"You think this is some sick joke?!"

"He's the one who screws up when I get mad. It ain't my fault about the way he is."

"You promised me… You FUCKING PROMISED ME!"

Arthur's eyes shot open. For a moment, he just laid there on his bed seeing the sunlight softly going through the windows.

Arthur had no idea how he had managed to fall asleep. Despite his efforts, Hosea still ordered him to rest after spending hours patrolling the perimeter and checking the entrances to camp for any sign of Sam, Lily or Kieran. It was too dark to see anything out there, anyway.

The outlaw let out a heavy sigh and sat up. He hadn't bothered changing into his union suit last night, and when he recalled why, his feet were immediately in his boots on the floor.

His best rifle, his best repeater, and his pair of Schofields loaded and ready, Arthur did not leave his room until he was sure he absolutely had everything. When he stepped out of his room, it turned out he wasn't the only one. There was chatter from the boys outside and more of it as Arthur approached Dutch's room.

"John managed to find Brandon." Hosea's voice. "He's gonna help us as a favor.

Arthur opened the door and saw him and Dutch on the balcony. The rain had thankfully stopped, but the clouds were still hanging around. It was still early, with the sun just rising over the east.

"Are we heading out?" Arthur asked immediately, before any hellos or good mornings.

Dutch just nodded and turned to face his boy, cigar in hand. Despite the situation, a strange pride swelled in his chest at the sight of Arthur armed to the teeth at first light.

"Bill Javier and Lenny are almost ready," Dutch informed him. "I'm having Charles stay here to recover some more, but look after the camp. "John came back and Brandon has his folks out in the Bayou. I was thinking we should split up to-"

Then there was a scream. All heads turned to the source to see Mary-Beth pointing to the trail into camp.

"It's Kieran!" she shrieked.

And yes, it was Kieran, alright. He was on a horse… at least what was left of him was… His head wasn't… where it was supposed to be. His body was mounted in the saddle, bloody all around the neck and chest and his hands holding his still bleeding, eyeless head.

"What the hell-" Arthur managed to say, before Dutch pointed towards the treeline.

There was a loud, long whistle noise and men wearing black bags to cover their faces were racing forth from the wilderness. They were wearing green, so everyone in the gang knew exactly who they were.

"Everybody take cover!" Dutch yelled. "O'Driscoll boys are coming!"

Immediately, Arthur hid himself by the nearest pillar by the balcony. Dutch did as well by the pillar next to Arthur's, and Hosea rushed back into the house to help anyone nearby get inside. Women, Jack and everyone else took cover behind leftover sandbags, fencing, wagons, and inside the gazebo. Little Jack's eyes darted around and saw John racing out from the house and ran towards him. Abigail reached for the child but was too slow.

"Jack, no!" Abigail cried.

"Pa!" Jack yelled, reaching out his arms.

Within seconds, John had zipped over while shooting towards the enemy and picked up Jack with one arm and dragged him back towards cover with Abigail.

Bullets flew, people rushed to safety, while Kieran's body had fallen off the horse that took off after the gunfire started and laid on the ground as nothing more than battle debris.

While Arthur delivered shot after shot towards the enemy, his brain wouldn't let him escape this thought:

What did this mean for Sam?

Arthur growled. He pulled out his other Schofield, and opened fire on the incoming enemies. The fact that they were trying to hide their faces only made the outlaw even more angry. Goddamn cowards!

Occasional whistles came from the woods and when they happened, more O'Driscolls came out of the woods, knowing where to shoot or take position. Whoever was leading them was among the trees.

Arthur, Dutch, John and the other men, cleared a path for the women, Jack, the reverend and Strauss to get inside. After that, Arthur rushed back into the house and stormed down the steps to the first floor. With every step, his blood boiled more and more.

"Goddamn crap…" he muttered, heart pounding in his chest, dominant gun arm shaking with an itchy trigger finger. "Colm O'Damn Driscoll!"

Arthur walked by the back door at the bottom of the stairs, seeing Molly and Pearson run in. Hosea ushered them in, while the other women and Jack rushed inside from the front. The doors were swinging open and close and after the outlaw pushed through everyone, he kicked the front doors open as hard as he could and stepped outside, guns in both of his hands, blasting away at any O'Driscolls he saw.

John took up the left side and Charles was on the right. The other men were inside, shooting from the balcony and guarding the rear of the house.

"Don't let anyone back through that door!" Arthur ordered, while he marched over to his brothers on the front lines and ducked down behind a wall of sandbags next to John. "Anymore casualties?"

