A/N: I know. This isn't BSC, or even SE, but I am a slave to my muse and it had other ideas. Oh, and happy Canada Day, eh?

Chapter 11

Sookie froze. "You don't remember me?"

"Believe me, lover, you would be very hard to forget."

She closed her eyes and then slid away from him and out of bed. She wanted to crumble in on herself and cover herself and run away and scream and cry. Instead, she walked slowly into the bathroom on wobbly legs and closed and locked the door behind her. She collapsed on the floor in front of the toilet. She leaned her forehead against the cool porcelain, unsure if she was going to throw up the few bites of the chicken basket that she'd managed to choke down for lunch. The news had felt like a punch in the stomach. She had made love to a stranger.

She heard him moving around in the bedroom and then out into the rest of the house. She heard the timbre of his voice without hearing what he was saying through the walls. She considered staying there in the bathroom until morning. Even considered rescinding his invitation to make sure he couldn't come in after her. How could he not remember? But, of course, that was how they'd gotten together in the first place.

She didn't hear anything for several minutes. She closed her eyes and hoped that this whole day was just a bad dream. Hell, this whole past year. What else was going to be taken from her?

…

Eric had risen disoriented, cocooned in tight, slippery fabric in a space that didn't smell or feel familiar. Not really. He hadn't remembered going to his rest the night before. As a matter of fact, he hadn't remembered much about the night before at all. It had been New Year's Eve, but the memory of it was murky and barely there.

As strange as all of that was, he hadn't felt like he was in any danger, and he could tell that he was alone, wherever he was. There was a stale, musty smell, but also a faint hint of sweetness that clung to his skin. He had waited patiently until sunset and then had burst free from the sleeping bags, leaving them in tatters. He'd been under a dining room table, and had broken two of its legs in the process, and it had fallen on top of him. He'd climbed out from under it and investigated the tarp-covered window and saw the black spray paint behind. He or someone else had made him a light tight place to rest. The step ladder hinted that it hadn't been him.

He found his jeans amongst a stack of clothing he didn't recognize on top of an old desk and pulled them on. He went through a bedroom that had once belonged to a teenage boy, by the looks of things. There were several trophies and a poster of a beautiful redhead in a bikini, and a football, as well as some clothing in the closet. Everything was dusty and it had obviously been unused for a long time. He went downstairs.

The sweet scent was much stronger there. And his scent, too. And the strong, heady aroma of sex. They had been having a lot of it, by the smell of things. It was all through the house.

There were many pictures hung on the walls and set on shelves and the mantle. Nobody looked familiar, but there was a very beautiful human woman in many of them. He studied all of the photographs, finding younger versions of her in several as well. He was drawn to her. And if she was the source of that delectable smell, then no wonder.

He went into the kitchen and noticed the bottles of True Blood in the refrigerator. There was a Word of the Day calendar on the kitchen counter and the first twenty pages had been torn away. January twenty-first's word was 'imposter'. His eyebrows drew together. How in the hell were they three weeks into January?

There was a phone on the counter, too. He went to it, planning to call Pam, but he heard a car approaching. It slowed down and then turned onto the long driveway. And he could feel her getting nearer. She'd had his blood. Recently. Curiouser and curiouser. Logic told him that he should be very careful — something strange had obviously occurred — but he wasn't afraid of her. Not at all. And the closer she got, the more sure he was that he had nothing to fear. He followed his nose to the bedroom.

The smell of sex and her was even stronger in there. He looked in her closet and through her dresser and in the drawer of the vanity while she drove the rest of the way down the driveway and around back. He lay on the bed and waited for her. He was anxious to find out what in the hell had happened, but he could wait. He could be a very patient vampire. Especially if his attention was being sufficiently occupied.

He heard a door open and close and then another. There were footsteps across the kitchen floor and then they were silent when she reached the carpet. He heard them again as she got closer. The sweet smell grew stronger, although it was tinged with beer and fried food. That was no matter. His belly was coiling in anticipation.

She felt anticipation, too, along with a stew of negative emotions. When she walked into the room and saw him, though, they were overshadowed by positives: happiness and lust and relief and gratefulness. And love. So, it had been like that. Other than the last one, he felt exactly the same. It was the girl from the pictures, and she was even more attractive in person, with a beautiful face and delicious curves and hair almost the same colour as his, pulled back in a ponytail. He couldn't wipe the smile off his face or help his fangs from running down or his cock from filling with blood. He felt a strange tugging in his chest and set it aside.

She smiled back.

"God, you're beautiful. I need you. Please, make love to me, Eric."

He wasted no time going to her and pulling off her shirt and bra and kissing her. Feeling her against his tongue and tasting her was incredible, but he wanted to see her. He pulled away and opened his eyes to the most beautiful breasts that he had ever seen in over one thousand years. He even told her so before he checked to see if they felt and tasted as good as they looked. He wasn't disappointed.

The heady scent of her arousal mixed with her naturally sweet odour and the musk from her sweat after a hard day's work, and it nearly drove him crazy. He kissed down her body and finished undressing her and got close enough for a taste. She was every bit as delicious as he had hoped.

