A/N: Merry Christmas! We won't always be able to post chapters this fast, but rest assured, we know how much waiting sucks. Hopefully this will make waiting for True Blood premiere tonight suck a little less! Thanks to everyone who reviewed last chapter; we were pleasantly surprised by the reaction to Bill's POV! Hopefully you enjoy this chapter as well. We had a blast putting it together.

It's a Wonderful Life

"This is a lot more work than I thought," I muttered as I finished glazing the ham and slid it into the oven. Even though I'd been working for days on my first holiday dinner without Gran, I was feeling short of time and a bit overwhelmed by all the details. Gran had always made the preparations for our big Christmas Eve dinner seem so effortless that until today, I'd not fully realized just how much work went into it. Maybe it was just all the little traditions we'd had that made me miss her so much, but I had some time before Jason was due to arrive and I wanted to go out and visit her.

I bundled up in my old, worn winter coat and walked to the cemetery. As close as her grave was, I felt guilty about not visiting more often. Part of me knew the real reason I hadn't come to talk to her was because I had no way of explaining what had been going on in my life recently. Though she'd been tolerant and open-minded about vampires, I didn't know what she'd think of all that had happened to me since her untimely death. I'd always striven to make her proud, and her guidance had made me the woman I was today. There was no way I'd have survived adolescence without her love and unconditional support, especially given that I had an all access pass to the minds of my fellow teenagers. I told her that and many other things; wished her Merry Christmas and said a heartfelt prayer for her, then made my way home.

Jason arrived soon after, bursting in the front door (and leaving it open) just as I put the last tray of sugar cookies into the oven to bake.

"Hey Sook," he greeted me with a hug. "Smells great in here. Just like old times, ain't it?"

"Almost," I said. "I miss Gran something awful though." Jason was the last family I had left, and I clung to him for just a moment, trying not to cry.

"Yep," he said, holding me tighter. "It's jus' you an' me now. We gotta take care a each other, like you said in Dallas." Jason got a little choked up too, and we just held each other for a moment.

When I pulled away, Jason tipped my chin up with one finger and gave me a serious look. "I know it ain't never gonna be exactly the same, but I brought something that might help." A silly grin broke through. Jason could never stay serious for too long.

"Oh yeah? What's that?" My voice quavered a little. Jason went back to the front door and started dragging something large and heavy inside. A tree. He'd brought me a Christmas tree.

"Stop!" I shouted. "Don't drag that in here. Not after I've been cleaning all week!"

"Huh?" Jason seemed confused and a little hurt. "I thought you'd like it. I cut it special from my lot, just like Daddy used to do for Momma."

Our parents had bought the property that was now Jason's from a man who'd had dreams of starting a Christmas tree farm. He and his wife had planted a couple of acres of Virginia pine and enjoyed watching their dream grow until the wife died of a fast-moving liver cancer. The man had lost interest after that and sold the property to our parents for a song. While they never took the tree lot commercial, our whole family—Momma and Daddy, Grandaddy and Gran, and our Aunt Linda—had always had homegrown Christmas trees after that. It warmed my heart to realize that we could still share this family tradition even though Jason and I were the only ones left to remember it.

"Oh Jason, I love it! But bring it around back and we'll shake it out on the back porch, okay? I want things to look nice for tonight." The fresh-cut trees were always full of windblown grass, bits of loose bark, the dead leaves of other trees, and other forest flotsam, which I didn't want littering my newly vacuumed living room.

Jason grumbled a blue streak, but picked up the tree and lugged it around back. Out on the screen porch, we beat and shook the branches, picked out the dead leaves and grass, and shaped it in a few places until the tree was just right. When it was all done and the resulting mess had been cleared away, we high-fived each other. I started to say, "Gran would call this..."

"...picture perfect," Jason and I finished together. "Yep, she'd a loved this one. Let's go set it up." On the way, I stopped to take the last cookies out of the oven. Jason scorched his fingers stealing one, then went upstairs to drag down the boxes of decorations. I'd felt so alone this season that I hadn't wanted to decorate for Christmas, but now that Jason was here and a wonderful piney fragrance was starting to fill the house, it felt like just the right thing to do.

