Sam woke up wrapped warmly in Spencer's bed. The room seemed bright. As her eyes adjusted to the light, she looked around a little dazed. The sun was shining through his window. I must have slept for hours, she thought.

Her body was sore and her head was aching, but mostly she felt hungry. Slowly, Sam sat up and took a deep breath, trying to stretch her limbs as much as they would allow her to. The night before seemed like a blur. Everything after getting in the shower really was a blur. She could only remember it in pieces.

Spencer turning off the shower and picking her up off the floor. She remembered that. Somehow there was a towel around her body and she was sitting on a bench in Spencer's bedroom. She remember his voice was calm and soothing, "Breath, Sam. You're having an anxiety attack. You have to breath." She remembered trying, but her lungs seemed to be constricting so hard and fast that she could only manage shallow gasps.

Spencer pushed her head down between her legs and told her he'd be right back. She seemed to be watching herself from the other side of the room, wondering what the hell was wrong with her? Spencer returned with a small brown bag and held it to her mouth for her to breath into. Her breathing slowed and the tears rolling down her cheeks were burning her eyes. She leaned her head on Spencer's shoulder and closed them.

That was all she really remembered. She must have fallen asleep then. Sam looked down at her body. She definitely didn't remember getting dressed. Wonderful she thought, concluding Spencer must have had to do it.

She pushed herself off the bed, steadying on her feet for a moment and allowed her body to adjust to the pain that was radiating it. Guess this is it, might as well get going. No point in sticking around long enough to get caught.

Sam walked out into the living room and saw Spencer moving around in the kitchen. The smell of bacon smacked her in the face and she almost fell over. She couldn't remember ever being so hungry, and she'd been hungry.

She walked to the counter, watching him anonymously for a while instead of announcing her presence. Sam had done this plenty of times over the years she's known him, especially when he sculpted. She would come down after filming and sit on the steps quietly, and watch him work. He was the most fascinating person to spy on, and easy too, since he was usually pretty far into his sculptures. Sometimes he would talk to himself too. Sam felt like she was getting secret access inside his brain.

He wasn't sculpting now, he was washing dishes, but he seemed to be so far deep into his head that she would need to drop a bomb to get his attention. She noticed his back was tensed and every now and then he would shake his head. Guilt suddenly swept over her body. I never should have come here and gotten him involved.

The thought crossed her mind to leave before he noticed her. She could easily slip out the front door and he'd never know. But she just couldn't abandon that beautiful crispy greasy bacon calling to her from the kitchen table. She looked at the door, then back at the bacon.

Then Sam slowly walked around the counter toward the table, reaching out quietly. If I can just get a few pieces to go… She got to them, and silently grabbed a handful.

"Plate?" Spencer said cheerfully from the sink. He handed her one from the drying rack and she blushed at being caught. Sam took the plate and sat the bacon on it. She set the plate on the island and watched as Spencer dried off his hands and stood against the sink, watching her back.

"Thanks," she said. The sound of her voice alarmed her. It was extremely horse and it was as if she didn't even recognize it.

"How are you feeling?" Spencer put a couple of pancakes from a nearby warm griddle onto her plate.

"Um, okay. Sore I guess. Do you have any Tylenol?"

"Yeah, of course!" Spencer searched the cabinets, frustrated he hadn't thought to give her some before. He grabbed the bottle and handed it to her, along with a glass of orange juice. She saw him looking her over as she took the pills and knew he was worried. "So, um… can you tell me where it hurts?"

"Everywhere," she smirked to herself. "I feel like I was hit by a truck."

"Anything that we need to worry about?" He seemed nervous to be asking about her injured body. She felt bad that he was uncomfortable. He was trying so hard to be sensitive to her, and she really appreciated it.

Sam shook her head no, and shoved some bacon in her mouth. Before swallowing, or even chewing much, she said, "You're the shit for making breakfast, Spencer. I could kiss you for this." She made the statement as a nonchalant joke, and then immediately realized it might have made him more uncomfortable. Sam cleared her throat awkwardly. She looked back at Spencer, who made no significant response. He just sat down at the table with a plate of his own and pulled out the seat next to him. "Join me?" He smiled.

