Summary: In a world where Uncle Bartlett went too far, Sookie Stackhouse decides to embrace herself rather than bend to the townfolk's perception of normal. Years later, she saves a dense vampire from two drainers. Slowburn Sookie/Eric.
Tomorrow is my birthday. I'm going to be fifteen. To mark this tragic event, I have a proposal. If you spoil me (with reviews), I will spoil you and answer some questions. Within reason, of course. :D
The second Sookie entered her kitchen, shoes off, the repulsive smell of rust and iron reached her nose. Her stomach twisted with bile and she froze, heart stuttering before taking off at a frantic pace, pumping adrenaline through her body. An image of Dawn's lifeless blue eyes flashed through her head. Her hands curled into fists, a breathless panic throbbing through her. She searched the dark with frantic eyes.
And then the pieces clicked together with a snap. It was too late. Blood was thick in the air, nearly enough for her to choke on it. Her mind splintered under the weight of a vicious surge of wild terror. Gran, where was Gran? DGA meeting? Home?
Her breathing spiked in distress, every inch of her heart rejected the idea desperately but her gut knew, and her mind cruelly latched to the knowledge, leaving her no hope of denial. Sookie stood in the dark, staring with unseeing brown eyes.
Her arm lifted of its own will to turn on the light, and her kitchen was revealed.
She had burned cookies in this kitchen with her Gran. She shared a dozen conversations, a dozen laughs, a dozen sunny memories. Jason had started so many arguments by snagging food off her plate, and Gran had calmed every one of them. After Uncle Bartlett, Gran had gathered Sookie up on her lap and rocked her gently, softly singing Hey Jude in her hair, holding back her sorrow for her sake because Gran had known tears would break her.
That memory was particularly vivid as one of the only times Sookie could remember feeling completely safe.
The white peeling cabinets were splattered with vibrant red blood, dripping slowly downwards. Droplets of blood littered the worn floor. Tina was lapping up the blood with her pink tongue, purring at the light.
There was a second figure just inside the kitchen; blue checkered flannel, worn blue jeans, brown boots. Sam Merlotte was laying on his side, angled to face the kitchen sink, face half-hidden in a dark red pool of his own blood. His blue eyes were closed, his hair was soaked with blood. He had been stabbed three times in the stomach.
Sookie coud feel the imprint of his lips on hers, and her heart gave a violent pang of grief. The pang swelled rapidly, causing her eyes to burn with tears like acid, and her breath to sharpen. Her eyes dropped to the figure sprawled gracelessly in front of her.
Her Gran lay in a thick pool of black-red blood, long gray hair floating in the liquid. Her white nightdress was torn by several vicious knife wounds all over. Her body was curled up, facing opposite the sink. There was terror in her eyes, and her kind, loving face was twisted into something horrible.
Sookie felt pain surging from deep in her bones, barreling towards her at a terrible speed. The impact shattered her chest wide open. Agony filled her lungs, leaving her struggling for breath. The intensity was unbearable, and she dropped to her knees. Into her Gran's blood.
Sookie flung herself backwards, scrambling away. A masculine voice rumbled in her ears, loud and authoritative, and she dimly heard herself answering with a broken whisper, "Come in."
Then there were thick, strong arms lifting her into a broad, muscular chest and away from the blood. Her instincts were too overcome to respond to the unexpected touch.
"I strongly advise you refrain from vomiting," Eric gritted at Sookie warningly.
"Wasn't plannin' on it," Sookie murmured, vulnerable and boneless in his arms. Her gaze was spinning, leaving her disoriented, but she felt too sick to actually throw up. "I'm not gonna faint," she added, almost threateningly, to herself.
"You may pass out," Eric permitted her. A break from the horror and shock crashing down on her with the force of a waterfall, smashing her heart into a bloody pulp? It was tempting but she clung to consciousness out of habit. "But you are not to cry."
Sookie knocked her head against his shoulder lightly, lacking the energy and the stupidity to punch him in the arm. "Am I allowed to breath?" she asked in a wispy voice.
"As long as you are silent," Eric retorted, pretending her words weren't intended as sarcasm.
