This story is PART 3 in a series that continues the tales of Sookie Stackhouse after the final novel in the Southern Vampire Mysteries universe.

Part 1 (All that Glitters is Dead) and Part 2 (Dead Ringer) are required reading before this one. Please click through to my profile to access them.

Chapter 1

"No man ever steps in the same river twice, for it's not the same river and he's not the same man." Heraclitus

"It was a horror show. Blood was spurting everywhere. Half of him was coated; it was shooting from his wrist like a fountain. Then Michele started screaming, then Corbett started crying, and that just made the blood shoot out more." Jason gesticulated wildly with his fork as he spoke. The broccoli floret speared on his fork's end circled around, threatening to fly off the thing and hit one of us in the face.

"What did you do?" I asked my brother.

"I had to get my dadgum boots back on, didn't I? I'd just gotten home from work, so they were outside the porch door. And then I ran back in, over the broken glass and all, and grabbed him. Michele wrapped his arm with a dish towel. All the while he was caterwauling."

"I drove them to the medical center," said Michele, with a wan smile from across the table. Clearly this experience didn't evoke in her the same sense of thrill and melodrama as it did in my brother.

"We were both covered in blood by the time we got to the clinic!" Jason continued, oblivious.

"Show me your wrist, Corby."

My little nephew, newly turned two, leaned forward in his portable highchair and proudly showed me the flesh colored band-aid on the inside of his wrist. It was smaller than I would've guessed judging by Jason's story and the images that flashed in his mind as he spoke.

"They glued him right up. Said there was so much blood because he'd been running around. Missed an artery by half an inch."

"Darn lucky," Michele said.

"Were you pretending to be superman?" I asked Corbett.

He nodded, his gap-toothed grin unbearably cute. He was a mini-Jason through and through, what with the mischievous good looks and constant injurious trouble. They'd both lost a front tooth as a toddler through misadventure. For Corbett, it had happened tripping over a rock at the park. For Jason, it had happened falling off the roof of Dad's truck face first onto gravel. Goodness knows how he'd been able to get up there in the first place. Mom had been pregnant with me at the time, so I guess her physical inability to continually chase after her rapscallion son had been mostly to blame.

"Superman," Corbett said and mimicked the pose, one fist in the air.

"Superman doesn't fly through glass doors," Michele said, and directed a forkful of chicken pot pie into his mouth. "But he does eat all of his dinner up like a good boy."

Whatever Corbett said next was muffled through his mouthful of food.

"This is real delicious, Sookie," Jason said. Tonight's dinner was chicken pot pie, baked yams, green beans and broccoli.

"It's nice to have an excuse to cook," I said. Not that I needed an excuse. I'd embarked on numerous culinary adventures in between bouts of studying since returning to Bon Temps. In less than two weeks, my size 8 jeans had become increasingly harder to button up. I tried not to care. It was my vacation time. But a part of me, the part that dragged my sorry butt all those times out of bed before dawn to spin class, cared very much so. All that effort quashed in less than two weeks.

"I'll have to start manufacturing excuses," Michele said. "My kitchen is open to you any time of day or night."

Michele helped me clear the table while Jason took Corbett outside to look at my new car. I'd bought the car, a white Nissan Versa, second-hand from a family in Bossier City. It was four years old, which was practically brand new for me. Of course, figuring my luck, it had started rattling the day before when I came back from the store. It was my damned driveway. In what felt like a previous life, Eric had once paid for it to be re-graveled. That had only been five years earlier, and one big rainstorm last week had washed a good portion of it away.

Michele and I worked in companionable silence, moving in and around each other cleaning.

"Can you tell?" Michele asked eventually, scraping a plate clean into the trash.

"Tell what?"

"You can, you little liar," she hissed.

I held back my smile. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

That was a lie. She knew it. I knew it. I'd sensed the small thrum of life when they'd come for dinner the week before.

"I'm pregnant."

I had to feign the surprise but not the excitement. That was genuine. I hugged her and congratulated her.

"How far along?" It had to be in the early stages.

"I figure eight weeks. My monthlies haven't been regular since I had Corbett, so it's hard to know."

"You haven't told Jason?" I asked.

"Of course not." She picked up a wet sponge and wiped the counter down. "I don't want all and sundry to know our business. You know he can't keep his mouth shut to save himself." She trailed off, her thoughts cloudy with uncertainty.

"And…?" I prompted.

"And I'm not sure how he'll take it. Corbett's still not sleeping through the night. I'm not sure he'll be thrilled to know there'll be another few years of wakeful nights in our future."

