AN: Again, I apologize for the delay. TW for excessive self victim blaming.

Drake tried to enjoy the cool breeze of the early fall as he walked home from school, but instead of it cooling him off, he just felt cold. He shivered as he wrapped his arms around himself and stepped closer to Josh- wait, where was Josh? Drake stopped where he was. Josh wasn't next to him anymore. Hadn't they left school together? Drake didn't remember being alone - or even anything that had happened at school - but a quick glance around him proved that his brother was nowhere in sight. There wasn't anyone in sight.

Wrapping his arms around himself tighter, Drake continued down the sidewalk, hoping that somehow Josh had just beat him home without him realizing it. Maybe Josh had taken the car. Wait, why wasn't Drake in the car? Why was he walking home?

Drake turned at the intersection and stopped in his tracks once again. A man stood about fifty feet away, his back to Drake. All Drake could see was his dark brown hair. The man's hands appeared to be in the pocket of his black hoodie, and his jeans - bedazzled with skulls - were baggy in a way that looked like he was trying to be fashionable. Drake continued, though the man stayed still. The closer he got to the man, the more unsettled he felt, despite not having a reason to. It was just a man, standing there. That wasn't anything to worry about.

When Drake was only six feet from the man, he turned around. Drake's breath caught in his throat as he nearly stumbled to a stop. It was his father. Luke sneered down at him, his eyes even darker than Drake remembered them. There was a little more gray in his ugly chinstrap beard, and even more hate in his eyes.

"What are you doing here?" Drake managed to ask, despite the way his legs had seemingly turned to noodles beneath him. Looking at his father, all he felt was pain and fear. He hadn't seen the man since he was fourteen and Luke had nearly killed him, beating him so hard he broke ribs, stomping on his arm, breaking bones in his wrist, and slamming his head repeatedly into the ground. Drake had had to tell everyone at school that he'd been in a car accident. It had been three years, and Drake hadn't seen or heard from him once. It had been three years, and Drake was just as terrified as he had always been.

"Well didn't you turn out just how I always knew you would," Luke said with a derisive snort. "You didn't grow up to be a man at all, just a bitch and a whore, just like your mom."

"Don't talk about Mom," Drake fired back, despite flinching at his father's words.

"At least your sister's got some fire in her, some drive and determination to be better, to be stronger. Megan never would've let herself be fucked like a whore like you did. She would've done what you couldn't and killed the bastard there on the side of the road. She's just like me, you know."

"Don't talk about Megan," Drake forced out through the tears that were building in his eyes. "She's nothing like you." He was shaking. He was so cold.

"Oh, you're gonna try to tell me what to do?" Luke laughed. "If anyone cared about what you wanted, you wouldn't have gotten fucked then, would you? Or, maybe that's exactly what you wanted. Maybe you're just a fucking slut who was asking for it."

Drake shook his head as the first tear fell. He tried to take a step back, but Luke lunged forward and yanked him close by the arm. That firm grip on his bicep didn't let up, and then there was another hand on his other wrist, keeping him from fighting back.

"No, stop!" he shouted. "Let me go!" But his father only laughed again.

"You can say that all you want, but we all know it's not true," Luke forced out behind his laughter. "Why else would you wear pants that tight across your ass and throw yourself at anything with tits? You always wanted it, you just didn't know how you needed someone to give it to you. You've always been asking for it, flaunting around your ass like that. How'd I end up with such a whore for a son?"

"No, no, I'm not, I didn't want it, I swear, I'm not a whore," Drake cried. He kept pulling uselessly, trying to get away, but as always, his father remained bigger and stronger, and Drake remained helpless against him.

"Yeah, keep pretending you don't like it," Luke scoffed. "They'll like that even more." He pushed Drake away from him, but instead of falling to the ground, Drake hit another solid mass, and even more hands were grabbing all over his body.

"No, stop!" he repeated. "Josh! Josh!" Drake called out for his brother, but he didn't see him anywhere. He could hear laughter all around him as the hands started dragging him away, back down the street, further away from home.

