2

If you wanted to ask Sam's opinion on this new voting system they'd employed, he'd had laughed in your face and maybe spat some obscene words at you. Sam was not happy when his vote was suddenly not counted. He was apparently underage and was no longer given the right to make life changing decisions. He thought it would have been nice if Spencer had stuck up for him. After all this was their own little democracy and he wanted his thoughts heard and suddenly it had turned into a dictatorship with Floyd once again making final decisions in everything they did. This was everything from when they stopped off to have a piss in the bushes to what they were allowed to wear. Sam was angry. He was more than angry. Sam was positively mutinous and he wasn't interested in Spencer's reasons for putting all his eggs in Floyd's basket. Spencer's reasons didn't interest Sam even slightly. What Sam wanted was equality and that had been ripped out from under his feet when he got a cigarette burn on the coffee table and then again exploded into a frenzy of food lobbing when Spencer placed a bowl of something dried out and disgusting on the table for him to eat.

The coffee table burning had resulted in a wobbly tooth and a bloody nose. The might of Floyd's fury was unleashed and Sam spent the night in the bathtub (sans water) because Floyd refused to let him in the bedroom and told Sam that he didn't like dogs sleeping on the couch. Sam was also banned from smoking in the apartment which didn't help Sam's feeling that he was the most oppressed being on the planet.

Again he would have liked Spencer to have spoken up and stopped the beating he got, but Spencer sat there and ate his food in silence and said nothing. It was like the punches and kicks going on two foot away from Spencer weren't actually happening.

When were things going to be this glorious happiness that Spencer had suggested and Floyd sort of promised? (Though he never actually used that word and that was also something which concerned Sam as Floyd taped his hands behind his back and stuck duck tape over his mouth.) He'd looked at Spencer with pleading eyes… but Spencer again ignored this obvious abuse and let Floyd carry on doing whatever he wanted. It seemed that the voting system had been completely abandoned. Floyd was going to move them into a house out on the east coast and he was once again going to drag them along with him whether they liked it or not.

There was small chance of being able to ask if they could stop and let him have a piss. He was virtually crippled with pain by the time they finally pulled over at a small dirty rest stop somewhere in the middle of nowhere. Spencer had already jogged off to go and do his necessary when Floyd opened the rear doors on the big dark car and let Sam out.

'You fucking bastard!' Sam cried as the tape was torn from his face and urine soaked the front of his jeans. 'Why do you do this shit to me?'

There was no answer, but Floyd pointed in the direction of the grubby brick built building and smirked. For Sam it was too little much too late. The sudden movement and being hauled from the car had given Sam's bladder the opportunity it had been waiting for. Right there, standing at the side of the road, Sam hated Floyd with every breath in his body. His face stung, his body ached and his fingers tingled wildly as blood his circulation started to work properly again. Floyd didn't go in that nasty little building. He peed into the undergrowth and then lit up and waited for Spencer.

'Why do you treat him OK and not me?' Sam now asked as he pulled and plucked at his wet clothing.

Now Floyd looked at Sam and the smirk on his face drifted away and was replaced by something cold. It was something Sam didn't like the look of too much. 'Because I love him.' The words dripped with such insincerity that it made Sam flinch back. 'Why do you think?'

Sam didn't know. Maybe Spencer didn't fight back? Maybe Spencer never complained? 'Because he's a lost compliant fucker.' Sam said with an honest hiss. 'He'll do whatever you want because he wants you to love him.'

'Ah.' Floyd's smirk came back. 'There you have your answer. You want to be loved? Then you do what I tell you, when I tell you and you issue me no complaints. Can you see how much nicer life would be if I could trust you?'

'Can you see how much nicer I would be if you didn't tie me up and gag me just because I don't want to go to a fucking shit-splat town in the back of beyond. I thought that we were meant to decide together. You can't just remove my rights on a whim.'

Floyd flicked his glowing cheroot at Sam. 'Sure I can.' He told him. 'One can trust a dog, but when that dog starts snapping, one should tie it up and teach it not to bite.'

'I'm not a damned dog!' Sam howled…

'You are going through a very immature phase, Sam. Get back in the car. One more complaint and I tie you up again. You want a chance, then take it, don't abuse it.'

'So you can hit me and hurt me and if I complain about it you'll do it again because I complained?'

'See! You're learning already. Get in the fucking car.'

'That's not fair! You can't treat me like that. I have a right to say if I don't like something.'

