Well, I wanted to get this out before Easter, and it seems I have succeeded. Whoop!

My writing teacher seemed surprised to discover that I was planning on editing some of the more racy parts of the story out for her benefit, so now I'm not so sure whether I should or not. I think what I'll probably do is print out an edited version and the regular version, and giver her the option of reading either. I've got all of spring break to work on it. Besides, I think she might choose the edited version, for the simple reason that "I think one of your stories will make me throw up someday".

Anyway, this chapter is going to be longer than the last two were, for the simple reason that this is probably one of the more important chapters in the story (for reasons I'm sure you can guess). I probably could have cut out the last part and turned it into a separate chapter, but I kind of like having it attached to the rest, so I kept it.

Also, the majority of this chapter is going to be a flashback. There is one scene that's set in present day, but the rest of it takes place wholly in the past.

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THE ONE WARNING: I do not give warnings. Don't be lulled by the fact that the last few chapters have been fairly tame. The worst is yet to come, and this is the point where it gets twisted again. And trust me, it ain't pretty.

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Disclaimer: Am being kept prisoner in Dreamworks' and Warner Brothers' evil lair. SEND FOOD.

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A Twisted Kind of Brotherhood

It Can Never Be the Same Again

Sal nodded a greeting to Jackson, taking a sip from his beer as he held the neck of the bottle in his fist. Jackson stood over the older man, hands stuffed in his pocket as he awaited the inevitable news.

Remaining in his seated position on the grass, Sal put down his beer and looked up at Jackson. "Our contact called a half-hour ago. Anna's uncle signed the will earlier than expected."

"And what's it say?"

Sal sighed. "Anna's his heir, just like we figured. Title, money, property, everything."

Jackson ruminated on this as Sal stood up and brushed himself off. "So it's definite, then?"

Sal nodded. "Yep. You gotta kill her."

Jackson shrugged casually. "Alright. I'll invite her out tomorrow, and then…"

"No." Jackson was slightly stunned by the bluntness of Sal's refusal. "Tonight. You need to do it now."

Still taken aback, Jackson asked, "Why?"

Stuffing his hands into his coast pockets, Sal replied, "There has to be no doubt in anyone's mind that her death was because of the will. Our client made it very clear that Anna must be killed within two hours of the signing."

Jackson ran his fingers through his hair, a headache beginning to form. "Shit."

Sal chuckled. "Yeah, no kidding."

Taking his right hand of his coat pocket, Sal revealed a small, black pistol. "You ever use a gun before?"

Remembering times when he and Jonathan had stolen their dad's old hunting rifle, Jackson nodded, "Yeah."

"Good. If you have to, use that to get the job done. But remember…" Sal's eyes went cold as he added emphatically, "Don't. Get. Caught."

Taking the gun, Jackson stated confidently, "I won't."

Sal's eyes glanced over Jackson's face and, appearing satisfied, answered, "Alright."

Tucking the pistol into his waistband, Jackson felt a surge of empowerment, but it was tinged with a sense of foreboding that he couldn't shake.

Sal gave Jackson a confidential look, all humor erased from his face as he stepped forward. "You're ready to do this? No turning back?"

Eyes filled with an icy chill, Jackson replied, "That bitch is as good as dead."

-----

As Jackson made his way through the woods between his house and Anna's, the sun had sunk completely out of sight, and the moon hung low in the sky. He dragged a ladder with him, the heavy wooden instrument clunking behind him. As he treaded along, he gritted his teeth over the strain to his arms, forcing himself to remember that the ladder was necessary for his plan to work.

As the Napolitano household came into view, Jackson felt a surge of relief. When he reached the side of the house, Jackson set up the ladder against the wall so that it ended only a foot or two under the window to Anna's room, the location of which he'd discovered while helping her move boxes that morning.

He climbed up slowly, not wanting to make any noise that might alert Anna's parents, or, even worse, "Uncle Joey". When he reached the top, he breathed a sigh of relief for the simple reason that he'd managed so far to not get caught. Some small part of his mind was incessantly paranoid, fearing that Anna's bodyguard would jump out of nowhere and shoot him, perhaps with Sal and Kevin's aid. He tried to ignore these thoughts, but it didn't stop his heart from pounding much faster than normal.

Rapping lightly against the window, Jackson hissed, "Anna!" When no reply came, he rapped a little harder, continuing to call her name.

