Disclaimer: You think Iown Degrassi? Hah! I'm not even legally Canadian. Yet... The poem in this chapter does not belong to me, either. My very dear friend, fanfictiongeek36, wrote it, and it just sounded so much like Marco, she graciously allowed me to use it in this fiction.

Author's Notes: Erm...

Spinner: Look who finally decided to show up!

::sweat drops:: I blame Brandon Flowers, and the song Mr. Brightside, because it's way too addictive. And Konstantine, too, because that song is also addictive. I also blame the fact that I am way too easily distracted. And livejournal. ::cough:: Review responses!

Zelda Apostle (Towenaar): I know nothing about witchcraft, Wicca, or anything. I have never claimed to know anything. I was not about to research any of it, for a number of reasons, a few being I live in the Bible belt, so there aren't very many resources I can get to, and I did not want to offend anyone by using it just in case someone was actually Wiccan. So, because of these reasons and a few others, I decided to use some of the things you always hear about, and twist them around to where they could work in this story. I am sorry you seem to have gotten the idea that I was actually trying to follow Wiccan. Please, do not take it personally.

AngelsDon'tSleepHere: See, I am updating! Thank you for the review! Also, I just read Rose Colord Glasses. That story was so great. Everyone should go read it!

Serenity Wintris: Cool! Thank you for adding it to your c2 archive. Thank you for the review, too!

drew's baby: Yes, that new cd does rock. It rocks my socks so hard my Converse fell apart. Thank you for reviewing!

Forbidden Secrets: And continue I shall!

fanfictiongeek36: I made you cry? Aw, did you write me a poem with your tears? I hope so. ::giggles uncontrollably:: Anyway, thank you for the lovely reviews. It made me happy, and I'm glad you like it. Your opinion is the only that matters, anyway. Heh. Go finish your Sparco so you can post that too!

L'Arc-En-Ciel: We're all a little lazy sometimes. Thank you for reviewing.

twitch: More cuddling and moesting shall arrive soon!

fox eye: Thank you very much for the kind response!

Sloane Miette: Merry xxx-mas to you, too! Heh...yeah...it is a little late but... Thank you for the compliments.

Ash: I won't make Spinner die.

Spinner: Squee!

I'll make him suffer, yes...

Spinner: ::sweatdrops::

...but not die.

RiseAgainPhoenix: Oh, I was called clever. I am so glad that you all seemed to have followed the plot twist. I was afraid that I would loose everyone. But, I guess you guys are just smart like that –you know, kind of like Green Day fans. Thanks for the great encouragement!

BlackOwl892006: A cookie? Well, der! I love cookies! ::updates::

Bridget N: Thank you!

Tasha: Buwhaha, another Sparco lover! My evil plot has begun!

Marco: What evil plot?

My...um...evil one?

Magick Mystery: I am glad you like it!

The Dude: Yeah it should be too. I saw that and I was like, "Aww...screw it. No one will care." Heh. Thanks for reviewing.

Squrlie Jack: Thank you!

MyChemicalLus: Yes, reviewing is fun; we should all do it a little more often.

anjel919: See, I'm updating now. Ah, he will deflower Marco. Wait for...um...chapter eighteen. Oh, is that the next chapter? Hmm...

CosmicPudding: You used the word otaku! That means you must like anime! ::huggles until he can't breathe:: You are so cool! And you are writing your Sparco! Snaps for doing so! Everyone, go read The boy is mine, cause it's awesome. Thank you so much for reviewing. Oh, and also, more snaps to you for being a dude. It is so awesome to find a guy who reads and writes fanfictions.

Enigmus: THANK YOU!

Dreamer'sWasteland: I know you had to wait...I'm sorry. I'll try to update sooner. Thank you so much.

KinseySix: Do you think I enjoy trying to write intelligence –thank you, by the way- and angst? Don't you think I want to write the porn? But, this flippin plot just snuck up on me and was all like, "Grr, write me...write me!" And I was all like, "Fine! But only if there is porn!" And it was like, "Fine..." I add smut in here, just for you, and the other people who are rallying for sex. Thank you for reviewing.


Chapter Seventeen: Broken Glass

"You can't let him die."

"It is not up to me."

"I can't let him die!"

"It is not up to you, either."

"Of course it is! I'm his best friend, and he's in this mess because of me. I'm not going to let some know-nothing Romany guys just fly in here and put him to death! Now, if you would please move out of my way; I have to go tell my friend that he is in imminent danger of being hung."

Do you think he knows what imminent means?

"He's not stupid! Besides...we had imminent for one of our vocabulary words last week."

I still don't think he would know what it means.

"That's because you don't have any faith in him. I do. I know that he doesn't deserve to be executed."

Mozzy gives me this look, like she thinks I'm a complete and utter moron and turns her back on me, huffing in that kitteny like way that she does. I glare at the her back for a few moments before turning towards Samantha, who is now sitting on the edge of my bed, giving me a sympathetic look. Her eyes are so soft and gentle, like she's afraid I'll break if she speaks too seriously. I don't know why she's here exactly, and I have to admit, her presence does make me a little uncomfortable. But who could blame me? She's so kind looking it sets off this crazy air around her.

