After all, it hadn’t been that long ago it’d been Rose in his place. Rose… losing herself inch by precious inch to insanity, past and present blurring until it had been a kindness for him to drive a stake through her heart. One of his most selfless acts.
But this?
Damon scoffed as he watched himself writhing on his bed, Stefan and the rest of the Scoobies running around trying to find a miracle cure to save him from the werewolf bite that was killing him.
Who’d have thought that dying would be a spectator sport?
He hated watching – it was so undignified – but was unable to look away from the image of himself, sweating and groaning, a scant few hours away from dying. Like for real this time. His kind already had one foot in the grave but he never thought he’d ever plant the other foot in too.
No one ever really did, he supposed.
Add to the fact that it was because of a fucking dog… As if dying wasn’t enough he was now in a right mood about it.
Stefan ran his hands through his hair again and if the gesture hadn’t reeked of regret and sorrow it would have made Damon laugh how it made his hair stick up on end afterwards. Kind of like Don King. Really, he wished Stefan would just end this for them all. Damon hated this out of body experience and didn’t relish watching those he supposed he could consider his friends fretting over him, reaching out blindly at straws when in his heart, Damon had already given up.
It is what it is, he thought. Sucked he was going to be dead, but hey, that’s the way the cookie crumbled. Life and death just went hand in hand and the only way one knew they had truly lived is to die and face their own mortality; it was true even for those considered immortal. The devil had called Damon’s number and if he was going to go, he wanted it to be fast and preferably in style. Not this limbo of watching people rush to save his already doomed ass while he writhed like a stuck pig. There was no dignity in this death and he really thought Stefan owed it to him to put on his big girl panties, grab a stake and put them all out of their misery.
“You have lived rashly,” a voice sounded from behind him, no louder than a whisper on a raven’s wings. Though there was a surprising lack of emotion behind the words, Damon could have sworn it sounded like him; as if another copy of himself was standing behind him giving them voice.
Not bothering to turn around, his eyes remained glued to his own death scene. Damon snorted, saying, “Well what do you expect when I had nothing to live for?”
“Is that what you believe?”
The emotions he’d been suppressing hit him like a cinder block dropped to the head. He felt like Wile E. Coyote getting hit by his own anvil, falling victim to his own schemes. “What good’s an eternity without a purpose?” he asked, the words grating out around the lump in his throat. He continued quieter yet, “Without someone to spend it with?”
“Hm-m,” he got in return and the dismissive tone to his uncharacteristic confession pissed him off and had him whirling around to face –
There was nothing there.
“This is it,” he said, the words hollow as the fell. “I’ve gone well and truly mad now. I must already be dead…”
“Not yet,” the voice sounded again, once more from behind him. “You are in a holding pattern.”
Fuck this metaphysical shit, Damon thought. “And just who the fuck are you? The ghost of Christmas Past? Let’s just skip that bullshit and hit the fucking play button letting me die because I’ve got shit to do in Hell.”
He didn’t bother trying to face the voice again but Damon’s fist clenched, resisting the urge to throw a punch.
Who’d have thought dying would be such a fucking hassle!
“No,” the bodiless specter said.
Damon froze. “No?” he parroted in mock patience. He was coiled, a cobra ready to strike with a poisonous bite, and if this being didn’t cut to the fucking chase he was gonna rip his nonexistent head off, no body or not.
Where there’s a will, there’s a way…
“No,” the being reaffirmed. “Your fate is yet to be decided but your path is set. You say you have no direction so we will give you one and see how you do – this will be your defining moment. Tread carefully.”
Before he could hurl another sharp quip, a blinding white light seared his vision. Stefan, Elena… the him shivering in bed like some sort of heroin addict going through withdraw… it all melted away as he was blinded by white. Still, the imprint of the scene lingered on the back of his eyelids like an image that stays after staring into the sun for too long; the picture hung on the edge of his mental grasp as the light receded and he found himself standing in a barren field in bumfuck nowhere.
“Fucking beam me up, Scotty,” Damon groaned, folding in half with his hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath. Whatever it was that’d just happened hit like a stake to the gut. Not life threatening but no fucking picnic either.
“What the hell was that?” he heard a girl’s voice ask, sounding just as stunned as he felt.
Damon snapped his head up and blue eyes met brown. She was a pretty little thing, he noted somewhere in the back of his mind, slim with curves in all the right places. But there was something sad behind those wide doe-like eyes of hers and despite the instant attraction he felt for her physically, it was the resonation of familiarity that hit him hardest as he stared into those sad eyes.
“You will not distract me, little Bella,” another voice sounded, a faint French flair to it.
Damon broke the staring contest with the girl and saw, of all fucking things, a Cold One looking like he was stuck in time between the French Revolution and the Bob Marley reggae era.
“I am doing you a kindness, you see? Victoria wants you to suffer. She would drag out your death for days, months even, whereas I will be quick. This is a kindness,” the Cold One said while nodding, completely ignoring Damon’s presence.
Which did not sit well with him at all. He hated being ignored.
The girl – Bella apparently – gave the Cold One a remarkably unconcerned glance before turning back to Damon.
“Who are you? How did you get here?” she asked, sounding completely baffled.
“You’re guess is as good as mine, sweetheart,” he snarked, his gaze not leaving the Cold One. The creature didn’t even flinch at the sound of his voice. There was no indication that he’d heard Damon speak at all.
“You know who I am, child,” the Cold One answered her. “You will not trick me into sparing you, though your mind games are an admirable attempt. But I’m so thirsty…”
He crouched, ready to launch himself forward and deliver a killing strike.
“Protect the girl,” the disembodied voice from before his mysterious transportation ordered Damon, each word heavy as they sank into his brain and registered. But he couldn’t even be sure it was the unknown being that had spoken, because before the words had even finished, Damon was in action.
He flashed to the girl’s side, one hand on the back of her head as he bent her over just in time to miss the Cold One’s hand curled up into a claw flying at her throat.
The dreadlocked vampire’s eyes widened but before he could give voice to his amazement, Damon blurred behind him and with a quick pop! had his head off and thrown across the field.
“Ah,” Damon sighed with the air of one slipping off their shoes after a long day’s work. “I feel so much better now. Nothing like ripping off heads to brighten the day…”
“Um,” Bella said hesitatingly, taking a safe step back from him. “Okay?”
“Now, now, no need for that,” he nodded to her retreating steps. “Looks like today’s your lucky day and I’m your knight in shining armor.”
She stopped retreating. “Well, thanks for that, I suppose. But who are you and how did you get here? And how come Laurent couldn’t see you?”
“The fucker didn’t see me, did he?” Damon asked pensively. “But you can see me…”
His mind raced, touching on the memory of being bitten, of the painful shakes wracking his body, the sensation of watching himself dying in some sort of out of body experience… Then he thought about the voice that sounded suspiciously like himself, his words about purpose and direction.
Everything that had happened before his abrupt appearance in this field flashed through his head up until that voice reverberating in his head.
Protect the girl.
“You’ve got to be fucking shitting me,” he barked out an unamused laugh as it all clicked. “She’s my purpose? My direction?”
“I’m sorry,” Bella said. She sounded like someone trying to talk down a dangerous mental patient. “But who are you talking to and what are you talking about?”
“Better buckle up, sweetheart. I think we’re gonna have one wild ride, though I doubt you’ll believe what I tell you,” he warned.
But to his amazement, she took his tale in stride. They started walking back to her truck so they could reach to the relative safety of her home, exchanging stories as they made the trek. From her perspective, she’d been standing in the meadow with Laurent telling her about Victoria’s vendetta against her, about how she was going to die a gruesome, painful death. One minute he was promising to save her from such a fate by killing her quickly, the next she’d been blinded by a white light and he was there like some sort of avenging angel.
Ian Somerhalder, who plays Damon Salvatore and Niall in my fics
“I could’ve sworn I saw the impression of wings and fire, but I think I must have imagined it. You don’t strike me as the angel type,” she said dryly and Damon smirked.
“Oh you’ve no idea,” he said.
Between the two of them, they quickly worked out that whatever or whoever had sent him there meant for him to guard her like some sort of last trial before he went up to St. Peter to be judged and his eternity decided or whatnot. It all seemed rather pointless to him – one good deed at the end of it all could hardly out balance decades of sin – but having nothing better to do he resigned himself to Bella’s company and the pleasure of killing whoever came after her. If he was stuck with her he might as well take his fun where he could get it.
As the days slowly melted away, they easily confirmed that no one but her could see him. They’d tried the horror movie standards: whispering in people’s ears, ghostly sighing, scratching on windows and doors… The only one who heard was Bella and she put a stop to their experiments real quick when he took to trying to smash pots and pans together to wake up her dad, Charlie.
They also learned that while, yes, he could physically touch and move things, it appeared he could only do so when they were alone or if she was in danger. He’d learned real quick that she attracted danger more than he drew trouble. Not even day two in their acquaintance and she’d tripped into on-coming traffic and almost got flattened pancake style by a semi. He found himself thankful that he still had his vampire strength and reflexes, certain that she was going to put them well to the test.
It also quickly became apparent to Damon that Bella didn’t really have any friends. He found that odd because she really was quite attractive in an innocently sexy sort of way and she had a dry if somewhat biting sense of humor that had him laughing more than he had in years. She was pretty self-deprecating though, almost no self-esteem to speak of, and when he finally pried the story of the Cold Ones out of her, he understood why.
To his amazement, he found himself confiding in her, telling things no other soul knew. There was an odd sense of security had in her presence and a freedom in believing he was likely going to die anyway so what would it matter if he spilled the beans to some girl? It wasn’t like she could share the information with someone and so the more he got her to talk, the more he found himself talking in return until she knew everything. The good, the bad and the ugly, as it were.
Still, she never shunned him. Never shied away from letting him know he’d been an idiot, but also never judged him for his past.
“Who am I to judge you, Damon?” she said one day after he’d snapped at her lackluster reaction to his sordid history. “Seems to me like you’re hard enough on yourself as it is. Maybe it’s time you forgive yourself for the past and focus on the present. It may not be much of a life for you right now, being stuck with me, but at least you’re not alone, right?”
Not alone, the words often echoed in his mind whenever he’d look at her. He found himself liking the notion… liking her…
Strange, he thought at present, reclining back on her bed as he waited for her to come out of the shower. It was kind of like gazing into the past and seeing his human self when he looked at her. He’d been so in love – or so he thought – with Katherine and ready to throw his human life away to spend an eternity with her. But she’d ended up scorning his love and tossing him aside like a child bored with a toy. Isabella had lived much the same with this prick Edward she’d told him about and Damon found himself sorely wishing the asshole would show up and he could exercise his newfound duty as this girl’s friend and guard (or whatever) and set his sparkly ass on fire.
The thought brought a true smile to his face and he remembered fondly Bella’s reaction when he’d told her he was a vampire, or had been before being bitten and caught in this strange limbo act of living ghost. She’d stared at him for a long moment before asking, a slight stutter of the prick’s name, “So you’re like E-Edward and his family?”
He’d snorted and said, “My dick doesn’t sparkle, thank you very much.”
His scathing response had the desired effect and Bella sputtered out a shocked laugh as he smirked at her. Once she managed to catch her breath, smiling tears leaking from her Bambi eyes, she’d giggled, “Well, I wasn’t talking about just your dick, Damon, although you can be a big one.”
