DISCLAIMER: I do not own these characters. Southern Vampire Mysteries is owned by Charlaine Harris; True Blood is owned by Alan Ball. I own nothing.

This is my first attempt at fanfiction. I appreciate all constructive feedback whether positive or negative. Thanks.

SINS OF HER BROTHER

Sookie trudged tiredly down the darkened street. It seemed like every part of her body ached. Her back was screaming and her feet felt like they were going to fall off. The only thing that enabled her to keep putting one foot in front of the other was the thought of her cot at the end of the walk home. She sighed. When she had first found the tiny two room basement apartment in Shreveport with its pitiful, shabby furnishings, she had never thought she would look forward to coming home to it. But oh tonight she did; all she wanted to do was lay down and close her eyes.

It was 2:45 in the morning and she had just finished a double shift at Apollo's Greek Diner. They had been busy tonight but that was exactly the way she wanted it. More customers meant more tips and more tips meant one step closer to her goal. She tried not to think about everything she had lost. Instead she thought about getting it back. And she would get it back. She would get Gran's house back. She would have her home again, with the flower beds and the vegetable garden. Sookie swallowed the lump in her throat and kept on walking.

How many times in the last fifteen months had she damned Jason? Too many to count. There were days when she was so angry she felt like she could claw his eyes out. Sometimes she thought she hated him. Then there were days when she was just heartsick and numb.

"How could he have done it? How could he have done this to me, to Gran's memory? You know the answer to that Sookie," she told herself. "He's an addict."

Well damn him and damn riverboat gambling.

As she walked, Sookie thought back to that final confrontation between them. She had heard so clearly the agony in his head, the shame and regret. He had been crying. She'd flung the letter from the lawyer in his face and he couldn't deny it anymore. He couldn't lie his way out of it this time.

"Our homes are gone Jason," she'd screamed. "Momma and Daddy's home, Gran's home, they're gone."

She'd told him she hated him, she'd told him she never wanted to see him again. And in that moment she had meant it. He had mortgaged their houses, both of them, to fuel his poker habit. He had done it without her knowledge and he had lost everything. She had talked to Sid Matt Lancaster, hoping against hope that since her name was on the deeds too, there might be some loop hole, some way out since she hadn't signed any mortgage documents. But there wasn't. Jason had gone through some shady sub-prime lending company and there was nothing Sid Matt could do to help her.

She hadn't seen Jason since that last awful fight; she didn't know where he was or what had become of him. Sookie thought about what had become of herself. After the bank took Gran's house, Sam had let her stay in one of his apartments in Bon Temps. She had lived there for three months while she tried to pick up the pieces of her life. Jason's betrayal, losing her home, all coming barely two years after losing Gran to cancer had been almost more than she could stand. Ironically, it was Sid Matt who had planted the seed of hope and an idea in her brain. He had approached her in the church parking lot one Sunday afternoon.

"Sookie, the bank hasn't been able to sell your house yet. Hell, they haven't even had any bites that I can tell, what with the economy and real estate market the way it is."

That was when she had begun to form her plan. She would find a way to buy back Gran's house herself. She would buy it back if it was the last thing she ever did. She was a Stackhouse by God. She was Adele Stackhouse's granddaughter, and Stackhouse women did not give up.

"Sookie, a woman can do whatever she has to do; don't you forget that" her Gran had told her.

Well, Sookie Stackhouse would not forget.

And that was why right now she was walking down a dark street in Shreveport in the middle of the night. She needed money and a lot of it. She needed more money than she could make in Bon Temps. Apollo's was open twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. Sookie knew she was a damn good waitress. Customers liked her even if they thought she was a little off in the head. Ari, the owner, gave her as many shifts as she could handle. She had also started cleaning houses. Shreveport had a lot of upper-middle class and well-to-do people who didn't want to clean their own homes. Not only was she determined to be the best waitress in town, she was going to be the best house-cleaner too.

And it was working she told herself. She had work and she was putting money in the bank. Her rent wasn't much because after all it was a two-room basement apartment in a not-so-good part of town. But that didn't matter. She would live in a box if she had to. She would work until she collapsed in order to have enough money for a down-payment!

Of course when her whole body was aching, like it was now, she wondered if there wasn't some easier way to make money. She had thought briefly about college but her grades had never been that good on account of her little "disability." Maybe online college could be an option? Still, she needed money right now, not years down the road.

"You know how you could make a lot of money fast" a little voice inside her head said.

There was that vampire bar a few blocks down from Apollo's. They were looking for human exotic dancers.

"Yeah, right Sookie. You know darn good and well that exotic dancer is just a nicer way of saying stripper" the little voice said.

But still….when those dancers had come into Apollo's a few nights ago, and she had heard them bragging about how much money they had made that night, she'd almost swallowed her tongue. It was as much as she made in three days of waitressing and house-cleaning.

"I could do that too. I'm pretty, I have a good figure and I can dance" Sookie thought to herself. "Of course, I would be dancing with my clothes off; dancing with my clothes off in front of human men and vampires."

She kept on walking. Her apartment was just two blocks ahead. She was too tired to think clearly tonight. She would think about the vamp bar tomorrow. What was it called? Oh yeah, Fangtasia. God, who had come up with a name like that?

As she neared her apartment, Sookie fished her keys out of her purse. All she could think about was her cot and blessed sleep. She didn't even think she would bother with putting on her nightgown. Just a little bit further.

Suddenly something plowed into her from behind with so much force that for a second Sookie thought she had been hit by a car. She was face down on the pavement and something huge and heavy was on top of her. Before she could even scream she was lifted up, whirled around, and slammed against the side of her apartment building.

Oh God, a man had her; he had her by the neck! He was squeezing her throat so hard she couldn't even scream. She was three feet off the ground, kicking her legs and gagging. She couldn't breathe! She clawed at the man's arm but it was like clawing at a steel bar. Dimly Sookie realized that something about this man was wrong. Then it hit her, what was different. She couldn't hear him! She couldn't hear him in her head!

The pressure on her throat eased up a bit and she looked down trying to focus on the man's face. They were a few feet away from a lone dim so-called security light. The bulb in the light shone a sickly pale yellow, but it was enough.

Sookie saw him.

She tried to scream again but nothing came out. He was huge. His eyes were glittering and looked as hard as diamonds. He had slicked back short blond hair.

But the worst part about him was his mouth. His mouth was wide open and Sookie could see bone white fangs. He was looking at her and his face was a mask of fury and hate. He snarled at her and she thought it sounded like a rabid animal. He leaned into her body, pulling her head down close to his.

"Where's your brother, bitch" the vampire spat.