AUTHOR'S NOTE: A series of stories featuring the Leandros brothers. These stick with (conjectured) canon and take place in random order. Most will likely deal with the hurt/comfort side of things. You've been warned.

TITLE: "Instinct"

SUMMARY: Not all monsters are supernatural. Nine year old Niko learns the hard way.

WARNINGS: Usual lingo, dark/violent themes.

Survival of the fittest. A concept that had dictated every decision of my short life. I was a quick learner. But more often than not, I was forced to learn the hard way.

For instance, I learned when there is no help to be found you must choose to help yourself. Be that as it may, people – and I designate the term loosely - are still happy to teach you.

Of course I'd never had much choice in the matter one way or the other.

Roy was one such teacher. And I learned one of those lessons the night he barreled into our apartment, straddling Sophia's hips, reeking of alcohol and something rotten. Something gone bad like curdled milk. I'd only seen the man twice - our saintly mother's boy-toy of the week - but each time he'd never failed to leave a revolting taste in my mouth.

We were sitting on the floor surrounded by paper and pens and Twinkie wrappers curtesy of my brother. I was occupied with geography homework and keeping an eye on Cal while he drew with his pack of dollar store crayons.

In an instant his blue crayon was frozen on the page, gray eyes widening at the abrupt intrusion. He immediately inched closer, knee brushing against mine.

"The fuck are you doing up?" Sophia slurred as she craned her neck in our direction. Roy's hand continued hiking up her skirt as he crammed his lips against her neck like a hungry bird. She slapped at his giant paw and stumbled a few half-hearted steps towards us.

Despite his meager five years my brother's instincts were incredibly sharp, honed by fear. He reached up to latch onto my sleeve, pressing as close as he could, seeking the protection I had always promised to provide.

"I said," another snarl, so close I could smell her fetid breath, "what the fuck –"

I didn't let her finish. Instead I snatched the back of Cal's shirt and swiftly herded him in front of me, pushing him into our tiny bedroom. I'd been conditioned long ago – saying nothing was always easier. It might save you a whack to the jaw or a barrage of furious curses. More than that, keeping silent would save my brother.

Make yourself scarce and hope she doesn't follow.

She didn't. Not that night. Post coital and thoroughly intoxicated, she blacked out on the couch.

No, Sophia didn't come. But Roy did.

Roy who I sensed had gone wrong somewhere inside. Bad. Roy who didn't leave like the others.

I found the farthest corner of the room, sat down and pulled Cal close. I didn't have to warn him to stay quiet. He knew. He rested his shaggy head in the crook of my neck and listened intently to the commotion going on outside despite the fact that I kept his ears covered. I kept my breathing steady, hoping he would see that it wasn't so bad and follow my example.

An hour trudged by, maybe two. The worst had past and everything was still, the dead of night when things shouldn't stir. Cal had fallen into an uneasy sleep against my chest. His soft exhales tickled against my collarbone. One of his hands clasped a wadded bunch of my t-shirt which was a common comfort-seeking gesture for him most days. The other rested lightly against his cheek, black strands wrapped loosely around his index finger because he couldn't stop pulling at them.

I hadn't been able to break him of the habit. It only happened when Sophia was around, when she made Cal go quiet. Yet another reason I could no longer force myself to think of her as Mother. Not when her words all too often prompted the only person I loved in the world to ask what was wrong with him.

Monsters don't have feelings, she justified. Little abominations don't cry.

I pressed my lips to the top of my brother's head, stroked his bony back. He was too small for his age, always had been. He stirred against me, nuzzled his nose in my shirt before sighing in a sleepy exhale. His hair smelled like spearmint shampoo – stolen from a motel – and for some reason I suddenly remembered that I'd forgotten to make him brush his teeth.

My eyes felt heavy. Itchy. I blinked a few times but it didn't help. All was quiet and I was exhausted. Just for a second, only a second…

Something was blocking my airflow. Can't breathe. I jerked reflexively but had nowhere to go. I opened my eyes and stared up into Roy's dark, square features. He gestured for silence with a finger to his lips, a warning to stop struggling. His rough palm covering half of my lower face constricted, dug into the flesh of my cheeks, letting me know just how serious he was.

I felt Cal squirming, pushing up from my chest and didn't have to look to know his head was swiveling frantically, absorbing the nightmare.

"Make one sound," Roy whispered, voice eerily calm, "and I'll make sure you never see him again. Understand?" The threat was directed at my brother.

Roy yanked me up before I had a chance to assure Cal that everything would be all right. My brother's fingers dug into my wrist before he was forced to let go as the man wrenched me towards the bed.

"Same goes for you," he hissed in my ear, foul breath crawling over the prickling hairs on my neck.

Before I could say a word - do something - he was on top of me, nothing but massive shoulders, a wall of solid, smothering flesh. His hands combed roughly through my hair, fingers greedily exploring my skin. I felt sick, flushed with an uncharacteristic surge of panic.

I didn't have a plan. I didn't have a fucking plan for this.

"Keep still," he gasped as his hand groped the front of my jeans. I bared my teeth and aimed a knee at his groin, using his sinewy arms as leverage. Roy bit down on a howl as he cupped himself with one hand and wrung my shirt with the other.

"You little fucker," an oddly excited laugh punctuated the words as he lunged, closing both hands securely around my throat as he jostled me down to the floor. He smiled, insanity oozing from his pores like pus from an infection. Evil. Evil like the monsters that watched us through the windows in the dark.

I heard a muffled whimper from the corner, realized Cal wasn't going to listen.