After a few seconds' pause, Anna came to the window in a T-shirt and flannel pajama pants. She shoved the glass pane upwards and peered out of the gaping hole it left behind. It took her a few seconds to spot Jackson's face below the window, and when she did, she jumped in surprise.

"Jackson, what're you doing here?"

Resting his elbows on the top of the ladder, Jackson responded coolly, "I came to see you."

Although it was obvious that she was flattered, Anna shook her head a little as she whispered, "My parents are downstairs. They'll hear you."

Jackson remained unfazed. "That doesn't matter. I want to show you something."

Anna leaned on the windowsill, her face not far from Jackson's own. "They'll notice if I'm gone."

Jackson bit his lip, having assumed that she'd go along without trouble. Deciding to up his game, he leaned up and kissed her on the cheek, letting his lips linger there.

"Please?" he asked sweetly.

Anna's cheeks flushed a bright red, and Jackson knew that she was sold. Pretending to still consider the idea, Anna smiled and wondered, "What do you want to show me?"

Jackson smirked and shook his head. "Can't tell you. That'd ruin the surprise."

Anna bit her lip, then grinned. "Let me get my shoes on."

Jackson waited patiently on the ladder rungs as Anna produced a pair of sneakers from her closet and proceeded to put them on. Once she had done so, she returned to the windowsill.

"What now?" she asked coyly.

Stepping down the ladder, Jackson instructed her, "Follow me."

Seeing the ladder, Anna momentarily shrunk back. "What if I fall?"

Annoyed, Jackson attempted to put on his sweetest, most convincing smile. "I promise I'll catch you."

Hesitating for a minute, Anna gingerly climbed onto her windowsill before lowering herself onto the ladder. Turning around to face the ladder rungs, she gripped the sides of the wooden ladder tightly as she slo-o-owly climbed down the ladder rungs, Jackson having reached the ground within ten seconds.

When she finally made it to the bottom and off of the ladder, Jackson asked her, "There, was that so bad?" Anna gave him a look as though he'd asked whether the sky was blue or the grass was green.

Ignoring the expression on her face, Jackson asked, "Shall we?" before walking off towards the woods, Anna following directly behind him, unaccompanied by "Uncle Joey", to Jackson's delight.

As they wandered their way through the foliage, Jackson felt his left pocket. Sure enough, his switchblade was right where it was supposed to be. And the feeling of cold metal against his lower back reminded him that Sal's pistol was still tucked into his waistband, hidden from view by the long T-shirt and jacket.

Looking over at Anna, Jackson noticed that, unlike him, she wasn't wearing any sort of jacket over her flimsy T-shirt. "You cold?" he inquired.

She shook her head. "Nah."

"You sure? It's December, it's nighttime, and all you're wearing is a T-shirt."

Anna nodded. "Trust me, this is nothing. Once you've lived through February in Vermont, nothing seems cold anymore, especially once you're down south."

Jackson chuckled a little. "So that's why you're dressed so lightly?"

"Exactly! I mean, I'm used to positively freezing temperatures in the winter, but it's not that cold here. But everyone's still dressed up like there's a blizzard going on!"

Curious, Jackson asked, "Have you seen a lot of blizzards?"

Anna nodded. "Yeah, why?"

Frowning a little, Jackson replied, "…I don't think I've ever seen snow before. At least, if I did, I've forgotten."

Anna seemed absolutely horrified, as though this were the most terrible thing she could imagine happening to a fellow human being. "Oh, that's sad!"

Jackson laughed a little. "Yeah, I'm a deprived child."

The trees around them were beginning to grow scarcer, and Jackson could see in the near distance the point where they actually stopped. Grabbing Anna's wrist, he led her the last several yards, until they stood in front of the location he'd been leading her to this whole time.

"Well," Jackson murmured, "we're here."

Anna gaped. Jackson had led to a pond located in the middle of the forest, a haven for the fishers and swimmers in town. It was one of the prettier sights in the area, and the way the moonlight glinted off its surface, it had an almost ethereal quality to it. He and Jonathan had discovered it when they were little one afternoon, and had visited many times since.

"Jackson…it's so pretty!" Anna squealed. Jackson smiled. "I thought you'd like it. It's one of the more scenic parts of town, and it always looks best in the moonlight."

