"Sam! I swear to you, if you don't help me carry these kegs I'm leavin' without finishin' 'em!"
Sookie grabbed the lid of the cold, metal keg and pulled with all her might, dragging it across the dirt behind Merlotte's. Three more kegs still sat in the back of Sam's pickup truck. Anyone else would've had the job done already, but somehow it was always Sookie who ended up with this type of work. All of a sudden everybody had a dire appointment, had to run on home right quick, their kids needed 'em, yadda yadda yadda. Well, Sookie was tired of being the first one in and the last one out. The pushover. The freak. Plus, she was getting mud all over her clean, white Keds.
"I'm comin', I'm comin', keep your pants on!" Sam called from inside the bar. Then he ducked his head out and added with a wink: "Or, you could always take 'em off."
"Keep dreamin', Sam Merlotte," Sookie scolded, lugging the keg just inside the door. She stood next to it, hands on her hips, tapping her dirtied white Keds impatiently. Behind her, the sun was just beginning to peek over the horizon. It was a typically hot, humid day in Bon Temps, Louisiana, and it was only in the early morning that it felt decently okay to be outside. A few more hours and she'd be praying for a fan and a tall glass of water.
This was Sookie's favorite time of day, when it was all quiet, peaceful. The drunks asleep or passed out, not rowdy and obnoxious like they were all night at the bar. The rest of the town not even up yet, still cozy in their beds. No loud, intrusive thoughts to weasel their way into her head. Nothing inappropriate, rude, hurtful. She wanted to be out in it; her moments of peace. She sure as heck didn't want to be lugging kegs until it got hotter than an oven on Thanksgiving day.
"You can go, Sook. I've got the rest of 'em," Sam said, toweling off his hands with a dirty rag. He looked extra ragged. The night before had been pretty eventful, what for Bon Temps standards. The bar was nearly full, and, as always, Merlotte's was short-staffed. Then, when she least expected it, a living, breathing vampire came in. Well, minus the living. But she was pretty sure he was breathing. He said he was mainstreaming, but their bar wasn't exactly stocked with what that entailed. Still, she couldn't help but go back to his table time and again. And it wasn't until later that she figured out why.
He was a void. She couldn't hear a thing. No thoughts. Nothing. It was the sweet, sweet silence that was so rare to her. After all, even with her shields up some things always managed to leak their way through. But not with him. He was like the morning: peaceful and cool. Bill, she thought to herself wistfully, remembering his polite, Southern introduction, I wonder if he'll ever come back. She didn't count on it. Bon Temps wasn't exactly the most welcoming place, after all. She'd seen that much first hand.
She waved goodbye to Sam and headed out to her car on the edge of the lot. She fished around for her keys, then decided against it. She wasn't too tired, and it would feel good to walk, get some fresh air after a night cooped up inside the bar. She slung her bag over her shoulder and took to the side of the dirt road, letting the feel of the long grass rub against her bare legs, trailing her fingers along the leaves that seemed to reach out and seek her touch.
Bird calls sung among the greenery, shafts of light peeked through the overgrowth. It looked magical, ethereal. Low mist sparkled like diamonds as the sun ran through it. She felt as though she could see every dew drop, could hear every animal, could taste the humidity as it grew hotter with every passing minute. Her home. Though she'd never properly left it, she knew in her heart there was nowhere else she'd rather go.
She'd been walking for a few minutes longer before she noticed the silence. No more birds, hardly any animals at all. Just the sound of the wind whispering through the brush. She felt a pressure at her temple and she reached out with her mind, dropping all shields. Exploratory. Her eyes stared at the trembling forest, dappled with glowing ferns, until she felt it: the void. She hesitantly pushed outwards, trying to understand its absence. It felt eerily similar to the feeling she got when she met the vampire Bill. Not silent, exactly. Just empty. Like a vacuum. But it couldn't be Bill, it was daytime. Right?
