So, this chapter is inexcusably late.

I didn't mean for that to happen. I'm one of those sad souls who can't seem to balance college and my writing life. I understand other people can do it, and I applaud them, but I'm still terrible at it. So for those of you who stuck around, you deserve cookies, and hugs, and an earnest apology. For any new people, Well, here's a chapter, and I'm not dead.

I would really like to get to the halfway point in this story, before the new season comes out, because I have the sinking suspicion the final season will be a horrible evil muse killer.

Special thanks to Kiwi7 for dragging me out of my writing funk, and looking over the chapter.

Chapter 6: There's Always a Price

"Well look who it is, Bitch I haven't seen you in so long I forgot what you looked like." Lafayette's southern drawl was the first thing that greeted her as she stepped into Bellefluers. It wasn't a busy night, but there was a veritable hum in the air as human conversations droned on around her. The distinct smell of alcohol invaded her senses as she approached the bar, and the disgust that accompanied the stench was a fleeting reminder of how human she was not. She didn't have to wait for there to be a pause in the evening rush, because she had timed her arrival so it coalesced with Lafayette's break from the kitchen. Pulling out a barstool, Tara sank heavily into the seat next to her cousin.

"Sorry." The word escaped her with some reluctance, like both syllables had to be scraped from the bottom of her voice box, before they left her lips.

"No you ain't. You look like a trainwreck. ...Is your mother making your life hell again?" Lafayette didn't know about Pam. He had no idea how heavily Tara's Maker was weighing on her thoughts. "Or is it Jessica? She's still on that self-loathing shit ain't she?" Until a couple of days ago, those had been the most pressing concerns in Tara's life. It was bitterly disappointing that things that could disintegrate so quickly. The familiar routine she had spent months growing accustomed to meant nothing now. Pam's unprecedented arrival had upset her equilibrium-Tara couldn't walk in a straight line anymore because once again, her Maker was trying to guide her steps.

It was funny.

Every time Tara stumbled into some semblance of normalcy, some insufferable blonde stormed into her life from the past. Whether it was Sookie, or Pam, she ended up following them in a drunken stupor. Even though she knew the relationships were toxic, even though she knew they were detrimental to her health, she couldn't resist the temptation.

Especially when her Maker was involved.

When it came to Pam, she was weak.

"Naw, Lala. I'm not stressing about my mom or about Jessica right now." Her words were wistful, like she longed for those days again. Simplicity should govern her life. To Tara, a simple existence meant only concerning herself with two or three people, and leaving the rest to their own devices. Experience told her that she couldn't bear the weight of the world on her shoulders. But god damn, with Pam back, there was a certain allure to trying, to being independent, and showing her Maker exactly how much she had grown in two years.

But no.

A soft exhale escaped her as she indulged in the amiable atmosphere around her. Feeling self-conscience for the first time in ages, her head came to rest on the cool linoleum countertop. Under Lafayette's watchful gaze, she tried to gather her composure.

She was thinking in circles.

All of her instincts were screaming that the blonde temptress would lead her to ruin.

"Well something's bothering you Tara. My Bitch-is-in-trouble sense is tingling…" He tapped his forehead wisely, indicating he could sense something was amiss. Not that he needed special intuition to read her, her emotions were plainly visible on her face. Tara was completely transparent when it came to her feelings."And Ms Thang, every time I see you, you look less and less fabulous. The last time we convened at this fine establishment, you were a mismatching mess. That was days ago Tara, and nothing has changed. Who the hell let you leave the house looking like that?"

She didn't need a mirror to know what he was talking about. In a rush to get out of the house, and away from her mother's nagging voice, Tara hadn't bothered to check her appearance. Her lack of attention resulted in a fashion disaster where Zebra striped jeans were trying desperately to compliment a low cut orange blouse, and failing miserably. To her credit, Bellefleurs was her only intended stop tonight, and since Lafayette's break was over in ten minutes, she wouldn't be there long anyways.

Not bothering to look up from the counter, she glumly husked out a reply. "Whatever, man. I look fine. I'm fine. The whole fucking world is fine."

The word fine poured out of her mouth like acid.

Anger crackled like a living thing in Tara's tone, and silence ebbed between them, as Lafayette sent his cousin an incredulous stare. The dark skinned woman in front of him was many things, tasteless, unruly, and tactless, but one thing she was not was fine. "You used to be a better liar." He rebuked her softly, all sarcastic pretenses leaving his tone. "I ain't gonna push you to talk, but you need to stop looking so damn miserable if you don't want me to pry."

