A/N: I have no rights or affiliation with the characters presented within this piece

Vacuus a Animus

Now-Sunset

He was walking faster and faster, not sure how things had gotten this far. How could he have possibly forgotten the cardinal rule, the one thing that everyone still alive to think about it knew, "Get inside before it is dark!"

His breathing was ragged, he started to run. If he didn't get back in time-no, he wasn't going there. If he didn't, Stone Cold would go crazy, he would come looking for him and that didn't bear thinking about. If something happened to the one person left to him because of his stupidity, his inability to look at a watch or better yet, just see the angle of the sun in the sky, he simply wouldn't survive it.

They had all become experts at telling when sunset was approaching. Funny the skills you acquired when it was a matter of life and death. Spinelli was willing to bet that a year ago most Port Charles residents couldn't tell when the sun was at high noon. Now, they instinctively knew all about angles of declination and the difference between the long evening shadows of summer and fall.

He had gone out to do something good, to help his best-his only friend-to try and bring him some closure, some solace. Inspiration had struck this morning and he had wanted to act upon it today. Jason's birthday was tomorrow and Spinelli wanted more than anything to erase some of the bleakness in his eyes.

He had no idea how long it would take him. How he would have to go from house to house. Just by doing that, even in the broad daylight, he had been breaking the second of Jason Morgan's inflexible rules. "You never enter any dark place without backup or telling others where you were going to be."

If Jason had his way, Spinelli never would have left Harbor View Towers period. Unfortunately, there weren't enough of them left for any able bodied person to be excused from the duty rotation. So, Stone Cold made the best of it by making sure that Spinelli was always with him on his search and destroy missions. He trusted absolutely no one else to watch out for his brother.

He had managed to sneak out unobserved this morning while Jason was occupied with the biweekly tenants meeting. He knew it would be a while before his absence was noted and only then if Stone Cold himself found out Spinelli was missing.

Not a single Towers dweller, except perhaps retired Army Colonel Brock Hunter, would have the courage to tell Jason Morgan that Damian Spinelli was missing. He was too unpredictable these days, when his eyes turned to silver ice, any sane person looked away. He was the absolute monarch of his small kingdom and his word was law.

If the whereabouts of Spinelli were unknown, and he thought that one of the residents had been aware of this and had not prevented it, they would find themselves without shelter that very night. Such a punishment was equivalent to certain death if not eternal damnation.

He had responded to other lesser infractions of the code he had established to run the Towers with this form of exile. Spinelli knew he would absolutely do it to anyone he thought responsible for his absence.

Spinelli had tried to soften Jason's autocratic, emotionless rule with mixed success. There were a few Harbor View residents that literally owed him their very existence. Others didn't even know that he had saved them from the eternal sword of Damocles that hung over them all. Still, sometimes even he was powerless to sway one of Jason's merciless judgments.

He carried those people's deaths like an ever spreading stain on his conscience. They always acted as a spur for him to redouble his efforts to reach into the ravaged soul that was Jason Morgan and try to get him to reclaim his humanity.

It was for this cause that he had set out on his unsanctioned errand today. Now, it looked as though all his good intentions, represented by the heavy clanking messenger bag he wore draped over his body, were come to naught simply because he was idiotic enough to lose track of the time.

"God!" he groaned to himself, "Will the Jackal ever be able to carry out just one simple plan without it ending in chaos and failure?"

Then he remembered number ten of Jason's rules, "God has forgotten about Port Charles and you need to forget about God." He still remembered the shock on the face of some of the older inhabitants of the Towers at the meeting when Jason finished his list with a brutal rejection of any hope of salvation. Spinelli had long wondered if Jason had intentionally modeled his inflexible tenets on the commandments. He never could comprehend whether or not Stone Cold appreciated irony.

The sky was blood red and the shadows of the trees were stretching out and becoming darkly ominous. He had reached the park and he reflexively shivered. Rule seven was a simple one, "Never take a shortcut through the park."

Spinelli was in fervent agreement with rule seven. The last time he had been in the park, it had been night and he had nearly died. "Actually," he thought to himself shocked, "that was almost a year ago to the day. How time flew when you were having fun!"

He didn't see that he had any other option tonight. Going through the park with its rustling foliage, its gloom and its myriad of hiding places was the most terrifying thing he had contemplated in a year of unceasing terror. Still, it would cut ten minutes off his journey and those minutes could mean the difference between life, death or…his mind balked at finishing the thought.

He stopped, readjusting his bag so that hopefully, its contents wouldn't make as much noise. He closed his eyes and drew in a deep breath, exhaled and said, "The Jackal, the assassin of the internet, can take a roundabout excursion through an urban slice of bucolic mimicry without anything untoward occurring."

Somehow the retreat into ornate language, helped calm his nerves and he stepped forward into the darkening, overgrown landscape. His pulse was pounding in his ears and his pupils were dilated with anxiety and the encroaching darkness. At first, he walked with as much stealth as he could muster, constantly swinging his head from left to right and even looking over his shoulders. He was trying to maintain an impossible 360 degrees of surveillance.

Spinelli had actually almost reached the far side of the park when the inevitable happened. He tripped over an unseen tree root and went sprawling to the ground. There was a loud crashing noise as the contents of the carrier bag were crushed between his chest and the unyielding earth. He could feel it as several shards of glass cut through the canvas of the bag and sliced into his chest. He couldn't worry about that now; he climbed to his feet, hopping one footed as he realized he had sprained his left ankle.

Desperately, close to tears, he scanned the horizon. It was still there, barely… The sun was a glowing orb dipping with inevitably towards the curve of the earth. "No!" he still had a ways to go, "No, not yet". Unfortunately, no amount of anguished words was enough to stop nature's pitiless cycle.

"Spinelli," his name was said softly, almost lovingly. Haltingly, favoring his injured foot, he turned and saw her. She was radiant in her gentle beauty. Her cornflower blue eyes entrancing, her cascading chestnut locks glimmering in the fading light, her burnished lips curving in a tender smile and all the while she glided ever closer to him. She was stopped by a sudden ray of sunlight that split the air between them. Her demeanor suddenly altered and she spat in anger.

That was all that he needed to be released from the paralysis that had overtaken his body, he turned and sprinted, his foot somehow managing to function. Still, he knew it was all instinct, that he couldn't save himself or be saved. The sun vanished and then she was in front of him.

Her good humor was restored as she purred at him, "How did the little grasshopper manage to come out without his Master holding his hand?"

Stung, realizing he had nothing to lose, he retorted, "You shut up! You leave Stone Cold out of this! You have me, that's enough, take me and leave him!" It simply took a mortal threat to himself and his brother to eradicate all third person references from his speech.

"Why, don't you know, Spinelli," she said with a cruel smile, "that's exactly what I intend to do. Take you and leave Jason Morgan alone."

He looked at her puzzled, not grasping why she would accede to his request. She had all the power and no need to lie to him. Thunderstruck, he understood. "No, no, no," he cried, backing away from her.

"Yes, yes, yes," she said mimicking him as she effortlessly drifted towards his retreating form. "By the way," she gave a silvery laugh that sent waves of repulsion coursing over his skin. "Thanks for making it easy for me." She pointed at his chest with an elegant manicured forefinger.

