Walking into the house was the easy part, seeing his family members and the caretakers faces was totally the opposite. Four Way Shot could feel himself shrinking, growing smaller with each face he saw. The one that stood out the most was his aunt's. She stared at him, disappointed. His uncle, Pinhead, stood with his shoulder against the wall, his arms were crossed and one of his hands was tapping up against his body.

"Alrighty," his father said, stepping away. "they's all a-yers."

Four Way Shot had already heard enough from his aunt, he had been handed the phone and had been yelled at for a few minutes. A few minutes after he had talked to his aunt she had asked for his brother, who had had to have the phone shoved up and held to the side of his head. Looking over at his brother, he saw that he was looking at their half siblings, Slasha and Slash.

"Young man!" he heard his aunt yell. "Look at me!"

He had been on the road for a little while and his leg had healed enough to not require a cast, he could walk on his own without pain. Turning around and looking his aunt in the eye, he felt great guilt. His aunt was wearing a pair of black jeans and a purple tank top, a purple necklace around her neck glistened in the rays from the sun that were seeping in through the windows. She had black hair and dark brown, almost black, eyes.

"What was you thinking?" she asked, this was the second time she had asked this. When he had been handed his uncle's cell phone she had asked him why he had ran away, why he had taken his brother with him and what he would have done if he or his brother had been hurt. Unbeknown to her, he thought, his brother had been burned badly and had gone through a lot of medicine and bandaging to make sure that the wounds didn't get infected, he was still far from being a hundred percent healed.

"Ye an' me have already gone through all o' this," Four Way Shot said. "ye've already gotten on me."

"Obviously not enough," his aunt yelled, stepping forward. "what is this that I am hearing of you separating from your brother?"

"He a-said he a-wanted to go to Virginny," he said, stepping back. "I a-tried to stop him but he insisted."

Four Way Shot was shocked, he hadn't told his aunt, he hadn't told nobody, that he had separated from his brother until now. He remembered his father talking to his aunt earlier, before they had gotten off of the train. Turning his head and looking at his brother, he could see that he was equally as surprised.

"You're the oldest," she started to say.

"Yes, I a-know I is the oldest an' I'm a-posed to be more mator," he blurted out, unexpectedly. "I a-know it a-wasn't ver mator o' me to run away, but I did an' now Imma back."

His outburst did more than make his aunt pull away, he saw in her face that she was very hurt. He had never yelled at her like that before. Walking over to the couch and sitting in it, he covered his face with his hands and started crying. His brother stood in the same place, he was preparing himself for his aunt to talk to him.

"I told you he was bad!" he heard his sister cry. "You wouldn't listen but..."

Everyone turn towards his older half sister, Arson heard himself growl deep inside. He and his brother were half siblings as well but they preferred to be called normal brothers instead, they were very close. Slasha was a seven year old that had an obsession with Bellatrix Lestrange from the latest Harry Potter movie and dressed almost exactly like her except that a few parts of her dress were laced with purple and the top wasn't open, her father would not allow it. She had a pure white skull face, like her father, and copper gray hair flowed down to her shoulders, she had silver spikes in her eyes and a wild, almost annoying way of laughing like a crazed Hyena.

"Young lady, do you not mind going in the kitchen and getting yourself a snack," his aunt said gently.

"Yes ma'am." his half sister said.

His half sister walked out of the room, glancing at him a few times and puckering her lips as if she was about to cry and kiss someone at the same time. Turning himself back to his aunt, staring at her, he got ready to be yelled at. Four Way Shot pulled his head up in time to see his half brother run at Arson, he tried to warn him but it was too late.

Feeling the impact of his smaller and younger half brother slam into him was nothing, felt more like a gentle nudge then a slam. Turning around quickly, he smacked his half brother. Slash fell to the ground and started crying and pointing, he was two years younger than Arson and two inches shorter and would always get his way, as did his sister. Everyone thought that they were the little angels of the four children, and he felt that everyone saw him as the red sheep with long twisting, menacing horns.