Besides, I don't have time to sit here and talk to her and argue with my cat; I have to get to Spinner. But they won't let me leave. Samantha and Mozzy put a charm on the doors and windows when I tried to slip out, and as pitiful as it is, I can not fight off a little old lady and my kitty cat. I am trying to convince them to let me go, because I have to talk to him. I'm not just going to let these people show up and take him away, especially if I have a chance to warn him before they do. Samantha and Mozzy are trying to convince me that Spinner doesn't need me.

Of course he needs me. He said he did. They don't get that. They think that after his revelation to me, it was a sign that he was prepared to accept punishment and atone for his sins. But they just can't seem to grasp the fact that he doesn't have any sins to atone for. It wasn't his fault, I keep telling them. It was Tshurka; he brainwashed him; he was just innocent. Either they don't believe me or they don't seem to care, because Mozzy told me that it didn't matter.

So now, I'm stuck in house arrest with a pissed off familiar and a seriously doped up watcher while my best friend is in danger of being condemned to death for something that wasn't his fault, and I can't do a damn thing about it because I never paid attention during some random lesson where I was taught to disenchant magical charms.

"Please," I say, directing my words to the elderly woman. "You can't just make me sit here while I know what he must be going through. At least, let me call him. I won't even warn him about the Council. I just have to say goodbye to him," I tell her softly, making my expression one of innocent pleading. Maybe I can play on her obvious weakness for...well...weakness. If only I can get her to pity me enough for her to allow me to talk to him, just for a minute, I can somehow find a way to warn him.

I know he would find a way to do it for me. If he were trapped in some sort of alternative universe with a hundred demons attacking him, he would still find a way to save me. He would do so much, and he's already been through so much for me, this is the least I can do for him, right? I have to find some way to tell him... To warn him...

"You poor dear," she says softly as she reaches a trembling hand out, rubbing my cheek. I resist the urge to flinch at the feeling of her cold, clammy skin brushing against my own. "You have no earthly clue what is happening, do you?" she questions.

I shake my head, throwing her hand away from my cheek. "Of course I do. I'm not stupid," I declare and hear Mozzy cough in the background. "Spinner was tricked when he was younger, and because he told me, somehow that set off this freaky cosmic forces-of-darkness-detector and now these old dudes from Rome are gonna come here and kidnap him and then burn him at the stake," I answer in one breath.

Mozzy laughs so hard she rolls off the bed and Samantha lifts a hand discretely to cover her own smile. I frown at both of them. This is no time to be laughing at how little about witchcraft Marco knows; this is the time to be allowing Marco to gave save his love!

"That is not exactly how it works," Samantha informs me gently.

I shrug, pouting a little. "Well, it's close, right?" I question.

Not even. Where the hell do you get this stuff, anyway?

"Then what?" I insist, opting to ignore Mozzy, because frankly, life is just so much easier that way.

With a sigh, Samantha looks at the cat, then back to me, before she finally begins to speak. "When you told Mozol about your discovery, she contacted me immediately, as all familiars are instructed to do if ever their charge is in danger, such as you were."

"But I wasn't in danger," I interrupt her. "Spinner isn't..."

"And it was I who contacted the Council."

What?! my mind screams. I stop talking, words becoming caught in my throat as I stare into her grey eyes. She called the Council? But, why would she do that? Didn't Mozzy explain the circumstances to her? Didn't she mention the fact that Spin was not evil, he was only misguided, and that I was in no real danger? Why would Samantha call them if she knew what would happen?

"I am sorry, but it is what I was told to do in the case of a rouge witch," she apologizes. "I hope someday you will be able to forgive me."

My mouth falls open for a moment, then closes again, before once more falling to the floor. "Forgive you? But why... He wasn't rouge! Tshurka was! Spinner had changed. He wasn't a bad guy anymore. He switched teams."

In more ways than one.

I narrow my eyes and snap my head towards Mozzy's direction, my eyes blazing and my teeth clenched. "Would you just stop it?" I growl at her. "This isn't a joke! Spinner could die! This is serious. If all you're going to do is just lie there and make crude comments and put him down, then just shut the hell up, because I don't want to hear it! This isn't about you, okay? This is about him. If you're not going to help me get him back, then why don't you just go bury yourself in your litter box!" Fuming, I add, "Besides, it's not like you'll be of any use to us anyway. You were my familiar and you were supposed to protect me. And gee, let's think, what's happened to Marco since you've come along? He's been molested, tortured, beaten, nearly raped, and the list just continues. Honestly, I don't know why you're even here right now! It's obvious you don't think anything of me or Spinner, so it's not like you're going to do anything to help either of us now, because you never have before! In fact, why don't you just leave now, Mozol? Why don't you just get the hell out and never come back!" I scream.

