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This chapter is betaed by wonderful Breathesgirl.

Disclaimer: I understand perfectly well that you can't buy Sookie!

Previously:

I rubbed the back of my hand against my cheeks to brush off the tears that I hadn't even noticed were spilling. What the hell just happened?

Why did Eric seem so affected by my apparent 'ungratefulness'?

I didn't want to owe him anything. If anybody, a vampire should understand perfectly well the reluctance in creating a debt to someone more powerful than you. Sure, I said a few things I wasn't proud of, but Eric wasn't usually big on emotions, especially his own. (...)

And why, in the God's name, did arguing with Eric make me feel so miserable?

I suddenly remembered that the reason for all this mess was Eric angering the witch by throwing insults at her after she demanded that he pay the tribute by 'working it off' - somehow, it seemed to fit perfectly into the story, though it didn't improve my mood in the slightest.

I groaned loudly, burying my face in my pillow. After trying to sort my feeling for a while I gave up and simply crawled into bed. Thankfully, I was so tired that I managed to fall asleep pretty fast despite my foul mood.

7.

That night I dreamed that I was in Jackson. I was lying on the bed with Eric, in the familiar room in Russell Edington's mansion which I knew from the time I ended up there after being staked.

At first my dream was simply recreating my memories, in a little more pleasant form, because I didn't feel the pain in my injured side. I could feel other things though – what you need to know is that when I'd woken up that night next to Eric we'd both been stripped down to our underwear and that Eric had been in a very friendly mood. It was one of my most erotic (and, secretly, one of my favourites with Eric) memories. Let's just say that I can't, with a clear conscious, claim that I would have pushed Eric away that night if we had not been interrupted. Everything was on the right track for us to get dirty and I wasn't exactly opposed to the idea of having sex with him. My virtue was saved only by the sudden appearance of the undead king of rock 'n roll knocking on the window.

In my dream, however, there was no one to interrupt us. Eric paused only for the fraction of a second he needed to rid me of the last piece of my clothing. He shifted his position so that his lower body trapped my legs and I felt part of his weight on top of me. He kissed me and let one of his hands wander at the same time. He caressed my flesh and then both his lips and his hand started moving lower, and lower, until finally his golden head dove between my thighs and I was ready to scream – and then, without stopping his ministrations, he tilted his head slightly and looked up, stealing my voice and trapping me with the look in his clear, piercing eyes.

I woke up embarrassed, irritated and horny as hell. I was shockingly close to convincing myself that there would be absolutely nothing wrong with closing my eyes and imagining the rest of the dream so I could take the matter into my own hands, so to speak.

As soon as I realized what I was up to I jumped out of bed as if it was on fire and made a run for the bathroom in the hope that cold water would help me shake off any residual lust and get rid of the stupid ideas.

Returning to the real world was not pleasant:

My traumatised, beaten up brother was in the next room recovering from his kidnapping: There was a big chance that he would have to shift into a half-man, half-panther every month for the rest of his life starting with the next full moon.

I had holes in my memory.

The guy starring in my sex-dream was seriously pissed at me.

In other words, life was great.

I sighed. I had no choice but to face the music one thing at the time. I dressed quickly and went to the kitchen to start making breakfast. Jason was already awake and much to my relief looking better than the day before. We decided that I would drive him to his house after breakfast – he needed to start getting back to normal life.

There was also the matter of the gun I had to return to him and that led us to another matter I didn't want to think about.

"It's been used!" Jason exclaimed.

Yeah, that's the catch.

I shuddered. There was a reason why I wanted to avoid that topic.

I gave Jason a helpless look.

"I wouldn't know."

My big brother looked back and forth between me and the gun. After a moment of heavy silence he said slowly, "Well, you're here in one piece, so I believe it worked just as it was supposed to."

"Thanks." My reply was weak but I meant it.

Some mercilessly logical part of my brain kept telling me that the damaged door, the gun being used and the bloody coat were certainly pieces of the same puzzle and that the picture they were painting didn't look too promising, but that was one of the things I had meant to question Eric about the night before – that is, after straightening the matter of my unexpected payment – but since that went the way it did I never got around to it. I inwardly cursed my nerves which had decided to snap at such an unfortunate moment.

I most probably deserved a good break-down after everything that had been going on but I really wished the crises had caught me at a more opportune time. So, even though I desperately needed to know the truth, I wasn't sure if it was a good idea to poke Eric any more right then. Maybe it would be better to wait a little and give him some time to cool off.

There was something else about the gun being shot that didn't sit well with me, either. Of course, it would be easier to assume that it was Eric who used it but somewhere deep down I knew that it wasn't very probable. I didn't know exactly how fast vampire speed was but something told me that it was fast enough that you wouldn't consider taking out the gun, uncocking it and aiming it at - it seemed like an unnecessary complication when you could simply snap their neck in a flash. Not to mention that most vampires had been turned before the diffusion, or even invention, of the firearm… at least Eric certainly had been.

