A/N: All my love to chiisai-kitty.

…

I had a hell of a time falling asleep last night. I think it was a mixture of the nap I had taken in Eric's office, and the news I had gotten hit with that I just couldn't stop running through my mind. There were at least four separate occasions last night where I almost dragged myself out of bed to go dig around in the attic or Gran's old room for old diaries or pictures of hers, but instead I promised myself to do that the next day, as a kind of incentive for me to go to sleep. It worked, even though it took a while. It felt like I had just been able to drift off to sleep when I was woken up by the telephone ringing.

"Yes?" I asked once I was downstairs (almost slipped down the stairs, I was so groggy) and could answer the phone.

"Sookie?"

"Yep?"

"It's Sam. Hi. Uh, can you do me a favor?"

"What?" I was due to work today anyway, although at a much later time, and I had a hunch about what Sam would ask, and I didn't really like it.

"Go by Dawn's place, and see what she's up to, would you? She won't answer her phone and she's supposed to be here by now. And since you're my most trusted waitress and you live the closest to her, I just figured …" he said, trailing off at the end. He paused. "It's just 'cause it's a shipment day, y'know?"

Ugh. Shipment day. At the end of every month we'd get a huge supply of all the products and supplies we needed that didn't have expiration dates, like ketchup and napkins. Each shipment day, a waitress was supposed to come in early and help Sam unpack; there was a rotation of who would do it each month, and it was supposed to be Dawn's turn today. Shipment day wasn't the best day to work, but Sam did raise the pay grade on those days, so it wasn't too, too bad.

"Huh," I said in a tone of voice that would have earned me a scolding from Gran if she was still alive.

"Yeah. I mean, I'd do it m'self if I could, but the delivery truck just pulled up and I got to tell these guys where to put stuff."

I sighed. "I'll be there in twenty."

After thanking me profusely and swearing to give me a bonus, Sam hung up the phone and I went upstairs and took the world's fastest shower. I grabbed an apple to eat during the red light stops, and I drove myself over to Dawn's looking sloppy as ever in sweatpants and an old football tee of Jason's. In retrospect, wearing that shirt was kinda like twisting the knife, but I didn't even realize it until I was halfway to her place, and I kinda had bigger problems in my life right now anyways. She'd just have to deal with it.

I pulled up to where Dawn lived, in an apartment duplex located between my house and Merlotte's. I easily spotted her car, a little green one with a dent on the bumper from the time she backed into the garden gnome on Arlene's front lawn when Arlene hosted Sam's surprise birthday party in her house. It was in the driveway of one of the better-kept houses, one with a little hanging basket dangling from the front porch, and I pulled in behind the car, too lazy to try and parallel park on the street.

Yawning, I walked over to the front door and rang the door bell. I waited the amount of time you usually wait when ringing someone's door bell or knocking on their door, and then I tried again. No answer.

I banged on the door harder and yelled, "Dawn, it's Sookie Stackhouse!" No reply. I leaned over to try and peek in her windows, but her blinds were drawn. "It's about Jason!" I added, hoping that would do the trick. It didn't.

I started getting this little feeling, that pesky one you get when you know something isn't normal but you don't know what just yet. "Alright, I'm coming in, but don't say I didn't warn you!" I hollered, my hand reaching for the door. I almost fell forward when I tried to open it and it easily swung to let me in. I didn't expect it to be open, and I thought I'd have to check under her doormat or in the sides of her hanging plant for a key, but lo and behold, the door opened easily. That should have set something off in my head, since even though Bon Temps is a ridiculously small town everyone was locking their doors after the murder of Maudette—and talking about it at Merlotte's, so Dawn might have heard about it and tried it out like I did—but I didn't realize it.

I cautiously stepped into her apartment, which was much, much cleaner than I would have given Dawn credit for, I had to admit. Though her furniture looked a little worn, it was clear she was a true believer in the old motto that a happy home is a clean home.

"Daaaaaaaawn?" I asked in a singsong voice, drawing out the syllables so my voice would be in the air longer and there'd be a better chance of her waking up. "Where are youuuuuuuuu?"

