(And Other Such Nonsense)
Pam Ravenscroft was a decidedly unsentimental creature.
As far as she was concerned, sentimentality was a disgusting emotion that was beneath her. It, like love and compassion, was far too human for her refined vampire tastes.
But before she'd been made vampire, Pam had been a silly woman full of romantic ideals and fantasies. To her, there had been nothing more exciting than the attentions and affections of a man. However, as childish as she had been, Pam had had a bold, wild streak running through her.
Her love of men had led her to sneak out at night, meeting her dearest friend's cousin. Together, they had walked through the garden outside of her home in London, stealing innocent kisses in the moonlight and whispering sweet nothings into one another's ears. And though they had both been of marrying age, they'd preferred to steal secret kisses under the moonlight than profess their love officially.
Ironically enough, it had been one of those clandestine, midnight meetings that had led to the loss of her human life. And in the space of a few seconds, she'd shed all of her girlish sentimentality and romanticism and become the being that had always lurked just beneath her surface. Her soft edges had melted away, leaving behind a hardened creature that lusted for things she'd always been denied.
But though Pam was devoid of most emotion, there were a few things, moments that had stayed with her. She'd never claim to remember them, because they had touched her un-beating heart, or any other such nonsense. Instead, she'd claim to remember them because of the impact they'd had on her un-dead life.
Either way you looked at it though, all of the moments that had remained important to her featured Eric Northman…
Even in the dead of night, the garden outside of Pam's home was exquisite. The large blooms that had always brought her mother so much joy were closed for the night, giving the garden the appearance of being caught under a sleepy spell. And as she crept quietly towards the house, Pam ran her fingers along the vines and caressed a few of the silky leaves.
The moment she felt a presence behind her, Pam's hand faltered, causing her to prick her finger on the thorn of a rose. Instantly, a drop of blood, so dark in the moonlight that it appeared black, blossomed on the pad of her finger tip.
Before she had the time to register the pain from the tiny wound, she spun around to try and see who or what was behind her. When she stopped, Pam was surprised to see a tall, blonde man with the palest skin she'd ever seen standing before her.
Instantly, his pale blue-green eyes locked on hers, and Pam felt herself being drawn forward as if by some invisible force.
Without a word, he took her hand in his and placed her bleeding finger in his mouth. His tongue, so inhumanly cold, slowly wiped at the wound. Never once did his eyes leave hers. So gentle, the touch sent a shiver through her body the likes of which she'd never experienced from one of her midnight rendezvous.
Instead of turning and running as she knew she should, Pam stepped closer into the mysterious stranger's embrace. And though she figured he was responsible, part of her wanted whatever he was offering.
With her blood pounding through her veins, Pam drew her finger out of the man's mouth, letting it linger for just a second on his bottom lip. When she finally pulled the digit away, his mouth was stained with her blood. And even though her heart thudded in protest, Pam felt compelled to step forward into his arms and offer her neck to him.
As she did so, Pam pushed back the long ringlets of hair that covered her shoulders, leaving the bare skin exposed. In the cool night, her back neck felt more vulnerable than usual as a fine layer of goose bumps blossomed over it. The moment his teeth sank into the crook of her neck, the spell she'd been under vanished. But she didn't fight back or even struggle as she felt her very life drain from her body.
It wasn't that Pam wanted to die. Rather, it was that she knew she wasn't going to.
And that knowledge came from the way the stranger was gently cradling her back and caressing her curls. It was soft and reassuring, and as Pam felt her life finally give way, she gave herself over to the exquisite pain of the moment, relishing the intoxication that had spread through her limbs.
When the man finally pulled away and pressed his own slit wrist against her mouth, Pam sighed in contentment as she drank deeply of his blood.
After being made vampire, the first thing Eric taught Pam was the importance of life.
But not in a sentimental sanctity-of-life, thou-shalt-not-kill sort of way.
Instead, Eric taught Pam that she now had the power to take and give life as she saw fit. It was part of being a vampire, and it was exactly what he'd done to her. And to further clarify the point, Eric told Pam that if he'd taken one more sip of her blood, that would have been it; she'd have been beyond saving.
Along with this lesson, he also taught Pam the most important thing she'd ever need to know. In a voice that held traces of some accent she couldn't place, Eric said, "You are death, and you must take the lives of others if you wish to survive and thrive."
His words were simple and to the point. It was a lesson passed on from teacher to student, maker to child.
It was the one thing Pam would never, ever forget.
That night, the first of her new existence, Eric brought Pam a victim rather than taking her out hunting just yet. Though she protested, he convinced her that it was better, safer that way.
The woman he picked was plump with rosy cheeks and chestnut-colored hair set into ringlets that framed her pudgy face. And for some reason, she seemed unreasonably calm. (As if she weren't standing in front of two beings who were discussing human hunting.) Pam didn't know who the woman was, but she could tell that she was a person of wealth and prestige. It was in the haughty lines of her face and the rich fabrics of her gown.
