It was just after midnight and Fangtasia's parking lot was still filling up. As Eric and I headed for home, a tall woman and her date hopped out of their muddy Dodge pickup. The date wolf-whistled, whether at me or Eric or the world, I wasn't sure. I put my arm around Eric and gave his butt a squeeze to mark my territory, just in case the whistle was meant for us. As the couple stumbled toward Fangtasia's ID check, Eric dropped a kiss on the top of my head and pressed the automatic unlock button on his keys. Nothing happened. Eric pressed it again. And again, nothing happened.

He looked at me. "Lover, where is my car?"

We were surrounded by the lemons and beat-up pickups owned by the folks at Fangtasia. Pam's Lexus was the nicest in the lot, because I'd ditched Eric's convertible at the Circle K gas station across the street. Between the Vegas vamps and the undercover reporters, I'd forgotten to tell him.

I didn't know how to sugarcoat it. "I left your car at the gas station."

"That gas station?" Eric pointed. I nodded. Circle K's neon sign winked at me from across six lanes of high-speed off-ramp traffic. "You can't leave a corvette at a gas station."

"Well, I did." I even felt bad about it, but I didn't think that would make it easier for him to hear. "I couldn't drive your car past that news truck. I'm sorry, Eric, but I did my best."

"Corvettes are not like other cars, Sookie. You can't leave them lying around."

"I said I was sorry, Eric. I bet it's fine." I more 'hoped' than 'bet' but there was no use getting upset unless the corvette had been keyed, or worse, stolen.

"Next time, you can use Bill's car." Eric must be mad. There was no other way he'd give me an excuse to interact with Bill. He was also ordering me around like a child, but I'd encouraged it by letting him provide a car for me in the first place.

"Forget it. I'm overdue to get my own car anyway."

"Don't waste your money. Take Bill's." Eric took my hand and pulled me towards the gas station.

"I said no thanks."

"He won't notice, and if he did, he'd wouldn't mind."

It was true, but that didn't make it a good reason. "I don't want to encourage him."

Eric didn't say anything. I found his silence more unsettling that the argument. "What is it?" Eric gave me that blank look he used to slither out of conversations he didn't want to have. He'd used it to great advantage during our police interrogation, but I wasn't about to let him turn it on me. "Eric, I will be more mad if you don't say what you're thinking."

"I have nothing to say." If Eric had been human, I would have heard whatever the problem was in his thoughts by now. I wasn't used to working this hard.

I stared at him. He stared back. Finally, he caved. "You say you don't encourage Bill, but you do without meaning to."

"Bill is my friend."

"Just your friend?"

"That's an unfair question. Bill and I—" I didn't know where to begin, so I restarted. "For a long time I hated Bill and we're finally beginning to reach an understanding. I want to keep going that way if it's possible. Maybe you're right, Eric, and he's more than a friend, but it will never be romantic and it's unfair for you to imply it is."

"That isn't what I'm doing. I want you to be aware of how you treat him so you can control it. "

I rolled my eyes. Mr. High-handed. "Thanks for policing my behavior."

"You forget I can feel you. You offered him your blood because you wanted to help. A vampire would not do what you did. We don't encounter kindness often, and when some of us do, especially young ones like Bill, it can be addictive."

"You're saying I'm addictive?" It sounded ridiculous to me.

"You are very special, yes. And that is exactly my point. If you are the only person treating Bill with respect, it will be hard for him to move on."

"I'm not doing anything wrong treating Bill like a person."

"You are not being kind."

"So I'm being unkind by being kind? Why do you care? You wouldn't spit if Bill needed water." As soon as I said it, I knew it wasn't true. Eric was keeping Bill alive, however grudgingly, by sending him blood. And Bill didn't drink water anyway. "I'm sorry."

"I don't like talking about Bill, but I feel sorry for him." Eric smiled, but he almost looked sad. "I have a unique perspective on your appeal."

We had reached the edge of parking lot. Circle K was now six lanes of traffic away. A semi whizzed past us, so close the fly-by breeze stung my cheek.

"Let's go home," Eric said.

I nodded. The Bill conversation felt too heavy, and Eric looked somber, which he almost never did. "I'll think about what you said, but I'm not going to push Bill away."

"It isn't all or nothing," Eric said, "as much as I might like it to be. I'm talking about an awareness."

I sighed. "Is there a crosswalk?"

