A/N: I know this is a short chapter, but it's a promise the next one will be really long. Which means it probably won't be out until the end of the week. Also, I felt like I needed to thank you all for reviewing and address a few reviews.

cyberauthor and arh1986: thanks for be the first reviewers and staying with the story

Halfreck3929: I'm a Buffy addict too; that's why I stuck that in there! Love the pen name, by the way.

pinkwolves: Thanks for calling me a genius, but I don't want to get up your hopes with false expectations, because that's not what happens. I just wanted you to know so you wouldn't be expecting that and then getting something different.

And now to the story (you guys all know I don't own it, right?)...

"Hello?" Clay's voice sounds on the other end of the phone. Judging by the noises in the background, he's cooking something and Chris is watching.

"Hi, um, this is Ashley," she says into the phone. We're packing for Ohio, and since Ashley hates packing so much, I told her I would pack some of her stuff if she called Clay for me. "Look, you probably don't know-"

"Wait, are you the Ashley?" I hear Clay practically shout through the other line. "The one Spencer keeps talking about?"

"I guess," she mutters and then shoots me a glance. I nod. "Yeah, I am. Me and Spencer-"

"Spencer and I." As an English major, I have a tendency to correct people as a reflex.

"Sorry," Ashley says jokingly with a roll of her eyes. "Your darling little sister has a grammar fetish."

I decided to ignore that statement for fear of the two of them never getting through their conversation.

"So, we're coming to Ohio. Me and Spence." Her statement is followed by a moment of silence.

"Who are you and when can I worship at your feet?" Clay's sarcasm greatly amuses Ashley, but not me. I almost resent that little jibe he took at me.

"What do you mean?"

"We've- we being me and my wife Chelsea and her friend Luke- been trying to get Spencer to come back here for five years, and you finally did it," he exclaims in a nearly exasperated manner. "When are you coming?"

"When are able to have us?" Ashley shoots right back.

"Anytime," he answers. "We don't have any relatives coming over this summer, so our guest room is free. We do, though, only have one bed, so..."

"That's cool," Ashley says. "We sleep together every Friday night, so-"

"You do WHAT!" Clay shouts. I'm laughing and Ashley's confused. Then it dawns on her.

"Not that kind of sleeping together," she mutters, clearly embarrassed. I smile at this, since she's never embarrassed. "The kind where you share the same bed. And keep all your clothes on."

"That's okay then." I can hear Clay laughing on the other line now that he's found out that I'm not sleeping with Ashley. "But, I gotta know, how much has she told you?"

"That everyone but you hates her and she's gay," Ashley whispers like I shouldn't be listening in. Like I'm eavesdropping.

"You don't know the half of it," Clay says back, also in a low voice. But Ashley, smart as she is, forgot to turn the speaker phone off, so I can still hear him. He coughs to stifle an awkward silence and asks her, in his normal voice, "When will you be coming?"

Ashley frowns. "I dunno. We're leaving today. LA to Ohio? What is that, like two days or something? I guess Monday. Well, Monday at the earliest."

"Cool. See you then." Clay hangs up and Ashley flips her phone shut. She looks at me expectantly.

"What?" I wonder, picking up some of her favorite clothes and stuffing them into her suitcase. I hope that this extra generosity with gain me brownie points, but it doesn't stop the Ashley inquisition.

"'You don't know the half of it?'" She frowns sternly at me, and I'm like a two-year-old who's been caught with her fingers in the cookie jar. "What does that mean?"

"It means a lot," I tell her, scared of saying anymore. "The whole point of going is so I can, I don't know, relive it."

"Relive hell?" Ashley says with a sarcastic chuckle. "Yeah, that's the smart way to deal with a problem."

"Sometimes it's the only way." I leave it at that, and we finish the packing with a heavy silence hanging over us.

"Let's get going!" she shouts, exceedingly excited for this little road trip. "Don't wanna be late for your brother."

"Knowing Clay, he's probably pulled out all the stops and made this gourmet dinner for us," I joke. "He's been really missing me for the past five years."

"Sounds like someone's a bit egotistical."

"That would be you." I jump in the passenger seat; Ashley's energy seems to be contagious. Maybe that's the whole point, because I doubt she's excited to uncover my painful past. Curious, sure, but excitement is not something I would associate with what she's about to learn. Because I know. And I still find it hard to let others know. To let her know.

"So, how far you wanna go today?" Ashley asks. She must be able to read my mood; she always jerks me out of these little depressing trips down memory lane.

"Until you're tired, I guess," I reply, with a shrug of my shoulders. "I've always loved long car rides with the music up loud." I look at her accusingly, because she has no music playing.

"Of course there's music," she laughs. "Who do you think you're driving with?" Ashley practically breathes music, through playing it, singing it, and listening to it. "My iPod's in my purse. Plug it in."

I'm constantly amazed by the technology that Ashley has, and this is no exception. I know that people hooking up iPods to car radios is becoming fairly common, but I've never actually done it before. For me, most things hold no value for me unless I experience them myself.

We drive along the highway, shouting badly off-key renditions of Ashley's favorite bands. She sings poorly on purpose, mostly to make me feel better, I think. Or it's just fun.

"Hey, you wanna stop somewhere?" Ashley wonders unexpectedly in the middle of the afternoon. I'm confused because we filled up and went to the bathroom about an hour ago.

"We just did."

"I know," she says simply. "I meant like a stupid tourist attraction or something." She says it in an almost pleading voice, a small voice. I realize this is because she probably never took a real road trip; all the trips she took as a kid were business trips on airplanes where all that happened was she got neglected even more. I remember my family road trips as a kid, and can't think of a more fun time in my childhood, other than the sunny summer days in Ohio.

"I can't think of a better way to spend my road trip," I answer.

"Great." Ashley smiles more widely than I've ever seen her smile, and it brings me a certain joy to know that I was- in part- responsible for that smile. "We can find a Starbucks and get online there."

In about an hour, we drive up to a Starbucks on the border between California and Nevada. We've been driving for three hours, about, and both of us are a little more tired than we thought we'd be.

Ashley logs on to wireless Internet from her cell phone. The start page hasn't even popped up when she gets an amazingly brilliant, yet devious, smirk on her face. She flips the phone shut and grabs me by the hand, pulling me back out to the car.

"What are you doing? I thought we were stopping somewhere?" I ask, confused. She opens the passenger door and all but shoves me into the car.

"We are." She puts that same smirk back on. "Spencer Carlin, how would like to go to Vegas?"