Hi everyone!

I can't promise a set posting schedule, as finals are approaching. So, for this week, I'm doubling up. This chapter title is taken from "No One's Here to Sleep" by Naughty Boy and Bastille. Thank you for suffering through the first chapter, I really appreciate it. I hope to hear from some of you in the reviews after this chapter!

Let me know what you think, what you might like to see in the future, etc. Have a great week!

- lightinside

02. | No One's Here to Sleep

Fangtasia was a flashing, pulsing, omnipresent force that caused Birdie's mouth to go dry the moment she laid eyes on it. It was nothing like she'd imagined. Even from where they sat at the curb, engine running, Birdie could feel the bass from the nightclub in her throat like a living thing. Reaching, whispering, inviting her inside with an inexplicable allure that she had to remind herself to fight against. Birdie thought this curious, especially considering that it didn't very much look like the kind of place where kismet occurred. She looked on nervously, taking in every minute detail while she waited for Jason Stackhouse to gather the courage to leave the car. Every kind of person that Birdie had been warned away from as a child lurked near the doorway; smoking a cigarette, tangled within the limbs and tongues and teeth of other vampire enthusiasts. And the seasoned ones, the brazen, well they walked right through the front door.

A small, cowardly part of her wanted to beg Jason to stay in the car with her. She shoved the thought away, knowing that Sookie needed them. She looked at her friend's brother, forcing the fear from her eyes and saw that Jason was doing the same.

"Did Bill tell you what happened?"

"Didn't get that far." Jason murmured, his voice clipped.

Birdie nodded to herself and looked back out the window. "Are you going in?"

"Gotta go get my sister, don't I?" Jason's knuckles tightened on the steering wheel, turning the skin white as it strained over bone. There was a long, depthless silence. Birdie didn't dare fill it. "You came back at the worst time. You should have stayed up North. This is what it's like here now. It's not…"

"It's my home." Birdie replied gently. "I would have come back no matter what."

It sounded genuine, but Birdie wondered if she wasn't lying. Even if only a little.

Jason said nothing, but the look on his face was clear enough. See if you say that when you go inside. He cut the ignition and opened his door. Before she could think too much, Birdie opened her door and stepped out onto the pavement. It was balmy, almost too humid to be comfortably warm. The absence of air conditioning was noticeable almost immediately. Sweat already pooled at the base of her neck. She wiped at it absently before forcing herself to swallow despite her dry mouth and follow Jason through the parking lot.

Catcalls rang out and Birdie shrank back from the unwanted attention even as Jason swore at the swaggering drunks who had abandoned all manners under the influence. It wasn't unusual. But that didn't mean Birdie liked it – or got used to it.

She lunged forward to cover the distance that Jason had put between them with long strides and grabbed his elbow as they continued to navigate through the uninhibited and inebriated bodies that stood between them and the front door. Jason, mouth pressed into a grim line, pulled her arm through his and put a hand over hers. A protection and a kindness. She squeezed his hand tightly as they stepped under the red awning that seemed to flutter and drip like blood.

Theatrical, Birdie thought amusedly. And then took in the bouncer guarding the entrance. Any scrap of bravado she felt vanished without a trace. He was taller than he looked from a distance. And while he wasn't large, he was lean and packed with muscle. Tattoos swirled around his wrists, climbed his arms, and peeked out at the top of his shirt. There, they continued up to his cheeks, tendrils reaching just for his bottom eyelid. The black of the ink twisted the color of his eyes, gifting them a rather sinister nature that Birdie decided she didn't much care for.

Birdie hoped she was imagining the way that the tattoo seemed to sway against his skin.

"Here to see Eric." Jason kept his voice low, but Birdie knew that they were already drawing attention. The bouncer looked them up and down, lips curling wickedly as he noticed Birdie cowering against Jason's elbow. Jason stiffened, but stayed silent. With a flash of fangs, the bouncer inclined his head and allowed them to pass.

