You, Eric, Pam, Sarah, and Henry are standing in front of a warehouse. A warehouse Sarah led you to, as a bloodhound. It was weird, that she had to disrobe to turn into one. And Pam stared at her when she did. Sarah turns back into herself and you pass her clothes to her, she smiles and starts dressing. She leaves her shirt off, so it's easier for her to turn if she needs to. You brought her bra with too, so you wouldn't be distracted. And for her comfort, I guess. But she seemed comfortable being naked around all of you, so you would try to be comfortable with it too. It wasn't easy, you weren't used to your friend being naked out in public, or being naked at all. It was different in the locker room when you guys were in gym class together.

After you led them to the spot in the forest, Sarah led you guys halfway across town to the warehouse. Your feet hurt a little, but you didn't mind. They would hurt worse if Eric hadn't carried you to the diner in the first place. You would have to remember to thank him after this was over. For a few things, "Wait outside." Eric orders at you. Never mind, you wouldn't thank him. You glare up at him defiantly. There was no way you would let them go inside alone, not after that woman tried to kill you.

"Hell no, that bitch stabbed me." You didn't want to wait outside, you couldn't. It didn't bother you, getting hurt. It would all be worth it, all you could think about now is revenge. For you and Henry. Technically you got the worst of it, but if you never showed up to help him, he would've met the true death. The sun. That's what the drainers do after they're finished, leave the vampires to die. And they would've done exactly that to Henry. You thought that was cruel, especially considering Henry only ate animals. And the other vampires you knew, Eric and Pam, let their victims live. Maybe if they just asked a vampire for their blood, they wouldn't have to torture them. You think part of it is just stupidity, why would anyone do that?

Eric's eyes raise, he looks surprised, maybe even a little impressed, "At your own risk," he shrugs, speeding off into the warehouse. You groan, he'd have everybody dead before you got inside. You take off, trying to run quietly. Hard to do when you couldn't see the ground, or the crunchy leaves. Pam and Henry pass you, a blur. Sarah turns into a lion and runs past you, shredding her pants in the process, and snapping her bra. You sigh, eventually reaching the door. You shuffle inside, as quietly as you can. It was dark inside, but your vision was adjusting so you could at least see a few feet in front of you.

They didn't kill everyone, you could still hear voices. Two men talking near you, around the corner you're leaning against. There's a small light on the ceiling connecting the corner, illuminating the floor. You'd have to surprise them to take them both. You look around at the concrete floor for something to use, there's an empty can of soda next to you. Slowly, you bend at the knees, trying to pick the can up without it making noise. It doesn't, lucky for you. But your knees pop when you go back up. The conversation continues and you sigh with relief.

You bite your lip nervously and toss the can around the corner. It rolls down the hallway and stops at the end. The men are alerted, and one heads over to the can to pick it up and inspect it. You creep out of your spot behind the wall, crouching with your knife in your hand. It's hard not to scream when you throw yourself at the man, but you manage. You tackle the man to the floor, straddling him. It's not as easy as tackling a teenage girl, but he goes down anyway. For a second you realize you're about to kill a man, but then you remember Sarah. Someone who you thought was nicer than anyone you'd ever met. That wasn't the case, you didn't mind. You could be like her too. You raise the knife high above your head and swing it down, piercing the man in the heart. His eyes go wide and he lets out a tiny breath before he dies. Your hands are warm and sticky with his blood as you stand up and pull the knife out of his chest. Some of the man's blood sprays out onto you as you pull the knife out, staining your shoes and cargo pants. You were starting to like your outfit. It suited what you were doing. You decided this would be your "adventure" outfit.

You sneak back around the corner, waiting for the other man to discover his dead friend. Your hands are shaking and you grip the knife tighter, it slides against the blood on your hand, trying to escape your grip. You hear him exclaim and you jump out like you did before, this time with a wild cry. He turns around, rifle pointed at you. There's a flashlight attached, and he's dressed in all black. Couldn't be the military, they wouldn't be set up in a warehouse in Bon Temps. Before he can shoot, you shove the knife into his neck with all your strength. As he dies he fires a few rounds, finger resting on the trigger. You jump out of the way, too high on adrenaline to check yourself for wounds. After he's done shooting and he's dead, you head toward him and pull the knife out of his neck. Some blood sprays out onto your face. You wrinkle your nose and purse your lips, hoping there isn't any in your mouth. You look around wildly, you can't see or hear anyone. And if anyone was close by, they would've heard your scream. Hopefully, your friends can tell the difference between rage and anguish.

