I know, it's been like a million years since I updated, but life has just been throwing hurtles at me, and I just keep tripping!!!

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Spot Conlon 1882 to... 2009? Chapter Nine, Better Off Without Me

Spot's POV / Delia's POV

July 5th, 2009- Midnight / July 6th, 2009

Spot had carried her back to bed that night, maybe bumping her head on the wall once in a while, but sleep didn't wash over him like he had hoped. He thought back to the 4th, watching as that fat pig put his arm around Delia's shoulders and pulled her closer. It killed him to see her with him. But... But she hadn't objected. She may have been a little surprised, but she hadn't objected, and knowing Delia, she wouldn't have just told him "no", but would have either slapped, punched, kicked or kicked in the groin if she hadn't been happy. Maybe.... backing off was best to do?

Spot carefully checked that Delia was still asleep before he sat up and reached over to her table. He grabbed her phone and opened it. He'd figured out what texting was from Ian, thank God, so he went to her inbox. There weren't any new messages, but there were a few between Delia and- shit -Jordan:

Jordan: U want me 2 ask him and see if he'll ask u out??

Delia: Uhh, sure? I dunno.

Jordan: U sure?

Delia: Fine, fine, go ahead.

Spot was ticked. Ok. He'd back off, and leave that fat-ass pig to Delia. She preferred him, didn't she? Forget about Spot, go after Cameron. Fat.... freaking.... Spot cussed at himself a few more times before he flopped down on the bed and plastered himself to the wall as far as he could get from Delia, but that didn't last long. Some how, Delia's hand found a way to his bare back, and the touch sent lightning through his skin. He whacked her hand away, but instantly regretted it as he heard Delia let out a little whimper in her sleep. He didn't comfort her, though. He was done.

Delia opened her tired eyes to see Spot pressed up against the wall, his back to her. That alone told Delia Spot wasn't alright. He was awake, though. She could here his breathing. It wasn't like he was breathing in a light, steady motion as if he was sleeping, but a deep, controlled breathing, that told her, yet again, Spot wasn't alright. Carefully she reached her hand, it looked dreadfully small for some reason, and touched Spot's bare shoulder. As if she had stung his, he flinched away from her, his hand appearing over his shoulder to slap her hand away. This sent Delia cringing back, her eyes widened in horror.

"Spot...?" She whispered, her voice quivering. Something was very wrong.

"Fuck off."

Delia's jaw dropped and she sat up so quickly, she hit her head on the metal bars above her.

"OW! What the hell is your problem!?" She practically screamed at him, jolting her brother awake above her.

Spot turned his head slowly, and what Delia saw made her gasp in shock; under his eyes were purple, as if he hadn't gotten a week of sleep. As if he had... cried? Impossible. His cold blue eyes glared up at Delia, hard as rock and cold as ice.

"I said, fuck. Off." He snarled before he turned his head to glare back at the wall.

Before Delia knew what was happening, Ian had jumped off the bed, pushed her aside and pulled Spot out of bed. Soon they were fist fighting, and all Delia did was sit there, her mouth hanging open and her hand on her forehead where she had hit her head on the bed.

Delia blinked, returning to reality, and stood up. Ian had just sent a punch to Spot's eye when Delia stepped between them.

"Enough, ok? Would you just-" But before Delia could finish, Spot's fist collided with her cheek.

Delia stumbled back slightly, her eyes widened in horror.

Spot had not intentionally hit her, and although his fist stung, he didn't apologize.

Delia's eyes hardened and she locked her reddening jaw. Her eyes stung with obvious confusion and hate, but she pushed passed Spot, her shoulder hitting his roughly as she stalked out of the room.

Ian glared at Spot before he too pushed passed Spot to follow his sister.

Spot ran his hand through his hair, feeling his knuckles bruising already. He knew he'd have a black eye where Ian had gotten him.

Spot just realized his mistake and mentally slapped himself; he just declared all out war on the people who had shown him kindness when he was dropped off in the wrong century.

Spot leaned over and put his face in his hands, rubbing his eyes.

"So, is there a reason why you told my sister to 'fuck off'?" A voice asked from the door.

Spot didn't take his face out of his hands, knowing it was Ian.

