A/N: This one was a hard one to get out. All I want to do is write about the couples counseling (there's so much to say and it's going to be so fun!) but I felt like I needed to do something else first. Hope you enjoy it, and please hit the green button and comment!

Disclaimer: These characters belong to Charlaine Harris, except for Bonnie and Dr. Gumby. (love that!)

Chapter 10: The Dead Thing

Sookie's POV

Trees, normal. Kitchen door, shiny with new paint, glowing with the promise of safety. Hands on steering wheel, rough, wet with sweat. Purse. Feel: water guns, trowel. OK. Yard, ordinary. Regular. Chill of wind through the car. Smell of old cigarettes and greasy fast food wrappers. Metallic taste, back of throat.

Yard.

Door.

Purse.

Window. Amelia's face, eyes wide, mouth set.

Rearview mirror. Bill will be here soon. Deep breath.

Door.

Hands.

Door.

Car door.

Hand reaching for it.

Deep breath.

Blood pumping. Breathing fast.

Car door. Door. Fairypants.

Hand reaching, purse on shoulder. Deep breath.

Door. Stairs. Three bounds if I'm fast.

Yard, ordinary. Security light. Amelia's face.

OK.

Fairypants.

OK.

Hands. Steering wheel. Breath.

Open. Crunch of gravel. Other foot, down. Slam door. Blood pumping, pumping. Run! Now!

One step, gravel, faster!

Two steps, gravel, almost! Heart pounding.

Foot, ricocheting up, ready for next step. Stairs, so close. Fairypants!

Rustle. Behind me. Mumble. Who?

Mumble? Stairs.

Almost there.

Almost....

Blackness. Blankness.

Nothingness.

I gulped in air, my chest burning and throbbing, my pulse pounding at my temples. My fingers tore at my clothing, trying to get anything on me away from me, trying to get free. I sobbed and fell over. My throat couldn't make a sound but I was doing my level best to scream at the top of my lungs. A cold dread shot through me and I knew--just knew--that I was in that cave. I felt cold and damp on my skin. I couldn't open my eyes. I couldn't face it.

I lay shivering, waiting for it all to begin, waiting to hear the the lilting, cruel, inhumane voice of Thing One welcoming me to the party. But all I heard was birds.

Birds? There were no birds in the cave.

I forced my eyes open just a touch and they came into focus on on a flowered quilt. And it was light out. My head felt fuzzy, heavy. I must have been bopped on the head again. Oh, oh no. Could it be a trick? No, no. That doesn't make sense.

I tried to suck down the air a little more slowly. My head turned. Nightstand. Clock radio. Lamp.

OK.

Curtains. Sun streaming through. Chair.

I looked down at my hands and saw that they were not tied. I rotated my wrists just to make sure.

OK. OK. I took a deep breath. Then another. Then another. I tried to relax my shoulders.

OK. I'm OK.

Then a dawning familiarity struck and something terrible broke open in me again. I let out a deep sigh and collapsed back on the pillow. Lordy.

I could stop having these nightmares anytime now and that would be just fine.

I laid there for a long while, slumped on my side until my shoulder started aching. I listened to the birds with the small part of my brain that could concentrate, just to remember that I was home and safe and not in that cave. And not in that terrible, terrible dream anymore. In my gut I longed for Eric's reassuring arm around me, even if he were dead during daylight. Just feeling him close would calm me. I knew it. I didn't know why and I felt ridiculous depending on Eric of all people, but still... I knew it.

As it was, all I felt was a cold aloneness, a sickening powerlessness that made me angry. The same images, the same adrenaline, the same hope, the same terrible mumbling and the same panicked, startled wakefulness. Over and over. I could taste the bile on the back of my throat. I wanted to reach out, climb in with Eric till twilight. I was so close to safety and I couldn't grasp it--not in the dream and not now. It was hiding in the floor of the closet in the guest room. I curled in on myself some more and even though I was tense, it was like I couldn't feel my muscles. I felt like I didn't have a body.

And then I felt so angry that I my energy surged and I liked to have thrown myself against the wall, found some way to bruise myself right back up again.

It had been my own fault.

