GUYS – thank you so so much for all your amazing reviews. I am a megabitch I know, for not updating for ages. Long story short, I've been working rather a lot, and as a result even this post is not as long as I'd like, but please know I'm not abandoning this story until it's done.

Also, can we just have a moment for series 5 so far? No spoilers or anything but oh my GOD! I can safely say this story is now officially AU, but whatever.

…enjoy (finally) (…sorry again)

Priorities – Chapter 7

Jason awoke on a cold, sticky floor to blinding, relentless pain, a fair amount of darkness, and a constant sound of dripping – like there was a tap somewhere that just needed turning off a little bit tighter. Despite the state of his legs, oddly it was the dripping that bothered him the most. He didn't know what it was, but it was incredibly annoying.

He lay there, awake in the darkness – or at least he thought he was awake, he was pretty sure he'd never quite imagined being in this much pain ever in his life so it had to be real – for what seemed like hours, before he could ever summon up the courage to try to move. The moment he did, he regretted it. Broken bones dug into muscle, and if that wasn't bad enough, he discovered pretty quickly that he was chained up – shackled by the neck to be precise – just like he'd known Lafayette to have been once before, in Fangtasia's basement.

'Fuckin' Eric Northman,' he muttered, gritting his teeth through the pain. In that moment, he heard something, the rustling of chains – chains that were not his.

'Hello?' his voice came out hoarser than he'd have liked. 'Who's there?'

There was silence for a good thirty seconds, only broken by the constant drip-drip-dripping, until finally the rustling happened again, and a voice cut through the darkness.

'Certainly not 'fuckin' Eric Northman', sorry to disappoint,' it said, with the barest hint of sneer. Jason recognised it, but it didn't exactly put him at ease.

'…Pam?' he asked, tentatively. Her name felt strange on his lips – and he realised he hadn't actually ever used it before. He'd met her plenty of times, but most of the time Eric and Bill had been at the forefront of the attention. She just always seemed to be there. Aside from the last time he'd seen her of course, when she'd fired a bazooka at his sister and almost blinded him and burned him alive with her efforts.

'Last time I checked,' the voice confirmed his suspicions, but it didn't elaborate.

Jason clenched his jaw suddenly, as a fresh wave of pain flooded through his legs. He drew in a sharp breath, trying not to panic when he realised that the pain didn't quite reach his feet. In fact, nothing seemed to be reaching his feet – pain or otherwise. He was drifting back into delirium, and found himself wondering if they were even still there. Surely he would have bled out by now if Russell Edgington had chopped of his feet, right?

'Why are you doing this?' he ground out, desperation creeping into his tone. 'Why are you helping that psycho? He tried to kill Jessica – I thought you liked her,'

In the blackness, Pam snorted. 'You know, there are many things in this world I like. A fresh pair of Louboutins, some vintage Cartier, the femoral artery of a flame haired virgin… but whiny teenage vampires are not on my list.' Jason said nothing. He couldn't – the pain was getting unbearable, and he was pretty sure he was about to pass out again. 'I take it your presence here means that slimy bastard didn't manage to get his silver noose around Cheeto's pretty little neck? You realise when he fucks you, you're going to be the girl, right?' She laughed – but it cut short suddenly, and there was silence for a second or two. When she spoke again, her voice was strained. 'I never thought she was up to much, but Jessica's supersnatch must be almost as impressive as your sister's, if you're willing to endure that for her.'

'Will you just kill me already, or at least shut the fuck up? I… I can't…' he paused, took a steadying breath, and carried on. 'If there's even a trace of decency left in you, you'll kill me, before that crazy bastard comes back.'

'I'll pass if you don't mind, I've seen what happens to vampires who suck on a Stackhouse,' Pam's voice suddenly took on a weary tone. 'But if you'll swear on your eternally limp dick that you'll shut the hell up and give me… let's say… two hours of absolute Stackhouse-less silence, I'll fix your little leg problem.'