Birdie didn't dare look up as Jason swept her inside and into the throng of bodies littering the dance floor. She scarcely breathed until they made it to the bar – the first moment she dared even considering releasing her grip on Jason's arm.

"I'm going to find Sookie. Stay here, don't move until I come back."

"I wasn't planning on it." She said, but he was already gone. The music was unbearably loud now, reverberating in her ribs and stomach. It was inside her, a part of her, whereas it had only whispered to her in the parking lot. It invasive and inviting and inescapable. Birdie took a deep breath, ignoring the way her lungs seemed to quiver as she flagged down the barmaid.

"AB." She guessed, giving Birdie a once over from under her lashes.

"No blood. Whiskey." Birdie sighed. "A lot of whiskey."

"Human, huh?" The barmaid laughed. "Will do, honey." She cleaned a glass thoughtfully for a moment before setting it down and leaning over, blonde hair brushing the bar, as if she were about to force Birdie to conspire with her. "Stop slouching. Act like you belong. You look like a scared little snack. And someone might be tempted to eat you right up."

Birdie sat up straight immediately and relaxed her arms on the counter. Only her eyes gave her away. "Do I really?"

The woman hummed and leaned away. She poured Birdie's whiskey and then resumed cleaning the previous glass lazily, as if there were a million other places she would rather have been. Birdie wanted to tell her that she felt the same way. Instead, she grabbed at the whiskey – her lifeline in uncharted territory. "That's better. First time here?"

Birdie nodded. "I haven't even been home since all this." She downed her drink and let out a low whistle. "Since vampires came out of the coffin. It's a little more… subdued up north."

"Best thing to do is embrace it. You seem like you've got your wits about you. You've got to hold your ground, girl. Even if you aren't in your element. Weakness don't have a place here anymore. A word to the wise, if you get my drift."

Birdie laughed. "Got it." She pointed to the empty glass. "That helped."

The barmaid smirked and filled her glass again. "Slow this time. You'll have an excuse to loiter up here."

Birdie took her advice and sipped this time, taking the opportunity to look out around the nightclub. She supposed that's what it was. But she'd never been to a nightclub that looked quite like this one. Dancers surrounded her on raised platforms that held them above the crowd but never seemed to make them separate from it. The platforms made them the centerpiece of the swaying, frenetic madness that held Birdie's rapt attention. If anyone took the time to have a drink, their replacement was on the floor in seconds. It was consistent, wild, and alive.

In the midst of chaos, at the back of the room, rose a larger platform than the rest. In the middle sat a large chair – a throne, Birdie realized. She tried not to look too surprised, lest someone see. Instead, she took another steadying sip of her whiskey. Slow, but not forced. Birdie copied the lazy movements of the barmaid, remembering to sit up confidently while oozing boredom.

Sit pretty, look uninterested.

Unavailable.

Birdie refused to check her watch. She would not seem desperate to leave, nor reluctant to stay. Jason would come back, he wouldn't forget her. And she had to be sure not to be even remotely buzzed when he returned. It would be best to be alert when making her way back out to the car, given the nature of the people lurking outside. She sipped even slower. She wouldn't ask for another drink. Not in this place. Not with so many eyes watching, so many men waiting out that door.

"If you're plannin' on stayin' up here, least you could do is tell me your name little Miss. Whiskey." The barmaid said finally, smirking at Birdie. "I don't do well trying to be quiet. Chit chat is half my job."

"Birdie." She answered softly. And then cleared her throat. "I don't do well making conversation."

"Penny." The woman answered her. "And that's a damn shame."

"Thanks for the drink, Penny." Birdie said, smiling.

Penny smiled back for a moment and then froze. Eyebrows raised, she turned around and busied herself behind the bar. "You got a tab, Birdie?"

"No." She answered, pushing her glass away. "Why?"

"You're about to."

