Rating: M
Characters/Pairings: Kurt/Puck established, Puck's family

Warning: Some after effects of violence and swearing
Spoilers: Up to "Laryngitis" for Glee and middle of 5th season for Supernatural

Beta: sanj and captainajsydney (yes, I credit them both as betas because of misunderstanding that was totally my fault)
Author Notes: Because of the wonderful feedback I got on the previous story along with requests for a sequel, I used one of my more-or-less free days to type out some other ideas I had. This is a sequel/epilogue for "Sins of our fathers". I took liberty with names of Puck's mom and sister, since we don't officialy know them yet. Title comes from "Here comes the flood" by Peter Gabriel (it's a wonderful song, go check it out).

Puck wished that he could say he was there when Kurt came back to consciousness for the first time since the surgery. That he was right there in the hospital with him and held his hand as he woke up, to reassure the other boy that he was still there, that he wasn't alone. That he looked into Kurt's eyes when he slowly came to his senses and that his heart had fluttered in his chest when Kurt finally recognized him and squeezed his hand right back.

Puck knew life was not a fairytale or a badly written drama.

So when Kurt woke up from anesthesia, screaming in agony because his painkiller levels were set too low, Puck wasn't in the room with him.

He wasn't even in Lima.

No, when Hummel came back to the land of the living, Puck was about ten hours' drive away, drilling the local hunter community for intel. Because, no matter what he wanted to do, life still had other plans.

Like Lucifer walking the Earth, for example.

The metalworking shop was small but neat, no sign of dirt and grease staining the tools and workspace. It was filled with cigarette smoke and rock music blasting from the stereo in the back, almost deafening him.

"So, you think you can do it?" Puck was getting a little impatient, but he knew better then to react violently. Contrary to popular belief, he knew perfectly well that violence didn't always get you what you needed.

"Yeah, but it's going to cost you extra." The owner of the shop looked at the item in his hand. Puck only nodded. While the design wasn't complicated, he expected the higher price.

"But you'll have it done by tomorrow morning?"

"Yeah."

"Fine. I'll swing by before eight. You'll get your money then."

That left one more stop before he could rest for the day.

It was more than 24 hours after Kurt first woke up when Puck crept onto the recovery ward and into Kurt's room. Visiting hours were over, but Puck kept vigil next to Kurt's bed.

Kurt was asleep. Puck was both a little disappointed and a little relieved, because honestly? Hummel looked like shit. His face sported a set of bruises in nearly every color of the rainbow and his nose was taped tightly. Puck winced at the sight, knowing he was the one to cause that injury. It wasn't anything that wouldn't heal and Kurt should consider himself lucky to even be alive – that much he knew – but it still didn't keep him from cringing every time he looked at it.

He took Kurt's hand in one of his own, feeling momentarily startled at how cold it was. Kurt seemed to have lost some weight during the last couple of hours. Or possibly the oversized hospital bed made everyone look small. Puck didn't want to worry about that. He just wanted to sit there quietly for a while, feeling comfortably numb.

The hunters' community hadn't welcomed him with open arms, but then again, they rarely welcomed any outsiders. It seemed that the Apocalypse had started in Maryland, after two hunters (of all people) had freed the devil from its prison. He wasn't lucky when it came to learning said hunters' names, but at least he understood the whole vessel-business Berith had talked about. Puck ran his hand over the knuckles of Kurt's hand, feeling each individual bump and letting exhaustion wash over him. Who in their right mind would allow the devil to take possession of them?

At least his search had proved to be fruitful in different area. Puck dug into his jeans pocket, fishing out a small metal pendant. It was a pentagram in a circle of burning flames, strung on a sturdy piece of leather. Careful of the IV lines running into Kurt's arm, he wound the leather strap a few times around the boy's wrist and tied it, securing the pendant in its place. He hid the metal charm behind the leather, worried that one of the nurses might take offense at the seemingly Satanic symbol and try to remove it. Puck looked at his work, noticing how pale Kurt's skin looked compared to the black leather.