He gazed down at the blood seeping through his sweatshirt, and looked back up at her in pure dread. Today, he had intended to try and save Jason and instead had ended up betraying him in the worst way possible.

Spinelli comprehended her plan. She would turn him into a being just like her and then set him at Jason. She was correct, if Spinelli was a vampire, he would go after any human but most especially those close to him. The only candidate for that honor was Jason. So, Jason would either be forced to destroy Spinelli to save himself and the others or he would be the one demolished. Either way, his soul would be forfeit. She had created the ultimate Machiavellian revenge scenario.

Spinelli realized, even through his despair, that she could have already attacked him. Instead she was playing a cat and mouse game, feeding off the anger and fear that radiated from him.

As he continued limping away from her while she pursued him at a leisurely pace, he had an epiphany. He was already lost, dead or damned, and he infinitely preferred the first option. If he could kill himself before she managed to transform him, he could save both his and Jason's souls.

Frantically, he started looking around for some tool or method he could use to end his life. She cocked her head and looked at him uneasily. She had sensed his change of focus, his reduction of panic. "Does the Jackal, think he can escape his fate?" she queried in a near whisper as she closed the gap between them. Now, rather than tormenting her victim, she was intent on accomplishing her task.

"It was now or never," he thought urgently. He reached into his torn messenger bag, slicing his hand open as he fumbled for the largest sharpest piece of glass he could find. Spinelli pulled his bleeding hand free and with only the slightest hesitation, reached up to draw the sharp fragment across his throat.

He had miscalculated once again. Her reflexes were so fast that before he could reach upwards she had grabbed his wrist and twisted it so that both bones in his lower arm snapped with a loud crack. He cried out in agony as his arm flopped uselessly to the side and the glass slide out of his grasp.

She had him in her embrace and her soulless eyes were dark pits boring into his frightened and pained green gaze. "Really," she murmured, sure of her victory, "I appreciate all the help, but this is the part that I like to do by myself." Her mouth opened and he was encased in her fetid breath. Mesmerized he watched her eagerly bend her head, the fangs fully visible, towards the juncture of his jaw and neck where his carotid artery pulsed invitingly.

"Let him go you bitch!" Elizabeth's head was yanked backwards as her assailant, grabbing her by her hair, pulled her away from Spinelli's neck. Hissing with rage and frustration she turned to face her attacker.

Spinelli was dropped to the ground and he screamed in pain as his broken arm took the majority of the impact. Looking up through tear filmed eyes he tried to discern in the darkness who his rescuer was. His jaw dropped in disbelief, it was Claudia Zacchara!

"Vixenalla," he said in a pain choked voice.

She and Elizabeth were circling one another, each trying to determine the other's weakness. Claudia spoke without taking her eyes from Elizabeth,"Spinelli, you need to go now, run as fast as you can. I'll take care of her."

Elizabeth's lip curled in scorn at Claudia's assertion, "You will pay dearly for this. Do you have any idea who you are challenging?"

Claudia laughed contemptuously, "Yes, I know the mighty queen bee of the Port Charles hive! I seem to remember when you were a simpering nurse who had trouble lifting bed pans." She stole one quick glance at Spinelli who was frozen in shock. "Spinelli!" she screamed at him, "Go! Now!"

Her words penetrated his consciousness and he turned, cradling his broken arm, he made for the park entrance. When he got there, he stopped for one brief moment and looked back in appalled fascination. Claudia and Elizabeth were in hand to hand combat, hissing and snarling at one another five feet up in the air.

"Now is not the time to gawk at pulchritudinous femme fatale vampires fighting over the Jackal," he reprimanded himself, amazed that such a situation could even exist. Talk about alternate realities!

Limping, and with his arm throbbing painfully at each step, he turned towards home. Spinelli could actually see the lit up façade of the Towers from where he was. They stood out as a bright beacon against the dark skyline that was now Port Charles.

Resolutely, he moved forward, trying to ignore the increasing volume of noise from behind him as Claudia's and Elizabeth's battle attracted an audience. These vampires upon recognizing a unique opportunity in seeing their leader being openly challenged; chose sides and urged on their champions with an obscenity laced mixture of catcalls and shrieks.

The resulting cacophony reached into the most atavistic parts of Spinelli's brain, activating an adrenalin fueled flight response. Half running, half shuffling, he automatically turned down the alley that would lead him to the back entry of the Harbor View Towers. This was the common point of entry and departure for the residents of the Towers. It was less public and more defensible than the front entrance which had long since had its vulnerable plate glass frontage covered over with steel plates. Everyone under normal circumstances went in and out of the buildings this way. Regrettably, for Spinelli this evening was anything but typical.

As quickly as he could with his various injuries, he made his hobbling way down the dark alley towards the tantalizing lights of the Towers. Up ahead, he could make out two dark shadows traveling quickly and headed directly at him. Trying not make any noise, he slipped in-between an overturned dumpster and the alley wall, ardently hoping that he was hidden in the gloom.

The figures came abreast of him, slowed, and then inexorably turned towards his hiding place. For a moment, he pretended that the reason they had stopped had nothing to do with him. Then one of the figures spoke, and that illusion was shattered.

"I know you're there, Spinelli," she said in a voice that caused him so much pain because it sounded exactly the same as it had when they were the closest of friends. He wished he could return to those times, the days when the worst thing in the world was that he was always falling in unrequited love with one girl or another.

Not that Lulu had ever been just any girl. Yet, he wished, oh how he wished, that she wasn't standing in this dark alley speaking to him in the dulcet tones she used to employ when she wanted him to help her do something that would usually end in his heart getting broken. Tonight, it was far more likely that their meeting would result in his life ending or, even worse, in his soul being ripped from him.

Sighing with frustration, but refusing to be so cowardly that they would have to drag him from his insufficient shelter, he reluctantly stepped out towards them. Her companion of course was Johnny Zacchara, Same as he had been when they were both alive.

As he done uncountable times before, he pondered the after death associations that seemed to form between the members of the undead community. If they had no souls, if they had no ties to their mortal selves; why then did they almost invariably chose to associate with the same cohorts with whom they had in life? It was a conundrum that he had often puzzled over during the hours when he should have been sleeping, but then again, who slept these days?

"Spinelli," it was Johnny, looking at him impatiently. "What's that noise, what's happening in the park?"

Spinelli looked at the pair in front of him, they looked like refugees from the musical Grease. Johnny, with his slicked back hair and leather jacket, would of course have the John Travolta role. Meanwhile, Lulu looked uncannily like Olivia Newton John when she was trying to be a "bad" girl. The problem was that these days Lulu truly was the quintessential bad girl.

"Um," he said dully, fatigue beginning to set in. "Claudia and Elizabeth are fighting and there are a lot of vam…spectators," he quickly amended.

That was all Johnny needed to hear, he immediately started towards the park to help his sister. Suddenly, realizing that Lulu had stayed behind, he turned and called her name insistently, "Lulu, come on, we have to help Claudia."

