A/N: Please check the end of the chapter for Triggerwarning

Confused, I stumbled into the bar, muttering, "Just a minute to grab that apron, Sam!" The mere fact that I truly considered Megs riding on a broomstick showed just how absurd the past few weeks had been. Shaking my head, I walked to the front—and then stopped dead in my tracks.

"Lafayette?!"

My voice must have shot up three octaves. Arlene and Sam stared at me like I'd lost my mind (which wasn't far from the truth) as I threw myself at Lafayette, overwhelmed with joy.

"Ugh, chill, hooker!" he grunted, though he returned my hug firmly. I felt surprisingly choked up. 

Though he looked just as he always did—sparkly headscarf and eye makeup that put my attempts to shame—what struck me was how pale he seemed. I turned his face side to side with a hand under his chin, examining him critically. He batted my hand away, irritated. I wanted to gush about how glad I was to see him and that he seemed to be on his feet again, but he spun me around and pushed me toward the kitchen.

"Wa—" was all I managed before he halted us in the storeroom.

"Not. A. Word!"

"Your leg is fine, I thought Eric—"

He clamped a hand over my mouth, eyes filled with fear. "Shh!"

Anger bubbled up within me. Not because he was covering my mouth (though that wasn't great), but because he clearly wasn't as okay as I'd hoped. Miraculously healed leg or not, the signs were unmistakable—he'd been through hell. His eyes bulged with fear, and he looked gaunt, nearly malnourished.

"There's no bullet wound because nothing happened, understood?" Lafayette hissed, looking around nervously. "I was on a cruise!"

"Cruise?"

"A gay cruise. Whatever..."

"But Eric—"

"Fuck, Ash! You're usually quicker on the uptake. Northman is fucking deadly. One wrong word and he'll rip me apart!"

I must have raised an eyebrow skeptically, because Lafayette, exasperated, pounded his fist against the storeroom door. "Fuck no, you got that from him.", he waved his hand in my direction. 

 Lafayette deflated like a punctured balloon, collapsing inward. "Damn it, Ash, this is no game. And Eric, with his pretty packaging, is no angel. More like Lucifer himself!"

The condescending way Lafayette spoke to me grated on my nerves. "I know that!"

"Do you? 'Cause you is making some weird choices in company these days...."

"Of course!"

Unexpectedly, Lafayette pulled me into another hug. When he spoke again, it was a whisper in my ear, urgent and intense. "So, promise Ashley. Not another word. It never happened!"

I wriggled out of his grip.

"You can't just—"

"Shh—"

"But your leg—"

"Hmm!"

Lafayette stared at me, warningly, his fingers held together like a conductor silencing an orchestra. The message was clear. I was to keep my mouth shut. I pouted but said nothing more. Lafayette sighed.

"My leg, I promise, is fine. For both our sakes , nothing happened, hm?" Then he gave me one last squeeze and returned to work. For him, the conversation was over. I ground my teeth, watching him leave, struggling with my self-control.

As soon as he pushed open the storeroom door, the bustle of the bar reached us again. I groaned. How stupid of me to come to the bar on my night off. Quickly, I tied on my apron and followed Lafayette to the front. The noise was deafening.

"I'm still waiting on my two beers, Tara!" Arlene snapped at Tara, who was spinning around behind the counter. "If I worked like you, I'd be fired. Too bad I don't sleep with my boss!"

"Hey!" Sam joined in, and the tension in the air thickened. As a child who had the misfortune of bouncing through several dysfunctional foster families, I wasn't good with conflict, especially with people I cared about. Watching my little surrogate family here at the bar tearing each other apart made my heart race. I usually avoided fights because losing control felt like a natural disaster. I could feel the tension affecting me, but the bar was too crowded to make a quick escape.

"Sleeping with the wrong people, Arlene, you should know all about that!" Tara's cousin chimed in, referencing René. Arlene's face turned the color of her hair. Her response was a performance, her voice raised to ensure nearby patrons could hear.

"Maybe I've made mistakes in my life, like everyone else, but at least they were human mistakes!" She clicked her tongue and scanned Lafayette and me with a disdainful look. "You all get what you deserve."

Whoa. Who pissed in her cheerios? 

The murmurs around us grew louder as Lafayette, despite his dark skin, turned pale. His gaze froze, becoming vacant. I wasn't sure if he was mentally present or lost in past traumas—something no one should ever endure. I growled, feeling defensive. If this were a movie, I'd be pulling out earrings and cracking knuckles in preparation.

Okay, bitch, that's enough!

My nose tingled, and goosebumps spread from my feet to my hair. Arlene seemed to realize she'd crossed a line after glancing my way—though she probably didn't know about Lafayette's recent ordeals. Instead of backing down, she stubbornly jutted her chin out and continued.