Birdie had experienced quite a lot in life, but never anything like this. She had been sixteen when her mother died. Her father had never been in the picture – Birdie had never even learned his name. She'd ended up living with Sookie and her grandmother, and Jason until her aunt had straightened things out enough to sweep her away to Portland just before her eighteenth birthday. It rained there, poured until Birdie was sure that the floodgates of heaven themselves had been opened and everything would be swept away. It was green, but somehow it was different from the green of Louisiana.

There had always been something calling her back to Bon Temps. Something buried inside her heart that had been left behind with her mother, with Sookie, with the green of home – it was singing now. Her skin hummed, suddenly electric and not with the beat of the music. Her stomach twisted, and the plummeted straight to her toes as Birdie turned toward the previously abandoned throne at the apex of the dance floor.

He was striking, Birdie could see that much even at a distance. Blonde hair shimmered in the fluorescent, pulsing light of the club like corn silk in summer sun. His skin, so white it was nearly luminescent in the dark, marked him as something otherworldly. And his eyes… Birdie's heart leapt as, with a whisper from a blonde she hadn't noticed before, they lifted to look straight into hers.

Blue. Electric.

Birdie couldn't remember if she was breathing.

Jason, she tried to remind herself. Sookie. But there was a distance now between what was important and the eyes that still studied her from across the room. Birdie took a shallow breath, heard only by Penny over the music. The barmaid stole a glance at her out of the corner of her eye, smirking.

"Careful." She murmured.

The stranger blinked lazily, but the intensity in his eyes never wavered. Birdie couldn't interpret his attention, nor put a name to any emotion that passed over his face. Whatever appeared was gone within a microsecond. He sat down on the throne and leaned his chin against two slender, white fingers. Still, he observed. Quiet, calculating, curious.

Birdie's skin was on fire. She was sure of it.

"Drink?" Penny asked, voice still barely above a murmur.

"Mmm." Birdie managed and turned back to the bar. But the spell was far from broken. "Hit me." She motioned to her empty glass, the one she swore wouldn't be filled again. Birdie pushed the thought away and let her hair down around her face where it hung like a thick black curtain against the burning gaze of what would seem to be her fate personified.

"Who is that man?" Birdie asked quietly, scarcely daring to move her lips. She sipped the renewed glass of whiskey gratefully no sooner than Penny placed it in front of her.

"The owner." Penny replied. "Eric Northman."

"Why is he staring?"

Penny never dared a glance toward her boss to confirm Birdie's assertion. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and turned her back to Birdie, as if she were keeping busy. "It seems that he likes what he sees, little Miss. Whiskey." There was a smile in her voice. "If I were you, I'd look out. That one will break your heart."

Birdie knew she was right. Eric Northman reeked of trouble. It wasn't just the way he looked, it was the way he studied her as if he could see right down to the marrow of her bones. But if that were the case, Birdie knew he would have looked away by now. She dared a glance up from her drink and met his eyes with her own – green warring with blue as Birdie stood her ground. Emboldened by whiskey, she peered right into his soul.

There was the emotion. Birdie saw a flash of it in that ocean of blue – surprise. He blinked and for the first time, somehow, it was Birdie that gained an edge. Eric looked away, leaning to whisper something to the corseted blonde that had called his attention to her in the first place.

And then he lifted his hand to her, as if to entreat her to join him.

Birdie looked away.

Penny seemed worried, if she hadn't been before. Her eyes were filled with a plea, aimed at Birdie. But Birdie pretended not to see. "He's summoning you."

"No one summons me." Birdie muttered. She turned back to face the vampire with renewed courage. With a tip of her head and a lift of her glass, Birdie acknowledged his offer and declined it. Around the time Eric Northman lifted his own glass, dark with blood, a wicked grin playing on his lips, a hand closed around Birdie's elbow.

Heart in her throat, Birdie turned to find Sookie there. "No." She said, pointing a reprimanding finger straight at him. And then she turned to Birdie. "Hi, Bird." She said, smiling. "Thanks for coming."

