o O o

A/N: I owe "manic" to WhiteKnightro; as usual, his observations are spot on. I had never given much thought to why Spencer behaves the way he does. There's a reason for everything.

o O o

Sam sat quietly, waiting. She didn't know what else she could say. Either he would move past the guilt she'd saddled him with, or he wouldn't. He would agree with her, or he wouldn't. He would love her... or he wouldn't. She wanted to believe that he would, but she tried to prepare for the "wouldn't." After all, isn't that what always happened? In the end, they always walked away.

Spencer tried to read through the words to hear what Sam was not saying. It was hard having a conscience. How easy things would be if he could just go with the flow – say "whatever you want Sam," absolving himself of any liability for the relationship and its consequences. But he couldn't do that. This was Sam. He had to make sure that his words and actions would build her up – not tear her down.

Feeling like the tightrope walker without a net, he took a breath before answering her. "Sam," he started carefully, "because of yesterday …" and stopped again. It really was ridiculous that he couldn't say the word "sex" to someone with whom he'd already had sex. He started again. "I find myself in a position I never expected to be. As you pointed out, I wasn't pursuing you – and wouldn't have. But you've opened this door and invited me in, and I'm taking you at your word that you've thought this through. If I'm going to do this – if WE'RE going to do this, we're both going to have to work at it. I don't have the Everything You Always Wanted to Know About Samantha Puckett But Were Afraid to Ask instruction manual. I'm going to need you to be very honest with me, and tell me what you want and what you need. Just like if you plant a tree in the wrong kind of soil, or give it too much water or not enough, or it's in the shade when it needs to be in the sun – "

Sam had to smile at his long-winded metaphor. "I think I get where you're going Spence."

"Even so Sam, I've known you for a very long time. Don't make the mistake of thinking that means I can read your mind. You have to play straight with me Sam," he insisted, "and you have to hold me to the same standard. I spend a lot of time goofing off – you probably don't remember, but I wasn't always manic Spencer."

Sam was actively listening – it certainly wasn't unheard of for a conversation with Spencer to take a detour, but this one was more intriguing than usual. This was a story she'd never heard before. She looked at him expectantly, waiting for him to continue.

"'Manic Spencer' developed over time as a way to support Carly – to help her laugh when she was sad, to try to fill her world with some kind of joy. " He looked at her thoughtfully. "I think you need something else from me Sam, and I've been playing 'Manic' for a pretty long time. If this has any chance of working, I'm going to have to stop playing overgrown kid. " To himself he added, 'you're going to make me grow up…'

She wasn't sure whether he perceived that as a good thing or not. "That's ok Spence, because even though 'Manic,' as you call him, cheers me up too, it's not the manic that I'm in love with. It's the person who stepped up. It's the person who thought Carly needed manic. Do you see?"

There was the hopeful look again – Sam almost holding her breath, waiting for him to choose whether to step through the door…or slam it shut.

He closed his eyes to think. The moment of truth had arrived; he had to come down upon one side of the fence or the other. He had to decide whether he believed, as she did, that he could be the man she wanted and needed him to be. He let the visions pass through his head, one after another – the many faces of Sam, and the knowledge sunk in that she was voluntarily choosing him to be the one to shape her into her next incarnation. When he opened his eyes and exhaled, the answer rose readily to his lips. "Ok Sam." Love just IS.

She virtually leaped into his arms, almost crying. She'd been so afraid… For the longest time, he just held on.

At some point she raised her head to look at him. "Spence?"

"Mmm hmm?"

"I'm famished!"

The grin spread across his face. That was his Sam.

"And Spence?"

"Mmm hmm?"

She rose to head for the kitchen. "I'm not ready to share."

He laughed, "I wouldn't expect you to. I was expecting you to say that what's on your plate is yours, and what's on MY plate is yours. Isn't that the way it works?"

She shook her head. "No, I mean I'm not ready to share US. Maybe it's selfish, but I want to keep you all to myself for a little while. Is that ok?"

Was it ok? It was definitely ok. It gave him more breathing room to figure out how he was going to defend this relationship, because there was little doubt in his mind that he was going to have to do just that.

"I don't think it's selfish Sam; we're both entitled to the time. For lack of a better analogy, this is a new frontier. It's possible that the natives are hostile."

"That may be," she agreed with a smile, "but the natives stand no chance against Samantha Puckett."

Looking at her, he had to agree. There she stood – Samantha, Queen of the Amazons.