A/U: Sookie, Eric and the residents of Bon Temps deal with the coronavirus pandemic.

A/N: Has anyone else found themselves rediscovering old hobbies of late? Darlings, the memory of you and the community we once had is like a dream. Do you ever wonder what became of us all? I know I do. Writers, do you still write? Readers, what interests you now? Reviewers, I miss our conversations! And above all, I hope that you and your loved ones are well. I found some comfort in writing for our old friends in Bon Temps, and if you are willing and able I would love to see your modern day take on them as well.

Xoxo Shanny/Yo

Living Lockdown in Louisiana

The waning edge of the setting sun had barely sunk below the horizon when Eric climbed the ladder out of his light-tight underground bedroom. Truth be told, it had not been the ebb of the deadly celestial body that had woken the old vampire, but the blaring sound of Sookie's television set and the vigorous washing of dishes that clanged and clattered from the kitchen above. He cracked open the cabinet door of his cubby carefully and waited for the last weak shaft of sunlight to shrink across living room carpet. Sookie had been less than careful about shutting the curtains of late.

The television was indeed blaring, but instead of the 2000s pop music channel that his wife usually enjoyed while cleaning, the set trumpeted the now-ritual nightly news. He paused to observe as familiar faces reported the day's numbers from the cleanest corner of their own homes and sighed. Debbie Dallas of KLTV was looking decidedly disheveled these days, with black roots growing into a haphazard mess of frizzy blonde hair. Her nails looked dull and strangely grown out, her long curly eyelashes were patchy, and even her skin seemed to sag and crease in places that were smooth mere weeks ago. Eric had been a bit of a fan of Debbie's, although he would never have shared that with Sookie. The lovely anchor woman's rapid deterioration reminded him yet again of the fleeting lives of humans, and the lengths they go to try and stop time. Also, the angle of the camera revealed a sliver of the fair isle pajama pants she had paired with the silk top and crisp blazer…

A particularly loud crash rang through the house, and Eric turned the TV off before greeting his wife for the evening. She was up to her elbows in bubbles and shattered glass.

"I was watching that." Sookie was picking shards of a wine glass out of the water, her eyes nowhere near the television screen.

"No, you weren't", he countered. Eric plucked the broken stem from her fingers and turned off the faucet. "Rough day, lover?"

Sookie plucked the stem right back and marched it to the trash can. "Not at all! It's day thirty-thousand of national fucking quarantine, but I'm fine!" Sookie turned her back to him and put her palms on the counter. She watched the bubbles slide down her yellow gloves to pool on the weathered white tiles. Eric wrapped his arms around her from behind and pressed his chin to her ear. He did not know what to say to her these days, or how to console her with anything other than his presence. After a moment, Sookie took a shuddering breath and turned in his arms. She looked contrite.

"I'm sorry sweetheart. Did you sleep well?"

"Like a baby", Eric lied.

"Liar." Sookie chuckled at his sly grin before gently moving past him and back to the sink. He grabbed a Trueblood from the fridge, set his hip a respectable distance away from her workspace, and waited for her to speak. The flowered plate that she dug from the depths of the basin was treated far more gently than the wine glass.

"Heard from Sam today", she said as she scrubbed her Gran's dish. "He's not sure the bar is going to make it another month. Had the bright idea to open it up to shifters and Weres only, which could have worked, but they say now that animals can get it, too."

Eric grimaced. "With all the disinfecting he's had done that would be a step in the wrong direction, even without a killer virus."

Sookie shook her head sadly and set the dish aside to dry. "I agree, but what can he do? Our whole town is dying, Eric. Businesses and people alike."

It really was. Bon Temps had never been a hub of commerce, but it had its share of life. Downtown was always bustling with shopkeepers and busy bodies alike; people out enjoying the warmer spring air and gathering for festivals and holidays and regular old weekend binge drinking. Eric only saw it at night of course, but the steady flow of festivity and inebriated humans wandering through their corner of Louisiana had trickled to a stop. The people who remained were sober and frightened, hurrying from place to place wearing face masks fashioned from old tee shirts and clutching their belongings with kitchen gloves like silly makeshift bank robbers.

