I stretched as I cracked my eyes open, wondering why the sunlight wasn't streaming through my bedroom window like it usually did. I sighed contentedly as I snuggled up against the cool, hard body sharing my bed. I pulled my wrist away from my mouth, apparently I had been slurping on it much like a baby sucks its thumb. I watched, in a fascinated daze as the two puncture marks on my inner wrist disappeared before my eyes. I touched my fangs with a finger, they were slick with my own blood. A large hand smoothed the hair away from my face and a pair of lips kissed my hair. I tilted my head towards… Uh oh. Fangs, drinking blood, Eric Northman, trouble.

#

Pam knew she was bleeding. The cords cut into her hands, imposing a weight that was burdensome even for a century old vampire.

Must go on, she thought to herself. Car is not far away. She was not going to abandon her precious cargo. Her hands would heal. She transferred a shopping bag from her right to her left hand, but that was no help. She then set all of her bags down and wearily sank into a bench, next to an old lady with an oxygen tank.

Pam glanced at her new companion. Maybe a quick drink would replenish her strength… There weren't too many people around at this hour. She scooted closer to her meal to be. It seemed to be dozing off as the oxygen tank wheezed.

"I've been coming here every night," commented the snack. Pam froze. Maybe a little glamour first, but the old lady kept her eyes half closed. "When I was younger, all I wanted was flowers and babies. Now I got a big garden in the yard and 15 grandchildren." She chuckled. "But before I die, I gotta see one of those vampers first. Then I'll have done it all!"

Pam thought about giving the woman a Fangtasia flyer then decided against it. A visitor like that would ruin the ambience.

"If I still drove, I'd truck myself over to that vampire bar and find me a real hunky," the human continued. "But my kiddies said no to that, you'll have to do your sightseeing where there's plenty of lighting and witnesses. So they've been dropping me off here for an hour every night." She sighed.

Enough of this yammering. The grandmother started to nod off, and Pam leaned into her neck.

"Granny?"

Pam froze, her lips inches from her meal to be's neck. She hastily retracted her fangs. A human teenager with dyed red and black locks and a nose piercing stood several feet away. She locked eyes with Pam. "Granny!" repeated the teen. Granny gave a start and opened her eyes. She turned towards Pam as well.

Before Pam could speak, she saw a vampire security guard out of the corner of her eye. He too was staring. So Pam did what any sensible being would do. She improvised. She planted a light kiss on Granny's cheek.

"You're such a dear," cooed Pam with hidden loathing. She even wiped off her lipstick off of Granny's cheek with a thumb.

"Oh my, dear, you're so cold," marveled Granny. "As cold as a…" she twisted around to get a better look at Pam, who managed to stretch her lips into a saccharine smile. Granny clapped her hands while the teen looked alarmed. "Now I've seen it all! Delilah, take a picture with me and this vamper with that telephone of yours."

Pam grit her teeth, but posed with a fangy grimace that wasn't just for show. Then Granny and Co. finally left. She stared down the security guard, who looked away first. Then she noticed a pudgy, middle aged woman who had been watching with horrified fascination. Ehhhh. Oh, what the hell. There was a bathroom right around the corner. They even have bigger stalls that could fit two people. She smiled, for real this time.

#

Eric was doing his vampire voodoo magic on me again, to make me infatuated with him. Or maybe he wasn't actively doing it, but just looking at him, breathing in his scent made me feel… affection? for him. I had never felt anything of the sort before.

"Don't touch me," I rasped. It took effort just to get those words out because instead I wanted to tell him to touch me.

He laughed as if my request was ludicrous. "I'm supposed to touch you. I'm your maker."

That was beside the point. I slowly backed away. He lazily stretched on the bed, giving me a good eyeful of toned tummy. I averted my eyes. I spied my purse on a table and snatched it up.

Eric yawned. "I'll heat you some breakfast in a moment. You can leave your wallet here."