Charles ducked down for a moment, bullets whizzing past him, then fired back before the enemy could duck their heads back completely. "Just Kieran… at the moment."

"We're gonna keep it there…" Arthur declared.

"You're not escaping this time, Arthur Morgan!" an O'Driscoll called from the wilderness.

Arthur pulled out some dynamite. John was already on it, and had a match ready. The older man tossed the red stick into the woods, and the pair kept their heads down for the explosion and the screams.

Not long after, the calvary came. There were more O'Driscolls, riding in on wagons. Arthur grit his teeth, pulling out his Lancaster and shooting more of them before they could get close to the house, but a bunch more just piled out from the back of the carriage.

"Damn it! Fall back to the house!" John called. Arthur growled, still shooting more and more O'Driscolls. A yank on the shoulder from John finally made Arthur concede and stand for retreat. Sidearms back in his hands, they shot back at the enemies while they ran back into the house.

Once back inside, Arthur tipped over a nearby cabinet in front of the door to block the intruders. Bullets were still being shot, but the house seemed sturdy enough to block bullets. Well, mostly.

Bill, Javier, Lenny and Micah were upstairs. John guarded the right of the house while Charles took the left, Arthur went ahead to the back. The O'Driscolls were using the swamps to approach, as well, riding in on boats.

Arthur's best shot from the rear of the house was from the infirmary. He marched in and had to push some tables, but got to the window and broke the glass for a clean shot.

They were storming past the old stable and towards the manor. Arthur wasn't going to let that happen, and shot them before one foot was even set on the porch. Anyone who tried to enter the house would die!

"Is everyone accounted for?" Arthur called, through the noise.

"I think…" Arthur heard John yell from another room.

"I said, 'is everyone accounted for?'" the older outlaw yelled. He raised his Schofield and shot another O'Driscoll trying to get past the abandoned stables.

"I think so! I don't know!" John shouted back.

Then there were screams. It was loud, and feminine, with a rasp.

"Mrs. Adler!" Arthur yelled. "She's still out there." With no hesitation, he leapt through the window. "Cover me!"

"Okay!"

John took over Arthur's spot while the older outlaw ran outside towards the small building. Arthur skidded and dove into the grass, hearing bullets fly, but then immediately got up and to Sadie's side.

"Who's this lady here? Dutch always had a fondness for women." Then there was a yell.

Arthur charged in just in time to see one O'Driscoll flop onto the ground, Sadie stabbing another, before running back and stabbing a third against the wall. The second one stumbled back, holding his red-stained chest, and held up a gun. Arthur tackled him to the floor before he fired. Other than being covered in blood, Sadie looked fine.

Arthur stood up slowly. "Sadie? Why didn't you get inside?"

Sadie placed a hand on the wall taking deep breaths. "And miss all this?" She searched the body of her most recent victim quickly. "Come on Arthur!"

And you know what? Arthur went along with her.

He pulled out both of his sidearms, thumbs on the lever as O'Driscolls dropped like flies. He and Mrs. Adler raced up the side of the house as Charles threw an O'Driscoll who managed to sneak in out the window before stabbing him with a machete. They kept rushing to the front with Charles in tow.

The native man threw one O'Driscoll to the ground before Sadie shot the bastard. Seeing them get closer, the O'Driscolls knew to get up and run.

But when they did, shots rang out. Arthur refused to let a single O'Driscoll leave. One, a bullet in his chest fell to the ground and tried to crawl away, hands clawing at the dirt, only for Arthur to step on their back, pin them down and blow the thug's brains out.

More were racing out from the trees. Arthur made note of the nearest places to take cover, ready to stand his ground.

And then, from the side, the O'Driscolls were flanked. Arthur, Sadie and Charles took cover, and then, there was the familiar sight of Brandon Marrows riding in on his white horse. Behind him were more of his "discouraged men," each of them wearing red somewhere on their person. The O'Driscolls that remained headed into the hills.

"They're running!" Sadie yelled. She stood up and raised her fist. "You better, you cowards!"

Several of Brandon's men and women fanned out and secured the area. Brandon looked around, and slowed down Sunflower. He saw John in one of the windows and with a grin, John headed out.

"Somebody call for an army?" said Brandon.

"You made it!" John was the first one out the door, as soon as Brandon dismounted. The two embraced for a moment with a pat on each other's back.

"Goddamn cowards!" Dutch boomed, as he stormed out of the house. Hosea followed closely after him.

"Everyone alright?" Hosea asked.

"Think so," said Charles. He stood up from cover, patting dirt off his clothes. "Apart from Kieran."

