AN: Thanks for all the reviews! Please keep them up, they're much appreciated.

~(:)~

Later that evening, all was strangely quiet. Forget about sleep that night. No one could believe what happened. Crew was woken up at his apartment room by a messenger Brooklyn newsie to tell him what had occurred. He had then arranged to meet with Spot at the lodging house that night. Crew stood idling next to the building.

Spot, now wearing a jacket, stood beside him. Everything was, it was just being digested. Spot gave one last pitch.

"You saw what they did to Allie. You know what they would've done to Skittery," Spot said in a much more subdued tone.

Crew took a drag from a cigarette. "All I can do is talk to Scotty, try to make him see that. I need your word Skittery isn't planning anything else,"

"You have my word," Spot answered, glaring into the dark streets.

Crew put out the cigarette. "Tell Rain that Allie's in my prayers,"

"I will," Spot nodded. The twenty-four year-old gave him one last look before walking off back toward his apartment and his young waiting wife, Elfie, and young daughter. Spot stood there a couple more minutes. He leaned against the wall and then slid down it to the ground, bringing his face in his hands. His baby sister was and raped by his enemy, something he could never truly fix. For the first time in a while, he let himself cry right there, alone in the darkness and quiet of the street.

In the local hospital a few blocks away, Allie lay motionless on the stark hospital bed. She looked almost unrecognizable, her body covered in bandages. The glow of the gas lamps overhead made her swollen and battered face look even more ghastly.

Spot stared at his unconscious sister through the glass window. Spot's reflection looked as healthy as Allie's. Spot turned away to see Jack, Race, and Rain Wilder, sitting in the waiting room with other worried Brooklyn newsies. Spot couldn't really tell from when he first came to the lodging house, but apparently it was obvious to the older newsies at the time that Rain and Finn had their own private life. As far as the other newsies knew, Rain and Finn would simply fool around every other week or so but never suspected they might actually have feelings for each other. A few months after Finn died, Rain had confided in another newsgirl that Finn had given her a promise ring. To top it all off, she was pregnant with Finn's child. It was never confirmed if Finn knew she was pregnant or not, but the news was still devastating for Rain that the father of her unborn child was dead. She loved him more than anything, and he loved her too. She took it the hardest out of all of them. And now, years later, Finn's son was now eight years old and looking more and more like him each day. Twenty-five year old Rain lived alone with her son whom she named Patrick, after Finn's real name, in the same apartment as Crew and Elfie. She always welcomed Spot or Allie into her home when they needed, feeling like she was a mother to them since it was Finn who found them all that time ago. She had cried when she found out what happened to Allie. It was as if Allie was the daughter she wished she and Finn had, and it took a terrible toll on her.

Rain unwrapped a bag of sandwiches which she had made and the starving Brooklyn newsies in the hospital waiting room dove in.

Henry sat across the room, pressing a cold bag of ice to his swollen cheek and trying not to show the tears he had cried for Allie. Spot heard banging and kept walking and found Skittery shaking a cigarette dispenser. Spot stood beside him.

"I already put my last quarter in the damn thing, and I think it just broke," Skittery muttered, hitting it. He pulled the pocket knife out and began unscrewing the dispenser. He then met Spot's broken gaze. Skittery felt a little panicked. He had never seen Spot this horrified before. "Scotty had no right. I was giving Eddie back," Skittery said.

"He had no right," Spot repeated through gritted teeth.

"We gotta get him, Spot. You know that," Skittery answered quietly.

Spot looked at Skittery with determination. "You got him, Skitts,"

Skittery forced a strained laugh. "Sure as hell did,"

Spot nodded and didn't speak for a second. Then he took a step closer and lowered his voice to a murmur. "What did you do with his body?" His eyes glazed over with tears he was holding back.

"You don't need to know," Skittery answered.

"You get rid of the scissors?" Spot guessed, knowing that would be Skittery's weapon of choice.

Skittery popped open the door of the cigarette dispenser. "As soon as I'm finished with it,"

"Skitts, you get caught with that knife and you might as well confess," Spot said in an urgent voice.

Skittery stared into the dispenser. "There's not even one cigarette left in the damn thing," he said in disgust, slamming the door closed.

"Skitts, you got three or four more knives in the lodging house alone, let alone scissors. Don't be stupid," he said in a warning tone. "Let me get rid of them,"

Skittery pulled out the scissors from his pocket and reluctantly gave it to Spot. Spot slipped it into his jacket pocket.

