Legal stuff: None of its mine all belongs to the fabulous CH.
A/N – Spoiler warning for the entire book series and probably some of True Blood too. You never know what's going to make it in here and you can't be too careful with spoiler warnings. This will eventually be Sookie and Eric but before we can get to the hot monkey loving (Pulling out my soapbox) I think Sookie's going to have to deal with everything that happened in D&G. You can't lose your unborn niece or nephew, your sister-in-law, your fairy godmother, your great-grandfather (in a sense), get tricked into a marriage you don't even know the rules for, kidnapped, tortured, find out your parents were murdered, and then go straight back to slinging chicken baskets and beer. You hear me, Charlaine? And our girl is going to need to accept that if she had thought this through and took Eric's (been alive for 1000 freaking years so might know a thing or two about self preservation and when to take a threat seriously!) advice some of these folks might still be alive. OK (Puts up soapbox) I'm done but you know more about the general direction this is heading. Just so you know there will be some angst before we can move forward. Thanks for listening to my rant. – Persephone.
Sam had volunteered to drive Amelia and me to Tray's funeral, he was due to be here any minute and he was driving us in my car. The official reason given is that we would have more room; the truth was that Sam, bless him, didn't want me to try and possibly fail to climb up in the tall cab of his truck. Amelia had joined me in the living room to wait on Sam; all remnants of her earlier breakdown had been erased from her outward appearance. Only the white lines around her compressed lips and the tremble in her hands that clenched and unclenched in her lap betrayed her. Amelia didn't let anything get her where a stranger would see it. I don't know whether that was something to admire or pity. I wasn't exactly the poster child for good mental health at the moment so who was I to judge?
Even though I seemed to be healing at a crazy insane rate I was still pretty beat up and there was only so much I could do with my appearance. I had settled on wearing black dress pants with a black sweater, the good people of Bon Temps didn't need my wounds to gawk at.
I heard the crunch of gravel announcing Sam's arrival. We made our way to the back of the house and through the kitchen to meet him. With a pang I took my cheerful cranberry coat from its hook by the back door. It wasn't very somber but it was my best coat and the late January weather was too cold for a southern girl to go without something to keep out the elements.
Sam hopped down from the high cab of his truck as I stopped to lock the door behind Amelia and me. I don't really know why I bothered; it didn't seem to keep bad things out. Sam's eyes narrowed as he watched me navigating the back stairs with little struggle. He probably assumed that I had nocturnal visitor to thank for my improved health. Now was neither the time nor the place to explain so I just let it lie. He wrapped Amelia in a hug and I heard him tell her that she was going to be OK. She nodded curtly but hugged him back with a muted kind of desperation. He helped her into the passenger seat of the car and then with that same narrowed eyed grim look back on his face he helped me wordlessly into the back seat. A chilly breeze blew Sam's hair out of its slicked back style he had adopted for the funeral into its normal golden halo around his head and not for the first time I thought he looked like an angel. He might not agree with my choices but he would suck it up and just be here for me. He was a better friend than I deserved.
I hated funerals. Absolutely detested them, I know that they're not really on most people's list of favorite things but I out and out loathed them. Funerals are one of those places I don't want to get in anyone's head. Over the years I had gotten a lot better with keeping up my mental shields but combine how tired I am with the emotionally charged atmosphere of a funeral and it was all I could do not to go insane. There was an awful lot of genuine grief in that church and it might surprise you to know that I was grateful for that. The grief isn't the worst part. It's the absolutely awful stuff that the rest of the congregation was thinking. How Tray deserved what he got, not only because of the drug dealer stories circulating through the town but because he was a were. Awful thoughts of how they wished they could have seen him torn apart, how no matter how much he had suffered it hadn't been nearly enough. How it was obvious this was God's will and how his very existence had been an abomination. The ones that sat in the pews in God's house and fantasized about how Tray had died were almost my undoing. I sat on Amelia's right side clasping her hand, trying my best to be strong for her and keep from coming apart at the seems. Amelia needed me to be strong for her and I needed to show my respect for the good man that had been Tray. He deserved no less from me. I trembled and held on the best that I could.
After what felt like hours it was finally time for us to move to the gravesite. It was a huge relief to get out of that building and away from all of those hateful thoughts to make our way to the parish catholic cemetery. It wasn't too far away from the church on the east side of town but it would give us a very welcome break from all of the other mourners. Amelia was quietly crying as Sam hustled her into the car. Her hands were trembling so badly that Sam helped her fasten her seatbelt. He shut her door and then caught my hand as I was reaching for the handle for mine. "Cher, how are you holding up?" He asked worry coming off of him in waves. Obviously I wasn't holding up as well as I thought.
