I was tired. Not like I worked out too hard, or didn't get enough sleep, but tired. Down to my bones, mentally exhausted. I couldn't remember not feeling this way. I walked into the living room to find Sam slouched on the couch, focused on something in his hands. A picture. I really looked at him, for the first time in a very long time. The years had been hard on him. His face wrinkled, permanent frown etched into his once soft skin. His hair was completely grey, and hung around his face in a wiry sort of way. He looked up at me then. I knew he felt me staring at him.

"You haven't aged."

He turned the picture in his hand, so I could see what he had been looking at. A picture from our wedding day. Ten years ago. He wasn't wrong. I looked at the picture, at the both of us smiling at one another. I looked the same, and he didn't. I nodded my acquiescence to him. It was the first time either one of us had acknowledged it, but I knew it was on his mind all the time. It had hung around us heavy, like a third person in the room for years. He was aging. I wasn't.

I knew why. We both did, really. Shortly after we got married I started really working on my fae abilities. Training a few times a week. The more I trained, the more my abilities grew, the more my spark grew. I could feel it, feel myself becoming more fae and less human. I had spent so many years clinging to my humanity, trying so desperately to deny who I really was, who I could feel myself becoming.

Five years ago, Niall had come to visit me. I had been expecting it, honestly surprised it hadn't happened sooner. What I wasn't expecting was the content of our conversation. He explained to me that the stronger my spark became the more my humanity would slip away. I was already nearly full fae at that time, and I have only gotten stronger since then. Apparently it didn't (or did, depending on how you looked at it) help that I had Mr. Cataliades blood in me. Niall explained to me that somehow the demon blood was helping me to become more fae than I should, being that I was technically only 1/8 fae. The combination of how strong my spark was to begin with, and the demon blood, however small it was, coursing through my veins, allowed me the ability to become damn near full fae, once I allowed myself to.

"I know," I finally uttered in response to Sam, when I realized he was staring holes into my head. I wasn't sure how long I had stood there, staring at the picture, lost in my own thoughts. I glanced up at his face. "I don't know what you want me to say."

"There's not much to be said, Cher. I'm getting older by the second, and you're stuck in time." Damn faeries! I could hear him think.

I let out a sigh. I knew this conversation would come eventually. Part of me had been wanting to have it for years, but part of me had dreaded dealing with it. I wasn't happy. Neither of us were. Sam had never really gotten over the feeling that he should have died all those years ago, and I knew he blamed me for the darkness it caused him. He would never say it out loud, but of course, he didn't have to.

And then there were my issues… I had never really gotten over a certain vampire. I had tried, Lord help me, had I tried. I had spent the last decade trying to love Sam, to be a good wife to him, to be what he needed. At times I even felt a moment or two of happiness, but it was always fleeting. Eric had given up 200 years of his life so that I could live a normal, boring human life, protected from all the Supes once and for all, and I had spent the majority of the last ten years trying to honor the gift he had given me. Somewhere in my heart I knew I'd never truly be contented living outside the realms of the Supe world; living without him by my side.

We should've never even tried this shit. I wish she had never used that damn faerie shit on me.

His thoughts pierced my mind, bringing me back to our living room, and out of my own thoughts. My eyes widened, and I saw the glimmer of shame and fear wash over his face as he realized I had caught his thoughts.

"Well, shit, Sam! What should I have done?" I barked, angrier than I meant to be.

"Nothing, Sookie. That's the point, isn't it. You should've done nothing for me. Everyone knows you didn't want to. Everyone knows you instantly regretted not using that damn thing for Eric. I don't need to be a damn telepath to know everyone feels sorry for me because you're still in love with someone else, even after all these years. I know that's why we never had any kids, cause Lord knows I wanted 'em!"

I staggered backwards and flopped myself into the chair. Sam had never spoken to me like this. Neither one of us had been happy, but I had actively avoided delving into his mind to find out just how unhappy he was. I occasionally caught glimpses, but only when he was broadcasting loudly, not because I went looking for them. I looked down at my hands for several moments, not sure how to react, before finally looking at his face again. It was a tangled mess of anguish and relief. He had been needed to say his piece for quite some time, apparently. "Well, how do you want to proceed?" I asked softly.

"Let's start with a divorce."