Sam shut off her engine as she dismounted her bike. Looking at the run down home, made bleaker by the fact it was the only house with no Christmas decorations of any sort, she bit her lip and resisted a shiver from the cold winds. Disbelief over the fact that she was here again kept her lingering a distance away from it's perimeters. The place where she grew up, where countless memories rested waiting to be relived, glared at her menacingly.

It threatened her, whispering it's decade old lie, "You'll never leave this place Samantha, not like your sister, not like your father, this will be your prison until you die. You can run to the streets all you like, but at the end of the day, this is where you'll collapse in all your bloody, beaten glory."

She inhaled slowly, calming herself down before letting it out in a quick gust, a cross between a scoff and a laugh. She used to believe those lies so mindlessly, it would leave her desperate and, though she'd never admit it, crying for hours.

She marveled that all it really took to leave it all behind was a full tank of gas and a motorcycle.

"And, yet here you are again," a voice whispered in her mind, causing her body to stiffen.

"I'm not staying." She responded purposefully, her voice thick with resolve.

The whisper chuckled. "Keep telling yourself that."

Sam began to walk forward at a brisk pace. She wanted to get this over with.

"You know that as soon as you see her, you're going to stay because you have to stay," it continued. "Because this is where you're supposed to be. . ."

Sam ignored it and soon, her hand was on the door. She turned the knob and the wooden structure creaked open. The darkness greeted her like an old friend and she walked into it's embrace nervously.

"Mom?"

Silence.

"Are you home?"

Sam's boots thumped heavily on the floor disturbing a lump on the couch. The lump groaned and opened her eyes a crack.

"Mom?" Sam walked to the front of the couch.

Pam was rolled into a ball under a small, thin blanket. Sam noticed she was still in her praying clothes and her hair was messier than usual (Sam didn't even know it was possible before). In her hand was an empty whiskey bottle.

Sam frowned at the sight. "It's Sam."

"Sam?" Pam asked.

"Yeah," Sam responded, grabbing her mother by the waist and boosting her into a sitting position. "The bad one."

Pam nodded. "Oh yeah, Samantha, the one with the record."

"I'm the one." Sam stood slowly, using herself as her mother's crutch. "Come on, Mom. It's cold out here."

"Not really, Danny's keepin' me nice and warm," she responded with a smile, shaking the bottle on Sam's face. "You should get some, Sammy. This is some good chiz."

"Maybe later, Mom."

"What?" Pam asked, pushing away slightly to look at Sam in the face. "You're turning down alcohol?"

"Yeah?"

"You never do that."

"No mom, you never do that. I don't drink."

Pam thought about that for a moment. "Oh, you're right." She laughed. "I thought you were the bad one?"

Sam didn't respond. She just tried to focus on getting her mother up the creaky stairs using their familiar drunken waltz.

It didn't take long before Sam stood before her mother's bedroom door, or what would have been the door if it was actually attached to the hinges.

"Mom, what happened to your stuff?" She asked. Pam's furniture, the things bought at various thrift stores were gone, the bed, the dresser, even the rug. What was left was nothing but the four walls that still characterized it as a room.

The woman waved a hand dismissively. "You tell me."

"Did you ever leave the house without locking the door first?" Sam asked, her voice edged with a bit of anger.

"Eh, who knows."

Sam closed her eyes, counting to ten in her head while simultaneously mentally locating every parking meter in walking distance.

"At least, tell me you have some blankets."

"Why don't you check?" Pam sassed.

Sam rolled her eyes and gently sat her mother on the floor. "Wait here."

She walked down the hallway at a brisk pace. She passed her bedroom and threw the closet open.

Just as she'd expected. Empty.

Sam growled. "You let them take our sheets!?" She yelled, anger boiling over.

The heat left her when she heard sobs. "I'm sorry! I know, I'm a bad mother. I'm sorry."