"Never," she whsipered. Sookie's golden head fell forward to observe his black boots as he moved fluidly around the table to spare her the sight of her Gran's empty eyes. He nudged Tina lightly, and Tina rose to follow Eric as he put Sookie down on the kitchen table. Even now, he needed to lower himself to meet her big brown eyes.
"The shifter is still alive," Eric told her. Sookie inhaled sharply, the truth in his words hitting her square in the chest with a thwack. He pressed his cell phone into her hand, and she took it, automatically dialling. There was no pity or even sympathy in his eyes, just a harsh, burning flame.
The direct stare persisted for a long, lingering moment. Eric broke the gaze when Sookie lifted the cell to her ear and frantically explained the situation. She called the police too. His drilling stare returned to her when she slipped off the table and hurried to Sam's side to staunch the bleeding with a towel.
"Sookie!" The thick Southern accent of Bill Compton called out to her.
"Bill Compton," Eric declared coldly, distaste ringing through his deep voice.
"Eric," Bill spat.
"Jesus Christ," Sookie murmured, pressing the towel down on Sam's stomach with as much force as she dared.
"What have you done to her?" Bill demanded furiously. "I can smell the blood!"
Eric tutted condescendingly, rumbling a disdainful response, "If your sense of smell was more developed, you would know the blood does not belong to Sookie Stackhouse."
Sookie faltered. Tending to Sam gave her a purpose, a distraction, but the reminder stuck her like a dozen hot knives. She could feel Eric's eyes on her, unreadable and cool. She hardened herself. She refused to break, period, but there was a particular indignity in losing it in front of other people. Gran came off as effortlessly dignified.
"So sweet of you to remind me," Sookie gritted out, glaring up at Eric from her knees.
There was an imperceptible flare in Eric's eyes, either lust or approval.
"Sookie, you must invite me in!" Bill ordered her frantically.
"Stopping my friend from bleeding to death is a little higher on my To-Do list!" Sookie snapped temperously. Her blood boiled with impotent rage at how helpless she felt. Holding a towel to Sam's stomach wasn't doing him much good. He was bleeding out fast, and he'd already lost too much. A dizzy panic swirled around her chest as her mind scrambled frantically for a solution.
"Then allow me to assist you," Bill suggested desperately. His words made Eric glance in his direction.
"Bill, if you really want to help me, checkin' the piece of shit who did this isn't still lurking around would be just peachy," Sookie said, every word spoken with a great tension, taut and wire-tight. It was better than screaming.
"I agree, Miss Stackhouse," Eric said, a crisp note to his voice. "Run along, Bill."
"I will not leave Sookie with the likes of you!"
"Out of curiosity, Bill, exactly how would being trapped outside my house help if Eric went nuts and tried to eat me?" Sookie snapped. "Now, if y'all are done with the damn rulers, either help me or get the hell off my property!"
"Sookie," Bill called loudly, "My blood can heal Sam!"
Sookie felt a faint flutter of hope in her gut. Gran...Gran couldn't, but Sam could. She needed Sam to live - selflessly and selfishly.
"The shifter has already lost too much blood," Eric spoke in a swift yet dismissive tone. "Heal him completely and you risk turning him."
"So don't heal him completely, just - just enough," Sookie said immediately, looking at Eric with wide brown eyes. He met her gaze, something swirling in the icy blue depths.
"Very well," Eric said coolly, looking away from her to the door. "Compton."
"Come in, Bill."
At once, Bill burst in her kitchen, stuttering to a brief stunned halt at - at Gran.
Sickened, Sookie turned her head away, pain splitting her heart in half. And then Bill zipped around the table, past Eric, and crouched down beside her. He lifted his wrist to his mouth, fangs snicking down, then with a disgusting crunch, Bill bit down on his wrist and brought it to Sam's mouth. Blood dripped down her boss' throat...and Sam's muscles swallowed instinctively.
Half of Sookie's energy evaporated as faint tendrils of relief spread through her. Aimlessly, she rose from the floor, eyes drifting toward her Gran, like an inevitability. She wrenched her eyes away, feeling sickeningly open, balling her fists until the skin threatened to split.
