A/N: Flashbacks like this one will be announced in the chapter titles.
**Prior to the events in Chapter 1**
"You followed her again."
Sitting behind an ornately-carved mahogany desk, the blonde vampire narrowed her gaze at her maker as he sauntered into the office of their shared house. Her tone rang with irritation. It was not a question – it was obvious to her that he had been doing that very thing. He was on edge, pacing nervously, refusing to settle, and wringing his hands – acting very human. She was glad he took great pains to hide mannerisms like this from his peers, but unnerved that he was displaying them at all. And if history was any indication she knew that he was likely to be in this state until the sun took them both. She was a little jealous; she had never seen him so affected by a girl, by anyone in fact – including herself.
She had taken to vampiric life with ease, having been a bit bloodthirsty, untrusting, and detached in her human life. Her maker had released her from his side after her first hundred years among the undead. During her time on her own, she had fed and fucked her way through half the world. Once he took refuge in Louisiana, he had called her back to him, and as his child she was happy to be in his presence once again. She had relished their shared life – until his not-so-little obsession with that girl began. At 800 years his junior, she had never even considered making a mistake of the same magnitude that he was making now. She could not why he would take such a risk.
"Pamela…"
There was a warning in his voice that she should have heeded, but Pam believed this girl had infected her maker with feelings. He had stalked that girl night after night for the last two years, keeping to the shadows, never approaching her, but always watching. He was captivated by her inability to be glamoured. He had denied it to Pam, but she knew it drew him to the girl, compelled him to protect her. That girl had been consuming him, turning him into a shell of a vampire. He should've have killed her the night they crossed paths. He was no longer the master, the vampire that Pam had loved. If he was ever going return to his former glory as the ruthless, bloodthirsty Viking Sheriff of Area Five, he was going to have to expunge the sickness that was Sookie Stackhouse from this earth.
"Eric…" She taunted back.
"You are not to concern yourself with my comings and goings."
"They concern me," She sniped at him, hoping he would understand she meant the word in both senses – that his actions simultaneously involved her and worried her.
"You would be smart to keep your thoughts to yourself on such matters. I did not reach one thousand years of age by acting foolishly. Do not question me. My hobby carries no risk."
She jumped up from her chair, "Hobby?! You call stalking that creature a hobby?! You are risking our exposure!"
"I do no such thing, Pamela. Watch your tone! I simply…keep track of her."
"Keep track of her!? That's a joke, Eric. You follow her like a lovesick puppy. What will you do if she discovers you, finds out that you are a vampire?"
"DO NOT EVER REFER TO ME IN SUCH A WAY!" His voice booming before he continued at a more reasonable volume, "Know your place, Pamela. She is not like others. She is special…to me." His last words escaped his lips in barely a whisper, but she had still heard them.
"You're choosing a human over me, over yourself? You're going to let that unglamourable little virgin," She spat out the word with disgust, "be the catalyst to your demise?"
A bloody tear slipped down her alabaster cheek, "She will be the final death of you," she said sadly before slumping back into the chair dejectedly.
He shook with laughter – he had no intentions of telling his progeny that he feared the exact same thing. That he knew his obsession had grown to epic proportions and was out of control. That he had no idea why the human affected him so. That he hated she made him feel warm and tingly inside, that she made him feel at all.
"You think a feeble human girl poses a threat to us, Pam? Is it really so easy to scare you? Are you quaking with fear in your Louboutins? Shall I save you from the itty-bitty, teeny-weeny bloodbag?" He was pushing at all her buttons, trying to get under her skin, but he found regret once he realized her tears had not stopped falling. That she was, in fact, scared.
"Calm down, my child. You know I like you better when you're cold and heartless."
He leaned towards her, reached his hand out, and cupped her cheek. She leaned into his touch, comforted by the physical contact. He brushed a bloody tear away with his other hand and brought it to his mouth, savoring her taste against his tongue. They had not shared such an intimate moment in over one hundred years. She looked up at him seeking permission to crash her lips against his, end the sexual drought that had existed between them. Observing the hint of hunger in her eyes, Eric dropped his hand, stepped back, and turned away – effectively rebuffing her advances by giving her his cold shoulder. She prickled at his actions. If not for his infatuations, her maker would have never hesitated to offer her a night of unending pleasure. That girl was to blame. He needed to get her out of his system.
"Fuck her or kill her, but be done with her, Eric," she said flippantly while tapping her long red nails on the wooden structure before her, spinning the chair to also turn her back to him.
"You are intolerable and insolent! Leave. It. Alone. Pam!"
Eric's mood had shifted wildly. His words were punctuated with anger as he roared at her with an irrational fury. She was shocked. This was not their first fight over the girl or the first time Pam had campaigned for her death, but he had not once responded this violently. Admittedly, her ribbing had become less playful over the last couple of months, less like a poking and more like a jabbing, but he needed a wake-up call, to snap out of this. His continued existence necessitated that he be less emotional and more controlled, like he used to be.
In an instant, he pulled the chair out from under her, hurling it against the wall opposite from where they stood, leaving a deep crack that trailed upwards to the ceiling. It had shattered into hundreds of pieces, several of them shooting back across the room to rest at her feet. She had not fallen, quickly vamping out of the chair's trajectory once she saw he made a move to grab it. He hissed at her, baring his fangs, and huffed out of the room, slamming the door behind him. She heard the front door shake after an unquestionably loud bang not minutes later and she silently hoped he was off to glut himself on blood. He always seemed more like her Eric once he got a little rosy flush back in his skin.
Pam kicked at the remnants of the chair with her pink heels as she leaned against the desk. It was impossible to deny; the little human was driving him crazy. Her Eric was hovering over the precipice of insanity. Perhaps, she thought, it was time to take matters into her own hands.
