ANWelcome back to my continuing Saints story. I only keep the chapters coming because y'all are just so dang awesome in your faithful reading and reviews. Thank you so much. This reaction to my first fanfic (ever) inspired me to try another, not that I'll abandon this. I have a particular ending in mind. So keep the reading and reviews coming! Mwah! (That's a kissing sound by the way)

Cold moist lines snaked down her temples, tickling the backs of her ears. Sam swatted at the irritation pestering her hair-line. Her fingers caught something on her forehead, sending the object flying to the floor. It landed with a loud wet spat.

"Oh, hey now," called a voice in the distance. "Let's just take it easy ok?"

Sam opened an eye in time to see Rocco scurrying to her side. He bent down after reaching her and scooped up a small hand towel front the floor. She blinked slowly letting the part of her brain that comprehended things fire up its cylinders. Her last full memory was of her passing out in Connor's arms. That had been in the hallway, so logically he must have carried her back inside. Well that or he had Murphy push the couch out of the loft and into the hall. Both, of course, very plausible. Speaking of the brothers.

"Where are..." she started to ask. Dizziness wreaked havoc on her stalling mind, breaking off the question's key component.

"The guys?" Rocco asked as he gently wiped the towel against her forehead. "They went to work. Asked me to look after you."

"Ah."

Sam tried to push up onto her forearms, only to have her shaggy head, unkempt nurse squash that idea with a firm hand on her shoulder.

"Yeah, let's not try that just yet," he said as he eased her back on the couch. "The guys would have my balls ripped out and stuffed up my nose, if I let anything happen to you." She laughed at the disturbing image, only to immediately regret the mirth. The rolling of her laughter pulled and snagged viciously at the still healing knife wounds in her gut. So much for laughter being the best medicine. Whimpers pattered their way through her tightly clamped lips. Rocco pulled back quickly.

"Shit I didn't hurt you did I?" he asked searching her face for a sign to the contrary. Sam shook her head, closing her eyes to focus on pushing away the sharp tugging of her muscles under the bandages.

"Good, cause seriously, they would kill me."

She peeked out at him through one open eye. "Murphy, maybe, but I think Connor would be more reasonable, seeing as he is probably madder than hell at me."

"Yeah about that" Rocco inquired, taking the towel to a plain general use bowl on the table. "What did you do?" Sam raised the eyebrow over her open eye.

He threw his hands up in submission. 'Ok, but, no. Connor may be ticked at you, but he came in carrying you and scared as shit." She swallowed at the sudden lump in her throat.

"They both were."

Well didn't she feel thoroughly chastised. She'd only meant to show Connor that the could be just as big a teasing pain in the ass as he. Scaring them like that had not been a part of the plan. Sam sighed and rubbed her cheeks with the palms of her hands. It felt warm and taught to the touch. She must have had a fever. It certainly would explain the wet towel.

"So," Sam coughed, trying to kill the unnerving silence with a subject change. "How long have you known them?"

"Oh, the guys and I go back several years," Rocco explained as he dipped and swirled the towel in the bowel. Water slopped out of the bowl. "They helped me out of a jam with a couple of pricks in a bar."

Sam cocked her head to the side, waiting for him to continue, preferably with greater detail. Instead he merely pulled the water-logged towel from the bowl and proceeded to squeeze out the excess. The musical plopping of the water re-joining its source echoed quietly.

"What happened?" she pressed, as he trudged to her side, laying the folded towel low on her forehead. Her eyes were half shielded by damp cloth.

"What? Oh, dude couldn't take a joke. Started shit."

Sam smiled to herself. "Seems they are always coming to someone's rescue."

Rocco nodded, pushing the towel up just enough to keep her eyes uncovered. "'s what they do." Sam glanced up at Rocco, another wave of laughter swiftly on the way. The look on his face, however, chased it away. It was as though he had spoken a profound truth in the casual statement. In fact, as she thought about it, that is exactly what happened. Most people in the world were in fact good people. Sure they often made poor choices, but there weren't too many truly evil folks out there. Their greatest crime would be a self preserving indifference. They lacked the courage and conviction to stand up against evil when they are not directly involved. Most people preferred to live their lived with their eyes straight ahead. The brothers were not like that. They could have chosen to walk past her alley and ignore her cries. Or rather, thy could not. It was not in either of their natures to let the indifference of man result in the death of a decent person. In every scenario, those two would not have walked past. Sam wrapped her arms around her chest, squeezing back a disturbing flutter that tickled her ribs.

"Um, so what do you do?" she asked, still surfing for the subject change that would lessen not invigorate the awkward air.

"I make deliveries," Rocco's voice was ripe with amusement. "What do you do?"

She scrunched up her nose at him. "Get stabbed in alley ways." They stared at each other for a moment, assessing each other. Thankfully the tension had ebbed away with their mutual love for sarcasm. In the end, she found she really liked Rocco. He was just such a sweet, scruffy, lovable guy. Sort of like a big puppy dog.

They passed the time with idle chit chat. She asked him a little more about he brothers, but got very little information than that which she already had. Perhaps the only new things she found out were that they spoke many languages and weren't just brothers. They were twins. Given how close they were, it did make perfect sense. Eventually Rocco let her sit up on the couch, but only because she kept trying to sneak her way up, only to injure her torso and her pride in her failing battle with gravity.

They were deep in a philosophical conversation about Jerry Springer, when the door popped open. Inside strutted the twins, one after the other. They seemed to be in high spirits laughing and shoving each other about.

"Hey guys," she called to them from the couch. They turned to look at her, both expressions taking a trip from surprise to pleased, and in Connor's case, a bit vexed.

"Well, I've kept my end of the bargain. So I get to keep my body parts," Rocco piped up as he rose from his chair. "See ya later." Sam waved goodbye to him as he trotted through the door. The second the door closed shut, she turned her full attention to the brothers. Smiling, she patted the couch on either side of her with her hands. Murphy grinned at her and plopped himself on the couch to her right. His hand cupped her cheek as he pulled her in for a kiss. He sucked her lower lip into his mouth, dragging his teeth against it when he released her lips. Their breath still mingling in the short distance between their faces, Murphy delivered a wicked last lick along the length of her bottom lip, making her eyes roll into the back of her head. Sam smiled dreamily at him and took his hand in hers, placing their interlaced fingers on her knee.

She looked up at Connor, who hadn't moved during the kiss. She patted the couch again. When he still refused to move, she put on her most doe-eyed pleading expression. He mouth puckered in mild amusement, though still he did not move. It took a few minutes of the full force of her Bambi inspired peepers for him to finally cave