A/N: I am working on SE34, but in the early stages. I am just about to write chapter 21 at the top of a new document. I am quite optimistic about a chapter or two (of one, the other, or both) coming next week.

Chapter 20

She couldn't believe that she had missed that interview. She needed a job, badly, and she was so angry at herself for forgetting. More than that, she was angry at Eric. Angry at him for keeping her up all hours of the night. Angry at him for risking her life. Angry at him for taking up so much space in her head. Angry at him for not being her kind and loving vampire any longer.

For the first time since she'd woken up in Eric's office the night before, the weight of what she'd seen and what had happened caught up to her. She'd nearly died. A vampire had attacked her and could have easily killed her, and then Eric had… Well, Eric had saved her life. And he'd done that by basically vaporizing the other vampire's head, right there in front of her. And then he'd very nearly done the same to Pam. Sookie had known that vampires were dangerous, of course, but she'd really never had cause to be afraid of one before, except for a few seconds right before she'd bitten her tongue on New Year's morning. She couldn't even imagine her Eric doing something like that. Her Eric had been nothing but sweet and gentle, except when neither of them had wanted him to be.

She sat down hard on a kitchen chair and started to shake all over. It was too much. Too fucking much. And she had promised to help him again and again and again. Whenever he needed her to. Now she had to worry about whether or not her subconscious had sabotaged her freedom, just to stay close to him.

Then again, she was pretty sure that freedom from him wouldn't have been on the table, regardless.

After she'd finally gotten herself under control, before she could even get up and head to bed, there was a knock at the door and a void just outside. Somehow, she wasn't surprised. She put her head down on the table for a moment and considered banging it a couple of times, but she got up, grabbed his leather jacket off the back of the chair, unlocked the deadbolt, and then opened the door.

He was sitting on the porch swing. They had made love there more than once and she had to swallow around a lump in her throat before she could speak.

"Hello, Eric. Here's your jacket. Thank you for letting me borrow it." She was biting her tongue really hard, but she thought that staying quiet was for the best. He looked guarded, and she didn't really know what to think about that. She didn't think she'd ever seen this particular expression on his face before.

He took the jacket and laid it on the swing beside him but didn't reply.

"Is that everything, then? It's very late."

He was suddenly in front of her. His speed startled her and it took her a moment or two to get her bearings. By the time she did, he was kissing her. And, goddammit, she was kissing him back, with her hands buried in his hair and her warm tongue stroking his cold one.

It felt so natural. So right. It was just exactly like kissing her Eric, except that it wasn't. He wasn't. She made herself pull away. His mouth followed, but she was able to break the connection. The porch swing was still off-balance from his sudden departure and it lurched back and forth, the chains clacking and squealing. She didn't push him away from her but pushed herself away from him with her hands against his chest. She hated herself for letting that happen. She hated him for kissing her, too, but she couldn't really blame him. Not much, anyway. Her Eric likely would have done the same.

She had tears in her eyes and she wrapped her cardigan tight across her body and crossed her arms in front of her chest.

"Please, Eric. Please go home. Please just leave me alone. For a little while, at least."

"You want me. I can feel it. Smell it. I want you, too."

She sighed. "No, Eric. The man I want is dead. Finally dead, I mean. You just look the part."

She opened the door and went inside. Before she could close it behind her, he said, "Wait."

She turned around to look at him.

"You have a package."

He picked up a box from the corner and held it out to her, just out of reach.

"It was left here earlier by my dayman, but you must not have come outside since this afternoon."

"Eric, I can't."

He gave her that sweet half smile that always melted her heart and dampened her underwear, and he continued to hold it out to her. Against her better judgment, she stepped back out onto the porch and took it. He darted forward and kissed her again, quickly, before she could resist, and then floated several feet into the air. He wasn't quite ready to look away. She couldn't seem to look away, either. Eventually, though, she did and went back inside. He stayed just a little bit longer before flying back to Shreveport.

She locked the door behind her, carried the package into the kitchen, and set it down on the counter. She poured herself a glass of milk and took a long drink. She just looked at the box for a couple of minutes. It was large and white and wrapped in a thick red ribbon tied into a huge, intricate bow.

She took another drink, set the glass on the counter, and slid the ribbon off of the box. She didn't know why she felt so apprehensive. It was almost certainly going to be something that would serve Eric's purposes, but she had no doubt that it would serve hers as well, and would be beautiful and expensive besides. She wasn't sure how she knew, but she did. Then again, her new driveway was a pretty good indication.

She took the top off of the box and admired the new coat inside. It was a beautiful cranberry colour with tortoiseshell buttons, and it was exactly what she would have picked out for herself if money had been no object. It even had a removable liner so she could wear it more than half of the year. No matter how cold he was, he would be keeping her warm.

She pulled it out of the box and tried it on. It fit her perfectly. She had known that it would. She could see right through his little manipulation, but it had worked anyway. At least a little.

There was an envelope inside and she decided not to read it right then. She was too weak. Too scared of what it might say. She didn't want to be manipulated any more than she already had been. She hung up her new coat and headed to bed.

Now she had even more things to be mad about. She was so angry at him for kissing her. She never would have kissed him back if he hadn't done it.

It annoyed the hell out of her that she was so touched by the new coat he'd bought for her; even if it was a ploy, it had also been a very thoughtful one that had saved her money that she couldn't afford to spend.

She was really pissed off that he still turned her on. At how much she still wanted him. He'd been right about that, but so had she. It wasn't him that she wanted. Not really.

She was absolutely furious that she'd shown him that she was weak. She was afraid that she'd given him the encouragement to not give up. No, she knew that she had. And if he kept trying, she might eventually give in, in a moment of weakness. And she knew that he would kiss her again, and that a very small part of her wanted him to, even though she knew that it was a terrible idea. And she wanted nothing to do with loving him. It was a one-way ticket to heartbreak. Well, even more heartbreak.

More than anything else, she hated that, sometimes, she could see glimpses of her Eric in him. Not often, and not much — other than how he looked and sounded and smelled and tasted and, worst of all, felt — but she thought that he was still in there, even if he was forever buried under the weight of a thousand years of death and darkness and destruction. Or maybe that was all just more manipulation and lies.

She got undressed and lay in bed, staring at one wall and then another. When the ceiling didn't work, either, she got up and padded back to the kitchen and opened the envelope.

Dearest Sookie,

I am sorry that your coat was ruined last night. I am quite sure that this one will suit you much better, lover, and will also keep you warm. Please think of me whenever you wear it.

It was signed with a big letter E.

The worst part was, she probably would.

Late the next morning, she dragged herself out of bed and into the kitchen to make a pot of coffee. She had tossed and turned for hours before she'd finally fallen into a restless sleep, plagued with very bad dreams. She hated that some of those had also been very very good.

She took her mug out onto the porch to sit on the swing and collect her thoughts. She had to move his leather jacket out of the way first. She was sure that he would be back for it soon. Time would tell whether or not he would take it with him that time.

When she got a little chilly, she put it on.