Undeserved
Fic: Undeserved
Pairing: Bill/Sookie
Rating: PG
Spoilers: Up to 2x9
Author Notes: I heart Bill. I understand many others do not share this opinion but this is for those that do.
He was still awake when she returned, a century of thoughts milling through his mind, images of Godric facing the sun piercing in the hotel's sealed darkness. Sorrow spilled from her soul, threatening to cast them adrift. Wordlessly, he gently thumbed the dried saline of evaporated tears still etched on her face and pulled her into his grasp.
He considered the trauma she had experienced, not only in the days since they had been coerced into participating in the Dallas fiasco, but since she had innocently waitressed up to him one fateful evening not very long ago. From recent days spent awaiting him, anticipating her fate, wondering if she had been forsaken, to her current situation - feeling the anguishing effects of hatred and guilt, death and suicide. It was no matter that he had suffered equally in his confinement - he had failed her yet again. Here was proof positive that he did not deserve her.
Of course he did not. He was vampire. He did not deserve love.
That these were his thoughts as she gripped him tightly was further evidence that he was a selfish bastard. She had just experienced the fear of a terrorist attack and witnessed the end of a two thousand year old life. His personal demons were not at issue here. Yet he could not think of a single appropriate thing to say to her as he ingested the essence of her through his pale derma.
Finally, when the silence had begun to swirl awkwardly around them, he found his voice.
"Are you all right?" he asked inanely, already realizing it was an asinine thing to say, yet unable to replace the words with more appropriate ones.
She took in a breath of consolidation, finally putting the insanity of the past few days together in her mind as she nodded against his chest.
"Actually, strangely enough, I think maybe I am," she replied with only the barest of sniffles.
He almost smiled at her response, kissed the top of her head, said "you once told me you were a lot stronger than I thought. I believe that was an understatement."
He could feel that she piqued a grin at that yet it was not enough to resolve his own conflicted being, his intense anger, his wayward contemplations of spirit. Her anger with Eric had nearly matched his own. She had been astute in identifying the ways in which Godric's philosophies mirrored his. However, these were not issues he could discuss with her. It would not be fair considering what she had just gone through.
So he was content to just drink in the sensation of holding her, avoiding the thoughts and weakness that accompanied the waxing day, evading the arduousness of speaking.
Unfortunately, his Louisiana damsel was not quite so content and, as she began to disentangle herself from his arms, she regarded him with her irked southern-lady expression.
"Now, Bill Compton, I want you to spit out whatever it is you can't seem to say. Because all I want to do is touch you and I know you won't be comfortable with that until you tell me what's bothering you so much that you can't even be happy that we're both safe," she said with that peculiar brand of accurate, vacuous, longwindedness she sometimes affected.
He grimaced as he took in the determined look in her eyes and wondered, yet again, whether his particular penchant for retaining nearly human emotions was worth the constant onslaught of personal recriminations. He know of very few others of his kind who would admit, even upon force, that they experienced such mundanity as human joy. He himself would never voluntarily admit it to anyone.
Except her.
To be known as a vampire susceptible to love is a scathing blow. Everyone understood that vampires only experienced the darker emotions of anger, hatred, disgust. Humans were playthings, annoyances, infatuations, food. To blatantly moon over one was a serious violation of an unwritten code. He should have known he would be made to suffer for such an aggrievance.
The recent distasteful episodes, first with Lorena, then with Eric perfectly illustrated how easily he could be hurt. He had been wretched pent up in that room, unable to respond to the imperative of their intermingled blood. And now his anger with his sheriff was of a species unknown. Wrath and horror, to have allowed Sookie to be played as a pawn in Eric's scheme, to not have anticipated the depth of Eric's desire for her, to have been fooled so easily. It was a desperation of spirit. And a desperate vampire cut a pathetic figure.
****
Sookie had taken the time to make a cup of coffee as she waited for his response, understanding that it could be a long time in coming. She was just noting that vampire hotels did not serve anything better than the usual watery tasteless offerings of human accommodation providers when he began to speak very quietly.
"I am sorry, Sookie. But I am so angry at Eric... at myself. He played me for a fool and my only satisfaction was one pointless attempt at fisticuffs. That is no satisfaction for what he has done to you," he said with seething force.
Sookie thought to her latest impressions of Eric and felt stretched in two directions. A large part of her remained incensed at him for using her, for upsetting Bill, for just generally being a heartless, conniving bastard. The other part, however, could not reconcile Eric's seemingly heartfelt devotion to Godric with her previous feelings towards him. And he had saved her at the bombing... but only to then use her like an object just minutes afterwards! And so the endless loop chugged its way around her head until she remembered she was supposed to be coming up with a reply.
