Hope you-all like my novella! Sorry it took so long to post (and it's a terrible chapter – please forgive me) but I've been really busy the last few weeks. I've got a new job, been stressed out and my muse seems to have gone on holiday. Please hang in there. She'll be back soon (and hopefully with a tan!). Thanks.

Note (11-Sep-2010) - I reposted this chapter (reformatted) because of some reading issues. There's no change in content!

Brotherly Love

Chapter 6: If there's a God, He hates me

My heart stopped for the second time tonight. Actually, it felt like my heart had been ripped out of my chest and eaten – by a vampire.

How ironic.

It took all the strength I possessed not to scream and start punching every part of the Eric-fake that I could. I wanted the imposter dead, more than I've ever wanted anything in my life. The anger
after finding out that Bill was a mole wasn't this bad. I wish I had something, anything, silver so I could punish the bastard who raped me. That's what it was. Rape. I thought it was Eric – I hadn't
realised it was someone else. It wasn't my fault. I hadn't wanted this.

Had I?

No. Of course not. He tricked me. I love Eric. I didn't realise who it was. He made me.

But I invited him in. I should have realised when he required an invite – Eric would never have waited to begin love. Why, why did I invite him in?

It was my fault. I let him do it to me. My fault.

My self-pity suddenly evaporated in a fiery surge of anger that didn't come from me. It came from Eric, I'm pretty sure, through our blood bond. The fire flooded my veins and I saw more than red. Actually, I practically went blind with rage. It was his way of correcting me. I wasn't going to let this rapist get away with this. He would pay.

Forgive me Jesus.

Forgive me Gran.

Forgive me Eric. I mouthed this, hoping that Eric could feel my guilt for what I was about to do.

I reached over to grab the fake-Eric's dick and began to stroke it gently. He grinned with his fangs starting to extend.

"How does that feel, honey?"

He didn't answer me. Obviously, talking to me could only happen when I was distracted enough not to notice. He simply smiled and, even knowing that it wasn't Eric, my legs started to shake slightly. Was I just in love with Eric's body? Even through the haze of my anger, I had to take a second to consider that and I realised that my bond to Eric didn't distort my feelings; it amplified them. I loved
Eric for who he was – warts (or in this case fangs) and all. If Eric lost his memory again, I wouldn't love him as much as I did right now. I loved him.

And this guy violated that love.

I had to punish him and I could think of only one thing to do.

"Let's make this more fun..." I tried saying with a sultry voice - it just sounded bunged up to me, "and take it to the kitchen." I gave him a wink to make it seem as if we did this every time we made love. He fell for it, and went to pick me up.

"No" I said, my voice raising a few octaves. I worried he would figure out that I knew the truth but took the risk. "Wait here; let me get ready for you".

I ran quickly to my brand new kitchen (the only place where I chose everything in it since the original kitchen had burned down) and started hunting in my drawers, as quietly as possible.

The Stackhouses have never been a rich family – my house had been built by my ancestors, not bought. However, my family has always insisted on being proper. "Lack of money does not excuse lack of manners" was a saying my Gran loved. As such, successive generations of Stackhouse money went towards buying something every proper family needed.

Family silver.

Gran had gotten close to selling it at one point, when she had to take Jason and me on, without an income. To be honest, I'd thought about selling it more than once. I never cleaned it, as my Gran had done religiously once a month. It was too much effort. But I kept it, because of how much it meant to my Gran. It was a true family heirloom. And now it was going to see action – just
not the kind of action my Gran had hoped for. She wanted it used at my wedding (though I'm sure she gave up on the idea by my twentieth birthday) and now it was going to be used against a vampire.

I'm not stupid. I know vampires are stronger than me – he could kill me before I blinked. But silver dramatically weakened vampires, and I knew I could do it. I'd killed a vampire before.

Only by luck, of course but I was sure I could do it again – I was beyond angry this time. I looked at my hands, to make sure I wasn't making an emotional decision. They were as solid as a vampire's. I was going to make him pay.

He would suffer as much as I could make him.