Meanwhile, Arthur managed to make his way to poor Kieran's remains as soon as the chaos died down. No eyes. Decapitated. Blood pooling onto the dirt.

"We gotta move!" Arthur demanded. "They did this to him? What does that mean for Sam?!"

"I know!" Dutch quaked. He glanced in Arthur's direction before forcing himself to avert his gaze from Kieran.. "Okay…" He took a breath as people slowly started coming out of the house again. "This many… out here… it means they ain't far."

"Well, you're right about that," said Brandon.

Dutch scowled. "And how would you know that?"

Brandon crossed his arms. He stayed that way as Dutch closed the distance between them. "Because I caught someone trying to act like one of my doves, before I strolled in here." And with that, he whistled.

Within twenty seconds, Rose walked up with another grunt and they threw an O'Driscoll to the ground. His ankles were tied together and his wrists were tied behind his back. Brandon moved slowly like a predator readying to hunt its prey, kneeling down slowly before pulling off the O'Driscoll's mask.

Gray hair. Brown eyes. Long black coat. The thick smell of alcohol and cheap cigarettes.

"Hello, Sergio," Brandon sneered. "How about you tell us where you fellers are hiding with Sam?"

Sergio spat on the ground. "Like I would ever-"

Suddenly, he cried out as a swift kick was delivered to his chest. Arthur stepped forward, not even needing to be ordered by Dutch to grab a hold of that bastard by his shirt.

"If you wanna be a bird, act like it and sing!" Arthur yelled. He punched him in the face. Hard. It was enough to make Sergio's head turn. "Where the hell is Sam?!"

"B-Beats me… he's probably dead by now…"

Arthur hit him again. Just from the second hit, bloody flecks were spilling onto the grass. The outlaw's heart sank when he said Sam was dead, which only made him hear his own heartbeat in his skull. He'd never believe it, let alone from an O'Driscoll.

"I said, where is he?!" Arthur shouted.

Dutch walked up and observed. Hosea tried to step in, but Dutch held him back with a firm hand on his shoulder.

"They have him, Hosea."

Brandon did not interfere, either.

"You go to hell!" Sergio spat back.

Arthur hit him again. A tooth fell onto the grass with more blood.

"Tell me NOW, you son of a bitch!"

"Bayou! Bayou! They're in the Bayou!" Sergio shrieked, coughing and sputtering. His nose had started bleeding, as well as blood dripping out of his mouth.

Arthur raised his bloody fist again, making Sergio flinch, but he didn't hit him again. Arthur held his teeth tightly as he told him…

"Tell me exactly where… or I'll smash your face clean open!"

"Th-There's abandoned houses…. Off to the south of Pleasance… Maccomb's End."

And apparently, it was Sergio's end, as well, because Arthur slammed him into the dirt, and choked the life out of his worthless body.

The outlaw stood up after his fresh kill, panting and catching his breath as the others gathered around. Finally his brain registered the presence of his friends and family. Hosea managed to make his way to his boy and place a hand on his shoulder, anchoring him to the present. He looked at Kieran's lifeless body and looked back at the newly lifeless body at his feet.

"He said Maccomb's End…" Arthur managed to mutter. "I know where that is."

Dutch nodded and turned to the gang. "Gentlemen, to your horses! The rest of you, get this place back in working order."

"Already taking care of it!" said Miss Grimshaw. She pushed the girls towards the camp as they hurried out of the house. "Come on, now! Work!"

"My people will help," said Brandon. "Just let me go with you. They need to pay for this mess they caused me."

Dutch nodded as he and the boys walked towards their horses. "If that's what you need. We could use a few more hands. Reverend, get that poor boy buried somewhere quiet." He gestured to what was left of Kieran.

Swanson was already on his way. Charles was still scratched up from yesterday, so he was staying behind to help the reverend and guard the camp. Abigail, of course, was making sure Jack stayed inside until the grounds were completely safe and cleared of dead bodies and danger.

Dutch was the first to his horse, hopping onto the Count and turning towards the woods. Sadie, despite still being covered in blood, was already on her horse, too. Soon John, Bill, Javier, Micah and Lenny were on their horses, ready to charge into battle.

Hosea looked almost proud to see all their boys, and Sadie, ready, willing and able.

"Don't do anything foolish, Dutch," Hosea warned. "You find Sam and you bring him home! That goes for you too, Arthur! You hear me!"

Arthur tightly gripped the reins. He gave Soliel a pat on her neck and turned his head to Hosea briefly.

"Yeah…" he said. "I know." And with a light whoop, Soleil was off with a gallop, following his mentor and his fellow gang members into the forest.