To make matters even worse I remembered our short exchange about shooting in that parking lot on our way back from Jackson and the way Eric had been holding the gun before handing it to me. If I were to bet on which one of us would use a gun in a fight it would be me. Besides, obviously I had to be the one to take it from Jason's at some point and hide it in my home for later use…

With an effort I forced myself to stop thinking about it. Whatever happened I couldn't do anything about it at the moment. One thing was certain: there were many things I didn't remember which still needed to be explained.

To make up for not showing up at work the night I got Jason back I was working a double shift which meant that I wouldn't have much time left after driving Jason home.

I decided to take advantage of the time while I still had some and make myself useful by stopping by the bank and depositing Eric's check so that I didn't have to think about it anymore. I was giving up on that particular issue: It had already caused me enough stress as it was. If anything good came out of the phone call that night it was that at least it killed some of my doubts.

I still wasn't sure if Eric's intentions were completely pure since I knew him as someone who acted on multiple motives most of the time – I didn't rule out the possibility that he had a hidden agenda – I'd just been gravely wrong in my suspicions as to what that agenda was. That knowledge helped me to keep my cool while listening to the cashier's mental musings as to what could possibly be the reason for Sookie Stackhouse, a small-town waitress, to receive a check for fifty thousand dollars from the owner of the vampire bar (Fangtasia was pretty well-known). Let's just say that her conclusions were not exactly flattering to my person.

Should I have known better and not jumped to the worst possible conclusion? Yes.

Could I have phrased things better? Most definitely.

Was I original in my ideas? No.

I looked down and my hand automatically reached to stroke the soft material of my new coat and I sighed heavily.

Later. I would think about that later.

Unfortunately for me it was a busy day at Merlotte's so my double shift took a toll on me. I managed to talk a little with Sam during my break though. I got to ask him some basic questions about the Hotshot panthers and Jason's possible new status. I even managed to clear up some details from my "chat" with Amanda about Debbie and Alcide that I didn't quite understand.

Despite some nasty mental comments flying around, the usual struggling with sticky tables and heavy trays, my work-day was going smoothly – that is, until the evening shift started and Bill Compton walked through the door.

I blame my fatigue from many busy hours spent on my feet for the fact that I forgot I should have been careful. The only thing on my mind was that I didn't want to give him the satisfaction of sitting on the floor and turning into a weeping mess at the sight of him.

You see, Bill was not only my ex. He was also my first (and at that point, only) love and my first lover. He was also a total jerk, something I found out only days before my memory loss, and I was still having a hard time getting over him. Sometimes I missed Bill very much.

Then I remembered that the scumbag had left me for some sadistic vampire ho and hadn't even had the balls, or decency, to tell me that he was leaving me in a face to face discussion before skipping town. Of all people he could have left that particular task to he had left it to his boss, who happened to be Eric Northman, the vampire who had made no secret of his own interest in me.

Seriously, what guy leaves breaking up with his girlfriend to his rival? Bill also seemed to think that it was perfectly acceptable to make amends by paying me off instead of passing a goodbye note. Son of a biscuit.

That thought shed a whole new light on the context in which my last conversation with Eric should have been placed in.

I turned in Bill's direction and approached his table with my best fake smile firmly plastered on my face and tried to remember that I was a professional waitress and a polite young lady. My Gran would say that instead of making a scene I should kill him with kindness.

I had never broken up with anybody before so I had no idea how to act.

"Hi, Bill," I used the most polite tone I could muster. "When did you get back to town?"

Bill had been away on a work trip to Peru. He didn't go there on Eric's orders, but on – I kid you not – behalf of the queen of Louisiana: She was superior to both of them.

Bill gave me an odd look, "A few days ago. You know that."

Ooooh, crap.

Busted.

"Oh, right," I said cheerfully. "What can I get you?"

But Bill's eyes had already narrowed into suspicious slits.

"Sookie?"

"We have O and B positive."

"Why would you forget that we saw each other before the battle?"

"Bill," I continued, lowering and simultaneously cooling my voice, "the last battle in this country took place during the Civil War. You're not telling me that that's when we had a chat, are you? You have to realise that I wasn't even been born then."

Bill shot me a scolding look but he did know that discussing battles with were-witches in the open space of the crowded bar, in the midst of random customers who had no idea that such creatures even existed, was not a good idea, so he reluctantly let it go and gave me his order but I knew that it was only a matter of time before he would try to confront me again.

I let out a relieved breath when I saw him leaving after a while – and another one after closing when I made sure that he wasn't waiting for me beside my car.

I was exhausted.

