I look into her eyes as we clasp hands. She's going to stay with him-something I can't do. Something he won't let me do.
I look back once, but I can't bring myself to look again-it just makes me want to stay with him.
One thousand years with him and now… And now he will be no more.
I don't know how I will go on. I close my eyes as I open the door to the hotel and force myself to escape the coming sunrise. The stupor of daytime is coming over me but I push it away. It's nothing in comparison to my grief and I want to feel my grief, I don't want to flee from it. I may not be able to die with him, or stay with him until the end, but I can at least hold vigil for him.
As I wait for the elevator I look down at my body, my all black outfit is so fitting. I examine my hands, these hands that have been with me through the centuries. I have so little left that has been with me throughout my journey. I have built up empires and lost them, I have triumphed in battles and been charred beyond recognition. I have survived, but now I know that that is not enough.
What had altered my Maker's view of humans and life so radically? What have I been missing? I wish he were here to guide me, to show me how to live. A single drop of blood rolls down my right cheek as I take the keycard out of my pocket and unlock my hotel room. I slowly walk into my room, my shoulders hunched, my eyes downcast. Everything is different now and I don't know what to do.
The call to slumber is undeniable, but I grit my teeth through the pain and open my bond with Sookie in order to feel her grief added to my own. My grief alone is not enough. I want more pain. Why!? Why did he not allow me to die with him?! I want to weight of my grief to crush whatever life is left in me-I no longer want to live.
My grief is so heavy that I almost miss her coming near me; I stiffen as I wait for her to go into her room. But she doesn't open the door to the suite she shares with Bill. I feel her inner conflict coursing over our bond as she moves closer to my door. I'm at the door faster than I thought imaginable during the daytime. My hand hovering over the handle, I hear her ragged breath and quiet sobs through the door.
She hasn't knocked.
The weight of sunlight falls heavily upon me as I stand, waiting for her to choose to be with me. Finally, after what seems like an eternity, I hear her knocking tentatively and I whip open the door to see what I can only imagine an angel would look like. Her face is glistening wet with her tears-tears wept for my Maker, her golden hair still swept up in a ponytail, revealing her bare neck, her body flattered by a dress that is demurely sexy. She looks into my eyes, and I can not bear to stand any longer. I stride to the other side of the room, collapse onto the couch, and lean over my knees into an almost fetal position.
Tears are rolling down my face now, unbidden. Then again, maybe they'd never stopped since I came into my room. I watch as red drop after red drop soils the white carpet between my feet and the growing red stain seems comforting somehow, as my grief finally has a physical mark. Her presence comforts me, yet her unease at standing in my room is obvious. I glance up to find her eyes. Tears are streaming down her face now and she does something completely unexpected and throws her arms around me. It feels familiar and unfamiliar at the same time.
Her scent surrounds me and I nuzzle my face next to the pulsing arteries in her neck, allowing the steady rhythm to comfort me. But her body stiffens-she's fearful that I will drink of her because she doesn't realize that feeding is the last thing on my mind right now. I try to assure her that she is safe by making an awkward joke, the words stumble from my mouth, "Not until you ask me to, and believe me, you will." I don't know if she's reacting to my spoken desire for her, or the weakness in my voice, but she pulls me tighter and my tears roll even more freely.
I watch as my blood trickles down her bare back and soils the top of the back of her dress. The sight only makes my grief that much more tangible and I feel a primal sadness leap out of my chest as I sob louder than I ever have in centuries. He is gone. He is really gone. I never imagined that I wouldn't spend eternity with him, but now I am alone. Utterly, unequivocally, alone. My cries grow even louder.
Eventually the deepest pits of my grief have manifested and a calm begins to take over me-it's a relief. But it is only temporary. Through the bond I am overwhelmed by Sookie's mourning. I'm surprised, though I know I shouldn't be. This woman has shown unexpected depths of compassion, love and goodness. Perhaps Godric is right. My Maker's fate flashes through my mind again and I squeeze Sookie, thankful that he had such loving company in his last moments.
I hold her body in my arms and enjoy the warmth she brings to me. I don't want her to leave. I am drained, exhausted, and weary, but her presence gives me hope that maybe I will be able to go on without Godric and I'm not ready to do without that. Before I know what I'm doing, I pull away from her embrace to look her in the eyes and I hear myself asking, "Will… Will you… stay with me until I can finally rest?"
Her eyes flash with distrust and disgust and I squeeze my eyes shut, wishing I couldn't feel her distaste for me so palatably. I need to get away. I should never have asked. Her rejection burns. My eyes squeeze shut. I stand and raise my arm to show her the way to the door, "You should go back to Bill. I'm sorry about your dress. I will pay for the dry-cleaning or buy you a new one." My voice is colder than usual as I try to cover the pain. I realize that my tears are still showing and I quickly wipe them away as if that would erase her memory of what she's seen of me. For not the first time, I wish she could be glamoured.
Waiting for her to just leave me, I try to force her exit by walking towards the door myself. But I swear I hear her voice cut through the silence, a melodic sound as she cries, "Wait!" Stop imagining things. But she doesn't join me at the door and I slowly turn to her, a glimmer of hope rising that I might not be so reprehensible in her tender eyes. Maybe I didn't imagine that. My mind is weary from fighting the daylight and my soul is weary from bereavement, but for a brief moment none of that seems to matter as the angel walks towards my bed. And then I swear that my heart sings as she holds out her palm and asks, "Are you coming, or what?"
Am I delirious? I ask myself as I get into bed, doing my best to assure myself that this is very real and that Sookie Stackhouse really isn't rejecting me. I lay on my side, looking right into her eyes, and I move my open palm towards her, hoping that she will take it.
I close my eyes and let a sleep of death take me, knowing that an angel is lying with me.
A/N: If you like this, please check out the sequel: You Deserve Much Better. Thanks for reading and please review!