A/N: Hi everybody. Thanks for all the favourite and follows, and thanks to those guest reviewers who I can't reply to directly - I appreciate your reviews too.

Homecoming

As the car turned onto Hummingbird Road, I opened the window and sucked in a lungful of air. Hot and heavy, it tasted of home. Margaret Pickard winked at me in the mirror as she drove and Jack Norris turned to grin at me from the passenger seat.

"Good to smell home, ain't it?" he said.

"It sure is," I replied with a small smile.

I turned back to the window, looking for anything that had changed while I was gone. Nope, comfortingly the road was exactly the same. Still in need of resurfacing.

The comfortable Lexus Pam had sent to meet me in Dallas was a blessing after the long flight from England. I was pleased with the company too. I'd met Jack and Margaret a time or two so they weren't strangers. I'd gotten to know them better on the long drive, well enough to ask if they'd been paid while I was away. It relieved my conscience to hear they hadn't suffered financially. They were on some sort of retainer from Pam and had both found temporary work while I was gone – mall security over in Shreveport. Jack said it was real boring. Margaret had laughed at him and said, "Try the army, boy. That's all hurry up and wait."

I got the impression Margaret had taken young Jack under her wing. Turned out he'd only been guarding me because his uncle – a second cousin or half-cousin of Calvin's, Hotshot families were complicated – had got himself into a fight, broken a leg. Jack had been a last minute substitute, at a loose end after he'd lost a job at Norcross, the latest employer he'd fallen out with in a line long for his tender years.

"Don't worry, the packmaster kept an eye on him," Margaret had said as we cruised along the I20 towards Louisiana, nudging him with a smile on her lips. "Brought him a bagged lunch from his momma almost every day."

I reckoned that was how Calvin found out I'd been hurt and took it upon himself to call Sam back from Texas.

"I'm no momma's boy," Jack had muttered, turning to give me an earnest look. "Don't worry, Miss Stackhouse. I won't mess up this time. I like your woods. I hated bein' stuck in that damn mall."

Margaret had added, "Indoor jobs don't work out so well for some of our youngsters."

I'd nodded, indicating I understood the twoey need for space to roam.

As we turned off Hummingbird and onto my familiar gravel drive, my heart lifted. When the house came into view I gasped. Two blond figures waved and hollered excitedly from the front porch, under a large 'Welcome Home' banner. Jason and Junior. The front door opened and Michele waddled out awkwardly, her belly swollen with my niece.

I was out of the car before it pulled to a halt and up onto the porch before I could blink, where I was enveloped in warm embraces and noisy questions. Once the clamour died down, Jason bounded down the steps to take my bags from Jack, who was standing there rubbing his neck uncertainly, reluctant to interrupt our reunion. With Junior still in my arms, I called a thank-you to him and Margaret. They waved it off. Jack flashed me a big grin as he got back in the car.

As the Lexus pulled away, I turned back to my little family and the smell of home-cooking hit me. Michele smiled warmly. "It's great to have you home, girl. Dinner's just about ready."

She waved off my protests that she shouldn't have gone to so much trouble and went back inside to tend the stove. I wiped away a grateful tear, deeply touched by the warm welcome and that Michele had cooked for me in her condition.

Junior insisted he was 'gwowned-up' enough to help Jason carry my bags in. I felt a rush of warmth for him as he wrestled mightily with my carry-on bag, dragging it down the hallway. His determination was adorable. Jason grinned and shook his head at him, giving me another tight hug before he went after him.

Alone for a second, I stood on the threshold drinking in the familiar sights and smells of the house. A deep sense of contentment settled right down to my bones, as if the house itself had wrapped around me, sheltering me from the elements like a familiar winter coat.

I was home.

…

Dinner was noisy, cheerful and delicious. I talked until I was hoarse, eagerly sharing my travel stories. When I paused for breath, Jason or Michele filled the gaps with snippets of Bon Temps gossip: how the football team played this season, who'd gotten married, divorced, given birth or been caught stealing from the Grab-It-Kwik.

