Made With Love

A GH Fanfic

Part 1

(by Janeka R.)

Ava stood on the Quartermaine docks and watched Spencer stumble away, beer in hand. Misery radiated from him, even at a distance. Ava knew what that devastation was like. She'd been living with it for days now. The knowledge that Nikolas, the man she'd dared to give her heart to after the life-destroying relationship with Ryan Chamberlain, the first man in a long time who looked into her eyes and saw her clearly. Who saw the wounds, rage, and passion within her. Who pursued, cajoled, black-mailed, and played sexy-twisty-wicked games with her. Who drove her to distraction with his sexiness, his open heart, and his somehow endearing self-delusion. Who seemed just as broken and alone as she was…

Whose sick, twisted, broken mind couldn't fathom waiting a whole damned week after a so-called 'break up' before knocking the boots of..of..that viper! With a person so vile and twisted that she set Ava's fucking car on fire and left the ID badge of her beloved and dead daughter as the extra twist in the heart. Just for funsies.

Eva clawed at her chest in fury as if she could dig in and rip her traitorously wounded and raw heart out. Her hand clenched into a fist so tight, that she could feel the nails dig into the skin. Feel the slickness of blood slide into her palms and down her wrist. She knew she was hurting herself but the pain was almost welcome in contrast to the agony within. A sob escaped her and gritted her teeth tight, her eyes clamping shut.

No more, she thought. I will not waste another TEAR on that…man. The last word dripped with a sarcastic edge in her mind. I will not waste a tear or a breath or another thought that is not hugging vengeance and retribution close like a teddy bear. She suddenly flashed back to that horrible present for Avery, the cheerful, brown stuffed bear which spoke with Ryan Chamberlain's terrifying voice.…

She pressed her lips together and forced her breath into a slow, deep, and steady rhythm. She focused on the pressure of her heels pushing up at the soles of her feet. She inhaled the clean, fresh scent of the outdoors. She listened to the water lap at the docks and against the boats moored nearby. She heard the murmur of the guests still gathered at the picnic and the music playing low beneath the frivolity.

After a minute, she opened her eyes. Spencer was even further away. The beer bottle in his hand was gone, probably tossed away somewhere. He awkwardly stumbled along, his gaze seemed fixed on someplace in the distance. Ava frowned and tried to follow his gaze and immediately understood.

Trina.

Curtis and Portia bought Jax's old place, along the lake, not a mile or so away. Ava never really thought about the fact that you could see the house from here. Then again, the Quartermaine property was so vast, that you could probably see most of the homes along the perimeter of the lake from it.

Ava finally registered the pain in her hand, looked down, and carefully unfurled her fingers. She winced at the bloody indentations and licked at her lips as she considered her next move. Her gaze went back to Spencer's retreating form and she bit her lower lip as a thought came to her.

Was this a good idea? Probably not. Par for the course, I guess.

Ava opened her purse and pulled out a handkerchief to wipe down her hand, and her cellphone. Tucking her bag beneath her arm, she quickly unlocked her phone, flipped to a name, and without taking another moment to think, dialed.

Please answer. She thought.


Trina was in her room, sitting propped up against the headboard of her bed as she scrolled through the course schedule for the fall quarter on her laptop. She was hoping that with the charges against her dropped, and the police admitting that there was another culprit in the revenge porn scandal, it was only a matter of time before she would be allowed to re-enroll at Port Charles University.

Her phone rang and she glanced over to where it sat on its cordless charger, wondering who would be calling her so late in the evening. She knew Cam and Joss were on a date. Her mom was on call at the hospital, Curtis was running the Savoy, and even Marshall was out playing a gig with Epiphany and the band.

Ava?

Trina was concerned, Ava never called her at this time of day. Something must be wrong.

"Hi, Ava? What's going on?" Concern was obvious in the young woman's voice.

"Oh, Trina," Ava's voice was thick with emotion and sadness, "Too much to even go over. I'm sorry for calling you this late- are you able to talk?"

"Of course!" Trina closed her laptop and sat up straighter, "Did something happen at the Quartermaine picnic? I knew you and Nikolas were heading there after work today."

Ava's tone was sharp, "Please don't utter that man's name in my presence ever again." At Trina's silence, Ava's tone softened, "Sorry, that man and I are… never you mind, I'm not calling for me, I'm calling for Spencer."

Trina's heart stopped, "Oh no! What happened?" Her mouth went dry at the thought of something more horrible happening to Spencer after everything that's gone on in the last few months.

Ava's voice was quieter, yet somehow more intense, and gentle at the same time, "Trina.. He needs you. He's… he's not doing so good." Before Trina could say anything, Ava hurriedly explained, "I know he's not your favorite person right now. I know there's a lot of stuff you haven't processed about how Spencer treated you in the past but, you're a good person. And I know you care about him. And I know he cares about you. And, he really has no one right now. I'm really, really worried about him."

Trina could feel Ava's sincerity. Despite the friction and antagonism between Ava and Spencer, Trina knew that Ava cared about him. She wouldn't have been so hurt by all of his actions if she hadn't. The fact that Ava, of all people, wanted to help Spencer?

It must be really bad.

"What can I do?" Trina asked quietly, without hesitation. Despite the tempest of feelings she had around Spencer, she didn't wish any ill or harm on him. If she could help him in some way? She had to try.

"First of all, Spencer's drunk. So I'm not sure if he's in the state of mind to make good decisions. Second, I think he's heading in your direction, coming up from the… south? I think. Along the lake. Can you just check in with him and call him a ride share? Or at least make sure he makes it to the Metrocourt hotel? I can call ahead, book a room, and deal with the charges. He won't want to go back to Spoon Island. And I can't blame him. I never want to go back either."

Trina's brows arched in surprise and she gracefully slipped from her bed to her window to look out and see if she could see Spencer. She was beyond worried, now. Whatever happened tonight was devastating for everyone, it seemed. Nikolas and Ava had the rockiest and most passionate relationship she'd ever seen. They both seemed miserable and happy in equal proportion. She once thought she'd never understand such a relationship. That was before she met Spencer.

Trina finally spotted the lean, masculine figure in the distance. He'd stopped on a dock not too far away from Trina's backyard and was sitting at the edge. There was misery imprinted on his entire frame and Trina's hair stood on end to imagine what dire things Spencer could be contemplating while he stared into the lake's dark depths.

Her voice was urgent, "Ava, I see him." Trina grabbed a sweater and slipped on a pair of flip-flops before leaving her room and down the stairs to the main floor. She dashed into the kitchen and grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge, "Is there anything else I should know?"

Ava's pause was too long for Trina's comfort, "Let's just say that Spencer's rift with his father is probably not going to end anytime soon." Trina could sense this was the tip of an emotional iceberg and that Ava wasn't going to share any more with her right now.

Trina opened and closed the patio door behind her, "Ava, I'll handle Spencer for now, but I want you to know that I'm worried about you and I'm going to call you tomorrow so we can talk about this. I can feel that you're hurting too, and I'm so sorry I can't be there to help you right now the way you've always been there for me."

Ava's caught breath was audible before an emotional response followed, "Thank you, Trina. I'm going to be okay. I've just- I need to figure some things out. Call me if you need anything when dealing with Spencer and I'll see you tomorrow."

"Love you." Trina's voice was insistent in her goodbye.

Ava's voice was quiet, infused with gratitude and grief, "I love you too, sweetie. Bye."