"I'll be OK. Don't worry about me, just see to Amelia." I tried to pull away but he just held on tighter. "Really Sam, I'm just worn slap out and I can't keep everyone blocked out. Some of the stuff the folks in there were thinking…well its not what Tray deserved. But I probably didn't need to tell you that."
Sam rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand roughly before threading his fingers impatiently through his hair. He blew out a breath before he answered me, "No I don't guess you did. I've seen enough now that not a lot surprises me anymore." At the haunted look on his face I suspected that he was thinking about his own mother's problems with her estranged husband. He continued, "I hate that you have to go though this, cher. We can get you out of here if you need to."
"No" I punctuated with a strong shake of my head, "No, Amelia needs this and I can't leave her. Plus I owe Tray." I didn't know a better way to explain it then that.
Sam studied my face for a long moment before releasing my hand and allowing me to climb in the backseat. I dropped my head back against the headrest and just wished that this day were over so I could crawl back into my own bed and shut out the entire world. I was freezing from the short time I had stood outside with Sam so I snuggled deeper into my soft cranberry coat. The coat always makes me think of Eric, the giver of said coat, and in that moment I missed him so badly I ached with it. I know it was probably just the emotional upheaval of the past few days coupled with the funeral that was making me long for him so much but right then I would have given anything I had to have him with me. I didn't know until then that you could miss someone so much that it actually hurt all the way to the bone.
The graveside service was nothing more than a blur to me. I was on emotional overload and the only upside of that was that it dulled my perception of those around me. Amelia was the only one that I was picking up loud and clear and if you can visualize heart break then you can imagine what the inside of her head was like. I kept my arm wrapped around her and tried my best to just help her hold on.
Sam took us home and with the wonderful perception picked up as both a shifter and a really great bartender he picked up that this wasn't a time that either of us wanted company. He made sure we were safely inside; Amelia wasted no time and fled to her room as soon as we were in the house. Sam told me to take all the time I needed and not to worry at all about Merlotte's that when I was ready just to call him. I wrapped my arms around his waist and thanked him for being the best boss in the world. He chuckled and wrapped his arms around me. We stood there for a long comfortable moment; I know it helped shore me up. I can only hope I was able to do the same for him. I know he still had a lot he was dealing with in his own family and he was being mighty generous to put that aside for us. I felt more than heard Sam take a deep breath and then he pulled back to look at me with what I would have sworn was a puzzled look on his face. He didn't explain his actions and I was just too tired to worry about it. He looked confused all the way out the door.
I love Sam but I was glad to see him go.
I started stripping away my funeral clothes as soon as I hit my bedroom. I rummaged in my dresser for a clean nightgown and I saw a bit of deep crimson on the bottom of the pile, a Fangtasia t-shirt buried in the very bottom of my drawer. I missed Eric all over again when I pulled it out. I slipped it over my head and after a brief stop in the bathroom I was pulling my covers back and snuggling down into bed. I hugged a cool pillow to my chest and it reminded me of Eric's cool skin and I just let go. It had been one hell of a week and I wasn't sure how much more I could take. I sobbed into my pillow using it as a poor substitute for the one I missed so terribly.
I had been on a roller coaster even before Neave and Lochlan had taken me and all of it was just pouring out now. It had really started with Hadly and her pillow talk with queen Sophie-Anne about my telepathy. Poor stupid, shallow and ultimately doomed Hadly; I cried for her and how she would never see her little boy, Hunter, grow up. I cried for my Gran, sweet Gran that didn't deserve such a violent end to her life. I cried for my murdered parents, my great grandfather Niall, lost and found and now lost forever, I cried for my beautiful cousin and fairy godmother Claudine and her unborn baby; I could only hope that she was now the angel she had so dearly wanted to be. I cried for my brother and his murdered wife and child. I cried for my family and for my own lost innocence. I had lost almost more than I could stand. I cried until there were no tears just dry wracking sobs. When I felt like there was nothing left of me inside and that I was nothing more than an empty husk that just still resembled a person then finally my sobs gave way to sleep.
A/N – Thanks for reading and I really appreciate the reviews. I promise next chapter there will be vampires. I know I lose patience waiting for the vamps to swagger in so I want to assure you they're coming. This was just had to come before. If anyone has any suggestions on how I can improve I would very much like to hear them.