Note: This story can be read independently or as a sequel to The Aftermath, and it also has a small connection to Frostbite. It is set post Skin 1x06.

Warning: Mentions of the molestation of a child, but not in great detail.

"No, no wendigos."

"Come on Dean."

"What did I say Sam?"

"Yeah but..."

"I said a simple hunt. It's either that or no hunt at all, which I'm starting to think is the better plan."

"Dean, don't be ridiculous I can handle it." Sam sighed in exasperation.

"You're the one being ridiculous! You got your ass kicked by that shifter less than a week ago. You haven't slept well, your back is still a mess, and you practically have a heart attack whenever someone comes up behind you." I reasoned gently. I wanted to prove my point without insulting or offending my little brother.

"Stop being so dramatic." Sam dismissed.

"Dramatic? Dramatic was you this morning when Bobby tapped you on the shoulder to give you coffee and you practically jumped out of the chair."

"He just startled me, that was all."

"I know Sam. I get that you would be a little jumpy after what happened. You got beat to hell little brother, which is why I want you to take more time to fully recover before we get involved in another hunt."

"I know that, but I am doing a lot better, and I can handle it. Besides I'm getting restless, we need to do something."

I nodded in understanding, because even though it had only been a week I was also feeling the itch to get moving. But I was more than willing to ignore that itch because I knew my little brother was still hurting.

"Yeah I get that, that's why I said you could choose a hunt, but it has to be a simple salt and burn or something." I compromised.

"There's no such thing as a simple salt and burn."

Sam startled at the sudden entrance of the older hunter; settling immediately after realizing his mistake and looking down at the table in embarrassment. I placed my hand on Sam's knee, giving it a gentle squeeze in support.

"Balls, sorry Sam." Bobby apologized with a look of frustration, no doubt towards himself.

Sam threw a forgiving smile Bobby's way and then looked back down at his computer screen, letting his hair fall before his face. This same situation had occurred multiple times throughout the week. Every time I was left trying to convince Sam that there was no reason for him to feel ashamed, that anyone who had to go through what he did had every right to be a little jumpy.

"You boys looking for a hunt?" Bobby asked; eager to move past the awkwardness.

"Apparently, but something simple; nothing too strenuous." I said, twitching my head in my little brother's direction in explanation.

"Well I'll keep an ear out." He responded. "You boys want something to eat?"

"Yeah I could eat." I admitted.

"Well than get your ass up and help me make some breakfast. I ain't your maid." Bobby grumbled, gathering supplies from the fridge.

"Yes sir." I laughed, pushing back from the table and getting to my feet.

"I've got some bacon, sausage, bread for toast, and eggs. Sound good?"

As Bobby and I cooked up a big breakfast, Sam sat hunched over her computer in search of a hunt.

"Alright Sam clear off the table." I instructed, filling three plates full of food.

Bobby filled three mugs of coffee and set them on the table, I followed with breakfast. I placed a plate full of food in front of the older hunter and myself and then set a plate of eggs before my little brother.

"Uh what's with this?" Sam asked, looking at me with an unimpressed expression.

"Those would be eggs, scrambled just the way you like them." I replied with an innocent smile.

"Yeah I see that, but how come all I have is eggs?" Sam questioned, looking between Bobby and I, the older man simply shrugged and started eating.

"Because your throat is still healing."

"It's still a little raw, but I can eat real food."

"Eggs are real food, and they go down a lot nicer. And in case you don't recall, we tried toast yesterday and you hacked for like an hour." I reminded.

Sam huffed in annoyance and slowly began to pick at his breakfast.

I figured by this point in time I should have accepted the fact that my little brother would never be a hearty eater, but it was just a matter I could never let drop.

"And because all you're getting is eggs I expect you to eat that plate clean." I declared.

Sam threw an irritated glare my way, one that told me he would eat as much as he damn well pleased. I shook my head, trying to get that kid to eat a decent amount of food always felt like fighting a losing battle.

True to form, Sam was the last one to finish his breakfast and by the time he pushed his plate away there was still food on it. I was about to put that out, but watching the young man squirm around in his chair uneasily made it clear to me that he had been sitting too long and his back was paying for it.

Sam stood slowly and started to clean up before I stopped him.

"Don't worry about the dishes. I got it covered."

I was surprised not to get an argument, which attested to how sore the kid must have been.

"I'm going to grab a shower." Sam informed us, stiffly making his way up the stairs. I watched him go; being sure he wasn't going to need any help before gathering the dishes.

"I swear he does that just to piss me off." I griped, staring at the egg remaining on my kid brother's plate.

"That's the most I've seen him eat in one sitting since the two of you showed up." Bobby pointed out as he began to clean up.

"That's not saying much." I mumbled.

"Well he's still healing Dean, plus it's not like the boy was ever much of an eater, you were always the one who would clean me right out whenever the two of you came to stay, even as kids."

"That's your own fault Bobby. You always had the best food."

"Yeah well I'd stalk up on it if I knew you two were on your way. Never did agree with the way your Dad fed you kids." The older hunter grumbled with a shake of his head.

I could make no objection. John Winchester wasn't much of a cook even if he had been around enough to do it. He also wasn't a big fan of spending money on quality food, never much seeing the point in it because there was no pay off in that sort of investment. The man believed that the purpose of food was to keep you alive, so he bought what was cheap and easy, however unappealing it may have been.

"You want to wash or dry?"

I was about to answer Bobby when I heard Sam call for me. I held one finger up to the older hunter, indicating that I would only be a minute as I sprinted up the stairs.

The call didn't sound urgent or as though it was made in distress, but any holler from my little brother always sent me running.

I got to the top of the stairs and could hear the shower running so I knocked on the bathroom door.

"What's up Sammy?" I asked from outside.

A second later the door was opened for me and I entered the bathroom to see my younger brother standing there fully clothed looking like a lost puppy.

"I…I need some help." Sam stuttered out awkwardly, biting his lip, his gaze focused down at his feet.

"With what?" I asked.

"My shirt." Sam muttered quietly.

It took a second for me to realize what the kid was getting at. Then I noticed how he was tugging gently at the bottom of his t-shirt.

My little brother couldn't get his shirt off. I wondered for a minute how he'd been dressing and undressing himself all week, but thinking back I recalled that all week he'd been wearing button-up plaid shirts and zip-up sweaters. This was the first day since we got here that he had put on a pullover shirt, and apparently it's easier to put on than get off.

