A/N: A big freaking thank you to my wonderful betas, kmb3 and xQueen Nothingx, for their help in shaping this chapter and helping me decide which route this fic will ultimately take. You ladies and your brilliant ideas are a godsend!

Chapter 15

An eight hundred dollar allowance for one outfit? She must be one hell of a fangbanger. I bet her vampire is into blood play and the kinky stuff from Fifty Shades - wait, was blood play in that crazy book? There was that tampon scene...

"Sook, I know you'll just love this next dress!" Tara Thornton declared from the other side of the changing room curtain and threw another dress on top of the already heaping pile of clothes on top of the curtain rod.

Her fat ass'll definitely be testing the confines of that dress. Lord knows what her vampire sees in her. Then again, weren't women back in those days fat too? He probably just misses being alive and is surrounding himself with things that were around back then.

I was at Tara's Togs picking a last minute outfit for my interview with New Orleans' local tv station, WWL Channel 4. It wasn't even 10:30 in the morning yet - way too freaking early for this shit. Tara, whom I only vaguely recalled seeing years ago in school, had troubling views on a woman's worth. It never even crossed her mind that I might've actually been under Eric's employ even though I was given a stipend, under his business account no less, for her boutique.

Not that it was her business either way.

I gritted my teeth and pulled on the red dress. Over an hour and a half of listening to her crap was wearing me down. I slipped into the black stilettos and pulled aside the curtain.

Tara pasted a huge smile on her face and slapped a hand over in mouth in awe. "Oh my gosh! You look beautiful!"

Her girls might spill out if she so much as moves the wrong way but I doubt she'd care. Afterall, the apple never falls far from the tree.

Even though it was human nature to censor the crap that pops into our brains before it reaches our mouths, I was plain tired of her two faces. I wasn't usually this easily groused - she shouldbe free to her thoughts - but I had a long freaking night. I didn't get home until close to six in the morning and didn't bother sleeping at all since I planned to be up by seven anyway to make breakfast for Hunter and Gran.

After allowing things to get as far as they did in Eric's office (which I refused to think about at the moment), hearing my first vampire mind and discovering that I was on the Queen of Louisiana's shopping list, Eric got rid of "the procurer" - a vampire who missed the memo that we were almost half a decade into the new millennium - who was checking into the area, and called an emergency meeting to order. Seeing as how Daddy and Pam had just arrived at Gran's house which just so happened to be across the cemetery from where William T. Compton was now conveniently residing and Eric thought it prudent that I didn't linger at Fangtasia any longer than I already had in case the Queen sent spies, the meeting, it was decided, was to be held at Daddy and Pam's.

Unsurprisingly, it was Pam who suggested staging a highly public, and therefore televised, touching story of the "aww shucks vampire" reunited with his elderly mother after being separated for eighteen years. The fact that the actual reunion took place over two years ago did not concern her. His having a wholesome (my word) but hot (Pam's) twenty something year old daughter was an added bonus that Pam campaigned vehemently for us to use to our advantage. In fact, turning me into an overnight celebrity was her main objective.

"When America falls in love with you", Pam declared, "no one will let that side burned asshole get away with collecting you for his child queen's toy box."

So we were starting small with the local news. By the end of the week, I'd be inundated with requests for interviews in New York with the big guys. Pam was sure of it.

Unfortunately, I believed her and was dreading the chaos that would undoubtedly become my life. It was also why Pam insisted on me buying a new outfit for the cameras tonight.

Looking at my reflection in the mirror, I knew it was Eric's blood that made me look human instead of the walking zombie I felt like. My hair was healthier and a shade lighter, as if I spent a morning out in the sun, and there was a healthy glow to my complexion even though I hadn't slept a wink in over twenty four hours. I shuddered as a nasty thought crossed my mind. When people find out about the benefits of vampire blood, not just what the addicts get out of it - its healing properties and how it improves one's appearance - all hell will break loose.

Tara noticed my frown.

Great, the cow doesn't like this one either.

"Back to the drawing board! Don't worry, sweetie, I'm sure we'll find something that's just perfect for you." She said, as she hustled me back into the changing room and pulling the curtain shut behind her.