Afterwards, like any Aunt fresh from vacation, I gave out presents. A big box of clotted cream fudge for all of them (a local treat that Junior particularly appreciated, soon smeared around his mouth), a pirate outfit complete with eye-patch and wooden cutlass (Junior paraded the living room proudly in it, revelling in the attention much as Jason had done as a kid), a couple of souvenir t-shirts and shot glasses for mom and pop, and a sample of local beers that Dave had recommended for Jason. Those I'd been worried about bring through the airport, but I'd had no problems.

After the third yawn that threatened to unhinge my yaw, Michele herded them both out the door. I stumbled tiredly through a fast shower and fell into my freshly made bed, blessing Michele's efficiency. Sleep took me quickly and if I dreamt it was of smiling faces and good company.

I was up early the next morning, a Saturday. Driven by nerves, I had my case unpacked and a load of laundry finished before nine. I had to see Sam, before word got round I was back, and I had no idea what I'd face.

Neither Jason nor Michele had mentioned Sam the night before. Even when Michele noticed my rings were gone as I ate, she didn't pass comment. I'd avoided the subject myself, unwilling to spoil our happy evening, but now I wished I'd raised it.

I wavered on what to wear, eventually settling on relaxed and comfortable – a pair of well-cut jeans and a smart but not too dressy blue blouse that flattered my eyes. My car started first time. I mentally thanked Jason for keeping it running and drove the familiar route to Merlotte's.

I parked out front, not sure whether I still had back lot privileges. The lot was empty; I'd deliberately arrived before opening time, wanting few witnesses. I could see movement behind the windows. Someone was inside, setting up. Perfect. If it wasn't Sam himself, Kennedy or Terry would know where to find him.

I took some deep breaths before I got out of the car. My luck held. The entrance was already unlocked. The familiar smell of stale beer and last night's food greeted me as I stepped inside. I looked over to the bar and stopped dead, as if I'd stumbled on a cottonmouth.

Sam.

He looked up at the sound of the door with a frown and froze in the middle of wiping down the counter. Penny stopped filling salt cellars and turned to see who'd come in. She gasped, her head swinging back and forth between the two of us comically for a second. Then she squeaked something rushed and shot off down the back corridor like her shoes were on fire, leaving us alone.

The uncomfortable moment broken, Sam glanced down at the cloth in his hand and resumed his steady movements. Outwardly calm, he had closed his mind to me after an initial flare of shock and surprise.

I moved cautiously towards the bar, stopping a few feet away. He was wearing jeans and one of his favourite plaid shirts. His expression was carefully neutral.

Smiling tentatively, I said quietly, "Hi."

His hand tensed around the cloth briefly, but he asked casually enough, "You back then?"

"Yes." To make it clear I'd come as soon as I could I added, "Just last night."

He nodded. I couldn't read him at all. Was he still angry? We looked at each other for a minute, him tightly controlled and me uncertain how to proceed. I guessed it was up to me to start the conversation we needed to have. I squared my shoulders.

"How have you been, Sam?"

Irritation flickered in his eyes and I realised my tone had been too sympathetic. "Fine," he said shortly.

I opened my mouth a few times, trying to hit on the right beginning, something impersonal. "The bar looks good. How's business?"

He gave me a long look and I struggled with a temptation to fill the silence with nervous rambling. After a minute, he said mildly, "Things were tight over the winter."

I cringed. That was my fault. "Of course. I left you short-handed. I'm sorry." He seemed to be waiting for more of an explanation, so I added lamely, "I left in a hurry."

There was a definite note of disapproval in his tone when he spoke. "Uh-huh. Must've been a real rush if you couldn't spare the time to say good-bye."

Chastened by the hurt in his eyes, I swallowed and looked at my shoes. "I'm sorry Sam, I just … I thought it would be easier."

There was another awkward silence. I hated that we couldn't seem to avoid falling into them. Then he sighed. "It probably was," he said quietly.

I looked up, startled by his resigned tone, but he was looking down at his hands where they rested on the bar. "Well, it's all over now," I said thoughtlessly, and then winced at my poor wording. "I mean, everything's back to normal, right?"