I ran towards the door but it was locked. What kind of sick fuck locks their own bedroom when they're living alone? I threw a bolt, another one, turned the locks this way and that, but I could not get the door open. I was half starved and panicking, I could barely see or think straight. I kept jiggling the knob as if it would give. I also kicked the (steel) door several times and probably broke my bare toes. I wanted to cry. How stupid was I? I couldn't even unlock a door. If you took away the law degree and fancy suits, I was nothing but a bureaucrat with a big mouth and zero survival skills. If I were a character in some action adventure, I'd be one of the extras that got stomped on by Godzilla or maimed while the heroine used that distraction to make her harrowing escape.

Eric just watched, looking a little disappointed and borderline irritated. What a psycho. Who was he to get annoyed that his captive couldn't open the door that he had locked to keep me imprisoned? I shrank back as he glided over to me but he simply flipped some locks the other way and pushed the door open.

"Use your brain, not brute force," the Viking chided me. He tapped my temple with his finger. "Don't leave your wits in the courtroom."

Now my eyes did well up with tears. It sounded exactly like the kind of thing my mother would say. I wondered if I would ever see her again. I turned away and hobbled out. Goddamnit. The rest of the place was a maze. Where was the exit?

Eric followed me. "I was harsh," he admitted gently. "You're barely two nights old and you're hungry." With that, he scooped me up, took me to the kitchen, and set me down on a stool. He put one bottle of True Blood and a clear, unmarked pouch of red liquid in the microwave. He set it to 40 seconds, then crouched in front of me to examine my "boo boo," as he called it.

"Nothing broken," he announced.

I stared as my black and blue toes rapidly changed back to their regular color. Amazing. He gave them a kiss. "All better," he murmured. I shivered. Then he brushed his lips against my ankle. Then the side of my calf. Then my knee. His hand slid up my thigh and my fangs clicked out. Then the microwave beeped. I silently swore as he calmly went to the microwave and pulled a straw out of one of the drawers. He stuck it in the pouch, like a Capri Sun, and offered it to me. He took a long swig of the True Blood.

I stared long and hard at the pouch, wondering if he had drugged it. Why did he get to drink out of the sealed bottle while I got the mystery blood?

"It's still fresh," he told me. "AB negative."

I didn't want to take his food or accept his hospitality. But hunger won out and I drained the pouch in about 5 seconds. He looked as a pleased as a glacier can look, even more so as I went through 10 more of those packs. Then he was out.

"Sorry," I said sheepishly. It was very rude of me to take all his food. I shifted uncomfortably. Should I offer him money to pay him back for all the blood? But technically I was still a kidnapping victim. Or was I free to leave? I might need whatever resources I had left in my purse when I finally made my escape. If I ever got around to it.

Now that I had eaten my fill, I could think more clearly. I was less panicky. Humanize yourself, were the first words in the chapter titled How to Survive a Hostage Situation in one of the books I had happened to browse through at Barnes and Noble on a boring day. Get the hostile to emphasize with you. Emphasize with the hostile. Unfortunately, I had not bothered to read the rest of the book. At least this was a start.

I looked steadily at Eric, and he looked back. His face was a stony blank but there was something soft in his eyes. Or maybe I was imagining it.

"You have the cutest itty bitty fangs," he cooed. He took my hands and waved them around.

I blinked. Ok, if he kept talking like that, he'd just make it easier for me to NOT be turned on by his charms. Was he a pedophile or something? Why else would he baby talk to me in one minute, and seduce me in the next? Or actually, didn't vampires almost always have sex with their children? I was his child, wasn't I? I thought I had heard something about "vampire incest". I had dismissed it as anti vampire propaganda, but come to think of it, Eric and I weren't biologically related. We couldn't procreate with sex. Thus there was no reason for sex to be taboo between maker and progeny. We were free to consummate all of the four types of love: affection, friendship, romance, and unconditional love. It was really beautiful, in a way. But it wasn't for me. This was the modern world where vampires were out in the open and could have their pick of any willing human to turn. I had not been one of them.

"Now look here, Eric," I said in my best reasonable tone. He regarded me seriously. "I have family, friends, a full time job, you can't just keep me around like a pet or something."

He sort of smiled. "Is that what you think you are? A pet?" He repeated the last word slowly. He tickled me under the chin and I closed my eyes at his touch. Mmm. I sat up straighter.