He stood up, hoping to sneak out of the room without disturbing any nurses stuck on night watch. He took one more minute to hang onto Kurt's hand, missing the touch he'd had to give up when the paramedics had pushed him away so many hours ago.

There was no shadow of doubt in anyone's mind that the afternoon Glee meeting would be about singing - just demands of answers and obscured explanations. The murmur of gossip about the attack on one of the Glee Club could be heard throughout the whole school. Jocks seemed to stray away from Gleeks for once, as if afraid the vicious attack could be blamed on one of the teams.

Many had tried to get some inside scoop from the club members, but it stopped after Jacob Ben Israel was pushed into the lockers and growled at by Finn of all people. Thanks to Mike and Jesse, Finn was pulled away from the nerd before anyone got in trouble. After that, the Gleeks were pretty much left to their own business. Rachel noted that they had all dreamed of crowds parting before them as they walked the halls, but the reasons for it were so wrong that instead of glory and a sense of victory, she felt only nausea.

When they entered the choir room Puck was already there. This came as sort of a surprise, since he had vanished after they left hospital the other day and nobody had seen him since. He'd skipped school before, but this time it was enough to make them worry.

"Puck!" Mercedes' voice snapped him back to reality; He was stuck wondering why the choir room floor didn't have any sign of blood that was pooling there just short time ago. He felt sick even being in the same room, but it wasn't like they had any other space to use for their practice. He just wished there was something, any sign of the drama that had happened. "We didn't think you would show up today."

"Yeah, well, here I am." Puck stood from his spot by the piano and before any of them could ask what he was doing, he dug in his backpack and came up with a brown paper bag.

"Here." He opened the beg and at least a dozen metal pendants spilled to the surface of the piano, all shiny and new. Each came with a long leather strap. "One for each."

They gathered around the piano, all of them looking both curious and a little doubtful.

"Pentagrams?" Santana frowned. "You really think we want to have anything to do with this Satanic crap?"

"Actually..." It was Matt who spoke up. "It's the pentagram with two points pointing up that Satanists use. The normal one is a powerful protection symbol that originated from Christianity."

They all looked at him like he had just sprouted another head. Matt just cleared his throat.

"I saw that on some documentary on Discovery a while ago."

"Anyway." Puck only blinked at that comment. "Matt is right; the meaning of the symbol is mistaken for evil. It's kind of like the whole misinterpretation of the swastika and the Buddhist manji."

It was his turn to get the stares of his fellow club members. Puck could clearly see the 'since-when-you're-the-smart-one' question in their eyes. He chose to ignore it.

"That's actually a pentacle with flames from Seals of Solomon. Berith is the twenty-eighth demon of a total seventy-two from The Lesser Key of Solomon. It will be enough to keep him off. "

"If they're not symbols of evil, then what are they?" Quinn took one in her hands, running her finger over the hard, but elegant, shapes. She looked a little hesitant, but she was the first one to put the pendant on, hiding the symbol under her shirt. Apparently she'd decided that if he had saved their life once, they could trust him again.

God bless her.

"Those are anti-possession charms. I had to take care of something yesterday and I got two of those. Had one of the originals duplicated, so you guys can all get one. Wear it around your neck or wrist. As long as you have it on, demons won't be able to possess you."

Well, that seemed to grab their attention. Each one of them quickly grabbed a pendant for themselves. Mr. Schuester chose that moment to enter the choir room, so Puck quickly recapped what he had just said and handed their teacher their own charm. He looked more then a little disturbed by the idea, as if he still was in some shock over the whole 'demons are real' thing. The Gleeks seemed to accept the truth a little easier. Puck wondered why. Maybe because they were all raised on zombie and horror movies?