"Normal for Bon Temps, I guess." He gave me about quarter of a grin that faded rapidly. "If you're asking if it worked, Ludwig says I'm free of it."

I tried to sound upbeat. "You're back to yourself. That's great, Sam."

"I guess." He dragged his hand through his short hair and set his jaw. He was determined about something. "Sookie. You didn't have to go all that way alone. I would have come with you."

"That's real nice of you Sam, but it was something I had to do by myself." The powerful woman – being? – who'd removed the join only granted me an audience because of my connection to Niall. She wasn't the sort to look kindly on an uninvited plus one.

"But you didn't have to Sookie," he said sharply. "I would have come."

I gave him a meaningful look. "You couldn't go where I was going."

He frowned. "Oh." He wiped the counter a few times, considering that news. "Was it …difficult?"

I was carried back to the smell of rot, cold dark water chilling me to my core. Sam reached out towards me, alarmed at whatever he saw on my face. The movement was enough to shake me out of the memory and he dropped his hand, forehead wrinkling in concern. I pulled together an answer.

"It wasn't easy, no." He didn't need the details. "But I came through it unscathed, see?" I gestured to myself.

Unconvinced he checked me over. His face relaxed, but he was still less than happy. "Well, thank you, I guess." He sounded pained to say it. "Even though I didn't ask you to do it. I would never expect you to put yourself in harm's way for me, Sookie."

"Sam," I admonished softly, reaching over to lay my hand on his. "You know I'd do anything to put things right between us."

His blue eyes held mine for a slow lazy beat, hope beginning to shine in them before he answered just as softly, "Really, Cher?"

I realised he'd misinterpreted me and began scrambling for the right words to dim that hope without crushing him. In the pause, he glanced down at our hands and stiffened.

My left hand. My empty ring finger. Damn. Before I could explain what had happened to my rings, he pulled his hand away. Grabbing the cloth, he turned to the shelves behind the bar and began briskly dusting the liquor bottles.

Reflected in the mirror behind them, his face was set, heavy with resignation that deepened the lines across his forehead and around his mouth. It … aged him. It struck me that the grey threading his hair at the temples was more prominent than when I left, but that had to be a trick of the lighting. It had only been six months.

I longed to hug him suddenly, but that would be the worst thing I could do.

"Sam?" I asked tentatively. "You okay?"

The set of his shoulders tightened. "I'm fine," he muttered. "It's not like I really expected…"

He sighed again and his shoulders slumped. He made an effort to slow his hands in their task, his movements switching from agitated to calming. Once he'd collected himself, he glanced over his shoulder and in a fairly even voice asked, "So, what are your plans? Any idea what you're going to do for work?"

"I haven't really thought." I looked around the bar, wondering if he needed me for this shift. Oh. Wait. I said slowly, "I guess … I guess it would be better if I didn't work here?"

He shot me a look in the mirror. "Yeah, I think that would be for the best."

"Yes. Of course." A trickle of panic ran down my spine. I'd worked at Merlotte's for almost ten years and didn't know much else. I'd be okay financially for a while, though. Maybe I should look at those college courses again.

Sam turned around, running the cloth over the bottle in his hand slowly. "Norcross is hiring and there's bound to be a store needing someone in town. Or a diner wanting a waitress."

I bit back the urge to say I could do better than that. He was trying to help. "Sure, I'll look around." I changed the subject. "So, did I miss anything exciting while I've been gone?"

He looked away. "Things have been quiet."

"Uh-huh." He was hiding something. I asked casually, "You haven't had any trouble? The sort those guys in my woods deal with?"

"Nope. Like I said it's been quiet." He hesitated for a second, but finally added, "Eric's still around."

Confused by the oddly kind expression Sam wore, out of habit I brushed against his mind without intending to. I pulled back quickly. The vivid image of Eric striding into the bar had me half turning towards the door, as if he was likely to be marching in right then, in broad daylight.

Flustered that Sam had seen my absurd reaction, I blurted out, "Here? He's been here?"

Sam grimaced, working out I'd picked something out of his head, but he refrained from commenting on the intrusion. "He stopped by a couple times, yes."

