Disclaimer: Most characters belong to Charlaine Harris. Yvetta Not-A-Cardiologist belongs to Alan Ball.

Setting: 2000s, Louisiana

SVM Timeline: Bill * nirvana * Machu Picchu * Peru * glorious.

After some back and forth, it was decided Eric would bring me home in the Corvette. He didn't want me getting into the Volkswagen again as Sookie since it was Michele's car. I guess I could appreciate Eric wanting to take precautions with me, but it was hard not to think of it as overkill. I'd already driven the car to Fangtasia. I tried to say as much to Eric but, as usual, he had answers for everything, even if his answers were questions.

"Why did Bubba have to dispose of two Were gang members last fall?"

Was this a trick question? "Um, you assigned him to protect me and they were gonna hurt me."

"Where did this occur?"

"The first one was at Merlotte's and the second one was at Alcide Herveaux' place in Mississippi."

"Yes, and although Bill and I are not known for engaging in much sport together I seem to recall dispatching of several—"

"I think it was eight," I offered. Eric turned to nod at me. "Eyes on the road, please."

"Yes, I believe you're right. Eight Weres intent on hurting you. Do you remember where this happened?"

I mumbled my answer to his question. I knew he could hear me.

He nodded. "Yes, your living room. I have obviously failed to take adequate precautions with you in the past." His words came out very low. Low, but serious. "I do not intend on making the same mistakes with you in the future."

Hmmm. I couldn't help but think hearing Eric talk about me and the future together in the same sentence was strange. Maybe he thought we'd keep our little mystery-solving business going after the hotel investigation was over? Or maybe he was thinking along a different set of lines altogether...?

After spending so much time with him over the past couple of days, my thoughts about Eric were pretty muddled. I knew he was interested in me but I wasn't one hundred percent clear on why he was interested in me. I knew he valued my ability as a telepath. I knew he wanted to have sex with me. I'd been clued into that for months. But that was it; if there was anything else going on with him, I'd need him to put his cards on the table.

But then again he had put his cards on the table, although not directly but indirectly. His unapologetic attitude about giving Yvetta the heave-ho sent a message across loud and clear: Eric Northman didn't do relationships. Eric Northman did "Dinner and a Fuck." Now he was casting for a new "supper-fuck." Then there was his joking about me offering to meet his "nutritional needs."

I thought I'd made myself clear—maybe not crystal clear —but I had told Eric that I wasn't interested in a sex-only liaison with him. Of course, I couldn't necessarily blame him for holding onto hope considering how, in my weaker, lustier, moments, I'd shown myself to be no more immune to his sexual charms than a cat to catnip. Recalling several of those lust-filled moments, I felt a blush rise to my cheeks; no wonder Eric still entertained hope of me as a sexual conquest. I was definitely guilty of sending him mixed signals.

Mentally I chastised myself for spending so much time thinking about this, especially in light of everything I ought to be thinking about. Tired of reliving the embarrassment of my past dalliances with Eric, I glanced out the passenger side window. I decided we were due for a change of topic.

"My brother, Jason, may attend the gala on Saturday."

"You are worried."

I cocked my head to squint at him. "Yeah, I am. He's my only family."

Eric nodded. "You would prefer he not come?"

"Of course."

"Do you want Pam to glamour him?"

I sucked in my breath. Although I'd been musing that very idea, to hear Eric offer it so freely, so easily, just called my attention to how wrong it would be. Looking at Eric, I wordlessly shook my head. If Sam came, maybe he could keep an eye on Jason. Eric's next words had me wondering if he could read my mind.

"Is your shifter coming? I know he was on the invitation list?"

"I don't know. I need to give him a call." I hunted inside my bag for my cell phone. Finding it, I flipped it open and hit Sam's number.

Silently I watched Eric as the phone rang. Eric's face remained expressionless. Maybe he'd gotten over whatever weird jealousy thing he had the other night over Sam. Maybe he'd cottoned on to the fact that there was nothing between Sam and me.

Maybe the insight into my attraction to John Quinn gave him a new worry or at least a new frame of reference. Eric picked that moment to look at me and I gave him a half-smile. He smiled back. When he wasn't being a pain-in-the-ass his smile could rival Quinn's.

Finally I heard Sam on the other end of the line. "Hi Sam."

"Sook. Glad you called. Every time you check in, it sets my mind at ease."

"Oh, Sam. That's sweet of you to say. I'm fine."

"Did you start your job?"

"Yeah. They already put me to work."

"The hotel is supposed to be something else. Nice, huh?" Although Sam Merlotte lived a pretty rudimentary lifestyle, I always gave him credit for appreciating the finer things.

