A/N: Sorry it took a while to get up! I have so much going on and I'm exhausted and all my free time goes into this fanfic or one of my one-shots. Oi. Okay, I have a few things to take care of first. Now, for those of you wondering why I keep referring to the Ashleys with their maiden initials attached to their names even though I've mentioned that some of them are married, well, it's to avoid confusion and because I'm too lazy to make up new last names and initials for them. Hm...and let's see, Randall, a lot of you were shocked with his appearance and saving of Gretchen. Randall has changed a great deal, as have most of the characters as you have all noticed. In actuality, all the characters have changed a lot, some just more subtely than others. Everything will be explained, including the emotions involved in these changes. I think that's all...

Now for the thank-you's.

TheNextPoliticalDynasty: Always the first to review...I love you for it. Hm...I understand how you feel. Between work and school I don't even have a day off. I'm so damn tired!

xXxSarahxXx: I love reading your reviews as short as they are. You're so loyal!

RavenForever: Haven't broken your vow yet, goodie! Yes, hard to believe, but Randall saved the day. We'll be getting a little more into his psyche soon, maybe even in this chapter...you'll have to read to find out, that, and if your conspiracy theory is correct.

Thanks all for your reviews, love ya'.

This one's for you, ENJOY!

Chapter 17: And They Awake

Ashley A. sat at the bedside of her old friend in the hospital. She glanced at her watch and looked back at the book she'd been reading. Theresa should have been there already, or at least could have called. Bruce did have a phone. She looked up as Ashley Q. and Ashley B. made their ways in the door holding bottles of water. Ashley B. handed one to Ashley A.

"There was no mineral water. Can you believe that?" Ashley B. said.

"Yeah, I can't believe I still, like, live in this backwater town," Ashley Q. put in. She looked down at Ashley T. lying in the bed, frowning slightly. "She so needs a make-over right now," Ashley Q. sighed, brushing some of the brown curls from Ashley T.'s face.

"Yeah," Ashley A. agreed, examining the burn scars on the deep brown cheek and hand, "We like, have to totally agree to stick by her, no matter, like, how horrid the scars might make her look."

"Like definitely," Ashley Q. exclaimed as though it were a given and Ashley B. nodded her head vigorously.

"Ashleys forever?" Ashley A. asked.

"Ashleys forever," the other two young women confirmed in unison.

The door to the room slammed open and the nurse Megan stood there frowning at them.

"The storm outside is worsening," Megan told them, "And we've got new patients coming in. I know that your friend requested a private room, but there might be a chance we'll need to stick some of them in here."

"Like, no way," Ashley Q. spat.

"Yeah, no one should be allowed to see Ashley T. in this horrendous moment in her life, I don't care how sick they are," Ashley B. joined in.

"Ashleys, Ashleys," Ashley A. soothed them, "We are like so above this childish behavior. If any patient needs this room, then let them have it. So long as they have no really disgusting diseases or injuries."

"Fine," Ashley Q. sighed.

"If you must, you must," Ashley B. muttered.

"Good," Megan said before turning and leaving.

"You're like, such the giver," Ashley Q. told Ashley A.

"I know," Ashley A. shrugged, "Sophistication does separate the Ashleys from the non-Ashleys, am I right?" Nods of agreement.

Ashley A. sighed, glancing at Ashley T. once more before returning to her book. She was worried. Of course she was worried, knowing everything that had been going on. She looked up at her friends, Ashley B. and Q. who were talking about their lives and what they'd been up to recently. Ashley Q. was talking about her husband and how "sweet" he was, and Ashley B. was talking about her "successful" career as an artist and actress. Now was the time to talk to them, Ashley A. realized.

"Like, what about you Ashley A.?" Ashley Q. asked, turning on the blonde.

"Yeah, we know you're like major glam with your fashion design career, and marrying that Italian hunk...must be great," Ashley B. added, turning to Ashley A. as well.

