A/N: First of all, I forgot to say it last time, so for the record, I do not own True Blood or Southern Vampire Mysteries. Next, thank you all so much for your lovely reviews/comments! It's really encouraging to receive feedback. I hope you enjoy the chapter!

Chapter 2: Rebirth and Renewal

Olive wakes to a strange new world. Good thing she's always been a quick learner.

Olive woke to a suffocating pressure surrounding her. She inhaled out of habit (though she felt no particular urge to breathe) and immediately regretted it as her lungs filled with dirt. She lashed out wildly, panicked, and felt her limbs tear through loose soil. Pushing upwards desperately, Olive felt the tips of her fingers break through into open air and she hurled her shoulders in that same direction. After a moment of frantic wiggling, her head and neck busted up through the surface of the earth. She hacked and coughed and spit soil from her mouth and lungs. Chest burning, feeling like she'd inhaled glass, Olive hauled her arms up out of the dirt and dragged herself out of the shallow grave she'd been buried in. Her entire body shook with residual terror. She squeezed her eyes shut, reaching up with quivering hands to brush the earth out of her eyelashes. What the fuck? What the fuck, what the fuck!

"It's alright," a low voice said soothingly as a large pair of hands lightly grasped Olive's shoulders. She twitched instinctively, but didn't feel at all afraid-unusual, given Olive's typical experiences with men. And this was certainly a male voice. Deep and vaguely familiar, it brought forward a peculiar sensation that Olive hadn't been aware of until the man spoke. A strange pull at her chest, a connection extending outward from behind her breast bone, and the knowledge etched into her very being that she could trust the person at the other end of the tether implicitly. Now that was an unnatural feeling, one that sent the first stirrings of unease throughout Olive's body. She tensed. "No, no, you don't need to be afraid," the voice assured her, and an odd, comforting warmth suddenly seemed to spread throughout Olive's chest from that new connection.

A new instinct bloomed behind Olive's heart, one she didn't recognize. It felt different than the instinct that had guided Olive for her entire life, the one nestled comfortably at the back of her mind. This one was centered around the tether in Olive's chest, around the deep, gnawing hunger taking root in her stomach, and around the unfamiliar ache in her gums. It was baser, more animal than the preternatural intuition Olive usually relied upon. Maker, this new instinct seemed to purr. Trust him. Love him. Protect him.

What the fuck.

Yanking herself away from the gentle hands on her upper arms-and ignoring the bizarre urge to whine like a puppy at the loss-Olive scrambled backwards in a bastardized version of a crabwalk. Rolling to her hands and knees as soon as she was free, she shot to her feet in a movement so quick it left her feeling disoriented. She scanned her surroundings rapidly, eyes taking in every detail (Every detail? Since when could she see this well in the dark? For that matter, since when could she see individual particles in the air, or the individual veins on a leaf at the very top of a tree, or, or-oh my God what the fuck!) at a monstrous pace. It took her a fraction of a second to lock onto the only other person present, and therefore the largest threat in the area. Again, she ignored her new animalistic instinct, which for some reason objected to labeling a goddamn fucking massive vampire as a threat.

Olive's trusty, familiar supernatural intuition roared to life at the feeling of her growing fear, before abruptly settling. Relax, no danger, it urged. Bewildered, but much more willing to accept this verdict from a more reliable source, Olive released some of the tension that had been gathering in her muscles.

Yes, Maker safe, her new instincts agreed with her original ones. Trust.

Wait.

Maker? Weird new urges and instincts? Waking up from a dirt nap only to be comforted by a vampire? The previous night's events suddenly returned to Olive in a rush. The pull to come to Shreveport, the attack, the Sheriff's arrival. His offer. "Oh shit," Olive blurted, blinking in shock. She patted herself down, paying close attention to the places she'd been injured last night, but she found nothing but smooth, cool skin (coated with dirt and blood) and unbroken bone. She was fine. Actually. . . she felt pretty great, minus the gradually deepening ache in her stomach. Which could mean only one thing, really. Eyes wide, she returned her gaze to the vampire in front of her, who was lowering his hands from the conciliatory position they'd taken, looking amused. He too was coated in a thin layer of grime.

"Welcome, Olive," he drawled quietly, and she shuddered at the sound of her name on his lips, brand-spanking-new vampire instincts pleased at the acknowledgement from her Maker. Olive knew more about vampires than the average human did (Though she wasn't human anymore, was she? More than the average baby vamp, then. Hmm. There'd be time to process that later.), including the fact that Makers and their progeny were bound through blood and magic on a deeply spiritual level. She'd never expected it to feel like this, though. Like the man in front of her was. . . nothing short of everything.

