A/N: What am I doing starting yet another fanfic? Ugh, I really dunno. I'm sure something is wrong with me, or my muse, but this plot bunny called out to me and here I am. Thanks to my betas, rachel olsen-williams and mrskroy. I dunno what I'd do without them cheering me on.

"Does it… have a name?"

Not anymore – I thought darkly to myself.

But IT does have a wooden stake tucked up its sleeve.

"You can name it if you want, but I believe that sort of familiarity only breeds attachment. I have preferred to treat it like an object – nothing more than a means to an end."

Blah blah blah.

I'd never been one for mindless banter, or semi-witty repartee. If she was finally selling me to another vampire, then come hell or high water I wanted it to be over. It's not like I had anything else to lose. But instead of clucking my tongue – to impatiently point out that time was ticking away – I bit it, but not so hard that it bled. That'd likely be dangerous, given the circumstances.

Who was I kidding?

I prolly had less than hours, possibly minutes, left to live – especially considering what I had planned.

"Perhaps, I would like to find myself attached to it."

The blonde-haired vampire said, as he wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

Gross.

He was pretty much a monster in my eyes; a hot monster, but a monster all the same.

"Whatever floats your boat, Sheriff."

I remained quiet – eyes down-ish – seemingly docile during their whole exchange, as I bided my time.

The only thing I really had on my side was the element of surprise.

I thumbed at the sharp tip of the stake hidden underneath my cardigan, grateful that my vampire master had been dumb enough to leave me alone with a zester – for gosh knows what reason – and a wooden-legged chair. Like I wasn't motivated to escape, or ingenuitive. Freaking short-sighted idiot.

It'd been an absolute bitch to fashion a shiv using the two, but it'd been worth it.

Or at least it was about to be.

She pushed me forward, abruptly – vampire speed being what it was – causing me to stumble gracelessly towards the Sheriff apparently. Seemingly, she was handing me over without a fight, and without really getting much of anything in return. Honestly, I didn't wanna be worth a pretty penny, but damn if it didn't smart to be considered essentially worthless all the same.

Were telepaths basically a dime a dozen?

Because I'd never had the pleasure of meeting one before.

"Its name."

He reiterated demandingly, crossing his arms about his chest as I heard her huff rudely behind me – obviously and overtly put off by his dogged insistence on knowing my name.

Does he actually want to know? – I wondered.

Seconds before I decided that thought was just inane, and crazy stupid.

Of course, he didn't, but the possibility he did threw her off for a moment – just as it had me.

I finally had an opening, one moment to take – to strike.

So I did. Pivoting on my heel, I whipped the stake out of my sleeve and plunged it into the chest of my previous captor. I watched as her previously smirking face turned into a scowl milliseconds before she burst into an unavoidable torrent of goo. Feeling free but anxious – and kinda gross. My chest thundered so harshly I thought that I might die, but I wasn't outta the doghouse yet. Letting the physical shock still me only momentarily, I raised my arm once again to take out the Sheriff only to find my whole body lifted, and then twisted around – my hands raised high above my head, wrists pinned against one another – painfully.

Fuck.

I'd completely forgotten about vamp speed.

Slipping from my increasingly numbing fingers, the blood-covered stake clattered unceremoniously to the ground, bouncing tip to base in a reverberating pattern until it stilled silently on the concreted floor.

"Miss Stackhouse."

The Sheriff cooed intimidatingly, his lips dangerously close to my ear – my exposed neck – causing a full-body shudder to roll through me from my head to the tips of my toes.

How the hell did he know my last name?

That's what had me worried?

Priorities, Sookie!

"Diane mentioned that you were bad, but never that you were so… feisty. I think I quite like it."

"Fuck you!"

I hissed back – self-preservation be damned – as I squirmed in his unyielding hold, his arms constricting in an effort to still me, which in turn caused me to fight against his grasp even harder.

I mean, I'd just finally ended a freaking vampire, so I was thinking death was pretty imminent anyway – why not provoke it?

Staying alive longer seemed like asking for all kinds of torture and pain.

And, in spite of everything, I wasn't a masochist, so no – just no.

As I continued to struggle, his arms firmly tucked under my armpits, the blonde vampire laughed – a full-on fucking chortle – as if I'd amused him somehow, before curling one hand about my neck.

"It would be so easy."