Eric ignored me and stepped into the street. A car barreled by inches from him. If would have screamed if I'd had the time to process it, but before I could, he scooped me into his arms. One minute a minivan hurtled at us full-speed, and the next we were in the Circle K lot and Eric set me on my feet.

The ground wobbled, the gas station lights whorled, and I threw up. I put my hand over my mouth and leaned up slow, letting the horizon straighten itself at whatever pace it wanted. "Could you grab me a napkin from inside?" I heard the Circle K entrance bell ring once, then again, and Eric was back with a pile of napkins. "Thanks. I don't think I should go that fast." The human body wasn't built for it. I held out my hand for the napkins, training my eyes on the ground. I was afraid that if I looked at Eric, my head would start spinning again. I wiped my mouth and straightened up, thanking God that I remembered to pack my toothbrush.

Something wet trickled over my lip and down my chin.

"Your nose is bleeding," Eric said. His fangs popped out.

Gross. "Don't even think about it."

Eric took some napkins out of my hand and held them under my nose so I could tilt my head back. "Thanks." Eric seemed subdued and there was something almost melancholy pulsing through the bond. I didn't know if it was the conversation about Bill or the fact I had denied him my nosebleed. I assumed the former. "Are you okay?"

"Are you?"

"I'll heal, and I asked you."

"I am always the same." Eric said, choosing not to answer me for the second time. "I'm sorry you are hurt."

I sighed. "I'm sorry about your car."

"It is only a car."

Against all odds, the corvette was fine and right where I left it. I said a little private thank you to Jesus, climbed into the passenger seat, and pressed recline. "I'm just going to close my eyes until we get there," I said to Eric.

He revved the engine. "It will be soon. I will drive fast."

"What's the speed limit?"

----

I bargained Eric down to sixty. It was a crawl for him, but just about all I could handle. My head started feeling normal again about ten minutes into the ride. I opened my eyes in time to see us turn into a nondescript neighborhood filled with boxy ranchers and two-story colonials. All the homes had painted shudders and brick mailboxes.

Eric zoomed past a sign reminding us that speed limit was 25 miles per hour. "Alamo Court," I read as we whizzed by.

"The streets are Texas-themed," Eric said, as we made a sharp left turn onto the Way of Six Flags.

"Why isn't it Six Flags Way?"

"Do I look like the developer?" Eric pulled in front of a mailbox at the start of a long driveway with gravel identical to mine. Eric popped open the mailbox, took out a sheaf of letters, and passed them to me.

"You go by Eric Norton?" I said, looking at the name on the front of what appeared to be an electricity bill.

"At this address. Eric Northman is already too easy to find." Eric looked over his shoulder and began to back into the driveway. I smiled. Eric looked over at me. "What?"

"Most people drive in front-first."

He shrugged. "Then they create more work later." We pulled up behind the house and Eric shut off the corvette.

Eric's house was a little smaller than I had imagined. It was a one-story brick single-family home. All in all, it looked totally unremarkable, which was probably what he had been going for.

"Do you need help getting out?" Eric asked.

"No thanks," I said. "I'm feeling better." Eric put his arm around me anyway as we walked to the back door. After Eric unlocked two different sets of bolts, it opened onto a converted garage with a washing machine, lawn equipment, and various boxes. Before I could step inside, Eric swept me up and carried me over the threshold.

I was touched. "Who told you to do that?"

"I have been around for a while."

Mr. Understatement. "I think someone is supposed to give us a broom and bag of flour too."

"I will tell Pam. In my time, we would exchange money." Of course they did. "Your father would pay me for the trouble of taking you off his hands."

I didn't know what to say without sounding culturally insensitive. "Well, I'm glad I live now."

Eric set me down and switched on the lights. We were standing next to a brand new, top-of-the-line lawn mower Jason probably would have left Michele for. "Do you use this?"

"No one cuts their lawn at night." Eric said. "I hire someone. He thinks I am always out of town on business trips."

"Then why own it?"

"In case of burglars. Most people own a machine, no?" He led me up the stairs into a kitchen with immaculate, and no doubt, barely-used appliances. After salivating over Eric's sleek stainless-steel oven, coffee maker, dishwasher and refrigerator, I opened the first set of cabinets I ran across. They were empty. I dropped Eric's mail on the countertop.

"What are you looking for, lover?"