"Miss Stackhouse," Eric murmured. Sookie looked at him, and he flickered his blue eyes towards the front room. Eager to leave the kitchen, Sookie shot him a single sardonic look before moving into the sitting room.
As always, Eric acted as though he owned her personal bubble and stood close to her, lowering for her. "I need to leave."
Crushing the fleeting swirl of disappointment in her stomach, Sookie nodded knowingly. "I figured." At the faint quirk of his eyebrow, Sookie slumped and looked up at him starkly. "Blood on your clothes, and no reason to be here. It wouldn't look good."
Eric lingered, pale eyes burning like fire and ice. "We have many things to discuss," he said. "I will return. Until then, tread carefully. I suspect Compton would be more of a hindrance to you than a help, my tiny human."
"I'll save my best snark for you, my dear." It was easier to mimic her own personality away from the kitchen where the air was clearer. Eric's composure seemed to feed her own.
Bill's head snapped around. "Sookie - " he choked out, horror in his voice.
Eric chuckled softly, almost sinisterly, a victorious smirk on his cold face before he zipped away. Within an instant, Bill was in front of her, reaching out to grab her before remembering. "Sookie, Eric - "
Sookie looked at him with worry in her face. "Is Sam...?"
"My blood has slowed the bleeding," Bill answered curtly. "You do not understand, Sookie. Eric is vampire - "
"Kinda hard to miss," she muttered sarcastically, feigning a disappointed huff.
Oblivious to Bill's expression, Sookie locked her eyes on Sam and knelt by his side, using the towel to gently wipe the drops of vampire blood off his face. His breathing was shallow but regular.
When the ambulance arrived, Sam was strapped to a gurney and carted away to the closest hospital in Monroe. Sookie drifted into the sitting room, lowering herself to the couch. Her hands linked in her lap, slick with cooling blood. A cotton-candy numbness tried to settle over her but Sookie fought it off.
She wanted the pain and the hurt and the gaping, screaming hole in her chest that made every cell in her body howl. Gran deserved every stab, twist and salt-in-the-wound of agony but Sookie kept her tears at bay. They were for Gran, not Mike Spencer, his assistant, Andy Bellefluer and Bud Dearborne.
"You got any prints?" Dearborne asked in the kitchen.
"Nothing clean, just a partial one on the sink," Andy replied.
Sookie turned her head sharply, a flare of life in her eyes that dimmed rapidly. Her eyes were drawn to the white of Gran's night dress like a moth to a flame. Andy, Bud, Mike and the boy were standing around her body, thoughts fluttering in the air. Sookie felt the tension in her body increasing until her body flinched, mind warring with the childish instinct to go to her Gran.
Her toes curled painfully tight, muscles coiling, legs ready to move, iron on her tongue and a scream rising in her throat - go to her, go to her, go to her.
Sookie rose to her feet before abruptly gaining control of herself. Unable to stay inside, she grabbed her cell and forced herself out the door. The air was hot, suffocating, but she breathed it in greedily. She could still taste blood on her tongue. Her body called her to Gran but she resisted.
She flipped through her contacts list, hesitating over Eric's number, before calling Dawson. No answer. She left a message, cursing him out for avoiding her so blatantly and warning him that Sam Merlotte, a shifter, was in the hospital, and if he could pull his head out of his ass to make sure no one noticed anything supernatural about him with one of his contacts, that would be awesome.
Next, she called Jason. Like Dawson, there was no answer. Sookie called Hoyt and asked him to send Jason over to her house.
"Are you okay, Sookie? You sound kind of..." Hoyt trailed off awkwardly, genuine concern in his voice. "Are you sick? Do - do you need anything? I don't mind swinging by."
Sookie swallowed the lump in her throat, feeling her heart melting in her chest. Hoyt had always been so kind, honestly, genuinely kind. It made her think of Gran, and to a lesser extent, Sam. "I need my brother," she admitted softly, a crack of emotion in her voice.
"I'll find him," Hoyt swore, a resolve in his voice. "Take care, Sookie."
After hanging up, she steadied herself, blinking away her tears. Bill walked out of the house and sat on the porch step beside her.
