A/N: OMG, I want to live in part of this chapter forever; literally I would've if I could've. You'll understand what I mean. Translations at the end.

Also, over 200 reviews! Yay and woo-hoo! Thanks y'all!

Thanks to Mrskroy, rachel olsen-williams, and every single reader. Chapter name is an apropos song title and its artist.

xXxXxXxXx Present Day xXxXxXxXx

Some things were meant to be, and some things weren't.

Oftentimes, it was hard for me to tell the difference.

oOoOoOoOo Flashback oOoOoOoOo

Andrew's driving very nearly had me yelling at him, 'Eric, slow the hell down!'

It was a truly terrifying experience riding shotgun with him. But I didn't show even a hint of fear or weakness as he barreled around corners at break-neck speeds or tore down the moonlit highway like a bat outta hell. Instead, I pulled my legs up under my yellow dress and tilted my head against the window, towards the Louisiana sky.

The stars blurred like smeared paint as the car whipped through the night.

It was beautiful, and alluring; I wanted to be outside, part of nature.

My resolve to be a fake-happy liar liar pants on fire quavered after three minutes into our lengthy drive. Some things were much easier said than done. I just couldn't follow-through, be as manipulative and awful as Henry had been. Let everyone think I was something I wasn't. But that didn't mean I wasn't willing to try to grab at real happiness. I deserved at least that, right?

Progress – small baby steps in the right direction.

So I found myself pressing down the button to lower the window before I could even think to stop myself.

My hand practically flew outside to dance in the air that tore sharply against my skin. I almost couldn't remember the last time I'd done this – let my guard down, let myself do something just because it felt good. Except that I could, the memory of Henry's admonishment charging through my head like a bull in a china shop.

Pull up the fucking window, Addy! You'll lose your damn hand, and then no one will ever want you!

NO ONE!

I snatched my hand back inside automatically, shoving it into my lap as icy cold tears kissed at the corners of my eyes. Bloody tears… the kind that couldn't be hidden. I bit them back. With a flick of the button, the window was closed, my indulgent display over.

Pinhole bright spots.

Maybe those were all I had anymore.

I knew my vampire body would self-heal, but I wasn't sure whether or not growing back a hand was a thing – and I didn't wanna find out the hard way. So I slipped my legs back down and placed my hands in my lap, staring forward – as if into oblivion. Light speckled and refracted off the dead bug bodies clinging to the windshield, but I barely saw them. My attentions were elsewhere. The painted stripes on the road were burning into my mind, capturing and demanding my focus.

Suddenly, the honeyed vibratos of Kerry Muzzey's The Architect wafted through the confined space.

The stringed orchestral notes brushed against my skin, cracking open my chest to settle within my soul.

When the piano's few tinklings joined the movement, I closed my eyes. Somehow classical music – this song in particular – had a way of simultaneously stirring up and stilling the quietness that resided inside me and rooted itself in my core. It pulled at my sadness like it was silly putty, stretching it apart until the sinews tore jaggedly and disappeared – an amorphous blob left in its wake.

It was as if, for the moment, I was simply a piece of malleable clay waiting to be reformed.

"Please play it again."

I requested, ignoring the subsequent stare that followed my softly spoken entreaty.

Ezra's son said nothing in response, but instead traded hands on the steering wheel to lightly press the skip back button, restarting the track. Then he turned his eyes back to the road, his thoughts an indiscernible mess. Whatever language that was, I apparently was going to need to learn it if I ever wanted to understand him – what was going on in his head.

His nuanced expressions were almost impossible to read.

But based on his reaction, I guessed that Pam hadn't told him I'd already broken my uneasy silence. He'd been trying to get me to talk for days, surely she knew that. So why hadn't she told him? I couldn't help but wonder what that tidbit meant, if it meant anything at all. Those two seemed close, thick as thieves, and I was just the outsider – a stowaway along for the ride.

Except that I'd been utterly and completely in their way, upending their torrid love affair.

I couldn't imagine Ezra's son having any romance that wasn't steamy – and hot hot hot. The man may as well have been chiseled from stone by the Gods. Of course, he and Pam were an item. Vampire Barbie had to be the arm candy for Vampire Ken; it was like a rule of nature. They were freaking made for each other.

I imagined Pam's feigned interest in me had been constructed for the sole purpose of making me uncomfortable.

Mission. Accomplished.

"Thank you," I mumbled, grateful to hear the violins sing out from the speakers.

Then I peered out the car door window again, losing myself in hypnotic music. Rhythmically, I nodded my head – eyes closed – along with the beat. I tapped one-handedly at an invisible piano and glided my fingers through the air as if I was the conductor urging each sweet note from the expertly-crafted wooden instruments playing the tune. I didn't care that I wasn't alone in the car, under the watchful gaze of someone I didn't really trust. I needed this moment, to get lost in my music.

