Disclaimer: I don't own anything that you recognize. It all belongs to Marvel, 20th Century Fox, Charlaine Harris and HBO.

Chapter 21: Blood Brothers

Everyone was staring at him. The vampires, the kids, Sookie, even the werewolf, who really had a lot more to worry about than something that Logan clearly wasn't getting. "V is the street name for vampire blood," said Northman's associate slowly, enunciating every word as if she were talking to a very small child.

"Well sorry if I ain't up to date with my narcotics," said the Wolverine. "What happened to good ole meth anyway?"

"It's still as good as ever, as far as I know," said the female vampire. "It just has new competition."

"Right," muttered Logan. He turned to the werewolf. "Sorry, bub, but I don't think you're getting any, and if you don't tell us something interesting, yours will be the only blood you'll taste ever again."

The mark. He'd thought that he'd never see it after the second world war, but here he was, facing the same enemy once more. He didn't hear Pam giving Howlett the Narcotics 101 lecture; all he could focus on was the rune branded on the werewolf's neck.

"Who sent you?" he demanded the were.

"Fuck you!" the wolf spat. The vampire cuffed him about the ears, sending his head snapping sideways.

"I'll ask you again," he said. "Who went you?"

"Wouldn't you like to know?" Either the werewolf was overly confident, or he was just very very stupid. Eric went with the latter.

"Miss Stackhouse," he said. Sookie seemed to awaken from a trance when he said her name. "Do you mind?" He wasn't really asking, and she seemed to know that. However, a little courtesy never went amiss when dealing with allies.

"He's from Jackson," said Sookie after spending a moment scrutinizing the werewolf through narrowed eyes. "And he's really addicted to V."

V addicted werewolves with that rune; a million thoughts were going through his head at once. Whoever he'd been hunting for the past thousand years was still alive. He wanted revenge for what had been done to him. He needed help. His 'family' had sworn to help him get revenge.

Yes, family. As much as he didn't want to get involved with them, this was one thing he could not do without them. His enemy was powerful; he'd known that much. It was only two in the morning in Sicily. His brother ought to know that he was on the warpath again, and Eric could definitely use his help. He did have his fingers stuck in a great number of government organizations, after all. Same with Sibylla.

The were was still screaming bloody murder, as if he was in any position to threaten anyone, with only his head sticking above the ground and the corpses of his fellow wolves surrounding him. Not a single one had escaped, which meant that there was a lot of cleaning up that needed to be done. That was another call that he needed to make. And after he'd made those calls, he was going to get his people together; this was just like those war councils he used to call when he'd been human.

They were in the middle of discussing Shakespeare when Logan's phone call interrupted them. Werewolves had attempted to take Sookie. They'd been thwarted, and all but one werewolf had survived. Eric was calling war council and he needed them to be in Bon Temps in an hour. Remy wasn't happy about their date being interrupted, but they both knew that Marie would go. There was no way in the world she would be able to enjoy herself whilst knowing that Sookie probably needed her to be there to support her. Besides, the boss had spoken, and this sounded really important.

"Look, I'm really sorry about this," said Marie, "but my cousin getting attacked is a really big deal, especially now."

"It's fine," said Remy. "Although I was wondering when you were going to tell me about it. I mean, I'm one of you, technically."

She apologized again. She seemed to be doing this a lot, and this was only their first date. It was not a good way to start a relationship. "It was just that we didn't know much, and it was best to keep it secret in case we alerted whoever it is we're up against."

He insisted on paying, and after realizing that she wouldn't be able to win this fight, she let him, as long as she got to pay the cab fare—he couldn't drive with one arm in a sling. It seemed to improve his mood a little. The rest of the cab ride was spent in amiable silence. She was going to have to explain a lot to him, but with the cab driver present, it was best not to say anything.

The phone was answered after only one ring. "Put me through to your master," said Eric. "His brother is calling."