"I know, Sam! It's gorgeous!"

"I hear Eric and Pam were pretty hands-on with the renovations."

Shocked, I felt my eyes widen. Falling silent, for a moment or two I couldn't bring myself to speak. Shifting a little in my seat, I sneaked a peek at Eric. I saw his lips twitching. He heard every word Sam said. He knew I was incredulous. He thought it was funny. I felt myself blush.

"You don't say? How do you know that?"

"I met with one of the contractors they used. I was toying with the idea of putting in a new bar—the counter wood is pretty pock-marked."

"Oh, yeah?"

"Yeah. Anyway, the designer mentioned how they'd been in to do several custom pieces for the casino and they'd mentioned Eric and Pam walked them through their vision. Far cry from Fangtasia, huh?"

"Um, yeah. It's real nice." I was trying to ignore Eric's quiet chuckling beside me. Thankfully I remembered my reason for calling Sam.

"Sam, Marnie's got me calling the folks on the guest list to find out who's coming. Are you planning on coming on Saturday?"

"Of course, Sook. Considering everything, I figured I'd go."

Although he didn't say it, I caught on to the subtext of his comment. 'Considering everything, I figured I'd go to help keep an eye on you.' I let out a breath.

"Well, that's terrific, Sam. It looks like we may have gotten lucky with a lead today—" Eric threw me a sharp look; I raised my hand to indicate he should wait and just trust me. "Anyway, that's good—"

"But there's still things to worry about?"

"Yeah," I sighed. "There's more too. Jason's latest has an uncle who has invitations. I guess he gave them to her and now Jase is planning on coming."

"Say no more, Cher. I'll keep an eye on him."

"Oh, thank you, Sam! You know Jase went back for seconds on something else the day they were handing out common sense."

I caught Eric turn to look at me in amusement. I gestured for him to keep his eyes on the road.

"No problem. I'm coming solo by the way. Arlene hinted she wanted to come—"

I grimaced just envisioning that scenario.

"for the same reason you worry about Jase, I didn't want to have to babysit Arlene."

"Yeah, I can understand that." I remembered one more thing I had wanted to ask Sam. Although, considering the latest round of suspicions, I wasn't sure how relevant it was. "Sam, did Marnie ever call you? You know? To check on my resume?"

"No, she didn't."

"Does that seem a little strange to you?" Considering what Christian Baruch had said about Marnie's hiring tendencies, it seemed off to me.

"Maybe. Maybe not. Normally I'd say yeah, but since the gala is a few days away and she's strapped, maybe she just figured she'd use you for this week and worry about your credentials next week."

"Oh." I guess I could see that making sense. "Well, I'm almost home. I'll let you go."

"Eric driving you home?"

"Yeah." I said this a little uncertainly. Sometimes, I got the feeling that all the folks I knew were a little tighter with each other than they let on.

"Good. He seems to be doing a thorough job keeping an eye on you."

I shot a glance at Eric. Although he'd stopped snorting a while ago, I saw he was pleased at Sam's complimentary words. Okay, this was just weird.

"Goodnight, Sam."

"Goodnight, Sook."

After hanging up with Sam, I peered over at Eric. I realized I'd underestimated how much of the drive we had left. We still had about fifteen minutes left. Not wanting to open a Pandora's box, I thought I'd initiate a neutral conversation.

"So you think Rafe is putting the explosives in the flowers?"

Eric gave me a sideways glance. "It makes sense."

"Do you know what the centerpieces were supposed to be like?"

Bemused at the question, Eric lifted a blonde eyebrow at me. "You overestimate my interest in interior design, Sookie."

I shrugged. "What about the detonation? Do you think they have it rigged to blow up when triggered? Or do you think there's a person who's going to do it?"

I still had trouble with the idea of glamouring people to be the equivalent of 21st century kamikaze pilots.

"The thing I find curious is that if there is a detonation device, then it must be connected to the explosives. The centerpieces will not be connected to one another. They must, then, have it rigged somehow so that they are connected."

"What about those chips Pam mentioned the other night? The RFID chips that the hotel installed on the room service carts?"

Eric looked at me sideways again. "That is not an implausible theory," he nodded. "Of the people you have met, is there anyone you think capable of such an action?"

My mind immediately went to Jake Purifoy. He didn't care for vamps. He struck me as kinda just being out for himself. He certainly would have the technical know-how. Then there was the fact that he had a gambling debt...

"Eric, maybe you should have Pam or Bobby look into Jake Purifoy more. Like find out who he's in debt to. It might be important."

Without turning to me, I saw Eric nod and a grin play at his lips. "Yes, Sookie," he replied. Falling silent, his face became unreadable. I wondered briefly if I'd insulted him with my little piece of advice. Like he'd already thought of it or something but his next words clarified his quiet musings. "I continue to find myself surprised by you." He looked at me.