Birdie swallowed and forced a smile on her face. "Where did your idiot brother wander off to?"

"Bathroom. He sent me out here to get you, told me where he left you." Sookie cast a dark look over Birdie's shoulder. It wasn't hard to guess who it was aimed at. "I can see you drew some attention."

"Not intentionally." Birdie yanked her elbow back, suddenly resentful of Sookie's guiding hand. "What are you doing here, anyway?"

"Looking for Jessica." Sookie answered. "Did Bill not tell you?" She started steering Birdie for the door. Birdie didn't dare glance back over her shoulder.

"He only talked to Jason." She sighed. "Your brother heard 'Fangtasia' and loaded me up in the car to come find you."

Sookie rolled her eyes. "Of course, he did."

Around the time Jason made his way over to them, Sookie was working her way into a temper. It wasn't hard, given Jason's nature to jump to conclusions. It had always been a source of contention for them, even as children. Birdie didn't think too much of it herself, but Sookie viewed it as an attempt by Jason to stick his nose in the middle of her business. And even if Bill had called, Sookie argued, that didn't mean Jason had to race all the way to Fangtasia to rescue her.

"You think I was going to leave you here with Northman?" Jason snorted as he led the way back to the car. "Sook, you're out of your mind. And Jess is probably just in a state about being told what to do, that's why she isn't returning his calls. And I don't blame her – I would lose my fuckin' mind if I couldn't see my family. Seeing as how all I've got left is you, anyway."

"Maybe." Sookie murmured. "Bill was worried, he's checking Hoyt's now. I thought I would help and head out here to check."

Jason scowled. "Right."

Birdie cleared her throat. "I love y'all, you know I do. But if you could save all the fightin' for later, I would really appreciate it. It's an awfully small space and I don't think I could make it home on foot."

Sookie grimaced in apology and rotated in her seat as Jason locked his jaw and put the car in gear. "Sorry."

"Honestly, I'd be a little hot under the collar too if you took off all the way out to Shreveport without a word in the middle of the night." Birdie said, glancing at Jason.

He nodded stoutly. "Thank you. That's all I'm sayin'."

Sookie seemed as though she wanted to defend herself, to argue her point, but stayed quiet. "Sorry, Jason." She said finally. "Bill shouldn't have worried you like that."

"I would have gone with you, you know." He said as he turned to head back toward town. "That's all."

"Yeah." Sookie murmured. "I know. Thanks."

Birdie surveyed the scene at the front of the car. Having decided that Jason and Sookie weren't going to kill each other, she leaned back and watched the mossy Louisiana trees speed by her window.

Blue eyes.

Birdie's cheeks flamed, and she put her hands to her face before anyone could notice. Or maybe they weren't even paying attention. Maybe she was the only one aware that her heart was hammering out of her chest. She let out a low breath, bordering on a sigh and was relieved when neither Jason nor Sookie made a comment.

"He's summoning you."

Birdie shook her head.

"You alright, Bird?" Jason asked, raising an eyebrow at her in the rearview mirror.

"Mmm." Birdie hummed, nodding. "Just tired."

Birdie should have been tired. It was late, and the better part of the day had been spent moving into a house where the ghosts of her past lurked around every corner. Lafayette and Sam were still waiting there with Tara. And Birdie knew that they were waiting for Sookie, not her. She had been absent for six years – she was separate from them all now. It would take time, like everything else, for Birdie to feel integrated again.

She was different. And even though everyone noticed, all her friends were either too polite or too reluctant to acknowledge it.

It was that small streak of change, of rebelliousness against the person she had been before grief swept in and wrecked her life, that whispered to her a name; Eric Northman.

"It seems that he likes what he sees…"

So had she.

As Jason pulled back up at the house, yawning, Birdie was deep in her own mind thinking of the events that had unfolded at Fangtasia repeatedly.

A disbelieving smile played across Birdie's lips as she exited the car, half convinced she was in a dream. But she wasn't.

She was home.