Having made my way through the living room/dining room area and the kitchen, I started walking down the hallway to where there were two doors, both of them closed. I assumed one was the bathroom and one was the bedroom, but I had no idea which was which. I opened the door on my left, but it was just the bathroom. And Dawn wasn't in there like I really wanted her to be.

I knocked on door number two, just to be safe. And then I opened the door and walked in and quickly saw there had been no need to knock.

Dawn was still in her bed, lying on her back. The sheets were rumpled all around her naked body, and there were a couple of flies buzzing around her body. One of them landed on her face, right next to her still-open eye.

I screamed. Especially when all of a sudden I heard footsteps behind me and I swiveled around to find a very shocked-looking Jason standing behind me in the doorway, a random assortment of wildflowers now dropped on the floor from where he'd been holding them in his hands.

"The fuck?" he gasped, unable to look away from the corpse of his on-off girlfriend.

"Oh my God! Jason! What are you doing here?"

"We had a little spat yesterday and I swung by here before work to try and make it up to her! Holy shit!" he said, still not looking at me. Arms outstretched, he took a step forward like he was going to walk over to the bed and I reached out and grabbed the back of his shirt.

"You can't walk over there! This is, like, a crime scene! You need to go call the police, not get one last look at your dead girlfriend's titties!" I screeched.

He finally looked at me then, and he whipped out his cell phone and pressed three buttons you never want to press, in that order. Then Jason stepped out of the bedroom and I could hear him saying the police needed to "get their asses down to Dawn Green's apartment ASAP."

I had to force myself not to go over and pull up Dawn's sheets; even though she had been a promiscuous girl with no qualms about wearing short shorts or tight tank tops, I thought it was indecent to have her lying naked like she was. But if I did do that, then I'd be a nasty little hypocrite, and I didn't want to be that person.

I slowly backed out of her bedroom and walked out on the porch; once Jason finished making the call, he sat down next to me on the steps.

He opened his mouth to say something, but he stopped when there was a loud bang and we both looked over to see Dawn's next-door neighbor, some old woman I vaguely remembered from church, step out onto her porch, her screen door banging against her slightly wore-down apartment.

"You! What are you doing here?" she cried accusingly, pointing at Jason with one hand while clutching her bathrobe together with the other hand. "I heard yous, last night! I heard you two fighting, and I heard her fire the gun at you twice! You called her a bad name, didn't you, boy?"

I whipped my head to look at Jason. "She fired a gun at you?"

"Twice," the old lady added unnecessarily. "And he called her a bad name!"

I fixed her a stern look that said, 'Butt out, lady!' and said to Jason, "She fired a gun at you and you show up the next morning with a scraggly bunch of flowers as an apology! Jason, honey, when someone tries to shoot you, then you should stay the hell away from them!"

He didn't get a chance to respond, because just then a police car, with the siren and lights on and everything, pulled up and parked on the street; I could see it was Andy and Sheriff Dearborn. They both dipped their heads when they approached us, and Sheriff Dearborn walked inside as Andy stopped in front of us and told us not to go anywhere. He went inside with Sherriff Dearborn, and then just Andy came back out to talk to us.

He was going to say something until Mrs. Arlene-in-forty-years next door "yoo-hooed" him over, so she could loudly and excitedly recount how late last night she'd heard gunshots and poked her head out the door to see Dawn holding a gun and throwing Jason's clothes at him as he ran out of her apartment.

Jason's fists were clenched the whole time, and I was ready to murder that gossipy old biddy. But we just sat there, biding our time, until all of a sudden Sam's old-fashioned Jeep came into view, and he started walking over to us.

"What's going on, Sookie? I didn't hear from you or Dawn and I started to get nervous … uh, what's this cop car doing here?" Sam cried, approaching us.

Andy excused himself and walked back over to us. "Ah, Sam Merlotte. We were just going to give you a call."

"You were?" Sam asked dumbly, looking back at me with a question in his eyes.

"Dawn Green's dead."

Sam couldn't have looked more shocked than if Andy hit him over the head with a two-by-four. "What?"