I eyed the clothes on the curtain rod and the ones on top of the bench in front of me wearily and stifled a yawn. The piles seemed to be growing bigger and bigger no matter how many dresses I tried on and eliminated. At my limit, I decided to just stick with comfort instead of taking Pam's advice and dressing the part of the small town bombshell. I pulled off the red bandage dress that I could barely breathe in, and stepped out of the matching sky high strappy sandals.

"Tara, I'll take the first dress I tried on." I called, pulling on my shorts.

She made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a strangled cat, and replied, "The white peasant dress?"

I yanked my floral tank top on over my head. "Yep, that's the one."

Girl's got cheap taste, just like her momma. That one's barely eighty dollars! Maybe I can talk her into buying the pricier shoes and accessories.

It actually wasn't as bad as she made it seem, not that eighty dollars for a dress was cheap by any means. I actually really liked the off the shoulder, soft cotton dress. It was loose fitting and the hemline was embroidered with a beautiful floral design that hit about the top of the knee. It had long sleeves, the bottom half cotton and billowy but the top - from shoulder to elbow - was made with delicate, floral lace.

The color was an innocent white instead of a fire engine red that was sure to draw the eyes. It wasn't tight or sexy. It didn't display my breasts, nor did it cinch my waist to emphasize my curves. It was soft. It was comfortable. It was a little plain. But if you bothered to look closely, you'd see it wasn't plain at all, that it was actually kind of complicated and that it was sexy. Just in an understated kind of way.

It was, in a word, me.

Happy with my decision, I slipped on my flip flops and slung my purse over my shoulder. Then, I pulled aside the curtain and stepped outside.

Lord, I almost forgot what she was wearing. Maybe her vampire's into trailer trash chic.

"Great choice! It's imported from Spain and made by an up and coming designer over there. They say he just might be the next Oscar de la Renta!"

Oscar de la Hoya, I knew. Oscar de la Renta, I had no clue of.

So I stared at her blankly instead of pretending I knew what she was babbling on about. She seemed to get the message after a while because her smile faded. But just as fast, another bright smile was pasted onto her face as she reached for my hand.

I backed away out of habit and self preservation. Physical contact amplified people's thoughts and there was no way in hell I was going to go any deeper into her shallow mind than absolutely necessary.

She frowned but said, "I have the perfect shoes and accessories for that dress. You're going to love them!"

"No thanks." I replied, and headed over towards her cash register, hoping she'd get the message and ring me up so I could get the hell out of there.

"But Mr. Northman's message clearly stated that you have eight hundred dollars to spend.."

"That's great and all but I've got what I came here for."

She held the dress tightly against her chest. "You have over seven hundred dollars left to spend on your account."

"Did Mr. Northman wire you eight hundred dollars?"

"No, but-"

"Did you already deduct it from the rent you owe him?"

"Not yet, I-"

"Then what's the problem?" I asked, noticeably frustrated at this point.

The problem is, you bimbo, if you'll just spend the rest of your allowance on my overpriced shit, I'll make a fifty percent profit.

"Sookie... Sweetie, your vampire is giving you a shopping spree. Now, I'm not saying that you need it..." Hell yes, I am. I wouldn't be caught dead in those clothes you're wearing. "But, I reckon every girl could benefit from a shopping spree, don't you agree? Hell, I could use one myself and I own a clothing store!" She finished with a giggle.

I closed my eyes and prayed for patience. After taking a couple of deep breaths, and feeling certain I wouldn't pull the over processed hair out of her skull, I leaned forward on her counter and said, "Tara, sweetie, I'd love nothing better than to spend the rest of my day here trying on dresses and listening to your chatter. Unfortunately, I have more pressing issues in my life that demand my attention. Such as watching the grass grow on my front lawn and counting to infinity." Then, pasting my Crazy Sookie smile on my face, I added, "No need to bag it, I'll just carry it out on its hanger."

What a bitch. I hope she gets -

I slammed my shields down shut over her mind and quickly exited the store. Casting a mental net out, I scanned the parking lot for threats, an old habit thanks to growing up living in a perpetual state of fear due to a certain homicidal vampire and my abusive egg donor, then got into my car and drove back to Gran's with my new dress draped over the passenger seat.

