Disclaimer:

Anything you recognise does not belong to me; I'm simply playing around with Alan Ball's and HBO's lovely universe and delectable characters.

xXx

14

My life in Kentucky was on one hand exactly the same as it had been in Dallas and in every other place I'd lived for the past three years, while on the other… it was not.

I had stumbled on the job at a local diner just off the highway while driving through the small town on my way to Maine (because that was about as far away I could get from Texas without actually going to Alaska) and decided to stay for a bit to earn some more money, and was living in a small rental around the corner from my work. Meaningless job, no roots – pretty much the story of my life so far, nothing new there.

But there were two things that were different. First and foremost there was a new, gaping hole inside of me filled with pain and memories of Godric. I did my very best to cover it, but I found that when I wasn't working come sunset (I'd requested the evening shift for this specific reason) I usually had a drink around this time of day to numb the sharp spike of longing that washed through me as I saw the sky darken.

I knew he had been looking for me. When I checked my email a couple of days after running away, I found a mail from my sister asking why she had received a visit from the very sexy 'omg Sophie, he was wearing this black tank-top and tight, black jeans and you could just see every muscle in his torso – I mean it, he was literally dripping sex all over the front porch!' Mr Northman, asking for my whereabouts.

Not wanting Catherine to get mixed up with vampires, and not wanting to be the topic of choice among my family – again – I emailed her back saying I was fine, but that I would be out of touch for a while. And as an afterthought, I added not to worry. It was a strange thought, that she did, but she must have to send me that mail in the first place.

Every single night I had to fight the urge to call him and beg his forgiveness. I was fully aware that now, two and a half months later, he would have moved on, but I… I hadn't. I still loved him something fierce, but it also still scared me to no ends. I was just too damaged to be someone's girlfriend. So I never did turn on my old phone to call.

The other thing that was different was the witch coven I'd joined. Yeah. I didn't see that coming.

It was pretty much an accident that I did as well. I had been in the process dragging boxes from my car to the little trailer I'd just rented when this guy popped his head out from the trailer next to mine, asking if I needed a hand. He then proceeded to jump out, grab one of my boxes and speed-talk at me about… I don't even remember what. It stopped when he glanced down into the box and spotted one of my spiritual books.

"Are you a witch?" he'd asked.

I'd told him that I was 'spiritual', preparing to tell him that no, that didn't mean that I worshipped the devil (we were in backwater Kentucky, so yes, I did have some prejudice), but he thoroughly surprised me by stating that he, himself, was an actual witch and that I should come meet his coven as it was always hard to find new, spiritual people in the area.

I managed to hide my surprise that there was such a thing as male witches (I really had quite a few prejudices… should probably work on those) and agreed, because – honestly – ever since Godric told me that real witches existed I'd been dying to know more about them.

And that's how I got involved with witches.

They were a very relaxed and friendly group, and in the beginning it pretty much just seemed like a meditation –slash-coffee gathering, which was exactly what I needed. I lost myself completely in the spiritual world, went on guided spirit walks, worked on expanding my sixth sense and hugged a whole lot of trees.

It wasn't until the night that Margery, during a session, pulled a small fireball out of the air and had it balancing over her palm that I realised that being a witch was a whole lot more intense than what I'd thought.

The others seemed pleased, praising her progress like she'd just managed to pull an extra-complicated cake out of the oven without burning the edges. While I… well, I pretty much just sat there, gaping unattractively like a stunned fish. I had no idea! I mean, I did – the whole "real witches" indicated that magic was real too, but I'd just never seen… I was all kinds of amazed. And a little freaked out.

In the coffee break Margery sought me out, a small smile on her lips at my round eyes.

"So… that's the first time you've seen magic?"

I nodded, sipping my too-hot coffee to avoid eye contact. "Never realised that witches could do that."

Her smile grew wider. "We can, if we practice. Would you like to learn how?"

Choking on my coffee I shook my head, trying to regain the ability to breathe. "I'm not a witch," I eventually croaked. "I mean, I am into the whole energies thing, but I can't do that! I'm not magical."

"Hmm." She calmly plucked the cup from me and grabbed a hold of one of my hands. "The thing most people don't know about witches is that the ability to work with the elements and energies lays dormant in most of us. We're the only supernaturals who are really just human, with a lot of focus. You don't have to be magical, Sophie. The magic is within you already. And I have felt you when we do energy work – you are already so open. If you wanted to, you could learn."

?!

"I could do magic?! Me?" I asked, sure I was missing some punch line.