"Just snooping," I said. "Looking for all your secrets."

"You are my biggest secret."

"Very funny, and I'm not so secret anymore. Have you read the paper lately?"

"Eric Norton is not a subscriber."

"You have to keep track of news somehow. You manage a fifth of Louisiana."

"By the time I'm up, the newspaper is already old. I have sources."

"Like what?"

"If I tell you, what's to stop you from taking my job?" Eric smiled and kissed my neck.

"Very funny."

"Don't laugh. You would make a good Sherriff."

"Thanks," He seemed sincere and definitely meant it as a compliment, but I wasn't interested. Eric's job scared me. I also wasn't a vampire.

"Your enemies would always underestimate you because of these," Eric cupped my breasts, "and this," he slapped my ass, "and then you would show them who was the boss."

"That's basically how my life goes now, without the boss part."

"Do not whine. You show many people you are the boss." Eric scooped me up and deposited me on his kitchen counter. Eric slid his hands up my thighs, bunching my dress around my waist. He hooked his thumbs under the band of my panties and pulled them off.

"Impatient," I said.

"I am the boss tonight." He kissed the curve where my throat met my shoulder. I shivered as Eric kissed his way down the deep neckline of my red dress. I wrapped my hands in his hair and my legs around his waist. "I love this red," Eric said, when he reached the top of my cleavage. "It makes your skin flush. I can see everything underneath."

Eric's fangs popped and I realized by 'everything underneath,' he meant my blood. It was a little more Jack-the-Ripper than Prince Charming, but I didn't want to ruin the moment for him. "Are you hungry?"

"I'll eat later." He straightened up and kissed the side of my face, trailing his lips around my ear and putting to rest any doubts about where he'd be getting his meal.

"Speaking of food, do you have anything for me?" Eric looked at me for a second and unbuckled his belt. I laughed and grabbed his hand to stop him as he started on his fly. "No, real food. Human food, for when I wake up."

"No." Eric walked over to his fridge, belt hanging loose and the top button of his trousers open. I slid off the counter and wrapped my arms around him as he opened the fridge. One side was stocked with perfectly even rows of A negative True Blood, the other side was its mirror image in B negative. The whole arrangement was very Type A.

Eric noticed me staring. "It's so I can make AB," he said, as if that clarified anything. "If you get hungry during the day you may take the car. Don't order delivery."

"Because no one comes to your house?"

"Not even Eric Norton comes to my house." He put his arms around my waist and buried his head in my hair.

I wanted to get on to the loving part of the evening too, but I had a few to dos to cross off my list first. I slithered out of his embrace and back onto the counter. "Eric, I want to see Bobby tomorrow."

"Why? "

"I want to read his mind to see if he knows anything about the murders," I said. "I'm not saying he did it, I just want to be sure he's clear."

Eric grabbed a paper and pen and scribbled down a number. "This is how I reach him."

"I'll make up a reason to talk to him so he doesn't get suspicious." I took Bobby's number, put it down on the counter next to me and took a breath. I expected my second errand would be harder to squeak by Eric. "I'm also going to see Alcide."

Eric frowned. "For what purpose?"

"He's packmaster, so he should know if people are getting killed in his territory. Also, Pam mentioned a were might know enough about vampires to target women linked to Sheriffs—"

"So you will read his thoughts?"

"Alcide isn't the killer. But he might have a clue of who it could be."

"Are you looking for my blessing?"

"No. I'm letting you know."

"Noted," Eric said. "I'm not happy about it."

"Noted," I echoed. He glared at me. I decided to make peace. I grabbed his belt loops and pulled him close. "I'll be leaving from here to see him and when I'm done, I'll be back to watch you wake up."

Eric wrapped his arms around me. "What are you thinking?"

The question caught me by surprise. "Nothing really. I'm thinking about being here with you. What about you?"

"I wish there weren't other men in your life."

I laughed. "Who was lecturing me earlier about not wishing things I couldn't change?"

"This could change."

"Eric, I will always have my own life. That's non-negotiable. And right now, I'd like you to be a big part of it, so stop moping or I'll go back to Bon Temps."

"You have no car keys."

He had me there. "Well I don't want to leave anyway."

"Good." With that Eric scooped me up and threw me over his shoulder. "Give yourself the tour tomorrow morning."