"Daddy," his half brother cried. "he hit me!"

"Slash," he heard his uncle Blade say angrily. "get up, go to your mom and she'll get you a snack."

His half brother stood up and dusted himself off, he was wearing black leather pants with a red stripe down the side and a black shirt, a waist high jacket of black leather with a red spider stitched in the back and black boots. His hair was silver, a little darker than his father who had long white hair, and it came down to his shoulders, his hair was still very soft, he hadn't lost his baby hair yet. He didn't wear a hat and had spiky hair on top of his head and his eyes were spiked.

"Tex, Torch," he heard his aunt call. "take your sons up to their rooms and lock them in."

Feeling his father grab his hand and pull him behind him, Arson pulled back. There was no way he was going to allow his father to lead him around like there were cuffs around his hands. Moving his shoulders from side to side and cracking his neck, he walked up the stairs himself, when he got to his room he slammed the door behind him. When he plopped himself down on his bed, he heard a click on the door, probably his father inserting the key that would lock him in for awhile.

Four Way Shot was still a little on the weak side when it came to walking up a good number of steps but he managed to climb up without falling. His father was behind him, poking him in the back, prodding him to continue walking. Since he was his son no one else except for his uncle Torch, was allowed to put a finger on him when it came to discipline. When he reached his bedroom he turned around and looked up at his father, who made a sound deep in his throat and quickly opened the door. When he walked in the door was quickly slammed shut and locked. When he heard his father walking down the stairs he made for the window.

Lying himself down on the bed, Arson stared at the ceiling above him. He had good mind to grab his G-O and play Michael Jackson's Bad, one of his favorites. Before he and his brother had woken up their father's had come home and had dropped off the bags of clothing that they had placed in them, his bag with his black pants, red shirt and black pants and the black boots with the chain on the sides was hanging on his bathrooms door. Standing up and walking towards them, he was wearing his jacket, he had taken it off for four days. He and his brother had been taken to four hotels, from Illinois to Kansas, where the train had been stopped a few times due to weather, both he and his brother had seen a tornado at work and it had been awesome, and then they had gotten lost in Nevada and had had to stay overnight at one of the worst hotels there, his father had stayed away all night to protect them from people that were looking for an easy buck, and then the last stop was in California last night. It had taken them almost two weeks to get home.

Seeing his brother stand up and turn his back at the window made Four Way Shot a little angry, he had been lightly tapping on his window. Balling his fist up and hitting it against the glass hard but not hard enough to break the glass, he finally got his attention. his Arson reached the window and opened it a little a few minutes later.

"Bro, lemmee in." he said lightly.

"Why?" his brother said. "Give me a reason."

"I a-wanna talk to ye." Four Way Shot said.

"Exactly why can't we talk like we are now?" Arson said, hiding a laugh.

"Cause it's a-cold out here." Four Way Shot exclaimed.

Opening the window all the way, feeling the cold air rush in, Arson watched as his brother swung both legs in then slid the rest of him without touching the window pane effortlessly. Walking over to the door and looking through the keyhole, he saw that no one was in the hallway. His brother sat himself on his bed and looked at him, his eyes soft as always.

"Well," he said. "I guess this is a-how we done got welcomed home."

"Woo hoo," Arson whispered sarcastically. "we get sent to our rooms after twenty minutes."

"We's bad," his brother sang lightly. "who is a-bad? We is!"

Arson held a laugh in, it was a battle but somehow he kept it in. His brother was the only one in the family to both cheer him up when he was down and to make him laugh. His brother was on the bed, two of his four hands over his mouth. A few weeks ago he had fallen out a window and had grabbed a hold of the frame, the glass that hadn't broken had gone into his hands and had cut him badly. For some reason his father hadn't bandaged them up, they looked to be getting somewhat infected. Plopping down on the bed and punching his brother in the stomach, he was oblivious of the doorknob jangling behind him.