A/N: Yeah, yeah, I know I have to finish working on I Wanna Let Go Of The Pain... But... well... I wanted to do this one too! Lol. Enjoy.

Warnings: Eventual graphic physical abuse, non-graphic sexual abuse, language (it IS the Mercers after all), underage drinking, drugs, and other illegal activities.

Bobby was nineteen when the newest addition to his family arrived.

Oh, he was almost twenty-one by the time his mother announced her intentions to adopt Jack, but Bobby knew. From the second he laid eyes on the kid, he knew the skinny ass teenager was gonna stay. He knew the kid was gonna be the latest Mercer brother. Maybe not as bad-ass as the rest of the Mercer boys, but bad enough. Not as tough as the other Mercer boys, but tough enough. Not as mean as the other Mercer boys, but mean enough.

It was late; way too damn late, in Bobby's opinion.

He sighed as he signaled the waitress that he was ready for his check. It'd been a long night, and he had a longer drive ahead of him. Two and a half days, if he didn't hit traffic in the cities.

A long damn trip after an even longer damn day. He'd delivered the goods, no problems, but the guy taking the delivery had tried to short change him by five grand. Claimed Bobby had 'damaged' his merchandise. When that didn't work, he'd said that Bobby had been late.

Bobby smiled grimly at the thought, as he cracked his swollen and bruised knuckles. The guy was lucky Bobby'd been in a hurry to get home, and didn't have time to do the job right. Otherwise he'd be lyin' in the middle of the desert for the vultures , instead of just regretting the day his daddy first saw his ma. People only got on Bobby's bad side once.

"Can I get you anything else, or just the check?"

Bobby smiled up at the waitress. She looked to be in her mid-twenties, with a perfect little face with big blue eyes, and long brunette hair. Any other day, Bobby would have been all over her like white on rice.

As it was, he contented himself with a smile, as he said, "Sorry, sweetheart. Gotta get rollin'. Lotta places to be."

The girl managed to hide her disappointment as she handed him the check. "Well, I'll see you around sometime, then?"

"Sure thing, babe," Bobby lied smoothly. If he had his choice, he wouldn't be in Arizona again if his life depended on it. "Thanks, hun."

He threw down a ten and a five for his four dollar meal, and winked at her as he walked out the door.

Before heading to his car, he stopped at the payphone, digging some change out of his pocket, and dialing a number he knew by heart.

"Hello?"

"Ma?"

Bobby could hear the relief in his mother's voice. "Oh, thank god, Bobby. I was getting worried. I know you said you just needed some time away, but I worry with you driving all over creation by yourself. You should have taken Jeremiah with you. Or even Angel."

Bobby smiled as he leaned against the frame of the phone booth. "Jeez, I'm fine, ma. You'd think I'd just gotten my license last month the way you go on. 'Sides, Jeremiah wouldn't wanna leave Camille that long. And Angel wouldda gotten left in the desert somewhere," He said jokingly.

"Oh, I know, Bobby. And I know it would have defeated the purpose of you getting away to take your brothers with you... I just worry. I'm your mother, dammit; I have a right to worry. You'll be as old as me, and I'll still worry about you."

Bobby shifted his feet uncomfortably. He hated that he had made Evelyn worry, but it had been necessary. Money was always tight in the Mercer house -with three teenage boys -and since Angel and Jerry were still in school, they only worked in the summer. Evelyn didn't make enough working for social services to pay for everything, so Bobby often took jobs like this. When he got home, he'd slowly dole out the money to his mother every Friday, so she wouldn't suspect that her oldest boy was smuggling guns half way around the country.

"Ma, I'm fine, ok? I'm leavin' Arizona right now. I'll be home Thursday night, Friday morning sometime. So go get some sleep, and I'll see you soon, ok?"

"Ok, Bobby. Be careful alright?"

"You know I will, ma."

"I love you."

"Yeah, I... uh, yeah, you too. Bye, ma."

He smacked himself in the head as he slammed the phone back into the cradle. God, he was such an idiot. Three simple little words. He did love his ma. Evelyn had been the best thing that every happened to him. But he couldn't bring himself to say those three stupid, moronic words. In seven years, he hadn't been able to tell her how he felt.

Cussing to himself as he lit a cigarette, he slide into his old car, slamming the door shut behind him.

Fuck.

He was just crossing the border into New Mexico when he heard it. A quiet sneeze in the back.

Instantly, he slammed on the breaks, veering off the highway, and was out of the car in less than five seconds. Pulling his gun from inside his jacket, he trained it on the back of the car, before yelling, "Get outta the fuckin' car! Now!"

Bobby felt his jaw drop, as a tall, lanky boy crawled out of the car, falling down in his hurry to get out. The kid stayed where he had fallen, huddled up on himself, as he stared at Bobby fearfully, blue eyes wide as plates.

Bobby glowered as he stuck his gun back in his jacket, and walked over to yank the kid off the ground.

"Jesus Christ, kid, what the hell are you doin'?" He demanded, pushing the boy against the car. "Dammit, I was gonna shoot you!"

"Please... Please, I just needed a ride to Detroit... And you had Michigan plates, so I thought..." The boy's deep voice trailed off, and Bobby realized he was crying and shaking.

Shit. Bobby scrubbed his hands through his hair, and took a step back. "Shit, kid, I didn't mean to scare ya. Fuck, ain't you ever heard of a bus?"

"I... I don't have any money, and since your plates..." Jesus, if the kid freaked anymore, he'd start hiccuping.

"Where're your parents? Fuck, you realize I could go to jail for kidnapping you?"

Oh Christ. That really got the boy shaking. "P-p-please, d-d-d-don't s-s-s-send me b-b-back! Th-th-they aren't l-l-l-lookin' f-f-for m-m-me! I p-p-promise!"

"Christ, kid, relax, or you're gonna piss yourself. Jesus, didya really think you were gonna hide on the floor of my backseat for two days?"

"I just need to get to Detroit," The boy pleaded.

Bobby shook his head. "You jump in at the diner? Is that where you're from?"

"No... I lived in... In California. I hitched there, and you were the first person I saw with Michigan plates."

"You fuckin' hitched? From California? Jesus, what are ya, all of twelve?"

"Fourteen."

"Fuck," Bobby swore, running his hands through his hair again. They couldn't just keep standing out there on the side of the highway. Bobby was suspicious enough in the middle of nowhere at three o'clock in the morning, much less with a teenage boy. "Get in the damn car. The front seat," He added sarcastically.

The kid scrambled around the car, and practically threw himself in the passenger side.

Shit.