"Alright man, no worries." I said, making a point to be casual so he wouldn't feel so embarrassed.

"I tried. I just couldn't get my arms…" Sam faded off, hiding under his bangs.

"It's not a big deal."

I took a step closer towards my little brother, grabbing hold of the hem of his shirt and slowly rolling it up, realizing just when I was about to tell Sam to put his arms up that he couldn't.

"Sit on the toilet seat. I'm not tall enough for this sasquatch." I joked, guiding him towards the toilet, kicking the lid closed and gently pushing him down.

Sam released a low moan as he sat.

"Now put your arms out forward, I'm going to pull this over your head and then slide it off your arms." I explained patiently.

Sam obeyed immediately, stretching his arms out in front of him as I slowly pulled the shirt over top of his head.

"So much girly hair." I teased as I pulled the neck of the clothing over his head, messing up his long brown locks.

"Shut-up." He threw back not unkindly.

"There we go." I said, sliding the t-shirt off my brother's arms and dropping it on the bathroom counter, knowing that throwing it on the floor would mean that Sam had to bend down to pick it up again.

"Thanks." Sam groaned quietly as he came to stand.

"Anytime kiddo." I smiled genuinely, feeling content with the small Sammy smirk I got in return. As I opened the door and went to leave the room I glanced back over my shoulder and came to a halt.

"Fuck Sammy." I swore after getting a good view of his back.

I had examined it after that shifter kicked my brother's ass and then again once we arrived at Bobby's, but Sam had been hiding it from me for the past week, probably because I had just recently been able to touch him without making him flinch.

"It's not that bad, really, I can barely feel it."

"Yeah that's why you couldn't even take your shirt off. Cut the bullshit Sam." I admonished, gently turning him around so I could get a better look.

"Shit buddy, why didn't you tell me it was still this bad?"

"You cut the bullshit Dean, you know exactly why I didn't say anything." Sam said, his voice rising in frustration.

"Because you're too fricken stubborn?"

"No, because no matter how many times I try and tell you that what happened wasn't your fault, I know you still feel guilty. And the last thing I want to do is rub your face in it by whining about how screwed up my back is every other minute."

I should have known. Should have figured Sam would be his stupidly considerate self and worry about me when he was the one in pain.

"I'm not a sensitive little girl Sam, I don't need you protecting my feelings." I said as I gently skimmed my hand over the dark bruises coding my kid brother's back. Sam sucked in a breath as my fingers trailed over a particularly nasty looking cluster of bruises up by his shoulder blade. No wonder the kid couldn't lift his arms over his head. I'm surprised he could move them at all.

"This isn't looking much better than it was a week ago." I muttered, moving to stand in front of Sam and carefully feeling along his two healing ribs.

He flinched a little at the one, but that was the only reaction he gave.

"Well at least these are doing better. One of them needs a little more time though." I assessed. "Your face is looking a lot better, and the bruise on your neck has faded a lot."

"I know Dean. I looked in the mirror this morning."

"You're telling me you saw that mess of hair and didn't do anything about it?" I cracked, smirking at the bitch face the comment got me.

"Can I shower now? Or do you want to stand in the bathroom and feel me up a little longer?" Sam questioned with a smile.

"Oh gross, you're sick man, just sick." I accused in disgust, hearing my little brother snickering as I left the room and shut the door behind me.

"Everything good?" Bobby asked as I arrived down stairs.

"Yeah he's alright. Beat to hell and being a moron about it, but he'll be fine."

"You really want to take him on a hunt in his condition?" Bobby questioned a second later as I started drying the dishes.

"Hell no." At the older hunter's inquisitive look I continued. "He's the one who keeps pushing the hunt."

The man beside me raised an eyebrow in disbelief.

"What? The kid is getting restless."

"No, your brother doesn't get restless Dean. Sam could spend months sitting on that shitty couch with his nose in a book."

"Normally I'd agree with you, but for the last two days the kid has been bitching about getting back on the road."

"Hmmm." Bobby hummed. I stared at him, eyebrows raised.

"What's with the hmm?"

"Sam isn't the one getting restless Dean, you are."

I opened my mouth to argue the accusation, but didn't get the chance.

"Don't try and deny it boy. You're running out of cars to fix and you've been pacing around this house like a caged animal. You're bored. And if I picked up on it, you can bet your ass that Sam did."

"So what, I'm bored. What does that have to do with Sam harassing me to go on a hunt?"

"My god you are dense in the skull boy. That kid wants you to be happy. He knows that you have had a hard week. He knows you're beating yourself up over what happened to him and he wants things to go back to normal."

"Ha! Normal, what the hell is normal anymore?" I thought aloud.

"You're on your own with that one kid." The older hunter finished washing the last dish and made his exit.

I stood drying dishes as my mind wandered, well it didn't do much wandering actually, it stayed focused one topic, one little brother.

One little brother who spends far too much time worrying about me and not enough taking care of himself. A little brother who is in pain and traumatized and still puts my needs before his own. A little brother who needed a serious talking to. The same little brother who shuffled into the room just as I was drying the last plate.

He was wearing a clean pair of jeans and a zip-up sweater, clearly not wanting to try and manoeuvre himself into another pullover shirt.

I smirked at Sam as he looked over at me.

"What?"

"Dude you look like a drowned rat, you sure you don't want me to snip off a little bit of that hair? Bobby's got some clippers hanging around somewhere." I offered.

Sam acknowledged my offer by showing me the longest finger on his right hand. He sat down sideways in the kitchen chair, keeping his bruised body as far from the back of the seat as possible.

"You're not going to need that." I told him as he reached for the laptop sitting across the table.

"Why?" He gave me a curious stare.

"Because we are not taking another hunt, not for another week at least." I stated, preparing myself for the argument.

"Why not?"

"Because you're hurt."

"I'm Fi…"

"Don't you dare say it! Dude I just helped you out of your shirt, because your back is so fucked up you couldn't even get it off. You're bruised to hell, there is no way you could even man a shovel if we actually found a salt and burn, and I don't want to do all the work." I lectured.

"I can watch your back while you dig up a grave. I'm not an invalid." Sam pouted.

"No you're not, you are injured." I clarified.

"We have hunted with injuries a million times before. What makes this time any different?" Sam's frustration was rising.

"It's not necessary, there's nothing pressing, nothing to finish. Let's just rest up for a while man." I implored.

"But I'm bored."

"No Sam, you're not. I don't know why I needed Bobby to point it out to me, but you will never be bored when you're in a house full of books. Because you're a dork like that." I teased with a smile.