"He'll be over the moon. I mean, look at him." I pointed out the kitchen window. He was under the hood of my car, propping Corbett up so he could also see. "He's a natural at this."

Jason said something to Corbett, who pulled a funny face at him and started giggling.

"Good God that man is sexy," Michele muttered, sponge dangling limply from her hand.

"Ew."

"TMI?"

"Yes, definitely TMI."

Michele laughed, and then I laughed too. It set something off in us. Soon we were bent over guffawing.

"What's all the fuss about?" Jason asked when he and Corbett came back in through the door a minute later.

"Nothing if you ask me," I managed to choke out, "it's Michele you gotta talk to!"

Michele packed it in at this, and we both laughed until we were in tears. Jason and Corbett watched on cluelessly.

Thankfully the rattle in my car was nothing major. A bracket on the muffler had come loose and Jason was able to fix it simply enough, saving me a trip to the auto shop. That cursed driveway. I'd have to sort it out sooner rather than later.

The happy family left after I served peach cobbler à la mode for dessert. Corbett had a strict seven-thirty bedtime, and Michele kept a tight schedule. I watched the red taillights of their car disappear out of sight down the driveway.

They'd really be the proper nuclear family now. Two kids. House with the white picket fence. All they needed was a dog. Or maybe the fact that Jason was a were-panther was enough to tick that box. My thoughts brought about an unexpected pang of envy. For so long I'd wondered if that life, one of domestic bliss and babies, was within reach for me. It seemed like it was never meant to be. I'd been briefly hopeful with Sam... but no.

As the rumbling sounds of Jason's truck faded to silence, the night seemed to settle on a soft sigh around me. It was nice to be home again. I sat on the porch swing, soaking it in for a few more minutes, and then left my brief brush with wistfulness behind to return inside. It was okay, honestly, I'd made my peace with God on that matter. Life had other pleasures in store for me—of that, I was sure.

I finished cleaning the kitchen and retired to the living room couch, where I tried to study. I'd been working at getting my paralegal certification online through LSU since I'd started working for Mr. C. And frankly, I had been struggling to keep up. Trying to balance work and studies was hard enough, but being dragged into assisting a murder investigation two months earlier had certainly thrown it on the back burner. I'd had to request extensions on multiple assignments and had taken vacation time at work now in order to catch up.

I'd come straight to Bon Temps. Where better to study without interruption? Too bad the house was nearly empty of furniture and covered in a fine coating of dust. I'd been making trips to antique stores and yard sales where I could, and the home had been slowly refilled with furniture in between frantic bouts of cleaning when my studies became too overwhelming. Thankfully, most of the bigger pieces of furniture the home used to contain Jason had moved into the barn before they'd lived here, so the furniture been easy enough to shift back in. But the couch I was sitting on now was a definite upgrade.

I studied for almost an hour until I could no longer concentrate. The current learning module was focused on drafting pleadings, and it was making me cross-eyed. I was getting good grades so far, but sometimes trying to keep up my studies felt like crawling across hot coals. Long boring, hot coals. I closed the laptop and shifted it to the coffee table. I pulled Gran's old ugly afghan around my shoulders and flopped onto my side on the couch. Fall had painted its cool brush over Bon Temps, the evenings were now cold.

After a bit of channel surfing, I came across a marathon of old All in the Family episodes. I curled up and began watching. During a commercial break I got myself a bowl of ice-cream and topped it with a chopped-up heath bar. Forget studying, this was what I was in the mood for. I was recovering from a break-up. And dealing with other... feelings that I didn't know what to do with. I mean, isn't this what a single girl ought to do? Drown her unwanted emotions in frozen calories?

In the episode, Archie was berating Michael for putting on his socks and shoes all wrong.

"Don't you know that the whole world puts on a sock and a sock and a shoe and shoe?" Archie said in confused exasperation. It made me laugh. Michael reminded me exactly of Jason.

Without warning, a large thump and a clatter sounded from the front porch. I withdrew the spoon from my mouth slowly. There was a void; it was hovering by the front door. I'd been so absorbed in my show I hadn't even noticed its advance onto my property.

Bang, bang, bang.

And now that void was banging on the door.

I looked down at the ice-cream bowl in my lap and let out a long sigh. I was comfortable. The sounds of the studio audience's laughter from the TV filled the room. Maybe if I sat quietly and long enough, they'd just go away.

Bang, bang, bang.

"Alright, alright, hold your horses," I grumbled.

