A/N: Hi everyone, it’s my fanfic birthday today. I joined fanfiction.net one year ago, never thought I’d end up writing, but 5 active stories now say otherwise. To celebrate this I wrote this little one shot that I would describe as a crack pie, part crack fic with a dessert thrown in at the end.
I came to fanfiction because of a supposed HEA and a disappointing storyline on the show had me seeking solace elsewhere. So this is my take on the SVM universe post DEA. Enjoy!
Please note that I don’t own anything pertaining to the universe of SVM and True Blood created by Charlaine Harris and HBO. Any recognisable characters, story lines and/or dialogue belong to them. I like to think the rest is mine.
I should also note that Sam’s affliction was partly inspired by Meridiean’s wonderful one-shot Slippy Slappy Seal Sex. Eric’s realisation is similar to something in Gyllene’s excellent one shot Daylight, I wrote this before reading that but it is similar and she published it first so I feel it belongs with her. If any of these two authors take issue with my bit of fun I will immediately take this down.
Finally a special food and drink warning for msbuffy… she’ll know what it means!
They’ve all turned into whingeing pussies ever since the successions of Great Reveals. Vampires, demons, weres, shifters the whole lot of them. Prancing about like a bunch of humans, they try to hide it but I can always tell. Male vampires shaving their chests, demons moisturising… Yes moisturising, like there’s any product in this realm or another that’s going to soothe away that scaly tail of yours. Idiots.
I was ready to rip throats out with their constant ‘oh woe is me’ whining when I was there to heal them proper. Blubbering fools. It got so bad I went to see one of those human things. A psychotherapist. What a quack! All he did was be silent and incidentally hum or ask ‘Is that something that bothers you?’, or ‘How does that make you feel?’ Like I’m being ripped off quite frankly. That had the fool thinking I have anger management issues!
Well guess what I’m a capitalist first and a healer second. If these times had me seeking out a confessionary, imagine the dough I could rake in by expanding my services to the feeble minds of the supernatural. I didn’t get any qualifications, what the fool demonstrated to me let me know this wasn’t all that hard. My trusty copy of DSM IV does the rest.
My speidi senses for cash cows proved correct as on this first day that I open my magical practice I am fully booked. The little light flashes up indicating that my first patient is ready to be teleported to this realm of secrecy. The only guarantee that this would attract the most affluent of the supernatural clientele. Of course I charge them through the nose because of it.
Onwards. Let the healing begin…
Session 1 – Pamela Ravensbitch
“And then Eric just up and left me in charge to deal with my previously unknown sister and I get nothing… no presents… no gifts. All the responsibility of looking out for his precious Sookie who can’t even come to Fangtasia…”
Good god let’s hope the whining ends soon with this one. I know I’m supposed to stay silent but this overindulged git needs a good slap to the face. Pout, pout, pout. That’s all she seems capable of, everyone and everything is conspiring to take away and play with her favourite toys. Mine, mine, mine.
“And dear Abby says…” the overly groomed blonde continues before I interject that ridiculous speech.
“Shut the fuck up,” I growl to which she seems to pale a bit. Good, she needs to be scared. “Dear Abby is a hack. He’s an overweight sweaty bald man who jerks off every night to dumb little bitches like you taking his bad advice so he and his tiny testes might finally have a shot with the likes of you.”
She’s silent. Excellent progress indeed. She blinks twice and then stares back at me wide eyed. Apparently the little glutton for punishment wants more, fine she’ll get more.
“Frankly the man has more balls than you despite his dismally low testosterone levels. Now clean yourself up,” I say while tossing the obligatory box of tissues her way. “Man up to the vampire you are and go drain a bitch.”
I’m going to have to find me a magical ward during my next break, I can’t have every patient hugging me and sobbing all over my scrubs while they thank me profusely. Ick.
“You don’t know what this means to me Dr Ludwig,” the little vamp says while brushing away the last of her bloody tears. “I haven’t felt like me in so long.”
“You’re welcome,” I manage to grit out before yelling, “NEXT!”
Session 2 – Bartlett Croaks & Randy Russell
“Why are you two here?” I demand of the couple on the sofa. Couples therapy seems to be the most requested of my new services. It’s no mystery, those eternal blood bonds seem such a great idea at the time when everything is still fresh and exciting but you pretty much know everything there is to know about your bonded within a century. These two, however, are supposed to be the poster children for eternal love.
“See I told you we didn’t need to be here, even she agrees with me,” Russell smirks triumphantly at his scowling partner.
Ah trouble in paradise… Even the nauseatingly sweet can incite tooth decay and I can’t wait to see it fall apart in front of me. This will be good for at least twelve sessions, which will finally settle up the mortgage on my house in Maui. How sweet it is.