"Berith has issues with my family and Hummel's. Finn, honestly, man, you just entered his blacklist, with your mom dating Burt and all." He shook his head and he could almost see the color draining from Finn's face. "But that doesn't mean he won't go for any of you if he has a chance. He has seen you all and there is no way to tell what he will do."

"I'll take one for Tina. I already called her to tell her that Kurt's in the hospital, but I think it would be better if someone explained it to her." Artie took one extra pendant, looking thoughtful. How did you break it to someone that demons are real, without them laughing in your face?

Taking Artie's lead, Matt took one more for Mike, who was still stuck home with the flu.

"Wear it somewhere where it's visible" Puck added. "Because from now on if I see you without it, the first thing you can expect is a bucket of holy water in your face."

Somehow, the Gleeks knew it was not a joke.

"There's one left." Santana noticed, helping Brittany tie her pendant over her wrist.

"That for Kurt?" Mercedes' thoughts were still focused on her best friend.

"Nah, that one's for Mr. Hummel. I already gave Kurt his." Puck shrugged, trying hard not to notice stares that were directed at him. He refused to blush like a schoolgirl under their scrutiny.

"So what about you, man?" Finn frowned. "I don't see you wearing one."

"Don't need it."

"How come?" Quinn protested. "You were the one saying we need to have it on all the time."

"Here." Puck sighed, bending down to roll up his jeans up his leg, revealing the white bandage on the lower part of his left calf. Peeling the dressing back a little,he revealed the angry red skin underneath, surrounding the lines of black ink. "Unless one day I come to school with my leg missing, I'm pretty much covered."

There was a awkward moment of tense silence.

"You know, to the rest of the school we're all going to look like a bunch of Satanists." Rachel shook her head, but wound the leather strap around her wrist anyways. "This is so not going to help with our image." She frowned. "Or maybe it will. Hard to say at this point."

"Better that then being possessed." Jesse shrugged, sitting down on a nearby chair and pulling Rachel in his lap.

"Which leads me to another question." Puck turned towards the newest addition to New Directions. "How the fuck did you know that Kurt was possessed?"

All the heads turned towards Jesse, who seemed to flinch at the sudden question. Rachel looked at him with worry.

"I've never actually seen one." Jesse swallowed, not-so-pleasant memories clearly coming back to him. "We used to live in Cleveland, a couple of years back. It was a really nice old home. I was nine then. My parents were so happy... it was their dream house." Jesse sighed, relaxing a bit in his seat. "Soon after we moved in, weird things started to happen. Light in the whole house was flickering, even though my dad had the wiring checked twice. There was noise in the walls, like rats scurrying around, but we didn't have any."

Uh-oh. Puck already knew how the story would end.

"At first we didn't really think anything was wrong, maybe except for those weird electricity shortages. But then other things happened. I kept hearing knocking at the door to my room in the middle of the night, but there was no one there. My parents thought I was making things up - at least until their bed started to shake while they were in it." Puck could hear the dead silence in the room and thought Jesse looked a little intimidated. "They tried reasonable explanations and couldn't find anything. We didn't know what to do. Then, one day, we're eating breakfast and our coffee maker shoots out at my dad's head - they gave him twelve stitches."

Jesse chuckled. "I might find that funny now, but back then we were seriously freaked out. My mom finally gave in and started to look for psychics, mediums, that kind of people. One phone call led to another and soon one of the hunters arrived. Turns out we had a poltergeist in out house and he took care of it. So I never met demons, but afterwards, when he was done, he told us some things to look out for. That's how I knew about demons, he told us about black-eyed people."

"I'm so sorry you had to go through that." Rachel was a little teary-eyed, No surprise: she was the queen of drama, after all.

"It's OK. We moved out pretty fast and then we came to Ohio. It all worked out in the end."

"Do you remember the name of that hunter?" Puck knew poltergeists weren't uncommon and not even very hard to defeat - unless it was one pissed-off fucker – but he asked anyways.

"Like I could ever forget. His name was Bill Harvelle."

