I remember the night Mom died. You don't forget something like that, no matter how many years pass you by. Sammy was just a baby -- he didn't know any better -- but Dad and I were devastated.

That's the thing I remember most -- the feeling of utter devastation. It wasn't the fire or the chaos or the terror of it all. It was the feeling of total loss, confusion, grief, loneliness. I felt lost when Mom died. Sometimes I still feel lost.

Some friends of Dad's took us in, but it wasn't home. I cried myself to sleep those first few weeks and took to sleeping with Sammy in his crib. It didn't matter to me that it was cramped and uncomfortable. I needed to know he was okay. I needed to know something wasn't coming for him in the middle of the night, like it had come for Mom. I'd lay there awake, night after night, replaying the fire in my head. I'd thought I'd heard someone there in Sammy's nursery, but I didn't know who it was. I learned later it was the yellow-eyed bastard who killed my mother and gave Sam his first taste of demon blood. If there's one demon I savored killing it was that sorry son of a bitch.

One of the first nights after the fire, after a particularly horrific nightmare, I woke up terrified, a scream caught in my throat. I saw a figure sitting in a chair across the room from me, draped in shadow, a dark silhouette in the moonlight, and I knew it was my Dad. I opened my mouth to call to him, but nothing came out. I had barely spoken since the fire. It was like I'd lost my voice or something. The words were there in my head, but I couldn't get them to come out.

As always, the tears came. All I really wanted was for him to hold me and tell me everything would be okay. Isn't that all a kid really wants? I know now he couldn't promise me that, and I wouldn't have wanted him to lie, but at the time, I felt like I'd not only lost my Mom, but my Dad, too. I felt utterly alone.

I could tell that he was crying, his shoulders shaking with silent tears, and I realized that he was just as devastated as I was. I wanted to go to him, wrap my arms around him, tell him everything would be okay. That I was there and Sammy was there and we'd be okay, so long as we were together, but something held me back. I just watched him there in the dark until he fell asleep, and then I crept out of bed, kissed his cheek, took the bottle of Jack out of his hand, and tucked a blanket around his neck. I climbed into the crib and spent the night with Sammy, my arms wrapped around my brother instead, holding onto him tightly, afraid to let go. I'm sure Sam doesn't remember it. He was too young to remember it, but I remember it like it was yesterday.

Days passed, but it was like living a nightmare. I went through the motions of living, but I felt dead inside. Dad tried to talk about normal things, but I think we both knew our lives would never be normal again. I'd wake up in the middle of the night, unable to catch my breath, my heart pounding, and think it was happening all over again. No one was there to comfort me or to tell me everything would be okay. It was just me and Sam. I'd see him laying there in his crib, peaceful, unaware of the drama playing out around him. I needed to be close to someone, and Sam was all I had.

I don't blame Dad really. He did his best, but he was so lost in his own grief, he didn't know what to do with me. How do you comfort a four year old kid whose whole world has just come crashing down around him when you're trying to deal with your own pain and loss? Dad was damaged beyond repair, and I learned pretty early on that I couldn't count on him for any sort of comfort. Instead, I sought comfort with Sam, playing the big brother, doing my best to take care of him and keep him safe from harm. I promised I'd never let anything happen to him, and I've done my best to keep that promise. It's a promise that was never made to me.

I understand Dad now. I understand how much he loved Mom and how hard it was to let her go. I understand how lost he felt without her and how angry he must have been when no one would help him find her killer. I understand why he wanted vengeance and why he was so tough on us.

I know he's in a better place now. I know he's with Mom, and they're watching over us, me and Sam. I have to believe that's true, after everything that's happened, or else, what's the point of it all? I hope he's proud of me, of the man that I've become. I hope he understands that everything I've ever done I've done because of Sam, but things have changed. My life has changed.

There's a hole in my heart where my family once was, but it's slowly being filled by Quinn. The part of me that needed Sam went home, and the part that needs Quinn stayed. I miss Sam, but Quinn is my life now. She's everything to me, and I'm not gonna let what happened to Mom happen to her. I swear to God I won't. I can't. I love Quinn, and I don't want to live without her. I don't want to become like my father.