Hello everyone! I know it has been ages, but I'm going to try to get this fic back up and kickin'. I re-read your guys' reviews and it really rekindled the fire I used to have for this story. I really hope some of my faithful readers are still here. Your comments and reviews seriously help me out like you wouldn't believe. One note I'd like to make for this new chapter: I attend school in the U.K. now, so you may notice a difference in spelling. This is just because my computer (and mind) have been set to the UK keyboard. Hope this doesn't cause much trouble. Love you all!

Sookie and I were back in Bon Temps by the evening. It was so strange how many times the possibility of safe return seemed so unlikely in the past few days. Now returning with Sookie, the escapade in Mississippi seemed like nothing but a bad dream.

I'd seen Alcide's black van at some point during my slow and exhausted journey down the sand road. With no other sign of human activity in sight, I opened one of the unlocked doors and climbed in. The owner was absent from the driver's seat, but I imagined it was only a matter of time before he or she returned. It ended up being a day and a half before he shook me awake. It was thankfully Alcide, who had been walking the woods as a wolf in search for Sookie and Tara for days. Before I knew it, we were carting the two away, along with a feeble and thoroughly bled Bill Compton.

Finally time flew, and the woods rushing past the truck's windows eclipsed the hours. I drifted in and out of sleep, debilitated by the contamination of my back wound. I was driven to awe by how little I'd noticed it when I'd received it, for as time wore on it only worsened. In the car ride the wound was unbearable, and every pothole Alcide, my sudden rescuer, ran over sent a jolt of agony up my spine.

The hospital we brought Sookie to finally relieved me of my infection. I was put on antibiotics and was stitched up, after being warned that I would surely carry a scar. A final look in the mirror provided by a doctor revealed the wolf had torn the skin from my waist all the way to my left hip. Had his initial notch been any more to the right, I would have had spinal damage. I carefully dodged all limelight, heading into Sookie's hospital room directly after receiving my stitches. To no surprise of mine, Bill arrived and nursed her back to health. I'd given them privacy and hadn't inquired about the status of their relationship, seeing Sookie was close to tears or in them every time I looked at her.

We now walked up the front stairs to the porch in a creaking silence. I went in and left Sookie to Alcide, with whom she had clearly nurtured some romantic feelings. The house was a wreck, as it had always been since the maenad's visit, but I hadn't the willpower to clean it. Why clean the house when surely it would be torn to bits by some supernatural squabble next week?

Gran's garden was about the only place that no one paid attention to whenever they came and destroyed the house for Sookie, so I retreated to my place there. The flowers did alright, but several wilted in drought and lack of attention. I tended to them for several hours, content with inanimate creatures. They loved me back when I loved them, and that was enough for some time.

When all was sorted in the backyard, I went to my room to get my Merlotte's uniform. Alcide had kept it in his truck for me along with most of the other belongings I'd left in his apartment. My car was still in Jackson, of course, but Alcide had friends he knew who could bring it down if he asked. Regardless, it wouldn't surprise me much if he'd forget about me and never make that phone call to ask.

I went back into the house and made way for the kitchen. The last thing I'd eaten was a hospital meal—a banana, a ham and cheese sandwich, and jello. I opened the fridge and saw it was only stocked with beer and expired food; a horrid smell swept from the open door, causing me to slam it shut after grabbing a beer. I heard Sookie grunting and the swishing of a mop in a bucket coming from the living room. Stuffed with an all-too-familiar sense of boredom, I walked in and saw her fervently cleaning the floor. She looked at me with expectant eyes.

"You gonna throw in a hand?" She asked, gesturing to the bucket of water by her foot. I looked at it and shrugged and kept my eyes trained on the filmy rings at the top of the bucket.

"What's the point? No doubt it'll look like a tornado hit it by tomorrow night," I answered, then walked out of the room.

In the kitchen, I set to making beignets like Gran used to make them. They were a long bake, but by the time they were done the sun had set. The warm smell would have generated some false sense of safety and comfort in me, but they lost the power to do that sometime in the past few weeks. Now all I knew was that it was night, and the temporary reign of vampires began.