And yes, humans were dying. The town jail picked up a vagrant who tested positive, but not before he was free to mingle with the inmate population. The virus spread like wildfire, as it tends to do, and it snowballed from there. Sherriff Dearborn himself was in the ICU, along with most of the town's police force. Jason was left alone to keep the peace of an entire town of residents who were essentially trapped in their homes. Street crime was at an all-time low, but calls for domestic issues shot through the roof. As the only healthy law enforcement officer, Jason was not only working his ass off without backup, he was also potentially exposing himself to the virus on every call for service.

To Jason's credit, he had put his foot down on visiting his sister. Eric may have had a hand on that foot, but the men agreed it was for the best. Testing on how the virus could affect the Fae was still inconclusive, and updates from Niall had been few and far between. The Prince's last missive on the subject had popped into Eric's bedchamber a week ago, reading only: "Protect your love." Eric had wadded up the unhelpful note and grumbled, "Of fucking course I will", before throwing it at the wall. The crumpled parchment sizzled and popped away before it had the chance to hit cold stone. Message received.

"Where did you go?" Eric returned his attention to the kitchen at the behest of his wife's beloved voice.

He had forgotten to mention it. "I heard from Niall." No reason to say how long ago…

Sookie stopped scrubbing a teacup and held her breath for a beat. "And?"

Eric sighed and ran his fingers through his long, blond hair. He had been concerned about the balance between Sookie's physical and mental health for some time. Staying at her Gran's house was good for her mental health, but she would be physically safer at his home.

"We cannot stay here, Sookie. We must go to Shreveport."

The pair locked eyes for a pregnant moment. He waited for the explosion.

"What did Great Grandfather say?" She asked at last.

Eric was stunned by her calm demeanor but rallied fast. "He said 'Protect your love'. And I intend to."

Sookie let out a breath and allowed the clean teacup in her hands to slide back into the bubbly, murky water. She peeled the yellow gloves from her hands and hung them neatly over the faucet to dry.

"I need to pack."

Eric watched his wife walk up the creaking wooden staircase and listened for the explosion beyond. Instead he heard the woman he loved packing her things in suitcase after suitcase quietly and quickly. Eric fished the last teacup out of the kitchen sink and pulled the stopper. As he set that last item on the rack to dry, the sink drained of water, leaving only bubbles and shards of the broken glass behind. He listened to his wife forego packing her favorite curling iron and his only thought was:

What the hell?

The drive to Shreveport was comfortable. Eric had eschewed his shiny corvette of late, as the pock-marked roads of Bon Temps had been chipping away at her paint. The gun-metal gray Raptor was the perfect blend of power and practicality for Eric while he chose to reside in the backwoods of Bon Temps, and he had no complaints about the leg room. All the windows were extreme limo tint, and he had a decal of a fang and drop of blood on the bumper next to a license plate that read BLDSCKR2. Because, Eric.

The security system at their Shreveport home has been updated to be touchless. The keypads and fingerprint scanner had been replaced with retina identification because facial recognition was incompatible with masks. The front door, and all doors within had been motorized to open and close via proximity sensors and he was considering having the cabinets and refrigerators upgraded as well. A digital home assistant rendered light switches, shade pulls and television remotes unnecessary, although Sookie had complained that "she" never listens to her.

"Minerva, lights on", Sookie sighed as she entered the foyer, her hands full of puffy coats. Although the movement-sensored base lighting had come on with their arrival, the main lights remained off. "Dammit!" Sookie stomped her foot and tossed the pile of outerwear on a red velvet divan. "I told you she doesn't listen to me!"

Eric carried three suitcases through the door. "Minerva, lights on." The lights sprang to life immediately, illuminating the foyer in a gentle off white. Sookie huffed and turned to march back to the truck for another load of her belongings. Eric set the suitcases down and looked up at the ceiling and whispered as if addressing the house itself. "Help me out here, please."

Sookie crossed the threshold again, carrying another awkward load of items. She huffed with the effort of her burdens as they swayed in her arms. She marched up the sweeping curved staircase toward their bedroom. "Minerva", she snipped, "Lights, please-". The lights turned on before the command was complete, and they illuminated Sookie's path one by one as she progressed through the house. Eric looked again at the ceiling and mouthed "thank you", before returning to the car for another load.