A tense silence settles around the room, smothering and deafening at the same time. I take in rapid breaths as the fog that settled over my more rational side begins to lift. I just cursed Mozzy out, didn't I? Holy hell, I'm dead. I'm seriously dead. She's going to scratch me to death! I can't believe I just said that. Did I really tell her to go bury herself in her litter box? Oh God, what was I thinking? She's going to turn me into her own personal scratching post after this, I just know it.

So why am I slightly proud of myself for sticking up to her?

She stands up on all fours, then jumps onto the bed, before stalking over to me, stopping right to my side. Her eyes burn into mine, and they are completely emotionless. I guess they would be. After all, she is only a cat...or at least only has a cat's body...but still. For some reason, I think I may have stung her more than I meant to.

Do you mean that Marco? She asks me seriously, and I suppose it's only right that she uses my real name since I have used hers. Do you want me to leave?

I clench my fists. "Yes," I hiss. "You betrayed me and Spinner. I told you only because I thought you could help him, and you didn't. You don't care about either one of us. You should just find someone else to go put down."

Fine, she says, and I can swear I hear bitterness in her voice. I just want you to understand a few things before I go. You are one of the strongest witches I have ever looked after. There is a great power inside of you, and I truly do mean that. One day you will have a place in the Council, and one day, there will be people looking up to you. Secondly, I did not betray you, despite what you may think. Had I not contacted Samantha and the Council still learned of the truth, not only would Spinner and I be killed, you would be, as well. And last, as much as you seem to think I could care less about you or him, you couldn't be more wrong. I do not think I have ever cared for a charge and his gay Canadian lover more than I have for the two of you. And trust me, I have had plenty.

She looks towards Samantha, then says something in Romany to her. I can still hear her thoughts, but I ignore them, since I am still caught up in what she has just told me. She...cares? She has...faith in me? Obviously she must be lying. I know that she can't have. She would probably rather eat kibble than ever compliment me. But...she just did. And she complimented Spinner, and gave me a blessing for our relationship, in a freakish kind of way. Maybe I was too harsh on her? Suddenly, a wave of guilt fills me. With an audible sigh I rub my temple with my hands, shaking my head, murmuring a soft 'I'm sorry' underneath my breath. When I look back up, I begin to speak to her, only to see that she is gone. I blink a few times, surveying the room for any presence of her. I look to Samantha, who merely gives me a blank expression.

"She left through the window," she informs me. "She's very discrete when she wants to be."

I look over at the window, feeling very stupid and very ashamed for blowing up at her because of one stupid comment. It was kind of funny, in an insensitive, perverted sort of way. I shouldn't have yelled at her. I guess I'm just, stressed at the moment, and upset, but really, who could blame me? No excuse for taking it out on here, though.

"Should I go after her?" I ask, momentarily forgetting the fact that I am under magical house arrest.

She shakes her head slowly. "No," he answers. "She would probably be very hurt right now. Mozol has a lot of pride, and it can be easily hurt, especially by those she loves. She tries to play it all off with sarcasm and jokes, but deep down, she is probably just as sensitive as you are."

"What does that mean? As sensitive as I am?" I ask her. "Are you trying to imply something here?"

"She will come back," she assures me, a secretive smile working it's way onto her light pink lips. "Do not worry about her. She is strong. As much as you hurt her, I do think you have instilled a bit of respect into her."

"By yelling at her?" I ask.

"No, by telling her what you really felt. Harsh as it may be, have you ever actually told Mozol of your true feelings?"

I think about it for a moment, mind wandering back to all of those times and all of those little comments I have ignored. "I suppose not," I answer. "So what now? Do I just wait for her to come back?"

She continues smiling at me, though her eyes take on a slightly more anguished look. For a moment, the expression on her face frightens me, and I can't stop my mind from racing to the possible meanings that dampened smile might have. Does she think that Mozzy won't come back? Did I really upset her that much?

Reaching out with a smooth, pale hand, she pats me on the head lightly, before allowing her eyes to soften back into that loving grandmother sort of stare. "I don't suppose Mozol has told her anything of her past, has she?" Samantha questions me softly, continuing to lightly stroke my hair.

I shake my head, starring up at her with a curious expression. The fingers in my hair are soothing, reminding me of the way Spinner held me that night after Slade, and the way he rubbed my back and shoulders and slid his hands over my neck to give me comfort enough to finally get back to sleep. I smile a little, the memory of Spinner lifting my spirits ever so slightly.

"She lived in a small village, filled with magic and pain," she begins softly. I pull away slightly from her hand, keeping my eyes trained on her expression, watching as a few different emotions begin playing across her face. "She lost her family to disease, and lived with the village elders. Oh, but she was such a very powerful woman. Respected at birth for the power that each villager could feel emanating from her spirit."

"That doesn't surprise me," I remark quietly.

And it doesn't. Mozzy never really talked much about her life before she became a familiar, but I realized that she must have been a very high standing person among the ranks of witches. She's always been slightly arrogant, but I have learned that one does not usually gain such self-confidence without having something to back it up. Mozzy's was her power, and knowledge.

