Spencer turned off the light on the small lamp that set on the bedside table. She closed her eyes and tried to think of something really boring which would put her to sleep. On her mind, right now, boring herself to sleep equalled relaxing. It should be the other way around, but these weren't easy times for her. She was never relaxed. That's why she wanted to get out of Rosewood on Sunday: she would do that with Toby on Sunday morning, and then she would get to Rosewood in time to get the girls out in the afternoon. She figured that getting away somehow resembled calmness; she figured too that she could get the girls out for the same motives.

But, then again, she had to think of something boring, and that certainly didn't mean she should really start imagining how Sunday would turn out. It was an exciting promise and the sound of it in her ears would most probably keep her awake. Spencer took a look at the alarm clock, even though she knew that would just make her nervous. She shouldn't think about the Contemporary History exam she had next Wednesday either. The French Revolution. That was good stuff. She wondered why there were people who didn't find History entertaining. It was great to learn what other people had done a long time ago: which mistakes they had made, what they were pursuing, why they had acted as they had. Take the increase in the cost of bread, for example. There were so many interpretations about the importance of that little economic fact, but still what she saw as the main fascinating problem is that people had actually come out of their houses to scream and protest. That would have been easily ascribed to hunger. That seemed to be the Marxist interpretation, if she had gotten that one right; at least the basics of it, since they believed that material conditions of existence determined every historical movement. So, basically, if you were hungry, you started a riot. However, hunger tended to make people weak and easy to conform, for a thing. It could make people go mad too, but not as mad as to actually have the driving force to change a whole system of government. So there had been something else too: some kind of energy, probably an intellectual energy that moved the whole process forward. She wondered if those people were actually conscious of the changes they were initiating when they started to ask for food instead of justice. We were talking about a revolution here, not merely a riot.

She thought of herself as one of the little pieces who would have moved in the streets of Paris, as black peons in a chessboard. Then she thought her head would have probably been guillotined when the Terror started in 1793, since she came from a rather well off family. Then she saw herself in the streets of Rosewood, her own town. There was no revolution here. They were not hungry, either. Bread had a fairly normal price. However, there was fear in Rosewood. It was a scary world. You could certainly lose your head here too. There were people who were driven by fear: themselves. She and the girls. Perhaps there was someone else out there who was also scared of what was happening in Rosewood, but she didn't know about that. There was Toby, for once. He had been scared, even though he didn't know half of what was going on with all of them.

She turned, becoming upset under the covers. It was clear she would not be able to sleep if she started thinking about A and everything that had happened. She turned the light on again. When everything became illuminated, she could see her laptop, her books, the clothes that she had taken off tonight, as well as a couple of pictures of the girls that she kept on her wall. Alison wasn't in any of them. They were recent: all post-A. She wanted to keep them that way to always remember what life was about now that she was really growing up.

She realized she would have a hard time falling asleep at all. She wasn't one to sleep with the lights on. She wasn't like that even as a child. So she got out of bed again and she went to her study table to pick up her book on the French Revolution. She started reading through the pages that she had been thinking about when she was unsuccessfully trying to get relaxed. A sudden pang of pain hit her down her throat and chest when she thought that Emily might feel the exact same way she was feeling now: alert, agitated. She really hoped that Emily was sleeping peacefully now. They were trying to take care of each other, but they both knew this wasn't a game. She could only imagine the anguish Emily had experienced the night before, when she left Hannah's house and went running around who knows where – she hadn't told – and then right to Dr. Sullivan's office. The world of adults. It was a world symbolized by Dr. Sullivan's office, but she doubted it provided the shelter they needed. Adults had proven themselves clueless and unable to fight up until now. She wanted to believe that turning to Dr. Sullivan might help them, and she wanted to believe this for Emily's sake first of all, because she had had A's hands around her neck and because her very future was being jeopardized with the whole HGH scenario. And also because it had been Emily who had finally decided to confide in a grown-up who repeatedly offered to help. She wanted to believe it for her own sake too. And for Toby. And for Hanna and Aria.

She approached the window and looked through it. Jason Di Laurentis' house was bathed in complete darkness. No signs of sneaking or spying tonight, but Spencer knew too well that this didn't mean a thing. She looked further down the road to try to catch a glimpse of Emily's house, but there was no way she could see it from here and, anyways, she wasn't even there. Emily was at Hanna's. Hanna was Emily's shelter right now, tonight. She had hoped that being with Hannah would give Emily a stable background not to fall apart, but she felt so guilty the night Emily escaped that she almost lost it when they were trying to locate her. It had been Hannah's idea to go to Dr. Sullivan's. Spencer had felt, for the first time in her life, paralyzed and unable to think. She had tried to lead the way as she always did, but all she could come up was bubbles and stutters. Nobody seemed to blame her for that, though. They had found Emily after all. But she did. She blamed herself.