She nodded seriously. "Do you want to learn?"

I spent all my free time practising after that, often guided by Margery. And well, I say practising… mainly, I just sat there, staring straight ahead willing something to happen that never did. It was deeply frustrating, and Margery just kept telling me to be patient, that I was close.

I didn't feel close. I felt like an idiot, and wished that I could just go back to the days of being satisfied with sensing the energies in the world. But that wasn't an option – not when real magic had been dangled in front of my nose.

So a Wednesday night in the middle of March, after having worked with Margery for a couple of hours – getting nowhere – I needed a break from all the spiritual stuff, and I pulled out the bottle of brandy that I hadn't touched for weeks. And I got really, really, really drunk, sat alone in my trailer. Very classy.

And then I got really, really sad, because when the liquor took over my brain my carefully-upheld shields crumbled down around the big, gaping hole of pain that held my memories of Godric. I missed him… I missed him so much, and I needed to just hear his voice one more time. Just one time.

Before I even realised what I was doing I was stumbling around the trailer, looking for my old phone. I turned it on, after a bit of drunken trial and error, and found his number. And pressed call.

My heart was thumping hard in my chest while I waited for the call to connect, every ring increasing my need to hear him. What if he wouldn't pick up when he saw my name flash on the screen? What if he'd gotten a new number?

"Sophie?"

The smooth, soft voice floating into my ear sent a shudder of pain and pleasure through me, and I choked on a sob, pressing it down.

"Sophie," he said again, and then there was a long silence while I breathed raggedly into the phone, wishing he would say my name again. Hearing him say it after so long felt like what I imagined a crack addict felt like after getting their first fix in a month – laced with heartache, of course.

"Please, just tell me that you are safe."

The plea in his tone tore at me, making me gasp from the ache in my stomach.

"Please."

I still couldn't deny him anything when he spoke so softly.

"I am safe," I whispered.

He exhaled into the phone, into my ear, and I couldn't hold it together anymore. Just as he spoke again I hung up, disconnecting the call and turning off my phone before I sunk down to the floor, curling up around it and crying until I fell into a restless, drunken slumber.

I was really hung over when I woke up the next day, but I had to get ready for work in the afternoon so I crawled around my small living space, showering and drinking as much coffee as I could fit in my stomach, studiously avoiding to look at the phone that was still laying in the middle of the floor.

It wasn't until my shift (my nightmare of a shift – no one should ever be forced to serve greasy food when nursing a hangover) ended and I was on my way home that I let myself think about last night's phone call.

He had cared that I was safe, still, even after how I left him high and dry, with no warning. Always had had quite a bit of a hero complex, that one.

When I entered my little home and saw the phone on the floor I knew I needed to hear his voice again. But I couldn't call him; drunk-calling your ex was on a one-time allowance. Besides, I wasn't touching alcohol again for the next many, many months…

But maybe he'd left a voice message or something the night I left?

Gingerly I sat down on the floor, picking up the phone. After turning it on I called my voice mail, hoping for the best.

"Sophie, what are you doing? Come home. We will talk." He had recorded that message in the early hours of the 31st of December, and he sounded angry. I guessed that that was shortly after finding my cowardly note. I was such a coward.

I waited for the next message, hoping it was from him too. It was. And so was the next, and the next.

"I found your necklace and I understand. Know that I will not track you, will not follow you." That one was from the late evening on the 31st.

"I know I do not deserve you, my light, and I am not asking that you return, but I do need to know that you are safe. I said I would not track you, and I will not, but I am begging you to let me know that you are safe, wherever you are." That was from a few weeks into January.

I don't know what was worse – the pained but somehow… detached voice or the words themselves.

Nothing hurts quite like causing your loved one harm. And I'd caused Godric pain. So very much pain. What on Earth had I done? How had this not been at the forefront of my mind when I left? How had I let my own feelings outweigh his? I hadn't even really considered that the attachment from his end could have been anywhere near as strong as mine.

He thought that he didn't deserve me?! Well, I suppose he didn't – he didn't deserve someone as cowardly and cruel.

Oh, Goddess, I'd fucked up. And it might be too late to fix, now. But I did have to try. And I did owe him an explanation, if he still wanted one.

My hands were shaking when I picked up the phone to call him again, but I couldn't press 'call' on his number. I didn't even know what I would say. I didn't even know that we could pick up where we left off, or that I was capable of doing so. And I most definitely couldn't do this over the phone.

The first impulse that shot through me was to just get in my car and start driving until I got to Dallas. And him.