Pam looked up at Eric, unsure but also hopeful and excited. He beamed down at her, a reassuring look in his bluish-green eyes. When he spoke, his fangs were fully extended. "Drink, my barn."
The moment he spoke, Pam felt her fangs come out of the roof of her mouth for the very first time. Absently, she thought that razor sharp objects sliding out of her skin should have been painful, but it wasn't, not at all. Instead, it felt right. Caught up in the sensation, she didn't ask what "barnen" meant or what she was supposed to do. Instead, she locked eyes with the aristocrat and instinctively felt herself press her will on the woman, commanding her to stay in her spot. And as the woman tipped her head to the side, offering up her neck, Pam realized that whatever she'd just done to her prey was exactly what Eric had done to her the night before.
Filled with the promise of her newfound ability, Pam reached out and roughly pulled the woman towards her. And with one last look at her maker, Pam opened her mouth and buried her fangs in the soft flesh of the other woman's neck.
As the blood spilled from the tiny puncture wounds in the woman's neck, Pam absently realized that her victim wasn't screaming. She wasn't even squirming. Eric had been gentle with her, but what she was doing was anything but. It was harsh and savage, the animal embodiment of her once wild human nature. And because of that, it felt wrong to have her prey submit so willingly.
The thought long forgotten, Pam finished what was left of the woman's blood. When she finally dropped the drained body to the floor, Pam looked up at Eric. From the expression on his face, it was obvious that he'd been the one who'd kept her prey from screaming or fighting back. And though that disappointed her, Pam felt a twinge of satisfaction when her maker beamed down at her and said, "My child. My barn."
"It's time, Eric. You know it is." Pam's voice had lost most of its girlishness as well as its British accent. Now, her tone sounded bored and detached but sexy at the same time.
Eric didn't respond. Instead, he just looked at her, his eyes sad but knowing.
"We've been together for -" Pam tried to remember the year she'd been made vampire, but she couldn't. She'd forgotten that, along with many other human things, long ago. Once she'd truly come into her own as a vampire, those things hadn't seemed important. "A very long time."
Her maker was lounging behind the desk of a bar owner he'd just fed from, his feet propped up on the mahogany desktop. The discarded body was lying on the floor in front of the desk. Pam couldn't help but notice that Eric looked natural and right, as if he owned the place. And for the first time, in a very long time, she was struck by the slightest twinge of emotion.
In the time they'd been together, Pam and Eric had become lovers, friends, and companions. Eric was her maker, her mother and father. He'd brought her into her undead life, and he'd never once abandoned her. Not that she'd needed him after her first month as a vampire, but he'd been there nonetheless.
And because of her naturally bold nature, their relationship had become sexual. They'd become physically involved almost instantly as Pam began to experiment and indulge all of the desires she'd had to hide and suppress during her human life.
But though they'd been lovers, they'd never been in love with one another. And not long after her change, Pam had begun to experiment with other men, women, and vampires. She'd tried a little bit of everything, and their sexual relationship had waned because of it.
But despite that, Eric had always been important to her.
That, however, didn't change the fact that it was time for her to leave, to strike out on her own. It was par for the course with vampire children and their makers. As it was, she'd stayed with him for much longer than was normal because of their bond. They were good companions, and in addition to the sex, he was amusing, and she loved hunting with him.
However, none of that changed the fact that not only was she ready to set out on her own, but that she needed to as well.
Her bags were packed, and she was leaving no matter what, but Pam respected Eric enough to formally ask for his consent first.
Eric swung his legs off of the desk but made no move to stand. Instead, he leaned forward, his elbows on the wooden surface and his hands clasped under his chin. The look in his eyes was solemn, resolute. "I'm just surprised that you waited so long."
Pam grinned wickedly as she looked down at her maker. "What can I say? You've kept me… entertained."
Eric simply laughed, but Pam just looked at him, her full lips quirking up at the edges. She'd been telling the truth; Eric had always kept her amused. It was one of the things she'd miss about him the most.
When he stopped laughing, Eric looked at Pam, his eyes glittering brilliantly. "Take care, my child. Rest assured, you will see me again."
Pam didn't respond. Instead, she just cocked her eyebrows once before walking out of the door. As she walked down the hallway, she could hear Eric chuckling in the office.
One night, out of the blue, Pam felt it.
And surprisingly enough, she knew exactly what that it was.
In the one hundred or so years since she'd left Eric, Pam had neither heard from nor seen her maker once. Oh, she'd heard of his exploits many, many times. After all, Eric was Eric, and he'd always thrived on the attention of those around him.
And he always would.
But the moment Pam felt his call she dropped everything and went to him. Not only because she had to, was compelled to, but because she wanted to. Pam enjoyed being around Eric, and it had been far too long since she'd been entertained by him.
When she arrived in Shreveport, Louisiana, Pam was amazed to find Eric standing outside of what looked like an old, abandoned bar.