Getting the tree into its holder and standing up straight took some work, but finally we had it set in its traditional spot next to the fireplace. We were happy to find that the strings of lights all still worked, and while Jason strung them around the branches, I sorted through generations of Stackhouse Christmas ornaments. There was a collection of Jason's and my handiwork, including pinecones with gold spray paint and glittered edges, Santa faces pieced out of felt with cotton ball beards and wiggly eyes, and candy canes made of twisted pipe cleaner. Then I came to the older ornaments, crocheted angels made by Gran and lead toy soldiers that had been her grandfather's, now fitted with wire to hang on the tree. Even though they were bent in places and the paint was chipped, they had always been Jason's favorite.

"Look at this, Sookie." Jason unwrapped a festive ball of artificial mistletoe. "Remember how momma always used to hang this in a different place every year, and then try and catch daddy under it so she could kiss him?"

"Yeah. And I remember how you kissed Hadley under it once and she socked you for it."

"Hey," he laughed. "I was six years old! And she was five. It don't count. Where should we put it this year?"

"Back in the box," I said sadly. I didn't need any reminders that the man I used to kiss was no longer part of my life.

"Aw, Sook," Jason hugged me. "What happened with you and Bill, anyway?"

"I don't want to talk about it," I said, wiping a tear away. "Not today. Just put that away. Or take it home. I don't care."

"Ho ho ho, hookah," Lafayette's voice came booming through the kitchen as he and Tara arrived at the back door. "Merry Christmas Sookie!" Tara called. I ran to greet them, glad to get away from my sadness. Next to Jason, Tara and Lafayette were the nearest thing I had to family.

"Merry Christmas—oh, let me help with those." They were laden with bags and bundles—no wonder Lafayette had made the Santa sound.

We'd been planning this dinner all week. It wouldn't be a full-on traditional Southern meal like Gran would have made, but we aimed to give it a good shot. Lafayette had brought his famous oyster stew, candied yams, and several kinds of relish and pickles. Tara had brought a yummy green bean casserole and homemade macaroni and cheese, along with all the fixings for mulled wine. Jason contributed beer, fresh corn, collard greens and of course, the tree. And I'd made a baked ham with brown sugar glaze, mashed potatoes and gravy, stewed cranberries, ambrosia and Gran's special pecan pie. Just before dinner, I planned to mix up a batch of biscuits to serve with spiced apple butter.

I was sorry that we couldn't include a turkey plus a few more side dishes and desserts for the proper variety. (It's just not a true Southern Christmas dinner unless you need an extra table for the food.) But there's a limit to what six people can eat, even if one of them is Jason.

Tomorrow after church, he and I planned to package up most of the leftovers and take them to First United Methodist in Monroe, where we'd spend part of the day helping the Monroe Kiwanis prepare meals for the shut-ins and the elderly of two parishes. But right now, I helped Tara and Lafayette unload their bounty, placing their covered dishes in the oven with the ham to stay warm.

"Jason!" Tara was delighted to see my big brother, and rushed into his open arms for a hug.

"There's my girl. You're lookin' good, Tara," he said, lifting her off her feet and making her laugh out loud.

"Hey man," Jason greeted Lafayette, "Good to see ya." They bumped fists. "Who wants a beer?" Laf took one, then went out back with Jason for some firewood. Tara said, "I'll wait for the mulled wine. Speaking of..."

She started unpacking wine, oranges and spices from one of the bags she'd brought. I got out the big pot we planned to use and began helping her open the bottles of red wine and slice oranges for the spicy brew. Within a few minutes, it was on the stove and warming up. Mulled wine isn't much of a southern tradition, but I loved the way it made the house smell and planned on having a couple of glasses, even though I wasn't a big drinker.

"Where do you want these?" Tara asked, holding up another bag containing a few gaily wrapped packages. We planned to exchange modest gifts this year (nothing over $20), so of course they'd come prepared.

