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.
Sookie stripped her jacket off, peeling the damp material slowly away from her skin, and laying it tentatively on the side of the sink. Blood dripped down her skin, sliding almost ticklishly across her nerves. The blood was cooling, drying in thick clumps all over her skin. Her face and long blonde hair was splattered with red, but her left side was soaked with it from the strange angle Bill had gripped Longshadow before staking him.
The memory churned her stomach.
Blood whirled down the drain as Sookie reached out to feel the cold liquid and watched, almost stricken, as the red was diluted by water and soon swallowed it whole, the colour stark against the white sink. . .
Sookie thought of Gran - not of her death, but simply of her eyes, her kind hands as she tended to Sookie after a fight. It had often been this way: light steps around Sookie, a sting of pain as cloth touched wounds, a faint wisp of perfume in the Louisiana heat, a splash of blood on the white basin, a gray curl of hair winding together with blonde as Sookie's head lowered, and Gran lingered as she shook through it, through the remembered terror of an aggressive hand and what it always, always provoked.
Fear. Revulsion. Vulnerability.
It was a cycle, fighting made her a challenge - made her a problem to be put down - but Sookie couldn't stop.
Couldn't even try.
Sookie met her brown eyes in the mirror, a pang of disgust in the pit of her stomach as she looked closely at the spalshes and splatters of blood on her skin. Her hair was dripping with it. Longshadow was dead, blood caked thickly over her skin, and she was thinking of circles.
Someone had tried to kill her, and it made no impact around the dense shell she'd built up around herself.
Sookie felt tired and weary, but not afraid. She wasn't capable of such a strong emotion right now.
The realization made her feel like glass, brittle and fragile and empty. She called upon the memory of the delighted glee that bubbled up from the pit of her stomach whenever she bantered with Eric or laughed with Tara or flirted with Lafayette or when Jason did something unexpectedly sweet.
Random moments of simple uncomplicated amusement - almost happiness.
Rather than brooding, Sookie focused on the problem. She washed her hands first, rubbing soap and water in circular motions up and down her arms until they were clean. Next, she rubbed the blood from her face with her wet hands before ducking down over the sink, and briskly rinsing her hair before straightening up again.
Her hair dripped water onto the sink tiles until she aimed over the actual sink then squeezed and twisted. Iron-stained water trickled from her hands. The sink was tainted by the iron-colored water, so she automatically cleaned that and the side up. Damn manners.
A drop of water slipped down her forehead but she slicked her hair back before it could hit her in the eye.
For her legs, Sookie perched on the edge of the sink and scrubbed the blood off. She had left it long enough to dry, so flakes of blood caught viciously under her nails, but she didn't let that trouble her. She wasn't a faint-hearted woman.
Sookie didn't stop until the water ran clear again. She climbed off the sink and dried the water off her legs with her blood-stained jacket. As she was patting her left leg down, she was surprised to see clear skin.
Sookie remembered the dim sting of pain in her leg from the shattered slivers of glass - and the blood hungry look on Bill's face - yet there was no mark. She remembered how Sam had healed from Bill's blood, but she'd assumed the blood had to be ingested rather than sprayed everywhere.
"Gross yet informative," Sookie murmured into the silence. "I'm startin' to notice a pattern here."
"Do you talk to yourself often?" a dry voice questioned.
Sookie's spine snapped straight before recognizing the voice, she turned to face Pam and looked at her directly. "I live in a podunk town. Sometimes talkin' to myself is the only way to have an intelligent conversation."
One of Pam's finely plucked eyebrows rose, a smirk sliced across her mouth. There was a large black shirt folded in her grasp. "I'm beginning to understand the fuss Eric and your . . . stalker are making over you. That punch you pack," Pam drawled out. "Longshadow was a pathetic waste of space, but even he wasn't pathetic enough to be beaten by any human. At least, Eric doesn't think so."
