Chapter 21:
Night and Day

x

Louisiana, 2008

"Merry Christmas," Sookie whispered sleepily, slowly awakening from her nap to the feel of Eric's cool lips on her cheek.

She'd spent the morning and afternoon with Gran and Jason, exchanging presents beneath the tree and eating slices of her gran's infamous apple pie. Hadley left two days before Christmas Eve, wanting to return to her friends for the holidays. Sookie stayed true to her word. She hadn't spoken of Eric at all, not one mention of him during Hadley's stay. It seemed that his warning was an overreaction; the visit was uneventful, pleasant actually. Sookie hadn't seen much of Eric during that time, but that was only because she was so preoccupied with Hadley.

Sookie was happy. She felt normal. She had a family who loved her and a joyful Christmas. And, most importantly, she had Eric.

After a church service followed by a leisurely reception, the three Stackhouses returned to their home for a well-deserved nap. But Sookie couldn't sleep. She tossed and turned in her bed, hearing the rumbling of Jason's snores from the living room below. The cicadas sang loudly outside. It was like she could hear every piece of nature beyond her window. Even silent things created noise, even the sun hitting the long stalks of grass turned grating to her ears.

Sookie sighed, abandoning herself to the notion of sleep. Instead, in the heat of high afternoon, she drove. Aimlessly at first, then with direction. She had the keys to Eric's home in Shreveport attached to her chain, though she'd never once used them. She'd never taken the initiative to seek him out save to visit him at Fangtasia when she craved his touch, his presence. She felt selfish, suddenly, on what was meant to be the most selfless day of the year. Sookie checked the glove box of her car, finding the small present wrapped inside. She'd intended to wait for Eric to come to her after sunset, perhaps spend some time together in her room, whispering as not to wake Gran, surprising him with the gift while pressed together in bed. She'd taken it with her on the drive on impulse, though now she knew that it was her subconscious self planning for what her conscious self had yet to decide.

She drove into Shreveport near dinner time, exiting the long, straight highway to the winding suburban neighborhoods, the houses like fingerprints, so similar yet unique in their hidden details. From the outside, Eric's home was just as nondescript as the rest. It lay back from the road, a corner lot with an expansive, but conservatively trimmed lawn, immaculately kept by the human day staff. There was an aura of privacy, a sense that one should not come to knock. Sookie didn't know if that feeling was universal or if it was just because she knew who lay inside. She parked in the driveway, her beat-up commuter standing out like a sore thumb among the spotlessly manicured setting. Around her, Christmas lights flickered on, timers set to dusk.

Grabbing her gift, she walked up to the heavy wooden door, the key sliding easily into the lock. The house was drastically different on the inside than on the out, an American contemporary transformed into European minimalism. Clean lines, hardwoods, surfaces awash in the dying light of the sunset. Reaching out, Sookie felt Eric's void somewhere beneath her, the solid presence of deep slumber. It was comforting, feeling him so close, his blank mind wrapping around her own like a mute pressing down, the easy smother of a weighted blanket. She wandered around a bit before settling herself down on one of the couches in his living space, the cushions surprisingly soft beneath her. The house was cold, temperature regulation not exactly a priority for the undead. Thankfully, there was a heavy knit blanket draped across the back of the couch. Sookie snuggled up inside it and, before she knew it, she found sleep.

She felt him before she saw him, the cold insistence of his lips against her temple, her cheek, her eyebrow. She burrowed deeper into the blanket, a shiver as his breath ghosted over her exposed neck.

"Merry Christmas," he murmured, listening to her sleepy reply of the same. He left her then and she heard the rumble of a heating system starting up, the hum of hot air through vents. She watched as he picked up a remote control, turning on the fire with a switch. He still wore sleep clothes, his hair mussed up, faint golden stubble on his chin and cheeks. The cotton of his shirt looked soft, his boxers rumpled, his feet bare. He looked boyish, he looked warm.

"Come here," she beckoned, arms out to him. He joined her on the couch, wrapping her up in his long arms, careful to stay outside the blanket until the house warmed up further. She tucked her head under his chin, her forehead resting against his neck. It would be easy to fall back to sleep, as easy as breathing, encompassed as she was, safe as she felt. A home inside a home.