"How about under the tree?" We headed for the living room, where the guys had started a cozy fire and were now watching a football game and debating which teams had the best chance of making it into the playoffs.

"I thought you weren't going to have a tree this year," Tara said. "What made you change your mind?'

"Jason cut one for me. In fact, we were just decorating it when you got here. Help me finish it off."

Tara looked in the box for more ornaments. "Ooooh, you still have these?" She was pulling out some colorful irregular ovals we'd made out of salt dough as kids. Gran had had us make little picture frames, and when they were baked and painted, she'd pasted photos of me, Jason, Tara and herself inside, then sprayed them with lacquer so they'd last. "I remember when we made these. It was so nice of your Gran to include me. I loved that woman."

"She loved you too, Tara." We hugged each other, remembering all the good times and happy moments Gran had made for the two of us.

There actually wasn't much left to do on the tree. There were several garlands of dried cranberries and popcorn that had survived fairly well, so we added those. And of course a beautiful gold star for the top.

The boys took the boxes back to the attic during a commercial, and Tara and I cleared up the litter of dust, tissue paper and old pine needles that remained. Then we put our small selection of gifts under the tree and stood back to admire the results.

Right about then, Claudine arrived with her twin brother, Claude. I was really glad to see them—last time we'd talked, Claudine hadn't been sure they could make it. Their being here was a welcome surprise.

Both accepted an offer of mulled wine, so Tara and I went to the kitchen to pour mugs for the four of us.

Claudine had taken a seat on one end of the couch and accepted the hot mug gratefully as Lafayette and Jason came back downstairs. Jason's eyes lit up when he saw her, and Lafayette brightened at the sight of Claude's Chippendale hunkiness. Maybe he was rethinking his decision that Claude was too much trouble. Claude, on the other hand, was looking at Jason like he was a cold drink on a long, hot day.

Predictably, Jason ensconced himself next to Claudine and began flirting immediately. Claude wasted no time in sitting down by Jason's other side.

"Hey pretty lady, where'd you come from? I ain't seen you in Merlotte's." Jason laid his most charming smile on her.

"Oh I've been there," Claudine said mysteriously, smoothing her hair and sitting up straighter. "It's absolutely charming." Was she actually preening a bit? Then again, it probably was just a response to the attention; she hadn't minded when the men at Merlotte's checked her out.

"What an interesting watch—did you get that on eBay?" Claude picked up Jason's hand in his and was caressing the heavy watch with his other hand.

"Huh?" Jason gave him a distracted glance. "No, man. Wal-Mart."

"Lovely." Claude's tone left his meaning open to interpretation; Jason seemed oblivious to the possibilities in Claude's inflection.

"So, uh, do you go there often?" Jason was back to working on Claudine, placing his arm behind her on the back of the couch. Tara just shook her head as she caught my eye. We'd seen Jason play this game many times. Something told me with these two, he might be out of his league.

"No, not really," Claudine was saying. "Do you? You look like you work hard. Probably need to cool off a lot." She batted her eyes a little. Oh my gosh, Claudine was definitely flirting back.

"Yeah, pretty often," Jason replied, edging a little closer to her.

"Oh, look," Claude piped up. "You've got some pine needles stuck in your slacks." He reached across to Jason's right thigh, carefully extracted three or four of the long needles, then sensuously smoothed the fabric back into place. Claudine gave him the evil eye as he did so. Claude just winked.

"What? Oh. Thanks, man," Jason acknowledged absently, blissfully unaware of the twins' little competition for his attention.

I could see that Lafayette, who was watching all this from the other sofa, was having trouble suppressing a cackle. He caught Claude's eye with a smirk and murmured, "That boy may be sex on a stick, but he don't bend our way. Ev'body knows that. 'Roun' here, anyway." Claude smiled as if he knew a secret.

"So, Jason," he persisted. "Have you ever thought about dancing? I'll bet you have the perfect body for it." Claude's arm was now resting behind Jason on the couch.

"Naw," Jason replied. "I don't dance."