There was no excuse for me just glancing at the trees and not examining carefully for fairy attackers that day. I'd been attacked often enough. I should have known better. I should have looked. I should have studied. I should have let Bill ride with me. He's a vampire. He could run home faster than he could drive. Why had I been so stupid? I could have saved myself, I thought angrily. None of this would have happened if I'd been smart.

Stupid. Worthless. Deserved what I got.

The thoughts just melted into me, melding with my bones and becoming, again, part of who I was now. I found myself squeezing my hands so tight that the nails were biting into my palm and grinding my teeth so hard they would crack. My body trembled with the effort of trying to hold in all this rage and shame and regret. And powerlessness. Deep, to my bones powerlessness. I didn't want to feel this way, to think this of myself. I'd always been so good about not dwelling on those awful times I'd had. But something about this time changed me. It was as I knew it'd be when I was in Dr. Ludwig's clinic: I would never be the same. Eric may have healed my body. I stretched and let myself enjoy the fact that I could now move without pain. No small luxury in my book. But my mind, my heart, they'd been beaten and cut and destroyed by this, too. Dr. Gumby thought I could heal, and that was something. But it didn't feel like near enough.

I lay there clinching and listening to the birds and feeling the tears on my face till my body became heavy. Every part of me wanted to sleep, but my nerves and my senses wouldn't allow it. That dream was just on the inside of my eyelids, waiting to be replayed. It had happened often enough over the past month that I knew it wasn't an idle threat.

So I did what my body would hate. I sat up. I swung my legs over the the side of the bed and slid into my slippers. I shuffled to the bathroom and I closed the door. I used the toilet and then I brushed my teeth and then I took a quick shower and then I went back to bed. That's when I noticed the only thing I'd been wearing all night was Eric's soft robe. It was so soft I snuggled back into it, too tired to think about how I got into it in the first place.

So tired that my bones ached.

I grabbed the first magazine on my dresser. A gossip magazine. Perfect. I couldn't read anything with a plot right now anyway. Short. Pictures. That dress is lovely. Oh my. She shouldn't wear that color. Or that style. And she should put her bosoms away.

I wonder if they're even dating. I always wonder how much of what I see in those magazines is made up by the movie companies and how much is real. Who knew?

These poor people look stricken! That look on their face, like these photographers are making their lives miserable, like they're stalking them. I found myself unable to tear away from those eyes, from the irritation and panic and weariness of them.

Was I imagining it? Could I really see the panic?

My chest burned and got heavy. I knew that feeling. I'd avoided the mirror well enough in the past month, but today, I knew the look in their eyes from the inside out. My breath caught in my throat and a strangled gasp came out of me. Just like that, the magazine fell from my hands and I scooted down in bed again. I gasped and cried and then put my own foot down.

Nope. You are a warrior. At least Eric and Dr. Gumby thought so.

I stretched and my muscles groaned with weariness. I could slip back to sleep right now. I could be asleep and healing. But that dream... that gravel... I couldn't go back. Time to change the subject.

I never wanted to be turned, but right now I sure wished I could sleep like a vampire--not have any choice about it, just fall out at the rising sun and not move until it set again. And no chance of dreams.

I closed my eyes, because I couldn't fight it. I tried to think of nice things. Calming things. My old cat Tina rubbing herself up against my leg. Purring. The feel of her fur in my hand. So silky and soft. Maybe I'd get another cat.

How it felt to have Tina's little warm body curled up on me, heavy, purring. I took a deep breath, but before I could relax, I could see her blood.

I convulsed with crying again. My body felt sore and like my head wasn't connected to my body. Floating, drifting. What I wouldn't give to bring it back down to earth right now.

I hugged the robe closer to my body. OK, think about something else.

And then I thought of the one thing that always seemed to make me feel better. I sniffed Eric's robe and ran my hands around it. Bless him for bringing some joy to my dark, sad nights. I closed my eyes and imagined him curled up with me right now, in a dark room. His arm over me, heavy. The feel of him at my back. Protective.

