A/N: Another heartfelt thank you to all readers and reviewers; please keep it up!

Chapter Twenty Five

Sam shook her head. That hobo really was kind of creepy. She headed for the kitchen in search of ham; that would definitely make her feel better. Yep, good decision. She needed all the help she could get. Thus fortified, she moved upstairs to get ready for bed.

She thought about how many nights she had done exactly this, standing in the doorway, watching him sleep. Slipping quietly into "her" spot, drifting off knowing he was near - always to wake and find him gone. Her therapist told her that insanity could be defined as doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results. Therefore, if you really want different results, you must "do something different," she whispered.

Spencer was accustomed to waking in the middle of the night to find her beside him. He was accustomed to tugging the covers up over her to ward off the chill. He was accustomed to retreating to the lumpy couch to sleep, or not. He was even accustomed to the bickering Spencers, who alternately praised and vilified her. All of these things to which he was accustomed were based upon one single reality – the reality of the sleeping Sam. Even when she shed her T shirt in favor of lace, that reality was preserved. So it was safe to say that one thing to which he was NOT accustomed, was waking to find Sam with her eyes wide open, watching him.

She had closed the gap between them and lay with her head pillowed on the crook of her arm, watching his chest rise and fall. Her free hand sought out his, entangling their fingers together. He sprang instantly awake. "Sam! You're… not sleeping, "he finished lamely.

A small smile. "No, I can't sleep. I had the weirdest dream about a hobo…"

Spencer looked at her strangely. "Did the hobo…say anything?" he asked in trepidation. He realized he had not let go of her hand and started to pull away, but she would not let him.

"Spencer!"

He looked everywhere except at her, playing for time that had run out.

"Spencer!" Her voice was insistent. "Spencer, look at me."

Sam wanted to cry; the man looked positively tortured. She bit her lip and reminded herself fiercely that big girls don't cry. "Spencer, this is crazy!" She sat up and rested her back against the headboard. "I can't go on like this. I mean, if you didn't care about me at all, maybe I could find some way to deal but I feel like there's something there, it 's not just me. I know it's not." She paused and waited for some kind of response – any response.

Still nothing.

"Will you please tell me what is going on in your head? Because I really don't understand. Spencer, I love you! I have been trying so hard to show you that we belong together. From my perspective, there is nothing standing in the way of a relationship besides-"

"Me, myself, and I," he finished quietly. He sat up beside her. "Sam…" What could he say? A house divided cannot stand, and he was definitely a house divided. Good Spencer would say that he was too old, or that she was too young. Perhaps he should listen to Bad Spencer and say that she brought out the best in him, that his art was expanding in directions it would never had taken without her presence in his life. Should he say that her smile lit up his world, or that his love for her was tearing him apart? He was completely torn, knowing that he must respond, but unable to say yes and equally unable to say no.

He could see the tears gathering. "Why are you fighting this? Why are you fighting me so hard?" she whispered.

"Sam, I'm so sorry…"

Not sorry, no please don't be sorry, she thought to herself. Sorry means I lose. Sorry means I have to walk away… She leapt from the bed and fled the room, trying not to burst into tears.

Spencer was paralyzed by the dueling muses, feeling sick with the wrongness of what had just occurred. He looked up at the ceiling as though he could see through clear to the heavens. "What do you want me to do?" The question was anguished."Love is not supposed to be this way!"

Bad Spencer appeared in the blink of an eye. "You know, you're going to lose her if you don't do something, and do it now."

"LOSE her!" Good Spencer cried. "He never had her in the first … oh who am I kidding? He's right!" Good Spencer wailed and slumped in defeat. "He's right! You have to do something!"

Spencer bolted from the room, hoping it wasn't too late.