A/N: Thanks for all of the reviews! I'm glad that you guys seemed to like the last chapter! : ) Hopefully you'll like this one just as much!

PS- This chapter skips ahead a short period of time from the last chapter.

Chapter 6

Jack slowly walked up to the house. He had no idea what kind of shit he had gotten himself into in the last few of weeks. He didn't know exactly how long he had been gone; it was all a huge blur. All he remembered clearly was waking up in someone's house lying on their couch. He didn't know who's house it was, but he quickly grabbed his things and left. His head was pounding from the lack of drugs or alcohol in his system. There was a cut on his cheek. His lips were cracked and he had a variety of bruises and cuts on his arms and he had no idea how they had gotten there. His clothes were dirty and ripped. He was so tired he could barely see straight and he wondered how he had managed to walk home from where ever it was that he had been.

He slowly raised his arm and knocked on the door. Every movement seemed exhausting. There was shuffling inside and after a moment the door swung open.

Jack wasn't sure what to say. He had, after all, ran off and never bothered to call any of his brothers, at least to let them know that he was alive. "Hey..." Jack finally said almost inaudibly. Even his voice sound tired and weak and he wasn't sure if they had heard him.

The figure in the door looked at him strangely for a moment, not even recognizing his own brother. "Jack..." Bobby finally stated in disbelief. Him and his brothers had been looking for Jack for over a month now. They had almost given up hope, figuring he was dead. The house had had a certain heaviness about it since Jack left, each person fearing the worst, yet no one said it aloud. He wanted to give him a huge hug and tell him how much everyone had missed him, but being his tough self, he decided against it.

"I'm back." Jack stated, almost equally inaudible. His throat hurt. He body ached.

"No shit..." Bobby said softly. He moved aside to let his brother pass into the house. He saw Jack stagger as he walked by, nearly falling. "... Whoa, careful." Bobby said as he grabbed Jack before he could hit the ground, helping him inside.

Jack looked like he was going to collapse any moment. Hell, he practically had collapsed. Out of all the times Jack had run away, he had never looked like this when he returned home.

"Angel! Get me some ice!" Bobby called as they slowly made their way to the couch.

Bobby was bearing most of Jack's weight. He slung one of Jack's arms over his shoulder and he put one of his arms around his waist for support. He could feel the boy's ribs sticking out sharply through his shirt and he wondered when was the last time he had eaten.

Bobby lightly sat Jack down on the couch and straightened up. He looked down at him, accessing his injuries as he waited for Angel to bring the ice. He could tell Jack had been drinking and doing drugs. He didn't even have to ask.

"It's about time, man." Angel said as he walked into the room, handing Jack the bag of ice.

"Thanks." He said as he put the bag up to his cheek. He didn't look up, but stared at a spot on the carpet. He couldn't look either of them in the eye. All he does is cause them pain.

"I'm gonna go to the store. We don't have any aspirin. And from the looks of it, you need as much of that shit as you can get." Angel said after a moment of awkward silence. He walked over to the counter and grabbed his keys. "I'll be back in a sec." He added before walking out of the house.

"What the hell happened to you?" Bobby asked once Angel had left.

"I don't know."

"You don't know." Bobby repeated, mostly for affect.

"That's what I said."

"You look like shit."

"I know."

Bobby sighed and sat down in the chair a few feet away. He didn't say anything as he searched for the right words to say. "Maybe you should talk to someone. Like, a therapist or somethin', or go to rehab..." Bobby finally said.

Jack finally looked up at him. "I'm not crazy."

"I know; I never said you were." Bobby replied.

"I'm not going." He stated. He didn't need a shrink monitoring his every move. His hands were shaking. He didn't want to admit it, but he knew he had developed an addiction to cocaine and alcohol, not to mention the other variety of drugs he had taken.

"Jack, look at yourself." Bobby stated firmly. "You're sick."

"I said I wasn't going!" Jack shouted even though it made his throat throb.

"I'm not going to watch you kill yourself." Bobby said sadly. Jack was a bit taken aback by the pain in Bobby's voice. He knewBobby only wanted what was best for him. He felt his face get hot as a few tears escaped from his eyes. As little as he wanted to admit it Jack knew Bobby was right. He was sick and he desperately need help.