Title: Another Life 1/?

Author: veiledndarkness

Rating: R

Pairing: None

Summary: You can change your name, but you can't change who you are.

Disclaimer: Not mine, no harm intended, no profit made.

Four Brothers/Death Sentence Cross-over

XX

The man had only a fleeting moment's notice before his wallet was lifted by quick fingers, a light pressure on his back pocket, and a smirk on the face of the boy who'd lifted it. He continued walking, blissfully unaware of what had occurred. The boy scurried through the crowd, disappearing into the nearest alleyway, the wallet tightly gripped in his hand.

He sniffed, rummaging through the wallet. He skipped past the driver's license and social security card, right to the clip of money tucked inside.

"Thank god," he muttered. He slipped the money into the deep pocket of his jeans, tugging the zipper over the fabric shut. He then tossed the wallet in the garbage bin as he left the alleyway.

"Billy!"

Billy cringed as he was pushed back into the alleyway. "Eddie..."

"Y' know you were s' posed to be back with the day's work two hours ago," Eddie, a large and imposing man who spoke softly, loomed over Billy, his long, muscled arms crossed over his chest. "What am I s' posed to tell ya daddy now?"

Billy tilted his head, jutting his chin out. "Tell 'im that things were slow today."

"He ain't gonna believe that." Eddie sighed and shook his head. "C'mon." He grabbed Billy by the scruff of his neck, tugging him forward.

"No! No! Eddie, please!" Billy squirmed in his grip, his dirty sneakers dragging on the asphalt. "Y' know what he'll do...please! Fuck...Eddie!"

Eddie ignored the protests and all but carried Billy back to his car. Billy hung limply from his hand, sniffling again. Eddie put him on the passenger side of the car, lighting a cigarette as he walked around to the other side.

"I don't know why ya wanna piss him off so much," he mumbled, slipping the lighter back in his pocket. "Do ya like bein' beaten or somethin'?"

Billy stared out the window, his heart beating furiously against his chest. He could already feel the belt strap falling on his shoulders and back, phantom aches that made him want to whimper. He curled up on the seat, tucking his thin arms around his legs, his eyes prickling with unshed tears.

XX

Three weeks later...

"So, tell me again why I hafta go downtown?" Bobby nursed his mug of coffee, half hunched over it. Hangovers were such a bitch and this particular one was killing him.

Evelyn put the plate of eggs and bacon in front of him. Bobby inhaled, his stomach turning over. "For the third time, I need you to pick up the groceries for me. I was called in, Doreen is out with the flu, I need to cover her shift," she sighed.

He grunted, one hand supporting his head up. "Fine, but after that, I'm goin' to sleep."

"I suppose a lecture about the evils of drinking wouldn't be appreciated right now?"

"Is it ever?" Bobby poked at his breakfast with a fork.

Evelyn sipped her cup of tea as she sat down beside him. "You know how I feel about your drinking. I nag because I love. Eat up."

Bobby smiled a bit. "Yeah...I know." He began eating, giving his stomach time to adjust.

"Make sure you pick up flour, I have a lot of baking to get through this weekend. I think I'll ask Jackie to help me with it."

"The little fairy oughta enjoy that," Bobby muttered between mouthfuls.

"Bobby!" Evelyn lightly tapped him upside the head. "That's enough of that."

"We're just playin' around, Ma, he knows I'm not serious," Bobby protested.

Evelyn shook her head, her white curls bouncing a little. "You go too far sometimes. I've worked damn hard to coax him out of his shell. The last thing we all need is for him to withdraw all over again. He loves to cook, you should be encouraging him."

"I'm encouragin' him to not be such a fuckin' girly boy."

"Robert!"

Bobby winced. God, he hated it when she used his proper name. "Sorry."

"No more of that," she glared at him. "You're not too old to have your mouth washed out, young man."

At that moment, Jack poked his head around the corner, gauging how serious the argument was. He chewed on his thumbnail, shifting from one foot to the next. Evelyn caught a glimpse of his messy brown hair and smiled, the annoyance slipping from her face instantly.