"Oh yes you do," Tara argued. "I saw you dancing for Lafayette's website."

My eyebrows went up to the attic at that. Neither Jason nor Lafayette had mentioned it, and it was so out of character that there had to've been something fishy about it. I took a quick peek in their heads and got a visual of my brother prancing about in his underwear to a pulsing beat—in front of a camera! Okay, I so didn't need to see that.

"That was you?" Claude asked, looking even more interested. This time, Lafayette did laugh. Jason turned pink and started stammering.

"You definitely have the body for it," Claude said admiringly. "My club is always looking for fresh, er, faces. You should come in and work a couple of ladies nights. Great tips. Lots of horny women. The ladies would just eat you up." Claude's eyes suggested he wouldn't mind a taste either.

"You're that Claude? From that strip club in Monroe?" Jason sounded impressed. "Wait just a minute—that's where you know my sister from?" He frowned and I could see storm clouds gathering. Jason fancied himself "the man of the family" and had a misplaced sense of duty to "protect my honor."

"Don't get your panties in a bunch, boyfriend," Lafayette drawled. "A few of us went there for girls night out to cheer Sookie up, is all."

"Besides," I added indignantly. "Where I go is none of your damn business, Jason Stackhouse."

"So, what do you say?" Claude brought the discussion back to the matter at hand, his fingers lightly brushing Jason's shoulder.

"Well, uh, I don't think I could do that," Jason said awkwardly. "People might see me."

We all laughed at that, since that was sort of the point of stripping. And Jason wasn't exactly known for his modesty.

"People I know, I mean. I don't think I'd like that," Jason amended hurriedly.

"Well," Tara put in, "You could always wear that Laura Bush mask again." Oh, god. That was an image I definitely never needed to see.

"Ah, no," said Claude in a firm voice. "And you'd have to get hotter skivvies—that white shit has got to go."

Okay, I really didn't need to hear this.

"I think I'll go start fixing dinner," I squeaked, and escaped to the kitchen.

"I'll help," Claudine offered, leaving Jason to her brother's mercies.

"So what's that game y'all are watching?" Tara asked, moving to take Claudine's place.

Claudine set the table with Gran's best china and silver, while I removed the ham and casseroles from the oven and got the biscuits started. All I had to left do was add the buttermilk and roll them out, so they were in the oven in no time. While they baked to fluffy perfection, I re-warmed the gravy and started dishing food into my best serving bowls. Dinner was on the table in about 20 minutes. Gran would've been proud.

Lafayette said Grace, and we dug in with a vengeance. The food was delicious, and we laughed and chattered and joked through the hearty meal, eating till we couldn't hold another bite.

By the time we'd cleared up and put away the leftovers, it was still only about 10pm, so I suggested that we all watch a Christmas movie. I didn't have any on DVD, but my old VCR still worked, so I found a box of VHS tapes from when Jason and I were kids. Everyone vetoed Charlie Brown and Rudolph the Red-nosed Reindeer, which left Miracle on 34th Street and It's a Wonderful Life.

"Man, Sookie, don't you have Elf? Will Ferrell's way better than some old black and white movie."

"These are classics, Jason. Besides, you're not the only one here."

"It's a Wonderful Life is my vote," Claudine said with a smile.

"I couldn't care less." Claude added.

"They're all white movies," Tara groused. "How come you don't have Trading Places or The Kid Who Loved Christmas?" Beyond that, she had no particular preference, so we all settled in to digest our rich meal and watch Clarence remind George Bailey that every life is worth living.

When we got to the point where the little girl said, "every time a bell rings, an angel gets their wings," Claude snorted. It was the first sound he'd made during the movie.

"If only it was that easy..." he said to Claudine. "You'll never make it. You can't even keep this one away from vampires," he added, nodding his head toward me. Claudine shot him a sharp look, and he rolled his eyes. The exchange confused me, but I didn't press for an explanation.