But I'd done this too many times – picking up and running, leaving people behind. If I was to try this, if Godric would even want to, I needed to change my pattern. I needed to get my emotions and fears under control, because if I was given a chance to make this right and I hadn't faced this need to flee as soon as things got too intense, I'd just ruin it again, like the massive fuckup that I was.

So what I needed to do was get my affairs sorted out here. Actually give in my two weeks' notice, not just call from the car on the way out of town as I'd done to Dennis, actually tell people that I would be moving. Exchange contact info; all the things that normal-headed people did.

Maybe look up a therapist in Dallas.

I shuddered at that thought. Okay, maybe just small steps in the beginning.

It was a nice feeling, having a sorta-plan for my nearest future, and so very new. I hadn't had that since I enrolled in college. Hm. Maybe not the best comparison, seeing how that had turned out.

But I went to bed calmer than I had for months, nursing that little flame of hope in my stomach. Maybe, just maybe, things could work out as I'd planned. Somehow.

Of course, they didn't. They never do; I'm just not one of those people, you know, the ones who get to make plans. Superior bastards.

The next day started well, though. I called Margery and told her of my plans to move away, and she surprised me by saying: "About time."

"Huh?" I'd thought she liked me well enough.

She cackled into the phone, obviously noticing my insulted tone.

"You're going back to that guy, aren't you? The one that made you hightail it across the country?"

Damned witch. "Yeah," I admitted, because you really might as well just give up trying to lie to a witch.

"Well, good. Maybe that will get your head screwed properly back on again. I will come visit you."

That made me smile. "I'd really like that, Margery."

"Well, good! But when are you leaving? Do we have time to throw together a small farewell party?"

A goodbye party? Hell, that'd be a first. "Well, I'm giving in my two-week's notice at the diner today so I have a bit of time."

"Excellent," she chirped. "I'll see you tomorrow for the Midnight Meet and we can talk a bit more about this guy, yeah?"

"Sure," I agreed, and we said our goodbyes so I could get ready for work.

My boss was sad that I gave in my notice, which was nice, and I ended my shift feeling rather okay, which may not sound like something extraordinarily great, but to me, it was a massive improvement from the past few months.

So when I left work shortly after midnight and walked down the deserted road towards the small trailer park I lived in, I was happily humming. I even allowed myself to fantasise that Godric would forgive me, that he wouldn't have moved on or found another human companion (a thought that'd frequently made me sick to my stomach after I left).

A small 'thud' sounded from the dirt road behind me, and before I even managed to tell myself that it was just some clumsy, nocturnal animal, I heard the very, very last thing I'd expected.

"Found you, breather."

That voice!

I spun around, automatically clutching my handbag in front of my chest – because of course this was a mugging situation – and saw a tall, eerily familiar figure looming in the middle of the road, hands casually thrust into the front pockets of his tight jeans.

"Eric?!" My voice broke in disbelief.

His eyes narrowed slightly, and I shivered at the cold expression in them. "Oh, good, so you aren't suffering from amnesia."

I blinked at him, puzzled. "W-wha..?"

"That would be about the only excuse I'd accept from you. And since that isn't the case, I get to do this the fun way." He removed his hands from his pockets, a slightly predatory edge to his posture suddenly slipping into place.

Gulping I started backing, slowly. "Look, I don't know what you're doing here, but I'm sure Godric wouldn't want you to drain me, no matter how bad things ended!" Quite the cowardly move to throw Godric's name at him, but when faced with a lethal predator you really just try anything.

He snorted and then started stalking me, copying each of my steps backwards with a cocky saunter, cold eyes never leaving mine. "My Maker is rather dumb when it comes to you, you little cunt. So I will do what he failed at. No one denies my Master, especially not an insignificant human like yourself."

I gasped at the insult, which was really not the thing to get upset over at this time, as I was fairly certain I only had moments left to live.

He smirked at my reaction. "Ooh? You don't like that name?"

"Please, Eric," I said, changing tactics. "I'm sorry for what I did, leaving him, but I thought you'd be happy? You wanted me gone," I tried to reason.

"Oh, I'm ecstatic." The smirk slipped off his face, leaving blankness and those icy blue eyes.

I swallowed hard as he hunched just a tad more, muscles contracting in that tell-tale way I'd seen on nature programs when a feline was seconds from jumping their prey.

My instincts took over and I spun around to run.

Which was, of course, borderline idiotic. He caught me before I took more than one step, pulling my back into his chest, lifting me off the ground.