"That's not the important part," I said sternly. "I know you might have some… concerns… as to how we'll explain my… current situation to everyone else, but we can think of something. I'll just say I fell down the stairs or something, it would have been fatal, you heard the commotion, you rushed over and saved my life."

He raised a skeptical eyebrow.

"Or we can come up with something better," I amended hastily. I made a lousy hostage negotiator. "The important thing is, I understand. I get it. You had no choice, right? It was me or Sookie. You couldn't let Freyda have Sookie, you love her. She means a lot to you." I hoped I guessed right. From the slightest flicker of his eyes, I had. "But me, I was just an unfortunate pawn. Freyda wanted me and was willing to swap me for Sookie. It could have been anyone else. Of course you'd give me up for someone you love. I would have done the same thing with you had I been in your situation!" I gave a nervous laugh. I would have given up Eric, or any other semi stranger, in a hummingbird's heartbeat to protect my father, mother, or brother. Was it fair? Legal? Moral? No. Was it my place to decide which life was worthier of saving? No. But it would have been the human thing to do. I'd draw the line at my cat, albeit painfully.

"Even if I did go to the authorities, and you did face criminal charges, no jury in the world would convict you," I babbled. Actually, the jury would have never learned of his reasons for giving me to Freyda, for his motives would have been considered irrelevant and kept out of the trial. But he didn't need to know that.

"You could have just left me to die, you could have just fled the scene and no one would have implicated you, but you chose to save my life instead." I stared at him eagerly, hoping my words were assuaging him. I couldn't read his face, but I was the one feeling persuaded. If someone held a gun to my head, or rather, a stake to my heart, I'd spill the beans. But now that I had articulated the thoughts that had been buzzing at the back of my mind, I couldn't see myself turning him in. I was willing to cover up for him. I hoped this was because of my own sense of right and wrong, rather than Stockholm syndrome or vampire imprinting.

He didn't speak for the longest time. He just looked at me. Then he kissed the back of my hand. It was then I knew, through some sort of instinct or vamp psychic ability, that he would never harm me. I felt a rush of tenderness from him, it was hard to explain. It was almost as if I could sense his emotions. What the hell was this? There had to be a way to get rid of it. It freaked me out.

"I want my life back," I said softly, even though we both knew that would never happen. But I wanted to reclaim what was left of it. "I want to go home. I have to get back to work. I want to see people I know."

The corner of his mouth pulled up in amusement, and I realized it was never his intention to keep me prisoner. Perhaps he had merely taken me in out of charity, or a sense of paternal obligation. Or, more likely, he didn't want a PR mess where the media found out an innocent woman had been turned and abandoned. Or killed at a vampire hotel.

"I built you a play room," he told me with the air of informing me he had cleared out some closet space to make room for my clothes. He wrapped an arm around my waist and picked me up. He propped me against his hip like a laundry basket, so I wrapped my legs around his front and back. We were getting way too cozy but it felt right. Any remaining apprehensions I had about him died away as I buried my cheek in his shoulder. He gave me a little pat on my bum, as one would do to a horse or a dog. This was a truly strange relationship we were developing. I didn't care. Or did I?

He took us up the stairs and to the roof level. It was a giant, open space with a bunch of dirt. Nothing but rich, brown soil piled up in what used to be a swimming pool. I could tell by the shape and the numbers on the ground it had been a deep lap pool. The earth called to me. The smell of the dirt was soothing, I wanted to feel it against my bare skin.

I did something I would have never done as a grown woman, I jumped into the dirt, yellow bathrobe and all. I laughed as I burrowed inside and spun around like a chinchilla taking a dust bath. I threw mounds of soil in the air and kicked my feet, creating a big cloud.

Even in my ecstatic joy, a tiny part of me mourned the loss of my humanity, my normalcy. Nonetheless, I giggled with glee as Eric dived in and created even more dust clouds.

Human Dana would have balked about wrestling in the dirt with any male she barely knew, especially Eric Northman, who was intimidating, frosty, and fanged. Vampire Dana couldn't wait to snuggle with her maker and doze off in his arms. And so she did, like the baby she was. He held her tight, and it felt like the most natural thing in the world. Even though they were buried in the dirt.