He’d given her a patronizing look at that, saying, “Laugh it up, sweetheart, but if you’re not careful I may feel compelled to prove to you how much my dick doesn’t sparkle… You know, for the sake of science.”
A slow bubble of warmth blossomed in his chest as she’d flushed bright red, her mouth falling open at his threat. The warmth continued to unfurl, spreading through him as each day passed in her company, slowly seeing that deadened look of sadness in her eyes giving way to happiness and smiles.
I did that, he thought, folding his arms behind his head as he heard the shower cut off across the hall. I make her happy. There was no small amount of pride and bemusement behind the realization. A small part of his mind called up Elena’s face and instead of the painful yearning he’d always associated with her, all he felt was a pleasant ambivalence. He wondered how that had happened – when did Isabella slip her way past his defenses and replace the woman he had fancied himself in love with?
It made him doubt he even knew what love was. He thought he’d loved Katherine, thought he’d loved Elena. Maybe a part of him did, but that love was a shallow imitation of what he was starting to feel for Isabella; what he was suspecting she was starting to feel for him if he was interpreting her constant blushing and shy smiles correctly.
He remembered those words he’d confessed in the safety of his oncoming death… how he’d always yearned for a purpose and someone to live for. Twice he’d thought he found it only to be proven wrong.
Perhaps the third time really was the charm.
Being bitten by that punk Tyler Lockwood was turning into the best thing that had ever happened to him, even if it did result in his ultimate death.
Bella broke his train of thought, hovering timidly in her doorway while clutching a faded white towel wrapped around her as though it was a forcefield.
“Erm,” she said breathlessly, cheeks the ripened pink of a sweet apple – how he wanted to taste her forbidden fruit. “I forgot my clothes.”
He smirked. He’d noticed that right away when she’d announced she was going to take her shower and had conveniently forgotten to remind her before she left to do so. “Well by all means, sweetheart. Don’t mind me – it is your room, after all,” he teased her with a wink.
She bit her lip and it took all of him not to moan and launch himself at her, replace her teeth with his own. Tiny drops of water tracked down her skin, his sharp eyes following the sensual movement. He wanted to trace their path with his tongue; he wanted all the parts the droplets feared to tread for himself.
Moving with a quick grace he never would’ve attributed to her, Bella jogged into the room, opened miscellaneous drawers and grabbed her clothes before making a hasty retreat. There was no stopping his self-satisfied chuckle and the slight slamming of the bathroom door told him she heard him well enough and was not amused. It only made him laugh louder.
Back before his smile could completely fade, Bella gave him a half-hearted glare. “You just think you’re so cute, don’t you?”
“Well if the shoe fits…” he trailed off.
“Sometimes I’d like to smack you with that shoe, not that it’d do me any good,” she smiled wryly.
“Oh come on, sweetheart. You know you love me,” he said. He’d meant for it to come out teasingly, but his smile faded as their eyes locked in an intense stare.
There was a beat of silence.
Taking pity on her, Damon grinned, saying, “And besides, where would you be without me?”
Bella remained serious. “Where indeed?” she whispered, her eyes softening on him. “Damon?” she began to speak, her tone low and serious, wiping away his grin. “What do you think will happen when your mission or whatever is over? Will you – will you be dead, like in the forever sense?”
He could see the thought troubled her. Her eyes – he’d always been drawn to them – filled with unshed tears as she wrapped her arms around herself, a self-hug designed to keep her from falling apart.
Pulling his arms out from behind his head, he held them open in silent invitation. There was no hesitation. She darted over to him and burrowed into his chest. His arms closed around her and he knew in that moment he’d never let her go, not of his own free will.
A telling spot of wetness bloomed on his shirt and his arms tightened around her as he made a soft shushing sound of comfort.
“Now, now, sweetheart,” he whispered as his hands ran soothing circles up and down her back. “You remember what that voice told me about not dying – don’t think it’s in the cards for me yet.”
She sniffled against him, her hands fisting his shirt with all her strength. “But then what? You’ll wake up back in Mystic Falls, all the way across the country? Forget about me?”
“Bite your tongue, Isabella,” he said sternly even as he maintained the soft motions of his hands. “No matter what happens, I could never forget about you.”
“But that’s always how it goes in the stories,” she said. “The guy has a near-death experience, has some sort of enlightened adventure, but when he goes back he forgets everything, even the girl.”
Though he knew her words were born of her own insecurities, the ones Edward sparkle-dick Cullen had preyed on, he couldn’t deny the idea hadn’t crossed his mind as well. It was a solid fear of his – waking up back in Mystic Falls and finding out he’d merely hallucinated Bella into existence. He didn’t know if he could take that kind of disappointment and feared it would be what finally broke him after over a century of existing. If he lost Bella, he’d switch his emotions off – for good this time. At least if he ended up dying, he’ll have died knowing her… Seemed like the better choice of the two to him.
Bringing his lips to her forehead, he placed a tender kiss there before moving them down to her ear to whisper, “Then it’ll be up to you to be the strong one, Isabella. If I’m unable to come back to you, then you have to come find me.”
“Me?” she asked, disbelieving. “Go to Mystic Falls? Me be strong?”
“I know you can, sweetheart. When the time comes you’ll be surprised how strong you are but know this,” he cupped her cheek and brought her gaze to his. “I’ll have never had any doubt.”
Her hands tightened on his shirt and she pressed closer to him.
“Promise me, Isabella,” he said low and fervently like a man on his deathbed making his last request. “If I leave and don’t come back within twenty-four hours I want you to assume it’s because I can’t and you get your ass in gear and come to me. And if by some freak of nature I don’t remember you – you stay. You stay and make me remember or you stay and,” he cut off before steeling himself, finishing hoarsely, “And you make me fall in love with you all over again.”
She stilled in his arms and the steady beat of her heart sounded like a drum his life now marched to. “Damon,” she breathed and he’d never heard someone say his name in such a manner; so full of love and longing, like someone whispering a devout prayer.
“Promise me,” he insisted, his own heart heavy as it lay out in the open, clutched in her unknowing, tiny hands. “Promise me, Isabella.”
He felt her nod against his chest before she lifted her head, her eyes burning with determination. “I promise, Damon. If you can’t come to me, I’ll go to you. As strange as this whole thing is; well, it doesn’t change the fact that it’s still the best thing to have ever happened to me. You’re the best thing to have ever happened to me.”
Blinking passed the tears he never would’ve admitted to, Damon sealed her promise with a light kiss to her lips, his body sighing in pleasure even as it felt like a bolt of lightning was shooting through him. Fucking hell, if that’s what a little peck made him feel he could hardly imagine what a real kiss would be like… not to mention sex.
But for once he wanted to do right by the someone so he pulled away and contented himself with holding her close as she drifted off to sleep. He would take great pleasure in defiling her, oh yes, but only after he knew he could keep her. That whole bullshit about ‘better to have loved and lost’ was just that – bullshit – and his dead heart ached at the thought he may well have to leave his Bella one day soon. He couldn’t exist in limbo forever.
As it was with such things, that very time came the following day.
He’d accompanied her to school, as was his practice, enjoying making snide comments and faces at her and watching as she struggled to maintained her composure. He cracked it often enough and while she acted annoyed, complaining that the kids at Forks High were going to think her even crazier than they already did, he could tell she enjoyed his game. Bella, he knew, sometimes acted like a stick in the mud because she felt like that was how she was supposed to act, not because she really felt that way. For that reason alone, he continued to push her boundaries. He wanted to show her it was alright to enjoy being a little naughty.
Or a lot naughty, he smirked, eyeing her as she started the drive back home, absentmindedly humming a song with a soft smile on her face.
With a teasing smile, he hopped out of her truck once she’d put it in park in her driveway, dashing over and opening her door with a gallant flourish.
She blushed for him and he wiggled his eyebrows as she slipped her hand in his and lost her balance as she climbed out, crashing against him.
“No need to throw yourself at me, sweetheart,” he said, his hands gripping her hips.
Before she could reply, he heard it, a low threatening hiss coming from the trees surrounding her house as someone started for them. The steps were light, inaudible to Bella’s human ears, and circled the perimeter like the way a shark circled a wounded fish.
Damon froze, his fingers flexing on her hips as he subtly started to match the movement, keeping his body in between hers and the approaching threat.
“Don’t be scared,” he whispered though there was no danger of being overheard. “But you need to slowly make your way to the backyard. No sudden movements. You just got home from school and want to do some light reading in the fresh air, got it?”
Her heart stuttered but his smart girl gave no reply, simply giving him a quick stare before she reached back into her truck and grabbed her backpack, making her way to the backyard as he’d said.
He hated using her as bait but was limited in options. If he’d sent her into the house who knew what sort of damage would be done, not only to house and home, but to Bella herself if she got caught in the middle of a fight. No, he decided. Best use the privacy and openness of the backyard to take care of the fool who thought it a good idea to threaten his girl.
The fool in question wasted no time in appearing the instant Bella sat down.
“Well, well, what have we here,” a cold, musical voice sneered.
A Cold One materialized a mere six feet in front of them, red hair outshone only by the slight sparkle of her skin.
“Victoria,” Bella greeted, the name falling from her lips like a leadened curse.
Damon’s lips lifted in a silent snarl.
“Hello Bella,” Victoria said in mocking politeness. Her bell-like voice grated on Damon’s ears and had the hair on the back of his neck standing on end. “I’ve been waiting for this for some time. Shame Edward won’t be here to witness your death. Seems he doesn’t love his little pet after all. Still, something tells me he’ll be hurt when he hears of how I peeled the flesh from your bones,” she smiled, teeth flashing like a shark.
Bella shuddered but she remained remarkably cool, her eyes meeting Damon’s who gave her a reassuring wink as he moved in front of her, waiting to strike.
A small smile curled her lips. “You’re welcome to try, Victoria,” Bella said before looking back down at her book as though unconcerned by the redhead.
Infuriated at Bella’s lack of fear, Victoria hissed and crouched, springing through the air like a mountain lion pouncing on a deer. But unluckily for her, she only jumped straight into Damon’s outstretched hand, his fingers curling around her throat as his nails sliced through the skin there like a hot knife through butter.
He wanted to draw it out. Wanted this woman to scream for mercy as he returned the favor of fulfilling her threat to Bella onto her. But Damon was an impatient sort and could think of far better things to fill his time with – such as finally tracing that delicious blush of his girl’s with his tongue to wherever it led him.
That thought in mind, he made quick work of the Cold One, popping off her head and limbs as easily as a child pulled off the arms from a Barbie doll. He stacked them into a pile for burning, whistling as he tossed arms, legs and random chunks of her stone flesh.
A strong sense of happiness and pride flowed over him. His Bella was safe – he had made it so. Turning to the girl in question, he found that she had put away her book and was watching him with a faint amused glint to her eyes.
Her eyes really were quite lovely and he had such a soft spot for them. They were like two cups of hot chocolate, always making him feel warm and content with just the slightest touch of them.
Grinning, Damon went to take a step to her but found his limbs locked as though wrapped in an invisible straightjacket.
“Damon?” he heard her ask as he struggled to get his feet to move.
“Your task is complete.”
