For Brooklyn 2

By: Ambrlupin

Chapter Six: You wouldn't want that.

Summary: Spot is being forced to leave New York, but how will Brooklyn take it? How will Red...? One thing is for sure though. No one is going to let him go without a fight. (Sequel to For Brooklyn)

Disclaimer: No. I. Do. Not. OWN. Blah.

A/n: SECOND half of my first Newsie fic. -smile-

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"You don't get it, do you? Spot isn't just a newsie of Brooklyn. He is Brooklyn. He is the air that you breathe, the ground under your feet, the sky above your head, everything you see he has bled to protect, and you will, BY GOD, SHOW HIM SOME RESPECT!" - Red.

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Spot had been right.

When Race woke back up, he certainly felt better, at least well enough to stuff his face with whatever he could get his hands on. He felt like a fool, a glutton, like he was taking advantage of everyone.

Hadn't he just told Spot they didn't have enough to feed everyone?

Pausing, he looked down at his still nearly full plate and a hardness came to his eyes. Stumbling to his feet he made his way out of the door, and nearly fell over the form that had been leaning against the doorframe.

Raising an eyebrow, Race set the plate down on the ground as he gently swung one of Spot's arms over his shoulder, supporting his weight as he managed, somehow, to get the out-cold youth into the bed and under the blanket.

Shutting the door behind him, he picked the plate back up and went off in search of one of the children in the Manhattan safe-house. He couldn't eat their food. It just wasn't right, especially when they were still growing.

Speaking of still growing... Race turned on his heel, wrapping the freshly baked roll in a

small, and clean piece of fabric. Tip-toeing back into the room, he laid it on the table next to the bed. Spot needed it more than he did anyway.

Reaching over he pulled the cover's up to the other's chin, knowing how much he moved in his sleep. Smiling softly, he brushed a piece of hair from the other's face. "Sleep well, my brother."

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Red leapt over the stairs, landing on the bottom floor of the Manhattan safe-house and throwing his arms around a rather startled Jack, who looked at him with wide eyes even as he pushed him off.

"What the heck are you doing?"

The elder laughed, "Im being friendly! Cant I be friendly?"

And then he giggled.

His eyebrow shooting up to his hairline, Cowboy turned on his heel, "ACE! WHAT DID YOU PUT IN HIS DRINK THIS MORNING?"

There was a chuckle from behind him as the Bronx leader came in the front door. "Oh, nothing that wont wear off in a little while. Payback, you know."

Yes, Jack did know.

Rolling his eyes, the Manhattan boy tried to keep Red from charging out the front door and getting run over by...something. What a good time for Spot to be unconscious, no? He would have been able to handle the odd-acting Red, but no one else. Except maybe Race.

"Oi, ya seen Race?"

Ace shook his head, as he took a glass from Red, lest he smash it against something. "Naw, not since he came down a few hours ago to gamble away his food. By the way, wouldn't it have been easier to just GIVE it away?"

Jack grinned and shook his head, "Not for him. Plus...I think it was a way for him to feel like himself again, you know? He needed that, I think."

"Yeah." Ace agreed softly, bowing his head a little. "Yeah...I think he did too."

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"Come here, boy." Jake snapped the belt in his hand, the black leather glinting in the light."You're late."

His head bowed, Spot stepped inside, walking slowly to where his father waited. Its not like he wasn't expecting this, after all he had disobeyed. It was only natural to get punished for his actions.

But his heart was heavy. He felt like he was betraying them, his friends who had tried so hard to save him, tried so hard to keep his head just above the water that threatened to drown him.

Race's face flew through his mind, and he could almost hear him saying, "You can do this, cant you? You cant let him do this to you anymore. You have a chance, here and now, to end it all. You can do this, we're with you."

His feet stopped on their own accord, glued to the floor under his feet. His hands balled themselves into fists, and before he even knew he had opened his mouth, he had murmurred a soft, "No."

The vein in the man's neck seemed to pulse, "What was dat?"

Courage, keep courage. He wasn't going to yield, not to him. He might snap, but he would never yield. The leader of Brooklyn would never yield...never again.

"I said no." His voice was strong, his shoulders squared, stance proud. "No, no, a thousand times no."

Jake Conlon's eyes flashed, "Are you-"

"Disobeying you?" His lips turned up into a sneer as he spun on his heel, "Yes, I am."

"You cant do that! I am your father!"

Spot stopped at the door, his hand braced lightly on the side as he turned to look once more at the seething man. "No. I have only one father, and his name is Red."

He made sure to slam the door as hard as he possibly could as he left.

Spot felt pretty good when he walked back to the safe-house. He had stood up to him, he had stood up to his father! And man, did it feel good! He held his head high as he came in the door, all ready to party with his friends.

The minute he stepped in the room, however, he knew something was wrong. Someone...was missing...

"Where's Race?" He asked, his heart in his throat as he scanned around the room for the hyper newsie. "Where is he?"

Red turned, surprised to see him, "Spot! Where-"

Didn't he see? Didn't he REALIZE! Spot spun on his heel, racing back to his house fast as his legs could carry him. It couldn't be! It COULDN'T. That warning, the one he had been feeling ever since the day before...

He threw the door open wide...and saw...

Spot sat bolt upright in the bed, chest heaving as sweat ran down his face. A dream...it was all a dream...Some of it anyway. The part about him standing up to his father, that had been real. But when he came home, when he came to tell Race, he was so tired...

Running a hand through his hair he just rolled back over, telling himself he would get up in a minute...he was just closing his eyes...that was all...

In mere moments he was asleep again.

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Race stiffened as he felt someone come up behind him on the roof. Keeping his eyes down, he shuffled the deck in his hands again, priding himself on how calm he sounded, "Im not going to do anything stupid."

"I didn't think you would."

Spinning around, his mouth opened in a snarl, but a hand slammed over his lips, silencing him as a blade glinted in front of his face. He could see himself on the slick surface, see the razor sharp edge glinting in the light.

"I didn't think you would," Jake Conlon repeated, "Because if you did, my son would pay for it. And you don't want that, do you, Race?"

No. Race didnt want that.

"Good." He purred with a chilling smirk as he pulled the youth back, hand firmly over his mouth. "Good."

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okay, so people don't get too confused- this isn't a slash. This is just real well-built friendship. Okay? Okay. -grin-

Now go forth and review!