Quarantine was much more comfortable in Shreveport, at least for Eric. He was able to rest in a luxurious master suite instead of a hole in the ground, complete with automatic light-tight shades that covered electric smart-glass windows. Much of the décor had been changed since their marriage. Eric had always hoped to entice Sookie to move in permanently long before the pandemic hit, and had enlisted Pam's help to brighten up the place. With his child's enthusiasm for all things feminine, and respect for and knowledge of her sire's tastes, Eric's once black and red den of masculinity was now a beautiful blend of angular modern pieces peppered with deep floral prints and plush cream carpets. The Rubens and Caravaggio were replaced with Monet and O'Keeffe, and the more macabre trophies won throughout his long lifetime had been packed away and replaced with arrangements of orchids and peonies and dahlias.

More practical renovations had been put into motion when the whispers of the pandemic were wafting in the wind. Eric had his basement filled with human necessities; paper products and water and freezers stocked with food. He even converted a portion into a modern medical suite, complete with a top of the line ventilator, cabinets full of the finest medicines, and a robot for Minerva to inhabit and administer treatment. He hoped it would prove to be an unnecessary precaution.

When dawn approached, Eric and Sookie finally settled into bed. The tension of the past seven weeks fell away, and she rolled toward Eric under the new flowered comforter. Sookie settled her golden blonde head in the crook of his shoulder and sighed.

"I love you."

"I love you, too."

When Eric rose the following evening he was greeted with the blissful sound of silence. If the news was on somewhere in the residence, he couldn't hear it through the steel and concrete walls. He swung his long legs over the side of the bed and stood in one smooth, leonine motion as he had done every night since his death, but somehow stumbled. An awkward little hop broke the routine movement, but he caught himself quickly. Thinking perhaps they had experienced a minor earthquake, Eric searched for Sookie.

"Minerva, where is my wife?"

The soft, sure voice of the AI responded. "Mrs. Northman is in the north salon, Sheriff." Eric nodded to himself. "Open window shades." The Roman shades scrolled up immediately to reveal a cloudless, starry night. Wanting to assure himself of her safety, Eric strode from the bedroom in only his low-slung black pajama pants. He found Sookie exactly where he expected her to be, doing something he did not expect her to be doing.

Sookie was sewing. Small piles of fabric squares and scraps were scattered about the carpet of the salon. The shades had opened throughout the home at his command, but Sookie didn't seem to notice the change in her environment, so engrossed was she in the task at hand. Her hair was pulled back into an untidy bun, and she held a piece of elastic between her teeth as her hands carefully guided fabric through a small sewing machine. He waited until her fingers were safe from the whirring spindle before speaking.

"Good evening, lover. You look busy."

Sookie had indeed been startled, but she smiled beatifically an instant later. "Good evening, honey. I would say you that look handsome, but you already know that." Eric showed some fang and rubbed a hand on his chiseled stomach. "I remain grateful to have lived in an era where humans had to be fit to survive."

"Me too", Sookie said with a wink. Eric prowled behind her seat on the edge of an ottoman and nuzzled her neck. His hands stroked down her slender waist and ample hips as his fangs scraped gently just below her ear. Sookie shuddered. "You've done quite well yourself, in that regard."

"Well", she stammered, "it's not life or death, but I have been doing HIIT lately."

"Mmmm", he purred in her ear, not giving a shit what she was talking about. He was about to let his hands wander further south when Sookie seemed to snap out of it and swat him away. The motor of the sewing machine whirred to life once again. He sighed in defeat.

"What are you doing, lover?" Eric reached around her to examine a rectangular bit of cotton before noticing that all the pieces were the same size and only differed in color and pattern.

"I'm making masks to donate to the community. We're not allowed in public without them now, and so many people may not be able to buy or make their own. It's a small way I can contribute." Sookie measured out another length of elastic. Eric finally noticed the stack of completed masks piled up on the side of the couch. They must have taken her a while.

"How long have you been doing this?"