My eyes narrowed and I asked sharply, "Why? Has he been causing you trouble?"

Sam dropped his eyes to the bottle he was still absent-mindedly dusting. "No. No, he's been … decent, considering."

I opened my mouth to say I highly doubted that and to ask considering what exactly, but just then a breezy female voice floated in from the back corridor, calling his name.

"Sam? You there? Are you free to...?" The voice trailed off as its owner came into the bar and saw me.

She was a smartly dressed woman in her early thirties, with an athletic build and a healthy tan. She was pretty, with an open face and pleasant colouring, warm hazel eyes complementing her auburn hair. "Oh. Sorry, I didn't realise the bar was already open."

Sam finally stopped pretending to dust and put the bottle down to introduce us. "Steph, this is my wi– Sookie. Sookie, this is Stephanie Burrows."

Stephanie's eyes widened. "Oh. Sookie. Pleased to meet you at last."

She took a step forward and held out her hand, shooting Sam a glance. She had a firm grip and a hard warning blazed in her pretty eyes. She was protective, very protective of Sam. I got that clearly from her snarly mind. Pieces clicked into place and I did my best to keep my face fixed in a smile even as I pulled my hand away like I'd been burnt. She bristled and I realised I hadn't replied, which was unpardonably rude.

"It's nice to meet you too, Stephanie," I said in my politest voice, keeping my shock hidden.

She shot another glance at Sam. "I'll leave you to it, then. The figures are on your desk, Sam."

"That's great, Cher. Thanks for all your help."

Cher? I snuffed out a flare of jealousy with a stern attempt at rational thought.

I'd been gone for six months. I'd given Sam my blessing to move on in the good-bye letter I wrote. I could hardly complain that he'd found someone to replace me as bookkeeper and possibly in ... other areas.

Cattily, I wondered how she'd feel if she knew that not two minutes before she showed up with her pretty face and her sleek haircut, Sam had jumped at the chance to start over with me.

Stephanie looked me over one last time before turning on her heel and leaving the way she came. I watched her go, wondering if she was the reason Jason and Michele had been cagey about mentioning Sam to me.

Sam cleared his throat. "There's been a few changes around here, Sook."

"So I see," I said drily. I turned back to him and said briskly, "It's okay, Sam. You don't owe me an explanation."

"It's not like that, Sook. She's just a colleague."

Colleague, not employee? Not that I was burning to ask or biting back something sharp and corrosive about him moving on so fast. No sirree.

I reminded myself again that he'd had a whole six months to get over me. Whereas I was obviously still stuck in the raw stage of our break-up.

"It's really none of my business, Sam."

"But it is. You still own a third of this place." He gestured to our surroundings, but his expression clouded. "I guess you'll want out of that, though."

Oh. If he wasn't comfortable with me working here, it was going to be mighty awkward running the bar together. It was probably better to end my short career as a business owner. I sighed. "That's going to be complicated, isn't it?"

He shrugged and tried to joke. "I'll have my lawyer call your lawyer."

I winced. He reached out and squeezed my hand. I squeezed back.

"I'm real sorry about all this, Sam."

"I know. It's what you want though, isn't it? A divorce?" He studied my face.

I forced myself to meet his eyes. "Yes. I think that would be for the best."

He searched my eyes for another few seconds and then nodded. "Okay, Sook. You should call Mr Cataliades today, get the ball rolling. No point dragging it out."

"No, I guess not." Both our voices were filled with regret.

He gave a lopsided grin. "Easier to mend a clean break. Quick and clean."

I nodded. "Yeah. Quick and clean."

Then perhaps our friendship would heal.

…

I sat on the porch drinking some of Wynn's tea, recovering from the tense conversation. It had been emotional facing Sam, and I was a little wrung out. But the worst was over and seeing him actually hadn't been that bad. I wasn't going to mope over the attractive bookkeeper or whatever the hell else she was to him.

Tea finished, I headed off to Wal-Mart, got all my vacation pictures printed out and picked out a pair of pretty albums for them. Waiting at the register, I got a sharp glance or two from the young cashier. I didn't recognise her. Curious, I dipped into her head: … that poor man, she just up and left him...