When the film ended, it was after midnight and time to say goodnight. Claudine left with her brother, who was still trying to inveigle Jason into a private audition. Tara and Lafayette left in a flurry of warm hugs and Christmas wishes. Jason and I walked to the back door arm-in-arm, shared a long hug and promised to meet in the morning for church.

Afterward, I went up to my room and put on my favorite flannel nightgown with the snowflakes on it, washed my face and brushed my teeth. Despite a few hiccups, tonight had been fun. I felt the lingering holiday spirit running through me and had a sudden nostalgic urge to curl up on the couch next to the glittering Christmas tree and enjoy the dying embers of the fire. Just as I had always done as a little girl, I fell asleep.

I'd been dozing for maybe half an hour when the doorbell rang. Yawning, I sat up and shoved my feet into some fuzzy warm slippers, then went to see who was there. Maybe Tara had forgotten her purse or something.

To my surprise, Eric was at the door, wearing a Santa hat and a sexy grin.

"Merry Christmas, Sookie," he said. I'd never in a billion years have thought that Eric Northman would celebrate Christmas. Or show up on my doorstep unless there was some sort of supernatural emergency.

"Eric, what are you doing here? And why are you wearing a Santa hat?"

"It's Christmas Eve."

"I know that."

"The hat was Pam's idea." He grabbed the pompom, which had a tiny bell attached, and gave it a little shake. "You like?"

"Tell Pam that Santa doesn't have fangs," I said, but couldn't help but laugh a bit at the thought of the nightmares generations of children might have at this sight. "Or drive a Corvette."

"But his sleigh is red," Eric pointed out. "So, did you save a little something for Santa to nibble on?" he asked, waggling his eyebrows.

"Well, there's cookies and milk," I teased, and then shivered. "Brrr, it's freezing out there. Come on in so I can close the door."

Back in the living room I huddled close to the embers, trying to get warm again. Eric dropped his jacket and hat on a chair and came to stand beside me. He looked much less like Santa and much more like the sexy vampire he was, in dark jeans and a tight aqua sweater that brought out the color of his eyes.

"So why are you here?" I asked again. "I already told Pam I can't work New Year's Eve, if that's what you want." I was really hoping there wasn't something more sinister brewing. I'd had my fill of vampire drama recently, and was enjoying being back in my normal routine, free of regular brushes with death.

His eyes twinkled like the lights on the Christmas tree as he smiled broadly. "There's a burning question you need to answer," he said playfully. I raised an eyebrow. "Santa wants to know if you've been naughty or nice this year."

I rolled my eyes, but couldn't hide my smile. That impish leer was just too damn sexy.

"I think Santa might be a Nosy Parker," I sassed back, giving him a pretend shove.

Until that moment, Eric had seemed relaxed. But when I touched him, he suddenly inhaled deeply and deliberately, his pupils getting huge and his eyes sort of glazing over. I immediately pulled my hand away.

"Mmm... Sookie..." he said, his voice husky and intense. "What have you been doing this evening? You smell … intoxicating." His fangs popped out and before I could react, he pulled me close and buried his face in my hair, growling softly and nuzzling my head in seven directions at once. I felt like a human catnip toy as my head bobbed around under his nose.

"Mmmmm," he murmured, "You feel soooo good..." His hands roamed all over my body, stroking and gently kneading my soft parts, his body undulating against mine as he emitted little sounds of pleasure.

"Eric!" I squeaked, trying to push him away. "Eric, stop! What are you doing?" But it was no use. He held me tighter and his eyes now fixed on my throat as he licked his lips. It looked like he might be getting out of control, and I knew from experience how dangerous an out of control vampire could be.

I screamed and without meaning to, I zapped him with that light from my hands. A hard landing several feet away seemed to snap him out of whatever trance he was in.

"What the hell, Eric!" I was mad. And scared. "If you're going to act like that, you can just leave!"

"No, Sookie, wait," he held both hands out in an appeasing gesture. "That was … unintentional. But your scent … it's not just you, it's … who has been here tonight? Your home smells … irresistible."