Looking up at his stony expression she could only see a livid, weariness, nothing of her usual thoughtful Bill and she felt her own ire build at the defeat in his countenance.
"You'd only be this angry at Eric if you thought I'd really leave you for him. Which I never would. But the way you're actin' I may as well just give up too, I guess. So what's the point of being angry, Bill?" she rebutted sharply.
He eyed her with surprise and hurt but, prudently, paused to gather his thoughts before he grudgingly replied.
"The point is... the point is... that if I can stay angry with Eric then I don't have to consider the other matters that have been occupying my mind. But you are right, Sookie. The manner in which I have been behaving is truly deplorable. And I apologize. For everything," he stated with finality.
His morose tone and the act she had just witnessed coalesced into a dreadful thought. And as much as she didn't want to, she knew she had to ask.
"Bill, you've never thought about... it... have you?" she questioned, dipping a toe into possibly frigid waters.
He looked away deliberately, breathed in the memory of the wood against his chest. Nearly three quarters of a century, yet the impression was still etched in his dead flesh.
"Not with the sun," he finally replied.
He felt her approach and considered accelerating away. It was not right. He did not deserve her comfort. Especially after everything she had just gone through. Yet he remained where he was, let her arms encircle him from behind, felt her hot breath against his chilled skin, inhaled her particular, effervescent, scent.
"Tell me what's botherin' you, Bill. It's what I'm here for," she breathed as she made him turn to face her.
He hung his head and shook it tiredly, unable to meet her reverberating concern. "And what about what's bothering you, Sookie? I am certain there are many disturbing things occupying your mind at this moment," he replied with a touch of pique.
"Well, yes, Bill, I suppose there are a few things on my mind right now. But the main thing that's botherin' me is how sad you are. So let's deal with that and we'll both be happier. And then you can help me deal with the other things I've been thinking about because that's what you're here for okay?" she returned with equal parts irritation and tenderness.
He really had meet her gaze then, knew he would find the same determined, remarkable, trusting girl that had initially struck him so dearly. She was giving him her most honest, convincing look, the one others sometimes took for airheadedness or mental disorder. He considered the unlikeliness that her affection for him could match his own personal distaste.
It was too pathetic even for him. But she would be upset if he did not confess. And he would not upset her again.
"Vampires are not sad," he retorted in a semblance of a more amiable self. His effort, however, did not last long as other thoughts quickly crept into his mind. "But, you are correct in that there are many things affecting me right now."
He paused for a moment to synthesize his thoughts, found it difficult to think with her existing so close to him in that exact time and space. Finally, his words started coming, creaky and torpid, like an old train pulling out of station.
"Sookie, in the short time that we have known one another your life has been in jeopardy more times that I care to recall. And each time I have failed you."
His continued melancholic air scared her more than any rabid anti-vampire preacher but her attempts to negate his despair were firmly rejected by the murky seas in his eyes.
"Damn it, don't try to sugar coat it for me, Sookie," he growled, though his sternness melted a notch at her look of disappointment.
She tried to interject again but was silenced with a gentle, firm finger to her lips.
"I knew when I met you that you would be my salvation," he muttered. "What I am much less sure of is whether I deserve to be saved."
Gothic strings erupted in the back of her mind as she absorbed his self-hatred. She almost noted the absurdity of playing god in the life of an existentially angsty vampire but the cello of his tone overwhelmed her mind as he continued, his sincerity afloat in an ether of sorrow.
"I have done nothing but cause you harm," he continued. "You deserve more than this, Sookie. You deserve to be safe and happy and free of these odious vampire politics. You deserve to be protected, cared for, adored instead of having to comfort the disgraced in your time of need," he insisted. "You once asked me if I had anything else I was hiding. I think we both know I am hiding many things. So let us stop pretending that this can ever work."
She absorbed his words until her confusion had finally cleared. She had interpreted his despair as his failure to free her earlier, or as a result of her new, undesired, attachment to Eric. But he had gone far beyond that point. Back to where he predictably ended up every time.
"Stop it, Bill. This is ridiculous. You are a vampire. Of course you've done bad things. Of course you've killed people. But that don't mean you're doing those things now that you have a choice," she said in her best schoolmistress tone, trying to catch his wayward eyes.
Still he shook his head, familiar fire resting in his gut. "I always had a choice, Sookie. The things I did with Lorena, I chose to do those things. I am a murderer, many times over," he stated emphatically.