“Why must you always pull others into our marriage,” Bartlett screeches back.
Oh right must take notes. Almost forgot I’m not watching a reality show drama unfold on that gay TV network. Brava?
“Well if someone wasn’t so shy about Skypesex, there wouldn’t be a need for that now would there pumpkin?” he retorts in that cloyingly thick molasses accent of his. “And it’s hardly stimulating with that clammy routine of yours on the phone.”
“You bitch!” Bartlett gasps not even dropping a hint of fang. Pussy.
Well I didn’t even need to ask him how that made him feel. This is too easy, I should really give that Andy Cohen a call.
After listening to them go back and forth for another 30 minutes the entertainment value is soon wearing off. When they seem to have come to some sort of silent stare off they finally decide to look at me remembering I’m still here. Cue eye roll.
“You two do realise you’re in an alliance and not a marriage,” I say pointedly to which they both mutter a disgruntled yes. “You didn’t get married in Vermont with Barbara Streisand serenading you as far as I can recall.”
An ill contained whimper escapes from Bartlett and Russell finally takes note of the tears staining his eyes.
“Is that something you would like poppet?” Russell asked to the sniffling fool Bartlett has become. He only manages to nod his head affirmatively through his sobs. “Let’s do it Barti-poo let’s share our love with everyone.”
“Oh Russell,” he replies with an elongated sigh before they attack each other’s mouths on my little sofa. Ick. Again.
Idiots. They’ll be knocking on my door and lining my pockets for years to come. My modest bungalow in Maui is about to become a compound with the income from these two alone. I can probably buy up the whole island with my discovery fee when I get them to sign up for that reality show.
Session 3 – Sookie Stuckup & Sam Strainypants
“This just isn’t what I signed up for,” she says shaking her head with little tears.
Another day another whining blonde. Do we have no other hair colours available in this supernatural world of ours?
“You had no problems with all your exes and their fangs,” he says derisively.
Well they didn’t want to bone her as every animal species known to man….
“I am not having sex with you if you’re anything other than a human!” Sookie screams out.
“How about as a human woman then?” he pleads with, egh, puppy dog eyes.
So that’s your bartering position Merlotte? Ease her into it with bestiality…
“Oh, my gosh,” she returns wide eyed. “It’s not the dryer that’s eating up all my underwear. IT’S YOU!”
Well at least he has the decency to look guilty about it.
“Cher,” he starts but she held up her hand not wanting to hear another word.
Why he’s bringing up that singer is a mystery to me. Maybe I should introduce him to Bartlett and Russell…
“I love you Sam,” Sookie interrupts, the anger of her tears softening. “But there isn’t enough of it to forgive that.”
“Whore!” he screams back in hurt. “You’ll forgive everyone but me.”
Well now they’re both reeling in pain. Oh right that’s my cue.
“Can it, Shifty,” I instruct silencing them both. “This isn’t about forgiveness. You’ve deceived her of your true nature, just like you have in the past. Just like almost every man in her past has.”
“I’m sorry,” he reluctantly says while hanging his head.
“Not good enough,” Sookie replies sternly as he continued to evade her eyes. Good for her.
Too bad, this will be a onetime deal. Maybe I can convince her to come back on her own? The shifter is clearly beyond help.
I toss another box of tissues, thank god they were on sale at Costco’s, to the shifter and the card of a divorce attorney to the young blond.
Twice divorced by the age of thirty she just needs a litter of children with assorted daddies and she’ll be right up there living the Bon Temps stereotype.
“Don’t even think about rebound sex with Bill,” I say sternly to the young blond and her guilty look confirms that had been the next move on her feeble little mind. I repeat idiot.
Stupid telepath doesn’t even have the wits to check a brain when it’s wide open to her. At least she had a legitimate excuse when those vamps trampled all over her.
Session 4 – Amelia Whinehart
Ah the inept little witch is going to be my best client yet. Her constant blabbering seems stuck on a loop. She hasn’t even noticed that I slipped in the earphones of my iPod. I’ve made a few notes; daddy issues, intimacy issues, commitment issues, sexual confusion, fear of failure, anxiety and a whole host of others.
The pharmaceutical giants are going to have a field day with this one. And who are they going to reward with free holidays and other useless crap? Yep, it’s good to be me.
Oh would you look at that time’s up.
Session 5 – Frigid Freyda & Eric Nofangs
“He’s so ungrateful. I buy him the nicest things, a new leather coat for the cool weather. Does he appreciate it?” the whiny queen says with flaying hands as if they somehow express themselves better than her mouth. “No, he says it saddens him that he can no longer defecate at least then it would have a use for something.”
Touché Northman at least your balls are more firmly intact than your progeny’s and I do always admire pragmatism in a man.