"But you're bored." He said, staring up at me.

"Yeah, so what? I can find other things to do, no one ever died of boredom…that I know of." I added thoughtfully.

"Dean I can handle a hunt. Honestly."

"I know Sam, but you don't have to. I know you're just doing it for me, and although I think that's moronic, I appreciate it, but it's not necessary."

"It's not just for you. I want to go on a hunt."

"Why? If this is about Dad, I swear we'll keep looking for him."

"It's not, it's about me." My brother paused for a moment, searching for his words; I allowed him all the time he needed.

"I just want to feel normal."

I nodded my head, because Bobby had told me as much, and because I understood completely. There were numerous times in my life where I'd been injured or hurt or scared and I always craved normalcy in the aftermath…well our version of normal anyways.

"Just one hunt man, after we can come back and stay here for a month if that's what you want."

I stood pondering the offer.

"Please Dean, I need this."

A part of me knew Sam was bullshitting; that he wanted to go on a hunt because he thought it would be good for me and that it in fact had nothing at all to do with him. But he was using those damn puppy dog eyes, and even with the wet straggly hair, the look still made me cave.

"Fine, but only if we find something simple, I'm not risking your well-being just so you can feel normal."

"What could be more normal than that?" Sam said with a laugh. I knew it was supposed to be a joke, but I found no humour in the reality of the comment.

Sam spent most of the day scavenging the internet for a new case and it would seem he was having difficulty finding a hunt that fit the restrictions I had set out. It had to be simple, as simple as a hunt could possibly be and it had to be within a few hours of Bobby's because I knew that Sam's back could not handle a long drive, regardless of how fine he kept insisting he was.

I spent most of my day working on a car that had no hope in hell of ever being functional, but I was trying my hardest not to look bored.

Bobby made chili for dinner and I dragged Sam off the laptop long enough to come eat it.

"If you two were still looking for a simple hunt I think I got one for you." Bobby announced as we dug into our meal.

"What do you got?" I smiled at the disgusted look Sam sent my way for talking with my mouth full.

"Cursed object it looks like."

"Sounds simple enough." I admitted. "Where's it at?"

"A town called Herrick; it's in Gregory County, about three hours west of here."

Once Bobby said the name of the town I heard a spoon clatter at the same time that I started gagging on my chilli. I gagged until my mouth was empty. I felt Bobby's hand pounding on my back, no doubt assuming I was choking. What he didn't know was that I wasn't choking on food, but a memory, one so dark and violent that my body was physically rejecting the recollection.

"Breathe boy." I followed Bobby's order, regaining control of my body and looking across the table at my little brother.

Sam was staring far off; his face frozen in a look of abject horror, a look I had sworn would never again obstruct his features.

"Sam, Sammy." I called out, pulling him back from the memory I knew he was reliving. Sam twitched; his mind and body returning to the present as his gaze met mine.

"I'm here, you're here, were good." I reassured, begging him to believe me with my expression. Sam nodded jerkily in response.

"Yeah." He rasped in reply, visibly straining to regain his composer.

"I'm going to go out on a limb here and assume that I'm missing something." Bobby stated uneasily.

"You could say that." Sam told the older hunter, without removing his gaze from mine.

Sam and I continued to look at each other, each of us gaining strength and support from the other.

"You're going to have to find someone else for that hunt Bobby." I said after a moment, finally breaking eye contact with my little brother and glancing over at the older man.

"Dean—

"No Sam!" I said, my tone more aggressive than I had intended.

"It's a hunt we—

"I said no! There is no way in hell we are going back there." I seethed, my body vibrating in a barely controlled rage.

Sam gave me a look, one that was so soaked in sympathy it made me hate myself, and all the sudden I was suffocating, desperate for air.

"I'll be outside." I muttered, clumsily climbing to my feet and practically running for the door. I heard Sam call out my name, and while that was something I would rarely ever ignore, I knew that I would be of no help to him until I got a grip of myself, so I kept walking.

By the time I made it to the shop I was flowing with a hate that I hadn't felt in over a decade, a rage that I had buried away for so long. It was rising up and taking control of every part of me, spreading throughout my body like a poison.

Once I was in the shop, throwing and smashing every object in my sight, I stopped fighting and allowed the memory I was so desperate to escape, to take over. Then I closed my eyes losing myself in the darkness and the pain.

"Why can't we just stay at Bobby's?" I looked across the diner table at the skinny ten year old boy picking slowly at his food.

"I don't know Sammy. Dad told me the same thing that he told you. Him and Bobby had a falling out." I answered casually, checking out the ass of the hot chic that walked past our table.

"And what does that mean exactly?"

"It means that Bobby and him aren't talking. It means that while he's away we are stuck hanging around that shitty motel instead of fixing cars at Bobby's."

"That's stupid." Sam sulked.

"You're telling me. I'm the one stuck being a fucking dishwasher." I said; referring to the part-time job I had to get at the diner because John was taking longer than he was supposed and, as usual, he left us with practically no cash.

"Sorry Dean." Sam mumbled, looking up at me apologetically through that ridiculous hair.

"It's not your fault Sammy." I said with a sigh, annoyed that I'd allowed my anger with our situation to come out at my little brother.

"Just eat your dinner." I instructed softly. Sam nodded obediently, something he rarely did, and he probably only did because I had made him feel guilty. Some brother I was.

"How about after my shift we go grab some junk food at the corner store? We can take it back to the motel and see if maybe we can get the stupid tv to work." I offered with a smile, pretending not to worry about how that might affect our cash flow. If need be I would just pick up an extra shift.

Watching Sammy's little face light up at the idea made it all worth it, every stupid minute of washing nasty dishes in boiling hot water.

"Really Dean?"

God those dimples, why does he even have the dimples? Aren't the big puppy dog eyes enough? Not to mention that stupid brown shaggy hair that's always hanging in his face.

"Yeah, really squirt." I replied with a smile.

"Kid! Your break was over five minutes ago, get your ass back here!"

I resisted the urge to tell off my boss as he yelled at me from the kitchen, the only thing stopping me being the fact that I needed this job in order to feed the little midget seated across from me.

"Coming." I hollered, sliding out of the booth.

"Finish your supper Sammy. If you eat everything on that plate I will swipe you a slice of pie from the kitchen." I said with a wink.

"Okay Dean." Sam replied, his eyes twinkling in excitement.

"Good man." I said, messing up the kid's hair. "My shift is over in two hours. So you just finish your food and do your homework."

