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That's Not My Name	By : marksandspence Category: S through Z > True Blood Views: 6314 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I have not created the True Blood (credit to Charlaine Harris & Alan Ball) or BtVS universes (credit to Joss Whedon) and do not have any claim on the characters other than the ones I have added. I make no money off of these stories.

Chapter List
- 4
- 5
- 6
Chapter 5
By the time Peia emerges from the shower, Eric is dressed and leaning against the sofa, waiting.
“Get dressed. You should come with me tonight.”
It is not quite an order, but authoritative enough that she does not feel comfortable arguing. She nods and pulls on the only clothes she has. She brushes her hair and puts on the lipstick she just bought. As she approaches him, she feels a twinge of panic.
“I’m tired. I don’t know…”
Eric takes hold of her hand, gently.
“Stay as long as you can. You need to see.”
See what?
When they arrive at Fangtasia, Pam and Ginger are just readying the club to open. Pam walks over and gives Peia an unsubtle once-over.
“I was going to say, “well if it isn’t Sleeping Beauty” but now I’m leaning toward Rip Van Winkle.”
“Pam, a word.” Eric insists.
“Sure thing, boss.”
They disappear into the back office, leaving Peia alone at the bar. Before sliding onto one of the barstools, she scans the club. Someone she does not recognize is sweeping at the far end, Ginger is putting cash into the bar register.
I wonder when the dancers arrive.
Flashback: Eight Months plus a few days…
“Are you sure this is the right place?” Spike asks with a hint of derision. He is dressed in his usual style – a slim fitting deep maroon t-shirt and black jeans, belted unnecessarily, black boots mostly hidden. His hair is short, gelled but not slicked back and a darker shade of blonde than one typically associates with him.
The woman he is with nods in the affirmative.
She appears taller than average, but is on measure, only slightly. Her hair is thick, falls just below her chin and is full of blunt contrast. A frame of light blue surrounds her face and the remainder a deep brown, with a nearly hidden undercurrent of white. She is neither slight nor stout, with a feminine shape topped with defined shoulders and slender neck. Her clothes show an attempt at fashion, with a slightly alternative bent. She is subjectively beautiful. For most, she would be considered good looking, handsome, with strong, angular features. Her nose is neither small enough to be a button nor large enough to give character. Arguably the detail that keeps her from being considered plain by most are her pale eyes, hidden by a smallish frame, but striking to those who look at her straight on, the color indecisive. One could imagine tweaking this or that in a computer program and quickly getting to an ideal of classic beauty. The reality is beauty to some, pleasant to most. She has a confidence that comes with comfort and lack of concern.
She adds in a rather neutral American accent,
“We’re a bit early. They said they’d meet us closer to midnight. And remember, they know me only as Peia, so lets stick with that.”
“Alright, my Jenny Wren. Peia it is.”
She will miss that. She loves it when he calls her Jenny Wren. Makes her knees weak. He told her it was a British thing – for nicknames to sometimes be longer than proper names. Before she was just Jen. Nothing wrong with Jen. Short, strong, functional. Easy to rhyme. She had never been a Jenny. Everyone used to try, but it never felt right to anyone who knew her — the minute it left their mouths, they could tell it didn’t fit. But something about the way Spike says it, Jenny Wren, made her never object.
“What sort of name is Peia anyway? Sounds like something you’d find in a bad romance novel.”
“It’s my pen name. They’re supposed to be a bit ridiculous. We’ve been over this. The subscribers know me as Cassiopeia Sun, or Peia77.”
Gives a light-hearted laugh of derision. She gives him a stern look.
He holds his hands up “Alright. Won’t say another word.”
“This from a man who goes by Spike.”
“I’ll have you know that the name Spike has a long tradition behind it. It has meaning, yeah.”
“Really.”
“Sure.”
“For you in particular, or just generally?”
“Well, it’s a very manly sort of name.”
“Who gave you that name? Not your mother, I imagine.”
“No.” He pauses a minute, suddenly finding himself a bit flustered. “That’s funny. I don’t remember now.”