I took my time driving home at an unhurried speed. I craved a good shower and my bed. I was mentally searching my kitchen for a snack I could eat before laying down. I naively thought that no one and nothing could stop me from following through with my ambitious plan which consisted of getting home safely, doing my routine and falling to sleep like the living dead within the next half hour.

Uh-huh.

There was a Viking sitting on my porch swing.

I parked the car, killed the engine and just sat there motionlessly for a few seconds with my hands still resting on the steering wheel, trying to gather my remaining energy. I had an urge to bang my head against the horn.

I had to get a grip. I quickly unbuckled myself, opened the door and got out of the car. Eric was watching me unblinkingly the whole time from a distance. He didn't rise or say anything when I got closer to the house: It was unsettling.

"Hi," I said softly when I reached the first step leading up to the porch.

I had to crane my neck to look at him. I was unsure how to approach him. I knew that we should mend the bridges and something told me that I was the one that was going to have to make the first move but I had no idea how to do that. Accusing him of what I had might seem unfair of me, but still, I felt uncomfortable about the situation. I couldn't help feeling wronged somehow, even if it really wasn't Eric who wronged me… not to mention that apologising to Eric seemed to go against my every instinct. Also, I didn't know why he came to see me or what his intentions were.

When he still didn't say anything I climbed up the rest of the stairs and stood on the porch.

"Listen, Eric," I started.

But then he suddenly stood up using his supernatural speed and rose to his full height.

"No," he cut me off in the middle of the sentence. "Tonight, I'm going to talk."

I swallowed heavily. Okaaaaay.

I nodded uneasily and took a few steps toward him. My head was screaming at me that I was an idiot and that I should stay as far away as I could from the angry vampire but my legs apparently had a different opinion on the matter and decided to inch closer.

"I promised you many things," he announced unexpectedly.

My eyes snapped to his face in surprise but I didn't dare interrupt him.

"I don't think you ever believed that I would fulfill them…"

"Eric, no, you don't have to…" I tried to protest, bewildered that he expected me to hold him to anything he had promised.

Whatever it might have been I didn't remember it and I wouldn't hold it against him if he no longer wanted to do that. Even if I knew what it was I wouldn't hold him accountable for something he had said while he'd been under the influence of the spell. If I was right he had not been aware of many things at the time and demanding he go through with whatever he had told me would be wrong.

He raised his hand quickly to quiet me.

"Let me be the one to decide that," he said, shooting me a stern look.

Right. I was supposed to keep my mouth shut.

"I keep my word," he informed me coldly.

Eric had never talked to me like that and I have to admit; it was rather unpleasant to be treated that way, especially since I could see the difference by comparing it to our previous interactions, but I knew that I had made my bed.

Hey, I was the one who told him the other night that we weren't friends, wasn't I?

Yeah. Shit.

I sniffed. I was in a crappy mood, I was tired and I was cold.

I suddenly realized that I didn't want to talk to Eric like this ever again.

"I don't lie to you," he stated.

I watched him closely. I'd be damned if it wasn't one hell of a confession.

It hit me like a ton of bricks that Eric might not have a moral compass, but he sure had his honour.

God help you if you ever come between a vampire and his honour.

"I've yet to break any of the promises I've made you, and I have no intention of changing that."

I desperately wanted to tell him something – I had no idea what, but I really wanted to say it.

"While I stayed here I didn't fully understand the complexity of the position we were both in so not all of what I'd promised you is attainable – as for the rest, I intend to give it to you, as much as I can, whether you like it or not," he ended his speech.

I was possibly one of the few living people who had managed to hurt Eric Northman's feelings – if you stressed living, maybe even the only one.

Silence filled the space between us. I didn't want to leave things between us like that. I waited for him to say something more and only when I realised that he wasn't going to did I speak:

"I shouldn't have said what I said to you last night," I said, testing the waters.

Hey, I can sometimes admit that I made a mistake.

"You shouldn't have," he agreed dryly.

If he was trying to make me feel bad, he was succeeding.

It looked as if he was waiting for something but I wasn't sure what for – as if he wanted something from me. It was slowly starting to unnerve me but I didn't let the irritation take over: I knew that I was treading on thin ice.

"I won't do it again," I offered tentatively.

After a long moment, he nodded his head slightly, a barely noticeable movement.

"What did you promise me, Eric?" I finally dared to whisper the question.

Suddenly he was right in front of me and he was looking in my eyes.

"I promised to look after you," he said.

When he said it that way it sounded fairly simple for something that supposedly included 'many things', not to mention things which were not always possible to fulfill. I might not be the most educated person but it seemed to me that Eric didn't tell me exactly what he had said.

He scrutinized me with his unreadable eyes for a few seconds and then he was gone as if he'd never been there. Eric loved to make a grand exit.

Yeah. That was Eric. Let's leave him alone to cool off, shall we?

Don't talk to him. Talk to me.

Next time: someone pays Sookie a visit.