Sookie kept her eyes on her work. "I don't know, a few hours I guess."

"Have you eaten?"

"Um…"

"Put it down, you need a break." Eric took her hands away from the machine and helped her to her feet, and she let him because it had indeed been a while since she had eaten. Plus, his glowing white vampire skin and tousled blond hair looked so beautiful in contrast with the silky, clingy black pajama pants that she couldn't resist. "Lead the way, cowboy."

Eric waggled his eyebrows, but his fangy smile faltered as he seemed to lose his balance a bit. "There it is again! Did you feel that?"

Sookie went into high alert and held out her palms. They sizzled with energy as her eyes darted around the room. She didn't see, or feel, anything amiss. "Feel what?"

"That tremor. A fault must be slipping nearby." The white energy drew back into her palms. Sookie was confused but nodded all the same. Her senses were not nearly as keen as a vampire's, so perhaps she had missed it. "Could be. We never know when Mother Earth will throw a hissy fit." Eric seemed to accept her response and lead the way to the kitchen. She couldn't help but watch his bare feet pad steadily across the heated marble floor.

A few days later, Sookie received some terrible news. Eric could feel her pain through the bond, but the pull of daytime sleep was too difficult to resist. When the sun set, Eric rushed outside to find her in the garden pruning bushes in the twilight. He observed her red-rimmed eyes and puffy cheeks and waited for her to speak. There was a streak of dirt on her chin.

"Bud passed away this morning. He had been intubated for a week but we still had hope. His heart gave out, in the end." Sookie's shears snipped a perfectly healthy rosebud. It fell to the rich soil of the flowerbed while the crickets chirped.

"That means Jason is Sheriff of Renard Parish." Eric's pragmatic words were greeted with a familiar look from his wife that signaled error. "I am sorry for your loss", he amended.

Sookie sighed. "Thank you. And yes, he is."

"God help the citizens of Bon Temps", Eric said.

Sookie appreciated the unexpected humor and agreed. "God help us all."

The people of Bon Temps had had smart phones for years, of course, but they were a personable close-knit lot. If, for example, a cross-town neighbor had news to impart or gossip to share they would simply arrive at one's doorstep with a pie or other dish to offer. Porches were always kept clean with comfortable seating and refrigerators were stocked with fresh sweet tea for these impromptu visits. Gran's white wooden tray was always at the ready to fill with glasses and settings for at least two. Sookie's porch had been getting dusty of late. The cushions of the dulling white-wicker furniture needed beating and the floor needed sweeping. The potted ferns had begun to droop and the centerpiece vase, that had once set off the place with riotous blooms from the garden, had sat empty for a good long while. Sookie reminisced about the lonely state of her Gran's porch that morning, while lamenting the fact that her new home had no porch at all.

Sookie was collecting roses in the sunshine when her phone rang. It was a FaceTime call from Jason.

"Hey Sook, what the hell!" Jason appeared to be struggling with Gran's porch screen door in Bon Temps. From the creaking noise issuing from the old wood, Sookie was certain it would break soon.

"Jason, stop! It's locked." From the awkward, shaky camera angle Sookie could see her brother's confusion.

"Why? It's never locked! There's leaves everywhere and I'm holding this darn heavy casserole from Hoyt's mama and it's hot as the dickens. Let me in."

Sookie sighed. "I'm not there Jas, I'm in Shreveport at Eric's. I left you a message." Jason wasn't great at receiving or internalizing electronic communication, but she was still exasperated.

"Yeah, but that was a few days ago! Why aren't you home yet?" He had stopped short of shouldering the door, at least.

She fought the urge to rub the bridge of her nose. Video calls had shown that she touched her face too darn much. "Jason", she said as calmly as possible, "I said I wouldn't be back at Gran's until this was over with. Is it over with?"

Jason had found the correct angle for the phone's camera and was arranging his hair. "What, Sook?"

"Is the goddamn global pandemic over with, Sherriff Fucking Stackhouse?!"

He nearly jabbed himself in the eye. "Uh, no Sookie. It's not. Jesus."