Kieran's last moments played again…

And again…

And again…

Sean's…

Uncle Cliff's…

Sam wasn't sure if he passed out or was just stuck in a state for who knows how long. It went uninterrupted, so in some twisted sense, he was relieved.

When he did snap out or woke up from the darkest depths of his mind he found himself staring at his bloody lap. The blood on the floor had dried… going dark.

Sam gulped as the memory resurfaced in his mind again, resisting the urge to vomit and wiggled his wrists. He didn't stop. He wouldn't! The ropes burned his wrists, but he didn't care!

Finally, his hands slipped free and when Sam rose to his feet, he immediately slipped onto the floor with a yelp. He dragged his sore body to the wall opposite from where he was and sat up. Then he reached up and searched the dresser he was next to with his hand until it brushed against an opened bottle of whiskey. Once he had it, he leaned against the dresser and panted heavily. His other hand moved and touched his wounded leg, making him hiss.

Sam didn't hesitate. He tore the fabric off his pant leg, revealing the wound. The fabric had slowed the bleeding, but peeling it off made more blood ooze out again.

Sam shook off his coat and with his teeth, he tore one of the coattails off and ripped them into small strips. Then, he bit down on his sleeve as hard as he could before pouring the whiskey on his leg, teeth held tight to try and contain his screams, before wiping off the blood and grime and wrapping it up with his make-shift bandages, before putting what was left of his coat back on.. Finally, he crawled on his hands and knees until he made it to the door in the back, by a big counter. He dragged himself behind it, still sitting, and then he smashed the used whiskey bottle against it.

It wasn't long before someone came in. The grunt looked around, saw the empty chair and the whiskey on the floor.

Sam grabbed him from behind and slit his throat with a shard of the broken whiskey glass. The young man just stood there as he fell onto the floor. He then picked up the dead man's gun, before hobbling to the back door. He opened the door and clung to the frame to give his sore leg a rest.

"Kill them all…" he muttered to himself.

Sam stayed close to the wall, a shard of glass in his hand. He tried to keep from putting too much weight on his right leg. He jumped onto another guard and stabbed him again with the shard, until he was nothing but dead on the ground. Sam just dragged the man into the bushes and kept walking. The sun was rising, so he didn't have much time.

His mind screamed at him in rage when he saw more O'Driscolls. His face, chest and legs ached with every movement. With every time he plunged his makeshift knife into an O'Driscoll, his mind would chant:

"Bastards!"

"No mercy!"

"You deserve death!"

Sam ran across the small abandoned settlement and into another building. He fell to the ground. The small house's roof had long been gone, but the O'Driscolls were still making use of it, storing food, supplies and sleeping in it. There were two of them guarding the place.

Sam looked at the glass shard. Already the edge cut into his palm causing a small trickle of blood to drip down. So he plunged the shard of glass into one of their throats, took his gun, and then held it up to the other O'Driscoll who awoke upon hearing his buddy choking on his own blood before slumping over. He saw Sam and leaned back against the wall. Sam willed his mouth to move, his sore vocal cords managed to make a sound.

"My stuff," Sam growled. "Where is it?"

"F-Fishing house…" the O'Driscoll muttered.

Sam said nothing else before knocking him out with the butt of his gun.

The young man held his teeth tightly and stumbled out of the dilapidated cabin. Lightly holding his leg, he dragged himself to the fishing house in question. He opened the door, and just as he went inside, he heard a yell.

"He escaped!"

Sam saw it. His stuff was in the back by an old sink. A number of fishing supplies were on the wall near it, like bait, rods, and an assortment of hooks.

Once Sam made it to the counter, his palms fell on it and he slumped over it, lifting his sore leg off the ground for a moment. His hands and legs were shaking. Even with the bandages, he could tell all this movement was making his leg bleed again, but if he didn't move, he couldn't get out of here. He focused on the single lantern on the counter, staring at it, trying not to fall asleep, letting it be his beacon to give him the strength to walk out of this place.

Finally, he lifted himself off the surface of the counter again and dove for his stuff. Everything was still there, including his medicines and poisons. He took them out, still stored in vials and stared at them, the lantern letting him see which one was which by color.

Sam's sore lip trembled. "I'm sorry, Kieran," he spoke softly.

Breaking them would cause too much noise, but he had enough of someone else using his poison, even if it was just once. He opened the window slowly and poured out the contents of every vial. There were other unused herbs, but he would dispose of them later.

He had his satchel and his guns. Sam gulped to fight the pain and wobbled towards the other door.

The second he pulled it open however, he was pushed back in and practically thrown onto the counter. Colm stormed in immediately and slammed the door shut.

