Well, I finally decided what to do with Jerry, and it is terribly clichéd

Well, I finally decided what to do with Jerry, and it is terribly clichéd. Of course, I was thinking of using it for Angel too. Yes, I am horribly uncreative and I apologize. I will go hide in the corner now, enjoy.

The constant fidgeting coming from the passenger seat was beginning to annoy the woman driving. The boy was thin for a thirteen year old, to the point of being unhealthy. Blood shot brown eyes stared at nothing as they reminded an onlooker of a doll's glass eyes.

"Jeremiah, I really hope you think about your actions. This woman is one of the best people I have ever met," the social worker could see the boy from the corner of her eye, he had not moved, not showing any interest in what the woman said.

She shook her head as she watched the road, "Just try to stay clean for more then a few days this time."

Despite appearances, Jerry was listening to the social worker. It had been a long couple of weeks while Jeremiah had been in rehab. It had been hell and had stretched out into eternity as the drugs had fought to remain in control.

And it had not been his first trip into the clinic for drug addiction, and he doubted that it would be the last.

Drugs had hit the boy young, he now no longer remembered if it had been one of the foster siblings of a foster parent who had introduced him to the dark path of dependence. It really did not matter to him now, it only mattered that he continued what that forgotten person had started.

It was a combination of the drugs, lies and thefts that made every foster home cast him out. No one had the patients to straighten him out, and as he heard from countless sources around him, no one had the strength to help him. Jerry did not know or care, his life was drugs and nothing would change that.

"Jeremiah, are you listening?" the social worker snapped.

Jerry turned toward her, eyes wide, "Huh?"

She sighed, "This is the Mercer house," turning off the engine the woman gave the boy a serious look, "Since you're listening now, I'll say this again. Evelyn is a wonderful woman and you are lucky to be here. Try to act somewhat respectable."

The woman he assumed was Evelyn stood waiting on the stoop. Smiling warmly at the boy, she offered her hand to him. For such a little woman, Jerry got the impression of willfulness triple her size.

Clasping his hand in hers, Evelyn took in Jerry's appearance, "I am happy to meet you Jeremiah."

"Evelyn, I have a few papers that need signed," the social worker pulled up behind the two, holding a leaflet.

Smiling sweetly, Evelyn gave Jerry's hand one last pat, "You go ahead into the house dear, this should only take a minute."

Nodding, Jerry grabbed his bag and heading into his new residence. Not a home, but a place none the less.

It really is nice, he thought, glancing around.

A loud crash made Jerry jump and glance at the ceiling; someone was barreling around the upper levels. Faint cusses floated down the stairs. The boy half wondered what sort of mess was being made up there by whoever was making the racket. Hearing someone step in behind him, Jerry glanced back at Evelyn for some clue as to who was the mystery housemate.

"That would be Bobby," Evelyn chuckled as loud thuds sounded from above the two. This still left the boy in the dark, he really wished now that he had listened to the social worker's rambling. Clear curses floated down the staircase, "Bobby, language!"

It was then that a boy a little older than Jerry came barreling down the stairs. The boy was a couple inches shorter than Jerry, with dark brown hair. Jerry blinked as Bobby dashed into the kitchen with a quick, "Sorry Ma"

Evelyn looked fondly at the doorway leading to the kitchen, "If you slow down a minute dear, you would see we have a new guest."

Bobby stuck his head out of the kitchen, and took a quick look at Jerry. He disappeared into the kitchen once more, finishing whatever he had started and stepped into the living room fully. Jerry fought hard to keep himself from fidgeting at the hard appraisal of the older boy. The guy was giving him the same look foster fathers gave since him since hitting puberty, seeing if he was a threat.

Suddenly, Jerry glared at the shorter boy. Why should I be threatened by you? Jerry thought angrily, you're not the man of the house.

With a twinkle in her eye, Evelyn cut through the hostility, "If you two are done glowering, we can have a civilized breakfast."

"I gotta game," Bobby smirked at Jerry, turning back to the kitchen. "I'll be back latter Ma!" Bobby rushed out of the house, toast in hand.

"He's a good boy," Evelyn turned to Jerry, "He is just a bit territorial."

"Like a bear," Jerry mumbled under his breath.

But Evelyn had caught it and laughed, patting the boy on the shoulder, "You'll do fine. Now let's show you to your room."

Everything had been set up in Jerry's new room before Evelyn had rushed to work. 'His room', it was odd for him to say that. It had always been 'their room', having to share with the other kids of the household. The woman had even said that she would take him out later that week to get some personal affects to make the room more 'cozy'.

But still, drugs were the main focus of his thoughts. He wanted them, needed them, and dreamed of having more of them.