'You have no rights. You have nothing. Prove your loyalty as Spencer did. Prove to me that you are mine and only mine. Show me that you want me and only me. Stop fighting me on every command. Behave like a loyal servant and you'll be treated as one. Get in – the fucking – CAR!'

Sam did as he was told. Not because he wanted to but because there wasn't anything to do and he didn't want Floyd or Spencer driving off and leaving him here alone. All he wanted was for the other two to treat him with some respect and though Spencer never hit him, it was just as bad not defending him… Sam was with them both, but he was also so very lonely that he might as well have been alone.

o-o-o

Spencer saw things slightly differently. Sam was a pain. Sam would agree with nothing. If they wanted to go get food, Sam would be the one wanting a burger when the other two wanted pizza… always the same. Sam always had to put his foot down and have his voice heard as though it would make any difference. Spencer was with it enough to know that this democracy was a farce and had only been put in place to shut Sam up in the first place. Spencer knew that there was no point in going against what Floyd wanted. There was no point in arguing with him over something like who slept in the middle. There was no point in saying that he wanted to read one book, if Floyd wanted to read another. There was also absolutely zero point in telling Floyd that he didn't want to move to this place called Sanctuary because Floyd's mind was already made up.

There was violence.

It wouldn't be them if there was none.

Sam seemed to instigate it most times and once and only once Spencer had tried to step in and stop it. Floyd had Sam around the neck and was battering him against the wall. And if the scene had been noted by someone else they would have said how Spencer had moved forwards and pulled Floyds away. They would have said how Floyd then turned on Spencer and lashed out at him as Sam slumped to the floor and crawled away. It would have looked like a heroic act, but Spencer didn't do it to be a hero. He didn't even do it to help Sam… he did it out of a jealous rage. He could see what Floyd was doing. He could see how Floyd was loving the kicking struggling thing… and the adrenaline swamped Spencer and forced him to act because Spencer wanted Floyd to be doing that to him and not to Sam! But all he got as a result was a black eye and a sore hand. The other beatings Sam had taken were general smacks. Spencer was sure that Sam deserved them. He was sure that Floyd was just playing with him and Spencer planned on talking to Sam about it as soon as they were alone. Not that Sam would listen.

He'd not had the chance to see him alone so far.

Moving out to Sanctuary wasn't Spencer's idea of fun. He was still sure that he'd seen the place before, but perversely the closer they got to it the more he doubted him self and wondered if it was a false memory he'd had. The place names surrounding this small town weren't familiar. The lay of the roads didn't make him feel that he'd been there before. He was sure that as part of the BAU he'd never been here. He was very sure that this wasn't the location of an old case. Maybe just something he'd read about.

He'd relieved himself in the dirty restroom at the side of the road. Secretly he'd been hoping that Floyd would join him. Spencer loved slow comfortable love making, but he also liked seedy, grubby, painful sex. Both satisfied him and this disgusting restroom with over flowing bins and damp tiled floor and cracked basins would have suited Spencer fine. Floyd stayed by the car though and sneak peeks had shown that Floyd had untied Sam and was talking to him. Sam looked mad… and probably had a right to feel mad. He'd been tied up on the back seat of the car for five hours or more. Neither of them came to the restrooms though. Spencer watched Floyd go in the bushes and it seemed that Sam had wet himself again. Spencer wondered if the boy needed adult incontinence pants and would discuss this with him at some point.

'Play the game, Sam.' Spencer said to himself as he watched through the cracked window. 'Just play his game and he'll give you anything you ask for. Why can't you see that?' Spencer didn't know why Sam didn't just stop complaining and do what was needed to settle down and be happy. What was it that Sam needed so much that he couldn't get by being compliant, obedient and submissive? Sure, fight occasionally but don't make it all you ever do. 'Just do what he wants.' Spencer whispered to himself.

He moved quickly away from the window and joined Floyd again on the broken blacktop parking area. He gave him a loving smile, but didn't get one back again. This was going to be a long journey… longer in stress levels than in mileage. 'Is everything all right?' Spencer glanced sideways in Sam's direction. 'A problem?'

'A problem?' Floyd echoed. 'Only that we're still here and you didn't wash your hands… dirty mother fucker.'

