Disclaimer: Charlaine Harris owns all.
Rated M for several reasons.
Chpt 6 Family
SPOV
I can hear voices. A low rumble of them.
I'm weak, tired and in pain, all I want to do is sleep.
But I'm nothing if not stubborn and for the second time recently I peel my reluctant eyes open.
I'm in a strange room, stretched out on a comfortable bed with, of all people, Eric sat beside me bathing my knife wounds gently with a damp cloth. I will worry about what he's done with my shirt later, damn him.
"Ouch." I rasp.
"You have lost a lot of blood." He observes.
No shit Sherlock, shouldn't I be in a hospital or something. I don't know this room but the décor screams Stan's mansion.
And I'm betting it's a good guess as my vision clears and I spot Stan and Godric over Eric's shoulder.
"She has returned Godric to us." Stan says formally. "I offer her blood to aid the healing."
"I am sure my underling will be most grateful your Majesty, but I owe her the healing myself." Eric responds firmly.
No, no healing. I try to sit up. An exercise in pain and futility and I immediately flop back down. Also painful.
"Hospital." I croak.
Nobody pays me any mind.
"Then we will leave you to it." Stan murmurs. "Godric and I have matters to attend to. We will see you downstairs shortly."
Eric nods and in no time we're alone.
"Hospital." I try again.
"Is very much overrated. You will take my blood. You will be fine."
I shake my head.
"Vampires are very jealous of their blood, especially older ones such as I, you would refuse?"
"What happens if I take your blood?" My voice is getting weaker, along with the rest of me.
"You will heal. You will feel better. I will be able to track you and I will be able to feel some of your stronger emotions. It will wear off eventually."
"Don't want to be an addict or a vampire."
"There is no danger of either although you will be plagued by erotic dreams of me for a while."
"Hospital." I wheeze out, making another doomed attempt to sit up.
He laughs. I don't think I've ever heard him properly laugh before. It's a deep warm sound that soothes away my fears.
Leaning down he tears open his wrist with his fangs, supporting my head as he brings the bleeding wound to my lips.
"Drink." He orders, his voice becoming husky.
I latch on, instantly amazed by the rich sweet taste of his blood, nothing like how I remember Bill's tasting. Must be an age thing, or an Eric thing. His body shudders and the bed and I shudder with him.
I swallow, painfully, until the wound closes and he removes his wrist, lowering my head gently back to the pillow.
Watching me intently he pierces the end of his finger on a fang and, once his blood has pooled, draws it carefully across the cut on my arm. Repeating the process several times on the gash in my side. The pain lessens quickly and I can feel myself relaxing.
"I didn't exactly save Godric." I mutter as sleep pulls me under.
"That is what I am afraid of." Eric responds quietly, getting up and walking away.
…..
I wake some time later to find myself stretched out in the back of a huge car. My head on Eric's thigh, feet on Godric's. The two of them are staring at each other in tense and unhappy silence.
No, too much, I let myself drift away again.
My next awakening is somewhat ruder. There is shouting and cool hands tugging at me urgently.
"Off." I groan unhappily, trying to snuggle back down into sleep.
"Let her go!" A voice shouts angrily.
Bill.
Eric is carrying me bridal style and Bill is trying to snatch me away. We're in the corridor outside our suite.
"Bill." Eric growls in warning. "If you touch me again the pain of silver will be the least of your problems."
Eyes flashing Bill backs down and Eric sweeps past him, carrying me into my bedroom and laying me carefully down on the bed.
Burden relinquished he squares off with a furious looking Bill.
"My human . . . ." He starts.
"Is healing and just needs to sleep." Eric interrupts. "I am extremely busy at the moment and I do not have time to discuss the semantics of ownership with you. I assume you have not come all this way without making arrangements for your daytime rest?"
Bill shakes his head and opens his mouth to speak again.
Eric throws his palm up at Bill's face, eyes narrowing dangerously.
"Do not push me Compton, not today. It is almost dawn, go to your rest."
Bill hesitates, glancing at me.
"GO!" Eric roars, Bill and I both jump.
And with a last look at me Bill blurs away.
"Eric . . . ."
"Sleep Sookie, we will leave for home at first dark. It would be advisable for you to stay in the suite until I rise."
And he turns and strides away.
Gathering my wits about me I climb cautiously to my feet, surprised by just how well I feel despite my weariness. Then I throw caution to the winds and hurry out of the door after Eric, I have a horrible suspicion I know where he's going.
Sure enough I find him on the roof, kneeling before a sorrowful looking Godric.
Godric smiles briefly at me as I emerge from the stairwell and then returns his attention to Eric, speaking urgently to him in a language I don't understand. There are bloody tears streaming down Eric's face as he argues with Godric and they wrench at my heart, I would have pleaded with Gran not to leave me too, if I'd been able.
Finally Godric says something in a deep and sonorous voice and Eric jerks to his feet like a puppet, eyes wide and pleading as Godric sighs and reaches up to cup his cheek.
The sky is getting lighter and both Godric and I watch with relief as Eric disappears down the stairwell.
"You're his Maker." I observe as he returns his gaze to me.
"He does not understand." He whispers. "I am tired, I do not wish for this existence any longer, but that does not mean I love him any less."
"Why did you go to The Fellowship?" I have to know, it just seems such a stupid thing to do and I seriously doubt he's that.
"They are a threat to our kind, I thought I could kill two birds with one stone."
"You knew they were going to sacrifice a human with you." I gasp.