"And seeing as you're her landlord, and also her boss, we have a couple questions to ask you in private, if you'd just come with me." Andy put an arm around Sam's shoulder and took him to stand over by my car.

"Did you know Sam was Dawn's landlord?" I asked Jason. He didn't say anything.

I took a deep breath and peeked into his brain. He was acting so serious and quiet and so un-Jason like I was getting really worried. But when I read his mind, he wasn't thinking about killing Dawn; he was thinking about the last time he saw her, when she really was throwing his clothes at him like the old lady said. He'd gone home, gotten himself drunk, and woke up this morning ready to make nice, or at least try to.

I put an arm around his shoulder. "You didn't kill her, did you?"

"Course not!" he said mournfully, staring at the steps in front of him. He was telling the truth, and I felt terrible that I ever doubted him. But I was certain that would never happen again.

I watched Sam and Andy talk for a little more, and then Sam walked back over to where we were. "He wants to talk to you, Jason," he said, stopping in front of the steps. He toed the grass with his cowboy boot and looked up at us. "Now."

Jason got up without saying a word, but he did walk over to where Andy was waiting for him.

Sam took his spot. "I am so sorry you had to see that, Sookie. I should have been the one. I should have come myself."

"You didn't know any better," I said, patting his arm. "We all make mistakes."

"Look like Dawn sure made one, whatever it was," Sam said darkly, not even sounding like himself.

I privately agreed, but I didn't comment on it. Instead, I said, "Listen, Sam, I can take her shift today, if you need someone to work." Though every fiber of my body was telling me to go home and sleep and wallow, I knew if I did that I'd drive myself crazy thinking about Gran and how Eric found out about that information. Besides, I also knew Sam was going to have to ask that, since he was out a waitress, and I wanted to spare him that guilt he would inevitably feel. "It's no problem. I've had a couple days off now, so it's just paying my due." I shrugged my shoulders, hoping that would seal the deal.

He breathed a sigh of relief. "That would help out so much, cher. Thank you."

"Not a problem."

Another truck came over, one from Mike Spencer's funeral home. He and his partner were decked out in all black, from their one-suits to their hats. Mike Spencer cheerfully waved at me and asked how I was, like we were in the parking lot of the grocery store and had a coincidental meeting, not like I found a dead body that he was here to pick up.

I didn't want my own thoughts any more. I was done with them. Closing my eyes, I picked one line of thought out of the crowd and stuck to it.

Mike Spencer, that damn Mike Spencer, was apparently in Dawn's bedroom, preparing her naked body. He was thinking that she really had natural breasts, and he always thought they were too perfectly rounded and perky for them to be God's gift to man. He was upset about how Dawn turned him down that one time a couple months ago, because then he would have been able to see her breasts earlier. Fucking pervert.

Disgusted, I switched channels. Sheriff Dearborn. He was thinking it was unusual that Dawn had bite marks on the inside of her thigh, like Maudette. He was also thinking it was unusual that in both cases Jason was involved, and he was glad my Gran wasn't alive to see this.

Sam's brain was too hazy; I could make out feelings instead of actual thoughts, but Sam was feeling guilty about something—probably about making me come here—and he was sad. About what, I didn't know.

Andy was upset because he thought Jason wasn't giving him any respect—Jason always called him "Andy" instead of "Detective Bellefleur."

Jason was upset because he thought Andy wasn't giving him any respect—Andy was treating him like he was convicted of the crimes, and he didn't like it one inch. He was an all-state quarterback, damnit!

I eventually came to the conclusion that I'd rather have my own thoughts over these any day. It wasn't a hard decision to make.

Another cop car pulled up, and this time it was Kenya who walked up. Kenya was a big black woman, at least 5'11" and very stocky. She was a very no-nonsense woman even when she wasn't on duty, and she looked it too. Kenya nodded at Andy and Jason, nodded at us, and then walked into Dawn's apartment, where I was sure she nodded at Sheriff Dearborn, Mike Spencer, and probably even Dawn's corpse.