You crouch-walk down the hallway, toward the can you threw across the floor as a distraction. It's a sprite can, you weren't sure earlier but now you knew. You hear whistling down the hallway, getting louder, and you inwardly groan. If I kill another person I'll technically be a serial killer. You hide behind the wall, waiting for whoever it is. His footsteps come closer, and you take a second to think about exactly what you're doing. It wouldn't be right if you had an existential crisis right now, so you'd try to shut your brain off for the moment. He walks in front of you, and before he can see you, you slice the back of his ankle, severing his tendon. He falls to the floor with a yell, smacking his head on the concrete. He pushes himself up on shaky hands, trying to look at his injured ankle. When he makes eye contact with you, you want to smile. His eyes go wide and he reaches for the revolver in his holster. His hands are shaking and his bottom lip is trembling. You frown and rush forward slitting his throat before he can cock the gun. His blood drains out of his neck, not in spurts like in movies you've seen, "Fuck this." You groan, standing up straight and heading back the way you came. You slink out of the entrance you came through, toward the trees where you stood earlier. When you make it, you collapse on the floor, onto your ass. You drop the knife on the floor next to you, your hands hurt from holding it so tight. Your adrenaline is gone for the most part, so it's only now that you feel the burning heat spread in your body. You feel around your body for blood, and your hands touch your leg, where your blood mixes with the blood of the men you killed. The man with the rifle managed to shoot you in the leg.

Adrenaline does wonders. You couldn't believe you walked for so long on your leg. You pull the cargo shorts up your leg, thankful they're baggy so they don't brush against your wound. It just grazed you, and you're not bleeding very much. So you know he didn't hit an artery. If he did you would've bled out and the whistling guy would have found you. You're still feeling lightheaded anyway. Probably the aftermath of the adrenaline rush. You were already tired earlier when you took a shower, and now you're exhausted. You could probably fall asleep right there on the ground. But you couldn't, not without seeing Sarah first.

You cry out, finally feeling the pain in your leg, an intense throbbing and what felt like fire. You grit your teeth, huffing through them as you adjust your leg. The leaves crunch underneath your aching leg, and the ice on the ground is helping a little to numb your leg. You start to apply pressure to the wound, pressing both of your hands against it, hoping the guys you murdered didn't have any diseases. After doing some thinking, and realizing you killed a bunch of people, you start to cry. You were worried about the evidence you might've left, and the family members of the men you murdered.

After about 10 minutes of a breakdown, something you knew was inevitable, you use your hands to crawl back over to a log on the forest floor. You grunt as you lift yourself onto it, your stomach tensing up painfully. You look intently at the warehouse, some of the lights are on now, but it looks normal. It's quiet, except for the birds cawing and crickets chirping. You're too far away to hear anything anyway. In the distance you see a cheetah running toward you, not at full speed, thankfully.

It's Sarah, she turns back into herself, her naked self. She's not wounded, as far as you can see, and you didn't want to keep looking. She sniffs the air once she's close enough, crawling toward you, "Don't worry," she pulls your hands away from the wound, applying pressure herself, "one of 'em will heal you." She says, trying to smile at you. You grunt, it felt worse when someone else was doing it. Vampire blood is addictive, something you don't want to drink all that much. But you didn't want to go to a hospital, explain how you got shot. Grazed. That would just bring attention to you, and possibly connect you to the scene of the crime.

"Hold this," Sarah says, standing up and turning back into some sort of animal. You don't pay her any mind, reapplying the pressure on your leg. The throbbing has faded a bit, but your body still feels like a space heater. Like someone stuck you in the microwave or the oven. Sarah trots away, a bloodhound again. She's sniffing around, looking for her clothes. She finds them and turns back into Sarah, tugging the t-shirt on that she never wore in the first place. The shirt is large, it ends near the middle of her thigh.

She turns around, kneeling beside you, "Let's go, they've got her inside. Can you walk?" You nod and she grabs your arm, putting her shoulder under your armpit to support your weight. With her help, you stand up, gritting your teeth as you do. You drag your right leg as you walk, using Sarah as your crutch. She opens the warehouse entrance wider so you don't have to shuffle through, pulling you along inside. The both of you pass the men you killed and Sarah glances at you but doesn't say a word. You're thankful. But you wanted to talk to her when this blows over. The deeper you walk into the warehouse, the more bodies you see. It was obvious you didn't kill any of them. A lot of them had teeth marks or their heads ripped off, and various other limbs. And there was more blood, it was like a bloodbath in most of the rooms you entered. It should've unnerved you but it just made you feel satisfied instead, and then a little nauseous. It made you wonder what it looked like when a vampire kills someone. It's very messy, as you can see.

Finally, the two of you make your way to the back, inside a room resembling an office. Or a makeshift office. It's not furnished very well, you notice, allowing Sarah to drop you into a chair. At least it's a comfortable chair. You're not thinking about anything important at the moment, just how long it would take to clean up Sarah's house. The woman from that night is tied to a chair in front of you, across from Eric, Pam, and Henry. They're standing in front of her, fangs out. She's glaring up at them, defiant.

"Deb?!" You exclaim, snapping out of your daze. The woman tied to the chair is none other than Deb, the woman you met at the diner. You felt bad for Sarah's grandpa, his employees were disappearing left and right. When you saw him he was looking through applications, and now he'd have to look through them again. She stares over at you, eyes narrowed. There's tape over her mouth, she's wrapped in silver chains. Probably Henry's doing. Sarah sits on the arm of the chair, beside you. You can't tell because of the tape, but Deb is smiling, you can see it in her eyes.