I stiffened and smiled tensely as I paid.

I walked quickly away, kicking myself for prying. I expected some criticism, and for every red-blooded single woman in Bon Temps to cluck over Sam sympathetically, but I just wasn't quite ready to hear it. My time overseas, where no-one knew who I was, had relaxed me a little too much.

I swung by the library on the way home. I picked up a stack of new books and was very careful not to read Barbara Beck's thoughts at the desk. I chose to believe that her pursed lips were down to her reliving unpleasant memories of the time she was held at knife point in front of me, right there in the library. By a guy after me, as it happened, so she was entitled not to think too fondly of me.

Barbara made overly-polite but stilted small talk about my choices as she checked out my books. When I carelessly mentioned that I'd picked out the Daphne de Maurier novel because I'd recently visited the inn in the title, the sharp disapproval in her eyes and the set of her mouth revealed her opinion of me with no need to resort to telepathy.

I was a selfish bitch who deserted my husband to live it up in Europe for six months.

I guessed telling the Sheriff where I was going before I left was as good as taking out a full page advert in the Shreveport Times.

…

I spent the afternoon finishing off my laundry and sunbathing in the back yard while it dried on the line. Michele, bless her, had stocked up on groceries and the house was spotless, so there was little else for me to do. Jason had even kept up with the weeding. At least I hoped it was Jason, not his heavily pregnant wife.

Eventually, the jet-lag caught up with me and I fell asleep in the sun. I woke later, groggy and with a stiff neck. The sky had clouded over and I was a little chilled. I warmed up by fetching the dry laundry inside, sorting and folding and putting it all away.

Sometime later, after I'd eaten a light dinner of Michele's leftovers and settled in the front room with a book, the bell by the front porch steps rang. The bell Sam had hung, I remembered sadly as I put my book down. I reached out mentally before I got to the door and frowned when I sensed a void.

It was too early for Pam, barely quarter of an hour after sunset.

I expected Thalia or one of the vampire guards she'd introduced before I left. So when I checked the peep-hole, I was surprised to see Bill Compton standing at the bottom of my steps. I opened the door and stepped out onto the porch, still within the ward.

"Bill, this is a surprise. I haven't seen you in a coon's age. Is everything okay?"

He smiled, his face pale and luminescent in the shadows at the edge of the porch light, and spoke in that smooth deep voice. "Good evening, Sookie. Nothing is amiss. I saw your lights and came to welcome you home."

"Oh, that's mighty neighbourly of you, Bill." I moved to the front of the porch and leant against the railing, trying not to notice how handsome he looked tonight, in khakis and a dark polo, his dark hair brushed and gleaming. "How've you been?"

He turned towards me, his dark eyes glittering in the warm light spilling from the window. "I'm well, thank you. I hear you took a trip to Europe. Did you enjoy it?"

"Yes, very much. I spent some time in England, in the southwest. Have you been there?"

"No, not England. Travelling that distance has been rather … awkward in the past. I did visit Rome briefly, two years ago, but sadly for me that was a business trip and I did not have time to see the sights."

"Oh. That's a real shame." I began to wonder what Bill wanted. He hadn't called by the house for years. Certainly not just to chat. Lately we hadn't chatted even when we met at Merlotte's or around Bon Temps. Maybe he was a little lonely? I didn't think he'd had a special someone since Karin. I hadn't heard Danny mention any regular visitors to the Compton house.

"Yes, I would have liked to see some of the architecture." His dark eyes didn't leave my face for a moment. "I was sorry to hear that Sam moved out."

I shifted uneasily. "These things happen, Bill." I didn't really want to go into details, not with an ex. It was disrespectful to Sam.

"Yes. But I thought …" His voice softened. "I had hoped that you would be happy together."

"Well, like I said, these things happen." There was a hint of annoyance in my tone. I changed the subject decisively. "How's the house? I heard you had contractors in a few months back." Jason had mentioned it in passing.