The name didn't ring any bells for Puck, unfortunately.

"Dude." Puck turned to Finn at the sound of his voice. "Did you learn anything about the Devil rising?"

Puck knew he couldn't tell them everything. Not only would some of them panic, but he hadn't talked it through with Mr. Hummel yet. On the other hand, he couldn't lie. They were all in it by now, whether he wanted it or not.

"Yeah." Puck rubbed the bridge of his nose, feeling a headache setting in. He didn't know if it was a leftover from the concussion, but he couldn't do anything about it now. "He's risen, all right, somewhere in Maryland, but he could be anywhere right now. I'm not sure what happened, but it seems someone let him out. He needs his vessel before anything can happen, so I don't know how much time he needs before the whole shit will fall down."

"Vessel?" Mr. Schuester frowned, not liking what he heard at all.

"Yeah. From what I've learned, angels, even fallen ones, can't enter your body without consent..."

Puck decided it was going to be a long day, but nevertheless he went on explaining about the demonic and angelic lore to the best of his knowledge. He knew he was fooling himself and his friends as well. If Lucifer was roaming the land now, there was no way he or any other hunter he knew could somehow stop him. Puck only hoped they got some time before the Apocalypse started, so he could straighten out his unfinished business and live a little before it all went to hell.

It was late evening when Puck creeped onto the recovery ward again. It seemed like a habit by now, trying to avoid the attention of nurses and doctors and visitors. He had seen Burt earlier in the afternoon and briefed him on everything he'd learned from his little roadtrip.

Kurt looked somewhat better then the previous night. The ugly bruises didn't fade, but the boy looked calmer in his sleep and the lines of pain previously visible on his face had smoothed out. He was also breathing a little bit easier - which was a much-needed improvement – probably because he'd been taken off of the ventilator they'd put him on after the surgery and replaced it with a simple nasal cannula.

Puck sat down on the chair near the bed and, bending slightly, rested his head in his hands. He could still feel the headache lingering somewhere in the back of his head, not really hurting, but still there, annoying the crap out of him. He had dosed himself with Tylenol a couple hours earlier and he'd hoped things would be better by the evening.

There was a soft, rustling sound coming from the bed and Puck raised his head a little, to glance at the soprano.

"Hey." Kurt was looking at him with sleepy eyes, blinking a couple of times and trying to shake off the remains of sleep. His voice was scratchy and rough, so unlike his normal tone, but Puck suspected having a tube shoved down your throat would have that effect on anyone.

"Hey." Puck moved his chair a little closer and helped Kurt reach for the cup of water by his bed and take a couple of sips through the provided straw. "Didn't think you'll be awake by now."

"Oh, please" Kurt rasped out, his voice coming out a little easier now. "All I do since I got there is sleep. Don't know if it's the drugs they're pumping me with or the fact it's so damn boring in here. Did you guys have Glee today?"

"Yeah. Not much singing though." Puck shook his head lightly, careful not to aggravate the lingering signs of headache.

"Tell me." Kurt looked at him, even though Puck wasn't sure he should be telling him anything, not wanting to worry him more. He knew Kurt should be resting for next couple of days. But the determined look in the other boy's eyes finally made him give in and he retold the story of his trip to nearby hunter community and everything he learned. He told him about the Glee meeting and the pendants and his tattoo.

"It was the first thing I noticed when I woke up" Kurt raised his left hand a little, fingers of his right running lightly over the leather wound around his wrist. "I asked Dad about it, but he said it wasn't from him and then I knew."

Puck didn't know what to answer without sounding like a total sap, so he chose to say nothing for now.

"You know," Kurt started, lowering his hands to his lap and looking away from the other teen, gazing past the window in the ink black night outside. "He hadn't been in me for long. He lied when he told you that he's been occupying my body for weeks, because was only a couple of hours. Maybe a day. I'm not really sure. And those were the most terrifying hours in my life."

"I would say that I can imagine that." Puck shrugged. "But honestly, I can't."