"Good morning, Jackie. Are you hungry?"

He nodded, edging further into the room. "Uh huh," he glanced at Bobby, smiling then.

Bobby pointed to the chair. "Go on."

Jack slipped into the chair, his socked feet rubbing over the floor tiles. "Are you sick, Bobby?"

"Nah, I'm fine, just a bad headache," Bobby drained the rest of his coffee, swallowing it in two big gulps. "Nothin' time won't cure."

Evelyn set the plate of food down for Jack and passed him a fork. "No dawdling after school today, Jack. You come straight home, got it?"

Jack nodded. "I promise," he said as he gripped his fork. "Can I still watch my show afterwards?"

"Of course, Angel will be here right after you get home. But, I want to see proof of your homework done by the time I get home tonight."

Jack pulled a face. "I hate geography," he muttered, "Stupid, pointless classes."

"I know, but it still needs to be done, regardless," she kissed his forehead.

Bobby yawned. The pain in his head had faded to a dull throb. "So groceries, then sleep, yeah?"

XX

Billy leaned against the brick wall, watching the people around him. He fidgeted with the lighter in his pocket, his eyes tracking and evaluating each person that passed him. His stomach growled, but that was easily ignored. He'd spent years honing his ability to get by on eating next to nothing on a day to day basis.

He watched with some interest as a car pulled into the parking lot, a young man of average height exiting the vehicle. Billy bit down on the inside of his cheek, debating the merits of his new prospect. He sniffed, his nose running yet again. The man stubbed out a cigarette on the pavement and tugged the knit cap on his head, settling it firmly over his hair. He seemed to be squinting in the midday sun, almost as if the sun was too bright for him just then.

Billy looked him over again, spotting the telltale outline in his jeans. Bingo, back pocket was where he kept his wallet. The man walked with a swagger, his eyes also watching the people around him, a fact Billy found fascinating. He grabbed a grocery cart from the corral and headed inside the store, pushing the metal cart with one hand.

Billy waited only a moment before hurrying over to the car. He wrinkled his nose. He'd seen better cars that had been dragged into Bones' chop shop. The car was old, and in need of a detailed paint job. Billy glanced back at the store over his shoulder, watching for the car's owner. He tugged on the handle and the door creaked open, startling him.

"Stupid fucker," he whispered, wiping at his nose with one hand. "Who leaves a car unlocked?"

Billy slipped into the passenger seat, shivering. He'd not been warm for more than a few minutes since he'd arrived in Detroit in the middle of December. The car was a bit warmer than he expected, the upholstery in surprisingly good condition, though it was worn down in several areas. He sniffled as he rummaged through the glove compartment, pushing aside a rumpled map, old leather gloves, paperwork held together with a red rubber band and a pack of tissues.

He snickered, trying to picture this man daintily wiping his nose with tissue. At the back of the glove compartment was a thin pocketbook. He tugged it out and searched through it, his eyes widening. "Holy shit..." He held up the bills, examining them with a practiced eye.

They were real, he was sure of it. Ten of them, hundred dollar bills neatly stacked inside the pocketbook. Billy hesitated a second. It wouldn't pay for him to be greedy. He took four of the hundred dollar bills and stuffed them in his jeans pocket, zipping it shut to secure them. He slipped the pocketbook back into the glove compartment, slamming the lid back up.

Billy sat back, shivering harder. His shoulders still ached from where the strap had fallen on him three weeks earlier. He tugged his leather coat up higher around his neck, his stomach growling insistently. He closed his eyes for a few minutes, resting on the seat. He was tired, so damn tired and cold.

He opened his eyes reluctantly and climbed out of the car; he paused, and on a second thought, grabbed the gloves from the compartment. He tugged them on over his cold fingers, pushing the door shut with his hip.

"Hey!"

Billy felt a spark of fear run down his spine. He walked quickly away from the car, his head down. He could hear the rapid footsteps following him.

"Hey! You fuckin' punk, I'm talkin' to you!" the man jogged over, one hand clamping down on Billy's arm. He wrenched him back, shoving him towards the car.

