YAY! IT'S ANOTHER CHAPPIE! Heh. I bet you're bubbling over with excitement.

Disclaimer: I own Fang and McRae Addison Gates (Soon to be Angel). If I owned Spot, we would be married and have two kids. :)

Author's Note: Here it is! The wonderfully overused plotline! Oh well! I love it anyway!

Ooooooohhhhh shiiiiiiiii-

I whipped up and faced my brother just as his hand connected with my throat. He forced me up against the wall, his face twisted in rage. Clawing at his hands, I tried desperately to make some sort of sound. But all that came out was a pathetic squeak. I worked as hard as I could to squirm and writhe out of his clasp on my neck, but his large strong hands could easily overpower a fourteen-year-old girl like me, even though I was (quite truthfully) exceptionally strong for my age.

Oxygen was failing to reach my lungs, and I needed to do something fast; if not, the next corpse in the papers would be mine. Then it hit me. My knives. If I can just get my knives.

I let go of the hands around my throat and stretched my arms down as far as they went. I was still an inch away from the blade, though. Stretching stretching stretching stretching…

I smiled as the steel knife slid out of my boot with a satisfying shink! Instinctively my brother let go of my throat and stepped back; he knows that I can do some serious damage with these babies. I smirked and aimed the knife at him, and a look of fright filled his eyes. I was just getting ready whip my blade at him when it was suddenly knocked out of my hand and skid across the dirt, and good 15 feet out beside me. Crap. The stupid creep threw a rock at my hand! How pathetic is that!

Well, now all of my hope is gone. Because my brother has the knife now. This isn't good.

But of course, I didn't let him have the pleasure of seeing that in my eyes.

He charged at me, knife raised high, and I stood my ground. Just as he got close enough to plunge it into my heart, I remembered my basic training.

Dodge. Weaken jaw. Punch to gut. Block feral left. Cross to right cheek. Dodge-wait, what do I dodge?

I bit my tongue and held back a wall of tears as my brother's huge fist collided with my face, sending me flying back. Ow. Owowowow. He clasped my hand as twisted it behind my back, knife to my throat.

It's okay. I've got this.

I tried to make some kind of carefully formulated plan, but the knife was already causing a drop of blood to drizzle down my neck. AHHHH!

Wait. Knife gone. Wait… where knife go?

I turned around to see a teenage guy, taller and older (and definitely more muscular) than myself, punch my brother in the gut and fling him to the ground. By his hat and inkstained hands, I guessed he was one of those… whatdoyoucallem… Newsies? I had heard about them in Ireland, but never seen one.

Nobody told me they were so muscular.

Or heroic.

Or ATTRACTIVE.

My brother scrambled to his feet. He looked me in my green eyes, hatred filling his black ones. "You'll be seeing me again, whore." He spat on my feet and scurried off. It shouldn't hurt me, being called that, but it really did sting. He was my family, after all.

"I tink dis is yoahs…" The teen who sav-NO! refuse to admit that he saved me!-held the knife out to me, smirking. I started to smile and reach for it, but I suddenly swelled with rage.

"What did you do that for! I had everything perfectly under control!" I ranted, practically screaming. My face was red as a tomato, I was sure of that.

"Just keep tellin' yisself dat, doll," he murmured, chuckling. UGH, this guy is aggravating. Aggrevating, yet attractive… UGH! Mental slap! I really am not one to fall for boys easily. Actually, I'm not one to fall t all. I'm far too tough for girly crap like that. Yes, I'm also a bragger.

Snatching the knife from his hand, I sneered. He just smirked back arrogantly.

"What's yoah name?" He asked nonchalantly.

"Why do you want to know?" I snapped.

"Because I just saved yoah life. It would be nice to at least know yoah name, or sumthin."

I sighed deeply and shot him a look. "McRae Addison Gates. Happy?"

"Yeah, thanks. Pretty name, by da way," he stated. He didn't say it flirtatiously or anything, just… like he thought it was a nice name. Hm.

"Thanks."

We sat in uncomfortable silence for a little while, before he spoke up. "Ise Spot Conlon, by da way," he informed. Wait-where have I heard that name…? Oh yeah, one of the deckhands on the ship mentioned him. Something about being the leader of the newsies or something.

"Haven't ever heard of ya," I lied. For a moment a look of what I recognized as surprise danced across his face, but it was gone within a second.

"Dat's new," he mumbled cockily. "Youse an immigrant?" Dang, how'd he guess? Oh yeah, EVERYONE around here has heard of SPOCK COLLINS…. Wait, that WAS his name, right? Or was it… Oh, never mind.

"Yeah, why do you care?" I barked. He stood still for a minute, as if contemplating my answer. Then without warning, he grabbed my chin and forced me to look into his eyes. His… eyes. I unintentionally found myself getting lost inside the prisms of blue. Those eyes were like ice-they were the lightest blue you can imagine, cold and harsh, but somehow beautiful and regal.