"I was stuck inside my own body and unable to do anything. Sometimes my mind would doze off and I would wake to find myself not remembering what happened. Those time gaps really scare me. What if I did something horrible during that time?" Kurt's voice reached some of its highest pitch, a clear sign he was distressed. "What if I hurt someone and I can't even remember it?"

"Hey" Puck reached and grabbed Kurt's shaking hand, making the other boy twitch in surprise and turn to him with teary eyes. "Maybe something bad happened. We don't have any way to find out now. And a lot more shit is going to happen soon. We can't help that either. But I know one thing for sure." He ran his thumb slowly over Kurt's bony knuckles. "If someone was hurt, it wasn't because of you. It was Berith, and he's the only one at fault, so I don't want to hear you saying crap about yourself again. Is that clear?"

Kurt nodded slowly and Puck could see he wasn't entirely convinced, but decided to drop it for the time being. He had full intention to make the other boy realize that none of what had happened was his fault. He wasn't going to let Berith screw their lives over.

"He lied." Kurt looked down at their joined hands and gave Puck's fingers a tiny squeeze. "I don't feel like my dad has abandoned me, or that I don't feel like his son anymore." Kurt swallowed nosily, fighting back another wave of tears. "I mean, you know what's been going on lately and sure, I feel like things are changing too fast but..."

"I know." Puck moved from his chair to sit down at the edge of the bed. "I've been there when you threw your hissy fits and ranted about football matches and, I quote, 'testosterone overdrive' in your home."

"I don't throw hissy fits." Kurt protested, but his bitch face wasn't so impressive with all the colorful bruises.

"You kinda do."

"Shut up."

Puck laughed for a moment, glad to see the corners of Kurt's lips quirking up as well. He calmed down soon enough and looked down at his hand cradling one of Kurt's.

"He didn't lie about one thing."

He could feel Kurt tensing next to him.

"He said that this thing between us, it's just fucking around." Puck sighed, his other hand picking at the thread of the hospital bed sheet.

"I kind of thought that was the point." When they first started this... thing between them, it was supposed to be only physical gratification. It wasn't the most healthy of agreements, but it was working out so far. Kurt frowned. "It's not the point anymore?"

"No, I don't think it is." Puck looked back up at the other boy. "I don't know. After the exorcism something snapped in me. You were dying and-" He stopped, suddenly feeling the loss of words.

"Hey." Kurt squeezed his hand. hard enough to make Puck shake off whatever was affecting him. "I'm still here, aren't I?"

Puck nodded and there was a moment of comfortable silence that filled the room. Puck felt tired and strangely detached. He was focusing his stare at some of the little details that he wouldn't normally notice. The peeling paint in the corner of the room. The red, angry skin on Kurt's arm where the IV line entered his vein.

"Noah, can you do me a favor?"

"Yeah?"

"Can you get me a hand mirror?" Kurt smiled when he saw Puck smirk, the heavy mood lifting slightly. "I asked my dad for one but he refuses. I want to see how bad I look."

"That's what you're worried about now? We're having a moment here and you ask for a mirror?" Puck tried to look offended, but the grin he had betrayed his real mood.

"Or you can tell me. On a scale from one to ten, ten being my best, how bad do I look?"

Puck took few seconds to look Kurt up and down.

"I would say minus four. You look like shit."

"Why, thank you," Kurt huffed. "You always say the nicest things."

"You're welcome."

Kurt looked at him, seemingly waiting for an apology. He got none.

"Your bedside manner sucks."

Puck laughed, feeling alive for the first time in days.

Puck got home well after midnight. It was his first time back home in the last two days. Nights out weren't very unusual of him, not by a long shot, but this time coming home felt different. He hadn't really been home since Berith's attack on Kurt. He'd only gone inside to shower before hitting the road, glad that his mother worked the night shift and his sister was already asleep. He hadn't talked to his mother either. He'd left a message on the answering machine telling her that Berith was back, that he was OK, and that the Hummels were not.

