Ashley cracked her eyes slightly, immediately shutting them against the harsh glow of the street light, fighting back a wave of nausea that threatened to knock her unconscious once again, God…what the hell did I get myself into…her head fell back against the brick wall, with a soft thud that reverberated much too strongly through her aching body. How did I get here…she tried opening her eyes once more, pushing back the sickness and pounding in her head to take in her surroundings, a gasp escaping from her lips as the memory of the day came flooding back to her, actions, pain, that she desperately wished she could take back. "Spencer," the name was spoken in a soft whisper that seemed so out of place in the harsh back alley of the bar. Her eyes closed once again, mahogany hair cascading over her face in a temporary wall of shame as she tried to forget the look in those blue eyes, eyes that usually shone with a mischievous sparkle, tried to forget the dimming of that light as her fist had struck the blonde, knocking her to the ground, and felt sick. Felt sick in a way she hadn't…ever…because in that moment, as she had stared down into Spencer's suddenly guarded eyes, chest heaving with rapidly evaporating anger, she knew. She was no more in control of her drinking than she was of the feelings that had been developing for her honey-haired friend. If, and she sent up a silent prayer, they were still that. I'm such a screw-up…

With a sigh, she pushed herself to her feet, swaying unsteadily, and grasped the wall as the world began to tilt sickeningly in her vision. How bad is it…she drew a hesitant breath, letting it out in a rushed hiss at the fiery throbbing that shot from her right side, enveloping her in blaze of pain. It's not as though I don't deserve it…her dark brows narrowed with purpose as she eyed the still busy street at the end of the alley, and stumbled towards it, determined to find some way to solve her problems, just to make things a little easier…for everyone. I'm so fucking tired of hurting all the time…squaring her shoulders as best she could, she stepped into the oncoming traffic, head raised as she stared down the approaching car, eyes locked on the stars, and waited…

***

"Spencer," Derrick couldn't help shouting her name as he took in her bedraggled appearance. Blonde hair laying flat on her head, eyes dully taking him in, "is everything okay?" For a moment it looked as though she would answer, but the words stilled on the tip of her tongue, and when she looked up at him, tears beginning to trek silently down her face, he reached out almost involuntarily, gently turning her head to the side, "What happened?"

"I-I don't know," her voice cracked, everything had been…almost perfect, "…I think there's something wrong with me. There has to be. She wouldn't have done what she did if there wasn't…I should have known," she took a deep breath and ran a shaky hand through her hair, trying to calm herself, "I knew she had issues, but I never thought—"

"Hold up. Hold it," Derrick raised his hands as though warding off potential attack, "you should probably come in," he stuck his head out the door, looking left and right, "this isn't the best place to have what appears to be a semi-meltdown," his lips quirked in a grin, softening the harshness of the words as he took her hand, pulling her inside, "look, why don't you get cleaned up. You look like you just trekked the Sahara."

"I didn't exactly come here carrying a knapsack," Spencer snapped.

"That…was probably a little insensitive. I'm not really good at, you know," he gestured towards her, "helping people who've had rough day. I'm a bit of a clown, and my automatic instinct is to try to make people laugh. I'm sorry," he shrugged, and raised one eyebrow quizzically in her direction, "how about, I loan you a pair of shorts and a t-shirt, you can take a shower, and then…we'll take a few bowl hits."

She spared him a tired grin, "the shower sounds great…the ganja, on the other hand, I'll have to do without," she began walking down the hallway towards the bathroom, her footsteps growing softer, "just throw the clothes in here when you find them." The door shut, opening an instant later, Spencer's head hanging around the corner, a small grin playing on her lips, "thanks."

He watched the door shut again, feeling his heart sputter momentarily in his chest. Maybe one day…

***

"Ashley, what the fuck," Jon jumped from the car, reaching his friend just in time to keep her from pitching face first onto the ground, face flushed with confusion and more than a trace of anger, "what have you done now?" Small hands tightened on his shirt, and he could feel her body shaking with barely contained sobs. "Okay, it's okay," for the second time in less than two years he felt a tiny piece of his heart break as he looked down at his friend, once again astounded by the vulnerability she tried at all times to hide away…and it was killing her. "Let's get you someplace safe," he placed a finger beneath her chin, gently forcing her to make eye contact, and could feel the tears begin to sting the corner of his eyes as he realized just what may have happened, "I'm just going to carry you, alright?" Placing a hand around her shoulders, he lifted her slowly, his other arm cradling her legs as she leaned against his body, "Don't worry," he whispered into her ear, "I won't tell anyone that a strappingly handsome man had to carry you," and thankfully heard what he thought was a tiny laugh as he laid her gently on the backseat, "Ash, I really think I need to take you to the hospital."

"No," her voice sounded hoarse, her maple eyes snapped to attention, "I just want to go home."

"But you're pretty banged up, and I think I felt your ribs—"

"Just take me home, please?"

Jon hesitated a moment, nearly caving to her request, before something made him stop, a frown falling over his features, "Can we please just think for a moment about how I found you? I…I really don't think you should be alone right now. If you don't let me take you to the hospital, I'm taking you to my place with Brad. I'm afraid to leave you alone because," …of what you might do…"you might need some help in the middle of the night. It's my place or the hospital."