I thought about last night. What a relief it had been after such a long and trying day, to wake to Eric slipping up behind me, just like in my dream. And he hadn't stopped. He'd taken me over and over again. In my childhood bed, I thought with a blush. On the chair in the kitchen. On top of the kitchen table. Oh my. I still felt sometimes like road kill, but it does amazing things to a girl's self-confidence to have a 6'5" Viking vampire unable to keep his hands off you.

I could feel--really feel--even now, his tongue on me, parting my wet lips, seeking my nub. Murmuring how well healed I was even from yesterday. He'd made me look--his thing, also a little of a healing thing. To see my lady bits shiny and pink instead of damaged and peeling was amazing. Eric really did do my body good. Over and over again.

I remembered his big, strong hand making quick work of untying the sash to my old robe. I could feel him cupping my breast and groaning. I shivered and my breath caught. Yes, Eric, I pleaded silently. Make me feel better. Give me some peace.

His eyes appeared before me, so beautiful and tender and craving. I felt lost in them, trusting them to be honest.

I ran my fingers along my neck and could feel him nuzzling there, dragging his fangs across but not breaking my skin. I arched my back and turned my head and offered myself to him. Anything to keep him with me a little longer.

Beautiful, he had said. Perfect. I felt tears sting my eyes. How could he mean it? How could he have ever meant it, given the number of women he'd been with in his long, long life? But he'd said it, and I clung to it, and a tiny hope slithered out from my exhausted, dark soul and told me that he'd looked and sounded like he'd meant it.

I felt my thighs press themselves open to my hand, remembering how Eric's big palms had pressed coolly there, asking for me to let him in. I'd done it. I would do it again. Over and over. My Eric. Yes. I moaned softly in the sunny room. His thick fingers teasing around me until they finally dipped in, pressing lightly and then more insistently, making me sob and groan and ask him for more. The feel of his soft hair in my palm. Stroking as he stroked me. His big mouth, strong lips, teasing, tickling, insisting... claiming. Demanding all of me. His fingers reaching inside me, curling.

I felt my chest blush even at the memory, at how enthralled I was with him, how I wanted him to have all of me, how I'd given all, spread myself out for him, begged him not to stop, meaning, Never stop. Stay. Forever. Please.

I will stay, he'd said. I am here because I choose to be. I am here because you are here and you are important. You.

He hadn't stopped and I hadn't either and the sounds he had made, the satisfied but hungry sounds, the ecstatic sounds as he slurped at me, swishing into me at greater speed, demanding I give him everything, asking for it. I didn't want to hold back anymore. I arched my hips, then and now. Oh. Oh god.

Eric! Yes, Eric. Ohhhh. Pressing, pressing, sucking, biting, muttering how beautiful I was, how healed I was, how brave I was. Me impaled on his hand and his mouth, not caring that the kitchen table was cool against my back, not caring that the curtains were open. Not feeling anything but his mouth and the sweat beading up on me.

Please, Eric. Yes.

Ahh.

Ahh. Ahh. Yes.

Oh!

Eric. There. Right. Right. There....

And then him calling me, asking me to look, as, just on the edge, he nuzzled his beautiful wet mouth into the crook of my legs. His fangs glinting in the light. Want. More. Give me, I'd thought, when I could think, my head foggy in the best possible way. And then his fingers hit right and his fangs clamped down and I was flying, calling him, praising him as I had good moment after good moment.

Oh. Yes.

Now.

Ah. Ah. Oh!

I shuddered and sighed in my small, good moment, my body finally, mercifully relaxing into the sheets. As my breathing slowed, I became aware of my environment again. Not the kitchen table. (I throbbed.) Clean, sunny. Safe and ordinary day. My nipples felt wonderful against the cashmere of his robe. I leaned into it and smelled him and laughed silently. It felt like I'd located that jar where I stored all those extra orgasms he'd given me and taken one out.

I closed my eyes and let myself believe, for a few minutes, that he Eric who'd risen last night wasn't the Vampire Sheriff of Area 5--not the Eric who'd tricked me into sucking a bullet out of his chest and then tricked me into blood bonding with him in Rhodes, and then tricked me into a vampire marriage with him in front of Victor Madden of all beings. That he wasn't even my Eric, the Eric who didn't know any better and was scared and therefore trusted me and gave himself to me without reservation. That, maybe, he really was a new Eric I'd never met, an Eric who had all his senses, his whole personality, including his self-interest, and wanted me anyway. Just me. That he had come to me because he still loved me. Or almost loved me. Or at least cared for me. And wouldn't leave me again.