It'd always been a safe haven for me, a world to disappear into.

When Henry would scream and raise hell – terrorize the house from whatever room he chose to destroy – I'd retreat to my own. Pressing my back against the locked door, as if it'd keep him out, I would slip my earbuds in to drown out his dragon-like roar. Ginny, back against the other door that led to the ensuite bathroom, would do the same.

Ginny.

Six days, four hours, twenty-three minutes, and two, three... four seconds.

I felt the cool drop dribble down my cheek – eyes still closed – as guilt washed through me, spiking through my nerves like I'd been tossed into a bathtub full of ice. Well, that infinitesimal moment of respite had been nice while it lasted. The melody crescendoed, filling the car and covering my small sniffles. As I steeled my unnecessarily quickened breath, something rough brushed up my face – beginning at my chin. I resisted the urge to flinch, or really jump outta my skin, as startled as I was by the unexpected contact.

The gesture was gentle and comforting, it just… confused me – Eric hated me.

So while I wanted to lean into his touch, I tipped my head away instead.

My eyes fluttered opened, glistening with what I knew would be blood, in time to spot Eric slowly drawing his thumb back towards himself. It was stained, an amorphous bead of red poised – as if expectantly – on the tip of the calloused pad. Scowling, he eyed the crimson blotch for maybe a millisecond – a glint of hunger perceptible despite his apparent irritation – before he wiped it against his midnight-colored dress pants. I scrunched up my face, the slightest bit disgusted.

"It was nothing."

The Big Odd Bird grumbled through gritted teeth, clutching the wheel so hard I heard an unsatisfying crunch.

I wasn't sure if he was trying to blow off the weird blood moment or my 'thank you.' I figured it was the first, but acted like it was the second. I didn't need to be dealing with whatever his hang-ups were on top of mine. Plus, he'd drank my apparently addicting fairy blood before – the asshole. Maybe he'd just been wondering if it still tasted the same.

Gross, Addy, that'd just be gross.

"Where are we going?"

I inquired, ignoring what had transpired, and Drew's subsequently surly attitude, to feign interest in our destination.

The engine rumbled powerfully as we drifted hastily around another sharp corner. Tires squealing slightly, I inhaled deeply and smelled the burning rubber waft through the air conditioning system. The odor evoked feelings in me I couldn't ignore. Without even realizing it, my terror had twisted into exhilaration, and I wished I could be more than simply along for the ride.

I kinda wanted to drive.

Maybe someday – I sighed, doubting the speed demon to my left would ever oblige.

"You will see," Mister Leadfoot smirked, a slight smile curling at the corner of his ruddy lips, "We are very nearly there."

I spotted a structure on the horizon coming into view on the horizon. I tried to remain unaffected, after discerning instantly what the faraway outline was, but anticipation sizzled in my veins. The foreign feeling overtook me, replacing my heavy thoughts with an emotional response not unlike hope. I began to bob about like a kid hyped up on candy, trying to peer through the driver's side window.

Ezra's son was a big guy, and his head was definitely in the way.

I pressed the heels of my hands into my eyes, trying to see if it would disappear. But it was still there, and, after the car veered off to the left, it looked like we were heading right for it. Surely this was all a figment of my imagination, this couldn't be real. But gosh, I wanted it to be. A childlike sense of wonder and excitement threatened to flood through me, but I held it at bay, reticent to embrace it. Because we were not going there.

Were we?

No, I told myself, quit being stupid; the vampire's not taking you to an amusement park.

The car's speed slowed to the posted limit as we turned again, this time onto a dirt path. Loose earth rattled through the tire treads, kicking up around us in the vehicle's wake. I watched as the outline of the structure, the Ferris wheel, disappeared behind the height of the bushy trees. My own excitement and glee dispersed in its absence, misted away into thin air.

That seemed about right.

Once again, I drew my legs up and into my chest, smoothing my dress over them. I propped my forehead up against the passenger-side window, but I didn't search the sky. Instead, I closed my eyes, and let the dark storm cloud in my mind envelope me. It whispered to me all the reasons I had earned my heartache, deserved my disappointment – Ginny. Ezra's son tried to say something – the noise catching my attentions – but my mind refused to process his words, occupied with other things.

I didn't even bother to open my eyes when the car lurched to a stop, our destination apparently upon us.

I heard a car door open, and shut, before mine was thrust open too, hot wind nipping at my extremities. Unexpectedly, Drew leaned into the car, over me, and unlatched my seat belt. He swept his arms under me and pulled me from my seat, tugging me against his chest momentarily before settling me to the ground.

"Addy, we have arrived. Open your eyes."

"Oh. My. Gosh," I breathed out as I spotted the pulsing colored lights, the speakered tinny music infiltrating my ears, "Oh, Eric!"

As far as I was concerned, with this gesture, he'd earned his name back – at least until he started annoying me again.