Delighted, Anna ran down the water's surface, crouching at the edge before running her fingers through the lake's liquid contents. Jackson said nothing, reaching into his left pocket to retrieve his switchblade before silently walking towards Anna.

Anna stood up, still facing the water. Her delight clearly written on her face, she turned to Jackson, her mouth open as though to speak. She never had the chance. Jackson's arm moved swiftly, and the blade slit her neck with ease.

Eyes wide, Anna fell backwards as blood poured out of her neck, running in rivulets over her rosary and onto her T-shirt. Jackson, grateful to be finally rid of his façade, grabbed Anna's hair and began to drag her closer to the lake before flipping her over and pushing her head beneath the surface.

After a few seconds, he lifted her head to see if she was still alive. As soon as he did so, she began to kick and flail with what little strength she had. Surprised, Jackson dropped her, and Anna scrambled for shore, blood still oozing out of her throat.

Snapping out of it, Jackson pounced on her from where he stood. "Stop fighting, dammit!" He twisted her around so that she lay on her back, and he could see by the way her chest was heaving that she was sobbing. Slapping her across the face several times in a row, Jackson hissed, "Quit trying to run. In three minutes, you're dead."

At this, Anna seemed to sob even harder, her mouth trying to form words that never escaped her lips. Having no sympathy for her whatsoever, Jackson sarcastically began to mock her. "Aw, does Anna have a boo-boo on her neck? Is that what it is? Want me to kiss it and make it all better?" Slapping her across the face once again, Jackson shrieked, "Is that what you want, you dirty whore?"

Not caring that Anna wasn't even dead yet, Jackson pulled a ball of twine out of his back pocket and began to unravel some. He planned to tie up Anna's wrists and ankles before dumping her into the lake. Even if she were to float to the top, the soonest she'd be discovered would be early the next morning, when some of the old men in town went fishing. By then, he'd be long gone.

But paranoia took over when a loud rustling came from about thirty feet away, accompanied by footsteps and low chattering. Jackson panicked, Sal's words echoing in his head. The prospect of having Sal and Kevin dispose of him seemed unappealing, to say the least, so he needed to get out of there.

Discarding the twine, Jackson picked up Anna and slung her over his shoulder as her breaths rattled through her lungs. She seemed to be in her last throes, but she had given up. She didn't even try to fight back as he jogged through the woods, carrying her the whole way.

As he went further into the woods, Jackson's heart beat rapidly as he started to panic. Where could he go? He didn't want to risk going back to the lake, but how would he dispose of Anna?

His house. Jonathan. Jonathan would help him.

Jackson racked his brain, trying to remember when his father was coming home. A half-hour, at the earliest. Jackson decided that heading home was his best option, and he made his way in the direction of his house, Anna weeping quietly over his shoulder.

-----

As he headed out of the heart of the woods and closer to the fringe, Jackson's arms grew tired. Deciding that he was close enough to his house, he unceremoniously dumped Anna on the ground to see if she had actually died yet. Sure enough, she had finally given up the ghost, her face frozen and her eyes wide with terror.

Glancing over her corpse, Jackson felt a surge of realization. She was dead. She was actually, finally, irreversibly dead. A wave of emotions accompanied this revelation, and Jackson couldn't decide whether he felt exhilarated or sick.

Pushing these thoughts aside for the moment, Jackson reached down and grabbed a handful of leaved before scattering them across Anna's body. It was an amateurish attempt at covering her, to be sure, but he wanted her to be hidden somehow while he fetched Jonathan.

After a few more handfuls of leaves, Jackson turned towards the house and began to run. Pumping his legs as quickly as he could, Jackson tried to think. He needed to get rid of the body. Jonathan would help him, but they had to do something with the body. With very few options presenting themselves, Jackson decided that they'd simply have to bury her.

When he reached the house, he rapped loudly on his bedroom window, panting heavily. Anxiously hoping that Jonathan wasn't asleep, Jackson waited several seconds before Jonathan's face appeared at the window, looking concerned and confused. Upon seeing his older brother, Jonathan blinked in surprise before dashing to the backdoor. In the interim, Jackson leaned against the house, trying his best to catch his breath.

When Jonathan appeared in the backyard, he was taken aback by Jackson's harried appearance, as well as the blood staining his clothing. Stammering and surprised, Jonathan asked, "Where the hell have you been? What the hell is going on?"