Damon froze. Shit, shit, shit, no – no, don’t take me from her…
It was The Voice, the one that had sent him here and hadn’t heard from since the command, ‘Protect the girl,’ had been uttered.
“No,” he gasped in denial, fighting even harder to move.
Bella shot to her feet. “What’s wrong?”
A slow tingling started in his toes, creeping up his feet and into his legs.
“I don’t want to go back,” the words tore from his lips, raw and bleeding as he struggled with everything in him to move.
“Damon,” Bella gasped, running to him as realization hit her.
She threw his arms around his neck and it killed him he could not do the same.
“Please,” she breathed. “Please don’t leave me.”
The words seared his heart and he swore, “It’s not by choice. I don’t want to go.”
The tingling was up to his waist now and he knew what little time they had together was almost out.
She started crying, great wracking sobs that shook her small body into his. “Please,” she kept saying over and over again, gripping him as tight as she could as though to anchor him to her.
“Isabella,” he said sharply. He was feeling light-headed, his vision blurring and spinning. “Isabella, remember your promise. Remember,” he said, hoping she could hear him as the white light struck and she faded away.
“I’ll remember. I love you,” he heard her say, the words a faint confession that sounded as though they came from the end of a long tunnel.
Up became down, left became right. The white light blinded him until all movement stopped and everything turned deathly silent, the faint warmth of Bella’s body against him still lingering.
“Remember what you have learned, Damon Salvatore,” the voice, his voice, said right before Damon’s eyes snapped open and he was shooting up in bed.
“Isabella,” the name rented from him, a desperate plea that had the others in the room springing back in confusion.
“Damon,” Stefan said, coming to his brother’s side with a frown of concern. “How do you feel?”
Memories swirled in his mind, real and fantasy mixing until his head ached as much as a small spot above his chest did. It felt like a hole had been punched through him and someone had torn something out, something vital taken from him forever.
“How the fuck do you think I feel?” he snapped, trying to sort his thoughts and make sense of the images swirling in his head.
“I love you,” a woman’s voice echoed causing a shiver to run down his spine.
“Isabella,” the name fell from him again and the spinning came to an abrupt halt on the picture of a brunette girl, doe-like eyes smiling at him as she blushed and laughed.
He rubbed his eyes. “Isabella,” he said again, finding great comfort in the shape of her name on his lips.
Was it a dream? A hallucination?
No, something within him screamed. It’d been real – it had to have been.
“Damon?” Stefan spoke again and Damon turned to his brother.
Seeing the hollowed eyes of his brother, Stefan’s heart squeezed and he slowly began to explain what had happened – the bite, racing to find a cure which came in the form of Klaus’s blood… and the fevered ramblings that had fallen from Damon’s lips as he hovered on the brink of death. The name Isabella coming up frequently and holding such strong feeling that it had confused them all as they knew of no girl by that name.
Damon remained suspiciously silent throughout it all and trying to cheer his brother up, Stefan half-joked, “At least it sounded like you were having a nice dream.”
“A dream,” Damon murmured and something flickered in his eyes that had Stefan even more concerned.
“I suppose we’ll see about that,” Damon muttered, before unceremoniously getting up and going heading to his bathroom, slamming the door behind them.
Three days passed of walking on eggshells around the uncharacteristically quiet brother. All of them had expected rage to make a fast appearance; that they’d have to talk him out of some stupid and reckless revenge scheme that’d place them all in danger. But to their surprise and concern, Damon moved around like a puppet. He looked and appeared like his usual self, but the same hollowness Stefan had seen upon his awakening remained.
On the second day, he was shocked as he finally realized what that expression was… Damon had the look of one in mourning, grieving for the loss of someone whose absence turned the world into muted tones of grey and made one question the point of living.
It was on the fourth day he finally snapped. Elena had brought Bonnie over and they were huddled in the corner of the living room shooting him concerned glances as he poured himself another glass of bourbon.
“It’s not even noon yet,” Bonnie pointed out.
He gave her a humorless smile and raised the glass to her in mock toast. “I’m well aware of the time, princess.”
“Damon,” Elena interjected in that soft voice that told him she cared and was concerned for him. “You’ve already finished off one bottle today. Don’t you think you’ve had enough?”
Had enough, he thought to himself viciously. “Of fucking course I’ve had enough, Elena,” he said scathingly, shooting her a dark look that had her cringing back from him. “I’ve had nearly two decades of enough.”
He slammed back the rest of his drink, looking into the empty glass critically as he said, casually as one remarking on the weather, “You shouldn’t have healed me. It’s not worth it without her.”
“Damon,” Stefan said as he entered the room, approaching him as though he was a skittish rabbit about to bolt. “You don’t mean that.”
“Don’t fucking tell me what I do and don’t mean, Stefanie.”
“I know it was traumatic,” Stefan tried a new approach. “But what you experienced was a dream and you can’t live in the world of dreams.”
A tentative knock sounded at the front door.
“Why don’t you make yourself useful and answer the door, little brother,” Damon sneered before turning back to the bar. “I’m gonna have another drink.”
Sighing, Stefan turned away. They all heard the click of the door opening and Stefan asking a polite, “Hello, may I help you?”
A brief pause.
“Um, hi there. I’m looking for Damon Salvatore… I don’t suppose he’s here?”
Damon froze, his glass halfway up to his lips.
“I don’t really think he’s in the mood for company,” Stefan said, the words kind if somewhat confused.
“Oh well, I don’t really mind. I know his bark is worse than his bite. It’s very important that I see him.”
“May I ask who you are? I can see if he’s up for company…”
“Um, well, I’m not really sure my name will mean anything to him, but you can tell him it’s Isabella… please, I really need to see him.”
Stefan’s sharp inhale at her name was audible even to Elena and Bonnie who looked equally as shocked as they heard the name.
Damon remained frozen, too scared to hope.
Small footsteps sounded behind the louder ones of his brother before they came to an abrupt halt, hovering on the edge of the room.
He wanted to turn around, to face this person every inch of him screamed out for… But a very real fear sat on his chest. What if it wasn’t her? What if he was having another dream? What if, what if, what if…? The questions swirled around in his head as he tried to talk himself out of hoping. Hope was a dangerous thing, he’d learned.
“Damon,” the new arrival breathed and his eyes involuntarily closed as the sound of her voice washed over him and soothed every ache that had lingered since his awakening.
Slowly he turned to her, his eyes roving over her from head to toe, drinking her in like she was the last glass of ice water in the middle of a desert.
It was her – exactly as she’d been in his head. Her brown locks were pulled over one shoulder and her eyes, her gorgeous eyes were roaming over him like he was the answer to her every prayer. But he also say the signs of fatigue – he doubted she’d slept at all over the passed four days – and the worry as she stared at him. Worry that he didn’t know her, that he’d forgotten all about her.
His concern for her fear overrode his own and a smile crawled across his face as he said, “Took you long enough, sweetheart.”
Relief made her knees shake and he was by her side in a flash, pulling her up in his embrace as she wrapped her arms and legs around him while peppering every part of him she could reach with tiny, fervent kisses.
“You didn’t come and I promised,” she gasped between kisses, arching her back as he returned the favor and dragged his lips on every inch of bare skin he could find. “I promised I would come.”
“I remember,” he assured her. “But I thought I was crazy… and when you didn’t come right away…”
“Of course I couldn’t come right away, Damon,” she scolded, still not breaking her pattern of kisses. “I had to burn her body and then Charlie was suspicious until I told him I was leaving with or without his approval…”
“It’s alright, sweetheart. You’re here. I’m here. That’s all that matters.”
The sound of a throat clearing broke them apart and they face three pairs of widened, questioning eyes.
Of course explanations were necessary, Damon knew. But that would come later. Right now, he didn’t want to analyze the witchy voodoo that had made this possible – didn’t want to hear Bonnie talk about going through her grimoire for answers. He couldn’t care less about answers and had no need of him. The answer to everything was already in his grasp, curled around him with her lips skimming across his neck.
In a fluid movement, Damon hurled her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes and he shot the spectators a smarmy grin as Bella gave a shocked giggle.
“Introductions later… Isabella and I need to get reacquainted,” he said with a suggestive wiggle of his brows as he playfully smacked her ass while making his exit.
Silence lingered; Elena, Bonnie and Stefan all confused by the drastic change of Damon’s attitude and the sudden appearance of this girl who Damon seemed to care for greatly.
Damon’s booming laugh sounded, followed closely by the girl’s small giggle and despite the confusion and worry, Stefan couldn’t help but to smile.
Things were about to change around there, he could tell.
Loneliness filled me as I took in the view of the city that we had both loved so much. He had been gone for months now and still his loss felt like it happened yesterday.
I could still feel the warm strength of his arms as they embraced me. The softness of his lips as they caressed the skin of my neck. The sleek, hard planes of his body as he took me to heights of passion that I hadn’t known existed.
I closed my eyes and breathed deeply, still able to smell his unique scent; cologne and heat and man.
I missed him.
In heart.
In soul.
In body.
But he was gone from me.
Lost forever to the cold and callous actions of a few.
He had tried to protect me and had paid with his life.
I wish it had been mine instead.
With a sigh, I turned and made my way back into the penthouse we had shared.
I should sell it and move on but I just could not bring myself to leave the last place where I had been blissfully happy with the love of my soul.
Making my way to the kitchen, I poured a glass of his favorite wine, savoring the taste of it, bringing back the vivid memory of his heated kisses.
Tears of loss, sorrow and anger traced their way down my cheeks as I questioned the still night surrounding me; anguish nearly choking the words as they left my trembling lips.
“Why……why did you do it my love? Why? I begged you not to. I begged you to stay safe. I would have healed from what they were doing but I will never heal from losing you.” My head dropped in despair, a ragged sob tearing from me. “Never.”
“I am dead too my love.” I whispered. “Dead in my heart. Dead in my soul. They killed me that night too. They just didn’t know it.”
I finished off the wine, quietly setting the glass next to the bottle.
“I’ll be joining my body with my heart and soul once more tonight my love……..perhaps I’ll see you then.”
My eyes closed, my last words a fervent prayer.
“Please…….. let me see you then.”
I moved slowly, methodically, as I drew the tub we had shared so many languid nights in, full of steaming water.
As it filled, I lit the many candles around the room and dimmed the lights, setting out what I would need on the side of the tub.
When it was full, I closed the tap, trailing fingers through the fragrant water that will comfort and embrace me as I leave this plane.
Slowly I slip from my silken robe, allowing it to pool at my feet as I step into the soothing heat of the water, sinking into it with a sigh, a tear, and a smile.
Very soon I will see an end to my waking nightmare.
I barely feel the blade as it slides through the tender skin of my arms; the crimson fluid that sustains this life bereft of him flooding from the deep cuts like rivers, swirling and sinking into the water surrounding me.
Dropping the reddened blade, I welcome the feeling of fading; from the loneliness, from the hopelessness, from the pain.
As the last tear I will ever cry traces it’s way down my cheek, I fall into the comforting darkness, his name a whisper on my lips……………..Damon.
When I awaken, it’s to darkness, heat and the feel of strong arms enveloping me.
A familiar scent surrounds me, and silken lips move with mine, stealing the very breath of my soul.
I don’t dare interrupt this dream.
My eyes, I do not open.
I gasp as the kiss is broken, hearing the voice I once thought to never hear again as the backs of his fingers gently caress my cheek.