"I'm a telepath," said Sookie with a shrug. Look unconcerned, be unconcerned. "It's hardly a stunning indication of humanity."
Pam allowed a faintly intrigued shift in her expression, as much as Eric allowed his own micro expressions. "I've never heard of a telepath before."
"Has Eric?" Sookie asked, arching an eyebrow smartly. "I'm pretty sure any interest Eric has in me personally is good business sense and maybe a mid-millenium crisis."
Despite the unflinching look on her face, she wasn't sure about the tail she was spinning. It felt awkward and wrong, like she was bullshitting herself, but Eric was a thousand years old. By default, she had to assume he was a good liar. Her telepathy was zero help in this case. She had to trust her instincts like a normal person. Being normal blew.
She hadn't realised how much she used her telepathy as a crutch when it came to people until it was rendered useless.
It was plain unnerving to look at somebody and not know if a certain comment about their Maker had pissed them off.
Pam didn't keep her in suspense. Her head tilted, the movement wooden and unnatural, as though in allowance. "After the first thousand years, male vampires start picking up eccentric...quirks."
"Well, I suppose it always is the men first."
"You won't be having that problem with Eric," Pam purred, innuendo thick in her droll voice. "Though men get so tedious after the first century or so." Pam advanced three steps forward, looking salaciously at the curved areas of Sookie's body that her blood-stained dress highlighed. Sookie's skin prickled uncomfortably at the blatant stare, like tiny spiders were crawling all over her. It was too close. There was a shift in her eyes, even as her smirk held.
"Women, however..." Before Pam could finish or Sookie could interject, a strange feeling vibrated through the air. Pam jolted as though she had been electrocuted, sucking in an unneeded gasp of air.
Sookie blinked at the reaction. Since Pam didn't seem harmed so much as startled, she went with her go-to reaction: "Somebody just walk over your grave?"
Pam rolled her neck and looked at Sookie. "You've got a smart mouth, Xena." The older woman thrust the black shirt at her, and Sookie took it automatically. The instant the soft cloth touched her skin, Pam zipped out of the bathroom.
The tension in her spine released when Pam was gone, slumping back into her usual casual pose. A little puzzled, Sookie tried to form some coherent thoughts on what had happened.
Eric thought she was awesome. Pam thought her cleavage was awesome. Longshadow was at one with her dress. And Bill had killed someone because of her.
Her brain splintered a little at the last one.
Sookie didn't know what to think. Longshadow had been down, less than an inch from being back in Eric's grasp if he made another move for her, and Bill had staked him for her. The memory was vague and blurred from adrenaline but she knew the staking hadn't been necessary.
But he had done it anyway. Bill had killed someone for her. She didn't know what to think.
No, Sookie knew exactly what to think. It was her emotions that confused her. Bill hadn't needed to kill Longshadow but he had gotten himself involved. Why? The same reason she suspected the disco triplets had been at his house that night.
Bill wanted to save her. Why? Because he wanted her trust for some reason.
It should have been a clear cut case of things. But there was no hard proof, just an instinctive dislike and a bad personality. And it meant something that Bill had killed someone for her. Not enough for her to like him, but she was human. It left a mark.
Sookie grabbed her jacket from beside the sink, snagged her heels from the floor, and went into a bathroom stall. She locked the door behind her. The heels went to the floor, the big t-shirt hit her lap with her jacket, and she dug her cell from the pocket. She hurriedly scrolled through her list of contacts until she reached Dawson.
What happens if one vampire kills another?
And send.
Dawson was attached to his phone, so it usually wouldn't take him long to reply. However, after their last conversation, it would take a few moments for his affection for her to win over his irritation.
She slipped out of her dress, taking great pains to keep her dress from touching the floor and avoiding the bathroom stall walls. As a telepath and a waitress, Sookie was highly aware of how many people ended up decorating the floor with vomit or worse bodily fluids while drunk. In Fangtasia, sex and blood seemed the most likely threat.
