Author note: Okay, well…here is this lovely chapter!

The next morning I awoke, wearing Spot's shirt. I groaned and rubbed my eyes, remembering the two hours of sleep I got.

I turned over in the bed and blinked my eyes, yawning. Spot slept calmly, his bare chest rising and falling slowly.

I closed my eyes tightly and willed myself to go back to sleep, but my body wouldn't allow it. If it were possible, I'd glare at myself. I groggily rose from the bed and rubbed my eyes, pulling on my clothes.

I laid Spot's shirt in the chair as I left his room, letting him sleep. I walked down the steps, nearly tripping from lack of sleep. I stepped into the washroom and splashed water onto my face.

I filled the tub with water and slowly washed up, too tired to hurry. After washing up, I changed my clothes.

Cookie demanded for attention as I flopped down onto the couch. I stretched out on the couch and let out a long, tired sigh. Cookie jumped up beside me, and licked at my face.

"Aw, that's gross!" I said, moving my face away. Cookie whined and rested her head down onto my stomach. I closed my eyes, and listened closely as the grandfather clock ticked: tick, tick, tick…

I slowly fell into a deep sleep…

I found myself back in the room where my dream last left me. I watched as Spot pushed himself to his feet and stumble backwards a bit, but he caught his balance.

I opened my mouth to see if I could talk yet, but nothing came out. Lance chuckled, sending an icy glare to Spot.

"Youse must really love dis goil," he said, playing with the pistol in his hand. He licked at his lips and tilted his head.

"Brooklyn won't fall; youse traitor…Brooklyn never fails!" Spot said in his heroic voice. Lance chuckled once more and furrowed his eyebrows.

"Brooklyn will die in tha hands of Harlem." Lance pointed the pistol at Spot's head, a psychotic glint in his eye. I felt my heart leap into my throat as I quickly stood between the two leaders. The gun was now pointing at the tip of my head.

I then looked down at my hands, and noticed something…I was fading. I looked back at Spot as he clutched his stomach and glared intently at Lance.

I brought my gaze back over to Lance and bit my lip.

"Yer weak, Lance…jus' admit it," Spot said from behind me. He fell to his knees and groaned in pain. Lance followed Spot's every movement with the gun and it was now pointed down at my stomach.

"Me…weak? Ah, nowdat's funny Conlon," Lance laughed. "Hope youse said bye to yer goil!" Lance then pulled onto the trigger, and for the first time, something escaped my mouth.

"No!" I screamed as the bullet went through me like I wasn't even there, and planted itself into Spot's skull. I twirled around and stared in horror at Spot.

I looked back down at my hands, and I soon faded completely…out of Spot's memory.

"Sage," came a voice. I glanced around in the darkness, looking for anybody.

"Sage!" the voice said again. A figure soon appeared in front of me, and I stared at Spot. He held out his hand to me.

"Sage!" the voice said urgently. I slowly reached out and brushed my fingertips against his, but pulled away…He could see me now.

"Sage! Sage!" Spot smiled and nodded, and I grasped his hand.

My eyes fluttered open, and I could feel myself breathing wildly. Everything around me seemed blurry, but soon came into clear vision.

Spot was at my side, his eyes full of worry. He was holding onto my hand, just like from my dream, and stared down at me.

"Sage, are youse okay?" Spot asked. I pushed myself up into a sitting position, and wrapped my arms around his neck, burying my face into his shoulder.

"Please don't go Spot!" I said into his shoulder. "Please!"

"What are you talkin 'bout?" Spot asked.

"Don't fight with Harlem," I said as I pulled away and looked at him. Spot sighed and sat down beside me.

"Geez, Sage. Youse scared da livin hell outta me. I didn't think you'd ever wake up," he told me. I sighed and stared at Spot.

"There isn't a way that I can make you stay, is there?" I asked.

"No," Spot said sadly. "But I wish there was…"

"When are you leaving?" I asked, looking away.

"In jus' a few minutes. I hafta go talk ta Manhattan, and den set up…Youse know, for everythin…"

"So then you'll be gone all day?" I asked.

"Yeah," he responded.

"Let me come with you!"

"Sage, I can't do dat. Somethin might happen to youse-"

"But I need to protect you…" I told him, remembering the dream I just had a few minutes ago. Spot smiled warmly.

"Don't worry; I'll be fine." He then rose from the couch. "I hafta round up my boys and head out. Youse keep things runnin." I stood to my feet and watched Spot walk upstairs.

Many of the boys were already ready; carrying weapons of all sorts. They all made their way out the door, me standing beside it to bid them good luck.

"Be careful," I told Splinter as I hugged him. I then hugged Dice and Tick, and then it came to Spark.

"Keep everyone outta trouble. And if dem Harlem goils come ova and try ta start trouble, den pretend dey is Racer," Spark told me. I grinned as I hugged him, and let him walk out the door.

Spot pulled the cap onto his head and put his cane in his belt loop. He then walked up to me and sighed.

"Well…here goes," he said, shrugging.