Sookie stopped to consider his statement for a moment. She did suppose in any other circumstance she would have issues associating with, much less sleeping with, a confessed murderer. But she also knew that there was at least one exception to every rule. And that it would take a lot more to convince him of his innocence than it would take to convince her.
"You know, Bill, I don't know much about jail and all that but it seems to me the reasons you go about putting a man in prison is to punish him so that he knows he did wrong and so he won't do it again, right?"
He looked at her with a touch of ire. She was so contrary sometimes.
"Yes, that is generally the reasoning," he replied slowly. "But it's not that simple, Sookie."
"Well, I say it is just that simple, Bill. You know you've done wrong and you've punished yourself more than any jail ever could so all you have to do is tell me you won't do it again," she said with a smug grin. "When I chose you I chose all of you. And I love all of you, even if you don't. Even the parts I don't want to ever know about."
His muscles were disturbingly taut, knotted strata of sinuous body fibre. She pressed her her warm palms rhythmically into his shoulder blades and drank in his personal recriminations.
After a moment she felt a slight softening of his posture as he murmured in her ear, "this is absurd. You were the one kidnapped and then subsequently violated."
Sookie smiled and increased the pressure until he finally gave in to it.
"I'd say you've had the tougher time even if I was the helpless damsel in distress, again. You had to contend with both Lorena and Eric conspiring to hurt you by using me. And I know you would have come if you could have. Though I must say, Bill, you make it awfully easy to use me against you," she said innocently.
He scowled at her lilting tone and nudged her nose suggestively as he groused, "I am vampire, Sookie. I am not meant to have these feelings."
"But you do. That's what sets you apart, Bill. It's why Eric can always take advantage of you. It's why you feel eternally guilty about me. It's why I liked you from the start. So give up on this vampires don't have feelings crap." she said frankly, forcing him to meet her eyes. "But, I have to tell you, vampires don't mope. And I think I may have mentioned this once or twice before but I like you. Or at least I do when you're not being such a guilty gus. So stop being so darn distraught and just be you."
He was giving her the intense stare she remembered so vividly from their first encounters and she marveled at the reaction she has to him unglamoured. To think that he could normally engender a deeper attraction was astounding, appalling, enticing.
Time passed in still increments as he leaned into her.
"Only if you will be you," he grumbled as he snatched her bottom lip with playful teeth and pulled her towards the bed.
He was starting to weaken, he needed to rest. But he needed something else first.
finito.
Pairing: Bill/Sookie
Rating: PG
Spoilers: Up to 2x9
Author Notes: I heart Bill. I understand many others do not share this opinion but this is for those that do.
He was still awake when she returned, a century of thoughts milling through his mind, images of Godric facing the sun piercing in the hotel's sealed darkness. Sorrow spilled from her soul, threatening to cast them adrift. Wordlessly, he gently thumbed the dried saline of evaporated tears still etched on her face and pulled her into his grasp.
He considered the trauma she had experienced, not only in the days since they had been coerced into participating in the Dallas fiasco, but since she had innocently waitressed up to him one fateful evening not very long ago. From recent days spent awaiting him, anticipating her fate, wondering if she had been forsaken, to her current situation - feeling the anguishing effects of hatred and guilt, death and suicide. It was no matter that he had suffered equally in his confinement - he had failed her yet again. Here was proof positive that he did not deserve her.
Of course he did not. He was vampire. He did not deserve love.
That these were his thoughts as she gripped him tightly was further evidence that he was a selfish bastard. She had just experienced the fear of a terrorist attack and witnessed the end of a two thousand year old life. His personal demons were not at issue here. Yet he could not think of a single appropriate thing to say to her as he ingested the essence of her through his pale derma.
Finally, when the silence had begun to swirl awkwardly around them, he found his voice.
"Are you all right?" he asked inanely, already realizing it was an asinine thing to say, yet unable to replace the words with more appropriate ones.
She took in a breath of consolidation, finally putting the insanity of the past few days together in her mind as she nodded against his chest.
"Actually, strangely enough, I think maybe I am," she replied with only the barest of sniffles.
He almost smiled at her response, kissed the top of her head, said "you once told me you were a lot stronger than I thought. I believe that was an understatement."
He could feel that she piqued a grin at that yet it was not enough to resolve his own conflicted being, his intense anger, his wayward contemplations of spirit. Her anger with Eric had nearly matched his own. She had been astute in identifying the ways in which Godric's philosophies mirrored his. However, these were not issues he could discuss with her. It would not be fair considering what she had just gone through.
So he was content to just drink in the sensation of holding her, avoiding the thoughts and weakness that accompanied the waxing day, evading the arduousness of speaking.
