A/N My longest chapter yet and it ends on a bit of a cliff hanger! Hope you enjoy, and thanks as ever for reading and responding to the story.

Chapter 10

Sam was dumping trash when Sookie pulled up at Merlotte's for her early shift. He waved and waited as she walked brightly over; she felt perkier than she had for a good few days.

'A couple of things, Sook. Arlene's OK for the late shift, but she's got a bit of an issue with child care. Won't be here till about 7 so if we're busy I'll have to ask you to stay on a bit, if that's all right?'

Sookie sighed inwardly, but maintained her breezy smile. She had hoped to drop by at Jason's – well, at her house, at gran's house - on the way home and had texted Jason to this effect just before setting out. He had appeared to reply with a yes, but his message was mainly incomprehensible as he had yet to master predictive text. She wasn't going to risk visiting her old home after dark, though; it was too close to Bill's.

'No problem, Sam. What else?'

'Well...have you heard from...Bill, at all?

'God no, why would I?'

'Well... one of his human staff was here, the day after that incident with the weres. Had a message for you.'

'From Bill? What message?'

'Well...I don't really know. I just got the impression Bill would be contacting you, Sook. In fact, I know he was trying to get in touch. But, you know, he doesn't know where you are right now...'

'Christ Sam, please tell me you did not give my address to Bill Compton?'

'Absolutely not, no way, Sook! Please! I'm just concerned, that's all. I think he was mighty worried after that outburst of his. His errand boy even apologised to me, for fuck's sake!'

'The time for sorry is over as far as Bill's concerned, Sam. Anyway, thanks for looking out for me. But, please, if Bill's staff turn up tell them he's not to come near me. At least he won't turn up today whilst I'm here, I'll be gone by dusk. Right?'

Yeah, God yeah, Sook. Even if Arlene pulls out, I wouldn't ask you to stay after 7. In fact, I did kind of wonder if your only reason for wanting the early shifts right now had to do with the weather.'

Sookie put her breezy smile back on her face and set to work mopping tables before the first of the day's diners arrived. But her positive mood was entirely deflated. She definitely wasn't stopping at the old house now, she'd go straight back to Shreveport and lock herself in. Maybe Eric would be around? He seemed to have enjoyed Casablanca, expressing the view that Bogart would have made a first-rate vampire. Perhaps she could interest him in The Big Sleep?

Lunch was pretty quiet, barring a rather nasty encounter with Maxine Fortenberry who had quite strenuously contested the freshness of the cheesecake. But, as Lafayette pointed out, only after she'd finished it.

'Bitch is looking for free dessert! Her own fucking version of a meal-deal!' He'd said this just loud enough for Maxine to hear as she flounced out, primping her hair and leaving no tip. Things began to really pick up around 4, though. It was the weekend, after all, and most of Bon Temps seemed to very much fancy an early beer. Sookie realised she was not going to finish by 5. Please, she prayed, just let Arlene be here by 7.

'Arlene rushed through the back door at 7.20, throwing her bag into Sam's office and trying to flatten down her crumpled shorts.

'Jeeeez, I'm so sorry guys. That kid Jessica was supposed to turn up by 6.30. Floats along at 7, not a care in the world, and immediately starts rummaging for the cookies. Sweet Jesus, she's an angel with the kids an' all, but she sure takes some fucking liberties.'

'No worries, Arlene. Really, I know this shift is a bit of a bitch for you. Thanks again for covering.'

Sookie gave her friend a quick kiss and rushed out to the car. She was being paranoid. The sun was just going down and Bill was hardly likely to make it his first priority to attend Merlotte's in order to hassle her. Still, she couldn't get out of there fast enough and in her agitated state of mind (which was pretty irrational, she acknowledged that) she was relieved not to find Bill's limo parked up outside her place. She took a moment to get herself together before turning off the engine and heading for the door. She'd noticed as she'd pulled up a skinny young girl in a bright green tank top hovering next to the truck still parked up a little way down the avenue. She was just about to punch in the security code to the front door when the woman shouted to her, running across the parking lot.

'Excuse me, miss. I wonder if you could help me?'

Sookie smiled and turned fully to face the stranger who looked mightily flustered, it had to be said.