She hadn't even spoken when Eric's voice cut through the warm night air. "Welcome back, my barn."
It had been so long since she'd been called child in Swedish that she couldn't stop herself from smirking. That single word brought back a multitude of memories, many of them long forgotten. She remembered waking up in her coffin and opening the lid to see Eric looking down at her expectantly. Pam also thought of the countless hours they'd spent perfecting her Swedish for reasons she'd never truly understood. And she also recalled the time they'd spent as lovers and all of the hunts they'd gone on together.
And for a moment, Pam felt truly happy to be with Eric Northman again.
Taking a few steps forward, Pam stopped next to Eric. She didn't hug him or touch him. She didn't even look at him. Instead, Pam just studied the broken down building before them. "Well," she drew the word out, managing to sound both bored and amused at the same time. "This is… interesting." Pam shifted her weight and crossed her arms over her chest.
Eric merely chuckled, and Pam smirked at the familiarity of the sound. "I'm going to open a bar for vampires and humans." He sounded matter of fact, as if everything had already been settled.
But when Pam heard the word "humans," her eyes cut over to Eric sharply, as if she'd heard him wrong. She was just about to sneer a response when Eric interrupted her.
"Don't bother protesting, Pam. People are… thirsty for vampires now." Eric turned and smiled at her, clearly amused by his own joke. "And I am interested in their money. I'm also vying for the position of sheriff of Area 5. A successful business venture will only help that."
Pam just rolled her eyes. Money and power had always been two of Eric's favorite things. "And you've called me back because…"
"Because you're going to help me run it." When Pam snorted, Eric's mouth split into a wicked, fang-filled grin. "Welcome to Fangtasia."
When Pam had answered Eric's call, she'd been excited. Things were never boring around her maker. And she'd been enjoying herself, was still enjoying, herself at the bar. But things around Shreveport had begun to… change.
And that change seemed to go by the name of Sookie Stackhouse.
Logically, Pam knew that everything that had happened wasn't Sookie's fault. But that didn't mean she couldn't (or wouldn't) blame her.
Since the first time the telepath had walked into Fangtasia, Bill had staked another vampire and became a maker; Eric had lost Godric; a maenad had taken over Bon Temps, and worst of all, Pam's best pumps had been ruined.
Now, Pam enjoyed a little mischief and mayhem as much as the next girl, but when it had started affecting her footwear, she'd grown weary of all the excitement.
After they'd been ruined, Pam had tossed them in the trash. Covered in mud and who knew what else, the pink leather had been scuffed and scratched beyond repair. But worst of all, Eric had seen fit to tease her about them, painfully pointing out how great they were.
Then, a few months after the maenad had been killed and Eric had returned from visiting the Queen, Eric called Pam into his office.
She walked into the room expecting to see him bent over the logbooks. If Eric wasn't on the floor entertaining the humans, he was usually hard at work making sure that Fangtasia's finances were in order. But what she found instead surprised her.
Eric was sitting behind his desk, but instead of having his nose buried in receipts, he was lounging back in his chair, feet propped up on the edge of his desk and hands folded over his stomach.
Instead of speaking, Pam simply raised one perfectly arched eyebrow in question.
"Pam. Excellent. Come in. I have something for you." Eric's voice was light, conversational.
More shocked than before, she walked further into the office, wondering if maybe he was going to try offering her Ginger again. Because if that was the case, she wasn't interested. But before she could speak, Pam noticed the shoebox topped with a large red bow sitting on the desk. Why she hadn't noticed it right away was beyond her.
Without asking, Pam reached out and pulled the lid off of the shoebox. "For me?" Her voice was filled with mock sincerity, but truth be told, Pam was taken aback by the gift. Eric was a fair and just maker and sheriff, but he rarely gave gifts outright and without strings. Eric was for Eric, and he always took care of himself before anyone else.
When she pulled one of the shoes out of the box, Pam noticed a small, familiar smile cross Eric's face. Turning the pump over in her hands before placing it back in the box, Pam addressed Eric in his native Swedish. "De duger." They will do. That was all she said. Not thank you or anything else.
As if he'd expected nothing less, Eric chuckled before saying, "Så klart de gör." Of course they will.
Without another word, Pam picked up the shoebox and walked out of Eric's office.
Though she wanted to slip them on then and there, Pam didn't, because pink leather did not go with black vinyl.
No matter what.
But when she went home that night, Pam slipped on the pumps, marveling in their perfection.
And not out of sentimentality (or any other weak human emotion), Pam decided to make sure that Eric saw her wearing them. For all they'd been through together, it was the very least she could do.
Squeeka Cuomo's Notes
- Merry Christmas sapphiretragedy! You said that you wanted Pam/Eric gen. So I really hope you enjoy this. I had a blast writing it. :D
- A HUGE thank you to the lovely anonymous reviewer who corrected my Swedish. :)
- Quack – Oh glorious Red Pen of Doom wielder. I couldn't do this without you. Thanks so much.
- Reviews are love.