I drew in a deep breath, but all I got was the fragrance of cinnamon and pine, and the lingering aroma of mulled wine. Could that make a vampire crazy? And then it hit me. Claudine. And Claude. She'd told me her scent made it dangerous for her to be around vampires. I guess I found out why—it was dangerous as in "delicious."

"Oh fudge," I said. "Some friends came for dinner tonight. A couple of them are fairies. Maybe you should go?" I added regretfully. Though I hadn't been expecting him, I found myself glad he was here and didn't really want to send him away just yet.

"No," he said, sounding more composed. "I'll be alright now. Their scent isn't that strong—it just caught me by surprise, that's all. It'll be fine as long as I don't breathe." And I believed him. Even though he'd made no secret of his attraction to me, he'd never forced himself on me.

"Well..." He had stopped before doing any harm. That crazed look in his eye had faded, and he looked genuinely remorseful. "I didn't mean to zap you. If you're sure you can control yourself, you can stay. Some fresh air might help—would you bring in some firewood from out back?"

Eric returned with fresh logs before I'd really had time to process that he was here, and that he was staying. And that he'd apparently come for no other reason than to see me.

More for something to do than because I was actually hungry, I nibbled on a stray cookie. I was still shaking a bit from that bolt of light that had shot out of my body. Eric hadn't mentioned it, but I didn't think he'd let it go without a discussion.

Though I didn't understand exactly why it happened, there was a clear pattern developing. Whenever I felt threatened, the burst of energy would emerge. Luckily for Eric, I'd only been scared enough to want him off me, and this burst seemed to be milder than the others. Since I couldn't control it, I was glad it seemed to be at least proportional to the threat. What struck me as odd was that for some reason, the strongest blast yet had come when Waldo was attacking Eric.

Remembering my manners, I offered Eric the one bottle of Tru Blood I had left, in case he really did want something to, ah, eat. He declined and went about reviving the dying fire while I sat on the couch and admired the view. That vampire certainly knew how to wear a pair of jeans.

When he was satisfied with the arrangement of wood and the flickering flames, he grabbed some throw pillows from the couch and tossed them on the floor. Then he pulled the quilt off of me, sending a shower of cookie crumbs onto the floor.

"Eric, that's my blanket, and I want it back! I'm cold."

"You're cold because you're too far away from the fire. Come down here. You can't properly enjoy it from over there." He settled into the pillows and spread the old quilt my grandfather had made over his legs, though it wasn't quite long enough. I looked at him skeptically for a moment, but decided it did look comfortable.

I settled down on the pillows and he graciously shared his stolen blanket. "You never answered my question, Sookie. Naughty or nice?"

I turned to Eric, my arm bent at the elbow to cradle my head and rested my other hand on the rug in between us.

"What do you think?" I asked, maybe because I wasn't sure myself. Then again, maybe a vampire wasn't the best moral compass.

"Hmm," he said, as he turned to mirror my position. "Let's see." He slowly reached out one finger to trace mine. "Naughty," he said, stroking my pinky. Then he moved to my ring finger. "Nice." Running his finger down my middle one, he said, "naughty" in a mischievous tone. "Nice..." he added, moving to my index finger. "I think we know how this is going to end," he laughed.

"Wait right there. I've got a whole 'nother hand."

"Then nice it is." His hand covered mine. And though the way he'd grabbed me earlier had scared me, this simple gesture stirred up the feelings I'd been trying so hard to bury. "So, tell Santa, what is it that you want for Christmas?"

But that made me frown. Though I knew Eric was just teasing me, it hit a little too close to home. I'd made a deliberate effort to not think about anything I wanted this holiday. Not just because it was the season of giving, but because nothing I wanted was attainable. "Nothing you could actually give me."

"Oh, Sookie," he purred. "I could make all your dreams come true, if you'd let me." I almost snorted at his blatant innuendo. I had no doubt that Eric could fulfill all those dreams I'd had since taking his blood, but not my childhood Christmas wish.

"Not even you could make this happen."

"Tell me anyway."

"It's silly." I was actually kind of embarrassed to tell him.

"Even better."