That was the reason why she was trying so desperately to give Emily the sense of common strength. Emily was stern and, more importantly, she was much stronger than she thought she was. What she told her in the car that morning was true: she had come a long way from little, sweet Emily. Still, Spencer knew Emily doubted herself because she always was the one who cared most about doing the right thing. She was always the cleanest one of all, and that part of her personality hadn't changed, even if she felt she had been hiding for so long because of her sexual orientation thing. She had been clean even when she was hiding, unlike most of them, unlike Spencer herself who had such a shady way of competing with Melissa for other people's – especially their parents' – attention. Only Aria had the same kind of innocence and purity to her. But Aria was not stern, was not brave like Emily was. Not the same way, anyhow. Moreover, Emily needed the backup. She knew Emily was strong, but she also knew she had felt isolated for so long she wasn't really used to trusting others when it came to survival. And, still, she managed to survive. But Spencer was now determined to provide that backup. She would join forces with Hanna. She just couldn't allow Emily to have another breakdown like the past night.

Spencer had feared for Hanna when that car ran her over in front of their eyes. She had, most evidently, feared for her own life when Ian tried to kill her in the church. But, of her experiences of death and fear, she had sensed adrenaline through her veins, a kind of rush that kept her miraculously alive. It was nothing compared to the utter dread that she had felt when Emily disappeared that night. That was it, yes. She had felt like time stopped for her, and she couldn't think about what to do, but she had to keep breathing, waiting for Emily to reappear. Like she was caged and couldn't get out. Like she had too much caffeine but could not move her own body to wear it down. That was something she had never experienced before.

When Ian had died, leaving a written confession, Spencer had tried to cool down and get back to normalcy. But, tonight, she saw this as her own personal failure. Of course things could not be so easy when they had been so wicked all the way for them. She should have realized it the moment they found Ian; not only because things in Rosewood were wicked, but mainly because she had seen A in the church. Instead, she had opted for pretending the mystery was solved, leaving Emily and the others to cope with reality. She left them unprotected. That's why Spencer had decided they had to fight together. Inspired by her reflections on the French Revolution, she wanted them to be a driving force: a driving force in Rosewood, a driving force against A, a driving force to lead their revolution into growing up like this and surviving. Spencer felt her forces had failed her; Emily had picked up the lead, and she was paying for that now that she had become A's main target. Spencer couldn't allow that. She wouldn't make the same mistake again. She wouldn't let the girls down anymore. She wouldn't let Emily break down another time.

But this was not just a fight. It had to be a true revolution in their lives. This would not turn only into a matter of survival: getting them all alive through it. It had to be a transforming push that would get them to live. They had to enjoy their life, even if it was a living hell. Hell or not, they would live it up. Spencer trembled at the thought, feeling a mix of joy and awe that might or might not have been similar to the one experienced by the people in Paris. She was sometimes surprised at how nerdy she was. It was good she kept these thoughts to herself. She was well aware her character could be exhausting to tolerate. But that's just who she was. They had to take her or leave her. And, right now, she was on a mission: her task was to get them through this thing and to make them have a blast. At least whenever they were not in direct danger of being put down by A. Carpe diem. Have a blast.

She remembered Emily again while she looked at one of the pictures on the wall. It had been taken at her home, in this very same bedroom, during one of her last sleepovers, before things had gotten so crazy they even stopped having them – except for Emily and Hanna, who seemed to live in a perpetual one. Emily was smiling shyly at the camera, half hidden by Hanna's blonde curls and expanding smile. Her eyes had a kind of secrecy to them, as if she would not open the door so easily if you knocked on there, cautious and careful as you may be. And, still, Spencer, who was hugging Aria when the pic was taken, felt as if she knew Emily since they had been born; as if she had seen her grown from the start, and was still seeing her, and bearing witness to it, and she hoped that Emily would bear witness to her own growth now, because she wanted to measure up to that, to finally do the right thing, to come clean now and forever. For some reason, it was always Emily who stood up to her and argued with her, even if right after she followed her steps, like the night they wandered into Jason's barn of horrors. Aria tended to be conciliatory, and Hanna had learned to be more independent after Alison's death. But Emily, especially now that she was becoming more confident, had the ability to be loyal and honest at the same time. Tonight, she had gotten mad at her when she mentioned Maya; but Spencer did like Maya, as she had told Emily. She just didn't really see her with Emily. Maya did not take Emily's calls; she did not call her back either. That was a major flaw, right? More importantly, it was something Emily did not deserve from a girlfriend or a lover - or a friend. That's what she had tried to explain to Emily, but Emily had made clear she would not take this kind of criticism from Spencer. And she was right to do so; Spencer knew she herself had major flaws as a person - friend or lover, as Toby did in fact know. So she would have to tolerate Maya, or Samara (who hadn't even given Emily the benefit of the doubt when Emily tried to explain whatever happened), or whoever Emily decided to be with. Even if they were not good enough. And it was all right.

Spencer sat on her bed and turned the lights off again. The mission was to have fun on Sunday. As if there was something to celebrate: themselves. It was an easy step. They could do that. She closed her eyes, trying to focus on the possitive feelings she felt about her decision and wishing they wouldn't be crashed by another of A's moves.


A/N: The park will have to wait till next chapter, guys ;). So, basically, I'm trying to stay as close to the show as possible, but obviously I have to depart from it to actually tell the Spemily story. I hope you're liking it. Beyond the title, I like to slow things down, since I also enjoy the flirting :)