“ Look at me beautiful, and tell me why you are here.”
I meet his gaze then, only to see his vivid blue eyes misted with the tears which now choke his voice; his questions desperate.
“What have you done baby?
Why, Bella?
Why?”
I caress his face and smile gently, my gaze locked with his as I give him the only answer there is to give.
How did things go so wrong? How has it come to this?
After more than two thousand years walking Earth, I thought I was through. My existence no longer has meaning; I no longer feel as if I had a purpose. I had seen and done it all. What reason did I have to stay? For the first time in more years than I could remember, I felt no fear with the rising of the sun; I only felt relief and joy that my pain would finally be at an end.
I was a fool.
How could I not consider how badly my True Death would affect my child, my greatest creation? Why did I think my leaving would not cause him great distress? I was selfish. I knew Eric would be the one to be the most affected of my two progenies. Nora . . . well, Nora had changed. Gone was the caring, selfless girl I had turned at my son’s request. Eric had been enamored with her spirit to live and die on her own terms. While I too admired Nora’s spirit, I was not compelled to turn her; I was not drawn to her as I was Eric. I only turned her as a gift for my son; if I had not done so, I feared it would have created a rift between us. I still do not know why Eric did not turn Nora, but it is a moot point now.
I should have considered Eric’s reaction to my leaving. My son, despite his stoic demeanor, is extremely passionate, fiercely loyal, and above all others, scared. In the thousand years of his existence, Eric has always feared being alone though he would not admit it, not even to himself. That is why he stayed with me far longer than most progenies stay with their makers. Oh he would leave for a time, but he would never stray far. It was only because I commanded him to go his own way that he finally left my side. It was not long after that when he turned Pamela. Though I never met her, I felt she was a fitting companion for my child. She worshipped him as if he was a god, and she would follow him to the ends of the earth if needed.
Still, I knew Pamela would not be enough to keep Eric going after I met the sun. Despite loving her, Eric never fully gave into his emotions around Pamela; he always held part of himself back. That is why I asked Miss Stackhouse to care for my Eric. In the brief amount of time I spent with her, I was in awe of her bravery, her willingness to help those in need no matter who they were, and most of all, her compassion. She truly was a shining beacon of light in the darkness of the night. I could see that Eric was fascinated by her. I never knew how he came to be in the Fellowship’s church, but I knew it did not have anything to do with me. When I had gone to the Fellowship, I had closed my end of the maker/child bond, so I knew Eric’s presence in the church had to do with the partly human woman I had saved. Yes, I could tell Sookie Stackhouse was mostly human. Her attractiveness, the light that seemed to shine from within, reminded me of the Fae I had met throughout the years. However, she lacked the selfishness and deviousness that seemed to surround all Fae. Perhaps it was because their blood was so diluted in her body. Even now, I am in awe of her selflessness; it is because of her that I am where I am now.
On the rooftop of the Hotel Carmilla, Sookie Stackhouse had cried for me as I met the sun. She worried about the pain I would be in; trying to assuage her worries, I told her I only felt joy, but I knew I would feel pain. All vampires that meet the sun burned slowly; like logs in a fire, we charred on the outside while the inside slowly burned to a crisp. I did not want Miss Stackhouse to see that; I wanted to shield her from the horror she was about to see. I cautioned her to stay away from me because I did not want her to be harmed as I felt the smoke rising from my skin. Her tears and heartfelt good-bye were comforting to me as I felt the sun’s rays caress my skin. Imagine my surprise when instead of ending up a smoldering pile of ash on the rooftop, I was consumed by blue and white flames that brought me to my current location.
Godric in any of my TB fics
One instant,I’m standing in the sun on the rooftop of the Hotel Carmilla; the next, I am standing in a meadow beside a stream. The sun is at its highest point in the sky; it is an instinct for me to cover myself and try to find shelter.
“Do not be afraid. The sun cannot hurt you here.” A woman, dressed in a flowing white dress, walks towards me, her body and face hidden by the sun’s rays that shine behind her. I am frozen in place as I stare at her. Her lips are curved in a welcoming smile as she stands before me. My lips part slightly as I recognize the woman before me, a woman I have not seen in over two thousand years.
“Mater (Mother)?” How can this be possible? My mother was lost to me when I was taken as a slave by the Romans.
My mother smiles fully at me, her hands moving to cup my cheeks. “All is possible fili mi (my son) if you believe.”
I drop to my knees, overcome with emotion. Like a little boy, I wrap my arms around my mother’s waist, burying my face into her torso as I sob uncontrollably. My mother’s arms move around me, comforting me as I release all the pent-up emotions I’ve held inside for so long. For two thousand years, I have had to be strong; I have needed to be resilient in order to survive. I have not had the luxury of giving into my emotions, or allowing myself to be comforted by another. It is very cathartic to finally let go of all the hurt and sorrow I have carried with me for so long.
I pull away after what feels like an eternity, slightly embarrassed to have lost control in such a fashion. “Do not worry fili mi; I will never judge you,” my mother’s voice is but a whisper on the breeze.
“You would not say that Mater if you knew everything I have done.” I hang my head in shame as I run through the litany of all my misdeeds throughout my existence. I feel as if the scales of justice have been broken because of the weight of my many misdeeds; truly I can think of nothing I have done as a vampire that would outweigh all of my selfish actions.
My mother’s gentle hand grasps my chin, forcing me to look into her eyes. “Godric, I do know everything you have done in your existence. Since I have come here, I have watched over you. My heart has hurt for you just as I have shared in your joys. You are my son, I shall love you always; nothing will change that.”
I am humbled by my mother’s forgiving and loving nature. I only wish I could find it in myself to forgive me for the things I have done. Deciding to change the topic of conversation, I look around in wonder at our surroundings. “Where are we? Why does the sun not hurt me here?”
Despite all the time that has passed, the sun had not moved from its position in the sky. I look in wonder at the wildflowers in the meadow around us; many of them are varieties that I have never seen because they only bloom during the day. The water in the stream continues to flow gently over the rocks, creating a twinkling music in the background. Strange, I crave the feeling of the cool water against my lips and down my throat. I find that I want to partake of the water, wanting to enjoy the refreshment and respite that it can provide.
My mother drops to her knees beside me in the grass, twisting so that she reclines on one hip as she looks at me with love in her eyes. “This place has many names: Heaven, Valhalla, Summerlands, Elysium, are but a few. I prefer to think of it as home.”
“But why am I here?” If it is truly the place she speaks of, I have done nothing deserving of this honor.
“You are here for two reasons fili mi. As much as I love having you here, you do not belong here. You were never meant to find the afterlife.” Her look is one of sadness as she gazes towards the stream.
“I do not understand.” My brow furrows in confusion. Was I sent here by mistake? Am I supposed to spend eternity condemned to hell because of all my sins?
“STOP IT!” The forcefulness of my mother’s voice surprises me. Her look is fierce and her eyes blaze with anger as she stares at me. “You have nothing to be ashamed of.” I glance down so she cannot see the shame in my eyes, but she will not have any of it. She grabs my face in her hands forcing me to look at her so I can see the sincerity in her eyes. “Godric, you have done what you needed to do in order to survive. You were destined for great things. I knew before you were born that you were destined for something far greater than an ordinary human life. Everything you have done, everything that has been thrown in your path was supposed to lead you to finding your mate. And you had found her.”
“WHAT?!?!?!?!” How is it possible I found my mate and did not recognize her? Mates are supposed to recognize each other the moment they lay eyes on each other. What could have possibly gone wrong? Is my mate now suffering needlessly because of my selfish action? I feel a heavy burden settling on my chest, squeezing the area around my heart.
My mother looks at me regretfully before glancing towards the stream again. “I cannot tell you who your mate is Godric; that is something I am not allowed to do. Knowing now who she is will do nothing but torment you.”
I want to argue with my mother; I have every right to know who I was supposed to spend eternity with. Mates are a truly sacred phenomenon in the world; when two mates find each other, they are supposed to exist for eternity for one cannot exist without the other. Mates cannot stand to be separated for great lengths of time; it will cause them to fall physically and emotionally ill. And if one mate dies, the other will not survive for long. I feel bereft for having lost something I never even knew I had.
“The other reason you are here is because someone wished it for you. Someone wished that you would not feel any pain; that you would go to a place where you would find the peace that you seek. This person wished this both for you as well as for your child. She wanted to be able to comfort your child, telling him that you did not suffer in your final moments; that you were finally happy.”
“Miss Stackhouse,” I whisper in wonder. I am truly in awe of the tolerance, generosity, and humanity Sookie Stackhouse has demonstrated to both me and my Eric. She is the perfect match for Eric; the light to his dark, compassionate to balance his cruelty, humane to his inhumanity. “She is well-matched for my son.”
Another expression of regret crosses my mother’s face. “Yes, she would have been if not for the interference of others.”
“What do you mean?”
“Time acts differently here than it does in other realms. Time for us is nearly at a standstill; there is no day or night, no passing of the hours. Everything just exists. For you, it feels as if minutes maybe even an hour has passed since you left your existence on Earth. In reality, it has been many months, years actually. Things have not been easy for Eric and Sookie,” she cautions.
“What do you know? Please, you must tell me!” I am desperate for her to tell me what has happened to my beloved son.
Sighing, my mother rises from her place in the grass. She extends her hand to me, indicating that I too should rise. Once I have risen, she leads me towards the stream. She stops on the water’s edge, turning to face me with a look of concern on her face. “Are you sure you wish to know what has happened? You will not like what you see.”
“Please,” I beg her.
“Very well fili mi,” she says with a resigned sigh before turning back to face the water. “Stand beside me and look at what life has become for your progeny and the woman he loves.”
I do as commanded of me. One minute I am looking at the clear blue water of the stream moving over the rocks, the next I am looking into flashes of Eric’s life.
The first scene is of what I assumed is the basement of Fangtasia. Eric has a woman tied up; I cannot hear any audio, but from the expression on the woman’s face, she is not in any pain. My child is fucking her, but he is taking no pleasure in it; his expression is cold, indifferent. That is until he notices Miss Stackhouse standing on the stairs behind him. He swallows hard, his expression becoming one of regret and longing before schooling his features to turn around to speak with her. Miss Stackhouse’s expression also interests me; she is both repulsed and aroused by what she sees. She stiffens her spine and her resolve as he approaches her. I have no idea what they discuss, but I can tell it is not something that pleases Eric. He stares after Miss Stackhouse once she flounces off.
The next scene is one of Eric at what looks to be at Miss Stackhouse’s home. She greets him with a gun in her hand. I am surprised to discover the absolute squalor she lived in. What happened to her home? She did not strike me as the type of person to be so careless with her possessions. Again there is no audio, but the discussion is a serious one. My lips do curl into a grin when I see Eric slip into his seduction mode; heavy-lidded eyes, sexy smirk, and he crowds in close to the one he wants. It’s a look I experienced more than my fair share in my existence and it makes me think of happier times. However, his expression changes quickly; to one that he knows well, I can tell this is the mask he wears when he is hurt by something. I wonder what she may have said to him, but that’s when my eye notices the ring on her left hand. That can only mean the vampire she had been in Dallas with has proposed to her. He didn’t deserve her; he didn’t see Miss Stackhouse for the extraordinary being she is. He saw her as a possession, something to be owned and lord over others. I do not understand what see saw in him, though I can tell from the few times I was in her presence that she did have a tremendous quantity of his blood inside her. I wonder if she knew how much that influenced her thoughts, feelings, and actions; I am willing to bet that is what prevented Eric from laying claim to her.