“Never mind, then. Lets go in, shall we?” She indicates toward the door of the club.
“It looks a bit naff, doesn’t it? Fangtasia. How long do you think it took them to come up with that?”
The bouncer, a tall, rather plump man in a suit, stops them as they go to enter.
“$20 cover for vampires.” He demands in a slightly southern drawl, holding a wad of cash.
“Seriously? That doesn’t seem very fair – brought my own human.” He nods over to Peia. “And she’s cute, too.”
“$20”, he responds, unimpressed.
“A bit stiff, innit? I suppose live music is out of the question. So what am I paying for exactly?”
“$20 or piss off.”
“Do we get a coupon for a free drink or something? Pack of fags? Because then we’d be gettin’ something…”
“Spike?” Pam’s voice cuts through the door. “Damn, I thought I recognized that accent. And attitude. Come on in.”
To the bouncer, “Louis, it’s fine. He’s with me.”
Spike glances back to Peia, shrugging his shoulders as they walk through the front door, held open by Pam.
“In answer to your question, twenty bucks buys you the pleasure of my company”, Pam offers in her usual sarcastic sneer.
Spike, still looking confused, offers a timid, “Cheers for getting us in. This your place, then?”
“Partly.”
Once they are inside, she turns and leans in to give Spike two big European greeting kisses on the cheek.
“So good to see you. I feel like I want to hug you, but I don’t really do that,” Pam practically gushes.
After a beat, she frowns, picking up on his general lack of enthusiasm. “You don’t remember me.”
“Sorry. Do I know you?”
“It’s Pam! You’re joking. Pulling my leg. Which isn’t nice.” Pausing a moment to reflect. “I love it.”
Spike scrunches up his face.
“Wish I was, luv. But I got no bells going off here,” he says as he waves his hand in the direction of his head.
“Come on. Where’s Drusilla?” Pam pokes her head back out the door.
“Who?”
“Don’t be ridiculous. Your maker, Drusilla.”
“Think you must have me confused with someone else.”
“Impossible.” Getting annoyed now. “It’s only been a few decades. We spent that week in Amsterdam. Little wooden shoes, the finger puppets…??”
“Never been to Amsterdam. Sorry.”
“Never been to…?!?” She flinches before finishing her thought.
“Have to go. We’ll talk about this later. First drink’s on the house.” She blurts as she heads toward the door to the back office.
“That was weird,” Peia offers.
“Mistaken identity got us in for free, so lucky, more like.”
“Maybe it’s not a mistake. Maybe we should talk to her.”
“Drink first, talk later.”
Peia frowns slightly. She can sense he is apprehensive about learning the truth. Learning just how much Gillian, the vampire they are now on the run from, had gotten into his head.
“Okay.”
They head toward the bar and find a couple of empty stools.
“The usual?” Spike asks with a smile.
“Think I’ll have gin tonight.”
“Oh. Not going to pick a fight with me later, are you?”
“Only if you want me to.”
“We’ll see about that.”
He orders a gin martini and a beer for himself. As they wait for their drinks, they look around.
“Goth vampire bar. Clever,” she sarcasms.
“Not.”
“In the slightest.”
“Trying a bit too hard.” She looks at one of the vampire dancers. “Can you move like that? All hyper-speed?”
“Possibly. If I wanted to look like a complete git.”
“Here’s something fun. Put your hands over your ears and imagine the Peanut’s theme music. Changes the whole feel of the place.”
He does it.
“Brilliant. I could swear that one over there is doing the Snoopy happy dance.”
They laugh and sip their drinks.
“Come over here.” He pulls Peia onto his lap. She giggles.
“So what did you think of New Orleans? Mardi gras and all that?”
“Good place to disappear. Think you should have gotten more beads for your tits, though.”
“They are my best feature.”
“Don’t know if I’d go that far.”
“You insulting the girls? They’re quite sensitive.”
“Are they now? Lets see….” He slips his hands under her shirt.
“Stop it. Your hands are cold.”