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

"Corbett Stackhouse, you put him down this instant!" Gran admonished.

Hunter squealed with glee as my daddy tossed him into the air and across the expanse of our living room only to dash forward with his vampire speed the second his grandnephew was airborne, and catch him safely in his arms before the two year old was anywhere near hitting the floor.

"Gwan, it'sK! Unco Cawbett's weally fast, I'm not gonna fawl." Hunter cackled.

Daddy gave him a conspiratorial wink, letting him know they'll continue next time, then plopped down on the couch with the boy in his lap.

"Reporter gonna be here anytime soon, babe?" Daddy asked.

"They're sending a news anchor, it'll be a sit down interview instead. We're going for the 'maybe this will encourage other vampires to do the same' angle." Pam, whose hands I was slapping away from my hair, replied.

Her head nearly exploded in incredulity when she first saw what I was wearing for my television debut. The dress, surprisingly, wasn't the problem. She actually approved, and said something about me being both "Madonna and the whore". I didn't have a clue what she was going on about but I was afraid to ask, I never knew what kind of perverted crap she was about to enlighten me with next and didn't think it wise to encourage her any further. No, the issues she had with my outfit rested entirely on the cowboy boots I was wearing. She likened the pairing of my boots with the dress to someone taking a shit on the Mona Lisa.

So she spent the next fifteen minutes trailing me around the house trying to glamour me into changing into the gifts Eric sent me last night. Bobby had brought the gift wrapped blue dress, nude shoes with straps (the better to stay on my feet when he took me flying again, I was sure) and gold clutch in after I'd already left for Shrieveport in my haste to put as much distance between the two of us as possible. The accompanying note from Eric said they were replacements for the ones I'd ruined or lost after Longshadow's attack.

Now, I didn't know much about fashion but even I knew the red soles on the shoes meant they cost a mint. But I couldn't find it in me to feel offended or like a kept pet even though that's what Tara had thought I was all morning. Actually, it was precisely because of Tara's thoughts that made me accept the gifts with a perfectly clear conscience - she helped me see that I was the complete opposite of everything she assumed I was to Eric. While I was sure he wouldn't mind having sex, and maybe even participate in some 'blood play' whatever the hell that meant, I wasn't vain enough to think my body was why he valued me. I wasn't blind, I knew I had a pretty face and a body that men who were into women with fuller figures found tempting, but I also knew there were plenty of women more beautiful and blessed with bigger assets than me.

That said, I made a mental note to thank Eric for the gifts but also let him know that while appreciated, I'd really prefer it if he didn't spend the equivalent of someone's monthly (heck, maybe even half a year's) paycheck on me. Pam's head would probably really explode if she found out.

Speaking of which, the vampire in question looked up from her phone and spat, "The idiots are lost."

"Only one goddamn main road in Bon Temps. How the heck they get lost?" Daddy wondered, scratching his head.

Hunter cackled. "Even I know how to get to Gwan's house and I'm two!"

"Tell em it's three miles southeast from the bar." Daddy said.

Pam's fingers flew over her phone. Twenty seconds later, her text alert sounded and she read, Which way's south?

And at that, even Gran couldn't take it anymore, shaking her head all the while lamenting about the state of our education system.

An hour and fifteen minutes later - we counted - a white van emblazoned with NEWS 4 WWL pulled up to the house. The driver got out the same time the back door slid open. A middle aged man with a potbelly climbed out carrying a camera and a bunch of tech gear I couldn't identify He was followed by a lanky kid, barely old enough to buy beer, lugging one of those long furry microphones on a stand and a large duffel bag slung across his back. The kid hurried over to us by the front door, nodded shyly at everyone, and dropped everything off in the living room before rushing back to the van again. I watched in amusement as he disappeared into the back of the van only to pop back out with a huge black umbrella looking thing that he placed by our armchair. By the time he made his third trip to the van and back, carrying a second umbrella, the other two guys -Dave the cameraman, and Andy the driver - had already introduced themselves to us and were in he process of setting up their gear.