Her dress had enough stains already.
Sookie pulled the dark shirt over her head, and it fell an inch below her knees. She lifted her hair automatically out of the shirt. The sleeves were intended to be short but they reached her elbows. As she breathed in, a pleasant scent reached her nose. It was cool and masculine, like the ocean in winter.
Eric.
This was Eric's shirt.
The material was thick, obviously expensive, and made for a man bigger than most. It was soft against her skin, but her realization made it feel heavier than a full suit of armour. Maybe Eric hadn't intended it that way but his shirt felt like a brand. She bristled, her very being viciously rejecting the notion that she could be owned - like a whipped pet.
When wasn't a shirt just a shirt?
Eric wasn't senselessly cruel but he wasn't kind for the sake of it either.
Sookie touched the shirt lightly, tempted to pull her dress back on. But if he was doing it out of that strange almost-respect that laid between them, she didn't want to spit in his face.
Her cell phone buzzed with a text message, a reply from Dawson - A party. And then an instant later, when the werewolf seemed to realize who he was talking to - What did you do? Another second later - Where are you? Before she could reply, her cell buzzed again - Stupid question. On my way.
Alarmed, Sookie's fingers darted across the number pad, typing as quickly as she could - Down boy. No danger unless you come here. Fetch answer for me.
Brought to trial. Ask Northman more.
Sookie hesitated, struck by how Dawson was encouraging her to trust Eric, and the thought of Bill brought to trial for killing someone over her. Trustworthy?
Dawson sent back one word in response - Vampire.
Before Sookie could reply, she heard a pair of slow, steady footsteps. The bathroom door was closed with a slight creak. Creepy. Sensing the blank void near the sink, she stuffed her cell into her jacket pocket, folded her dress over her arm before she unlocked the bathroom stall and walked out.
Eric was waiting for her. He was slouching magnificently against the sink, his ice-blue eyes shifted and locked on her, flaring hotly with intensity, like adding gasoline to a fire. He straightened up slightly and looked her over with a smirk.
"This is a very good look for you," Eric informed her. His voice was droll in contrast to the heat simmering in his gaze.
"Mauled?" asked Sookie. She put her things on the counter and peered at her reflection, searching for stray flecks of blood on her tanned skin; avoiding his eyes.
"I had an interesting conversation with the Weres hired to guard you." There was a subtle note of distaste in Eric's rough voice as he mentioned the werewolves. It was a note Sookie almost missed in her surprise.
Until now, she hadn't remembered Eric's intent to hire werewolves. Understandably, everything from that night had been overshadowed by Gran. A hot knife plunged into her chest even at the vague memory, but she fought against it. Eric had hired werewolves to guard her - to watch her - and he was bringing it up. Something had happened.
"Color me surprised," Sookie remarked with a skilful calm in her voice. "Willingly talking to werewolves?"
Inwardly, she was reeling through the last few days, trying to think of anything telling she had said. Her conversation with Jason after she found him trying to steal Gran's things was brought to mind. Unlike Jason, Eric would put that together less than a second after hearing it. A sickly feeling of dread slivered through her gut. Her legs weakened slightly under her, so she casually pulled herself up to sit on the counter, legs dangling in the air.
Eric turned his head slowly, eyes drilling into her. "I found it suspect neither of them thought to inform me of the shovel incident."
Sookie stilled, mind catching on his meaning. "Bill glamoured them?"
"When I questioned them, they claimed no memory of seeing Bill tonight," Eric said, the grit in his voice deepening with displeasure.
She assumed the werewolves were too afraid of Eric to lie, and he knew that. It was the only reason someone as sharp as him wouldn't suspect them of lying. Still, the whole thing felt rather contrived somehow. Sloppy.