"Promise to come back alive?"

"Cross my heart and hope ta die," Spot told me. I frowned, and wiped at the tear traveling down my cheek.

"Do you have a gun?" I asked. Spot patted his pocket,

"Yep."

"Please don't get hurt…" Spot looked out the open door and stared at his boys for a minute.

"I won't get hoit," he promised. I nodded, not able to speak. Something must have struck the both of us, because in the speed of lightning we were gripping each other in a loving, tight hug.

I took in Spot's scent as we tightened our hold. I then pulled back slightly to wipe away Spot's tear…the only tear he shed before the war. He leaned down and kissed me lightly, and last night came back to mind, and I felt like holding him forever.

He then pulled away and headed out the door. Before he walked down the steps, he turned back around,

"I love you," he said. I smiled, trying to tell him the same, but he read it in my eyes. He then turned around and led his boys down the street and out of sight. I closed the door and tried to catch my breath, but I couldn't.

Somehow, I knew that my dream wasn't just a dream…and if I ignored it, then all hell will break loose.

"Youse okay?" Poet asked as she walked out of her room. I wiped away my tears, and nodded.

"Yeah, I'm fine," I lied. Poet shook her head,

"You ain't da only one who knows dat war won't end da way we want it."

"Yeah, if there was only something we could do," I said, angrily. Something then struck me, and I instantly ran upstairs and into Spot's room.

Audience P.O.V

Spot walked at Jack's side, trying to keep a straight face as they walked towards the abandoned warehouse that Lance seemed to be quite fond of. His head was racing, making it hard to maintain his calm.

He looked past Jack and sighed inwardly, wishing that his sister wasn't here. All of the other Manhattan girls didn't come, so what made her special?

Her "right-hand-'woman'", also known as Racetrack Higgins, walked by her, muttering to himself. Spot shook his head, proud that he could hide his emotions better than anyone out here.

The deadly warehouse came into clear view, and Spot's heart beat loudly against his chest, and he wondered if anybody else could hear it. Jack held a serious face as he pulled on his cowboy hat, taking in a deep breath.

Scout didn't look frightened; like Spot, she was unreadable.

The large group of newsboys stopped behind them when they saw their leaders stop. Spot looked to his left and nodded at Spark, a gesture of good luck. Spark did the same, as Jack opened the door, and everybody filed into the enormous warehouse. Just as everyone entered, the doors locked.

Out of the darkness walked Lance, followed by his right hand man Killer. The group of Manhattan and Brooklyn newsies gasped at the number of Harlem boys Lance had, and Spot knew this wasn't just Harlem.

"Are we ready?" Lance inquired, looking from Spot to Jack. Spot sent Jack and look, and the two nodded. "Then let the game begin!"

Normal P.O.V

I spread the map of New York out on Spot's bed and hurriedly looked around, and spotted Queens.

Poet leaned against the doorway, her eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

"So what are we doin?" she asked.

"We're going to help them," I told her asIdrew a darker line, leading to Queens on the map.

"And how do youse expect a bunch of Brooklyn goils ta do dat? Wait, scratch dat, we ain't a 'bunch.'"

"Well, that's why we're going to Queens," I told her. "To get help." A smile spread on Poet's face as she nodded in agreement.

"A'right…I'll tell da goils." I nodded as she hurried out of the room, and I could already feel my heart pounding against my chest. I folded up the map and quickly ran over to Spot's closet.

I pulled out a huge box, and opened it, grinning at the amount of weapons Spot left behind. I closed the box back up, and dragged it downstairs.

Most of the girls were out in the foyer now, talking amongst themselves. When they saw me coming down the steps, they all became silent as I set the box in the middle of the floor.

"Okay," I started, "These are the weapons we'll have to deal with for now. Hopefully Queens will join us and have more weapons," I said, opening the box. The girls all gave me odd looks.

"But we're jus' goils. What can we do?" One asked. I sighed,

"Girls can fight just as good as boys. Trust me; I know what I'm doing." Poet nodded, pulling a weapon out of the now opened box.

"C'mon, ladies, get a weapon," she told them. The girls shrugged and pulled out their weapon of choice.

"Well I ain't goin," Racer said, sitting on the bottom step. I turned around fully and glared at her.

"You don't have a choice," I told her. "You go, or you're out!"

"Youse can't kick me out!" Racer protested, getting to her feet.

"To hell I can't! I'm not going to deal with a lazy ass tramp like you!" I said. Poet doubled over laughing.

"Lazy…ass…tramp!" she said through fits of laughter. Racer growled, stepping closer to me.

"Is that a wise choice?" I said, crossing my arms over my chest. "I don't have time to fight with you, Jones. My man is out there fighting, and I'm not just going to sit on my ass, praying that he lives!" Racer tilted her head, and a smile spread across her face.

"A'right," she said. "Count me in."

Next Chapter: Sage and her girls go over to Queens for help.

Spot and the others are struggling against Harlem.

Author note: Well, hope you liked it! LONG LIVE SPOT AND SAGE!