It was terrifying, but undeniably intoxicating.

"I take it you remember what happened," the man continued, eyes locked onto her. The stare of an apex predator should have frightened her, but Olive's traitorous instincts remained unconcerned.

"I do, Sheriff," Olive said after a moment's pause, only to be taken aback at the sound of her own voice. She could hear new depths within it, reverberations she'd never noticed before now. The wind picked up suddenly, and Olive did not feel cold. She twitched at the noise of leaves rustling, sounding as if it were mere inches away when the nearest tree was at least 20 yards from her.

With a faint swoosh of displaced air, the Sheriff appeared in front of her. Olive was amazed she managed to follow the movement with her eyes. "Eric, please," he insisted. "There's no need for such titles between the two of us. Though if you insist, you may call me Maker." Eric smirked. "Or Master?"

Olive grimaced. His playful emotions brushed up against her within their connection, giving her the foreign urge to laugh. Even though he meant it as a joke, his words reminded her of a less pleasant facet of the Maker-progeny bond: the Command. Olive had witnessed it first hand, and no desire to experience it herself. Against her vampire instinct's insistence, some of her agitation returned. "Let's just. . . stick with Eric for now." God, her stomach was really starting to hurt.

Her Maker tilted his head to the side, lizard-like, examining her with piercing eyes. Hmm, they were. . . very blue. "You're wary of me," Eric hummed. "You shouldn't be. You should trust me implicitly."

Trust, trust, trust, vampire Olive urged.

No danger, psychic Olive agreed.

Ugh, fine, regular Olive capitulated, shortly followed by, Aw fuck, I've finally cracked, haven't I?

"I do trust you," she admitted eventually. "Or at least, I feel like I should. That's what's freaking me out."

He smirked. "Not being a vampire?"

"Ah." Olive faltered. "Well, no, not really. I agreed to that, after all. And it's not like my other options were all that appealing." Her other options having been death. Well, True Death, that is.

A small, pleased smile took over Eric's face. "Good," he said kindly. "You'll get used to the bond, don't worry. I found it disconcerting when I first Turned as well." Olive couldn't pretend not to find that reassuring. "Do you remember what I told you last night?"

"That I looked like shit?" Olive suggested dryly.

Eric barked out a loud, deep laugh, and Olive cracked an automatic smile at the sound. "After that," he chortled, laughter eventually trailing off until all that remained of it was a sincere grin. His gaze softened, and he reached up-slowly, broadcasting his movements-to cup Olive's cheek and stroke it gently. Her new, powerful sense of smell was quickly overwhelmed by his scent. Sea spray, burnished wood, and freshly cut pine. She barely resisted the urge to press her nose against his wrist. Eric towered over her, pressed nearly chest to chest, and Olive really should have felt intimidated. Everything she'd ever learned about people, about men in particular, told her to be afraid. But both sets of her instincts were quiet, content to rest in his arms. Safe, they told her, and she couldn't help but agree. It was a new feeling; Olive hadn't been safe in a very long time.

"Father. Brother. Child," she recited, voice pitched low. "Friend." Olive quirked a brow. "Lover," she drawled, and Eric chuckled again. "I've gotta admit, that last one's the only one I've got much experience with."

"Do you now?" he asked teasingly, threading a strong arm around her waist and twining a lock of her curly hair around one of his long, pale fingers (Oh, it was gonna be hell to get all this muck out of her mane. It was difficult enough to wash on a good day!). But he dropped the flirtatious veneer quickly enough, no doubt sensing through their new bond that Olive wasn't quite down for that at the moment. Maybe later. Eric smiled reassuringly. "As for the rest. . . Well, we've got all the time in the world. You'll learn."

They did, didn't they? That was a new feeling. "Yeah," Olive said a bit breathlessly, a small spark of something hopeful and awed taking root in her chest. "I'm starting to think I might."

Olive's life had been going nowhere fast for a long time with no resources, no support system, no place to call home, and no particular hope that things would ever improve. Now. . . well if she understood vampire dynamics properly (and she'd made it a point to be informed about such things after her first forays into the supernatural had nearly ended in disaster), she might have all of those things now. This, she realized, was the opportunity her instincts had sensed and drawn her towards. Not just the chance to become a vampire-which she hadn't really given much thought to, one way or the other, but didn't particularly mind-but the chance for something that had always seemed out of reach: happiness. Security. Genuine connection to other people. The idea was a little daunting in its unfamiliarity, but Olive wasn't one to let a knock from opportunity go unanswered. She was cautious, yes, but never looked a gift horse in the mouth. They were rare enough as it was. So, trying not to hesitate, she took the leap.