Ava lifted her wounded hand to cover her mouth to muffle the sob that Trina's kind and loving words pulled from her. Though Ava's world was falling apart, knowing that Trina cared so much for her was a small relief. If she was worthy of Trina's affection, maybe she wasn't all bad…


Spencer's loafers were gone. Once he sat on the edge of the dock, he slipped his feet into the cool water and the strong current wrestled and snatched his footwear away. It was inevitable, really. Everything was being taken from him. His ex. His freedom. His father…. The pain was so sharp in his heart and his rage was so deep and unyielding, that he knew without a moment's doubt the mind of a man willing to freeze the world in ice.

Everyone thought Mikkos was mad or insane for wanting to control the weather around the world. Spencer could divine at this moment the perfection of such a plan. If everyone could feel nothing but the debilitating cold- everyone and everything would just go numb. There wouldn't be any more pain for anyone. Everyone could just freeze to death.

Gods, what a mercy it would be to feel nothing…

But he felt everything. He was drowning in emotion. Hurt wrapped around him like a vice, squeezing out everything that was ever good in his life. Rage burned deep within his chest as if his heart would combust into flame and the ash of it would float away on the ether. Pain wracked his body and stole the breath from him as another wave of disbelief and agony gripped his heart.

"Spencer?" It was her voice, soft, sweet, warm, and wary. He knew that voice but he couldn't understand why he was hearing it. It wasn't until he became more aware of his surroundings and felt the dock shift beneath someone's weight that he realized that she was actually there. He wasn't imagining her in a drunken haze. He frowned and couldn't think of anything to say and he definitely couldn't turn to look at her. She was too beautiful and he was ugly.

Close up, the misery and anguish she saw at a distance was a visible aura around him. It was tragic, and any hesitation she had about coming melted away as she moved closer. She slipped off her flip-flops and sat down beside him, her feet slipping into the cool water as she looked at him in profile.

She smelled of cinnamon and honey. She always smelled sweet and delicious. Spencer spent countless hours thinking about how the warmth of Trina's skin enhanced the aromas of the products she wore. From her amazing sparkling lotion to whatever mysterious product she used in her hair that always left a cloud of confectionary or floral delights wafting in her wake. She was so warm beside him. It made him realize he was freezing. The hair stood up on his arms as he realized how drained, cold, and alone he felt.

Trina could smell the beer, sweat, and that undefinable earthy scent that was purely Spencer beneath. He was in a lot of pain, she could see the clenching of his jaw and the tightly fisted hands clutching onto the wood at the edge of the dock. He wouldn't look at her. Which was alarming because Spencer was always watching her. Even when he thought she wasn't aware of it. The fact he didn't want to face her now made her feel sad and oddly lonely. Rejected.

Trina looked into the water, to wonder if Spencer would be better off alone when he finally spoke. His voice was emotionless and matter-of-fact, "You were wise to stay away from me. I do terrible things. I make bad choices. I hurt people."

His hands shifted to his lap and he picked at a hangnail on his thumb, tearing at the small bit of skin as he continued in a quiet, level voice, "Even doing the right thing, confessing on your behalf in the trial? It was selfish." He admitted, "I wanted to help you but I did it because I wanted to be the one to save you. I wanted you to see that no matter what, I would put you first. I would be a Cassadine," he stopped and gave a half-hearted chuckle at that, " And be calculating and deceptive whilst playing a long game. Just so in the end? I would come out on top. So that you would see that I've always had your best interests at heart. So that you would know that you weren't wrong to be my friend."

He turned his palms face up, "I knew you had faith in me. I knew you believed the best of me and were confused and hurt as to how I could be so blind as to believe her. I knew you thought I loved her so much that I was a complete fool to accept everything she ever said or did as gospel. I knew you knew me better than I knew myself, in some ways. You seemed to see the good in me."

He finally turned to look at her, a self-deprecating smile on his lips, "You were wrong, Trina. You were blind. There is no good in me. I don't know how to be good. I don't know how to love you as you deserve. I don't know how to work hard or build anything. All I do know is how to destroy good things."

"Spence-"

He continued, his voice now soft, deep, but with self-directed anger, as he turned more toward her, his hands moving to emphasize his words, "How good was your life before I came into it, Trina? The moment we met, I terrified you. Then I begged you to lie and cover for me. I lied to you. I made you lie to your friends and family. I tortured your mentor, I brought a psychopath into your life, and you nearly went to prison as collateral damage for my being unable to control my attraction to you."

His deep breath was unsteady, "I am the worst person for you to be around, Trina. Heed my words, and leave me alone."

He loves me.

Trina's mind was spinning a thousand miles an hour as so many pieces fell into place while giant questions hung in the air, left unanswered. Trina's emotions were so mixed up, that she wasn't sure there were words to describe the maelstrom within her. She wanted to slow things down, take a minute, and look at each thread of the monologue he just gave her to try to absorb their meaning.

Yet, there was an urgency at the moment. Wherever Spencer was heading emotionally, he was in danger. She wasn't sure how deep these negative emotions were but they were clearly an albatross around him, threatening to pull him so deep within the darkness of himself that he'd never survive it.

She twisted off the top of the bottle of water and handed it to him, "Drink." It was an order.

Spencer blinked, surprised to be holding a water bottle, wet with frigid condensation. His gaze met Trina's and the dark, intense expression on her face told him that she would brook no argument. Dared him, even, to try to conceive of one.

The tiniest fraction of a smile may have softened his lips at that. He could never resist smiling at her, even when he was in the depths of despair. She was just so amazing. He obediently took a sip. When he dared to lower the bottle, Trina's look became a glare as if to ask 'Did I say you could stop?'

No, ma'am, you did not. He silently answered and brought the bottle back to his lips. For the next few minutes, there was nothing except their eyes locked onto one another and the sound of him drinking the entire bottle of water. When the last drop was done, she lifted her hand for the empty container. He gave it back and she twisted the cap back on and set it down beside her.

By this time, a bit of the alcoholic haze lifted a bit and Spencer felt a little more steady and focused, "What are you doing here?" He asked her.

"I could ask the same, Spencer. But we're not going to talk about it right here, it's cold and you need to eat something, have some more water, and sober up." With that, she stood up and slipped her wet feet back into her flip-flops, picked up the bottle, and waited for him.

Spencer was confused. Unable to follow the logic of what was happening at the moment. Trina wanted him to come with her somewhere. Was he awake? He looked up at her, the clear night sky and constellations framing her from above. Then his gaze sharpened. She was wearing a tank-top-and-shorts pajama set with pink clouds and yellow moons. She had a green sweater thrown over it, but it was obvious from the shivering of her slight frame and the little goosebumps on her legs that she was freezing.

His concern for Trina was more important than anything, he climbed to his feet unsteadily, nearly losing his balance for a moment. Trina's hand gripped his upper arm, holding him fast and steady. He was anchored and murmured his thanks as he gently pulled his arm away. The warmth from her hand was too inviting for him to process.

Trina's brows rose in silent inquiry and he nodded his agreement to follow her. Though it was also obvious by his expression that he really didn't think it was a good idea. She did not care for his opinion because she took his assent for what it was and began to lead the way off the dock and toward home.


Spencer walked half a pace behind her most of the way there and then his steps slowed, his hands slipping into his pockets as he looked up at Trina's house. Trina turned to look at him, concerned. Spencer's gaze was far away as he shared aloud, "This could have been my house, you know? I'm sure you don't know this, but once upon a time- my mother wasn't really sure of who my father was. If it was my father or Jasper Jax. Jax found out the truth of my paternity, apparently, but decided to keep hiding it after my mother died. He even had me baptized and named after his father, John." He paused as he took that in.