"I'm apologize if I seemed abrupt with you earlier."
"You should be," Sookie murmured, arching her eyebrows like nothing was wrong. "Abrupt is my schtick."
"I was merely concerned for your safety," Bill said to justify himself.
"Next time, ask if I'm okay before leapfrogging to conclusions."
"Are you alright?" Bill asked, turning his head to look at her profile. Sookie kept her gaze distant and fixed ahead. "If there is anything I can do to help you, I will do it gladly. I care for you, Sookie."
"Enough to stop hitting on me while I'm covered in blood?" Sookie asked dully. The hurt on his face made her flinch. It looked so much like Sam's. She couldn't shake what her instincts told her about him but she knew she was being unfair to Bill. "I'm sorry. You saved Sam's life, and you made Gran so happy..."
More than she had.
"Sookie?" Bill questioned softly, a faint trace of shock in his voice.
Before Sookie could continue, there was a woosh behind them, and Eric appeared beside her porch swing. "I hope I'm not interrupting something," he said, a twist of mocking in his cool voice.
The lack of pity in his voice was soothing to Sookie, crushing the knot of guilt in her stomach. "Bullshit," she observed quietly.
Eric gave her another drilling stare, a retort posed on his tongue but Bill stood up, scowling at the blonde vampire. "Why are you here, Eric? I do not believe you care for Sookie's welfare."
"That is between Miss Stackhouse and I," Eric said sharply, the hard note of threat in his voice. His expression could have been carved from stone, hard and unyielding. Bill adverted his eyes, clearly uncomfortable.
"Oh, is it?" Sookie asked half heartedly. "Because you didn't get around to telling me that part..."
"True," Eric acknowledged coolly. His eyes flickered to Bill. "Leave us." Bill puffed himself up but Eric shut him down. "I strongly advise you do not test my patience with pointless idiocy, Compton."
Bill hesitated before looking at Sookie as though seeking permission. Sookie looked at him blankly before realizing that was exactly what he was doing. "Oh. I'll be fine. You can," she shooed him away limply, drained of her usual spark, "Go on home."
"I do not trust him," Bill said as though that mattered to her.
"You made that pretty clear."
Bill looked affronted but with a lingering look, he took off into the woods. Eric moved closer to her until a mere inch seperated them, icy eyes filled with all the heat in hell. "Bon Temps is no longer safe for you."
"Good thing I don't scare easy," Sookie said with a sharp edge to her voice, a shadow of her ferocity. Her resolve hardened, filling her with determination made unbreakable by grief. She loved Gran more than her own parents - enough to survive tonight, to keep being fiery, unyielding Sookie Stackhouse for her.
"If you remain here, you will be putting yourself at risk," Eric pointed out in his dark, flowing voice.
"My telepathy makes me pretty hard to sneak up on," Sooke told him. Only three people had ever been able to sneak up on her. One of them was lost to her now. A hot stab of pain rippled across her nervous system but she held strong. Not yet, not here.
"I am confident you will be capable of defending yourself against a human assassin," Eric rumbled, sweeping his eyes down her small frame. Her hands were splattered and stained with blood. "Within reason. I will make arrangements for a guard." His icy blue eyes sharpened, sparks of raw intelligence glinting in his eyes. "How long have you been aware of the existence of werewolves?"
Sookie startled a little but she realized instantly what had given her away. She should have acted shocked when the werewolves ambushed them back in Shreveport but the actual fight had jarred her too much for her to even think of that.
"I was fourteen, I slipped up and heard something I shouldn't," she admitted, lying by omission. "Considering how I overheard, I could hardly dismiss the idea as nuts."
Eric stared at her, seeming to consider her words. "You surprise me," he said finally. "That is a rare quality in a breather."
"Breather?"
Behind her, the door creaked open, and she turned around to see Andy Bellefluer, who looked at Eric in surprise. "Who are you? And where is vampire Bill?"
"What's happening?" Sookie crossed her arms defensively over her chest. There was an nagging suspicion in the pit of her stomach.
Her deflection worked. Andy looked uncomfortable but he didn't have to explain. A wave of hot agony broke over Sookie when Mike Spencer and his assistant carried a black body bag out of her house.