"One moment," said the human on the other end in almost perfect English; only the most experienced ear would have been able to pick up the slight trace of an Italian accent. Balian only employed the very best. He only had to listen to one bar of Vivaldi on the phone before Balian picked up.

"Brother," he said in his native medieval French. "I've been waiting for you to call. What has possessed you to start selling vampire blood?"

Eric's blood would have run cold if it wasn't already cold. Then he remembered; Sibylla. "She told you, didn't she?"

"If by 'she', you mean my stepdaughter of sorts and your former lover, then yes," said Balian. "I have no problem with selling the blood if it is given consensually, but you know how Baranova and the American Authority are."

"I do, Balian," said Eric. "And that's not why I'm calling you." He glanced around. Was anyone listening? He was using the device that the metamorph had given him to stop people from tapping or tracing his calls, but if there was a vampire nearby, they could still hear his side of the conversation. No, no one was lurking behind the gravestones. He was safe for now. "Brother, do you mean what you said that night?" It had been over eight hundred years ago, but he remembered it clearly. He was sure Balian remembered it too.

"I never give my word if I don't intend to keep it," Balian replied. "The promise holds."

Sybille had been expecting Eric to call her sooner or later. Something was going on in Louisiana, and he needed to know what she knew, and he knew that she knew something. So when Elspeth knocked on the bathroom door announcing that the Sheriff of Louisiana Area Five needed to speak with her urgently, she simply told her lady in waiting to give her the phone. Never mind that her baths were considered next to sacred and should never be disturbed. She'd make an exception for a couple of people.

"Eric," she said warmly. "You must really be missing me."

"Sibylla," he said. "I've seen the rune."

To anyone one else, it would have been a very cryptic thing to say, but she knew exactly what he meant. She'd made him tell her during their time together. She could be very persuasive. The vampire sat up, disturbing the bubbles and causing water to slosh over the sides of the tub. The servants could clean it up later; that's what she paid them for.

"Are you certain?" she said.

"I would never forget that rune," he said. Of course he wouldn't. What man could forget the sight of his pregnant wife lying on the rushes with her throat torn out, or the sight of his slain children huddled in the corner of the longhouse with their arms wrapped around one another for protection? What man would forget the only thing that could lead him to the retribution that he sought for those crimes? "The wolves are from Jackson."

Eric ended the call after Sibylla had promised to pull up all the information she had on every single vampire in Mississippi and send it to him on his phone. He couldn't do much without information, but that was where his own people came in.

He went back inside the house. Immediately, Sookie leapt to her feet and started telling him how she needed to be in Jackson 'like...yesterday!'. He put up a show of protesting, but when Howlett unexpectedly volunteered to go with the telepath to protect her, he 'relented'. Having a telepath and a nephilim on his side presented a distinct advantage. "Werewolves are pathologically secretive," he said. "You won't be able to get anything out of them if you barge in with the subtlety of a battering ram. You're going to need someone on the inside."

"Do you have anyone in mind?" asked Sookie.

"I have just the man," said Eric. "Isn't that fortuitous?"

It was a beautiful day. Or, it would have been beautiful if her lawn hadn't been stained with werewolf blood. At least the body parts were gone now, which was a relief. Eric had said he'd take care of it, and he had. Whatever she thought about the Viking, she couldn't deny that he always kept his word. The sole surviving werewolf had been glamoured so much that he didn't even know his own name anymore. Sookie might have felt a bit more sympathy for him if he hadn't tried to kidnap her. Besides, his new personality was much better than his old one.

The telepath placed her coffee mug in the sink and rinsed off her plate, and then searched around for something to keep her mind occupied. If she could, she would have gone to work, but this was her day off. She'd been having far too many days off these past few weeks. When this was over, she was going to have to plug in some double shifts. Marie had already left to deal with whatever she had to deal with these days as Eric's daytime public relations officer, and she had no idea where the others were.