#

Replenished and satisfied, Pam charged on with new purpose. While at Macy's, she picked out a baby blue, cashmere sweater for Eric, and a pink cardigan for herself. She realized she should probably get something for Dana so she didn't feel left out.

Pam looked at the store map and saw that the baby section was on Level 2. Once on level 2, she found herself surrounded by a lovely array of pastels. But all of the clothes were miniature models for some reason. Doll sized. Dana would never fit in these.

Pam went over to a table of giant purses. She picked one that was pastel plaid and had funny designs all over it. They reminded her of nipples, but with rings. She peered inside another bag that had a cartoon bear dipping his paw in a pot of "Hunny." Pam liked honies and honey pots.

"More space for diapers!" The tag exclaimed. Pam didn't know what a diaper was and didn't care. The bag even had compartments that were the perfect size for holding bottles. Then she saw a Britney Spears bag a few aisles down. It was more of a box with a handle. She meandered over to examine the box bag that had one of her favorite faces on it.

"Who are you shopping for?" asked a matronly woman. She was near the end of her shift and eager to make a sale before she went home for the night. Her managers were always on her ass about sale numbers.

Pam ignored the saleswoman completely.

"Those lunch boxes are real sturdy," the human persisted. "Your girl likes Britney Spears?"

Pam looked up. "I do not know," she admitted. She hadn't thought of that. Eric had once mentioned that heterosexual human women had a tendency to dislike other women, especially beautiful ones. Pam thought Britney was very beautiful, almost as much as herself.

"How big is she?"

Pam thought of how Eric towered over Dana. "She's about the runtiest thing I've ever seen."

The human faked a chuckle. "She'll go through a growth spurt sooner or later. How old?"

"A few nights or so." The vampire shrugged.

The saleswoman balked. "Well," she said. "Britney Spears is not age appropriate." She smiled as she firmly extricated the lunch box from Pam's bewildered grasp. "I have just the right thing…"

Ten minutes later, Pam had forked over $35.95 plus tax for a pink, vinyl "lunch box" that featured the cartoon figure of a pretty blond woman wearing a crown and pink dress. A white castle glittered in the background. The box even had a matching canteen inside. They were both insulated, the saleswoman promised it would keep the contents warm.

What a steal, Pam thought. Her cheapest purse cost 10 times this amount. She hoped Dana would not be insulted to be presented with such a cheap brand. She had never even heard of Disney before.

#

New maker or no, the sheriff of Area 5 was a busy vampire. After what seemed like too little time, Eric floated us out of the dirt pool.

"We're going to be late," he told me. "I need to check in with the sheriff of Area 4 today."

I tried to insist that I had to get to work too, but he'd have none of it.

"After this," he promised. "Tonight you are not leaving my sight." With that, he smiled and hoisted me in the air, much like one would do with a toddler. I laughed and gurgled accordingly, I couldn't help it. Then he flung me up so high, I swear I must have traveled at 30 miles an hour on the way down.

"Wheeeee!" I cried. This was so much fun. All the loose dirt from my hair rained down on us as I spun around in the air.

He easily caught me in his arms and repeated the process a few more times, until I eventually lost my bathrobe and did not have a single grain of dirt on my body. I was however, slightly dusty.

He examined me critically. Then, to my morbid horror, he spit liberally into both hands and started rubbing me down! I squawked and tried to run away but he held me tight. Realizing there was no escape, I merely hunched miserably as he scrubbed me with the clinical efficiency of a janitor wiping down a statue. I just hoped he wouldn't find it necessary to bend me over and lick my anus clean, as if I were some kitten. This was really gross, but effective. I had never known that vampire spit had body wash properties.

"Why can't I just shower?" I complained.

"You'll clog my drain again," he replied sensibly. Then he shooed me back into the living quarters where he found me something to wear for the meeting with this sheriff of Area 4. Apparently he had brought some of my clothes over. He changed his own clothes in the other room.

When we got to his Corvette, Eric's black leather jacket fell open and I gave a double take. His tight navy shirt read "Yale Law Dad" in white letters. Why would an ancient vampire wear something like that? Was he secretly a founding father of the school? Or was it a trophy scrounged off of one of his meals? Omg. Oh no. Had he stolen it from MY dad? Was he sending me some sort of sick message or something, to forget my human family, he was all I had now?