Jason started walking away from Andy, heading my way, and you didn't need to be a mind-reader to know I was next in Andy Bellefleur's little interrogation game. Sam knew it too, and he affectionately patted my leg before I stood up and went over to where Andy was standing, scribbling something in a small notebook.

"Hi, Detective Bellefleur," I said, smiling up at him. He stopped writing and looked at me, pleased that someone was finally giving him a little goddamn respect in this town. The Bellefleurs had been in Bon Temps as long as there'd been a Bon Temps, and even though they had piles of money in the past, the family was still very proud and as well-to-do as you can be living in a town of two thousand people. Everyone knew the Bellefleurs, and everyone knew Andy and his sister, Portia—she was a lawyer, a couple years older than me.

"Miss Stackhouse," he said politely, "I just want to ask you a couple more questions, if you don't mind."

"Not at all. How can I help?"

"First off … when was the last time you saw Dawn Green?"

I had to think about it. "Um … couple days ago? I've had a couple days off from work. Hold on, lemme think."

He nodded his head in that way when people try to pretend like they care. I ignored it and tried to concentrate. I'd been a little busy since then.

"It was that night that the vampires came into Merlotte's … the night Maudette was murdered. Dawn was working with me."

"I see. And did you talk to her then?"

I tried to remember. That was such a silly question. "Of course. I don't remember anything specific, but I'm sure I did. You know, hello, goodbye, can you please bring the water to table four? Nothing out of the ordinary, I guess, or else I probably would have remembered it."

"Were you close to her?"

"No, not really."

"So why did you come here today?"

I explained all about Sam's phone call this morning. Andy seemed to be writing so fast, it was like he was trying to start a fire.

"Did Mr. Merlotte tell you why he didn't want to come here himself?"

"Yeah, there was a supply truck that needed to be unloaded, and he needed to be there to help out and show where everything's supposed to go. And since I live the closest, he asked me to help."

"Do you think Mr. Merlotte had any relationship with Dawn?"

"Well, yeah, he was her boss. Landlord too, I guess."

Andy looked annoyed. "No, outside of work."

"Nope."

He skeptically raised an eyebrow. "You sound pretty positive."

"I am," I replied, jutting my chin out.

He paused. "Do you have a relationship with Sam?"

"Just the kind of friendly relationship you get when you work with someone for five years."

"Then how are you so sure?"

Good question. Because I would have "heard" about it, simple as that. But I probably should keep that to myself.

"Uh, well, Sam keeps everything real professional at the bar," I said. It sounded lame, even to me. But Andy seemed to buy it, since he stopped writing in his notebook and looked up at me.

"Did you know anything about Dawn's personal life?"

"Bits and pieces. Mostly because she had a thing with Jason. But that's really it."

"What do you mean, 'a thing with Jason?'"

I awkwardly explained their on-off, love-hate relationship, and how there had been a little incident yesterday before the gun shots, where Dawn left Jason tied to her bed. I didn't tell Andy about them breaking up over Eric; that was just one time they broke up, anyways. And he'd already pieced together the connection between Jason, vampire bites on the thighs, and two dead women. I didn't need to encourage him.

"So other than that, you two never really, ah, hung out, as they say? You weren't BFFs?"

Stifling the urge to snort at hearing a grown man, and a detective at that, say the phrase "BFFs," I shook my head. "Nope. We weren't really that close."

"Why not?"

"Probably because we have absolutely nothing in common," I said, giving more sass than was necessary but not being apologetic about it.

"How?"

I couldn't help it—I sighed heavily, blowing my lips out in exasperation. If we didn't have anything in common, how could I give him an example? I just wanted to be like, seriously?

"Okay," I said slowly, after some seconds had passed and my crankiness level decreased. "Dawn had a real active social life, and she liked to be with men. She wasn't so crazy about spending time with women. Her family is from Monroe, so she didn't have family ties here. She drank, and I don't. I read a lot, and she didn't. That enough?"

Andy Bellefleur scanned my face to see if I was giving him attitude. He must have been reassured by what he saw. He scratched the back of his neck as he replied, "So, you two didn't ever see each other after working hours?"