Still tired and out of breath, Jackson managed to wheeze, "No time…to explain…I ran…as fast as I could…" Waving his hand in the general direction of the woods, Jackson continued, "You have…to help me…bury her…"

Perplexed and frightened, Jonathan shrieked, "Bury who? What the hell are you talking about?"

Not knowing quite how to respond yet, and his limbs still screaming in agony, Jackson grabbed Jonathan by the shoulders in a desperate attempt to appear in control. "Jonathan…don't ask questions. You just…just help me out, okay?"

Jonathan's eyes scanned Jackson's face, desperate for some kind of reassurance. When he found none, he swallowed hard. "O-okay."

Grabbing Jonathan's hand, Jackson led him back to Anna, not sure how to explain any of this to his younger brother. As they neared the corpse, Jackson decided that Anna would probably be able to explain things better than he ever could.

As he cleared the leaves off of the still warm carcass, Jackson noted the horror on Jonathan's face, the blood draining out of his face.

"Jackson, you…you didn't…"

Jackson remained silent, but he knew that he looked as guilty as could be. He had her blood all over his clothing, for crying out loud. There really wasn't much to say.

"Jackson…why-"

Coldly, Jackson explained, "I told you that a guy offered me a job. He offered me a thousand dollars to kill her for him." He didn't look at Jonathan as he said this, instead choosing to stare at the rosary lying askew around Anna's neck. The plastic beads lay haphazardly, the string connecting them stained red by Anna's blood. The crucifix portion lay helplessly by Anna's side, unable to do anything to save its wearer or itself.

Inwardly, some sick, twisted part if him wanted to laugh. She'd thought an angel would come to save her, just like her uncle had told her. Well, her uncle was wrong. And what was the other part she'd said? That a devil would come to avenge her?

"Let's see your devil get me now," Jackson thought as he glanced towards Jonathan. Reaching down, Jackson grabbed Anna's corpse by the arms as he instructed Jonathan, "Help me bring her to the backyard. We can bury her there."

Jonathan nodded weakly, then grabbed Anna by the legs. They managed to make it back to their yard in a few minutes, Anna's bloody cadaver swinging between them the whole way.

-----

It wasn't very long after this exchange that Jackson found himself standing over three dead bodies: Anna's, and his parents'. Not exactly how he'd figured the night would end.

Dragging his father's heavy corpse into the house, Jackson couldn't help but feel somewhat overwhelmed. He honestly hadn't expected to see his parents home so soon. It had been instinct, really, that made him pull out the gun. He's needed to get rid of his father, and he had. Simple as that.

Propping the body so that it lay on the couch, Jackson wondered what went through his father's head when he saw his two sons standing over Anna's carcass. Had it finally sunk in that his boys were dangerous, violent people for one single moment before he died? Or had he inwardly clung to the hope that there was some innocent explanation for it all, just as he had all his life?

Jackson went back outside and began dragging his mother by her wrists into the house. He'd put her in her room, splayed on the mattress as she usually was when she was home. Nothing too unusual, save the bullets riddled throughout her body.

Inwardly, Jackson couldn't figure out whether his mother's death made him happy or upset. On the one hand, the bitch was finally dead. That fucking whore had gotten her just desserts, and would never be able to satisfy any man's desires. Unless he was a necrophiliac. But still, her days of adultery were over once and for all.

On the other hand…it had been Jonathan who'd done it. Jonathan. Jackson had wanted for so long to see his mother suffer, and when it had finally happened, it had been delivered at the hands of his brother. His brother.

To be perfectly honest, Jonathan's actions that night had surprised him. He'd always known that Jonathan was a capable psychopath, but he didn't know if he had it in him to kill a fellow human being. When Jackson had first heard his mother begin to scream, his first instinct had been to rip the gun out of Jonathan's hands and riddle her with as many bullets as the tiny pistol would allow. When he'd turned to see his brother shooting their mother, he'd been shocked.

It had played out before Jackson's eyes like a tape in slow motion, the way the bullets had entered her body. First there was one to the thigh, sending her to the ground. Then one to the shoulder. Then to the chest and, finally, one to the face, silencing her forever.

