A/N: Friendly Reminder: Vote, Comment, Follow

When I finally got home, I flopped down on the couch (which, as I remembered with annoyance, I had meant to get rid of long ago) and found myself once again frustrated by how comfortable it was. I could have dozed off right then and there.

After leaving the kids with a frazzled Arlene, it was supposed to be time for me to handle my own business. Supposed to be being the key phrase. 

But instead, one memory after another flashed before my eyes—memories of surviving terrible foster homes. Those who fed and clothed their foster kids decently would definitely have nothing left of the government money by the end of the month. So, anyone looking to make a profit off us had to cut some corners. I knew Arlene really tried with her kids... most of the time. But she could be selfish at times just as well, especially when it came to her love life. 

Her kids were self-sufficient. Way more self-sufficient than kids their age should be. My heart was still pounding with the barely restrained anger flowing through me. 

Not my circus, not my monkeys. Not my circus, not my monkeys... 

The kids were alright. I had given Toby my card. There wasn't anything I could do right now and I wasn't in the position to intervene. I'd done all I could for the time being, but it was hard to let go when you knew what neglect, true neglect felt like. 

I shuddered. Never again. That time was behind me. 

Looking for a distraction, I glanced around the room, my eyes landing on the scribbled wall through my open bedroom door. Today's to-do list? Enhance the house's security. After all, someone had broken in without me even noticing.

A quick trip to Walmart's electronics section and with me being 300 dollars lighter, that task was done. As was I. Exhausted and at my wits' end, I dragged myself through a grocery run, grabbing a few extra microwave meals for Arlene's kids, then headed home, utterly spent. Despite myself, I ended up back on the couch, face down, feet dangling over the edge. Lying on my stomach—an uncomfortable position, you'd think. But still, my eyes drooped, and my limbs grew heavy. 

Time for a nap?

Nope. My swirling thoughts screamed at me, refusing to let me rest. I thought of my crazy dreams, the message on my mirror, and my messed-up childhood. My stomach clenched—not from hunger, but from remembering it—and I grimaced. I hoisted myself up and trudged to the half-off-its-hinges cabinet in the kitchen to pour myself (yet another) large glass of bourbon.

"As soon as all this shit calms down, I'll drink less," I declared solemnly to the empty room, raising the burning liquid to my lips. "Promise. I don't have a problem... yet." The first sip eased my nerves a bit. Bottle in hand, I settled back on the couch.

God, if Tom could see me now... "But he can't. Because he's dead! Woohoo!" Another swig. One for the pain and another for the guilt. Slowly, a fuzzy warmth spread through my veins.

Bored, frustrated, and jittery all at once, I channel-surfed.

Feeling empty?

Yup.

Don't know what to do with yourself?

You bet!

Is life just too much sometimes?

Had the ad writer read my diary?

Talk to your doctor about Prozac, the leading antidepressant.

Groaning, I threw my head back and turned off the TV. None of this was helping.

I was stuck. Between Tom and Eric or James and Eric, Lafayette and Eric... Damn it, between Sookie and Eric.

Summary: Many of my problems would be solved if the big old Viking simply vanished. And that had been the plan! But my heart—or some part of me—wasn't in it anymore. So, what now?

I could pack up, make peace with Tom's death, and move on to avoid James—though he wasn't an immediate threat, my experiences with him told me it was only a matter of time. Or I could just kill Eric. Unexpectedly. Decisively.

Lafayette wouldn't have to worry about his life, and Sookie would be free of her debt. Peachy. One less blood-sucking vampire in the world. Not even a real murder, right? Technically he'd been dead for centuries. And Eric certainly wasn't innocent. Hell, I bet he'd killed more people in his human life than the average American serial killer.

Yet the mere thought of driving a stake through him made my heart clench painfully before pounding as if I'd run a marathon. Frowning, I stared down at the useless thing in my chest. This couldn't be real! The bottle in my hand was already a third empty, and my head grew foggier. My racing thoughts slowed, my eyes grew heavier.

So far, so good. What alcohol ads fail to mention is that under its influence, all the carefully suppressed feelings resurface—interfering with my goal to "numb" myself.

So, here I was, on the couch, jittery and nearly panicking without really knowing why. Sure, I was constantly sad about Tom, angry or scared because of James, and guilty because of Lafayette. Or Sookie. Or Eric. I didn't know. Guilt was definitely part of the cocktail. But none of these feelings were new; they'd dulled over time. But what I felt now was fresh.

Gasping, I pressed a hand to my heart, wiping tears from my eyes. It felt like my heart would burst from my chest. I could barely stop my feet from springing up and running to the door.

"What the hell..."

Alcohol usually had a paralyzing effect, not an invigorating one. Everything had been upside down for days. Restless, I got up and paced the room like a caged tiger. With passing hours the pain seemed to grow, with no clear root whatsoever. The walls of my home seemed to close in on me, the calm of my apartment suffocating. So much for a relaxed evening off; I might as well work. I called Sam, who picked up after the fifth ring, slightly breathless.

His answer was practically a bark. "Merlotte's!"

The background noise was so loud I could barely hear him. "Sam?"

"Ash?" he yelled back. How he understood me over the noise was a mystery. "Thank God you called. Think you could cover a shift? It's chaos here..."

"I can hear that! What on earth is going on?" Relief washed over me so strongly I almost lost my balance. Was this what bipolar disorder felt like? I was no longer in control of my emotions, feeling alien...

Shaking my head, I tried to focus on Sam, but all I caught were snippets like "completely insane,  "possessed," and "Andy Bellefleur!"

This made no sense. But if he wanted me to deal with a completely insane, possessed Andy Bellefleur, I was game. 