Dropping my shields, I scanned their thoughts for anything suspicious but other than the expected nervousness they all felt about being in the same room as two vampires and the thoughts of an irate woman who was still inside the van touching up her makeup, everything checked out.

A good ten or fifteen minutes later, the passenger side door swung open and a middle aged brunette with a severe bob and blunt bangs stepped out. She wore an unflattering brown suit, that did nothing for her tall and thin frame, and a pissed off expression on her face as she stomped her way over to our front door, tripping twice along the way. Graceful, she was not.

"Justice Timon," she said, extending her hand.

Gran, as matriarch of the family, stepped forward and clasped both of her hands around Justice's. "Come in, come in." she said, pulling her into the house. "Adele Stackhouse, pleased to meet you Ms. Timon."

Up close, it became obvious that in combination with the ill suited hairstyle and clothes she wore like an armor, the harsh makeup she had caked onto her surprisingly delicate face actually aged her at least a good ten years or so. She couldn't have been a day over thirty.

"Y'all hiding from the boys in Washington or somethin'?" She asked with a thick drawl after taking a seat in the armchair where the kid set up the umbrella lights. Then she waited for Dave, who was behind the camera doing a few test runs, to signal her to readjust her position for better angles.

Daddy took the seat directly across from hers on the couch and asked, "How you figure?"

Justice moved the chair an inch back and to the left, and responded while tapping away on her phone, "couldn't find Bon Temps on our GPS," then she looked up at daddy and added loudly in an accusatory manner directed at Andy the driver, "someone probably just needed to update the software on it."

Andy wisely kept his mouth shut and continued unwinding and placing wires throughout the living room.

Eyes back on her phone, Justice said so quietly that only a vampire or someone who'd ingested their blood could've heard, "Far's any government database is concerned, Bon Temps doesn't exist. Checked with my contacts on the city, state, and national levels."

Goose pimples popped up across my arms and back at her words and something dark and unwelcome took up residence in the pit of my stomach.

The impending sense of doom and steadily escalating sense of foreboding only increased when she looked directly into daddy and Pam's eyes and said, "it does now, with all the red flags I must've raised." Then, eyes back on her phone, she added, "My contacts are two-natured. Take that as you will."

Which meant what? Were the two-natured friend or foe? Why was Bon Temps even off the grid? Did this have anything to do with Eric? Somehow I didn't think so. I couldn't see how it would benefit him in any way. Was this the doing of Fintan? Was he somehow trying to protect us as Gran claimed? Before I could ask any questions, Dave gave Justice a thumbs up, signaling we were ready to begin.

Gran on his left, me on his right, Daddy winked at the cameras and proceeded to woo the crap out of everyone watching for the next hour. Most of the questions were generic, "do your fangs retract", "does garlic work against vampires" etc, but halfway through, it became obvious that Justice was leading the conversation in a way to best showcase daddy's charismatic charm and cast our entire situation in a sympathetic light. When we let it slip that Michelle, whom daddy was separated from prior to his turning due to her substance abuse, drank heavily throughout my childhood, I took that opportunity to reach out to Jason and pleaded with him to contact us. It was completely unplanned and, although I didn't reveal the extent of what was done to either of us, I hoped he'd forgive me for dredging up the past at all, but especially on television.

As Justice (who lost her accent once the camera started rolling) would inform us two days later, daddy locked in pretty much every demographic - from the highly sought after by the sponsors teens who thought he was a freaking badass, to women of all ages who found him absolutely charming and loved how gentle he was with his mother and daughter, to men who found his easy going demeanor relatable and surprisingly non threatening, even for a vampire. The viewers also ate up Gran's genteel manner and sharp wit along with my sweet as apple pie looks and homegrown personality. Surprisingly, my ugly crying jag, completely genuine this time, only seemed to have warmed even the naysayers to our plight. While they may or may not have liked vampires, the fact remained that what happened to daddy tore our family apart and everyone empathized - especially now with the wars in full bloom taking our troops away from their families and into the midst of danger.

The interview was ratings gold and, as Pam had successfully predicted, before the week was through, the big three over in New York City were sending their people over for interviews since Gran wasn't too keen on traveling on a plane and daddy plain refused to step foot on "Yankee territory."