After dumping his mother on her mattress, Jackson went back outside to retrieve Anna, who was still sprawled on the grass in the backyard. He smirked a little as he carried her in his arms towards the house, glad that her annoying voice would never ring in his head again. She was like his mother in ways that enraged him. She'd lied outright to him about her bodyguard, the same way his mother deceived his father. And if she'd kissed a boy she'd only met that morning, who was to say that she wasn't a slut who'd invite any man to bed with her? Come to think of it, she probably would, wouldn't she? Perhaps if Sal hadn't come when he did, she would have tried to seduce him.

As he entered his room, bearing Anna's body in his arms, Jackson wondered if all women were lying whores.

Gracelessly, Jackson dumped Anna onto his mattress, her limbs flailed haphazardly across his bed. Some part of Jackson wanted to laugh. The first girl he'd ever gotten in his bed, and she was a corpse.

He made a move to leave the room, but paused when he reached the doorway. Going back, he removed the rosary from Anna's neck quietly and then stuffed it into his pocket.

As he made his way back to his father's tool shed, Jackson reviewed how the house would appear when the firemen came to douse the blaze. One body in his parents' bed, one in his, and one on the couch. With Jonathan wandering out in the woods, it would be easy for them to figure that it was the bodies of Frank, Selena, and Jackson Crane. Picking up a can of gasoline, Jackson grinned. If he doused enough gas on the bodies, they should be unrecognizable by the time they reached the morgue.

It took only a few minutes to completely cover the house with gasoline. Jackson took extra care to cover Anna with the stuff, so there'd be no question as to the identity of the teenager-sized body. After retrieving a pack of matches from his mother's purse, Jackson stood at the front door of his house and looked at it for the last time. Without a single feeling of regret or grief, Jackson lit the match and tossed it into the puddle of gasoline lying only a few feet away.

And without looking back, he ran.

-----

When they'd gotten back to Jonathan's apartment, the two brothers avoided each other for the rest of the evening. Even in a four room apartment like Jonathan's, it really wasn't that difficult. Jackson stayed on the couch in the den, reading some novel or another, while Jonathan went into his room to work on some of his case files. At one point, he went out to the kitchen to grab something to eat, bypassing Jackson along the way. The two said nothing, and it seemed to go unnoticed that Jonathan left half a sandwich out on the kitchen table. When Jonathan returned later that night, though, he found the sandwich gone and Jackson asleep.

It had been about midnight when Jonathan wandered into the living room. He hadn't come under any pretense, but some small part of him just wanted to go. When he did, he wasn't surprised to see Jackson lying asleep on the couch, as he had every night since he'd arrived. But what did surprise him, just as it surprised him every time he stumbled upon the sleeping Jackson, was the innocent expression he seemed to wear as he slept.

How was it possible that a man with so much blood on his hands could seem like a child while sleeping? Jonathan could testify that he'd murdered at least two people. And if it was true that he was an assassin, then there must be dozens upon dozens of deaths on his hands. He was cruel, he was manipulative, he was selfish. Hell, he was a regular Lady Macbeth, and Jonathan need only close his eyes to see a stream of blood descending from his palms and winding around his wrists.

Yet he seemed almost like a child now, and Jonathan couldn't imagine what made him look like one.

The eyes. That was it. As he lay sleeping, those chilly blue eyes remained closed, and no one could see the frightening power and malevolence that they held. They were weapons in and of themselves, and they held a hypnotic power over anyone they dared to set their focus on. Jonathan knew it better than anyone else; he'd seen their influence at work for his first fourteen years of life.

Some part of Jonathan was curious as to what exactly Jackson had been doing for those thirteen years that they had been separated. He knew that he'd become an assassin, but that was about it. Where did he go? Who did he work for? What kind of people did he kill? Where did he get that briefcase full of money? These questions swam around in his head, but he didn't dare ask. If he did, Jackson would feel entitled to pry into what he'd been up to, which might lead to discoveries concerning a certain Henri Ducard and Carmine Falcone. And he couldn't allow that to happen, not when things were going so well for Ra's Al Ghul's plan.

Still, this didn't quench his curiosity towards his brother.

Spying a small, leather item on his coffee table, Jonathan furrowed his brow and picked it up. It was a wallet, with the initials 'JR' inscribed on it. Jonathan rolled his eyes. Once again with this "Jackson Rippner" shit.

Not really caring that he was prying (after all, hadn't Jackson just followed him around the Narrows?), Jonathan peered inside to see what Jackson contained within.