Puck felt like an intruder in his own home. He crept in silently, hoping not to wake anyone. The kitchen and living room were empty, so he assumed his mother was already in bed. He was glad; he wasn't sure he had enough willpower in him to face his family until the next morning.

He walked up the stair to the bedroom area, noticing that Sarah's door was slightly ajar and a thin strap of multi-colored light made its way through the gap. Carefully nudging the door open, he took in the scene in his sister's room. Sarah had left her small spinning lamp on for the night, filling the room with soft star-shaped lights that circled around the room slowly. Noah knew she didn't do that often – it was a gift from their dad and the lamp was already quite old when he had bought it. It malfunctioned at times and its construction made it hard to change the light bulb, so Sarah only used it occasionally.

Puck winced when he realized it was because of him, because she hadn't seen him return home for last two days and was probably worried. Puck sat down quietly on the floor next to her bed. She always was a heavy sleeper, so she didn't even twitch when he ran his fingers lightly over her hair, tucking the spilled locks behind her tiny ear.

Their mother had decided not to tell Sarah about hunting. She was too small to remember their dad coming back from hunts, smelling like dust or sometimes blood, and stinking of two days on the road from when he was in haste to come back to his family. Sarah never took lessons in knife throwing and never learned the importance of the protective incantations scratched onto the floor by the door and on every windowsill, covered in lacquer mixed with salt. She didn't know that their house had pure iron bars in the walls to repel ghosts and poltergeists, or that their father had left a pot for melting silver bullets in their basement. She didn't know a thing about hunting or the things that went bump in the night, and her brother vowed with everything he had that she would never have to learn.

Berith was back and after them, and Puck was scared shitless she would be his next target.

He stood up and fixed her covers that half-slipped to the floor during the night. She was a restless sleeper, always kicking her sheets off during the night. His hands were shaking as he tucked her in, leaving and closing the door to her room in haste before a terrified gasp tore out of his throat. He leaned heavily on the corridor's wall, forehead pressing against the cool surface, waiting for his hands to stop shaking. With a weird detachment he noticed that the panic attacks he used to have when he was little - gone for years while he'd been in school - were reawakened by Berith's return. Puck gritted his teeth so hard it kind of hurt, willing himself to calm down, to stop being weak, because he couldn't afford to be weak, not now.

"Noah?"

He turned his head slightly to see his mother standing at the other end of the corridor, her hair mussed and a sleeping robe wrapped tightly around her. She looked like she hadn't slept in days and with a pang of conscience Puck realized she probably hadn't.

"I'm fine, ma."

"You don't look fine." She crossed the distance between them, taking a closer look at her boy, frowning. He just blinked at her tiredly when she put a hand on his shoulder and turned him around so she could look at him properly.

"Blessed be the Lord for your safe return." She put a warm hand to his cheek and Puck's breath caught a little. It was the exact same phrase she had always used when his father retuned successfully from his hunts. Puck hadn't heard her say thise words ever since he'd died.

"I'm sorry, ma." Noah grabbed at the hand that was touching his cheek, holding it close to him. "I'm so sorry I worried you."

He took her in his arms, feeling her shake with relief and surprised emotion. Between his two days' absence from the house and the confusing message he'd left on the answering machine, Puck didn't think about what she could be going through. He hadn't thought that he had done exactly the same thing his father used to do, worrying her like that. Puck squeezed his eyes shut as he held her close. Another fuck-up on his account.

"Noah, language." His mother scolded him, without any real anger behind her words.

Had he said that out loud?

His knees slowly gave out and he lowered himself down to the floor, supporting his sagging weight on the wall. His mother went down with him, but this time it was her turn to cradle him close as she saw angry tears welling in his eyes.