"Then let me explain again how this is going to go. For the FORSEEABLE FUTURE I will be residing with Eric in Shreveport. You cannot drop by with a casserole or pie or fucking growler and expect my door, or anyone else's, to open! Do you understand?"

The camera shifted as Jason bent to pick up the foil-wrapped Pyrex resting on the staircase. The video showed his boots walking back across the gravel drive to the police cruiser. "You can't blame a man for wanting to see his sister." The phone was tossed to the passenger seat along with the dish. Sookie's heart ached.

"No I can't, but I can blame a Sheriff for not knowing how to protect his community."

"See ya someday Sook."

"I love you Jas-" The call ended.

Sookie's HIIT workout did little to ease her mind, and it was evening before she knew it. Eric was in the kitchen wearing satin and a smile when she entered the double doors. His hip was perched on the quartz in typical fashion, and he was drinking blood from a coffee cup.

"Quarantine finally getting to you, lover?" She couldn't help but return his boyish grin.

"How could you tell?"

"To be honest, the conversation with your brother was recorded on the security cameras. I understand your frustration."

Sookie let out a breath. "Thank you."

"That being said", he continued, "perhaps your brother is not adjusting well to our new situation. Or his new standing within Bon Temps."

It was unheard of for Eric to take Jason's side, and it raised her hackles. "So you think it's okay that the freaking Sheriff is still dropping by porches and expecting to visit people without even wearing a mask?"

"No, love. I simply know what it is like to have your entire life changed, and to have no source of comfort."

"OH. Cheese and rice. Of course you do." Sookie grasped the counter. After a few breaths, she spoke.

"Can we have him over? Just in the yard, perhaps?"

Eric nodded. "I think that is a fine idea."

"WOW, Sookie! This is some place!" The wheels of Jason's car had barely skidded to a stop before he bounded out of the vehicle. Sookie was standing on the front steps, wearing an N95 mask to greet her brother. She pointed at her face vigorously.

"Oh right." Jason dove back into his truck to retrieve a camo-print handkerchief and tied it as best he could around his face. "Good?" he asked. Sookie signaled that it should cover his nose as well, and Jason tugged the top bit up.

"I feel stupid."

"We all feel stupid. But I'm so pleased to see you."

"Me too, Sook. Afraid to say that I ate Mrs Fortenberry's casserole for you, but I bet you're eating here just fine."

Sookie subconsciously patted her expanding hips. She had seriously underestimated the level of physical activity one did as a waitress, and no walk in the garden or lonesome workout could replace daily eight-hour shifts. "Are you implying that I've gained weight, Jason Stackhouse? You're right, but it isn't polite to notice."

Jason chuckled. "Not at all, sis. In fact, you look even lovelier than usual. I jus' meant to say you aren't hurting for supplies here, or money." Ouch. That stung more than the weight gain.

"How about you, brother?"

"Oh, you know, I've got food." Jason patted his middle, which actually did seem a bit thinner. "The Piggly doesn't have everything, or much really, but folks are giving where they can."

Sookie was shocked at the implications. "Oh Jas-"

"Now don't do that face! I've got plenty of money, Sookie. More than I'm used to in fact. Being essential kept things right as rain, and then Bud… well the new pay increase was unexpected. Most of my debt has been forgiven and the stimulus checks came in, and… you get the picture of it. I even refinanced the house at zero percent! Can you imagine? Zero!"

Sookie smiled. Biased as it was, it was nice to hear good news. Jason continued.

"I've been thinkin' bout ways to give back. What do you think about Stackhouse Brewery? We can sell top quality beer for discount prices!"

Where a moment ago she had been stunned at his thoughtfulness, the other shoe fell right quick. "Oh, Jason."

"What? The people need beer, don't they?"

"Yes but being truly philanthropic means giving something away for free, not at a discount."

"So… free beer?"

"Yeah, free."

Jason shook his head. "But it'll cost me a lot to make it."

"Welcome to philanthropy."

Eric chose that moment to appear in the doorway. The security system whirred and beeped as the front door closed behind him with a mechanical hiss.

"Congratulations on your promotion, Sheriff Stackhouse." Eric held out his hand as if to shake Jason's and mimed the gesture. Jason nearly ran toward the stairs to accept the honor, but Sookie stopped him.