Was there a point in explaining that the wash basins had more germs on them than where he'd had his hands? No… no point. Spencer pulled open the car door and grabbed the wet wipes off the dash and used those to clean his hands. He then passed the pack to Floyd… he could either use them himself or put them back. Spencer didn't care. He also grabbed the bottle of water they'd been sharing and firstly offered some to Sam, how gulped a few mouthfuls back and actually deigned to show slight gratitude. Spencer got behind the steering wheel again and once Floyd was ensconced back in the passenger seat and once he had checked that Sam was strapped in, they set off again in virtual silence.

o-o-o

In Floyd's mind, Spencer was being a fawning, obsequious toady. He wasn't sure what was driving Spencer to be so blindingly irritating, but he was being exactly that. As for Sam? If he didn't owe his current situation to the lad then he'd have broken his neck and fed him to the fishes days ago. But Floyd did actually think that he owed Sam something for getting back what had been missing… and then putting him in the position that he had to eat it. So… for now Sam was safe from hanging or drowning… or fatal crushing damage, or falling in front of trains, cars… off bridges into traffic, water, a handy fucking tar pit! The time would eventually arrive that Floyd could no longer deal with Sam… and then all he'd have was Spencer who seemed to have lost all will power and would happily shave his head and have a skull tattooed on his face if Floyd told him to… and it would be without question. He'd just go do it… and that angered Floyd too. One fighting against everything and the other so weak minded that he'd actually follow the orders of 'eat shit and die,' had Floyd asked him to and actually it bothered Floyd that he was too worried about the outcome to test that theory.

He wanted to go back to Sanctuary. It was a nice place. A small town which had once been even smaller, but thirty or was it fifty… years ago when the bulk of the town had been pretty in wood, there had been a drought. Nothing too bad but the old wooden buildings became kindling to the fire which raged through with such suddenness and fury that it had once been suggested that it wasn't natural at all but had been a malicious act of arson. Either way the end result was the same, the outlaying buildings still stood, the whole of the centre of the town was gone. Fortunately no one had died, but it meant that a local architect had been employed to design their new town. He was young and he liked a lot of glass and concrete and that's what the town got… from the remains of the old wooden buildings shot up the most vile and hideous town on the east coast. It was this oddity that had drawn Floyd here years later. He had read of the place which stood like a small bit of LA stuck in the middle of NE… and it was wrong, very wrong and looked like a movie set or a mistake… a carbuncle on the countryside…

There amongst this hideous monstrosity were a few very beautiful things. He picked them out and looked at them and they made his stomach twist with need. Oh how he had needed that summer he spent here. He'd needed so badly. But they grew like a yellow poppy in a junk yard, they were so frail and sweet and bright and perfect and they looked at him with such knowing… 'I know what you are, and if you pluck me I will scream.' That's what they seemed to be saying and that lured Floyd in all the more. Those beautiful boys… with yellow hair.

He waited outside the school every day for a week before being told by a member of staff that if he didn't have a child in the school then he needed to go away or they would call the cops, but it didn't matter because by then Floyd realised that those precious sweet things didn't come to this school anyway.

He staked out the house.

There was a ridge at the back with a row of trees. Below the ridge and going down to the house was a field of horses. To the right of the house were the chickens, but it was all good. He could watch from the ridge. He lay down amongst the tall summer grasses and watched carefully as the boys came out of the house with their mother who was tall and slender and always immaculate. She had a secret though. A deep, deep secret which Floyd wanted to find out more about. The father of the children was typical of his area… slightly over weight… a bullish man with no time for strangers even back then when there didn't seem to be a reason to want to keep to yourself. He had secrets too. As it happened so did the boys. Floyd could feel that secrecy rolling over those fields as the mother watched her boys calling for the horses and then rubbing at the sweet grass scented noses of the beasts before going back to the front of the house. A row of boys in height order, like a row of ducks walking after their mother to the water.

Only that wasn't their mother. Sure it was their father, but that tall beautiful thing wasn't their mother. He knew. He could smell it. He could smell the lies and fakery. And he intended to break that happy family. He intended to snap them and trample them under his feet.

o-o-o

They drove through the town with Spencer at the wheel slowly looking around at the odd place. It really was out of place. It was like something had transported this place from the other side of the country. The street Spencer was driving down was mainly retail businesses. A few apartment blocks had managed to squash their way in between them, but mostly it was stores, bars, eateries, fast food… Floyd had told them that this place had suddenly swollen in numbers of residents. It had gone from a burnt out sleepy backwoods shit hole to a vibrant and busy place. There was a large factory and warehouse complex which kept most locals here and even had some commuting in every day. It was a little bit of city in the forest… and Floyd pointed out that though he had nothing really against places like this, they all had their place and whoever decided that this was the place for this ought to be hung drawn and quartered. The land to the west was slowly becoming poisoned by the fumes of traffic and the multiple landfills. But… and he made his case for coming here now… there is a good library and schools. 'There's night life and it's a very confined area which just peters out and becomes what you'd expect.'