I couldn't help but smile – a real one at that.

After Eric covered all his bases – don't bite humans, blah blah blah – he shepherded us towards the entrance. I smoothed at my yellow sundress and teased my hand nervously through my hair. If it could beat, my heart would have been going a hundred miles a minute. Pins and needles. It's not like I suddenly thought we were on a date or something but I'd never really considered that we were going somewhere with other people, somewhere public.

I guessed I'd expected to be tucked into a corner all night, watching Eric tend to business while I twiddled my thumbs or something.

"Hey. You lied to me – before I mean," I said, turning to Eric after he paid our admission fees, "There never was any business."

A small crowd of teenage girls about my age shuffled past us, gawking at Eric. He ignored their gazes, searching my cerulean blues with his own oceanic orbs. My heart clenched in my chest for a reason unlike the ones from the past week.

'Why the hell is someone as hot as him, hanging around her?!'

Henry's voice laughed in my head, and I broke our suddenly awkward staring contest to examine the ground.

"Someone once told me," Eric stated, ghosting his fingers along the crook of my neck, "a lie does not count if it is for a good cause."

'She still carries my mark.'

His fingertips felt like ice, but sizzled all the same against my skin – little spindles of warmth coursing through me. I fought against the urge to shiver, flinching instead. Eric wrenched his hand back like I'd burned him. When I raised my head with a furrowed brow, he glowered at me, his thoughts angry-sounding.

'Jag borde inte röra henne! Hon är inte min!'

Now things were starting feel normal again.

Eric's bizarre behavior concerned me, and while I had my emotionally-protective walls pulled up high, my telepathic shields were pushed down low. He hadn't done anything alarming – not really – but he was just being so weird and almost friendly, like he cared about me. I wanted to trust it, but I also didn't – in equal measure.

Why did he bring me here anyways?

What did he want from me?

I knew there had to be strings attached to this little outing. I didn't want there to be, but there were – there had to be. Henry's tutelage had taught me that nobody was just nice for the sake of being nice. The strings existed, no doubt in my mind; I just hadn't found them yet.

But I was definitely on the lookout.

Until then, I decided I'd also try to enjoy myself; it wasn't like I couldn't do both – right?

"Can we ride the Tilt-a-Whirl first?" I asked calmly, tamping down the eagerness threatening to spill into my tone, "Please? It'll be a lot of fun."

Because what could be more fun than getting slammed into someone as hot as Eric on the Tilt-a-Whirl?

Nothing, that's what.

'Fangers at a damn 'musement park. Now I've seen e'erything.'

From his smell, I had guessed the man running the Tilt-a-Whirl might not be entirely human...

Confirmed.

"Jackson Herveaux."

Eric acknowledged, giving the carny man the slightest nod of his head and an apprising quirk of his eyebrow.

"Northman," The gruff man grumbled back, "didn't expect ta see yer kind 'round here. What brings yer fancy pants 'ere t'night?"

The scruffy plaid-clad man crossed his arms, effectively blocking Eric from entering the platform. His stance was maybe meant to be intimidating, but he shook lightly from side to side. I wondered if it was from fear or alcohol. My mother Paige had more than once fought to hide her tremors after a heavy day of drinking.

Either way, we'd paid our tickets and I for one wanted to enjoy the ride.

"Oh, that's my fault, I suppose."

I offered amiably, setting out from behind Dark Tower, who'd basically been concealing me from view.

'Ain't she a pretty dead thing in that yello' sundress. Whadda shame.'

"ALCIDE, SON!" He called out over his shoulder, "GOTTA FREE BUCKET?"

A muscled, dark-haired young man walked towards us from the platform, rubbing at his hands with a grease covered towel. I pegged him for about nineteen, maybe twenty – just a couple years older than I was. Of course, I was always gonna look seventeen; it was weird to think about sometimes. He eyed me up and down – his pupils darkening slightly – earning a low growl from Eric and a hard thump on his back from his dad.

"Alcide, put yer damn tongue back in yer mouth," Jackson spit out, backing away from Eric, who was glaring, "Can't mess wit what's 'lready claimed. Now, ya gotta damn open bucket or not, boy?"

I knew better than to break rank and balk at Jackson's impropriety, but I wanted to.

So freaking much.

"Sure, Pop!" his thick Mississippian accent distinguishable from a mile away, "Y'all follow me. I'll get y'all squared away."

Alcide swiped at the sweat beading on his brow and then jammed the dirty cloth into his back pocket. Turning on his heel, he headed back up the few steps to the platform. Eric gestured his arm out for me to go first, trailing closely behind me. His previously relaxed stance was gone, and a tight mask of indifference adorned his face. His demeanor had turned on a dime, and I realized he'd gone all business on me.

'Fucking dogs ruin everything.'

Dogs?

I didn't know what that was about, but I was definitely inclined to agree.