"Fine."

He swallowed, trying to rid himself of the memory of the last time she had sounded so defeated, knowing that she had given in too easily, "thank you," he laid his hand on her shoulder, squeezing softly before climbing behind the wheel, ignoring the angry honking of the other drivers, and headed home.

***

"Chinese," Spencer's eyes lit up as she took in the spread of food sat out on the table, glancing down embarrassed as her stomach chose that moment to rudely announce itself, "well, I guess I should eat then." She took a seat across from Derrick, feeling a thousand times better after washing away the grime of the day, "how much do I owe you?"

"You don't owe me anything," his hand reached uncertainly across the table, pausing just before reaching Spencer's own, something in her eyes made him think different, and he grabbed a tub a lo mein instead, trying to ignore the suddenly awkward silence. One that was almost as bad as the time he, while struggling with a case of explosive diarrhea, thought jumping down half a flight of stairs would help him reach the bathroom faster. He gnawed the corner of his lip as his face flushed a dark red at the memory, "I just, you looked like you needed it, is all, and," he finished with a flourish, slapping more than three people's worth of food onto her plate, "I distinctly remember you saying you loved Chinese food."

Her eyebrows wiggled teasingly, "do you really? Or do you just know it's next to impossible to find someone who doesn't love Chinese food?"

"Ah, well, see…what had happened was—" He was cut off by her laugh, and ducked his head as he felt his face grow two shades darker, "alright…so I lied, but at least you're laughing a little."

"Eh, I'm a girl," she began with a noncommittal shrug, "dump hot water on me and pump me full of carbs and I'm pretty much happy."

Derrick's eyes bulged as Coke began making a dramatic exit from his nostrils, "pump you full of what?"

"Carbs? Carbohydrates? Bread? Pasta?" she lifted her hands, "you know, the stuff that's gonna make my ass big?"

"Right…right," he muttered, wiping roughly at his face with a napkin, turning his attention to a neglected spring roll on his plate. He heard her laughing, but was more than determined not to make eye contact, hoping she wouldn't decide to mock him, and felt the tension seep from his shoulders when she instead attacked the plate of lo mein like a last meal. They finished their dinner in a companionable silence, broken only by requests for soy and duck sauce. "So," his fork fell to his now empty plate with a clink, "do you want to tell me what's going on?"

She looked up at him, before quickly lowering her eyes to her plate, absentmindedly playing with her still damp hair, "it's nothing, really."

Derrick leaned forward, his forearms pressed onto the table, "don't tell me it's nothing. I saw your face when you got here, and that bruise…"

"Please, Derrick, just drop it for now. I don't know—" Spencer jumped slightly, the white t-shirt sliding off one shoulder, as her phone rang out from across the room, "I should probably get that." She rushed over, thankful for the interruption, noticing an unrecognizable number before uttering a quick hello. Derrick watched her from across the room, eyebrows knitting together as she fell breathless to the couch, hand over her eyes, "what is it that you think I can do? God, she doesn't—" her jaw clenched as she continued listening, "okay…yeah…" she disconnected the call, turning haunted blue eyes towards her friend, " I need a ride."

***

"Where is she?" Spencer threw open the door just as Brad had begun opening it, shoving past the muscle-bound man, a fierce determination on her face, following the pointing finger into the living room, Derrick close on her heels. "Ashley," the dark haired woman looked up, seeming so much smaller in one of her friend's oversized shirts and sweatpants, and her face fell at the threatening rumblings she heard in Spencer's voice.

"Hey," she stood from the couch, her voice horse, and took a step towards the blonde, arms held awkwardly at her side, "…I-I'm sorry about—" she never finished her sentence as she felt her head being turned by a harsh slap that nearly took her too her knees. Ashley snapped her head back around, a glower falling over her face as she reached a hand up to rub her jaw, "I deserved that," she worked to control her anger as Spencer's hand landed once again on her cheek, provoking a headache that had just begun to subside back into a roaring pounding behind her eyes.

A hush fell over the room, the three men staring, unsure of what to do, the only sounds the rapid in and out of Spencer's breathing, "You think that was because you hit me?"

There was a rough edge to her voice that Ashley hadn't even heard the day she attacked Tyler, and she took a step back, "wasn't it?"

"No," her tone took on a note of deadly calm, "but I swear if you ever, ever, even think about—"

"It was a mistake Spencer, okay?" Ashley felt her eyes drawn to the ceiling, anywhere that wasn't the turbulent sea of the blonde's blue eyes, anything but that.

"No, you look at me," she forced eye contact, snatching Ashley's head back down, grabbing hold of her face so she couldn't look away, "that was because you nearly got yourself beaten to death in some godforsaken bar and because," her voice shook, trembling with fear and…something else, "because you tried to kill yourself."

The statement hung there, in the open, daring anyone to contradict it, but truth is truth, and Ashley just hung her head, knowing there would be no words to say, "Spencer…"

"I can't watch you do this to yourself." Blue eyes hardened even as her shoulders slumped in defeat, "I won't." She turned before Ashley could see the silent tears burning their way down her face, steeling herself against the cries of her name, and walked out.