Warnings: Gore, descriptions of violence & death. This one's heavy, but bear with me.

The sun had begun it's decent by the time the tires found their way to the gravel road that led to their home. For Thomas, the day had gone by excruciatingly slow. Tuesday's had a habit of doing that, keeping him tied to the butcher's table without a customer in sight. The bell atop the door had only rung two, maybe three times, he couldn't quite remember. He'd been distracted by the clock, watching its arms refuse to move for as long as it's machinery would allow. Noon had felt like an eternity, the hands had rested on twelve and six longer than they should have. Even then as he drove, it seemed if he were to look again, they'd still be sitting right where he'd left them, taunting him from within their circular domain that hung high on the wooden wall. The red lights had taken their place instead, stopping him every chance they got to drag out his trip home. As he sat at the last one before the road opened up, he grumbled at the significant lack of need for the thing. There wasn't another car in sight, in fact, there never was. He was certain they weren't the only ones that had found paradise in the hills, but sometimes he wondered if it was truly made only for them to call home. It was nice, he thought, to imagine the sunset over the mountains and the way the clouds sunk low to bathe themselves in the blushing horizon was painted for them and them alone to behold. It was beautiful in it's attempt to rival her, but it could never quite take his breath away like Ronnie could. As soon as the light turned green, his focus was returned to her and his foot on the pedal, which he pressed down to the floor. It would be only minutes now until the sun would disappear behind it's rocky mesa for the night and he'd be in her arms again, his favorite part of the day. He felt more deserving after a full day's work to be gifted with her gentle touch, he'd at least earned it in some way. Though still, he could never quite fathom how he'd gotten her, how a woman like Ronnie was waiting for him to walk through the door and take her in his embrace. He still thought himself a thief for stealing away with her, a jewel he didn't deserve in the slightest, though she always argued otherwise. Her mouth was a fountain of never ending affirmation, her eyes a pool of eternal praises she'd deemed him worthy to bathe in. In reality, she was the one deserving of such treasures and Thomas would never cease to remind himself of that fact. She'd earned the right to sainthood and he was a beggar, eagerly awaiting to worship at her feet as he turned into the drive. He smiled to himself as he imagined the way she'd laugh at that analogy. Ronnie was always quick to shy away from such exaltation, humble in ways she shouldn't have been. Like a saint, he thought again.

When the headlights fell onto the house his smile was stolen and replaced with a puzzled frown underneath his creased brow. The front door was ajar. Now, Thomas was no stranger to his wife's habits of leaving the windows open, doors unlocked as previously stated, however the sun had set and the night air had long since engulfed the rugged landscape in its chilling embrace. The few times he'd seen it open as it was she and Penny had been there in the grass, but with the wind whipping, he knew Ronnie wouldn't risk bringing her out to play. He turned the key and let the engine die, only to find unease in the silence that befell him as he sat there with his hands in his lap. The only sound was the low moan of the wind clawing at the car door, anxious to take hold of him. There was a light on in the front room, which he struggled to find comfort in. He tried desperately to reassure himself it was nothing, just something that had slipped her mind. That he'd feel silly when he pointedly shut it behind him and she rolled her eyes, like she always did when he nagged her about such simple mistakes. That was all it was, he told himself, just Ronnie letting the wind in for a little too long. He opened the door to be met with it, it's howl greater than it had sounded from within the safety of the truck. As he walked, he started to undo his mask, but let his hands fall when he decided he'd let Penny do it, that was unless Ronnie got to it first. He held onto that thought as he drew closer, doing his best to beat down the lingering unease before he crossed the threshold, but it came back with a vengeance when he stood before the open door. The house was quiet, the usual echo of Ronnie's voice or the pitter-pattering of feet on the floor was absent. The only light that could be found streamed out of the living room, bathing the wooden floors in an eerie orange glow. Eerie had never been a word he'd used to describe even a minuscule detail of their home, it had always been welcoming, warm. Even the glow from the lamp had never distressed him in such a way as it did then. Something wasn't right. In the silence, there was a sound, one he recalled with trepidation because he knew it all too well. It was lonely, cold, unforgiving, but most of all, empty and it made his stomach churn in ways it hadn't in years. She hadn't come to greet him with a kiss yet, Penny hadn't scurried down the hallway to leap into his arms. He stood there waiting in the cold for quite sometime before he found the strength to step inside. The wood strained underneath his shoes, it's creak harmonized with the whine of the wind that whistled it's way through the door behind him, though the chill he felt couldn't be blamed on wind or weather. Each step he took towards that glow seemed to bear down on his chest, heavily. It's weight had sunk into the pit of his stomach, where it festered viciously until it made his breath quicken in an attempt to quell the illness he felt. They should have heard him by now, she should have and she should have been there, questioning his concerned expression, putting it to rest with her hands in his.