"You learned nothing from what happened, huh?"

Sam rolled out of the way when Colm lunged at him, but he grabbed his coat, trying to pull him back. So, Sam went with the force and slammed himself with Colm against the nearby shelf. They both fell, all kinds of bait and tackle falling with them.

Colm tried to climb on top of Sam, but he elbowed him in the jaw and scrambled to get a grip on the counter. Once he did, though, Colm got back up enough to pull the younger outlaw back down, knocking over the lantern. It fell on the opposite side of where they were, but when it shattered, it ignited a fire on the wooden floor. The two men struggled on the ground, unaware of the incoming gunfire outside.

Colm pulled on Sam's bad leg, making him cry out. He refused to let his prize go so easily, but Sam refused to give in so easily. Even as Colm dragged him back towards him, bloody leg soaking the floorboards, he thrashed around and struggled as Colm put his arms around his neck as they sat on their knees. Sam grabbed the O'Driscolls arms, pulling at them to no avail.

"I let my gateway out of this mess slip away from me once…" Colm said, devilishly smiling while he muttered into Sam's ear. Sam's fruitless struggle made it feel like he was restraining a kid. It was Dutch's kid, though. Blood or not, they were all fighters, but they would quit, eventually, he thought. Sam was slowing down. "Ain't no shame in giving up, son."

Sam panted heavily. Slowly, he let go of Colm's arms, and for a moment, he actually thought it was over.

Until Sam plunged his reclaimed knife into his leg.

Colm yelled out in pain and Sam hit him again by knocking his head back against his own. This time, Sam scrambled onto his feet for a moment, before getting pinned to the floor again, front facing down, a hand pinning his head.

"But you ain't like that no more, ain't ya!?" Colm yelled, his nose now bleeding. Sam kicked his legs, but nothing worked. His hands reached around as if searching for something. He turned pale at the sight of a hook in Colm's hand, seeing it via his shadow, and with the other, he grabbed Sam's ponytail and pushed his forehead into the ground. "You're gonna tell me everything! Do you understand?!"

Sam gritted his teeth. "Go to hell!"

He then felt it. The crooked metal on his back. It poked through his tattered coat, his shirt, and found skin. There was white.

And he screamed.

"After all the shit I did growing up in Valentine, I started thinking that my uncle didn't love me anymore, until the night he died."

All the horses sounded like drums in Arthur's ears. They headed north from Shady Belle, past the abandoned tobacco fields of Caliga Hall and up into the Bayou towards Pleasance.

"If you don't find out how important you are to someone until after they're gone, then it's just too damn late."

And Arthur saw the set of buildings. Dutch's Boys were hot on the trail. Guns in their hands, every man, and Sadie of course, took aim and opened fire.

"O'Driscolls! You're dead!" Arthur boomed, as every one of Dutch's Boys raced into Maccomb's End with Dutch at the helm.

"Get in there!" Dutch yelled, as Brandon's men took up the rear. As Bill and Micah rode into the camp, Arthur and John dismounted and ran for cover behind some trees, before taking aim and letting their shots fly. Arthur stood from cover not long after he took down an O'Driscoll, his eyes scanning for another before pulling the trigger again without a second thought.

John raised his gun, and then turned his head upon seeing a body in the greenery. Thankfully, it was not one of their own. The O'Driscoll had been stabbed. Micah found two in the collapsed house. One was just knocked out, until Micah finished him off. Javier and Bill rushed to the docks to stop anyone from escaping.

Then, there was a scream. It came from the last house they hadn't searched. A giant plume of smoke was floating up from it.

Arthur was the first to turn his head towards the building. He knew that voice.

"Sam!"

"Sing, little bird!" Colm yelled, pulling on the hook in Sam's back. The young man feared that it would tear a gash down his body, but it thankfully didn't and just tugged the muscles making him see white once more.

Sam screamed, tears streaming down his face, sobs escaping his mouth. Even so, he still yelled, "I won't tell you shit!" Finally, his hand grabbed the knife again, and he swung back, slicing Colm's legs. He backed off instinctively, moving his hand to pin Sam's down, but the relief of pressure on Sam's back gave Sam the room to roll and throw Colm off.

Colm scooted away, but now, it was Sam's turn to jump onto him.

"This is for Kieran!" Sam roared.

They fell to the ground again. The flames had spread from the floor to the wall behind the counter. Sam had landed on him, straddling his attacker, while on his knees, and plunged the knife down at Colm.

"DIE!" Sam shrieked like an eagle diving down.