"How was your Christmas?" he asked, his nose brushing her hair. "I smell cinnamon and something tart."

"Gran made her apple pie," she replied, smiling a small smile. "It was delicious."

"Hmm," he mumbled, "I've never had apple pie."

"Not once?" she asked, moving back to look at his face. Apple pie was one of life's greatest gifts. The stickiness of the apple, the crunch and the soft, the crumbling, buttery pastry, the airy lightness of the whipped cream.

"Not once," he answered. She frowned.

"That's so sad."

"What I taste is just as delicious," he grinned crookedly, a flash in his eye as he looked to her neck. She stuck her tongue out, pushing off his chest to sit up more fully. The living room was already warmer, her cheeks flushed in response. She reached below them to the floor, bringing up the wrapped gift.

"For you," she said, handing it to him. He eyed it warily, like he was worried the ribbon might bite.

"You here with me is gift enough," he said earnestly, a surprisingly stoic admission. Its heaviness and importance made her feel nervous, like he was speaking yet again of a past she had no hope of remembering.

"So sweet tonight," she replied playfully, lightening the mood. She was rewarded with the rolling of his eyes, a cold hand overlapping her own as he took the present. It looked so small within his palm, so shoddy and haphazard and human.

"I suppose I'm feeling the holiday spirit," he said sarcastically, turning the box over carefully, his touch tentative as if afraid to break it.

"Go on," she pushed. He pulled the ribbon off and tore the cheap paper, a jewelry box inside. He flipped it open with a click, revealing her wedding ring. He looked at it closely, his brow pursed in concentration. "I had it engraved," she explained hastily, suddenly nervous about his reaction. "I don't know the date we originally got married but, uh, the jeweler said we could get that part added in. He left a space for it, I mean. I think he thought we hadn't gotten married yet. Who doesn't know their own wedding date, right?"

She was rambling now, attempting to fill the silence between them. Eric didn't seem to notice. He stroked the metal with his finger, the inside of the loop carved with their initials, followed by the letters MK.

"MK?" he finally asked, interrupting her explanation.

"Min kärlek," she whispered, stumbling over the pronunciation even though she'd practiced endlessly for this moment. He looked up at her then, his eyes burning with emotion held beneath tempered glass, a lock held fast to staunch what lay behind it.

"Det är perfekt," he replied, then translated for her benefit, "It's perfect. Thank you." He grabbed her bare hand, sliding the ring slowly onto her fourth finger, the fit as effortless as it had always been, the bone shaped to the metal, the metal encompassing bone. He leaned forward and kissed her softly, both hands cradling her face, his touch light as feathers, a whisper, a taste. He tilted his head to the side, examining her so closely she worried of her own imperfections, felt self-conscious toward what he might discover. She ducked her head nervously and he raised it without hesitation, two fingers under her chin.

"Do not hide from me," he whispered, touching his lips to hers once more. At first cautious, then insistent, his advance slow and steady, a curved, towering presence around her, lowering her down until she felt her back rest against the couch, until he hovered above her, his face only inches from her own, his hair dangling down to brush against her forehead. He kissed her slowly, repeated gestures, languid actions. His lips pressed to hers, his tongue only a flicker, a tease, a taste. An exhale as he leaned back, gazing at her face, his fingertips brushing her flushed skin, wrapping in her long blonde hair.

She sighed, feeling softness all around her, the weave of the blanket, the coaxing brush of his shirt against her chest. She wanted to feel all of him, was no longer satisfied with his gentle caresses, no longer cared to linger in their deliberate pace. Gripping the bottom of his shirt, she pulled upward, ripping it over his head quickly. He chuckled, his hair mussed and staticky, his blue eyes darkening in response to her aggression.

"What do you want for Christmas, Sookie?" he asked, his smile curving into a wicked grin, teasing her with his tongue, pressing himself against her fully until she was unable to move from the couch even if she tried.