“I buy him a new driveway for his precious car, instead he just parks it in my spot,” she continues to complain. “I redecorated his quarters exactly as he likes…”
“In pastels,” the Viking groans which receives him a warning look from the ice queen.
Fucking hate pastels too.
Freyda merely rolls her eyes with a huff of annoyance as her seemingly endless list of gifts continues to rattle on with those thin lips. Clothing, jewellery, rare blood types, lingerie.
“Lingerie?” I question hoping to clarify she was the one wearing them. I have heard enough gender bending for one day.
“These cute little red bikini briefs,” she gushes to me as if we’re girlfriends.
Right because I would want to be friends with her…
“He has the most adorable little butt,” she blabbers on. My mind is firmly set with the Northman’s as we grunt in unison.
“This isn’t about his butt!” I growl at her having heard more than enough. “He’s not some toy that you dress up and then caters to your every whim. Grow the fuck up!”
“But,” she says with a quivering bottom lip, tears already spilling out the corners of her icy blue eyes. “I just want him to love me.”
“I can’t love you! You psycho bitch,” the Viking erupts in anger. “Maybe I fucking should! Seeing that everything I actually love is doomed and is forced from my side!”
The Viking volcano seems to boil over as his rage breaks him into two, collapsing that freakishly giant frame of his into tears. He mewls and whimpers the names of his progeny and the telepath while cursing the names of his maker, his former king and current queen. Oh how the mighty have fallen.
Bloody tears. I’ll be adding that to their surmounting bill. Next couch will definitely be a leather one.
“I want out!” Freyda screams as she watches with horror what the once powerful vampire has become. I give her the same card I gave the telepath that’s causing the strife in their marriage.
The referral fees I’m going to make with that divorce attorney alone is going to bring that yacht within reach far sooner than scheduled.
The frigid queen seems to accept the lawyer’s card happily with a sigh of relief as she nudges Eric out the door careful not to touch him as if he’s diseased.
Session 6 – Bill Bumpkin
“I love her for what she is not for who she is,” the world’s most boring vampire informs me. “Wait no, for who. Or what?”
I roll my eyes at the idiot who doesn’t seem to move past any event in his unlife with any great haste. Wallpaper seems to catch on quicker than him. Coincidentally wallpaper is more interesting to watch than this deteriorating piece of flesh. At least the wall covering looks like it flushes a toilet now and then.
“Which one is the one that I like her for her blood and body?”
“The first one,” I reply with yet another roll of my eyes.
With the exercise my eyeballs are getting with all the rolling around I will surely keep myself reading glass free with old age. The benefits of this job just keep on stacking up.
“The first one then. Even after saving her from those vicious fairies, she still won’t give me a glance,” he continues to whine as I check my watch for the twentieth time. Shit at least 20 more minutes of this. “I suffered with silver poisoning for months!”
Fuck it, I’ve had enough. That seems to be the recurring theme of the day…
“You deceived her, lied to her, humiliated her, raped her with your fangs and your cock,” I list off the top of my head remembering all the times I was called in to attend to the fragile little telepath. “Just because your self-worth is so low that you’d crawl back to your maker under those circumstances doesn’t mean she has to be as weak as you.”
Would you look at that an albino vampire…
“Here,” I say tossing him a brand new stake before leaving the room. “I’ll send the clean-up bill to your descendants.” But I’m so charging them the return teleportation fee.
Ah sweet coffee. I needed a break.
Session 7 – Alcide Nogo
“So you thought slipping into her bed naked and waiting was the right move?”
They just keep getting stupider by the hour. Mr Silent Type seems the worst yet and he has me doing all the talking.
“Because the foundations to a long and lasting relationship always emerge from the wrecks of a dismantled blood bond?” I question sharply.
“Well when you put it like that…” he says squirming on the newly installed sofa. Sheesh that Bill Compton knows how to leave a mess.
“How else would you put it?”
“I don’t know,” he mumbled back.
“How have you been meeting women all your life?” I ask incredulously.
“Well I just flex my pecks and they come running like that body spray commercial,” the idiot answered as if it was some personal accomplishment of his.
My eyes have now resorted to rolling on a constant loop. Must make note to get a spell to prevent that too.
“Listen,” I instruct sternly wanting to get home early today. This boob is going to get nowhere on his own. “You’re going to go on that dating website, WereHarmony, and put up a picture of the worst looking man on your profile you can find. You won’t meet with the girl for at least a couple weeks where you will simply chat and get to know each other anonymously online. If she can stand to be around you after that she’s the one, you narcissist.”
“Ok,” he nodded bobbing his head up and down like he belonged on a dashboard.