Eric didn't offer to help her clean the kitchen but he did sit down at the table, stretching his long legs out in front of him. Sookie hadn't expected nor wanted him to help. It was something she needed to do by herself. She couldn't take care of Sam or Gran but she could damn well clean up the aftermath.
Following Eric's suggestion, Sookie dried up as much as she could with several dish cloths before scrubbing the floor with lilic scented soapy water and a sponge. Eventually, Eric ordered her to stop. Of course, she refused.
"I can still smell the blood," Sookie told him in a slightly frenzied voice, scrubbing the floor frantically. The small of her back ached, and her arm felt unusually heavy.
"Calm yourself," Eric commanded.
"Go play with yourself," Sookie suggested automatically. There was no heat or effort behind the words.
Eric seemed to recognize this because he didn't tear into her neck or even threaten her. Instead, he chuckled lowly, a fizzle of heat in his voice. "Keeping bending over, Miss Stackhouse, and I will consider it an invitation."
Despite his dominant nature, he hadn't simply hauled her off the floor and made her stop like he could easily do. The mere idea of touch made Sookie's skin crawl with disquiet. If he had grabbed her, she would have lashed out in a wild rage - and common sense suggested that no one fucked with Eric Northman's balls.
All evidence suggested he knew how she would react but that had to be bullshit. If the first person to anticipate her thought pattern was a one-thousand-year old Viking, it was clearly a sign that God did exist - and he hated her.
Sookie clenched her fist, gaining a measure of satisfaction by crushing the sponge, and looked up at him. "You consider everything to be an invitation."
Eric smirked at her, cocky and charming and oddly soothing to her frayed, sparking nerves. But before he could continue their banter, a sharp stab of hot fury hit Sookie between the eyes. Her hand flew to her temple as Eric looked to the side, hearing something that made his face darken.
It was Jason, and he was pissed as hell. Sookie climbed to her feet, catching fleeting images between the senseless fury clouding her brother's head. Hoyt had stopped Jason from going back to his with some trampy woman and convinced her drunk brother to let him drive to her house. Distracted by Jason drunk rambling, Hoyt had almost crashed her brother's beloved truck into Andy's squad car.
Jason knew about Gran.
Sookie closed her eyes with a soft groan. "This is going to be bad."
"He blames you for your grandmother's death," Eric warned her.
Sookie looked at him for a moment, a self-deprecatingly twist to her lips, before going outside to meet her brother. She climbed down the porch steps, watching as Jason stormed towards her with Hoyt hurrying after him. There was something in his posture that raised Sookie's hackles. Despite her attempts to calm down, she felt herself stiffening, feet parting in a subconscious expectation of a fight, fists curling.
"Jason - " Sookie said, a note that wavered between placating and hard in her voice. Her brother's arm moved, Hoyt screamed, "JASON!", and shock blazed across Sookie's mind - he wouldn't --
He would. There was a blur of movement from behind her, and then Jason cried out in pain, tanned wrist being crushed by Eric's pale hand. Eric's fangs were down, glinting sharply, and a low, dangerous noise rumbled in his chest. It was nothing compared to the boiling intensity in his pale blue eyes.
"Motherfu - " Jason gasped, blood draining from his face, fear widening his eyes. Eric's other hand closed around his throat, and lifted Jason several inches above the floor until he was nearly taller than Eric himself.
"Jesus!" Hoyt gasped while Sookie stared at her brother in blank shock, heart stinging with hurt.
Eric stared at Jason coldly as he writhed in the air, trying to pry the stronger man's fingers away from his throat. "This is the brother you put yourself at risk to protect?" Distaste was clear in Eric's low voice as he referred to their first meeting. "A disloyal coward? I never took you to be so...sentimental, Sookie."
Jason made a panicked, choking sound.
A wild, desperate panic surged from the pit of Sookie's stomach - not Jason too - but it cooled when she realized Eric wasn't actually strangling Jason. Hurting him but not seriously, not fatally, not like Gran who had been stabbed and murdered and her blood was all over Sookie, and Jason - her big brother who loved her, who was supposed to protect her and had no idea how badly he failed - had just tried to hit her.