Oh.

"But I shouldn't be." He grinned at me.

I didn't know how to respond to that so I just took that as my cue to be quiet.

We finally arrived at my house and I wasted no time in getting out of the car. I was looking forward to taking the wig off. Eric hung back while I made my way to the porch. Puzzled as to why he was hesitating, I shot him a backwards glance over my shoulder only to realize he was grabbing my change of clothes bag from his trunk.

"Eric!" I called out. "I'm going inside."

Without a word, he nodded. He seemed to have something on his mind.

Once inside the house, I flipped on the lights and took a deep breath. I may get attacked there once in a while, but home was still home. Standing in front of the mirror in the hall entrance, I carefully removed the hairpins from my hair and took off my wig. As much as I missed my blonde tresses, it definitely felt good to be wig-free. After spending a couple of minutes inspecting my red hair in the mirror, I started to wonder where Eric was. He should've been inside by now.

Remembering the incident of the previous night, it occurred to me belatedly that maybe the fairy had come back. Since Eric hadn't explained what a fairy was (Geez Louise, did I need a Chow 101 on fairies now?), I was picturing Tinker Bell from Peter Pan. Well, I couldn't imagine Tinker Bell causing Eric much of a problem. Still I was concerned that he hadn't come in yet. Looking around my kitchen for a weapon, my eyes spied my grandmother's old iron skillet hanging on a hook.

Perfectly seasoned and blackened, aside from making a mean omelet and sausage breakfast, when wielded properly, gran's iron skillet could be a very effective weapon. I knew my gran would turn over in her grave to see her granddaughter beat somebody up with her iron skillet, but I figured she'd understand we couldn't just let any fairy who felt like trespassing onto the property come and go as they pleased.

Quiet as a church mouse, I opened the kitchen door and glanced around. My shields down, I sensed a void. Eric. And a Were. Damn. I should just get in the habit of checking before I get out of the car. Peering into the darkness, my vision was aided only by the smattering of light cast by the stars and the few outdoor security lights I had on the house. Finally, I spotted Eric locked in a heated battle with a Were in its wolf form. They were about a dozen yards off from the house, near the great old oak tree.

Watching the fight, I knew I had to do something. Skillet in hand, I started to make my way over to them. Though I wanted to get there as fast as I could, I knew I couldn't just run in a straight line. An approach like that would immediately get the wolf's attention and he'd attack me before I had a chance to clock him. So, instead I zigzagged my way, stealthily hiding behind the trees and scrub that circled the property. It took longer, but I knew I had to do what I could to make sure the Were didn't sense my presence until I was ready to ambush him.

As I got closer, I could see the wolf's jaws were deadlocked on Eric's neck. Eric didn't look good. I bit my lip to keep myself from crying out.

Furious now, I continued to make my way creeping along the line of trees, a little faster now. I saw that the Were was brutally twisting his snout back and forth yanking on Eric's flesh. Bully.

Finally close enough, I wasted no time in running to where they were grappling on the ground. Holding the skillet high above my head, I brought it down hard on the wolf's head with as much force as I could muster. The wolf's eyes closed and he went slack. Using the pan to push him off Eric, I then slammed it over him a second time. He was out.

Looking at Eric, I bit down on my lip to keep myself from making a sound. His neck was a mangled mess.

The wolf, meanwhile, lying unconscious, had returned to his human form and I wasn't surprised to see it was the man I'd caught a brief glimpse of in Marnie's head. The man I'd thought resembled her. Although Sam described the brother as having a beard, I figured that was the easiest thing to change about a man's appearance. Certainly it was easier than dying your hair.

Dropping to my knees, I turned my attention to Eric who was starting to perk up.

"Eric, Eric. Are you okay?"

"Been better. Before he shifted, he sprayed colloidal silver at me." Eyes closed, Eric grimaced. "What did you do to him, Sookie?"

"I clocked him with my gran's iron skillet." I grabbed what I figured was the Were's shirt off the ground nearby and used it to wipe Eric's neck so I could get a better look at the wound. "Is the silver going to be a problem? Did he get silver in you? Is it like the bullets? Will it push out on its own?"

"No. No silver in me," Eric looked up at me. "It'll be fine. It'll just take a little longer," he said quietly. All of a sudden a quizzical look appeared on his face. "Your gran's what?"

"Her iron skillet." As I watched, the skin on Eric's neck, sure enough, was starting to heal.

"What's an iron skillet?"