Something happens to cause Eric to push Miss Stackhouse against the wall of her home. There must be danger because his fangs have dropped and his body is rigid with tension. Whatever he sensed was inside Miss Stackhouse’s home: a werewolf. Eric and the Were fight; Miss Stackhouse tries to shoot the Were but Eric steps in front of the bullet. Does he wish her to suck another bullet out of his body? I must admit that ploy of his in Dallas was an act of desperation. He desired Miss Stackhouse so greatly that he used her kind nature against her to get his blood in her. I knew it was sheer folly on his part because she would resent him for his action. Perhaps that is what prevented her from accepting Eric into her heart.
I am drawn out of my thoughts when I see Eric pin the Were on the floor. Eric pulls the Were’s hair back to reveal a symbol I have not seen since World War II. It is the symbol that has haunted Eric since he was a human; the same symbol that the Weres that killed his human parents had on their bodies. Eric and I had found no trace of the vampire that controlled these Weres after our encounter with that Were bitch during World War II. I had hoped that the vampire in question had met his True Death during the war. Eric, however, had not been convinced; it was what led Eric and me to not speaking for several decades. He could not let go his vengeance against the one responsible for the death of his human family.
Rage the likes of which I haven’t felt in several centuries overcomes me; my child is alone and is facing a foe older than him. How could I have left him alone to deal with his? I have endangered my child by leaving him without my protection. These dark thoughts swirl inside me as the scene shifts again; Eric is standing in a home that I do not recognize. It is very ornate, decorated by someone with a keen eye for items of worth. Eric is in what looks to be a study admiring artifacts with another vampire. Eric is flirting with the vampire, but that makes no sense; other than myself, Eric has never preferred the company of men. Why would he actively flirt with this vampire? Eric returns the scrolls he has perused to the cabinet but he freezes when he sees a crown. The crown is simple in its design, but the carvings are very detailed. Why does this crown hold Eric’s attention so?
The scene shifts again, but it must be the same evening because Eric and the other vampire are dressed in the same clothes. The door of the mansion flings open to show Miss Stackhouse being dragged in along with the vampire she belongs to. But what worries me the most is the vampire standing closest to Eric: Russell Edgington, the mad King of Mississippi. Dread and fear fill me as I realize that Russell, a 3,000 year old vampire, is likely the one behind the Weres. The crown, of course! Eric recognized the crown as being his father’s. He had told me that the murderers of his parents demanded the crown from his father’s head. As I continue to watch, Eric grabs Miss Stackhouse and escorts her into the room he had vacated. They must fight because she is crying and he his fangs are down. I can make out that he tells her she means nothing to him. Why does he lie to her?
“Mater,” I whisper as the water swirls again to erase the scene we just watched. “Please tell me that Eric will be alright, that he finds a way to survive this.”
“Watch fili mi; you will see,” she says gently, squeezing my hand in comfort.
Images flicker past, none as in-depth as what we have previously seen . . . Eric attacking the Queen of Louisiana, Sophie-Anne Leclerq, in Russell’s presence . . . my son, his progeny, and the two monarchs in the basement of Fangtasia with the Magister . . . Russell ending the Magister. I am confused by all the images I see. Why is Eric siding with Russell? The images continue to shift quickly . . . Eric staking a vampire in Russell’s home . . . a confrontation with Miss Stackhouse and her vampire . . . Miss Stackhouse barging into his office in Fangtasia . . . and what must be their first kiss. My lips split into a smile seeing the passion between the two of them, but it’s quickly erased as I watch Eric chain Miss Stackhouse in the basement. I snarl and growl as Eric meets with Russell, striking some sort of deal with him. A deal, I realize, that includes Miss Stackhouse because the next picture is of Eric and Russell taking her hostage . . . them drinking from her . . . and both of them walking into the sun.
“NO!!!!!!! How can Eric be so foolish? The Fae cannot grant vampires the ability to daywalk. It is a myth; the protection lasts only a few hours at the most and that is when draining a full Fae. With a hybrid, it can only be a few moments at best. We have to stop him!”
“Godric, there is nothing we can do. All of this has already happened,” my mother reminds me.
“But . . .” I feel so helpless there must be something I can do. My child is going to burn.
The images begin moving rapidly again. Miss Stackhouse drags both Eric and Russell inside. She gives her blood to heal Eric; he treats her with infinite care once he regains consciousness. However, she is enraged with all vampires; not that I can blame her. The next evening, Eric and Compton took a charred Russell Edgington to a construction site and buried him in concrete.
“Why did my child not end him?” After one thousand years, Eric could finally avenge his family. Why would he leave their murderer alive?
“He had a vision,” mother begins to tell me. “In his vision, you came to him saying that everyone finds peace in the afterlife. Your son did not want Russell to find any type of peace; he believed he did not deserve it after everything he has done.”
“Why does Eric think I came to him in a vision? And why would he think I said everyone finds peace in the afterlife? None of this makes sense!” I stop speaking as I see Compton deceive Eric, pushing him into the wet concrete and then pouring more over him.
“I WILL KILL HIM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”
As soon as the sentiment falls from my lips, the scene changes again. An encrusted Eric is walking up the steps of Miss Stackhouse’s home. He must be telling her something heartbreaking because she begins to sob. Whatever it is my child had to tell her causes her to rescind the invitation of Mr. Compton. Eric looks positively gleeful to see Miss Stackhouse turn on her beloved vampire. However, she must turn her ire on him as well. His demeanor changes as he vamps in front of her; he becomes regretful, and his eyes are burning with his love for her. But she slams the door on his face.
The image fades away and the water remains still. “Is that everything that has happened?” My voice is hoarse. I feel my child’s pain as if I were standing right beside him; I left him alone when he needed me most. To know he battled a vampire three times his age and survived is a great testament to his intellect and strength, but he should have never needed to fight it alone. I should have been by his side as he staked the mother fucker, not interred him in concrete. That is not a permanent solution and I fear it will come back to haunt him. As for Miss Stackhouse, I fear he has damaged any chance he may have had with her. She will never be able to trust him.
My mother chuckles, but it is a hollow sound. “Godric, I hate to tell you, but that all happened within two months of you meeting the sun. Life has been very eventful for Eric and Miss Stackhouse.”
The water shimmers again and I do not understand what I am now seeing. Eric is now walking through Miss Stackhouse’s home, but it has fallen into further disrepair. He trails his hands along certain things, caressing them as one would caress the body of a lover. Moving up the stairs, he enters what I assume to be Miss Stackhouse’s room. He moves to the closet, rifling through the items hanging in there, and pulls out a white dress with red flowers. The garment must be of great importance to Eric because he clutches it to his chest as tears fall from his eyes. He curls up on the bed, sobbing uncontrollably with the garment pressed tightly to his chest.
“What has happened to her?” Anguish fills my voice as the image changes showing construction crews working to restore the house. What was once a rotting structure looks brand new; something tells me the house has never looked as good as it does even though I am sure it was lovingly cared for.
“The night Eric was covered in cement is the night he told Miss Stackhouse that the Queen of Louisiana had sent Mr. Compton to procure a part-Fae telepath for her. The entire relationship had been based on a lie.” My mother’s voice is filled with an icy hatred I have never heard from her before and her hands have curled into fists. “Miss Stackhouse had been a true innocent until Mr. Compton entered her life. He abused her in the worst way possible; he took her love and her innocence all on the basis of a lie. Miss Stackhouse’s grandmother was murdered because Miss Stackhouse was associating with a vampire. He took everything away from her.”
Panic creeps into my voice hearing that. “She didn’t do anything rash did she? Please tell me she didn’t try to kill herself!” If Miss Stackhouse had ended her life, Eric would never forgive himself. He would carry the burden with him until the end of his days. Coupled with my True Death, he may try to seek his own True Death and now that I am not there to command him never to do it.
My mother clasps my hand again, squeezing it in reassurance. “No fili mi, she did not kill herself; but she did do something rash. She left to go to the Fae Realm. She was gone for over a year; though she thought it had only been fifteen minutes. While she was gone, everyone gave up on her except Eric. Her brother sold her home; Eric bought it so he could restore it and have it waiting upon her return. What you saw was the night he took ownership; the dress he is clutching is the dress she wore the night they met.”
“I am scared to see what happens next,” I whisper.
A smile of true joy spreads across my mother’s face, lighting it up in a way the sun never could. “The next part is the best part of the story. Be brave Godric and look.”
The water shimmers to reveal a picture of Eric startled out of his daytime rest. His eyes snap open, and he looks quickly at the time. Confusion clouds his face until he places a hand over his heart. His eyes widen and a look of pure joy spreads across his features; I smile with him as I realize that his beloved Miss Stackhouse has returned to him. She greets both of the vampires interested in her on her front porch. She recoils from Compton, but she looks baffled by my child. For once, Eric allows his true emotions to shine through on his face. He looks at her with love, longing, and sheer awe. He does not advance towards her but maintains his distance, knowing she would not welcome his closeness. He smiles at her boyishly before leaving, which leaves her confused.
The images quickly change to one of a naked Miss Stackhouse with her back to Eric. She did not realize he was there, and covers herself quickly. My son pulls the key for her house from her pocket before advancing on her. He clearly states that she belongs to him. Knowing what I did of Miss Stackhouse, I am certain she did not appreciate someone claiming ownership of her; she liked to be independent.
The scene shifts again showing Eric in a store of some kind except there are people gathered in a circle. I am once again filled with dread as I realize they must be witches. Witches are to be approached cautiously; while they can be immensely beneficial, they can fuck you over quicker than anyone merely by whispering a few incantations. Eric attacks one of the members of the group and everything changes in an instant. The candles flicker as a great wind swirls in the room and Eric’s eyes go blank. Once the chanting stops, he looks around the room with confusion before vamping out of the room.
“What did they do to him?” I am really beginning to hate seeing my child’s life through these images. I feel impotent as I stand here; helpless that I am unable to do anything to help him, guide him, and most importantly, love him. What have I done by giving up my existence?
“They bewitched him; they removed his memories from him,” my mother answers as an image of Eric walking down a dark road moves into focus. He is stopped by someone in a car that should have been in the junk yard twenty years ago: it is Sookie. Eric looks absolutely lost; he lacks the confidence that has always surrounded him. The image shifts again to showing Eric, wrapped in a blanket, sitting on the couch in the home he purchased for Miss Stackhouse with his feet in a basin of water. Miss Stackhouse kneels at his feet, cleaning the dirt and blood from his wounds. Something causes her to smile shyly at him. The scene shifts again showing her where he can stay in the home. I cannot help but laugh at seeing my progeny in shorts and a sleeveless hoodie. Eric in his right mind would have never been seen wearing something so hideous; but I sober quickly as I realize he is not in his right mind.