"Be right there," she trilled at him with her patently insincere toothpaste bright smile. Boy, did Spinelli remember that smile! "Tonight though," he thought, "she wouldn't just be figuratively stabbing him in the back, well not the back at all…" he thought resignedly, almost too tired to care.

"Spinelli," she turned towards him grinning brightly, "long time no see."

"Could she be any more inane," he groaned to himself. So, this is what it had come down to, he was no longer being chosen to be sired by the queen of the vampires. Instead, he was destined to be a simple snack for the most superficial yet, ravenous of their kind.

Spinelli knew of Lulu's reputation but only through hearsay. It was an interesting aspect of human-vampire relations that in reality they didn't really know that much about one another.

If a vampire led a successful existence, its interactions with humans primarily consisted of draining them of all their blood in order to provide sustenance. Occasionally, a vampire would be intrigued enough by a human so that it would transform the human into another vampire. By the very nature of that act, the human ceased to be and was instead replaced by a newly formed vampire.

If any humans led a successful existence, their interactions with vampires primarily consisted of them hiding from the undead ones during the hours of darkness. Occasionally, a human would become so enraged or grief stricken that they would pursue vampires, perhaps a specific one or the race in general. If they were successful hunters, they would then destroy the vampire.

It was really a classic predator-prey relationship with a couple of twists, including the fact that sometimes the predator was the prey. However, in the early days of the infestation, there were more humans around and they weren't organized or living under totalitarian rule. As a result, a certain degree of nihilism appeared, especially among young men between the ages of fifteen and twenty-five.

These young males created a unique extreme sport-that of counting vampire coup. As its name suggests, it was predicated upon the Native American past time wherein young braves would be accounted heroic if they simply touched their enemies under adverse and dangerous conditions.

Considering, that for a human, just being anywhere within the vicinity of a vampire was dangerous, it wasn't difficult to fit the circumstances of counting coup. The challenging part was touching a vampire and surviving to tell the tale. With their preternatural instincts, reflexes and strength, trying to count coup on a vampire was somewhat akin to counting coup on some animal that would be a combination of a cobra, gorilla, and wolf.

Vampire coup counting wasn't a sport for the faint of heart and indeed, it wasn't a sport that inspired longevity. Within three months of the formation of the club, all its members were dead, none had been turned. The vampires were so insulted by the audacity of the young men, that when (it was always a case of when, never if) they caught them, they always drained them as slowly as possible of their blood. Yet, they refused to sire any of them.

Spinelli had known several of these coup counters and they used to talk about the personality traits of the various vampires they stalked. Lulu Spencer was something of a legend among this group.

They actually tried as hard as they could to stay away from her because she was known for being entirely food fixated. Unlike other vampires, who had their dignity injured by the coup counters, Lulu actively encouraged them to go after her. In the beginning days of the sport they often naively would pursue her. A novice coup counter would be enticed by a Lulu seemingly oblivious to him as he crept up on her. In fact, it usually was a case of the last time he did anything. She would be upon him in an instant and he would be lying in a warm pool of his own blood in the next moment.

She wasn't anymore complex as a vampire then she had been as a young woman. She was driven by an insatiable need to feed and all other considerations were irrelevant. Spinelli supposed he could consider her to be the truest and purest example of her kind. That thought was but of cold comfort as he uneasily watched her begin to move purposefully towards him.

He found it difficult to believe that after everything he had faced and survived this evening, he was going to die in a filthy alley at the hands of a smiling blond girl he had once adored. He had no more strength, no more plans and there was nowhere to run. At least he didn't need to worry about coming back as a vampire to wreak havoc on Jason's world. He knew that Lulu wouldn't turn him, she could never control her appetite long enough to turn anyone.

For the second time tonight he was watching a familiar countenance transform into a snarling beast inches from his face. This time he couldn't bear to watch and he closed his eyes, hoping that it would be relatively quick.

Unexpectedly, he heard a grunting hiss and a loud thumping noise. He opened his eyes, amazed to be still breathing. "Stone Cold!" he exhaled in relief.

Jason stood where Lulu had been a moment ago. His back was to Spinelli and he was looking across the alley at the wall he had thrown Lulu against.

"Lulu," he said forbiddingly, "leave or die, and if you ever come within half a mile of him again…" he didn't need to finish, she had gotten the message. Resentfully, she climbed to her feet and without a backward glance sailed off towards the park.

Jason turned back to Spinelli just in time to catch him as he crumpled to the ground. He had no further reserves and he could no longer even stand upright.

"Jason," he said in a rush of tormented guilt at all the trouble he had caused, "I'm so, so sorry!! I disobeyed you and I broke so many of the rules. You should punish me, you really should. I know I worried you and that is the worst of all…" he faltered, simply too depleted to even finish.

Jason lowered Spinelli gently to the ground. He used a small flashlight to ascertain his friend's condition. What he saw caused him to draw in his breath sharply. "Did she bite you?' he asked him urgently, regretting not killing her when he had the opportunity.

"No, Stone Cold," Spinelli tried to reassure him, "the vampiric blond one didn't touch the Jackal-thanks to you. I had another…interaction in the park…"

"The park!" Jason interrupted as all his previous fears about Spinelli's safety were immediately resurrected. "What the hell were you doing in the park, you know better…"

He fought to regain his composure, Spinelli was in bad shape and he didn't need Jason lecturing him right now, but later they were going to have a conversation about the reason for the rules.

"The Jackal hasn't been bitten tonight, the cuts are from glass shards. He is most concerned about his right arm though," he said miserably, aware that he was causing his Master untoward anxiety on his behalf.

Jason had been so fixated on the blood on Spinelli's shirt that he had missed his broken arm. Looking at it now, he saw how twisted and misshapen it was. He bit down hard on his lower lip, using the pain as a focus point so that he could keep his expression neutral. He didn't want Spinelli to see how worried he was.

He shined the light onto Spinelli's face which did nothing to relieve his concern. His usually pale skin was dead white, he was sweating and his skin was cold and clammy to the touch. Jason realized he was going into shock and he needed to get him back to the Towers as quickly as possible.

"Spinelli!" he said loudly trying to reach the dazed young man. "I'm going to have to carry you and I'm sorry if it hurts you but I don't have a choice."

"It's okay," Spinelli muttered, feeling dizzy and disoriented. "The Jackal knows that Stone Cold would never intentionally cause his grasshopper suffering." He grasped his right arm in his left to try and brace it, in preparation for the move.

Even with all his attempts to project a stoicism he was far from feeling, he couldn't suppress a groan of pain when Jason lifted him as carefully as he could.

"I'm sorry!" Jason breathed, agonizing over the necessity of hurting Spinelli in order to get him to safety. "We'll be home in a few minutes and you'll be taken care of," he promised, anxiously hoping that what he was saying was the truth.

He moved as rapidly as he could without jostling Spinelli too much. When next he glanced down at the young man he saw he had passed out. Jason picked up his pace, grateful that for the moment Spinelli was beyond pain.

When he reached the rear entrance of the Towers, he kicked violently at the reinforced steel door while he thundered. "Let us in, God damn it! It's Morgan!"