His words were a warning.

One that Tara forced herself to heed. With obvious reluctance, her gaze traveled upwards, only to clash with his judicious stare as she peered across the linoleum countertop. It unsettled her, Lafayette's gaze. Mirrored in the depths of those dusky pools, she could clearly see how lost and and confused she appeared. Straightening her posture, so she was no longer slumped over the barstool, she tried to shake off the conflicting emotions that were clinging to her like a bad cold.

An unspoken understanding existed between Tara and Lafayette. In order to preserve their sanity, they had to do three things: Protect. Support. And anchor. The cornerstone of their relationship had been founded on these principles. They spent years crafting invulnerable masks. One crack in their armor didn't matter, but when that crack expanded, and ended up shattering, Tara and Lafayette took turns putting each other back together.

A lifetime of picking up the pieces, made Lafayette keenly aware of one thing:

Tara was close to falling apart.

"Kay, well since you don't want to talk about any of the shit going on in your life. Let's talk about someone more important, Moi, of course." Moving the conversation to safer waters, Lafayette launched into one of his more raunchy stories. He was purposely changing the subject, because there was something perplexing about the way Tara was acting. The quiet anger, he could feel simmering just beneath the surface wasn't normal. The reticent emotions. The contemplative air surrounding her. None of it was normal.

And if he was being painfully honest, he didn't like seeing her like this.

Lafayette's goal was to lure Tara out of her shell, but with every word he could he feel her withdrawing further into herself. Instead of distracting her from the dangerous thoughts surfacing in her mind, he had only managed to push her further into the abyss.

Her disquieting mood, had a sobering effect on him, and he found the stream of words dwindling to a trickle, until the only thing hovering on his tongue were questions. What's wrong? Are you okay? Why are you so quiet? So angry? So unbearably fucking sad? Innumerable questions. But there was only one that he dared to ask. "Tara. Tara…" He snapped his fingers, precariously close to her face, corralling her attention for a few precious seconds. "I need you to focus. What did I just say?" He demanded, knowing she wouldn't be able to answer.

"The fuck Lafayette?" A hint of Buoyancy. For a fraction of a second life entered her gaze, and she awakened from her seemingly comatose state. Stirring from her silent stupor, her mouth twisted. Trying to formulate words, and give him a coherent response.

Not one sound escaped her lips.

Only indignation, from him sticking his fingers in her face, managed to manifest into words.

He shook his head ruefully at her, familiar feelings of exasperation and fondness seeping into his tone as he addressed his absent minded cousin. "Hookah. Keep up please, I'm trying to lay some wisdom on you."

Swallowing heavily, Tara found her voice, "Sorry Lala, I'm out of it tonight." Properly chastised, her words came out in an apologetic tone. Lafayette sent her a measuring glance, scrutinizing her in the dim bar light like he was seeing her for the time. The contrite expression on her face only served to worry him more. Tara tended to be stubborn, and willfully defiant. For her to become silent, and grave over something so small told him her mind was elsewhere.

He opened his mouth, and the words he wanted to say died on his lips, as the door to Bellefleurs slammed open. Inviting the brisk evening breeze into the bar, a pale forlorn figure glided out of the shadows, as if summoned by a bad dream. Upon closer inspection, a distinctly female figure became visible, and the customers of Bellefleurs seemed to release a captured breath. In unison, relieved sighs echoed around the room.

Hungry vampires were always a prevalent concern.

But this time, it wasn't a starving mob darkening the doorstep, it was only Willa.

"Shit, that entrance scared me." Lafayette admitted shamelessly, his grip slackening on the rifle beneath the counter. As soon as the doors had slammed open, his fingers had closed around the handle of the gun hidden beneath the counter. At this hour, everyone took precautionary measures. If you didn't have a vampire escorting you, you had UV bullets, and a gun holstered on your person. It was the only way to compensate.

Even Tara, found herself rising fluidly to her feet to confront the imminent threat.

But upon identifying the silent wraith as Willa, the tension riddling her slender form began to abate. Slowly, as the conversations began to resume around her, Tara made herself comfortable on the barstool again, but her expression remained stiff and guarded.

If Willa was here, did that mean Pam was hovering nearby?