The images flicker quickly again . . . Miss Stackhouse searching for Eric . . . Eric draining a fairy . . . Miss Stackhouse searching for Eric and finding him during the daytime swimming in a pond . . . the sun beginning to burn his alabaster skin . . . Eric sitting in his room with a quilt around him as the object of his affections checks him for injuries. Another image slides by of the two of them talking in his room before Eric moves in to kiss her. That quickly morphs into Eric walking away from the house, dejected and alone. The next scene is of him walking up the steps to Miss Stackhouse’s waiting arms. He folds her closely into him as she kisses along his cheek before they end up kissing passionately.
“They found their way to each other,” I say with satisfaction. I am buoyed by the knowledge that my son and his mate have finally found a way to be together. They are perfect for each other. I feel myself relaxing knowing that Eric is going to be alright.
“Yes, they did find their way to each other.” A wistful smile crosses my mother’s face as the next image floats by. Eric and his beloved wrapped in each other’s arms in bed . . . Eric in his room covered in silver as Miss Stackhouse lays beside him . . . Eric and Miss Stackhouse exchanging blood. He began a blood bond with her? Even lacking his memories, Eric knew she was important to him. However, the joy I feel slowly fades as the images keeping coming. The two of them standing in a cemetery with others facing off against the witches . . . Miss Stackhouse shot while Eric falls under the witch’s spell again . . .Eric attacking Miss Stackhouse’s former lover. She shoots him with a ball of light to stop the attack; the light does not harm Eric, which is something I do not understand.
“Her light was not meant to harm him; she intended it to heal him,” my mother answers before I can question her. “And it did heal him; it returned his memories.” Why does my mother’s tone of voice imply that is not a good thing for my progeny and the woman he loves?
“Eric admitted to Miss Stackhouse that he loved her, even with his memories. He told her that the Eric she fell in love with was still inside him; that he was just ‘more’. But Miss Stackhouse was scared and confused I think. You see, when she had been shot, Mr. Compton,” my mother says his name with complete and utter disgust, “managed to get more of his blood inside her. She began to question her feelings, wondering if she truly loved them or if it was the blood. She spurned both of them,” my mother tells me sadly.
My poor Eric . . . he must be so desolate. To finally admit he loved Miss Stackhouse, to finally have her as his, and then she rejects him. What could she have been thinking?!?!?!?! And to be blood bound to someone that spurned him, I can only imagine the rage that my son must have felt. I do not understand; they were perfect for one another. What happened?
“Do not judge Miss Stackhouse too harshly,” my mother counsels me gently. “There are forces at work preventing the two of them from being together. Look, fili mi, though the images are not pleasant ones.”
I do not understand what I am seeing; the images fade in and out so quickly that I cannot make sense of anything. Eric on his knees . . . Nora forcing Eric to drink some type of blood . . . Eric begging for something . . . Russell Edgington finally staked by my child as he should have been . . . Eric and Miss Stackhouse covered in blood . . .Eric battling with Mr. Compton . . . what does it all mean?
Before I can ask any of the questions running through my mind, the images begin to change more frequently. Eric and Sookie standing with a piece of paper between them . . . Eric kneeling before a dark haired girl in a grave . . . Eric and Pam facing off against one another in blue suits in a starkly lit white room . . . Eric holding a weakened Nora . . . Eric crying brokenly as Nora turns to a pile of goo in his arms . . . a bloody Eric attacking people inside of a building . . . freeing other vampires and walking with them in daylight?!?!?!?!?!
“Mater,” I exclaim in utter horror, “what has happened in my absence?”
She sighs deeply before turning to me. The image of Eric and other vampires walking in the sun is the last image I see. The stream is once again cool, clear water moving swiftly. I am completely baffled by what I have been shown. Is there any way I could have prevented this?
“Does it really matter? You chose to leave after all.” I am shocked by the words that come from my mother; she sounds so cold and callous. “Besides, it is not the past that should concern you. It is what is going on this very minute you should worry about.” With a wave of her fingers, the stream once again changes to show me an image of my beloved son. The image is quite possibly the most shocking of any she has shown me thus far.
“ERIC?!?!?!?!?!” My child is sitting nude in a lounge chair reading a book . . . IN BROAD DAYLIGHT. “Mater, what is he doing???? We have to stop him!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” I am frantic to get to my child.
“Eric is fine. He has the blood of an ancient fairy vampire hybrid that enables him to walk in the sun permanently . . . or so he thinks.”
A second image appears beside the image of Eric reading his book. Two of the three individuals in the image I do not recognize but the third is Jason Stackhouse, Miss Stackhouse’s confused, but well-intended brother. He is staking a vampire, but the stake has no effect on him. How is it that a vampire can survive being staked through the heart? The image expands to show Miss Stackhouse slumped against the wall of what is a bathroom. She uses her light to bind the stake to the vampire’s heart, which causes the vampire to turn into a pile of goo and dust . . . This must be the fairy/vampire hybrid Mater spoke of! But if dies, what will that do to Eric?
As if the Gods heard my question, Eric’s skin begins to smoke. I watch in horror as Eric’s body becomes engulfed in flames. Why is this happening?!?!?!?!?! A vampire never burns like this; what is causing my progeny to burn so quickly? The images shift to focus solely on Eric and Miss Stackhouse, who is screaming on the floor in agony. What has happened to her? She is not injured . . . THE BLOOD BOND?!?!?!?!?! She is dying because her mate is dying.
“Mater, please,” I beg as tears fall down my face, “we have to do something! We have to help them!”
“There is nothing I can do fili mi.”
“Please Mater; I would do ANYTHING to save my son and his mate! Please, I beg of you to save them.”
“Godric, fili mi, there is nothing I can do,” she tells me gently. She cups my face in her hands as I sob for the two dying people before me. “But there is something you can do, if you are willing to make the sacrifice.”
“Tell me, Mater! I need to save them!”
“You have to go back Godric; you need to undo all the wrong that has happened. Are you willing to do that?”
“Yes, Mater. I wish . . .”
Celeste stands in the meadow by the stream; the images shown to Godric are no more. Instead, three images appear to her: Sookie Stackhouse weeping in the arms of her grandmother, a longer-haired Eric rising suddenly from his daytime rest, and her beloved son Godric asleep in Dallas residence. Godric will have no memories of his time with her in the meadow, but it is for the best. The three of them have been sent back to a time where they can prevent the mistakes that resulted in their deaths; a time when they will be able to recognize that they are destined to be mates.
Celeste watches the images for a moment with a tear falling down her face. “Good-bye fili mi. May you find your happiness; that is all I want.”
“Our existence is insanity. We don’t belong here.”
“But we ARE here!”
Godric looked at his child, his eyes filled with so much love and affection that Eric could see it even through the guilt and resolve. Eric fell to his knees, the blood tears making tracks down his cheeks as his Maker stood above him.
“Why Godric? Why are you doing this? I need you. The whole fucking world needs you!”
Eric’s head bowed as grief surged over him in a solid wave of unbearable agony. Never before had he felt such pain and he knew he never would again.
“I won’t let you do this alone. I can’t. I’ll be here with you-until the end.”
Resolved, he stood and clutched Godric’s hand, turning to face the impending dawn.
“No, my child. I won’t let you condemn yourself to the True Death as I have. Go. Live. Pamela still needs you. And you have much left to do.”
Godric invoked the command his rights as a Maker afforded him and he felt Eric fighting. Eric’s feet shuffled backward minutely, but he stopped himself.
Godric’s heart felt like it skipped a beat, though that was impossible. Eric was really going to fight through the Maker’s command; he was bound and determined to meet the True Death as well.
The Gaul wrestled momentarily with his indecision. But then fate took the choice out of his hands.
Time seemed to speed up as Sookie burst out of the door to the hotel. The sun crested the horizon in a time lapse of motion and Godric watched in horror as his child was engulfed with a spectacular burst of blue flames.
His face twisted in agony and grief as he felt his child’s pain as if it were his own, compounded by the fact that somehow he remained unscathed.
Eric’s body folded in on itself, crumbling into nothing even as his hand still reached for Godric and Sookie looked on in horror at the scene in front of her.
Godric fell to his knees in stunned silence. Eric was gone. He felt the connection sever; he had felt the unmitigated terror and agony of his last moments on this earth. That was not the way he was supposed to die. Hell, he wasn’t supposed to die at all. Eric was a Viking warrior, a king by birth, and a vampire of worth. Now he was nothing but a smudge on a random rooftop in Dallas.
“It sucks, doesn’t it?”
The small, unobtrusive voice came out of nowhere and Godric’s head whipped up to see…Sookie?
She wasn’t wearing the sundress she’d had on previously; instead wearing a flowing red sheath, and her eyes held more years of life than they had before.
“Who are you?”
He was almost ashamed to admit how much his voice quavered, but he couldn’t quite muster the energy to care. He was still reeling from Eric’s death and his emotions felt numbed to everything.
“I am who I’ve always been. Apparently I needed a kick in the metaphorical ass to see it.” Her sky blue eyes glanced sadly to the scorch mark on the roof to her left. “I didn’t realize…well-it seems like I’ve lived a lifetime since I opened that door.”
“I don’t-I don’t understand.”
The blood tears were making tracks down his face and he let them fall, burning up once they hit the sunbaked tarmac. He cocked his head with a curious detachment, wondering why he was still there-maybe this was some cruel punishment from the Gods for all the atrocities he’d wrought in his extremely long life. He only dreaded what would come next.
“Feeling the fledgling bond I had with Eric flare with so many emotions sparked..well, my spark, I guess. I actually left awhile ago…and now I’m back.” Godric’s eyebrow raised. “Fairies have always been powerful apparently, and my great grandfather managed to pause time to take me away.”
His eyebrows positively reached his hairline at that bit of news. “And who might your relations be then? The only ones powerful enough to enact a bit of magic that great would be-”
“The Brigants. Yes, Niall is apparently my great grandfather. Fintan had an affair with my grandmother that resulted in my father and aunt. So biologically I’m ⅛ fairy.” She glanced to Eric’s last location with sadness. “But Eric’s blood woke up that side of me.”
“I still don’t understand. Why did he die? Why am I still here? Why…why…” Great heaving sobs erupted from the ancient vampire as he curled in around himself. His head shook from side to side, his short hair ruffling in the early morning air.
“He didn’t die.”
“DO NOT LIE TO ME, FAIRY! I saw him die-right there!” His hand shot violently out to point as he leapt to his feet. He stalked closer to her, his hand wrapping itself around her slender neck as she stood motionless.
“I’m telling you the truth. This is what WILL happen if you continue on this path. Eric will die. You’ll live long enough to feel him go and you’ll be in unimaginable pain. And you’ll be ruining more lives than that.” Her small hand, so soft and gentle, came up to caress his cheek. “Please don’t do this Godric. Don’t do it to us.”
“You-you don’t even know me.” He dropped his hand from her neck, stepping backwards in horror at what he’d done. “You see? I deserve to die. I’ve done horrible things in my long life-things you can’t even imagine-”
“Let me stop you right there, buddy. Telepath, remember? I’ve seen some pretty depraved things in people’s heads. It doesn’t mean you’re a bad person. Please. I only have one shot for this to work.”
His eyes narrowed. “How? How can you undo all this? How can you bring my child back from the dead?”
Sookie huffed in annoyance. “All y’all have hearing problems, don’t you?!? He’s not dead. You saw what would happen. I…I made…”
She paused, shoulders heaving with some unidentifiable emotion. “I’m still having trouble with this whole fairy thing…sorry. Fintan gave my grandmother this…wishing thing. It’s called a cluviel dor.”