We didn't need the escort, but Alcide walked us all the way to the bucket anyway. Pressing at the metal bar to lock us in, he lingered, opening his mouth to ask for my number – if his thoughts weren't a lie – but he snapped it shut before a word passed his lips. Smart move. Because if looks could have killed, Eric's grimace would certainly have put the boy into an early grave.

Like I had done to my sister.

Ginny.

Had there been a funeral? Had I missed it? Was there a grave? Could I visit it? Questions spun together, weaving themselves into a sticky web in my mind. I was caught like a fly, waiting to be fed to the eight-legged arachnid that was my despondency.

Until the bucket lurched, and began to teeter in a chaotic motion.

The movement wrenched me out of my mind, and threw me back into the moonlit night. In seconds, the bench-seated cup bounded about the track, spinning wildly like a top. I squealed in delight as I swayed back and forth, grazing the side of Eric's body every time the centrifugal force pushed me into his personal space. He gritted his teeth, and honestly I wasn't sure if he was enjoying himself or being surly.

I hoped it was the former, but figured it was the latter.

Gripped suddenly by an ominous feeling, I wondered if I'd crossed a line. I knew he and Pam were a thing, and yet I'd practically forced him into what was probably a very awkward situation. Maybe vampires weren't monogamous, I didn't know one way or the other, but Eric lived with Pam. Only Pam. Even Ezra didn't do that. So it had to mean something.

Mere seconds later, his thoughts pretty much confirmed it did.

'Pam will surely give me hell for this. She will be insufferable once she finds out what I have done.'

His thoughts unwittingly set my guilt ablaze.

Not that we had done anything wrong.

Out of nowhere, Eric jostled into me, his hands settling on my waist and pulling me back, flush against his chest. He squeezed lightly at my hips, his grip gentle but firm. This time I didn't move away. A warm tingle settled in my core, and a feeling not unlike a sedative flooded my veins. I swore for a brief second he nuzzled his face against my hair and inhaled deeply. I didn't mind because I'd done something similar – he smelled like the winter and the sea. He feathered his lips across the scar on my neck, and then it was over. I was back across the cab as if nothing had transpired between us.

Electricity danced under my skin in the wake of his touch, his kiss.

So distance was probably for the best.

'Vad är fel med dig?! Ta dig samman!'

Eric practically flew from the bucket when the ride stopped, the metal safety bar clanging loudly and a veritable smoke cloud tossed up in his wake. I moved much more slowly, but in fairness, I wasn't trying to get away from someone like he obviously was. Alcide sauntered over, wringing his hands through the black spotted rag again, when he spotted Eric disappear – pressing a phone that didn't ring to his ear.

"Sorry 'bout my dad, he's sorta an asshole."

"No worries," I replied, raising myself off the bench and to my feet, "I'm Addy, by the way."

"Alcide. Nice to meet you... He'll come around, ya know," Alcide offered, his bicep flexing in a direction that implied he wasn't talking about Jackson Herveaux, "til then, I'm in town a couple more weeks, ya wanna friend?"

I quirked a single eyebrow in response.

"Whoa, whoa," he scrambled, his composure faltering a bit. Then he whispered so quietly I knew only I could hear him, "nothing like that. I mean, you're hot and all, but I don't mess I with dead chicks. Something ooky 'bout it, no offense."

'DAMN shame though, a DAMN shame.'

I waved away his undeserved compliment, and also his explanation. I knew he hadn't meant it as an insult, and I wasn't keen to take it as one. Thing was, I didn't know if I wanted Eric to come around. I was confused, and exhausted, by our whole exchange in general.

But I needed to work through my own baggage before I could even think of unpacking his.

It would be nice to have an excuse to get out of the house, I mused. To take time to myself, away from Eric and Pam. To spend time with even just one person I wasn't vampire-related to. Even if that person was maybe a dog – but only sometimes, I guessed, since I'd met him outside a dog-like form.

I let loose a soft laugh.

I'd have to remember to ask Alcide about that later.

"Sure," I smiled, and he tossed me a scrap of paper I caught with ease, "That'd be great."

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

"Going out with the dog again, sweet pea?"

Pam said, perched primly on a bar stool in the for-show-only kitchen, a wetted brush recoating her blood red nails.

"His name," I insisted, pulling the shoelaces on my neon pink sneakers taut, "is Alcide."

Still crouched, I pulled my hair back into a high ponytail, tying it off with a band. My hands trailed down my neck, pausing as they grazed the two small bumps tucked inside the crook of my neck. It felt like ages since I'd been in New Orleans, gutted in an alley begging Eric to turn me. But in truth, it'd been barely a month – only three weeks, if I didn't count my time spent under the soil, turning.

Which I didn't.

"Ska du följa henne igen?" Pam laughed, addressing Eric as he brushed past us both to pull a bag of blood from the fridge, "Låt vargen hålla henne säker."

