I don't know about you, but I was disappointed with TB this season. Sure, there were great moments and some great performances (Fiona Shaw!) So this is an attempt to go back and correct some wrongs. To start over in essence. And we need your help.

The Night Owls is a group of readers from the Fangreaders Chat Room. We meet regularly on Mondays and Tuesday Nights 9PM EST.

Coming on Tuesday, October 11th, we're trying something new. We're starting a "Re-Write-Along" and hope that you'll join in. What are we re-writing you may ask?... Eric's Dream from Season 3 TB.

What if it wasn't a dream? What if it was real. What will happen if it wasn't a dream? Will Sookie look for Bill anymore? Will Lorena survive? Will Franklin turn Tara? Will Cooter live, leaving Debbie to never bother Sookie? What will the future hold for Eric & Sookie?

It's up to us now. Join in and reshape the direction of TB! Everyone will have a chance to contribute a paragraph (or few if you'd like). Writing slots will be assigned in the order people enter the chat room. The story will be compiled from the chat transcripts & posted here the next day as a new chapter. Below is the first chapter. With the participation of everyone in chat, we'll continue to update and welcome you to join us. Information to do so is at the end.

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He could see her crying from the window, and paused before coming close enough for her to catch a glimpse of him. He hated to see her cry, not that he intended to ever admit it to her. Her ill-advised pursuit of Bill Compton made his dead heart ache, but his pride would not let him show that pain to her. She had asked for his help, and rather than let her wander blindly into a situation that would certainly get her killed he had given her the protection of the were, Alcide Herveaux. But of course, he had no intention of just leaving her to her own devices, or his. Her foolhardiness and her stubbornness would likely get to Alcide, and though he dared not step in himself at the beginning, he intended to watch over Sookie as much as he could, and reveal himself if he was needed. Perhaps then she would see the truth in his actions and he would not have to reveal it in words? Perhaps fate would finally pay him back for all that it had taken from him? Perhaps? Watching her in the dim room, her head buried in her hands, trembling on the edge of the bed, lost in thoughts and misery it seemed that perhaps that time had come. He floated forward and tapped on the window softly, so as not to frighten her.

"Eric?" She said as her eyes took in the sight of him. He watched her rise to her feet and come to the window. She was wearing a white bathrobe that nearly fell to the floor as she walked. She opened the large pane and stared at him.

"Can all vampires fly?" She asked, looking out beyond him to ensure herself that he was in fact hovering several stories off the ground.

"Can all humans sing?" He replied in a measured voice.

"Are you kidding? I couldn't carry a tune in a bucket with a lid on it." Her familiarity with him was encouraging. She stepped backwards, not at all frightened. "You might as well come in."

Eric drifted in smoothly, and landed himself on the floor noiselessly. He watched as she turned away from him, wrapping her arms around herself in a protective gesture he did not understand.

"How goes the search?" He asked.

"Turns out, he wasn't who I was looking for." Sookie turned back to him, and he stood quite still as she stepped towards him. Her answer had confused him. If she wasn't looking for Bill, what had happened, and who was she looking for? He wondered for a moment if the were had somehow turned her head; pragmatically Eric could appreciate that Alcide Herveaux was an attractive man. But he remained confused as Sookie drew even nearer and seemed to hover around him, her hands nearly daring to touch him, drawing in deep breaths, even as a transfixed countenance settled on her face. Her nearness was intoxicating, but Eric held himself back, still unsure.

"You smell like the ocean in winter." She half whispered to him, pulling away to look into his eyes with a subtle, confused look on her face. "How is that possible? Bill doesn't smell like anything." Eric found himself bewitched, by her nearness, by her actions, and by the fact that she seemed to be reading something from him that was not within the scope of her abilities, at least not as he understood them.

"It's not possible." He spoke in answer, spellbound. She came to him again.

"You played by the North Sea as a child?"

Confusion reigned in Eric's mind.

"Yes. How did you know?"

"I'm smelling your memories." She brushed her face against him again, raising gooseflesh on his skin and making him shudder.

"Not even you can do that." His answer sounded pitiful, even to himself in the face of her new found confidence.

"I've got skills you can't even dream of cowboy." He could not tear his gaze from her face, but felt her hands on his chest, pushing him backwards to the bed. He did not try to stop himself from falling. When she tore open the robe, revealing to him the beauty of her body for the first time, and the pleasure of seeing the white and blue lace and cotton Eric knew he was lost. She was on top of him, and her mouth found his, and he gave in to her strength, finally allowing himself the permission to act on every desire he had been holding in check, kissing her back with equal force, grinding against her lips, seeking purchase to bring her body to him fully.

"Do you want some more?"

"Oh, dear gods yes." And he pulled her back to his mouth, fangs dropped, control lost. His fingers tangled into her hair, clutching at her neck, unwilling to let her go, desperate that this not be a dream. He felt her hands begin to pull at his vest and he tore it away from his body, seeking her mouth out again as sound as he had cast the fabric away. He tasted her mouth and breathed in her quiet moans of pleasure, feeling their warmth in his still chest. He let his hands venture down to her waist, keeping her close and pushed against her hips, betraying his growing need for her.

He could focus on nothing but her until the door to the bedroom was flung open and a low growl forced his attention away.

~~00~~

Here's where we'll start. Let's rewrite from this point on. It wasn't a dream after all. Who was at the door? Alcide? Debbie? Bill? Russell? Someone else entirely? It's up to us now. This initial chapter was written by the lovely Merick. But what comes next is up to us. Join us on Tuesday, October 11th at 9PM EST in the Fangreaders Chat Room to help continue the story. We'll all get to contribute to what happens next. If this is your first time visiting the chat room, please email: fangreaders (at) gmail (dot) com so you can enter. It may take up to 24 hours to gain access.

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We look forward to seeing you there!