“Even better.” He keeps his hand under her shirt and kisses her.
Pulling back a moment.
“I just meant, you’ve got other features that are quite nice. No disrespect to the girls.”
“Yeah?”
They start kissing again. She breaks it up after a few minutes.
“We’ve still got an hour to wait. Lets not torture ourselves.”
“I think this is about as far from torture as we can get. And I’ve got some personal experience on the subject.”
She just smiles and turns so that her back is to him, as he wraps his arms around her waist. Changing the subject…
“What could she do in here?” Peia asks.
“Who? Alice?”
Alice is a character in a graphic novel they have been working on together.
“Yeah. Say her mark was in a vampire bar.”
“Poison?”
“Too risky. Could get in the wrong hands, someone else could get hurt.”
“Better to make it look like a vampire did the job. Easy enough to frame.”
“How?”
**
Cut to Pam talking to Eric in the office.
“Something just isn’t right. There is no way he could have forgotten.”
“Although I agree that you are unforgettable, it is, perhaps, more suspicious that he claims to not remember his maker. Are you sure of her?”
“Absolutely. She was batshit crazy in the most awesomely amusing way. Had a thing for children and dolls and creating havoc. He loved causing trouble and broke every rule in the book. They were a perfect pair. And it was widely known that she was his maker.”
“How is it that I did not meet them if you knew them so well?”
“You were off on one of your boy sprees with Godric. I had to amuse myself somehow. Anyway, it’s not just me. Ask around – he’s got quite a reputation in some circles.”
“Your tone is giving me a twinge of jealousy.” He smirks.
“Its good for you.”
“Is it possible he is hiding his identity? Is he alone?”
She thinks for a moment.
“He is with a human. Pretty bland. I assumed she was just dinner.”
“Bring him to me.”
She nods. Eric follows her out into the club, but goes directly to his observation chair and waits for her to bring Spike to him.
Pam finds Spike and Peia canoodling at the bar.
“Eric wants to see you.” She gestures towards him, directing their gaze.
“Who is Eric?” Peia questions.
Pam responds, mildly annoyed. “He’s the owner of this club. And the local sheriff.”
“Sheriff?”, Peia responds, confused.
Spike shrugs.
“What’s he want with me? We don’t want any trouble.”
“Just come on.” Pam responds, impatiently.
Peia and Spike start to follow her, but she steps in front of Peia.
“Just Spike.”
“S’alright, luv. Get another drink. Your friends will be here soon.”
Peia nods, looking a bit concerned. They really do not need any more trouble.
Not friends, exactly.
Since they had been on the run — a couple of months now — they had been careful not to access any of her bank accounts. No ATMs, no credit cards, even using disposable phones. She had been able to take out a few thousand with the help of a friend that night they left, but it did not last long. Since then, they’d been relaying on “fans” – subscribers to the online publishing house she ran with a few other writers back in New York. She didn’t think Gillian was very tech savvy, but just in case she brought in help, Peia had made use of some password protected temporary chat room-like spaces on the company website to communicate with her personal subscribers. The support had been surprising – people offering places to say, a meal, some cash. Perhaps they thought the idea of a writer on-the-lam was exciting and wanted to participate in the adventure. In any case, when they were in New Orleans, she had found some subscribers in Louisiana who offered to help – said they would do some fundraising on her behalf. Peia felt a bit guilty taking their charity, but what choice did they have?
Peia gets another drink and watches as Spike is questioned by Eric and Pam. It appears friendly enough. In a few minutes, she hears a high-pitched voice say,
“Ms. Sun? Excuse me, Ms. Sun?”
She turns and sees two attractive women in front of her, wearing matching clothes. Uniforms, she surmises. One is blonde and grinning from ear to ear, the other is a redhead holding back a bit, as if embarrassed.
“Please call me Peia.”
“Oh right. Peia77. Duh.” Sookie says in a self-deprecating tone.
“And you must be Sookie and…”
“Jessica”, the redhead puts out her hand. “Pleased to meet you.”