"Get y' fuckin' hands offa me!" Billy shouted. He looked back at the curious faces around them and gestured wildly. "Help!"

The man yanked Billy close, his lips pulled back in a fierce grin. "You think they give a shit, kid? Lookin' the way you do, they're gonna run the other way before they even think of helpin' some snot nose fucking punk!" he hissed.

"I didn't do nothin'!" Billy struggled and squirmed in his grip. "Lemme go!"

"You wanna tell me why the fuck you were in my car, huh?"

"I wasn't! I wasn't, I swear," Billy kicked at him, his fingers curling into loose fists. "Fuckin' let me go!"

The man sneered at him. "You're a shitty liar, kid. C'mon, we're goin' for a walk."

"No!" Billy lunged up, punching him in the jaw. "Get offa me!"

The man dragged Billy, seemingly unfazed by the punch to his face. "Fuckin' street punks, think you can get one over on me," he muttered, shoving Billy against the car. "What'd you take, huh? You think you're gonna steal from me, an' get away with it?"

Billy glared at him, shaking with anger and fear, god, the fear ran bone deep. This man was bigger than him, only a few inches taller, but muscled. He'd felt the strength when the man had dragged him, the steel grip on his arms. The man shook him like a rag doll.

"Answer me!"

"I didn't take nothin'!" Billy spit at him defiantly.

The man pushed him against the car harder. "Yeah, we'll see about that," he held Billy down on the side of the car, one hand searching him. He pulled out a switchblade from one pocket. "Huh...You think you're somethin' tough, huh? You don't know shit."

He pushed the blade in his own coat pocket, ignoring Billy's protests. Within moments, he'd found the cash in Billy's zippered pocket. "Well, what do we have here?" The man held up the hundreds, slapping Billy's cheek with it. "Ya didn't take nothin' right, baby punk?"

Billy flinched. He tried hard not to, but his fear, the overwhelming fear was making him sick. The man pushed the money in his coat pocket and fisted one hand in Billy's jacket, dragging him closer.

"You're messin' with the wrong guy, little boy. No one steals from me, ever!" the man stared him down. "I oughta show ya what happens to punks who fuck with me."

"D-Don't..." Billy closed his eyes, his body tensing. "Please..."

The man exhaled heavily. "Fuck..."

Billy cracked one eye open when no pain followed the threat. He licked his dry lips nervously. "I...I'm sorry," he whispered, his body beginning to tremble. The man still looked so damn pissed.

"God damn it..." the man let go of him and took two steps away from the car.

Billy stared at the ground. "That's...that's all I took, swear on it, jus' those bills."

The man wiped a hand over his face. "How long you been on the streets, kid?"

"Few weeks..." Billy fidgeted, tugging the gloves off his hands. He held them out. "I stole these too."

The man sighed. "Keep 'em. C'mon, you look like you're freezin' half to death. You ain't from around here, are ya?" he walked over to the trunk of his car and grabbed the forgotten grocery bags from the pavement. He placed them inside and slammed the trunk shut.

"No," Billy tugged the gloves back on before the man could change his mind. "Boston..."

"Boston...You're a long way from home."

Billy shrugged. "I had t' leave. I...I don't wanna talk about it," he glanced at the man.

"Look, I know where you're comin' from kid," the man walked over to him, frowning. "Get in," he opened the door to the car.

"No!" Billy darted away from him. "Please...I gave the money back!"

"Jesus fucking...Look, get in the car. I'm not gonna hit ya, I promise," the man sighed again. "Are you hungry?"

As if on cue, Billy's stomach growled. He clamped an arm around his stomach, mortified. "Nah...I'm fine," he lied, edging further away.

"Bullshit," the man reached out and grabbed him by the scruff of his neck. "Get in." And with that, he pushed Billy into the passenger seat and closed the door behind him.

Billy bit his lip. The man got in the car and started the engine. He looked over at Billy. "What's your name, kid?"

"...Billy Darley," he whispered, his blue eyes wide and still full of banked fear.

The man looked him over. "Nice to meet ya, Billy," he murmured. "I'm Bobby Mercer."

XX