He continued. "Just think, I could have been a Jax. Carly would've been my stepmother, and I would've been Josslyn's half-brother. I would have so many half or step sisters and brothers. My would-have-been-uncle Jerry Jax would still be a terrorist, of course. But the Jax's don't have generations of blood feuds and curses and tragedies and betrayals like the Cassadines do. The Jaxes know something of family and loyalty, at least in comparison."

He chuckled, "Maybe if I were a Jax, we would have met and become friends. Or something even more, huh? Maybe we could have been happy?" He never met her eyes while he mused these things aloud. His gaze turned down to the grass at her feet, "Or at least, maybe I would know what happiness feels like, you know?" He sighed as the musings faded, "Though now that I think about it, Jasper Jax also used money, lies, and deceit to get what he wanted, no matter who it hurt. So, we probably would have ended up right here anyway. With me messing up your life."

Trina hated this. Hated how hurt and alone Spencer was. Hated watching him hurt himself. She knew she probably seemed too quiet, but it was really important to her to listen to everything Spencer had to say. There were so many months when she had no idea what on earth was going on with him. She also sensed that there were very few times when Spencer felt free enough to just be himself. She couldn't help him until she knew what lay at the heart of this pain.

She also knew that her teeth were going to keep chattering if they stayed outside much longer.

"Let's get inside and you can tell me all about it." She resumed her pace forward.

Spencer reluctantly followed, "I don't want to talk about it."

She murmured, "Well, maybe not. Either way, we're going inside and I'm getting you more water, we're eating something, and then I'm making us hot cocoa." Before he could say anything in protest, she gave him another look that dared him to disagree with the plan.

He was drunk, but not stupid, so he nodded and followed, swallowing hard to keep his smart-ass retort to himself. He distracted himself by watching her walk ahead of him.

The curve of her lower back and the shape of her legs were a welcome intrusion into his tortured thoughts. Watching the heels of her dainty feet as her rubber flip-flops made small smacks against her soles lightened a bit of his mood. There were few views as delightful as Trina's back. Her dark braids swished with every step like a dark, winding waterfall. He thought about how the braids would feel sliding along his chest as her lips brushed against his chest with butterfly kisses-

Trina felt a surge of heat warm her from behind. She was tempted to look over her shoulder at him but a tiny voice in her head told her to stay the course and get Spencer inside before addressing him. Also, deep down, she felt that if the heat was what she suspected it could be.. It would be wrong to talk or discuss it while Spencer was inebriated and in a vulnerable state. She walked up the stairs onto her patio, crossed to the door, which she slid open, and stepped to the side to invite Spencer in as she kicked off her shoes.

Spencer obediently stepped inside and followed Trina after she slid the door shut behind him. There was a simple grace to her movements as she walked into the kitchen, opened the refrigerator, and handed him another bottle of water. "Have a seat." She pointed to the breakfast bar that had a view of the kitchen and he sat, opening the bottle and taking another hearty swig as he watched Trina open cupboards and drawers to gather various and sundry things.

I can't even imagine what she's thinking of me right now. Spencer's thoughts were despondent as he continued to drink the water, feeling even more present than before, though still under the influence. There was something so heart-breakingly domestic in the view before him, the woman he loved padding about on bare feet in the kitchen preparing two mugs of hot cocoa after a moonlit walk around the lake. Her hair was long, shifting to obscure and then reveal the warm, dark, smooth skin of her cheeks and the curve of her jaw, the arched line of her brow, and her thick curling lashes. The lush softness of her lips…Spencer took another long pull of water from the bottle. He was feeling very warm now and he knew this was definitely not the time or place to be thinking such thoughts.

Trina could feel her cheeks redden as she put the pot of milk on the burner to warm. She could feel Spencer's heated gaze and tried not to let it distract her from the task at hand, which was to make hot cocoa and… oh, right have something to nibble on.

She paused for a moment in distracted thought, pushing her hair back behind an ear, and decided to pull a box of vanilla wafers out of the pantry. She grabbed a bowl and poured a healthy pile of cookies into it before crossing over to the bar where Spencer sat. She set the bowl down and grabbed two cookies from the top, holding one in each hand, waiting for him to do the same.

Spencer was feeling a bit hungry, so he grabbed a handful and leaned against the back of the bar stool as he bit into a cookie. It was crunchy and delicious, sweet and light. You are what you eat, he thought to himself with amusement as he watched Trina bite into her own cookie. Or what you would like to eat….

Is that a smile? She thought as she watched him. "A penny for your thoughts?" She offered gently.

He shook his head, finishing his bite as he reached for more cookies. They were so good. He tried to speak lightly, "You would be overpaying. There's nothing worth sharing going on in here." He pointed to his head.

"Why don't you let me be the judge on whether or not what you have to say is valuable?" Her voice was quiet but there was a note of apparent exasperation. "You don't have the right to decide everything for me, Spencer. You should know that by now."

Spencer's chewing slowed as he took the criticism seriously and resumed its pace as he nodded, finishing the cookie. "You're right. I have no right to play protector or to tell you anything but the truth."

He finished the cookie in his hand and brushed his palms together, letting the crumbs fall in a neat pile near the bowl. He grabbed his bottle of water and spoke without emotion or inflection, "Apparently my father cheated on Ava." Trina gasped and her hand lifted to her lips.

"Oh no! She has to be devastated." Trina's thoughts were suddenly preoccupied by remembering the things said and unsaid during her conversation with Ava. She paused, what did this have to do with Spencer?

Before Trina could ask, Spencer answered in a monotone, "He cheated on her with Esme."

Trina was shocked, her mouth hung open and her dark eyes were wide with confusion, disbelief, and growing anger, "What..the hell?"

The milk on the stove began to boil and the interruption gave Trina a moment to gather her thoughts as she turned the heat off and added the cocoa mix, nutmeg, and a dash of cinnamon to the pot. She stirred it slowly to keep the milk from charring. "Tell me everything." Trina's voice was insistent while she focused on the task at hand, her brow furrowed, lips pressed together tightly.

Spencer didn't want to tell her any of this. It was so unfair that Trina was always nearby when disaster struck his life. Yet, he also knew he could deny her nothing. He took a breath, cracked open the numbed shell that was his heart, and spoke softly, calmly in his deep voice.

"I was at the picnic. I'd just had a talk with Uncle Victor about family and about how my father needed me. I believed him." Those three words were spoken with such desolation that Trina had to force herself not to immediately go to him and enfold him in her arms, hugging him tightly.

Instead, she focused on pouring the hot, dark liquid carefully into their matching mugs. They were a pair Ava gave to Trina for her birthday last year. They were printed with Andy Worhol-style depictions of coffee mugs. The images appeared like double vision, a red mug on a blue square background, a red square background with a green mug on it, and yellow background with a pink mug. Trina loved them and filled them carefully before adding her 'secret ingredients to make them perfect. She dropped a square of rich, white chocolate into each cup and added a giant, heart-shaped marshmallow on top.

Made with love. She always joked to herself. She paused as she considered her thoughts and sobered. She carefully brought the mug to Spencer, he needs all the love and care he can get. She returned shortly with her own and stood on the other side of the bar, hot mug in hand, waiting for him to continue.

Spencer took a sip of the cocoa, heedless of the temperature. It burned but..it was also divine. He inhaled its rich scent, watching the slowly melting heart-shaped marshmallow on top with a small smile for a moment before his frown returned and he continued, "I went to the main house to see my father, but he was arguing with Ava. Just as I walked in, Ava was screeching at him about sleeping with Esme." He considered his next words, "I thought it was a lie or a ploy on Ava's part. I know you like her but she's really the worst, Trina. Anyway, I begged my father- begged him… to say it wasn't true."