Sam sat looking at where he was going to have to come for any excitement if they really had to move here. He noted a big sign saying that there was a hospital, which was good and there was a flickering sign saying FunParlour which intrigued him. This was a smart, clean place if not a little bit dull.

For Spencer it was just another town in another place and he had doubts that he'd have to get used to it. He didn't care much for the look of the place and he didn't think he'd be back here any time soon. As with everything Floyd tried to push them into, they never stayed long. It therefore didn't concern Spencer overly that the place felt odd and wrong. He turned and looked at Sam sitting there in the backseat and wondered why he'd not asked to get out… then the smell of sour urine hit him and he thought that was probably the reason and maybe even the reason that Floyd had virtually planned that Sam would be a mess before they arrived. Floyd didn't want Sam asking to get out and wonder around.

'Pull over at that motel.' Floyd pointed the place out and Spencer pulled over into a parking lot with bays marked in different colours. It was overly bright and too jolly… again it didn't fit with the rural surroundings.

'I don't know why you don't just by a motel and be done with it.' Sam sighed. 'We spend more time in them than at home and I'm bored of the tired décor and the excuses and lies we keep having to tell. I want to settle down somewhere. Where's this house? Can't we go straight there and stop fucking around?'

Now Floyd turned to look at Sam. To Sam, Floyd looked stressed and tired. 'Firstly I thought you'd want something to eat, a shower, a change of clothes. First impressions and all? Secondly Spencer needs a rest from driving. Thirdly I do own a motel in Vegas. I think that's all my points for now.'

They had sandwiches and coffee and some chocolate cake. Sam declared that though the sandwich was slightly curled at the edges, it wasn't poisoned and Spencer handed cremated it or defiled it in any form and it was actually the best food he'd eaten in what seemed like years. He then went and showered and got a change of clothes. Spencer laid back on the bed and rested his aching back and Floyd sat on the other bed and pulled out a hair tie from his pocket. Floyd's hair was just long enough to tie back now and that's what he did. Spencer gave him a curious look but asked no questions yet. It was when Floyd stripped off his clothes and put on one of Spencer's Tshirts and a pair of baggy blue jeans that Spencer asked what the hell was going on. It was almost as though Floyd was putting on a disguise. He never wore Tshirts unless he was forced to and the jeans looked as though they'd seen many a better day. The rubber boots he pulled out of his bag and slipped over his feet instead of his usual boots was the next thing to raise and eyebrow from Spencer. 'So, what's going on?' he asked Floyd who pulled one of Sam's baseball caps over his head with the peek down low at the front. 'Hiding from someone? Because if that's the case then I want to know who and why.'

Floyd pulled the cap off and dropped it to the bed and sat down again, this time next to Spencer. 'Thing is that it's a building site and I don't want clay or mud on my clothes and I don't want to go in there looking like a townie. That's all well and good for you, but it's not me. There's something else I want to discuss with you as Sam is out of earshot.' He flopped back on the bed and elbowed Spencer in the ribs to give him more room. The pair of them lay with hands touching and eyes looking at the ceiling. 'You remember when Iolanda did his deed with the dogs… someone took one of my toes.'

'I know. I thought you would have sorted that out by now.' Spencer turned to look at Floyd's face in profile and his stomach hitched with happiness. His Floyd. His beautiful perfect man… next to him on the bed… and for now at least, no pain, just comfort and the feeling of total security. The scar on his arm tingled as the blood rushed through him hot and ready for anything.

'I didn't know who had it. I'm still not sure, but it is something I need to sort out. Not yet. I really want this place to work out for us. I've had a look at the school and Sam might even get some form of actual education. There's absolutely no reason that you need to go work. You will be my kept man. My little whore. You can pay me back with long glorious sessions in bed. What do you think? For once do you think we can actually do this and be happy?'