"I'm just warning you sweethearts! The 'fuck me' look you give Northman every time he walks in here will get you and everyone you love killed—"

My blood boiled, eyes narrowing to slits as the corners of my vision started to be clouded in a dark red mist. I clenched my fist so tightly that my knuckles cracked. She should really stop talking. But she didn't.

"And one day, someone you love will die because of you."

ZUMM.

"What the—" I exhaled sharply as we were plunged into darkness. The lightbulb above us had burned out, and everything went dark. A loud bang outside the bar made the patrons, and to my satisfaction, Arlene, scream in fright.

"It's okay. Stay calm. It's just the old fuse box outside!" Sam's voice rose above the din, and the frightened voices gradually turned back into disgruntled murmurs.

"Typical!"

"This place is falling apart."

"I'm not paying for my beer with service like this!"

I rolled my eyes.

"Just stay where you are, and I'll fix the fuse!" Sam called out and made his way to the back exit. He must have known the bar like the back of his hand: he didn't bump into a single table edge or box on the floor. After a minute in darkness, chairs began scraping as patrons used their phones to light their way to the exit.

"Hey, you need to pay!" Arlene shouted after a group of middle-aged women dressed like teenagers, but they ignored her.

The crowd in Merlotte's slowly dissipated as, after ten minutes, there was still no light, music, or fans working in the bar. Some patrons had the decency to leave money on the tables, but most disappeared silently into the darkness, using the excuse of a blackout to be disgruntled costumers unwilling to pay for our services – well knowning they'd be back tomorrow. I was to annoyed to blame them.

The unexpected interruption had cooled the heated atmosphere at Merlotte's, but now everyone was giving each other the cold shoulder. Arlene stormed off to collect money from the tables. The new girl craned her neck, looking out the window before strutting out the door. Tara took off her apron and left through the back exit with a muttered "Fuck you all."

"Well, I guess it's just the two of us now," I tried to lighten the mood, nudging Lafayette playfully. But he wasn't in the mood for laughter. His lips were pressed into a thin line, and his face was stony. A thin sheen of sweat covered his skin. It was warm, yes, but it was evening. And Lafayette, who didn't break a sweat in a 110-degree kitchen, looked like he'd run a marathon. Gently, I touched his shoulder.

"Lala?"

A spark of static electricity made us both jump. Lafayette stared at me with wide eyes.

"Run, Ash. Run while you still can!"

And with that, my last colleague turned and left. Couldn't anyone in this damned town ever finish a thought and stop leaving me (literally) in the dark? Frustrated, I scrubbed at the counter in front of me, waiting for my eyes to adjust to the darkness.

When Sam finally returned about twenty minutes later, the bar was nearly empty. He put a friendly arm around my shoulder.

"Go home, Ash, I can handle this."

His gaze drifted past me to the billiard table, where the new waitress was collecting empty beer bottles in a way I found almost provocatively cheap, glancing coquettishly at Sam over her shoulder. So that was it. He wanted to be alone with the new girl. I sighed and rolled my eyes.

"Alright, Sam!"

Probably good for him.

He ground his teeth. "Thanks for stepping in tonight, Ash. Really."

I nodded."Sure, Sam. Anytime!"

And with that, I made my way to my car, fumbling through the dark, deserted parking lot. Apparently, the entire fuse box had given up. Half-blind, I groped my way to my car and let out a relieved breath as I sank into the squeaky seat. The alcohol in my blood had worn off, leaving me with a dull headache but able to drive. The night on Arlene's couch with little sleep was taking its toll, and the emotional rollercoaster had drained me. This time, coming back home to an empty appartement sounded like heaven. 

I turned the key in the ignition, when I caught movement n my peripheral vision.

"Fucking shi—"

I didn't get any further before a familiar chuckle came from my passenger seat, paired with the all-too-familiar click of a gun being cocked to my left. I froze.

"Nice to see you too, darling. Hope you've been enjoying your vacation so far," James purred sarcastically, licking his lips. 

"I must say, Merlotte's has excellent taste in work uniforms," he continued, waving the pistol around as if it were a TV remote and not a deadly weapon.

"But now the vacation is over! Back to work!"

Eric's POV:

The emotions of the little waitress from Bon Temps bubbled up within Eric like an annoying buzz. Apparently, he had underestimated the amount of blood he had given her, as her emotions were startlingly intense. Which wasn't necessarily a bad thing.

Just last night, she seemed to have had a very, VERY pleasant dream. Probably about him. The effects of the blood, along with its side effects, should have been manifesting by now. If he hadn't been miles away, he might have been tempted to pay her another visit, to see if he could help with her "problem."