"I'm already finished it."

No duh, my little brother had been sitting there since three this afternoon. I hated having to drag him to work. three to eight was a long time for a ten year old to just sit around, but I couldn't leave him at the motel. It was one of the sketchier ones we've stayed in and there is no way I was leaving my baby brother alone in that hellhole.

"That's cause you're a dork. Did you bring a book?"

"Yup, I got one at the school library like you told me to."

"That's my boy."

"It's about dinosaurs."

"Cool." I said, laughing at the smile that spread across my little brother's face. I don't know why the kid thought my approval was so important, but I'd be lying if I said I it didn't make me feel good.

"Hey! Kid! You looking to get canned?"

I rolled my eyes at the stupid question, but turned to head back to the kitchen before Joe followed through on the threat he'd been making every shift for the past week.

"My name's Dean, I don't know who this kid is that you keep yelling at." I quipped as I made my way to the kitchen, sending a wink over my shoulder to my giggling little brother.

I kept a constant eye on Sammy as I washed dishes, being able to see him through the kitchen door if I looked over my shoulder. It was killer on my neck, but my constant need to check on him always trumped my own personal comfort.

I was soaking an egg covered frying pan when I did a Sam-check and what I saw had me making a quick exit from the kitchen and towards my brother.

There was an older man sitting with him, one that I recognized from the motel and one that made me just as uncomfortable the first time I set eyes on him as he did now.

He was sitting across from Sam, and to everyone else I am sure he looked as though he was just being friendly, but something in my gut made me doubt his sincerity.

"What the hell are you doing?" I demanded, walking up to the booth.

"Oh hello. I was just keeping little Sammy here company, you must be Dean. I'm Gary, I think we are staying at the same hote. I am a few doors down from you two." He said, standing up and stretching his hand out towards me.

There was nothing appalling or offsetting about the man's appearance. He was shorter than he looked, probably about 5'10'', but he was chunky with brown hair and a beard. He looked to be about my dad's age, maybe a little older. But there was something in his eyes and even in his voice that seemed fake, and it made my stomach twist.

"My name is none of your fucking business, and neither is my brother's, so I suggest you go find somewhere else to sit, or we are going to have a problem." I glowered, doing my finest John Winchester impression.

The man smiled in reply, nodding his head.

"I understand, didn't mean to cause any trouble. Have fun reading your book little Sammy." He said as he made his way across the diner and took a seat at another booth.

"What's the matter Dean?" Sam asked, looking up at me quizzically.

"What have I said about strangers Sam?" I asked, staring steadily at my younger brother.

"I'm sorry, he just asked about my book and then he told me his name and he asked me what mine was. I just introduced myself and then he asked me who I was with and I just said my brother Dean, but then I didn't talk to him anymore, I promise." Sam told me, staring up at me with wide honest eyes, imploring me to believe him.

"Okay Sammy, but don't talk to him anymore alright? Don't talk to anybody, just me." I insisted.

"Okay Dean." Sam agreed with a nod of his head.

"Good, now I have to go back to the kitchen, so just stay here and read your book." At Sam's affirming nod I returned to my neglected dishes.

I had an hour left of my shift when Joe came up and told me to go sort the garbage at the back. I groaned at the task, not at all eager to end up covered in nasty diner trash, but I knew I had no choice but to do it. I was on thin ice with the boss as it was. I took a glance over my shoulder at Sammy, smirking at how deeply he was enthralled in that book. I looked across the diner where I had seen the man, Gary or whatever his name was; noticing he was no longer there I headed to go sort through garbage.

It took me the rest of my shift to separate the cardboard and plastic from the many bags of trash stacked in the back room. Out of all of the diners in the world somehow I got a job at the one that bothers to recycle. I pulled off the cleaning gloves and apron I had been wearing, tossing them in the hamper as I made my way through the kitchen. I went to the office to pick up my pay, not only had I managed to convince my boss that I was sixteen, but I also talked him into paying me in cash at the end of every shift. I collected my pay for the day, a measly thirty bucks, and then headed out to meet my little brother.

As I entered the dining room I stopped in my tracks, staring wide-eyed at the table where my little brother was supposed to be seated. I looked around frantically, calling out for Sammy. I checked every booth and the bathrooms and all through the kitchen, I asked everybody there with no luck until an elderly lady got my attention.

"Sammy, is that the little boy with brown hair?" She asked gently.

"Yes, yes did you see him?" I questioned frantically.

"He left about an hour ago with his father, but I think he left his book bag." She said pointing at the booth Sam had been at, where his school bag was now the only thing that remained.

"Father? What did he look like?" I asked hastily.

"He had brown hair and a beard, seemed like a nice fellow. Why dear? Whatever is the matter?"

I was too panicked to giver her an answer, grabbing Sam's book bag and running out the door. Because I knew exactly who had my little brother and I knew precisely where the son of a bitch took him.

The motel was a couple blocks away. As I sprinted down streets and alleys with horror scenes playing out in my mind, I wished, not for the first time since being ditched in this town, that I was old enough to drive a car around. Every second I spent running was another second Sammy was away from me, another second I didn't know what was happening to him, another second I wasn't protecting him.

I ran faster, faster than I had ever run during training, or even during a hunt, faster than I ever thought my legs could carry me.

As I was approaching the motel, I reached around and grabbed a hold of the gun I had tucked in the waistband of my jeans. I tried to remember what room I had first seen that man standing outside of, racking my brain, visualizing the scene. It wasn't until I ran past it that I remembered. He had been three rooms down from ours.

As I approached the room I kicked down the door without a second thought, my gun at the ready as the door splintered and swung open.

Nothing on this earth could have prepared me for what I saw behind that door. I could never have been ready for it, or expecting it. In my worst dreams I never would have thought to see what I did.

There was my baby brother laying on a bare mattress in nothing but his boxers. His skinny arms and legs were tied to the bedposts and that bastard was straddling him. It took me a second to register the scene and when I did I noticed that that fucker had his hand inside Sammy's boxers.

My mind could barely comprehend what was going on, the rage growing and flowing throughout my body caused a ringing in my ears, but it wasn't loud enough to drown out the sobs of my little brother.

Sammy's cries were muffled as he screamed through the duct tape plastered over his mouth, but I heard them loud and clear. I reluctantly tore my eyes from my kid to stare murderously at the monster on top of him.

"Christo." I said. I was momentarily shocked when there was no reaction from the man, but the anger inside me quickly overcame that shock.