His voice became unsteady and he pulled in a breath through his nose and out through his mouth, "He couldn't say it."

His other hand reached up to brush at his eyes as he continued with growing agitation, "What he could say was how it was all Esme's fault and Ava's fault and how he thought Esme and me were broken up at the time and…lie, lie, lie." He looked up at Trina, his face pale, dark eyes stark in the face of his suffering.

"Trina, I loved that man. I worshiped the ground he walked on. I wanted to be him when I was a kid. Yes, I was spoiled, but I thought that's what he wanted for me. To have the best, to be the best. To be the Cassadine heir but better." He swallowed a sob, his hands wrapped around his mug as if the heat of it could chill the frozen core in his heart.

"When I thought he was dead..?" His voice became high with pain and grief, "Trina…I thought my world was over. I didn't know who I was anymore. How was I the heir of a Cassadine legacy with no one to show me or teach me about what it all was? Who did I have for my family? Valentin, who immediately made sure I was no longer the heir. My Great Grandmother Helena was a toxic, dangerous woman- and dead. Victor was presumed dead at the time. Stavros and Stefan? Dead and dead. Hell, only Alexis managed to survive with some modicum of conscience and even she's committed or tried to commit murder a time or two. These are my great role models?"

"Only my Grandmother, Laura, loved me unconditionally. Even so, she had expectations I couldn't live up to. I know I disappointed her again and again." He could feel the tears burn a path down his cheeks as shame washed over him, but he couldn't stop, "And then one day, Trina- he came back."

He looked at her with the phantom of the joy he felt at the revelation, "He was alive. Valentin didn't kill him. I had my father back and I thought together we would reclaim what was ours and everything could go back to being how it was before."

He shook his head in disbelief at his naivete, "And Ava…. She could have preserved my inheritance while my father was gone but chose her vanity over loyalty. And then, she was suddenly there at my father's side instead of me. There was no room between them for me. And I hated her for that. And I hated that she was the reason I lost my legacy. And he didn't care. He still married her."

His voice lowered and he repeated slowly, "I. Hated. Ava. Jerome. With the power of a thousand supernovas. I wanted her to pay for what she did and when Esme offered to help me, I thought it was perfect. Perfect that the one person at boarding school who loved me and would be by my side no matter what and would be my partner in crime. Bonnie to my Clyde." His voice took on an ironic note, "I guess I should have remembered that they died in a hail of bullets."

The ferocity left him and he was drained as he continued, "I can't say now I understand what her agenda was with all of this. To say that she loved me, to help me terrorize Ava, to.. sleep with my father. I just.. I thought, as a Cassadine, that I was playing chess while everyone else was playing checkers. I thought I was one step ahead of even Esme by playing her and trying to get her to slip up and give me evidence that would exonerate you."

"Here I was playing a game, like fucking child." He looked at Trina, emotionally spent, "I was so arrogant. I thought I knew everything. Who Esme was. Who Ava was. Who my father was. Who I was, but I was wrong. And now I have nothing and no one to show for my terrible judgment. Except for a three month-stint in prison, of course."

Trina's heart ached for him even as she stood there horrified by the details that just emerged. Their marshmallows were completely melted but the mugs were still warm. "Let's move to the sunroom and drink our cocoa." She offered softly, waving her hand before padding on quiet feet out of the kitchen into a room nearby which was still warm from the heat of the day, a wall of glass that offered a picturesque view of the water.

Trina kept the lights off as they walked in. There were tons of verdant plants and flowers around the room and near the windows, there was a wooden bench swing suspended by chains above a thick, Persian rug. Trina carefully sat and held the swing still for Spencer.

Spencer was tired but also felt a bit calmer. He was more clear-headed, the mug of cocoa warm in his hand. There was something so soothing about being in this room with Trina. The only illumination was the bright, full moon mid-sky. He brought his mug to his lips and took a sip. And then another sip, "Trina, this is so good." He smiled at the unexpected pleasure.

Trina grinned at him, "It is, isn't it?" She took a sip herself and mm'd. "This may be my best cup yet!" She said with quiet pride as she lifted her mug to his to clink softly.

Spencer was like a kid, discovering a whole new world in his mug. He inhaled deeply, a sense of well-being coming over him for the first time that night. Nothing in the world could be so bad if this wonderful elixir existed within it. Yes, it was hyperbolic. Maybe he was still drunk? Maybe being this close to Trina, on a wooden swing, looking out over the lake with the moon and stars overhead mixed itself into a heady concoction that melded perfectly with the rich, smooth flavor of the drink but… for once, he wasn't going to ruin this mood.

He sighed and sat back on the wooden swing, savoring the moment of contentment.

Trina's smile was so wide, that it almost hurt, to see Spencer unwind and relax. She wanted to talk and ask him more questions, but she also knew that the silence was healing. She also sighed softly, sat back, and laid her head on Spencer's solid shoulder as she sipped from her mug. Spencer wrapped an arm around her and held her close, companionably as they shared the quiet moment together. Spencer's legs were longer so he quietly opted into setting the pace and rhythm of the swing, pushing with his feet to set it to sway at a leisurely pace.


Time passed and the moon rose higher and further away in the sky. Trina finished her cocoa and set it down on one of the side tables that were placed on either side of the swing. Spencer still nursed a small bit of cooled cocoa in his cup, unwilling to end his enjoyment of the rich beverage.

Trina spoke softly, watching the trees on the other side of the lake sway in the breeze, "I'm sorry to hear about..everything going on. You don't deserve to be treated like this." Her words were grave and true, "Yes, you've made mistakes. You're young, it's what we're supposed to do, right?"

She laced her fingers with his long, lean ones resting at her waist and covered their joined hands with her own, "You're not a bad person, Spencer. Yes, you're arrogant, rash, and spoiled," She reflected aloud, "But you're also brilliant enough to learn how not to be those things. If you really want to, that is. And I think you do, I feel like you're already trying. When you came forward for me during the trial-"

Her tone was begrudging, "I'm still mad at you for doing it." Her tone softened, "I'm appreciative, grateful even, that you chose to step up when you didn't have to. It meant a lot to me and," she squeezed his hand, "no matter how angry I am with you, I don't want you to suffer."

He tilted his head to the side as she spoke, sat quietly, and listened, keeping the swinging bench rocking as she continued, "I still care about you. And no matter what happens in the future, I need you to know that I'll always be here for you."

He squeezed her gently, refraining from holding onto her for dear life, though he desperately wanted to. His voice was deep and quiet, "I don't deserve it, but I'm grateful for it."

Trina looked up, through her lashes to see his face in profile, trying to read him, "Spencer, you don't deserve bad things. You're not a bad person."

He nodded at her words, but it was obvious that he didn't believe them. "Trina- I trust you. I know you're being honest with me right now, that you think I'm not the worst and all of that but…" He lifted his other hand to rest over his heart, his voice rougher with self-recrimination, "I don't feel it."

His breath grew short and ragged, "I don't feel like I'm a good person. I feel tainted. I feel cursed. I feel.." the words began to tumble from his lips as if the poison at the core of him began to ooze out, "I feel like I'm the reason my mother died. I know she contracted a virus, but I still feel like I killed her. I asked to go away to boarding school because that was what my father wanted before he died. Though honestly, I felt like such a burden to Grandmother- always getting into trouble, her always having to come and bail me out of it, wagging her finger at me. Trying to hide her constant disappointment."