Unfortunately, his Louisiana damsel was not quite so content and, as she began to disentangle herself from his arms, she regarded him with her irked southern-lady expression.
"Now, Bill Compton, I want you to spit out whatever it is you can't seem to say. Because all I want to do is touch you and I know you won't be comfortable with that until you tell me what's bothering you so much that you can't even be happy that we're both safe," she said with that peculiar brand of accurate, vacuous, longwindedness she sometimes affected.
He grimaced as he took in the determined look in her eyes and wondered, yet again, whether his particular penchant for retaining nearly human emotions was worth the constant onslaught of personal recriminations. He know of very few others of his kind who would admit, even upon force, that they experienced such mundanity as human joy. He himself would never voluntarily admit it to anyone.
Except her.
To be known as a vampire susceptible to love is a scathing blow. Everyone understood that vampires only experienced the darker emotions of anger, hatred, disgust. Humans were playthings, annoyances, infatuations, food. To blatantly moon over one was a serious violation of an unwritten code. He should have known he would be made to suffer for such an aggrievance.
The recent distasteful episodes, first with Lorena, then with Eric perfectly illustrated how easily he could be hurt. He had been wretched pent up in that room, unable to respond to the imperative of their intermingled blood. And now his anger with his sheriff was of a species unknown. Wrath and horror, to have allowed Sookie to be played as a pawn in Eric's scheme, to not have anticipated the depth of Eric's desire for her, to have been fooled so easily. It was a desperation of spirit. And a desperate vampire cut a pathetic figure.
****
Sookie had taken the time to make a cup of coffee as she waited for his response, understanding that it could be a long time in coming. She was just noting that vampire hotels did not serve anything better than the usual watery tasteless offerings of human accommodation providers when he began to speak very quietly.
"I am sorry, Sookie. But I am so angry at Eric... at myself. He played me for a fool and my only satisfaction was one pointless attempt at fisticuffs. That is no satisfaction for what he has done to you," he said with seething force.
Sookie thought to her latest impressions of Eric and felt stretched in two directions. A large part of her remained incensed at him for using her, for upsetting Bill, for just generally being a heartless, conniving bastard. The other part, however, could not reconcile Eric's seemingly heartfelt devotion to Godric with her previous feelings towards him. And he had saved her at the bombing... but only to then use her like an object just minutes afterwards! And so the endless loop chugged its way around her head until she remembered she was supposed to be coming up with a reply.
Looking up at his stony expression she could only see a livid, weariness, nothing of her usual thoughtful Bill and she felt her own ire build at the defeat in his countenance.
"You'd only be this angry at Eric if you thought I'd really leave you for him. Which I never would. But the way you're actin' I may as well just give up too, I guess. So what's the point of being angry, Bill?" she rebutted sharply.
He eyed her with surprise and hurt but, prudently, paused to gather his thoughts before he grudgingly replied.
"The point is... the point is... that if I can stay angry with Eric then I don't have to consider the other matters that have been occupying my mind. But you are right, Sookie. The manner in which I have been behaving is truly deplorable. And I apologize. For everything," he stated with finality.
His morose tone and the act she had just witnessed coalesced into a dreadful thought. And as much as she didn't want to, she knew she had to ask.
"Bill, you've never thought about... it... have you?" she questioned, dipping a toe into possibly frigid waters.
He looked away deliberately, breathed in the memory of the wood against his chest. Nearly three quarters of a century, yet the impression was still etched in his dead flesh.
"Not with the sun," he finally replied.
He felt her approach and considered accelerating away. It was not right. He did not deserve her comfort. Especially after everything she had just gone through. Yet he remained where he was, let her arms encircle him from behind, felt her hot breath against his chilled skin, inhaled her particular, effervescent, scent.
"Tell me what's botherin' you, Bill. It's what I'm here for," she breathed as she made him turn to face her.
He hung his head and shook it tiredly, unable to meet her reverberating concern. "And what about what's bothering you, Sookie? I am certain there are many disturbing things occupying your mind at this moment," he replied with a touch of pique.
"Well, yes, Bill, I suppose there are a few things on my mind right now. But the main thing that's botherin' me is how sad you are. So let's deal with that and we'll both be happier. And then you can help me deal with the other things I've been thinking about because that's what you're here for okay?" she returned with equal parts irritation and tenderness.
He really had meet her gaze then, knew he would find the same determined, remarkable, trusting girl that had initially struck him so dearly. She was giving him her most honest, convincing look, the one others sometimes took for airheadedness or mental disorder. He considered the unlikeliness that her affection for him could match his own personal distaste.
It was too pathetic even for him. But she would be upset if he did not confess. And he would not upset her again.
