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A/N: I decided to split this chapter into two parts; these two have a LOT to say to one another! Part one follows…

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Sam arrived home alone after school on Thursday, slipping quietly behind Spencer to watch his work. He was busy sketching her – but it wasn't her. In the picture Sam stood at the edge of a dark forest, holding a bow with arrow cocked, pointed towards the sky. Behind her stood the mighty stag, beloved of Artemis, mistress of the hunt.

"Do you really think I look like that?"

His mind elsewhere, Spencer jumped. "Hey Sam, I didn't hear you come in." Glancing from her to the drawing, he shrugged and said "when I look at you I see many possibilities."

"Are there more? Pictures, I mean?" she asked curiously.

"Yes," he admitted. "Quite a few. Ones that I could draw without you actually sitting for."

Ah – the visions. "So what kind of drawings would you need me to sit for?" she probed. Spencer had said that she was in his head; she was extremely interested to know how she appeared there.

Changing the subject, he asked "where are Carly and Freddie? Seems like they haven't been around much lately."

"You didn't answer my question Spencer. I would really like to know."

He put his pencil down and turned to look at her. "Neither did you answer mine," he pointed out mildly. "The answer is in fact important, given that we have some things to discuss."

Sam bit her lip; she wasn't sure what to read into his tone. 'OK,' she thought, 'we'll play your way.'

"The brainiacs are at the library again. Senior papers are due in two weeks, give or take, and they're glued to the study carrels. Don't expect them anytime soon."

He frowned. "Shouldn't you be working on your paper then?"

"Nope. Mine's done. I didn't tell them that though – they might get complexes."

"Done?" He was skeptical – Sam wasn't known for her dedication to academics.

"Yep. Done. That paper is pure gold. A+ material. At first I thought Briggs was going to hate it – the topic is a little risqué for a high school term paper. But the more I think about it, the more I'm sure it's going to be her favorite. She probably reads those 'passionate' romances with pictures of half naked women with heaving bosoms on the covers."

Spencer's lips twitched. "Bosoms?"

"Yeah, you know –" she started to lift her shirt to demonstrate; he coughed and put a hand out to stop her.

"Never mind. What does Ms. Briggs choice of reading material have to do with your term paper?"

"Everything. My paper is on sexual mores in science fiction, with particular emphasis on the work of Robert Heinlein, who…" her voice trailed off. Spencer was just staring at her.

"You wrote that? YOU did? By yourself?"

"What?" she complained in an aggrieved tone. "Did you think me incapable?"

"Well, no, not exactly. It's… surprising." Lots of things about Sam were surprising.

"So it's something you would have expected from, say, Freddie, but not me? Guess what Spence. I can run circles around Benson. I just choose not to let him know that. It pleases him to think he can beat me at something, so I let him. Melanie's not the only one in the family with brains; I just apply them to other things. Most of the time. It's a good paper, trust me." Turning for the kitchen she asked, "Do we have any bologna?" She definitely needed to eat something if she was expected to have any kind of serious conversation.

Spencer shook his head. Only Sam could go from sexual mores to bologna in under thirty seconds. "Naturally we have bologna. And bacon. And ham. And meatballs. And probably some leftover burritos – if you didn't hit them last night before leaving. You know I won't let you starve," he said with a smile.

Sam relaxed a little bit; at least he was joking. That was a good thing, right? Bologna in hand, she crossed the room and kissed him. "I know. Who else takes such good care of me?"

He tugged her over to the couch and they both dropped down on it. "And that's pretty much what I want to talk to you about," he started quietly. "Sam, what did you expect to be the end result of our conversation yesterday? I'm talking about before –" he paused, finding himself unexpectedly reluctant to finish that thought. "Just before."

"The bottom line was to stop you from getting involved with April. It wasn't about me, at least at first – you were my friend. I mean, you ARE my friend; I just hope that now you're something else too. I didn't know I was in your head; you have no idea how happy I am to be there. I hope you're not still planning on trying to excise me." She looked at him so hopefully – he just wanted to pull her into his arms and hold her but they were nowhere close to finished with this dialogue.

"That depends," he said. He had to proceed with caution.

"It depends on what?" she asked with some alarm.

"It depends on what you expect to happen now that we're on after. It depends on what role you see me playing. Sam, I feel like we really took this out of order, that - "

Oh chizz – she had pushed too hard. "Spence," she interrupted, "are you saying that it was too easy? That it must not have meant anything to me? Because that is totally untrue." He could see her starting to get worked up.

"Sam, I'm not saying that at all. I'm saying that I don't KNOW what it means to you. I'm saying that IF I had thought about it ahead of time, and IF we had mutually agreed to an 'other than friendship' kind of relationship, I would have done things differently. I'm not sure what it is that you want from me."

"Spencer…" she was uncertain what answer would best satisfy him and was very afraid that whatever she did say would turn out to be the wrong thing. Yes, there had been an element of calculation in her actions, but that didn't change the fact that she loved him. It didn't change the fact that this was a relationship she wanted. She watched him closely as she continued –"…there is NO ONE else that could have given me what I needed yesterday. I wouldn't have been IN that state except for you. " She twisted a bangle anxiously around her wrist. "Spence, the words are hard for me. The only thing I'm sorry about is that I couldn't find the right words to tell you, so I showed you. And maybe you needed the words to understand what I was saying. I LOVE you. I CHOSE you. I would do it again. What I want from you, more than anything else, is for you to give us a chance. "