My finger twitched on the trigger, every instinct in my body telling me to pull it, to rid of the threat, to kill the monster that dared to lay a hand on my baby brother.

But there was a small voice that stopped me. It was not a moral one, it didn't tell me that this was a person and that killing him would be crossing a line, it didn't tell me that I couldn't take another's life. No, this was a different sort of voice, one that I always listened to because it told me how to protect Sammy. The one that had spoken up when I first laid eyes on this fucker.

The voice told me that if I put a bullet in that man's brain he would fall on top of my baby brother. He would topple on top of Sammy.

If I shot him from this close with this calibre of bullet, his blood would splatter onto Sam, his brain matter and skull fragments would land on my kid. And there was no fucking way in hell I would willingly cause any more pain or trauma to the young boy.

No fucking way.

"Get the hell away from him." I bit out, restraining every fibre of my being from emptying my gun into that monster.

The scumbag pulled his hand out from underneath my little brother's boxers and slowly climbed off of him, coming to a stop once he was standing on the other side of the bed.

"Get in the bathroom and shut the door." I ordered in a tone more lethal than it had ever been before.

"I was just—

"Do not speak. You open your mouth again and I blow your fucking head off." I seethed; my voice loud and dangerous.

The man must have seen the promise in my eyes, because he immediately did as i ordered; acting like the skittish spineless piece of shit that he was.

Once he shut the door I let my gun fall to my side, my hand shaking as I tucked it into my jeans again.

I knew that chicken shit wouldn't be a threat anymore. It was clear he only had the guts to harm vulnerable defenseless children. But just to be sure he didn't get any ideas of making a run for it, I grabbed a chair and wedged it underneath the bathroom doorknob, blocking bastard in.

I made my way quickly to my brother's side, pulling the butterfly knife from my pocket.

I went to remove the duct tape from my kid brother's mouth, my heart shredding as I looked into the watery horrified eyes staring up at me.

"It's okay Sammy, I got you little brother." I vowed as I carefully peeled the tape off, wincing at the angry red skin that lay beneath it.

"Dean!" He sobbed the second he was able to.

"Right here Sammy. I got you. You're going to be just fine." I soothed, paying no heed to the tears I could feel streaming down my face and doing the best I could to keep my voice level and confident. I knew that right now more than ever my little brother needed my strength.

"Dean please help me." The plea drove knives through my heart, as I laid a shaky hand on my Sam's head, smoothing his hair to the side and wiping his flowing tears away.

"I'm right here kiddo, I'm going to take care of you." I cooed as I reached over the small trembling body and cut through the ropes attaching his wrists to either side of the bed post.

My anger flared at the blood seeping down my brother's arms originating from the rope burns. I could tell from the damage done to his wrists and ankles how hard he had struggled and fought to get free.

My body vibrated with the need to go slaughter the thing that did this to my brother. But no matter how badly I needed it, it didn't matter, because my baby brother needed me to stay with him.

"Almost finished buddy." I encouraged softly as I cut the last of the ropes off his bleeding ankles.

Once Sam was free he scrambled to me, throwing his arms around my neck and crying, gasping and shaking as his small body was wracked with sobs.

I don't know how long I sat there holding him, whispering comforting nonsense into his ear as I combed my fingers through his hair and hugged his body close to mine, wishing I could hold him in my arms forever, always keeping him this protected.

I stood from the bed, feeling his small legs wrap around my waist and his thin arms cling tighter to my neck.

I looked for something in the room to use to cover up my young brother, but could not bring myself to let anything in there touch him again. So I strategically shimmied out of my plaid button up, belatedly realizing that I had left my jacket at work. Without extracting Sammy from my body I pulled off my button up and wrapped it securely around the young boy latched onto me.

I made my way through the splintered door, walking out of the room from hell and into the cool night air.

I was not the least bit surprised that no one had heard the commotion or called the police. I felt as though this type of hotel would be a host to loads of illegal activity and no one residing here would want the cops snooping about.

I walked to our room, slipping the room key from my pocket and opening the door, hating that I had nowhere else to go, nowhere safer to take my little brother.

I carried him inside, immediately closing and locking the door behind us. Sam was whimpering softly into my neck, his grip on me tight and his small body trembling.

"I got you little brother. You're safe now. I'm going to keep you safe." I swore, sitting slowly down onto the bed, resting against the headboard as I soothed my baby brother; whispering reassurances into his ear as I rubbed up and down his shuddering back.

We stayed in that position until Sammy's sobs began to taper off and he was left tiredly resting against my chest.

His thin body was shivering, I wasn't sure if it was from shock or cold, but I decided it was best to get some warm clothes on him. I slowly detached the thin arms that were locked around my neck, calming Sam with soft promises once he began to panic.

"I'm not going anywhere buddy, just going to lay you down, alright?" I asked as I carefully rolled him onto his back and climbed off the bed.

I went for Sam's duffel, grabbing a clean pair of underwear and his sweatpants. I returned quickly to his side, seeing his eyes closed; and though I could tell he was not yet asleep I hoped that he would be soon, if only to spare me from having to stare into those terrified eyes one second longer.

I made to remove my brother's boxers, about to slip them off, but as I touched the waist band the small boy on the bed released a frightened whimper.

My hands stilled immediately.

I had changed my little brother hundreds of times, both when he was younger and now. Whenever he fell asleep in his clothes in front of the tv, or in the car after a late hunt. I would carry him to bed and change his clothing as he slept. He never cared before, but I guess that was different now, and for that I hated that monster all the more.

"Sammy, open your eyes buddy." I instructed softly.

My baby brother's eyelids rose slowly. Soon he hazel orbs were staring up at me full of tears and fear, and my heart clenched violently.

"Keep your eyes on me kiddo. I'm just going to get you into some clean clothes; we've done this a hundred times before. Alright?" I asked; making sure the situation was as comfortable for my little brother as possible.

Sam nodded at me, taking a deep breath and swiping the tears from his face. I gave a reassuring smile as I placed a hand on his forehead, brushing his hair to the side.

"It's just me little brother." I recited calmly as I slid Sam's boxers off, relieved that there didn't seem to be any visible damage to the area underneath, as well as disgusted that that had to be a concern at all.

I quickly slipped the fresh pair of boxers on the small body, followed by the warm sweatpants. I grabbed one of my sweaters, knowing how Sam always seemed to find comfort in my clothing whenever he was sick or hurting.