Suddenly, she tensed. There was someone out there, and whoever he was, he was approaching the front door. His thoughts were just a jumble of images. Shifter. Wait, no, werewolf! She got ready to go and grab her shotgun. Oh, where was Logan when she needed him? Wait...the werewolf was thinking about Eric and a phone call in the middle of the night. He didn't seem to be overly fond of the vampire, which was normal. However, he didn't seem hostile. In fact, he was downright curious. Moments later, he knocked on her —unlocked— door.

"Hello?" called a deep voice with a Mississippi accent. She peered through window. A tall dark man stood on her front porch. His plaid shirt was half tucked-in, and his jeans looked really good—wait, what was she thinking? Her boyfriend was missing; she wasn't supposed to be thinking about another man's butt. Still, he had a really cute butt.

Having established that he wasn't a threat, she opened the door. "Can I help you?" she asked.

"Are you Sookie Stackhouse?" said the man. She could sense his surprise. He obviously wasn't expecting someone like her.

"Yes," she answered. "And you are...?"

"Alcide Hervaux," said the man. "Eric Northman sent me."

When Northman had called him last night, Alcide had panicked just a little. He didn't have the money, and there was no way he could borrow more. With one phone call, the vampire could have ruined his family's construction company. However, the vampire had had a strange request. He wanted Alcide to take a girl and a man to Jackson and to act as their guide as well as provide them with accommodation. If he did that, Northman had said, then the debt would be considered repaid.

It had seemed too good to be true, and Alcide had been a bit nervous about what to expect, especially when he smelled the scent of blood on the lawn. Someone had tried to do some cleaning up, but a werewolf's nose was very sensitive. Still, if he could get his old man out of debt by doing this, he was going to give it a go.

A blonde southern girl opened the door when he knocked. He was rather taken aback by this. How did a girl like her get involved with a vamp like Northman? He could smell vampire on her; the scent was faint, but it was there nonetheless. However, it wasn't the scent of the vampire who had called him.

"Can I come in?" he asked her once he'd established that this was indeed Sookie Stackhouse.

"Oh, where are my manners?" she said. "Come on in." He followed her inside the old farmhouse. It desperately needed renovation, the builder inside him observed, but it was a quaint and charming house; a relic of a bygone age, when ladies sat gossiping on each other's front porches whilst eating teacakes and drinking iced tea. The furniture was faded, but clean, and everything was very neat, although there was an ironing board leaning against the unused fireplace for some inexplicable reason.

The aroma of freshly brewed coffee filled the house. "Can I get you something to drink?" asked Sookie. Her soft drawl was sweet to the ear, and he could not help but become even more perplexed by her relationship with vampires. By rights, a girl like her shouldn't even mingle with the creatures of the night, and yet she seemed to know one intimately, judging by her scent.

"Coffee would be great, thanks," said Alcide. There were other scents in the house, belonging to creatures that he could not place. He supposed that one of them belonged to the man who was supposed to be going with her to Jackson. Northman hadn't said much about him; he hadn't even named him. "So...Eric tells me you need a guide in Jackson?"

"Yeah," she said. "Sugar and milk?"

"Two sugars, no milk, thanks," said Alcide. "Can I ask why?"

"It's a long story," said Sookie with a sigh. She sat down at the kitchen table and invited him to join her, which he did. He tucked his long legs beneath the worn wooden table —antique; it would probably fetch a pretty good price once it had been touched up a bit.

"I'm ready to listen if you wanna tell me," he said. "If you don't, that's fine."

"No, you should know," said Sookie. "You're going to be gettin' involved, after all." She took a deep breath. "My boyfriend was kidnapped by werewolves from Jackson."

Oh. Now he knew why he was here.

Logan heard voices as soon as he turned off the engine of his bike. The kids were at Merlotte's, eating brunch, and the last time he'd seen them, they'd been playing a game of pool. He would have stayed at Merlotte's for longer, but he didn't want to leave Sookie alone for too long, in case something happened whilst he was away.

There was a strange man seated at the kitchen table, and Sookie seemed to be filling him in on why they needed to go to Jackson. Was this the guy Eric had been talking about last night? At any rate, there didn't seem to be any cause for concern just yet.

