Chapter Eleven - The Agony

Bill Compton sat in the dark, quiet stillness of his car and looked down at the regulation issue Glock .40 semi-automatic in his hand. He shook his head at the sheer stupidity of his actions this evening. What on earth had possessed him to act in such a manner? Bill usually exerted a great effort to maintain control of his emotions and actions at all times. He had learned through trial and tribulation that the loss of control in general made a bad situation an even worse situation. And never more so than for a vampire attempting to mainstream. Yes, it was true the officer had angered and humiliated him in front of Sookie, but that was no excuse for losing control like he had done. How on earth had an evening that had started with such promise turned into such a disaster? And Tuvan throat singing? What on earth was he thinking? Bill leaned his head back onto the headrest and closed his eyes. The lingering scent of the cologne Sookie had worn gently caressed his senses. She had worn it the night he had come to call on her at her home. "Beautiful" she had replied when he asked her what it was called. He had really hoped that their time together tonight would be a chance for them to have some time alone, some time to talk and perhaps allow him to adequately express his growing affection for her. But it seemed as though fate had other ideas. Even though he had been loath to take Sookie to Fangtasia because he knew that every vampire in that place would immediately sense her uniqueness and could see how beautiful she was, he couldn't help but feel a sense of gloating satisfaction over the reaction of Eric. But he also knew that Eric wasn't likely to forget about Sookie. And that worried Bill.

As Bill crossed the threshold of his home, he looked around and listened to the silence. His home was dead, just like he was. There was no life here, nothing remained of the happiness and joy that had once been in each and every room. Before his return, he hadn't really thought about how painful some of those memories would be. He walked into the parlor and sat down. He had really been trying for the past few weeks to not think about those memories. Having Sookie in his life had made that difficult task much easier. But it was very hard now as every room in this house was teeming with ghosts and special memories from his human life and tonight Bill was feeling sorry for himself. He wished he were human again so he could get really drunk and maybe get rid of some of his memories and emotions, if only for a night. He had to make a conscious effort not to picture his beautiful wife coming down the staircase in the evenings after she had put the children to bed. Together they would sit in front of the fire if the weather was cold and hold onto each other's hand while they talked. Then they would quietly make their way up the staircase to their bedroom where they would passionately and eagerly enjoy the sight and feel of each other's bodies as they prepared for bed. He closed his eyes and remembered the smell and feel of her soft, pale body lying under his, the way she tasted. Stop! He musn't think about these things any longer. He was only making his sad existence even sadder. Perhaps his coming back to Bon Temps wasn't the smartest choice he could have made. But he had yearned so and missed his home so much for all these years! And that wonderful feeling that came over him when he walked through that front door the night he returned! It was as if a huge pile of sadness and misery had rolled off him when he stepped out of that car and saw that familiar front door that he had dreamed of walking through for more years than he cared to remember. But he also wondered if he could continue to live all alone with only memories of those he had loved and of happier times. Just the idea of having nothing to hope for, nothing to awaken for filled Bill with such sadness and hopelessness. He just didn't think he could bear to awaken each time the sun went down and realize he had no one to share his time with except memories and gravestones of those he had loved so many, many years ago. He had promised Sookie's grandmother that he would speak at her Descendents of the Glorious Dead meeting. That would be tomorrow evening. He really didn't want to do it, but he had given his word. The idea of dregging up all those painful memories of all those who had sacrificed their lives in one way or another and reliving the horrors and torments of a war that had taken him away from who and what he loved most was not something he looked forward to. But he knew that Sookie would be there. She cared too much for her grandmother not to be there. Bill made up his mind that he would find some way to speak with her. She just had to forgive him. She just had to.

As Bill sat in the small kitchen just to the left of the sanctuary, he could hear everthing being said. Of course, he had heard it all before. Still, as he sat there sipping on his TruBlood, he couldn't help but smile wryly at some of the comments being made. And he was most grateful to Mrs. Stackhouse for her gracious, but firm rebuttal to each and everyone of them. She was such a nice lady. She made him think of his own grandmother. Sookie was very fortunate indeed to have been brought up by such a lovely woman. Bill couldn't believe that Sookie and her brother were of the same blood. Obviously Mrs. Stackhouse had only been able to accomplish so much as far as the brother was concerned. As he sat there he heard a small commotion in the sanctuary. Some large woman with an even louder voice named Fortenberry and her son were trying their best to remove the large silver cross displayed on the altar. And they were having no luck. Bill thought he would absolutely spew O Positive from his nostrils when he heard that woman's remark about him "sizzling up like fatback bacon". Oh yes, that was a good one alright. He would have to remember that one and share it with a vampire friend when the opportunity presented itself. As he sat there alone in that small room he realized that he was listening so intently for only one reason. He was waiting for Sookie. Then, he heard her voice as she greeted her grandmother. He felt his heart leap in his chest. Then he felt his hands clutch the bottle he was drinking from so tightly that it's a miracle the bottle didn't shatter as he felt his eyes narrow in disbelief as he heard Sookie announce to Mrs. Stackhouse who her escort for the evening was. It was Sam Merlotte. The shifter. The shifter who was doing everything he could to take Sookie away from him.

It was a larger crowd than Bill had expected. "I guess it's true" Bill thought. They all want to see the town vampire, like he was some sort of circus sideshow. Didn't they realize that he had probably sat beside their great-great-great-great grandfathers and mothers as children in this very same building when it also doubled as the school? They all looked upon him as a stranger, an intruder into their safe, secure world. But it was not he who was the stranger. He belonged here more so than anyone sitting in this room tonight. For William T. Compton had fought for, had suffered for and had his life and family ripped from him to endure many heartbreaking years of lonliness and sadness only because he had done what duty and honor demanded of him.

As Bill uneasily began to speak he kept watching Sookie's face for some kind of emotion, some kind of sign that she had forgiven him. That she was no longer angry with him for his ungalant actions of the previous evening. The questions from those attending were polite and inquisitive. The crowd wasn't blown away by any means, but they were respectful. All except those three ignorant rednecks with their inevitable garlic press. Bill wasn't bothered by them. They were nothing but the dumbest of cliches. Bill managed to hold his emotions in check even when a descendent of Tolliver Humphries got up and asked Bill about him. Yes, it was difficult recounting and reliving those last few moments of Tolliver's life, but Bill was grateful for the opportunity to tell someone from Tolliver's family just how and why Tolliver had died. It seemed to make the old man feel better and proud to have descended from someone so brave. Then Mayor Norris approached him with a photograph. As Bill reached out his hand for the photograph, he knew instinctively what it was. He had carried one just like it with him, tucked inside his coat pocket next to his heart on that hot August morning in 1862 when he had riden away and become but a memory to them. The photograph had been lost many, many years ago. The vampire Lorena had destroyed it, along with all other vestiges of his former human life including letters from family and friends. With hands trembling and emotions making speech all but impossible, Bill took the tintype and opened it. Oh! Those images tore through his heart like a sickle would slice through wheat. His beautiful Caroline and little Sara! She looked exactly the same as that last morning he sadly kissed her good-bye. And his little son! He could clearly see as if it were yesterday the image of his young son suckling at the breast of his beautiful Caroline as he turned away and left their home, to be forever lost to them. Bill did not trust himself to speak. He felt tears forming in his eyes and for a few sick moments he wondered how those people would react upon seeing tears of red blood streaming down his face. What would Sookie think? Then he saw the compassion and caring on her face. That was all he needed. Bill felt hope in his heart.