Raylan's bangs were wild in front of his sweat pricked face, the blood on his tongue and everything in him screamed to keep pushing. When had be gotten back on his feet? It was a blur. All that mattered was that his assailant was getting up again.

Not Neal. Neal wouldn't do this. He was anyone else for a second. Boyd maybe. Gary. Dewey.

He swung, punching down this time, aiming to put and keep Neal in the dirt. "Stop it," he snarls half a second afterwards. "Stop it!"

We were supposed to be family.