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That's Not My Name	By : marksandspence Category: S through Z > True Blood Views: 6311 -:- 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
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Title: That’s Not My Name

*Warning, this is predominantly a True Blood fic, with some crossover BtVS elements. The main pairing is actually OC/Eric and not Eric/Spike. Sorry for the confusion.

Setting: Post-Season 3/Beginning of Season 4, then alternate universe (because frankly, I hated season 4 and amnesia Eric). Sookie is back from faerie land, Bill is King, Eric has bought Sookie’s house, but after she rejects his offer to be ‘his’, he has backed off somewhat. Sookie’s relationship with Bill is complicated and she has come clean to Eric that she is still in love with him (Bill), despite everything, which is met with much incomprehension from Eric (and subsequent derision). They still interact frequently, as before. Although this has some elements of a BtVS crossover, the canon will follow mostly the True Blood version of vampires, werewolves, etc. Prior knowledge of BtVS is not required. For those who care, in the BtVS universe, the setting is ~many years post-Angel. Spike was rescued in the final battle by someone who has taken him to the east coast (to say more would be to spoil you).

Classification: Alternate Universe, Crossover, OC

Main Characters: Eric, Pam, OC, Sookie, Spike, Alcide with appearances of most other universe characters.

Rating: M/NC17 (strong language, adult themes, adult situations, sex)

Summary: Eric attempts to cope with the loss of his Maker and the disappointment of his unrequited fascination with Sookie by adding to his family. Things do not go as planned.

Disclaimer: I have not created the True Blood (credit to Charlaine Harris & Alan Ball) or BtVS universe (credit to Joss Whedon) and do not have any claim on the characters other than the ones I have added to the mix. Full disclosure, I have NOT read the book series by Charlaine Harris and so my depiction of the characters involved are based entirely on the HBO Original Series, True Blood.

Author: Mad

Preface. As many of you know from my prior works, I always create new characters and this story is no exception. And as with the others, one of these new characters is central to the story. It will be long and epic and not told linearly, so not for the weak of heart. I see it as an origin story. All that said, although I feel the OC is interesting in her own right, my main purpose is to use her to illuminate and explore the character of Eric Northman. As well as some fun stuff about vampire families and love and loss and memory, etc. etc. There will be some smut, but I would say it is not central to the story. You have been warned!