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. It was hard. "That's correct."

"So you said the last time you saw Dawn was when those vampers came into Merlotte's?"

I nodded.

"She talk to them?"

"No." Definitely not.

"You talk to them?"

And then some. "Yes."

"About what?"

Motherfucker.

"Um, I asked them questions ... stuff like you'd ask the first vampire you meet." I shrugged, like it wasn't the big deal that it totally was. I wasn't lying, either! I was just being selective in telling the truth. I knew for a fact that what I talked about with Bill, and later Eric and Pam, would be no help whatsoever in this investigation.

Andy felt so uncomfortable talking about the vampires he thankfully didn't push to see what exactly we talked about. Instead, he said, "Remember their names? Don't forget you're talking to the physical embodiment of the law."

If Andy Bellefleur was the physical embodiment of the law, we were all screwed.

I tried to figure out the best possible strategy. "Um … let me see … Eric was the tall blonde one, Bill was the other guy, and Pam was the girl."

Just then Sam strolled over and stood next to me, and placed a hand on my shoulder. "'Scuse me, Andy, but I just need to get my cell phone from my car and call Terry to see if he can watch Merlotte's while I'm here, since no one's there right now and I can't remember if I locked up? You mind, Andy?"

He was looking straight ahead at Andy, but I clearly heard him think, 'Sookie, can you hear me? Um … I don't know, pat my back if you can.'

I reached around him and patted his back.

He thought, 'Good. Okay, now, Andy asked about the vampires too. I just said that we met them that night, we had no idea why they were at Merlotte's, and they told us their names. I only said we knew their first names, and I hadn't seen them since then. I didn't say anything for you. Okay?'

I breathed a sigh of relief. So my flimsy story was sticking. Thank fuck. I patted his back again.

"Sure, Sam. Just come back," Andy said finally, looking skeptically back and forth between us.

Sam smiled easily and walked away. I looked back at Andy and sweetly asked, "Where were we?"

"Did those vampires know Dawn?"

"Don't know."

"Did those vampires talk to Dawn, or talk about Dawn?"

"Sorry, but I don't know that either."

"Ever see any of them again?"

I sighed. "Yes."

"Which one?"

"All of them."

Andy had to wait a while to compose his features. "Where?"

"Well, I went to that vampire bar in Fangtasia. I saw them there too, last night, and the night after Maudette was killed."

"That it?"

I sucked in my breath. I was going to be as honest as I could about this, since I was cutting the corners on some other spots. "Um. I was at Fangtasia last night. The night before. And the night before that. Some other times too."

Andy managed to keep his face composed, but he was wondering what the hell a nice girl like me was doing hanging with those vampires right now, and what my Gran would say if she was alive. He was unhappy I didn't have any fangmarks … on my neck, anyway. He was trying to figure out a way for me to show him the inside of my thigh that wouldn't get his badge taken away from him, but he wasn't being so successful with coming up with ideas. He was writing things down a mile a minute, but his thoughts were consistent. He thought I was a fangbanger—apparently I'd have to be a pretty good one to still be alive.

"Any of 'em bite you?" he asked gruffly, not even giving me the decency to look me in the eyes.

"I don't see how that is related to the death of Dawn Green," I said fiercely, even going so far as to cross my arms for extra badass power.

"She died with a vampire bite on her body, just like Maudette. I think it's very much related to the death of Dawn Green," Andy said in a smart-aleck tone.

"Fine. Eric's bitten me before. And you know what? It was fantastic," I sneered.

Hah, now he looked at me. He shifted his weight. "So you were with him last night?"

"Yep."

"For how long?"

"From sunset to a little before sunrise," I said frankly, marveling at how I could make a grown man blush.

Andy coughed. "Very well. Did you see the other vampires last night?"

"Pam was there. Bill too. But, uh, we didn't spend a lot of time with them, if you know what I mean."

Andy had on a facial expression he might make if he ever had to wear a thong. "They know Dawn or Maudette?"

"You can ask them; I'm sure they'd be able to answer that question better than I could," I said, raising an eyebrow as I wondered if he'd man up and take the bait.