"Hey, kid," he said as he stepped into the kitchen. Both Sookie and the stranger turned. Logan's brow furrowed as he caught the man's scent. Werewolf? Eric had sent a werewolf?

"Hey, Logan," said Sookie. "This is Alcide Hervaux. Eric sent him. Alcide, this is Logan Howlett. He's gonna come with us to Jackson."

Hervaux rose and offered Logan a hand. The two men shook. "It's nice to meet you, Mr. Howlett," he said.

"Logan," said Logan. "Mr. Howlett makes me feel old. So you're a werewolf, huh?"

The room suddenly went silent.

How the fuck did this Logan know? Alcide tensed, and things might have gone very badly. However, it didn't come to that. "I can smell it," said Logan. "No offence, but you guys smell like wet dog."

There was a pause. Sookie's eyes were very wide, making her look a lot younger than...well, it made her look almost like a teenager. "Oh," said Logan. "My bad. That wasn't nice."

He didn't know why, but he started laughing. Perhaps it was the absurdity of it all; here he was, paying off a debt by helping a pretty girl find her missing vampire and being told that he smelled like a wet dog. Perhaps he should get a better cologne. "I can appreciate honesty, Mr. How—Logan," said the werewolf after he'd managed to stop laughing.

"Good," said Logan, "because I'm pretty blunt and I'll say what I think, barring a few occasions."

"Then I'll be blunt as well," said Alcide. "What are you? You're definitely not human."

"I'm a mutant," said Logan.

"Oh," said Alcide. He'd never actually worked with a mutant before, not because he had an aversion to working with them; he'd just never met one. "So what's your power, apart from the sensitive smell?"

"I heal quickly," said Logan. That sounded a lot like a were power, actually. "And I've got these." The werewolf nearly jumped backwards when three metal claws popped out from between the man's knuckles. They were more like knives, actually. He retracted them and the skin on his hands healed immediately, leaving no trace.

"Impressive," said Alcide. He was telling the truth. Who wouldn't find foot long metal claws to be intimidating? He'd make an excellent bodyguard, which was probably why he was going with Sookie. Seriously, where did Northman find these people?

"I might as well be honest too," said Sookie. "I'm a telepath."

Oh boy, was he in for a ride.

Logan left a note for Marie, telling her where they were going. The other kids were still at Merlotte's. He'd ask Alcide to drive by so he could tell them goodbye in person. Besides, he could do with some food for the road and that Lafayette made some really good fried chicken. He also wanted to ask Sam Merlotte to keep an eye on the kids whilst they were away. They were good kids, but he wasn't happy about leaving them all alone in a strange backwater little town with no adult supervision. Vampires did not count, especially since they seemed to cause most of the trouble, and he didn't exactly trust Remy LeBeau enough.

The bar was relatively empty during the day. Most people were at work —a lot of them worked in town— and Bon Temps was so small that there were only one or two resident alcoholics. There were a bunch of teenagers there, and Jubilee was basking in the attention of three boys whilst Kitty and Bobby were playing with the beat up jukebox. They waved at him, and he nodded, not being much of a waving person.

"Logan, hey," said Sam. "What can I get you today?"

"Just a basket of that fried chicken and a six pack to go, thanks," said Logan. "But I really came here to ask you a favour."

"Yeah?" said Sam. Logan told him about their trip to Jackson, leaving out as many details as possible. All Sam got to know was that it had something to do with Bill going missing, and that he was going to protect Sookie. Sam listened. The man was smart, and he knew that there was something else going on, but if he had questions, he didn't ask them. "Sure," he said once Logan had finished. "I'll keep an eye on 'em. They're good kids, and I don't think anything'll happen, but I'll keep an eye out."

The floor of Alcide's van was covered in sawdust and broken bits of plaster—a sign of his trade. The three of them didn't say much. That was, until Logan turned on the radio and found a station that was playing songs from Broadway musicals and operas. It turned out that he and Alcide had the same taste in music. They even got Logan to belt out a few bars from Sweeney Todd. It did a lot to lighten the sombre mood. For a moment, Sookie could forget that her ex-boyfriend had been keeping a file on her since before he'd met her, and that he could possibly be dead.

