Chapter 15: If Death Wishes Were Horses

A/N: So, here it is - the next chapter (finally!). Big thanks to my fantastic betas, deiticlast, leathon, murg, SariLane, and satsuma, for sticking with me and providing invaluable feedback.

And thank you so much for all the reviews and to bunnyears, LIGHThearted, Luna, moonstarsfu, Persefone, Rapsody, and Tally for the recs! The past few months have been really tough RL and writing-wise, but your reviews and recs gave me some much needed motivation/inspiration, especially when I wasn't sure I would ever get this chapter done.

Buffy was rooted to the spot. She was afraid to speak, move, breathe, for fear that it would just bring her one step closer to killing Collins. As it was, her palms felt uncontrollably itchy as she stared at him. It didn't help that he was sneering at her, almost as if he was daring her to do something.

Luckily, Sookie spoke up, and the sound of her voice broke Buffy out of her trance.

"Why would he kill all the girls like you? Wouldn't that, you know, defeat the purpose – his purpose? Why would he want to make it so there were no more slayers?" she asked in confusion. "And that's not even possible, is it?"

Taking a deep breath, Buffy forced herself to look at the telepath – and away from Collins – to concentrate on what Sookie had just said. She had brought up some very good questions. Buffy knew the answer, too; she knew it the instant she realized what the Council's plan was.

"I don't think it's possible, but I don't think they're trying to get rid of all of them anyway. Just the ones that were on the Hellmouth - with me," she explained quietly, though her voice shook with emotion.

It made sense, didn't it? They were making sure that there would be no more 'mistakes' like her. Why else would they be doing this?

They were probably content enough to leave her alone as long as she was on the Hellmouth doing her job by herself. But now after the Great Revelation and the collapse of Sunnydale, courtesy of her and the Watcher-less Potentials, it wouldn't be crazy for them to think that their power over the Slayer line had been compromised beyond repair.

Not to mention the fact that with only who knew how many Council members left, there was probably a power vacuum – and a new playbook, made by members like Collins here who were more willing to kill innocents for the so-called 'greater good'.

Of course, if she followed that logic through, it could only mean one thing: that they were probably going to come after her – once they 'secured' all the potential slayers that were influenced by her.

Images of the Council killing Potentials in cold blood filled her mind. As she thought about those girls who had stood next to her against the First's army and the confusion and betrayal they must've felt as they lay dying, she couldn't help but take a step toward Collins before forcing herself to stop. It was becoming more difficult by the second, though.

Thankfully, she was distracted once again as she felt Eric move towards her. To do what, she didn't know, and she didn't want to find out. She wasn't fully in control of her emotions, and she desperately needed some space.

"No, don't touch me," she said sharply. "Just give me a minute. I need to get some air."

With that, she turned on her heel and walked outside. She realized that she was leaving it to chance that Eric and Bill wouldn't hurt Collins. Guiltily, part of her hoped that they would.

As she walked woodenly across the lawn, she tried to reign in her emotions. It was useless, though. After Sunnydale had collapsed, she had shut herself off from the world. Now, however, she felt too much.

She felt her stomach churning. It was getting progressively worse, too, until she finally vomited behind a nearby tree. After she had completely emptied out the contents of her stomach, she rested her forehead against the bark.

What was she going to do now? Take on the Council, a group who might be evil but still very much human? And just what was she going to do with Collins? How far would she go to get answers? And what about afterwards? She couldn't just let him go. But what was the alternative? Keeping him captive indefinitely? Or killing him? Eric obviously had less than friendly feelings toward the man. What if he tried to hurt or kill Collins? Would she then stake Eric for doing something she wanted to but couldn't?

Without thinking, she began to punch the poor tree with every ounce of her Slayer strength. Huge splinters of wood came flying off. Soon her knuckles became covered in blood, but she didn't care. It didn't help, not really, but it was something. And it was all that kept her from walking back into that house and wrapping her hands around Collins' throat.

Sookie stared at Bill and Eric in shock, unable to completely comprehend what had just happened. And to think, just a few hours ago she was out with Tara, knowing absolutely nothing about Slayers and other vampires. And now – now she didn't know what was going on. Everything had happened so fast.

It all centered around the stranger tied up in her living room; this man who was sent to kill innocent girls who protected the world and who somehow knew who she was. Well, didn't that just ensure that she'd be sleeping with a shotgun for awhile?