"Josh isn't here to listen this time," a familiar voice called out from above him. The hands on him froze, as did Drake. Another hand grabbed his hair and yanked his head back. James. He was leering down at Drake and practically salivating at the sight. "And he's certainly not here to save you."

"And this time, I'm gonna have some fun too," another voice joined in. Drake looked to the side, and his heart stopped at the sight of Miguel, soaked in blood, leering at him the same way that James was. He was supposed to be dead. Drake was supposed to be safe from them, from all of them. Why were they there?

James and Miguel started dragging him away again, laughing as he tried to scratch and claw his way free from them. Luke was laughing too.

"Dad!" Drake cried out, tears running down his face. "Dad, please!" he begged. Luke only continued to laugh.

"Get used to it, kid," Miguel said, throwing Drake down onto the grass. Before Drake could scramble away, they were on top of him once again, hands all over his body, tearing at his clothes, pulling his hair, laughing and moaning as he screamed and begged them to stop.

"Josh! Josh, please! Help me! Where are you?!"

Under the sounds of Drake's cries and the men moaning and laughing on top of him, Drake could just barely make out what sounded like his brother, but he still couldn't see him.

"Drake! Drake, you gotta wake up! It's okay, it's just a dream, I'm here. Come on, Drake, please!"

Drake felt more hands on his shoulders, pulling him across the grass and up, into a seated position. He kept kicking at Miguel and James as they clawed after him, but now his arms were restrained against his chest.

"Let me go!" he shouted, but the grip didn't lessen.

"Drake, it's me! It's Josh! It's okay! Come on, Drake, wake up. Wake up!"

Drake gasped as the bright sunlight instantly disappeared and the darkness of his bedroom took over. He was seated on his bed, with a warm body pressed behind him, holding his arms over his chest as he gasped for air.

"Josh?" he called out through his quick gasps of breath and tears.

"I'm right here. I've got you," Josh said. It sounded like he was crying - or was that just Drake?

Drake began to turn, and Josh immediately helped him to turn to face him, and wrapped his arms around him again. Drake gripped the back of Josh's shirt and buried his face in Josh's shoulder as he continued to sob. It may have just been a dream, but James was still out there somewhere, and so was Luke. It may have just been a dream, but the feelings were very real. And on top of that, he woke Josh up and made him cry. Drake opened his eyes when he realized there was another light in the room. The door was open, and his parents and Megan were standing in the doorway. Megan looked more upset than Drake had ever seen her in his life, and both his mom and Walter had tears streaming down their faces. He had done that. That was his fault. Drake buried his face in Josh's shoulder again as his own began to shake with the force of his sobs.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he repeated, squeezing Josh even tighter in an attempt to get himself to stop shaking.

"No, you didn't do anything wrong, I promise," Josh said as he gently began to rock them back and forth. "You're okay now, I'm right here, I've got you. Mom and Dad and Megan are going back to bed, it's just you and me. It's okay."

As guilty as Drake felt for his parents' and sister's emotions, he was glad that he and Josh were alone again. It was less overwhelming.

"But I woke you up," he said. "I woke you all up and scared you." His voice was muffled, being spoken into Josh's shoulder through tears, but Josh seemed to understand him anyway.

"It's not your fault. None of this is your fault, Drake." Josh's hand moved from Drake's back to his hair, where he began gently massaging his head. Drake let himself fall slightly limp against Josh, and tried to get himself to focus on nothing but the fact that his brother was holding him, and he was safe. "Just try to relax. I've got you."

Drake nodded against Josh's shoulder and let the full weight of his head rest on it. A little sound came from Josh that had Drake's eyes immediately widening. He shot back, disconnecting himself from his brother.

"Your shoulder, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry Josh, I-."

"Hey, hey, it's okay," Josh interrupted. He held his arms out, the right much more so than the left, and motioned for Drake to come back. As horrible as he felt for forgetting about Josh's injured shoulder in his panic, he couldn't stop himself from falling back into his brother's arms, this time careful to not put any pressure on the stab wound. "If it hurt that bad, I would've made you move. I promise it's okay."