That’s Not My Name

Chapter 1
In the basement of Fangtasia, a bloodied man is chained to a chair, a low growl seeping from his chest at intervals. Eric Northman stands a few feet away, bored but with agitation bubbling. Sookie Stackhouse sits uncomfortably in a folding chair near the stairs.
“Can we hurry this up?” Eric glances at his watch “I have someplace to be.”
“Where are you going? Doesn’t Fangtasia open in, like, half an hour?”, Sookie snits.
“We don’t open until midnight. Mani-pedi Tuesdays.”
“Seriously?”
“Pam’s already at the salon.”
“Isn’t this a tiny bit more important than your toes?”
“Fingers and toes.” He wiggles his hands to illustrate.
The man in the chair starts to giggle.
“Bill asked me to help you tonight, so I figure this has to be a big deal. I just think we ought to stay until we know something.”
“If Bill thinks it is important…” Eric responds with implied eye roll.
Eric walks up to the man, grabs his wrist and smashes his hand with his own, quickly followed by a crushing foot stomp. The man cries out, the pain inducing a transient transformation from man to wolf and back again. Sookie flinches.
“Was that really necessary?”
“It has been suggested that I may have anger issues. Still…” Looking more pointedly at the man in the chair.
“What is your business here?”
“You have no authority….”, the man spits.
“Oh, I think I do.”
Sookie hears a passing thought: perhaps he does.
“I’ve broken no laws.”
Sookie hears: just enough.
“In the last week, you have been detained by three sheriffs in Louisiana for disruptive behavior.”
“’not from around here. Just feeling my way.” The man smirks. “Perhaps you can recommend an anger management class.”
Eric smashes his other hand. The man stifles a cry.
“You are gathering information. Why?”
“Do you always do what you are told?”
“What?”
“By your King.”, the man spits.
Sookie hears: puppet, abomination, fool.
Sookie blurts: “King Bill?”
Eric bristles, inadvertently. The man smiles with bloody teeth. Eric regains his composure and moves aggressively toward the man.
“Who sent you?” Eric insists with more focus.
Sookie hears: The one who will reclaim.
Eric grabs the man’s hair, flashes his fangs in his face in an attempt to glamour him. Before Eric utters a word, the man laughs. The rage builds in Eric’s face and just as he moves forward to attack, something overcomes him. His expression softens, fangs retract and he falls backward in a slump.
Sookie leaps up from her chair, and with a tone of annoyance mixed with fear says “Eric? Are you okay?”
She glances nervously over to the man in the chair, who smirks before transforming into a small snake and slithering into the darkness. What the?
She mumbles, confused “I thought he was a werewolf.”
She turns back to Eric, wanting to complain that their prisoner has escaped and how Eric wasn’t taking it seriously enough and Bill would be mad. But when she sees him, she softens. He has balanced himself by grabbling hold of the stairs and is sliding down into a sitting position, his expression now more composed. The prisoner didn’t do this.
“What happened?”, she asks quietly, recognizing something in his distracted gaze.
He turns his head to look at her, taking a moment before responding, forgetting for a moment that she could not understand.
“I…I lost something. Someone.”
Sookie’s eyes widen. “Pam?”
“What? No.” He shakes his head, dismissively. Could be worse.
She reluctantly puts her hand on his shoulder. He looks deflated, small.
“Who?”
He regains enough composure to remember his privacy.
“I wish to be alone.”
“We’ll talk about the wolf-guy, er, shifter that just escaped later, I guess.”
“Who?”
“Yeah. Why don’t you come by Merlott’s when you are up to it. I got the late shift tomorrow night.”
She starts to walk slowly up the stairs.
“Sookie?”
“Yeah?”
“Pam is at Tooth and Nail on Market St. Tell her I will not be joining her this evening.”
The resignation in his voice stops her from retorting something about her not being his personal assistant and/or why can’t he just use his cell phone or that psychic vampire thing that makers and offspring do.
“Sure.”
Flashback: Eight Months Earlier
A woman walks briskly down a city street, her arms crossed in front, holding together a dark canvas coat. Rain has drenched her hair and she periodically brushes the back of her hand across her brow, then the side of her eye, wiping away moisture. Her eyes are narrowed, but glimpses of pink flash when she looks up from the pavement to check her path. She turns a corner and seems relieved to see the light of a diner up ahead, with a sign flashing “Charlie’s Diner: Open 24 Hours”. She takes three quicker steps, then stops abruptly for a second, closes her eyes and resumes more a level, measured pace. When she is about ten meters from the entrance, a tall figure appears in front of her. She glances up, sees his face, then quickly lets her eyes drop again before stopping. It’s Eric. Of course she knew, even before. She exhales, looks to the side, clenching her jaw in preparation. Without meeting his gaze, she says loudly to compete with the rain,
“That was quick. Thought I might have another hour or two.”