Samantha nods. "Yes. Well, after what can only be described as several...trials and tribulations, she finally met a man. His name was Corin, and he was not only a powerful witch, he was also the village's only black smith. After several years of attempting to court her, the two were finally wed. A month after their wedding, Mozol became pregnant."

"Pregnant," I echo softly. "Like, there would be mini-Mozzy's running around?" Samantha nods, causing me to shudder slightly. Now that's a scary thought. Can you imagine? Little Mozz's running around, cursing like no tomorrow? You could probably harness enough negative energy to power small countries; like Togo, or something.

A sorrowful expression begins to tug at her features. "Corin was not what anyone thought. He was working for some very dark witches. When Mozol found out...she turned him in."

My eyes widen. "You m-mean...Mozzy? She..." I trail off, tripping over my words, not sure what to say. "But, why did she turn him over?" I question. "If she really loved him, wouldn't she have tried to help him? Why would she just, give everything up?"

"She didn't give him up," Samantha interrupts me, her eyes stern and yet still so gentle that I shut my mouth immediately. "Mozol had her reasons."

"But-" I attempt to begin again, only to have her raise her hand, signaling for me to stop before I even start.

Frowning, I watch her, waiting until she starts speaking again. I don't understand why she's telling me this. Is just some diversion to get me to stop throwing my tantrums about trying to get in touch with Spinner? As interested as I am in learning something about Mozzy's past -and yeah, that's pretty interested, because Mozz is the most secretive cat...person I've ever met- I'm thinking that making sure my best friend doesn't get decapitated is just a weebit more important.

"Do you love him?" she questions.

I blink at her, confused for a moment. Then, slowly, I nod my head. "Yeah," I answer her, my voice shaking slightly. "I do. Which is why I need to-"

"Would you kill him?"

This causes me to stop speaking, my thought ending abruptly as soon as the question she has just posed fully registers in my brain. I give her a quizzical look, eyes wide and confused, but she only stares back at me, and unreadable look in her eyes as she waits for me to answer. I begin to speak, then stop a moment, going over her question in my mind. Is this some sort of trick question, or something? Would Ikill Spinner? Considering the fact that I doubt I would ever kill anyone, I assume that she would already know the answer to the question.

Judging by the way she is still starring at me, I suppose maybe she doesn't.

Shifting in my seat, I sit up straighter, trying to keep a calm demeanor. Obviously this question has some sort of significance to the story she has been telling. And, depending on exactly how I answer it, maybe she will even let me try to warn him. I take in a deep breath, then lick my suddenly dry lips. I have to get this one right. Spinner's life is on the line, here. If I can just get her to see that, deep down, I really do care about him, maybe she'll understand how important it is that I save him.

"I would never hurt him," I answer truthfully.

A somewhat sad look flashes through her eyes, and I realize that I just answered wrong.

"Exactly," she says. "If ever you were in the position which you were faced with two choices, either to kill him or join him, you would undoubtedly join him."


"Do you want to be evil?" she asks.

I shake my head in the negative, trying to speak before she cuts me off again. "No," I say hurriedly. "But I-"

"So you would not kill him, but you would refuse to join him?" she says, tilting her head to the side. "There is no way you could do both."

"Yeah, but... I mean if we were..." I trail off, sighing in frustration at the fact that I just can't seem the words to convey what is I'm thinking. "I could too," I finally murmur, as lame as the logic is.

She pats me on the head again, a sympathetic smile on her thin lips. "No, Marco, you couldn't. Not without compromising your ethics or your heart. It is one or the other. Betray the one you love, and in the process of doing what deep down you know is right, end up stranding yourself in a life of heart ache and pain, or betray an entire race and give up your good along with your sanity in order to stay by your love's side? It is not an easy decision."

"Then why even make it?" I question her. She gives me a startled look, as if she is about to vehemently argue with the words. I shake my head, placing my hand on top of hers. "No...I don't mean...not make any decision," I quickly say, derailing that train of morbid thought before it gets to far. "I mean, instead of just giving up on them, giving up hope, why not try to save them?"

"It is not that easy..."

"So?" I ask, and I know I am yelling now. My vision becomes slightly blurry, warmth beginning to spread through my eyes. "I never said it would be easy. It would be blood and sweat and you would probably ending up hating yourself and them in the process, but if in the bitter end, they weren't the bad guy and you could still have them, how could you even think about going down any other road? If you really loved them, then shouldn't you be willing to give everything up to help them?" My voice is barely above a whisper with the last words.

Silence settles around us. My eyes dart up to look at her face, and I am somewhat surprised to see that she appears to be considering my words. I doubt what I just said even made much sense. I was barely listening to myself as I spoke. My mind wasn't exactly focused, still humming with thoughts of Spinner and Mozzy and the entire confusing mess that is my life at the moment. With a heavy, dry sort of sigh, I drop my head into my hands. I close my eyes, shutting them tight enough to block the dim lamp light from my vision.

