I wake up in the daylight, in my own bed, in my own house, with no memory of how I got here.

I walk into the bathroom, switch on the light, and jump to read words written on my mirror in red. Blood. Whose? I touch the mirror but find it's thick and sticky, instead of runny, and smells like roses. On the floor, my red lipstick is rolled up and smashed. Someone had a sick sense of humor.

"Your house has been thoroughly searched for Mr. Compton, and it is officially declared clear. If you see or hear from Mr. Compton, you are to contact Mr. Northman immediately."

Thank you, Eric goons. I'll take it under advisement.

I study my neck, and there are no marks anywhere. Whatever he did to put out my lights, he didn't bite me, and I was untouched.

The frightening part was that our meeting had actually gone pretty well, I had expected worse. I knew I'd hurt him, but I hadn't known just how much. Eric could have any woman, any time, any place, anywhere, and no one knew it better than he did. It was part of what made me want to slap the smug smile off his face.

Before the night of Godric's death, I thought Eric was about as deep as linoleum. There were few things he seemed to love – cruelty, luxury,women, and above all, himself. But that night changed everything. As egotistical as he was, he was also brave. And, I have no doubt he would have gone to his own painful death, meeting the sun, without a single complaint, to save Godric and myself. He feared nothing, even death.

Though I had lost my parents, I couldn't imagine what it must be like to be told by a parent that they plan to commit suicide, and that was truly what Eric went through that night. The desperation to talk Godric out it. The mad search to find a way to restrain him. Finally, the last thing Eric could give, a promise to go with him. He was denied even that by a parent who loved him above all things. Eric had chained up and tortured Lafayette, and it was difficult to imagine that was the same man whose hand I held on the roof that night. The same man lost in grief. The same man I had promised Godric I would take care of. A tear rolled down my cheek. The man whose bloody tears I kissed away – no, that was a dream. That hadn't actually happened. Had it? The side effect of sharing blood of course. It was hard to know which end was up.

I was so furious when he tricked me into drinking his blood. But now, after we'd been together that way for weeks…I had to admit I could still remember the taste. I could enjoy Bill's blood, and have pleasant dreams of us together. But, it had never made me high. High enough to think it was snowing in my own bathroom. It was like a drug to me, one I couldn't help but think about using again. Stop!

Sookie, you're supposed to be getting rid of this man, not inviting him back in. But it was Eric's basic personality that had led me to believe his "love" for me was not permanent, not once he'd gotten his memory back. He was the type to move on quickly, lick his wounds, and take a few women to bed at the same time, to feel better fast.

But I knew I'd been wrong the minute those goons dragged me out of bed, and I saw where we were going. Whatever he had to tell me, it certainly hadn't required that. Eric was on a rampage.

Sometime later, I'm scrubbing my mirror, and thinking about how to get my house back. It was Eric's goons who clearly dropped me off, but the man himself could shatter the sanctity of my home whenever he wanted. He was still the owner.

After I finish with the mirror, I angrily head for the living room and the beautiful armoire there. Opening the doors, a ladder led down into the cubby he'd built himself in my house. In. My. House. I climbed down the ladder. There were too many memories here.

Unlike most vampires, Eric clearly took his personal comfort seriously. He had a proper bed, covered in mounds of furs, which must have reminded him of his life in Dark Ages Sweden, where fur and fire were the difference between life and death. He also had a pile of books, and an empty carafe I presumed he had meant to fill with blood.

His own blood, from when I had silvered him, still clung to the bedding.

It was time to get rid of all this. It was like some kind of weird shrine to him. If he didn't stay here, there was no reason to have it in my house. Maybe he'd even forgotten he owned my house. Maybe he would just let me have it without a word. This was Eric. Maybe he would torture me about it for all time. I spent the rest of the day slowly putting his things into boxes. Now, my back aching, I climb back up into my living room.

Eric Pov

For the last couple of years, I've been spending my days in an Air Anubis coffin I purchased when I flew to Dallas. It's comfortable and clean. It is the equivalent of a hotel room to humans. Modern, luxurious, and sterile, everything I've always valued. No matter what it was- rent it, pay it, and send it away with no strings. One thing my coffin wasn't, was a home. Now that was a string indeed.

Anyone who had known me for the past millennia would never believe what I had become. I purchased a house. Not just a house, but one with a lippy human girl living in it. A girl who apparently didn't know how the world worked. Vampires feared me, she should have been shaking, but she didn't. I could have anyone I wanted, but she hadn't been interested. For hundreds of years women had begged me to make them mine, and I'd refused every one. It didn't happen the other way around. Sookie…

I owned her house. I could move in any time I wanted. I could even kick her out any time I wanted. There was a part of me that wanted to do just that. Toss her out in the dark. Just as easily as she had tossed me away. I could hurt her, make her cry.

But I couldn't bring myself to do it. There was honestly only one I thing I wanted to do – and that was go back.

I dearly miss the cubby where I spent too few days. Designed myself, with recessed lighting, a firm mattress, and even a perfect end table. It had taken 6 months to build, and I had enjoyed it for fewer than 6 weeks. A time when I hadn't remembered building it. Or anything else.

I want to go back, but it's a sign of desperation. A sign I can't get over her, and I won't give the bitch the satisfaction. Then again, with how much work and effort I put into that cubby, and it was my property…and I knew I had found the excuse I needed to go back.

She still loved me? The real me? The one who remembered everything. Liar. So why was I ready to go move back into that house, for the mere chance she was telling the truth?

Sookie POV

I hear the front door rattling, but it's allll the way downstairs. It was one of the bad things about living in a house this big alone. I look at the clock. Dammit! Who knocks on a door at 5 o'clock in the morning? I've gotten to the point that I don't like visitors, especially in the middle of the night. They usually came to tell me someone was dead.

I wipe sleep from my eyes and try to navigate the stairs, half asleep. Rattle, rattle. "Wait a dang second!" I yell, and part the curtain to see through.

I hear my own sigh loud in my ears. Then open the door. Eric is filling up the door frame, with a smug look on his face.

"What're you doin here?" I ask.

"It's nearly dawn, Sookie. I don't know what you're doing, but I'm going to bed."