Oh, my god. I am SO not describing someone's eyes. I will NOT admit that I was describing someone's eyes.

"Youse listen to me." I wanted to whimper 'OKOK!' but I stood strong and cocked an eyebrow.

"In dis part of town, you don't have an attitude like dat. Or else you might not have all of yoah limbs aftahward. Now, youse lucky dat youse a goil, because Ise not one of da people who take disrespect very well." He hissed, his eyes not leaving mine.

By now I am thoroughly intimidated.

I nodded curtly and shook his hand off of my chin, frowning.

"Now, if youse don't has anyweah to go, come to da Lodging House and be a newsie. Youse cut out foah da job. Ise seen how ya fight." Spot offered tactfully.

Whoa. Mood swing, much?

I stood in silence for a moment, glaring daggers at him. He seemed to not notice my fiery daggers of fury being glared at him.

"Make up yoah mind," He ordered impatiently.

"Fine."

Spot smirked, again. "Good. Right dis way."

We strolled through Brooklyn for a while, apparently heading to whatever this "Lodging House" was.

"We has ta stop by Ray's foist," he explained, halting at the door to a restaurant. "I has ta pick sumthin up. Don't kill yaself while Ise gone," he remarked. I'm not sure if he was being serious or not.

Spot slipped into Ray's and I waited outside. Looking around, everything was completely new to me. Never in my life have I been to a big city before. My train of thought was stopped, though, as a huge guy bumped into me, causing something to fall out of my pocket. Ugh, not more newsies…

I peered down to see what I had dropped, only to find the newsie picking it up. NO! NOT my silver locket! The giant, muscular newsie rolled it in his hand and smirked. Oh, ho SO just made this personal.

"What's dis, chickadee?" He taunted, holding the necklace high above my head to where I couldn't reach it.

"Give it back, you freak!" I shouted.

"Nah, I could sell dis foah quite da shiny penny. Ise tink I'll keep it." He said, grinning to himself cruelly.

No. No! NO!

"I swear, if you don't give back that locket right this second, I'll kick you so hard you won't be able to have children," I threatened.

"Oooh, Ise terrified," he said sarcastically.

Which received him a punch in the gut, via me.

As he doubled over, I snatched the necklace from him, feeling pleased with myself.

Shouldn't I know by now that feeling pleased with myself is a jinx?

The newsie's hard fist collided with my jaw and I was sent backward, my head knocking against the wall with a sickening crack.

Today just isn't my day.

"You wanna try dat again, you little brat?" he spat at me, trembling with rage. I clutched my head and tried not to let any tears escape as I slowly attempted to stand. And failed.

Spot, where are you when I need you?

Oh. Speak of the devil…

"You get da HELL outta heah, Fang!" Spot growled at the giant, hatred glowing in his eyes. "Don't you remembah our little lesson yestahday? Da one dat had a do wit no hittin goils?"

Fang snarled at Spot, looking over his shoulder as he stalked off.

Spot sighed and rolled his eyes. "Didn't Ise tell youse not ta get inta trouble?"

I just glared at him.

"Anyway, youse just had da honah of meeting Fang. He's one o' mine, but I sweah, one day Ise gonna have ta kick him out." Spot sneered and held down his hand. I gladly took it and he pulled me to my feet.

"What do you mean, one of yours?" I inquired. (I know, I know, I use 'inquired' in all of my stories, I just LOVE that word!)

He looked me in the eyes again and put on that annoying smirk. "Ise da King of da Brooklyn Newsies, so ta speak. Kinda like dere leadah. So deyse my newsies, see what I mean?"
"Yeah." Kind of. We paced on in silence for a minute before reaching a old, but still considerably nice, building on the side of the street.

"Awlright. Heah we are at da Brooklyn Lodging House. My home sweet home."

Not exactly a cliffhanger, I know. But I SHALL have another chappie up soon!

REVIEW SHOUT-OUTS! =D

Caroline Conlon: Aww, thanks hon! I can't wait to write the rest so you can read the rest so I can read what you write about the rest telling me to write the rest so you can read the rest and... oh, never mind.

Orange Sock and Polka Dots:Thanks for the review! Oh, by the way-you're talking about the song by The Avett Brothers, right? That's the song I named this about. Love it! By the way, it was a elaborate plan. I stalked you months ago and put the mix in your car so you would listen to the song and therefore read my story. It was carefully planned out. ;) And I am so glad someone agrees with me on the overused plot! SpotxOC never gets old. :) Hope to see more reviews from you!

So tell me- Is it good so far?

Is McRae Addison too emotionless and tough?

Am I portraying Spot well? (He's tricky to write)

Let me know with a...

rEvIeW! ReViEw! REVIEW!

Love ya! Love, Clove