Godric gasped, astonished at the significance of what she’d just told him.
“I see you know what they are.” Sookie’s eyebrow raised and a smirk plastered itself across her face. He had to chuckle since it was the exact same face his child had made so many times in the past. “When Niall pulled me from reality and stopped time, he gave it to me. And I couldn’t let this happen. So when I jolted back into my body I used it.”
Awe. Awe was the only thing Godric could pinpoint as he stared at this enigmatic woman in front of him. Gone was the naive Southern flower he’d met the night before. This woman was strong-a Valkyrie-worthy of a man like Eric.
“You love him then? You wanted to save him.”
She blushed, beautifully innocent even with the hard glint of defiance in her eyes. “I-I didn’t quite realize how I felt until now. Niall pulled some more fairy voodoo on me…which reminds me, I need to have a chat with darling old Bill.”
Godric’s eyebrow rose involuntarily as a growl escaped her luscious lips. She was more bloodthirsty than he would’ve ever imagined. This was not the direction he saw the dawn taking.
“Then how do we leave this…what exactly is this?” Pain surged back through him. “I felt him die. I felt the pain he suffered. How can you tell me it wasn’t real?”
“I never said it wasn’t real. If you still choose this path, then I’ll retract my magic and you’ll burn-same as Eric. But if you choose to change the path you’re on, we’ll go back. Simple as that.” His eyebrow raised sceptically and she grinned, shrugging innocently. “Alright, maybe not simple, but….what’ll it be?”
Suddenly serious, she gave him the time he needed. Could he go on? Could he continue living with the guilt of all he’d done?
“Agreed. Just-give him back to me.”
She beamed a brilliant smile at him before stepping forward, her bare feet barely seeming to touch the ground. Her small hands grasped his cheeks and she pulled him down to her lips, laying a light kiss on his forehead.
“Thank you.”
A brilliant flash of blue light lit the sky and when Godric opened his eyes, he saw Eric kneeling before him.
“ERIC!”
His child reared back as if he’d been slapped when Godric shot forward, wrapping his arms around his neck. Eric froze when he felt the sobs rip through his maker, unable to comprehend what was happening.
“Master, what-?”
“Oh thank GOD!”
The men’s heads whipped around to see the blonde Southern Bell, gripping the door frame as she fought to contain her emotions.
“Sookie? Godric? What-what…”
Sookie shot forward, wrapping herself around the two men as she showered kisses on any exposed skin she could find.
She pulled back, ignoring Eric’s utter confusion to look Godric straight in his beautiful periwinkle eyes. “I knew you’d make the right choice!”
The afterlife is not at all like what Eric Northman expected. After having survived for over a thousand years, he was not entirely sure he believed in the concept. As a human, he had hoped to die in battle so that the shieldmaidens would escort him to Valhalla to be with the other brave warriors that had died in battle. But that was something denied him the night Appius Livius Ocella had drained the blood from his body and replaced it with his own. Three nights later, Eric had risen a vampire; and all hopes of going to Valhalla were gone. With the passing of time, Eric’s belief in an existence beyond this one diminished. He attributed the human belief in the afterlife as being mistaken for some supernatural being. So when the True Death finally came to claim him, he expected it to be all she wrote; there would be nothing beyond that. One minute he had been fighting for his survival, the next he was laying on a soft bed in a faintly lit room; there had been no pain when he had met his True Death.
Fucking Freyda! I knew that bitch would be the end of me!
Eric swings his legs over the side of the bed while sitting up so he can look around the room with interest.
This is very strange. The room looks exactly like my room in Shreveport; the house I shared with Sookie.
Looking down at the bedside table, there is Eric’s most prized possession: the picture of him and Sookie dancing at the reception in Rhodes. He picks the frame up, staring lovingly at the image of his Sookie. Tears fill his eyes as he gazes at the only woman to ever capture his heart, as a human or as a vampire. Her stunning ice blue silk gown had accentuated the curves of her figure while still being modest enough for her to look like the lady she was. Her long blonde curls flew through the air as he had twirled her around the dance floor. But it was the expression on her face that Eric loved the most; she had been so carefree, so unguarded that night that all of her emotions were visible. She looked like a woman in love, happy to be in the arms of the man she adored.
“I love you Sookie,” he whispers brokenly as his fingers touch the image of his beloved. Tears fall from his eyes, though he does not notice. “I hope you are at peace and happy in your life. Forgive me, my love, for not protecting you as I should have. Know that I will be watching over you. Perhaps one day we will be reunited here and we can be together as we should have been.”
“You don’t have to wait long my Viking,” says a soft voice with a hint of a Southern drawl.
Dropping the frame in shock, Eric’s head snaps up to find his heart’s greatest desire standing in the doorway: Sookie Stackhouse. She is more beautiful than he remembered. The breath he has no need of gets lodged in his throat; she’s wearing the dress, the red and white dress from the night they first met. Of all the outfits he’d seen his lover wear, that was his favorite. From what he can see, her golden skin is free from the battle scars that had marred her perfection. A white headband holds her hair back, allowing him to see all of her face. Eric gasps when he sees the same expression in the photograph on her face now. The lips he has spent endless hours kissing in his fantasies are curved in a blindingly brilliant smile though her lower lip is caught by her teeth. A rosy blush paints her cheeks a delicious shade of red. But it is her eyes, her cornflower blue eyes that sparkle with a love so all-encompassing that it holds Eric immobile. Never before had his Sookie looked at him so openly; not even as his amnesia self, Sookie had always held part of herself back. Not that he could blame her; the only time he had allowed himself to love her freely and openly was when he had no memory.
Eric whispers, “How is this possible?” Part of him fears that if he speaks louder than a whisper it will scare away the lovely vision in front of him.
Sookie counters with a question of her own. “What’s the last thing you remember?” She crosses the room, moving to sit beside him on the bed. Once she is settled in place, she reaches over to grasp Eric’s hand between her own. The familiar jolt Eric felt whenever he touched Sookie zinged through his fingers, up his arm and straight to his heart. Eric smiled broadly because he felt another long lost sensation: the blood bond was back in place. Somehow the bond to his beloved was back in place because he could feel all of Sookie’s emotions: love, happiness, peace, and acceptance. He reveled in the feelings, wrapping them around him like a cocoon.
“Baby,” Sookie whispers gently, “what’s the last thing you remember?”
“Felipe de Castro sent his forces to overthrow Oklahoma; I was in the palace protecting myself. Freyda, that bitch, had already met her True Death.”
“Good riddance!”
Eric chuckles and squeezes Sookie’s hand before continuing his story. “With Freyda gone, I was finally free; there was no one left to control me. My maker was gone; the contract with Oklahoma was no more. I could return to Louisiana; I could see my progenies once again.” Eric squeezes Sookie’s hand again, his eyes staring intently in hers. “I could return to my true wife, the wife of my heart; the one that had been stolen from me.”
Tears fill Sookie’s eyes at Eric’s words. They were a balm to her tattered heart; she needed to hear it after all this time. She’d been humiliated publicly with their divorce; decimated privately with Eric’s attempt to get her to hate him. And it had worked . . . for a time. Eventually Sookie had come to realize that Eric had said everything he did that evening so she wouldn’t miss him, so she wouldn’t spend time mourning the death of their relationship. Eric had wanted her to go on with her life; to live a life free of vampire politics. To him, an extra hundred years of servitude seemed a small thing to give up so that Sookie would stay safe. But there was one thing Eric failed to realize, there is no getting over Eric Northman. Even when she hated him, Sookie still loved Eric and that love had only grown as the days passed.
Eric’s voice pulls Sookie from her thoughts. “I was ready to surrender when I was staked by de Castro himself. The next thing I knew I was lying in this bed.” Eric’s voice is filled with rage as he thinks of the cape-wearing vampire responsible for the deaths of so many. Only a coward would end another when their sword was lowered in surrender.
Sookie remains quiet while Eric works through his emotions concerning de Castro. She had never liked the King of Nevada. He was responsible for the final deaths of many vampires that she cared for. He was completely useless when it came to the problems they had with Victor Madden. But the biggest sin in Sookie’s eyes was taking Eric away from her; he could have voided the contract Appius had made with Oklahoma, but he did not. Felipe de Castro wanted Eric gone from his kingdom because he knew it was only a matter of time before Eric took a stand against him.
“Lover,” Eric’s voice is rough with emotion and causes a shiver along Sookie’s spine. “How did you come to be here?” He had been so lost in thoughts of his own death that it took him some time to realize that for Sookie to be here, she must have died too.
“Bill,” Sookie says in disgust and Eric snarls in rage as his fangs drop. “I’m guessin’ he knew about de Castro’s plan for Oklahoma. He came to the bar to warn me. My first thought was to pray for your safety,” Sookie admits with a smile.
Eric releases Sookie’s hands to cup her face tenderly. “Always worried about others first,” he admonishes. “When will you learn to worry about yourself first?” Eric leans down to kiss her forehead before releasing her face.
Sookie’s smile becomes self-deprecating. “I suppose I don’t have to worry about that now,” she says ruefully. “Sam told me to head home; he was gonna call Terry to cover for him and then he would be at my house. Bill said he’d escort me home to make sure I was safe.” Her tone of voice became sarcastic when uttering the final word. “Part of me must have suspected something though. I grabbed my purse out of Sam’s office. However, before I left, I called Niall and left a message about the attack in Oklahoma. I remember how angry he was with me that we didn’t notify him the last time.”
Sookie sighs heavily before continuing. “Bill was tense the whole way home, but that’s not unusual for him; I thought he was worried about the situation in Oklahoma. When we stopped at my house, I scanned to see if we were alone. Once I told him no one else was around, he smiled coldly.” She shivers in both fear and disgust at the memory of her first love. Eric wraps his arms around her to provide comfort and support; he can already guess how this story will end.
Sookie’s words are muffled by his chest as she continues, her tears soaking the cotton of his shirt. “He grabbed me and dragged me into the woods; he’d already dug a hole. His hand was over my mouth to muffle my screams . . . just like in Jackson,” she whispers hoarsely. “I remember him draining me . . . then laying me on the ground with him above me, ready to give me his blood. But then he was gone; Sam, Alcide, and a few others were attacking Bill. I think Niall was there also because Bill exploded in a ball of light. The next thing I remember is waking up here.” Sookie leans back so Eric can see her tear-stained face. He has gone still as a statue and has locked down all his emotions. The overwhelming urge is to seek out Compton in the afterlife and kill him again; just as he should have done all those years ago. Shame also spreads to every recess of his body; once again Sookie was in the crosshairs and he had not been there to prevent it!
“Stop it!” Sookie’s words force Eric’s eyes to rise from their lowered position, and he arches an eyebrow, silently questioning the meaning of her words.
She grasps his face between her hands, pulling him closer to her. “I haven’t felt you in over five years Eric; do not shut me out now!”
“Sookie,” he says her name as a warning.
“Eric,” she counters hotly. His lips twitch involuntarily as he sees the passion and fire that first captivated him. “It wasn’t your fault; none of this was your fault!”
