Sammy's world was in ruin.  His life, ripped apart at the seams.  He had always kept his bearings by taking control.  Whether that meant stringing Bud along and steering the business, or feeding the FBI information to get what was best for his family, Sammy was at his best when was making the decisions.  But right now, he was out of options.  Gary made it clear that the feds wouldn't make any moves that would jeopardize their Isaacon case right now.  On the other side, if Bud hadn't already figured out that Sam was a problem, it became abundantly clear about the time he pistol whipped him.  Despite his best efforts, his family was being gunned down in front of him, and literally cut to pieces.  On top of that, he had once again let the woman he loved slip out of his arms.  Where was she?  He had tried every phone number that could possibly lead to her with no success.  He felt about nine years old again sitting on Bud's couch, rubbing his tired eyes. 

    "You always did worry too much.  Even when you were little."  The gentle voice of a grandfather.  Sammy looked up to see Bud gingerly touching the goose egg on his head.  Bud smiled a little, "You know you scared the hell out of me sitting there in the dark."  Sam didn't feel much like smiling.  He suddenly felt guilty as hell for betraying this man who had practically raised him.  He sighed, rubbing his eyes again.  "Sammy, I'm not gonna ask you what you did or why you did it, but look at us here.  You're all torn up inside, and I'm sitting here in peed pajamas with a lump on my head.  All for what?"  Sam had to smile at that, in spite of himself.   Bud continued, "So Sammy, you tell me, what can we do about this?"  Sam shook his head.  "Bud, this business... this life... it's poison.  It's death, and it's going to destroy all of us if we let it." Sam suddenly felt rage against the things that were controlling his life.  "Bud I swear to God, we want out.  All of us kids, are going to get out of this no matter what we have to do!"  Sam's sudden rage escaped him as rapidly as it had gripped him, and he slumped again on the couch. 

    Bud shook his head. After a moment of silence, he said, "Sam, I'm going to tell you something.  Look at me."  He waited for Sammy to meet his eyes.  "You're not kids any more.  You're a grown man.  It's not just this business that's rotten.  It's the whole world.  Sammy, life is rotten.  It's full of pain and suffering, and you have to fight and scrap for any little bit of happiness you can find.  We all have to live in the world that we're born into.  Nobody ever gets everything they want, but Sammy, this is the important part.  You have to decide for yourself what you want most.  You Sammy.  To hell with what your brother wants, your father, the feds, even me.  Decide what you want, Sammy, and go get it."  Finished with his speech, Bud stared out the window, content that he had spoken his mind.  Sam sat there for a long time.  When things were clear in his mind, he stood up, handed Bud the pistol, and said, "To hell with them." softly as he walked out the front door.

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