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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
- 6
- 7
- 8
Chapter 7
The next nearly 24 hours were a blur of panic and confrontation. Gillian had found Spike. Peia could only speculate on what occurred during the hours spent between them that night while she and Eric were mystically pre-occupied. She had found Spike wandering the streets, confused and acting strangely in the desperate minutes before daylight. He had mumbled something about a verbally ballistic argument turning physical as morning approached. He managed to trap Gillian somewhere to make his escape. When pushed for more details, his voice trailed off in a familiar way – the memory was fading, the specifics fuzzy. He hadn’t even noticed himself start to burn in the coming dawn, only saying that he had smelled something strange as he was walking along. Peia quickly threw her jacket over his head and got him inside before the damage was too severe.
Spike fell asleep quickly once they found a safe place, but Peia was too terrified to rest appreciably. If they had had more time, she could have found a way to load him into the trunk of her car so she could drive them away quickly in the day while Gillian slept. Instead, she just watched him, planning the details of every second once the sun went down that night – if they were quick, maybe they could slip away. Maybe by train this time. She went over it in her head, again and again, trying to think of every alternative, every variable. Once she figured she’d nailed it – the plan, she relaxed a bit. Maybe she could sleep for a few minutes. But then the retching started.
At first, she just felt Spike start to twitch next to her. Unusual for a vampire – she had been disturbed in their first nights together at just how dead he appeared when sleeping. So the twitching was odd, but she just figured he was dreaming (?). Then came the moaning and soon after, she could feel the heat radiating from his body like a furnace. She tried to wake him. His eyes opened just before the first retch sent what smelled like spoiled blood dripping down the side of the bed. This was bad. Very, very bad. So she watched him all day through the fits of sickness, counting the minutes until nightfall. Could he die from this? She would take him straight to Eric and Pam.
In the end, it took a few hours to covertly wrangle a nearly catatonic Spike out the door, across town and into Fangtasia to see Eric. She wondered if Eric had a separate office for vampire business, but there was no one to ask, so to the front door they went.
They are ushered to a large separate room in the back. It appears to be a small warehouse attached to the main building. Rectangular in shape, Eric sits in a chair at the front as if holding court. Pam is at his side with a clipboard and another vampire is busy escorting people in and out. Superficially, Eric looks disinterested. On further examination, however, one can see in his expression enjoyment in the power his position as Sheriff granted him.
Pam brings in a chair for Spike, who collapses into it, barely conscious. Once all the others are cleared out, Peia is given the nod that it is her turn. She can’t help but feel there is something oddly medieval in the way vampire business seems to be conducted. She takes a couple of awkward steps forward, toward Eric, feeling nervous putting any distance between herself and Spike. Before Peia has a chance to say anything, Pam looks up from her clipboard and said dryly,
“State your business with the Sheriff.”
Peia frowns, thrown a bit by the formality. She wants to say “Isn’t it obvious?”, but instead follows Pam’s example.
“We ask for your help…and protection.”
Eric’s eyes are on her like a hawk, appraising.
“Help with what, exactly?” Eric asks without emotion.
Gesturing behind her, “Spike is sick. I think he’s dying.” She pauses a moment and lowers her voice, “I guess that’s not the right word. I worry that he won’t get better.”
“And?” Eric
“Obviously, Gillian has poisoned him. For refusing to go back with her.”
“Can you provide proof of this?”
“Well, no. But he was fine before he saw her and is sick now. He told me they argued.” She answers, feeling a bit surprised to be questioned on this point after their prior conversation.
“I see.”
“She’s crazy – she’ll kill him if she can’t have him. She has said as much before. She’ll definitely kill me,” She adds, almost as an afterthought. “We need protection from her.” Correcting herself, “We ask for protection from her.”
“It is not clear why this should be my concern. You are human. Go to the police if you need protection.” Eric states, plainly.
“But the primary…er…aggrieved is vampire.” She is uncomfortable referring to Spike as the victim. “That’s significant, right?”
“And yet, it is not a vampire who petitions me.”
“He’s unconscious!” She points out, frustrated.
“Nevertheless,” Eric adds.
Peia glances back at Spike, who has further slumped into the chair.
“Can you at least help him? I don’t know how.” Once again, she must admit her limited knowledge and this makes her feel utterly helpless.
After a brief silence, Pam, looking impatient, blurts almost scolding, “Eric.”
He glances up at Pam and gives her an intimate smile, letting her in on the little game he is playing.
“Send for Dr. Ludwig,” Eric relents.
“Thank you,” Peia offers, relieved.
“A complaint from a human, even as it regards a vampire, must be weighed… appropriately against a complaint from a vampire against a human.”
Peia just frowns, unable to understand the point of this statement other than its racist(?) implication.
“It would be seen unfavorably for me to take the word of a human over that of a vampire. In such case, my hands would be tied.”
“What vampire?” Still annoyed, impatient for the arrival of the doctor.
“Gillian, who is sitting in my office inside Fangtasia right now, has petitioned me to deliver Spike to her. She claims that you have bewitched him and should be killed for it.”
