Chapter Text
They say twins can sense when something terrible happens to their other half. But nothing - not our bond, not our shared blood, not all our years growing up together - could have prepared me for the moment I felt Sookie's anguish rip through me like a physical pain. When we found Gran... God, I can't even put it into words.
Our house. Our home. The place where we grew up together, where Gran raised us after Mom and Dad died. The kitchen where she taught us both to bake her famous pies, though Sookie was always better at it than me. Now it was a crime scene, and Gran... our Gran...
I watched my twin sister go into autopilot mode, trying to clean up the blood. My heart broke seeing her like that, on her hands and knees scrubbing at the kitchen floor. I wanted to stop her, to pull her into a hug like when we were kids and one of us had a nightmare. But this wasn't a nightmare we could wake up from.
"Sookie," I kept saying, trying to reach her through that fog she'd put up. Being twins means you're supposed to know what to do when your other half is hurting. But I felt helpless. Lost. The connection between us was crackling with pain and denial and rage - hers and mine all mixed until I couldn't tell where her grief ended and mine began.
The funeral was surreal. Standing there beside Sookie, both of us in black, accepting condolences from what felt like the entire town. I kept glancing at her, monitoring her through our twin bond. She was holding it together better than me on the outside, but inside? I could feel her splintering apart.
When Bill showed up, I was relieved. Never thought I'd feel that way about a vampire being near my sister, but seeing how he supported her, how he understood what she needed even when I was fumbling... well, maybe that's what she needs right now. Someone who isn't drowning in the same grief we are.
That night, after everyone had gone home and the house felt too big and too empty, Sookie and I sat on the porch swing like we used to when we were kids. We didn't talk much - didn't need to. Just sat there, our twin bond humming with shared memories of Gran. The way she'd always know which one of us was upset, even when we tried to hide it. How she never once made us feel weird about being different - me with my protective streak, Sookie with her... gift.
"We're all we've got now," I finally said, and felt Sookie's hand squeeze mine.
But something dark is still out there. The same evil that took Gran from us. And through our twin connection, I can feel Sookie's determination to find whoever did this mixing with my own. They didn't just kill our grandmother - they came into our home and violated our sanctuary. And while part of me wants to lock Sookie away somewhere safe, I know her better than anyone. We're in this together, just like we've always been.
Bill came by later, and I let them have their space. Whatever's between them, it seems to help her cope. And right now, that's all that matters. Because the truth is, I'm barely holding it together myself. The only thing keeping me steady is knowing I have to be strong for my twin. Gran would've wanted that.
The house feels wrong without Gran in it. Every time I hear a floorboard creak, I expect to see her shuffling down the hallway in her robe, asking if we want hot chocolate like she used to when neither of us could sleep. Through our twin bonds, I can feel Sookie fighting the same thoughts.
Tonight, I caught her staring at Gran's empty chair, that familiar crease between her eyebrows that means she's trying not to cry. She's always been the stronger one of us, my four-minute-older sister, but right now she's raw. I can feel it. It's like an open wound we're both carrying.
When people started bringing food over - casseroles, pies, all those things folks do when someone dies - I watched Sookie arrange and rearrange them in the kitchen. Her hands were shaking, and I could feel her anxiety building through our connection. She kept saying how Gran would've done it differently, how Gran would've known exactly where everything should go. I wanted to tell her to stop, to rest, but I knew my sister. She needs to keep moving, keep doing, or she'll fall apart.
Bill came by again after sunset. I've started to notice how Sookie's emotions settle a bit when he's around - not happy exactly, but calmer. It's a strange feeling that through our twin bond, how someone who should be so foreign, so other, can bring her peace. Maybe that's why I'm learning to accept him more. Anything that helps her right now, I'm grateful for.
But there's something else building beneath our grief. Anger. Determination. Every time I look at that kitchen floor, even though Sookie scrubbed it clean, I can feel rage burning in my gut. Whoever did this to Gran... they're still out there. And through our twin connection, I know Sookie's thinking the same thing. We might process things differently. She gets quiet and focused, while I want to tear the town apart - but we're united in this.
Late tonight, I heard her crying in Gran's room. Didn't go in - some pain you need to feel alone, even with a twin. But I sat outside her door, sending whatever comfort I could through our bond. We used to do this as kids, feeling each other's emotions across the hall at night. Now we're doing it with the biggest loss of our lives.
The town's been talking, of course. Whispers about vampires, about Bill, about Sookie's involvement with them. Part of me wants to punch anyone who looks at her sideways, but I know that won't help. Besides, Gran didn't raise us that way. She always said violence doesn't solve anything - though right now, with this killer still free, I'm having a hard time remembering that lesson.
Tomorrow we'll have to start going through Gran's things. Sookie's already dreading it - I can feel it. But we'll do it together, just like we've done everything else since we were born. Because that's what twins do. We carry each other's pain and share each other's strength. And somewhere in all this darkness, we'll find our way forward.
For now, though, I'm just trying to be the brother she needs. The twin who know when to talk and when to just sit in silence. Gran would've wanted us to take care of each other. So that's what I'll do, even if I'm barely holding myself together. Because in the end, all we have is each other.