"You know I've got to do this, right?" Skittery asked, tears brimming his eyes. "You know whatever you say, I have to make this right. You ask me to say I won't, I'll just lie," Skittery said. The lack of sleep and tears of what happened crawling into his voice and made it sound crackly and broken. "I did this to her, Spot," he said, fighting the tears as best he could. "I screwed up again,"

Spot silently embraced his friend, needing the hug more than Skittery did. Skittery held his friend tight, both of them trying not to lose it and break down right there.

Back in the Manhattan lodging house at that same time, Crew and Scotty stood in the main room around a table. Two muscular Manhattan newsies stood by as if guarding their leader. They had discussed what needed discussing, and Oscar Delancey helped Crew with his jacket.

"Thanks, Oscar," Crew said, heading for the door.

"What about Skittery's friends? Are they a problem?" Scotty asked.

"Skittery's the only problem," Crew said, turning to face him. "He's a punk and has a ton of issues. He'd be a more comfort to Brooklyn dead than alive. Spot's a smart boy. When Skittery's gone, he'll be able to say he did what he could," Crew answered. He seemed tired and as if he didn't want to be there. "As long as it's only Skittery. Anything other than that and it'll be me who will have a problem with you," Crew said, stepping out the door with Scotty following him.

At the curb, Apollo, a former Brooklyn newsie and the same age as Crew, waited for him. He came along for back-up should anything happen. "Must be nice, having a right-hand like Oscar," Crew said to Scotty. "You can step down as leader any time you want and know that your lodging house is in good hands. I'll see you around, Scotty,"

Crew crossed over to Apollo waiting across the street and walked off with him toward the bridge. Scotty lit a cigarette and looked back inside the lodging house. He watched as Oscar laughed with Morris and the other boys about something. Scotty, still unknowing to what happened with Alison Conlon, knew he was going to have to do something about Oscar.

Back at the hospital near the stairs, Spot paced, waiting for news. A dark-haired girl came up the stairs to the hospital floor, and Spot realized it was Lilly. The minute she saw him, she ran to him and threw her arms around his neck in a tight embrace. Spot didn't want to let go. He'd never felt more secure in his life.

"Thanks for coming," Spot said into the hug. Lilly nodded, breaking it.

"Where's Rain?" She asked.

"In the waiting room. We're waiting to talk to the doctor," Spot said, his hair messy and disheveled as if he'd been worriedly running a hand through it all night.

"I brought some food," she said, producing a small basket of freshly baked bread.

Spot gave a half-smile. "Good, thanks. Anymore food and we could open up a café, here," he said at an attempt for a joke.

"When I heard a newsie got mugged in Brooklyn, I thought it was you," she said softly. This wasn't easy for her to say, so she leapt quickly. "And I thought . . . what if he doesn't make it, and he never knows. You know, that I'm in love with him?" She stammered out, her eyes anywhere but his. Spot stood there thunderstruck. Lilly had to laugh at herself to try to at least save a little dignity. "Stupid, right? I mean, nothing's ever gonna happen . . . but I couldn't stand the idea of you dying and not knowing . . . that," she said.

An eternity passed while Spot tried to form a response. Just then, Crew climbed up the stairs, holding a baked good on a plate, wrapped in a towel.

"Crew," Spot addressed him, nodding.

Crew nodded and then smiled at Lilly. "Hey, Lilly," He noticed the basket she was carrying. "If you're on your way in, you might give this to Rain. From my wife,"

Lilly nodded and took the hot plate from Crew. "I'll be with Rain," she said to Spot and then headed off. Spot watched her go, still stunned.

"Let's you and I get a drink," Crew said to him.

They walked to a small bar next to the hospital and ordered drinks. Crew and Spot sat at the bar with their drinks in hand.

"It'll be painful, but it'll be okay," Crew said to him. Spot looked at him with the same distressed expression he had worn.

"It's gonna be okay?" Spot asked, unsure. "You talked to Scotty?"

"When I walked in the room, he wanted you all dead," Crew said, setting down his drink. "But I had something to trade, you don't need to know what. He wants his money back, and he wants Skittery to apologize to him. Tonight, in person. You think you can get your friend to do that?" He asked.

Spot stared at Crew's unreadable expression. ". . . To apologize?" Spot repeated.