Bill was also thinking about what Collins had said, staring at him as if he wanted nothing more than to rip his throat out. This human not only knew who Sookie was, but he had made it clear what he thought of humans who consorted with vampires. Not wanting to make any rash actions, however, especially in front of Sookie, Bill merely walked over to the window and peer outside.

"I hope you did not have any fondness for that large oak out front," he said grimly as he watched the Slayer mercilessly attack the trunk.

Sookie shook her head, wondering what the heck he meant. Buffy couldn't really be somehow removing an enormous tree, could she? She looked to Eric in askance, as he seemed to be the authority on, well, he justwas the authority.

Eric was deep in thought, however, purposefully ignoring Sookie's gaze. He didn't know what made him reach out to the Slayer a moment ago, and frankly, it disturbed him.

For the first time, he truly wondered the full implication of having a blood bond with the Slayer.

He could feel the emotions pouring off of her; such intense rage and agony. It was almost crippling, and he was somewhat relieved when she decided to step outside.

They were far from finished here, however. They still had this human to take care of and many questions that needed to be answered. For instance, what was this filth's connection to the Fellowship? And how much did his group know about Sookie, Bill, and him?

Luckily, he had a feeling that the Slayer wouldn't mind changing interrogation tactics; tactics that relied on violence. Then again, she was in such a volatile state of mind right now, it was difficult to predict her reactions. Nevertheless, he needed to retrieve her.

Still he made no move toward the door; he could still feel the intensity of emotions roiling within her. Perhaps a few more minutes wouldn't hurt. Their captive certainly wasn't going anywhere, and he needed to take care of something first anyway.

This human was not stupid. In fact, all evidence was to the contrary. Even though he saw Violet's attack in the alley, he did not leave town, which meant that he did not take her impending death for granted. And when a body didn't appear, he probably became suspicious. Perhaps he even reported this back to the Council. And if others from this Council thought that Violet may be a vampire, she wasn't safe; none of them were.

He took out his cell and called Pam, quickly explaining what they had discovered so far and ensuring that Violet was under guard. Satisfied, he hung up and turned to Bill. It was time to bring the Slayer back.

"Come with me," he said lightly.

Bill hesitated, unwilling to leave Sookie with this human, even if the man was securely tied to the chair. At Sookie's nod of assurance, however, he acquiesced. Apparently even the great Eric did not want to approach the enraged Slayer alone – and he didn't blame him.

Buffy was lost in a haze of fury, pummeling the hapless tree. She didn't even feel the pain as her fists met the unyielding wood again and again and again; she had finally let her anger out, and now that it had started, there was no stopping it.

She was angry that her friends died; angry that she never got to tell them how much they hurt her when they kicked her out; angry that she never got to forgive them; angry at the Powers That Be for not lifting a finger to protect the Potentials; angry at these new vamps for making the entire world a pale gray; and finally, angry at Collins and the Council for betraying them all.

She continued her assault for what seemed like forever, only pausing as she felt vampires approaching. Unable to deny her instincts even though she knew who it was, she quickly looked over her shoulder. Sure enough, Bill and Eric were walking toward her.

She turned back to her one-sided fight with the tree. When they finally came to a stop just slightly behind her, she simply said, "Leave me alone."

"Buffy."

The fact that Eric said her name surprised her, so much so that she stopped punching the tree for one brief second. She refused to look at him, though, and quickly resumed her assault.

"An angry Slayer and bits of wood flying about? Not the best combination," she warned, her voice low and dangerous. "Get. Away."

To their credit, neither Bill nor Eric budged an inch, either away from her or toward her. After all, she knew that the scent of her blood filled the air.

What she didn't know was just how much havoc it was wreaking on Eric's senses. Still, it didn't stop him from reaching out to her for the second time that night, this time managing to place his hand lightly on her shoulder.

At the slight weight of his hand, she paused again, unsure whether to ignore it or grab it and send it – along with the vamp attached to it – flying into the tree. Before she could decide, however, a scream rent the night air.

"Sookie," Bill whispered, before using every ounce of his vampiric speed to race back toward the house, quickly followed by Eric.

Even with the extra speed from Eric's blood, she still was no match for the two vampires. By the time she charged through the door, whatever had happened was over.

And Collins was dead on the floor, his neck obviously broken.

Sookie was swallowed in a huge embrace by Bill. There was also a large vampire looming over Collins' broken body, looking almost bewildered, like a child would be. And… did he bear a striking resemblance to Elvis?

"I was protecting Miss Sookie," the Elvis-like vamp explained. "When I saw you was leaving the house, I snuck in to make sure she was okay."