Colm held back Sam's hands, desperately trying to stop the knife from piercing his torso. He looked into Sam's face, the blood on the side of his mouth had dried, but a few of his teeth were still reddened as he showed them like fangs. The burns and bruises on his face had begun to darken and despite the abuse on his body, his shining eyes still showed true, even with the tears. The O'Driscoll barely registered Sam's yelling and grunting, as he tried to lean all his weight on that damned knife. All he could see right now were those eyes.

Those windows into Sam's soul. Even now, she mocked him from the beyond. "COLM! GET OUT HERE!"

The door swung open and both parties turned their heads to see none other than Arthur Morgan standing in the doorway, gun in hand.

Sam's bloodthirsty face softened for a moment. Then he yelled as Colm rolled the boy off of him. Arthur began to run towards them.

"I wouldn't come any closer!" Colm yelled.

Arthur immediately halted and gritted his teeth. Colm had Sam pinned to the floor again which made him scream as the hook in his back was pushed into his flesh. The O'Driscoll pointed a gun at Sam's forehead with one hand while his other hand was being clawed at because it was on Sam's neck, thumb on his throat.

Sam hiccupped and gasped. He couldn't hold it anymore and the tears flowed freely from his eyes.

"God damn it!" Arthur growled. He glanced outside for a moment, seeing several of Brandon's men along with Bill, Javier, Lenny and Sadie surrounding the building. "It's over, Colm! Let the boy go!" Arthur gulped. Was this how it was for her and their son?

Even at the end of his string, Colm still had the balls to chuckle. "He held out well," Colm said, a grin on his face, as Sam laid there with flowing tears. "Never said a word. I expected nothing less from Dutch's own flesh and blood."

"What?" Arthur said, brows furrowing more.

"Oh, Dutch didn't tell you? How typical."

Arthur growled. "Shut up."

"When are you gonna see that no matter what you do for Dutch, you'll always be the work-"

"I TOLD YOU TO SHUT YOUR MOUTH!" Arthur shouted. He kept talking, even though he couldn't do anything with how Sam was right now. The flames roared more and more, as if filling in the silence that was only accompanied by Sam's coughing and gasping.

"Whatever you do to Sam…."

Was it over?

"I'll do it to you tenfold!"

He was going to die!

"Let him go! NOW!"

He was going to die!

Then the other door swung open.

"HEY!"

A loud, ear piercing voice filled the burning room. Like a demon rising from the depths of hell, a figure stood in the doorway, hair a mess, and riddled with knots, but hazel eyes staring forward.

Everyone looked… including Colm. Sam grabbed the gun and forced it out of the way. It went off, but hit the floor behind him instead. Arthur ran in while they struggled and so did the demon.

Golden hair, white shirt, blue jeans, hazel eyes…

Lily, clothes muddied, and elbows and knees scuffed up, was lightning fast and kicked the gun away. Arthur gave Colm a swift kick to the chest, which let Sam slip away and roll onto his side. He crawled away from his attacker as much as he could until his arms gave out and he collapsed, coughing and gasping.

"GET THE HELL AWAY FROM HIM!" Lily shouted. She stepped on Colm's hand, making him yell out in pain, before pointing her gun at him.

As soon as Sam was free, Arthur's rage started to evaporate. Not completely, of course. Sam was practically faced down on the floor, having been overwhelmed by the pain, Colm choking him, and what just happened.

Arthur shot Colm in the shoulder. His scream would definitely be heard by everyone outside, but the outlaw didn't care. As he doubled over, Sam's pocket watch fell from his person. Arthur just stood there, with his smoking gun for a moment and just nodded.

Yeah. That was enough… he thought.

"In here, Dutch!" Arthur yelled.

Within moments, Dutch entered the burning house to find Colm at gunpoint by a crazed Lily and Arthur rushing towards a semi conscious Sam.

Even Dutch, at this moment, couldn't prevent his jaw from dropping.

"Good lord!"

Sam's breaths were heavy, his body limp. Blood soaked through the cloth around his leg.. The second Arthur made it to his side and placed his hands on his arms, he flailed.

"NO!" he yelled, as if Arthur's hands burned his flesh. Butterflies bloomed in his chest as his back met Arthur's chest and he thrashed about. "Get the hell off me!"

"Sam! Sam!" Arthur called. Gripping Sam's upper arms tightly, the outlaw forced the younger man to turn around and face his direction. "It's me! It's Arthur! Look at me!"

Sam was then still, body riddled with tremors. He looked at the outlaw, registering his face: Golden hair, blue eyes, stubble on his face, crooked nose and notable scar on his chin.