"Oh!" Eric's usually so on top of stuff, I sometimes forget there's things he's really got no reason to know about. "It's a frying pan. Weighs about 13 pounds. It's pure iron. Seasoned to taste." As I described it, I picked it up off the ground next to me and showed it to him. I almost giggled realizing I probably looked and sounded like a demonstration model from the Home Shopping Network.

Eyes closed, Eric was breathing in short raspy snorts. For a second I was worried until I realized he was laughing.

"What's so funny?"

"What's so funny?" he repeated. "If that's what you can manage with kitchenware, I'd gladly pay to see you wield an actual weapon."

"Oh!" I knew it was a compliment, albeit another odd one. "Thank you." Glancing at Eric's neck, I saw it was healing quicker now, but the Were had really gotten him good. "Are you gonna be okay?" I hesitated on asking the question that was dancing in my head, but then I scolded myself for my reluctance. "Do you need blood?"

"Hmmm. Change your mind?"

Rolling my eyes, I shook my head. "No! But the Were might wake up any minute. I didn't kill him. So..."

"So I might have to?" Eric was rubbing his temple. He stopped to look at me.

"I didn't say that!"

"But were you thinking it?"

"Proper authorities, Eric."

"Of course."

"Do you know who it is?"

Eric looked over at the Were. "It's Mark Stonebrook. Marnie's brother."

"I thought so," I mumbled. I looked at the man's face. Although the interior of the bar had been dark and I hadn't gotten a very good look at him, it occurred to me that Mark might have been the man observing us in Fangtasia. That would certainly make sense.

I looked back at Eric. He still seemed a little grey. "The offer for blood still stands." I knew I didn't have True Blood in the house. Until Eric had dropped by the previous night I hadn't had any vamps over in more than a month. Synthetic blood is too expensive and has too short a shelf-life to keep in the house just "in case" you might have vampire guests one day.

Eric's eyebrows rose and he gave me a fangy smile.

Stiffening my jaw resolutely, I brought my wrist up to his mouth. I scrunched my face in anticipation of it hurting.

"I'll be gentle."

"Uh-huh. Just be quick. He might come to any second."

Laying a gentle kiss on it first, Eric bit into my wrist. Although it stung like hell, he purposefully didn't move any more than was necessary so it didn't hurt as much as I was knew it could have. After about a minute, his color was already looking much better and the wound on his neck had all but closed up.

"Mmm. Just as delicious as I remember," he grinned at me when he was finally done drinking and had licked my wrist to spread the coagulant on the wound.

Amused, I shook my head. More strange compliments. "Thank you." I looked over at Mark. "Any idea how he got here?"

"He obviously followed us."

"Wouldn't you have noticed?"

"Apparently not."

Eric sat up. I started to inspect his neck. He noticed that sure enough and started preening. Exasperated, I burst out laughing.

"Eric! Be serious! We need to do something about the naked guy."

"You are right. Again." Eric pulled his cell out and hit a number. I assumed it was Pam.

"I need you and Clancy to come with the van. We require," Eric paused looking at me, "prisoner transport."

I kept my eyes on Mark while I listened to Eric.

"Fine. Bring Maxwell."

With that he snapped his phone shut.

I heard a groan and realized our prisoner was stirring.

"Eric!"

"On it." In a graceful move perhaps only ballet dancers and vampires were capable of, Eric quickly catapulted himself over to Mark. Forcing the man's eyes open with his fingers, Eric looked deeply into them. In a low, resonating tone, he glamoured the Were into continuing his slumber.

Seeing Mark settle back on the ground lifelessly, I let out a sigh of relief.

"What now?"

"His pants are there. You used his shirt on my neck. Do you have a shirt to throw on him?"

"Maybe an extra-large t-shirt or sweatshirt?"

"Get them."

Without another word, I jumped to my feet and took off for the house to grab something for Mark Stonebrook to wear. After going a few yards, I stopped dead in my tracks and flew back.

Eric was watching me, a puzzled expression on his face.

"Um, you don't need the skillet, right?"

Grinning, he shook his head. He reached down and lifted gran's skillet and handed it to me.

"Thanks."

"Of course, my Sookie."

Something about the way he said my name made me feel a little self-conscious. I felt the blood rush to my face. I gave Eric a nervous smile and resumed my trek back to the house.

Although I'd had relative peace and quiet for about a month and a half, I seemed to be making up for lost time.

AN: Isn't it cool how Eric and Pam have other vampires to help them? Chow. Gerald. Clancy. Maxwell. Unlike Alan Ball, I understand you don't have a vampire sheriff without having some vampires in the Area. Otherwise, it makes no damn sense.

Thank you everyone for reading! I'm so jazzed by the response this story is getting. See my FF profile for links to my banners!