She looks up at him cautiously. He looks softer, somehow, a hint of confusion hidden in the confidence. She shakes off her mind’s interest.
He scans her face and the visible parts of her body with concern.
“Are you burned?” He pauses briefly before adding impatiently “How did you leave?”
She winces, closes her eyes, resolved.
“Leave us alone.”
He appears bemused, his eyes focused unwaveringly on her face.
His response is dismissive. “Ridiculous.”
“You got your time. We’re done now”, she states with an unsure finality.
“Everything is different.” He soothes.
“No, it’s not.” Her voice starts to crack.
He smirks, knowingly.
“It is not unusual to be confused.”
Before he can say more, she starts to walk past him and says in a sort of shouting whisper,
“I can’t have this conversation now.”
The throbbing of her head makes it difficult to think clearly. She fears losing control of the situation. Everything depends on that not happening.
He grabs her arm to prevent her from leaving. Instead of tensing, as was her intention, she feels her arm go limp, almost melting into his grip.
“Peia. Do not walk away from me.”
She looks up at him, engaging his stare.
This won’t go away on its own. The conversation has to happen.
“Fine. If you want to talk, come in with me. I need to get something to eat.”
The urgency of her words makes Eric smile.
She shakes her head strides purposefully into the diner. She chooses a booth with an accessible light, away from the jukebox, which is currently blaring 70’s pop music. Before sitting, she reaches up and twists the bulb until the brightness is gone. Eric follows her to the booth and sits across from her, never letting his eyes leave her face.
Eric looks as if he is about to say something and Peia intercedes with a wild-eyed look.
“Shhhh. Do not say anything. Just wait.” She wipes the moisture from her face.
Eric frowns, looking vaguely annoyed.
The middle-aged waitress, wearing a ridiculous Farrah Fawcett wig, checks her watch and saunters over. She glances around to the other tables before pulling out her order pad. There are about four other tables occupied. One group is getting up to leave. The other three tables with customers have either a couple of coffee cups or an empty bottle of True Blood on the table.
“Welcome to Charlie’s Diner. I’ll be your angel tonight. What can I get you folks?”
Peia scans the menu.
“I’d like a basket of onion rings, a spinach salad – large, and uh…honestly, what are your steaks like? Or am I better off with the Bosley Burger?”
The waitress glances back to the kitchen nervously, then gives a subtle head shake. She continues in a louder-than-necessary voice.
“And how would you like your Bosley Burger?”
“Medium rare. And can I get an extra pattie?”
“Sure. Anything else?”
“Do you have Vitamin Water?”
“Just soda, juice or milk.”
“Water, please.”
“Anything for you, sir?”
Eric just gives her a look. She thins her lips knowingly, and turns back to Peia.
“I’ll get that right out to you.” She starts to walk away, but stops and turns around. The girl just looks so darn pale! “You know, Darlin’, there’s a convenience store across the street. If you want to get yourself some of that Gatorade and bring it in, I won’t pay it no mind.”
“Thanks.” Peia offers a pained smile to the waitress.
Eric casually taps his fingers on the table, waiting. He knows how this is going to end, but is happy to let her control the pace.
Not wanting to spend any more time with Eric than is necessary, Peia suggests
“Why don’t you make yourself useful and go get me some Gatorade.”
Eric starts to shake his head.
“This is a waste of time. You wo…”
“Please?” She says with just enough genuine need to send him off with only a small huff.
“Fine.”
“Orange if they have it.” She calls after him. “Anything but blue” She adds.
By the time Eric returns, Peia is devouring the food on her plate. He plops himself down on the other side of the booth after placing the tall bottle of orange Gatorade on the table. He watches her eat for a minute, his disgust showing clearly.
He offers, chirpily “And look, I kept the bag. Which you will be needing in a minute.”
She glares at him defiantly as she unscrews the top of the bottle and starts chugging the contents. After a few seconds, Eric starts to look agitated and grabs it away from her like an annoyed parent.
“You are going to make yourself sick. And I loathe being around sick people.”
“Then go the fuck away.”
A twinge of guilt flashes across Eric’s face.
“I understand that you are upset. We were supposed to be together when you woke up. I am truly sorry. I do not know what went wrong.”
“What went wrong?” She repeats this back to him, incredulously, keeping her tone low but seething.
“WHAT WENT WRONG???!!! So waking up naked underground in total blackness surrounded by dirt and bugs, unable to breathe -- that was the good part of the plan? That was the part of the plan that went right???”
“Yes. As it should be.”
She is getting visibly upset, cheeks flushed, nostrils flared.
“Look at me Eric. Look at me. What am I doing right now?”
She is breathing heavily, blowing air out through her nose like a wild bull.
Eric brushes this aside.
“You can stop that now – it is just a reflex. Many new…”
“You don’t get it. Listen.”