What am I going to do?

A hand is placed on my shoulder and I look up, only to see Samantha giving me a pitiful look. I knew it. What I said was wrong. She must have been looking for some other type of answer, or something, because just by that glint in her eyes, I can tell what she is going to say. 'Sorry, but you can't help him,' or, 'He's too far gone,' or something along those lines. The words don't matter, anyway, she's telling me the same thing; I'm completely helpless in this situation. Spinner is already as good as dead.

How could I fail him like this? Why couldn't I have just kept myself calm enough to stay with him? I didn't have to tell Mozzy. I know I could have prevented this, somehow. There had to have been a way, I just wasn't thinking clear enough at the time to realize the consequences of my actions. I didn't think that running away would mean Spinner was going to be executed! God, how did all of this get so messed up? Wasn't it just a week ago the biggest problem I had was telling my supposedly straight best friend that I loved him? All I want to do is go back to that time. You know, the place in my life when I just had normal problems.

So, all right, maybe it's not every day you realize that you're in love with your male best friend, but still, it's probably a simpler problem to deal with than this. I shouldn't have been so quick to be afraid of him. I mean, now that I've really thought about it, I know that Spinner can't be evil; not really. I just wish I could have realized that, and been so sure of it as I am now, when he first told me that he was indeed the witch would had been haunting me. Maybe if I could have just, I don't know, done something different, there wouldn't be a hoard of witches coming after him to take him to some foreign country where their going to cut his head off.

"Marco..." Samantha begins softly.

I shake my head, just wanting to tell her I don't want to hear it. I get it now, I honestly do. I've screwed up completely. I've practically killed my best friend and my familiar hates me, and depending on how things go at Spin's trial, the Council might be coming for me, too. And the worst thing is there is nothing I can do about it.

Why do I have to be so damn helpless all the time? I was with Slade, and I'm still suffering the guilt that brings. I mean, I know that he's probably out there right now, molesting some poor boy who can't help but just believe those blue eyes. And now, I can't help Spinner. Hell, I can't even help myself.

I don't know what Mozzy was talking about when we first met. I'm nowhere strong enough to be a witch. I don't deserve these powers I have, not if I can't do anything good them. To be perfectly honest, I can't really do anything, other than set things on fire and destroy innocent closets.

I wish none of this had ever come to me. Not Mozz, not my powers, and not even Spinner. At least then, they wouldn't have been drug into this mess with me. I just wish none of it had ever happened. I just wish...

"You would have to go to Rome."

My head snaps up. A sharp kind of something goes down my spine, and at first I think I just dislocated my neck again, until I come to the startling realization that no, this feeling isn't the numbness setting in; it's hope.

"W-what?" I stutter.

Smiling, she begins to push herself off the bed and into a standing position. "As soon as you made your confession to Mozol, she contacted me, and I told the Council. At the moment I did so, they would have had their closest agents go to your friends house and retrieve him."

"Is..." I begin, but trail off momentarily. "Is that why you wouldn't let me go back, or call him or try to contact him or anything? Because the Council was there?"

"We did not allow you to contact him, because it would have been a futile effort," she explains. Upon seeing my rather confused expression, she continues. "Your friend knew he was taking a risk the moment he began to speak with you. He would have realized as soon as he told you that there was a great chance he would end up dying because of it."

That...that explains it. Why, when I was leaving, he sounded so heart broken when he told me he loved me.

"Also, as soon as you left, they had most likely already taken him," she adds. "It would have only done to serve you further heart ache by allowing you to attempt to speak with him. He would have already been gone."

I gulp a little, dropping my gaze to my comforter. "So...they already have him? He's probably already on a private jet to Rome right now?" I whisper.

"Most likely," she answers. She pauses for a moment, stepping behind the middle of my bed. "Marco, I know that Mozol would probably have me skinned for this but... I can feel it in you."

"Feel what in me?" I question.

"Power," she says. "And goodness. You have a great deal of magic inside of you, deary, but also a great deal of compassion and love. There are many great things you can do with your strength. And I truly believe...that you can save him. That is, if he wants to be saved."

"He does," I tell her, giving an affirmative nod to further emphasize it. "I know he does."

She returns the gesture. "Then, I believe that you are the one who can do it," she tells me. "But first, you must find a way to get to Rome."

I blink a few times, thinking over my possibilities. "Um..." I begin. "Well, there's always by plane. And um...you know...boats. But I think planes are faster. And I get sea sick."

"Then you shall need one ticket to Rome."

"Yes!" I shout, excited. If Samantha thinks I can do it, then maybe I can. If I can just get to where their keeping him, maybe I convince that Council the same way that I convinced Samantha. That deep down, Spinner really is still the same, good, innocent, little witch that would never hurt anyone. And I... "Hey, Samantha?" I question.

"Mmm, deary?"