"I'm on my way!" I shouted back into the phone, unsure if Sam heard me, then hung up and grabbed my car keys. Only in the car did I remember I'd been drinking and hesitated. I hadn't just drunk a little; I'd drunk a lot. But we were in the countryside, and the roads were always empty. And I felt fine, really!

I blinked a few times and shook my head to test my reflexes. Honestly, my conflicting emotions (right now, I felt almost energized) were more unsettling than the alcohol in my blood. Still, it didn't feel right. 

"Is there such a thing as Uber here?" I muttered to the empty room, rubbing my head. When there was a knock on my window, I almost banged my head again.

A broadly grinning Megs peered in, her eyes sparkling with excitement, making me seriously wonder what drugs she might have taken. "Ashley, Ash. Ashilein!" she sang as she yanked open my door, signaling me to get out. "Always the damsel in distress, I see!"

Stunned, I got out.

"How... What... Huh?" I managed very eloquently.

Megs hurried me around to the passenger side, gesturing impatiently for me to get in after opening the door.

"Come on, Ash, I don't have all night to play Driving Miss Daisy!" she muttered.

So I got in. And not half a minute later, we sped off down the gravel roads toward Merlotte's in silence.

"Megs?!" I eventually broke the silence when she offered no explanation.

"Yes?"

"What are you DOING here?"

She looked at me like I was a bit slow and a bit crazy.

"I know you've been drinking, but I didn't realize you were that out of it. I'm driving, silly."

She drew out the last words as if I were not quite right in the head. I rolled my eyes. "I can see that."

"Then what's the question?"

"Megs! I mean, why are you here? Now? Driving me to work."

She sighed. "I keep forgetting you have no idea what you're involved in—"

Involved in? What was I involved in?

"—anyway, you need my help, and I'm here. So be grateful!"

I rolled my eyes. "No, Megs, seriously. Do you have some kind of radar that tells you when to show up?" It was meant as a joke, but Megs bodylanguage shifted in a way that had my senses on alert. 

She wiggled her nose as if it itched, suppressing a grin. "Something like that..."

I crossed my arms and snorted. Pfft. So she wanted to stay cryptic. I could find out what the hell was going on myself. I WOULD find out what was going on. 

Megs, sensing my mood (or my thoughts), rolled her eyes.

"Have some faith! Everything in its time, okay? Oh, and don't be so melodramatic, Ash! It makes you seem pathetic. Just be glad I'm driving you and distracting you from your dark thoughts!"

She cranked the window down with one hand while barely holding the steering wheel with two fingers as we sped down the bumpy, poorly paved road. Then she turned and grabbed something from the back seat, making me squeak and reach for the wheel when she let go entirely for a moment.

"Jeez, Megs!"

"Sooorry! All good. We're still alive!"

"But not because of your driving! I'd have been better off driving drunk!" I nearly yelled, heart pounding. Now it was Megs' turn to snort.

"Trust me a little, will you?" she grumbled, pouting, while I stared at her wide-eyed.

"We barely know each other, you crazy nut job !" I protested. 
She laughed. "Crazy nut job? Seriously? That's almost cute!"
My next response was a mix between an angry snort and a resigned sigh. Arguing was pointless. Besides, her high-energy vibe made me involuntary grin.
"Just keep your eyes on the road, okay?" I sighed, deciding to close mine for the rest of the ride.
In my next life, I'd only make friends as mortal as me. Maybe they'd have more respect for life. All supernatural being I had met this far had brought along a shit tone of baggage and a lot of attitude. 
Megs hummed along to the current songs on the radio. Thanks to the local classic rock station, we were treated to Queen's "Don't Stop Me Now" as my freshly fixed car bumped along, trying to soften the blows of potholes Megs didn't even try to surpass. We arrived in just under ten minutes—for a trip that usually took me at least twenty.
As I got out, I resisted the urge to kiss the ground beneath my feet. A closer look at the pavement quickly dispelled the thought; someone had missed the bushes and vomited directly on the parking lot. Lovely.
"It's not too late, I can take you back home!" Megs , following my gaze, offered, shouting over the noise coming from Merlotte's.
But all that waited for me at home was an empty apartment and my racing thoughts about my dead friend. Friend, singular. Tom.
"No, Sam needs me," I said, using the dear old Sam as an excuse and ignoring Megs' skeptical look. "But thanks for the ride!"
Megs nodded and was about to turn away when I called after her, confused."Wait, you really just wanted to drive me? Don't you want to come in?"
Megs looked at me like I was a bit slow and slightly deranged. "God, no!" She stepped closer and peered into my eyes, a faint purple glow beginning to shine. "You really have no idea, do you?"
I blinked. "About what exactly?"
She waved her hands around. "Can't you feel it?!"
I felt like a high school kid who'd just failed to recite the alphabet. After closing my eyes and only feeling the cool breeze on my skin, I shook my head. Megs pursed her lips.
"Really unusual... Must be a hell of some juju blocking you..." Before I knew it, she yanked out a small strand of my hair and stuffed it into her bag.
"Ouch! Hey!"
She winked at me. "It'll all make sense soon enough," she called over her shoulder, laughing as she skipped into the darkness. Just before she disappeared, she turned back. "Take care, okay? You're really growing on me, it be a shame if you'd be killed already!"
I must have looked stunned because she laughed again and made a dismissive gesture."Whatever. See you!" she called, running off before I realized she'd arrived in my car.
"Megs! MEGS! How are you getting home?" I shouted into the empty parking lot, but there was no answer, no Megs in sight. Startled I turned around, straining my eyes but she was gone. 
And so I stood there, bathed in the cold light of Merlotte's neon sign, seriously wondering if Megs had just hopped on a damn broomstick and flown away.