A/N: Hello my lovely Nutella lovahs! Well, I think this is the chapter we've all been waiting for… ah, well. At least I have :)

But first, I must beg. PLEASE go give the Dead Pan Cotnest fics some review luvin'! Some of 'em still have less than 10! INCONCEIVABLE!!!

http://www . fanfiction . net/community/Dead_Pan_Contest/78556/99/0/1/

CHAPTER 14: SAY EN!

Each second we live is a new and unique moment of the universe, a moment that will never be again

~Pablo Picasso

Eric led us through the tangle of cameras with a practiced ease, pausing just long enough for the requisite number of photos. Before too long at all, he was whisking me through the doors. I was just starting to think it wasn't nearly as bad as I had feared, when it hit me. The wave of dark, depressing energy slammed into me so hard and fast it nearly knocked me back.

I followed closely behind EN, trying to focus on him instead of the toxic energy in the room. I was extremely relieved to find that he had led us to the bar, even more so when I saw that he not only remembered my poison of choice but that he was able to get it in my hand at a speed worthy of the vampire he portrayed on TV.

I smiled at him gratefully and turned to face the room. The familiar hot burn of the alcohol spread across my body—but it still couldn't drown out the oppressiveness of the crowd. Why had I not thought about this? Oh, yeah. Because my hoo-ha was too busy filling my head with images of Black Dagger hotness. Oh, and EN may have had a little something to do with it too.

But I should have known that there would be a massive emotional torrent at an event like this. The needy, groping energy of the crowd here was even worse than I had experienced that night at the Fstop gallery, definitely the worst I'd experience so far in Los Angeles … actually, probably ever.

I just knew that no matter how fast I could chug my drink down, I wouldn't be able to numb myself enough to avoid an epic headache, at the very least. So I just prayed that this night wouldn't be too long, even though I was hoping to at least get a good ogle at the brothers—and tried to stay by EN's side as much as possible. Well, he did make it pretty easy, as he kept an unrelenting grip on my arm while we made our way around the room.

XXX

After what seemed like hours, we were finally able to sit down at one of the tables. Eric had just gone off to grab us another round when a familiar, dark figure approached.

Bill greeted me with a hopeful smile, though all I could focus on was how his manbangs seemed to have gotten extra long. But I just didn't have the heart to turn him away.

His lame come-on lines were so annoying and he just didn't know how to take the hint, so I decided to change the subject and ask him about his work.

That wasn't such a bright idea.

I felt the wave of misery almost swallow me whole. And that was before he even started talking.

He let out a heavy sigh and his eyes dropped with his voice, like he was at confessional, or something. "Sometimes, I feel like I should have never said yes to this role … like it was the biggest mistake of my entire life, you know?"

"Uh …." I stared at my shoes, as if the appropriate answer would somehow be revealed to me by the Morse code of my nervous foot tapping. "But … it's the most popular show on TV! It must be pretty good for your career … and … your bank account?" I finished with a little brow waggle, hoping to lighten the mood.

Ohmigod! Were the brow Olympics contagious? I was never real big on talking with my brows before.

My internal crisis was halted by Bill's whiny response. "Yeah, I mean it's definitely a successful show. I am grateful for that. But it's just … why do I have to be portrayed as the evil one? I'm a monster!"

Wow. I didn't even think to pack the Vampire Coping Strategies Manual on this trip. What the heck do you even say to that? "Oh, Bill. I—I think you're taking this a little too seriously. I don't really think fans look at you like that. You're like the dark and mysterious type. I mean, c'mon. People love vamps!"

"I just hate being portrayed as the bloodthirsty, unrepentant monster. I mean, look, at least Bjorn's character is conflicted about it—he hates being a vampire. Me—well, hell, I'm the one who turned poor, loveable Bjorn into an unwilling bloodsucker!"

I sat back and listened, giving him a nod here and a sympathetic smile there. It became clear that at least he seemed to just want to vent, as he was content to just go on … and on and on, requiring nothing of me but to sit through it.

Problem was, I was feeling worse by the second.

Finally, I decided that I couldn't take it any longer. I wasn't sure what was keeping Eric for so long, but I was done silently praying to be rescued. I felt just … off—woozy and lightheaded, like I had low blood sugar, or something.

Of course, jumping to my feet probably didn't do much to help the situation. I vaguely heard a chair scrape, somewhere that seemed like the very far distance. But then I realized I had caused that sound myself when I'd pushed it back in my rush to get up.

I mumbled a hasty and poorly constructed excuse. As I turned to leave, though, I noticed Eric seemed to have magically reappeared. He gave me a warm smile, but his eyes scanned me with what I could only classify as worry, and maybe … caring? I couldn't be totally sure, but I felt entirely too sick to try to figure it out right now.