"Sorry, about that everyone, I didn't mean to scare you. But I wanted to invite you to something big. Starting tonight, we're having an auction in the storage spaces downtown . Ya'll should come." Speaking with a foreign zeal, Willa navigated around the room, distributing flyers. When she paused at the bar to slide two purple flyers across the cool surface of the countertop, Tara's heart began hammering against her chest.

She could detect Pam's unique aroma faintly clinging to every page.

And the aroma made her slightly dizzy.

Clenching the paper tightly, as Willa whisked past her, Tara's stormy gaze roved intently over the words in front of her. The first sentence alone, told her Willa was not the one responsible for this auction. The concept screamed Pam. The sophisticated language scrawled across the paper screamed Pam. She could practically hear her Maker's sarcastic drawl as her eyes ghosted over the loopy letters

Denizens of Bon Temps,

Have you ever wanted something to treasure? Come to the Midnight Auction, a tasteful event where the bounty of kings can be found for the right price. For the earnest collector we have gathered antiquities from the richest era's in history. One can explore the cultivated luxuries that defined the Victorian era, or unearth the exotic beauties of the Viking era. Everything worthwhile can be found here, and at midnight all of our wares are up for purchase. The event starts at 12am at 7733 Perkins Road...Don't be late.

"Since when does Willa have shit to sell?" Lafayette's voice cut through the warring feelings of annoyance and anticipation consuming Tara. "And why the hell does her sales pitch make it sound like the bitch swallowed a dictionary?" There was something wonderfully antiquated about the premise of the flyer.

No one talked like this anymore.

Willa didn't have the sort of prose or vernacular that the flyer was comprised of

Pam did though.

A strangled laughed left escaped Tara, prompting another concerned stare from her cousin. "Willa didn't write this, and she won't be the one selling shit." A smile that was anything but amused graced Tara's ebony features, as she noticed the subject of their conversation approaching from her peripherals. Placing the stack of papers on the table, Willa plopped down into the unoccupied seat next to Tara. Her advanced hearing allowed the younger vampire to pick up the tail end of Tara's sentence. Not bothering with absurd pretenses, Willa answered the one question, that Tara had been avoiding all night.

"She's right, Pam orchestrated all of this. I'm just passing out flyers...Because I guess...Pam hates people." She shrugged helplessly, completely oblivious to the appalled look creeping across Lafayette's face. He felt like he had been doused by a bucket of cold water. Pam's name had the same dismaying effect on him, as being unfairly drenched.

"Back the hell up, Pam is back?" He demanded, his gaze flicking sporadically between Tara and Willa.

That explained everything.

Why Tara seemed so despondent.

Why he couldn't seem to secure her attention for more than a few seconds.

Why the ebony skinned woman was being so fucking contrary; disorganized, and out of character.

Crumpling the flyer into an indiscernible mass of purple paper, Tara abruptly stood up, forcing her stool to slide back with an angry screech. "Your break is over." Her lips thinned into a crude line, as Willa and Lafayette turned to glance back at the time. The digital numbers on the clock confirmed her dispassionate words. But the cool reminder seemed to serve as an escape for Tara who was already turning towards the door. "I'mma head home now."

Irritation blossomed across Lafayette's features. "Wait a minute Tara-"

A strained "Don't." escaped the ebony skinned vampire. The monosyllable word was a plea, and a command all at once.

She didn't want to talk about Pam.

She had no desire to brood over her Maker tonight.

"I'll see you guys later."

XxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxX

*$******At the Auction******$*

"Is there any way I could persuade you to lower the price on this?" A woman held up an archaic looking bracelet. "The price tag said it was worth 1500 but I don't have that kind of cash with me."

Where the hell was Willa when she needed her? Why did Pam have to do everything around here? The older vampire didn't even pause in thumbing through the stack of bills in her hand."I understand. Times are hard...Too bad we're running a business not a damn charity. If you can't afford it, than I suggest you look for something else that you can afford." She reasoned, unable to keep the disdain out of her tone.

Icy blue eyes penetrated the woman in front of her, setting off little alarms in the the back of the human's mind.

Sputtering indignantly, the elderly woman made an angry gesture. "How dare you! Is this how you speak to your customers?"