"Ronnie," he croaked, but it barely came out above a whisper.

He was too frightened to call out to her, too frightened it would only be met with that lonesome cry of the wind. He hadn't noticed he'd stopped moving as his eyes fell to the spot on the floor the light touched. His heart stilled as they lingered there, embedded in the crimson stained wood. Just a stain, he thought quickly, but he couldn't ignore the way it gleamed up at him and he couldn't make himself look away, not until a squeal ripped out of the room beside him.

"Penny," he called out as he followed the sound with haste.

His feet weren't moving long before he stopped, halted by the loss of air in his lungs at the grim discovery that had patiently awaited him. Cold blue eyes cut up to him from the rocking chair by the window, but there was no love to be found in this pair. A smile curled onto the lips that rested below them, unveiling an unfinished row of jagged, yellow teeth. In his bloodied lap, Penny sat, held still by arms that were coated in red. At his side lay a sight that threatened to tear Thomas' heart from his chest. The saw was there next to his blood soaked boot, still dripping rubies. Grief so profound had struck Thomas so harshly that he could do nothing but stand there, wide eyed and stiff as a board. Though the red that had painted his home was proof enough, he didn't need to see it to know. He felt it the moment he walked through the door, because he hadn't felt her. He couldn't feel her, just cold, that was all he felt. He understood the wind's cries now, it was mourning. Ronnie was gone. His life was gone.

"So that's your name," Hoyt blurted out as he ruffled Penny's hair, "I been askin' her to tell me all damn day, was startin' to think maybe she's just as mute as you are."

Thomas didn't move, he had barely even comprehended whatever it was Hoyt had said. His mind was numb, blank, save the high pitch ringing that had filled his ears. It was as if he'd been shot right where he stood. His chest had been hallowed out, where his heart used to sit he felt nothing but a dull and heavy ache that spread throughout his body. It rendered him frozen in a sorrow so great as he waited for her voice to wake him. She had to, he had to feel her. He had to hear her breath in his ear as she gently told him it was only a nightmare, that she was right there beside him. He waited, held his breath for it, but it never came. Just that ringing. Just the wind.

"Well ain't you gonna say hello," Hoyt spoke again as he rocked back and forth in the chair she had always sat in to sing to Penny, the chair he didn't belong in.

He didn't belong there. He should never have been able to hold Penny as he was, after what his hands had done. Even his words were out of place. He spoke to Thomas as though he wasn't drenched in the sin he'd committed against him, as if he'd simply stopped in for dinner. He wondered if he had any concept whatsoever of what he'd done as he watched him smile at the child who's mother he'd just stolen, as he chuckled at the man who's wife he'd cut down so brutally. When his eyes darted back to meet Thomas', there was nothing left unsaid. They didn't spare him the details of the hell he'd wrought upon her, instead they shared them with pride. He saw her pain and saw how Hoyt had rejoiced in it. He had enjoyed every moment, that much was clear and wrath had quickly begun to replace the numbness that had overtaken Thomas. Slowly but surely, he found movement return to his limbs. It started in his fists, which unbeknownst to him had clenched tightly at his sides. Hoyts eyes fell to them and that grin he wore started to wane.