The younger blonde instantly felt horrible but the anger was still there, just begging to be released. It bubbled inside her, tensing her muscles, getting her ready to pounce on the first creature that crossed her.

It was a dangerous feeling but a familiar one so she went to her solution. She stomped down the hall to her room and gave the door a yank.

The knob refused to turn.

"Why is my room locked?"

Pam had stopped sobbing and seemed to be in a catatonic state, absently staring at the wall.

"Mom!" Sam yelled. "Where's the key to my room?"

As if waking from a dream, Pam looked at her. "What?" She stared. "Which one are you?"

"I'm Sam! Sam! I'm the one that stayed! I'm the one that took care of your butt when no one else did!"

"But you left," Pam stated, unnervingly calm. "You left right after Melanie. My girls. They wouldn't come back."

"But I am back!" Sam yelled.

Pam shook her head. "Ugh, it's happening again." She chuckled humorlessly to herself. "I keep seeing my girls even when I know they're never coming back."

"Mom!" Sam screamed.

Pam's hand moved to grab at something on her chest where Sam saw something metallic glint. "My kids. I wonder how they're doing?"

Sam's anger was slowly dying even as she desperately tried to reignite it. Anger was dangerous but it hurt less than sadness, regret, or guilt, the emotions that were threatening to take root inside her.

"I hope they're finally happy," Pam mumbled before closing her eyes.

Sam bit her lip, preventing the hiccup from coming out. This visit had become too much, even more than what her list of expectations predicted (a drunk mother, mental insanity, a bare, dark house, screams) but not this. Her mother was wondering about her, wishing her happiness, not even mad that Sam had left, basically abandoning her.

Now, Pam was reduced to this state and Sam felt like it was all her fault (she knew it wasn't but it didn't stop the emotion).

"You should never have left Samantha."

She couldn't help but agree. Her mother needed her, had always needed her. It was stupid of her to think that it would change in a few months of her absence.

Sam waited a few moments before the feelings riling up in her chest finally became manageable and she was able to grab the keys from around her mother's neck. She carried the older woman to her room.

It was exactly as Sam had left it, messy and like a tornado hit, but everything was there, even the only photo where she and Melanie agreed to take a picture together.

Pam shuddered and Sam realized that the house's interior was not much warmer then outside. She assumed that the electrical bill had not been paid so the heater was out. Pam buried herself in the blankets as she snored quietly.

Sam hated that. Her mother looked so peaceful that she had to tear her gaze away.

She walked out of the bedroom and into the living room where she sat heavily on the couch. She looked around at the mess, a few months worth of beer bottles and trash littered the floor and the smell of old water in a cup was wafting through the air. She would have to clean that tomorrow. She hoped her mother paid for the garbage.

In fact, she wondered if Pam had paid for anything other than whiskey and beer. Sam doubted it.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the overwhelming urge to sleep. Pulling out her phone she looked at the time. It was already 2 in the morning. Her time with Cat had shifted her sleep schedule to a 10:30 bedtime and she was starting to feel it. A few months ago, she would have been revving with energy.

Sam sighed before taking her mom's spot on the couch and rolling into a tight ball. "Merry Christmas, Sam." She muttered to herself before closing her eyes for a bit of rest.

She didn't get it.

An hour or so later, her phone began to vibrate, interrupting her shallow sleep.

She groaned, her voice hoarse from the cold, as she reached for the small device. "What?" She said, trying to make the annoyance obvious.

"Hi, Sam. Sorry. Were you asleep?" A familiar airy voice asked from the other end of the line.

Sam raised a brow. "Cat?" She asked surprised. "It's like 4 in the morning, what are you doing up?"

"I'm at my parents' house and I can't sleep."

Sam sat up, stretching her stiff neck. "Oh, really? Why?"

Cat was silent for a while, an oddity that Sam took note of, but didn't really address. "I'm not sleepy."

Sam didn't believe that lie for a second. On a normal day, Cat was passed out before 11 whether she was tired or not.