"Håll käften, Pam," He growled back, slamming the door shut, "Du vet att jag har affärer. Jag ska skicka Thalia."

Those two always spoke in tongues when they wanted to cut me outta the conversation.

It used to be maddening, but after the carnival a couple weeks ago, I found myself grateful for the reprieve.

"I'm going, I'm going," I grumbled lowly, standing to turn on my heel, "I'll be back sometime later. I've got my key."

I patted at the waist pack under my grey nylon tank top, double-checking for all the essentials – including the flip phone Eric had recently bought me.

It was there too.

"Sookie," Eric warned, earning him a sharp glare and a defiant stance consisting of a hand on my hip, "do not bring the stench of dog into this house again. It is nearly impossible to remove."

Once! One time, I'd hugged Alcide after a particularly exhilarating run, and I'd caught hell from Eric since.

I was never going to live that down.

"It's his last night in town, so I promise nothing, Drew."

I teased, chiding myself almost instantly for sounding more flirty than petulant.

"Ha!"

Pam exclaimed, as Eric glowered – his thoughts teeming with I'd come to understand were expletives.

I'd managed to learn those words pretty quick, as much as I'd heard them over the past couple of weeks.

"You know, maybe you two should take this time to get reacquainted," I finger-quoted, hoping they'd catch my drift and I wouldn't need to say it more plainly, "with one another."

Pam quirked a knowing eyebrow, and I breathed an unnecessary sigh of relief.

Although it pained me to some extent, I'd been trying to push Pam and Eric together, in my own way, since the night spent at the amusement park. Nothing had happened between me and Eric – not really, and definitely not considering how apathetic he'd acted towards me every day since. But I felt guilty all the same. He'd been all business, avoiding me at all costs and only entering a room if it was already occupied by Pam and myself first.

And even then, he usually seemed pretty grumpy about it.

Like someone had gone and poked the Vampire Sheriff bear.

'What the fuck is she talking about?'

I heard Eric think as I jogged out the door, Pam's uproarious laughter echoing through the house.

Keeping a defensibly human-looking pace, I headed towards the Twelve Mile Bayou, to meet Alcide in the swampy woods. It wasn't exactly the ideal terrain for running, but the tree cover allowed the two of us to let loose without fear of exposure. I hadn't completely embraced my vampiric nature, but I couldn't deny how invigorating it felt to blur through the forest with the wind nipping at my heels.

Better the wind than Alcide.

I joked internally, as I reached the end of the concrete street and disappeared into the woods.

I was really gonna miss Alcide once the carnival moved on. He'd been a good friend, but more so an irrefutably valuable resource. Unlike Ezra or Eric, he'd give me a much-needed education when it came to the supernatural world. For one thing, I'd learned the hard way that werewolves weren't too keen on being referred to as 'dogs.'

I'd almost died – again – of embarrassment in that moment.

I hadn't realized it was an insult.

Of course, my vampire family hadn't really told me much of anything, about anything. Heck, the very little I knew about vampires could barely fill into a pamphlet, and not even a tri-fold one. I'd asked Alcide if he could help fill in any blanks, but he'd admitted – sheepishly – that our two races didn't really mix. Vampires didn't really mingle with anyone, according to him. That in itself elucidated a lot of things for me.

Vampires were those kind of people.

Harding-like.

I could work with that.

Once I reached the small clearing – our designated meeting spot – I felt a mental signature brush up against my telepathic net. Someone was near. I dropped my shields entirely, to scan for thoughts – expecting to find Alcide, or possibly Eric. I knew he'd been shadowing me on the nights I went out with Alcide. I figured it was just Ezra playing puppet-master, requiring Eric to follow me.

I wouldn't have put it past him.

I didn't hear anyone – at all. Whoever it was had vanished into thin air, or at least gone out of range. So it couldn't have been Alcide or Eric. Alcide, because I was meeting him out here, and Eric, because... he wouldn't just leave me, not by myself. I didn't dwell on it further at the time. But mostly because I got distracted.

Buzzzz.

Something vibrated against my stomach, and for more than a second confusion swept through me. It felt like my nerves were acutely twitching against the scar on my stomach. But that was impossible. What the hell was that?

Buzzzz.

Oh, the phone – I realized, swiftly lifting my shirt to tug at the zippered pouch.

Flipping it open, I stared at the screen, still unsure of how to engage the call. I'd never had one of these before, and even though I'd had it for almost two weeks, I'd never received a call. Plus, the manual had been decidedly unhelpful, mostly because Pam had ripped it to shreds.

"Figure it out, sweet pea," she had said, grinning wickedly.

Alcide's voice rang out from my hand.

"Adds? Hey, Adds? Addy?"

Well, at least now I knew how to answer it.

"Alcide?" I said, lifting the speaker to my ear, "What's going on? Where are you?"