Logan's bike —covered with a tarp— was travelling in a trailer at the back. He had refused to go without the bike. "The last time I'd gone somewhere without that bike, I'd been stuck in a traffic jam whilst trying to rescue someone," he'd said. Sookie knew that he meant that time in Dallas.

They arrived in Jackson as the sun was setting. Alcide parked the van in an underground parking lot of an apartment block. It turned out that he owned the entire building, although most of the apartments had been rented out. However, he did keep the best one for himself. "Come in," he said after unlocking the white door with a brass doorknob.

The entire apartment had been painted in shades of beige, apart from one red feature wall. The outside of the building might have looked old, but Alcide's taste ran to the modern minimalist side. A glass top coffee table sat in the middle of the living room, there was and a red leather sofa bed opposite a very clean —and unused— fireplace. There were only a few postmodern prints on the walls and no photographs.

"Can I get you two something? A drink?" said Alcide as he went into the kitchen.

"Water would be great, thanks," said Sookie.

"I'll have the same, thanks," said Logan. "Do you mind if I smoke in here?"

"As long as you open the windows," called Alcide from the kitchen. Sookie heard the clinking of glass and the fridge being opened. Moments later, the werewolf emerged with three glasses and a jug of water with slices of cucumber in it. Sookie raised an eyebrow at the latter.

"Trust me," said Alcide. "Cucumber in water tastes great." He was right; somehow, a few slices of cucumber made all the difference.

"So what are our plans?" asked Logan. He blew out a stream of cigar smoke. "I mean, you probably don't want us to bother you for too long, and I kinda want to find Compton before someone turns him into a vampire burger or something." Sookie almost spat out her water as she imagined Bill in burger form. Gross! Logan had a knack for saying the most inappropriate things inadvertently.

"Well, you said he was kidnapped by werewolves, right?" said Alcide. Sookie nodded. "There's a were bar downtown. That's where all the weres go so maybe we'll pick up something there."

Logan just about burst out laughing when he saw the name of the bar. Lou Pines? What was it with supernaturals and puns? Fangtasia was bad enough. The inside was also as tacky as Fangtasia; there was a huge mural of a wolf howling at the moon on one wall. That was the only piece of 'art' in the bar. Hell, the Wolverine knew he didn't have very good taste, but he could sure give these people a lesson in interior decoration.

"Alcide Hervaux," drawled the bar owner. His leather hung open, revealing a tattooed chest. Almost all of his tattoos were of wolves, as if he wanted people to know what he was. So much for werewolves being 'pathologically secretive'. "It's good to see a familiar face from the old pack." Old pack? Werewolves had packs? Well, it made sense.

"With all the new wolves, I thought maybe you wouldn't have noticed our absence," said Alcide with a wry smile.

"They don't come here as often as you think," said the bar owner. "Mostly they prefer that vamp club. Josephine's."

"There's a vampire club called Josephine's?" asked Logan. He couldn't help himself. That sounded so...ridiculous. The bar owner's eyes swivelled to Sookie and Logan. The telepath had chosen to wear a white lacy top with a denim skirt, completing her outfit with a sunny yellow cardigan and brown leather flats. Logan usually didn't pay much attention to clothing —when he bought jeans, he bought twelve pairs in the same style, perhaps in different colours— but right now, he was very much aware of how inappropriately dressed Sookie was, at least for a place like Lou Pines.

"Who are the humans?" asked the bar owner.

"They're all right," said Alcide. "They're with me."

Sookie had noticed the way that the bar owner was looking at her. "Am I not dressed properly?" she whispered to Logan. The Wolverine didn't know what to say. Luckily, he didn't have to say anything.

"You look like dinner," said the bar owner. "What were you thinking, Hervaux, bringing her to Lou Pines?"