“Gillian is here?” She feels temporarily light-headed and a bit nauseous. She shakes herself out of it and thinks.
“She was quite persuasive, wasn’t she, Pam?” Eric adds.
Pam makes a begrudged “hmm mm” sound of agreement.
“Doo I look like someone who is capable of bewitching anyone?”
Simultaneously, Pam says “No” and Eric says “Maybe if you put a little more effort in.”
“Come on. I study bats. I write. I don’t bewitch.”
Just then, Dr. Ludwig enters and following Eric’s glance, heads toward the chair with Spike. They all watch while she examines him, takes a quick blood sample, which she places in a small vial and shakes. She gruffily asks Peia to describe his symptoms. After a few more seconds, she checks her watch, looks at the color of the vial and says, unceremoniously.
“It’s a spell. A strong one at that. Progressive. Nothin’ physical for me to treat. You’ll need a witch to undo-it, else he’ll, uh, liquefy.”
“I knew it. Gillian’s a witch.” Peia exclaimed with certainty. It always seemed strange for a vampire to keep such a large collection of herbs. Enhances the flavor of the blood MY ASS.
“She’s a vampire AND a witch. She’s a vamwitch. Surely that’s got to be illegal,” Peia states hopefully.
“Gillian claims you are the witch.” Eric counters.
“How does that make any sense? Why would I come here to you?”
“You need help getting rid of her. You are only a human.”
“You don’t really believe that, do you?”
“As I said before, in the absence of evidence, the word of a vampire must hold more weight.”
“Can you wake him up?” Peia pleads to Dr. Ludwig.
She shrugs and pulls out a jar from her bag. She uncorks it and holds it under Spike’s nose.
“Smelling salts?” Peia guesses.
“Faerie blood.” Dr. Ludwig corrects as she pours a few drops in his mouth. Eric bristles as she says this, but stifles his reaction.
Spike reacts slowly, but his eyes begin to flutter open. Dr. Ludwig packs up her things, giving the jar to Peia as she leaves. On her way out, she says to Eric, “I’m happy to assist as necessary. You know where to find me.”
After a few seconds, Eric starts to speak.
“Spike. Do you know where you are?”
Spike nods.
“This human claims you wish to petition me. It must come from you.”
“Help. Please. Bitch poisoned me – Gillian.” Spike splutters with some effort.
“Is this human yours?” Eric indicates Peia.
Spike looks at her, then back at Eric. He nods.
“And now our asses are covered.” Pam concludes cheerfully.
Eric shoots her a look.
“If we want the trouble.” She hastily adds.
“So you’ll help us?” Peia says, smiling with relief.
“The technical barriers to our ability to help have been lifted.”
“But?” Peia anticipates
“But it will require a good deal of effort. Gillian is both a powerful witch and an old vampire. Keeping her will not be easy. Plus some would see this as simply a lover’s quarrel. One such quarrel that was initiated outside of my jurisdiction.”
“We’re here now. Spike was fine when you saw him two days ago and now he isn’t. Aren’t you obligated to find out what happened?” Peia counters, her frustration growing.
“Obligated is a strong word. Perhaps we help Spike recover and then let the two of them work things out on their own. I would be willing to help you escape Gillian’s wrath. I do owe you for finding the bats.”
“And just leave him to her? Are you kidding? She’ll just wipe his mind again.”
“Maybe that is all it would take for them to be happy.” He says with a wry smile. “Then I have two happy vampires. Win win.”
“Win.” Pam adds. “You forgot the one for us when we get paid.”
Peia shakes her head, “I don’t see how you can call yourself a Sheriff when you can let someone get away with…”
“I would like to help you. Honestly. Pam has an interest in seeing Spike back to himself and we all hate witches.”
“It’s a thing,” Pam adds.
“But there are a number of ways that this situation can be resolved. If I intervene the way you wish, I would be going out on a limb.”
It suddenly dawns on Peia what Eric is getting at. She wants to kick herself for being so naïve.
“Oh you’re that kind of Sheriff,” She mutters, quietly. She can’t help picturing Alan Rickman threating to cut out Kevin Costner’s heart with a spoon. She glances back at Spike, who is unconscious again.
A beep on Pam’s phone interrupts the moment – she looks down at the text message and raises an eyebrow.
“Just make it worth his while, honey, if you want to keep your vampire.” Pam says as she starts typing a reply.
“What do you want? Money? I could probably…”
“Gold is acceptable, but unimaginative,” Eric responds.
“I don’t have any gold,” She states plainly.
“What do you have?” Eric asks, honestly interested in her response.
This is the fun part. Gillian had been overly cordial, considering. Likely knowing her own guilt and not wanting to risk the involvement of the Magister, she would offer gold, for sure. Perhaps land. These things did not excite him much tonight.
Peia’s mind races – what does she have to offer? Money would be possible, but difficult. Converting it to gold would take time. She’s already done the bat thing.
“I could write you a story,” Peia offers.
“A story? You are honestly trying to bribe me with words?” He can’t stop himself from laughing.
“I think that’s a first.” Pam snickers.
“You have got to write that down.”
“I’m taking a picture.” Pam is almost hysterical.