I gently pulled Sam up into a sitting position, just now noticing the finger-print sized bruises littering his arms and torso. I clenched my jaw in anger, but kept my hands gentle as I slipped the sweater onto the young boy.

Sam looked even smaller swallowed up in my clothing, his shaggy hair hanging down in front of his tear-stained face as his big watery eyes looked up at me from underneath his bangs.

That miserable expression made me all the more desperate to make this better for him, to take away all the pain and bring back his innocence.

I knew there were questions I had to ask, answers I required to make sure that Sam was okay, but I dreaded making the kid relive the horrifying event.

I sat facing the young boy on the bed, trying to form words as I gazed at the traumatized child before me.

"Sammy, I need you to tell me what happened."

Sam looked up at me, eyes wide and panicked as he started to shake his head.

"No Dean, I don't want you to be angry." He hiccupped.

"I won't Sam, I promise. I just need to know, nothing you say will make me angry." I declared earnestly, ducking my head to see my little brother's face and reassure him with my soft expression.

After a moment Sam seemed convinced and he nodded shakily, taking in a few deep breaths before beginning.

"He came to me at the diner and said that you were waiting outside for me. I didn't believe him, but when I peeked in the kitchen you weren't there. He said that you had gone out the back and you were waiting. I went with him, just to check. And then when I didn't see you I tried to get back inside, but he wouldn't let me. I tried to scream but he covered my mouth. He dragged me to the car and put me inside. I tried really hard to fight Dean but he was so strong." Sam was practically hyperventilating by this point, trying to talk through his tears as he hiccupped and gasped for breath.

"Sam, Sammy calm down buddy. It's okay." I comforted, entrapping the young boys hand in mine as I ran my fingers through his hair. It was a lie, because all of this was pretty fucking far from okay, but the hard truth was not what my baby brother needed right now.

I coached Sam into taking deep slow breaths until he had calmed down.

"He brought me back here and dragged me into his room. I kept fighting him but he just picked me up by the arm and threw me on the bed." There was a pause, before my kid brother continued with his eyes downcast.

"He tied me up Dean, and then he… he st-started cutting off my clothes." Sam stuttered, every tear I wiped from his cheek being replaced by another.

"He…he took pictures… of me in my underwear. I told him to stop, but he just taped my mouth."

My body shuttered at the new information, and I made a mental note to go burn down that fucking room when we were finished this conversation.

"He got on top of me Dean…and he put his hand… and then you came." Sam choked out, his emotions taking over.

I wanted to just hold him and comfort him, but I needed one more answer first.

"Sam, listen to me." I ordered softly, placing my hand along my little brothers wet cheeks and angling his head up so he was looking at me.

"Did he hurt you Sammy?" I asked, ignoring the way my voice cracked as I waited for a response.

"Just when he grabbed me." Sam answered, explaining the bruises on his upper body.

"Anywhere else? Did he hurt you anywhere else kiddo?" I didn't have to say the exact words, my little brother was smart and he knew what I was asking.

"No Dean, he just started touching…down there… when you came in." Sam explained through his tears, hiding behind is hair in embarrassment.

"Are you sure?" I asked, needing to be positive, needing to know if I had to take the kid to the hospital.

"Yes Dean, I promise." He whispered, looking up at me with wide honest tearful eyes.

"Alright Sammy, it's okay, I believe you." I promised, pulling the small boy into my arms and rocking him gently as he lost what little composure he had acquired.

It didn't take long before Sam had cried himself to sleep; his emotional and physical exertion draining his energy. I carefully lay Sam back onto the bed, covering him up with the comforter, carding my fingers through his hair before purposefully climbing to my feet.

I grabbed the cellphone and stood by the door, far enough to hopefully not wake Sam, but not so far that I didn't have him in my sight. I had the phone clenched impossibly hard in my grasp, my body shaking with anger and hate as I listened to the ring.

"Yeah?" My father's gruff voice came rough through the phone.

"If you don't come home now, I'm going to kill him." I vowed in a tone low and dangerous.

"What's going on Dean?"

"He touched Sammy Dad, that perv put his filthy hands on my little brother." I choked out, my voice clogged with terror.

"I'm on my way Dean. Tell me what happened." John ordered as I heard him starting up the Impala.

I told the older hunter everything Sam had told me. My voice shaking with ire and anguish as I fought to control my body, fought to keep myself from going three rooms down and slicing that monster into a million tiny pieces.

"Where is he?" I knew who my father was referring to simply by the disgust in his tone.

"Three doors down from ours. I put him in the bathroom and blocked off the door, not sure if he's still in there though."

When my father spoke again, his voice was even more lethal and dangerous as mine had been, but still controlled.

"Listen to me Dean, you are not going to touch him."

"But Dad—

"No. You will stay with Sam. You will not leave his side. He needs you Dean."

The statement was simple, but the truth of it sliced deep into my soul.

That is why I had not laid a hand on that sick pedophile yet, not because he didn't deserve it, or because I didn't want to, but because my priority number one needed me.

My Sammy needed me.

He didn't need me avenge him or kill the man that touched him.

He needed me to be there with him, to keep him safe.

And I couldn't deny him that.

"Yes sir." I said, taking a deep breath and trying to contain my erupting emotions.

"Good. Do not leave that room until I get there. I should only be a couple of hours."

"Yes sir."

As with most conversations, there was no farewell, just the simple click of my father ending the call.

Sam slept restlessly for the next couple hours, clinging to me as he attempted to rest.

He stirred without waking once I began to gently clean and bandage his wrists and ankles. The skin was raw, but was no longer bleeding.

His body would heal in no time, his soul; well that was another matter entirely.

I didn't move from my position beside my little brother until I heard the Impala pulling up to the motel, the sound of the engine unmistakable to me. I untangled myself from understandably clingy little brother and made my way to the door, opening it and stepping just outside.

As John stepped from the car, our eyes met. I was taken aback by the darkness residing in his gaze. A darkness I had never seen before, I was tempted to test him for procession. And then I realized that he was processed. He was processed with hate and anger, and for that I could hardly blame him.

I nodded my head to the right, telling him the only information that mattered to him at that point, the direction of the location of the man that hurt his youngest child.

My father nodded at me and then pointed back to the room. I understood the order without requiring the verbalization. I turned immediately and headed back inside the room, returning to my place at Sam's side. I smirked fondly as the kid rolled towards me the moment I sat down, throwing his arm over top of my legs and pressing his head up against my hip.