"You," she whispered, throat hoarse, more need in her voice than she anticipated. It felt like it was leaking out of her, dripping from her orifices, transforming her actions into something feral. Her hand gripped his shoulder, the other tugging on his necklace, pulling her to him, his wedding ring crushed so hard in her hand that it left an imprint in the skin. He moaned, pulling off her shirt, kissing his way down her exposed skin, his teeth nipping at the waistband of her jeans. She could see his arousal through his boxers, ready and waiting as his chest heaved, unzipping her pants and sliding them down her legs, pulling them hastily off her socked feet, the sticking causing them both to chuckle in exasperation.

There was no sound other than their heavy breathing, no sight other than his face before her, gazing up from the vantage point at her belly button, his cheek resting on the soft skin there. Again, he was trying to slow them down, again, she tugged harder, forcing him to speed up, bucking against him, proving her need and begging him to reciprocate. His fangs dropped, the tickling scrape as he dragged them down the inside of her leg drove her insane, so much so that she propped herself up on her elbows, glaring at him in frustration.

"Eric," she whined, tugging on his hair. She heard a grumble in his chest, a warning growl. Patience, it said. But she was tired of patience. She wiggled herself out from beneath him, his eyes wide with surprise at her actions. For a moment, they just looked at each other. A battle of wits, a singular raised eyebrow. Then, she tackled him to the floor, throwing herself at him with all of her strength. He caught her, of course. Cool hands around her waist as she straddled him, tugging at his boxers until his arousal slipped free, until she could hear his sudden intake of breath as she sunk down upon him, the feeling of completion causing her spine to ripple in pleasure.

"Your pace," he managed, one hand propping them up behind his back, the other locked on to her waist, the curve at the top of her hip. She felt small atop him, grasping his shoulders for leverage, tugging his hair though he could not feel the pain. She wanted him to feel something of her, wanted to own his pleasure as he owned hers, and, on the other side of the coin, wanted to own his pain. She had an urge to sink her teeth into his neck as he did her, to let the blood flow from him and drink him up, to curl inside him and live fully. Instead, she buried her face in his neck and let her teeth hover, lifting and dropping atop him as best she could, feeling his thrusts meet her own when her muscles began to grow tired.

He flipped her, her back suddenly on the solid wooden floor, her shoulder blades knocking together. He held her hands above her head in one of his own, lifting her leg with the impatient actions of building climax. The sensation of a peak, the last few feet before the mountaintop, the angry, almost desperate need to climb those last steps. He made no noise when he came. It seemed to die in his throat, a choked out gasp stolen before it could escape. She shuddered, her chin jutting upward, eyes clenched closed, forehead sweaty and cheeks red. She could feel the heat all around her, it grew from inside her core, blossoming from their weak bond, singing through the connection. She held his face between her palms, kissing his closed eyes then his lips. He wrapped his large arm around her belly, tugging her into his chest, a small contented sound escaping his lips.

She was so warm, every part of her, from the top of her head to the tips of her toes. Neither of them realized that outside it had begun to snow.

x

They drove back to Sookie's house in her car, despite Eric's protestations. Even though Eric hardly fit without contorting himself, even though he hated the car with a passion, he still insisted on driving. Sookie simply shrugged, climbing into the passenger's seat, the top of her head sprinkled with little flecks of white fluff. Snow was rare for Northern Louisiana, and though there was no accumulation it was still quite magical to see the stuff fall from the sky then melt to water as soon as it touched the ground. Sookie rested her forehead against the window, letting the cool glass lower her body temperature.

Eric had pushed her until she couldn't go on, until she was just a pile of limbs curled up on the rug in his living room. He'd offered to carry her to the car; it was only a few hours until dawn and Sookie had long shifts at Merlotte's coming up, the space between Christmas and New Years always particularly busy for the little restaurant, what with all of the students off from school and many of the adults on break from work. She'd shuffled slowly to the car beneath his arm, letting him go only so that he could cross to the driver's side. Even seated, she kept herself wrapped around him, feeling the flex of his bicep as he shifted gears, the smooth move of his muscles as the car wove around each bend of the road.