"But I shouldn't have forgotten."

"You've been through a lot tonight," Josh fired back. "I wouldn't have expected you to remember. It's not bleeding or anything, it just hurt a little more for a bit. It's okay."

"I'm sorry."

"Stop apologizing," Josh said. At least now it sounded like he was smiling instead of crying.

Drake stayed exactly where he was for several more minutes, resting sideways, practically in Josh's lap, his head resting against Josh's good shoulder while Josh held him and carded fingers through his hair. It was a far cry from the way that Miguel and James had been touching him in his dream - and the way that James had touched him only a few days before. It was gentle, loving, and calming.

"If you still wanna try to go to school in the morning, we should get back to sleep," Josh said, his voice hesitant and cautious. Drake just shook his head.

"I can't go back there, I can't see them again, any of them." He would never sleep again if he meant he was safe from them.

"Kids at school?"

"No." Drake stopped and forced himself to take a deep breath. "Miguel, and James, and- and my dad." Josh's arms around him got a little bit tighter.

"Do you wanna talk about it?" he carefully asked.

Really, Drake didn't want to talk about it. He wanted to forget all of it ever happened and go back to playing music and going on dates and blowing off his homework. Drake wasn't sure it would ever be like that again. Maybe the only way to make it happen was to talk about it, to get it all out there so it could disappear into the universe, instead of rotting in his head.

"I was walking home from school," Drake started, slowly and deliberating in order to keep himself from panicking again. "But you weren't next to me. I don't know where you were. Then my- my dad, he was in front of me, and he- he, uh…" he trailed for a moment, beginning to fidget with his hands. "He called me a slut, and a bitch, and a whore, and he said that I was asking for it. Then he, uh, he gave me to Miguel and James, and they started dragging me away and tearing my clothes off while my dad just laughed, and that's- that's when you woke me up."

Drake didn't make any effort to look at Josh. He didn't want to know what expression might have been on his brother's face, he just wanted the memories gone.

"You're not any of those things," Josh said, squeezing him tighter again. "And you weren't asking for it."

"But what if I was?" Drake asked. "My dad said it's because my jeans are too tight on my ass and I go out with too many girls, that means I was asking for it."

"I don't care what your dad said in your dream," Josh firmly stated. "It's not true, and I know you know that. None of it was your fault. You weren't even wearing jeans when they took us, and even if you were, that still wouldn't change anything. Nothing you could ever wear would ever be an invitation for that. And going out with girls certainly doesn't mean you wanted to be touched by a grown man. That doesn't make any sense, Drake. You know it doesn't make sense. The only fault here lies with Miguel and James, no one else. Certainly not with you. I promise."

"Then why does it feel like it's my fault?" Drake asked. He wiped away his tears before they could fall.

"A couple reasons," Josh softly answered. "This messed up world we live in and how it treats people who go through stuff like that. Your brain naturally trying to make sense of what happened. Even your own tendency to reject all responsibility for anything except the most traumatic things in life, of which you take too much responsibility to compensate. Take your pick, all of the above."

"Huh?" Drake wasn't entirely sure what Josh meant with that last reason, but he knew his brother was trying to help, so he appreciated it anyway.

"You should talk about this with Dr. Stein, or whoever you end up seeing," Josh said instead of clarifying. "I'll even go with you if that'll help."

Drake sighed.

"Yeah, maybe," he said.

"We really need to try to sleep," Josh said. Drake immediately started shaking his head. "They can't get to you," he continued. "Miguel is dead and gone, the police are gonna find James any day now, and your dad, he's been gone for years. He knows Mom would kill him if he ever showed his face around you again, not to mention the multiple warrants still out for his arrest if he comes back here. I know dreams can be awful, but they're not real. You can't just stop sleeping, Drake."

"I can't, Josh, I can't," he cried, trying and failing to keep another wave of tears at bay at the idea of being forced back into that nightmare, in their all too willing arms.

