Chapter Three: Never Resting Vengeance

Somewhere Unknown

A man paced around a small room as he thought to him self. His plan had failed when Glen Carlin had been murdered, and now he had no plan. He hadn't thought, at the time, that he would need a "Plan B".

He would need to devise a new plan, a new way to get the revenge he wanted against the embodiment of his hatred. She needed to be eliminated, and it had to be soon. He remembered clearly the day he believed to be her last as he spoke with the one he helped to escape…

"Glen." He said, standing up out of habit to look into Glen's eyes. He stared at him for a moment before sitting back down. "Sit." He instructed Glen, the prisoner had a smug look on his face. He wanted to get this over with, seeing as he couldn't stand the cocky son of a bitch, even though he was in shackles. "What've you got?" Glen asked him. He gave a small smile, before lifting a briefcase that was sitting at his side.

Slamming the briefcase upon the small square table that separated them, he waved the guard out of the room. He noticed as a shocked sort of look surfaced, but was replaced with greed just as quickly. "Glen, how nice to see you again. I can see that prison is treating you well." He gestured to Glen's shaggy beard, dirty face, and sodden clothing. Glen ignored him. "What do you have?" he asked, finally becoming impatient.

He smiled once more before opening the case and handing him a manila folder. Glen stared at the folder in front of him. "What the fuck is this?" Glen asked, getting even more irritated. "Temper, temper, Mr. Carlin. You should really keep that in check." He motioned toward the folder, "Open it and see." Glen opened the folder with difficulty due to his shackles, but got it open nonetheless. He watched as the convict grinned at the information layed in front of him.

"How did you get this?" Glen asked. He took the folder back, placed it in his briefcase, and shut it tight. "I have my ways. I'll be back in three days. Get ready." He said to Glen as he left the small room. He nodded to the guard as he walked down the dingy corridor to the outside of the building, a smile playing on his face. His plan was finally coming to fruition. In just three days time, Glen would be broken out of prison, and his target would be dead.

He slammed his fist into the concrete wall, effectively bruising his knuckles. Ignoring the pain, he withdrew his hand and paced around the room once more, attempting to concoct a last minute plan.

That's when it hit him.

She was the key. She was it. She was the one that would lead to the other's downfall. He would manipulate and scheme around her to get what he wanted. He would do it, and no one would stop him.

He smiled at his brilliant plan. It would start, tonight.

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"Wh-what?" Ashley stuttered as a soft hand landed upon her shoulder, shaking her gently.

"Ashley, I need to talk to you, sweetheart." Paula said, helping the exhausted girl out of 'her' chair. She followed Paula into the hallway, and stopped when she did. Paula whirled around, a sad yet frustrated look was upon her face.

"Ashley," she began, a worried tone evident in her voice, "what is going on?"

She was asking about Spencer, that wasn't very hard to figure out. Ashley sighed, not too sure on how to answer the question herself. So she settled with the truth,

"I don't know." She said, her eyes rimmed with tears that threatened to spill.

Paula grabbed her into a hug and held tightly.

"She'll be alright. You need to talk to her when she wakes up. Get some answers, okay? We need to do all we can to save her right now, or we'll all lose her forever." Paula smiled sadly at Ashley as she released her from her grasp.

"Save our girl, okay?" she asked tearfully.

Ashley could only nod. Paula smiled, and turned around, her white doctor's coat flapping behind her as she walked down the hall and away from Ashley.

Ashley took a deep breath, attempting to regain her composure before going back into Spencer's room, not wanting Aiden to see her like this, or Spencer if she was awake yet. Taking one last deep breath, she entered the room.

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"Spencer?" Aiden asked, unsure of whether she was really awake or not. She brought her hand up to her eyes, shielding them from the brightness outside.

She groaned as she attempted to sit up, deciding against it and flopping down onto her pillows. She slowly maneuvered herself so that she could see who was asking her questions.

"Hmm?" she asked softly. Aiden smiled a little, reaching out to grasp her hand once more.

"Hey you." He said sweetly.

"Ashley?" she asked quietly. Looking around the room.

"Outside. She'll be back soon enough." Aiden patted her hand as he scooted his chair back up to the side of the bed to speak more easily.

"You overdosed, Spence." He said grimly.

She stared at him for a moment before nodding slowly, acknowledging that she knew what she had done.

"What's happened to you? Where did the real Spencer go, because I sure as Hell won't believe that his is my best friend, or my best friend's love. This isn't you Spencer. Where is she?" Aiden asked, desperate for some answers.

By now, Spencer's eyes had started tearing, knowing that everything he was asking was perfectly adhere-able to her latest predicament. She turned her face away, shutting her eyes, searching for an answer she could tell him.

"She died." She said, almost too quiet for Aiden to hear.

"No," he said, angry she would say that, "no she hasn't. She left, and she's coming back. She has to come back, because she has to realize that without her, everyone's world is falling apart."

He was crying now, as was she. She turned her head back toward him, squeezing his hand.

"Do you want to know why I moved?" she wiped tears from her neck and cheeks.

He nodded, and squeezed her hand, assuring her that it was safe for her to tell him whatever she needed to get out.

"It all started two years ago, when my life fell apart at the seams…"