Slowly, Sookie ventured into the underbrush, twigs snapping beneath her feet, dried leaves crunching with every step. As she got closer, the void seemed to grow and fizz at the edges, encompassing a wider space. Then she began to hear him. Really hear him: not just his mind but his movement. The whimpers, the heavy breathing, the sound of hands grasping earth and dragging. The jingle of… chains? She sped up, jogging now as she tried to reach him, tried to reach the only peace she'd ever felt in her life. Bill couldn't be out in the daylight. She'd lose him before she'd even gotten a chance to know him. She couldn't bear it and that alone blinded her.
She broke through two thick pines and stepped into a bright clearing littered with wildflowers. In any other circumstance it would've been beautiful. But today, it was the opposite. For there, before her, was a vampire, chained down with silver. Dying. And that vampire was absolutely, positively, one hundred percent not Bill.
x
Gingerly, she stepped toward him. The air around him was hazy and smelled of cinders, inhuman with decay. There was blood leaking from his ears and nose, his skin aflame, practically glowing. Silver chains around his neck, wrists and ankles kept him rooted to the ground, in thick, heavy layers. He wore a black leather jacket and jeans, blond hair coated in more blood, a thick gash forming on his cheek.
She leaned over him, casting a shadow with her body from the early morning sun. His eyes parted only barely, peering up at her through bloody lashes. And then he lunged.
Sookie flinched, dropping a few paces away, but she needn't have moved for the vampire ricocheted right back to the earth under the force of the chains. His fangs were out and he breathed heavily now, each exhale leaving his chest in a grunt of anguish. He was in pain. Clear, brutal pain. Against her better judgement, she crept forward again, conscious of the sun rising ever higher behind her head.
"I can help you," she said slowly, "but I have to trust you."
His breathing quieted slightly, listening to her but seemingly unable to respond.
"You can't bite me. I'll get you out of here but you can't kill me."
He nodded, but only barely. There was a fizzing sound as his chin made contact with the chains and he bucked wildly. He was trying to speak, his voice gurgling wet.
"Help me," he ground out. "Remove chains."
With one quick tug, she removed the chains from his left wrist. He screamed, guttural and low, fangs bared, and with his free hand grabbed her neck and pulled her down to him. She was hovering only an inch from his face now, both hands resting on his chest as he burned beneath her.
"Hey," she breathed. "Let go. Or I don't do the rest. I won't be able to. You'll be stuck here in these chains and you'll die."
He held her for a long moment then released her one finger at a time, letting his hand drop. She did his ankles next, his other wrist, his neck. Each one was worse than the last. By the end of it, bloody tears dripped from his eyes, his hands clenched once again into the dirt beneath him. He didn't even seem to realize he was free until she stepped back from him. And then he disappeared.
She felt him before she saw him. Speed so fast it caused the wind to pick up her hair and place it back down. He shot through the trees chaotically, stumbling, blind. She could hear the branches he hit, the trees he ran clean through. Then, there was a thud and the sound of a crow: one long, lonely caw.
"Jesus, Mary and Joseph," Sookie cursed under her breath, taking off after him into the woods. She followed the trail of destruction until she found him on the side of the road, crumpled up like he'd been shot. The dirty gravel path was empty as far as she could see; little traffic passed through in the early morning.
"Can't go farther," the vampire mumbled, curled up in a fetal position at her feet. He looked up at her, his mouth parted a bit. Eyes open but hazy. "Are you an angel?" He seemed to have an accent. Something foreign she couldn't place or had never heard before, definitely not in Bon Temps. She'd have remembered it.
"Far from it," Sookie responded, glancing back and forth. The closest indoor space she could think of was Merlotte's. Plus, wouldn't vampires need a basement of some sort? She tried to think back to what she learned from that 20/20 exposé she'd watched a few years ago during the Great Revelation but was coming up short. She'd seen on the show that vampires burned up in the day but this was truly something else. They didn't describe it like this. This was vile. Gruesome. She wouldn't wish this fate on her worst enemy.
"That's okay, I didn't deserve an angel." He was mumbling now, the words slurring.
"What? We need to get you inside," Sookie said, exasperated. She reached around his elbow, his skin hot even through the leather. She tugged. Nothing. "You're heavier than ten of those dang kegs," she cursed, grabbing and pulling once more. He dragged a couple inches along the road, yelling out in pain, quieting.