"Why aren't you sleepy?" She asked.

"You're s'pose to have a reason?"

Sam had to smile at the genuine confusion on the redhead's voice. "Normal people do."

"Oh," Cat responded.

Sam laughed. "Don't worry about it." She suddenly felt more upbeat and energized but talking to Cat usually left her feeling that way.

"Kay, kay." Cat responded. "Are you in Seattle yet?"

"Just got here a few hours ago."

"Coolio," Cat cheered. "Did you have an iCarly christmas party?"

"Eh," Sam started casually, "Carly's staying in Italy for the holidays and Fredweird's spending time with his weird cousins."

"Oh, well are you spending time with your Mom and your sister then?"

"Melanie has work in Vermont so it's just me and my mom this year."

Cat suddenly got quiet. "Aww, that sounds so lonely,"she said sadly.

Sam grimaced. "It's really not as bad as it sounds." It's worse. She thought. "What are you doing anyway?" She changed the subject.

"Sittin' in a closet."

Through the perfectly childish tone that Cat used, Sam detected a hint of something she couldn't quite place.

"Sitting in a closet? Why?"

"I'm not sure. My brother pushed me in here a while ago and locked the door."

Tendrils of dread began to touch Sam's heart. "How long ago was that?"

Cat thought about it for a moment. "A few hours ago."

"And no one came looking for you?"

"If they did they haven't found me yet."

The words felt like a kick to the gut. "Kid," Sam started slowly. "Are you scared?"

Cat hesitated. " . . . Yeah."

Sam rubbed at the bridge of her nose, as her anger caused her head to throb.

"Sam?" Cat asked after a few moments. "When are you coming back home?"

Sam chewed on the bottom of her lip.

"I miss you," the red head continued.

"I miss you too," Sam replied in a quiet voice.

"Sam?" Cat asked.

"What?"

"Are you crying?"

"What?" Sam asked blinking, realizing that her lashes were indeed wet with tears. Her voice had also gotten stuffy and tight. Regardless, she took a deep shaky breath in before lying through her teeth. "No, kid. I'm just . . . it's really cold and my nose is clogged."

Cat must have known the lie, even someone as oblivious as her would have figured it out, but she chose to ignore it. "Okay."

Cat waited for Sam to finish before speaking again. "Sam?"

"Yeah, kid?"

"It's okay to cry."

"Hey, I'm not crying alright?"

"I know," Cat said defensively. "I'm just saying, that if you are, it's okay." Sam took a shaky breath in, listening to Cat's soothing voice. "When we cry, it just means that we don't like where we are," she continued. "It means something's wrong and our feelings are telling us to change it."

"I know kid," Sam responded, her wild breathing slowing down to normal. Sam brought the receiver away from her face so that she could blow her nose.

When Sam brought the phone back on her ear, she was surprised to here small sniffles on the other side as well. "Kid, are you okay?"

Cat hiccupped on the other end. "Sam, I'm scared."

Sam was silent.

"Please come get me."

Sam felt her heart constrict in her chest as her heart got pulled in several different directions. "Hang tight kid. I'm on my way," she replied, hanging up the phone and tearing her heart in two.

"You're abandoning her again?" The cursed voice was back. Sam ignored it and it took it as a cue to continue. "You're just like your father you know."

"I'm sorry," she said.

"Your mother raised you."

"I'm sorry," she said again.

"How can you abandon your own family?"

"I'm so so sorry." Sam's tears flowed freely as she ran out of the house and into Seattle's snowy night.

Sam felt like she'd left half her heart on the front steps of the house that night but as she raced through Seattle's frigid air, the other part couldn't help but sigh in relief. She had an adorably air-headed roommate to attend to after all, and that girl needed her home.

So that's where Sam was going . . .

Home.

Sam smiled. She liked the sound of that.

Thank you loganX5 for being an awesome pre-reader. This story would have been sucky without you. :)