Eric looks in your direction, sniffing the air, he looks at your leg and then your eyes. He turns back toward Deb, "Now that we're all here, let's eat." Henry says looking at you for a moment, before rushing forward and grabbing the girl by her hair. He leans down, sinking his teeth into her neck. She struggles but the chains limit her movement, she screams through her gag, tears rolling down her cheeks. Eric is next, drinking from the other side of her neck. Pam is last, sinking her fangs into her wrist. Well, now you'd get to see how a vampire kills someone. Slowly the light fades from her eyes and she lets out her final breath, head falling limp. The vampires detach themselves from her, and Pam's mouth and chin are covered in blood, Henry is in a similar shape, but a little cleaner than Pam. Eric doesn't have a drop of blood on him.

"Now that you've had your food, can we have some?" You pipe up from your seat, cocking your head and eyeing the vampires. Pam wipes the blood off her chin with her sleeve, and Henry does the same, licking his lips. You couldn't help it, you were hungry. Even after all the violence you saw tonight. The nausea you felt earlier was probably just the adrenaline wearing off. It's happened to you before, but that time you vomited. If you vomited in front of vampires, you'd be embarrassed. Mostly because of the smell, and the act itself.

Sarah hummed, agreeing with you. You were glad, it would be nice if you all went out as a group to eat some food. Even if the vampires couldn't eat, it would still be fun. You wanted to talk to them anyway, ask them how old they are. You spent enough time together, it wouldn't be rude anymore, right? But "enough time" was probably centuries to them. You wondered what it was like to live for that long. Probably boring and painful. You didn't like to think about what it would be like, but it couldn't be helped anymore.

Eric runs in front of you, lightly shoving Sarah off the arm of the chair. He kneels and lifts your pants, using a finger to trace your wound, "Leave." He commands, without looking behind him. Pam and Henry rush out, leaving you with Sarah and Eric. Sarah doesn't protest this time, she places a hand on your shoulder and leaves the room. The blonde looks up at you and stands, towering over you now. You shiver under the weight of his gaze, looking down at your hands. They're still covered in blood, now dry and cracking as you flex your fingers. Some of it flakes off and lands in your lap, you cringe but don't move.

"Will you allow me to heal you?" He asks, and you look up at him again, not expecting him to be the one to heal you. But you wouldn't say no, not when your leg hurt so bad. And you couldn't go to the hospital. And you couldn't think of any reason not to drink Eric's blood, even if you tried. Some part of you wanted to, a part of you that you didn't like much. You let out a shaky sigh, weighing out the pros and cons. Sex dreams about Eric, a pro, extra strength, a pro, sex dreams about Eric, maybe a con. Maybe you wouldn't think about it any longer. You'd do what your gut instincts told you to.

You draw in a breath, "Sure, why not." You say, standing up from the chair on shaky legs. You sway and he steadies you, putting a hand on your shoulder. Both of your legs are shaking, but your injured one is almost buckling under your weight. He must notice, because he kneels, lifting you by the knees and holding you so you're bridal-style in his arms. It almost makes you want to fall asleep. But you won't, he pulls up the end of your pants and grabs the knife you stuffed in your shoe. He must've watched you shove it in there earlier. Eric brings the knife up toward his neck, slicing it. He pulls you further up his chest so you can reach his neck.

A few drops of blood run down his neck and inside his shirt, staining the front of it. You lean forward, catching some of the drops on your tongue. He lets out a sigh, and one of his hands reaches up and supports the back of your head, trying to pull you closer to his neck. You bite down a little, but not enough to pierce his flesh, for leverage so you can suck more of his blood out. His blood tastes like Pam's but a whole lot better, you couldn't explain it but it was like reliving your happiest memories. Like stepping outside on a nice, warm summer day, and feeling the sunshine on your skin. You can feel your leg healing, strangely it didn't hurt. It was like your skin was molding itself back together. You barely notice Eric sit down in your chair and allow you to lie in his lap. Before his wound can heal, you take another gulp of his blood. He groans and subconsciously grows closer to you, exposing more of his neck to you.

Unfortunately, you're also feeling a little aroused, and you hope Eric can't tell. You detach yourself from him after feeling your body heat up and the hairs on the back of your neck stand. You barely stop yourself from going back in for seconds, feeling a little disgusted with yourself, "Sorry." You say breathlessly, wiping your blood-covered chin with the back of your sleeve. You get off of him, feeling a little on edge. You look at Eric, still sitting in the chair. His eyes are half-lidded and his fangs are exposed, he's looking up at you with an unreadable expression. His neck is covered in blood, but his wound is healed.

You lick your lips and back away to the door, "Uh, thanks, I'll see you—" Your fingers land on the doorknob and you open it, stepping through the doorway, "Soon?" You say it like it's a question, leaving the door open and turning around to walk down the hallway. Past all the dead bodies. When you make your way over to the entrance, you double over, hands on your knees. It takes a few minutes to get yourself together, forcing yourself not to throw up. Not while you were still digesting Eric's blood. Would it not heal you if you threw up? You didn't know for sure.

The door to the warehouse squeaks and you glance up, Sarah's standing there in the shirt that swallows her whole, "Come on." She says, holding out her hand.