Soon enough, they were on the dirt two-track that cut through the long grass toward Sookie's house. She held onto him tighter, not out of reason but out of impulse. There was something tickling at the edge of her subconscious, something that wasn't quite right. Sure enough, the closer they got to the house the more was revealed to them. Two black Jeeps, parked on the lawn haphazardly, their lights still on. Jason's truck was gone. Eric stiffened, his nostrils flaring. He cranked the handle on the window, dropping it just a hair. Sookie watched as he sniffed the outside air, tensing further. They pulled to a stop, Sookie squinting out her window into the darkness.

"Stay in the car," Eric murmured, extricating himself from her arms. She tried to grasp onto his clothing, a desperate act. She failed.

"Whose cars are these?" She leaned over the console toward him as he slid out of the car.

"Stay," he reiterated, closing the door with a snap.

Sookie watched through the fogged glass as Eric stepped slowly out into the clearing, his head on a swivel, his arms outstretched to either side as if inviting danger, as if taunting it. In a flash, another vampire stood before him, blocked by Eric's body. She couldn't tell who it was, couldn't hear what they were talking about. She pushed as close to the glass as she could, using her fingers to wipe away the condensation. The vampire lunged toward Eric and Sookie jumped, reaching for the door handle. But Eric just stepped to the side, a cocky smile on his face. That was when Sookie could see the other vampire. And once she could see him, she recognized him immediately. Bill Compton.

Her hand tugged and the car door opened. She stepped out into the cold night, the anger fuming inside of her. Each exhale looked like a puff of smoke disappearing into the air, faster and faster and faster.

"Bill, what the hell?" Sookie yelled. Both vampires turned toward her. Bill, she realized, was smiling. Eric was no longer.

"Sookie, get in the house!" Eric roared, his hands curved into claws.

"Bill, why are you even here? Aren't you over all this by now? Vampires can go anywhere so why don't you just leave me alone?" She stalked toward him, driven solely by her fury, ignoring Eric's righteous demand. Bill was no match for Eric, they both knew that. She owed him a piece of her mind, anyway. For tricking her, for threatening her. He deserved an earful.

"Sookie, a pleasure to see you again," Bill said in his Southern drawl. He sniffed the air. "It smells like you had a good night."

"Pervert," she snapped.

"Get in the house," Eric growled, quieter this time. Sookie knew why. No other vampires besides Eric had access to the property. She would be safe inside, Bill couldn't enter. But she didn't want to sequester herself away from Bill, she wanted to scream at him. She even wanted to use profanity. She felt her hands warm up, the frightening feeling she'd always tampered down, an uncontrollable power that grew and grew.

Bill glanced toward her hands, how they glowed.

"It's true," he whispered, eyes filled with mirth. "I knew it."

Eric stood between the vampire and Sookie, blocking her with his body.

"Leave. I will not ask you again," he ordered, hissing. Bill's fangs weren't even out. It was like he was having a casual, sauntering stroll under the moonlight.

"I would be careful with your words today, Sheriff," Bill taunted.

"Yes, you never know who might come lurking from the woods," a woman's voice added, dangerously close to Sookie's neck. Sookie flinched and made to run for the house, but she wasn't fast enough. Cold arms enclosed her from behind, pulled her back into an equally cold chest. "Remember me?" the voice asked, red hair draped over Sookie's shoulder. And Sookie did, she did remember her. It was Sophie-Anne.

Eric flipped and hissed, dropping into a crouch. He was older than both vampires, of that Sookie was certain. But could he take on both at once?

"Oh, come now. Is that any way to greet your Queen?" Sophie-Anne asked playfully. Sookie could practically hear the smile on her lips.

"She is mine," Eric said, his voice dangerously low, his eyes dark and glinting under the light of the stars.

"You can't own a fairy, Eric. Come on. She's fair play," Sophie-Anne said, her grip tightening further.

Eric did not respond. She felt a nudge on their bond, a rush of calm concentration. It made her want to close her eyes and drift off to sleep. Against her will, she felt her eyelids drop, a deep breath locked in her lungs. It must've been exactly what Eric wanted, for in an instant the arms were no longer around her. She was in the air, then on the ground, crumpled up, a byproduct of an assault. She opened her eyes, laying on her back, staring up at the stars. There were so many. There were thousands of them. It was overwhelming. How was there room for them all? She heard the sounds of fighting, sought to orient herself, sucked the air back into her lungs that'd been forced out on impact.

