It just wasn’t fair! His Sookie, TURNED! How did this happen?
As he heard it that fucking Eric Northman was her maker. At the thought his fangs ran out and he really wanted to hurt something. If he had known she wanted to become Vampire he would have gladly turned her but nooooooooooooo, it was Eric Northman! Damn him, damn her too for that matter!
Who was he kidding? He loved her, whether she believed him or not. He would have died for her. He would have created for her. He had shown his loyalty time and time again but she would not, could not, trust him. Why? Because their relationship had started out as a lie even though it didn’t end up as one, at least to him it didn’t end up as a lie.
It was all that damned Sophie Ann’s fault! She was the one who sent him here, demanded that he seduce Sookie, become her lover if he must but under no circumstances drink from her. Yeah, right, not drink from such an enchanting person? Not sample her intoxicating scent? She already knew that he was weak so he didn’t know why she had given him such an impossible task.
He was a fool and he knew it, none better.
She was turned nearly a year ago. She hadn’t written, hadn’t called, hadn’t come by. She seemed to have disappeared. He didn’t think she would have even bothered to let him know she had become what he despised in himself if he hadn’t been there to witness it for himself.
It was the final battle between those trying to take over Las Vegas and De Castro’s people. It was a bloody mess afterwards but all he really saw was Sookie in the middle of the battle field, nearly lifeless, surrounded by flaking vampires, naked shifters, Weres and Eric. She was cradled in Eric’s arms as a baby would be. She was covered head to toe in blood, both hers and their enemies. He couldn’t quite catch her words but she was murmuring something to Eric, something which put a smile on his face. He gently lay her down in the middle of the battle field, bent his head to her neck and started draining her.
As soon as he registered what it was that Eric was doing Bill charged down upon them, trying to throw Eric off her, wanting to either prevent her turning or turn her himself. Unfortunately, for Bill, Eric was more than a match for him. That smart mouthed bitch Pam was there to, preventing him from getting any where near HIS Sookie!
“Bill, it’s what she wants now, get lost. Go find someone else to obsess over”, she snarked, her gaze never leaving him for a moment because she knew, she KNEW, that he would rather die himself than let her become what he, himself, loathed.
He was crouching, trying to find a way around Pam, trying to figure out a way to get Eric to stop but he was too late. Eric was putting his bleeding wrist to Sookie’s lips. He watched, transfixed, as the drops fell between her slightly parted lips. He watched as her good arm came up to hold his wrist steady against her lips so she could drink more deeply than she had ever drunk before.
When it was done Eric lifted her as gently as a parent lifts a new born babe, turned and walked away from him, carrying his Sookie away from him, now gone forever.
Bloody tears were streaming down his face. He was finally defeated. His shoulders slumped and he shambled away, swatting the tears angrily.
After more than a week he finally made his way home where he walled himself away from the world. He didn’t turn on his computers, he didn’t go for walks in the moon light, he didn’t check on Sookie’s house, he didn’t do much of anything except mope and become more and more depressed as he contemplated his life since Sookie had come into it.
She had brought much sunshine and laughter where ever she went and a rare smile from her heart was enough to light up your life for a month but now he no longer had even the comfort of knowing she was just across the cemetery from him. That damned Eric had taken her some where far away from him, he knew not where.
The months passed in a haze, a haze he didn’t seem to be aware of. His day time slumber was filled with dreams of what might have been, what had been. Instead of his bed or the hole under his house he buried himself in the Stackhouse plot of the cemetery so he could at least feel near her in some fashion.
Finally, after a year of not feeding, not hearing from or about her he gave up all hope.
On the morning of the anniversary of that awful night he made the first coherent decision he had made in all that time.
He stood on her grave and met the sun, he was no more.