The characters belong to Charlaine Harris. I'm just having some fun with them.

As always, thanks to my lovely beta, Kristin Elizabeth. She always makes time to look at my stories, and I appreciate her talents from the bottom of my heart. *hugs*

Any mistakes you may find are all my own.

Sookie POV

Faster. Faster. I was flying low across the desert as fast as I could, but I had to go faster. Eric was in my arms, unconscious, and his injuries were critical. He needed my blood. Now. His body was growing colder by the minute, and I wasn't sure if that was because of how fast we were flying in the night air or whether he was about to succumb to his injuries. I pushed that last thought right out of my head.

My safe house was in an old abandoned mine on Sam Merlotte's property. The entrance was hidden among the sand dunes and obscured by tumbleweeds and sagebrush. There were no roads to get there. No one, not even Pam, knew its location. Sam knew I had a place somewhere on his property, but he didn't ask, and I didn't tell.

I landed at the entryway of the deserted mine in a matter of minutes after the explosion at the bar. The mine shaft was too narrow to fly through once we were inside, so I would have to carry Eric the rest of the way. There was very little blood, but he was barely breathing, and I knew I had to move quickly if I wanted to save his human life.

Even though I had covered Eric with my body right before the bombs went off, a sizable piece of my bar impaled his side, like a vampire-staking that missed its mark. Hold on, Eric. Just a little longer. He groaned, just a little noise, as if he had heard my thoughts and wanted to say he was doing his best to stay alive. I tried not to jostle him too much, worried that any movement would dislodge the stake and cause him to bleed out.

I moved as quickly as I could, carrying Eric down the mine shaft to my secret sanctuary. The room contained the essentials—a bed, oil lamps, clothes, blankets, books, weapons, and anything else I might need if I was forced into hiding. I placed Eric gently on the bed in the center of the room. I lit the oil lamp on the table next to the bed so I could get a good look at his wounds. Eric's breath wheezed in and out in an uneven rhythm, and the sound echoed in the underground room.

The three inch wide piece of wood was stuck in Eric's left side, at the bottom of his rib cage. I didn't know how long the makeshift stake was or how far it invaded his body, but there was no doubt he was seriously injured. I assumed there was massive internal bleeding and possible organ damage, possibly even organ failure. His skin was as pale as a vampire, and even with my enhanced hearing and the quiet of our underground location, I could barely hear his heartbeat. My grand plan to stop Victor caused this tragedy.

I wanted to cry, but I was never a quitter. I pushed those self-destructive thoughts aside, and focused on what I needed to do. I had to try to save him…or consider other options.

If I pulled the stake, he would undoubtedly bleed out before I could stop it. I could try and get him to drink my blood, to heal some of his injuries, but with the stake still in his body, it might make things worse. I didn't know what to do first.

Another change in his breathing reminded me that I didn't have time to debate this any longer.

I put my arm under his shoulders and raised his head before I bit into my wrist. Working carefully around the stake, I brought my wrist to his lips. The blood dribbled down his chin and onto his shirt, none of it going in his mouth where I needed it. I tried again without luck.

I would have to lay him down flat, and use my free hand to work his mouth to get the blood down his throat. I lay him back down on the mattress and repositioned myself. It took only a second to try getting the blood in him this way, and it seemed like some of it did find its way down his throat, because his breathing evened out some, and it wasn't as wheezy as before. I wasn't done yet.

The stake had to come out before I could give him any more blood. I stood on the right side of the bed and draped myself over him, face down. My pelvis rested on his at a right angle, holding him down so I could keep him from thrashing about when I removed the stake, and my mouth was close to the wound. I planned to pull out the stake as quickly as possible, and then lick the wound closed, hoping the anticoagulant in my fangs would seal the hole before he bled out. I took but a second to prepare myself for what I was about to do.

Eric's screams when I touched the stake for the first time almost made me stop.