"Six feet! I'm sorry, but six feet please." Jason sagged and backed away again to his car.

"Sorry sis. It's just that… I don't know. This is all so strange. Usually when a sheriff dies there's a huge to-do. Heck, when anyone dies there's a huge to-do! There should have been a wake and a service, a viewing and a processional. Units from every county in Louisiana should have lined the way to the best cemetery in the state. Us deputies should've been dressed in our finest and saluting the man and comforting his family as the coffin went into the ground. Bud deserved better than this. To be dumped in a freezer and replaced by somebody like me."

Tears were streaming down Sookie's face at the stark realization that there had not been proper recognition of Bud Dearborne's life of service. She had sent flowers, but that in no way compared to the physical and present reflection of grief.

"I became a king in the midst of a battle for Northumbria when I was seventeen years old." Sookie's tears stopped suddenly and the human siblings watched as Eric eyes looked far away into the ancient past.

"My vision was blurred with blood that had sprayed from the neck of my decapitated father. His head fell at my feet, but I stepped over it to kill the man that was coming for me next. There was no time for grief, or shock. Only action. Once the battle was won, the shift of loyalty was seamless, and without ceremony I was relied upon and addressed as kung. I felt an though I were an imposter, despite leading the remainder of the campaign to victory. When we returned home, my father's spirit was properly sent to Valhalla with the ceremony due a king, yet when the crown was set upon my head before my people, I felt no different. What we do as kings, or sheriffs, does not stand on ceremony and the trappings of stature do not aid or inhibit competence."

Eric's focus returned from the distant past and focused on a rapt Jason. "When the campaign is won", he said, "there will be time for grieving and passing of torches. Lead your people, Sheriff. The greatest titles are not simply passed; they are earned during the struggle."

Jason nodded, still a bit dumbstruck. "Did you take your father's body back home?"

Eric shook his head. "We had no means to transport the dead in the warmth of summer. A hole was dug and his remains lie in a foreign land to this day, I imagine."

"A king lost to time", Sookie mused aloud.

Eric held her hand. "If immortality has taught me anything, it is that even the greatest of things are lost to time."

Jason looked at Eric with new fascination. "I guess I haven't thought about it much, but there is the real chance that you could outlive, like, everything." He shook his head. "All of us here now, obviously, but you could outlive ALL of the people. You could see humanity run its course to the end. And when there's no more of us, you could see the next thing and the next thing until the sun explodes and swallows the whole planet! And then you could just fly through space and find another planet! Right?!"

"We have gone off track, here."

Jason was not to be deterred. "This moment in time to you is just a blink of the eye! If there's even a chance that you'll remember our names on Planet Donald Duck in a billion years, I'll eat my badge."

Sookie was likewise intrigued but knew when her husband had had enough. "Jas, vampires eat people. No people, no food. So, I assume, Eric can't live any longer than humans exist. Right?"

Eric shrugged. "I have gone without eating for long periods of time. It is painful, but I did not perish."

Jason jumped. "See?! You're married to a bonafide eternally-living dead guy, Sook! I think it's neat."

Sookie rubbed the bridge of her nose again. "But did you get the point?"

She could see the cogs in his brain struggling to wind backwards. Finally, he snapped his fingers. "Yes! I am a great sheriff no matter what! Got it."

"No Jason, he said-"

"Hey, would you like to invest in a philan-thro-pathic brewery Eric?"

The vampire shrugged. "Sure. Why the hell not."

"Great!" Jason clapped his hands and gave hasty air hugs to his sister and brother-in-law before hopping back into his police cruiser. "See ya!" The couple watched him drive away until the sounds of crunching tires was replaced with the chirping of crickets.

"Well that was a rollercoaster", Sookie said.

Eric's chest rumbled with mirth. "We should have family over more often."

YO – We should indeed, Eric! I hope you smiled, I hope you're well, and I hope you know that you are not alone, even on day thirty-fucking-thousand of quarantine. ;*

Drop a line, loves! I miss you. And I'm out of Netflix comedy specials.

XOXO