"Shouldn't we be acting a bit more seriously?" Ashley A. questioned.

"Why?"

"Ashley T. was attacked in her motel room," Ashley A. pointed out, "And we are stuck in this town. Look, I have to talk to you guys about everything that's been happening. Like, Vince, TJ, Gretchen and Mikey all being back in town."

"We know all that," Ashley Q. told her, "Everyone is. They called about some stupid cryptic letters we got, but we were so not interested in meeting them." Ashley A. stared at them dumbfounded. They didn't think it was important in the least?

"Well, Vince was attacked too, like Ashley T., but more directly. I saw it. And Gus, remember Gus? He was missing! Except I just saw them bring him into the hospital, they, like, said he washed in from the lake! And Spinelli..."

"Spinelli's in town too," Ashley B. scoffed, "Jeez, they just let everyone back in don't they?"

"I know, I thought we got rid of that little white trash..." Ashley Q. began.

"There are more important things going on then a little feud between us and that black sheep Ashley!" Ashley A. cried. The two other Ashleys fell silent. "Someone is knocking us off...or trying to! You guys are, like, not taking this as seriously as you should. This...this...psycho bitch could scar all of you just as badly, if not worse, than Ashley T. She could, ruin your hair, muss up your make-up, totally destroy your manicure, and forget about the pedicure...and oh yeah, did I, like mention, you guys could end up dead?"

"Sheesh, Ashley A.," Ashley Q. chuckled nervously, "Like, calm down. We...well...it's not that serious. We'll just, like, get out of town."

"I don't believe you two. We CAN'T get out of town," Ashley A. sighed, exasperated, "I'm like, going to take a walk."

"I'll come with you," Ashley B. offered, standing up, "I like, so can't stand this hospital room. It's badly decorated."

"Whatever," Ashley A. sighed, making her way out of the room.

-0-0-0-0-

Francis tapped the steering wheel of his car, straining to see out the windshield and mulling over everything Vince had told him.

"Man," Francis finally said, "Oh man!" He slapped the steering wheel and looked at Vince, who was lying back in his seat rubbing his head, "I knew it! I knew that would bring us nothing but trouble! Jeez, oh man...god! Now some psycho freak...that explains a lot. Poor Ashley...so her and TJ..."

"Broke up?" Vince sighed, "Yup."

"You don't sound too heartbroken," Francis commented.

"Why would I be? TJ went behind my back..."

"You weren't really friends at the time."

"But he knew how I felt!"

"But you didn't know how he felt. You would have ended up doing the same to him."

"He could have told me!"

"And how would you have taken it?"

"I..." Vince sighed, staring at his hands. How would he have taken it? He looked back at Spinelli, laying peacefully, breathing softly. She was pretty, looked so innocent. I would rather watch her sleep anyways. TJ must really love Spinelli, Vince told himself, who couldn't?

"I guess I should set the record straight," Francis spoke up, shaking Vince back to reality, "TJ didn't ask Spinelli out."

"What do you mean?" Vince groaned, "He must have or they wouldn't have been together..."

"He didn't. I could tell that something was between them, and I kept thinking that...today will be the day he asks her, it was the same with Ashley," Francis explained, "One day she got so fed up, that she blew up on him and told him what was what. Shocked the hell out of the whole cafeteria. She marched right up to him and told him that he was either taking her out that Saturday night or he'd be taking Madame Fist out Sunday morning. It was quite entertaining."

"But he eventually went out with her," Vince pointed out.

"Though...he did seem to be holding back. Almost like he was struggling with his loyalties," Francis glanced at Vince.

"Yeah right," Vince snorted softly, but fell silent. Was that really how it played out? Had TJ held back because of him? Even though they weren't friends anymore?

"Mmph..." Spinelli groaned from the backseat. Vince turned to look at her. She was stirring, blinking her eyes. "Where am I? Why are we...are we moving?"

"Yeah, Spin," Vince whispered softly.

