Comas sucked. Sam couldn't even stand even if there was technically nothing wrong with his legs. They still wobbled and refused to obey him as he struggled though his physical therapy. His mind had sobered up fast enough, even if there were some blank spots there, but everything about his ability to move refused to follow suit.

So, even if he was fine, he had to spend another five days in the hospital and undergo weeks of physical training before he could feel normal again. And it hurt, because all he wanted was his old life back. He couldn't even remember what had possessed him to run after Snitch Gravel alone and get his ass handed to him in such a spectacular way.

Christine was by his side as often as her schedule allowed, and there was always someone there, cheering him along, whether it was one of his brothers, one of the girls, Harry or Lisa. And it felt like every second Christine wasn't with him, Lisa was instead.

Sam was beyond grateful for that, even if he had a nagging feeling it wasn't out of pure friendship. Even so, he cared too much about their friendship to call her out on it. The last thing he wanted was to make her feel awkward or to lose her company. She was great, telling him about school and what everyone else was up to.

"Don't worry. You'll be back in hell in no time," she kept assuring him.

He could only smile and hope she was right. And hold on to her tighter to avoid falling over when he wanted to go down the hall and get some water.

As it was, he soon was back in hell, but not in the form of school. Home. Except that house had never felt less like home.

Maxi was hysterical, bursting into random tears over the most irrelevant things. Like Sam losing his balance and hitting his ass on the final step of the staircase. Or Kyle not coming home for one night or two when everyone and their mothers knew where he was and what he was up to. Or Jerry saying he was too tired to cook a meal.

The absence of Freider was also felt inside the house, loud and ominous.

Fortunately, soon enough, Sam was fit enough to return to society and escape the toxic smoke inside what was once his sanctuary. Unfortunately, that meant the memorial was finally to take place.

Sam didn't know how to feel about that. As he watched himself in the mirror, he felt a little queasy. His worries about turning into a flab bucket had been totally unjustified. Losing all his fat while in the coma meant he now had a six pack. Which was so weird. He'd never come even close to anything like that and he was sure the food would cover it up in no time. He was unpleasantly reminded about how thin Tom had been when they'd first met.

Anyway, his new body was hidden behind a black shirt and blazer. The memorial would take place at a local funeral home and it was family only, which meant there shouldn't be many people. Of course, the girls would be coming as well as a few friends from school. Even Herrison expressed his desire to pay his last respects. Sam had only seen him once since he'd been up and about, but couldn't say he missed him.

"Ready to go?" Tom asked.

Sam nodded and turned to his twin. Tom hadn't chosen to dress up for the event. He wore black jeans and a black World of Warcraft t-shirt which was so much more suited for the occasion. He'd also switched up his usual blue-lens sporty glasses with a pair of black Ray-Bans.

"Nice." Sam nodded at the t-shirt.

Tom just shrugged. "Billy was always for the horde."

Fair and true. Not even Jerry commented seeing that he and Sam were the only ones not dressed as if they were going to a rock concert / videogame convention. Kyle and Jimmy had both chosen videogame themed t-shirts, Kyle with a DOTA ensemble while Jimmy had chosen Starcraft as his game of choice.

"We should totally be doing this at a videogame convention," Tom mumbled as they waited in the hall for their parents.

Freider had returned. And in the last two day's he'd been inside the house, Sam had avoided him like the plague. As much as the others counted on him, Sam couldn't get into a serious discussion with his father yet. That hadn't worked for his brothers so he doubted it would work for him. He needed to be more subtle.

Also, like never before, his father gave him the creeps. Being on the road so much had left its mark on Freider. His once neatly trimmed mustache was scruffy and the rest of his face unshaven, making him look more like a mountain man. His cheeks had also hollowed from the lack of proper meals and there was a certain menacing air about him.

Still, he smile as he saw Sam, hugged him, appeared genuinely pleased to see him walking again. He didn't bring up Snitch Gravel and Sam didn't intend to do it either until after the memorial.

In a flurry of black coats and silence, they divided into three separate cars and headed for the venue. The closer they came to the destination, the queasier Sam felt. It was stupid, it wasn't like he hadn't known for a while, but being suddenly faced with saying goodbye made everything real.

There was no coffin because there was no body. They weren't even going to symbolically bury Billy because he wasn't theirs to bury. But as he looked at the lone photo of his cousin placed next to a large display of white roses, Sam's stomach still churned.

Christine tightened her grip on his hand and leaned her head against his shoulder. She was the incarnation of weeping friend, from her black dress to the silent tears pouring down her face.

"So what are we supposed to be doing here?" Tom mumbled next to Sam. "Ya know, since I don't think he's dead. Should we start a demonic ritual and try to summon him?"

Sam snorted with laughter.

"Sam," Maxi chided in a carrying whisper.

"No, seriously," Tom insisted.

"Shut up before you make us all die of repressed laughter," Angie hissed at him.