He mused languidly, tightening his grip only momentarily before loosening it, thumbing at the pulse point and unhealed bite marks on my throat – tracing the latter reverently.

Or possibly solemnly.

Truly, I couldn't tell which.

"No one will miss me."

I realized sadly, going limp as tears slipped traitorously from the corners of my eyes – betraying my resolve to stay strong and impassive.

There likely wouldn't be any repercussions, or fallout for the vampire at all in fact.

Lucky him.

Gran had died years ago from congenital heart failure – God rest her soul. The chances I hadn't already been fired from my job for excessive absenteeism thanks to Diane and the month she'd spent terrorizing me were slim to none. Ugh, who was I kidding? Just none. And although I had a brother, he… well, to say Jason didn't really care would be putting it mildly. At best.

Maybe I was a bit of a masochist for telling a vampire he'd be a-okay to kill me.

But it was still hundred times better than the alternative.

"What a pity… for you."

He mock-consoled, sliding his hand up to my chin to force my head up and towards him – sarcasm rich in his arrogant tone.

I'm pitiful.

The description felt surprisingly apropos.

"I should end you, for what you've done, for your indiscretion against Diane – a vampire in my retinue," His what now? "…especially since you appear to be little more than a blood bag," well thanks for that – I sneered internally, careful otherwise to hold my tongue, "but you seem to have drawn some… interest from… someone high above my pay-grade," he laughed, assumedly because he'd used a very human phrase, "which prevents me from exacting the justice you have aptly earned."

I deserved to die apparently, but I wasn't going to get to experience that reprieve any time soon.

I thought desolately, abandoning all hope as I looked up and into his stony blue eyes.

As the Sheriff's unexpected diatribe ended, he dropped me unceremoniously – fuck vamp speed – to the ground and onto my knees. Ignoring the sharp torrent of pain, I instinctually scrambled backwards and away from him, harshly scraping my elbows against the random pebbles lodged in the dirt. Ugh, more pain. I couldn't help but also gasp for breath – anxiety overtaking me – even though he'd never been choking me that hard. But honestly, I found it impossible to breathe at all, as a panic attack swelled and burst within my chest – fear clouding my addled mind.

There are fates worse than death – my Gran had always said.

As always, she was right.

"You will get yourself under control, Miss Stackhouse."

The vampire whispered commandingly, almost hissing – like it was just that easy – as he placed his cool hand onto my back and began to drag it up and down in nonconcentric circles.

No. No. NO!

This was not happening.

I flinched away from him, even as my breathing became haggard, backing up once again – dirt kicking up into a small, but swirling cloud – while the Sheriff crossed his arms across his broad chest – a universal sign I took as "I give up." Placing my own hand over my chest, my heart pounding against my rib cage, I closed my eyes and tried to imagine my happy place. Did I have a fucking happy place? The easy answer was no.

So of course it didn't work.

"Are you always so fucking difficult?"

He asked irritated, before dropping down on his butt and pulling me like a rag doll into his lap, caging me there with one arm curled about my waist as the other hand resumed its previous ministrations.

Depends on your definition of difficult.

I thought in response as I blew out, and sucked in, short steeling breaths, my chest burning something fierce like it'd been captured in a vice grip.

Slowly but surely, my diaphragm began to stop contracting painfully – even stilling to some extent – and I regained the ability to breathe without fear of fainting. The vampire's hand was gone from my back and he was suddenly towering over me – God only knows when that happened – his face awash with anger and something… unreadable. Ugh, grumpy Gus was still here, gumming up the works – so to speak.

Really, did he ever fucking smile?

I'd bet my life the answer to that was a resounding no.

"Now that you are no longer attempting to asphyxiate yourself, Miss Stackhouse," Oh, is that what we're gonna call it? "I would like for you to tell me what makes you so special."

The Sheriff instructed evenly, his nearly hypnotically blue eyes boring purposefully into mine – his altogether lack of a request blatantly clear.

Shit, that Jedi mind-trick bullshit wasn't just something Diane thought only she could pull with me.

Which meant I was in a shit-ton of trouble right now.

"Ummm…"

I hummed waveringly, hoping I sounded entranced or compelled or whatever the hell that look was supposed to accomplish – but also not knowing what the hell to say.

Because I couldn't lie for shit, not even if my life depended on it.

Which it did… so... fuck.