He shook his head, "I felt like things would be better for her if I was gone and maybe she would be safer. Everyone around me ends up dead." He swallowed hard and his mind went back to the center of the wound, "Did you know, I broke both of my legs, and not once did my father come out of hiding to see me."

His voice thickened and he held back a sob before he continued, "And then there was Esme. I thought I was so lucky when she chose me. She was so pretty, and smart, and yes- conniving, but so am I, right? I thought, 'At last, I've met someone who likes me for me.' Yes, she liked my money and the finer things in life, but I thought she liked me. I thought she loved me."

He wiped at his tears and whispered, "She was my first." He hid half of his face in shame at his abysmal judgment, thinking of how much he gave to someone with so little regard for him, and continued, his voice garbled, "She told me I was special and that it was us against the world. She did so much for me. And she told me that I had no one else but her. I thought I loved her.." He shook his head, "But then I met you. And you were… so different…"

He rubbed at his wet face and looked up at the sky, "So beautiful, so nice and sassy…" He nearly chuckled in remembrance, "And we talked. And you are so intelligent and learned. And so accomplished and sure of yourself! You seemed to like me when you thought I was Victor and I remembered thinking, 'Wow. If someone this nice and beautiful likes me without the Cassadine name… maybe I'm not all bad."

"Then, she hurt you and Cam and Joss." He took in a breath, shaken to the core by the emotion that overcame him when he thought of how thorough Esme's deception and cruelty were and that he enabled it. "And I brought that into your lives. I brought her into Wyndamere and practically gift-wrapped her and sent her into my father's bed!"

The swing stilled and he began to sob deeply, his grip around Trina so tight she almost couldn't breathe. Tears streamed down her cheeks and she pressed her cheek into his chest, listening to his wild heartbeat as he continued to speak. The misery and proximity were so much that she wasn't even sure if he was speaking in English anymore. Words tumbled out of his heart and were laid bare as he sobbed the confessions of his heart into the night.

Slowly, the deluge of emotion stopped and quieted, along with his uneven breathing. His heartbeat slowed and steadied. Trina was still worried but wanted to give Spencer the time and space he needed to center himself. Slowly, his hand in hers went lax and she heard a faint snore.


Spencer Cassadine fell asleep with Trina in his arms. After the torrent of emotions, with years of hurt and pain pouring out of him, he tried hard to pull himself back together. He thought he'd be embarrassed or feel guilty for unburdening himself on Trina or was waiting for her to give him the stern talking to that he no doubt desperately deserved. Instead, she gave silence and grace.

He could feel her grip on his hand and her face pressed to his chest as he said aloud things he'd always wanted to say but was too scared to share with anyone else. Occasionally he would feel an extra squeeze or she'd bury herself a little more into his side as if to offer herself as the buoy he so desperately needed to stay afloat of the self-loathing and fear trying to drag him down and away into oblivion.

As his words ran out and his heart settled, he became more mindful and focused on the present. Trina, on the swing, in his arms, holding onto him for dear life just as he was her. She smelled clean and sweet. For once, the cinnamon and brown sugar scent of her made him feel settled, cozy, and comfortable. Yes, he wanted her. He always wanted her, but this was beyond physical attraction. Her presence was a balm to his wounded soul.

He felt… safe.

He only meant to close his eyes for a moment, to preserve the memory forever. And then…. He found himself waking slowly, still on the wooden bench with Trina at his side. Her even breathing and limp form indicated that she, too, had fallen asleep.

Oh, so carefully, Spencer began to unravel his tall, lean frame from her small, dainty one. He held the swing still as he rose to his feet and gently guided Trina down so she could have the whole bench to herself. He looked around, found a blanket nearby, and laid it on top of her.

His face was dry and stiff, he rubbed at his cheeks and put his hands on his hips as he tried to figure out what to do next, where to go. One thing he did know was that he shouldn't stay and trouble Trina's hospitality a minute longer.

He knelt down beside her to see the moonlight softly kiss her features as he wished he could. She was perfect and his breath caught at the sight of her. He resisted touching her cheek, not wanting to disturb her rest, and rose back to his feet. He went to his mug and finally drank the last swallow of the cocoa she made him, cold and thick, sweet and rich. He quietly set his mug down and walked to the door.

Her voice floated softly behind him, "You really weren't going to say goodbye?"

Spencer nearly broke the sound barrier returning to Trina's side, kneeling. He spoke quietly, "I didn't want to wake you." I didn't want to leave you. He couldn't resist taking one of her hands in his and brushing his lips across the knuckles.

Her dark eyes were luminous in the moonlight as she studied his features, "Where were you going to go?"

"Honestly, I don't know. I know I can't stay here."

She squeezed his hand, nodding, speaking quietly, "Ava called me earlier and told me you were upset and that you may not want to go back to Wyndemere tonight. She didn't explain why and I didn't ask. There's a room for you at the MetroCourt. I promised that I would make sure you made it there safely- and before you say anything harsh or bad about Ava, or let your pride stop you from accepting the offer, listen to me: I need you to do this. I need to know you're safe."

She squeezed his hand, "Tomorrow is going to be terrible for you and I have no idea of what else will happen in the days to come. What I do know is that you need to get a decent night's sleep before you make any decisions. So please, let us help you. You don't have to like or trust Ava, but I hope you know you can trust me."

Spencer's sigh of resignation was slow and his other hand ran through his hair, unsure of what he could even say at this point. "Fine. Just for tonight, I'll stay in the room." He reached into his back pocket for his phone, "I'll call a rideshare and will be out of your hair shortly." He squeezed her hand, released it, and stood up as his fingers moved over the glass of his phone, choosing apps.

Trina sat up, "I can take you. Then you don't have to wait for anyone, and I can be sure you made it to your room alright."

"Trina-"

"Spencer."


Half an hour later, Trina and Spencer entered the lobby at the Metro Court. Trina changed into a pink Care Bear shirt with Cheer Bear dancing in bliss on the front, his white tummy displaying a rainbow. It was adorable. She also wore jeans, those flip-flops, a small, strappy purse, and the green sweater from earlier.

He was sure they made quite a pair. Though he took the time to wash his face and wet his hair to try to look more together, he knew he looked like death warmed over and probably a bit awkward walking around in Curtis' sandals, which were half an inch too big. Of course, Trina was fresh-faced and pretty. And he learned she went nowhere without her lip gloss, even if it was to the local luxury hotel to drop off an emotional basket-case of a friend.

At least they were friends, or somewhat near it tonight.

On the ride over, they didn't speak. Spencer watched the scenery pass by while Trina drove. She was nearly textbook in her approach. She didn't take risks, she checked all of her mirrors frequently, and she was gracious to other drivers, even when they were rude to her. The only out-of-the-box driving behavior he could pin down was that she liked going just a little too fast. They made it to Metro Court with no problems, it was just past eleven when they arrived.

When Trina turned off the motor to the car, there was silence. Trina's gaze followed Spencer's to the entrance, "What?"

Spencer spoke softly, "This place…did you know that the Metro Court was named in memory of my mother? Jax named it after her when he used to own the hotel. It's weird, isn't it?"

Trina looked back at Spencer, "Sounds a little like a humble brag to me." She said lightly.

Spencer was startled by the laugh that bubbled up from his chest.


After checking in and picking up his room key, Spencer walked slowly to the elevator and turned to look down at Trina's petite form. "Thank you." He said with ingrained formality, "You have delivered me safe and sound. I'm going to head up and get some sleep."

Trina's brows lifted, "Mmhmm.." The elevator doors opened, and it was empty inside. Trina stepped into the vessel, "What floor?"