I settled on walking to Merlotte's with the beignets on a porcelain dish. The door slammed behind me when I walked onto the porch, and I nearly dropped the dish when I saw what was parked in front of the house: my car. Alcide had only said he'd call his friends in auto-transport when he pulled into the driveway of my house—there was no way his friends had already delivered. Not only was it here, but also freshly washed. I felt my brow drop into a nervous furrow when I walked up to the door and opened. My cell phone, which had been lost somewhere between Louisiana and Mississippi, sat on the worn brown leather of the driver's seat. I picked it up and opened it, seeing a new text from an unknown number.

"What?" I asked myself, clicking the message to read it.

Impressed you outran three of Russell's wolves. You get more interesting by the day. You're welcome for saving your ass back in Jackson—you should find a way to pay me back. If you need anything, call me. And you should stop by Fangtasia soon, Pam misses you. Hope I'll still be alive (well, not destroyed) by the time you do.

I smiled to myself at the sight of the text. Eric had returned my car.

I walked towards Merlotte's when I arrived, catching sight of Sam's trailer to the right of it. It's light were on and I rerouted, deciding to greet Sam before anyone else and apologise for my absence. I planned on a simple-minded response. I seriously doubt he'd bother to know. I knocked tentatively on the trailer door, avoiding the patches of auburn rust.

"Who is it?" I heard Tara's voice call from within. It was hard to miss the break in her voice; it wavered like a sail against wind.

"It's me, Tara," I responded, sure she would recognise my voice.

"Georgina?" She asked.

"Yes."

"Come in," she answered. I opened the front door to see her sitting on the couch alone with a coffee in her hand. In spite of the steaming black in the mug she held, I saw a bottle of whiskey on the kitchen counter.

"Where's Sam?" I inquired.

"Went to his apartments to check on somethin'," she answered, looking down into her mug. I walked into Sam's makeshift living room and sat down beside her. Her right hand sat on top of her jean-clad thigh, and I reached out to hold it. At first she jumped lightly at the sudden touch, but then she settled into it. She looked to me with wide brown eyes, clearly untrusting of even the most familiar of faces. I took my hand from her and unwrapped the tinfoil, exposing the powdered sugar-dressed beignets.

"Gran's recipe?" She asked, breaking in the scent through her nose.

"What else?" I laughed, and eventually she joined in. She reached for one and picked it off the plate, studying it before eating it as though she were looking for signs of tampering.

"I know you're unsettled, Tara. An' I know you don't trust a thing in the world right now—and you got the right to it, you hear?" I said as she looked at it. "But I ain't ever goin' to hurt you. I'm not asking you to clean yourself up or get over it or nothin', all I'm sayin' is I'll only ever be a best friend to you. You know that?"

Tara's voice broke and a tear lingered on her eyelid. She now reached out for my hand. "Thanks, Gee."

"I love you. An' I ain't never gonna be not here for you."

"I love you too," she smiled through a great weight of sadness and pain. But in her exposed teeth and the wrinkles around her eyes I saw some hope; hope that could wash away all the sorrow and hurt. I didn't think I gave it to her; I knew it existed independently—developed over years and years of hardship.

Together we ate most of the beignets, laughing quietly at the white powder smeared across our faces. The remainder we brought into Merlotte's, selling them as a dessert special until they were all gone.

I skipped several nights at home; I preferred the quiet luxury of peace to wild trouble brought on by vampires and creatures of that ilk. I spent two nights on Jason's couch, and a few more at the motel just down the road from Merlotte's. I phoned Sookie every now and then, telling her to keep Bill around for a while and Tara if she wanted. During these calls she spilled the happenings over at our house—the visit from Debbie and accompanying weres, the reunion between she and Bill, the mess Eric had made of Talbot—the foreign bully living with Russell—back in Jackson, and Bill's reveal of what she really is. Sookie hadn't inquired about my supernatural status, and Bill had provided that he had no idea what I was. A pinch of annoyance bubbled when Sookie inadvertently revealed she had exposed my abilities to Bill, but I didn't expect much less of her.

"Would y'like regular fries or sweet potato fries with that?"

"Sweet potato, please."