EPOV

My phone rang and seeing Sophie-Anne's name on the display, I sighed inwardly. She waited over a month before finally making this call. That meant she had over a month's worth of petulance to get off her undead chest. Never one to run from my problems, no matter how irksome, I flipped open my phone and dealt with the inescapable.

"Your Majesty," I answered.

"Why wasn't I informed in advance of the slew of interviews your moronic grand progeny took part in?"

"I didn't think there was anything pertinent to report."

"You didn't think, you didn't think. Your job is not to think for me, your job is to report any and all going ons in my kingdom to me the second you learn of them!" She screeched.

That, in fact, was not what my position as sheriff entailed. I agreed to run this little expanse of Louisiana under the unspoken agreement that it was my piece of Louisiana to run - unhindered. At my age, and with my reputation and contacts in both the old world and new, I could've easily assumed the position of king in any territory in America. I chose not to because I had no political aspirations and was perfectly happy with where my head was. As Sheriff of Area Five, I still maintained my autonomy while keeping a watchful eye on the tempestuous climes that was the North American vampire territories.

I weighed my options; to tell the Queen to go fuck herself, or to not. Ah, the age old question.

"Sophie-Anne," I started, too annoyed with her fuckery to use honorifics, "did the council reprimand you for the interviews?"

"No," she huffed.

Because, you fucking twat, it was good PR and brought in more tourism for your fucking kingdom than even when the Anne Rice movies came out.

"Did the Ancient Pythoness herself inform you that the interviews were detrimental to our race's continued survival?"

No, because for the first time in a thousand years, I dreamt. The old bat actually sent me a cryptic message the morning the first Stackhouse interview aired.

With this move of you and yours

What once was closed, will be closed no more

Now in motion, five millennia in wait

Pawn or King, which is your fate?

Angel and devil, they circle the cycle

Faerie and vampire, we fight for survival

Which is friend and which is foe?

No matter, no matter! The blood will flow!

Then she pinched me when I wondered if I was truly dreaming and cackled like a mad woman when my fangs descended.

"Relax, Viking, you'll know when it's time to ring the alarm."

"Whose alarm am I ringing?"

"The trusted few."

"And they are?"

She cackled again and whacked my head with a gold cane that wasn't there before. "Nice try."

"Who else knows?"

"Those who orchestrated the game."

The last thing I recalled seeing as I wondered which vampire alive was old enough to have started a war five thousand years in the making was the Ancient Pythoness shaking her head in disappointment before I lost consciousness. I awakened from my daytime slumber in what seemed like an instant later.

The Queen's pathetic mew of, "No," brought me back from my musings.

"Is there a decline in tourism, tithes, and your overall profits then?" I asked, knowing the answer to that as well.

"No," she whined.

"Then what, your majesty, seems to be the problem?" I asked in feigned confusion, hoping she'd just leave me the fuck alone to ponder the riddle that's been taunting me for a month.

"The problem, Northman, is that I'm your Queen and you answer to me. Your failure to inform me of the interviews indicates you no longer feel you owe fealty to me. Is that true? Do you think yourself above your Queen? Should I be trying you for treason?"

Irritating fucking brat. She was the perfect example for why prepubescent children should never be turned. "You'll be the first to know when I no longer feel I owe fealty to you. Goodbye, your majesty."

My phone began ringing almost immediately after I disconnected so I flipped it over and removed the battery then found myself oscillating between thinking about Sookie and the Ancient Pythoness's message.

A/N: I'm sorry for the hiatus. If you want the long version, it's over in the chapter 6 a/n of my other fic, U Remind Me. The short version is, I'm shit at managing my time but I'll get better at it even if it means my kid has to starve. Just kidding, child protection service peeps!

thanks to the hardworking ladies over at the Kittyinaz FB group, there's a contest for SVM/TB fics going on right now. Tons of my favorite authors and favorite fics (All In, Immortal Beloved, Change Me!) are up for awards and I'm nominated for two awards as well! So head on over to youwantbloodawards . Wordpress .com and show the fish and your fave writers/fics some love!

link for sook's tv outfit in profile and thanks for reading, reviewing, subscribing!