"Adds," his voice was shaky, breaking in a way that indicated he'd been crying. His southern drawl was more pronounced than ever, "it's my pop. Some damn fanger 'ttacked 'im. I found 'im by the Tilt-a-Whirl with two holes the size of Texas in his neck, left fer fuckin' dead."

I tamped down my shock. I couldn't believe Jackson had been hurt, by one of my kind no less. But I'd also never heard Alcide use the "F" word, out loud or otherwise.

Either of them.

"Oh, Alcide, I'm so sorry! Tell me where you are, I think I can help."

But of course I wasn't sure.

I knew my blood had healing properties. I wasn't sure whether or not it would work on werewolves. But I was willing to give it a go, if Jackson was. He didn't care much for me – because I was a fanger – but maybe this would get him to change his mind.

"Nah, Adds, got a supe doc 'ere doin' stuff. Ludwig's real good, the best. Thanks though. But, uh, can ya do somethin' else 'stead fer me?"

He sounded hesitant, like he expected me to refuse him outright. I wondered where his uncertainty was coming from. We were friends. I mean, I wouldn't cut off an arm for him, but I doubted that's what he would be asking me for.

"Can ya get Northman on this? Put in the report with the Sheriff, I mean. I need to stay with my pop, but someone's gotta go after that fuckin' fanger," his tone became angry and impassioned, "It's his fuckin' job to keep shit like this from happenin'!"

Selfishly, I wished he'd asked me for an arm.

I really didn't wanna deal with Sheriff Eric Northman – that guy had been a real tool lately.

"Sure, Alcide. Yes, of course," I corrected myself, remembering how much Henry hated the word 'sure,' "I'll take care of it. Eric'll find whoever did this, Alcide; I promise."

Without even a click, the line disconnected, and I knew he'd hung up on me. I sighed unnecessarily, flipping the phone closed and then back open. I stared at the touchpad, not really sure how to proceed. No one was ever gonna accuse me of being tech savvy, it seemed. Eric had told me he'd programmed his number into my speed dial, which was accessible from... somewhere.

Now I just had to find it.

I swore the next time I saw Pam, I was gonna slap that damn smile off her face.

"Why would you bring her here!?"

Sheriff Northman hissed lowly at the scary little vampire called Thalia as she dragged me unceremoniously, but not kicking and screaming, into a spartanly furnished room.

He was seated in a red-velvet upholstered throne upon a makeshift stage, elbows cocked with his fingers steepled. He looked so official, and business-like. I knew without a doubt his demeanor would be detached and cold just like the space he occupied.

I bet this was where he conducted vampire business.

I hated it instantly – all of it.

"Dog cancel. She want you."

She ground out through gritted teeth, an angry glint perceptible in her eyes, obviously uncomfortable explaining herself in English – or maybe even at all.

But the way she said it sounded so wrong – so wrong.

"Jackson, Alcide's dad, was attacked by a vampire," I spit out quickly, hoping to clarify Thalia's ill-phrased statement. I grimaced slightly as she curled her fingers even tighter around my forearm, a warning in her gesture I failed to heed, "I tried to call – I did –but you didn't pick up."

I'd been so angry he ignored me that I'd thrown my phone against a tree trunk and almost broken it.

But this seemed neither the time, nor the place, to bring that up.

In truth, I wasn't entirely sure where exactly I was. After I'd retrieved my phone from the mud and wiped it against my black running shorts, Thalia had descended upon me – almost instantly. She had knocked me to the ground from behind and straddled me – evoking images of the fairy man who'd choked the life from me. I'd screamed – practically howled, in fact – before everything went black.

Later when I came to, outside this building, she'd apologized – in her own sorta way.

"Not threat. I protect for Northman. Bring you to him," she had said, obviously a woman of few words. Then she had pressed her finger intently into her chest, introducing herself, "Thalia."

Then she'd dragged me inside, before I'd managed to shake the strange feeling not unlike a restless sleep that had come over me.

"She is not supposed to be here!"

Eric growled as he leaned forwards – fingers curled like claws into the arms of the chair – his voice barely above a whisper but laced with barely caged fury.

"Thalia hide location from her."

'Break her neck, problem solved.'

"I'm fine," I clipped out, feeling slightly irritated to discover Thalia had subdued me that way, but also that the Big Bad Sheriff was giving no credence to what I'd said, "I'm here on official business – to put in a grievance with the Sheriff on behalf of the werewolf Jackson Herveaux."

Eric narrowed his eyes at me, rising to his feet. His expression scared me, truly and without measure. I was in for it now. Thalia dropped her grip on my arm and stepped back from me.

Apparently we both thought so.

And I was, just not in the way we'd assumed.

"That Godric's child, Miss Harding, there with ya, Sheriff?"

