In the Dead of Night.

"There's no way in hell I'm going to church, Becca," Sawyer cursed as he looked over at his step mother. She was the picture of Texas charm, clad in gaudy jewelry and a simple peplum dress. "You know, they say demons and shit burn as soon as they cross the threshold. Wouldn't you rather bring pops and just leave me be?" He asked, shirtless and sprawled on his bed. It was seven o'clock bright and early, and usually that would mean that Sawyer had at least another five hours of beauty sleep before he actually awoke. Instead, he found his blankets being ripped off his bed and Becca attempting to save face by the makeup she caked over her eye. Seeing those bruises was only a dull pang of guilt, nothing like the fire of humiliation for coming from Samuel Jenkins' DNA.

"Sawyer, please, I just need to get out of the house," she said, taking a gasping breath as she was obviously trying to keep herself together. More often than not it was hard to look at, to know that the confident woman he originally met six years prior was nothing but a hallow shell. He tried his best to protect her, to take the beatings himself because at least he could take the split lips or the fractured ribs. "I can't go out of the house without you to tell Sammy that I wasn't with someone else. He's thinkin' I am sleeping with every man for blocks around."

Sawyer looked down at his lap before he sighed, knowing that there wasn't anything he could do except for go ahead with her wishes. It wasn't like he had much to do Sundays anyhow. "Fine, but I'm expecting a blueberry pie, you make the best ones in town. You know, I think I saw an ad for another one of them competitions, maybe you can make another kinda pie and I'll put it in for ya," he said, going to his closet to find his old and slightly tattered white button up and tie he hardly wore. He knew Becca didn't like his tattoos, didn't like much about who he was. They only got along because they had a common enemy; Samuel Jenkins.

"I'd like that, I'll let you finish getting ready, be ready in fifteen, okay? We got a drive ahead of us," she said, her smile showing how much six years truly aged her without grace or dignity. Sawyer shook his head, going to find his Sunday clothes that she insisted years ago he buy.

The son of a pastor in small town Alabama; Andrew hated the life that was set out for him. It wasn't that he minded helping others or that he didn't believe in the words that his father preached, it was that he wanted to go out and explore the world. Find all the little corners of the world that were different from the next, that differed from the one that he found himself shoved into. He had always been a curious soul, from a young age when his parents tried to sate that curiosity so that Andrew would follow in line and set a good example for all of his younger siblings. Being the eldest of seven children brought on a lot of responsibility and as much as he hated it at times, Andrew wasn't about to let his family down. His brothers and sisters looked up to him, he couldn't break their hearts. Even if all he wanted to do was run away, it was the last thing on the list of things that he would ever do.

Sundays mornings were always the same, his mother rushing around frantically trying to set a nice breakfast for the family while his father yelled at him to make sure the younger children were dressed and ready for church. David Benson had a reputation to upkeep and he wasn't going to let that go because Andrew couldn't do a good enough job. Forcing a smile to his face, Andrew gave a nod of his head before rushing off in yet another direction. He was searching for Michael, the youngest boy at three years old. He was always the hardest to wrangle in the morning because there was no telling where he could be and damn if he didn't run fast on those tiny little legs.

By the time that they were all piled into the two family vehicles, Andrew slumped in the front seat beside his father. He was exhausted, in part because he had stayed up far too late studying for an upcoming exam that would help determine what college he was able to attend.

Andrew climbed out of the car the moment that his father had put it into park, leaning into the back seat to undo Michael's car seat. He made sure to hold his brother's hand, knowing that he would run off the moment he had the chance if he was given a chance to. He bit back a sigh when Michael started to whine almost immediately because he wanted to go say hello to a woman who had just climbed out of a vehicle in the corner of the lot. Michael had always been friendly, even for a little kid and with a roll of his eyes, Andrew plucked Michael up and set him on his hip before starting for the blonde.

It wasn't as if it was farfetched for Andrew to greet newcomers to the church, or members that didn't attend too often. As he got closer, Andrew recognized Becca. He didn't think he had ever conversed with her but it wasn't her that caused his footsteps to falter but rather the boy about his age that climbed out of the passenger side. A gulp traveled down his throat before Andrew cleared his throat, remembering why he had headed this way to begin with. "Mornin', ma'am. This little guy," Andrew paused to motion Michael who was smiling a bit too brightly while waving at Becca. "Insisted on coming to say hello and escorting you inside," he paused, his gaze drifting to the other boy. "I don't think I recognize you, it's great to meet you. I'm Andrew," he introduced himself, holding out his hand. Usually he would accompany that with a 'the pastor's son' but he didn't think his so-called title was necessary.