"I would not have allowed it." He smiles wryly. "The broadcast was going to be live, remember?"
"You were going to expose them, before you died." I shake my head, it would have worked too. "Why didn't you just go ahead with your plan?"
"I recognised your connection to Eric, I would not risk him coming for you and falling prey to my fate. Eric is not meant for death."
The sky is getting much lighter now and I can feel a sense of urgency tugging at me.
"Are you sure you want to do this?"
"Will he forgive me, do you think?" He asks by way of an answer.
"Eric?"
"God. Both." He expands, turning to face the rising sun.
"Yes Godric. They will."
He spreads his arms wide as the sun peeks over the horizon.
"Thank you Sookie, for staying with me."
…..
Sobbing I make my way down the stairs and back to our rooms. It didn't take very long and he didn't seem to be in pain or have any regrets. But there's something undeniably sad about watching someone who has been alive for so long, seen and done so much, blow away on the wind a mere handful of dust. It almost feels wasteful and I regret not having the chance to get to know him. And I offer up a prayer that I wasn't lying when I said God and Eric would forgive him.
The suite is sealed into darkness when I get back but Eric is still up, sitting on the end of his bed, staring at his hands, cheeks stained with bloody tears.
I stop dead in my tracks, torn between the desire to comfort him and the knowledge that my human emotional efforts probably won't be welcome.
In the end my soft heart wins out and I pad over to him and rest my hand on the top of his head. He leans forward, resting his forehead on my stomach and instinctively I comb my fingers through his hair. Just for a moment or two. Then I pull away, flipping the big red security switch by his door as I pull it closed behind me.
The sound of the locks clanging into place follows me across the room as I stagger to my own bed and fall on it, suddenly too tired to do anything except sleep.
…..
I wake up full of foreboding.
Bill is here and won't be avoided at nightfall.
I've had Eric's blood.
Godric is dead.
And I'm still wearing the same clothes I had on yesterday. They're scratchy with dried blood, I can feel it.
Groaning I roll over to look at the clock. I've slept the day away and I've got about two hours before I have to face the vampires and the long journey home.
Might as well spend them in the tub.
While it fills I inspect myself in the full length mirror. My face is its normal shape, I'd been expecting a few giant lumps and bumps, there's just a faint yellow hue to my cheek, an almost faded bruise. The cut on my arm is a very thin pink line. The gash in my side only a little thicker. But still, not as bad as it could have been, Eric's blood is clearly strong stuff. In fact I feel as fit as fiddle, like I could run home to Bon Temps, which maybe wouldn't be a bad idea . . . .
I'm curled up one of the sofa's flicking idly through a magazine when Eric's door opens.
Ignoring me he stomps out, flinging his bag down next to mine and continuing over to the fridge where he pulls out a bottle of synthetic blood, shoving it in the microwave with practised ease.
I concentrate on my magazine.
The microwave dings and after a few seconds I hear the bottle land in the waste basket.
Then the fridge opens again. Microwave. Waste basket.
Fridge. Microwave. Waste basket.
Fridge. Microwave. Waste basket.
Silence.
Eventually I cave and look over at him.
Oh baby. If looks could kill I'd be dead already.
Hastily I go back to my magazine, it's not a look I want to see on the face of someone who could end me without breaking a sweat.
The knock at the door is a welcome relief and I hop off the couch to open it because Eric clearly isn't going to.
My mistake. It's Bill. The tension in the room ratchets up to a whole other level. I allow him to hug me briefly and then throw myself back into the relative safety of the couch.
I'm not a vampire but if it were me I'd definitely keep my thoughts to myself at this point . . . .
"Eric." Bill begins, sounding like a school teacher. "My human . . . ."
I bristle in indignation and Eric growls.
"She is your nothing, Compton. We both know you are playing a very weak card with all this mine business."
Bill frowns and nods at me, a 'not in front of the human' gesture if ever I've seen one, and I resolve to have that conversation with Niall as soon as possible.
"I am sure you have many things you wish to say to me." Eric continues, his voice still flat and hard. "I will be at Fangtasia on our return to Shreveport, if you are stupid enough to still want to do so. In the meantime if you will excuse us, Sookie and I have a plane to catch."
With that he pushes away from the counter and grabs our bags, turning to me with a raised eyebrow.
I'm mad at him for putting me on the spot with Bill like this but I'm not sure if I'm mad enough to miss my ride home.
I get to my feet and then hesitate, looking between them like a spectator at a tennis match. Big scary vampire who isn't very fond of me at the moment on one side and soon to be ex-boyfriend on the other. Stuck between a rock and a hard place? I should stay with Bill and woman up to our problems.
Eric however has other ideas. Like Godric he hefts me easily over his shoulder and turns to Bill.
"You will not interfere." His tone is chilly to say the least. "She will be at her home, safe and sound, when you get back."
I lift my head to look up at Bill.
"I'm sorry. I'm okay. Don't worry about me. I'll see you when you get back."
In the elevator Eric sets me back on my feet without a word. I want to ask what that bullshit was all about and tear him off a strip for manhandling me, but his expression, reflected back at me in the polished metal walls, is not encouraging. So I swallow my anger and take a deep breath instead.
…..
It was a very long journey home. I avoided looking at Eric as much as possible because every time I did he looked like he was contemplating pushing me out of the plane. It's done nothing for my newly discovered fear of flying.
I survived though and my old farmhouse has never looked so lovely as my car bounces down the crappy driveway.
Although the two fairies waiting on the porch are a nifty new addition . . . .