I shoved my notepad back in my waist apron pocket after finishing my—hopefully—last order for the night. Swinging around and speedily walking back to the kitchen, I got Lafayette's attention and handed him the ticket. "Medium-rare cheeseburger with no cheese, side of sweet potato fries."

"Hell is a cheeseburger with no cheese?" He responded, pursing his lips.

"Plain ol' burger, I reckon," I responded snidely.

"Hey, Miss Cherry," Lafayette shouted before I could fully turn around. "What crawled up your ass and died, huh?"

"Nothin'," I huffed. "I've just been sleepin' on a hard mattress and I ain't been gettin' much sleep."

"You not at home?"

"Not now," I said. "Just tryin' to get some air from Sookie Compton, currently the bane of my existence."

"Vampires," Lafayette sighed, splitting a burger bun in half.

"Ain't just vampires, Lalou," I said as I walked away, probably leaving a horrified look on his done-up face.

When my shift ended, I counted my bountiful tips. Arlene was always right—everyone loves tipping redheads. I drove home and crashed on the rock hard bed, cursing as it shattered my already torn-up back. I turned on the television and watched It's A Wonderful Life until George Bailey confided in his guardian angel that he wished he was never born. In a soft moment of self-pity and tiredness, I shared his feelings.

I drifted off into sleep whilst watching the fan spiral quickly above me. In that moment it appeared my life was reduced to this: motels rooms, late shifts, and loneliness. I knew I could go home, I could quit, and I could go to a bar and find a guy to lean on for a few nights, but in my mind none of those were viable options: all of those would kill me, probably.

My eyes opened to a weight at the end of my bed. I yawned and rolled around in my uniform, now realising I'd forgotten to take it off. It felt old and used on me, and I wanted desperately to be rid of it.

"So take it off," a familiar, deep voice suggested from the end of the bed. I shot up on my elbows and saw Eric leaning on a hand, casually unbuttoning his shirt.

"How'd you get here?" I asked in an angry voice, but my passions were mainly fed by hidden excitement.

"You wanted me here. It's your dream," he shrugged off his shirt and stood. "Now take off your uniform."

Contrary to my irritating modesty, Eric's notice that this was a dream gave me some strength. Hesitantly, I pulled off my tight Merlotte's t-shirt. Eric's eyes instantly fell to my breasts and the lacy lavender garment that contained them. I was sure I hadn't put on this bra before going to work, and I was sure it still lay squished at the back of my drawer. However, looking down, I saw that I was—in fact—wearing it.

I pushed down black cotton shorts and revealed a matching undergarment underneath. The only thing out of place was my mismatched socks, which I kicked off.

"Now let down your hair," he demanded. I pulled the elastic loose and felt my hair fall around my shoulders. Shockingly I felt an ephemeral swell of pride; in this short and momentary encounter, I felt sexy. I never felt sexy—I usually felt awkward, unseen, burdensome, and immature. Amazingly, Eric had made me feel sexy, even if only in a dream.

He walked toward me and tilted his head down, then threaded his fingers in my hair. "It's like a sunrise," he commented, studying every fine strand between his long fingers. "It's beautiful."

"Stop," I blushed, losing my sudden grip of pride.

"Why?" He asked genuinely, confusion mounting his brow. "You're radiant, don't you know that?"

"I think that's the last word anyone would ever use to describe me," I muttered, a laugh riding my tongue as I mocked my own unhappiness with myself.

"Haven't people called you beautiful before?" He asked and I shook my head hastily. "No one's ever told you?"

"You make it sound like the whole wide world has kept some absolute truth from me," I now laughed loudly.

"They have. I've seen the most beautiful women the world has had to offer for a thousand years. Your beauty is unlike any other I've encountered," he said, tucking a tuft behind my ear. He traced the shell of my ear to the lobe with his fingers. "You remind me so much of the sun," he said in a tone that could only be described as mournful. It was like the sun was a sister he'd lost to a dark and lonesome enemy.

"Now I'm really sure this is my dream. You don't talk like this, and you certainly don't talk like this to girls like me," I confessed.

"It isn't just your dream," he told me. I remembered what he'd said from a time that now felt so long ago: This is my dream, and because you are what you are, it's yours too. We shared our dreams; this wasn't all me.

