Do not own, blah blah blah. Thank you everyone for all the follows and reviews. I feel all kinds of awesome and dorktastic.
She was dreaming, again. It's always the same and when she starts awake she's grasping the air. Her body hurts and she's trying to forget the past few weeks. The shock of Bon Temps in chaos, her home in disarray (more like an atomic bomb exploded) and her friends and family betrayed and wrenched apart.
Oh she knew her heart would heal after Bill Compton's pretty sugar spun lies melted out from her brain. Sam's anger would hopefully disappear and she wanted nothing to do with Arlene's panicked rambling and frantic actions. It was Eric she was worried about, he let her go. Without a fight, after the Godric's rescue or was it change of heart, in Dallas to the fiasco with Russell. Those where her nightmares and so much easier to handle than the other dreams. Feeling the hot breath of a werewolf amped on V. Hearing Eric's rage and seeing his cool calculations of revenge in that dandy's house. She knew with one look at him there it wasn't about political ambitions. It was revenge pure and simple. She shouldn't have been so blind to Bill's action. It was all politics, use her and give her to that little spoiled china doll. But when she walked away and declared no more vampires the part that hurt the most was the despair in his eyes.
But she is tired, so many lies and being pulled in direction that will tear her limbs off. Tara left; it felt like her left leg was broken. Jason threw himself under a bus for people that evolution should have destroyed. That's was her right arm being crippled. Bill tore out her heart and literally left it for wolves to eat. Eric sought vengeance at the wrong time and in the process ripped out Godric's, enough that Sookie could feel a change in him. Honestly she could feel that before everyone came back to Louisana. He broke part of her soul when he forced her to look at the mess Bill had left her in. It stung more as he casually picked cement from his hair. Arrogant smug Nordic asshole. Don't even get her started on the mess this fairy business was. Her light may have saved her from delusional ancient madmen but why the hell couldn't it fix the riot her life turned into.
So the dreams began. She thought maybe it wouldn't be so bad after she resounded her invitations. It wasn't the same kind of dreams she had of Eric. Those could be dealt with now that she knew the effects the blood had on her. These were different. They were filled of fire and darker times, black feathers and a look into deep eyes that spoke of possession and consuming. In shared amounts, she was devoured but in turn she took just as much as she gave. The most frightening thing about it was the partner was neither Eric nor Bill. It was always Godric but not the one she knew or at least thought she knew. During the whole Russell debacle he was away. She understood but hoped maybe he would be there to help. When he did come back from business he had assured them before leaving Dallas, he walked into the fight at Fangtasia. There bleeding from lack of sleep and looking like a ghost he told Eric it wasn't worth it, but she saw the hardness behind his eyes when Russell spewed his filth. She caught the glimpse of his former self. It thrilled her. Now she was paying the price for her infatuation she tried desperately to curb. One more long night turning and wishing for dreamless nights. Not even taunts from the cemetery can sooth her. Fairyland held no appeal when it can only deceive her more. Half truths echoed on breezes do not give answers. From Eric she learned honest truths given to her straight up will be the only things she wants to hear from anything supernatural. She listened to the night birds call and the bugs chirp and fell into an uneasy slumber.
He watched her turn, her breasts rising with each sigh and her honey colored hair spread out beneath her. He watched his hand trace a pattern over her arm in an unconscious movement. Those few weeks away burned at him. His gentle savior was broken and wounded before him yet he could sense her distrust with his kind. Still she was strong and learning of her origins confirmed his faith that she was meant for more than this little town had to offer. More than Sophie Ann or even that imbecile Compton could ever have dreamed. She was not the first partial fae he ever encountered; they were quite common in his mortal life. But then again he was mortal and never gave they're kind a second thought after he was turned. Still he didn't think it was her blood that drew him in, it was her soul. It burned more brightly than any power could. It kept him awake during the day and made him want to posses her more. Oddly he wanted to give in to her every whim just as much.
Godric smiled to himself perched in his tree. His clothing blended in with twilight, dark grays and blues molded to his trim body. Different times and place called for subtle changes and here he need to show a more solid power. Dallas was peaceful and relaxed and here was a under laying power play. Full of seduction and a thirst that was deadly. He needs to play into the death persona more so than centuries have called for. He doesn't want an Area over even a kingdom; he wants to be left alone to his own devices and infatuations. Currently the one he watches struggling to sleep. He has an idea as to what she dreams about. Her breath ragged and arms trying to hold a phantom body next to hers. He hears her sighs and moans, lips begging to trace a tattooed outline. His own skin tingling with the imagined licks and nips she would leave. Needless breath escapes from him as he feels his body respond with a fever it hasn't felt for an eternity.
The wind gusts by bringing traces of the coming dawn. It's time to go and welcome his own tormenting dreams; soon it they would be answered. He was starting to leave her gifts. Little items he hoped would make her smile and let her know he would always be honest with her. It would be brutal at times but still he had no time for the games other vampire played. It bored him and he never played by the rules set before him to begin with. He was death after all and death took what death wanted, always. No one ever tried to argue with death, for a perfectly good reason. Except Sookie might, that upon itself would be enjoyable. He would keep her safe and protected but free to be who she was ment to be. God help whatever foolish creature decided to fuck with her. A growl escaped from his throat as he prowled up to her porch to leave his offering. He may have told his child love and forgiveness where worthy beliefs and to let the past go. But to him he needs to be prepared for the future and damn passives and flowery words when his sanity was in balance. These were in the realms of Eric,Pam,Sookie and that silly little baby Jessica. They held him grounded and gave him something to cherish. Companionship, love and someone to pass his knowledge onto. He shook his head to clear away the bleak thoughts. He needs to hurry to beat the rising sun. His ears heard the creaked of the old mattress and the patter of feet walking away. Time to leave; he placed his gift next to the door and speed off to his car parked father down the parish road. He had to rest, the past few days were trying, his body telling him to take her. But he would have her on equal terms at all times. No saints could help him now, whatever beast she set free within him has become unbound. It was patient for the most part but it was hungry after so long. He arrived at Eric's home and quietly let himself in. His child was brooding again, pride hurt from his Estonian dancer and Sookie's refusal of friendship. He was honest with her and showing he was willing to sacrifice that for her trust. He would be fine soon, his child was still impatient and still didn't understand mortals needed more time to adjust to different concepts even though they had less time itself to commit. He passed Eric and gave a touch on his shoulder letting him know he was going to rest and offer himself to the sweet torment he wanted. When he slides shut his eyes, his lips quirked upwards with bliss.
Sookie opened her door the next morning, there on the steps was a pot of night blooming jasmine with a paper attached. Planted in the soil was a number and note. Written with honest intent was phone number and a name, she understood it was an offering. Now if only her hand would stop shaking and spilling coffee all over the porch.