Hi All! I hope it was worth the wait :D. It was a choice between an update to my story and my history homework :P I chose all of you so please give me a review in exchange! (I'm a self-checker but I'm likely to miss something, please point it out to me. Thanks).

Brotherly Love

Chapter 8: Snicker-Snack

"One, two! One, two! And through and through
The vorpal blade went snicker-snack!" – Jabberwocky, Lewis Carroll

I couldn't take my eyes off of his as the knife slowly descended towards his genitals. I'm not a great body-language reader – I rely far too much on my telepathy. But even I could read the fear in his face, his eyes bulging in his terror. It was almost made me want to pull the knife away but not quite because I didn't just see terror – there was anger and hatred burning still in the heart of them. Besides, I don't think I had the strength to pull it out of its trajectory. It was travelling inexorably down towards his penis.

My eyes were still fixated on his when the blade finally reached his member. Suddenly there was resistance on the knife, but not much. Silver is so dangerous to vampires because it penetrates their skin better than steel penetrates humans. It slid through the entire thing in less than a second. One second he had a gracious plenty, the next he had nothing.

His face revealed his agony when the silver touched his skin. His eyes widened even further and suddenly his face contorted in agony and he screamed. His scream was primal and angry, but I'd heard worse. I've been on battlefields and heard death cries, this whine from a rapist was nothing. He was still screaming as his penis fell slowly, very slowly to my eyes, to the floor. It dragged my attention away from Jökull's face like a bomb. It fascinated me, this sausage of flesh which meant so much to men. How would they feel being separated from such a seemingly vital part of themselves? Well, now Jökull would find out. His dick was now hitting the ground with an unnervingly loud thud, sounding like stone hitting stone like when my brother accidentally dropped one of his paving tiles onto his driveway.

The bang quickly brought me back to my senses and I started breathing faster. An angry bull was deadly, a livid vampire was infinitely worse. What have I done? Damn it Sookie, why do you let anger get the better of you? Too late now, I would just have to deal with the deadly fallout – Jökull was likely to be worse than a blowing nuclear reactor. My eyes were drawn to his face in morbid curiosity – like looking at the tiger standing inches away from you that you know is going to maul you. I was dead. I had no choice in this matter. But I could see it coming.

His eyes were no longer fearful, they were beyond livid. The anger flooded every part of his face until he looked more beast than anything human-like. He was even growling! The sound made me want to scream and faint but we Stackhouse women don't faint, we're made of sterner stuff. No. I was going to face my killer, and hope that he took pity on a poor southern woman, the lover of his brother, by killing me quickly. But his eyes promised pain – a never-ending hell on earth for me. Even though his penis would grow back, he had still suffered the pain of its loss, and he would exact that pain, and more, from me in screams.

I started to back away, my brain screaming at me to run, to flee this predator. No doubt he would enjoy that – the chase would make it all the more exciting. He knew I could never escape him – my death was assured. My life would end... tonight.

Since my legs refused to move any faster, my brain gave up trying to get me to run and began trying to list all the sins I've ever committed. I considered all the wrongs I've ever made in my entire life. Letting Gran die in my stead – simply because I loved Bill, letting Bill convince me he actually loved me, letting him break my heart and now never saying goodbye. Letting my Brother think I was angry with him, not apologising to him. Worst of all, leaving Eric behind without telling him, one last time, that he was my love, my heart, my soul... he was everything to me. The thing I lived for. These were all things I regretted at that moment and my whole heart yearned to see Eric's face just one last time – not to see this twisted and evil take upon it. What I really wanted was for Eric's grey-haired and wrinkled old face beside me as I drew my last breath, on my bed at home surrounded by my loving family. But that was never going to happen – my involvement with the supernatural has made it impossible. Eric could never get old like I would; we could never have children and the chances of me living to be grey-haired seemed very unlikely.

No, it was time to be realistic. This was better than some deaths I had considered; at least the last thing I saw would look something like Eric, even if I knew the truth. And with that thought I flew backwards into my brand new refrigerator and pain swelled out from stomach. It was agonising, I thought I was already dying. His fist had moved too fast for me to see but the result was obvious to me – he had punched me straight in my stomach. But there was pain in my head too, less than in my stomach but sharp and wet. One hand had to remain on my stomach to let me breath but the other rose slowly, far too slowly for my liking – I probably had a concussion, and I felt where my head had struck my fridge. I saw blood, stark red against the beautiful tan of my skin. It just reminded me of what my so called gift had done to me – before I had been introduced to the supernatural community the sight of blood had been confined to the odd skinned knee. Now I was looking at what seemed to be an entire body full of blood, although I knew better. I had a lot more than that and chances were I'd see it all before the end.

Then again, maybe not. My vision was beginning to darken at the edges, I could hear him moving but my peripheral vision wasn't working so I couldn't see him. What I could see made my heart break. My impact had shaken the kitchen slightly and the picture I'd left on the side, too close to the edge, was on the floor, its glass splinted but not broken in such a serendipitous (my last word of the day, I could spare a thought for that) way. My face was distorted by the glass but Eric, who had forced me to pose for the picture, looked beautiful and young, as he always would. He would live. And though that should've given me pleasure, it hurt me more than my wounds because we would never meet in heaven, if vampire's truly had no soul. I saw Eric's every day, so I didn't think we would be apart forever, but it would be a long time before we saw each other again. It hurt me to think about and I just wanted it to be other – the sooner it was, the sooner I could see Eric again.

I could see him now, moving slowly and I could see what he had been doing. He had grabbed his still erect penis – he was going to rape me as he killed me. His fangs were fully extended – he planned to drain me dry.

This was it, my end was here. I would be just another corpse in the ground. God, please let him leave my body be, so I can be buried next to my Gran. Please.

He was getting closer and now suddenly he was kneeling next to me.

"I'm going to fuck you to death, even if I have no dick for now. You know you brought this on yourself" he told me, his accent more obvious than ever, "my dick will grow back whilst you rot under the ground. Don't worry, I'll comfort Eric". He made a big mistake saying that to me. Anger flooded me one last time before I went to my rest.

"You won't need to" I whispered, each word felt like it burned my throat.

"And why is that?" he laughed, his fingers getting closer to my exposed private parts.

I still had the knife tightly gripped in my hand – I couldn't even think about letting it go. He saw it and went to grab it, but he didn't use his vampire speed because he underestimated just how angry I was.

"Get the fuck out of my house" I said, spitting blood into his face. He jerked like a marionette whose strings have been pulled backwards, straight towards my door. His arm couldn't reach closer to grab the knife and he was using all his strength to stay in position. His face made me want to laugh, almost. He kept trying to grab me but he couldn't avoid the ancient magic binding him. He took a slow step back and I began to panic. If I didn't act, he'd simply wait outside my house until I had to leave. I took a very deep breath and tried to focus. My hand wouldn't lift and he took another step back. I channelled all my fears into my arm and used all my natural aim as a softball player to throw the knife at his heart. I watched it travel through the air but I'd over exerted myself and immediately the blackness overcame me.