"I'm not gonna leave you. What if I stay right here with you, all night?" Josh offered. "When you slept on the couch earlier, and I was right there, you slept really well. We can't get you the sedatives they had in the hospital to help you sleep, but I can still be with you."

Drake was quiet. He was still exhausted, and he did still want to at least attempt school in the morning. As much as he was dreading going back to school, he still believed it would only get worse the longer he waited. He needed to rip the bandaid off sooner rather than later. Maybe Josh was right. Maybe everything would be okay if Josh just stayed with him, at least for that night. Besides, if he refused to sleep, Josh was going to refuse to sleep too, and that wasn't fair.

"Okay," he quietly responded, but made no move to extricate himself from Josh's arms.

"Okay," Josh repeated with a gentle smile. "Let me lie down, and then you can lay down on the right of me however you feel most comfortable. It just needs to be on the right side."

Drake took another breath, then finally leaned away from Josh, allowing his brother to scoot over to the other side of the bed and lay down on his back. The moment Josh looked back at him, Drake crawled back under the covers and let his head rest on Josh's right shoulder. His brother's arm came around his back and wrapped around his torso, holding him close. Drake forced himself to try to relax. He was okay, he was safe, Josh was with him. Everything was okay.

His hand came up to rest on Josh's chest, right over his brother's heart. Drake was calmed by the steady beat, and forced himself to close his eyes. There were no monsters in the room, there was only his brother. Drake briefly took his hand away from Josh's heart to grab the blankets and pull them further over him. He'd been so cold, but with the blankets and Josh right next to him, he was finally warming up a little. His hand went right back to Josh's heart, and Drake took in a shuddering breath.

"It's okay," Josh whispered, squeezing Drake just slightly. "I've got you. I'm not gonna let anything happen to you. Not tonight, not ever again." His voice was soft and gentle, but determined, the way it always got when he was so driven towards a specific goal - and Josh always accomplished his goals. Drake believed him. Josh was going to protect him. Maybe everything really would be okay.

It wasn't out of the state, but it was far outside the city. Deep in the Anza-Borrego Desert, far off the beaten path, lay a desolate cabin, long since abandoned by the park rangers. It would only take a day or so to fix it up enough to house his future prisoners. The Hummer was perfectly capable of the offroading needed to get there, and it was far enough away from anything else that if by some chance someone did happen to hear the screams, they would just assume it was a coyote or mountain lion. It was perfect.

James bashed in the window on the door, then reached inside to dislodge the bar locking it. He kicked it open, and stepped inside. The inside wasn't much better than the outside, but that didn't matter. He wouldn't be trying to impress his prisoners, and it wasn't as if they would need any amenities to speak of. All his toys would need is a secure place to be chained, and whatever minimal food and water James felt like providing. Depending on how long he decided to keep them around, he would need some basic toiletries for them, but James wasn't worried about that yet.

He dropped his duffle bag on the floor, grinning at the sound of the chains clinking together underneath. It was always better to have too many chains than not enough. James reached into the bag and pulled out a bottle of water and granola bar he'd also tossed in there, and began snacking as he ventured around the small cabin.

There were only two rooms: one larger living area with a kitchenette, and a small bedroom with a connected bathroom. Most of the furniture was still there, albeit dusty and some covered in animal dung and spiderwebs. The mattress on the bed frame was solid enough, and the bed frame itself appeared sturdy enough that James could put it to good use in restraining his toys instead of just having to physically hold them down while he used them. This was an even better setup than what he and Miguel had had. James grinned. He couldn't wait to have them here.

James spun on his heel and immediately staggered, hitting the wall. He closed his eyes and waited for the nausea to pass. He was getting better, but concussions took time, and he still wasn't in any shape to find the boys yet. But at least now he had somewhere to bring them, and he still had everything he needed in the back of the newly painted black Hummer to obtain them. James had another duffle bag in the Hummer, in which were all the tools he needed to make the space livable enough to suit his needs. It was all coming together, and soon enough, he would have his toys right back where they belonged.