"Yes, Bubba, you did a fine job," Bill reassured him, and the large vampire beamed back at him.

Meanwhile, Eric's eyes were fixed on Buffy, waiting to see what her reaction would be. He was ready to intervene, but he hoped it wouldn't be necessary.

Buffy, however, did nothing. She just stood there in shock.

Deciding that the situation was probably safe for now, Eric looked directly at Sookie. "What happened?" he demanded.

A warning growl began to emanate from Bill, but it was quickly silenced by Eric's answering glare.

Knowing she had no choice but to answer, a visibly shaken Sookie raised her head and looked at Eric. "He- he said that it was a shame that I was working with the Queen, because telepaths could be useful. He couldn't risk me reading him mind anymore, though. So he… chanted something, like a spell, and suddenly the ropes were gone. And then he tried to k-k-kill me," she sniffed. Then she looked up at Bill. "What was he talking about? I don't know any queens, let alone work for one."

'I do not know," Bill replied solemnly before enveloping her again in a comforting embrace.

Buffy vaguely heard Bill's response, but in truth it barely registered; she was too busy focusing on the fact that Collins couldn't risk Sookie reading any more of his mind.

There was more that she wasn't supposed to know - and now there was no way she could find out.

She gazed down at Collins, looking for answers to questions he would never reveal. It was the wrong thing to do, though. His sightless eyes seemed to burn right through her in accusation.

Feeling as though all the air had suddenly left the room, she did the only thing she could think of – she ran.

No one in the house tried to stop her. Maybe it was because they could see that they put their own lives at risk in doing so. Or maybe it was because there was no where for her to go, not really. She couldn't run back to Shreveport, and in the drive from Merlotte's to Sookie's house, Buffy got the feeling that she pretty much got the grand tour of Bon Temps.

This realization slowed her down until she came to a stop. She paused, unsure of what she was going to do. For a split second, she thought about going back to Sookie's house. After all, she did leave them there with her mess to clean up.

No. She couldn't go back and look at Collins. If she did, then she would have to face the fact that she just might've killed him herself if that other vamp hadn't beaten her to it.

This thought brought her to her knees. Her mouth opened in a soundless scream that left her gasping, desperately clutching the grass underneath her for support. And yet she couldn't stop.

She didn't know how much time she spent there on the ground, only that when she finally took stock of her surroundings, she found herself only a few hundred feet away from Merlotte's. She gave a humorless laugh. Wasn't she just saying a few nights ago that she was going to find Vi, figure out what happened to the Potentials, and then get drunk?

It wouldn't solve her problems, but she could put them on hold for at least a few hours. It wasn't as if anyone was depending on her anymore; they were already dead, all because of her.

Making up her mind, she strode toward the front door of Merlotte's, pulling out her cell phone as she did so.

She quickly spoke to Vi, letting her know what she had learned from Collins. To her surprise, Vi told her that Eric had already called and instructed his fledgling not to be seen in public, for her own safety.

Buffy could hear the unspoken question in Vi's tone, but she ignored it, simply asking Vi to e-mail Xander this new information. She knew she should say more, like what the plan was, but she couldn't bring herself to do it. She didn't have any answers, not anymore.

She hung up her phone and walked into the restaurant, noticing that there was still a good sized crowd considering the late hour. A few heads turned her way as she made her way to the bar, but she didn't notice.

A red-headed waitress was behind the bar. At Buffy's appearance, she appeared startled. "Can I get you something to drink? A bottle of TruBlood?" she asked nervously.

Obviously, the woman must've seen her earlier with Eric and assumed she was a vampire. Buffy wrinkled her nose at the thought, but all she said was "No thanks".

Then, ignoring the waitress' flustered embarrassment, she began to scan the bottles of alcohol on the shelf. She had never been much of a drinker, so she just looked until one caught her eye. It didn't take long.

Perfect, she thought bitterly. She pulled out a twenty and put it on the bar.

"A shot of Southern Comfort, please."

The waitress shot an uneasy look at the bartender, the one who sent Buffy's spidey sense off earlier, who immediately gave the woman a reassuring smile.

"S'okay, Arlene," he said, quickly pulling the 100 proof Southern Comfort off the shelf. "I'll take care of this."

Buffy studied him as he walked toward her; she still couldn't figure out what kind of supernatural being he was, but unless he started a bloodbath right here and now, she really didn't care.