Pushing herself up, she saw both vampires attacking Eric, their speed rendering in blurs of movement. They were paying her no mind, off to the side in the brush as she was. She'd been thrown closer to the house, was only fifty feet or so from the porch. If she could just get inside…

Sookie began her slow crawl, glancing over her shoulder every few seconds to the fight taking place behind. She couldn't be absolutely certain, but from what she could see it did seem as though Eric was winning. His speed and strength was unmatched in comparison to the other two, and at each pause in movement both Bill and Sophie-Anne looked worse for wear than the prior. Sookie's hands and knees squelched in the mud, snow still falling atop her and melting on impact. She was so close now, only inches from the wooden steps. She heard a keening sound, a deadly injury. Fearful for Eric, she froze, looking back. Eric had Bill by the throat, Sophie-Anne beneath a silver-soled shoe. It was Sophie-Anne who was screaming, the flesh of her arm melting, melting.

Sookie sighed in relief, her hands reaching the steps of the porch. Only a few more feet and she would be inside.

"Not so fast," murmured a voice above her. It was a strange accent, deeply Southern but with a hint of something foreign, something regal. British aristocracy, a message from the Queen herself. She looked up to see a brown-haired vampire. He wasn't dressed for the weather, but he was dressed fashionably. His jacket and jeans fit him well, his shoes gleamed despite their presence in the mud. "Eric," he said, glancing toward the other three vampires. "Release Sophie-Anne, would you? That screech is so grating."

"Russell," Eric acknowledged. He did not release her.

"Do what I say or she dies right here," the vampire, Russell, responded, gesturing to Sookie. His calm was eerie, disconcerting. Sookie was frozen in her spot beneath him. Could she dart inside? He would catch her, surely.

"You wouldn't waste a fairy," Eric said confidently, though Sookie heard the small tremor in his voice.

"Now that is where you're wrong," Russell smiled. "You of all people know the lengths I will go to for a day in the sun."

Eric tensed, removed his foot from Sophie-Anne's skin and dropped his hand from Bill's neck. Sophie-Anne jumped to a standing position, hissing at Eric aggressively. They cornered him, though not tightly. They simply created a barrier between him and Sookie. Russell reached a hand down to Sookie, a polite offer to pull her up. Sookie grimaced, taking his cold hand in her own. Russell used the opportunity to lean in toward her, wrapping his arms around her like a vice, holding her still, making sure she didn't flee. She could hear the slow inhale through his nose.

"I recognize your scent," Russell said, sounding surprised. "From a skirmish, I believe?" he smiled, looking toward Eric. "I did wonder at the time how a fairy would've gotten away from The Northman. I never considered it wasn't a skirmish at all. My mistake. Now I understand Godric's betrayal. It was only a matter of time." He laughed then, using his hand to brush Sookie's blonde hair over her shoulder.

"Why are you here?" Eric raged, pushing against Bill's chest, forcing him back. "Why are you all here?"

"It's simple, Eric," Russell explained patiently, "Bill here procured a fairy for his Queen, and his Queen sold that fairy to me. For a hefty sum, if I might add. I imagine it will pay off a fair few of her debts. Am I right, Sophie-Anne?"

Eric did not let Sophie-Anne respond to the menial question.

"Sookie is not Sophie-Anne's to sell. She is mine," Eric repeated his earlier statement. "We are bonded."

"Hardly," Russell replied, waving his hand. "An incomplete bond, you're barely inside her. I give it a few weeks at best."

"You can't just sell me. I'm a human being!" Sookie thrashed against her captor, trying to get away. It was futile. She could tell this vampire was strong, stronger even than Eric. He must be incredibly ancient. Sookie shook, her eyes seeking out Eric's. His face was cold as stone; it gave nothing away.

"No, my dear. You are far more than that," Russell crooned to Sookie, his voice wistful and sweet.

Then, Eric did something Sookie never thought he could or would ever do. He begged.

