Surprisingly enough, once I finally made it to my room I slept like the dead. I awoke to birds chirping, a woodpecker giving one of my trees hell, and sunshine splayed across me as I lay tangled in my old quilt. Though I figured I only had about four hours of sleep, I felt rested and ready to tackle the day. I allowed myself a brief moment to meditate, pushing back thoughts of the previous night's events, and instead thought about yellow throated warblers. Yup, pretty sure that's what those feathery buggers outside my window were. For a while there one of Gran's little hobbies had been bird watching, and it just so happens that Louisiana has 46 of the 53 types of warblers. It was an honor no other state could claim, who knew, and it made us a mecca for bird watchers.

I let out a heartfelt sigh. So maybe I didn't go to college, and sometimes folks are prone to equate my white blonde hair and curvaceousness with a low IQ, but I know what avoidance is thank you very much.

And then my mind was on my out of whack ability, a certain thousand year old Viking vampire who'd once had an existential crisis, and the conundrum that was Bubba.

Okay, I needed to compartmentalize, a skill I've honed over time to maintain my sanity. It's not easy to take a table full of orders, all of the hold this and add that's, while simultaneously getting bombarded with hostile thoughts between patrons. It's surprising how many families go out to dinner while they're angry at each other… husbands at wives, mothers at children, teenagers at everyone. And if I had a dollar for every time I heard a person entertain an act of violence against a loved one I sure wouldn't be scraping by on tips the way I do, no siree.

'Course, there's the good stuff too. Some folks' thoughts radiate peace. One of our regulars spends a good bit of time thinking of his daughter, grown and living in California. She doesn't make it home often, travel's too expensive, but she keeps him updated on her career and new little family. Each month she sends him a card with pictures of the baby. Little guy has a tooth now, and her job as a nurse's assistant lets her pay the bills. Sure makes him proud, he feels like he's done right by her…and it's enough, he's content. I always make sure he gets an extra big piece of lemon meringue pie, a silent thanks for unknowingly bringing some sunshine into my life.

Good or bad thoughts aside, thankfully for the most part these days I can usually block most of it out. It took me a fair amount of years, years filled with me nearly losing my mind and getting a reputation as 'that crazy Stackhouse girl', but I'd learned to harness my ability to a certain extent. Which is why last night nearly knocked me off my rocker.

I was just flat out confused. As it was happening and right after it didn't seem like I was reading Eric's mind, I felt like I was living one of his experiences. But maybe it had something to do with the fact that he was a vampire. They have accelerated everything, from healing to movement and beyond, so why not thoughts on steroids too? Bill had once told me that his human memories were like grainy black and white photos while his vampire memories were HD quality. I had to look up HD, darn Bill and his techie language, though at the time I'd found his computer nerdiness very sexy and endearing. 'Course that was before his vampire lineage software led to him hooking back up with his ho she-devil sire and me nearly getting killed in the process…but I'm sidetracking myself.

Eric's memories had been especially vivid to me because of our bond. And Bubba hadn't been actively remembering, but the memories were there floating around in his head, kinda like tadpoles in a pond coming up for air. So I had read both of their minds, alright, it's not the first time. No reason to panic. I ignored the niggling voice from the darker regions of my mind telling me that was bullshit, 'cause before it had only been small glimpses not full on mental assaults.

Alrighty, maybe some more avoidance was in order. I didn't have to be to Merlottes until the late shift, and those rays of sunshine were calling my name. I dug out my bathing suit, stopped in the kitchen for a big glass of sweet tea, and headed out to work on my tan.

I'd hired Jason to do some yard work, which unsurprisingly he'd only half finished, but because of him my radio was still on classic rock instead of country. But Van Morrison was crooning Into the Mystic, an old favorite, so I left it be.

I stretched out on my old lawn chair, sunglasses firmly in place, singing along with the soulful lyrics. The day's warmth and wholesome brightness helped melt away lingering doubts and fears. God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change…

A voice akin to tinkling bells said, "Good lord Sookie, promise me you'll never audition for American Idol."

Startled, I quickly sat up while pulling my sunglasses off. Standing before me was my tall gorgeous friend Claudine.

Men literally stopped in their tracks after catching a glimpse of her wavy dark hair and exotic slanted eyes, I'd seen it happen. But to me the best part about her was her heart, you'd be hard pressed to find a more well intentioned person. Oh yeah, and she's a fairy. Fey that is, not any other connotation the word has taken on.

She stretched down to give me one of her world famous hugs, but stopped at my screech of panic and the wall I'd created with my flattened palms.

"NO, wait!" That's all I needed, to find out what sort of baggage a centuries old fairy carries around. Who knows, maybe it's true that a fairy dies every time somebody expresses disbelief. Either way, I didn't want to explore any more supe minds for a long, long time, in fact never would be alright with me.

Claudine maintained her cool, and there was a knowing look in her gaze I found a tad suspicious. "You won't read anything from me Sookie."

Great, she was gonna pull one of those omniscient moments. I sighed in resignation and said, "What do you know?"

"You've experienced key moments from two vampires' lives. It's why I'm here, to help you understand what this means for you."

"Means for me!" I wasn't proud that my voice resembled nails on chalkboard, but was beyond caring. "Why does it have to mean anything for me?"

An unfathomable look in those dark eyes. Van Morrison's final guitar chords were fading, and I wondered if he'd written Brown Eyed Girl for her. Focus Stackhouse.

"Well Sookie, you've been chosen to ascend. One day you will be an angel."