"Southern Comfort, huh?" he mused aloud as he got busy pouring her drink. "Do you want me to add some lime to it?"

Buffy shrugged indifferently. Why not? Her life as she knew it was collapsing in on her; a little citrus would hardly make or break the rest of her night. She gave a slight nod of thanks when he put the drink in front of her. Then, to her relief, he immediately walked away, leaving her alone.

She tossed back her drink in one gulp, bracing herself for the bitter bite of alcohol, almost looking forward to it. But it never came. Frowning, she stared at the empty shot glass, as if it owed her an explanation. She was so engrossed that it took a moment for her to realize that a wet washcloth suddenly appeared in her line of vision. She couldn't help but look up in surprise, only to see the bartender in front of her.

He silently gestured toward her bloody knuckles.

Buffy looked down at her hands and frowned. Geez, she was lucky he let her stay at all. This couldn't be good for the health code. She wasn't dripping blood, but her hands didn't look pretty. No wonder the waitress had looked at her strangely.

She picked up the cloth and wiped off the dirt and blood slowly and methodically. She idly noted that she had a few nasty splinters lodged underneath her skin. Good.

"It's none of my business, but are you in trouble, miss? Is Sookie?"

Buffy looked up, a little startled; the bartender was still there. She saw the concern on his face and felt herself soften a little. As much as she wanted to be left alone, she found his concern strangely comforting, even though she knew it was for Sookie and not her. It made her feel… human.

"No, she's fine. As for me?" she said with a shrug. "It doesn't matter."

Sam studied the girl for a moment before speaking. There was something different about her; he knew that the second she first walked into the bar and fixed him with a curious gaze. And although she showed up first with that vampire and now with bloodied hands, he wasn't convinced she was dangerous. He could plainly see the silver cross hanging around her neck – and the pain and vulnerability shining from her eyes.

He took the blood-stained cloth and threw it in the trash, taking a moment to wash the counter and his hands before coming back to where she was. It also gave him a few minutes to think the situation through.

"Maybe I should call the Sheriff," he offered.

Something in his tone signaled that he wasn't necessarily asking Buffy if that's what she wanted, that he just might do it no matter what. Considering she was a stranger in a small town with a dead body at Sookie's house, the cops were the last thing she wanted right now. She needed to somehow reassure this guy that everything was okay, and fast.

"Not unless he's got room in a cell for a humungous tree. Or unless hitting a tree counts as assault," Buffy quipped, though her cheery tone fell far short of convincing. At Sam's puzzled, worried look, she dropped all pretenses. "I, uh, got upsetting news and went ten rounds with a tree. I'm still not sure who won."

She showed him the splinters in her hands as proof.

Sam hesitated. "Well, then you should at least get that looked after."

She waved off his concern with a weak smile. "That's what I'm here for," she said, nodding to the empty shot glass, which he refilled after only a moment's hesitation.

"So you did that to yourself? All by yourself?" he asked.

Buffy studied him. Though his tone was casual, she knew what he was really asking.

"Yep," she said. After a pause, she muttered under her breath, "You must think I'm crazy."

"Nah, I'm just thinking it had to be some pretty awful news," Sam said lightly, though he watched her reaction carefully.

Buffy stiffened in her seat. "Some of the worst," she cautiously admitted.

Sam saw the hollow look that entered her eyes and wondered at it. Before he could ask any more questions, however, the phone behind the bar rang. With an apologetic look, he walked to the phone and quickly answered.

"Merlotte's. Oh, hey Sookie," Sam said. Buffy could hear the warmth in his voice as he spoke. "Is everything okay?...Yeah, she's here…"

Buffy watched as Sam frowned at whatever Sookie said next. He turned his back to her, probably in attempt to keep her from hearing. If only he knew.

"Do you really think that's a good idea?"

"Are you sure everything's okay?"

Just then the redheaded waitress walked behind the bar, apparently getting a drink for another customer. Buffy realized that she might as well take advantage of the situation while she could, because she had a feeling the bartender was going to shut her off if she asked for too many more.

"Excuse me?" she said as politely as possible. "Could I please have another shot?"

Arlene hesitated for a second, but she relented at the girl's pleasant, unassuming, non-drunk smile. After all, the girl had only just gotten there. She couldn't have had more than one. Besides, Arlene was feeling a little guilty over her initial reaction to the stranger.

"Here you go, darlin'," she said as she refilled the girl's glass.

"Thanks," Buffy murmured as the waitress picked up her other order and hurried away, though not before giving a small nod of acknowledgement.