----

After a detour to the bathroom so I could brush my teeth, we went straight to Eric's bedroom.

And by straight to his bedroom, I mean straight through a door that opened onto a windowless corridor that led to another door, which led to his bedroom. Eric insisted on carrying me. He hoisted me in with one hand and flicked on the lights with the other. The room had no windows. Eric tossed me on his bed—a big King with blue covers—pulled off his shirt and crawled up my legs to kiss me. "Lover," he said and made the kiss a double.

I rolled on top of him. As he began to unbutton my dress, I looked over to the left and my heart stopped. A flashlight sat on top of what I assumed was the 'hers' of Eric's his and hers nightstands.

"Did you get that for me?"

"I have no interest in being your seeing-eye dog."

It was thoughtful and a little unexpected. But then again, Eric's presents were always practical, if a little over-the-top. Eric had repaved my driveway, paid my cell phone bill, and bought me a winter coat. I used all of those gifts on a daily basis. To be fair, he'd broken my old cell phone and my old coat was material evidence to manslaughter, but the driveway had been spontaneous. "Eric, thank you."

Eric kissed my stomach. "Take your dress off."

"What?" I smiled at him. "Am I talking too much for you?"

"Lover, enough," he growled and flipped me over. We kissed like teenagers for a while. He dragged my bottom lip between his teeth, sending chills through me. "Eric," I whispered, sweeping my mouth over his jaw and trailing kisses down his neck.

I'd like to take a quick minute out to say that if I had to take Eric on his aesthetic and athletic merits alone, I'd be a dumb woman not to sign on the dotted line. I don't know if it's a superman physique or a thousand years of practice, but for ten seconds or a little more, he makes my body feel better than it ever has. It's the minutes before and after those ten seconds that make my head hurt and make me want to cry and are real work, and when they go the right way, really work for me.

"What are you thinking about, lover?" he asked. I was daydreaming and not pulling my weight.

"You," I said. I kissed him to make up for the time we'd lost. I ran my fingers over the planes of his back, skating down his torso to that world-class butt.

"Tell me more."

This sharing felt strange, but not unwelcome. "I'm thinking how much I like to be with you," I said. "Like this, but also, not like this."

"Is this how all your thoughts go?" Eric said, kissing his way down my stomach. He rubbed his hand up my inner thigh and drew my legs apart. "Like this but not like this?"

"Obviously not," I said. I leaned my head back and let him do his thing. Just when I was about to reach my good minute, he leaned over me.

"Ready?"

"Yes." He pushed into me. I gasped and wrapped my arms around his back. He was close as he could get, but I wanted him closer. I wanted to melt the lines between him and me.

----

When I opened my eyes, I realized it had to be morning, even though it was dark and I was still lying next to Eric. His hand was my inner thigh, fingers crooked against my leg. It was the first time in my entire life I had ever woke up next to somebody I slept with. I slung my arm over his chest and kissed the side of his neck. Then stopped. Eric was always cool and he never had a pulse, but this felt different. He was as inanimate as the bed. Eric was a corpse.

I scrambled out of bed, grabbed my flashlight and shone it on him. From this angle, if I didn't stare too long and squinted, he almost looked asleep. After ten seconds when he didn't fidget or breathe, it became obvious his stillness was something else.

"You're dead," I said to Eric. He didn't move.

It was one thing to know you're dating a dead man and then another to wake up next to him and have to fight the urge to call the coroner. I decided to leave before I convinced myself to try to wake him up.

Eric's half of the house was dark, even after I got out of the double set of light-tight doors. He'd drawn the blinds on the few windows around. When I reached the living room and kitchen, slats of morning sunlight filtered in through cracked venetian blinds. I felt relieved and actually sighed as I switched the flashlight off and put it on the kitchen countertop. I went over to the kitchen window and pulled up the blinds. Sunlight pooled into the room, skating across the kitchen table and bathing the interior in a bright glow. I'd been in the dark so long, my eyes stung and I had to shut them. Colored dots danced on the inside of my lids. I'd only been out of the sun for twelve hours. Rhodes must have been terrible for Eric.