Tears flowed down from Sam's eyes. It was Arthur. And Lily was there, too. They came.

Sam's face met with Arthur's shoulder as his arms wrapped around him. He crumpled in the outlaw's arm and clung to him tightly, fresh sobs escaping from his mouth.

"He tried to…" Sam mumbled. The softness and the rasp of his voice was just gut wrenching.

"I know…" Arthur responded. And he tightened his grip around Sam after hearing his broken sobs. "Shh… I've got you." His voice wobbled, but only for a second. Hearing Sam's voice dissolve into unbridled sobs was unsettling, and the hook in his back wasn't making things better.

Later… Arthur thought. Right now, he just wanted Sam to know a safe touch… even if it was from a bastard like him. Arthur knew Dutch would handle this. Sam needed him right now.

Sam was alive.

Shaken, but alive.

Dutch just nodded and gave a firm grip on Sam's shoulder. Sam looked up at him with those shining, pearly eyes, and as Annabelle crossed his mind, he looked forward towards the lethal scene, before walking towards it, gracefully, as if the building wasn't currently on fire.

"Lily, leave him," Dutch ordered. Lily hadn't moved from her spot. She was still on Colm's hand, who was writhing with a bleeding shoulder.

"After everything he's done?!" Lily shouted, pressing her foot down harder, making Colm yell.

"This is my responsibility!" Dutch raised his voice. "Remember what's important right now! We don't have time to argue."

Lily didn't move her gaze for a moment. All Colm did was glare at her from the ground. He didn't give a shit about what he did, but Sam's cries drew Lily's heart to what mattered. Plus, the fire was also a huge hazard.

She took a deep breath and lowered her gun slowly, before moving her foot away and stepping back. Dutch pulled out his revolver and took her place, while the girl rushed to her cousin. She and Arthur lifted Sam onto his feet and guided him outside. Dutch could hear them saying reassuring things and helping Sam watch his footing.

Colm sat up slowly. His legs were sliced and his shoulder and nose were bleeding steadily. Even with what Sam had been through, he still did a number on him.

"You feelin' good, Dutch?" Colm rasped.

The other man just stared. The fire had spread to the roof and was starting to go to the other walls. Annabelle's final moments were playing in Dutch's head again.

"I don't even know why I considered a parlay with you," said Dutch. "Forgiveness?"

Colm, despite his broken, abused form, just laughed. "So, you can only show your real self behind closed doors, Dutch? Only in a burning building? Or on that boat?"

Dutch scowled. "You don't know what you're talking about."

"At least I have the guts to show who I really am without lying to those around me," said Colm. "To all of them! To Annabelle!" He grinned. "She died loving a lie!"

Dutch smacked him with the barrel of his gun. Colm just fell to the floor again. As he did, he remembered his lover's final smile.

He remembered Arthur stumbling into Clemen's Point, half dead. The bruises Sam had, the dented pocket watch, and the frantic search to find him… and poor Sam's unrelenting sobs as he laid in Arthur's arms just a minute ago.

Finally, Dutch spoke.

"This is me." And he shot Colm in the leg. Dutch didn't even flinch at his agony, or the pieces of wood that fell from the burning ceiling.

Dutch thought of Hosea… and how he sat with him every night after that bastard killed her, through all of the tears he shed, every drink and every lamentation of that night. As Hosea, Arthur, John, Susan and everyone else crossed his mind, he knew he wasn't alone.

"And this is Annabelle." With one swift kick, Dutch hit Colm on the head and knocked him out.

After that, he just stood there for a moment. With how bloody the floor was getting, one could easily think Colm was dead. However, the rise and fall of his chest said otherwise.

Finally, Dutch picked up Sam's pocket watch before turning away from Colm and exited the house. He signaled the others to go and have a look for themselves. The fact that he left Colm still breathing in there would say it all… he hoped.

Meanwhile, Arthur and Lily managed to get Sam loaded up in a covered wagon. He had fallen into some kind of stupor, leaning against Arthur, while gripping his shoulders tightly, but snapped out of it briefly when Lily climbed into the wagon and laid a hand on his back. She grimaced at the sight of it, but knew she had to help him.

"Sam… I gotta… It's gotta come out," said Lily.

Sam just whimpered and nodded into Arthur's shoulder.

"Just be quick," said Arthur.

Lily nodded. "Of course." She rubbed his back for a few moments, before placing a hand on the protruding piece of metal. Sam curled his fingers on Arthur's back, nails digging into the fabric of the outlaw's shirt. Lily gave a gentle tug and Sam's mouth hung open. Tears dripped onto Arthur's shoulder. He was crying again. The girl had an idea on the shape and just tried to be quick. She curled her pull, looping the hook in her best attempt of getting it out the way it was forced in. Still, it scratched the inside, the tip scraping against the muscle and tissue.