The King of Texas called out from a place unknown. I felt a chill run down my spine, but visibly I didn't react to it. Hackles up, I threw my telepathic shields down, backing away from Eric and the stage to edge deftly towards the door. Eric's usually steeled expression slipped into confusion for a split second before his mask of indifference returned.

"It is!"

Jameson clapped, as he ambled into the room, a pleased smirk tugging at his lips.

'Definitely thought that sweet chick-a-dee there woulda been here sooner.'

"Sheriff," King Whiskey boomed, turning to Eric after vamping to my side. He didn't touch me, but my skin crawled all the same, "give us a minute here then. To get reacquainted, and such."

Eric may not have understood the euphemism before, but I figured he got it now.

"She is but a fledgling, still emotional and unpredictably violent, Aaron," Eric lied, "It is best if I remain, for your protection. You understand, of course."

The Texas king laughed, throwing his head back.

"You're too much! I'm eight freakin' hundred years old – that baby vamp's there's no threat! Go on then, give us some space… Unless you got something else ya wanna say there, Sheriff Northman."

Eric and Ezra must be younger, and probably weaker, if this guy is king – I thought despondently to myself.

I stiffened, donning a placid countenance refusing to let my fear shine in my eyes.

What choice did Eric have? The King was calling him out, he could go and risk me or stay and risk us both. I didn't blame him when he chose the former, walking casually out of the room with Thalia hot on his heels.

To some extent, I expected it.

But I prayed he wouldn't go far.

"You scared of me, Miss Harding?" Jameson purred, his voice laden with sexual undertones. He reached towards my neck, his fingers hovering over my skin, "Those scars there, so pristine – yeah, they are – compared to the holes I would've ripped into ya..."

'I'da torn you up like I did that fucking dog there.'

I stifled the urge to yell out for Eric, knowing it would only make things worse.

And lead to questions I had no intents to answer.

"That sorta sounds like a threat though, doesn't it..." he mused languidly, not caring that his question had gone unanswered, "what happened to the fur ball there. Word of advice between us, it isn't real self-preserving to ignore those, ya know – warning shots, I mean. If I was you, I'd think about coming back to Texas, Miss Harding, then I'd betcha everyone close to ya'd be nice and safe again."

I stared forward, as my heart clenched violently in my chest and torrential panic flooded me. Jameson had almost killed Alcide's dad – because of me. Worse yet, if I didn't return to Texas, he'd essentially promised to go after everyone else around me – until I did. That much was crystal clear to me, even if I didn't understand the why behind it.

As my mind swamped with guilt and terror, I felt a strange sliver of curiosity snake through me – Ezra – and I tamped down on our bond violently, cutting it off without mercy.

"Yeah, I think ya are – scared of me," He continued, circling me like a shark as I rounded my arms against my stomach. I felt small; my body language inadvertently echoed the sentiment, "I'll tell ya a secret," He whispered from behind me, his hot breath brushing against the curve of my ear, "Ya should be."

'I don't intend to be even half as gentle with ya as Daddy Dearest.'

King Whiskey laughed, stepping out from behind me to vamp to the seat Eric had previously held on the stage. He settled down, throwing his left leg over the arm while the other splayed out to the right. His head lolled back as he shimmied himself down.

He seemed to be getting awfully comfortable.

I was markedly the opposite, memories of Henry and his cruelties flitting through my head.

If the King bothered to say anything else, I didn't hear it – my ears unresponsive to noise, like they were stuffed with cotton. I couldn't say how long I stood there, still like a statue. I disconnected as the world disappeared from around me and melted into the background. I crawled into the recesses of my mind, and embraced the darkness I carried – that Henry had lit within me, Ginny's death had ignited into roaring, angry blaze.

A cold hand landed hard on my shoulder – tearing me back into reality.

I recoiled instantly, a yelp escaping from my throat before I could catch it – I wanted to appear scary, not scared. I spun around, fangs dropping automatically, and my hands clenched into fists. I was readied in all manners to strike.

But it wasn't the king.

"Addy, he is gone. You are safe. You are safe."

Eric soothed, his words sounding as if they were as much for his benefit as mine.

His oceanic blues flitted back and forth, searching my own cerulean orbs – concern awash in his expression. Then his hands reached cautiously upwards to cup my cheeks, and for the first time, I actually leaned into his touch. He brushed his thumbs lightly against my face, and I closed my eyes, savoring the gentle and comforting sensation.

"Are you okay?"

He whispered, pressing his forehead against mine; his hands dropped to my waist to idly finger at the hem of my grey tank top.

"No," I truthed solemnly, inexplicably hyperventilating as bloody tears streamed down my face in droves, "I'm really not."

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

"Pop's doing real good, Adds. That Dr. Ludwig's a lifesaver – liter'lly," Alcide said, his voice sounding a little tinny through the phone's small speaker, "Northman having any luck findin' the sumbitch who did it?"