He got her off quickly with his mouth and hands and then fucked her hard in the shower after they washed each other all over. She was an excellent lover and the first taste of her blood could not be his last. She tasted incredible.

Neither was sated and he made love to her slowly in her bed. He was a vampire, so of course he had one hell of an oral fixation, but he moved his mouth away from hers so he could look at her. He felt… something. Something unfamiliar. Unwelcome, really, and out of touch with the situation. But she had had his blood. He desired her, and would continue to desire her, he was sure. How could he not? And they had shared time together, even if he didn't remember it. Likely, the… affection… was some sort of appreciation that had carried over, mixed with her feelings, which were exceedingly romantic.

She opened her eyes and looked at him and he leaned down to kiss her again when she grew concerned at his expression. They both soon forgot about their worries. It was only a minute or two later when she started to fall apart. He was close, too, and he bit her again, savoring her.

He licked her bite and then kissed her throat. He'd noticed other bites on her breasts and the insides of her thighs and her shoulder, but not on her neck. He must have healed them. Why?

She stretched and moaned and then lay draped over him with her body pressed up against him. He could feel the heat and wetness of her sex on his thigh. He already wanted her again.

She sighed. "God, I needed that. I just had an awful day. First, I saw my idiot brother, who was a complete jerk, and then Andy thought the most terrible things at me and I… Well, I dumped a pitcher of beer all down his lap and slapped him across the face. And then I quit."

She kissed his chest and then sighed again in contentment while his eyebrows had shot up in surprise. Had she read this Andy's thoughts? Is that what she meant? What was she?

"I love you, Eric."

For a moment, he considered playing along. He wondered how long he could keep up the charade. How many more times he could have her before she figured it out. It was so tempting, but he had lost three weeks and needed to find out what in the hell had happened. He needed to talk to Pam.

"Well, lover, with blood and breasts like that, I am definitely in lust, but I don't even know your name."

It immediately felt like her world had fallen apart. The stew of negative emotions came flooding back. He felt a pang of guilt and was surprised that it was his own. It angered him and he snuffed it out. He had no time for such foolishness.

She asked him if he remembered her and he told her that he didn't. She slid slowly out of bed and went back into the bathroom and closed and locked the door. He did regret that he'd had to disappoint her. He told himself that that was only because it would make her much more difficult to lure into bed again. But not impossible. He could be very persuasive. And persistent.

He got up and went to the kitchen to call Pam.

"Pam. It is Eric."

"Master! Thank fuck. You're alright?"

He smiled. She had obviously worried.

"Yes. I am very well, although I'm not quite sure where I am or how I got here."

"According to the caller ID, you are at the home of Sookie Stackhouse. It's a Bon Temps number. Don't tell me that you were just in Bon Temps all this time."

Sookie…?

"I have no idea. I don't remember anything that happened between early evening on New Year's Eve and when I rose this evening."

Pam paused.

"There were witches. They cursed you. It's a very long story, but they're dead and you're back. I will tell you everything when I see you in person. You're sure you're fine? Do you have any idea what happened?"

"I am staying with a human woman. At least I think she's human. She tastes incredible and I think that she might be a telepath."

"A telepath! Jesus Fucking Christ."

He laughed. "Quite. Come to me. I would rather drive than fly."

She was pleased to do it. She was nosy and wanted to meet this Sookie Stackhouse.

He sat down on the couch to wait for Pam to arrive. And for the woman to come out of the bathroom and face him. He hoped that she would, but she was still extremely upset. He very much didn't like it.

He looked around. The home was old and showed its age, but it was very clean and tidy. They had obviously had sex on this couch more than once, as well as on the hideous afghan draped over the back. The room felt almost familiar, even though he didn't recognize a thing. He felt comfortable there, even though he was very uncomfortable in general. He had told Pam to come to him because he wasn't ready to leave. It felt almost like… home.

He shook his head. She was so miserable that it was making him unable to think clearly. For a moment he wished that they were bonded so that he could share with her some of his calm and strength.

He stood up and squeezed his eyes shut tight. He shook his head again, still unable to clear it. This was ridiculous. He paced around the room a few times and then sat back down on the couch. He scrubbed his face with his hands. He was almost regretting his decision to stay.

He heard the bathroom door open and then she left the bedroom and walked into the living room. She closed her eyes for a few beats longer than a blink but then looked at him. Her eyes were puffy and red and her voice was raspy, but her cheeks were dry.

"Can I get you some True Blood?"

"No. Thank you. I had plenty of yours."

He grinned, even if it felt a little strange on his face. A little off. Her eyes dropped but she did give him a bit of a smile. He tried to ignore the sadness in it.

She sat down on the edge of the recliner. He leaned back and spread out his arms across the sofa back in a show of confidence. He was hoping to convince himself almost as much as he was her. She took a deep, shaky breath and then blew it out. She looked up at him again.

"I was driving home from work around three am on New Year's morning and you were running half naked down Hummingbird Road…"

He sat rapt until Pam arrived.