A/N: I have to say I find you all interestingly split on whether Sookie is scary, or doing exactly what she should be doing. Maybe I'm a bad person, but if someone had done to me what Craig had done to her, I may have even tried to one up her. Disney villain, remember?

Thank you all once again for your wonderful reviews and pm's. I know I can't reply to all of you, but I try to send out a few each time. The support for this story stuns me each day. *shakes head in disbelief*

As always, my undying gratitude to Galla and Kristin. Besides their fantastic beta skills, my days would be so boring without them. *hugs her girls*

dramamomma, this early posting is for you. Enjoy.

Chapter 31

It took about one hour for us to arrive at the hospital, and another half an hour to have Craig admitted. Bethlem Royal Hospital is one of the most respected psychiatric institutes in the world, despite its early history, and Craig was going to be receiving top notch care. I almost felt bad for the doctors who would, inevitably, feel that they failed him. He was not going to be cured. I made sure of that.

Bethlem, or as it was once known, Bedlam, is located in south east London. A call to Alair Barton helped us secure a bed in what is arguably the most famous mental institution in the world. I cannot deny that a small part of me wished it was still the eighteenth century, when people would pay to come see the lunatics, and poke them with sticks, laughing at their antics. Nor can I deny that I received a perverse thrill at the fact that today, in the twenty-first century, Craig would receive such stellar care, that he was likely to live a very long life. This, more than anything, was what I desired. Perhaps that made me a bad Christian. So be it. I decided I wanted to embrace the Old Testament; an eye for an eye. I was done turning the other cheek.

Even though I had taken back some semblance of who I was, and even though I was able to reconnect with Eric, a part of me would always be touched by Craig. I would forever have his filthy stain upon my soul. How could I not? He had irrevocably altered me in the most fundamental ways. I no longer saw the good in people. I no longer wanted to see the good in people. Doing so left me vulnerable. No, the only people I could trust were those who had proven themselves to me. Never again would I trust someone until they acted badly. I now assumed they would, and could hope to be pleasantly surprised if they didn't. I may have reclaimed my power. I may have reclaimed my womanhood. However, I would forever be marked by Craig Sutherfield.

Throughout my life I had been shaped and molded by men who abused me. I did not know what it was about me that attracted such men to me, and frankly, I no longer cared. What I did know, was that from the time I was a child, my body and my soul had been scarred by these men. Uncle Bartlett, Bill, even my own brother had taken his hand to me, and then Craig . . . each took a little piece of me. Each took a small piece of my soul, and I would never get it back. I was not going to let that happen, ever again.

When I "woke up" from the dream, or whatever you'd like to call the horror that Craig had forced on us, I was in a complete state of panic. I had watched Eric die. I had felt Eric die, and the smell of his burning body was still in my nose. Even now, so many hours later, I can still feel the hole it tore in my heart, in my soul. I felt a small shudder run through me, and bile burned the back of my throat as I recalled how it felt when the bond was snapped.

Never again.

Eric and I had briefly discussed what happened on our way to the hospital. He told me how Clovache had woken him up, and how he had "seen" her as a horse. Then he told me how he tried to wake me, and that he couldn't until he'd knocked Craig out. Apparently, I'd underestimated his ability to function while sedated, but conscious. Until he was unconscious, I wasn't able to gain control of him. Then I chuckled darkly and said, "That explains the dog."

"What dog?" Eric asked.

"A blond Labrador Retriever," I smirked at him. "At some point, a dog showed up and started barking, and kept looking at me and worrying about me. It was like he was trying to talk to me, but when I woke up, there was no dog. I must have heard you a little."

He didn't say anything, but something told me that Eric did not like the idea of being represented by a dog, even if it was one named after a place he discovered. I wasn't sure, but I thought I heard him mutter something about shifters and dogs, before he cursed in another language.

We did not discuss the details of what happened while we were under Craig's control, nor did we discuss what I did to Craig. When I was done freaking out over what Craig had inflicted on us, I realized what he'd done. I was surprised that he was able to take us so quickly, and maintain it after being injected with the sedatives I provided, but still, I had to admire the simplicity of it. The "dream," or whatever you want to call it, was so vivid, and seemed so very real, that I was convinced that my abilities were totally blocked. After I awoke, I realized how Craig had accomplished this. I had to admit, I'd underestimated his ability, not only to function while drugged, but to strike so quickly and without actually being in our presence. That said, I instantly understood the mechanics of what he did, and when he was unconscious, it was child's play to slip in and take control. Craig may have had years to refine his technique and his control, but I was a quick study. I applied the same principles of what he'd done to Eric and me, but I reset his brain while I was in there. Months of training and studying the different brains I'd ventured into had paid off. Once mapped, the human brain was relatively easy to manipulate. There was no way he would ever be able to undo what I'd done. In fact, there was very little free will left in Craig at all.