"Let me die, min ängel."
"Oh no you don't, we got this far didn't we?" She was determined now. She grasped with both hands and was about to tug when she heard the sound of gravel crunching under tires. In the distance, Sam's pickup approached in a cloud of dust. He pulled up alongside her as she waved her arms to flag him down.
"Sook, what the hell?" he yelled, leaning out the window and surveying the scene in front of him. "Is that a vamp?"
"Yeah and he's dying, Sam. Help me get him into the car and back to the bar," she said quickly, going around his backside to pull him up.
"Aw hell no, I'm not touching that thing."
"Don't be prejudiced. Now is not the time."
The vampire's head was limp on the ground, but she could see him attempting to follow the conversation between her and Sam. He looked bewildered and delirious. She reached underneath his shoulders to begin pulling him up, surprised by the weight. This guy was huge. She heard the driver's side door slam shut as Sam came around.
"Get his legs," Sookie ordered, but when Sam approached the vampire made an awful hissing sound in his direction. "Now you stay quiet. He's helping you. And no bitin' him neither." Sam backed away. "Oh would you get over yourself and grab his legs already?"
Sam then turned his glare to her, pushing her aside.
"You get his legs. Come on, on three," he said. Together they lifted him up and over into the bed of Sam's truck. The sun was really beating down, heating up the metal, warm to the touch. The vampire groaned and curled up again, tucked into the shadiest corner of the open bed.
"You got a blanket or somethin'?" Sookie asked. "Like you use for the dog?" Sam jogged to the passenger's seat and pulled out a thick quilt, throwing it impatiently over the vampire's body.
The unlikely trio sped back to Merlotte's. Subtly, Sookie allowed herself a peek into Sam's mind, something she tried to avoid doing because it often made her feel, let's just say, a bit unsavory. His brain was less thought and more pure emotion, and, boy was it loud. Sookie grimaced. She found herself seeking out the empty void. To her dismay, it seemed to be weakening. Shrinking. She pushed against it and she could swear she felt a slight push in return. It was barely anything, but it was there. It gave her hope.
In the parking lot, Sam whipped the truck around and a series of thuds could be heard from the back. Sookie glared at him, arms crossed over her white t-shirt.
"Alright, well that was just uncalled for."
Sam just grumbled something under his breath and stepped out of the car. They went around and put down the gate, Sookie scrambling up into the bed to grab him. She was sweating now, the Louisiana heat coming out in true form. She wiped her forehead and threw the blanket off of the vampire. He hissed involuntarily in response and attempted to throw a forearm over his face, but all he succeeded in doing was lifting and dropping his arm feebly. He stared up at her silhouette, his face open in what could only be described as shock.
"Min ängel? Kom du tillbaka för mig?" His lips were dry, bloody in the cracks. She noticed his fangs were no longer out, which made him look disturbingly human. Absently, she wondered why that scared her more.
"I don't know what you're sayin' buddy, but we gotta get you inside."
Sam, surprisingly lithe, jumped in the back. Together, they carried the limp, burnt body from the truck and into Merlotte's. His head hung to the side, flickers of consciousness appearing and disappearing on his face. Awkward and exhausted, they descended the wooden stairs into the cool, light proof storage room. They laid him on the ground, propped up against a crate of packed chips. He slumped, leaving a trail of red behind him on the bags.
"Man, I just bought those," Sam complained. "I'm gettin' the blanket, keep him from gettin' his vamp juice all over my supplies."
"Sam, wait," Sookie said, stopping his ascent up the creaky old stairs. "I think he's still dyin'. You think we were, you know… too late?" Her own devastation surprised her as she knelt by his side, feeling the gentle pulse of his void with her mind, the tendrils reaching out then fading, strong then silent like a heartbeat.
"I don't know. But what I do know is you did more'n enough for this vamp, so if, and I mean if he survives, he sure as hell owes you one."
"Oh hush and get the blanket," she snapped. "And shut the door while you're up there, we don't want no light gettin' in at least."