Spencer closed his gaping mouth and stepped in to join her, "Um, it's a suite on the fourteenth floor, 1439. Ava must really feel bad if-" He abruptly shut his mouth at Trina's expression, "I'm sure it's nice." He finished lamely.

Trina smiled, he can be taught. "I'm sure it is." She stepped out of the elevator as if on cue, glanced at the sign, and headed down the hall to the end.

Spencer easily matched her gait, "You know, you don't have to walk me all the way to my door."

"A promise is a promise, Spencer. I promised you would get to your room safe and sound. So, that's that."

Trina stopped by the door and waited expectedly for Spencer to open it. He did so reluctantly, but stepped inside, turning to finally say his goodbye. Again.

Trina stepped past him, "I want to take a quick look."

Spencer was amused and also confused, "What, to check and see if there are any ninjas hiding under the bed?"

Trina smiled, "No, silly! I want to see how the room is decorated, and see what kind of art they have in here. I'm told every floor has a different theme and I don't think I've seen this one before." The suite was spacious and incredibly well-appointed. Trina looked around, even darting into the bathroom and bedroom to take a peek.

Spencer headed to the refrigerator for another bottle of water. Trina set him up well enough that he may actually wake up without a hangover. However, being more hydrated couldn't hurt. He was just about to bring the bottle to his lips when he heard a small thump followed by a peal of laughter.

"Trina?!" He raced into the bedroom to find tiny Tina Robinson jumping up and down on the bed. It was her purse that missed the chair near the bed that caused the noise.

Trina originally climbed onto the bed because she wanted to see the signature of the artist whose work was showcased above the bed. She couldn't quite read the script and nearly lost her balance trying to decipher it, which allowed her to learn just how bouncy the king-sized bed beneath her was.

Grinning, she tried to toss her bag onto the chair nearby and began to bounce like a toddler on a trampoline when Spencer entered, looking concerned, his bottle of water spilled down the front of his shirt, wetting the fabric and accentuating the muscles of his chest. He may have had a rough evening, but Spencer Cassadine was handsome as hell, even on his worst day. She hooked her finger to summon him up on the bed to join her.

Spencer spoke her name again, this time in a different tone. There was something light, mischievous, and admiring in her gaze. He slipped off his borrowed sandals and climbed onto the bed, towering over her. She smiled widely and bounced. Her silliness was infectious and he finally joined her in a half-hearted hop.

"Come on, Spencer! Put your cares away!" She clapped twice and bounced again.

"Are you quoting Fraggle Rock?!" He asked incredulously as he made more of an effort to jump, his weight nearly propelling the poor girl off the mattress. She landed on her knees, hands splayed to steady her as she laughed in triumph, "Maybe." She grinned up at him.

He bounced a few more times, loving Trina's giggles as she tried to stay on the bed and he finally joined her, kneeling and catching his breath from the exertion, "What on earth was that about?"

Trina shrugged, still smiling. "I don't know. It's been such a heavy night and I wanted to see you smile at least once before I left. I want to prove to you that there are good things, simple maybe, but good things out here in the world. And you deserve them. And one day, you're going to believe this without me telling you. Everything will turn around, I just know it."

That smile, the color in her cheeks, and the sincere and warm tones of a happy and relaxed Trina Robinson was a sight to behold. Without thinking, or overthinking, about it, he cupped her face in his hands and brought his lips to hers for a soft, sweet kiss.

His hands were hot and firm and held her gently. She closed her eyes and focused on the feel of his lips brushing again and again against hers. They were butterfly kisses, so light and sweet. Her hands gently took a hold of his wrists, and she held them to her as the kisses continued. Soon, his lips trailed kisses from her lips, up her cheek, and over to her ear. His hands shifted to rest lightly on her shoulders, gently kneading. His lips brushed over the tender skin beneath her ear and down.

She tilted her head to the side, her hands leaving his wrists to clutch at his damp shirt as shivers of sensation made her body warm and her nerve ends tingle. He brushed his teeth along the skin and she gasped softly when the sensation was followed by his tongue.

He had to taste her to see if she was as sweet as she smelled. Of course, she was. A little salty, a lot sweet, and wholly Trina. He lifted his head to look into her eyes, to reassure himself that he wasn't taking advantage and that he'd read whatever signals that were between him clearly.

"That felt nice," she knew without question what he needed from her, "I liked it."

Spencer smiled back, "I liked it too."

The silence stretched and the smiles faded as they watched each other. Trina could feel his gaze on her lips before they returned to read her expression.

"Trina."

"I know." I should leave…

His right hand squeezed her shoulder and then moved until he cupped her neck possessively. His thumb smoothed against the skin of her throat. His grip was gentle, without demand. He didn't apply pressure, but she bent to his will and met him halfway for a deeper kiss. It was long, slow, and deep. He didn't want to rush this. His tongue swept against hers in languid strokes that melted her and stirred a sound of longing from within. He then took her waist and carefully led her down until she was on her back and he was kissing her from above, his lower body laying beside her.

Her hands were fisted in the fabric of his shirt and his body was warm against hers. She shifted restlessly and he slid a knee between her legs, his thigh pressing against her core. She moaned as the pressure elevated her desire, a hand sliding beneath his shirt, itching to slide against his hot skin. Nails scraping along the indentations where his muscles lay along his abdomen and back.

Her touch was exquisite torment. His hand held her hip and slid to the curved small of her back to steady her as she moved her hips against him. He slowly brought their passionate kisses to a pause, pulling back enough to take in her beautiful, flawless, and welcoming visage. Her cheeks were flushed, her lips parted and dewy. She watched him just as intently as he did her.

She was with him. He wasn't alone in this attraction, he could feel her need just as sharply as he did his own. It was simple and pure. Like breathing, being with her was natural. He laid his palm against her cheek, her gaze unable to conceal her feelings of awe and affection. He knew he had a similar look on his face. This felt so right.

This felt so right, Trina thought looking up into Spencer's dark eyes. His solid body against hers held her with a gentle protectiveness that was achingly sweet. She smiled softly and he smiled back, blushing with pleasure for receiving such a gift. His eyes swept over their intertwined bodies and returned to meet hers in inquiry.

She nodded and his palm lifted from her cheek, fingers trailing along the curve of her ear, along her neck, along her clavicle, down her chest between her breasts, along her quivering stomach, and onto her side before his hand gripped her hip. He guided her hips against him, watching her as the exquisite friction shortened her breath. His grip tightened, almost roughly for a moment, his erection furiously strained in his jeans as her body was so close, but so far away from the sensitive organ.

His words were deep with desire, "Trina, baby. We've got to stop before things get out of hand."

Hearing the endearment from Spencer's lips while he held her so close to his strained body? Delicious, she thought.

She shifted her hand down to press against his erection. "What if I want things to be in hand?" she playfully challenged.

Her touch sent him. His vision exploded into white light and his hearing was muted by the thundering of his heart. Did she just…say that? Turned on beyond belief, stunned, and elated by her boldness, he groaned, unable to keep his hips from pressing closer.

Thrilled by his response, she deliberately squeezed at him over the fabric. He melted back on the bed, hands grasping at the covers as if to keep them from snatching her and having his way with her. His voice was tight and strangled, "Trina…?" It was a plea. Either for her to stop before he lost control of himself…or to not stop and please, please go further.

Trina felt powerful watching Spencer writhe beside her, his gaze heavy-lidded, his color high in his cheeks, shuddering with the force of his need for her. Now she lay on her side and he was flat on his back at her mercy. She was fascinated by the connection between them. Every moment they spent together only deepened it.