"I'm guessing you want me to get a read on them," Sookie stated. Even if he refused, she fully intended to check her guards out. It was unnerving to think she had overlooked them somehow, especially since she had been searching for minds last night. Werewolves were tricky for her to read, but she could usually sense them well enough.
"I want you to tell me how you went from striking Compton with a shovel," a smirk flickered at the corners of his mouth, darkly, spitefully amused, "And asking for information on his doings over the past century to allowing him to accompany you."
"I hit my head a few times," Sookie shot back nonchalantly. Eric's eyelids lowered, and she decided to veer towards honestly. "Well, I had to get the memory of Bill's naked body out of my head somehow, didn't I?"
Eric looked at her sharply, slightly repulsed. "Compton was naked?"
"Says he took a nap in the graveyard even though he lives roughly, mm, thirty feet away," she explained more coherently. "When he woke up, he decided that running towards me would be a good idea, and - you can guess how that one worked out for him."
Eric seemed less amused by her story than he had been before. "What else?"
"No," Sookie denied plainly. She swung her legs like a little girl, bare thigh brushing against his jeans.
"No?" Eric echoed, almost dangerously. He was clearly unused to not getting his own way, whether through stone-eyed intimidation or his incredibly handsome face.
"I don't know if it matters yet," Sookie told him. When her legs continued to swing, Eric laid a hand on the bare skin of her knee. His skin was refreshingly cool and rough from a human life filled with actions. Her nerves buzzed viciously at the small touch, glowing fire-hot under her skin.
"You have no contacts in the vampire world," Eric said, rough-soft voice stroking persuasively over her skin. His thumb rubbed forcefully into her skin, edging slowly up her leg, under his large shirt. Every small touch was another golden thread, weaving a white-hot line straight between her legs. His eyes drilled into hers, ice-blue and dagger sharp, raw intelligence gleaming. "Let me help you."
Her breath hitched in her throat, heart racing in her chest. She felt her thighs slackening, parting fractionally, and Eric's eyes dilated, almost violently.
"Sookie," he said, a hungry rumble in his voice, hand ghosting up her thigh until the rough pad of his finger touched the lace of her white panties.
Her heart jolted unexpectedly in her chest, and she automatically inhaled - as Eric moved, inserting himself between her thighs, mouth crashing down onto hers. Sookie arched up into him, grasping his shoulders to ground her. His skin was flawlessly smooth under her touch, muscles flexing as he grasped the back of her head with one hand, deepening.
Sookie flicked at the tip of his tongue with her own, and his hand shifted between her thighs, thumb pressing against her and rubbing a circle there. She flinched from the intensity of it, an indescribable choked noise flying from her mouth. Eric snarled, hand fisting possessively in her hands, leaning her forward, over the sink.
Sookie's nails scrapped against his skin, provoking another low growl from him. She stroked up his neck, hand twisting in his blonde hair, pulling him in closer - and Eric's fangs snapped down, almost slicing her lip.
Sookie met his kiss eagerly, allowing him to explore her mouth. She tightened her grip in his hair, and licked the back of his fang fleetingly with her tongue. Eric hadn't expected that: a hoarse growl vibrated through him, and his thumb flinched against her before he came back to life against her.
His mouth resealed over hers with renewed force, hand slipping from her damp hair to grasp her neck, dragging a small noise from the back of her throat. Eric's thumb skated over her panties until his cool skin was touching hers, and then his thumb pushed under the edge of lace, burning into her skin.
Sookie's blood pumped around her body so fast that she felt light-hearted, breathing whenever she could under the furious onslaught of Eric's very, very talented mouth, but the feel of his skin so close to her sex sent a shock of breathlessly, stomach churning panic through her.
"Stop, stop - Eric, stop -" she gasped breathlessly, hands moving to his shoulders, pushing uselessly as she leaned back against the cool mirror.
Eric stilled with a great amount of effort, muscles stiff and coiled against her body. Slowly, his mouth pulled back from hers, thumb dragging over her skin in a very reluctant retreat. His fangs stayed down. Eric . . .