"Now, come on Tommy, don't be like that," Hoyt said, disapprovingly, "we both know this was always how it was gonna be."

Thomas' jaw was next to tighten. With each word that spilled out of Hoyt's tobacco stained mouth, he was finding his will. As his teeth scrapped against each other, he waited for him to continue. He figured if he just kept on running his mouth as he was he would in turn resurrect the monster he'd always believed Tommy was. He felt it pricking at the tips of his fingers, scratching at his palms, urging him to take hold of his former self, to take hold of the saw. It was begging for release, threatening to tear him apart from the inside out as it whispered promises of relief from the agony Hoyt had delivered. With each drop of her blood that fell from the chain, its voice grew louder. It demanded one last sacrifice, one more death and swore valiantly that it would be justly given. Hoyt deserved it, Thomas thought as he watched him soil Penny's once white dress with red. He was going to kill him, he felt certain he was, but he had just enough sense left in him to know Penny couldn't see it. For all he knew, she had seen too much already.

"She was never 'sposed to live, Tommy, you know that. We had an order, a balance that she disrupted and I restored it, that's all I did, but look at what she did. You can't tell me it ain't wrong, keepin' this pretty little thing from Mama, takin' you away," he rocked the chair back a little harder as a darkness returned to black out the blue of his eyes, "she wudn't family, she was a plague. She got in your head, boy, made you betray your kin, but I'm willin' to look past it, give you a chance to right your wrongs. Startin' with comin' home."

He had begun to quake with rage, his hands trembled uncontrollably as his nails dug into his palms. Thomas did his best to hide it as he nodded his head. He was well aware of what he had to do in order to save his daughter from those wicked claws she was in. He had to let Hoyt believe every twisted tale he spun was truth without question. Though his silent agreement was nothing but a lie, it pained him to watch the devil think he'd won. He beamed as he bounced Penny on one leg, overjoyed to think Thomas had seen the light. He was demented, so far from salvation that he truly believed what he'd done was god's work. He'll know, Thomas told himself as he watched those jagged teeth come out again when his smile returned. He'll know and he'll pay.

"I knew you'd understand, you know that? Always knew you had more of a brain than we gave you credit for. Tell you what," Hoyt said as he stood with Penny in tow, "when we get back, how 'bout I getchu a shiny new toy to play with, huh? Just to ease the sting a little. Maybe a little red head? Shit, you don't know what fun is yet if you hadn't had you one of those. We'd both have ourselves a good time with that, huh Tommy?"

Thomas wanted nothing more than to rip him limb from limb when he nudged him and whispered, "Though really, you and I, we ain't so different. Got us a taste for them blondes."

He let out a cackle that reverberated sinisterly off the blood stained walls as he dumped Penny into Thomas' stiff arms. Thomas watched him from his peripheral, his teeth still clamped down on one another as Hoyt sauntered over to study the pictures on the wall.

"Damn," he muttered as he squinted closer to one in particular, "well, she sure was pretty, I'll give her that much," he clicked his tongue with a shake of his head, "shame."

He turned back to Thomas, who hadn't moved a muscle, at least not that he could tell. He bit down on his tongue now, drawing blood to keep him from opening his mouth. He wanted to scream, wail and writhe, but he was forced to stand still, forced to allow Hoyt to shove his nose in it. He had played this game before with him before and he could play it just a little longer, just until Penny was safe. Then it wouldn't be his own blood he tasted on his tongue.

He let out a sigh, "'Reckon we oughta get the rug rat to bed, it's probably well past that time," he strolled back over to the saw and lifted it up, shaking it a few times to send further splatter to the floor before he continued, "I'll get your little buddy and some of this shit cleaned up while you handle her."

