Wow, sorry about it taking THREE WEEKS for me to upload a new chapter. My life just kinda exploded in my face recently. Not really in a bad way, but I had a lot happen at once: semester finals, I got elected class VP, and soccer season. Plus, this was an unreasonablly hard chapter to write. I dunno why, but it was.

I hope to go back to getting done with a chapter a week! Thanks for reading! (plz R&R *insert pathetically sad face here*)

Chapter 4

"Demon's wrath shall he witness"

Back at the house, Sam was busy preparing dinner for the special night. "This is it!" he kept repeating aloud to the empty house. "Tonight. I'm gonna ask her tonight!" He had decided in advance to cook a special pasta dish that his dad used to boast about. It was his father's favorite dish, and Sam could well remember that it seemed like his dad would make it every time he cooked dinner.

Sam sighed. He had always been particularly close to his father, and it had taken him a long time to get over the loss of his childhood role model. But whenever he cooked his dad's favorite dish, the sounds of the noodles sizzling on the frying pan and the sauce bubbling to perfection, the feeling of hot steam on his face and hands, and the smells of tomato, basil, and alfredo filled the kitchen, it was almost as if his father was still there, cooking away with the radio on and a smile on his face.

Grabbing a pot, Sam thought back to all the times when he and his father would go outside and play catch for a few hours before collapsing on the grass and telling each other stories. Or the times when his dad would surprise him by picking him up after school and taking him to dinner and a movie. Many of Sam's friends had expressed envy toward his relationship with his dad. Now, all he got was pity. Sam hated to dwell on that though, and whenever he began feeling bad for himself, he would think of all the times that he was with his father, and almost instantly he would begin to appreciate life a bit more.

He added noodles to the already boiling water and walked over to the cupboard to collect some more ingredients. He smiled thoughtfully, he would always feel close to his father when he made this pasta dish, but he never could figure how to make it as well as his dad did. Sam stopped in the act of searching for more spices and glanced up to an old picture on the wall. The photo was of Sam and Link with their parents at the lake. Sam's eyes watered the tiniest bit as he looked at it; this was most likely the last picture he owned of their entire family before the accident. They all looked so happy.

Sam brought his hand up to wipe away the single, lonely tear that was trekking its way across his cheek. I wish you could have met her, Dad, Sam thought to himself. You guys would've really liked each other. When he was little, every time that he thought about getting married, he would imagine proposing to his special girl in front of his family. His mother would be shedding tears of joy, Link would be laughing and applauding, and his dad…his dad would just be smiling, giving him silent encouragement. With a sigh, Sam grabbed the sought after spices and went about preparing the sauce for the big dinner.

Soon I'll have a family again. Sam's spirit lifted at the thought, and on his face bloomed a smile that came straight from the heart. Somehow, he didn't think that he'd be alone at all tonight. His dad would be there, giving him the silent encouragement that he'd always imagined.

Less than a stone's throw away, peering out from under the brown, withering underbrush, were eyes. Malicious, searching eyes that pierced through the thin film of leaves covering the bearer. Red eyes that sought out their prey, eyes that lavished the hunt, eyes that lived for the kill. These were the eyes of a true hunter, a carnivore in his own right, a primal killer. It was not game, nor hunger that drove this monster, this fiend. It was need, a desperate, longing ache to end life. Without death, these eyes could not live. The unblinking eyes adorned shadows only, a figure of shadow.

As if by some trick of the light, the ruby red of the eyes faded, and from the blank stare arose a dull, dirty blue, as in a polluted pond. The shadow morphed as well, stretching and condensing in such a way as to live up to its nature as a shadow. With as much suddenness as it had begun, the disturbance ceased. The bloodlust never waned; the hate never waned.

First arid grassland, then tall evergreens, then vibrant houses sped by as Link raced home. Against what he raced, he did not know. He knew only that it made his blood run cold by its very existence, and that the outcome of this race would determine both his, and his brother's, fates. Sweat poured down his face, mixing with tears brought on by the harsh wind.

Feet pumped pedals, heart pumped blood. Yet with every yard that Link traversed, safety seemed to slip that much further away. The cheery clouds and smiling sun jeered ironically at him, mocking his hopeless plight. Their lighthearted demeanor hardly betrayed Link's deep-set anxiety. Sam!

Dancing, Same poured more spice over the simmering pasta sauce and began melodramatically stirring it. He was in such high spirits that he brought the ladle up to his face, spraying his cheeks with white alfredo sauce, and began singing along to the latest pop song being played over the radio. With his makeshift microphone, Sam strutted around the kitchen, dancing in time to the upbeat music and banging his head during the guitar solos. He dramatically finished the routine by sliding across the tile floor on his socks and dropping to his knees after the last note of the song.

It had been years since Sam had felt so utterly happy. In fact, the last time he had felt like this was right after he had gotten back from his first date with Rebecka. He still cringed when he thought about their first few months together; he had been so awkward around her.

Their relationship had started when a buddy of Sam's from work set him up on a blind date with Rebecka. Even though he hadn't even asked Sam first, Sam felt obligated to go, and agreed reluctantly to one date. The entire day beforehand though, he had racked his brain for any excuse that would get him out of going. Sam just didn't feel ready to pursue a relationship so soon after the passing of his parents. But, in the end, he couldn't come up with any way to get out of it, and resolved to just suppress his feelings for one night.