I cast aside my ice cream bowl and blanket and opened the front door.

"Miss Sookie, please, you gotta help me."

If it were possible for my jaw to unhinge itself and hit the floor, then it would've done so right there and then.

"Please, invite me in, Miss Sookie. I'm in big trouble."

It was the King of Rock and Roll himself, Bubba, on my front step, covered in blood and scratches, his clothing ripped to shreds.

•───── ─────•

"Are you being chased?"

I did a mental sweep as far as I could push my ability. There was nothing, though admittedly I couldn't mentally travel too far, especially given a vampire's speed. Any vampire with ill intentions could be hiding far out of sight and perception, but still close enough to pounce on us. The only comfort was that I knew for sure the wards were still intact on the boundary of my land.

"No, ma'am," he said, his tone still pleading.

"Fine. Come in."

I led the bedraggled vampire inside and directed him to the kitchen.

"How did you know I'd be here?" I asked him.

"Where else would you be, Miss Sookie?"

I had utterly no answer to that. And not because my Northern Louisiana social life was deader than a doornail. Where had he come from? And why here to my home? And what on earth would he have done had I not been here? I spent most of my time in New Orleans now.

"Sit down," I directed him, and I picked up the phone. I dialed Bill's house, but it rang out. I tried his cell, which was unavailable and went straight to voicemail. Figured.

"I went to Mr. Bill's first," Bubba said. "No one's home."

Well. That made more sense than Bubba seeking me out on purpose. Bubba fidgeted in his seat, glancing anxiously over his shoulder as if the boogey man would jump out from behind the corner at any moment.

"What are you running from, Bubba?" I asked, returning the phone to its cradle.

"The evil eye! It's coming for me!"

"The evil eye?" I repeated.

"Yes!"

"What do you mean?"

"I've been cursed," he moaned. Oh, brother. I was not going to touch this. Not even with a ten-foot vampire-repellent pole.

I tramped to the bathroom, filled the basin with warm soapy water and set out a cotton wash cloth on the counter beside it.

I returned to the kitchen and directed Bubba to go to the bathroom and wash himself up. While he was getting clean, I retrieved a TrueBlood from the fridge and set it to warm in the microwave. That was just about all I could do for him for now. While his clothes were dirty and torn, they were still serviceable, thankfully. I didn't think he'd fit into anything I owned. He'd just have to put up with his dirty attire. And I was certainly not washing his feet.

I picked up the phone and dialed Fangtasia. It was Thursday night, the bar ought to be hopping already.

"Fangtasia, the bar that bites. This is Esmerelda."

"Hi Esmerelda, it's Sookie here." I'd met the waitress once before. She was most certainly not named that at birth. A curvaceous goth girl, her fringe cut into a severe widow's peak, Esmerelda's real name was Katie. "Is Pam available?" I asked.

"The mistress is in her office and has asked to be undisturbed."

I rested my forehead against the kitchen wall beside where the phone was mounted. From my periphery I could see the TV still going, my blanket in a disheveled heap on the floor. The ice-cream was probably melting now. What I would do to press rewind and go back to fifteen minutes ago when the hardest part of my night involved rousing enough energy to get up off the couch, clean my teeth, wash my face, and go to bed.

"Can you please go and tell her it's Sookie Stackhouse and that there is a problem."

Hold music filled my ear, jarringly cheesy. It lasted for some minutes.

"Sookie."

"Hi Pam. I need you to come over here. I'm still at my place in Bon Temps."

"Are you hurt?"

"No."

Bubba walked back into the kitchen at that moment. He looked better. The scratches seemed to be healing, albeit sluggishly. When had he last eaten? What had he last eaten? Never mind that. I pressed the phone receiver between my ear and shoulder and managed to reach the microwave though the cord was pulled taut. I retrieved the TrueBlood, recapped it, shook it, and passed it to the vampire.

"What's wrong?" Pam asked. I couldn't tell if she was annoyed or concerned. Probably both.

"Did you know that Bubba was in your area?"

Silence, and then, "No."

"Well, he's here right now."

This was followed by several more beats of silence.

"At your house?" she said.

"Yes. Sitting at my kitchen table, in fact. Looking rather worse for wear."

"I'll be there soon." Dial tone filled my ear. I hung up and turned back to my unexpected visitor.

He was woe-begotten. His dark hair flopped across his forehead, his eyes mournful as a pound puppy's. I felt a pang of sympathy. What a sorry sight he was.

"Pam Ravenscroft is on her way here."