Thomas finally let his eyes close, hoping his mask would soak up the tears that had fallen from them. He forced his feet to find that will from before and moved as he held on tightly to Penny for strength. Just as he began to stumble out, careful to keep his gaze controlled for fear of finding what was left of her, Hoyt stopped him.

"Oh, Tommy," he said quickly as he rummaged through his pockets to retrieve one last jab at his younger brother, "thought you might want this back."

In his hand he held the ring Thomas had given her. He had to have seen his tears by now, because he looked positively joyful as he shoved it in Thomas' pocket. That's what he'd come there for, to break his brother once and for all.

"Boy, it sure is good to see you, Tommy," he said jovially as he patted him before he turned away.

The walk down the hall was blurred by his own tears and her blood. There was too much of it, too much he didn't want to see. He tried in vain to quicken his pace to protect Penny from such a gruesome image, but he stumbled over his own feet. He was fighting his own body as it begged him to release the sobs that had piled up in his chest. He wouldn't, not until he was out of sight. Then he would allow himself to grieve for just a moment, then he would right the wrong he'd made in leaving him alive. He knew that was what made it so easy for him to twist the knife in his back, he knew he was only able to because he had spared him. If he'd only known that the consequence of bestowing mercy on the damned would be to lose her, to be hallowed out and left so empty, he would have done it. If he'd known that Ronnie would pay the ultimate price . . . why? Why didn't he do it?

Finally, they were in Penny's room and the door clicked shut. There was a moment of heavy silence as he stood there with her in the darkness before he crumbled. He buried his face in the crook of Penny's neck and sobbed so profusely that he didn't even realize how tightly he was holding her until she began to struggle against him.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, so sorry," he repeated in whispers until he'd gathered himself enough to place her in her crib.

He fell to his knees and clung to the bars as he continued to repeat those words to her, to both of them. To Ronnie for what he had caused her, to Penny for having brought her into such a cruel and unforgiving world. They had both paid for sins he'd committed. Ronnie with her life and Penny in being dealt a life sentence without a mother's hand to guide her. It should have been him who suffered the saw, it was supposed to be him, but he wasn't there. He wasn't there and she didn't know, because he never told her that Hoyt was out there, waiting. He did that, it was his fault. His silence, his failure to act in the basement, they had both led to her death. He couldn't make the same mistake twice, he wouldn't.

He rested his head on the bars as he continued to quietly beg for forgiveness, his tears staining the ground below his knees. Penny had been watching, silent and unable to understand in any way why her father was so contrite. It upset her, but she didn't make a sound, instead as her little brow furrowed, she reached her hands through the bars to rest them in Thomas' messy locks. He felt her pulling at him, at first he thought she wanted him to take her out again. He didn't have the strength to stand just then, he just needed a few more minutes, he thought as she continued to ruffle through his curls. Then, he saw his mask fall to the floor in the dim gleam of the moonlight that trickled through the curtains. She'd removed it, like she always did when he came home. He observed it as it lay there, a remnant of his past, one he never quite understood why he'd brought with him. From the moment Ronnie removed it after Penny had been born he had no need for it, not with them. He was no longer a monster who had a need to hide, there was no shame to be felt when they looked upon him. To Ronnie, he was changed, reborn for her, but for Penny, he was simply daddy. His past wasn't something that had ever tainted her image of him, she knew nothing of it. He lifted his head to meet her eyes in the moonlight, of course she was looking right back at him. He was her father, her comfort, what she needed so desperately right then in all the confusion and chaos the monster in the living room had put her through. He was 'dad-dee'.