"Fine," I whispered. He leant down further and kissed me with no tenderness; Eric kissed and lapped like the ocean running up to the sand than back down, each with a different strength of wave. His hands followed every flat and round of my body, dragging down the slight curve from waist to hip, the curved edge of my shoulder, the sunken depth from chin to collarbones. I grabbed the hard sides of his abdomen and pulled him down onto the bed above me. He kept his torso elevated with his forearms but let his hips fall upon mine, continually grinding and descending into mine. In my dreams, his memories did not haunt me like they would in reality. The only things they'd left behind was the scent of the North Sea, and the sound of washing, rushing waters.

I ignored everything buzzing in my mind except for him, even the burden of my innocence. I wrapped my legs around his waist and dared to play with the hair he kept so immaculately placed. When he kissed down the valley between my breasts I almost started laughing at the sight of him—starry-eyed, red-lipped, and boyish with blonde hair askew. His hands played with the skin just below the wire of my brassiere before they leapt upward to hold the meagre handful of pale breasts. A lace strap fell down my shoulder as I rolled my head back, overtaken by the unfamiliar sensation. How could it be so different when a man held you like that? I heard the click of descending fangs and brought his head upward toward me. I exposed my neck, permitting a long space of flesh just below the corner of my jaw. He quickly dove for the pulsing vein, but I felt nothing except the tangle of the sheets around my legs.

I jolted up in bed and looked around, expecting to see Eric standing someplace in the darkness. There was nothing. Everything in the room seemed too hot and my breath was too heavy. An aching pain dwelt between my legs and I crossed them nervously, too unsure of what the dream had done to me. I lifted the neckline of my shirt and glimpsed at what I wore beneath it: an ordinary beige bra. It was all a dream.

Instead of trying and surely failing to go back to bed, I angrily stood up and grabbed the purse I so rarely carried with me. I threw in my keys and phone, and ran for the door to my motel room. I slammed the door shut in anger behind me, sprinting to my car. As the engine started and I pulled out of the parking lot, I clenched the wheel with a frustration purely unknown to me. I was not someone who often lost their temper.

However, I had had just about enough of this man. He haunted my dreams and thoughts, and stood for safety and masculinity and beauty constantly in my mind. When the vampires came out to play, alongside my fear was always a curiosity for wondering what Eric was up to as he was now awake. All this attraction and liking, and yet I still did not know if any of it was genuine on his part. I woke up panting and physically stimulated because he had driven himself into my brain, but I was still left to wonder if I—who I am—meant a thing to him. It wasn't fair. Not at all. And I planned on getting answers.

I pushed far over the speed limit on my way to Shreveport, digging my toes hard into my sneakers and having to restrain myself from flooring it. Before I could process a single one of my actions, the glittering red neon lights titled 'Fangtasia' were hanging above me as I put the car in park. Beside the sign were obscenities written in messy sprayed paint. On the plush leather door, a closed sign hung. I began knocking on the door, but before anyone could respond I quickly pushed it open. At one of the high tops Pam sat beside Eric; I saw a look of worry quickly fade from Pam's face upon my entrance, and Eric was positioned over the table, looking down aimlessly.

There was no time to rein myself in at that moment, and the sight of Eric's face only worsened my anger. I marched into the bar and slammed my purse on the nearest table with a startling clang. "I am fucking done with this, Eric Northman!" I screamed, stomping toward them. The closer I got to them the bigger the bubbles of fury floated upward in my ribcage. "I am done with all of it! I'm tired of Sookie draggin' me into all her problems with vampires and werewolves and fairies and maenads and shifters! I'm tired of you hangin' over my head and hauntin' my every waking moment just because I remind you of home! I'm tired of being dragged across state lines upon the very whims of Russell fucking Edgington! And I'm done with having dreams about you because you fed me your Goddamned blood after a couple of Russell's fucking mutts tore me to shreds after—God forbid—I drive all the way out to Jackson fucking Mississippi because Sookie's bitch of a boyfriend decided to throw her heart in the fucking blender! I am done with it!"