Dawn was approaching, and we did not have much time, but still, I wanted to see where Craig was going to be housed. The exterior was a nondescript brick building, with white, double hung, divided light windows, and a copper clock tower on the roof. Craig was going to be a resident of Gresham 2, a twenty-four hour staffed ward, for people suffering from acute mental illness. It was a start. We were not sure if he could remain there for long-term "treatment," but he would be there for a time. I just wanted to ensure that he got the best care, so that his suffering lasted as long as humanly possible.

We made our way to Barton's home once more. It was the closest place that we, or rather Eric, could safely spend the day. Eric said very little in the car, and he let even less slip across the bond, and then the day dragged him to his slumber almost as soon as we arrived in our room. I stayed awake a little while longer, as Batanya and Clovache came to say their goodbyes. Now that the threat was gone, their contract was up. Of course, they had already gone above and beyond the requirements of that contract, and I counted them as my friends.

It was a surprisingly touching farewell. For all of their tough exterior, Britlingens are emotional, and they hold their friends dear. I thought myself lucky to be considered one. The reality was, we did not know when, if ever, we would see each other again. The Britlingens' presence in our world was rare, and it took a lot of magic to bring them across.

"Farewell, Sookie Stackhouse," Batanya said, as she hugged me. "Remember yourself."

"Good luck, Batanya," I replied. "I hear your man's sister is rather large," I teased, earning me a rather sharp thump to the back. "And thank you."

"Did I hear you say large? Because I seemed to hear something about a certain Viking," Clovache teased, but I cut her off with a strangled cry. There were just some things I still wasn't comfortable talking about. She chuckled lightly. "Take care, little sister," she said, and I smiled from the knowledge that our friendship was not based solely on their duty to me. "He is a good man, for a vampire." That was high praise coming from the Britlingen. They don't trust vampires as far as they can throw them.

Once they were gone, I made my way back into the light safe chamber Barton had given us, undressed, and crawled into bed next to Eric. I was exhausted, but sleep did not come easily. I could not stop replaying the events of the previous night. I hated that, once more, I'd been at someone's mercy, albeit for a short time. I was so tired of it, so tired of always being a victim. I longed for security. I longed for strength. I longed for the world to stand still for a while so I could catch my breath.

I closed my eyes, but all I could see was Eric's charred face, and the way his strong, beautiful body simply collapsed in on itself, like it was no more than an illusion, or a puff of smoke. I could see myself on my knees, begging, or on the ground, being taken, and I was disgusted at how easily that could happen, did happen, and may happen again. I began to feel, and taste, and smell Craig on me once again, and I burrowed myself closer to Eric. No. I was not going to let him ruin this now that I had it again, and I inhaled Eric's scent, attempting to replace Craig's. I ran my fingers over his slumbering form, and committed the feel of him to memory, trying to replacing all others. I marveled at the way his sleeping body responded to my touch. I leaned over and kissed his mouth, my tongue darting out to taste him; his lips parted slightly, and I heard him whisper my name as sleep overtook him once more. With the feel of him against me, his scent in my nose, and the taste of him on my lips, I finally succumbed to sleep.

The days were still long in England, and despite my exhaustion, I managed to wake up before Eric. I took a shower, ate something, got back into bed with Eric, and thought about what I would do next. Well, thought about how I would do what I wanted to do next. The "what" was already determined. I looked at the clock and realized Eric would be awake in a few minutes. I quickly ...

[EDITED] SEE CHAPTER 1 NOTE

A/N: So, all those who thought the dog was a shifter . . . ummm, no. I know I didn't give many clues, but c'mon . . . Labrador?! Yes, a tiny bit of Clovache's yelling, and Eric's (once he woke up) was bleeding through. I hope you enjoyed the lemons. I thought Eric and Sookie deserved them. Now, what do ya think about Sookie's request? Btylor gets a shout out here for figuring out that's what she was going to ask him way back in the review to chapter 27 (errr, 26, damn system counts the prologue as 1.) Anyway, hats off to you Btylor!