But before he hears her, before he lets his senses focus, he finds his eyes fixating on little balls of water forming on Peia’s forehead. Funny, we’ve been inside out of the rain for long enough…
“Eric.” She grabs his hand in frustration and holds it to her neck.
He pulls it away as if he has just touched fire. Sweat. She is sweating. She is hot, feverish. The sound is suddenly deafening — her heart beating, loudly. Unusually hard, pushing blood angrily through her body. She is human. Still. He is genuinely surprised, confused. How did he not sense it before? It was familiar. How could it be both?
She is looking at him intently now, trying to gauge his reaction. Once she sees that her point is made, she says
“It didn’t work. What you tried to do, it didn’t work.”
She resumes eating while Eric sits, stunned. Her head is still throbbing, but the food is having its intended effect. The fog is starting to lift. Taking advantage of his silence, she continues between bites,
“The way I see it, you were being impulsive. Which I don’t think is something you are normally, though I can’t say that I really know. Just based on the short time we’ve…known each other. I just don’t think this is something you would typically do on a whim. So you got a bit carried away for whatever reason – maybe I had a bit of something in my system that impaired your judgment. I have been known to dabble. But see now, instead of being stuck, reminded every day of that night you weren’t thinking straight, now, like magic you’ve got a ‘get out of jail free card’. Or rather, not like magic, I suppose. Put simply, it didn’t work. You’re off the hook. We go our separate ways and no one is the wiser. No one needs to know. Win win.”
Peia looks up from her food. The music has stopped. Good for her head, but…
“Where is our waitress?”
She hears a door slam in the back, behind the kitchen. Then the sound of a metal chain, as the lights go out.
“What’s happening?”
Eric looks around the diner, taking in the scene.
“Only vampires are left in here.”
Suddenly a line of fire moves quickly from the kitchen down through the center tables, following a stream of something flammable. One of the vampires at the table across the room, jumps up, his pant leg in flames.
Eric shakes his head, angrily. “I thought we were done with this shit.” He glances at the kitchen, hears something. He orders,
“Get down.”
He pulls Peia onto the floor just as a small bomb explodes in the kitchen, sending debris into the dining area over their heads.
“What the fuck?” Peia exclaims.
“We have to get out of here.”
Eric sees the other vampires struggling with the door. A large silver chain is holding it shut and a fine silver mesh is covering the few windows. He jumps upwards, crashing through the ceiling. Peia crawls over to the door, pushing away the panicking vampires. She pulls at the door – the chain is thick. She looks back over her shoulder, wondering where Eric is. The smoke is starting to make her eyes sting and throat burn. She sees Eric around the front, unable to approach the door because of the silver. Not thinking, she tries to kick the door in. Her foot goes straight through the thick glass, but the door doesn’t open. She needs to break the chain. She looks around for a lever, but not seeing anything, just shrugs and lifts her leg up and kicks straight at the door handle as hard as she can. The chain breaks apart instantly and the door flies open. She runs out and pulls the silver off the windows and clears a path. The other vampires flee. She runs quickly away, turning back to see the diner going up in flames.
She has a hard coughing fit, just as Eric finds her. She grabs her head, wincing.
“Are you alright?”
She wants to retort “define alright”, but instead just nods, her palms still pressed against her temples.
“That was not particularly human of you.” Eric notes, with his characteristic pleased with himself smirk.
“Just hit a weak spot.”
“That chain must have weighed 100 pounds and you threw it like a piece of string.”
“Adrenaline is an amazing thing.”
“Somethings happened. You need me.”
“No. No. I….Just leave us alone.”
“You know I will not.”
“Weren’t you listening in there? Win win?”
Pam worried that he was being impulsive, too. He could walk away. But it feels right. Complete again.
She continues, “Just “release me” or whatever and lets be done with it.”
“It would be irresponsible to release this soon.”
“What, so that’s a real thing? I totally just made it up.”
Eric perks up, realizing something.
“So if it didn’t work, then what do you need to be released from?” After a quick pause, he continues, “You feel it too.”
Yes. But that just makes her angry, horrified and more determined to get away.
“What I feel is the horror of waking up with dirt up my goddamned nostrils, not knowing which way to dig in the darkness. I have never been so terrified. And that is saying something, let me tell you. And I have such a headache right now – searing, skull crushing pain. All because of you.”
“It was not supposed to be like that.”
“Well it was.” Hot tears are streaming down her sweaty face. “How could you not have known?”
“Known what exactly?”
“That it probably wouldn’t work. That I’m not…typical.”
Off of his confused look, she continues,