After my rage, Pam stood and decided it might be a smart idea to move into the manager's office. Instead, however, Eric sat her back down and grabbed me by the wrist and dragged me into the office. "And I'm tired of you leavin' bruises all over me because I can't go as fast at you!"

"Georgina, sit down," Eric pointed to a chair opposite that behind the desk. Instead of listening to him, I kicked over the chair and walked toward his chair. It suited me comfortably as I leant back and rested my crossed ankles on his desk. "I need you to listen to me."

I failed to respond to him, trying to keep my anger in check by sitting silently and grinding my teeth.

"Fine, don't respond. I'm going to tell you anyway. There is nothing I can do about Sookie dragging you into her game of supernatural charades. Believe me—if I could do something, I would. But it's not my fault you're perpetually screwed over because Sookie decided to fall into a crazed infatuation with Bill Compton; you can take that up with her. What I can fix is the reason to why you're mad at me. You're angry because I pay attention to you because of what your powers give me? I could have handed you over to Russell Edgington in a heartbeat and still got my fair share of your magic. I didn't because I care about you. Don't you remember what I said—it's everything to me, powers or not—"

"You could have gotten your fair share—fine. But without Russell knowin', you get even more of it. There ain't no way of me finding out ever if you're genuine. And that ain't fair to me—I'm fallin' over you and I don't ever have a way of knowing if you are too," I admitted. My rage tapered at my last words, causing me to close up onto his desk and retract my knees to shield my face. My emotions cracked like coals under a fire, sending sparks in all directions. I had no control over the tears that left my eyes and trailed down my cheeks, nor did I have control over the wails my mouth released into the hand that covered it.

"What's this now?" I heard Eric's softened voice after a period of time. I could feel his presence—not by his coldness but merely by the sparkle of electricity that thrived between he and I. However one-sided it possibly was, I knew I was connected with him. It was a sad story: the girl who loved a dead man, and the dead man who did not love her back.

And yet I felt his hand around my back, and arms lifting me as he settled in his desk chair, keeping me in his lap. His long, lean arms wrapped around my contorted figure and I eventually accepted his chest as a pillow for tears. They dropped on his black shirt and created circles of faded indigo. I felt his lips meet my hairline as they so often did, and they pressed a kiss into the soft skin that faded into my hair.

"I'm not going to tell you that the world is fair, Georgina," he offered. "But I wouldn't hurt you like that. I couldn't."

"Yeah? And what's to say I listen t'you and let you keep me around however long you like? Too blinded to see what I really am to you? Just a toy to add to your collection!" I wept, shaking my head in my palms. I felt one of Eric's sturdy hands wrap around mine in a secure fist. The sound of commotion in the manager's office drew me to what had happened on the other side of the desk. I looked out and saw nothing, but I kept hearing.

"Is this another Sylvie situation, Eric? Because that had a hard end. I want you to remember that. Do you think you could face that again?" I heard Pam's stern voice within the office, but she was absent from the room.

"This is not a Sylvie situation, Pam. It's different."

"Why, because she can see the past?" Pam questioned. "Don't do that to this girl, Eric. Don't keep her away from friends and family because you long to keep in touch with your fondest memories. I like her—I don't want this for her."

"Your lack of sentiment has always been your most admirable quality, Pam. Do not fail me now," Eric stated sturdily. His voice did not come from the mouth resting on my forehead, but from an earlier encounter taken place in the room. "She's smart and quiet—overshadowed by Sookie. She understands things far beyond her humanity, and she cares about vampires. She said to me that vampires are one of God's most holy creations. Doesn't that mean something to you?"

Pam's voice hesitated, thinking about her response before ejecting it. "She is a forward thinker, especially for a girl down here—I'll give her that. And I have no problems with her; I actually enjoy her, especially in comparison to Sookie. But she's dangerous, and she won't put up with your shit. Not to mention, she'll be dead within a few decades. She's mortal, for Christ's sake!"

"I can change that," I heard Eric's voice chip in. I looked at his arms around me fearfully, scared now for what he had suggested to do.

"I see," Pam answered. "So you'd be willing to drain her of all that special juice she's got just to be with her? 'Cause she isn't going to have that once she's dead."