"If you have anything you don't want Ma to find, I suggest you just throw it out," Jerry shot up from his position on the bed. He had not heard Bobby open his door.

Again, that smug look irritated Jerry beyond belief, "Why? I know how to hide things."

Scoffing, Bobby walked into the room and started looking at the meager possessions as if he owned the place, "She's psychic."

"Right."

"Eh, you'll see," turning to leave, Bobby paused, "And I ain't stupid, think about that before you try to pull something." With those last words, he was gone.

A few days passed uneventfully, Jerry spent them prowling the streets and adjusting. Every so often he found himself dipping a hand into Evelyn's purse, but he never stopped himself. As bad a he felt stealing from her, the need was stronger. He was careful about it though, buying small portions while he was sure Bobby's watchful eye was not on him. Jerry did not use it though; the small scores would do no more then a little buzz. He planned to wait till the stash was big enough, till then he hid the rest in the back of his closet in hidden compartment he built into a shoe box.

Jerry closed the door securely, making sure no one would wander in behind him. Casting a shaky glance around the room, he made his way toward the closet in a half daze. Nothing mattered but what lay hidden in the depths of the darkened space. His entire body ached for just a taste, to satisfy the burning need.

But he found that nothing resided inside the closet except old sneakers.

"I flushed that shit," a voice Jerry had grown to dislike sounded from the doorway. There stood Bobby, leaning against the frame, smirking at the enraged expression which the dark skinned boy was throwing at him.

Jerry jumped to his feet, "You bastard, where is it!"

"It's with the sewer gators and the piss." Bobby shrugged, pushing off to stand erect.

Moving faster then he ever had, Jerry grabbed the front of the Red Wings sweat shirt. And still that smirk was firmly in place, "No! I know you have it! You know how much that was?!"

"And where did it come from, Ma's purse?" he had phrased it as a question, but the cold glint in his eye made it clear that Bobby already knew the answer. A corner of his mind still left untouched by the Need screamed danger, but the scream for drugs overpowered his common sense.

"What the fuck do y' know about it?" Jerry's hand shook around the red cloth, "I need it! And I'll just get more some other way!!"

"Not in this house you're not," Bobby's voice was steely, his eyes just as cold, "You don't steal from Ma."

I should really back down, that little voice was growing more insistent yet he still kept playing this dangerous game, "Why should I care?"

It was not a surprise when the fist collided with his jaw. Anyone with half a brain could realize that messing with a wild card like Bobby would lead to injury; but then again, who ever said that Jerry was smart all of the time.

"Next time I catch you with this junk in the house, I won't go easy on ya." And seeing those eyes, darker then any he had ever seen, Jerry believed those words.

Evelyn looked up as Jerry stumbled into the kitchen. The woman gestured at the table with her spatula before turning back to the scrambled eggs. An ice pack sat waiting for his throbbing eye.

She really is psychic, Jerry thought, "How?"

"I have been around some," Evelyn laughed, turning the eggs. "You two should not fight so much; my house will not take it." Glancing over at him, a smile on her lips and no sympathy in her voice, she said, "He went easy on you, and I want you to realize that before your next tryst."

His cheek wanted to say otherwise but according to talk on the streets, she was right, "So, am I in trouble?"

Turning the heat to a low simmer, Evelyn turned her full attention her foster son, "I think Bobby believes he is the one who decides that," she shook her head, "But no, you're not in trouble.

"I do want you to realize that I do not like drugs in my house Jeremiah."

I am done for, she is throwing me out, the boy kept his eyes glued to the floor, and damn it I actually liked it here. Even with that idiot.

Cool fingers slid under his chin, compelling those dark eyes to meet Evelyn's gaze, "You never have to feel like you are being looked down on in this house son."

She knocked his forehead lightly with a finger before turning back to the stove. Turning the flame off, she filled two plates while leaving enough for the missing member of the family.

"I've seen enough victims of addiction to know that it will never fully go away, the cravings," placing Jerry's plate beside him, she took the seat across from him, "It is something you have to live with and overcome. We will help all we can."

A spark of hope began to form at those words, "You-"

Placing a hand over his, Evelyn smiled, "When I was younger, we had a lovely tree house in the backyard." She watched the boy's head tilt in confusion, "maybe it would be nice to have a project to keep your mind and hands preoccupied. I just happen to have a book on constructing tree houses in the shelves."

"Thanks, I think."

Kay, I really feel that Jer did not get much personality in this chapter. But I did feel it was better that way, coming off drugs as he was. I am half way through the next chapter and he gets much more depth, I promise.

Coming up next, bonding over scary movies.