AN: Here's my second story for FF. So, I watched True Blood before I ever read the SVM books. The character of Godric always interested me. His character had so much potential, and I feel like Alan Ball and the other writers of TB did him such an injustice by making him a virtual blip on the radar. So here is my story involving Godric. I'm going to be combining characters from both TB and SVM, but I'll classify this as a TB story because Godric is Eric's maker. I follow California Kat's school of thinking on this (Btw, check out her stories. She is an amazing writer that spins wonderful tales. Funeral is my favorite story of hers.)

Godric looks at the envelope on his desk. The seal on the envelope is one he had been hoping to never see again. The seal indicates it is time for him to settle a debt that had been hanging over his head for centuries. Godric was beginning to hope that his debt had been forgotten. He knew better; a debt to one of those individual's was never forgotten.

Wanting to get it over with quickly, Godric grabs the letter opener from his desk and breaks the seal. He unfolds the letter, and reads the message. It is short, but then again, he did not expect a wealth of information.

Meet me in Bon Temps, Louisiana. You will know how to find me.

Godric sighs, a total unnecessary action, but one that seems to convey his level of frustration. He is the Sheriff of Area 9 in Texas; he has pressing business to attend to. He does not have the time to run to Louisiana on a foolish errand. Perhaps he could send Eric in his place.

Godric pushs away from his desk, instantly dismissing the errant thought. This is his debt to repay, not Eric's. He would not use his child in such a way. Besides, he had not spoken to Eric in many years. He did not wish his first contact with his son to be a Maker's command. There was no way to know what would be needed to fulfill this debt.

Moving out of his office, Godric calls for his second. "How can I be of service to you this evening, Sheriff?" Isabel asks as she vamps in front of Godric. Isabel had been with him for decades. She had been turned during the Spanish Inquisition. Her husband had found Isabel in bed with her lover. In his rage, Isabel's husband denounced her as a witch. She was to have been burned at the stake. Instead, her lover, who happened to be a vampire, stole her from the prison she was being held in. He drained her and turned her that night. They were with each other for nearly five hundred years. Isabel's maker met his True Death during World War II. Eric and Godric had found Isabel in Germany while they were posing as SS Officers. Godric was able to arrange for her to leave Germany safely. After the war was over, Godric left Europe, taking a sheriff's position in Texas. No matter how much time passed, nothing changed. Wars had been fought for centuries as monarchs tried to expand their empires, spread religions, or destroy other nationalities. Godric was tired of the constant fighting in Europe. He hoped that America would be different. Once he settled in Dallas, Godric offered Isabel the position as his second. Her loyalty had been unwavering, and Godric trusted her as if she were his own child.

"Isabel, I need to leave the area for a personal reason. You will be the acting Sheriff while I am gone. Everyone is to obey you as they would me. Any that does not follow this edict, will be dealt with upon my return." As they talked, they had made their way into his bedroom. Godric pulls clothes out of his chest. He then vamps to his closet to retrieve his satchel. As Godric packs, he hopes this debt would not take longer than a day or two.

"Where are you going?" Isabel asks as she leans against the door frame.

Godric pauses to look at her. His eyes meet hers briefly, and then he looks away. As he locks the satchel he replies, "I do not wish to tell you."

Isabel's face gives nothing away. Vampires did not show emotion, even though they felt emotions more strongly than any other creature in existence. To show emotion was to give your adversary an edge. As Godric turns to walk towards his balcony, she whispers, "You do not trust me."

Godric moves in front of Isabel, looking into her eyes. He touches his hand to her cheek, and kisses her forehead. It is a sign of affection, an action a father would show his daughter. He smiles at her slightly. "It is not that I do not trust you. I merely do not know how long I will be there, and I do not know if my journey will involve other destinations. I will keep you informed that I am safe so you have no need to worry while I am gone."

Isabel nods. She watches Godric slip his satchel over his shoulder. He moves to the balcony and floats into the sky. He turned back to Isabel who had moved to the balcony doors and gives her a wink before he shot up into the sky. She reaches to close the balcony doors and whispers, "Be safe old friend."

Godric flew as fast as he could. Normally, he enjoyed the peace and tranquility flying gave him. But tonight he was on a mission. As he crossed into Louisiana, he ensured the bond with his child was muted. He did not need Eric to question his appearance in Louisiana. He did not want to have to explain his actions to his son. He did not want to explain how he was indebted to an enemy.

Godric began his descent to Bon Temps. He hovers over the woods, and inhales deeply. He catches the scent he was looking for. He moves toward the outskirts of the town. He passes over a bridge and lowers to the ground. The scent he was looking for was here, but it was not fresh. It was several hours old, and mixed with the scents of other enemies. Godric is puzzled; he had not smelled anything like this since he was in Ireland in the 1300s. Inhaling again, he picks up the scent he needs and sped of the bridge. The trail ends at an old white farmhouse. Godric took in the scene before him using all of his senses. He detects three humans in the farmhouse, two of which are sleeping. One he hears weeping softly in the front of the house. He sniffs again, trying to find the source of the scent. Godric hears a twig snap, and crouches into a fighting stance. His fangs snapp down, his hands curl into claws, and a growl rumbles in his chest. A lone figure moves out from behind the tree in the front yard. It is a middle-aged man, taller than Godric, slender, his brown hair styled back from his face. Godric takes in the expression on his face, and sees anguish. Godric immediately straightens; he knows this man means him no harm at the moment.

"Fintan, what is it you need of me?"