The door was immediately opened by Colonel Hunter who stepped back to let Jason in. "You found him!" he exclaimed. "Poor chap looks to be in a bad way though. He hasn't been…?"

Even the Colonel couldn't ask Jason that particular question outright, but he knew there could be terrible consequences for every resident in the Towers if Damian Spinelli had been bitten by a vampire.

"No," Jason said abruptly, he had no time to discuss matters. "Send Mimi up and that new guy, the one with EMT training…what's his name?"

"Winters," the Colonel responded promptly, one of his responsibilities was to keep the Towers' resident records current, "Derek Winters."

"Well, he's about to start earning his keep," Jason said grimly as he headed for the elevators.

"Morgan!" The Colonel couldn't believe what Jason was planning on doing, "You know young Damian says that he can't guarantee the generator will be able to stand the strain if we run the elevators."

"I don't give a fuck." Jason said coldly, as he pushed the button to summon the elevator. "He needs help and I am not carrying him up all those flights of stairs in his condition."

"We can take care of him down here, keep him comfortable, and see that he has everything he needs…"

"He is going home, that is what he needs." Jason said with an icy finality as the doors slid shut closing him and Spinelli off from view. Once inside the elevator, he let his breath out in a sigh, tears filled his eyes as he looked down at his unconscious roommate. "You'll be all right, you have to be," he said as though uttering a mantra. Reaching forward he pushed the button for the penthouse level.

The elevator started to ascend. There was a creaking sound as the long unused cables began to turn through pulley and gear systems that hadn't been oiled in months. The lights in the car dimmed momentarily and then held steady.

Jason dry mouthed, thought, "I'm an idiot! What if we get stuck in here, what then?" He was regretting his impulse to take the elevator and snub the Colonel's commonsense suggestion of keeping Spinelli on the first floor.

There were plenty of accommodations available on the lower floors and they could have kept him comfortable. Jason knew it was irrational, but he would just feel more secure if he had Spinelli at home where he belonged in the penthouse.

Part of him suspected that he thought somehow if he got Spinelli home, the nightmare that was tonight would evaporate. He would put Spinelli down on the couch and he would wake up as though he had simply been asleep. There would be no horribly broken arm, no blood soaked chest to contend with.

Jason knew how scared he was to be entertaining such pointless fantasies. Jason Morgan always met even the most brutal facts of life head on, he never played the game of "what if".

This character trait above all made him the commander of men that he was. He could evaluate the most desperate of circumstances dispassionately. Then he would do what had to be done to make sure that he and those under his protection survived.

Tonight was totally different. It was out of the scope of either his experience or understanding. When he had first learned that Spinelli hadn't been in the Towers all day, he was furious with him. Spinelli, of all people, knew how important it was to Jason that he be safe and for him to disregard that fact was totally out of character for the sensitive young man.

As it grew closer to sunset and he still wasn't back, Jason had organized search parties to go out and find him. At this point he was still thinking along the lines of, "When I find him…"

Though, in reality, Jason knew that he would never do more to Spinelli than talk to him about his poor choices. He knew the guilt engendered by such a conversation would be more punishment than could ever be imparted by extra duty watches or a public reprimand at the obligatory tenant's meetings.

Jason would never humiliate Spinelli in public anyway, no matter what he did. Everyone in the building knew that a separate set of rules applied to Damian Spinelli, that is everyone but Spinelli himself.

When Jason had finally found Spinelli with Lulu preparing to feast upon him, it had been after a nerve wracking hour of searching blindly for him throughout the parts of Port Charles he could have traveled to on foot. One of the first things Jason had checked was to see if Spinelli had taken an unauthorized vehicle out of the motor pool as another aspect of his unexpected rebellion. He hadn't and Jason narrowed the radius of the search accordingly.

He hadn't been able to believe his eyes as he returned to the Towers to check in. He knew from the brief walkie talkie transmissions he had been in range to receive that no one had seen Spinelli. He wanted to come back to base and make sure that none of the teams had sighted him and had simply been out of range or had malfunctioning radios and could not check in. He was frantic to find Spinelli. He knew the window of opportunity for discovering him still alive was rapidly dwindling.

As he headed down the alley, he saw Lulu and Spinelli. At the sight of them a collective wave of relief and rage coursed through his veins. "He was alive!" Jason closed his eyes in gratitude that the one person who provided the only light in his world was still breathing.

He wouldn't be for long though if that blonde bitch got her teeth into him. Jason didn't understand why Spinelli was standing there so passively with his eyes closed, not resisting at all.

Lulu was oblivious to anything but the enticing scent of blood emanating from Spinelli's open cuts and the even more seductive smell of warm arterial blood pulsing temptingly under the thinnest of skin membranes. This moment in the hunt had always been Lulu's favorite, the infinite possibilities, the potential-how much blood would there be, the spurting arc of it, the rich red velvet of it.

"Ah!" She could wait no longer. She bent her head towards the source of all her power, her strength, her vitality…

Then she was flying through the air, thrown with a force that she had thought could only come from one of her own kind. Robbed of her rightful reward, humiliated and hurt from crashing into the wall, she snarled and hissed at Jason.

Yet, one look at his eyes, well remembered from when she was still mortal, stilled her fury. Jason's reputation was widely known. When he offered her fight or flight under the auspices of a Spinelli restraining order, she knew better than to test him.

With a final face saving snarl, she turned towards the distant sounds of the battle in the park. She would find Johnny and he would console her for her lost luscious prize.

She achingly regretted not having absorbed the redolent blood of tender, naïve Spinelli. She knew that it would have been a transcendent meal. "Still," Lulu thought optimistically, "Jason can't always be around to watch Spinelli." Already she felt better, eager even to participate in a vampire free for all to relieve her bruised sensibilities.

Jason had turned to Spinelli, not quite sure whether he was going to yell at him for scaring him or hug him in relief that he was still alive. In fact, neither occurred because Spinelli was in the process of collapsing and it was all that Jason could do to catch him before he hit the ground.

Now barely a half hour later, the elevator came to a complaining stop at the penthouse floor. When the doors opened Jason realized how truly fool hardy he had been to take this mode of transportation. The elevator had actually stopped half-way below the floor and Jason found that his torso was even with the threshold.

Jason laid Spinelli down on the floor outside the elevator and then pulled himself up and out. As soon as he had a moment he was going to make sure a maintenance rotation was started for the elevators in case they were ever again required in an emergency.

Right now he could only focus on Spinelli who was beginning to return to consciousness. As Jason again picked him up he moaned with pain as his broken arm was jostled. Swearing at his carelessness, Jason managed to open the door and enter the penthouse without causing him much further distress.

He laid Spinelli down on the couch as gently as he could and looked impatiently back at the door wondering when medical help was going to arrive. "Stone Cold, where are we?" Spinelli mumbled looking around blearily, not comprehending that he was finally safe. He was worried that he might wake up from this dream and find himself back in the alley with Lulu or even worse in the park with Elizabeth. He gave an involuntary shiver at the thought of what both he and Jason had escaped from tonight.

"It's okay, you're safe, and you're home, Spinelli." Jason spoke calmly and reassuringly, understanding instinctively that Spinelli had gone through something truly horrendous this evening. When he was better, Jason would get the whole story out of him and then he would deal with whoever had hurt and traumatized him so appallingly.