His rage subsided the moment she smiled at him, he softened as he studied her little face. He knew she'd been crying, for god knows how long, her eyes were glassy and not just from lack of sleep, but as he sat there looking at his daughter he watched her find relief in his presence, in his face. Her hand slunk through the bars once more to touch him and that's when he felt it. He remembered why'd he'd turned away once before. For this, for innocence, for her. He would never have sullied the day she was born with bloodshed or vengeance and he wouldn't sully her home with it either. Her little fingers traced his scars as he came to a conclusion that would take more strength than he was sure he had. If he walked through that door and did what the quietus within him cried out for, he would damn Penny to a life alone. She would lose not just her mother, but a father, her daddy that night too. Killing Hoyt would orphan her, in a way more brutal than even Thomas himself had been, because Thomas had a choice his birth mother did not. She had bled out long before she could make the decision to fight for Tommy, but Tommy still had breath in him, even if each one he drew proved more painful than the last. He was still there, her hand was still gently brushing his face and she was safe with him. Hoyt would win if he ended his life, he would succeed in destroying his family and tearing Thomas away from the only light he'd ever known when it was still there. Ronnie was still right there looking back at him from a pair of baby blue eyes that just knew he would do the right thing, no matter how hard the road to it and thereafter may be. He was convicted in Penny's gaze, in the gentle way she rewrote each of his scars. He was reminded of who he truly was, not who had been. He was Ronnie's husband, Penny's dad-dee and he would bring Hoyt to justice, but not in the way the devil demanded it be done.

He stuck his hand through the bar and held her chin between his thumb and his index, "You're right," he whispered as she played with his hand quizzically, "no more."

He stood and quickly locked the door from the inside before he left her in there. He turned the handle as quiet as possible to make sure Hoyt wouldn't be able to get in, not without a racket Thomas would surely hear. He paused in the hallway, ears piqued for any sound of movement, but to his relief, there was none. Just the sound of Hoyt whistling from the porch. He had gone outside to clean that vile thing he'd brought with him. He was dumb, Thomas thought to himself, but thank god he was, it made what Thomas intended to do much simpler. He was still careful to tread lightly, fearful if he caught him he'd return inside. He peered around the corner to see he had indeed shut the front door behind him before he hurried into the kitchen. Adrenaline was coursing through his veins, causing his heart to pound in his ears as he reached for the landline that hung on the wall. If he went through with it, there was no going back. He would never be the one to wring Hoyt's neck for what he'd done. His hand rested on it for a moment as he listened to the wind carry that damned whistling into his home, but it brought something else in with it. A whisper he knew had to have been created within his own imagination, but it sure sounded familiar. Soft, but firm, assuring him to be patient. Judgment would come for Hoyt, it won't be long, but this violence, this horror you've endured, end it here. End it now.

He took the phone off of the hook and quickly dialed the numbers he never thought he'd have a use for. It rung and rung, it seemed for an eternity as he glanced around the corner to be sure Hoyt was still outside, then finally-

"9-1-1, what's your emergency?"

Words still seemed to hide behind that distant ringing in his ears, but he managed to hear them clear enough. He took a deep breath and simply said, "Murder."

He left the phone hanging as he walked to the front door. He figured they could trace the call and he didn't want to risk Hoyt catching on, not just yet. He needed to make sure he had him, that he could truly end his reign once and for all. He turned the handle on the door and stepped out into the chilly air to find him still bloody as ever, holding his weapon in his lap.

"Took you long enough," he muttered as he wiped his forehead with a rag he must have stolen from the kitchen, "'spose it ain't really a man's job though, 'bedtime'. Hell, you're better than I am, I'd have slipped her some drink, make sure she stays down."

He stood up and tried in vain to clean his hands with the thing, but they were beyond saving. They were covered and for a moment, though he hated to think it, Thomas was glad. There would be question who'd committed the crime there that night. He was painted almost completely from the head down, which made it all the more difficult for Thomas to look at him and keep his hands to himself, but he fought valiantly to do so, for her.

"I'd say you're quiet, but I guess some things don't change do they," Hoyt said as he rested his hands on his hips, "I got most of it cleaned for you, I'll move her tomorrow if you ain't up to the job, but I could use the help of you are. Dead weight don't budge easy."