For one simple moment it felt as though it was any normal night and I was sharing a bed with my octopus of a little brother.

That moment was short lived as the young boy started to recite the word 'no' over and over again.

I began to card my fingers through his shaggy hair, smiling when the action did what I had hoped it would and calmed my kid down almost instantly.

It was almost an hour later when I heard the distinct squeak of the Impala's trunk popping open.

I carefully climbed from the bed and stepped out the motel room door. Dad was standing beside the car, using a rag to clean the blood off a machete, he looked up at me, his expression still full of darkness, but also holding a deep sadness I knew would never be erased.

"Was he human?" I asked.

That thought had been bothering me. I knew that he wasn't possessed and I didn't think he was anything we'd ever hunted before, but a small part of me thought him to be some sort of supernatural being.

Maybe I just wanted that to be the case so I could assure myself that that kind of evil could only be supernatural. Perhaps a childish side of myself was just hoping that no human could be that despicable.

"No Dean, he sure as hell wasn't. He was a monster." My dad's statement had me nodding my head, because maybe that scum was a member of the human species, but his monstrous actions were anything but human.

"Sam said there were…pictures…" I choked out practically gagging at the sheer thought.

"Yeah I know. I took care of it." My father's voice shook, whether in fury or disturbance I wasn't sure.

I didn't need to ask if the sonovabitch was dead, I knew that he was.

A part of me did want to ask how he was killed.

Wanted to hear every bloody horrible detail.

Wanted to know if he had screamed and begged like Sammy had.

Wanted to know if he cried and whimpered like the children he had hurt.

Another part of me didn't want to know what my father was capable; didn't want to know the level of torture John could inflict; didn't want to see that side of my dad.

I could tell by the look on John's face that he had no intention whatsoever of sharing the past hour's events with me, because maybe he also wanted to shield me from that side of himself.

We never spoke of that night again.

Sammy spent weeks being skittish and refusing to let anyone but me lay a hand on him, including John.

I remember dad had gone to carry him from the bed to the car and Sam woke up just as our father was sliding a hand under his legs. The kid let out a piercing cry and catapulted out of the bed. I remember seeing an array of emotions flutter across the older man's face, guilt and remorse being the most dominant. But I hadn't had time to examine his features because I had a little brother to calm down.

Sammy calmed immediately at my touch, clinging to me as though his life depended on it.

When I came back from the dark memory I was kneeling on the floor in the shop. I had thrown or smashed everything in reach, tools and glass littered the ground.

I didn't realize I had been crying until I felt the wetness on my cheeks and tasted the saltiness on my lips. I rubbed at my eyes as I got to my feet, slowly beginning to clean up the mess I had made.

"Holy shit Dean, I mean I expected destruction, but this is ridiculous. Looks like a tornado ripped through here."

I turned to look at Sam as he wandered into the shop.

"Want some help?" He offered as he picked up a wrench that had ended up in the trash can.

"No, I did it. I can clean it." I said, taking the tool from his hand and placing it back where it belonged.

"Dean—

"We are not going back there man. I don't care what kind of bitch fit you throw, there is no way in hell we are ever stepping foot in that fucking town ever again."

There was a period of silence, during which I continued to clean while Sam stood off to the side.

When my little brother made to speak again, I was ready for the argument. The lecture of how our own personal feelings didn't come in to play when innocent lives were at risk. The lecture telling me it was our responsibility.

"Okay."

The simple agreement surprised me and I looked over at Sam.

"You serious? No lecture? No bitching?" I asked.

"Yes, I'm serious. There are other hunters around; they can take care of it."

I looked at him in disbelief.

"I know how hard it would be for you Dean. I'm not going to put you through that."

"You're unbelievable." I snorted.

The young man sent me a curious look.

"It would be hard for me? What about you Sam?" I asked.

He ducked his head down, hiding his expression from my eyes, making it highly difficult for me to get a good read on the kid.

"I was only ten, Dean."

The fact came quietly from my little brother, who still wasn't making eye-contact with me.

"You telling me you don't remember it?" I questioned, knowing that was not the truth.

"Sam, come on." I insisted when I still didn't receive a response.

"I remember all of it Dean." Sam said, his voice soft as he looked up at me, eyes full of memories I had already relived.

"I remember what the room looked like. I remember the crappy mattress with the springs that jabbed into my back. I remember how hard his grip was. I remember screaming for you before and after he taped my mouth closed. I remember the sound of his voice as he said my name over and over again. I remember the smell of his breath, the sick look on his face, and the feel of his hands on my skin." Sam's voice wavered as he stared at me, tears pouring unobstructed down his face.

"Sammy." I whispered, hating to see my brother's pain.

"I remember being terrified. I remember fighting helplessly. I remember the pain in my wrists and ankles as the rope burned and tore at my skin. I remember thinking that no one was going to come. I remember everything he said he would do to me."

I had no power to stop the tears that escaped out of the corner of my eyes as I stared into the haunted face of my little brother.

"I'm so sorry Sam." I choked out, barely holding back the sob trying to escape my throat.

"But you know what I remember most Dean?"

I was afraid to ask, surprised when the young man took a step closer to me, pushing his hair back so his eyes could meet mine.

"I remember you saving me." My little brother's words were drenched in love and adoration that I didn't deserve.

"I remember the relief I felt when you broke into that room. I remember my body relaxing as I saw your face, because I knew that you would make everything okay."

I turned away from Sam, no longer able to take in the pride and gratefulness in his voice.

Didn't the kid understand that I shouldn't have ever let it get that far?

Couldn't he see that I was almost too late to save him?

"And that's why I could handle going back."

I turned back to face the young man before me, tear tracks on his face, but the pain that had been in his eyes was fading.

"What do you mean?" I questioned, thinking I had missed something.

"You saved me Dean. You were there to make it better for me. No one was there to make it better for you."

"What are you talking about Sam? You were the one who got hurt, not me."

"No, you just got hurt in a different way. You had to handle losing me, and then finding me in the room…in that… position…" Sam attempted to explain awkwardly, as I did a full body shiver at the eeriness of his words.

"You had to handle the situation. You had to decide whether or not to kill him and what to do with a traumatized ten year old. Dean you were only fourteen and you had to take charge and responsibility in a way that people twice your age couldn't have handled."

I was dumbfounded at the things my little brother was saying to me.

"Dean you had to be strong in a lot of ways nobody could, not even dad." I looked up suddenly at the newest comment.

"Dad was strong Sam he…" I faded off.