"Jason!" It was Mimi Hunter a little breathless from her fast climb up the stairs but still somehow projecting an aura of competence and a sense of comfort. "How is Damian?"

"Mrs. Hunter," Jason responded, relieved beyond measure to have her here. "He has cuts on his chest and his arm…" he swallowed and stopped. He couldn't even bring himself to look at that terribly twisted limb.

"Jason, this is Derek Winters, he trained as an Emergency Medical Technician," Mimi indicated a young man who had come in behind her. He was a slender, nondescript man in his early twenties with shaggy, dirty blonde hair and an incipient moustache.

"Hey," he said casually, with a nod to Jason as he walked over to the couch and looked down at Spinelli. "Dude, looks like you got pretty messed up tonight. Probably a chick, you gotta watch out for those hormones, they can get you in all kinds of shit."

"Yes, to be sure!" Spinelli agreed feverishly, thinking back over the night's events. "The female of the species is indeed deadlier than the male."

"Jason!" Mimi said sharply, preventing him from acting on the violent impulse she could clearly see in his expression as he contemplated Winters with immediate loathing. "I need you to get us some supplies. We'll need hot water, scissors, clean towels and any disinfectants-rubbing alcohol, grain alcohol, either will do."

Mimi had immediately recognized that Spinelli's lower right arm wasn't just broken but that it was dislocated from the elbow joint. She could tell from the swelling that it had happened a while ago and she knew that she needed to get it back in immediately.

If they waited any longer, the swelling would reach the point where the bones would require surgery to be replaced in the joint. Such an option wasn't possible as there wasn't a doctor in residence at the Towers. She herself was only a retired nurse. Yet, Mimi knew that if the dislocation wasn't repaired; then, without surgery, the much more drastic and debilitating outcome of amputation would probably be the only alternative.

Still, a lot of her nursing experience had occurred in the military under less than ideal circumstances. Mimi had often faced similar emergent situations wherein something medically challenging had to be done and she was the only one available to do it.

She actually shared Jason's dislike of Derek Winters. He was rude, crude and not very bright. Yet, he was the only other person available with any type of medical training and for what she was about to do, she would definitely need help.

The things that she had asked Jason to gather together were going to be useful, but mostly she had wanted him distracted and out of the room. She knew better than most people how Jason felt about Spinelli and she saw no reason to subject him to the procedure they were going to have to perform. It would serve no purpose except to reinforce Jason's pain and guilt and possibly his anger.

As soon as Jason headed to the kitchen to start heating the water, Mimi walked over to Spinelli. She reached down and smoothed back the sweat soaked hair from his brow.

"Damian, dear," she started softly, "your lower arm isn't just broken it's dislocated. Derek and I are going to have to put it back in the joint and that's never a pleasant prospect. I'm afraid the fact that the lower bones are broken…well, it is going to be very painful. I am so sorry"

"It's all right, Mrs. Hunter. The Jackal trusts that you will do the deed in as quick a fashion as possible. Should not you get started before Stone Cold returns?" Spinelli looked up at her with a mild pain filled gaze.

She sighed, amazed at his empathy. She should have known that Spinelli would immediately grasp the situation with regard to Jason. He would absolutely want to spare his friend any emotional distress regardless of the physical pain he would endure.

Damian Spinelli was one of the kindest, gentlest, most selfless people she had ever run across in her long and varied life. He was a surrogate grandson to her and Brock and she desperately wished she didn't have to do this awful thing even though it was necessary.

"All right," she said, putting her emotions away as she adopted her professional persona. "Derek is going to support your upper arm and elbow while I pull your wrist downwards and lever the dislocated bones back into the joint capsule." While she had been speaking, she was checking Spinelli's pulse in the injured arm and was relieved to find it strong-that meant that blood flow to the lower arm hadn't been compromised.

Spinelli nodded at her in mute acceptance and awkwardly sat up on the couch with his eyes closed. He reluctantly released his right arm from the supportive grip of the left arm which he hadn't altered since the alley. Derek and Mimi moved in on either side of him and took up their respective positions. With a quick look to check that Derek was supporting the elbow, Mimi did exactly as she had said and simultaneously pulled the wrist down while she pushed the forearm back against the elbow.

Jason had put a large pot of water on to boil while he searched through the kitchen drawers for a pair of scissors he knew had been there. A high pitched scream of pain echoed from the living room causing him to jerk up in a panic as he pulled the drawer he had been looking through out so far it fell to the floor. He didn't even register the crash as he dashed out to the living room ready to take on all comers in order to defend Spinelli.

He stopped in confusion. He couldn't believe that it had been Mimi's actions that had been responsible for causing Spinelli so much agony. "What did you do to him!" he rasped at her accusingly.

"What I had to, Jason." Mimi said calmly. "His elbow was dislocated and the bones needed to go back in now. It had to be done and I thought it best if you were otherwise occupied at the time."

Jason walked around the couch and pushing Derek out of the way sat down next to Spinelli. "Hey," he said looking at his brother who was sitting back against the couch, exhausted. "How are you feeling?"

He looked down at the broken arm which Spinelli was once again clutching protectively with his left hand. Jason could see that the ugly bulge that had been there previously was gone and he looked up at Mimi gratefully, silently apologizing for his angry outburst.

She smiled at him understandingly. Whatever his faults, Jason Morgan's love for this special young man always touched Mimi's heart.

"Better, Stone Cold, the Jackal feels better. Many thanks are owed to Mrs. Hunter's medical attentions." Spinelli said slowly, his weariness and hurt visible to everyone.

Derek broke the silence by speaking to Spinelli with admiration visible in his voice. "Dude, that was awesome, she just tugged and shoved on it and it went back in. I actually heard a click and that scream…wild, man!"

Jason started to turn to get up from the couch, his murderous intent clear in his eyes as he glared fiercely at Derek, his fists clenched in anger. "You need to leave now!" he ordered through clenched teeth.

That was twice now this piece of trash had spoken to Spinelli in an entirely unacceptable way while he was suffering so much. The only reason the EMT was still breathing was because he had helped Mimi with the dislocation and because Jason didn't want to upset the other two, especially not Spinelli.

"Derek," Mimi intervened once more, "please run downstairs and get my casting supplies. I need to get these bones stabilized and immobilized."

Derek had been staring at Jason in openmouthed disbelief. He couldn't comprehend the antagonism he had roused in this extremely intimidating man who was staring at him with ice blue eyes filled with a barely controlled fury. "I ju..just," he began to stammer as he backed away from Jason.

"You heard her!" Jason barked. "Go get what she asked for and then knock on the door and leave it outside. I don't want to see you here again."

Derek turned and almost ran for the door, he had never been more scared in his life. He thought that he might almost have preferred to take his chances outside the Towers if it meant he never had to cross paths with Jason Morgan again.

"Really, Jason!" Mimi chided as she looked at him with exasperation. "I know he isn't the sharpest pencil in the box but he didn't mean any harm. Also, he really did help me with Spinelli, just the fact that he didn't faint or get nauseous like most people would have is a good thing. He could be a valuable assistant to me after I smooth off his rough edges."