"Yes," Eric answered.

His grip tightened around me when the tears stopped flowing out of my eyes. He would turn me? Take away all the powers I had just to be with me for more than fifty years? All who would have heard it—Sookie, Tara, Jason, Sam, and Bill—would have been furious with such a selfish act. But in that moment I was exposed to the raw truth to it all—it was about me, not what I could do.

"Russell Edgington is coming to end me, Georgina," Eric said quietly from above me. "And before that happens, I want to tell you why Russell is going to kill me. Remember the memory you stole from me?"

I nodded. "It was hot with fury, and I saw Russell carryin' away a Viking circlet."

"That circlet belonged to my father. Russell slaughtered my mother, father, and baby sister in front of me just for that circlet. He took away my entire family, and that wound has never grown over," he confided. I hadn't expected such damage could ever be repaired, even with innumerable years to work at it. "So I took what he loved most in the world and staked it. I brought Talbot the true death, Georgina."

I shook my head against his chest and felt tears reignite along my lashline. Reality struck like a whip and I realised Eric couldn't make it out alive. Russell was nearly three times his age, and fuelled with a much fresher wrath than that belonging to Eric.

"That's why I couldn't get you out of Russell's immediately. I don't expect you to understand, but I had to destroy Talbot before I did anything else. I tried to protect you with words, but eventually you were the only one who could get yourself out."

"I do understand, Eric. And I'm sorry your family was taken from you—least of all for an iron crown," I shook my head, brushing my fingers across my cheeks to wipe away the tears that trekked southward on my face. "But now what are you goin' to do? Meet the true death?"

"I can't imagine another fate that awaits me," he confessed. "It is even now—Russell took my family, I took his… But that won't matter to him. He'll have to destroy me. It's his move now, and the only way to prevent me from moving again will be to destroy me."

After a long moment of empty silence fuelled by thought, I remembered learning of Eric's true thoughts. He would turn me to keep just me around forever, and keep me regardless if I was powered or not. "Eric, Russell doesn't know about me."

"I know. I'm the one who prevented him from finding out," he responded.

"But what if he did?" I offered.

Eric shook his head and looked up at the wall in thought. "No, you're much more valuable to him than Sookie will ever be. Every vampire dreams of the daywalking that Sookie's blood somewhat offers, but what you give is almost as precious as life itself. He'll never stop chasing you if he knows. He can't ever know."

"But you'd turn me? Take away what I could do to keep me with you?" I asked.

"How did you—" he muttered, then anger settled in his face. "Georgina, what did I tell you about stealing?"

"Then I'll give myself to Russell. Offer me to him in exchange for your life."

"That's out of the question."

"Eric, you're willing to take away any hope of happiness and memory just to keep me around. I'll do the same."

"Absolutely not!" He exclaimed.

The door slammed open, revealing Pam within the frame. Her arms were crossed and she pursed her lips. "Then what about Sookie?"

I walked out into the blaring sunlight whilst Sookie was in the midst of a screaming fit. I ignored her words and continued through the world without paying a single mind to her claims of victimisation and 'unforgivable betrayal.'

I was focused on other matters. As she screamed, Eric was reddening in the sun to the colour of ripe tomatoes. After having made my appearance on the scene, it was my turn to play the game. I took the key from my dress pocket and ran to the two vampires chained to one another and crumbled onto the ground. Eric was speaking in his native tongue to an imaginary figure as I hastily unlocked the silver handcuffs that connected him to Russell Edgington.

"Sweet Georgina—here to save the day," Russell greeted. "Now drag me the fuck inside!"

"Forget about it," I exclaimed with a laugh, taking Eric by the collar of his coat and dragging him into the shade as quickly as I could. "You're heavy as hell, Eric," I grunted.

"Ingen förlåtelse!" He shouted to the distance. I ignored his delusional cries and pulled him into the darkened entrance of Fangtasia. When I shut the door behind us and closed out the sunlight, he sighed.

"Pam!" I shouted, and before I saw her materialise she was sinking her fangs into my wrist. I felt a pinch that perhaps would have been more painful if Eric was not dying before my eyes.