'My van has a flat tyre and my boyfriend's off at that old saw mill, you know the one they're renovating just outside Bon Temps? He's working on the project and I really thought he'd be back by now. My phone's gone flat. Could you ring him for me? I've been waiting best part of an hour. Could be he's gone off for some beers and I need to drive to my sister's. Should have been there an hour ago, actually, and she's going to be frantic. Can't ring her either! Can't believe I'm so dumb.'

This was delivered in a rush of desperation, the girl barely taking a breath and her eyes pleading with Sookie for help. Sookie probed the girl's mind. It was a buzz of anxiety, not much coming through but worry about someone called Clay and would he ever get here.

'Of course! Look, you make the call. God, I hope he answers! Poor you!'

Sookie handed over her mobile phone and watched as the lady pressed the numbers frantically, then spoke in another desperate rush.

'Honey! Look, where the hell are you? Oh Christ, never mind. I've got a flat tyre. Yes, yes, I know. Great! Oh, could you hurry? Yes. Love you!'

She handed back the phone and beamed with gratitude.

'As expected, he's down at Mo's bar. He's gonna be about twenty minutes, I guess. I can wait in the truck. Thank you so much!'

'Why wait in the truck? Don't you guys live just there?'

'Mmm? Oh, no. We're just visiting ...friends for a few days. Clay had this project to work on in Bon Temps – we're actually from out of town. Our hosts have been out all Goddamn day and I don't have a spare key, so I'm pretty much stuck in the street.'

'No way! Look, there's a real wind getting up. It'll probably be pouring down in two minutes. Come inside. I'll make us coffee.'

Sookie turned to the door as Debbie gave a sly smile. How fucking easy! As Sookie pushed in the security code, Debbie registered the numbers: 4735.

'You're an angel! Sorry to be so pushy, but do you mind if I use your phone again? I'll just text Clay, let him know where I'll be. What apartment are you? He can buzz the intercom, right?'

Eric was clambering out of his coffin, fuzzy with the need for blood. He had a couple of bottles ready by the microwave and he moved dopily to fix his meal. As he imbibed the warm liquid, his senses began to sharpen and he became aware of the voices in Sookie's apartment. More importantly, his nostrils flared at the smell: werewolf. He cleared his head and focused.

'This woman is, like, 'the cheesecake is off!' But she'd eaten the whole fucking lot!'

Oh, tell me about it! I once worked at this place...'

Eric tuned out the conversation from above. There was a noise in the hall way downstairs. Heavy footsteps plodded past Eric's apartment and up the remaining flight to Sookie's floor.

Sookie was surprised to hear a knock. No-one had buzzed the intercom and she figured Eric would only just be waking up. She pulled open the door a fraction of an inch and peered out into the gloom of the landing. Oh shit. That face, the curly auburn hair, only too recognisable from this close range. This was one of the weres from the bar...

The door was forced back, flinging Sookie against the wall. Clay grabbed her shirt and jerked her forward, his right fist swinging back for the punch.

A flash through the door. For an instant, the apartment was a blur of frantic motion. Then calm. Eric surveyed the damage. The were-girl's neck and spine were broken. The remains of Clay Fairlee were mainly splattered up the kitchen wall. Sookie lay on her back like a broken doll. Eric kneeled down to her, stroking her hair out of her face. Her nose and mouth were bloody, her left eye and cheek already starting to bruise. Her shirt had risen up above her navel and Eric smoothed it down, tucking it into her shorts before scooping her up in his arms and carrying her to his apartment.

He laid her gently on the bed he never had cause to use. He wished it had soft sheets, a pillow, a thick warm quilt. He raised her head and placed a cushion from his sofa beneath her. Her nose and lips still bled and her eye and cheek were swelling. Her breath came in quick, throaty rasps. He would have to heal her. He stood back, his hand shaking almost uncontrollably as his raised his wrist to his mouth. He was desperate to feed Sookie, to feel his life-blood merge with hers, but not like this. He stilled himself, thinking about the implications for their fragile, tentative friendship of what he was about to do. Then he looked again at her swollen, bloodied face and he bit hard.

Sookie was unconscious and unresponsive, but a few drops still trickled through and that was enough. Her mouth puckered to his flesh and she began to suck. Eric knelt and gazed at her pale lips moving in a sweet, slow pull. He moaned and laid his head on the cushion next to her. After a few moments, she gasped, her eyes fluttering half open before closing gently again. Her breathing now was steady and deep. She was sleeping. Eric moved on to the naked mattress beside her and closed her in his arms.