Bill blinked, which was the vampire equivalent of shocked. He hadn't expected me to know that. "Yes. Some repair work. Nothing serious."

"Glad to hear it." Hmm. That seemed a little evasive, but what Bill did with his property was none of my business. I took a deep breath of the warm night air.

Bill turned to look at the woods. "It's a lovely night tonight. In fact I was out enjoying a stroll when I noticed your lights." He sounded a little wistful and I remembered a particularly pleasant walk we'd shared on another moonlit night, at a more innocent point in our relationship.

"Yes, it is lovely tonight." There was a touch of nostalgia in my voice, too.

"Would you care to join me?" He glanced up at me, his face neutral.

I hesitated and in that second Bill stiffened. Confused, I frowned at him and then looked up when I caught the glow of headlights flickering between the trees. A car was coming down the drive.

"You seem to have a visitor." Knowing Bill as well as I did, the tense line of his jaw betrayed his irritation with the interruption, even though his words were calm.

'So I do."

We watched the station wagon pull up. Kennedy emerged from it and cast a confused look at Bill. Then she beamed at me.

Bill turned to me and gave a deep nod. "I will leave you to your guest. Goodnight, Sookie."

"Goodnight Bill."

Kennedy gave him another strange look as they passed on the gravel, as I muttered a hasty invitation under my breath. Then she bounded up the stairs and hugged me. "Sookie! You're back!"

"Hey, let a girl breathe Kennedy!" Her thoughts were a rush of relief and warmth.

She laughed as she let me go. "Sorry, Sook. Girl, you are a sight for sore eyes." She looked me up and down, narrowing her eyes. She wagged her finger at me. "You look well. Shame I just got a manicure or you'd get a whooping for leaving without a word!"

"Oh Lord, Kennedy I didn't mean–"

"Hush girl. I'm not angry. You did what you had to. Now what's a girl gotta do to get a cold drink around here?" She grinned at me.

I grinned back. "Come inside, Kennedy."

We sat at the kitchen table with some iced tea and I grabbed a stack of photos to show her. We laughed at my bad camera work and shared gossip. Penny had gotten herself a new beau. A guy from Clarice almost as shy as she was, Kennedy said, but they were sweet together.

After we ran out of idle chatter, she asked cautiously where I stood with Sam. I was glad I had some warning of the question from her face and I grazed her thoughts to check that I sounded appropriately regretful but composed as I told her we were done apart from the divorce papers.

She'd expected that and squeezed my arm in sympathy. She changed the subject fast, telling me about Terry's latest litter of puppies. I was relieved; she understood I didn't want to dwell on it.

When I asked how the bar had been, Kennedy looked a little uncomfortable.

"Well, things were rough over the winter, of course. Sam made some changes and that ruffled a few feathers. You know how folks get."

"Uh-huh. I met the new bookkeeper this morning."

"Oh, Steph's been a big help to Sam. She's a godsend." She paused, surprised by my doubtful expression. Then her eyes widened in understanding. "Oh, there's nothing going on there, Sookie. They're just friends. Sam … well, let's just say he's not ready to move on." He needs closure before he can do that and he couldn't get that while you were away.

I wasn't convinced, having felt Stephanie's reaction to me, but Kennedy believed what she was saying so I let it go.

She toyed with her cup for a minute and then looked up with a sly expression. "I was surprised to see Bill here, though. Apart from visiting the Bellefleurs now and then, Danny said he mostly keeps to himself around Bon Temps these days."

"Yeah. He hasn't come to the house for years." About three, in fact. Since he found out I was marrying Sam.

Kennedy gave me her best innocent look, batting her eyelashes. "Well, I reckon he wasn't borrowing a cup of sugar."

"No," I said slowly. "I don't know what that was all about."

Kennedy snorted.

"What?"

"Honey. An ex comes a-calling the minute the husband moves out. It's obvious, isn't it?"

"Oh." I didn't know how to respond to that, having assumed that Bill had moved on after he got all cosy with Karin and then dropped out of my life. I was simultaneously uneasy and flattered that he might still think of me that way.