Pam fingers twitched as she tried to suppress the sudden urge she had to strangle this ancient crone. The borderline haughtiness in this woman's tone, was something Pam rarely encountered in this era. "Listen bitch, being a customer of mine implies that you are going to buy something..." Her fangs protracted with a click, and her smile turned predatory. "You're not purchasing anything, so that means you are just wasting my time." The woman shrank back with a noiseless gasp at the sight of Pam's curved ivory fangs. She must have come to the conclusion that agitating a vampire wasn't a wise decision, because after bearing witness to Pam's savage grin the woman backed away from her.

It was a prudent choice.

There was something delicious about terrorizing old ladies. and Pam's dark side revelled in their fear. But if the conversation had gone on any longer Pam would have been forced to glamour her and send her away.

With the biggest irritant gone, she was able to focus on the other people congregating in her temporary home. She folded the money so it would fit in her leather jacket, and took a cursory look around. Everything seemed to be running smoothly. People were talking, bidding and browsing as they made their rounds in the warehouse. But one person in particular had caught her attention. There was a barely noticeable silhouette standing in the back of the room who didn't seem to be interested in anything materialistic. This distinctly feminine figure hadn't moved in 20 minutes, and kept glancing surreptitiously around, like she was searching for someone.

Curiosity got the better of her, and Pam stood up from her seat, weaving through the crowd so she could observe this woman from a better vantage point. She wasn't expecting to recognize her as she got closer though. "Jessica...?" She asked, disbelief domineering her features as she came face to face with Bill's wayward progeny. "What are you doing here?" She couldn't immediately place her emotions as she drank in the younger vampires appearance. She couldn't remember the last time she interacted with Jessica, not in close quarters anyways.

Typically, Bill's progeny was accompanied by the other baby vampires, so Pam half expected to see Tara meandering into the storage space within the hour.

The last words uttered about Pam were still fresh; still raw in her mind; a constant reminder to tread carefully, because she had no idea how close Jessica was to her progeny. Even though Tara dominated her thoughts, and cruelly invaded her defenses, the night kissed vampire was not her only concern.

Pam had to be wary about Jessica and Willa as well.

Unbidden the last conversation, concerning her, crept up from the dregs of her subconscious.

And Tara's voice resounded angrily in her thoughts.

It doesn't matter what I think about her being here. It's not like we can tell her to get the fuck out, and she's too fucking fickle for me to read. She says she's here for me, but she didn't give a damn about me earlier."Tara's words were bitter, and resentful, as she spoke, belying the pain and utter helplessness she had to endure the last 2 years. "We'll see what her intentions are, if she's all about self she'll take what she wants and then she'll leave again."

There was something all encompassing about those words.

Its as if the depressingly low expectations, were making Pam even more determined to stay and establish herself in Bon Temps.

Because Jessica looked as lost as she felt. There was a moment of unrelenting silence between them. Instead of speaking, the frost tinted woman withdrew a familiar lavender flyer from her back pocket. "One of these was on my doorstep." She said stiffly, addressing Pam like she was a mercurial stranger instead of as the woman that had mentored her for several months after Bill abandoned her. "I guess...I wanted to check it out." Jessica glanced away from her nervously, letting her gaze roam around the room to assess the people, and the products that were still left. As she studied her surroundings a new realization struck her "Are you selling Eric's things?"

One slender eyebrow rose in question at the tentative statement, and the question that followed it, "He's not exactly using them is he?" She drawled pragmatically, a wicked smile upturning her lips. "Besides if I calculate the money I wasted searching for him, and add in all the fucked up situations that we were never compensated for, he would still owe me." Pam intoned darkly, traces of her vindictive side bleeding through as she thought about Eric's fickle nature.

Jessica snorted derisively, pleasantly amused at the anger the blonde vampire was exhibiting. She knew Pam was capable of holding a grudge, but she thought pigs would fly before Eric ended up on the blonde's shit list. "If we were charging people for putting us in fucked up situations I think I would be rich right now." Jessica mused, an involuntary smile threatening to break across her face.

Pam didn't smile though.

The idea of bonding with a baby vamp was hindering her motor skills.

There was no appeal in bonding with Jessica

However, despite her many misgivings, this was the most civil conversation she'd had so far with anyone, excluding Willa. It wasn't meaningful and there was no substance to the words they were saying, but it was better than the painfully awkward silence that had ebbed between them before.