There was no ID, nothing that would indicate and kind of identity for the man bearing the wallet. There was some cash inside, but no credit cards or anything like that. There was, however, a photograph.

It was of a girl, probably no more than 17 or 18 years old. She was smiling brightly, and it was obvious that the photo was one of those ones that high schools use to torment their students into sitting still. This girl, however, seemed genuinely happy, her smile radiant and authentic. She was wearing some sort of uniform, her hair tied back in a tight braid as stared at the camera.

Jonathan frowned. Who was she? Checking the back of the photo, there was no name or date or anything else that might give him a clue as to her identity. Jonathan began to rack his brain for all the possible relationships this girl could have to Jackson. His daughter? No, definitely not. Jackson was too young to have a daughter in high school.

Jonathan noticed that the photo was somewhat fuzzy, and he wondered if the picture might be several years old. If that was the case, then the girl could have grown up, and possibly be near Jackson's age. If that was the case, then could she be a coworker? A friend? A lover? A wife?

Jonathan wasn't really sure he wanted to entertain that possibility.

Putting down the wallet, Jonathan returned to his room, thinking over the photo and what it might mean. As he drifted off to sleep, he couldn't help but wonder what made her so different that Jackson kept a picture of her with him.

-----

His house aflame and most of his family dead, Jackson managed to make it to Sal's car under the cover of night, covered in blood and reeking of ash and smoke.

Sitting in the driver's seat was Sal, while Kevin occupied the passenger side. Jackson climbed into the back of the car without a word, a wave of tiredness sweeping over him as he realized how late it was at night.

Kevin turned around to look at him and, upon seeing his haggard appearance, let out a low whistle. "Shit, kid."

Sal started the engine, and the radio began to play the Rolling Stones' "Sympathy for the Devil" as they began to drive away. "So how'd it go?"

Leaning his elbows on his knees, Jackson replied emotionlessly, "I slit her throat and left her in my house, then set the house on fire."

Kevin seemed a little surprised by this. "You set your house on fire?"

Sal shook his head. "Your parents are gonna be pissed."

"They're dead."

Sal blinked, then looked at Jackson through the rearview mirror. "What?"

"They're dead. They found me and my brother trying to bury Anna, so we killed them. Then I put all of the bodies in the house and set it on fire. After that, I came here."

Whether Sal was surprised by the fact that he'd carried out the murders of both his parents, or by the unemotional calm with which he'd recalled it, Jackson couldn't tell. Either way, the look on his face was one of anxiety, though Jackson couldn't tell on whose behalf it was for.

Kevin, on the other hand, seemed quite impressed. "So how'd it feel, kid? Your first official kill?"

Jackson thought over this. "Tired," he said. "Drained."

Kevin chuckled. "Don't worry, your first assignment never turns out like you think it will. It's one of the many ways that murder is just like sex."

Sal, still appearing on edge, asked, "What happened to your brother?"

Jackson shrugged. "I don't know. I think he's out in the woods somewhere."

Sal ran his fingers through his hair while still keeping his focus on the road ahead. "But he knows, right? He saw Anna's body?"

"Yeah, but he killed our mother to cover it up." Jackson grinned a little, wrapping his arms around his legs and resting his chin on his knees. "I wouldn't worry about my brother. He's not going to rat me out."

Sal exchanged a glance with Kevin, who merely shrugged. Sighing, he returned his eyes to the road with the attitude of one who has no control whatsoever over what the future holds.

"Where are we going?" Jackson asked suddenly, realizing that he had no clue exactly what they were doing or where they were heading.

Kevin answered right after taking a sip from a can of beer, his whole attitude relaxed and fearless. "We're heading back to the motel. We'll get some shut eye, check out tomorrow morning, and then start the drive to Miami."

Jackson nodded, grateful for the excuse to get some sleep. After all of the events of the night, he simply wanted to close his eyes and forget everything that had just happened. When Sal and Kevin said nothing more, the motions of the car began to lull him to sleep, and he probably would have remained slumbering if it were not for the fact that they pulled up to the motel parking lot a few minutes later.

-----

At about three in the morning, Jackson found himself staring out the motel room window, a case of insomnia having struck him with a vengeance. Try as he might, every time he lay down on the cot Sal and Kevin had set up for him, he could never last five minutes without tossing and turning. Something was bothering him, and he knew what it was.