Spencer would love to think that. He really would, but he didn't think it was going to work any more than all the other attempts to do something like this had worked and now this odd look Floyd had… it wasn't because he didn't want to get his clothes dirty. Since when had something like that bothered Floyd. He was the biggest slob when it came to personal hygiene so mud getting on his clothes wasn't the reason. And if it was, it wouldn't explain the hair and cap. Was there a point in asking him further and quizzing him on this? No… no point and anyway Sam was back and dressed and kneeling on the end of the bed trying to nudge his way into the perfection Spencer had been feeling. That was gone now that Sam was here… the slight temptation to tell Sam to go away didn't stay long. It was easier to get off the bed and let Sam think he'd won, but it wasn't Sam who had had that perfect few moments with Floyd. And Spencer didn't bother answering Floyd's question about if they could be happy, because Floyd would hear Spencer's lie and Spencer knew that this was going to be as big a disaster as anyone could imagine.

An hour later they stood together looking at the house Floyd had bought. He waved someone over and collected up three hard hats… one for each of them. There was no mud. The area was actually very dry and dusty. Floyd now had his hard hat pulled down low and was walking with his head down over towards the house.

'What the fuck is wrong with him now?' Sam pulled on Spencer's sleeve. 'Do you get the feeling that he doesn't want people to recognise him?' Sam could clearly see that even the way Floyd was walking, which was distinctive enough if you knew him, had changed slightly.

'I don't know.' Spencer admitted. 'Just go along and play the game for goodness sake. Don't upset him. Things have been going so well recently.'

'Yeah?' Sam stepped back from Spencer. 'For you maybe.' He walked off towards the side of the house which faced them with the door in the middle and a window either side. Three stone steps led to the front door which Floyd was standing next to talking to a man in a hard yellow hat. Floyd turned and looked at Sam disappearing around the corner and then he looked at Spencer and gestured for him to come on over.

'They've started restoration on the interior.' Floyd smiled but didn't look relaxed. Floyd looked more as though he'd just seen or done something which he didn't want Spencer to know about. 'Come… I'll show you around. It really is beautiful.'

Spencer shuddered. There was something about this place. Something he didn't like. 'You said it was haunted?'

'Aya… but don't you worry about that. Why be scared of a ghost when you have an angel and a demon to keep you safe?' Floyd whispered into Spencer's ear. 'This is the hallway and obviously the stairs going up. Now I'm letting you know now that we'll not often need to use them because the master bedroom is on the ground floor to your right. Sam can have upstairs.'

'Oh…' Spencer peered up into the darkness and then turned to look at Floyd. 'And Sam will appreciate being put in a room away from us?'

'More to the point, will you appreciate it? Think on it. I thought it would be nice to give Sam somewhere he could bring friends home to. A den and shit… you know?'

'You are making some mighty assumptions. Sam make friends?' But Spencer walked into the lounge with the huge open fireplace and the new wooden flooring. The walls had all be re-plastered and the ceilings were all new. The place had been completely stripped back to the bare bones. Through the large lounge was the dining room and then a huge kitchen with a flight of stairs going up off the end of it.

'Those stairs go to a room above the garage. It used to be part of the old barn. It's going to be a place for the adults to rest and relax when the kids are playing.'

Spencer frowned but walked on through and stood at the bottom of the stairs. 'What kids?' Spencer asked. 'Sam and his friends?'

'Who else. So what do you think? Do you like the place? I'm getting the rear field fenced in again and we can have horses out there. I'll get Sam a small motorbike or a car if he'd prefer so he can get into town easier. I don't want him to feel cut off. I want him to explore and learn and have fun. I want him to feel part of a family and not just someone added on. You understand? I wish I could provide him with normality, but this is as close as it's going to get.'

A noise behind them… a cough. They both turned to look at Sam. He had red botches of fury high on his cheeks. 'I'm not living here.' He snapped at Floyd. 'You deceitful bastard. I'm not living in this place. You can strip it out all you fucking well want, but this wasn't going cheep because of a fucking ghost. How could you lie like that? I would have been the damned laughing stock of the town if I'd told someone you'd said that. I'm not… and I repeat… not going to live here and you can't fucking well make me.' He went to turn, but Floyd had his arm and was dragging him out of where the kitchen was being installed through the lounge and out the front of the house again. Spencer stood looking confused as the workmen carried lengths of wood past him and up the stairs to the adults' den. He counted to ten… heard no screams and so followed Floyd and Sam out into the fresh air again.

Sam was sitting on the top of the steps and Floyd was standing there having a smoke. 'I'm sorry.' Sam muttered.

'Well tell Spencer, because you are so close to wrecking everything for us that I'm about to nail you to the fucking chimney and leave you here.'

