It was almost a relief to see the darkened windows. He was in no mood for the welcome home he was certain to receive. No one would expect him back so soon. He'd expected to be gone for months himself, but given what was happening, this seemed like the only logical course of action. The door opened easily, with little noise, as he crept inside the still foyer. Everything was still exactly the same and yet somehow it seemed as if everything had changed so much. His life had fallen apart in front of him before his eyes and what few shreds of it had remained had been blown to bits at his own hands before he finally left for rehab. No one knew that though … at least not yet.

Billy looked up the staircase. He was certain everyone was asleep now. They'd probably been that way for hours. Ashley might not even be here after everything she'd pulled, but Jack almost certainly was. It made sense that he'd been in this house now. He was John Abbott's son in every way that mattered as well as by blood. He'd gained his birthright back, but lost a woman he'd thought of as a sister in the process. What Ashley had done to him was beyond what he would have ever thought her capable of.

The magnitude of everything that had happened seemed to hit him all at once and he suddenly felt overwhelmed with absolute exhaustion. The idea of going upstairs and unpacking was simply too much to consider and instead he pulled the small bag of luggage over towards the corner closet and moved to the sofa. He'd stay there tonight, get some sleep, and hopefully figure out what to do next.

"Billy?"

He brought his arm to rest over his face as he slipped further down into the cushions. The dream had seemed so real. He'd heard her voice as clearly as if she'd been standing right in front of him. As angry as he was at her, he'd still found himself unable to stop dreaming of her. She was still in his mind almost as a way to torture him.

"Billy?"

His eyes flew open, the voice now clearly a reality and no longer potentially a product of his dreamlike stupor. He struggled to unfold his body, his legs and lower back clearly revolting against his choice of sleeping spot. "Phyllis?"

"What are you doing here? I thought you were in a rehab facility? Why are you back?"

"What am I doing here?!" The concern on her face seemed wildly misplaced. How could she pretend to care about him after what she'd done, after what she'd made him do. She'd driven him to a place he'd never imagined … "That's your question? What am I doing here?"

"Billy," she said again, her voice soft and gentle as she saw his immediate anger rising, "I just … I know that you really needed to go to the facility and the fact that you're already back makes me …"

"That fact that you're in my house makes me …"

"It's not your house, Billy."

Phyllis closed her eyes as she heard Jack's voice. "Jack," she whispered, "Please don't make this .."

He shook his head at her. "I'm not. I just need my brother here to understand that he doesn't have sole discretion as to who does or does not have the right to be here. Phyllis is helping me sort this whole situation out with Jabot and right now I need to have her here to help me keep an eye on this whole Ashley and Kyle situation. Her being here isn't about you, but your being here certainly is. I think her question is the one that needs the answer. Why aren't you in rehab?"

He was on his feet before either of them could say another word. "I don't have to answer to either of you," he spat, "And I'm not going to … not today."

"Here." Jack took a seat on the sofa beside her as he handed her the cup. "Mrs. Martinez just made a fresh pot."

"Thanks," Phyllis whispered. She leaned forward and placed the untouched cup on the coffee table. "I'll have it later."

"Try not to worry." He sighed as he said the words, "Which I know is like telling you to try not to breathe, but I figured I'd give it a shot anyway."

"I just see how angry he is, Jack. He's still so furious and he's already out of rehab and there's no way he's ready to be back here."

"I know that and I think he knows that. He's obviously been reading or seeing everything that's been going on at Jabot and that's probably why he decided to come back now. Hopefully once he realizes that he's in way over his head, he'll go back and he'll get the help he needs." He patted her hand gently. "But until he decides that for himself, until he really wants to get that help, you and I both know there's nothing anyone can do for him."

"I know that here," she said pointing to her head, "but it doesn't do much for me here." She let her hand cover her heart as she leaned back against the couch cushion. "I just hate to know that he hates me so much."

"He doesn't hate you. If he did, he wouldn't be so angry. The fact that he's still got so much fury in him means he still cares a hell of a lot about you and he'll eventually come around. You've just got to be willing to let him go right now. Let him figure this out. You can be right here for him when he does, but until he does, you can't beat yourself up over this." He watched her face for a moment, wondering if anything he said was getting through. "You know I'm right, don't you?"

"I know," she whispered. "I hate it, but I know."

"Go away." His eyes stared into the glass as he said the words. He didn't want to anyone, least of all her.

She tried not to react to the coldness in his words. "I called you several times." Summer sat down on the bar stool next to him and slowly shifted closer. "I sent texts too, but you didn't respond. I wasn't sure what to think. When I woke up and you were gone, I …" Her words stopped short as he finally met her gaze. The look wasn't what she expected.

"You didn't know what to think?"

"No," she whispered. "I mean, I knew you said you were going to rehab, but I thought you'd at least say goodbye first." She stopped again, rethinking her words, not wanting to make herself sound needy or pathetic even if it was the way she felt in the moment. "Not that you had to or needed to really, but I just thought maybe you would've after that night we had. I mean, it was great, Billy and …"

"Was it?" Even as he said the words, he didn't know why he said them. The venom in his voice when he spoke was foreign to him. It didn't sound like his words echoing in the quiet space surrounding them. The rage that filled him was so consuming that it almost overwhelmed him, threatened to eat him alive, rendered him incapable of keeping it contained. It wasn't just about hurting Phyllis or hurting Summer or hurting Nick. Now he had to hurt himself because of what he'd done because of what could never be undone.

"Yeah." She smiled nervously as she shifted still closer to him. "It was. I mean, what you said, the way you were, it was everything I'd dreamed it would be. And now I know that I wasn't imagining it … You did want me. You always did."

He took a deep breath as he looked at her. Her words made him sick inside and he slid his hand across the bar slowly before he touched her hand and drew her closer to him. "Listen to me," he breathed, "I never wanted you. Not before, not that night, not now. You blew up my entire life. You started this. I wanted to hurt you. I wanted to hurt your mother. I wanted to hurt your father and you gave me the perfect opportunity. You said you wanted me to give into temptation. Well I did. Congratulations Summer. You made me exactly what everyone always said I was. You proved them all right and now, you get to see what it feels like to have your entire life blow up."