"She'd be bettah off witout me, awright? She can have Cameron. She want's him, aftah aw." Spot mumbled, taking his hands from his face and running them through his hair again. He turned his head to see Ian leaning against the door post, his arms crossed, but his eyes knowing.

"Want's Cameron? What make's you say that?"

"Look't her text messages...." Spot mumbled, looking down at the floor, her hands on the back of his neck. He looked down at his bare chest, remembering her touch. His chest yearned for her touch and it made his heart ache, but it wasn't love. It was... a needing.

"You're kidding me right?" Ian asked, his eyebrow raised.

"Wut?" Spot asked, looking back to him.

"I heard about what he did at the movie. She doesn't like him, believe me."

"Youse weren't there, Ian. She din't even stop 'im! She jus' sat dere, lettin' 'im put his hands aw ovah her!" Spot snarled, standing up and clenching his fists at his sides.

"Why Spot, I think you're jealous!" Ian chuckled, a funny smirk reaching his lips.

"Yoah avoidin' da question, because youse don't wanna tink about his hands all ovah her! It wuz..." Spot couldn't think of a word to describe how incredibly mad he was.

Ian opened his mouth to protest but closed it instead, shrugged and left the room.

The day passed unbelievably tense and silent. Delia only glared at Spot with hate boiling in her eyes and blood while Spot was trying to decide whether to be mad or upset that she was mad at him.

Night had now fallen and Spot stood in the bathroom, his hands clutching at the white sink. He was shirtless and stood with his shoulders hunched over the sink as water dripped from his face and back into the sink. Only moments ago he had been sitting in the living room, watching the TV with Ian when a ripped pain seared across his chest. He had got off, mumbling through his teeth to Ian that he was going to the bathroom, and once out of Ian's sight, raced into the bathroom and closed the door behind him, locking it carefully. He had started to sweat a hard cold sweat, so he had started the water, placing his cupped hands under the cool water and splashing it across his face. Yet another flash of pain seared his chest and his grabbed at the bottom of his shirt, ripping it off. What he found on his chest made him grip at the sink, in the way he stood now. His chest had what looked to be a knife mark that was healing. But the thing that scared him the most was that it hadn't been there the days before. And a few centimeters away from that one was a circle that looked as it was healing as well. Spot neither could remember getting the bruise or it being there before today.

With his hand shaking, Spot grabbed a towel and whipped his dripping face off, letting out a sharp breath and slipping his shirt back over his head. He opened the door and walked towards Delia's and Ian's room. The creamy colored door was closed, and he could just barely hear Delia's whispering to herself... how odd.

Spot brought his knuckles to the door and knocked lightly.

"Dilya? May I come in?" He asked softly.

"Leave me alone!" Came Delia's chocked words.

Spot, being Spot, didn't listen and pushed open the door, walking into the room. Her voice had not sounded normal; it was chocked; forced.

Delia was pushed into the corner of her bed, sitting on her feet. Her arms were wrapped around her knees and her open phone lay in front of her on the sheets.

Her eyes were blood shot, and her cheeks were wet and puffy. She'd been crying.

"Dilya..?" Spot asked, her brow knitted in confusion.

Delia closed her eyes, shaking her head and pointing to the phone in front of her with her index finger.

Spot walked carefully over to her, sat on the bed and grabbed her phone, looking through her messages. He saw some texts' from Cameron and opened them, reading over them quickly. There were some pretty harsh things he had said to her, about her being so stupid for liking him, and thinking they would ever be together. Altogether, it was way too harsh for such a young girl.

"Dilya... I-" He started, but was quickly cut off.

"You're sorry right? You thought I liked him so you 'backed off', right? Well look what you did now, you ass! You just got it ruined." Delia spat the last words, ripping her phone from his hands, grabbing a pillow and afghan, and leaving the room.

Spot sat there.

He sat there all night, long after Ian had climbed into bed and turned off the light.

To put it simply, and into modern words...:

He. Was. Screwed

Now, you have to understand, if Spot hadn't been so upset about "backing off", I would have a lovey dovey story, and the end wouldn't be as dramatic! I hope you enjoyed this!! I certainly did! Reviews mean you're nice!

Forever for my Newsies Family, My Love!!

~Scree