"Not yet, I don't think," I lied, knowing that I couldn't tell him his dad had been attacked by the Texas King, "But he doesn't really talk to me about work things."

Or at all, lately – I added in my head.

Things were tense at home, unsurprisingly.

In the past couple of weeks, Eric and Pam had barely spoken two words in English, effectively shutting me out of all conversations. Their thoughts helped me to fill in some blanks, but mostly I felt in the dark about what was going on. I'd never felt more left out, or lonely, in my entire life. And, to top it all off, now I really was a prisoner in my Louisiana home.

I'd locked myself inside my room as a silent form of protest.

Thirty-six days, five hours, forty-three minutes and four, five, six seconds.

"Where are y'all now?"

I asked, hoping to steer the conversation away from anything that would remind me of what happened with King Whiskey, or with Eric.

Not even minutes after The Moment – as I'd come to refer to it – Eric had clammed up on me and turned back into Sheriff Northman. He didn't even bother to ask me what had happened with the Texas King, which had irritated me to no end. Didn't he want to know what had happened?! Jackson had been hurt because of me! I was racked with guilt, drowning in it. I'd even reached out, for the first time in my entire life, and admitted I wasn't okay.

For what? I'd gone out on a limb for what? For what!?

For nothing – NOTHING – that was what.

Thalia had explained later, in her own way, that she and Eric had been watching the whole exchange in his back office on hidden cameras. He'd seen everything, heard everything. So he didn't really need my version of events, she said in as few words as possible. If she had thought that revelation would calm me down, she was sorely mistaken.

If anything, it made me feel that much angrier.

He'd watched the King threaten me – I'd been terrified, and he'd let it happen!

I knew it wasn't fair to think that way, but I couldn't help it to some extent. After being alone in my own head for weeks, devoid of humanlike interaction – save a couple phone calls with Alcide – I was pretty much going crazy with grief… guilt… anger… I was a veritable cocktail of weighty, consuming emotions. I'd mulled over the scene with King Whiskey repeatedly, and every time it played out, I felt sicker with myself for just standing there, for shutting down.

I should have done something!

I didn't know what – the King was older than dirt – but I'd been chiding myself all the same.

"Adds, ya there?"

Crap! I'd pretty much forgotten I was still on the phone.

"Yeah, Alcide. Just zoned out for a second there. What were you saying?"

"Like I was sayin'. 'm back in Miss'ssippi now. Prolly gonna hang here 'while too," Alcide repeated, triggering my guilt for a completely different reason, "Think ya could come visit? I mean, sometime. If ya wanna."

"I'd really love that, Alcide. Sounds great."

Guilt rang through me again; it was practically becoming routine.

Not because I'd lied to him, what I said was true – but because it just wasn't gonna ever happen.

xXxXxXxXx Present Day xXxXxXxXx

It'd been two weeks since my phone call with Alcide and a week since Eric left to join Ezra in Texas, when Pam attacked me. She'd screamed at me and tore at my hair, insisting that I was the real problem. I'd ruined their easy existence, and risked all of their lives. She told me my blood was poison – that I'd almost killed her maker back in New Orleans. Remembering how Eric had wiped my bloody tear against his pant leg, I wasn't hard-pressed to argue against her. I'd thought it strange at the time, but her words cast his actions into a new light, and suddenly his behavior made all the sense in the world.

In fact, everyone's did.

Here I'd thought they'd been treating me with kid gloves, moving gingerly around me because they assumed I would break, but no. Even without knowing about what had happened to Ginny, they knew. They knew I was a monster, a blight – a junkyard dog to be tip-toed around in an effort to avoid its bite. A mistake, just like Henry had told me every day of my entire life.

He was right.

Of course, he was right.

Had he ever been wrong?

I knew what I had to do. The only thing I could do. I had to make things right. To reset the clock, and release them all from their strange obligations to me. To jump out of fire and back into the frying pan. To sacrifice myself. So that at least for once – for once – I could do something right. I didn't want anyone to risk their lives for me, or get hurt because of me. I wasn't worth it; I'd never been worth it. I would never be worth it.

So I did the only thing I could do.

I left for Texas, with intents to hand myself over to the King.

But I didn't get very far.

And when I came to, woozy and confused, I realized exactly where I'd fucked up:

I'd failed to account for the Thalia-factor.

A/N: Google Translations

'Jag borde inte röra henne! Hon är inte min!' = 'I should not touch her! She is not mine! '

'Vad är fel med dig?! Ta dig samman!' = 'What is wrong with you?! Pull yourself together!'

"Ska du följa henne igen?" = "Will you follow her again?"

"Låt vargen hålla henne säker." = "Let the wolf keep her safe."

"Håll käften, Pam… Du vet att jag har affärer. Jag ska skicka Thalia." = "Shut up, Pam. You know I have business. I will send Thalia."