Just do it. With my left hand positioned to put pressure on the wound once the stake was out, I grabbed it firmly with my right hand. I ignored the screams coming from him. The stake resisted, as if his body didn't want to give it up. I pulled harder to break the suction that kept it in place, and with one final jerk, the stake came free. It fell to the floor, and blood gushed from the wound. I used my left hand to try and stem the flow, but it was coming fast, as if a dam inside of him had broken. With a quick movement, I sealed my mouth over the damage, lapping up the blood, willing the anticoagulant in my fangs to do its job.

When the flow of blood from the hole slowed, I stood up and listened for his heartbeat. He hadn't made a sound since the stake came out. There was blood everywhere, on the floor and covering me and Eric. I wondered how much of it he had left to lose. His shallow breathing echoed faintly in the mine shaft, a constant reminder he wasn't out of the woods yet. Nevertheless, when I inspected his wound, it had closed, the edges of his skin almost completely knitted together. There was just a trickle of blood running from it.

I picked up the stake and looked at it before I threw it into a corner. It was 10 inches long, and three inches thick. Six inches of it had been in his body. There was no doubt Eric's internal organs had been compromised. His skin was turning gray now, and his breath was becoming barely perceptible, even in the quiet. I looked at his beautiful face, contorted with pain even in his unconscious state, and I wanted to cry. I stroked his hair and his cheek, trying to bring some comfort to him. He had tried to help me – he didn't deserve to die like this.

I thought about taking him to the human hospital, but I didn't think he would survive the trip.

I thought about turning him, but without his consent, my conscience wouldn't let me, as much as I wanted to keep him. It wouldn't be right. There was no way in hell I could take care of a new vampire, with all of this mess with Victor and Felipe.

As gently as possible, I unbuttoned Eric's bloody shirt, and eased his arms from it. I wanted to wash him, but the water was cold, and I couldn't risk it. I placed my hand on his heart, and felt its slow, irregular beat, telling me the end was near.

How differently I had envisioned my time with him—I had thought of laughter, love and companionship, not bloody stakes and final solitude. I wanted him to love me. I stroked down his arm, taking his beautiful hand into mine, and I couldn't keep the tears away any longer. They ran down my face, and the more I wiped them away, the harder they fell.

I removed his shoes and socks while I cried, and when I was done, I wiped my face and tried to finish what I started. Being very careful around his wound, I removed his blood soaked pants, trying not to move him too much. The sounds he made when I moved him gave me a tiny spark of hope.

Once his bloody clothes were off, I stripped out of mine, and retrieved some blankets from the storage chest at the foot of the bed. I climbed into the bed with him, cradling his cool body against mine, and wrapped the blankets around us. I held him close, and a sigh escaped his lips as he molded himself to me. His bare skin against mine was heart-wrenching and wonderful, all at the same time.

It was an hour before dawn, and I was exhausted. The cold night air crept into the mine, and I hugged Eric closer to me, wishing I had some body heat of my own to give him. I couldn't tell in the flickering light of the oil lamp if his skin color had improved, but his breathing seemed stronger and more regular, although a bit raspy. I thought it sounded better, and I hoped that wasn't just wishful thinking.

Just before dawn, Eric's eyelids fluttered, and I watched for signs he was regaining consciousness. He struggled with himself, his face showing the effort he expended. Finally, he gave up trying. I felt the tears welling up again.

I couldn't let him die. I just couldn't. Try one more time. I nestled him against my body, his back against my chest, and I bit into my wrist again. I put it to his mouth, and stroked his hair gently with my right hand, while I whispered to him.

"Drink, Eric. Please don't leave me yet. Hang on a little longer and let my blood heal you. That's good, that's it...drink…please don't go."

His lips moved at my wrist, ever so slowly. His tongue reached out when his lips became too tired.

"That's good. A little more. Please, please, stay with me…"

He didn't have much strength to drink, but at least when he stopped I knew he got some more of my blood in him. Eric settled into my arms and I held him to me, pressing a kiss on his forehead as dawn took me under.

As always, thank you for your support of this story, and please do feel free to leave me a comment, if you have the time. *hugs* tm