"TJ...oh god...Teej?" she mumbled, trying to sit up but falling back down weakly. Vince sighed, sitting back in his chair and eyeing her with slight concern and obvious hurt.

"It's alright, Ashley," Francis said from the front seat, "We're going to the hospital, you'll be alright."

"But...TJ?"

"It's okay, Ashley," Francis told her, "I'll take care of you." She was quiet.

"Frankie," she finally spoke up again.

"Yeah, Ashley?"

"Stop the car."

"Why?"

"Cause," Spinelli said, turning to him, "I have to find that guy and FUCKING KILL HIM!"

"Gee, okay, I'll stop the car right now. Are you crazy?" Francis cried.

"You know I've never been one to sit back and do nothing," Spinelli sighed, "And I'm not going to sit back and wait for that creep to find me. I'm finding him first and kicking the living shit out of him!"

"Whoa, wait, hold on," Vince spoke up, "What makes you think it's a him? I was most definitely attacked by a woman...or a little girl...least I saw a little girl in the mirror."

"Look, you think I don't know when I'm exchanging swings with a man?" Spinelli demanded, "Guys tend to fight differently. They've got different areas to protect then a woman. I know what you mean, though Vince, I thought I was being held captive by some chic too."

"Speaking of which, I thought you'd be a little traumatized by that experience," Vince said. Spinelli bit her lower lip, looking away.

"Heh, I guess that's our Ashley Spinelli for you. There's nothing a little schoolyard brawl and adrenaline pumping through her veins can't solve," Francis chuckled, "Here's the hospital. Can you walk, Ashley, because I can carry you."

"I'd rather you not do that, Frankie," Spinelli told him, attempting to lift herself again but failing miserably. She covered her mouth with a hand and closed her eyes.

"If you're gonna be sick, don't do it in the car," Francis warned, "I just had it cleaned out." He pulled into the hospital parking garage, and pulled himself out of the car. He made his way to the back and helped Spinelli out, much to her protesting.

Vince seemed to struggle with his own pained body and obvious fatigue, but he pulled himself out of the car and walked into the hospital with definite unease but unshakable pride. He wasn't going to let anyone drag him into the hospital, and he sure as hell wasn't going to let anyone fuss over him when Spinelli was in the condition she was.

It was a bit of a surprise that the moment they entered the hospital they found chaos. Victims of the storm rushed in, people filling the waiting room, most of whom not looking so much injured as just seeming to be seeking a haven from the storm. The hospital was at one of the highest points of the town, if it was flooding outside, it was one of the safest buildings to be in. There were no open chairs, so Francis found himself supporting Spinelli and Vince, which was weighing him down considerably. A nurse came to the counter and looked them over.

"You'll have to wait in the lobby," she finally told them.

"What are you talking about? These two are in serious condition," Francis snapped, "Get 'em a room, somewhere to lay down at least! And a change of clothes would be nice, they're soaked."

"Look, I'm sorry, but we've had an unexpected rush of patients. We have to reserve what few rooms we have for those in the worst condition. There are gowns and spare scrubs being handed out in the lobby, they can change in the restroom, but I can't do anything else for you."

"These two are in bad condition," Francis yelled, "At least those guys in the lobby can hold themselves up! There must be spare cots or something available..."

"Vince?" a perky voice called. Francis turned, as did Vince and Spinelli to see the blonde running up to them followed by the short black woman.

"Ashleys..." Vince started, staring blankly at them. Why were they here again?

"What happened? You look like...well...like," Ashley A. gave up, unable to find a good enough metaphor for how crappy Vince's appearance was. But Ashley B...

"You, like, look worse than purple polka-dots matched with an orange lace skirt!"

"Uh...what?" Vince stared blankly at her.

"Look, lady," Spinelli snarled. She was leaning over the front counter, clutching the nurse's collar and glowering at her threateningly, "I need a restroom or a bucket...or something...and then I need a heavy object and a raincoat."