"You wouldn't happen to have a credit card I could barrow, would you?" I ask. A moment passes, and she lifts her eyebrow, giving me a quizzical look. "I'm kind of low on cash right now," I explain to her. "I don't think I've really got enough money for a ticket to Rome."

Realization dawns on her face. "Ah," she says. "I suppose that would pose a problem." She places her hand on her face, stroking her chin thoughtfully. "I'm sorry, but we watchers don't really carry around much money. Even if I did have any, I doubt it would be in Canadian dollars. You would have to get the money from your parents, is the only way I could think of, unless you know how to raise enough money for a plane ticket in the next few hours."

My parents? I give her a dumbstruck look, blinking a few times. I can't ask them? What am I supposed to say to them? 'Oh hey, ma, pop, could I borrow your credit card? What for? Oh, I need a ticket to Rome. Why do I need a ticket to Rome? To rescue Spinner from being executed.' This would inevitably lead to conversations about Spinner, Rome, witch craft, and my sexual preference, none of which I really want to discuss with my mother and father.

But...what other choice do I have? Like Samantha said, I can't really think of a way to earn enough money for a ticket, not within in the next few hours, at least. Well, I guess there are ways... No ways that I'm going to participate in, of course. That's just...well...so utterly wrong on so many different levels that I really don't want to think about.

I wonder which one my father is going to be most devastated about; the fact that I'm a witch, the fact that I have to save Spinner from being killed, or the fact that I'm gay.


"Ma?" I whisper, knocking softly on the wood frame of my parents' bedroom. "Papa?"

Neither of them make a move. I sigh softly, then look back at Samantha, who is giving me an encouraging look. I wish I could just turn around, because that would be so much easier than standing here in the middle of the night, trying to explain to my parents exactly why I'm gonna need a few hundred bucks to fly overseas to save my best friend from being executed, but I can't. There's no other way around it. I have to get to Rome; I need money to do that. Unfortunately, there are no spells for creating any, and Samantha doesn't exactly carry around loads of cash. My parents are my last and only resort. I just have to take in a deep breath, and pray that luck is on my side tonight.

"Ma," I say again, a bit louder this time. I see her hand twitch, but other than that, nothing. "Papa," I also say, and receive even less action from him. Why did they have to be those deep sleepers? I take in a another breath. "Ma! Pa! Wake up!" I shout.

This seems to gain their attention. My ma opens her eyes, albeit a bit reluctantly, and begins to push herself up. Papa keeps his head buried in his pillow, and if his left foot hadn't twitched, I would still think he is asleep.

"Marco?" my ma questions softly. "What is it honey? Did you have a nightmare?"

I almost say yes, because that is the only word I can think of to describe this entire situation. However, I shake my head. "No," I tell her. "I'm...fine."

She gives me a sleepy smile, and I force myself to return it. "That's good," she murmurs, looking as if she is about to fall back onto the bed and go back to sleep. "Well, goodnight Marco."

"Wait," I say as I see her begin to ease herself back down. She pauses, then looks up at me. "Um...do you think papa would mind if I borrowed his credit card?" I question.

"Oh, what for honey?" she asks, her eyes beginning to droop shut.

I lick my dry lips, trying to decide the best way to put all of this. "Well, um, you see I..." I trail off, letting a nervous laugh escape me. "This is going to sound crazy but..." She gives me a soft, expectant look, and I realize that she is probably so tired, I could tell her practically anything and get away with it.

Here it goes.

"Ma, I'm a witch. A living, breathing, witch. I've known for the past seven months. You know that cat, Mozzy that I've had hanging around? Well, she's my familiar. She's been tutoring me in the witchy ways of witchcraft. And, as it turns out, Spinner, you know my friend, is a witch too. Unfortunately for him, his familiar was kind of off his rocker, so he was evil. But he's not evil anymore. He's a good guy. But, see, this Council, they think he's still evil, and their probably going to kill him. But I can't let them do that. See, Spinner's my best friend and...and..."

Might as well, right? I mean, if there was ever one time to tell my parents that I'm gay, why not now? Why not just put all of my shields down, and show them the true Marco Del Rossi? Why not just let go of my fear, my inhibitions, and tell them the truth?

"...I can't let him die."

Because I'm a total wimp.

"So now I need money so that I can go to Rome, find where their putting him on trial, and find someway to help him escape."

There. I did it. It's all out in the open now. Well, okay, most of it, anyway. And now, all I have to do is wait. Wait to see if my parents are just going to laugh at me and send me to the crazy house, or if their going to help me. Oh God, please let this work. Please, please...

"That's nice dear."

I blink. What? That's nice? Is that all she's going to say? I scrunch my brows, my eyes moving from my mother to the still frame of my father.

"Yeah..." I agree. "Nice. So um...do you think I could? You know, have a few hundred dollars..."

Another pleasant smile crosses her face and she nods before falling back onto the pillows. "You're fathers wallet is on the kitchen table," she mumbles into the pillow. "Have fun."