'I listened to rumours and lies and should learn when to listen and when to walk away.' Sam muttered. He then got up and walked away, keeping his back to Spencer who was now looking at Floyd who was wiping the back of his hand on the side of his leg.

'Sorted.' Floyd smiled. 'He's going to love it.'

'You hit him?' Spencer took Floyd's hand and looked at how the skin was red and his knuckles looked as though he'd punched a door.

'I hit him because he will not learn if I don't. He's not like us. He's not like you. I can't talk reason to him because he doesn't understand how to listen. He can't compromise. He wants everything his own way and he'll lie and cheat and slither his way through life if I don't beat that damned attitude out of him soon.'

Floyd turned and looked at Sam who had crouched down and was plucking stones out of the ground and tossing them at a tree. 'Damn.' Spencer groaned. 'How does he do that? How does he go from being the most annoying thing alive to being something which looks so dejected and lost?'

'He learnt that skill from you.' Floyd patted Spencer on the shoulder. 'I'll go instruct him on morals and ethics. You go and look around the outside and decide on what colour you want the place. It was once pale green.' Floyd stopped talking and walked quickly away.

If the place had once been pale green there was no sign of it now; at least not from the front. It had obviously stood here for a long time being beaten by the weather and not being cared for. In a way Spencer could see why Floyd liked it. At least he thought he could see it. It was neglected and worn down, but once would have been beautiful, and as much as Floyd hated ring marks on furniture he hated to see any piece of art being ruined. It was obviously a very old place. Many of the timbers on the exterior had been replaced and it was on the south side of the long split level building that Spencer could see where paint had once been. The slight wonder of how Floyd knew what colour the place had been, disappeared. He didn't go as far as to wonder when Floyd had been down here and when he'd seen that place where old wood had been removed and the paint along that edge had been revealed. He didn't wonder what information had made Sam so angry. Spencer didn't want to know. He didn't want puzzles which upset the status quo, he wanted a smooth ride with no bumps and if that meant he must not talk to anyone or listen to anyone then that's what he'd do.

For a while he stood at the rear of the house looking over an large overgrown field. It was on a very slight slope towards the back end and they a small hill rose up in a woody ridge at the back. It was actually quite stunningly beautiful. Though they were so close to the town which was very ugly and characterless, this place could have been hundreds of miles from anywhere. It was somewhere Spencer thought he could settle down in if Floyd was being honest. If Sam could mix and have fun. If there were places they could go to occasionally. If… a lot of ifs but maybe… just maybe if they pulled together this could work. Spencer wasn't so sure about having horses. Surely that would mean they'd have to look after them and not be able to just close up and go away when they wanted to, but the thought of horses running in the fields was almost romantic.

o-o-o

Sam refused to go back in the house and see what Floyd had arranged for him. Upstairs was a big bedroom, a small spare room, a large bathroom and a small lounge. It would be perfect for Sam to have as his own space.

The problem was that Sam not only didn't want to go in the house, but he didn't want to be pushed aside by Floyd and Spencer. Mainly Floyd's doing he knew that but he was still cross and pissed off and feeling like the lesser one of the trio and poking him in the attic wasn't going to help the situation.

He thought he had a very good idea why Floyd had bought the house and why he was trying to look different from the norm. Floyd had been here before. Floyd was known here… if not by name then by his actions and it wasn't that Sam disliked what he thought Floyd had done, but he definitely disliked Floyd lying to them.

The house wasn't haunted.

It was a murder scene. A very nasty one. The sort a town doesn't forget quickly. The sort Floyd would have carried out. But he'd been gagged by threats from Floyd. If Spencer was going to find out it wouldn't be through him. Maybe that was good though. It was a secret Sam and Floyd had between them. It was something he had and Spencer didn't. That was good wasn't it?

That night they curled up on one of the beds in the motel room, the three of them with arms and legs coiled and encircling each other, keeping themselves not just warm, but safe and Sam was in the middle where he liked to be and it wasn't until nearly five in the morning that Spencer fell out of bed with a yelp and woke them up. But damn… how good is it to wake up in a good mood. Spencer laughed… Floyd sighed happily and gripped hold of Sam tighter and Spencer crawled back onto the bed and went back to sleep.

It was at times like this that Floyd's world was perfection. His boys were happy. He was happy… the birds were singing. Had someone slit his throat there and then he'd have died happily. At least that's what he told himself. Luckily it wasn't put to the test.