Eric - lingered against her, eyes closed, hiding his reaction. His mouth was parted, slack, damp and so very red against his smooth skin.
"Are you wearing white panties?" Eric asked, his voice lilting upwards smoothly. His words brushed over her face, cooling her flushed cheeks.
Sookie slowly moved her hands from his shoulder to push the shirt back down her thighs. There was a steep throb between her legs, more demanding than her heartbeat, and she felt jittery, unsettled, uncertain. Her lips felt sore and bruised, and her scalp ached faintly from his rough hands, but . . . but she was okay. Physically and emotionally. Just shaken and shocked and turned on and grateful to herself for snapping back to reality, to him for not . . .
For stopping.
"Well," she said, dragging the word out sarcastically, still slightly breathless. "It looks that way doesn't it?"
"Did you intend to tell me?" he asked, amused.
"What's the point in teasing if no one knows about it?"
Finally, Eric's eyes flickered open, almost blackened with lust and a dangerously thin film of control. His voice crooned: "Was this a tease?"
She said nothing.
Sookie shrugged her shoulders back, shifting forward on the counter. Eyes riveted to her, Eric took a single step back. It was a large step compared to hers, but he was still deep in her personal space when she slipped back to her feet. Her legs trembled slightly as she moved away, casually putting space between them. . .
She could feel the imprint of his skin against hers, touch crackling across her nerves like a shockwave. It itched at her, the wrongness of it crawling over her skin, the unfamiliarity.
"Since Compton is . . . indisposed," Eric said, clearing his throat to bring his voice out of the lust-rough growl. "I will be taking you home."
Sookie arched her eyebrows, torn between confusion and relief at the distraction. "Indisposed?" she softened her own voice, trying to shake the husky tone.
Eric moved closer to her, strides long and predatory with the arrogant edge of a swagger. The man had a distracting walk. "Why would I allow a murderer to walk free?"
Sookie felt a tart niggling at her conscience but she tried to ignore it. Which proved easier in theory than in practice. She wouldn't be able to silence the guilty worry that she was being a complete monster unless she knew Bill was a danger to her.
Dark brown eyes studied Eric's towering form, a wry note singing through her voice as she asked; "When you say indisposed, what exactly do you mean?"
"Whether or not, Bill Compton meets the true death will be out of my hands," Eric stated uncaringly. A slight note of mocking crept into his voice. "He is currently under silver, tucked safely away with the nesting vampires you encountered."
Instinctively, her mind flared with sickening memories of the smoke rising off Bill's skin, the shrill of Diane's voice, and the harsh start of fear as Bill raced towards her in the graveyard . . .
Eric drove her home in his flashing red car. On the way home, Sookie recollected her thoughts into a vaguely organised fashion. She put the Bill problem on hold, and concentrated on Eric. She stashed the memory of his touch, the brutal force of his kiss, away in some corner of her mind to deal with later. No one knew mental organisation quite like a telepath. Sookie cheerfully predicted it would be a couple of hours before she knotted her head up again.
"Wanna fly the rest of the way?" Sookie asked when he turned into her driveway, recalling his irritation at the potholes.
Eric glanced at her, more amused than irritated. "It isn't wise to taunt me."
Sookie grinned at him broadly. "Sanity is so last year."
"I'm glad you're feeling better," Eric remarked, a twitch in his jaw as he floored up her drive-way.
"To feel better implies I was feelin' bad in the first place," Sookie said, arching her golden hair had dried in clumsy, messy curls, falling erratically down her shoulders.
"And you were not." Eric looked at her again, a strange simmering emotion under his stony expression.
"Today isn't even the first time this week, I've been covered in blood," Sookie said, sticking to her light, dancing tone. "You should remember," she added, quirking her eyebrow again. "You were there."