Sam climbed up the rest of the stairs and shut the heavy door with a thud. She used the pull cord attached to a hanging bulb to illuminate the space, casting dark, ominous shadows. It swung in a slow circle, giving the tiny storage room a ghostly feel, as if the darkness danced around them both in some sort of choreographed motion. On impulse, Sookie climbed the stairs slowly and locked the door from the inside, the latch sliding with a satisfying click. At the bottom of the stairs, the vampire still sat, curved nearly in half, his skin still burnt, neck and wrists still bloody from the silver chains. His eyes no longer opened.
She descended back down the stairs and knelt beside him again, holding one of his hands in both of hers. It was huge and pale, she could barely contain it in her own. She squeezed, hoping to feel some type of response but receiving none. His chest softly rose and fell. His mouth was parted, but there were still no fangs. The void was shrinking. She let go of his hand, watching as it dropped lifelessly to the floor.
In her gut, she knew what she had to do. She took a deep breath and leaned forward, her blond hair gently brushing his forehead. She grabbed the back of his hair, using it to tilt his head back and angle his mouth at her neck. She heard him inhale through his nose, slowly and shaky, releasing it with a moan. But there was no bite. The fangs didn't drop. He couldn't do it.
She heard a knock on the door above her, Sam calling through it.
"Hey, Sook! I think you locked it from the inside!"
"Just a minute!" she yelled back, panicking. There wasn't much time. Sooner or later Sam would simply break down the door. Or her vampire would be dead. She tried not to dwell too long on the fact that she thought of him as her vampire, not just any vampire. Instead, she searched the room for something sharp. There were loads of packing boxes in the corner from all the shipping, there had to be a box knife laying around somewhere. She rooted through the discarded cardboard until she found it, an old rusty thing with the initials SM carved into the handle. Maybe she should talk to Sam about leaving his knives all over the place some other time.
She jumped back to the vampire's prone form. The blood leaking from his extremities seemed to be slowing, thickening. She didn't know if that was a good sign or a bad one, but she assumed bad. She also didn't know if vampires needed to breathe to stay alive, but he definitely wasn't doing that anymore, either. But she could still feel his void. It was nearly an echo, but it was there. He was still alive. Or, he was still dead. Whichever.
With a trembling hand, she held the knife to her neck, her heart beating rapidly inside her chest. Distantly, she could hear Sam continuing to call through the door, but there was a rushing in her ears that drowned it out and made her focus. She had to do this. She pressed the blade into her skin, wincing as she cut a thin, clean, shallow line down near to her clavicle. Again, she crawled over to him, lifting his head up by his hair to the right angle. The drops coagulated slowly, but she could feel them beginning to drift down her neck. She leaned over until his lips hovered against her skin, the blood sliding into his mouth with gravity.
At first, there was no response. His body remained limp and lifeless beneath her own. At that moment, she felt again as though she could hear everything. Her own breathing, yes. Sam's fists hitting the door, of course. But also the persistent buzz of a trapped fly. The scratch of her fingernails into expensive leather. The drip of every single drop of blood hitting his tongue.
"Please," she begged. "Please."
And then he reacted. Violently. She heard a sudden click as his fangs descended, ripping into her skin without mercy. The first pull caused her to cry out, her hands grasping desperately at his shoulders. She couldn't tell if she was pushing or pulling. Either option seemed to result in blissful agony. She felt his own hands fly up, cold and sticky with blood, locking her to him, one on her shoulder and the other on her side, pulling her flush against him as he continued to drink. She felt her hands go limp, her body draped against him. It was his turn to grab her hair, angle her to suit his needs. He began to lean forward and into her, their limbs entangled.
It was at that moment she realized: he was going to kill her.
She tried to muster up the ability to speak, but every word she attempted seemed to die on her tongue. She felt herself growing fuzzy, her vision warping at the edges, blurred as if underwater. So she reached out to the void instead. With her mind, she pushed. Tentatively at first, then harder. She felt his lust, his desperation, his confusion. All of it melded into one emotion, pushing back on her, overpowering her with ease. She pushed again, but she was fading fast.
Please, she begged, this time in her mind. Please.
She felt the click of fangs retracting, loosening hands.