"I've always wanted a white Christmas. You know, even just a light dusting of snow." I thought of all those Christmas movies I'd watched growing up as a kid, how fascinated I'd been by the thick white blanket that covered their world, and though I loved living in a climate where it was sunny and warm most of the year, I thought just once, it'd be nice to have a proper winter storm. "But it'll never happen here. I've never actually even seen snow, let alone on Christmas morning."

"Sometimes I forget how young and human you are." I didn't know exactly what to say to that so I just kinda shrugged my shoulders. I never forgot that Eric was a thousand-year-old vampire.

"You're right, Sookie. I can't make it snow. But I can tell you about it."

And he did. I turned away from him so I could watch the fire, and he laid his arm over me, drawing me against his body. His accent became more pronounced as he whispered to me about his first memory of waking up to a snow covered village; of tracking animals for trapping, following their footprints in the white powder; of walking through the dense Scandinavian forests, alone, white flakes falling around him, erasing the path he'd followed. And when he said that was the most at peace he'd ever felt, I felt more sadness for him than I did when I'd watched him grieve over Godric's decision to meet the sun.

It wasn't lost on me that all of his stories were from his human life, though he must have seen countless other snowy landscapes in other times and places over the centuries. I turned back toward him, still lying under his arm. We must have been lying there for over an hour, and he never once pushed for more. The contrast between the Eric who had practically mauled me when he'd first arrived and the one who curled up with me in front of the fire could not be starker. The two images of him were difficult to reconcile. I had to remind myself that someone as old as Eric would have more layers, more sides, than I could ever really know.

There were no lines on his face. Even around the corners of his mouth and his eyes, the skin was soft and smooth, so much so that I had to resist an urge to touch him. Only once in a great while did I catch a hint of his true age in the depths of his eyes. What must it feel like, to have so much time, so many memories, constantly weighing on you? I studied his face, looking for answers, as our heads lay inches apart on my old throw pillows.

"Do you think about that often?"

"About what?"

"Your homeland. Your human life." His expression turned serious as his eyebrows pushed together. His hand rubbed a circle on my lower back as he organized a response.

"Think of it? Rarely. Speak of it, even less. You seem to bring out the humanity in me, Sookie." The implication in that simple statement sort of knocked the breath out of me, and I shivered and let out a soft sigh. I drew the blanket up closer around me, pulling it mostly off Eric's legs, but he didn't seem to mind.

"Sometimes I don't feel as human as I used to," I said, before I thought better of it. But as much as I never could quite forget that Eric was a vampire, I was having trouble forgetting that there was something other about me, though I didn't know exactly what. My telepathy had always made me feel different, but I'd just told myself it was an unfortunate quirk. These bolts of energy were harder to ignore.

Eric took my hand in his again, twining his fingers in mine.

"You're very much human. Just something more, too." Eric said it like it was a good thing, but I was less convinced.

I yawned, loud and long. It was pretty late, and I did have to be up early for church and to volunteer. Resisting the urge to just curl up with my cheek against Eric's sweater, I pulled away from him. "I've got to go to bed before I fall asleep right here."

Eric stood up in one swift movement and offered me his hand again. "I should go. I've stayed longer than I intended." He picked up his jacket, revealing two small packages on the chair. "I only meant to drop these off. One's from Pam. The other is something that I've had for a while, but it can never really be mine. I thought you should have it."

"Thank you. I don't really know what to say." He just shrugged his shoulders and turned to the front door. I guess he didn't know what to say, either.

"Sookie, if you wanted a goodnight kiss, all you had to do was ask," he said, a sly grin creeping across his lips as he pointed to a sprig of fresh mistletoe that was perched over the door.

My indignation flared. Not only was I not angling for a kiss, I'd had to remind myself several times tonight of all the reasons why kissing Eric was a bad idea. He was hard enough to resist as it was. I definitely wasn't going out of my way to encourage awkward moments.

"I didn't even know that was there. You must have brought it yourself. Where would I even get real mistletoe?"

