Chapter Twelve - The Passion

Bill Compton leaned his forearms against the mantle above the crackling fire. As he stood there staring into the flames, he felt his mind being drawn back to a night that had ripped apart everything he had held dear. Even after all these many years Bill still felt such a rage against the vampire who had not only stolen his life, but had visited upon him such a misery of existence that even now he was loath to even say her name. Seeing that photograph that Mayor Norris had presented him with had shaken Bill to the very core of his being. There had not been a single night that Bill did not think of them. Coming back into this home of his childhood that he had shared with his beloved Caroline had only served to make it more difficult to move on and forget the past. He turned and walked over to the small table and picked up the photograph. His long, tapered fingers gently traced the outline of his little daughter's face. What had she been like as she grew and became a young lady? Did she ever ask about him? And his son? Who had taught him all the things that he had learned from his own father? What kind of man had he become? He walked over to the staircase and sat down on the third step. He closed his eyes as a million memories began to invade his consciousness. Of him, awakening early in the morning, while the dew was still thick on the Louisana earth and the sounds of robins, sparrows and bluejays could be heard happily chirping as they welcomed in the morning. Before going downstairs to begin a hard day of work he would softly make his way into the room of his sleeping children. He would lean over and softly kiss the neck of his tiny son and for a brief moment he would linger and lightly breathe in that wonderful fragrance of sleeping baby and mother's milk. Bill thought surely nothing could smell so sweet as the neck of a sleeping child. Then he would walk over and gaze down at the tiny face of the one that held his heart. He would gently kiss her cheek and brush back the dark brown hair that was so much like his from her face. Sometimes those brillant blue eyes would fly open and she would look up at him and smile. He would gently admonish her to go back to sleep, then he would tuck the quilt back around her tiny body. But sometimes on a pretty summer morning he would pick her up and they would make their way down the stairs to the front porch just as the sun would come slowly rising to bathe the two of them in it's golden beauty. He would gently pull back the branches of the large camelia bush that grew by the front porch steps. There, hidden deep inside would be a birds nest filled with tiny, featherless robins who were all crying loudly with mouths wide open, anxiously awaiting their mama to return. Bill would smile as Sara excitedly clapped her hands in delight and cried out "oh Papa look! It's baby birds!"

Bill sadly hung his head for a moment. Then he abruptly stood up and resolutely placed the photograph back on the table. To continue on in this vein of self pity and remorse for a past that was as dead as he was just senseless. He knew what he had to do.

As Bill swiftly made his way to the Stackhouse home a faint scent of the familiar smell so well know to vampires began to once again assault his senses. Fear and panic overcame him until he realized that it was not Sookie's blood he could smell, but the blood of someone else. Someone who was old in human years. The varying fragrances in blood of humans as they age is as distinctive and unique to a vampire as the ages of fine wines are to a connoisseur.. As he walked into the doorway of the kitchen he could see his Sookie. She was kneeling in blood, so much blood. She was staring at the body of her grandmother. The body of the one who had taken care of her, had loved and nurtured a child who through no fault of her own had been dealt a card that would forever mark her as an outsider, someone to be feared, much as he was. To see his Sookie so traumatized and so devestated filled Bill with something he had not felt in many years. A terrible need to enact revenge on the person responsible for this horrible, senseless act all but overwhelmed him. "People call us the monsters, the abominations to God. But we never kill for the sheer pleasure of it" Bill seethingly thought to himself.

Bill had never seen such courage in the face of tragedy. She was the strongest thing he had ever seen. His admiration for her grew more as he watched the way she handled herself around the terrible things and questions she had to face. The fact that he could not stay there and watch over her throughout the remainder of the night and during the daylight hours haunted him as he made his way home. He could only hope that the shifter was as capable of watching over her as he claimed. He could not even allow his mind to think about what might have happened if Sookie had arrived home earlier.

Bill's bright blue eyes flew open in panic. Sookie! Sookie! Someone's hands around her neck, cruelly squeezing the life from her as she slept. He must go to her! But he couldn't move. It wasn't time. It wasn't yet dark. His body would not obey his mind. In frustrating rage he sank back into his sleep of death.

Faster than he had ever moved, Bill flew up the stairs into the room where Sookie lay. With a terrified lurch in his heart, he knelt by her side and called her name. A feeling of immense, happy relief washed over him as she groggily opened her dark eyes and looked at him. It was but a dream. A horrible, terrifying dream. But he would not leave her this night. He would stay here and protect her from anything or anyone. Only God could help someone who dared try to harm a hair on her head.

She was coming to him. He could feel it as surely as his body could feel the call of dawn. He could hear her heart beating, he could hear her footsteps as she came into the cemetery. Bill walked across the room and threw open the doors. Where was she? His emotions were racing so fast that for a moment he couldn't distinguish where she was. He stopped, closed his eyes. Oh yes, there she was. It was what he had prayed for, yearned for. She was coming to him. She was his.

Bill looked questioningly into her dark eyes. Her passion and longing rose to meet his. As he gently drew the gown down from her shoulders, he looked into her eyes to see a passion as intense as he felt. As he kissed her gently, he wondered briefly if he would be able to control his passion and even though the tasting of her blood was what he wanted more than he could believe possible, it must be her wish as well. He would be whatever she wanted him to be, he would do only what she wished him to do. As he feasted his eyes upon her beautiful body, he could not control his vampire nature. He felt the fangs come down and in shame he once again turned away from her. But she still wanted him. Her soft hands reached up and pulled him once more down to her lips. She was giving everything to him this night. Something she had never given to any man. Bill felt overwhelmed with desire and passion, but more than anything he was overcome with caring for this beautiful, strong but gentle creature that had come into his life and given him a reason to care. The giving of her body, her purity and more importantly her virgin blood to him so willingly meant more than he could even put into words. This most wonderful feeling of giving love and receiving love. It was something he had not felt since his human life had ended, and it had been something he never thought could be possible. It was a most precious gift. It was a gift that Bill Compton did not intend to ever lose again.