Sam saw white and let out a sharp gasp, back arching and Lily freed the hook from his back and tossed it aside quickly. Hands were then on him and he flailed, but quickly the warmth of a hand was on his back, along with a cloth to staunch the bleeding and then he was laying down.

Sam didn't realize how much he was shaking, until his vision came back. Arthur. Lily. They were hovering over him in the wagon. He soon realized his vision was blurry because of tears. He closed his eyes, letting his sobs escape.

Arthur picked up Sam's hand, the bleeding on his palm had slowed since his improper glass handling. He had to take off his glove, picked up cloth and wiped it down the best he could. Lily poured some whiskey on it and handed Arthur the bandages. After it was wrapped up, Arthur held the injured hand near his chest.

Sam barely moved as Lily continued her work. She moved to his leg and just tore off the rags he used, along with the rest of the pant leg. It was dreadfully red and like the wound on his back, the skin around it was bruising up in purple. Lily ripped up a few rags from her satchel. Then she poured more whiskey on the wound with one hand, and held Sam down gently with the other.

Sam's grip tightened on Arthur's hand. Pain. Why more pain? He couldn't take much more. His tight grip was met with an equal share of that strength, maybe even stronger.

He opened his eyes again. Arthur was still holding his hand with one, with the other keeping his leg still while Lily wrapped it in clean bandages.

Sam let out a shaky sigh and wiped some tears from his eyes with his free palm. Right. They were here. He was safe now.

Another minute or so passed in silence. Lily took her satchel and placed it under Sam's leg to elevate it.

"There," she said. "Just lay still for now."

Sam didn't really look over until Lily patted his chest.

"Sam, are you alright?" Dutch had come over not long after. Lily scooted over to allow Dutch to step into Sam's view.

Sam's lips were still quivering too much to answer. He just nodded through the tears that he was, even though that was far from the truth.

"We need to get him back to camp," said Lily. "This'll hold up for now, but he'll need stitches." A small groan came from Sam as a response. Lily just patted his knee. "Sorry."

Arthur looked at his mentor. "What about Colm?"

Dutch let out a sigh. Then, he raised his hand and pointed back with his thumb at the swarming gang members that were Brandon's "discouraged" people. "Brandon is gonna have him taken into custody after they patch him up. We're splitting the bounty."

Lily just huffed. "So Brandon has his own medical folks. Good. I had no intention of helping that piece of shit."

Arthur just nodded and stayed silent. That sounded fair enough.

"D… Dutch?" Sam managed to stutter. His voice was incredibly hoarse.

Dutch looked down at the boy. "Yes?"

Sam sniffled, more tears welling up in his eyes. "I'm so sorry…"

"Hey, none of that, now," Dutch said, softly. "None of this is your fault." He knelt down and ran his hands through the younger man's sweaty hair. "We're gonna get you home, so just hang in there."

Sam nodded. "Y-Yes, sir."

"I guess you two will sit with him?"

Arthur and Lily nodded.

"Alright. I'll get the others and we'll head back."

Dutch stood and left the wagon soon enough. After a few minutes he got in the driver's seat with Lenny and the wagon started to move, making Sam flinch.

"It's okay," Lily said, placing a gentle pat on Sam's shoulder. "We're going back to camp now."

Sam just sniffled. He was looking at Lily, but his mind seemed far away. "You came for me…".

"'Course we did!" Arthur said, rubbing his thumb across Sam's fingers. The warmth of Arthur's body was helping loosen the tightness in Sam's chest, but he couldn't stop the waterworks from his eyes.

Sam tried to get his words out as strong as he could, but they came out soft and desperate.

"I… I didn't tell him anything…" Sam said, like a prayer. He then shut his eyes tightly, gripping Arthur's hand like he would disappear if he let go. "I swear!"

Arthur leaned over slowly and placed his free hand on the side of Sam's face. Sam was fine, or rather, he would be fine. He was right in front of him, but for some reason he needed the additional contact to be sure. His stomach finally unknotted. Arthur fought the warm sting of tears threatening to form.

Lily was staring at Arthur, her expression was blank. Arthur thought nothing of it, knowing what was more important. He opened his mouth and gave Sam the reassurance he needed.

"I know you didn't."

Sam leaned into Arthur's hand and just stayed still, letting himself weep. Arthur stayed still, as well, ready to stay with him for as long as he needed. Lily was, too.

They both were.