'You… you will? How?'

'Now, I know your genetically programmed to be retarded, but I also know you're no stranger to the healing qualities of vampire blood.'

Jason gulped, despite himself. He wasn't entirely sure admitting his former addiction aloud was the best idea, in present company.

'You… you'll let me drink from you?' he asked, not sure if he should feel grateful or revolted.

'I'm a little tied up right now, but I can point you in the direction of a premium brand. It might be a bit dusty, but it'll do the trick.' Jason could do no more than a confused expression and a general sound of bewilderment. He heard Pam sigh. 'I know I'm going to regret this,' she muttered under her breath. 'Alright, can you move your hands? Because judging from how long I've been here, and how shitty I feel right now, I imagine you'll hit the jackpot if you put your… left hand on the floor, right next to your useless human legs.'

Jason shook his head, he didn't have the energy to speak anymore. Against his better judgement, he did as she said, frowning in confusion when his palm landed in a puddle of something thick and wet. He withdrew it immediately, and when he did so, he got a whiff of the sticky red substance he'd managed to avoid for so long. The blood coated his hand, and even though he couldn't see it, he could smell it like nothing else.

Another spasm of pain wracked his body, and his choice was made. His tongue darted out, licking the blood from his hand. Pam was right – it did taste kind of stale. He wondered, absently, how she knew it was there, and who exactly it came from.

The moment the blood trickled down his throat, he felt the familiar warm feeling begin to flow through his veins, and into his legs, the bones easing back into place and muscles mending, the pounding pain in his head abating at last. Once he was healed, he couldn't help but take one more taste, sending his senses into over drive. Suddenly he could see clearly in the darkness, and what he saw sent him reeling, scrambling back against the wall when he realised the puddle of blood by his legs was not just a puddle, but a red river that flowed thickly along the length of the room. A bloodied pile of body parts lay across from him, barely recognisable as one person, or the remnants of many. At the far end of the room, where his vision only just reached, he saw Pam.

'Fuck… oh my god,' Jason stuttered, his eyes flicking from the vampire, to the mangled human remains, and back again. 'What the hell did he do to you?'

Pam's head, which had previously hung limply in front of her, snapped up. Her eyes were bloody, her face marred by the tell-tale signs of silver chain mail burns, but she still managed to fix him with a sarcastic glare.

'I believe the technical term is crucifixion,' she supplied. 'Although I'm not sure it works the same way on vampires as it was designed to on humans. Hurts like a bitch though.'

Jason gaped. The vampire was suspended opposite him, arms outstretched and pinned roughly to the wall, great silver spikes through her wrists. His stomach dropped uncomfortably when he realised where the morbid dripping was coming from.

'Shit… are you okay?' He was met with a quirked bruised eyebrow. 'Okay, stupid question. But is this all your blood? How are you not, you know, a great big pile of vampy goo?'

'I'll have you know, I will never be a 'great big pile of vampy goo',' Pam spat, her indignation causing her to yank at her bonds, tearing the silver stakes into her wrists a little further and drawing a long hiss of pain from her in the process. She took a moment to compose herself, before continuing. 'If I should meet the true death, you can rest assured that pile of vampy goo will still be a size two. Anyway, Russell doesn't want me dead yet – he told me as much. So whenever it looks like I'm about to run dry, he very kindly sends in a half-dead, drugged up fangbanger and forces the poor fucker down my throat. Then he rips them to shreds. Just for funsies.'

Jason sat up, his hands reaching for the shackle around his neck. He wondered briefly if he could manage to tear himself free with the help of Pam's blood, but soon discovered it was useless to even try. Eventually, he had to give up, pounding the wall in frustration.

'Why is he doing this?' he asked. 'Why us?'

Pam smirked, despite the fresh wave of tears that seemed to spill from her eyes without her even knowing it. 'Why?' she repeated, shaking her head. 'Because we're the unlucky fucks he found first.'