With that pleasant fantasy clouding my mind, I finally succumbed to my exhaustion and fell hard back into sleep.

*****

I woke groggy and irritable. There was something at the back of my mind. Something I couldn't hold on to but that was nagging at me. Something dreadful I thought I might not want to remember. Something about this day--I didn't know what it was--was setting my teeth on edge and I just wanted to get through it.

I could hear Bonnie in the other room thinking about her grocery list and her cooking and her important weekend plans, and worrying if I'd be OK on the weekend by myself.

The thought of a weekend all to myself did nothing to calm me. I was getting ready to sink into a pity party, wondering how I could feel so bad when my last thoughts before sleep had been so good, but then Bonnie was in my room with breakfast and a quiet, professional smile.

I slapped on my nervous smile.

"You look rosy this morning," she said, chipper. I hated chipper today, and wasn't sure why. "Sleep well?"

I didn't want to tell her that Eric had kept me up all night and a terrible nightmare had woken me this morning at 7 a.m., that her being here and being cheery wasn't helping and I didn't know why. But I breathed deep and smoothed the sheet over me politely. Gran would hate it if I were rude to Bonnie, so I smiled my wide, fake smile and composed myself.

"Well, aren't you sweet?" I said, and there may have been a bit more venom in my voice than I'd intended. Bonnie didn't register my tone in her voice, though. "I'm glad I look good because I sure feel like five miles of rough road right now."

She looked at me curiously as she handed me a plate of biscuits and gravy. It smelled so good that my irritation was momentarily side tracked and my smile turned a little more genuine. I looked up at her to thank her as I scooped a big dollop of gravy and bacon onto my biscuit and wolfed it down. I hadn't realized I was so hungry.

But my unease was strong and I watched her wearily. Her eyes were watching me, appraising. It's the look Dr. Ludwig gave me a few days ago when she could tell I wasn't well.

"How's that dear?"

She sure seemed nosy this morning, I thought grouchily as I finished the second biscuit, licking my fingers. But I could hear Gran telling me to let doctors--and in this cases aides--do their jobs. So I explained my nightmare and my fear of sleep in the loosest terms. No reason to make it harder on myself just to satisfy her curiosity.

She nodded and said she knew just the thing. Perky. I shook my head as she walked purposefully from the room. I may have stuck my tongue out at her just before I took in another gravy-soaked bite. She came back with a Xanax tab and set me up to go back to sleep. Then she left me alone and I did my level best to block out her thoughts.

I picked up a magazine and glanced through it, but that nagging irritation wouldn't leave me. I was full but something about me couldn't get satisfied. I couldn't look at the magazine for more than a few minutes before some thoughts started bubbling to the surface.

You can't count on him. He's gonna leave you as soon as you're well. And then where will you be.

And then, damningly:

Remember his track record.

And there it was: The thing I'd been avoiding. I felt myself starting to break apart again and I wondered why the Xanax wasn't helping. Or maybe it was, I thought with horror. But those were just fleeting, and I found myself right back in that awful cave. And suddenly, it was like I could feel that Trey was there, slumped in the corner and about dead. And I knew it was my job to save him and save myself and the only way I could do that was through this stupid blood bond I'd never wanted. Rage started popping up to the surface.

I hadn't had control of my feelings when it came to Eric for months now. I always felt squishy and warm and safe when he was around, even when I was mad at him. I was drawn to him, and every part of my body longed for him. And yet he'd stayed at a distance for months before the fairy war.

And then... I sighed. No! I don't want to go through that again. I won't dredge it up, I told myself. But there was something in me that forced it, that was holding me down and making me look and I fought against it in my own way. I squeezed my eyes shut and curled into a ball.

But all that did was give me a better view of the cave. I felt myself propped up as the Things played with me, biting, seeing what would make me yelp and sob the loudest. I could hear them, their cackles. My stomach clinched and rolled and suddenly those biscuits seemed like a real bad idea.