“And here I thought the guy with the dwarf pigs had balls.”
A bit defensive, but trying to sound persuasive, Peia responds,
“Not just a story. Erotica. Tell me your kinks and I’ll scorch your eyebrows.”
“A dirty story? Really?” Eric hasn’t laughed this hard in AGES, but he tries to look serious while listening to her pitch.
Despite the ridicule, Peia’s confidence grows.
“People pay good money for this kind of thing now. Since the conservatives locked down the web – got rid of the free porn and made everything subscription only.”
“Is that so?” To Pam “And a history lesson, as well.”
“I’m good. Seriously. It’s what I do.”
Eric sits back up and raises his eyebrows to hear the rest. Interesting. This part is always fun.
“I have vampire fans. Well, two vampire fans that I know of, but there are probably more. I can work with any fetish, any kink. It’s a gift. Just tell me what you’re into and I’ll write something that will get you off.”
“She wants to get me off, Pam. I find that rather tantalizing.”
“For all I know things might have gotten a bit boring for someone as old as you. Let me get inside your head and I’ll make it fresh again.” Peia continues, feeling encouraged, already testing scenarios in her mind.
“Do you write from experience?” Pam asks, skeptically.
Peia responds, reflexively, “I know how to have a good time.”
This is her stock response whenever anyone asks that question. Which they do, A LOT. In truth, it is more a form of sexual empathy than extensive experience – despite her enthusiasm, her personal tastes are relatively kink-free.
Pam whispers something in Eric’s ear.
“I would love to stay and hear more about your dirty stories, but we have to wrap this up. Gillian is getting impatient.”
“Do we have a deal?” Peia asks in astonishment. Could it be that easy?
“I have no interest in your words.” Eric laughs, good naturedly. “But I think we can find an alternative arrangement.”
“Ok?” Peia says nervously.
Eric thinks a moment before speaking.
“I find you entertaining. Have Spike agree to release you to me for a night. Tomorrow.”
“Excuse me?”
Explaining in a very neutral tone, he replies,
“You are his human, so technically, he needs to agree to release you to me to avoid any proprietary issues and such. But I agree to have you in exchange for my help.”
Is this really what it sounds like? And why does he make it sound like I should be flattered?
“Sorry, I’m having Demi Moore flashbacks – so this is an Indecent Proposal sort of arrangement?” Peia snarks.
“Is that another story reference?” Eric asks, a bit annoyed at the time this is taking.
“A movie,” Pam interjects. She says to Peia, “Yeah, that’s the general idea. If Robert Redford were younger and more attractive, Demi Moore was kinda plain, and more than one type of bodily fluid was exchanged.”
“Seriously?” Peia is still having trouble wrapping her head around the suggestion. Perhaps flaunting her erotica writing abilities was not a fantastic idea afterall.
“It has been a slow week at the club,” Eric shrugs, arrogantly.
“So, is there, like, a form to fill out?” Peia asks sarcastically.
To her surprise, Pam walks over to a desk and pulls a sheet of paper out of a drawer.
“Spike needs to sign this. I’ll be witness.”
So this is actually happening?
As the implications sink in, Peia’s demeanor becomes serious.
“How am I supposed to get him to sign?”
Eric glances at the jar of blood still in her hand from when Dr. Ludwig left.
“That’s not what I meant.” Peia responds, lips thinning.
“Rationalization can be useful in situations such as these,” Eric responds with a look that sends a chill down her spine. He is enjoying this. This is power.
“If I agree and he signs, you will cure him and you will lock Gillian up while Spike and I have a chance to disappear.”
“Yes.”
Peia glances at Pam, who then looks nervously at Spike. She nods and says “Witness.”
“More terms.” Peia continues forcefully. “No recording devices -- video or audio. I want to see proof that you have an antidote before I come to you. You will post a guard to protect him while I’m gone.”
Feisty, isn’t she? This might be fun.
“Agreed.” Eric says as he nods.
Peia once again looks to Pam, who utters an annoyed “Witness.”
“Pam, get me a witch.”
Skeptical, “It’s not like I have one on speed dial. Where do you find a witch?”
“Ask Lafayette. His people dabble in such things.”
“The gays?” Pam guesses, sarcastically.
Eric just shakes his head.
[The following conversation takes place in Swedish]
“So that’s it?” Pam says a moment later to Eric, with a disappointed tone. “I thought maybe you’d hold out for something we both could enjoy.”
“Who says I won’t share?” Eric replies with a smirk. Pam looks over at Peia, now kneeling next to Spike and tilts her head before uttering a skeptical “hm.”
“You know Spike’s going to be pissed as hell when he comes out of this funk. I always heard he had jealousy issues.”
“You know as well as I do that if he gets back to himself, he will be preoccupied with bigger things.”
“Maybe,” Pam responds in slightly worried tone. Under her breath, “But he’s one sadistic son-of-a-bitch when he’s angry.”
Eric waves her off.
Ignoring their foreign conversation, Peia continues to kneel next to Spike for a few minutes. After a time she takes in a deep breath, closes her eyes and pulls the cork from the jar.
***
- 6
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- 8
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That's Not My Name