"Skittery will have to take a soaking, I'm not gonna lie to ya," Crew said. He nodded toward the hospital. "But not as bad as that. You get your brother to go down to Scotty's tonight, by himself. He walks in there with you guys or a weapon and he's gonna get killed. You get him to take his soaking and everything will be okay," Crew reassured, and then he paused for a moment, looking over Spot's reluctant expression. "Okay?"

Spot spit in his hand and offered it to Crew, which Crew returned the gesture and shook his hand. "I can't thank you enough, Crew," Spot said in a strained voice of gratitude.

It was then that Spot knew that they were going to kill Skittery if he went to Manhattan that night. Skittery was the price they would pay. Crew had betrayed them.

Crew clapped him on the shoulder, turned and walked out. Spot sat there, unmoving.

Skittery stepped out of the hospital for some air. It was raining lightly and puddles formed on the pavement. Three figures stepped out of the shadows and Skittery immediately reached for the scissors in his pocket as a weapon but then realized he gave it to Spot. His heart started again when he realized one of the figures was Jack Kelly. Two policemen accompanied him.

"Hey, Skittery," Jack said.

"Jack," Skittery nodded.

The second policeman grabbed Skittery and pushed him against the wall roughly. "Damn it!" Skittery yelled in pain as the brick wall connected mercilessly with his body. "What the hell?"

"Officer Wilson, I want you to know that Skittery is turning himself in voluntarily," Jack said to the officer who grabbed him. "No need for that,"

Officer Wilson cuffed Skittery. "I see," he said, as he tossed Skittery in the back of the police wagon.

"And what am I turning myself in for?" Skittery asked through the bars of the wagon.

"Skitts, you steal an old woman's wedding ring at the tracks and it makes the papers, which is unfortunate," Jack said calmly. "Just do the time and quit running. It's easier that way,"

"This is for the ring thing?" Skittery asked as if he had forgotten.

"Got anything else you want to confess to, you hooligan?" Officer Wilson asked with suspicion.

Skittery shook his head quickly. "Nope, I'm good," he said. He glanced up at the hospital window. "So how'd you know I was here?"

"Skitts, your best friend's little sister's up there," Jack said, gesturing to the hospital. "Where else you gonna be?"

Skittery looked a little pissed at Jack. "What business do you have for turning me in like this?"

Jack waited for the two policemen to get on top of the wagon seats to drive before he answered Skittery in a low whisper. "Trust me, this is for your own good. You're a lot safer in the refuge for now," Jack said. "I'm really doing you a favor,"

Skittery gave him a confused glance as the wagon drove off. Jack, alone on the streets, looked up at the hospital before leaving. He saw Spot's silhouette as he stood by the window.

From the window, Spot watched as Jack walked away and the police wagon drive off with Skittery in it safe and snug. At least Manhattan couldn't get him tonight if he was in the refuge.

The rain continued to pour down. Race stood up behind Spot, eating a huge sandwich Rain had made. "What's going on?" He asked.

"Starting to rain," Spot answered, and then paused. "Skittery got caught for stealing the ring,"

"That's a bummer," Race said.

"Jack stopped by and said he'd get him into the refuge for a few nights," Spot explained.

Race raised his eyebrows. "So you told Jack to get the cops to put him in the refuge?"

"I did,"

There was a short pause. "Huh. That's not a bad thing," Race said, understanding.

"No, it's not," Spot agreed. "I'm gonna step out for a minute," he said, walking over to the stairs.

Racetrack followed him. "Sure," He turned down the stairs with him.

"Where you going?" Spot asked him.

Race shrugged. "Wherever you are,"

Spot knew there was no sense in arguing. He didn't however expect to see Lilly coming down the stairs after him. Lilly took one look at Spot's face and knew something was going to happen. "Rain wants you to eat. She made a sandwich for you,"

"It can wait," Spot said.

"Spot," Lilly said, stopping him. "Listen to me. You're not Skittery. Stay and eat. You're probably starving. Please,"

Spot stared at her begging eyes and then caught his breath. "I'll come back," He said, heading down the stairs with Race. Lilly's face fell as he disappeared out the door.

Race and Spot continued on their way in silence. There was almost a sense of relief in knowing there was no other path left to follow.

The two kept walking until they found themselves in Manhattan. They walked up to the Manhattan lodging house and saw two Manhattan newsies standing outside. One stood smoking and then offered the other one a light. Spot and Racetrack walked up to them.