"Please," Eric said, his eyes downcast deferentially. "You have already taken my Maker."

Russell blanched.

"Your Maker betrayed our kind, or do you not remember that? The fairies took your Maker. Her grandfather took your Maker."

"Please," he said again, ignoring Russell's tirade. "What do you want? I'll give you whatever you want."

Russell laughed, but it wasn't joyful. It was resigned.

"I want the same thing I've wanted for thousands of years, Eric. And I finally have it, right here before me," Russell sighed, as if lecturing to a petulant child who refused to understand the basics. "I want the day."

And with that, Russell's arms tightened around Sookie and they were gone, shooting straight up, flying into the night sky.

Scandinavia, 1005

Sookie's head rested against his chest, her warm breathing washing over his bare skin. She slept soundly, even atop his body, so unyielding and hard as it was. It was a marvel to him every time, her comfort and her ease, her compassion, her gentle touch. He wanted to wake her. Godric had gone off in pursuit of something or another and the stars were incredibly bright. He wanted to share them. He could hear the coo of an owl, the distant wail of a newborn's cry, the shuffle of a horse as it whinnied in its stall. They'd taken refuge in a stable, curled up in the hay, so similar to where she'd once saved him, a second chance to live again.

He eased his fingers into her hair, running through the lengths, coaxing her slowly into wakefulness, hearing her heart speed up from its steady thump, her breaths coming quicker, a snuffle as her curled fist met her chin. Her lean body stretched against him, arms reach up and around his head, her eyes opening with a squint.

"When did I fall asleep?" she murmured, her voice low with sleep.

"Not long ago."

"You let me waste the night," she grumbled, the linen of her dress scratching his tunic.

"You needed rest."

She sighed, leaning her head on his shoulder. There was a gap in the thatched roofing of the stable, a hole just big enough to see a smattering of stars. They crowded in on each other, interlocking and overlapping, casting a pool of light onto them both. Sookie shuffled and the hay crunched beneath her, moving as if she were going to stand and leave. Eric responded automatically, locking his arms around her, pulling her into his chest, feeling her softness all around him.

"Eric," she whispered, using the Old Norse pronunciation. He grunted, wedging his nose into her hair, smelling her unique scent, acknowledging how it taunted him, how it called to him. "I want to do the third exchange."

Eric stilled, his eyes widening. The permanent bond. She wanted the permanent bond. He flipped her, resting her back carefully on the hay, searching her expression as if his life depended on it. In a way, it did. This was the only thing he wanted for his immortality, so much so that he was fearful to ask for it. It needed to come from her, and now it had. And on such an inconsequential night. It amazed him.

"You are sure?" he asked, trying to read her eyes. The fathomless sea of blue.

"I am sure, yes," she whispered, craning her neck to kiss him.

"Right here?" he asked around her lips.

"Yes."

"And you're not–"

"Eric," she interrupted, pulling back to stare at him sternly. "Bite your hand."

Eric did as she said, dropping his fangs and sinking them into the flesh of his palm. Sookie looked at the wound, her tongue reaching out to wet her lower lip. She craned her head to the side, her hair the same color as the hay, an interwoven plait of humanity and earth, the symphony only she could perform. He pressed his thumb to her artery, stroking the entry point, feeling the throb of her pulse against her skin. He waited to feel her lips touch his palm before he bit, the searing pleasure rolling through him at the combination of both consumption and the act of being consumed. He had to force himself to extract his fangs, had to force her away from his own blood. She was panting, her lips and teeth red, her eyes on fire.

The bond between them solidified. He felt it, its concrete nature, the way it congealed and stuck.

If he were human, he would have gasped.

If he were human, he would have trembled.

If he were human, he would have wept.

Instead, Sookie did it for him, saltwater dripping down her cheeks, lapped up by Eric's tongue before it could hit the hay beneath her. She pressed her hand to his chest, that connected part within him, soothing the ache he hadn't known was there until she touched it.

"Forever," he whispered in amazement, in promise.

She nodded, swallowed, smiled.

"Forever."

x

we're closing in on the end here, folks. stay healthy, stay safe. x