Olive leaned forward, allowing herself to rest her head against Eric's chest as her vampire instinct urged. He rumbled out a subvocal noise of approval, one Olive certainly wouldn't have been able to hear as a human, and Olive's inner vampire faintly purred in ecstasy, even as her preexisting instinct perked up. Good idea, it praised. He likes that. Want him to like you. Things will be better, less dangerous, easier to fix. Images flashed suddenly behind Olive's eyes. A sallow, dark haired vampire snarling at Eric. A young yet ancient man standing before a cross. A growling wolf. Eric shielding Olive and another female vampire from an unseen threat. No good. Change it, her instinct urged.

O. . .kay? Um, what the fuck? That was. . . different. Olive had never experienced anything like that before. Her intuition allowed her to make the best of whatever situation she found herself in, it told her which action would lead to a favorable outcome. It didn't make oblique, nebulous references to things that hadn't happened yet, let alone show her those things. That wasn't. . . that wasn't how it worked! Olive didn't have visions! She wasn't a psychic! Unbidden, memories of her mother flashed before Olive's eyes. Her fits, her. . . episodes. Her shrieking and thrashing, hurling things at the wall as strange voices erupted from her mouth.

Without her permission, a harsh hiss escaped from between Olive's teeth. There was an unfamiliar burst of tight pressure in her gums, a brief moment of sharp pain, and a sound similar to the crunch of an apple as her fangs descended for the first time. Startled, Olive cried out and pushed back from Eric to bring her hands up and grope at her own mouth in shock.

Perfectly calm, her Maker pulled back and smoothed his hands up her arms to place them on her slim shoulders. His hands were so large that his thumbs could rest on her collar bones, and the tips of his fingers still reached all the way around to her shoulder blades. "Calm," he ordered, and though it wasn't a Command, Olive couldn't even fathom disobeying. She sucked in an unnecessary breath and tried to force back the frightening, foreign rage that had risen so suddenly to the forefront in response to her fear. Easy, unruffled calm seeped into her heart through her bond with Eric, and she allowed it to fill her, pushing back the anger that she didn't understand. Her fangs retracted back into her gums. "Good," he praised. "Very good."

"What the hell was that?" Olive questioned, shaken by both her unprecedented reaction and the remnants of the warning her intuition had given her about the future.

"Baby's first dropped fang! Very cute," Eric teased lightly. Olive felt like she should probably be offended, but, well, she kind of was a baby in comparison to him, wasn't she? And she was a "newborn" technically, since vampires discarded their human ages once they Turned. Still, while she would normally be fine with the joke, she was just a bit too wound up to appreciate it at the moment. Eric sensed this, evidently, as he squeezed her shoulders and continued more seriously, "Vampires are a predatory species, childe, and our lives are often steeped in danger. As such, many of our instinctive reactions to emotions like anger, fear, pain, and even lust, involve an aggressive response. Hissing, growling, baring our fangs. It's perfectly normal," he assured her. "Newborn vampires have an especially difficult time controlling their instincts, as you can imagine."

Controlling her instincts. . . right. "I think I understand," Olive said slowly. It would be difficult, but Olive had a better understanding of her own instincts than most people did (or at least she had, before they started spiralling into completely new territory), so maybe that'd give her an edge. She ran her tongue over her human-feeling teeth. Eugh, her fangs were going to drop whenever she was horny, weren't they? Great. "Thank you. . . for explaining."

"There's no need to thank me," Eric said firmly, tilting her chin upwards with a finger so that she had no choice but to look him in the eye. "As your Maker, it is my responsibility, my honor, and my privilege to teach you, protect you, and provide for you in every way that I can. I take that job very seriously."

Olive bit her lip. She was almost afraid to ask, but. . . "What's my job, then? You know," she added a little challengingly when he raised a fine blond brow, "as your progeny?" She crossed her arms loosely. Olive. . . liked Eric. Both sets of her instincts loved him. She wanted to trust him, wanted to take advantage of the opportunity he'd presented her with. And she knew he hadn't lied to her yet (she could always tell when people lied to her), about anything, but she needed to make sure she knew what she was getting herself into. She might have been leaping . . . but she was going firmly feet first.