I did a quick mental inventory of Dad's collegiate wardrobe. He did have a shirt that read, "My child went to Yale and all I got was this T shirt and a bunch of debt." He had a funny sense of humor.

I suspiciously examined Eric's shirt. It looked new and it threatened to tear on him. I breathed a little easier, not that I needed to breathe at all. Anymore. There was no way in hell that tiny piece of fabric would have ever fit my dad.

When we arrived at Fangtasia, Eric took me straight through the back and into his office, where three vampires were waiting. I presumed the one on the sofa was the sheriff of area 4. He resembled a teenage boy but I could tell he was actually quite ancient, maybe in the hundreds. He was sporting a bright red STANFORD shirt. What was this, homecoming week? The vampire sitting next to him, about 6 months old, looked bored. He fiddled with his Blackberry. He wore a black suit and had INVESTMENT BANKER written all over him. Or maybe he was a stock broker. They were all the same to me.

Pam was lovely in a pale pink sheathe and a white knit with little flowers all over it. If the Queen of England invited her to a tea party, she'd be set to go. She primly sat in one of the chairs next to Eric's desk, looking strangely out of place in an office setting.

"Blackburn," Eric nodded stiffly at the teen. Another nod at the investment banker. "Joseph, you've grown." A perfunctory and revealing compliment. I never knew vampires grew. Maybe he meant it metaphorically.

"Eric!" Blackburn bellowed with a grin. "Is this your little one?" He looked at me up and down. "We got you good in the Big Game!" he laughed with mock friendly rivalry. "We gave you the axe! Right in the neck!" He made a familiar chopping motion with his hands.

Was he talking to me? The what? Oh. The football game. It was news to me that a) the Cal v. Stanford game had happened recently and b) Stanford had won. Yawn. There was a saying that there were people who went to "Cal" and those who went to "University of California Berkeley." The former burned red shirts, hated "Stanfurd Leland Junior College," and rioted whenever the school lost a football game. The latter burned flags, hated capitalism, and rioted whenever the cops tried to harass homeless people. Guess where I had went? Not that it mattered much, my bachelor's degree ended up being the most useless thing on earth. That's what I got for picking a humanities major, I suppose.

Blackburn smiled broadly. "Did you watch the game? You know what we say about you folks?" He wagged a finger at me as he sang, "Safety schooool." I could sense Eric fuming next to me but Blackburn chortled as if we were old friends and we teased each other like this all the time. "What was the other one? Oh right." He cleared his throat. "Ree-jeected." He pointed a finger at me with his mocking sing song. "Acceeepted." He pointed at his progeny, who didn't pause to look up from the Blackberry. The sheriff of area 4 chuckled again. The sheriff of area 5 just glared.

What a tool. My smile became more strained. At least my alma mater's mascot wasn't a Christmas tree. So what if I had been rejected by Stanford? I wouldn't have gone anyway.

"Did you hug all the trees while you were at Cal?" the tool continued with a big indulging smile.

"Not every tree deserves a hug," I replied sweetly. I felt my school spirit rising to unprecedented heights. Sooner or later I'd start singing Fight for California, not that I knew the lyrics.

An awkward pause. Then, "Joseph went to Stanford."

No shit.

"He graduated magna cum laude and won an award for his economics thesis."

"I… wrote a thesis." I countered lamely.

"Dana got Best Trial Attorney of the Year," Eric interjected suddenly. How did he know that? It was just a hokey inter office thing. Everyone got their turn.

"Joseph serves as an advisor to the Federal Reserve."

"Dana want to Yale law school."

"Joseph went to Harvard business school."

Eric looked at me. I looked back. I had nothing.

"Pam went to Mrs. Witherington's School of Etiquette for Young Ladies," Pam offered, sounding as bored as a bored vampire can be. "I didn't realize this was a dog show, are we going to keep comparing pedigrees?"

Everyone glanced at her for a moment.

"Pam made her first kill when she was 5 nights old," Eric said smugly. She had? I hoped no one was expecting me to make a kill. That was illegal. And gross. I didn't even like touching raw chicken meat.