"Now, now," he purred into my ear. "You don't wanna be doing that, little breather. I'll forget why I'm here." He trailed his nose along my neck, inhaling deeply, and I shuddered and went rigid in his grasp.

"Please," I gasped. This was not how I'd imagined things to go. I couldn't die now, without trying to make everything right, apologise. "Godric…"

His growl interrupted me. "You do not get to say his name!" he hissed into my ear, and then everything blurred for a few seconds until we were off the road and in the middle of the small bit of woodland that lined the trailer park.

The tall Viking lowered us to the ground in a sitting position, still with my back pressed against his chest, easily immobilising my attempts to kick at him and wriggle away by throwing a long leg over my thighs, crossing down over my knees. I might as well have tried to kick off a mountain range. He simply ignored my flailing arms, not even deeming them enough of an annoyance to pin them.

And then his bleeding, right wrist suddenly appeared in front of my face.

"Drink."

My eyes bulged. What the actual fuck?!

"No!" No, no, no! I was not forming a blood bond with Eric, of all people!

He sighed behind me, pressing his wrist hard against my mouth – which I instantly clamped shut, lips tightly pressed together – and grabbed my nose with the other hand, pinching off my air supply.

Eventually, I gasped for air, and instantly, I had his bloody wrist in my mouth, thick liquid filling my mouth.

I coughed and sputtered but he kept his arm in place, ensuring that I swallowed everything, until my struggle became more frantic as I was choking from the lack of air.

He let me have a moment to cough and gasp before he bit into his wrist again, pressing it right back.

Not wanting to have my nose pinches shut again, like some child not wanting to take their medicine, I didn't close my lips this time, but I did bite him as hard as I could. Unfortunately, that just got a pleasured groan from Eric, so I quickly let go, allowing the blood to drip past my lips.

"There's a good girl," he purred, a husky note evident in his tone. "When I'm done with you there will be no more running away, ever again."

I growled angrily against his arm, to absolutely no avail as gulp after gulp of his heady, dark life essence passed my throat. The fact that Eric moaned happily during the entire process, his excitement hard and evident against my back, made the whole experience quite a bit more rapey than being force-fed blood should have been. Not that I'm an expert on the subject, obviously.

He bit into his wrist three more times, making me drink until the wound closed, and I was getting quite woozy.

When he finally released me I felt pretty buzzed.

"You psychopathic arsehole!" I gasped, spitting out what little of his blood remained in my mouth.

"Mmh, dirty talk." He got up effortlessly, hard eyes staring me down. "Save that for Godric. You're going back with me. Now."

I rolled over on my back, my legs too oddly energised to want to corporate to get up. The night above me was alight in colours, and I could make out the energy sparkling within every single leaf on the bushes and trees above us. Oh, I was so high! Just typical that my first high would be after being forced to down V straight from the source.

"I was going back anyway," I sighed, rubbing against the earth beneath me. It felt so good, like being embraced by the planet. "If you'd waited two more weeks I'd been on my way." Something occurred to me, and I looked up at him. He seemed aglow with the source of life itself.

"Oooh!" I breathed. "You're pretty! A pretty sociopath!"

Eric sighed. "Get up."

"Can't. Too high." I dug my fingers into the dirt. "How did you find me?"

"I traced your cell-phone, you idiot. The moment you turned it on the gps in it alerted me."

I'd somehow imagined something more… I dunno, mystical. It was a bit deflating.

"Really?"

He just cocked an eyebrow at me.

I rolled around on my belly, sniffing the ground beneath me. It smelled amazing, so full of scents I didn't recognise.

Suddenly, I was hoisted up by my jacket, and I laughed happily at the floating sensation.

"Humans," Eric sneered from somewhere above me.

Sudden realisation hit me, taking the edge off my buzz. "Eric, you can't take me back! "

"Oh, but I can."

"No, you don't understand!" I swung a little, trying to turn around so I could look up at him, failing. "I have to go by myself, or he will just think that I didn't want to."

I was lowered and felt the ground underneath my shoes. I turned around and looked up at the Nordic god.

His face was blank, but his eyes considered me calculatingly. Finally, he nodded. "You will leave tomorrow morning, and you will not stop for anything but sleep until you are at his home. If I find that you have slowed down or strayed I will find you and you will be sorry."

I didn't doubt it.

"You really do love him, don't you?" I asked impulsively.

His gaze turned colder. "Don't use words I don't understand."

My lips turned up into a smile before I could stop them. He narrowed his eyes at me in response.

"Go home, breather. Pack if you must. I expect you to be in Dallas in three nights, grovelling at his feet."