Alone again, Buffy quickly downed this shot as she resumed her eavesdropping on the bartender's conversation.

"Okay, okay. But I don't like it."

"Alright. Bye."

Sam hung up the phone and walked over to Buffy, unsure of what to say. Taking advantage of the awkward silence, Buffy motioned to her empty glass in askance.

Sam frowned. He had no idea if she could hold her liquor, and she was just a little bit of a thing, even if she wasn't quite what she appeared to be. But then, she looked like she could use it. And he was curious more than ever as to what the hell was going on over at Sookie's house, seeing as Sookie wasn't telling him anything.

"Okay, but this is the last one," he warned as he refilled her shot glass, ignoring the pang of guilt over liquoring a girl up just to get information.

Buffy nodded gratefully at him as he passed the glass back to her. After a long, traumatic night and an empty stomach, the alcohol was starting to hit her, and she didn't want it to stop. It made the pain seem… not less, but more distant. It was the most she could hope for, really.

She had just tossed back the shot when Eric strode into the bar, and she immediately tensed. Call her a coward, but she wasn't ready to deal with reality yet. And where the hell was this blood bond that was supposed to let her know he was coming?

Sam straightened up and studied Eric as the vampire came near, clearly unhappy at the vampire's appearance. "Can I help you?"

Eric ignored him and walked right over to Buffy, towering over her as he looked down. "It's time to leave," he said quietly.

"I don't think that's a good idea," Sam interjected, regretting all the alcohol he had given her more than ever.

"Are you going to stop me?" Eric said under his breath so that only those with supernatural hearing could hear.

Buffy fixed him with a baleful look. There was no need to threaten the bartender. She didn't want to cause a scene, though. Besides, he was right; she didn't belong here.

Taking a deep breath, she looked at the bartender, who looked worried. She tried to give him a reassuring smile, though she was pretty sure it came out more as a grimace.

"I'll be fine," she said quietly.

Then she put another bill on the bar counter to make sure she had paid enough and stood, signaling to Eric that she was ready to leave. She felt the room sway a little as she did, however, and she had to grab on to the counter for support. Once the room stopped swaying, she made her way to the door with Eric close on her heels.

The two of them walked out to the parking lot in silence. As soon as the door had closed, however, she wheeled around on him, trying her best to ignore the way this made the world spin.

"So what now?" she asked scornfully. "Do we shake hands and say it's been fun? Or are you gonna make another lame attempt to get me to stay… with you? I mean, isn't this exactly where you want me? Alone, with no friends or family or anybody?"

In the back of her mind, she was aware that she was unfairly directing her anger toward Eric. He was an easy target, though. After all, maybe if his kind of vamp stayed hidden, she wouldn't be in this situation in the first place.

Unflappable as always, Eric showed no reaction, which only pissed her off more.

"Now I take you back to Sookie's," he said. "It's too close to dawn to return to Shreveport, and Bill and I need to return to his house before sunrise."

She tried to protest, but she really couldn't disagree with his plan. She was too tired, physically and emotionally, and it wasn't like she had a better idea.

And, in her heart of hearts, she knew that she had very few allies left in the world.

Faced with this reality, she felt her anger deflate, and she began looking around for his car. It wasn't in the parking lot, though. Furrowing her brow, she looked at him quizzically.

Eric smiled at her. Without saying a word, he looked pointedly up toward the sky.

Buffy gaped at him for a moment. No way. He couldn't be serious. But he was. And to her surprise, she just stood there as he effortlessly scooped her up in his arms.

She knew she should protest, that she should just start walking, but she just couldn't bring herself to do it. She would probably have trouble walking more than 200 feet at this point anyway, as the alcohol was really kicking in now. And once they were up in the air…

If she could've, she would've stayed up in the clouds forever. It was so surreal that she could almost forget everything that had happened. As it was, they were landing in Sookie's front yard all too soon. She felt the gravity of the earth pulling her down again, and she resented it.

With a sigh, she rested her head against Eric's chest – not because she wanted to, though. No, it was just that her head now felt like it weighed a ton, and not in a good way. So what if it meant she was curled up like a sleepy kitten against the Sheriff?

She felt him flinch in surprise, but he said nothing.

As they began walking up the front porch, Buffy faintly caught a rush of movement out of the corner of her eye. Eric saw it, too, and he turned to face whatever it was.

Buffy blinked and squinted at it in disbelief; it was a dog, running directly toward them. It didn't stop, either, until it was right in front of them.