She was grateful for that. If Eric hadn't been there, she wouldn't have been able to stop herself from breaking. Caution had kept her together that night, and determination kept her together now. How precious.
"I wouldn't grow too . . . comfortable with the carnage if I were you."
"I'm pretty sure it is physically impossible to grow comfortable with any kind of carnage," Sookie stated, looking over at Eric. "But you would know better than me."
Eric turned his head to look back at her. "If only you would accept that as fact in all areas of your life."
Another laugh bubbled out of Sookie's chest, bright and amused, reaching her sparkling eyes. "You should try out some rabbit holes, Eric. Alice in Wonderland seems more likely than obedience from me."
Eric met her eyes, an unexpected intent simmering in the ice-blue color, and arched a single pale eyebrow. "Know this, Sookie Stackhouse, unlike everyone who claims to want what is best for you, I have no desire for your obedience."
"But you did," Sookie stated, a tricky playful tone in her voice as she vividly recalled their first meeting.
"Once," Eric acknowledged, turning his cold eyes back ahead.
"Not anymore," Sookie pressed, grinning at the side of his face. "You like my jokes, don't you?"
"I take back my assessment," Eric said starkly as he pulled up outside of her house. "Clearly, you are unwell."
"Blame Longshadow," Sookie retorted, shifting the bag with her bloodstained clothes in her lap. She reached for the door handle. From the corner of her eye, she was Eric stiffen.
"Wait," he said sharply, inhaling slowly.
Sookie froze, heart stopping in her chest. A slow, nauseating horror crept up on her. She knew this moment.
"Animal blood," said Eric, eyes flickering to her. It wasn't compassion. It wasn't cruelty. "Not your creature." Tina was with Jason. The blond vampire turned his head. "Brace yourself."
Without hesitation, Sookie stiffened, and then she was flying in the air, golden hair tossed wildly around from the wind. Eric's strong arms crushed her to his chest, one under her knees, unintentionally keeping his shirt covering her modestly, and the other around her back. Sookie gasped a curse into his chest, clutching the bag and Eric's shoulder, panic buzzing wildly around her body.
There was the sound of a door bursting open, and then Eric shot upwards before flying ahead. Within seconds, his feet hit the floor, knees bumping into her upper thighs from the landing. Sookie flung herself away from him, dropping the bag, and staggering backward.
"Okay, okay," she said breathlessly, vaguely recognizing her bedroom and dropping down on her bed. Eric watched her intently, like he wished to be that creepier with a microscope. "Can we never ever do that again?"
"Would you have preferred to be splattered with more blood?" Eric asked dryly.
"Yes."
She hated being snatched like that, and though she understood why he had done it, her instincts were rattled by the suddenness of it. She liked how Eric didn't make exceptions for her because she was a woman, unlike Bill and his ass-pulled 'chivalry', but damn if it wasn't startling sometimes.
"What was it?" she asked, lifting her head to look at him. Once again, there was blood in her home. Another dead body. Her skin crawled across her bones, shivering in horrified disgust, but she tried for a grimly playful tone. "Puppy blood? Horse's head?"
"The animal is irrelevant," he said, slightly curtly. "It has become clear you are in danger here." There was a coiled up sense of aggravation to Eric's stance, increasing as his eyes flickered to the window, a seething glare hardening his face. He was clearly thinking about the werewolves.
"They do suck at this whole guarding thing, don't they?" Sookie said, a wry amusement in her voice. "But what are you gonna do? Hit them with a rolled up newspaper, take away their chew-toy, spray bottle?"
"I already have a suitable punishment in mind," Eric said, a dark tone in his crisp voice.
Sookie was instantly clued in on the dog-related punishment he was alluding too, and felt a thrill of alarm. "I'm pretty sure neturing would piss off their packmaster. Besides, why don't I check their brains out and see how scrambled they are before you do something a better person would regret?"
"Indeed," said Eric, seeming coldly calm. "Remain here. I will bring the werewolves to you."