He really did blame her. It wasn't that she thought Eric had been lying to her - why would he bother? - but she hadn't expected Jason to truly believe that. Not deep down.
No, no. He blamed himself for not being around, but he was directing it at her. It was easier, like clinging to sarcasm and pretending it wasn't happening was easier for Sookie. It hurt.
"Let him go." Her voice was unfamiliar to her, soft where it should be hard and hard where it should be soft. The Viking rolled his head to look at her. "He isn't dumb enough to try it again."
"Yes, he is," Eric disagreed but he unceremoniously dropped Jason like a piece of trash to the floor. Hoyt grabbed Jason, who was gasping for air and gripping his throat in silent panic, and helped him to his feet. Sookie shifted closer to her brother.
"What the hell kind of people are you hanging around with?" Jason demanded, staggering away from Eric, who gazed at him coldly.
Sookie was in a volatile mindset. Her grief was bottled up tight enough to make her head hurt. She was scared for Sam and tired and shaken. And she felt betrayed. She trusted Jason, her big brother, not to hurt her. He was her blood, her only blood now. He was a selfish fucking bastard at times but she knew he was grieving too.
But trust wasn't automatic anymore; Jason had shattered hers, and he didn't care enough to even apologize.
Sookie's temper fizzled and snapped but she didn't physically lash out, like most would expect from her. Jason was her brother, and that meant something to her.
"The kind of person who just stopped my own brother from hitting me," Sookie replied cuttingly, fury snapping in her cool voice like cracking ice. "What do you think Gran would say about that, huh, Jase?"
"Gran's dead because of you!" Jason screamed, rage licking at her hotly in his voice.
"Gran's gone because somebody killed her!" Sookie screamed back, nails digging into her palms, eyes spitting flames of fury. "While neither of us were there to help her! It isn't my fault, but that don't automatically make it yours!"
Sookie knew her brother. After their daddy's death, he was the man of the house, and he'd always taken the responsibility too far. Not being able to magically sense danger and protect Gran wrecked him.
A tortured look contorted Jason's face. "You're readin' my mind," he accused frantically. "That- that ain't fair."
"Fair?" Sookie repeated furiously. "You think fair has anything to do with this? I came home to a bloodbath, there is nothing fair about that! I had to stop Sam from bleeding to death with Gran's body less than a foot away! I had to keep my shit together, and you've lost yours completely! You think I even need to read your mind anymore, Jason? I'm your sister, remember?"
Sookie shook her head, anger dimming to hurt. Her eyes burned painfully. "But maybe I don't know you as well as I thought I did." Her gaze flickered to Hoyt, who looked torn between shock and horror. "Get him out of here before I end up wearing more of my family's blood."
For the first time, Jason looked at her - the blood dried on her knees, the vivid red stains on her dress, the flecks and splatters of blood on her arms. He went sheet white, and let Hoyt drag him to his truck, getting in without argument.
"You seem to be a conduct for chaos, Miss Stackhouse," Eric noted, not sounding particularly disappointed about that.
All Sookie could do was plaster a sarcastic smile on her face and turn to him. "At least I waited until you were back and ready to literally save my face before getting into more trouble."
Undertone: Thank you.
The vultures circled, flapping their mouths insistantly. Gossip in the air. Sookie sat stiffly in the kitchen, plates spinning in her mind, staring unblinkingly at the spot where Gran had been. Her mood was still, not calm but sedated. Close to numb.
"Not a word of grief from her - "
" - so rude, that Stackhouse girl - "
" - snarling at anyone who comes close - "
"I heard she hasn't cried a single tear - "
That was true. After Eric had been driven away by the sun, Sookie had expected herself to crumple but the odd calm clung to her, bringing sarcasm spewing from her mouth, sending the vultures flying back to safety.
Sookie knew how she reacted to things - recklessly, wildly, thoughtlessly, desperately. If Eric hadn't been there, if she hadn't been forced to hold herself together because there was no way she would be open and vulnerable and grieving around someone else...
It would have been bad and stupid and explosive. But now, she couldn't stop.