His smile turned cool as he turned it on Bill. "C'mon Billy boy, can we cut the bitch fest? You're gonna make me cry in a minute."

Bill responded with a simpering snort, followed by a snarl.

Unfortunately, I only had time to give Eric a ghost of a grateful smile before I started backing away as the taste of bile rose in my throat.

XXX

Bill was saying something, no doubt quite far from friendly, but his voice faded away as the pounding in my head took on a new, more throbbing intensity.

There was just no time to figure out where the restrooms were. So, instead, I made a beeline for the closest exit, which just happened to be the front entrance. I was grateful that I had spotted a fairly secluded side street before. Oh, and I was also extremely grateful that the cameras were far too busy with the pretty, shiny people to notice a regular old blonde (and really, that was like a commodity in L.A., whether real or from a bottle, wasn't it?).

I was able to make it a good distance into the dark alley before I collapsed in a mess of unlady-like heaves, resting a hand on the cool wall for support. My stomach felt like it was doing horrible summersaults, but the only result was spasms and an occasional dry heave.

I was too far gone to even notice, much less have any sort of reaction, to the hand that gathered my hair and held it back as my stomach convulsed. In fact, I still didn't notice that hand a few minutes later when the worst of it had subsided, and I was still trying to catch my breath. Somehow, it seemed perfectly natural that my hair was magically pulled out of my face as I stood there, doubled over in misery.

I'm not sure when I finally realized that EN was there, but it was one of those strange moments—where, by the time you think of saying something, it already seems like the moment has passed, and it would be ridiculous and awkward to speak.

At some point, he released my hair and gently massaged my neck while I still remained in my hunched over position, slowly returning to myself. When my pulse returned to a somewhat normal rate, I straightened up, gave him a watery smile, and promptly flattened my back against the wall, sliding down to the ground.

He slid down beside me and offered me a Listerine strip without uttering a word.

I was grateful for both.

He gave me a good long time—enough for the strip to do its magic, before he spoke.

"So?"

"So."

"You gonna spill?"

"I thought I just did," I said with a sheepish grin, but sobered up when I saw the way his brows knit together with concern. I was torn between scolding him like my Gran would have—that if he kept doing that he ran the risk of the lines becoming permanent—and wanting to reach out and smooth that adorable furrow.

"Wait a minute," he cocked his head, as if some light bulb had just gone off above him, before turning his gaze back on me. "You got sick like this once before, that first night I met you, at the FStop."

Uh oh. I was so busted. "Yeah, I, uh … you know what? I think they make drinks out here waaaay too strong. And sweet. So you don't realize just how much you've drunk, ya know?"

"Oh, Sookie, nice try, but no cigar. My bullshit meter is reading that as a definite 'false'," he said, shaking his head. "Oh, no, no. Let me guess … you're next line is that you haven't eaten much today?"

I swallowed hard, my eyes growing wide with horror and with the knowledge that I was so far up against the wall, unless I suddenly managed to gain spidey climbing skills, I would have to spill.

He pressed on, relentless, as if he knew that he'd gained the advantage, and just needed to tap me slightly to push me over the proverbial edge. "That may have worked that other night, but since we both just ate a couple of hours ago, you can't pull that shit this time."

I chewed on my lower lip as I tried to calm my breath and racing mind.

"I'm still waiting, Sookie," he voice came out extra husky, as if it was choked with emotion. I stole a glance, and was taken aback by the storm brewing in his eyes. I wasn't sure what was behind it, but it was obvious that his intent wasn't malicious; there wasn't a trace of the trademark EN smug amusement.

"I … w—well—" I stammered, then cleared my throat but flushed with embarrassment when it came out more like a choked-sobbing sound. "You have to promise not to laugh."

He took my hands in his, rubbing soothing circles with his thumbs. I dared another look to judge his reaction, since he hadn't spoken a word in response. I sucked in my breath at what I saw. There wasn't even a hint of a smirk, like I had expected. In fact, his expression was devoid of anything that could even be classified as judgmental or impatient or … anything, really. He just seemed to be waiting, but his unrelenting gaze made it clear that he was in no mood for evasive maneuvers, of any kind.

I took a deep shuddering breath, nodded more to myself than to him, and began. "Okay, well … my Gran always said that I was sensitive," I emphasized the word with an eye roll. "I can kinda sense people's emotions." I heard EN gasp beside me. This, of course, did nothing for my pounding heart, so I just plowed on, rambling. "But, I'm just easily affected by people's moods, is all. It's more of a pain in the neck than anything else, really." I finished with a shrug, and stole a glance at his reaction, looking up at him through my lashes.