Kennedy stayed for a while longer. After she left, I stood at the sink staring out at the dark woods thoughtfully. I'd picked up a few things from her that she hadn't said out loud. The bar had been in some trouble, but I couldn't make sense of it. Kennedy had been trying not to think about it, not wanting to make me feel guilty. I'd caught a glimpse of Terry in a state, stressed out. The cook, Marcel, quitting in a tantrum. And Kennedy's sheer relief when Stephanie arrived.

I sighed. That was a problem to think on tomorrow. I had another to solve in the next hour, before the vampire I was expecting arrived.

Pam rolled up at ten sharp, dressed in a black business suit that said 'don't mess with me', combined with a soft pink silk camisole and heels that said 'I'm so scary I can be feminine and you still won't dare mess with me'. I was envious of her ability to pull that off.

If her theory held – that clothes revealed to the world and his wife what the wearer subconsciously projected – I suspected that my worn jeans and ratty t-shirt screamed jobless, soon-to-be husbandless and clueless about where my life was heading.

I showed Pam into the living room and warmed a blood for her. When I joined her, she'd kicked off her shoes, her jacket hung on the couch and she'd taken her hair out of its neat French plait. I was secretly pleased that she felt at ease with me, enough to take off her costume and be herself.

She took the blood and sipped it politely before setting it down. She eyed me speculatively. "You look well. I take it your trip was a success and the fairy magic is gone."

"Yep. Everything's fine and dandy."

"And your marriage?"

Her silent mind and smooth expression gave no warning of the blunt question. I caught my face before it fell all the way to dismayed and held my voice steady with an effort. "We're divorcing."

"Ah. I see." I kicked myself for showing my vulnerability, but then Pam did something unexpected. She patted my hand. "I am sorry that it distresses you, my friend. But it is what you want?"

"Yes, it is. Thanks, Pam." I was touched. A pat on the arm from Pam was as supportive a gesture as sharing a tub of ice-cream and an evening of weepy chic flicks from a human girlfriend. Thinking about the divorce, I recalled the strange supe rules about spouses. "Um, will being single cause any problems with my protection?"

She shrugged. "It will be easier for me. I prefer to deal with you directly, not the shifter. Can Amelia remove him from the wards or do they need to be re-done?"

"Oh. I'll ask her and let you know." I made a note to call my witchy friend soon. Anticipating that would be an uncomfortable conversation, I remembered another awkward social duty: my intention to thank Eric for saving my life. Multiple times.

Feeling slightly guilty I said, "Thank you for keeping me safe, Pam. I really do appreciate it."

She shrugged. "No biggie, as they say."

"I really need to thank Eric, too. Where is he tonight?"

"Indiana."

"Oh." I'd have to write a note. So much for steeling myself to say thank-you in person.

Of course, there was no reason to assume he would still be in Louisiana.

Pam was running Area 5 and even if she wasn't I suspected the last place Eric wanted to be was back under de Castro's thumb. Eric had once told me he didn't enjoy being overseen, and de Castro had certainly kept a watchful eye on him.

Eric wasn't cut out to be a run-of-the-mill vampire, either. I couldn't see him staying in Shreveport as an underling.

If he wanted a position with some power, another sheriff post perhaps, he'd have to move. Indiana was probably as good a choice as any. Bartlett Crowe seemed reasonable from my limited interactions with him. As far as vampire kings did reasonable, anyway. Was there a civilised waiting list for sheriff posts or was it finally-dead-man's boots? I didn't know.

Then I remembered something. "Sam said Eric dropped by the bar."

"Yes. A while ago. March sometime, I think. Rory mentioned it."

I tried not to look too interested. "She's still around?"

"Yes. Actually, she's been quite … useful," Pam admitted grudgingly. "She even agreed to go to Indiana with him."

Oh. He'd taken her with him? That was … unexpected.

Pam carried on before I could think about that too hard. "So, what do you want to do about your guards?"

I sighed. "What I really want is not to need them. But as I do, I want to be involved. I want to know what's going on and have a say in it. And I don't want to be beholden to anyone, Pam. Not even you. I would like to take over paying for them, but I'm not real sure of my finances. Not until everything's sorted out with Sam."