"Uh...is that...Spinelli?" Both Ashleys said in unison, staring in disdain at the saturated, black haired, young woman before them. At the sound of her name, Spinelli rolled her eyes to look at the Ashleys. She looked pale, dried blood trailing down her cheek and a bruise forming on her jaw line.

"I...uh..." Spinelli slipped from the counter, Francis catching her.

"This woman isn't well, can't you see that?" he cried to the nurse.

"Look...I...the doctor..." the nurse started, "I'm only an intern!"

"She can stay in our room, same with him," Ashley A. stepped in, then looking to Spinelli and Vince, "Can you make it?"

"If I weren't sick..." Spinelli started, "I...never accept help from an Ashley..."

"It's alright, Spin," Vince soothed her, then to the Ashleys, "Thanks, we can make it." They stumbled away from the nurse who stood back, not sure if she should protest or not. She chose to get back to dealing with the other patients. Ashley A. led the group back to the room, talking while they walked.

"Who are you?" she asked Francis, who narrowed his eyes at her in a frown.

"I sold you your first lip gloss," he reminded her.

"Oh, who could forget that horrid color?" she squealed, "I can't believe I bought it!"

"Neither could I, it wasn't really lip-gloss," Francis muttered.

"Have you heard any news from the others?" Vince interrupted.

"Yeah, um, apparently Gretchen and Mikey made some sort of progress at the library. I tried calling there, but the phone lines must have been down. Theresa was supposed to be here nearly an hour ago...they found Gus," Ashley A. explained.

"Is he alright?" Spinelli spoke up, though she seemed a little groggy.

"Yeah, he's unconscious still, but the doctors are hopeful from what I hear," Ashley A. answered stopping at Ashley T.'s room door, opening it and letting everyone in. Ashley Q. stood up.

"Like, what's going on?" she asked.

"You remember Vince and Spinelli," Ashley A. stepped forward, "And..." she stared at Francis, "...um...Hustler kid?"

"It's Francis," he corrected, "I don't go by Hustler kid anymore."

"Hi Vince," Ashley Q. greeted pleasantly, then tapering her eyes at the soaked woman, said coldly, "Spinelli."

"I'm looking for someone to kill, Ashley Q., are you volunteering?" Spinelli spat, before turning around and promptly vomiting in the trashcan.

"Ew," the Ashleys all cried.

"What's going on...?" Ashley T. mumbled from the bed.

"Ashley T., your awake," Ashley A. squeaked, as the Ashleys huddled around their friend and all began chatting at once about how the scars weren't really noticeable, and that they even brought out her eyes, and that she looked simply gorgeous in the hospital gown. Spinelli sighed, tearing off her shirt much to the stun of Vince and Francis who watched with shameful blushes and couldn't help but notice how cute her black bra was and how well-toned her body. Boys. She found a hospital gown in one of the dresser drawers and slipped it on.

"What are we gonna do?" she asked, turning to Vince and Francis gapping at her. "Well?" she demanded, hands on her hips.

"Spinelli, there's really nothing...well...we don't even know who..." Vince stuttered.

"Jeez, you guys suggesting we just sit around and do shit?" Spinelli spat, "That creep is out there, and has TJ..." She closed her eyes, bracing herself against the hospital bed and trying to gain control over the nausea washing over her body.

"Spinelli, you look like crap, no offense," Vince told her, "You're really not going to do anyone any good. You have to get cleaned up and taken care of."

"You're one to talk, Vince," Spinelli snarled, but found herself sinking to the floor.

"This is twice in the past two days she's been running around in the rain," Vince explained to Francis.

"She's a little emotional right now too," Francis noted.

"And she's still in the room," Spinelli put in, glowering up at them.

"I can see you haven't changed much, Spinelli," Ashley B. said, turning to them, "Vulgar, violent, repugnant, and, the most obvious thing that hasn't changed, no ring on your finger."