"Rachna glamoured her first human when she was 2 weeks old." Apparently Blackburn had an older child.

"Pam once fought off a pack of weres when she was two."

"Rachna can skin the hide off of a were in 50 seconds."

"Pam doesn't want to spend all night with any of you," Pam snapped. "Can we get started?"

And so they did. It was the most boring conversation ever, about cutting down on bureaucracy and lifting checking in requirements between Areas 4 and 5 to encourage the flow of vampire migration. It went on and on for about an hour. I sated my constant hunger pangs by drinking from Eric, but it wasn't really filling. His blood felt more like a vitamin supplement than an actual meal.

After a lot of uncharacteristic fussing on my part, Eric finally gave in and let me roam the bar on my own. "Don't go outside," he instructed firmly. "If you're going to eat anyone, bring them back here."

I found none of the bar patrons appealing. The willing would be donors all had dark shadows under their eyes and an unhealthy pallor. I was looking for something more… juicy and tender. Like pork chops or carnitas, not beef jerky. I spied a fat man (he had an enormous beer belly and 4 chins) and rubbed my empty stomach. I think I may have licked my lips. But by the way he shrank from my gaze, he was just here to gawk. I sighed.

I went to the bar and got a True Blood. The bartender didn't even try to charge me. I took a sip and wanted to weep in despair. It was worse than that Lite Mocha Frappachino at Starbucks. Or cardboard soaked in beef stock and sand.

A girl with eyeliner like a raccoon's sidled up to me. "I got the real thing, Pretty," she cooed. She tilted her head to the side and stroked her neck.

I wrinkled my nose. She had acne on her neck, of all places. I shivered and thanked all the gods that I had been blessed with clear skin. I wondered what pus would taste like and quickly shook the thought away. Eewewew.

A punk frat boy approached me as well. "Hey honey, I'll show you a good time," he sneered. He made a thrusting gesture with his hips. Lovely. I could smell the beer on his breath and a trace of urine on his right hand. Then he reached for me with said right hand.

With a screech of disgust, I somehow leaped over the counter and found myself crouched behind the bar, by the bartender's feet. He chuckled and gave me a pat on the head.

A pair of pink pumps appeared in my line of view. Each shoe must have cost more than my monthly salary.

"What's this?" Pam drawled. "When I was your age, I would eat everything I could get my fangs on. Children these days are so spoiled, I'm telling you." She and the bartender exchanged a look.

"They're all so disgusting," I grumbled.

"You are a failure of a vampire," she announced. Was that affection in her voice? She unceremoniously threw me over her shoulder like a pack of potatoes and marched us back to the office. Blackburn and his overachieving progeny had already left.

A young man was sitting on the sofa. Eric didn't look up from his papers. "I got you some lunch," he said. Pam tied something around my neck but I was too distracted to care.

I stared at the human, and he looked back. Gross. My meal was blinking at me. So not ok.

I was a city girl. I expected the food on my plate to be dead, fully cooked, and unrecognizable as the animal it once was. I could make an exception for fish, since fish don't have eyelids.

"You're not going anywhere until you eat your lunch," said Papa Vamp. He was putting his big foot down. Pam looked like she could laugh.

"You're going to make me late for work." Later than I already was.

"Then eat your lunch."

"I'll have a True Blood."

"I'm supposed to limit the synthetic in your diet until you're two weeks old."

"I'll get blood on my blouse." I had gotten it on sale, but it was still a really nice blouse. It was hard to find anything that was this beautiful, brilliant shade of teal.

"That's what the bib is for."

I looked down. It was barely big enough to cover a single breast. It was soft yellow and had a picture of the Cat in the Hat.

Pam beamed, proud of her selection. "I know you like felines," she told me. How thoughtful.

"I'll ruin my makeup. Can't you just collect it in a cup for me?" Then I could drink it in on the road, while not looking or thinking about where the blood came from.

Eric siiiiiiggghhed. He did a lot of that these days. As if waving a white flag, he reached into his desk and pulled out a small cardboard box from . It was full of large syringes. He took one of the syringes, cut off the blunt end, and threw away the plunger. He stuck the needle in the fangbanger's vein, and the open ended tube filled with blood.

A straw.