She had never seen a dog look so distrustful before, but there it was. She didn't think it was aimed at her, though.

There was also something familiar about him, but she couldn't quite put her finger on it, and in her current state, she really didn't want to try.

"Satisfied?" Eric said lightly.

Buffy could've sworn he was directing it to the dog. And she also thought the dog's answering bark was a distinct 'hell no'. Then again, she wasn't exactly in top form.

The dog quickly disappeared from view as Eric continued to walk inside the house. They passed by Sookie and Bill, who were still in the living room. The other vamp was gone. Buffy closed her eyes tightly. She was pretty sure Collins' body had disappeared, too, but she didn't want to see, just in case.

She opened her eyes again as she heard Eric walk up the stairs and open a door. They were in a bedroom now, a decidedly feminine one with delicate flowers decorating the bedspread and curtains. Buffy found herself being gently deposited on the bed. As she continued to get her bearings, she saw that Eric was already walking to the door to leave.

"What? That's it? No trying to take advantage of the drunk Slayer?" she blurted out, feeling a little resentment at being put to bed like a child.

The alcohol had dulled the pain of the night's revelations, but it had obviously loosened her tongue, too – a little too much.

In a flash, Eric zoomed up to her and was now looming over her, practically lying on top of her.

Buffy felt her breath catch. She knew she should push him away, but she couldn't bring herself to do so. Of course, she would've had a hard time figuring out which Eric she should push, as there were currently two swimming in her line of vision.

"Do you want me to?" he asked coyly.

Buffy gave a snort of derision – at least she hoped that's what it sounded like. "No! It's just that after all your posturing, it's interesting that you're not going to follow through, now that you have the chance," she goaded. "What, are you all bark and no bite?"

In the back of her mind, Buffy was wondering what the heck she was doing. Did that actually sound like an invitation to bite her?

The Slayer in her screamed in rage, telling her to shut up; however, the girl inside her, who was feeling more broken and battered than ever before, dared him to try, wanted him to, even. She wasn't sure if she was looking for an excuse to stake him, or something else, something much darker.

Eric studied her for a moment, his face betraying nothing. This was new, dangerous territory, and he had to watch his step. He couldn't resist the opportunity she presented entirely, however.

He bent his head down toward her, hovering just above her ear and inhaling her scent. Then he pulled back slightly so their faces were just inches from each other.

For the briefest second, Buffy thought that he was actually going to kiss her. And if she were honest with herself, she just might have let him, whether it was because of the alcohol, the blood bond, the tension between them, the fact that she really did feel isolated and alone, or all of the above.

But he didn't. She watched as a small, satisfied smile spread across his face as he pulled back.

"I don't like the taste of alcohol," he said blandly, before straightening up and walking away.

Speechless, Buffy watched as he closed the door without a backward look. Catastrophe narrowly avoided, with absolutely no help from her.

Once she was certain that he had gone downstairs again, she flopped back onto the bed, her sudden action causing the room to do an Irish jig. Once she was sure she wasn't going to hurl, the realization of what had almost happened – of what she had almost let happen – finally hit her like a sledgehammer. She curled into a ball, burning with self-loathing and shame.

Thankfully, she didn't have to dwell on her actions – or the potential consequences of said actions – for too long. The day's events were finally catching up with her, and she soon felt herself mercifully drifting off to sleep.

She could pray only that she would have a dreamless sleep tonight. Or that she would wake up and discover that today had just been a bad dream.

Sookie and Bill sat in the living room, waiting for Eric to come back downstairs.

"Are you sure about this?" Bill asked hesitantly. "We only just met her. For all we know-"

Sookie shook her head. "No, Bill," she said firmly. "It's fine. And with everything that's gone on tonight, I can't just turn my back. Besides, it involves me now, too."

Bill set his lips in a thin line, clearly not liking this.

Sookie ignored him, though. She had made up her mind. She needed to know more about this Council and what they were capable of; they all did. Besides, there was more she had to tell Buffy, like the fact that there was another Slayer.

When that man had tried to kill her, he let his mind open. She saw a lot of things, most of which she didn't understand. She had a feeling Buffy would, though.

The one thing that came through loud and clear, however, was that there was a new Slayer. Sookie still remembered the way Collins thought of this Slayer and the havoc she would wreak on Buffy and the vampire world in general – and she was carrying a mean-looking red axe.

No, they were all in danger, and they needed to find out who their friends were now.