"You got a contact number?"

"I would try going over to Fangtasia," I said honestly. "Sometime at night would probably work best."

He scribbled some more. "So you were with the vampires both nights that a woman in Bon Temps was murdered?"

"Yeah."

"The whole night?"

"Yeah."

He was unhappy that I was providing an alibi for "them damn vampers"; he really wanted to pin it on them and close all the cases. "Miss Stackhouse, we need to talk to you more at the station house. This is going to take awhile, here, as you can see. Can you come in a couple hours?"

That sounded as appealing as getting teeth pulled without getting any anesthesia. I'd had enough of being mind-bashed by Andy, and the fact that he'd be pulling me in to talk about information I already knew would be useless to this investigation made it that much sweeter.

I looked at my wristwatch. "Sam needs me to take over Dawn's shift."

"You know, Miss Stackhouse, this really takes precedence over working at a bar," he said archly.

Okay, now I was pissed off. Not because he thought murder investigations were more important than getting to work on time; I agreed with him, there. It was his unspoken prejudice against my particular job. He thought there was no wonder why I was hanging around with vampires, when all I did was wait on tables for a living. He thought the same about Dawn, and even worse about Maudette since she just worked at a gas station.

He was wondering if I'd be the next dead body he'd see. And he was still wondering how he could get me to show him the inside of my thigh, the pig.

"You may not think my job amounts to much, but it's one I'm good at, and I like it. I am as worthy of respect as your sister, the lawyer, Andy Bellefleur, and don't you forget it. I am not stupid, and I am not a slut. I've only had sex with one person, ever, and I'm not ashamed of it no matter how much you think I ought to be!" I exclaimed, working hard to keep the tears in my eyes at bay. Then again, maybe it would work in my favor if I cried? Whatever. I was done with it. And I was just too damn proud.

I was perversely pleased to see a ruddy complexion overtake the detective's pudgy face. "I apologize," Andy said stiffly.

I nodded as regally as I could, without bothering to hide my smirk. Let him see it, for all I care. "When you're ready for me, you come to the bar. We can talk in the storeroom or Sam's office."

He nodded, and I took that as my leave to walk back to Jason and Sam, who had finished calling Terry and resumed his spot on the steps. He stood up as soon as I came over.

"Ready, cher?" he asked kindly, stuffing his hands in his jeans pocket.

"Yep. Jason, you okay?" I said, staring at my brother. He was looking off in the distance, and I don't think he even saw me, much less heard me. I kicked his shoe.

"Whaa? Yeah. I'm good," he said.

The screen door opened, and Mike Spencer and his partner came out of it, holding a bunch of plastic that was protecting Dawn's body. Jason jumped up to get out of their way, and I hugged him long and hard, turning him around so he was facing Dawn' s apartment and didn't have to see her corpse being carried … although there was nothing I could do about the loud thud that sounded out when Mike accidentally hit what I assumed was Dawn's head on the door of the van when trying to load her body in the back of it.

Finally, I released him, kissing him on the forehead, and then followed Sam over to Merlotte's.

The bar was buzzing when I got there. Terry Bellefleur, Andy's second cousin if I recalled correctly, had showed up to watch the bar while Sam talked to the police at Dawn's place, and he was struggling a little. I quickly changed into a spare waitressing uniform and started waiting on tables.

Both Terry and Lafayette asked me if it was true about Dawn, and I confirmed it. Then everyone else started asking me about what I saw and what I heard, and soon I was getting tipped for telling information. It was sickening to see all these human vultures gathered in one spot, so I shut up after the third time Mrs. Fortenberry asked me to describe how I found Dawn's body and just went on doing my job. If Sam had a problem with the firm, polite way I kept declining to reveal 'special witness stuff' he didn't say anything to me … probably because he was getting hounded as much as I was, and seemed equally upset about it.