But he had already made the trip to Bon Temps the night before (not a big deal for a vampire who could fly, but he had more urgent matters than the simple townsfolk). He had only checked on Lafayette because his leg could have gotten him into serious trouble.

Fucking Ginger. Fucking humans.

Who had told her where the gun was kept? She had truly had the last brain cells sucked and glamoured out of her by vampires. He almost felt guilty. Almost. But her boundless loyalty was too useful—except when she started shooting at people who were still important to him. Like Lafayette. At least, he told himself that. After the agitated visits from Sookie AND Ashley, his treatment of the drug dealer had occupied his thoughts. Not much. But like an annoying little alarm, thoughts of Lafayette kept floating through his mind. He was over a thousand years old, he made his decisions deliberately and calculatedly, he reminded himself repeatedly. The fact that he had gone to heal him with his blood was solely due to Lafayette's usefulness in the drug scene. Of course, only out of self-preservation and to prevent unnecessary investigations, he kept telling himself. He hadn't wanted to do anyone a favor. Certainly not the blonde waitresses at Merlotte's.

Where did the shapeshifter always find them? When he thought of his own barmaids, how they willingly laid at his feet, he had to suppress a yawn just at the thought. Maybe the small town did have something to it. He half-listened to the woman across from him, who was trying to capture his attention with incessant chatter.

He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Alright, that's enough!" he barked, and she stood up and left the room. "Pam?"

Without raising his voice, his protégé had heard him and came rushing into the room. "Yes, my Maker?"

With more respect than he had been accustomed to in recent years, she bowed her head to him and awaited his command. She must have noticed that something was off with him in the past few days. Even more off. It certainly had to do with the disappearance of his maker. Godric's disappearance had led him to the farthest corners of Dallas, where he was now waiting in a hotel for further instructions. Waiting: that had never been his strength. He was a man of action, not of waiting. Yes, that must be it.

"Pam, recruit our dear Mr. Reynolds for further business relationships," he ordered, ignoring her raised eyebrow. She was smart enough not to contradict him. He was on edge.

"Don't take it too hard," he almost heard the soft voice of the enigmatic Ashley Simmons in his ear and bit his lip.

It was official. The worry about his maker was driving him crazy. Hopefully, Sookie and the annoying Bill Compton had already made progress in their investigations. Once again, he wondered if Sookie was really worth all the effort he had invested in her. Rarely had he had to try so hard to get what he wanted. Probably part of the appeal was her ability to resist his charms. That was something he rarely encountered. Five, maybe six times in his life. And it rarely ended well.

His chest tightened painfully, and for a second, it felt almost like his dead, silent heart was beating again only to be squeezed back into painful silence with his loss. He knew this pain. He had come to know it over the years but had never gotten used to it: vampires didn't mourn. Not like humans did when they lost someone. Humanity inevitably slipped away the older one got, but sometimes, as he had learned in the last 100 years of his existence, the body remembered. The muscles. The brain. The heart.

They remembered the pain of days long gone and the feeling of a broken heart. It felt like being torn in two before his undead body could heal itself again. Eric took a deep breath, drawing in the oxygen he didn't need, and the constricting feeling slowly but surely dissipated.

Not often in 1000 years had he regretted not being able to consume alcohol, but now he longed for a stiff drink!

There was a knock at the door before the beep of the keycard announced a visitor entering. A small girl stepped inside his suite.

"Compliments of the house, sir!" she squeaked, not daring to look him in the eye as she handed him a trembling note.

Dear Mr. Northman,

We hope you enjoy your stay at the Dallas, the most vampire-friendly hotel in the state. The girl is a compliment of the house. 

Please visit us again soon.

Carmilla Hotel Dallas

She couldn't have been more than eleven years old. One of her long braids was coming loose as she stood trembling before him. Eric's stomach turned. He would have liked to claim that such an atrocity was something he had never encountered in his life, but in his 1000 years, this didn't even make the top ten. In fact, as he knew, virgin blood, especially that of children, was highly sought after in vampire circles. He had been offered supplies for the bar many times over.

But human trafficking of children? That was where he drew the line—despite the ridicule from others.

As gently as possible, he moved toward the girl and knelt in front of her. Making himself look as inconspicuous as possible with his broad shoulders was a challenge in itself.

"What's your name?" he asked calmly, trying to catch her gaze. She had been well-trained and avoided his gaze, which could hypnotize her.

"Madeleine, sir!" she replied breathlessly, her lips pale. Dark shadows lay under her eyes, and her skin seemed pallid. In vampire speed, Eric darted to the minibar and grabbed something labeled "fruit" from the fridge.