"You have returned to me." She ran her hands over his broad shoulders and back of his neck as he tried to calm down, breathing in her scent. She always smelled like her flower perfume, gray soap from the place she worked at and now, strangely, cookie dough. She must have made some for Sarah before he came home. "It's the only thing that matters."

"He's back." Puck gasped, feeling a little breathless. "He's back and this time he's not going away. It can be you or Sarah next. I don't know what to do. I don't know if there is anything I can do. I'm scared, ma."

Puck scowled a little at his own rant. Way to go with the word vomit.

He had enough of this, enough of breaking down so many times in last two days. It wasn't like him. First Finn, then Mr. Hummel, now his mother. He felt weak and vulnerable and he didn't like that feeling. He had spent years trying to build up a wall around himself and it worked like a charm, at least until Berith's poisonous words got to him.

"Shhh." She soothed him. ""You'll do everything you can, everything you'll be able to. And it's going to be all right. I know it will."

"How can you be so sure?" He needed a reassurance that everything will turn out alright.

"Because you are your father's son. You're brave and stubborn and headstrong. You will keep us safe because that's just what you do. That's how I know."

Puck couldn't stop the gasp that tore through his throat and he grabbed at the sleeve of her robe as tears fell and he sobbed in her arms. It was wrong, he should be the one comforting her after he had been an ass to his family. He should be the one holding them together. Instead he was crying like he was a little kid all over again.

"You're only sixteen." His mother whispered to him and once again Puck wanted to kick himself for speaking out loud without noticing. "You're my son, let me hold you from time to time. That's what mothers are for."

There was moment of silence during which Puck tried to put himself back together and his mother just clung to him. She had probably been worried for him ever since she'd heard Berith's name on the answering machine. She held on like she didn't want to let him go.

"Mom?"

Puck raised his head from his mother's arms and looked up, seeing Sarah in the door of her room, looking sleepy but worried at the same time. They must have woken her up.

"It's OK, baby." Their mom's voice was calm. "Go back to sleep."

Sarah looked at them uncertainly. Puck could see she was starting to freak out. He didn't think she had seen him break down like that before.

"Noah? Why are you crying?"

He removed himself from his mother's embrace, trying to not pay attention to the weird feeling of loss as her arms let him go. He wiped his eyes quickly, hoping to erase some evidence of his weakness.

"It's okay. I'm just a little tired." He was proud of himself that his voice didn't shake. He couldn't afford to worry her. "Come here."

He stretched out his arms and Sarah ran to him immediately, wrapping small hands around his neck. Puck held her close as she nestled in his embrace.

"You really are fine?" She looked up at him with wide eyes, looking for confirmation. He could feel his mother's stare on him but didn't look around, focusing instead on the little girl cuddled to him.

"I just had a bad day. I'll be fine when I get some rest." He finally looked back at their mom and she gave them a small smile.

"Why don't you go to bed, sweetie?" She stretched a hand towards her daughter. "Come, I'll tuck you in."

Sarah started to move towards her but Puck just held her closer, slowly standing up and trying to balance their shared weight.

"I've got her, mom, it's ok." Sarah was wrapped around him like miniature octopus. "It's time for all the little beasts to be back in their beds."

"I'm not a beast!" Sarah shrieked with laughter and tried to squirm away as Puck tickled her side.

"Funny, I've heard otherwise."

"I'm not!"

"Uh-huh."

"I'm really not!"

Lilah Puckerman sat still on the corridor floor, sad smile tugging at the corner of her lips. Sarah was carefree and happy, and in return Noah felt like the weight of the world rested only on his shoulders. She could hear Noah helping his sister to settle in and then a well-known words of Fantastic Mr. Fox as he began to read it to her.

Noah would be all right. She was sure of that. She would worry and wait for him every evening. She would wait anxiously for his call or text message or a sound of keys rattling in the door. And when he came back, she will be there to greet him, to thank the Lord for his safety and to hold him when he needed to, ready to take back some of that weight that made him hurt on the inside.

She was his mother. It was all that she could do.