Then, suddenly, a loud, intrusive scream. Sam.
"Get your hands off her you fuckin' fanger!"
And everything went dark.
x
Was she dreaming? She couldn't tell. Everything was warm, soft, gentle. She was on her front porch, moving back and forth on the swing. Gran was inside baking something that smelled awfully delicious. Apple pie? Pecan? It must be some type of pie. She wore her best white dress, her shoulders sun-kissed, her cheeks rosy. Jason, off in the distance, smiled at her. He was working on his truck, sure, but he was also mindlessly flirting with some girl he met at some bar who sat hanging out of the driver's seat next to him. She sighed, feeling content. If this was a dream, she never wanted to wake up.
Jason, she called with her mind. He mumbled something to the girl, then jogged over to her.
How're ya doin', Sook? he asked. His mouth wasn't moving or anything, but she didn't mind. Heard that fanger got you real good.
A vampire? she questioned in response.
"You don't remember?" he said aloud. It hurt her ears. It was too much noise, upsetting her perfect world.
"Quiet down," she whispered. She couldn't hear the cicadas chirp when he talked so loud.
"He nearly killed you," he said. "At Merlotte's. And you were just tryin' to help, too."
"Shhhh," she hushed again. The sun seemed to set at a rapid pace. She could watch its descent from where she sat, first high in the sky, then dancing atop the trees, then a distant glow until only a little half circle remained on the horizon. Jason glanced over his shoulder.
"We should get you inside. Ain't safe out here in Bon Temps anymore after the sun sets. All because you saved that vamp."
"It's my fault?" she asked, desperately. "I didn't mean to hurt nobody."
He came up beside her and cradled her in his arms, pressing the side of her face against his chest, welcoming and strong. They rocked together, watching as the last of the sun disappeared, leaving the cooling dark of twilight and the unearthing of hundreds of thousands of stars. She felt content again, sitting with Jason. She realized she couldn't hear his thoughts anymore, but figured that was okay. After all, she'd spent her entire life trying to get rid of her curse. If it just happened to be gone, so be it. What a relief.
"C'mon, let's get inside," he said, standing up and holding his hand out to her. She was about to join him when she saw a blur of movement followed by a black silhouette in the shape of a man. It reached out and grabbed Jason from behind, effortlessly contorting his body.
"Jason!" she screamed, standing up and rushing toward him.
She froze in her place when she heard the click. The familiar click. Two pearly white fangs, dropping, ready.
"Please don't," she begged the silhouette. "Don't hurt my brother."
But shadows don't speak.
"Sookie," Jason begged, reaching out to her as the fangs descended closer and closer to his neck.
"Please, I'll do anythin'," she cried.
"Sookie," Jason repeated. "Please help me. Sookie, Sookie, Sookie, please."
Effortlessly, the fangs bit.
x
"Sookie?" It was Jason. She shot up, reaching out blindly toward the voice, her arms catching the torso of her brother. She yanked, pulling him towards her, burying her face in his chest again.
"You're alive," she breathed, then looked up to confirm. "Oh thank Heavens."
"I'm alive? I should be sayin' the same to you," Jason responded, bewildered. "You're the one out here cavortin' with vampires, or so Sam tells me."
"Cavortin'? Who says cavortin'?"
Sookie looked around her, trying to get her bearings. She was sitting at a table in the middle of Merlotte's, the bar empty. A bloodied, crumpled up blanket lay beneath her on the floor. She realized her head was pounding and reached up to her neck with a sudden remembrance of the last day. Her neck was covered in blood but clotted and dry, thankfully. Jason blew out a whistle.
"Your neck looks like a crime scene, Sook."
"Thanks," she grimaced, leaning over to stand. Her feet touched the ground just as Sam walked into the room. He walked then jogged over to her, intercepting her just as she was about to fall. She grabbed his arms as her mind whirled, black flecks spotting her vision.
"Hey, sit back down. You lost a lot of blood," Sam said softly.
She leaned back against the table while her world steadied. Sam stood over her, hands surrounding both her thighs.
"Look, we gotta have a talk."
"Is he okay?" Sookie asked.
