The first time Debbie ever realized how bad Brian's home situation was, was when he came over to the house, at exactly 10:54 (a time she'll never forget because of the severity of the situation) on a cold, December night. She watched as he struggled to walk up the stairs to get to the front door. She watched as he worked up the nerve to knock on the door and she watched as he brought his bruised knuckles up, about to knock, only to falter for a few seconds. But before he mustered up the courage to knock again, she pulled open the door quicker than she had ever done so before. Brian froze, unaware that Debbie had been watching him through the window. He mistook the look of fright on Debbie's face, not fright of not knowing who was standing at the door, but fright of not knowing whether Brian was seriously hurt or not, for anger, something he had grown to live with. Something, apparent by the fading bruises on his arms and torso, he was way too familiar with.

"Fuck," he said as he stepped back, turning around to walk back down the stairs. "Sorry, I shouldn't have come here," he said. In his moment of weakness, all he wanted was that eternal love Deb seemed to already have for him, the eternal love only a mother could give. He knew that he was being ridiculous, that she would tell him otherwise - that it was, in fact, more than okay for him to come over, especially in the state that he was in, but the numerous years of abuse he had received from his father put the idea in his head that he was a nuisance to people.

"And where the fuck do you think you're going?" Debbie asked. Brian stopped walking. He stood there for a few seconds before cautiously turning back around to the maternal woman standing in the door frame. She pulled the robe she was wearing tighter against her body, the cold air nipping at her frame.

Again, Brian mistook this for anger, his eyes growing big at the idea of pissing off the only woman he could think of to turn to. Where would he go now? He couldn't just stay out on the streets for the night. It was colder then hell and he had pissed off the bouncers at Babylon far too many times to go there.

"I'm sorry, Deb. I know it's late, but he kicked me out for the night." He started spewing out the explanation he hadn't even begun to think about as he trekked his sore, cold body the few blocks it took to get to the Novotny house. That's when Debbie took a step forward, grabbed the arm that didn't appear to be as bruised and pulled him, quickly, into the house.

"Get your ass in here," she said as she closed the door behind the skinny frame that walked by her. All he was wearing was a wife beater tank top and a pair of sweats that seemed all too small for the growing boy. "You're going to catch the death of you if you stay out there any longer." When Debbie turned around from closing the front door, Brian was standing there, his arms wrapped around himself and never in the few years that she had known him had she seen him look this bad. She took one last good look at him before engulfing the boy into one of her infamous hugs. Brian immediately seized up, afraid that she would try to pull a fast one like Jack so often did in a drunken state. Debbie immediately recognized this and swiftly pulled back, not wanting to scare the poor boy, having previous knowledge of what Brian went through when Jack was drunk (though, she hadn't realized it was this bad).

"I'm not going to hurt you, sweetie," she said. Brian knew Debbie enough to believe her, but he was still apprehensive because he had heard a countless amount of times from his mother that she loved him, that she would never let him get hurt, yet here he was, at the house he considered his home more then he ever considered his own house a home, with fresh bruises all over his body (and possibly a few cracked ribs), a nice goose egg on his head from where Jack had pushed him into the wall and a black eye already appearing on his face.

"Come in, honey," Debbie said as she walked further into the house, Brian following close behind. He couldn't help but to think about the hug he had just received from Debbie. Sure it was frightening, what with all the uncertainty of never knowing when Jack would hit him next, but it actually felt nice to have the warm arms that belonged to Debbie wrapped around his thin, lanky body. He knew what hugs were and he had seen Debbie give them to Michael more than enough times, but that was the first one he remembered receiving.

"Sit down, sweetheart." Brian obliged and sunk into the couch, an audible gasp escaping from his mouth. He should be used to bruised ribs by now, but this time it seemed worse then just bruised ribs. Before sitting next to Brian, Debbie went into the kitchen and made a plate of left over chicken parm, bringing it back to the boy who looked like he hadn't eaten in a week.

"What set him off this time?" she asked quietly as she sat down and watched Brian practically inhale the food.

"Alcohol," Brian said. "Me breathing too loudly." He wasn't even sure himself what brought on Jack's drunken temper this time, one minute he was standing up right, the next he was on the floor, his head throbbing from where it had hit the wall when Jack pushed him a little too hard.

"Fuck," Debbie said under her breath. Her heart shattered at how nonchalantly Brian threw out the word "alcohol." No child should have to live with an alcoholic parent, let alone two and deal with abuse on top of that.

"I can't do anything right," Brian continued, unsure of where it was coming from. But seeing how much Debbie cared for him, allowing him to crash on her couch and giving him food when she had no obligation to, spurred him to talk. "Everything I do seems to be wrong." He felt himself choke up, his voice cracking and tears springing to his eyes.

"Now you listen to me, Kiddo," Debbie said. "It doesn't fuckin' matter what you did, you don't deserve this shit," she said. "Now finish your food. You're way too fuckin' thin." A small smile appeared on Brian's face as he continued eating, silence falling over the two of them.

"Can I ask you something, Deb?" he asked softly after a few minutes, not making eye contact with the woman who had stepped in as a mother figure. Deb had moved around on the couch and was comfortably resting against the back of the couch. She turned her head to get a better look at Brian.

"Anything, sweetie." She wasn't sure what he would ask her, so she tried her best to prepare herself for whatever he asked her.

"That hug earlier," he started, pausing for a few seconds. "Do they all feel like that?" Debbie was prepared for just about anything except for that. The first thing that ran through her mind was that this boy had never been hugged in his entire life.

"What do you mean, sweetie? Do they not give you hugs?" There was so much contempt when she referred to Brian's parents, it actually made him smile softly, which quickly faded. He shook his head, still avoiding eye contact. "Are you fucking kidding me? They've never hugged you?" Brian finally looked up at Debbie, a certain sadness apparent on his face, which only confirmed what Debbie had been thinking.

"Can I have another one?" he asked, even quieter then before. Debbie quickly took the plate that Brian had finished minutes before and set it on the table.

"Is that even a fucking question?" She quickly pulled him into her chest, rubbing a hand up and down Brian's back affectionately. He rested his head against her shoulder and relaxed into the embrace. Tears sprung to his eyes as he hesitantly wrapped his arms around her body. He then moved around so he too was resting into the back of the couch, his head leaning against her shoulder still, his body cuddled into the woman's next to him. Debbie wrapped her arm around his shoulders and he cuddled as close to her as possible.

"This is nice," he said, just as quietly as before.

"Well, you can have one whenever you want because I'm always giving away hugs." Brian smiled to himself, his anger for his father and the dull pain all over his body quickly leaving his mind, even if it was just momentarily. Again, silence fell over the two of them when Brian realized Michael was no where in site.

"Where's Mikey?" he asked quietly.

"He must of fallen asleep reading his comics," Deb replied. Brian couldn't help but to laugh.

"Yeah, probably. He loves his comics," Brian replied. Another bought of silence fell over the pair when Brian broke it. "Thank you," he said. "For everything."

"You're always welcome here, sweetheart," Debbie replied as she kissed Brian's temple affectionately. Brian smiled, his eyes dropping from sleep. Neither one of them made an attempt to move, so they both fell asleep, cuddling on the couch.