And now she was curious. The feeling of him was solid and warm. She sat up fully to urge him to slip off his slacks and boxers. He eagerly obeyed her silent command, also taking off his shirt until he lay naked and erect beside her. His member was thick, pink, and rigid, nearly touching his pelvis in excitement.

Drawn to the sight of him, Trina's hand flitted onto him. He nearly crawled out of his skin but kept himself still, watching her study him with fascination. He bit his lower lip to keep himself from begging her to take him into her anyway she wanted. Her fingertips gently traced around the head of him and down, along the veins until they came to the base of him and gently enfolded him in a soft grip.

He couldn't help shuddering at the pleasure of it. Her eyes met his, saw him silently beg for her to give him more and she nodded again, moving so she was on her hands and knees beside him. She knew what he wanted and she desperately wanted it too. So she dipped her head down and took him into her mouth.

His back arched and his hips rocked at the feel of her hand on his shaft and her tongue stroking him. Her braids slithered over his abdomen and thighs, making them tighten and tremble. His hands reached down and fisted in the tiny ropes, trying to resist pushing her to take him in even deeper. Though just as he thought it, she obliged. Her hot, wet mouth came even lower, the deliciousness of softness nearly more than he could bear. But bear it, he did over and over. His head tossed back as he moaned again and again with abandon, whispering her name again and again like a mantra.

Trina loved the taste and feel of him in her mouth. Her jaw was a little uncomfortable but hearing Spencer's response? It drove her to wring out even more pleasure from him. She moved with more urgency, loving the sound of his naturally deep voice go subterranean with the dark, guttural moans. He became firmer and hotter in her hands and she would have gone on and on forever had his hands not become desperate and his voice gruff in demand, "Trina…I need you."

She slid her tongue at his length one last time and sat up, hurriedly pulling her shirt up and over her head, her sweater going along with it. His shaking hands were at her waist, unbuttoning her jeans and she was suddenly on her back again as he wrenched them from her body in a fierce tug. His eyes were coals, burning with an intensity that was almost frightening. His features were stark, jaw clenched tight. His aura was primeval with lust for her.

She was shaken by the force of her matching need and shoved her panties down and away reaching for him. He surprised her by holding him at arm's length, taking an audible deep breath before gasping, "Condoms…" She blinked and then nodded, following his gaze to his pants which were nearby while trying to ignore the memory of her mother insisting they have 'the talk' when she was eleven….

She scooped up the fabric and handed it to him, watching while his hands urgently located his wallet, pulled out the foil wrapper, and unsteadily began to sheath himself. Trina's hands pushed him aside to do the honors with a gentle touch that almost undid him again as he watched.

"Trina.." He moaned through gritted in impatience as her hands seemed to move very, very slowly.

"Yeess?" Her hands were moving with deliberate slowness and her response was teasing though there was a hitch to her breath as she took on the sight of his member, anticipation and a tiny bit of hesitation coming over her.

He immediately recognized the hesitation and took an unsteady hold of her wrists, his eyes searching hers for every nuance of her expression, "We don't have to do this."

Her soft voice was certain, "Yes we do. I want to…" He heard the ellipses and waited with a patience he didn't even know he had, considering the moment they were in. She hesitantly, "I'm just-" The color in her cheeks darkened more, "Are you sure this will…fit?"

If Trina wasn't the center of his universe, he would have been distracted by a rush of vanity and pride. However, his priorities were well appointed and his response was humble, gentle, and affectionate. He could have teased, but he didn't want her to feel disrespected in any way. He gently maneuvered her to lay beside him, pulled her close and whispered hotly, his deep voice resonating in her ear, "Trina, I was made for you."

Her shaking gasp was unintentional encouragement and he continued whispering to her, "Just as surely as you were made for me. We will be perfect together. Trust me."

His hand slid along her smooth, bare skin. Her sweet scent with the tangy musk of her arousal made his mouth water. He took her thigh in hand and slid it on top of his. His hand squeezed and shifted to palm her curving butt. He shifted his hips and his length brushed against her wet opening, he could feel the slickness, even through the sheath. She was so ready for him. His hand took her hip hard as he very carefully, deliciously pushed himself up into her.

She buried her face in his neck, focused only on the sensation of him stretching her and pushing himself inside, filling her with his thick, hard length. She shifted her hips unconsciously and he groaned, pausing, his hand almost rough on her hip as he gripped her tightly. She kissed his neck and then impulsively bit at the skin.

His hips jerked and he pressed himself to the hilt inside, she was so tight, her body gripping him. He could feel everything from within her core. He felt an emotion, equal if not greater, than the immense passion of the moment touching his own core. He was home.

Trina had never felt so complete as she did with Spencer buried deep within her, his hands gripping her tight, holding on as if his life depended on her. She was emotional and kissed his neck softly once, twice, three times. She lifted her head, wanting to see his face and he was staring at her with so much love and passion, she was breathless to feel the impact of it reach her. Her palm wrapped around the back of his neck and she pulled him in for a hot, searing kiss. One that ignited the passion between them.

Their bodies were synchronized in their urgency as they moved against one another. At first, there were languid, deep strokes but soon, the tempo increased and Spencer shifted until he was on top of Trina, her legs splayed wide as he drove into her again and again. Her hips met his thrust with equal and opposite force as they watched each other's passion and pleasure cross each other's faces. As they moaned and whispered each other's names in desperate, loving abandon.

Trina could feel something unfurling from inside her. Every delicious stroke in and out of her pushed her closer to the brink. Feeling the tension from inside her, Spencer worked with the single-minded purpose to bring her the most pleasure possible, ducking his head to take a dark, pert nipple into his mouth and sucking fiercely. She began to lose her rhythm and Spencer's head lifted, watching her gasp, and try to resist the inevitable. He didn't want her to resist it or him and reached between her legs to stroke her as he continued his relentless rhythm.

Trina came. It was powerful, all-encompassing, and beautiful. How long she strained against him, crying hoarsely as waves of pleasure washed up and down her body, she didn't know. He tried to keep his pace steady but she was so tight, gripping him so hard with her body, that it was difficult. However, he didn't stop until her body began to relax bonelessly beneath him.

Then he slowed and pressed himself again to the hilt, loving the undulations of small aftershocks he could feel from within, along with a rush of warmth that bathed his shaft and allowed him to sink even more deeply into her.

They were breathing heavily, a light sheen of sweat on their bodies. Trina was well aware that he was still hard and pressed deep inside of her. She licked her lips and he immediately was there to kiss her gently, tangling his tongue with hers, wanting to taste her again.

She moaned softly, shifting her hips again, loving the feel of him somehow deeper than before. He took it for the sign it was meant to be and rolled them until she was on top with her feet planted firmly on the bed. His hands roamed her body, his slight nails scraping the skin of her sides as she began to lift and lower herself onto him.

He moaned in appreciation and admiration at the feel of her, the sight of her wanton expression determined to pursue her pleasure at her own pace, and allowing him to be with her on this remarkable sexual journey. He cupped her face again and she turned her head, her lips wrapping around and drawing his thumb deep into her mouth. She could feel him flex and harden and she became more insistent in her pace.

How on earth he hadn't exploded yet, he'll never quite completely understand, he just knew it was the power of Trina Robinson that gave him stamina and the single-minded focus to give her every drop of pleasure he could humanly give her. He could feel his climax approaching, but he didn't want to come alone.