He had no idea what he had grabbed, having not given much thought to human food in the last few centuries. Almost not at all. There were exceptions, of course, under certain circumstances.

Eric handed the girl the item, and her eyes widened.

"An orange?" she asked, almost delighted, which only made Eric angrier. When had the girl last had something decent to eat? So surprised by his gesture, she made the mistake of looking up, and Eric caught her gaze, entrancing her. He heard her fluttering heart beat faster in the quiet of the hotel room as she realized her mistake. She tried to resist, to look away again.

"Don't be afraid," he said first, and her heartbeat calmed.

"Very good." He handed her the orange again, which had rolled out of her hand under the hypnosis, and smiled at her reassuringly. "You can eat it if you like."

She smiled back gratefully and began peeling the orange, but did not break eye contact.

"Thank you!"

Her blonde braid had come completely loose on the right side, so Eric took out the left hairband as well and tucked it away. It was better that way.

"Can you tell me what you're doing here?" he asked the girl, and her lips pressed into a thin line.

"Monroe says we're not allowed to say anything," she recited a pre-programmed response. Eric had encountered this kind of reaction before. Since the existence of vampires had become known in the human world, but also in higher, secretive circles of the vampire society, a method had been developed to protect humans in the service of vampires from their charms, from the glamour, by preprogramming their thoughts through brainwashing.

This was a lengthy, elaborate, and for the affected human, not to mention painful, process. Eric gritted his teeth. And this process had been applied to the girl. He tried a different approach, looking for weaknesses.

"How old are you?"

"As old as you want me to be, sir."

Eric wrinkled his nose in distaste.

"And how long have you been working for Monroe?"

She turned pale. Her forehead furrowed as she seemed to try to remember. "I... I don't know. Sir, please. I..."

Her little heart began fluttering again, despite the strong hypnosis he had placed on her. She should have been able to answer him calmly and willingly. Instead, she broke out in a sweat and looked as if she were in pain.

"Maybe I can ask him directly? I'd like to speak with this Monroe," he continued, and the girl looked at him in panic.

"You're not allowed to talk to Monroe!" she nearly started crying. "Please, don't talk to Monroe!"

It became clear that nothing more could be extracted from the girl. She was traumatized and frightened. And last but not least, completely stripped of her memories.

"Sit on the bed and watch TV!" he instructed the girl, who stood uncertainly before him. She didn't move, probably thinking it was a trap.

"Go on!" he snorted.

She quickly complied. Eric sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose again. This was really not the kind of evening he wanted. Couldn't they have just sent him some adult woman? He preferred to persuade his victims, not overpower them through sheer dominance. That was unsporting and left a bad taste in his mouth.

He went to the minibar and grabbed one of the disgusting Tru Bloods from the fridge. Under normal circumstances, he would have ordered a woman to his room, had a round (or five) of sex, and fed on her femoral artery, but he had neither the time nor the belief that the little girl on his couch, now curled up on the bed eating the orange with a measure of satisfaction as if it were an ice cream sundae, could handle another trauma. Something that really shouldn't concern him any further: but for inexplicable reasons, it did. 

He paused and grimaced as the sticky concoction slid down his throat. Since when did he care what he could impose on others? It was probably because it was a child. Children had always been his weakness. Always since his own...

Bang. There it was again. The pain in his chest. Twice in one day. He had to get out of here. Down to the bar!

"Stay as long as you want!" he called over his shoulder to the girl, who nearly jumped out of her skin at the sound of his voice. With wide eyes, she stared at him, frozen on the sofa, expecting something to happen. Her blonde now disheveled hair framed her face. Then her expression changed from sheer panic to the slightest sliver of trust.

That useless thing inside his chest twisted once more.

He slammed the door behind him, louder than probably necessary, and growled. Annoyed, he realized what had just dawned on him. Damn: He had picked up another stray and now had to figure out how to get the girl out of her captors' clutches. This was really not his night.

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*Triggerwarning*

-mentioning of child abuse/human trafficking

A/N: Ugh, phew. Sorry, guys. This chapter turned out really dark. Instead of working on my term paper, I dedicated myself to Wattpad, and the story kind of took on a life of its own.

You're wondering who broke Eric's heart a hundred years ago: Check out the prequel: IN ANOTHER LIFE

But beware: It's a bit steamier than this little story and is therefore marked 18+ mainly due to smut. But if you don't like that kind of thing, you don't have to read it, right? Otherwise, have fun!

I'm really pleased with how everything is slowly coming together. I'm super excited to see if you guys like this chapter as much as I do. Let me know ;)