Hastily, I brought my bleeding wrist to Eric's lips, feeling him latch on within a short moment. He drank greedily, lips moving as though he was kissing wetly against the wound.

"Quite delicious, Georgina," Pam hummed. "Perhaps I could get a drink another time?"

I ignored her and held back an unpredicted rumble in the back of my throat as Eric lapped at the wound, blood dripping down his chin and onto his shirt. The feeling of blood being drained from me was an odd feeling—lightheadedness matched with a strange thrill. As blood left my body, a warm and tingling warmth and gratification filled me instead. I watched the patches of blood and charred skin heal over as his ivory skin cleared to its normal perfection. I realised that whatever the end of this conflict held for us, this was the first time he had every truly fed from me.

"He's going to have trouble stopping himself. He needs a lot of blood, and it was hard for me to not get a real taste," Pam warned me. I considered reaching for the silver cuffs in my pocket to press into him if he drew too much, but something in me knew I didn't have to do it. As his skin cleared and the light drew back to his eyes, I trusted him.

The better he got the louder his carnivorous grunting was, but he pushed my wrist away brusquely after meeting my eyes. He sat up and wiped the blood from his mouth with his sleeve, then brought his finger to his mouth and poked a sharp hole in the pad of his pointer finger. He took the small ball of blood that sprang from the wound and rubbed it across the holes in my wrist like an ointment. I watched in awe as the wound sewed itself over quickly.

"Are you okay?" I asked him. The finger that had closed the bite followed a thin stream of blood that walked down my forearm. He swept it up and brought the finger to his mouth.

"Now I am," he sighed. "Where's Russell?"

"Outside fryin', why?"

"You need to go get him," Eric told me.

"What?" Pam asked her maker as the joy of his revival dropped from her face.

"Godric appeared to me when I was out there. He asked me to spare Russell," he told me,

looking at me as he asked. This explained the Swedish words he exchanged with an unseen figure.

"You are insane," Bill commented.

"Eric, do the world a favour and let that little fuck fry," Pam said.

Eric looked to me desperately and I stood, walking toward the door. I opened it and Eric groaned as the sun hit him once again. He lifted his arm to shield himself. I closed the door behind me and walked out back into the sunlight. I saw a peeling black body far from the entrance. From this distance, it looked like nothing more than a pile of charcoal. I ran toward it.

"I'm here to save you at the mercy of Eric Northman," I notified him officially.

Whilst grabbing him by the collar as I had with Eric, he laughed: "Awe, thank you Miss Stackhouse."

It took less manpower to drag him in, and once he was inside Pam shut the door behind us and Sookie looped a silver chain around his neck. With a scream, he was dragged to the stripper's pole just in front of Eric's throne-like seat on the dais.

Eric bumped Sookie to the side and slapped on blue latex gloves to protect himself from the burn of silver. He bound Russell with the chains so he could not escape—not that he would be able to in the condition he was in. I'd never seen such a grotesque sight—black slips of skin floated from him where Eric bound the silver and his features were mostly blackened. I could hardly see the whites of his eyes—they were bloodshot and clouded with the smoky sheen of ash.

"You're a fool not to kill him," Bill commanded. Eric handed me the silver chain and allowed me to make the final knot of Russell's chains.

"Killing him won't solve anything," Eric responded, staring at Russell with downturned corners at his lips.

"No, but it would keep him from killin' us," Sookie argued, looking at Russell with disgust.

"Oh, he won't be doing anymore killing," Eric grinned slightly, looking from me to Sookie.

"Eric, who are you right now? He killed your family. Rip of his fucking head!" Pam advised sternly. I watched her scowl and realised I'd never seen her as messy and unkempt as she was now. Pam's porcelain and hard facade had wilted behind red tears and the bleeds.

"Do not listen to them," Russell told Eric in self-preservation. His Southern and sophisticated drawl had not been damaged by his injuries, unfortunately. "I shall reward you handsomely," he spoke, reaching a long, blackened nail to stroke down Eric's forearm. Eric clearly felt not much differently about him, as he directed a hard punch to Russell's abdomen. Russell let out a few smoky coughs that floated up into the air. He brought his gnarled hand to his mouth and spit out a sooty fang.