When my vision readjusted, I poked around to find breakfast. Then I remembered Eric had no food in the house. I opened a few cabinets to be sure. They were all empty, except for the last one I tried which contained a couple sets of drinking glasses: tumblers, highballs, champagne, wine, and martini glasses, and a blue and yellow beer stein with "Sverige" written on it. Eric must have bought them all for drinking True Blood alone in his house. I took out one of the martini glasses and inspected it for signs of use. It looked immaculate. I put it back and took out an ordinary tumbler. I did the only thing possible and poured myself a glass of water for breakfast. Then I picked Bobby's number off the countertop where Eric had left it night before, pulled out my cell phone and dialed.

After two rings, Bobby picked up. "Yeah?"

"Bobby Burnham?"

"Speaking."

Somebody had learned his phone skills from Eric. "Bobby, this is Sookie Stackhouse." Silence. "I'm Eric's—"

"I know who you are."

That was good because I wasn't sure what my next word would have been. Probably 'wife' because I wanted Bobby to jump when I said now. "Listen, Bobby, I was wondering if you could help me out with something today."

"I work for Eric."

I couldn't blame Bobby for being pissy. I wouldn't want to take requests from Sam's significant other, for instance. I thought quick. "It's a job for Eric. He wants me to drop off instructions."

"Tell me over the phone."

"It's too important."

Bobby was quiet for a second. "Where are you?"

I don't know if Eric considered Bobby enough of an individual to include him in the blanket moratorium on house visits, but just in case, I didn't want to overload the approved guest list. "I don't want to trouble you. I'll come meet you wherever it'd be convenient."

"Can you find Fangtasia?"

Did he think I was stupid? "What time?"

"Meet me in the parking lot around eleven." Bobby hung up.

Now that my talk with Bobby was sorted, I needed to see if Alcide had time for me to stop by. I hadn't seen him since Tray's funeral. He'd given me a hug, but neither of us had been in the mood for talking. I scrolled through my phone until I found his number, three times. I had contact information for Alcide at work, home and on his cell. Maybe Eric was right to be jealous. I glanced at the clock over the oven. It was 9:34 am. Alcide would probably be in the office.

"Herveaux and Sons, Jenny speaking."

"Hi, is Alcide available?"

"Who's asking for him?"

"Sookie Stackhouse."

"One minute, hon."

She stuck me on hold. "Herveaux and Sons is a family business that's called Shreveport, Louisiana home since 1946." Alcide must be doing really well if he could afford one of those hold recordings. " We specialize in demolition, excavation, and home construction—"

"This is Alcide."

"Hi Alicide, it's Sookie."

"Yep. Jenny said you were on the line."

So I didn't get a hello. "You have some time later today? I've got a couple things I'd like to talk to you about."

"I don't know, Sook, my schedule's pretty full."

"It's not social, Alcide. I have some news."

"If it's political, maybe Eric should talk to me."

So Eric was the itch in his trousers. He'd probably heard about the wedding. "Eric's not going to make time for you. I will."

That shut him up for a second or two. "I can give you lunch."

"I'll take it," I said. "You just tell me when and where to meet you and I'll be there."

We agreed to a Denny's a couple stops down I-20 from Fangtasia. I hung up the phone, feeling totally exasperated. Alcide was nice to look at and basically kind-hearted but he was more passive aggressive than Scarlett O'Hara. I was glad I hadn't taken him up on his offer of moving in all those months ago, even though it would have been nice to have company at breakfast. Funnily enough, Alcide was the only person I had ever been engaged to, since Eric and I skipped that step. It lasted a half-an-hour and had only been to fool a bunch of Keystone cops.

I finished my glass of water by myself and wandered back to the dark part of the house to find Eric's shower.

----

Before I left to meet Bobby, I returned to Eric's bedroom, flashlight in hand. I had a test to pass.

"Hello, lover." I trained the flashlight on the bed. As I expected, Eric was right where I had left him, inert down to the hair. "Well, dead people don't move." I said, then scowled. The talking-to-myself thing had to stop.

I forced myself to get back in bed with him, and threw an arm over his stiff shoulders. I closed my eyes. My body was screaming to get out of there, in the throes of some prehistoric don't-lie-down-with-the-dead instinct.

Instead, I pulled Eric's his limp arm around me. "I will like this," I said to him. "You're in there somewhere."

And just like that, I was spooning with a dead guy.

----

A/N: Belongs to Charlaine Harris and HBO. Thanks for reading and for the reviews!

Next up, Sookie enjoys Denny's dining and Bobby's bitching. Also, Eric will probably rise from the dead, because who wants a chapter without him?