"He killed him, I know. I may have been ten, but I wasn't a moron." Sam said with a smirk.

"But you had to not kill him, even when I know that every bone in your body was telling you to pull that trigger. You had to control every instinct you had. You had to ignore what you wanted and focus on me instead. That took a kind of strength that Dad doesn't have."

I felt as though I should defend our father, seeing as how he wasn't here to do it himself…he was never around to do it himself.

"I remember being scared that you'd kill him." Sam commented, sitting heavily onto a stool. I grabbed one and sat down across form him.

"Why the hell would you not want me to gun down that sick son of a bitch?" I asked, my feelings toward the monster that laid a hand on my brother coming out loud and clear.

"I had no problem with him dying. It was you killing him that I had a problem with."

I gave my little brother a bewildered look, because the kid just wasn't making any sense.

"He was human Dean."

I snorted in disgust at the statement.

"He was a pedophile, but he was still human. And I didn't want to be the reason you became a killer." Sam confessed quietly.

"Sam, if I had ended that sick fuck it wouldn't have been your fault." I announced simply.

"Maybe not, but I would have felt responsible for making you cross the line."

"What line?"

"The line between the things we hunt and humans."

"Sam most of the stuff we hunt isn't half as bad as that bastard was."

"I know, believe me Dean, I know." Sam shuttered. "But I'm still glad you didn't kill him."

I shook my head in confusion. The kid was nuts.

"All I am trying to say is that I wish there had been someone there to make it alright for you, like you did for me." Sam finished with a sigh, fixing me a look of compassion.

"Nothing could make that alright little brother…what happened to you will never be alright, not ever." I clarified, my rage and bitterness sneaking their way into my words.

Sam nodded knowingly.

"I know. Anyways, I just came out here to tell you that we don't have to go on the hunt…and to make sure you're okay." Sam admitted softly, staring at me from beneath his bangs.

"This is fucked up." I muttered.

"What?"

"You get reminded of one of the worst days of your life, and somehow you end up out here trying to make me feel better." I scoffed.

"Well if it helps, I can pretty much guarantee you won't be getting much sleep tonight…neither of us will."

I nodded, knowing that my little brother's night terrors were sure to make a violent return.

"No worries kiddo." I said, slipping a hand cautiously over to rest on the back of his neck. Relieved beyond words that my touch did not result in any sort of cringe or flinch.

I remembered life after Sam got hurt by that monster.

I remembered how long it took him to be okay with physical contact with anybody but me.

I recalled the number of times he had shied away from dad when the older hunter approached him. I used to feel so bad for our father, horrified by the idea of the one person you were supposed to protect being so fearful of you.

I remembered thinking how terrible that would feel, and I just recently found out. I found out after the shifter, having Sam flinch upon seeing my face after a nightmare, or cringe at my touch.

I knew the pain in being feared by the child you were meant to protect and it was a pain I could not bear. I had only had to handle it for a few days, and in those few days I felt as though I lost a piece of who I was.

"You were so patient." The softly spoken comment invaded my thoughts and I looked at my little brother, apparently the kid had read me like a book, again.

"I just took care of you Sam." I shrugged off.

"Yeah, but it wasn't easy. I remember all the panic attacks, the anxiety, the nightmares. I practically attached myself to you for months." Sam reminisced.

"I had no intention of letting you out of my sight for a long time, so you made it a lot easier on me by clinging to me all the time." I replied with an honest smile.

"I felt bad that I couldn't seem to be the same way with Dad… it was just…well…he…it was just different."

I nodded in understanding.

"Dad understood."

"No he didn't, I could tell how pissed off he'd get when I'd flinch around him." Sam stated miserably.

"He felt ashamed Sammy, it was nothing that you did." I assured.

"That's what he called me." The admission was confusing.

At my raised eyebrow, Sam continued; his gaze down on the floor.

"Gary… he called me little Sammy." My kid brother spat the name out, the memory clearly far from faded. "That's why…after I wouldn't let anyone call me that."

My rage grew again, and I found myself wishing that bastard was still alive so I could go tare him to pieces. But not all of that anger was towards the scumbag that hurt my brother, some of it was towards myself.

"You should have told me man!" I said, hating that I had continued to use a name that my brother had feared.

"No, I didn't want you to stop. It was different when you said it, I don't know why. It just was. I always liked it when you called me that and I didn't want that…that monster to take it from me, from us."

"Then how come you kept pushing the Sam thing?" I asked after a moment.

"Well I started out because I felt it was unfair to always correct Dad but not you. Later on I just corrected you because I didn't want to be a kid anymore. And Sammy is such a little kid name." Sam finished with an eye roll.

"That's why I use it Sam, because you are a little kid."

"Pfft. Whatever Jerk."

"Bitch."

"So when I call you Sammy…you don't…you know… think of him?" I asked uneasily.

"God now Dean, not at all. I promise." Sam assured.

I nodded, not possessing the right words to express my relief.

We sat smiling at one another for a minute, soaking in the fact that regardless of all the shit that went on in our past, right now we were both there, and we were okay.

I buried that rage deep within me again. I recognized how unhealthy that was, but I knew it was something I just couldn't let go of.

I would never be able to get over the fact that some fucking pedophile had gotten his nasty hands on my little brother. It was something I would never forgive myself for allowing to happen on my watch, and it was an injustice I would never be able to move past.

The hate I felt toward that monster would never die, even though he did. But for now I could shove it down, I would bury it deep inside of me and let other emotions take over. Like my love for this floppy haired, dimply faced, puppy dog eyed kid sitting before me.

Sitting before me without a fucking coat on; I thought as I saw a shiver run through the thin man's body.

"Dude, why the hell did you come out here?" I asked, standing up and grabbing a hold of my little brothers forearm, helping to pull him to his feet.

"Wanted to make sure you were okay." Sam said simply, as though it were the most apparent thing on the planet.

"Well next time you come check on me how about putting on a coat." I griped as we headed slowly back toward the house.

"How about next time you storm off you stay inside." Sam returned with a smirk.

"Smart-ass." I muttered.

I didn't know if I would ever be able to step a foot back in Herrick town. Didn't even know if I'd ever be able to talk about it or what happened there without feeling poisonous rage spread throughout my body.

But I did know that I had the best little brother in the entire fucking world and that there is nothing I wouldn't do, no line I wouldn't cross to keep him safe.

Note: Not sure about whether or not to add to this, let me know what you think. Thanks so much for reading! Please comment/review if you have a moment. - Sam