Then someone came rushing in saying that Jason was taken down to the police station in the back of the squad car, and I almost lost it, the way everyone was gossiping about it and giving me strange looks. Rene Lenier was the only nice one; he came over and gave me a big hug once he'd heard and seen how today was affecting me. I was surprised—and I had to admit, a closely-watching Arlene was too—since Rene and I had really only been acquaintances, but he told me I reminded him of his little sister and he could only hope that if she looked as sad as I did right now someone would comfort her.

Andy never did come around to talk to me … not that I was complaining. Seemed he'd talked to everyone but me, the way people knew all the intimate vampire details about me and had no trouble being assholes and loudly describing how wrong and evil vampires were. Once I heard Mrs. Fortenberry start denouncing the Count from Sesame Street, I was done.

I was sick and tired of what everyone was saying and thinking, especially when what they were saying or thinking was about me, and it wasn't very nice. I was worried about Jason, not just because he was hauled to the police station for the second time, but also because he was really close to Dawn, even if he didn't want to admit it. All these women kept dying around him, and even though it wasn't his fault, he still had to deal with it.

I wanted Eric. He would know how to handle this situation, I just knew it. Unfortunately he was completely dead to the world at the moment, and would be for quite some time. I'd just have to keep my chin up and my mind closed and just suck it up for a couple more hours until I could be with Eric away from all this shit. In fact, it was the thought of being with him at Fangtasia while I read his employees that kept me going.

Sam came out and brought me to his office and let me vent for twenty minutes, and he offered to let me off, but I knew there was no way that was possible, no matter how many times he tried to talk me into leaving. I finally convinced him that I'd put all my shields up and just focus on delivering the food and not making small talk, and he would make sure at the end of the day that I would get the same amount of tip money that I usually would on a normal day when I would actually interact with the customers.

I had more than enough shit on my plate. Sam got in touch with an on-call waitress from Monroe, and as cute and smiley as she was, she just wasn't that good at waitressing. Say what you want about Dawn, but you better also say she was a damn good waitress.

Around seven or so, Sam came and got me. "Phone for you." He lowered his voice. "It's Eric. Use the one in my office." He coughed, and spoke again at a normal level. "I'll take care of your tables. And Sookie, take as long as you need to."

I grinned and kissed him on the cheek. "Thank you for being such a good friend." I ran off to his office, closing the door in place behind me, and picked up the phone from where it was set on his desk.

"Eric?" I asked, sitting down in Sam's comfy desk chair. I'd been running around in circles for at least six hours, and I was pooped out.

"It seems you've had quite the day, dear one," he said. I grinned like a maniac upon hearing 'dear one.' That was new. It wasn't "lover," but it was something else. Maybe even something more.

"How'd you know?"

"For starters, I felt your fear earlier this morning. It was enough to rouse me out of my daytime slumber, if only for a few helpless seconds. But the shifter assures me it was nothing. Was it?"

I explained everything that had happened at Dawn's house—including Andy's questioning and why I panicked. There was a lot to tell, but Eric was very patient, saying "Go on," or "Good," at the right spots.

When I finished he waited a couple seconds before he replied, "So that's why a detective from Bon Temps came into Fangtasia about forty-five minutes ago, wanting to talk to a Pam and a Bill and an Eric."

"Shit." I leaned back in my chair and covered my face with one hand.

"It's not that bad. We glamoured him into telling us everything he knew. We also glamoured him into telling who else he shared this vampire information with, which unfortunately is the entire police department of Bon Temps, and therefore the entire population of Bon Temps."

"Double shit."

"We convinced him that if either of the two women were truly killed by vampires, they would have been devoid of blood. We glamoured it into him too, just in case. He's going to relay that fact to the police department when he gets back; everyone there is interested to know how his questioning went." He sighed. "Unfortunately, there are too many witnesses who have seen Pam, Bill, and myself at Merlotte's, so we had to keep our relationship with you known … mine in particular. Especially the nights the two women were murdered; you're our alibi for those, for everyone. Even Bill." He didn't sound too pleased about that.

"That's fine," I said. "Did you tell Bill this?"

"I called and spoke to him on the phone; he's residing at the queen's palace."

"Okay." I said. After a moment or two I added, "Eric, I'm so sorry you had to go through all of that trouble with Andy. I'm sorry I caused all that trouble too."

