Disclaimer: Charlaine Harris is the sole owner of the Southern Vampire Mysteries universe. I'm just taking her beloved characters out to run in the street, chasing the ice cream truck as it trundles down the block.

When I was writing this, I was listening to the album Far by Regina Spektor. Two songs in particular set the mood: "Laughing with" and "Eet." If you haven't heard them yet, find them on youtube (I can't figure out how to make links work here).

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Aftermath

Everything was happening at once. All of my senses were overpowered. I could hear the crackling of flames, people beginning to scream, Amelia screaming. Smoke from the flames that streamed out of the cars in front of us burned my nose and throat. In horror, I realized that the smell surrounding me was familiar. It was the smell of fire and shredded metal and concrete and the smell of burning flesh. Death was in the air. I could taste it. The panic and pain of the people surrounding me pushed through my flimsy shield and gripped me with their terror. I don't know how long I sat crouched behind the seat in front of me. As I tried to force order on the sensory inputs streaming into my consciousness, I found that my left hand was frantically trying to find and grasp Amelia, any part of Amelia. I blindly gripped her shoulder and turned my face to her.

In relief, I quickly processed that she was seemingly physically fine. I didn't see any blood, other than that caused by tiny cuts on her arms from the window glass that had poured over her. Feeling fresh drops of blood on my own arms and neck, I knew I must look the same. We were lucky. Amelia's frightened eyes sought mine and begged for guidance. I guess I was the expert in these situations. Before I could speak, the car doors were flung open and strong arms were pulling me away from Amelia. Not realizing who was pulling me from the car, I struggled and saw that Amelia too was being pulled from the door nearest her.

"Sookie!" a familiar man's voice shouted my name over the din of screams and fire that had almost become background noise. I turned and was overwhelmed with relief. Sam was pulling me from the car. Once I was standing, I looked over the scarred remains of the roof of the car to see our driver pulling a dazed Amelia to safety.

Without hesitation, I wrapped my arms around Sam and inhaled his familiar scent. It was like breathing from an oxygen mask. His woodsy, masculine scent woke me from my shock. "Oh Sam. Thank God you're ok. I don't know what I'd do if I lost you too." For just one moment, Sam wrapped his strong arms around me and held on for all he was worth.

He kissed the top of my head and said, "Sookie, I need to get you away from the cars. It's not safe." He began pulling me back towards the green Church lawn, that seemed like an oasis sheltered from the carnage of the parking lot. How could anything still be green and clean and beautiful after that explosion? Still numb and overwhelmed, I let Sam lead me to the lawn, to where Amelia half-stood half-leaned against our driver. I couldn't even remember his name. Not that it mattered. He was alive. Amelia was alive. Sam was alive.

Once he had safely guided me to the lawn, Sam leaned down and gently kissed my forehead. "Sookie, please, just stay here. Help is on the way. Please don't do anything dangerous." Then he began to walk away; I called out "Sam, what are you doing?"

Looking back over his shoulder, Sam replied, "I need to do what I can to help. There might still be people trapped in the cars that were ahead of you. Just stay there. Don't move!"

I started to follow him, but Amelia grabbed my hand and pulled me to her. Tears were streaming down her face and she was shaking. We wrapped our arms around each other tightly. All around us other survivors gathered on the lawn. People dressed in their funeral best were carrying others to the safety of the grass. It seemed like the injured were being grouped together and others were tending to them as best they could. White button down shirts were being shredded to create makeshift bandages. People were moaning. A young man threw off his suit coat and began CPR on an older woman in a flowered dress. Most of the screaming had stopped, replaced by the low murmur of tears, children with scorched lungs gasping for breath and the whimper of people nearing shock from pain.

I knew Sam wanted me to stay put, but if I could help save someone, I would. So while I held my shivering best friend in my arms, I closed my eyes and reached out my mind to try and find the thoughts of anyone who might still be alive, but trapped in one of the mangled cars. There were too many people on the lawn for me to be able to focus on the burning cars. I released Amelia. "Amelia. Stay here. I'm going to see if I can help." She nodded and squeezed my arms before I walked towards the carnage.

As I got closer to the sidewalk, I had a better view of the devastation wrought by what could only have been a bomb in the hearse. The once sleek, black vehicle meant to carry Tray's casket to the cemetery with dignity was reduced to an eerie empty metal frame supported by melted rubber, surrounded by shattered glass, twisted metal and flame. The bomb must have been placed toward the back, because the hood and the engine were structurally intact, though engulfed in flames. The car immediately behind the hearse looked almost like it too had held a bomb. It was on fire. The windows had been shattered in the blast and the front of the car looked like it had been in one of those crash tests you see on TV. Each successive car had lessening degrees of damage, mostly from broken windows, like our car. But the three cars directly behind the hearse were in flames. Few had open doors. I concentrated with all my might to scan the three most heavily damaged cars for signs of life. Even though I knew it was unlikely, I scanned the first car and found no brain waves I'd come to associate with life. Since the doors to that car were all still closed, my heart seemed to stop for a moment when I realized that it was likely that everyone in the car was dead. Drawing on my memories from Rhodes, I knew I needed to scan the second car; there was nothing I could do for the dead in the first. I concentrated with all my might on the second car and caught the faintest flicker of life. Before I knew what I was doing, my legs were propelling me towards the second car and I was shouting to Sam.

"Sam! Someone's alive in the second car. In the back seat, on the right. Sam! Sam!"