"Vampires are not sad," he retorted in a semblance of a more amiable self. His effort, however, did not last long as other thoughts quickly crept into his mind. "But, you are correct in that there are many things affecting me right now."
He paused for a moment to synthesize his thoughts, found it difficult to think with her existing so close to him in that exact time and space. Finally, his words started coming, creaky and torpid, like an old train pulling out of station.
"Sookie, in the short time that we have known one another your life has been in jeopardy more times that I care to recall. And each time I have failed you."
His continued melancholic air scared her more than any rabid anti-vampire preacher but her attempts to negate his despair were firmly rejected by the murky seas in his eyes.
"Damn it, don't try to sugar coat it for me, Sookie," he growled, though his sternness melted a notch at her look of disappointment.
She tried to interject again but was silenced with a gentle, firm finger to her lips.
"I knew when I met you that you would be my salvation," he muttered. "What I am much less sure of is whether I deserve to be saved."
Gothic strings erupted in the back of her mind as she absorbed his self-hatred. She almost noted the absurdity of playing god in the life of an existentially angsty vampire but the cello of his tone overwhelmed her mind as he continued, his sincerity afloat in an ether of sorrow.
"I have done nothing but cause you harm," he continued. "You deserve more than this, Sookie. You deserve to be safe and happy and free of these odious vampire politics. You deserve to be protected, cared for, adored instead of having to comfort the disgraced in your time of need," he insisted. "You once asked me if I had anything else I was hiding. I think we both know I am hiding many things. So let us stop pretending that this can ever work."
She absorbed his words until her confusion had finally cleared. She had interpreted his despair as his failure to free her earlier, or as a result of her new, undesired, attachment to Eric. But he had gone far beyond that point. Back to where he predictably ended up every time.
"Stop it, Bill. This is ridiculous. You are a vampire. Of course you've done bad things. Of course you've killed people. But that don't mean you're doing those things now that you have a choice," she said in her best schoolmistress tone, trying to catch his wayward eyes.
Still he shook his head, familiar fire resting in his gut. "I always had a choice, Sookie. The things I did with Lorena, I chose to do those things. I am a murderer, many times over," he stated emphatically.
Sookie stopped to consider his statement for a moment. She did suppose in any other circumstance she would have issues associating with, much less sleeping with, a confessed murderer. But she also knew that there was at least one exception to every rule. And that it would take a lot more to convince him of his innocence than it would take to convince her.
"You know, Bill, I don't know much about jail and all that but it seems to me the reasons you go about putting a man in prison is to punish him so that he knows he did wrong and so he won't do it again, right?"
He looked at her with a touch of ire. She was so contrary sometimes.
"Yes, that is generally the reasoning," he replied slowly. "But it's not that simple, Sookie."
"Well, I say it is just that simple, Bill. You know you've done wrong and you've punished yourself more than any jail ever could so all you have to do is tell me you won't do it again," she said with a smug grin. "When I chose you I chose all of you. And I love all of you, even if you don't. Even the parts I don't want to ever know about."
His muscles were disturbingly taut, knotted strata of sinuous body fibre. She pressed her her warm palms rhythmically into his shoulder blades and drank in his personal recriminations.
After a moment she felt a slight softening of his posture as he murmured in her ear, "this is absurd. You were the one kidnapped and then subsequently violated."
Sookie smiled and increased the pressure until he finally gave in to it.
"I'd say you've had the tougher time even if I was the helpless damsel in distress, again. You had to contend with both Lorena and Eric conspiring to hurt you by using me. And I know you would have come if you could have. Though I must say, Bill, you make it awfully easy to use me against you," she said innocently.
He scowled at her lilting tone and nudged her nose suggestively as he groused, "I am vampire, Sookie. I am not meant to have these feelings."
"But you do. That's what sets you apart, Bill. It's why Eric can always take advantage of you. It's why you feel eternally guilty about me. It's why I liked you from the start. So give up on this vampires don't have feelings crap." she said frankly, forcing him to meet her eyes. "But, I have to tell you, vampires don't mope. And I think I may have mentioned this once or twice before but I like you. Or at least I do when you're not being such a guilty gus. So stop being so darn distraught and just be you."
He was giving her the intense stare she remembered so vividly from their first encounters and she marveled at the reaction she has to him unglamoured. To think that he could normally engender a deeper attraction was astounding, appalling, enticing.
Time passed in still increments as he leaned into her.
"Only if you will be you," he grumbled as he snatched her bottom lip with playful teeth and pulled her towards the bed.
He was starting to weaken, he needed to rest. But he needed something else first.
finito.