"Nothing will happen, Hollace," said Alcide. "I'll keep an eye on her."

"For your sake, I certainly hope so," said Darryl. He left them alone to their own devices. Sookie's eyes fell on a bunch of leather clad bikers who were wearing far too many chains and metal studs. They were laughing loudly and looking more than just a little intoxicated. Perhaps...

"I don't think they're gonna talk to me if I have two knights in shinin' armour watchin' me," said Sookie, giving Logan and Alcide a meaningful look.

"I don't think—" Logan began, but Alcide grabbed his arm.

"She's right," he said. "She'll have a better chance if she goes up to them alone. Come on. I'll buy you a drink. We'll still be able to hear and see everythin' from the bar." Logan reluctantly followed the werewolf to the bar and ordered a bourbon on the rocks.

Her heart was hammering against her rib cage. It sounded as if she had a herd of stampeding buffalo in her chest or something. No, that was a bad image. She had to lure them to speak. She knew she had all the tools in her toolbox. She just had to learn how to use them. Sookie took a deep breath. She could do this. "What does a girl have to do around here to get a drink?" she asked.

That got their attention. All eyes turned to her. Some of the men were looking as if dessert had been served early. She was almost overwhelmed by a barrage of sexually explicit thoughts all directed at her. Some thought she looked like a marshmallow and they wanted to know how soft and gooey she was—ewww, not going there.

"Are you alone, cream puff?" asked one of the biker werewolves. He looked the part of the stereotypical redneck; bulging beer belly straining against his vest, tattoos, mean piggy eyes.

"Oh, I've been to tougher places," said Sookie with what she hoped was a bimbo-like wave of her hand. "Have you heard of a place called Fangtasia in Shreveport?"

"So you're a fangbanger, huh?" said another werewolf at the back of the group. The other weres parted to let him pass. He was tall, and he could pass for good looking if one didn't mind the fact that he oozed sleaziness. He was right up Arlene's alley, actually.

"Vampires are the strongest thing on the planet, and they're good in bed," she said with a shrug. If Marie could talk about her sex life in front of the Fellowship of the Sun, she could talk about sleeping with vampires in front of werewolves. "There's everything to like."

"That's what you think," said the biker. He was standing right in front of her now, all six feet of him. His breath smelled strongly of vodka and coke.

"Oh yeah? You know better?" she said. "Tell me about it. Tell me everything."

"Let's go somewhere private," he said as he grabbed her arm. As soon as their skin made contact, she caught an image of Bill, bound in silver and being mauled by werewolves. Yes, this one knew what had happened to Bill! The were dragged her into a backroom and locked the door behind him. This was not good. She swallowed. No, she would not panic yet. She needed to find Bill and this were was going to lead her to him.

"So you know any vampires?" she asked.

"Why do you care?" he asked as he took in the sight of her body. She wished she was wearing something that gave a little more coverage, like jeans. And a Kevlar vest. Better yet, a belt with a gun loaded with silver bullets. He grabbed her and pulled her towards him. She felt his hardness through the leather of his pants. There were no more images of Bill. Instead, she saw herself screaming and naked and—

Now she could panic!

As soon as he heard the biker dragging Sookie away, Logan left his place at the bar and wove his way through the throngs of drunken bikers. Some of them, seeming to realize that he was after the girl that their friend had just taken into the backroom, tried to stop him. "Where do you think you're goin', human?" one of them snarled. Human, was he? Logan didn't like attracting attention to himself, but his charge was in danger, and he had no time to try and solve this in a diplomatic manner.

"If you know what's good for you, you'll get out of my way," he growled.

The biker laughed. "And what are you gonna do?" he challenged. The next moment, he was out cold. An adamantium fist could do a lot of damage.

"I'm gonna do that," said Logan, looking down at the unconscious biker. "Anyone else?"

Unfortunately, that actually meant everyone else.

A/N: Our favourite vampires didn't feature much, but I hope you enjoyed it anyway. I'm going to be introducing new characters soon. ;)