Her chest was crushed by a pressure that grew heavier with every moment until Sookie wanted desperately to start screaming and clawing at her skin until she reached bone, until she felt relief. She couldn't cry, she shouldn't scream, and she wouldn't break. Gran wouldn't have wanted it.
But Adelle Stackhouse wouldn't have wanted the false, gushing sympathy either, though she would have accepted it gracefully. Sookie wasn't her Gran. Tara and Lafayette had been running damage control for her all morning.
"Hey, Sookie..." Arlene ventured hesitantly, clearly having been pre-warned.
Sookie's eyes flickered up to her. "What are we going to do about the bar?"
As soon as she'd woken up, less than three hours after crawling into Gran's bed with Tina, she had called the hospital about Sam. He was in a coma, unlikely to wake up anytime soon, but alive. Unlike Gran.
"Oh, honey," Arlene cooed, taking the seat beside her and grasping her hand. "You shouldn't be worrying about that, not today."
"I'd prefer to think about that than funeral arrangements," Sookie told her frankly. Arlene's face grimaced with sadness, and she gripped the blonde's hand a little tighter. Knowing Arlene was genuine, she squeezed back.
"I'll take care of shit until you is ready, Sook," Lafayette told her as Tara went over to accept a dish from Maxine Fortenberry and bullshit her into staying away from Sookie.
"My angels," Sookie murmured flatteringly.
"What?" Arlene questioned, brow furrowing in confusion. "Sookie, you can't be thinking of runnin' the bar all by yourself - sweetie, you've got enough on your plate - "
"So have you with two kids," Sookie pointed out, no real enthusiasm in her voice. Taking care of Sam's business was the least she could do for him. "The stress would put Terry back in hospital, and Tara started a couple of days ago."
"Don't you worry, Arlene," Lafayette interjected. "Me and Sook can run the show like nobodies business. Ain't that right, Tara?"
Tara snorted. "It'll be real interestin'."
Arlene looked hesitant but she was being worn down - none of them could afford to close the place until Sam woke up, whenever that was, and aside from Lafayette, Sookie had been working at Merlotte's the longest.
Sookie heard the front door open; another guest. "And that's the sound of my blood pressure spiking," she murmured wearily.
There was a sudden hushed pause outside the kitchen before whispers filled the air.
"Oh, shit is about to get real," Lafayette predicted lowly. Beside him, Tara cursed.
Their reactions and the shock on Arlene's face caught Sookie's attention. Her head whipped around, and she found the cause of attention instantly. He was taller than she remembered but just as handsome. His skin was bronzed by the sun, his brown hair was artfully tousled, and he looked older but it suited him. His clothes - jeans and a crisp white shirt - fitted his muscular body very well. The somber look on his face clashed with his mischievous facial features.
He was nothing compared to Eric, but he took her breath away.
Across the crowd of people, Sookie met the soft brown eyes of JB Du Rone for the first time in ten years.
Shock cracked Sookie's inexplicable calm. A tornado of butterflies fluttered frantically around her stomach. The warm glow of remembered feelings warmed her. A look of astonishment softened her face, and JB stared at her intently but he made no move to come closer. Swallowing, Sookie forced herself to remember his expression - stunned and hurt and disbelieving - when they had broken up.
"Need an escape?" Lafayette whispered.
"Like fucking yesterday," Sookie replied breathlessly. She took his hand when he offered it to her. Tara put an arm around her shoulder, shielding her from JB as the three moved past her ex-boyfriend and up the stairs.
When she glanced back once, she saw JB standing at the bottom of the stairs, looking up at her.
"Can you believe this shit?" Tara demanded when they were sitting on Sookie's bed.
"Motherfucking crazy," Lafayette agreed, shaking his head. He eyed Sookie. "How you doing, honey child?"
"Heart's still pounding," she noted softly, frowning. "I shouldn't be feelin' like this. What the hell is wrong with me? Gran's gone, and I'm..."
"Some pain is too big to handle right away," Lafayette said sagely.
"I know you," Tara said comfortingly. "You won't let yourself feel all of it until the circling buzzards downstairs back the fuck off. Numb is what you need to keep going right now."