"None of you think he's dead, do you?" Sam asked.

"Not really," Kyle answered. "And looking at his picture just makes me want to punch him in the face for not giving us some sort of sign."

"Maybe he really is dead," Jerry said quietly.

They fell silent again. Because they were faced with the choice to either believe Billy was alive or not. And they'd chosen to give him the benefit of the doubt. No body, no death. They were insanely hard to kill anyway.

"I wish he were here with us, though," Sam whispered.

He was so used to Billy always being around, it was hard to imagine a world without him, missing or dead. He'd spent so many summers with his cousin, playing videogames or watching movies. Making jokes and gorging on Jerry's food. Billy didn't say much about himself, wasn't the type to force himself on anyone, but he always joked around and was great company.

Hell, he'd never even insisted on how Sam and Tom were identical after he mentioned it the one time and was dismissed. He kept to himself, yet was always there.

"Why do we have to take everything for granted?"

That was the million dollar question and no one had an answer.

Before Sam could get more depressed about the whole situation, Freider stepped up and raised his hands to get everyone's attention.

"Friends, family," he stared. "We are gathered here today to pay homage to a very brave young man."

God, why did he have to do this. Sam's throat stung and he knew it was just the prelude for tears and he so didn't want to cry just because his father chose to be melodramatic.

"Are we now?" a booming voice interrupted from the back.

Everyone turned to the doorway and Sam realized that it could get a lot worse. Also that he was still a brain dead idiot if he couldn't predict that Billy's father would show up for his own son's memorial. Then he realized Yuki and Emiko, Billy's half-siblings, should also be there. They weren't, like no one was taking this seriously.

You're not taking it seriously either. Yes, he was, on some level. Billy could be dead! The confusion was giving him a headache.

Bill Grant entered the room, his stormy eyes taking in the attendance. Sam had seen his uncle very few times, so he was startled by his resemblance to Billy. The same eye color, the blond hair, the round face and the sharp nose. The difference consisted in a few extra wrinkles and a shaggy beard.

"Are we here to pay homage?" Bill asked again. "Or to witness your monumental fuck up?"

The look on Freider's face could murder, but his older brother seemed completely unimpressed. "What are you talking about?"

Bill's grey eyes scanned the room again as if to asses who could hear what was about to come out of his mouth next. His eyes lingered on the girls, but they were already part of them and everyone knew that, so they were ignored. The only people who weren't family were either the few friends from school or Agency members. Only Herrison and Steve Turner had turned up. Apparently, Bill deemed them harmless, because his killer gaze returned to Freider.

"I'm talking about your obvious talent for estrangement taking my son's life."

Ferider's eyes narrowed. Everyone in the room fell silent, waiting for the explosion to happen.

"I don't think it was me, Bill," he finally said.

"Oh, really now? Who has someone out to get him? Because it's sure as hell not me."

"It should be you. Because you just stood by and did nothing. Left all the dirty work to me."

Bill's gaze flitted to Maxi and a snarl turned his mouth. "I'll say dirty."

"You want reasons for Billy's death?" Freider asked, his voice rising with every word. "Try your own neglect."

"Ugh, bad move," Tom mumbled.

Bill swelled like a balloon fish, ready to pop and release his quills on everyone in the room. "It wasn't neglect that killed Billy, you asshole, it was Snitch Gravel. Who is on you. Always on you. You don't even care that he almost killed your kids, too."

"I do care," Freider snapped. "I'm handling it."

"You've been handling it for twenty years, and look how that turned out!"

"Don't you--"

"You killed my son!" Bill thundered.

"Maybe he's better off dead!"

Deathly silence filled the room at Freider's words.

"Oh, boy," Kyle breathed.

"You do not say that to a parent, Freider," Maxi whispered. "You should know better. Bill is grieving. You should be supportive."

"Just stay out of this, Maxi," Freider growled, his hateful gaze still trained on Bill. "He's not grieving. He's just glad there's no more responsibility on his hands."

"How dare you? You've always been a heartless idiot."

"And you've always ran away from all your problems." The look on Freider's face turned savage, as if he reveled in the opportunity to call out his older brother on every mistake he'd ever made. "From the moment you turned eighteen, you hightailed it out of the house. You weren't even here when Father died, when Mother was committed. You left me alone to care for--" He faltered.

"Ron?" Sam supplied.

Both men turned their eyes on him and Sam remembered he wasn't supposed to know about his second uncle.

"How do you...?"

Bill started laughing, but it was an unnatural, twisted sound. "They have no freaking clue, do they? You and your secrets!"

"My secrets?" Freider snapped back. "What about yours? Where's Billy's mother? Do you even know her name?"

It was becoming a fight of low blows and Sam didn't know if he should end it, since it was very unfit for a pretend funeral, or relish the fact some skeletons were finally dancing their way out of very deep closets.

"This is getting good," Kyle mumbled. "Wish I had popcorn."

The affirmation earned him a nudge from Kay, but Sam saw the truth in his words.