She narrowed her eyes. "Sookie, this is a considerable expense. Eric will not expect you to bear it."

I stiffened, my pride bristling. "Pam. I'm real grateful to Eric for setting all this up, but it's not his responsibility."

"Actually, it–"

"No," I said firmly. Eric – who'd moved to another state, moved there with another woman apparently – was suddenly the last person I wanted to owe for this. "There's nothing between us and no need for him to be involved. He's done enough."

"Sookie. He is well placed to protect you from our kind. It would be foolish not to accept his help."

I gave her a level look. "Pam. I hardly need his help with all those royal decrees." If they were worth the fancy parchment they were written on, that was.

She frowned – well, a tiny crease formed on the bridge of her nose, which was tantamount to a scowl for Pam – and opened her mouth to argue.

Claudine's warning that Rhodes would draw me further into the undead world came to me and I ploughed on with my reasoning before she could speak. "It isn't Eric's problem. I chose to go to the summit with Sophie Ann. I crawled through the rubble in front of the cameras saving y'all. That was what drew every fanged Tom, Dick and Dracula's attention to me. My choices, my actions. Not Eric's."

Pam shook her head. "Not all of the things that drew unwelcome attention were your doing. Eric bonded and pledged to you. His interest in you is widely known. He will argue you are still a target because of him. At least in part."

"Pfft. That's old news." I waved dismissively. Moving to Indiana certainly showed he had no ties holding him here. I wondered darkly how quickly Sam would move on, if he hadn't already.

"Vampires have long memories."

Putting aside my speculations on the inconstancy of men, I changed tack.

"Well, vamps aren't the only jackasses out there who want to hurt me, are they? I don't see how Eric can argue that all the others are anything to do with him." I ticked them off on my fingers for her. "The fairies want to use me to get at Niall. Those Weres who tried to kidnap me bear me a grudge because I helped Longtooth out. And the Chosen came after me while I had no contact with any of y'all. They targeted me because I married Sam. Not one of those is Eric's responsibility."

Pam sat back, thinking. "Hmm. You make a good case. He might just accept that."

"He'll have to, won't he?"

Pam raised an eyebrow at me.

"Well," I said slowly, "You said Sam had to give permission for the guards to come onto the land here. It'll be my land again once the divorce is done. You'll need my permission."

"You'd refuse your own guards just to win an argument?" Pam chuckled, shaking her head. "Oh, Sookie. You really are my favourite breather."

When my stubbornness stopped amusing her, we got down to it and hammered out a compromise that wouldn't bankrupt me. Each month I would pay as much as I could into the pot for the day guards. Pam would make up the difference, pay for equipment, sundry extras, the vampire guards and Diantha if she was needed. I agreed to that more readily once Pam pointed out that she could order the vamps to guard me for free and Diantha had volunteered her time in the past.

Pam or Thalia would keep me updated once a week, and I'd give them a head's up if I planned any out of state trips. I was a little put out to discover they'd been tracking my car and phone electronically.

Pam pointed out that it actually made the guards less intrusive if they could follow me without needing a detailed itinerary of every minute of my day, and the electronic tracking was partly why I hadn't noticed them in the last couple years.

I grumbled, "That was only because that damn sneaky witch helped you hide their minds from me."

Pam snickered at my irritation. I didn't find being hoodwinked so amusing.

"I'll draw up some official paperwork for the money side of it all," Pam said. Then her phone rang. She looked at the screen and grimaced. "Sorry, I have to take this."

She blurred out into the hallway and I tried not to listen to her pacing or her clipped answers. It sounded like trouble. She came back a moment later, clearly annoyed. She pulled on her jacket and slipped on her heels. "Fucking Saturday nights. Sookie, I have to go. I'll be in touch."

"Sure, Pam. Thanks for coming out here tonight."

She nodded and left in a blur. I let out the yawn I'd been holding in and stretched lazily. The jet-lag was still messing with me, so even though it was barely eleven I shut up the house and turned in for the night feeling somewhat more in control of my life.

...