I furrow my brows, blinking, before turning around to Samantha. She has the same confused, slightly amused expression on her face as I'm sure I'm wearing. It...worked. It worked! Oh my dear Lord, I can't believe it actually worked! I've got the money, I've got my chance, I can save him!

"Thank you ma," I say hurriedly, sure that this is too good to be true. "Thank you so much. Don't worry, I won't let you down. I won't let him down..."

"Very good. Now, go save your friend, Marco. Let your ma and papa get some sleep," my ma whispers tiredly.

"Okay," I agree, nodding my head enthusiastically.

I can't believe how easily I'm getting away with this. Sure, I feel a bit guilty for taking advantage of my parents, but it can't be helped. It's for a greater cause. It's for him.

I turn, ready to run downstairs as fast as witchly possibly and grab some money before heading to the airport, before hesitating. It felt good, extremely and incredibly good, to get the fact that I was a witch off my chest. I mean, I haven't been able to tell anyone. And the fact that you have mystical powers is most definitely not the easiest secret to keep. Being able to reveal this secret to my parents relieves so much stress. Also, given the fact that the both of them are for the most part unconscious, it's not like their actually processing any of the information I give them. I could tell them anything, really, and I doubt it would even get to them...

"Hey, ma, papa," I say again, turning to them. "While I'm, you know, being perfectly honest with you... Well you remember my desk, the one that I said I gave to charity?" My papa makes a sort of grunt, which I'm guessing is his way of saying 'yes' in his state. "I broke it, during one of my lessons."

"How interesting," my ma murmurs, snuggling deeper into her pillows.

Hey, this getting stuff off my chest thing is getting easier with each secret I tell her. "And remember that time grandma and grandpa came to visit, and they brought their goldfish? Well, the goldfish didn't actually drown, so much as I accidentally flushed them down the toilet."

"Such a good boy, Marco."

My smile widens. "God, I feel so much better now that I can tell you both this. Let's see...um...when I was in first grade, I didn't really get elected class president. I was the secretary of treasury."

"They allowed a first grader to handle money?" Samantha questions from behind me.

Shaking my head, I answer, "No. I mean, yes. Well, we instituted a sort of bartering system, where we used to use crayons and Pixie Stix instead of actual money, but that's not the point. Also, I'm gay. Oh, and it wasn't really the neighbors who broke the window in the den. I tripped and accidentally threw a few plates of ma's good china –which I was using only because I'd forgotten to unload the dishwasher and I was starving- through the window. And-"

"Marco," says a gentle but firm voice as a hand is placed on my shoulder. I tilt my head back, blinking slightly as I see Samantha giving me a soft smile. "I realize that you want to inform your parents about all of your little...misadventures...but I think it's best if you try not to get distracted from your mission."

A rueful grin tugs on my features and I nod. As purifying as it feels to get all of this off of my chest, I am a man on a mission. I can't let my confess-fest get in my way. Besides, who knows? Perhaps on this journey I'll somehow intensify my tiny amount of courage, so that when I get back, I can tell my parents these things for real. Wouldn't that be great? To be able to look my father in the eye, and tell him face to face that I was gay? It'll probably never happen, seeing as how I would have to gain of will of reinforced steel during this little mission, but still, it's something positive to think about if ever I realize that there is no possible way in hell I can actually help Spinner in any way.

Flicking one last glance to my parents, I whisper a soft I love you, you know, in case I never get to tell them again, turn on my heel, and walk out of their room. While Samantha closes the door, I rush to my room and get my passport and ID card –hey, what can I say? I'm organized like that, and just coincidently happen to know where everything is. I rush out of my room and down the stairs, trying to be as quiet as I can in order not to wake my parents. Samantha goes to the front door while I rush to the kitchen table, pick up my fathers wallet, and scrounge around the random crumpled pieces of paper and cash before finally getting a hold of my pa's credit card. I grab my jacket from one of the chairs, stuffing the credit card, passport, and ID inside. Before leaving, I make one last stop at Bank of Del Rossi, since I realize that I may need just plain old cash sometime.

I wonder if they accept Canadian money in Rome? I doubt I'll have any time to get it changed. Oh well, it doesn't really matter. It's not like I'm going for the Smithsonian; I'm going to save Spinner.

I reach the door, and just as I am about to open it, I stop, realizing that we don't really have any way to get to the airport. Rolling my eyes at my own stupidity, I turn to go back into the kitchen, pausing only when I feel a hand on my shoulder.

"What are you doing?" Samantha questions. "We must go."

"Yeah, I know. But I have to call a cab," I inform her.

Shaking her head as a mysterious smile forms on her lips, she reaches out with her other hand, and throws the front door open. I squint my eyes, trying to adjust my gaze to the darkness of the night outside, before I realize that there is a cherry red convertible parked in my driveway. My jaw drops. What the...?

"How do you think I got here, deary?" she asks, laughing softly as she begins pulling me outside. "On my broom?"

I shake my head as my mouth continues falling open and closed dumbly. "No... But I didn't think that...you would drive...that!" I exclaim.