"Is he okay?" Sam repeated, incredulously. "Is he okay? Sookie, you almost died. If I hadn't gotten in there… Honestly, I don't know what would've happened. He wasn't going to stop, that's for damn sure." Sam moved away from her then as if trying to contain his anger. He cracked his knuckles. "I gotta open up the bar soon. I think it's best you go home, take the night off. Shower. Recover."
"It's my night though," she protested.
"I'll get a cover," he replied.
"Sam," she admitted softly. "I need the money."
Sam sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.
"Fine," he relented. "Jason, would you take her home, please? And Sookie, take your time, you hear? Don't come back if you ain't feelin' up to it."
Jason drove Sookie home, then stayed with her as she changed out of her bloodied uniform and took a shower. He fielded questions from Gran, creating some cover about how Sookie ended up staying over at his place after her last shift. Sookie didn't want her to worry; she never wanted her to worry. As the sun set outside, she had flashbacks to her dream. Who would come out of the woodwork? What would they have to say? Who would they want to bite? Sookie felt desperately for the thoughts of her family, the only two she had left in the world. She couldn't bear it if she brought danger or harm to them. She wouldn't be able to live with herself.
Jason also insisted on driving Sookie back to work, though she protested vehemently before remembering her own car still sat in Merlotte's parking lot.
"How are you feelin'?" Jason asked on the drive, hand draped casually over the steering wheel.
"I'm alright. Little shaky but not too bad." She'd done her best to cover up the two puncture holes in her neck from the vampire's teeth with concealer. After she'd cleared the dried blood away she was surprised to discover only the two marks and the thin line from the box cutter; she was sure he'd made multiple wounds while it was happening.
"All this feels a bit odd, Sookie. Two vamps showing up in one night? After we ain't seen one ever in Bon Temps?" Jason didn't make eye contact, just stared straight out at the road. "Sam told me the other one who came for a drink was payin' special mind to you, too."
"Jason, they only started mainstreamin' a couple years ago. Who knows, maybe plenty'd run through and we just missed 'em 'cause they were in hidin'," she said, knowing full well that it wasn't true. She'd never seen a vampire before the previous night, nonetheless two. The void stood out.
In a world filled with noise, silence was always loudest.
"I don't know, feels like it's more than just a coincidence," he said quietly as they pulled back up to Merlotte's. There were only a few other cars in the lot, but the lights flashed neon and she could see movement from both customers and staff inside. "Just look out for yourself, okay?" he asked as she got out of the car, grabbing her blond ponytail playfully.
"Always do," she winked, already heading up the worn steps and into the bar.
Sookie threw herself into her work for the rest of the night, doing as best as she could to block out all the extraneous thoughts heading her way. Turned out, a lot of people had already heard about Bill, the vampire that paid a visit to Merlotte's the night before. In all the craziness of the day she'd nearly forgotten about him, but he was certainly the talk of the town. No one was talking about the one she'd found in the forest, though. Apparently, Sam was keeping it close to the chest, which was surely for the best. She tried to ignore their glances and suspicions, their comments about how she was always the strange one or how she must be attracting the vampires with her special voodoo magic, but by the end of the night she was more exhausted by their suspicions than by her lack of blood volume.
She dropped down in an empty booth when the last drunk duo left singing Tim McGraw at the top of their lungs. She stretched out her toes first, then her legs, then her arms, then her mind. And to her surprise, there was a void. And it pressed back.
"Sam Merlotte!" she screamed. "I cannot believe you left him down there in that basement!"
She rushed over to the door and threw it open, staring at the vampire who, though his wrists were shackled with silver and he was a bit dirty with dried blood, otherwise looked entirely unharmed. What's more, he was beautiful. It was his eyes. She'd never seen anything like it. They were an unapologetic, piercing blue.
"Sookie Stackhouse," the vampire growled. "If you don't let me out of this cellar right now, we're both going to have much bigger problems on our hands."
x
when life's a little shit, write fanfic! this will be three chapters total. i realize it isn't 2010 anymore, but please, indulge me. had to publish this twice because i'm an old idiot now who no longer knows how to work this site. xoxo