Eric shoots up off the bed, pacing like a caged animal before wheeling around to shout in frustration. “How can you say that? EVERYTHING that has happened is my fault! Appius made that contract with Oklahoma to control me; he had felt the love and happiness I shared with you and wanted to take it away from me. He wanted to crush me by proving that he would always control me, making sure that I would never be truly free or happy. When he was gone, I thought I was finally free; all I had to worry about was my obligation to the state of Louisiana. But I was working to find a way out of the contract. I knew de Castro would cause further problems for us, so I was looking for alternate plans. I was working to see if we could seek asylum in Mississippi or Texas; both owed us favors and they respected you. But Appius proved that he could still control me even in his True Death. I hid the marriage contract from you not because I wanted to be a royal consort, but because I was ashamed and scared; I didn’t want to lose you.” Eric’s voice which had been so impassioned suddenly dropped to a whisper. “But I did anyway . . . I did everything I could to make sure you were protected and free to live the life you wanted. Still I failed you . . .”
Sookie stares at him incredulously from the bed. Her voice is shrill as she begins speaking. “You think you’re the only one to blame for this? I had the cluviel dor; I should have used it to save you, but I didn’t. I was too stubborn and proud; I thought if you really loved me, then you’d find a way to break the contract. By going through with the marriage, I thought you were trying to prove to me that you loved your power and position in vampire politics more than me. I was a fucking idiot!” Sookie’s frustrated shout echoes in the otherwise silent room. Taking a deep breath, she visibly relaxes her position on the bed and resumes speaking at a normal volume. “It wasn’t until after all the dust settled that I truly understood what happened. Mr. Cataliades and Niall sat me down and explained the situation you were in, everything you had given up to protect me. That was when I ended things with Sam. Yes, I loved him and I used the cluviel dor to save him, but I was never in love with him.” With a sigh she continues, “When I was just a waitress in a backwoods town he was something nice to look at and fantasize about. Maybe if vampires never entered my life, we’d have been happy together; but it would have been me settling for the best of what was available to me. I think Sam even knew while we were together it wasn’t good. When things ended between us, we were both . . . relieved. It didn’t take us long at all to get back into the dynamic of bein’ friends; hell, I’m the one that set him up on the date with the woman that became his wife!” Sookie finishes talking with a chuckle, recalling Sam’s reluctance to approach Jessica, the beautiful redhead that had walked into his heart the moment he met her.
“So where does that leave us?” Eric stands in the middle of the room with his hands in his pockets. For once, his confidence has deserted him. He longs for the woman on the bed with every fiber of his soul; he never expected to have this chance with her.
“I’m still the girl in the white dress,” she says plucking at the skirt of her dress spread across her legs. She rises from the bed and walks towards the man she loves; Eric may be a vampire, but she has always seen the man he is beneath the fangs, just as he has always seen the woman beneath the fairy.
“That walked into my bar,” Eric says wistfully as Sookie stops in front of him. She places a hand over where his heart should beat. Her beautiful eyes shining with love for him.
“We had a really shitty life together Eric; everything and everyone conspired to keep us apart. Is it so wrong that in our afterlife we finally get to have the life we were meant to have? One where you and I can love each other without fear or reservations,” she whispers hopefully.
Eric’s arms wrap around Sookie, pulling her flush against his body, as his lips capture hers. Finally, they both think to themselves as they sigh into each other’s mouths. Eric’s lips move slowly along Sookie’s, savoring both the taste and feel of her once again. So sweet, he thinks as he slides his tongue along her lower lip, seeking permission to enter. Sookie’s mouth opens with a moan, and he slips inside to continue his exploration. Eric is savoring her, as one would a fine wine; his tongue moves in a slow, sensual dance with hers as his hands ghost over her skin, not quite touching her fully, but arousing her all the same. He finally has Sookie in his arms again and he is not going to rush the experience.
Eric’s desire to move slowly frustrates Sookie; she is in a frenzy to have him this instant. If he doesn’t make love to me soon, I’ll burn to a cinder she thinks as she moans again. Her hands grip his hair tightly and she rubs her body against his sinfully. Her nipples are stiffened peaks beneath the thin layer of her sundress and her underwear is steadily becoming wetter as her arousal flows out of her body.
Eric growls deep in his throat as he smells the sweet honey that is flowing between Sookie’s thighs. Never has he tasted anything as delicious, and now he will never be without it again. Chuckling at the urgency coming from his mate, Eric’s hands begin lifting the skirt of her dress, the fabric slithering against Sookie’s heated skin causing her to moan and shiver. YES is all she can think in her head.
A knock at the door sounds.
“GODDAMN IT!!!!” Sookie shouts in frustration as she and Eric separate. Her beautiful Viking is doing some cursing of his own though it is all in Swedish. Eric strides quickly to the door and flings it open so hard that it bounces against the wall and ricochets back to hit him in the arm.
A woman in a white robe stands in the doorway. Her lips twitch with humor. “Am I interrupting something?”
“Who are you?” Eric is fighting the urge not to kill the woman in front of him. He may have been taking his time with Sookie, but that doesn’t mean the urge to claim his mate in the most primal of ways wasn’t scratching and clawing at him to get on with it.
The woman smiles faintly though her gray eyes show a slight pain. “I’m the reason the two of you are here.”
Sookie comes rushing over to the door, her irritation at being interrupted forgotten. She looks into the kind gray eyes of the blonde woman before her. “I’m sorry, but have we met before? You seem awfully familiar.”
“We have met before . . . a long time ago. If you would please come with me, I can explain everything. I am sure you both have questions.” The woman moves away from the door and back into the hallway. Sookie and Eric share a look of curiosity before joining her in the hallway.
The woman walks sedately down the hallway, almost as if she is gliding above the floor. Sookie and Eric follow closely behind her, curious about all the pictures on the walls; the pictures are of the two of them and the people that were most important to them. However, the pictures were mainly of scenarios that had never occurred for them. Sookie looks ready to ask questions but Eric shakes his head to stop her; he knows the woman in the robe will reveal everything when she is ready.
The robed woman stops outside of an open door and turns to gesture for Eric and Sookie to enter. Grasping Eric’s hand tightly, Sookie leads the way into the room and gasps in shock; it is the largest library she has ever seen. The ceiling is so high that Sookie cannot even see the top of it in the dim lighting. She is amazed to see all of the books, ranging from the classics to modern day; her Gran had instilled in her a keen appreciation of literature. Eric looks around avidly; there are hundreds if not thousands of first editions on the shelves, in many different languages. There are also other famous artifacts and works of art in the room. It is a collection that every museum around the world would kill to have its hands on. There are some items in the room that he would have killed to possess.
A large object in the corner of the room catches his eye. Unable to resist, he moves towards the historic instrument. “Is that a replica of the Guttenberg printing press?”
The robed woman has been standing by the door smiling as she watches the two lovers investigate the room. “No Viking; that is the press that Johan Guttenberg used to print the Holy Bible.” She walks into the room and pulls a book off one of the shelves. She turns to offer the book to Eric, “I think this will interest you as well.”
Eric takes the offered item and gasps in surprise; it is a first edition of Clarissa. Sookie stands by his arm and looks at the book. “What is it Eric?”
He swallows the large lump that is suddenly lodged in his throat. “It’s a book,” he says hoarsely. “Clarissa has been my unicorn; I’ve searched high and low for a first edition but could never find one.” He looks around in awe. “What is this place?”
“It’s your home, or what should have been your home in Louisiana. In other versions of the braid, this is the house the two of you resided in together on Cross Lake.”
The bonded mates ask in unison, “The braid?”
The woman gestures towards the seating area in the library. “I think we should all sit down; this will take some time to explain.”
Eric and Sookie move to the couch, his arm going around her pulling her against his side. Her arm moves around his back, her hand resting lightly against his award-winning butt. Her other hand rests on his thigh. They both look expectantly at the woman that can provide them with all the answers they need.
The woman sits in a comfortable leather chair, a true smile on her face as she sees the lovers wrapped up in each other. “It is good to see the two of you like this, even if it is here in the afterlife. You two were destined to be together in every realm that exists.” Sookie opens her mouth but the robed woman stops her by holding her hand up in a stop motion. “Please let me explain and then you may ask me all the questions you desire.”
“You both understand that the Fae live in another realm, yes?” Both nod, so she continues her story. “There are many parallel universes that coexist at the same time; the differences between universes can be attributed to the most minor of decisions. What would happen if I turned right instead of left . . . yes instead of no . . . Or something even as simple as a coin flip,” she says producing a coin from her robes. “Eric, how did you come to be in Louisiana?”
“Pam and I flipped a coin . . . It was either Los Angeles or New Orleans.”
“Have you ever wondered how different your existence would have been if it had been Los Angeles?”
“I suppose I never gave it much thought until now,” he admits honestly.
The third blonde in the room smiles before speaking. “I am getting ahead of myself here. As I said parallel universes do exist, though most never even know about the others. Because of what you are my dear,” she says to Sookie, “you have the ability to enter the braid as the Fae call it. The braid consists of all the different parallel universes woven together. The Fae have the unique ability to move between the parallels, forewarning their other selves about possible dangers that may lie ahead. In your case, the two of you as well as those closest to you have been able to enter the braid.”
“Why did we never enter the braid? And why were we never visited by our other selves?” Eric is angry; if they had been warned, they could have prevented all the obstacles they have been forces to endure.
“There are always those that will work against you, just as there are those that will be there to help you. In some strands of the braid, Sophie-Anne was an enemy; in yours, she was an ally. There are versions where Sookie’s parents lived but Gran died; Pam met her True Death; Sookie was married with children. As I said, it all comes down to the choices we make.”
“So why are we here now?” Sookie asks after digesting all the information that has been presented to them.
The robed woman sighs before standing from her chair. “You are here because this is the only way I could help the two of you be together in this strand as you were meant to be. This is the final strand of the braid; this is the only universe in which the two of you had not found your way to each other. Once the two of you had bonded, you should have been indestructible. All of the other strands in the braid have the two of you as bonded mates, and no one has been able to defeat you. I do not know what went wrong this time.”
“So what do we do now?”
“You love each other the way you were meant to; spending eternity in the arms of the one you love. You may enter the braid to help the other versions of yourselves avoid making the same mistakes as the two of you did. The other versions of you two have created journals describing all of their adventures in the braid and the information they have found; they call them skips. But you will stay here for all time though I am sure those closest to you will join you here eventually; it is my final gift to the two of you.” The woman makes her way to the door, intending to leave the bonded pair alone.
Sookie jumps up from the couch, ready to run after the woman. “Wait!!!!! Who are you?”
The woman turns around and smiles. “My name is Angela; I am the one that created the braid.”
It truly is amazing the stuff you can find on the internet. I searched Alexander Skarsgard leprechaun and the picture above is what popped up. I think it is fitting for today. Sorry I missed posting last week, but Daylight Savings in the USA screwed me up. Losing one hour completely wrecked my week. I…
Can someone please explain to me why I am seeing more snow in March than I did in the entire months of December and January???? I should be getting ready for spring, not worrying about shoveling 8 inches of snow. The only way snow in March is acceptable is if it this is part of…
Hello lovelies. I cannot guarantee I will be back to publishing weekly, but I will try. My dear beta, kleannhouse, is in high demand trying to juggle the stories of three writers. She is amazing and she makes me laugh with all of her comments on my stories. This one especially. I started this story…
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Godric in any of my TB fics