He nodded, not seeming particularly thrilled at this development.

"She'll sort you out," I said, feeling the urge to fill the silence with reassurances. "She's the Area Sheriff now."

"I liked Mr. Northman."

I felt my mouth pull into a tight, falsely cheerful smile. Let's not go there, please. It just made me want to bury myself in more ice-cream.

"Do you like All in the Family?" I asked.

"The TV show? I sure do!" His face immediately brightened, and I gave myself a mental pat on the back.

"Good. C'mon. There's a marathon on."

•───── ─────•

"What is it about vulnerable vampires that send them running straight to you?" Pam asked.

She sat in my living room in the wingback armchair I'd picked up the weekend before at an estate sale in Shreveport. It was a pale blue with embroidered flowers, and I'd found a floral throw pillow at Walmart that matched it perfectly. And now my vampire friend was sitting in it, undoubtedly bringing more vampire troubles into my lap.

"Your guess is as good as mine."

Bubba was engrossed in the TV show. He'd finished one TrueBlood and was slowly making his way through another. Pam grabbed the remote and muted the TV.

"Why did you come to Sookie's house, Bubba?"

"Because Mr. Bill wasn't home."

Her pink lips pinched into a tight line. She turned to me.

"Where's Bill?" Pam asked me.

"I have no idea. Why would I know?"

"Because you're study-buddies."

"We've studied together a handful of times. I have no idea about his comings and goings." Bill was studying computer science at MIT, traveling back and forth between here and Boston. Pam smirked and I narrowed my eyes at her. She'd found the idea of Bill and I studying together positively delightful. It was stupid of me. I knew telling her had been a bad idea from the moment I'd flapped my mouth.

"Why did you come to see Bill?" Pam asked Bubba.

"Mr. Bill is nice. He's always tried to help me."

I scrubbed a hand over my face. This was a little like pulling teeth. Last I'd heard, Bubba was being passed from state to state, almost like an unwanted foster child. The feeble-minded vampire required almost constant supervision.

"Where have you been residing, Bubba?" I asked.

"Florida." Pam answered the question.

"Florida? How on earth did you make it here?"

Bubba was silent and just stared down at the bottle in his hands. Pam regarded him and his scruffy appearance with a measure of surprise.

"He went to ground every dawn," she said in realization. "He came here on foot. Didn't you?"

"Yes, ma'am, I did," he confirmed. Well, that explained his disheveled state when he'd arrived. But all the way from Florida? It was an unthinkably far distance to travel on foot, even for a vamp. I could only imagine how many online forums would now be abuzz with sightings of The King.

"Why did you leave Florida? Do they know you've gone?"

"I had to leave, Miss Sookie, the curse was upon me. I couldn't stay!"

"Curse? What curse?" Pam asked.

"The evil eye!" His voice shook.

"The what?" said Pam.

"He believes he's cursed," I said.

She opened her mouth to say something to me, to suggest something maybe, but I shook my head.

"I don't want any part of this," I said.

I picked up my ice-cream bowl and left for the kitchen. I picked at the few lousy pieces of heath bar floating in the molten pool of vanilla and scraped the rest in the sink. I tried not to listen while I washed the dish. They spoke in soft tones. I stood and waited there, clasping the cool rim of the porcelain enamel sink, gazing out the window into the dark woods. I couldn't get myself dragged into anything again. I refused to. Especially after the last time...

My mind flashed back to lying on the stage at Fangtasia, the blood running from my stomach. Eric poised over me, our hands clasped over the sword speared into me. The expression on his face as he helped me withdraw the sword. It haunted me. And I still dreamed of poor Lydia Ryker, her lifeless body sprawled on her bed. I was not going to risk getting myself mixed up with anything like a curse.

Pam appeared at my side, and I jolted in surprise.

"We'll get out of your hair," she said.

"Sure." Relief flooded me. I walked them to the door.

"Thank you for the blood," Bubba said and flashed me a sad smile.

"Look after yourself," I said and truly meant it.

My cellphone started ringing after they left. It was Bill. I declined the call, put my phone on silent, and went to bed. No more inviting trouble into my life. I would sidestep it like a muddy puddle.

As if that had ever worked for me.

A/N: I'm back! Thanks for being patient. I'm so excited to share this next installment with you.

A big shout-out and very warm thanks to Lilah93 for polishing this chapter and more to come. Lilah93 is not only an amazing beta, but a fantastic writer herself. Both stories on her profile are complete and capture the magic of the SVM universe perfectly... and the best thing is she has more stories in the works too!