"I assure you, I did no such thing," he said solemnly. "The last place I would try to entice you into a kiss would be under mistletoe. There was a legend among my people that a kiss under mistletoe might bring the dead back to life."

"You're not dead." He had more joie de vivre than anyone I'd ever met.

"I am." He looked at me seriously, and as if to prove his point, brought my hand to rest above his heart and flattened my palm against his chest.

"Then I guess you'll just have to decide if it's worth the risk," I teased, but he didn't smile like I expected.

Instead, his gaze intensified. "So you do want a kiss, Sookie?"

Still holding our hands on his chest, he used his other arm to pull me close. All I would've had to do was tip my head up, and that would have been invitation enough for his mouth to meet mine.

"I didn't say that." I did want Eric to kiss me, but I wasn't putting my heart on the table when he wouldn't do the same. He stood as still as a statue, his eyes looking right through me. Finally, he blinked a few times and stepped back, hands dropping to his sides.

"I should go. Merry Christmas, Sookie Stackhouse. May all your dreams come true." And he was gone.

When I dreamed that night, it was of walking through a forest, holding Eric's hand as snow fell gently all around us.

The next morning, I woke with that Christmas morning excitement. I put on a pot of coffee and while it brewed, sat down to open my Christmas gifts. I started with Jason's—his was the one wrapped in comics from the Sunday paper, as he was too lazy and cheap to buy proper wrapping paper. He'd given me a new meat tenderizer, to replace the one he borrowed and never returned. Lafayette had given me a set of fancy new lip-glosses with a note that said "for that pornalicious pout." Tara had given me something that was worth a lot more than the $20 limit, at least to me. She'd packaged up her collection of the notes we'd passed to each other in junior high, complete with doodles and drawings and stories we'd made up, in a box she'd covered with an old stash of Lisa Frank stickers. I was looking forward to busting a gut later, as I read through all the silly memories.

When I got to the last two packages, wrapped in shiny red paper with white ribbons, I paused. Part of me was a bit scared as to what Pam could have possibly thought to give me as a gift, but curiosity won and I ripped open the paper. Inside, I found a small box containing ten letterpress business cards with my name embossed above the description "telepathic waitress". Pam. What a sense of humor. I didn't find it nearly as amusing as I'm sure she did, and I hoped whoever she'd had make them didn't get interested enough in her joke to look me up. There was another 12x12 flat package that could only be a calendar. I took a few seconds to wonder what sort of theme Pam would select for me, but anything from puppies posed with designer shoes to more macabre scenes of medieval torture devices seemed plausible, given what I knew about her personality. I was somewhat relieved to find a Fangtasia promotional calendar, with a beautifully handwritten post-it note on the outside that read "no judgment if you never move it past January". So of course I had to look. Mr. January was none other than Eric Northman, posed in white bed sheets wearing nothing but a mischievous grin.

I couldn't help but laugh. It was quite possible that I would leave it on January all year round.

Then I came to the last package, the one that had to be from Eric. His cryptic description last night gave me no indication of what might be inside. There was no note to accompany it, so I had nothing to do but open it. From between folds of tissue paper, I extracted a small green stone disc, rubbed smooth and shiny from years of wear. Engraved on it were images of a tree and a bird. It was a pendant, strung on a cord of black leather. It felt old, ancient, even. And most definitely not of this world, though I couldn't explain why.

How Eric had come across such a relic, and why he'd had the urge to give it to me, I didn't know. What I did know is that when I held it, I felt very much that it was meant to be mine, just as Eric had thought it should be.

From the kitchen, the coffeemaker gurgled cheerily as the pot filled up. I put the pendant in my pocket and went to pour myself a cup. As the steaming liquid cooled, I opened the curtains above the sink. The day was brighter than usual, and as always, the sunshine made me smile. I wondered briefly whether Eric missed days like this. Then I looked again, and gasped.

My whole world sparkled under a sheer layer of Christmas snow.

Up next: Hoyt learns how the other half lives; Jessica makes a splash; Pam gets a helper, and dawn brings a revelation.