"Watch it, Ashley B.," Vince started, standing up to face her.

"Stay out of this, Vince," Spinelli commanded, turning her glare on her tormenter, though a bit half-heartedly as the words did have a ring of truth to them, "So I haven't changed, but neither have you!"
"Well, who would mess with perfection?" Ashley Q. joined in.

"Yeah, Spin-ugly the Spinster...hey, that sounds pretty good," Ashley B. giggled.

"It's better no marriage, than a bad marriage," Spinelli spat.

"Like, as if you know anything about our marriages," Ashley Q. growled.

"Never said I did, but it sure sounds like I hit a soft spot," Spinelli replied.

"What do you know about marriage at all? You should change your name to Spinster," Ashley B. laughed, staring at her maliciously, "Who would want to marry you? She probably hasn't even been on a date. Nobody wants a tomboy like you."

"Uh, Francis, do you understand what's going on?" Vince whispered.

"No idea. Maybe they think marriage is the next best thing after sliced bread? I'm not married and I think I'm doing great."

"Same here."

"I'm not married 'cause I don't want to be," Spinelli hissed, rubbing her pounding head.

"It's not like you're in the limelight either. When's the last time you heard anything about an Ashley Spinelli?" Ashley B. asked to Ashley Q.

"Nothing since seventh grade when she got dean's detention and all the details were plastered over school," Ashley Q. answered.

"Will you say something?" Vince hissed at Ashley A. She shrugged at him, pretending not to notice the ensuing fight. Francis just stared between the two Ashleys and his sick friend on the floor, wondering how Spinelli would react to what they were saying and if he should step in, or get ready to grab her should she pounce.

"You Ashleys don't know shit about me," Spinelli snarled, "And for your information, I have been on a date, and I been dating the same guy since..." She trailed off. She wasn't dating him anymore. Her face altered, contorting with unreadable emotions. "He broke up with me," she stated, her brow furrowed as though the words didn't make sense. "I feel sick," she muttered, clutching her stomach, "He didn't want me..."

"Spinelli, don't say that, TJ...he's a...he's a real bastard," Vince attempted, sidling up to her side and thinking about putting his arms around her.

"Oooh," the two malignant Ashleys squealed excitedly. Vince turned to them in frustration.

"When are you girls ever going to grow up?" he demanded, "Nothing ever changes with you Ashleys. It's all about who's got what's better and who looks best and who's accomplished more. The world doesn't work that way! Why..."

"Shut up, Vince," Spinelli whispered, "For once, I think they're right." She buried her head, tears trailing down her cheeks, "I mean...aren't they? TJ doesn't want me. He broke up with me; we're over. Why does it get harder and harder every time I say it?"

"Spinelli..."

"Is she okay?" Ashley Q. asked, her tone changed, "I mean, I didn't, like, expect her to cry. I, like, expected her to be, well, like, Spinelli like. I expected her to...well, like, threaten us or something."

"Well, gee, if that's all you wanted..." Frances muttered sarcastically.

"I screwed up, because I couldn't be the girl TJ must have wanted. Because I refused to wear pretty dresses and globs of make-up. And you, Vince, you had to run your big mouth! And Joey! God Joey had to fuck up everything, didn't he?" Spinelli sobbed.

"Big mouth?" Vince mumbled, a little hurt.

"Yeah, your big fucking mouth!" Spinelli screamed at him, lifting her head, "And now he's gone and what if...what if I won't be able to tell him how I feel? I always screw up in that department, don't I? Never able to tell anyone how I feel..." She laid her head down again, trying to stop the tears, trying to stop the nausea, trying to stop the headache, trying to stop the blackness slowly washing over her, and trying to stop the floor from coming ever closer.

-0-0-0-0-

Randall looked between the three people staring expectantly at him. He paced, stopped, paced, sighed, glowered, and stopped.

"This is a joke," he finally said, laughing nervously, "Good one, guys...trying to pull one over on ol' Randall."