A cold hole burrowed itself into my back. I couldn't get my prayers out of my head.

Eric, if you're there, I need you. Please! Come save me. I don't know where I am. There's an old photo of a family on the wall, and it smells like mold and decay here. You can follow my feelings. I know you can. Please say you can. Please.

Come get me, baby. Make it up to me for lying to me and tricking me.

If... If you love me, save me. Please.

Ow! Oh god.

Please. I need you so bad. Please. Oh god, the teeth! Searing... pain. I'm not gonna survive this if... if you don't get here soon.

I need you.

I need you.

If you come to me now, I swear, I'll stop fighting the bond, I'll be your forever. I'll forget everything. I'll owe you everything. Please.

Please.

Help. Please.

Help.

And then a hardness had settled over me, as it did even now. My pleas died down. I was going to die in that dank room and the Things would laugh and probably celebrate by fucking on top of my mutilated body.

Laying here now, cold and hopeless, I felt the truth for maybe the first time: Something had died in me that day, and that dead thing was still in me. Rotting me, ruining me. It had torn a hole in me and I was helpless to fill it. I couldn't imagine there was enough love and caring in the world to put me back to rights.

When Eric was here, in my arms, holding me and whispering to me in his ancient language, it felt a little less cold and empty. Letting him touch me and stroke me and say sweet things to me helped. But the dead thing was so big, so unquenchable, I despaired that it could ever be healed by anything.

I didn't know if anything Eric could say or do would matter now. I was torn open, and no amount of his blood could sew me shut again.

How could I trust him? How could he expect me to?

And to say last night that he was repaying a favor... What a jerk. Sure, he'd said it tenderly. And sure he'd backed it up with some truly unbelievable--from Eric--statements. But he'd said it, and he'd looked so smug. And I just wanted to punch in my the face.

And then kiss him. And punch him again. My fists ached and my eyes blurred with tears.

But then the wave of rage was chased away by a wave of confusion. How could a body hold so many feelings? And how could I have so many at once, about the same person, with such wildly different results?

I didn't want that to distrust him so much, I thought as I sobbed. You should never treat any act of kindness as your due. I knew that. And Eric--he was being so kind. Beyond kind. He seemed genuine when he said he was here for me, that other humans didn't matter to him but I did. That sure sounded like him. I remembered the look in his eyes when he talked about how I'd cared for him when he was cursed. Maybe it was the dead thing, but I couldn't let that in, not really. Not because he'd cuddled me and made love to me and looked at me with those eyes for three days. Not because he'd bathed me in his blood. I had a vague sense that I was crazy, but I couldn't help it.

I tried not to sob too loudly. I didn't want to attract Bonnie's attention. I didn't think I could stand it if she found me like this. I certainly couldn't explain it.

He'd been so tender last night, like he really wanted me, like he couldn't get enough of me, as damaged as I was. It was like I'd never been telepathic, like he'd never cared about my disability or what I could do for him. That he only... loved me. Or something like it, I thought quickly. I'd remembered it today, felt it inside me, all over me. I hoped that could be enough. And he had come, eventually. He'd answered my call. That was something. That should count. But somehow, it was like the dead thing inside of me wouldn't let it, killing his kindness before it could reach me. I concentrated as hard as I could in my addled state, but I couldn't make myself forgive him.

I stroked his robe some more. So soft. Cashmere. I'd said I liked it and he'd given it to me for the day. I'm sure he also wanted me thinking of him and wanting him, hoping I'd be hot to trot by the time he rose. Boy, was he in for a shock, I thought sadly.

I knew what I probably should want to do: I should want to kick him out, pay for Bonnie out of my dwindling savings and let Sam come over and watch over me at night. Then I could go back to work at Merlotte's when I was finally better. I certainly shouldn't be looking around my room wondering how hard it would be to make it light-tight.