Sam still laughed to think that he hadn't even wanted to go on the date that would introduce him to the love of his life; his shining star.

Sam had come back from the event in a daze. Giddily, he ran around the house singing, then went outside and yelled for a bit. Link, watching, had laughed so hard that he gave himself a nose-bleed, and had opted to shove some toilet paper up his nose rather than take the time off of watching Sam to fix the problem. At about midnight, Sam calmed down a bit, but he still couldn't get his mind off of the wonderful, beautiful girl that he had just met. In fact, he hadn't even waited until the next day to call her back, picking up the phone right then and there to ask her out on a second date. Somehow, she agreed, and Sam was so relieved that he had accidentally hung up on her.

Things continued in that way for a while, Sam making a complete love-struck fool of himself, and Rebecka laughing at him whenever he did so. No matter where they were, Sam always seemed to do something embarrassing or clumsy around Rebecka. On their third date, he accidentally spilled water all over her dress; on their seventh date, he unwittingly drove off in the car without waiting for her to get in; on their eighth date, he tripped her into a mud puddle at the park; on their tenth date, he closed the car door on her skirt. Sam grimaced, yet somehow Rebecka had stayed with him, and now—now they might be getting married.

Sam's heart throbbed in his chest; he loved Rebecka, he loved her more than he ever thought that he could love anybody. Every time he was around her, his heart would swell, his stomach would melt, his eyes would cloud over, and all he would be able to think about was the dream of living with her forever. Rebecka had quickly filled the hole in Sam's heart that had been left by his parent's deaths.

He wasn't a religious man, but he had recently taken to lighting the three ceremonial candles in his room at night and praying to the goddesses. He prayed for Rebecka, for her safety, for their relationship; he prayed for Link, for him to have courage, and for him to have strength of heart; he prayed last of all for himself, for wisdom in raising Link, and for guidance in his relationship with Rebecka. He never could decide if the goddesses actually heard his prayers, but he always felt better after blowing out the candles.

The kitchen timer went off, bringing Sam back to his senses. With a curse, he bounded over to the stove and turned down the heat. Sam checked the noodles, worried that he might have overcooked them, but everything seemed to be fine. He wanted everything to be perfect for tonight, and he didn't have time to re-boil the noodles. Carefully, he moved the pot over to the sink and began draining the water. Suddenly, there came three loud knocks on the front door.

"Just a minute!" Sam called out, hurriedly shaking the noodles one last time and setting them back on the stove. "I'm coming!" Wiping his hands on his apron, Sam walked into the foyer and peeked through the window next to the door. His face brightened when he saw who was standing outside.

"Link!" Sam exclaimed, excited to see his little brother. "Did I lock you out? Sorry." He didn't wait for a reply, instead walking back into the kitchen to finish the meal. "Come on, you can help me set the table. The pasta's almost done." Link silently followed Sam, dull blue eyes darting around the room as he did so. "Weren't you gonna be at Malon's?" Sam continued. "Why didn't she come back with you?" Link didn't reply, he just stood in the middle of the kitchen, silently watching Sam cut vegetables.

Sam set down the large knife and strode over to the fridge, searching for some more onion. He seemed though, to realize that something was wrong with his usually talkative brother, and stopped what he was doing. "Hey bud, are you alrigh—"

Suddenly, before he could even finish his sentence, a fierce pain tore at the left side of his chest, starting from his back and piercing through to his heart. Gasping, he looked down. Out of his apron protruded the tip of kitchen knife that he had just finished using, and it was coated in blood. His blood. The thick, dark red liquid began seeping out of the fatal wound, soaking Sam's shirt and apron in the smell of death. Vainly fighting for air, Sam collapsed against the refrigerator, knocking food and drink onto the usually clean floor. He looked up weakly, pale, bloodshot eyes searching out his aggressor. There he stood, with a smile on his malicious face and blood splattered on his hands. It was Link.

Except, this was Link as Sam had never seen him before. His face seemed gaunt and haunting, and his dark smile didn't touch his dirty blue eyes. With a toothy grin that sent chills up Sam's spine, Link licked the tell-tale blood off his fingertips, as if it were no different than licking off stray pasta sauce.

Sam worked his mouth, tried to ask Link "why," but his body wouldn't respond the way it should. In agony, Sam slid down the refrigerator onto the floor, knocking more food onto the floor as he did so. Never before in his life had Sam felt pain so terrible. He knew that he was dying, but the pain wasn't from torn flesh or bone, it was from a torn heart, it was from Link. Tears came unbidden to Sam's dulling eyes, and the salty water spilt down his cheeks with as much ferocity as the blood on his chest. Only, the pain was greater.

Sam's body had long since lost feeling, but the pain of betrayal continued. Mouth hanging open, his hands tore at his bleeding chest, trying to rip the pain inducing memories from his screaming heart. The pain…oh, the pain. It threatened to overwhelm him, threatened to drive him mad. He knew that death was fast approaching, he could feel its creeping chill, yet he welcomed it. He bade it hasten its arrival even, anything to stop the hurt. Why? Why, Link? In Sam's final moments, his soul was shattered, his heart and mind tortured beyond tolerance.

As his mind dimmed and his emotions began to slip away, Sam realized hazily that it was still only love that he held for his brother, only love for the man who had ended his life. His life didn't flash before his eyes, rather it flashed through his heart, giving peace to his soul.

"Sam! NOO!"