"He shouldn't have said those things to Spinelli," Jason muttered like a sullen child.

"Stone Cold probably shouldn't have frightened the medical one so extremely that he may not get the supplies Mrs. Hunter asked for. Instead he might just keep going out into the night where the company is more affable." Spinelli murmured with weary sarcasm.

Jason knew when he was beaten. "He can stay and help you but I don't want him in the penthouse again or around Spinelli and that's final."

Mimi had turned her attention back to Spinelli while Jason was talking. "Damian, we still have a lot to do before you can rest. When I get the supplies, I will have to set and cast your arm. Right now I want to look at those cuts. Jason, help me lift his bag off his chest."

Jason immediately complied with what Mimi wanted and sat down again next to Spinelli. He started to reach for the messenger bag's strap to pull it over Spinelli's head when he realized with dismay that the canvas of the strap was literally glued by dried blood to Spinelli's sweatshirt. Just the slightest tug on the strap brought a moan from the young man while beads of sweat appeared on his brow.

Jason stopped trying to remove the bag and looked up at Mimi with wide helpless eyes looking for guidance. "The scissors," she said, "this is what I wanted them for."

He looked around wildly as though scissors were going to start popping up on surfaces everywhere. Mimi could tell he was reaching the end of his emotional resources. Jason was entirely capable of avoiding hospitalization with bullet wounds in him and enduring the pain stoically, but he couldn't stand to see his little brother suffer.

"I'll look for scissors," she told him, "meanwhile, I imagine that water is hot enough and I really need that alcohol and some clean towels."

Jason was relieved to have a specific chore assigned to him. He was grateful for the opportunity to escape to the kitchen where he could regain his self control so that he could help Mimi do what was needed in tending to Spinelli's wounds. "I'll be right back, you just…just rest," he said to the young man as he got up. He had seldom felt this helpless and he thoroughly disliked the sensation.

Just as Jason was returning to the living room with a large pot of hot water and some towels under his arm, a quiet, almost inaudible, knock sounded at the door. He put the pot down on the coffee table and strode over to open the door. The requested supplies lay on the floor, but the only indication of their deliverer was the sound of the stairway door swinging shut. "Good," Jason thought grimly as he picked up the materials Derek had left, "at least he can follow directions."

Mimi had found a pair of scissors in the desk drawer and Jason went to get a bottle of vodka from the bar. Armed with the necessary medical supplies, they both turned their attention to Spinelli. He had fallen into a restless sleep, sprawled at an awkward angle on the couch, he muttered and groaned and his eyelids flickered as he dreamed uneasily.

"Let him be for now," Mimi advised, "it will be better if he isn't awake."

Slowly, she began the painstaking task of cutting both the messenger bag and the sweatshirt off of Spinelli. Wherever the fabric was adhered to his skin, she cut around it, leaving isolated pieces of material-rough canvas and green cotton-which made a bizarre fabric patchwork across his torso.

Finally, Jason was able to shift the messenger bag out from under Spinelli where he had been lying uncomfortably on it. As Jason hefted the bag it jangled almost musically. He supposed whatever was inside it was the reason Spinelli had almost died tonight. He threw it disgustedly onto the floor, it hit with a crash and the sound of more glass breaking.

The sound penetrated Spinelli's restive sleep and he opened his eyes, he was disoriented as he looked up at Mimi and Jason in a daze. "Where...what… it hurts-the Jackal, it hurts," he muttered disjointedly as he groaned trying to sit up.

"Damian," Mimi said as she gently pushed him back down on the couch settled in a more comfortable position, "we need to fix your arm and your cuts and we need you to lie still while we work. Do you think you can manage that?"

"The Jackal will try his best to lie supine and motionless while Stone Cold and the lady with the lamp tend to his injuries," he responded with some simulation of his usual speech patterns.

"The lady with the lamp?" Jason repeated, puzzled, he was concerned that Spinelli might be delirious.

Mimi smiled fondly down at Damian, "Florence Nightingale," she said. "I didn't think anyone of your generation had ever even heard of her."

"The Mother of the modern nursing profession, she cared for the soldiers on the battlefields of the Crimean War. The Jackal can indeed see that the Colonel's fair lady is a direct and honorable descendant of that revered caretaker."

"Flatterer!" Mimi laughed and then said soberly, "Damian, this is going to hurt," she sighed, "that seems to be all I say to you tonight…"

"At least you are not mendacious, Mrs. Hunter." Spinelli looked up at her with a ghost of a smile on his lips.

Tears sprang to her eyes as he teased her. "I am truly sorry," she said gravely.

"The Jackal is honored that you are so concerned for his well being and he will try to be stoic in order to be a role model for Stone Cold." Spinelli turned to Jason to include him in the banter.

"You are the bravest person I know Spinelli," Jason told him seriously. He hadn't understood all that passed between Mimi and his roommate but he knew that Spinelli always considered Jason to be the epitome of all things masculine.

No matter how hard he tried to convince Spinelli that his qualities of kindness, intelligence, and loyalty were worth far more than Jason's anger and violence, Spinelli never saw it. He simply viewed Jason as an honorable man trying to do his best in a dark world. It was only Spinelli's misplaced faith in him that kept Jason going most days.

"Jason, I need you to use damp towels on these pieces of fabric in order to dissolve the blood and take the material off. Then use these tweezers to pull out any fibers or glass fragments. Once the wound is clean, disinfect it with the vodka and bandage it. Let me know if any of the cuts need stitches and I will look at them." Mimi was once again fully in nurse mode.

"Why aren't you doing this?" Jason asked her nervously, he didn't want to cause Spinelli pain or possibly even hurt him more.

"Unless you know what to do with regard to setting and casting his arm, you need to clean those wounds." She replied with irrefutable logic. "If we are both tending to his injuries, we'll be done sooner and he can get some sleep."

"The Jackal ardently agrees with the ministering one's estimation of the situation. If subjecting himself to Stone Cold's tender mercies will finish the medical portion of the evening's program sooner, he will gladly concur with the proposed agenda."

Jason thought that Spinelli must be feeling more like himself to be spewing out his patented contorted sentences. Resignedly, he began slowly wetting down the stuck fabric swatches in order to remove them. Meanwhile, Mimi moved in order to better access his broken arm.

It took over an hour for them to tend to Spinelli's various wounds and injuries. Jason tried to be as gentle as he could while he pulled the fabric from the cuts. Even so, Spinelli often whimpered in pain and every time he did Jason winced in empathy and frustration. Many of the cuts had tiny pieces of glass embedded in them which required Jason to use the tweezers to try and remove them. Several of the slashes were deep and gaping and he left them for Mimi to examine.

Meanwhile, Mimi was trying to align the two lower bones in Spinelli's right arm without the help of an X-ray. She felt pressured to do the best job of positioning the bones that she possibly could. Once she cast the arm, the bones would heal and set in the placement she had put them. No matter what she did tonight, she knew that it was unlikely that Spinelli would ever get back the full facility of use his right arm had before it had been broken.