Jackson sat up and slid off the cot, deciding what to do. Quickly, he pulled on his jacket and sneakers before pushing open the door to their motel room and slipping out quietly.

He made it about halfway across the parking lot when he suddenly heard a loud, "Hey!" Turning around, he saw Sal standing by the door, his pistol out and aimed directly at Jackson.


"Where the fuck do you think you're going?" Sal asked loudly, not seeming to care that it was three in the morning and everyone else was asleep.

A bit surprised by the gun being aimed at him, Jackson replied, "Shit, Sal, I'm gonna be right back!"

"That's not an answer," Sal said as he cocked the gun, looking even more anxious than he had in the car.

"Sal, it's no big deal! I'll be back in ten minutes!"

"Bullshit. You chickened out, didn't you?"

Jackson shook his head fervently, not wanting to incur his wrath. "Sal, that's not it!"

"Then what is it?"

Jackson sighed. "I was gonna go say goodbye."

Confused, Sal inquired, "To who?"

"To my brother. Last I saw him, I was waving a gun in his face, and if I'm never gonna see him again, I figure it's the least I can do."

Sal glanced over Jackson's face for any traces of insincerity, any hint that he might be lying. When he found none, he sighed with resignation and lowered the gun. Tucking the gun in his waistband, he asked, "Do you know where he is?"

Jackson thought about this for a second. "Probably with the Harrisons. Their dad works with…he worked with my dad."

Sighing again, Sal asked, "Do you know where they live?"

"Yeah, they're about a half-mile from where my house used to be."

Sal looked at Jackson for a minute, apparently weighing his options. Eventually, he just shook his head a little before muttering, "Fine. But I'm driving you there, and you'd better be quick about it."

Jackson nodded. "Sure thing."

-----

It was only ten minutes later that Jackson found himself climbing into the first story window of the Harrisons' house, Sal sitting in the car about half a block away. Trying his best not to make any noise, Jackson slid open the window, grateful for the fact that it was unlocked. Peering inside, he could see Jonathan sound asleep in the guest bedroom, covered in soot from what Jackson could only guess was the fire. Jackson's heart sank when he realized that Jonathan must have gone back for him, and he wondered what he'd thought when he'd been missing.

Jackson landed with a 'thud' as he jumped to the floor from the window frame. The noise didn't wake Jonathan, and Jackson could only hope that he hadn't awoken anyone else in the house, either.

Standing upright from his landing position, Jackson hissed at his brother, "Scarecrow! Scarecrow, wake up!"

Receiving no response, Jackson quietly treaded up to the younger boy and shook him roughly, continuing to hiss, "Scarecrow!"

After a few seconds, Jonathan stirred, sitting up slowly and squinting at Jackson with near-sighted eyes.

"Jackson…?"

Jackson nodded, sitting down on the edge of the mattress. "It's me. Listen to me: I'm leaving, okay? I'm going away somewhere, and I'm not going to be able to see you again."

Jonathan, still not fully awake, mumbled, "Wha…?"

Jackson grabbed his younger brother firmly by the shoulders and said resolutely, "I'm not going to see you ever again. I killed Anna and Dad, remember?"

Jonathan blinked, and his eyes widened in understanding. Jackson continued, reiterating, "They're going to take me away so I can work for them. I'm not allowed to see you ever again. Do you understand?"

Jonathan, still not sounding completely awake yet, said, "Then take me with you. Don't leave me behind."

Jackson shook his head. "I can't. It's too dangerous."

Biting his lip, Jackson wrapped his arms around his brother and held him tightly. Sinking his chin into Jonathan's shoulder, he whispered, "It'll be okay. You're gonna be fine. You don't need me anymore, you got that?"

Jonathan nodded, sinking into his brother's arms, seeming to accept that this would be the last time they ever saw each other.

Pulling out of the embrace, Jackson murmured, "I have to go." Staring his brother straight in the eye, he stated firmly for the last time, "It'll be alright. You're going to do fine without me."

With that, Jackson stood up and walked to the window, not looking back as he climbed through its wooden frame. Without a single glance behind him, he ran across the lawn to Sal's car, abandoning the only family he still had left.

-----

Jonathan fell asleep without delay, still exhausted from the events of that night. When he awoke the next morning, he could vaguely remember dreaming of Jackson sitting on the edge of his mattress. His memory of the dream was hazy and incomplete, and within a few hours, he had forgotten about it completely.