A Manhattan newsie who had looked out the lodging house window, walked over to where his leader was sitting and whispered something to him. One of the Manhattan newsies who was standing outside walked in.

Scotty looked up at him expectantly. "Yeah?"

"Spot Conlon. Says he needs to talk to you," the newsie answered.

Spot waited outside impatiently. He tried to look through the lodging house window over the Manhattan newsie's shoulder who was standing in front of the door and blocking his path. He saw Scotty talking to someone else in the room but he couldn't see who.

"Spot wants to talk to me," Scotty was saying to the figure Spot couldn't see.

Finally the newsie in front of Spot moved slightly and Spot could just see a glimpse of Crew Woodside through the lodging house window, talking with Scotty. Crew looked puzzled by whatever Scotty was saying.

Scotty turned and said something to one of his newsies and that newsie then nodded to the newsie outside. The newsie in front of Spot's way stepped aside and let Spot inside. When Spot stepped into the room, he found a few newsies hanging around but Scotty and Crew were both gone.

A tall newsie motioned toward the stairs to the lodging house basement. Spot headed for the cellar steps. The tall newsie stepped back into the main room. Him and the other newsies stared threateningly at Racetrack.

Spot descended the stairs cautiously and walked down the long hall toward the door. Another fierce newsie stood beside it.

The newsie by the door watched Spot approach. Spot rolled his eyes when he saw the newsie wouldn't budge. He raised his hands so the newsie could pat him down to make sure he wasn't carrying any weapons.

Spot's eyes watered slightly as his right hand slipped under his newsboy cap on top of his head. He pulled the handles of the scissors out from hiding under his cap.

The newsie finished patting down Spot's ankle and looked up, sensing something was wrong. He saw the scissors in Spot's hand swing down at him. He never got a chance to scream, for the blade sinks into his neck.

Remember the day that changed Skittery's life? Spot had been so scared and horrified about unintentionally murdering Skittery's parents. Racetrack was the only one who knew what really happened. The only one who knew Spot had caused the fire. And Race had never told anyone. Spot never lit a cigarette again, never did anything. He turned his whole life around. He could have made it out. But he was never gonna let Skittery get hurt again.

And this was the day that changed Skittery's life forever 'cause he was sent to the refuge and Spot became everything he never wanted.

Spot reached in the newsie's jacket and resurrected a small Colt Model 1898 pistol, most likely stolen from a police officer. Spot gulped. He had never handled a gun before.

Spot pushed open the door to see Scotty and Crew, as if they were waiting for him. Scotty stood up immediately, about to attack Spot. Spot shot him dead without blinking.

Two Manhattan newsies, hearing the gunshot, race down to the basement to see what happened. BANG-BANG. Spot watched with an indifferent expression as the two bodies hit the floor.

Crew looked at Spot in alarm. Spot glared back at him with lifeless eyes, no emotion left. He felt no pity toward him. No, none at all.

His leader reached for his switch-blade in his pocket. Crew was a good shot. He never missed a target when he threw a knife. Spot knew this.

BANG.

Spot didn't even feel his finger collide with the trigger. In one shot, Crew was dead.

Numbly, Spot wiped the handle and trigger of the gun with one of the dead newsie's shirt sleeves. He dropped it next to one of the two Manhattan newsie's body and walked out.

Spot climbed back up the stairs and walked out with Race who gave him a terrified glance. They closed the door and walked across the street into the night.

And whether he realized it or not, with Crew dead, Spot had just become leader of the Brooklyn newsies. And he was going to have to defend Brooklyn with all his strength.

And that's where Spot left the bodies, right where they lay. What the Manhattan newsies did with them, Spot never knew.

Ontario, Scotty's second in command, had also in that moment become leader of the Manhattan newsies. He wasn't as wise-thinking as Scotty, but he could be just as brutal.

At the Refuge, Skittery sat on a bench outside Warden Snyder's office, still wet from the rain. He stared down at his handcuffs in frustration. Snyder said something to the officer, and the policeman grabbed Skittery up by the collar and escorted him up the stairs to a dormitory.

Back at the hospital, Lilly leaned her head against the wet window and watched as Spot and Race walked down the street toward the building.

Allie opened her eyes on the hospital bed and looked off into the distance.

It was safe to say that the rest of the night would be a quiet one.