Every time she ran her hands along his forearm or put any pressure on it as she tried to find the correct position of the bones, Spinelli groaned in pain and tried to jerk his arm away. Finally, aware that she required help, she called Jason over to hold Spinelli's arm still while Mimi manipulated the bones. Jason, held onto the arm while looking directly into Spinelli's eyes, hoping that if they maintained visual contact somehow it could help alleviate his brother's suffering.

Eventually, Mimi was satisfied that she had done the best she could under the circumstances and while Jason continued to hold the arm, she began to put the cast on. First she wrapped the arm in a layer of fabric bandages and then she turned to wet the fiberglass casing that would form the hard exterior cast. When she was done Spinelli's broken arm was encased in a bright blue rigid shell.

Spinelli lay on the couch with his eyes closed, his face was drawn and there were lines of fatigue and pain etched around his mouth. Mimi knew she wasn't done repairing the damage done to his poor body this night.

For one thing, she had found a deep cut on the palm of his right hand where he had grasped the piece of glass as he tried valiantly to subvert Elizabeth's evil machinations. Mimi knew the cut would require suturing as did several on his chest. She was also concerned that there might be some nerve damage involved in the palm gash, but she feared there was nothing she could do about it.

She had wrapped the casting material in such a way as to leave the wound in the hand uncovered. She turned to her medical bag and retrieved the supplies she would need to suture the cuts. "Thank heavens," she thought to herself with relief, "this time around there is something I can give him for the pain." She had several vials of lidocaine available and she injected all the sites that would require stitching with the anesthetic. With each shot, Spinelli winced at the stinging sensation and gripped Jason's hand tightly in his left hand.

After Mimi had finished injecting the lidocaine she turned to Jason and motioned him away from the couch so they could have a private conversation. She sighed as she began speaking, "Once I've sutured those last cuts, I'll give him something for the pain and to help him sleep as well as some antibiotics against potential infection…"

Jason couldn't comprehend what was distressing her. "Isn't the worst past?" he asked cautiously. "You've set his arm," he shuddered at the recent and raw memory of all the distress Spinelli had undergone in the process. "Once they're stitched, the cuts will heal. If he rests for a couple of days, shouldn't he be fine?"

"Well," she answered slowly, "I'd like to think so and you may be right but, Jason, these aren't ideal conditions for treating Damian. There was a time delay in getting him help…It's not your fault!" she said firmly in response to the stricken look that had appeared on his face.

"Still," she continued, "his wounds have probably been exposed to bacteria, and his immune system will have been strained by having to endure all this pain as we worked on him. Even the inflammation and insult to his body from the dislocation and broken arm are stresses beyond the injuries themselves."

"What exactly are you saying?" Jason asked her hoarsely, his brilliant blue eyes hooded with fatigue and worry.

"Just," she paused, thinking of what to answer, "that he might not be out of the woods yet…maybe, we should be guardedly optimistic," she finished lamely. Sometimes she wished she had spent her nursing life in shiny, hygienic hospitals rather than in bleak field conditions where death often intruded to mock their valiant battles to save lives.

Yet, it was fortunate that Spinelli had her as his medical savior tonight. Mimi's vast experience in dealing with major medical crises under less than ideal conditions had absolutely saved his arm from eventual amputation. While Jason wasn't actually aware of how close his brother had come to losing a limb, he understood that without Mimi's presence here tonight, Spinelli's basic health, and indeed his very life, would have been at risk.

Jason remembered with shame how he used to think she was just a fluffy elderly lady without a thought in her head. That was a long time ago before she had proven herself one of the toughest, most reliable people in a crisis Jason had ever known. He was grateful beyond words for what she had done for Spinelli this night. He knew he would be eternally in her debt and that realistically he could never hope to repay her.

Mimi, touched him on the arm, interrupting his musings. She nodded towards her watch and said, "The lidocaine should have taken effect. I need to go stitch those cuts before it wears off. Why don't you go get some things from his room-pillows, blankets and so on. I don't want him moving off that couch tonight or for the next several days."

Jason nodded his head wearily, rubbed at his tired eyes and headed upstairs. Mimi closed her own eyes for a moment. It had been a long time since she had been called upon to deal with such a complex set of injuries without any assistance or the appropriate equipment. She was feeling the cumulative effects of the stress and tension of the evening's events in the muscles and bones of her seventy-five year old body.

Still, there wasn't anyone else except her available to finish up stitching Spinelli's wounds. When she was done, they would make sure he was resting as comfortably as possible and then perhaps she and Jason could step down from red to orange alert status.

Her lips twisted wryly at her unconscious use of an outmoded reminder of what the citizens of Port Charles used to fear about the world only a year ago. The truth was that there were many more terrifying things on this earth than the irrational hatred of a group of religious fundamentalists. She and every other occupant in this building could testify to that fact. Mimi shook her head impatiently, this was no time to be dwelling on things that couldn't be altered.

In order to regain her focus, she took a deep breath, held it for a moment and then exhaled. Now Mimi was once more ready to do whatever was needed for her patient's health and comfort.

By the time Jason came downstairs carrying blankets, pillows and a change of clothes for Spinelli, he found her just finishing the suturing of the palm wound. He didn't care for the frown that crossed her face as she looked at the ugly red line crisscrossed and puckered by the nylon suture thread. He could tell she was concerned about something but doubted that it was anything either of them could solve.

While she moved on to sewing the chest cuts, he decided to start making Spinelli more comfortable in preparation for sleeping. He pulled off Spinelli's left shoe and then reached for the right. As soon as he started tugging at it, Spinelli gave out a yelp of pain, "Don't Stone Cold," he groaned, he had forgotten about his sprained ankle.

Jason looked down in dismay at the ankle that he could see was clearly swollen to twice its size and radiating heat. "What is it?" Mimi asked, not looking up from the neat stitches she was creating.

"His ankle," Jason answered hesitantly, "it's really swollen and hot."

"Damian, what happened to your ankle?"

"I was crossing the park to get back before sunset. I tripped and fell, that's when I got these," he indicated his chest. He sighed; he was so tired of it all. "I think it's sprained but I had to run on it to try and get away from Eli…" he stopped suddenly and looked up in apprehension at Jason whose head had jerked up at that beginning syllable. "Um, from some vampires." He trailed off; he simply wasn't up to dissimulation or even explanations tonight.

Jason looked at him for a moment but decided that now wasn't the time to pursue what else had happened to Spinelli before he found him with Lulu. He turned back to Spinelli's swollen foot and tried to remove the shoe and sock without causing him too much trauma.

While he worked, he could feel a cold, merciless rage begin to slowly build inside him. He would make her pay for this. She had intentionally gone after Spinelli, the one thing in his world he had left, the one thing she hadn't yet taken from him.

"There all done!" Mimi patted Damian's shoulder. "I'll just wrap your ankle and then I want you to get some sleep."

Spinelli reached up and grabbed her hand before she could move away. "Thank you for everything you have done for the Jackal tonight, Mrs. Hunter. He is sorry that his thoughtlessness and ill timed excursion have caused such a disruption in the lives and routines of so many of the inhabitants of the Towers. He also apologizes for any concern he may have inadvertently caused you and Stone Cold. Most of all he regrets any inconvenience that the Jackal's incapacitation afforded tonight and in the days yet to come."