He waited, he wanted to see Thomas flinch. Hoyt may have been dumb, drunk even on his own self righteousness, but not so dense as to let his silence on the matter slip by unnoticed. He was holding something in, whether it was grief or vengeance, he wasn't quite sure yet, but it was there nonetheless. Enclosed in his rigid frame, but close enough to the surface that Hoyt felt he could coax it out of him.

"She didn't die easy either," Hoyt started, barely fighting the smirk that pulled at his lips as he glared up at Thomas from under his grizzled brow, challenging that gnawing beast he knew had been dormant for so long, "thought I'd have to saw her in half just to shut her up. She fought hard, stubborn as a rock to the bitter end, but even rocks break and boy, did I break her."

Thomas' chest swelled enough for Hoyt to grin. It was a ten minute drive to town, it must have been at least two minutes that he'd been out there suffering Hoyt's diatribe. Eight minutes, just eight more minutes and it would be over, he told himself as he waited for the next jab, though he had one of his own that slipped out before he could stop it.

"No," Thomas said gruffly before he finally met Hoyt's gaze, "she broke you."

Hoyt's eyes stayed wide as he let that sit for a moment. His mouth hung open as his tongue swiped across his bottom lip, tasting a bit of the metallic substance that rested there.

"There it is," he muttered as heat rose to combat the chill that rattled through his bones, he liked to think it was the wind, but Thomas' words had managed to cut colder. Though he would rather die than admit, even to himself, Thomas was right, he just hadn't figured that out yet.

"See, I don't think that's true, 'cause it ain't me who's lyin' in that bed back there with my head in my lap," Hoyt said through his teeth as he dared to step closer to his towering and rigid brother, "I won, Tommy. I was always gonna, you know it and I know it. If the blood on my hands ain't enough to convince you otherwise, I'd be happy to start that thing up again and teach you one last lesson and I betchu she won't fight back neither, just like you won't."

Red and blue painted the night sky behind him as he spoke, providing Thomas respite as he breathed in the whiskey stained air between he and Hoyt. He looked up, focusing on them as Hoyt stared him down, but that grin began to fade when he caught the glimmer in Tommy's eyes. Soon, it wasn't just light that filled the sky, sirens began to close the gap, hurdling towards them with haste, with a vengeance sweeter than Thomas had imagined. He smiled as he let the finality in the wind wrap itself around him.

Hoyt's head whipped around and he saw justice rear it's head down the road, dressed in black and white, singing an eerie song under its flashing lights as it drew closer, "Coward," he whispered before he spun back around.

"Coward," he roared as he shoved Thomas, who didn't budge an inch.

Hoyt reached for the saw, pulling the trigger switch over and over with trembling hands and a towering rage, one that stood taller than Thomas and a heat that burned hotter than Texas. The chainsaw growled back at him, but it wouldn't roar. It refused to meet his demands as he pulled and pulled needlessly. He'd never been it's master and it wouldn't grant him another life to steal.

"You do it, Tommy, you kill me," he screamed as he hoisted the saw up and pushed it into Thomas' arms, "you fuckin' coward, you can't do this. You're just as guilty of it as I am, you bastard. Do it."

"It's over," Thomas whispered as he kept his arms at his sides and shook his head, "it's over."

Gravel flew as the multitude of cars, lights and sirens filled the driveway to the brim. Men piled out of each, racing towards the man on the porch, who was not only holding the weapon, but wearing the crime. Hoyt stilled as they shouted at him, guns drawn, but his eyes never left Thomas', who watched failure run through him like a river. It swept that grin right off his face once and for all as they grabbed hold of his arms and rendered him bound. He was, chained, leashed. Like a dog.

He shook his head incredulously, denial mounting as they tried to pull him away, "You're a fool, Thomas. You always will be and I'll be right here to make sure you remember who broke who, 'cause this ain't gonna bring her back."

"No more," Thomas repeated the words he'd spoken once before, but these left his mouth with a bittersweet taste.

It truly was over and she wasn't there to see it as they hauled him away, but Thomas knew she would have beamed with pride when he dealt him one final blow, "End of the line, Hoyt."