As I ran towards him, I saw Sam and another man race to the second car. It was engulfed in flames and I couldn't see how they could get anyone out alive. Sam had his jacket off to cover his face and hands as he pushed forward and tried to grip the handle of the car door. A jet of flames rose up and pushed Sam back. The other man managed to grip the handle and fling the car door open. I reached them just as Sam dove in to pull someone out of the car. In the moment Sam started to drag the writhing man away from the car the flames seemed to surge again and grow in intensity. The other man helped Sam drag the man they'd rescued to safety. I reached them moments later and couldn't hold back a scream. Lying on the Church parking lot's black asphalt, covered in blood and burned almost beyond recognition, was Alcide.

"Alcide!" I screamed. "No, no, no. Don't die Alcide. Don't die." I fell to my knees beside him and panic threatened to overwhelm me. So much unnecessary death, so much suffering. I couldn't bear to lose another friend, another member of my family. As I looked over Alcide's mutilated form, I could hear sirens approaching. I knew the familiar ring of the Bon Temps volunteer fire truck, and could tell it would be here in moments. Just behind the fire truck, I could hear the siren that could only be the one ambulance based in Bon Temps. Alcide was so injured I was terrified he wouldn't make it to the hospital, despite the quick healing power of Weres. His face and body were terribly burned and he seemed to be bleeding all over. I didn't know how to help. I felt so powerless, that all I could do was kneel by his side with tears selfishly running down my face. As I stared at Alcide, he seemed to slur my name through his burned and blistered lips. "Sssoookie..."

"I'm here Alcide. Just stay still. Help will be here in a minute. Don't talk. Save your strength. You're going to be fine trust me."

Alcide's eyes fluttered open and locked on mine. His eyebrows were gone and his eyelashes were singed. With my shields lowered, I stared into Alcide's eyes, trying to hear him.

"Sookie. This is bad" he thought at me. "I don't think I'm going to make it. If I don't, I want you to know that I.."

"You just stop thinking those bad thoughts Alcide Hevereaux. You are strong and kind and good and you're the Packmaster. You will be fine." I spoke with more determination than I felt, but I couldn't stand the thought of losing him.

"Sookie. I know that you saved me. I thought no one would know I was still alive in there. I couldn't get the door to open. You saved me from burning to death. If I can die looking into your eyes, looking at a beautiful woman, well, I can't complain about that…."

With those ridiculous thoughts, Alcide slipped into unconsciousness, just as the ambulance arrived. Once the professionals were on the scene, things moved quickly. Since he was the most injured, Alcide was swiftly loaded into the ambulance and it squealed away towards the hospital. I prayed that Alcide would hang on. As I watched the ambulance veer off, two warm hands gripped my shoulders from behind.

"Chere, let me take you back to Amelia. There's nothing else you can do here."

In a daze, I let Sam, once again, guide me to safety. My breathing hitched as I realized that Sam was always there for me, was always looking to make sure I was safe. I may have lost Claudine, but I knew I still had a guardian angel here on earth. With his warm hand on the small of my back, Sam gently guided me back onto the Church lawn.

My eyes searched the crowd gathered on the lawn for Amelia. I found her sitting slightly apart from the crowd, her face in her hands, sobbing softly. In silence, I moved to her side and sat down, putting my arm around her shoulders. She turned her head and began crying into my shoulder as I watched Catfish Hunter, Ralph Tooten and the rest of the volunteer crew begin to douse the flames. A stillness seemed to envelop us, the survivors gathered on the Church lawn, as we watched water battle with flame. It was 2:00 in the afternoon.

As Amelia wept into my shoulder, as the flames began to dim and fade, I thought about love and acceptance. Until the night I met Bill and unwittingly joined the supernatural world, I'd loved in isolation. My Gran loved me. Jason loved me in his way. But for the rest of Bon Temps, I was Crazy Sookie. The freak with nice tits who made them uncomfortable and challenged their sense of order in the world. With each revelation of the Supe world, Crazy Sookie was still just crazy. Even in a world with vamps and weres, my neighbors in Bon Temps would rather pretend that I'm a freak than to accept that, just like Sam or Bill, I'm a little different.

It shocked me to realize that only a few people have accepted all of who I am without question. I closed my eyes and saw their faces….Gran, Niall, Claudine, Claude, Sam, Amelia, Bill, Pam and Eric. Eric. In my mind, I saw his face as clearly as though I was looking at a photograph. His blue eyes looked back at me and in their depths I saw so much. Lust, power, strength, and the calm, cold calculation of a survivor. I am certain of some things. I know that Eric desires me and I desire him. His slightest touch makes my body sing. More times than I can count, he has kept me safe. Unwillingly, my mind shifted to the one time he'd failed me. Thinking of my torture threatened to suck me into the darkness that I'd been struggling for days to keep at bay. I squeezed my eyes tightly and tried to concentrate on what really mattered now: I needed to understand what had happened here today. I needed to know if Alcide was Ok. I needed to know who had died, because I knew for certain that whoever planted that bomb had succeeded in killing people in the car that we'd pulled Alcide from. Despite my attempt at concentrating, I couldn't help it when my thoughts shifted again to Eric. I needed to know if he loved me, the way that I knew that I loved him.

A/N: Sorry for the delay in getting this to you. I struggled trying to shift from a week heavy with writing proposals for work to writing for fun.