"Well that's humiliating," Eric laughed. He reached for the fang and slipped it in his pocket. "For Miss Flanagan—I'll take that. Georgina, are those tight enough?"

"Yes," I nodded.

"Okay, we should go to ground. Can you and Sookie look after him?"

"Yes."

"She doesn't speak for me. I'm not watchin' this psycho while you guys take a little nap!" She cried defiantly.

"He can't glamor either of you. Ginger will be here later and he'll glamor her in a heartbeat," he informed her. "Pam, make up one of the guest coffins for Mr. Compton," Eric ordered his progeny, who went off to his command.

As Bill and Sookie argued, Eric pulled out his phone and prepared to dial a number. "If he tries to pull anything, I'm in the biggest coffin in the back," he told me. He reached for my forehead and brushed his thumb across my hairline, as he did.

I nodded in response, catching Sookie turn towards us out of the corners of my eyes. "Take your little pet down with you, why don't you? I don't want to see her face right now."

Eric sighed then walked towards her. "And why don't you treat her with some respect and get off your high horse? Georgina is your family. The reason she got involved in this mess in Jackson is because she drove all the way to Mississippi to comfort you after Bill broke your heart. She's not the one who went running after Bill and got herself involved in this whole mess—that was you. As far as I can see, you're the only one here who treats her like a pet. Not to mention she's the reason me, Bill, you, Pam, and Jessica are all alive right now. She came up with this plan. So why don't you get your head out of your own ass and recognise that you're the one who needs to apologise right now, not her."

Eric walked out of the room and called someone, asking for a truck.

Utterly satisfied by Eric's rebuke and perhaps more happy with him than I've ever been, I walked up to the throne on the dais and sat down. Sookie scowled and slammed herself down in a seat at one of the high tops.

"Can't take your own medicine?" Russell asked mockingly.

"Shut the fuck up!" Sookie and I shouted simultaneously. We both looked off in opposite directions as Russell sighed but remained silent.

I had nothing to say to Sookie, and it seemed as though she had nothing to say to me. For at least an hour we both sat with relative patience. After two hours, I walked behind the bar with boredom and reached for the fridge kept within the countertop. I grabbed a beer and began shutting the fridge before resolution flooded me. "You want one?" I asked Sookie.

She hesitated before answering, looking anywhere but me. "Sure," she said. I opened the two bottles and slid the caps into the trash.

I set one in front of her and sat across from her at the high top. She handed me one of the People magazines she kept in a stack beside her, and I began to read about some Hollywood celebrities and their wild escapades. Sookie and Russell began conversing after a period of time, playing at a lively game of What If. I only paid attention to their words when Sookie left the table and went for the glass vase of Talbot's entrails Russell always kept with him. I watched amusedly as Sookie poured the vase's contents down the garbage disposal.

After that, Russell notably lost his suavity. He screamed and cried in some ancient Germanic language, and slumped against his pole in defeat. If he had not been so severely burned from head to toe, I'm quite sure I would've seen streaks of blood leaving his eyes.

Recalling Sookie's maniacal laugh as whatever remained of Talbot were destroyed forever, I commented: "Since when'd you get so sadistic?"

"Somewhere between meeting Bill Compton and today," she answered. "And since when have you and Eric been…" she began, leaving me to fill her blanks.

"I know you hate him, but I actually quite like him," I shrugged, turning the page of my magazine.

"How can you? He's so vicious and obsessive and cold."

"And Bill isn't?" I asked. "He can be mean and that, but I can't blame him for that. Look at what he's been through—of course he's got some darkness in him."

"I guess," she replied after a moment's thought.

We continued reading in silence and Ginger arrived, then eventually Alcide—allegedly to fulfil a final favour called in by Eric. I decided to leave the two alone, detecting without much surprise that Sookie had roped the wolf, too, into her knot of unrequited loves. Sookie and him could handle Russell alone, so I said my final goodbyes to Russell with much pleasure.

The drive home from Shreveport seemed much shorter than it really was. I was desperate to hit a mattress, but I stopped at the motel first to collect my things. Something about the end of Russell made me finally want to return home—and when I did, it was glorious.