With my dainty little feet up resting on the desk and a good measure of scotch in my hand I can finally relax and reflect on the day. Simultaneously two of the lights on my desk lit up. Figures. I buzz them both through as I reposition myself.
“Dr Ludwig?” a tentative voice asks as a more baritone version requests the same entering through the opposing door at the same time.
Why do they even bother to ask? This only proves what inept fools they’ve all become. The telepath has a built in radar that detects anything with a working mind. The ancient vampire should easily be able to scent that I’m hiding in the file cabinet. Their ‘human’ feelings are making them utterly unaware. Schmucks.
“Sookie?” he asks with a hint of surprise.
See idiot, he’s blind too apparently if he needs to ask what’s right in front of him.
“Hey,” she returns.
“What are you doing here?” The telepath remains silent for too long. Guess she picked up on that little trick of mine. However, I prove to be the master schemer here when she answers.
“I just want to be that wide eyed and innocent girl in that white dress again,” she says softly, from the small crack in the cabinet I can see she’s avoiding his penetrating gaze. “Why are you here?”
He too remains silent. Fuckers are all picking up my tools of the trade. Fuck now that means I’m going to have to go visit with that ‘doctor’ again to pick up some more.
“I want to be Fangtasia Eric again.”
“Why?” she asks as they finally lock their eyes onto each other.
“He doesn’t feel,” he whispers. “I don’t want to feel anything anymore.”
“Eric,” she sighs as tears fall from her face at hearing his confession. “Please don’t close your heart. Yours is the most generous one I’ve ever known.”
“You’re the one who wants to revert to a time in the past where I never existed,” he returns unable to hide the ache in the offending organ that no longer beats inside of him.
“I have to look at these scars everyday Eric,” she says as she lifts up her shirt slightly to show the impact of the two vicious faes. The scars he was unable to heal in time. “I can never forgot what we went through, I couldn’t even if I wanted to.”
He closed the space between them as if no love had ever been lost there, his fingers tracing a familiar path. A swallowed breath was quickly expelled when he traced over the blunt tissue of impact. The memory of pain that bound them closer than any blood bond could.
“I wish I could carry the scars of our past,” the Viking returns softly. “Something to remember us in the ages I have yet to meet. To remember the woman who stands in front of me now, not the girl in the white dress.”
“Why would you want to remember her?” the telepath replies almost with distaste at the thought of who she is today.
His hands caress softly through her blonde mane. “She’s the one I love, who found there was more to me after a thousand years,” he offers, his penetrating gaze digging deep into hers. “More than I ever thought was possible. The girl in the white dress was a vision, but this,” he says gesturing at the broken tears in her face and the simplicity of her clothes. “This is perfection to me.”
“Why Eric?” she whispers with the buried pain brimming up to the surface. “You were the only one who never lied to me, always offering me the truth even if I didn’t want to hear it. Why tell me all those lies in the end and leave me behind.”
“I had to deceive you like all the others,” he returns kindly with a gentle smile. “You would never let me go otherwise. Your safety is all that matters to me. It matters so much more than how you would remember me.”
“What about yourself Eric?” she demands with the pain of their shared past written all over her face. “Why suffer in my stead?”
“Because of these,” he says lightly tracing the scores left behind by sharpened fae blades. “I failed you once, I could not live with failing you twice.”
‘I’ve never been the same since,” Sookie confesses tears dampening the front of his shirt as he holds her to his chest.
“I have never thought of you any less,” he replies truthfully as he kisses her forehead tenderly. “Only ever as more, my little warrior.”
“Sam’s a cross dresser,” the telepath sobs in deflection of his admiring words.
“Freyda’s even more scared of my tears than I ever was of yours,” the Viking admits with a grin that has her drying her eyes. “I’m getting a divorce.”
“Me too,” she smiles brightly and in an instant his lips were firmly planted on hers with tongues embracing each other like old battle companions. With that I knew my job was done for the day. My first patients cured, staring at each other with mirroring smiles. The only genuine ones I have seen all day. As soon as I hear the tell-tale sign of a zipper sliding down its metal teeth I pop out of my hiding places like I’m Jack in the box scaring both of them to frights.
“Get a room you two,” I snort at their startled faces.
“What kind of doctor are you?” the little fairy asks a little incensed as she desperately clutches at her racing heart.
“The healing kind,” her mate answers as he rests his hand atop hers. Her erratic heartbeat instantly settles down as she looks to him and nods in agreement with a smile.
“I expect my bill to be paid by the end of the week,” I yell after them as they depart through the door together. “And you’re both coming in for couples counselling on Thursdays!”
They curtly nod in contract as I down the last drops of my scotch in victory.
Ah another day another dollar. Those two will keep me fat and fed for centuries.