Peia smiles.
“You look just like your avatar. I could totally tell it was you. Well, that and the description you gave in your e-mail.” Sookie enthuses.
Reaching into her bag, Sookie pulls out an envelope.
“We managed to raise $500. That’s from all of us subscribers in this part of Louisiana.”
Peia takes the envelope.
“Hold onto their usernames for me – everyone will get credited once things settle down. I can’t thank you enough.”
“Are you in still danger?” Jessica asks.
“I’m not sure. I think so.”
Just then, Spike walks up to the bar and grabs the rest of his beer.
“Hello, ladies.”
“Sookie, Jessica, this is Spike.”
He waves. They smile.
“We should go. We’re just on break. Hey, but we work at a bar over in Bon Temps called Merlotts. If you are in town for a while, you should stop in for a meal.”
Just then, they hear screaming coming from a back room. Ginger bursts through the door, hands flailing. Another man is following close behind, carrying a broom. Everything stops. A small bat flies out through the door Ginger just came from. Chaos ensues as the bat flies around for a few minutes, causing the dancers and patrons to scatter in unnecessary panic. Eric watches for a moment, then stands up looking annoyed.
Pam tries to cower subtly, keeping Eric between her and the bat.
“The fucking bats are back,” Pam complains. “I fucking hate bats.”
Eric vamprushes around the room a couple of times, but growls in frustration when he cannot catch the bat in his hands.
Peia mutters to no one in particular, “Open a window.”
Spike grabs a heavy ashtray from the bar and whips it toward a window above the front door. The window breaks, a breeze flows in and a moment later, the bat flies out.
But by then, everyone’s night is disrupted and the club empties out. Eric and Pam walk back over to Spike, Peia and the others.
Eric speaks in a loud voice, “I apologize for the disruption. Everyone who stays gets a drink on the house.”
A few people walk over to the bar, while others leave.
“Who would have thought that a bat would cause so much chaos in a vampire bar,” Sookie observes.
“Did you have to break the window?” Eric frowns in mild annoyance.
“Of course he did.” Pam smiles.
“Guess I could have walked over there, got on a chair and opened the window. But I like to throw stuff. And break stuff. Adds a bit of drama to the evening, you know?”
“We have got to do something about those bats.” Pam complains again, with more urgency.
“Recurring problem?” Peia inquires.
“Eric, Pam, this is … Peia.”
They barely acknowledge her with a brief nod.
“As it happens, Peia here knows something about bats.” Spike informs them.
They turn to look at her more directly this time. She thinks for just a moment.
“$500 and I’ll get rid of your bats. Will take a couple of days. Tops.”
“They are costing us money,” Pam offers.
“Done.” Eric states without emotion.
Peia holds her hand out to shake on it. Eric looks at her hand, frowns, glances briefly at Spike and then with reluctance shakes her hand.
“I’ll need to get in before dusk tomorrow.”
“I will inform Ginger. She will let you in.” If she hasn’t had a heart attack, he muses.
Pam and Eric turn to go. The rest head toward the door.
“Hey, do you need a place to stay? Ya’ll could crash at my house.”
Peia and Spike look at each other, considering. Could be useful to stay in a human’s house, in case Gillian tracks them down.
“I’ve got a totally tricked out vampire cubby, too.”
“Really?” Spike replies, a look of surprise and sudden interest on his face.
“Long story.”
They make arrangements to meet up after Sookie finishes her shift.
Meanwhile, back in Fangtasia, Eric and Pam are watching Ginger clean up the broken glass.
“What do you think?” Eric asks.
“He seems a bit muted. But it is definitely Spike. Just buried under some shit.”
“And his human?”
“She must have something to hold his attention, lord knows what. But I think he is telling the truth about this being strictly vampire business.”
“While they are here, I will look into it. But once they move on…”
“I know. Not our jurisdiction.”
“See if you can track down his maker.”
Pam smiles. Despite herself, she wants the old Spike back, if only for her temporary amusement.
- 4
- 5
- 6
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That's Not My Name