But to my bones I just hoped he'd stay. I knew it was probably just the blood bond. I knew I didn't have a right to ask it. I knew my feelings and thoughts and instincts were all over the place right now. I wished I could just decide to either kick him out or just give in to this wonderful feeling of safety and warmth I had when he was near. But instead, I was left part dead, part needing and part betrayed. As terrible as I felt even with him here, I remembered how awful it had been when I'd been all alone. It was like I told Dr. Eugenides: It really is like I can't breathe when he's not here. But it's also like I'm drowning when he is.

Still, even a little--even a half-healed dead thing--was better than being cold and gaping and lost.

My head felt ragged, raw. I didn't want to think about this anymore. But I couldn't hold it off. I realized suddenly that every muscle in my body was curled and tensed. I was shaking, wanting the day to be over, wanting the pain to be gone. Wanting oblivion.

I just wanted to disappear. I just want to disappear. I repeated it to myself as if it could help. I just want to disappear.

I repeated it until I finally, fitfully, fell back to sleep.

***

"Ooh, Sookie, look!" I heard Bonnie's voice from far away. And then her brain: I love this store... so fancy... I bet it's awful pretty.... he sure does seem sweet on her... he's so big and strong and those muscles!... lucky girl... "A package!"

Ugh. I sat up with effort and my head was splitting with pain and my eyes felt all puffy and raw. I focused on the fancy-looking box in front of me. I moaned, half to myself and closed my eyes again. I knew immediately what it was. I had known the moment he'd ripped my slip with such glee--my best slip, the sexy one--that I'd be getting a package today. I was in no mood for Eric's sweetness right now. I didn't deserve it. I couldn't return it. But at least my impulse to throw it across the room or yell at Bonnie for waking me was turned down. God bless Xanax.

Bonnie was looking down at me excitedly and she nudged me to get me to open my eyes.

"Open it!"

She was so giddy. I wanted to slap her smile off her face, but of course I wouldn't.

I smiled weakly up at her. Well, if I couldn't make myself happy, someone in this house ought to be. So I stared at it and my nervous smile stuck itself to my face. Resigned, I lifted the top and folded back the rose-colored tissue paper.

Inside was the most beautiful slip I'd ever seen. It was deep burgundy, almost a wine color, and it was so shiny and soft. I held it up. It had pleated sheer inserts on the cups and a frilly, ruffled him of the same sheer material. A very short hemline. Eric.

Inside was a note, on that same heavy, cream paper and in Eric's smooth handwriting.

Dear Heart,

Please accept this negligee as recompense for my harsh treatment of your slip last evening. I will not pretend that I did not enjoy it--you know me too well for that--but I know your things are precious to you and I will not have you going without.

I would be honored if you would wear it at first dark.

Eric

Before I got to Eric's name, the letters started blurring and I realized I was crying. Again. Crap. He'd be expecting a sex kitten tonight and I was a mess. I sniffed and brought my hand up to wipe the snot from my nose. I didn't deserve this. I couldn't forgive him. And he had no idea. But how do you say that to someone? Please don't leave but I can't forgive you, either?

I ran my fingers over the satin. It was so pretty, just the most beautiful... what did he call it? Negligee?... I had ever seen. (That word hadn't come up on my word-of-the-day calendar yet. Neither had "recompense," but I got his meaning.) It was so fine and delicate. You'd never find a thing like this at Walmart or even Tara's Togs. I held it to me and suddenly, irrationally, and more than anything, I wanted him laying here next to me so I could kiss his beautiful face.

"My, Sookie, that sure is something," said Bonnie approvingly. I had forgotten she was there and I glanced up at her, embarrassed of the water works.

That could stop anytime now, too.

But when she caught my eye, I saw her look soften and change. Oh no. Pity. But then her look hardened and she became professional again.

"A very hard day today, I see," she said, stroking the hair back from my face in a gesture that would have done Gran proud.

I nodded and shrugged, keeping my eyes on the slip.

She nodded as if she understood. For all I knew, she did. She'd worked with supes and their humans a long time.

I peaked a look at the tag. One hundred percent silk. I hope it doesn't have to be dry cleaned. Do rich people dry clean their underthings?

And then other, more confusing questions bubbled to the top of my fried brain. Would I wear it tonight? Was I up to it?

I didn't know. I clutched it to me and closed my eyes.

I'd think about that later.