“I told you I was 64. Do I look like a typical 64 year old to you?”
He frowns and responds honestly.
“Human chronology means little to me.”
“You should never have tried.”
“And yet it is done. You will come back to Shreveport with me and we will figure out what happened.”
“I don’t care what happened. Nothing happened. I’m not going anywhere with you.”
“But I wish it, so you must. We are family.”
“I have zero interest whatsoever in joining your little vampire harem, sorry. Only I’m not sorry at all. Vampire hoochie is frankly not one of my career goals.”
“You have seen too many movies. My family is small.” He muses to himself: Is Pam a hoochie? She would likely not object to that classification.
Peia is surprised by how genuine he appears. She softens her tone a bit.
“Listen, I get that you think I should be flattered, right? A powerful guy like you – handsome in that tall, Nordic way that honestly isn’t really my thing – giving me the opportunity of a lifetime and all that. Maybe I should be. But I don’t want it.”
She pauses a moment, looking at him straight for the first time.
“I’m not rejecting you. I don’t even see you.”
“But you feel me. My blood runs through your veins now.”
“I am in love with someone else.” Frustrated by what she perceives as his feigned ignorance, she reminds him “And you know that.”
“I have no interest in your love.”
She frowns, confused. Taking a different approach, she insists,
“We had a deal.”
“The deal was invalid. You were never his.”
“You are seriously going to re-neg on some kind of vampire technicality? Fuck. Off. You had no right.”
“You have no obligation to him. Neither do I.”
“It’s not about obligation. How can you not understand this? He is everything to me. I love him.”
“Humans throw that word around so much– I think it means nothing. I offer you more.”
“You have no idea. I’m not some 20 year old dimwit with her first boyfriend. I have lived a life already and I can tell you that I have never felt this way. I have never loved anyone the way I love him.”
The moment the words leave her lips, she involuntarily lifts her hand to her mouth, as if mortified by this confession. Thoughts streak through her brain He’s dead. He can’t hear. I’m so sorry. In an instant, she pulls herself together, takes a deep breath and remembers what she is doing here.
“Family, Peia. Only family lasts forever.”
“Oh, just shut up already.” She squints her eyes – the headache is worse. She is burning up with fever.
Eric looks concerned. He moves toward her.
“Let me help you.”
“Don’t touch me.” She snaps, reeling away.
In a soft, but steady tone, he asks again,
“Come with me. You gave him the antidote, right? He will be fine. Where is he now?”
“Back at the hotel. Getting room service, I hope.”
“He can take care of himself now. And if what Pam says about him is true, he will not need any help once he gets his memory back. He has quite a reputation.”
“How will he get his memory back without my help?”
“Spike’s a big boy.”
She shakes her head too vigorously, then winces.
“Is she dead?”
Damn. He forgot all about that and feels a twinge of guilt, as now he is in violation of their agreement.
“I can make the call now if you wish.”
She retorts, feeling more confident.
“This is what is going to happen. You are going to go back to that shit-hole town of yours and forget all about this. You are going to let us go on our way, without any trouble.”
“No. I will not forget.”
She thinks for a minute, and then responds.
“You’re a Sheriff. That means there must be some sort of hierarchy – some kind of vampire judicial hierarchy. I’d bet there is a judge or a magistrate or someone above you. No doubt Spike will know, if I help him remember. I’ll take our deal to him. I’d bet anything there is some big rule against taking another vampire’s human and trying to turn her. Some punishable rule and you know Spike would press charges. The fact that you made the deal in the first place incriminates you.”
She can tell by the look on his face that she is on to something real. Eric does not look pleased. She adds,
“Pam was witness. An accomplice?”
Eric just shakes his head. He cannot afford to bring trouble down on his house right now. Everything is so tenuous. Bill would jump at any chance to bring them down. This can wait. He has all the time in the world.
“Fine. You can go.” With an almost paternal concern he continues “When Spike gets his memory back, he will go back to his Maker. Family trumps all.”
“We’ll see.”
She has considered this, along with every other possible result. Doesn’t matter.
“You know where to find me.”
She just stares at him for a moment, frowning. As she turns to go, he vamprushes up to her, kissing her on the forehead before she even has a chance to react. She pulls away and starts running fast. When she turns a corner, finally out of his line of vision, she stops. She touches the spot on her forehead where he kissed her, but the rain has washed away the tiny spot of blood that had been there. In spite of herself, she smiles. Her headache is gone. The freedom from pain makes her euphoric. She heads off again, the buoyancy of her natural step restored.
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That's Not My Name