"Oh, I don't know. Maybe it's the one standing next to you."

"Bill!" Maxi said, outraged.

"What did you just say to me?" Freider said between his teeth.

"Think about it," Bill continued as if this didn't make just about everyone die of shame. "Would it really be that impossible? After all, I doubt half your kids are actually yours."

"Huh. Means half of one of us has another father," Tom said thoughtfully.

Freider didn't answer. He just slammed his fist into Bill's bearded jaw. There was a flutter of movement and screams as Herrison and Steve hurried to break them up, but Sam was kind of glad none of his brothers made a move to interfere.

"Freider, Bill, stop it!" Maxi cried, but stayed out of their way as fists kept flying from one to the other.

"Kyle, do you think it's about time you stepped in?" Jerry asked, though he only appeared mildly concerned.

"Fuck no. Let them tear each other apart. God knows they both deserve it."

"I honestly hope we're better fathers," Jimmy said. "Family history isn't looking good so far."

Sam nodded mechanically, though he had no idea how to feel about the show before him. Deserved? Yes. Proper? Not so much. Was he stopping it? Kyle had a point. Fuck no.

"Enough!"

Apparently someone else was. A figure stepped inside the room, draped in a long overcoat and wearing a fedora. In typical dramatic fashion, long-lost Ronald Grant flicked the rim of his hat up and stared at his two brothers in disapproval.

His appearance was enough to break up the fight. Bill and Freider stepped away from each other, their eyes wide with shock.

"Don't look so surprised to see me. And so disappointed I'm not dead." Ron stepped deeper inside the room and stopped between his nephews, his eyes trained on Billy's picture. "You know, Bill, I don't even remember what you looked like when you were Billy's age. Maybe because I was what? Three? I think I was three when you hightailed it out of the house."

Sam relaxed once Ron turned to hug all of them. He didn't want things to be awkward between them and he'd missed his uncle, even with all their bad history.

"Don't gloat, Freider," Ron added once he was done hugging the girls. "Don't even get me started on you."

"How do you...?" Freider pointed from Ron to each of his sons.

"I care," Ron answered with a shrug. "Unlike the two of you. Look at yourselves, punching each other on an occasion that should be about family and support." His eyes roamed around the room as if taking in who was there. "Speaking of which, where's Mother?"

Sam was so used to him grandma only being around when Freider called her to babysit, her absence hadn't struck him as weird. But now that he stopped to think about it, it was, just as weird as the absence of Yuki and Emiko. Was no one taking this seriously?

Bill also glanced around as if only in that moment he realized his own mother was missing. "What the hell is going on, Freider?"

"Mother is too old--" Freider started.

"Does she even know Billy is dead?" Bill demanded. "I never thought..."

There was silence as anger faded into confusion and grief from all parties. And Sam wasn't sure if it was from his new medical condition or not, but he felt exhausted. He no longer wanted to be there.

"Sam, you okay?" Tom asked instantly. "You're swaying."

"I'm not great," he admitted.

Christine tightened her hold on him, but her frail body wouldn't be able to hold him up if he collapsed. The pounding in his head became louder, more annoying, blocking out everything around him.

"I think we should go," Jerry said, his voice oddly distorted, as if he were speaking from inside a tunnel.

Sam couldn't agree more. The moment his brothers and friends surrounded him, he felt much better. This was his safe haven.

"Since we don't really believe Billy is dead, we're just going to go now," Kyle announced. "You're of course free to murder each other once we're gone."

And at that moment, Sam didn't care if Kyle wound up being right.

⏳

It took a while for the ceiling to stop spinning. Even if he'd planned on it, Sam couldn't sleep, but lying down still did him a load of good. And being alone, the silence, they were all appreciated for once. His thoughts weren't anywhere near as twisted and as scary as reality was.

The door opened and he turned his head towards the door. His mother stepped in, still in her black dress, a tray in her hands.

"Hi," she said quietly. "I thought you could use something sweet." She placed the tray on his nightstand, a muffin and glass of milk on it.

"Thank you."

She smiled, but she looked tired and sad. " Can I sit?"

"Sure." He scooted over to make room for her.

"I'm really sorry about what happened, Sam."

"It's not your fault," he said, even if it maybe was. He didn't find the strength or the will to analyse this right then. And, if he were completely honest, he didn't really want to know.

"I try to tell myself that too," Maxi said. "But there's only so much you can lie to yourself. I just hate it that all of our past mistakes are hurting you."

"Why do you hide so much?"

"Because certain skeletons are better left in the closet." She kissed his forehead and stood. "But I'm glad Ron is back. I've always liked him."

"We like him, too," Sam assured her.

"Goodnight, sweetie. Try and get some rest."

"Goodnight, Mom."

As Maxi let his room, Sam looked at the tray she'd left behind. Such a simple gesture that meant so much.

In spite of everything, Sam was glad he still had a mother to pamper him.