"No joke," Gretchen told him in all seriousness. Randall's face fell, he paced again.

"The fire," he began.

"Most likely perpetrated by our stalker," Gretchen confirmed, "I believe, though it may have been nothing more than a delusion of my desperate mind, that I heard my victimizer giggling and singing."

"I understand," Randall sighed, "So the time has come for me to pay for my sins. I had expected it sooner."

"You predicted this?" Gretchen gaped.

"Not this, no," Randall scoffed, "But for every crime there is a punishment." Mikey walked over to him, jabbed him in the arm with a stiff finger. "Ow! Hey, what was that for?"

"Just checking to make sure you were real," Mikey explained, "You are most definitely not the same Randall as I remember."

"Well, people change, that doesn't mean you go poking them! Jeez," Randall cried, rubbing his arm viciously.

"Uh oh," Theresa said from the corner she was standing in.

"What's wrong?" Gretchen asked, looking to her.

"Oh, nothing, just contractions..." Theresa explained as casually as she could muster despite the pain twisted across her face, "Really painful ones...a lot of them...oh shit..."

"Now what's wrong?" Randall demanded.

"My water just broke."

-0-0-0-0-

"Theresa..." Gus whispered in his sleep.

"Poor kid," the doctor said, looking the sleeping form over, "Wonder who Theresa is? He keeps calling her name."

"Says here that it's his wife's name," the nurse explained, looking over Gus's chart, "She's a patient here too, with the OBGYN."

"She's pregnant?"

"That's what it says here. She's only got a week or so to go."

"Ugh..." Gus moaned, his eyes slowly opening, "Theresa...I have to...for Theresa..."

"It's alright, kid," the doctor soothed then turning to his assistant, "Get ready for anything." Gus bolted upright, looking about the room in fear, his heart pounding.

"Where..."

"You're safe kid," the doctor told him, "You're in a hospital bed. You're suffering from mild burns, contusions and abrasions, nothing serious. What's the matter?" Gus seemed disoriented, looking about the room wild-eyed.

"I can't see anything," he cried, "And I have to warn them...they have to know what she wants. They have to know what she's willing to do, what's she's done, they have to know what she's planning."

"What who's planning?" the doctor asked in a low and serene voice, motioning for the nurse to ready a tranquilizer.

"Mary Anna, what Mary Anna is planning," Gus told him, "I have to get to them before she does."

"Get the woman who identified him," the doctor told the nurse, "I believe she's in another room with a different patient."

"Right," the nurse said, rushing from the room.

"Alright, Mr. Griswold, we're getting your friend and trying to get a hold of your wife, but the phone lines are dead. Can you tell me what this...Mary Anna? Can you tell me what she's planning?" the doctor said, checking Gus's eyes. He had said he couldn't see, which concerned the doctor. Though the chart did say that he wore glasses with a strong prescription.

"No," Gus whispered, "I can't. I can't...I promised...just...I have to warn them. Because I know, I know what she wants..."

END A/N: I have to get ready for work...argh...um...alright. This chapter went to things a little quicker than I originally planned, but hopefully you'll get your explanations and the mysterious psycho's identity will be revealed next chapter. In fact, I'm thinking of calling the next chapter Revelations, or something along those lines if you find that enticing. Hehe...oi. Okay, if you're wondering why some of the Ashleys act so immature as though they haven't changed a bit, and some act like...well, Ashley A. for example is acting, well, it will all be revealed. Don't hate them too much now, let me explain what's going in their heads before you judge them too harshly.

Alright, now that you've read, REVIEW! It will help you relieve all that disclosure of emotions you're feeling right now, I guarentee. I know I've been ranting a lot about REVIEWs, but it's my way of venting all my frustration, though not particularly about REVIEWs, partially. SORRY! PLEASE REVIEW.

TTFN, Ta Ta For Now! Thanks for reading, excuse my grammatical and typing errors. God, I hate work, somebody save me.