"You did as best as you could, which was pretty good, considering. It's been taken care of." He paused and carefully said, "He did seem particularly convinced your brother murdered both women."

"Jason didn't. I read him, Eric, and he's innocent."

"Andy thinks that now, too. He's going to fight for Jason, and always take his side from now on. We had him call a Kenya person and convince her to release Jason from questioning, so he's all clear. Now, and hopefully for good. "

I smiled a big smile. "Thank you, Eric." That was such a relief. One less thing to worry about … for now.

"It's all been taken care of. By the way, I spoke with Liam. He confirmed what we already knew, that he didn't kill Maudette."

"Oh, thanks for that too," I said.

"Sookie, I didn't call you tonight to hear how you sound when you apologize or thank me," Eric said, sounding exasperated.

I almost apologized, but I caught myself at the nick of time and ended up saying, "Okay."

Eric paused. "And I don't like that there's been two murders in Bon Temps, and that both of them were women with known sexual histories with vampires."

"Uh, yeah, I don't either," I replied, not knowing where he was going.

"Especially when you are a woman in Bon Temps with a now-known sexual history with a vampire."

"Yeah." Seriously, what was he getting at?

He waited, and right when I was about to say something just to break the silence he dismissively said, "We'll talk about it later. You're off at nine, right?"

"Yeah. Why?"

"See if you can get off sooner."

I shook my head, even though I knew he couldn't see me. His vampire vision wasn't that good. "I really wish I could, Eric, but it's swamped tonight. Not much happens in Bon Temps, but when something actually does, everyone comes to Merlotte's to gossip about it. It's been nonstop busy since eleven this morning."

"Fine. I'll send some waitresses over from Fangtasia, and you can get off work. How many would be sufficent?"

I paused to think about it. "Um … three or four should do the trick. Let me go ask Sam. Do you mind holding?"

"Not at all. Make sure he knows you're getting off in exchange."

I found Sam and quietly told him what Eric said. He agreed right away and went back to delivering baskets and plates to my tables.

"Still there?" I asked, picking up the phone again.

"Always. What did the shifter say?" Eric said comfortably.

"He said that'd be great."

"I'll be there in a half hour. It might be beneficial if there were spare waitress uniforms, unless you want to fuel the flames and have the waitresses wear their black shorts and Fangtasia tops."

"Got it. They can wear their black shorts here, but Sam's always got extra Merlotte's tees. I'll go find them now, but we should be good."

"Excellent. Oh, and Sookie?"

"Yes Eric?"

He jokingly said,"Try not to get into any trouble for a half hour?"

I grinned. "I'll try my best."

He continued, "I'll text you when I'm in the parking lot. Bring the shirts out, and the girls can change in the back, so no one will see their Fangtasia shirts."

"Got it."

We hung up, and after finding the box of shirts, I went back on the floor and took over from Sam. A half hour quickly passed, and before I knew it my cell phone was buzzing and I didn't need to flip it open to know Eric was here. I felt better than I'd felt all day. Waving goodbye to Sam, I slipped out the back with the box of shirts and opened the door. There were four girls, all unfamiliar to me, hovering by the back door, so I held it open for them, gave them each a shirt, and told them what Sam looked like so they could go to him for instructions.

After that, I walked over to Eric's Corvette, which he was leaning up against and making the car even hotter than normal. He was decked out in a black suit with a light blue shirt underneath, two buttons undone to allow the perfect slice of chest. I walked up to him and smiled. "Hi."

"Hi," he said back.

We looked at each other and then all of a sudden, we were kissing—I don't know who made the first move, but maybe both of us did, at the same time. It didn't matter, now that his lips were on mine and his tongue was polishing my teeth and his hands were running through my hair and over my arms. When I finally pulled back to let me catch my breath, I hugged him and murmured into his ear, "I've wanted to do that all day."

His only response was to grin and kiss me back.

...

A/N: So who else is anxious to see what happens to poor Franklin? ATM I'm more concerned about his probable death than Bill's. *shrugs*