Grasping my hands tighter, his eyes grew wide and he whispered, "You're an empath!"

"Huh?"

"An empath. You can sense people's feelings. That is … amazing!"

I giggled, mostly because he seemed to be so impressed with this 'ability' that I hated so much, but also because the most succinctword he could come up with to express his awe was "amazing". I shook my head. "Eric, it's not like I have a super power, or something. And, like I said, it's really been more of a pain than anything else."

"I would beg to differ." He stared at me, like he was literally trying to look into me. I wanted him to look away. Hell, I wanted to look away, but just couldn't. My skin broke out into a million goose bumps. After what seemed like a really long time, silent and breathless yet filled with the violent knocking of my heart against my chest—he muttered, "Oh my god. That explains it!"

I cocked my head in question.

"This is why you have such a … way, with capturing people. You are probably not even aware, but you must be connecting with them on a much deeper level." A smile spread over his lips as he paused to appraise me. "Regardless, you must come to see this as the rare gift that it is. This pain you are experiencing, it is probably just because you have not learned how to harness it properly."

A rare gift?

Harness?

I studied him carefully, trying to figure out if he was trying to pull some joke on me.

"Okay … what do you mean exactly by 'harness' it?"

"Have you learned any techniques to control your ability?"

I looked at him questioningly.

He gave me a kind, encouraging smile, untangling one of his hands from mine and using it to tuck a stray hair behind my ear. "Tell me, Sookie, what is it that causes this 'pain'?"

I shut my eyes tight and took a deep, rasping breath. "Well, it's like if someone is in a really down mood, it just really brings me down. Usually it just feels like all the air has been let out of me. A lot of times it also gives me a headache, or makes me woozy. But today—" I shuddered, unable to finish my sentence.

That was when I became aware of quiet (yet not quiet enough) chuckles, and when I opened my eyes, I could see Eric's shoulders shaking with his poorly concealed laughter. I yanked my hand away. "Hey! You promised you wouldn't laugh!"

He raised his hands in a gesture of surrender. "I'm sorry, Sookie. Really I am. And I should have done a better job protecting you in there."

He reached for my hands again, and I grudgingly allowed him to hold them. But I scowled at the lopsided half-grin on his face. "Just what is so funny, Eric?"

The shaking of his shoulders tipped the Richter scale as he said, "So Bill was making you ill, huh?"

I howled with laughter, and Eric happily joined me. After a few good moments of tear-inducing cackles, he continued, "Bill is what you might term an emotional vampire."

My eyes grew wide, before I broke into side-splitting laughter again.

"Hey, it might sound funny, but it's true."

My smile faded fast at the serious look in his eyes. "What do you mean, it's true? I'm pretty sure Bill's not allergic to the sun or anything."

"Yeah, laugh it up. But that's exactly what he is. It's just that instead of sucking blood, he sucks your energy. He doesn't have his own happiness to sustain him, so he drains others'."

"Wow, you're totally serious, aren't you?" I wiped at the tears that had collected in the corners of my eyes. "But, how?"

"He just seeks out people who have that energy. In fact, it's not really anything conscious, most likely. He's probably just naturally drawn to people he can feed on, you know, like moths to a flame."

I sat, gape mouthed and wide eyed as Eric explained.

"Even if he was aware of what he was doing, he wouldn't be able to help himself. It's in his nature."

"Okay, I get your point, Eric. But, c'mon, he's like a downer Debbie, well, maybe downer Don? I mean, he can't actually drain people's energy."

He nodded emphatically, and looked at me as if I were the crazy one for not believing in this urban fairy tale. "Sookie, I myself feel the drain when I am near him, especially when we do scenes together." He grimaced. "I can only imagine what it does to you. Anyways, because you are extra sensitive, you need to learn to shield yourself from people like Bill."

He let go of one of my hands and began to rub my shoulder, soothing the tension there as I mulled it over. I started to giggle, covering my mouth in an attempt to cover up my inappropriate amusement. When I raised my eyes to his and saw the exasperated annoyance there, I was able to regain control of myself. "Sorry, it's just that—well, he was just telling me how much he hates being portrayed as this evil, blood thirsty monster, but yet, he's a vamp in real life."

I don't know if it was what I said, or the intermittent eruptions of laughter that escaped from me, but he joined me, his broad shoulders shaking with his own laughter.

After a moment, I rose to my feet and offered him my hand. He took it, and, of course, I couldn't support his weight, so I fell onto him as he was straightening up. I put out my hand to cushion my fall, and it was now flattened against that dip in between his pecks. That damn euro-trash see-through shirt of his was so thin, I may as well have been touching his bare skin—not that I was complaining. My heart raced as I felt the hot skin and hard muscles of his abs below my hand. I yanked my hand away, even though it was a hundred times more painful than pulling off a band-aid.