Sam sat quietly, aware of Spencer looking at her. She shoveled a heavy fork full pancakes into her mouth. After swallowing roughly she asked, "So.. you dressed me?"

"Yeah," he said gently. "Sorry about that." He awkwardly took another bite. "You can go through Carly's clothes later if you want something different. I just kinda grabbed whatever I thought would be comfortable." Nice subject change man.

"It's cool," she shrugged and continued eating. After a few more bites she stopped, taking a deep breath before she spoke. "Listen, Spencer." She closed her hand over his and he looked into her eyes. "I really appreciate everything you've done for me. Seriously, I don't know what would have happened last night if I couldn't come to you."

"Sam," he interrupted. "You really don't need to thank me. I am just glad you did come here." He shook his head again. She knew he was imagining the worst, and she wished he would just forget about everything.

Sam took a few more large bites of food, washed down by the rest of her orange juice and then stood up. "I think I'm going to take off now, thanks again." Without waiting for a response she headed for the door, keeping her eyes on it, refusing to look back at him. But she didn't have to because before she reached the door he was there.

Sam looked up to see Spencer's hand pressed against the door and his eyes peering seriously into hers. She sighed and stepped back. "Come on man, don't do this," she said quietly.

"It's already done." Spencer leaned his body against the door and crossed his arms.

Sam lifted an eyebrow, suddenly feeling her blood go cold. "Wh-What are you talking about? What's done?"

"Sit down, Sam."

She didn't. "You didn't call the cops did you? Spencer, tell me you didn't call the cops on me!"

"What?" He came away from the door now, and pulled her by the hand to the couch, sitting next to her. "Sam, come on. I would never do that. I thought you knew me a little better than that."

"I'm sorry," she said looking down. "I'm just a little on edge you know? So what's already done."

Spencer paused and took a deep breath. "I called Socko," he said wearily. Immediately Sam sat up as if she were going to argue this information, but he put a hand up to stop her. "I didn't tell him anything… he didn't absolutely need to know. I trust him, Sam. Basically I told him I needed to leave the country and I needed to take you with me. He set everything up."

"What? What are you talking about Spencer?" She was so confused. Socko??

"We can leave today. We have a car, and he set us up a temporary place in Vancouver. We'll have a little money and IDs. It's all taken care of. Sam, I think we should go just until we know how much this thing is going to blow up." He stopped talking then and watched her. She starred at the coffee table and seemed to be thinking over the plan.

"No," she said finally, shaking her head. "I can't get you involved in all of this."

"Sam, I'm in." He said it so certainly and with such finality that her eyes shot up to meet his. They were fixed on her. "I'm in," he said again softly. Then he touched her hand. "I will keep you safe, Sam. I promise."

"But why?" Tears came to her eyes again. She wasn't used to being so emotional. Sam tried to shake them away but they kept coming. "Why would you do that, Spencer?"

Spencer squeezed her hand gently. "Because, Sam. You're my friend. And you're in trouble."

"You mean your little sister's –"

"No, MY friend. You're my friend, and I care about you. A lot." Sam looked down. "Listen to me, Sam. When you came through my door last night… I've never been that scared. The thought of what you went through just kills me." Spencer's voice cracked and Sam looked up to see a tear fall down his face. "I want to go with you. I want protect you, and I will. Now that's the end of it."

Spencer stood up and Sam watched him walk back into the kitchen and busy himself with dishes. She knew the conversation was over and that she wouldn't be able to talk him out of his decision, no matter how stupid it is.

Sam sat on the couch a while longer. This all felt like a strange dream. She glanced around the apartment. Nothing had changed since she was a kid, but it felt like a different place completely. Ever since Carly had left, and even back when Freddie had left, thing just started changing, slowly and silently, but they changed. And now, they were going to leave. She wondered for a moment if she would ever see this place again, then she stopped herself. Thinking about the what ifs wasn't something she could do. Not right now anyway.

PLEAAAAASE review. I'll be your best friend