She saw his expression change and it excited her, the feeling of the incoming climax nearing again. His eyes bored into hers, challenging her to come while also demanding that she not. It was unbelievably sexy as he willed her to hold on. His hand slid from her lips and he gripped the back of her neck, bending her down on top of him until her face hovered above his.

With deliberation, his other hand gripped a handful of her hair. Not tightly, but firmly. He watched her tremble and his deep voice made her vibrate from within, "Not yet, Trina." His hand on her neck slid to grasp her breast, he toyed with her nipple as his body slowed their pace, making her whimper as the crest she was nearing floated a little further away. "Wait for me, baby."

She was shaken by how erotic and intimate the moment was. They were on another plane, one where their bodies were perfectly matched vessels for their souls. She could feel the tension rise inside of him.

He was so close, but something was missing. He wasn't even sure what it was, he just knew that he needed…something that only she could give him. He may never be this close to heaven again and that thought was terrifying, holding him back. He needed something from her so much that he knew he was being unfair to get it, but he couldn't help himself. What was it? He searched her eyes looking for the answer.

Looking deep into his eyes, shuddering on the precipice of a growing tsunami, she knew instinctively what he wanted. Needed. Quietly begged for. She could see his fear and it hurt her to see it. He could shatter into a thousand pieces and never be whole again if she rejected or withheld this thing from him, this fundamental truth between them.

She needed him to survive this. She looked into his beautiful face, his dark eyes teary with emotion, and gasped the words he needed to hear as she began to shake, so close to the edge, but waiting for him. She whispered, "I love you."

His grip tightened in her hair and he softly commanded, "Now." And she came again, the orgasm somehow more powerful and stunning by the delayed release.

He waited until she came before he allowed himself to finally let go, eyes clamped shut in triumph and ecstasy as he came deeply and fiercely into her. His body strained, milked from within her trembling inner walls, drawing his soul deeper into her. Time no longer had meaning, there was just love, joy and rapture between them.


"You love me." Minutes later as they laid loose-limbed and tangled in one another, beneath the covers, Trina heard the vulnerable whisper. Her head lay on his chest and she was listening to his heartbeat. She brushed her lips against his chest and lifted her head to look into his eyes. There was serenity and a deep, glowing affection written on her face. She repeated softly, clearly without hesitation or shyness, "I love you, Spencer Cassadine."

"How?" He accepted her words but didn't completely understand how this was possible after everything that's happened between them. He was calm and peaceful, and curious.

"I know who you are and one day, when you know yourself a little better, you're going to see how good, kind, and generous you can be." She smiled, "And… you're not hard to look at. That helps."

His eyes glowed with pleasure, "I see. When did you know?"

Trina mused aloud, never really giving voice to thoughts before, "The day we were at the cemetery? That you would risk everything just to lay flowers on your mother's grave on the anniversary of her death…" She traced his jawline with her fingertips, her long nails scraping his skin, "You love her so much and I'm sure she loved you even more. When we were standing there, I almost felt like I could feel her grace settle over you." She laid her head back onto his chest, "It's one of the reasons I didn't want anyone else to know that I saw you that day. It was so personal and so dangerous a thing for you to do. I didn't want to expose you or your heart like that."

He squeezed her tight, "And here I thought it may have been when I gave you that art book."

She laughed softly, "'To our shared passion', hmm?"

He kissed the top of her head, "I was definitely smitten." She could hear his smile.

"And what about you, Spencer? When did you fall for me?"

Spencer considered aloud, "When did I fall head over heels in love with you, you mean? I think it started that night at your party when I was pretending to be Victor and you let me cheer you up. You stood so tall and beautiful, determined to take your life back."

He lightly moved his hand over the soft, woven texture of her hair, "Though what cemented it? I'm not sure, honestly. Every time we met and talked or when we flirted. Or when you chided me for my duplicity?" He pondered aloud. "You were always honest with me. You didn't care that I was a Cassadine, you just wanted me to be a good person who did the right thing. You expected it- no demanded it of me and for once, instead of feeling like I wasn't good enough or resentful that you wanted me to change, I was inspired. Who could I be to be worthy of Trina Robinson's time?"

He continued, "As I said earlier tonight, I saw the light die a little in your eyes when I refused to speak up and say that I believed in you. You will never know how much I regret that. My ego and my thinking I could save you were more important than making sure you were okay. Not to say that you wouldn't have been okay. You're very tough. You may be the strongest person I've ever met outside of Grandmother. I knew you without question that no matter what, you would be okay. Nonetheless, I still failed you. For that, I deeply apologize and beg your forgiveness."

He shifted until he could look into her eyes and he pledged firmly, "I give you my word, on my mother's memory, I will do my utmost to never fail you again." He took in her open and trusting expression, "I'm not perfect. I know I'll mess it up. I'm a Cassadine, right?" He couldn't disguise the bitterness he felt at his heritage, "I'll do anything and everything possible to earn back your respect and trust and hope that one day, it doesn't make you hurt to be in my presence."

Trina knew he meant his words, and instead of examining whether or not she could really allow herself to believe them, she responded lightly, "You're going to have to work really hard. You think I'm tough now?" Her smile promised all sorts of fun retribution, "Just you wait, Spencer Cassadine."

He laughed, "Challenge accepted."


Trina was dressed and standing in the hallway, preparing to leave the hotel suite, toying with the strap of her purse. It was well past two in the morning and she knew she would worry her folks if she wasn't there when they got home. Spencer stood at the opened door, leaning against the doorframe, looking down at the petite but sturdy frame of the curvy woman before him.

Neither spoke. So much had been said tonight and so much remained unspoken.

The hallway was quiet in the dead of night. Only the distant ping of the elevator interrupted the silence.

Trina took that as her cue and took a step back from the door, away from the tempting sight of the bed-rumpled, exhausted man who obviously would love nothing more than to whisk her back into the room and have his way with her again.

He must have been on the wave-length because his gaze deepened following her thoughts which were very well aligned with his. "Trina.." He cajoled in his low voice.

Trina took another step back, this time despite her will, laughing at their shared lustful thoughts, "I have to go… it's late. And you really need to rest."

"What I really need is-"

"Goodnight, Spencer!" She giggled she took another step backward, still facing him, loving the tortured expression on his face. They both knew he was bone-tired.

But if the flesh is willing. Spencer opened the door a bit wider, "Are you sure?" He loved teasing her.

Someone had to be the voice of reason here, right?

"No." She laughed softly, "But, I'm leaving anyway. Go get some SLEEP." She quietly commanded and then added, "Call me when you wake up, okay? We'll figure out how to deal with everything else."

Spencer smiled warmly. We. He liked the sound of that. He signed in mock resignation, "Well, if you insist. Then fine." He pouted playfully. "I'll go to sleep. Alone." He couldn't resist adding with a seductive tone, "In my big King-sized bed that smells like you."

She blushed, looking around to make sure no one else was overhearing him, "Spencer!" She was scandalized.

"Goodnight, Trina." His voice was deep with longing and finality.

"Goodnight." Her words were soft with yearning.

As she finally turned to walk away, she heard him murmur, "Sleep well."

Trina walked on unsteady legs to the elevator, not looking back, knowing he was still watching her. When the doors opened and she stepped inside, she glanced back to see him still there at the end of the hallway.

When the elevator doors closed and took Trina away from him, he finally closed his door slowly and leaned his forehead against the solid wood. He took a deep, steadying breath and was delighted to find that he really could still smell the sweet, warm scent of her in the air. He turned off the lights and went back to the bedroom and fully dressed and slid beneath the covers. He inhaled and indeed, smelled her even more strongly there.

It was the last thought he had before slipping into a surprisingly restful sleep.