Spinelli had tears in his eyes as he struggled to sit up during his speech. He was mortified that because of his carelessness so much time, effort and precious medical supplies had been expended to save him. He knew how delicate the balance between light and dark had become in what was left of the community of Port Charles.

He had simply intended to try and alleviate a small part of that darkness within Jason. Instead he had nearly caused his own and Jason's damnation. In addition, he had created an unintentional expenditure of resources on the part of the little barricaded community that they could ill afford.

He absolutely knew that if any other Towers' resident had been caught in such a predicament of their own making they would have been left to fend for themselves. The guilt he felt at the special treatment he was receiving, even after being so foolhardy, was almost unendurable.

Mimi listened to Spinelli's outpouring of impassioned culpability in ever increasing amazement and distress. She searched within herself for the words that would comfort him and show him how valued and loved he was. She had never suspected the depths of his lack of self worth until this very moment.

Before she could speak, Jason had already acted. He gently moved Mimi away from the couch and sat down on the coffee table next to Spinelli. He reached over and took Spinelli's left hand in his own, stilling the young man's attempts to sit up.

"You listen to me," he said forcefully, his blue eyes boring directly into Spinelli's green tear filled ones, "You and only you, are the reason that all this," he gestured around the room for emphasis, "-still exists. You are the heart and soul of this place. Without your compassion, your energy, your ideas, and your skills-why don't you understand how important you are…" Jason broke off, sighing in frustration.

Here once again was this battle he never seemed to win-getting Spinelli to see himself how others perceived him, as the wonderful man he truly was. Still, there was one thing that he knew Spinelli valued above all others though Jason never quite understood why. Yet, tonight or anytime he needed it; he would give it to him because Spinelli was all that counted.

"You matter to me above all things and I will always do whatever it takes to protect you and to help you." Because, Spinelli," he said with simple and direct honesty, "I love you."

The miracle of a tired smile was his reward. "I love you too Stone Cold."

"And they say woman are sentimental!" Mimi surreptitiously wiped a tear off of her cheek. "Now, I think it's time for Damian to get a little rest. Jason, I am going to get some ice for his ankle and some water so he can take these pills. I don't need to ask about Damian's innate modesty, so if you could finish helping him get changed." She smiled down at Spinelli who was actually blushing a little.

Mimi leaned wearily against the kitchen counter grateful to have a few moments to relax and let her emotions out. She couldn't remember the last time she had such a difficult time separating her feelings from her work as a nurse. She usually never had trouble assuming the mantle of professionalism. Clearly this was why medical personnel weren't allowed to treat family members.

"Family," she thought to herself startled. "Yes," I guess so," she said softly, "both of them-family. Well, well, when did that happen?"

She wanted to give Jason enough time to get Damian ready for bed and so she occupied herself by picking up the fallen drawer and its scattered contents. A few minutes later Mimi came out of the kitchen carrying a large sealed plastic bag filled with ice and a glass of water.

She stopped short at the scene in front of her, Jason was sitting on the couch, and Damian was lying in his arms. It was the first time she had ever walked into a room without Jason noting it; he was always preternaturally alert to his surroundings. Yet, tonight, he was just a loving older brother. He wasn't saying anything; he just looked down at Spinelli with a mingling of pure love and fierce protectiveness. She could again feel tears pricking behind her eyes-family indeed.

Mimi hated to disturb them but she absolutely had to get the antibiotics into Damian's system. "Damian, honey," she said quietly, "You need to take some pills before you go to sleep."

Spinelli opened his eyes reluctantly, for the first time in hours he had actually felt secure and relatively comfortable. Jason took the pills and the water from Mimi and supporting his friend helped him sit up enough to swallow. Spinelli eagerly gulped all the water and Mimi and Jason stared at each other in shame as they realized that they hadn't thought to get him a drink in the past several hours.

Mimi moved down the couch and tucked the ice around Spinelli's sprained foot which was elevated on a pillow. Suddenly dizzy with fatigue, she swayed and Jason alarmed tried to disentangle himself from Spinelli in order to get to her.

She put her hand up to forestall him, "I'm fine, just tired, it's been a long evening. If I could go upstairs and then in a couple of hours, I could relieve you and sit with him…"

Jason shook his head in denial, "No, you go to sleep. I'll stay down here with him."

Mimi was too exhausted to argue as she headed for the stairs she said, "Call me for anything, I'll be sleeping with one ear open anyway."

"Mrs. Hunter," Jason called softly. "Thank you for everything tonight…I don't even know what to say…"

"How about you start by calling me Mimi, I think it's about time." Smiling tiredly, she started up the stairs. "Good night, Jason."

"Good night…Mimi," he replied almost shyly.

He was running down a gravel path, it was dark and only because of the white stones reflective capacity could he see to keep going. His heart thundered in his ears and sweat, that he couldn't wipe away, stung his eyes. He needed sanctuary but all he could see on either side of him was a dark, impenetrable overarching canopy of trees creating a living corridor of fear.

Then he saw them, dim shapes swooping along either side of him, they were even overhead in the trees themselves. His heart felt like it would burst but he knew that stopping meant death or worse…

She plunged down directly in front of him. He tried to swerve to get around her but she matched him move for move. His muscles were leaden, his lungs burned, and he simply couldn't keep moving. He stood there in defeat, with his head hanging and his chest heaving as his body desperately tried to pay off the oxygen debt it had incurred.

Her scarlet lips pulled back from pearlescent teeth in a grimace of victory. Hypnotized by her blank demonic stare he couldn't move. He lacked the words or even the strength to plead for the boon of a quick death rather than an eternity of soulless immortality. She flexed her neck and growled softly as she arched her head and bent towards his throat to deliver the ultimate, most awful intimacy possible.

Hopelessly, but animated by the spirit found in all living things within the grasp of a hunter about to deliver the coup d' grace, he groaned pleadingly, "No, Elizabeth, please no!"

She grabbed him with both her arms and started shaking him, "Spinelli, wake up!"

Blearily he opened his eyes; Jason's worried face filled his field of vision. "Stone Cold," he muttered uncomprehendingly, "wha…what are you doing here?" His head was muzzy, his limbs were heavy and he felt as though he were freezing cold and on fire all at the same time.

Spinelli realized that he had been dreaming. He looked around the penthouse living room in all its wonderful ordinariness, blessedly lit so as to keep the night at bay. He thought forlornly that he might never be able to sleep in the dark again.

He was shivering with chills and Jason shrugged another blanket over him, pulling him close in his arms trying to warm Spinelli with his own body heat. "You were dreaming and calling out and your pulse was racing."

His chest burned with a bright heat while his broken arm throbbed with a jagged, glassy pain. He coughed harshly and Jason looked down at him with an expression Spinelli had only seen once before in his eyes-it was dread.

The last time Spinelli had seen Jason so frightened for him it had been almost exactly a year ago. As the fever once again claimed him and he spiraled down into a hot, pain ridden darkness, he was remembering…

A/N Reviews and perceptions are appreciated