I fought. Uncoordinated, oxygen-deprived fists and legs landing feeble blows wherever they could reach. It was only when Roy slammed my head against the floor so violently I saw explosions of red did I realize how utterly helpless I was. How completely screwed. I couldn't protect myself, couldn't protect my brother. I was worthless. A fist collided with my nose, nothing but knuckle. I spat blood and bucked against his unyielding weight pinning my chest.

Darkness pulsed at the edges of my vision as my body betrayed me, threatened to succumb. I heard Cal calling my name. He sounded far way, blurry. A metallic noise split through the air like shrapnel whizzing through a hurricane. Gray swirled above our heads, dancing with the black as I fought to remain conscious.

Vaguely, I realized Roy's fingers were no longer clenched around my throat. As soon as my lungs caught up with my brain I was coughing, gagging, wheezing for breath.

Somewhere off in the fraying distance I heard a scream. Not my brother. And then I lost my grip and fell.

oooooooooo

"Nik?"

A small voice that felt as tangible as fingers reaching out to me. Afraid my brain was screaming. My brother was afraid. Cal. I tried to answer and found that I couldn't. My tongue was too big for my mouth, too clumsy. I tried licking my lips and tasted blood. Saliva dribbled down my chin. I felt it clinging to my skin like a slimy cobweb.

I was facedown, cheek scraping against crunchy carpet that smelled like decay. My face hurt. Why did my face hurt? Nose felt broken. Bone shards jammed up in my brain? Maybe that was why my head hurt so much. God, my - my head…throbbing in places I didn't think were meant to throb.

"Nik," tears muddled the terrified whisper. "Nik, please wake up." A clammy hand was resting on top of my head. My hair caught in his fingers as he rubbed in a nervous, circular motion. I groaned and the hand immediately froze. Wide, wet eyes blinked right next to mine.

I coughed and then wished I hadn't. Pain exploded behind my eyes, flashes of color swimming like fish in an electrified aquarium. I pushed through it, hoisting my battered body to bruised elbows and knees, breathing deeply as I fought the crippling urge to throw up. It was then that I remembered Roy and panicked, scuttling to my feet as I tried to figure out where he'd gone. What he'd...what he'd done.

My pathetic attempt at standing prevailed all of two seconds before the floor tilted underneath me and I collapsed, scrambling to catch myself against the wall as I descended. Cal was by my side, trying to cushion the landing as best he could. It was the thought that counted. He was holding on to the front of my shirt, squatting with his knees between my thighs, waiting for me to say something.

"Okay," I breathed, my throat stinging with the effort. Slow. Slow down. "Okay?" I focused my blurry vision on Cal. He nodded, chin wobbling as he fought bravely to hold back a fresh onslaught of tears.

"Roy?" I croaked, rubbing gingerly at my throat, then the back of my head, then the top of Cal's head.

"Gone," he whispered, trembling hard. "Took him. Nik, they took him." His stormy eyes were desperate, confused.

My stomach lurched and for a moment I really thought I was going to be sick. I closed my eyes, inhaled carefully before exhaling through my nose. The nausea settled somewhat but lingered as a stubborn afterthought.

"Nik?" Cal tugged rather forcefully on my shirt. "You still 'wake? You weren't before." Two tears escaped and slipped down his pale cheeks as he studied my face. "Couldn't wake you up," he said quietly, almost as if he were ashamed.

I opened my eyes and pulled him in for a tight hug. He was shivering. Fragile. Still trying his best not to cry. His arms didn't quite reach all the way around my back, so he circled them around my neck instead. I rubbed gently between his shoulder blades, felt my throat closing up with my own tears as the events of the night threatened to crush the naïve illusion of safety I'd tried to maintain for the both of us.

"Yeah, little brother," I whispered into his hair. "I'm awake."

"You sure?" he persisted, little fists clenching handfuls of my shirt as he sniffled against my neck. His shoulders hitched with a short bout of hiccups.

I swallowed, realizing that perhaps nothing I did would ever be enough. But that didn't mean I couldn't try. Try my damn hardest. Whatever it took to protect the little pain-in-the-ass wrapped up in my arms.

"Cal, look at me." He did. "Everything's going to be all right."

He scrunched up his face, wiping viciously at the snot running down his nose. I couldn't help but fear he'd never look at me the same way after what had happened. After Roy.

"Do you believe me?"

He nodded solemnly without the slightest hesitation and the sour dread boiling in my stomach settled a little.

"'Cause you never lie, Nik." He was steadier, more sure of himself. Certain of his answer.

I did my best to smile for him, reached up to wipe his nose with the hem of my t-shirt. "That's right. Don't you forget it."

He closed his eyes, released a heavy sigh as if coming to a decision before nodding his head again. He scooted off my lap of his own accord and backed up against the wall. Cal's shoulder pressed deliberately against mine as he drew his knees to his chest and propped up his chin.

"When I'm big enough," his soft voice was venomous, grave with conviction."I'm gonna find that guy and kick his stupid ass."

He didn't glance at me to see if I approved of his use of the "big boy" word. But I didn't bother reprimanding him this time. I had no doubt he would do just that. What I did doubt was that Roy would be around to get his ass kicked by the time Cal was old enough to carry out the vendetta. My mind wasn't willing to comprehend exactly what had happened to the bastard just yet. That wasn't to say I didn't have my suspicions. None of them reassuring.

I nudged Cal's shoulder with mine. He obliged me by nudging back before finding a comfortable position for his head against my arm and promptly falling asleep. I shook my head at my brother. Resilient didn't even begin to cover it.

The next morning I timed Cal while he brushed his teeth for three minutes and washed his face for two. Sophia never stirred as we snuck out through the living room and headed for the public library.

I found what I needed, located a deserted corner in the back and got to work. Cal munched happily on a package of Goldfish while he studied Superman comics and I read my first book on self-defense.

END