Disclaimer: If you have anything against this union between the original and the alternated plot, speak now or forever hold your piece.

Unbetaed.

A little time-jump ahead. Just a few hours.

I plopped down on my porch steps with a heavy heart and hang down my head. I needed to rest, alone, at least for a minute. The conversation with Alcide didn't go too well – and the same could be said about the rest of my day.

I couldn't deny that my story about magically removed memories that I had presented Alcide with right after his accusation (as soon as I had overcome my shock) sounded weak - but, damn it, I was telling the truth! Let's just say that we got into argument and I was stunned by how firmly he believed in his theory. To make things even worse it turned out that Alcide intended to use me in a political game that had been brewing among the werewolves since the packmaster's death and apparently that had been the real reason why he had wanted me to come to the funeral with him in the first place.

According to Alcide, my presence at his side could help him gain support of these pack members who remembered my help during the Witch War. Of course he had also hoped that I would eavesdrop on the thoughts of his father's opponent (the mysterious Patrick that had been on Alcide's mind earlier) and check if he wasn't going to try any foul game. I was seriously pissed that he had set me up like that, more so without explaining anything beforehand, instead of simply asking me for help.

Apparently, he thought I owed him something. I could only guess how lucky I was that Alcide hadn't been on better terms with Debbie when she had disappeared.

I was slowly starting to feel overwhelmed by all these men - Bill, Eric, Calvin, Alcide and even Sam - who wanted something from me or were displeased with me for some reason.

Bad mood didn't leave me for the rest of the day.

I dragged myself up with a sigh and turned toward the entrance.

Inside, there was a fire burning at the fireplace in the living-room – and then, there was Eric sitting on the sofa in front of the fireplace, with his long legs outstretched.

Pam had to let him in.

I had noticed it even the last time he had been there, that Eric seemed to feel as comfortable in my house as if he was regularly crashing at my place, but it looked like it was only going to get worse since Pam was staying with me.

I closed my eyes and counted to ten. I exhaled slowly.

"Have you ever heard about this thing called boundaries?" I asked shifting my glare back and forth between Pam and Eric.

"You shouldn't have gone out with the Were," was all I got in response from Eric, who didn't even bother to comment on my jab. He sounded infuriatingly as if he was giving me a piece of friendly advice.

I took off my shoes and walked stomping all the way from the door to the living-room until I stood in front of him. I glanced briefly at the fire and quirked my eyebrow mocking him silently, but Eric merely shrugged.

He was wearing dark jeans and a T-shirt, but he got so comfy that not only did he lose his shoes, but also his socks, so he was sitting there barefoot. Something was tugging on the edge of my consciousness at the sight, but the thought wouldn't fully form... These naked feet were throwing me off balance and I had to focus hard on not letting them distract me.

Eric wriggled his toes.

Arrghh…

I shook my head and concentrated back on the matter at hand:

"Oh, and why is that?" I asked earnestly irritated – I just wasn't sure who was currently on the top of my shit list. "Because he's a werewolf? Or because he's male? Or is that because he's an asshole? Because he believes I killed his ex? Or maybe just because he's not you?"

Eric gave Pam some kind of a sign and she instantly vanished without breathing a word. I wasn't even sure if she was still in the house, but I was so upset that I barely noticed her leaving the room.

"For all the above," Eric said, brutally honest as usual.

And then suddenly he softened his expression which instead of calming me made my heart skip a beat: nothing could have scared me more. The idea of Eric feeling the need to soften the blow for me was absolutely terrifying. Whatever he was about to say, could not be good. And then he finished:

"But also because he's right."

It took me a few seconds before the meaning of his last sentence fully registered. I stared at him wide eyes.

No. No.

No, no, no, please…

I felt my legs giving way and I slowly slid down to the floor. My knees touched the carpet next to the fireplace.

"I did it," I said, disbelieve colouring my voice. "I really did it."

I looked at Eric in a desperate hope that maybe I misunderstood and he would deny, but his face was blank like a stone.

"I killed her," I uttered the words of the final acknowledgement out loud… - and then I quickly slapped my hand against my mouth as if that could undo my statement or make it less true. Hot tears prickled under my eyelids a few seconds before they fell and rolled down my cheeks.

"I killed Debbie Pelt," I said clearly, slowly and so emotionlesly, that I flinched hearing my own voice.

"You did," Eric confirmed simply.

"Oh God."

It wasn't until much later that it occured to me that it didn't even cross my mind to question his words. Something inside me, deep down, recognised what he said as true.

Eric moved his body in a quick, fluid motion and lowered himself next to me onto the carpet, settling himself in a half-sitting position. He was watching me closely. If I had to name the dominant emotion on his face, I think it would be curiosity. I closed my eyes.

My head was spinning. I felt awful. The shock left me shivering.

The worst thing was that I didn't even feel bad for Debbie. Honestly speaking, I wasn't sorry at all that she was dead. No, what I couldn't get over was the fact that I had been the one to kill her – that I had killed anyone at all.

"Why… What… How…"

I stopped and licked my suddenly dry lips. Eric waited patiently for me to decide which question I wanted to hear the answer to first. I chose to start with:

"Why didn't you tell me anything sooner?"

"It was better this way," he answered immediately.

I was too tired to scream.

"Why?" I asked instead numbly.

"You didn't have to lie. You could talk freely and tell the truth to anyone who would come to investigate without the risk of exposure."

The truth. I had been telling them that I had no idea what had happened to Debbie – well, yeah, that had been true, I guess.