I let out a nervous laugh and a mumbled apology. I wasn't entirely sure that I bought all that vampire stuff, but—I was beyond touched that EN had not only noticed my abrupt exit, but that he had also come to find me and had taken care of me in such a tender, non-judgmental way. I only hesitated for a fraction of a second before reaching up and wrapping my arms around him.

"Thank you," I rose up on my tiptoes and breathed into his hair.

I felt his arms close around my waist, meeting at the small of my back.

Yes, I melted a little when I felt his arms swallow me up, and I might have pressed closer into him, burying my face into his hair. But, c'mon, can you really blame a girl? Aside from being freaking EN, and a damn Viking sex god to boot, he just smelled so unbelievably good. It was all I could do not to just sniff and curl up in his lap.

"What's this for?" he murmured.

"Hmm?" I disentangled myself and looked up at him.

He kept his hands at my hips, preventing me from escaping his grip. "You don't have anything to thank me for … yet."

I snorted and tried to move away from him by flattening my hands against his chest and pushing off.

Bad move. Very, very bad move.

All I effectively did was grab two handfuls of swoonalicious muscles. And, to top it off, his hands covered mine in under a millisecond, pressing them in harder as he peered into my eyes, waiting.

Ohmanohmanohman. I could take the smug sex-smirk. I could take the lusty-panty incinerating-tractor beams. But this? This raw, tender caring and concern? It was too much.

I opened and closed my mouth a couple of times before I was able to find the words, and the voice—to speak them.

"Thank you, Eric. Thank you." I took a moment to catch my breath. "Thank you for making me comfortable enough to share this with you. Thank you for not thinking I'm totally off my rocker. Thank you for making me laugh. Thank you for being so kind and understanding and gentle."

His mouth broke into a soft grin, but his eyes stayed level and intense, boring into mine. I reached up on my tiptoes and brushed a kiss on his cheek. "Thank you."

I turned to leave, but he kept his hands over mine, preventing me from moving very far. I looked up at him in question. He let go of my hands and reached for me, brushing my hair back before cupping my face—each of his hands swallowing up my cheeks. He leaned in, and I closed my eyes.

I waited. And waited. And waited.

What the heck? I opened my eyes, only to see his face inches from mine, the ice blue of his eyes fixed on me, almost as if in a trance. I swallowed hard, meeting his gaze. I was lost, utterly and completely lost. Time, or the world, seemed to be suspended, and all there was and all that there had ever seemed to be was the blue, blue, blue of his eyes. I felt his breath hot on my mouth and became aware that somehow our breathing had matched—I breathed in his exhale, and he pulled out my exhale.

As infinite as our stillness had seemed to stretch, so did our movement in the next moment. He pressed his lips to mine—and my entire existence became soft lips and hot tongue and tender caresses.

This was not the kiss I had expected from EN. I mean, it was apparent that he was extremely skilled; he could probably win some suck-face competition, hands—or, I guess lips—down. But this kiss was not demanding or rough or urgent. No, it was soft butterflies batting their wings in the sun. It was Princess Buttercup finally seeing her true love. It was whispers and sighs. It made rainbows spill from my heart and little blue birds circle around and chirp in my ear.

He rubbed his lips against mine, the gentle back and forth motion making me whimper and tremble. Just as he was pulling away, he captured my lower lip between his and sucked on it, letting out a deep groan before releasing it.

He untangled his hand from my hair, brushing it back as we both tried to catch our breath.

After what seemed like forever, I whispered in a husky voice I barely recognized as my own, "I'm ready."

He raised an eyebrow in question.

I slapped his shoulder playfully and giggled. "To capture you," I teased, emphasizing the word 'capture' with air quotes.

He grinned and swung his arm around me, leading me back out toward the street. He wrapped his other arm around my waist and hid his face in my neck, so that we looked to all the world like yet another stumbling, drunken couple. But as we made our incognito escape, he whispered into my skin, just close enough to my ear so that I could clearly make out his words. "Oh, how I've waited to hear those words come out of those delicious lips of yours."

A/N: Ooooh… is Sookie finally ready to *ahem* yield to our favorite Vamp hunk? *giggles* Reviews make EN even happier than Nutella. Just sayin' ;D

A/N A gazillon Nutella-flavored kissies to the bestest betas a fangirl could ever ask for, nycsnowbirdand youbettago.

Any mistakes remaining are purely my own.

Disclaimer: As always, I do not own any rights to the characters in SVM or the HBO series True Blood. However, the original content and ideas are mine all mine.