"I can't cry," Sookie said softly, dark eyes going distant. "I'm not numb. It hurts but not like it should, like it will, and I can't cry. I want to, I need to, but I can't."
Tara chewed her lip for a moment before moving up the bed until she was sitting beside the blonde. Picking up on something in her thoughts, Sookie rested her head on Tara's thighs and closed her eyes. Lafayette pulled her legs up onto his lap, rubbing her knee platonically.
"I'd fucking lose it if anything happen to you," Tara told her softly.
"I love you," Sookie said abruptly, startling them both. "I never said that enough to Gran. I can't even remember the last time I said that to her."
There was a tentative knock on the bedroom door. Before Tara could tell them to fuck off, Jason spoke, "Sookie?" his voice was quiet, hesitant and ashamed. "Can I come in?"
"Want me to tell him to leave?" Tara asked. Sookie didn't have the heart to tell her what Jason had tried to do last night but Tara seemed to be holding a grudge anyway.
"No." Sookie sat up, resisting the urge to wrap her arms around her legs like a child. "I'll deal with it."
Taking her lack of rejection as acceptance, Jason opened the door and peered in. He swallowed, looking at Sookie.
"We should go check on the circling buzzards," Lafayette said, shooting Tara a pointed look. With a sigh, her friend stood up and brushed past Jason out of the room. Showing he wasn't oblivious to her tension, Lala kissed her forehead. "If you be needing anything, I'll be puttin' my cousin in line."
After Lafayette breezed out of the room, Sookie looked at her brother with expectation. Jason swallowed again, looking around awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. He was sweating. "I - I didn't know the wake was today."
As usual, Sookie was blunt and direct. "You tried to hit me, you're way ahead in asshole points than I am."
Jason flinched, looking disgusted with himself. "I'm so sorry, Sookie," he said thickly. "I don't expect you to forgive me - "
"I don't," Sookie told him frankly. "You hurt me a whole lot. I never expected...I trusted you, more than anybody outside of Gran..."
"I fucked up," Jason said hoarsely, shame growing with every word out of her mouth.
"You did," she agreed, climbing off the bed. Bracing himself, Jason met her eyes. "But Gran's gone," Sookie said softly, watching him cringe at the truth. "It feels petty to be pissed at you right now."
"What?"
"Oh, believe me, I will be pissed at you later but I need my brother, and you need me."
Jason sucked in a shaking breath. "Gran always hated it when we fought."
Sookie nodded, running a hand through her hair. She let Jason draw her into a tight hug, and squeezed him back.
The next morning, Sookie rolled over and opened her eyes to a huge bouquet of fresh white lilies. She felt a moment of puzzlement and faint alarm before spotting the note.
Since I am unable to send you his head on a spike, as I'm certain you would prefer, flowers will have to do ~ E
Eric had (broke into her room to) send her flowers, beautiful flowers. Lillies for death. With an odd deflating sensation, Sookie realized today was the funeral. The finality in the word unnerved her. An instinct urged her to close the curtains and hide under the covers, in the dark, like a frightened child but denial wasn't an option.
Tina meowed impatiently at Sookie, forcing her to get up and feed the cat. Jason spent the night in his old room. He went home to change into his suit. Sookie took a shower and dressed for her grandmother's funeral, feeling a sense of dislocation from what was happen.
Remembering how her Gran liked it, Sookie pinned her hair up in a bun and put on some pale pink lipstick. Jason drove them to the funeral in silence. Lafayette and Tara met her there. Sookie sat between Jason, who bounced his kness furiously, and Tara. JB ended up sitting beside Lafayette but she barely noticed.
Sookie drifted in a strange fog. And then a spike of sheer blind panic sent her crashing down into her body. The priest was talking but something was horribly wrong. Jason was breathing heavily, and Terry was sobbing behind her, but that wasn't it.
Sookie blinked the sun out of her eyes, looking ahead. Her heart stopped from shock, her stomach rolled, and her knees clamped tightly together instinctively. The force of her horror destroyed her train of thought but the mental voice was unmistakable, and her eyes saw him clearly.
Uncle Bartlett was being pushed up the hill in a wheelchair by a man.
I hate myself.