In other words, Eric was telling me that I couldn't mess up covering the crime as long as I remained blissfully unaware that there had been any crime to talk about to begin with. Well, I had to give it to Eric – he was being very practical, as always.

I put away for later the fleeting thought that I should sometime stop and take a closer look at Eric's idea of truth with that conversation in mind.

"How…?" I asked the next question from the list.

"You shot her."

Jason's shotgun.

I hugged myself with my own arms.

I will not cry, I said over and over in my mind. I will not cry.

I was crying already – and I still wasn't crying over Debbie.

Was there any way to get even more self-absorbed than that? Could I get any lower? I felt like such a horrible person. What would have my gran said?

"She deserved it," Eric offered his opinion unexpectedly.

I wanted to silently agree with him, but my Christian upbringing said otherwise:

"Eric, I shot a woman," I sighed. "With a rifle. No one deserves that."

I shot him a tired glance. His eyebrows were furrowed.

"And this is where we disagree," he said.

He had no morals, but at least he was on my side.

"You killed Lorena," he argued.

Thanks for reminding me.

"That was different," I protested. "She…"

I realised right in time that saying that Lorena wasn't human might be tactless giving my present company.

"…she attacked me first," I finished instead.

It was true. I had killed Lorena in self-defence and almost accidentally. I had shielded myself from her blow with my hand on pure instinct and giving the fact I had been grasping a stake at the time, well…

"As did Debbie Pelt."

That peaked my interest.

"Oh?"

This time I looked at Eric almost hopefully. My hope, however, was quickly waning, because something wasn't adding up here.

"Did she shoot me first?" I asked skeptically.

"She did."

Okay, he had my full attention.

"Did she miss?"

I hadn't noticed any signs of bullet-holes in my kitchen, but I could had missed it if I hadn't known that I had been supposed to look for them.

Silence.

"Eric?" I asked softly, though my hearth doubled its rate once again.

If I had been shot, I should had been injured too, and since I had been fine the next day, there was only one way for me to heal that fast, but that would mean…

"She got me."

I stared at him for a long moment before I put it together in my head and understood what exactly he was telling me.

Oooooh.

I leaned my head heavily against his shoulder. I closed my eyes again and I didn't want to open them. We were quiet for a while. Eric didn't try to stir the conversation and for that, I was grateful. The house was filled with silence. The only thing I could hear was the sound of the wood cracking in the fireplace.

"Tell me," I said eventually.

And then Eric finally told me the story of how Debbie had broken into my house and waited for me to come home with a shotgun pointed at the door; how she had fired it, but he had moved in front of me and taken the first bullet and that Debbie had not had enough time to release the second one, because I had pulled the shotgun from the hiding spot near the entrance; how I had pulled the trigger and shot Debbie Pelt.

"What now?" I asked quietly, after he finished.

"Nothing. It's over, Sookie."

Over.

No if. No under condition. No in exchange for.

Nothing.

"Does anybody else know what happened to her?"

"No."

"Why didn't we just call the police if she was the one who attacked me?"

"We didn't think of that. I wasn't exactly myself, and you… I think you were too stunned to consider that. Maybe it's for the best. Involving human police in the supernatural affairs rarely ends well."

What Eric really meant was that I had been shocked and I panicked. I could imagine that.

"What if they find her?"

"They won't."

"How do you know?"

"I took care of the body."

Right. I wasn't about to question Eric's expertise in that area.

I'll tell you what, if the thought of one of your friends knowing how to get rid of the corpse makes you happy, it's not a good sign.

I suddenly became aware of the fact that I was no longer kneeling, but rather lying, half on the carpet, half on Eric, who was lounging on the floor propped on his elbow, with his other arm sneaking slowly and stealthily around my waist, like a snake. I didn't notice when exactly we ended in that position. Eric's T-shirt was damp from my tears.

"I have a bad influence on your clothes," I murmured against the mistreated fabric.

"Which is a clear indication that I should avoid wearing them in your company," he said seriously without missing a beat, but even without looking at him I could bet that he was smiling. I knew that smile, or rather smirk, very well.

Unexpectedly, that was what made me feel – maybe not much, but at least a little – better. Something in my world seemed normal again.

"Was it you who built the fire?" I asked lazily (and randomly).

I was tired from my emotional day, but also strangely curious about what Eric was thinking, now that I calmed down and was trying to push the depressing subject aside.

"Mhmmm," he purred.

"What for?"

"I like fire."

That was surprising considering that fire was one of those few things that could prove lethal to vampires. For some reason, their bodies caught on fire much easier than human.

"Fatal addiction," I commented.

"Maybe."

For a second I wondered if I should take offence that he seemed so inappropriately pleased with the situation, but I let it go. He didn't say anything more, and I didn't feel like adding anything either. I knew that I should move, but there was something absurdly soothing about lying in front of the fireplace with Eric. He was almost vibrating with contentment, but he was wise enough not to say that out loud, so I allowed myself to accept the comfort his presence offered. I indulged myself by giving into the desire to relax by letting the silence wash over me: not only the literal one, but also the one coming from Eric's vampire mind. I focused on the warmth coming from the fireplace; on the feel of it on my face and on my closed eyelids, heavy with sleep.

While Sookie is asleep, please go and review. Since I'm feeling generous, the first reviewer will get a teaser :) Unless you don't want to be spoiled - then let me know.

Next time: Sometime you're looking for trouble, sometimes trouble comes looking for you.