff. She's too innocent. Then again, he fucked the fairy so who am I to say."

Tara snorted and perched herself at the edge of the metal cot that provided the cubby's only form of a bed. "You really want her dead?"

"I do," Pam replied with a nonchalant shrug of her shoulders, "It would teach her daddy a lesson he won't forget anytime soon."

"And what lesson would that be exactly?"

"Fuck with me and die."

"Oh yeah?" Tara drawled, her southern accent especially pronounced, "I thought fuckin' with you didn't make you angry. I thought it made you laugh."

Pam rolled her eyes and shook her head, sending her flaxen hair falling over her shoulders, "Smart ass."

"Guilty. But seriously, we're gonna be in some real shit if y'all don't send her back where she belongs. That governor's gonna burn down all of Louisiana lookin' for her."

"He can try."

"And what about all the vampire's that'll suffer for it?"

"What about them? You, me, Eric, and the Brit will be in Sweden by then making coats outta cattle."

The ebony skinned vampire scoffed. "Sweden, huh? What happens when this shit spreads over there too? It's only a matter of time."

"You usually this pessimistic?" Pam muttered.

"I'm trying to be realistic. If you don't think this is broadcastin' all over the world, you're delusional."

Pam took a seat next to her Child. She couldn't fault her the stirrings of fear she felt from Tara's end of the bond. She had never been afraid of humans, not even when she had been one. Back then, they had been naught but pawns to use to get what she wanted. Now, they were food and breathing sex toys. Nothing more. But something about seeing Tara suffering from that gunshot wound had flipped a switch in her blonde head. Perhaps humans had become a force to be reckoned with right under their noses but still, vampires had had millennia worth of experience that humans just weren't privy too. If it came down to it, they couldn't win this war. At least that was what she kept telling herself to stave off the Bleeds.

She slid an arm around Tara's shoulders, feeling how tense the lean muscles were beneath her ebony hued skin. A pang of longing lanced through the center of her chest. She certainly could see herself spending an eternity in Tara's arms. But she wasn't ready to admit that just yet. Her pride just wouldn't let her.

"We'll be okay," she murmured, relishing in the way her progeny snuggled closer to her, "War isn't pretty but it's nothing new. After this all blows over, humans will go back to doing what they do best – killing each other off."

Tara shook her head, an amused smirk tugging at the corners of her cocoa mouth as she turned smoldering obsidian eyes on her Maker, "Now who's being pessimistic, hmm?"