A few hours later, Sookie's eyes flew wide open; she sat bolt upright, screaming. Eric leapt from the bed and knelt beside her.

'Sookie, Sookie, it's OK. It was the weres, the man and that girl, remember? They've gone, Sookie, it's OK.'

Sookie blinked and nodded, bringing her hands up to her face and touching it tenderly.

'What the..? I thought...'

'I healed you, Sookie. You've taken my blood. I'm sorry, I had no choice – sweetheart, you were a mess.'

'No, no. Thank you. I know. At least...'

Sookie looked lost, distant. 'It's just, drinking your blood...'

'Sookie, please, it's nothing. It won't harm you, you're safe with me. Look at me.' Eric took her face in his hands, his thumbs stroking her forehead. 'Just as a friend, there was nothing else I could do. I meant to heal you, that is all. Please, trust me, sookie. You have to rest. There's something I must do, but I won't leave you for long and then ... well, we need to work something out. I don't think you can stay here.'

'Home. I want to go home.'

'No, I don't mean you can't stay here with me, I mean that even your own apartment almost certainly isn't safe...'

'Home. To Gran's. I want to go home...'

'Well, OK. Wherever that is, I'll take you there. Sleep, Sookie. I'll be back soon. I'll lock the door but I'll leave you the key, I'm not shutting you in, OK? But please, wait till I get back. I'll take you to your Gran's, you'll be safe. Sleep, baby.'

Eric fetched the key and as he pressed it into her hand, she was already sleeping.

The two dead wolves in Sookie's apartment certainly presented a dilemma and one that required some pretty fast thinking, to which Eric was fortunately no stranger. It was gone midnight. Presumably the rest of the pack would start to miss their two comrades by morning and they'd probably head straight for Sookie's. He had to dispose of this mess and get Sookie to a safe place before sunrise and his own incapacitation. His first violent Viking instinct was to take the bodies to New Orleans and throw them in bloody pieces through the pack leader's window. Not helpful. The swamps were his best option and he'd need to fly, but he was considerably weakened after giving Sookie his blood when he'd been subsisting on that synthetic shit for months. No doubt his progress would be much slower than he'd like. He threw the weres over his shoulders and leapt through the heavy fire doors, over the rail and into the night.

It was raining heavily. The bodies became quickly sodden and weighed Eric down uncomfortably as he glided over the Louisiana swamps looking for a convenient spot. He chose a place well away from the scattered boat houses and let his burden drop slickly down into the slime. Fuck, he was exhausted. He landed on a piece of scrub land and mopped the rain out of his eyes. He would have to feed, and feed properly. It was a crazy risk, but there was no way otherwise that he would get back to Shreveport in time to transport Sookie to her 'home' (where was that, he wondered? Hopefully not fucking Georgia) before dawn. There was a small town he'd flown over just to the east and he just hoped it was well-populated enough for some poor soul to be wandering about in the early hours. There was a young guy walking very unsteadily down his driveway. No good. The last thing Eric needed was alcohol in his system from some drunk's blood. He hovered high and spotted another, older man walking quickly down a side street gabbling into his phone. Eric waited until he'd finished his call and swooped down. The guy barely had a moment to clock what was happening before he was staring deep into ice-blue eyes.

'You will remember nothing of the next ten minutes. You will resume your journey and will believe that you simply stopped off to pee...'

Eric dragged the man into an alley and sank in his fangs, taking just enough for sustenance before pricking his finger and healing the man's wounds. As the man wondered off in a daze, Eric began to run down the alley, strong and fresh, and was about to take flight when a spasm of shock and pain brought him to his knees. Sookie. She'd taken his one thousand year old blood and his presence inside her was white hot with fear. Eric struggled to his feet and with a supreme effort of will blocked out the terror, forcing his anger to take possession of his mind and body. Fuelled by pure, murderous fury, he shot into the night sky.

The door to his apartment was swinging open, the lock busted. He walked numbly to his bedroom, to the bare mattress, to the cushion that still bore the imprint of Sookie's head. He turned and walked out. He felt nothing now. No emotion. He was a pure force of nature, a killing machine, headed for New Orleans.