Eric's eyes bored into her intently. "Your job," he said in a tone that brooked no argument, "is to respect and obey me as your Maker, and to honor our bloodline in all things. The blood is sacred," he decreed, and the words rang in Olive's head like a commandment. The slightest bit of unease arose at the back of her mind. Sensing this, Eric's ice blue eyes narrowed. "Is that going to be a problem?" he asked, and Olive knew there was only one answer she could safely give.

"No," she blurted automatically, a thrill of fear racing through her. If her heart had still been beating (and what a strange thought that was), its rhythm might have faltered. Eric softened, the faintest touch of remorse reaching Olive from his side of the bond. Clearly he didn't want to frighten her. Will though, to get compliance. Teach you the danger of disrespecting older vampires, Olive's instinct informed her helpfully, once again providing more information than it ever had before. She bit her lip. Olive didn't have the best track record with respect. "I don't. . . mind doing all that stuff, necessarily," she explained, glancing up at Eric through her lashes. "It's just that I don't know how good at it I'll be. I've been alone for a long time," Olive confessed, though she was sure Eric had already guessed as much. "I haven't had to listen to anyone but myself for years and-" she cut herself off, figuring it would be best not to announce that there would probably be moments when her instincts demanded she do something contrary to what Eric had ordered. But then again. . . Olive examined Eric consideringly.

"Is there something you'd like to tell me?" he asked, cool as a cucumber. His steady confidence helped ground Olive. Was there something she wanted to tell him? Could she trust him with the secret of her instincts? It would certainly grease the wheels of the bonding process, and it might help eliminate some of the tension they both seemed to be feeling on the matter of Olive's "obedience." But still. She'd never told anyone about her. . . gift before, and many of the people who'd found out about it one way or the other had had such delightful reactions as "get away from me as quickly as possible" or "I'm going to keep you forever as my pet Magic 8-Ball." Needless to say, Olive wasn't eager to repeat those experiences. "Hey," Eric interrupted her inner debate gently, no doubt feeling her decision. "I understand that you don't know me very well, but please believe me when I say that whatever the problem is here, I just want to work it out. I give you my word that no information you provide me with will ever be used to harm you," he swore. "You are my progeny, my blood," Eric claimed and a great flood of pleasure filled Olive, originating from her vampire instinct, which was overjoyed by her Maker's possessive words. "That means everything."

And Olive believed him. She sucked in an unneeded breath-distantly fascinated by the strange, hollow, whistling sensation the action created-and consulted her sixth sense.

Trust Maker! Olive's vampire instincts butted in petulantly. Olive ignored this. She got the feeling these new instincts would tell her to trust Eric even if he had a stake leveled at her heart.

Better to tell, Olive's intuition instructed. Bad if he finds out later. Again, a series of pictures flashed through Olive's mind. Eric shouting at her, throwing a table against the wall. Olive crying blood. More trust if honest now. Olive tracing a route on a set of blueprints, Eric looking over her shoulder. Eric glancing to Olive for confirmation while he leans intimidatingly over a sweaty human. Eric squeezing her shoulder reassuringly as Olive opens an ornate door.

"Okay," Olive whispered. "Okay." She steeled herself, straightening her shoulders and tilting her head back to look Eric square in the face. "I really want this to work," Olive admitted shamelessly. "And for that to happen, there's something important that I need to tell you." She glanced around. They were standing in a small field at the edge of a forest of cyprus trees. Olive was certain that with her newly heightened senses-intuition included-she'd be able to tell if someone were nearby. But she still wasn't comfortable discussing this out in the open. Plus, she was really starting to get. . . hungry. Thirsty? Hmm. She licked her lips a bit helplessly, gums aching. "Is there, uh, any way we could talk about this somewhere else?" Olive asked a little desperately.

"Of course!" Eric said quickly, and to Olive's disbelief he actually seemed a little flustered. She got the feeling not many people saw this side of him. "Of course, you must be starving. Forgive me, I should have seen to your needs straight away. We'll go back to my nest. You can clean up and feed there."

Embarrassingly, Olive's fangs made an immediate reappearance at the word "feed," much to Eric's amusement. Blood! her vampiric instinct hissed.

AB-positive tastes best, Olive's intuition provided. Tru Blood is disgusting. An image of herself choking after taking a sip of synthetic blood. Wonderful.

"Okay," Olive agreed. "And then we'll talk," she asserted. Didn't want to lose her nerve, after all.

"And then we'll talk," Eric confirmed, and Olive had just enough time to register the swooping feeling in her gut as her instincts alighted before he swept her into his arms and leapt into the night sky.

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