"Sookie would owe us all a fortune in gold." Pam droned, her fingers clenching and unclenching at her side as a dry chuckle escaped Jessica

"I haven't seen her in a long time" The red head murmured wistfully, her dark orbs staring through Pam like she was lost in a memory. Pam winced as the light-hearted atmosphere began to dissipate and mentally cursed herself for ever uttering that wretched Fairy's name. "She left with Alcide not too long after you did." Jessica continued speaking, a distant look in her eye that told Pam Bill's progeny was deep in thought. Shaking her head ruefully, Jessica's focus once again came to rest on her. "...Where did you go Pam?" She asked, broaching the one subject Pam had no intention of talking about.

"That's none of your damn business."

"But-"

Cutting Jessica off with an unamused glare, Pam pushed off the wall she had been languidly resting against. It seemed her short repose from the auction was over. "Let it go, the last two years of my life are not up for discussion. And even if they were, you are the not the first person on my list of confidantes. If you want to be of some use to me, either buy one of my overpriced products or get the fuck out of my warehouse."

The ultimatum escaped her without so much as flinch.

She had no patience.

Not tonight.

Tonight Pam was on a mission.

In a much smaller voice, Jessica tried to reason with Tara's Maker, "But...I don't have any money...Not for this stuff anyways." She gestured animatedly around her to indicate the wealth of antiquities Pam was selling.

Raucous laughter bubbled up from Pam's chest at the hopeless words. "Oh poor, pathetic Jessica. Did you want a discount?" Pam all but purred, in a voice that was far too sweet, to be sincere. The moment optimism began to brighten the redhead's expression, Pam took an obscene amount of pleasure, in violently squashing that hope. "Your Maker used to have the title King of Louisiana. If he has money, you have money...For fuck's sake. Jessica figure it out."

Pam chortled.

A discount?

Did she look like someone that believed in discounts?

There was an appreciative glint in her eye as Jessica left with a downcast expression

Was she cruel?

Maybe.

But, no one could say her methods weren't effective, because less than an hour later Jessica returned with a wad of cash, and a pension to spend it. Apparently she wanted nice things for herself, and Adeline. Pam didn't particularly care about the fairy princess, but for the sake of acquiring Bill's money, she would offer a concerned word or two.

In the time it took for Jessica to run home, and dig through piles of paperwork to find Bill's account number, the throng of people in the warehouse had dwindled considerably, into nothing but a smattering of interested buyers, but Pam was okay with the loss of customers, because she'd already earned a hefty sum of cash. Jessica's contribution was simply the icing on the cake. In a sense, she was being greedy, because she had enough money to afford an apartment, but she didn't want one. She had more lofty ambitions.

Her moral compass, always pointed her towards the things she desired the most.

That's why she was selling Eric's things for money.

That's why she was back in Bon Temps for Tara.

That's why she was going to buy a big ass house and christen it-her own personal lair. She wasn't going to share it, and it would solely be there to preserve her sanity, and cement her solitude. She wouldn't have to interact with humans. She wouldn't have to invite the supernatural community to her humble abode. It was going to be her sanctuary.

But, one stray thought breached through her selfish brooding.

One tiny minuscule detail she had neglected to consider, in her brief musings for her ideal home.

Where the hell was Willa going to stay?

"I'm leaving her in the fucking warehouse." Pam murmured decisively, her tone dropping to a low ornery note.

She didn't care about the unwanted vampire spawn of the governor.

Fuck Willa.

Pam sighed, and slowly shook her head, burying any guilty thoughts before they could take shape. All she had to do was focus on tonight, and accomplishing her goal.

That's all.

Dragging in the unfettered excitement in the air, she focused on the sparse amount of humans still wandering around the storage space.

This one time, catering to them took precedence over her natural disdain for them. They were, after all, directly contributing to her livelihood.

Plastering a charming smile on her face, Pam carefully greeted a new customer, dutifully playing the good hostess while her gracious mood was still intact.

"Welcome to the Midnight Auction. I have all the shit you could possibly want, you have thirty seconds to convince me you can afford it."

If swindling money from people only required Pam to smile, and say whatever cantankerous comments came to mind, then she could do this all night.

It was infinitely easier than what she used to do for money.

Infinitely easier.

After all, whores don't always get to choose the price of their labor.

And although Pam hadn't called herself a whore in over a century, even though she didn't think of herself in such self deprecating terms anymore, her logic, and the way she understood the world, hadn't changed very much from that time. In her mind, everything had a price.

What was the price of staying in Bon Temps?

And when the time came, would she be able to pay it?

And that's all she wrote.

I hope this chapter somewhat made up for the wait~ :3