"What can I say? I like to travel in style."


"Only one ticket, sir?" asks the ticket agent.

I nod. "Yes," I answer.

She raises an eyebrow, but excepts the credit card none-the-less. I stand at the edge of the ticket stand, nervously playing with the edges of my jacket. Huh...ticket is an odd word. It sounds kind of like lick it, only not. Oh, great...just great. Now every time I think of tickets I'm gonna think of licking, which will inevitably lead to indecent thoughts about Spinner and chocolate syrup. Damn this hormone driven teenage body...

"Is your father here?"

"Huh?" I say, whipping my gaze up to meet her, thinking distinctively non-dirty thoughts about chocolate covered Spinners.

"Your father? It says Gitano Del Rossi (1), age 54. I don't think that's you. I need your father, or your mother, or another legal guardian to sign this."

"Oh well...um..." I trail off, unable to think of a quick lie.

She narrows her eyes at me, beginning to tap her long, neon pink nails on the countertop. "Listen, little boy, I don't know what you're playing at. Coming in here with no luggage, no bags, no nothing except for a credit card and some lame ID. You're lucky I haven't called security on you."

I feel my face heating in embarrassment. "Listen, I just-"

"I will sign for him," says a voice from behind me, the tone deep, commanding, and oddly familiar.

The ticket agent looks behind me, an annoyed sigh escaping her lips. "Are you his mother?" she questions.

"Something like that. I am his guardian."

Furrowing my brows, I make a move to turn around, since, hey, I can't remember ever having a guardian. I am halted in this action as a hand is placed on my shoulder, and I find myself being shoved to the side. Nearly tripping over my shoelaces, I somehow gain my balance by grabbing hold of the counter. Ah! How rude! And, who the hell was that, claiming to be my guardian? Quickly I turn back around, my eyes narrowed with confusion and anger, when I see who it is standing at the counter.

She is a woman, somewhere in her thirties, I believe, with mid-waist, curly black hair and an even darker complexion than my own. There is a blood red ribbon tied around her locks, keeping them in place. She is dressed in a burgundy long sleeved top and tight black jeans, as well as some boots. My first impression is that she appears to be a modern day version of a stereotypical gyp-


Holy flip?!

"Ah, well, Mrs..." the ticket agent begins, still sounding vaguely annoyed.

"I go by Mozol."

I'm going to faint, I swear I am. My heart can not take all of this crap!

"Mozol, I need you to sing here as well."

"Fine. Oh, I also need a seat on this flight."

"But, ma'am, it is almost full-"

"Is first class?"

"Well, no, but-"

"Then I shall have a seat. Just add it to the bill."

"Of course."

My jaw, which I believe has just popped itself out of place, falls even farther to the floor as she turns to me, smiles, and gives a sly wink, before returning her attention to the still huffing ticket agent. I merely gape. How...what...? Dude!

"All right, here are your tickets, ma'am," the ticket agent says, a fake smile on her face. "Have a nice journey. Next!"

With a slight sneer, that somehow manages to seem like a smile as well, Mozzy –or, the person who claims to be Mozzy- turns on her heel. My gaze meets her own, and I am nearly knocked to the floor with shock as I see a pair of green cat eyes, swimming with mirth. In a moment the are gone, replaced with a regular human gaze. She winks, then lifts her hand, motioning for me to follow her. I make a move to do so, then hesitate. Couldn't this be some sort of trick? Maybe the Council knows about my plans to try and get Spinner, so now their sending a decoy to snatch me up and stop me from saving him...

Or maybe Mozzy has somehow done a glamour and turned herself into a human. You know, because she's cool like that.

Shaking my head, I decide to risk it, and begin to follow her. She walks briskly, and I have to jog a bit to keep up with her. Finally, after wandering around and dodging the great masses of confused people, we make it to a somewhat secluded corner of one of the waiting areas. I stand about a foot away from the woman, still acknowledging this might very well be a trick. Her eyes dart around for a few moments, making sure we are alone. She then takes a small step forward, and I resist the urge to move back.

If there's one thing I've learned, it's that no matter what, you can't show that you're afraid. You can't show weakness.

"Rom Baro," she says, and I instantly recognize the tone in her voice. Amused, annoyed, content, angry; completely Mozz.

I still don't trust her.

I stare at her, wary of her next move. My eyes narrow and I hold my ground, even as she lets out an irritated sigh and roll her eyes.

"It's me," she informs me. "Mozol. You know, 'the cat'."

"Says the woman," I shoot back.

"Listen," she begins, her voice soft but harsh. "We do not have time to just stand around here, with you accusing me of things, and me trying to explain it all to you until you finally believe me. So, you are going to have to be silent, not ask any questions, and let me explain. And, you have to trust me. So just shut up, stand still, and let me finish. Then we are going to get on that plane and go rescue that boy toy of yours."

I blink.

"Though I am a familiar, I have some of my powers. I am able to put a glamour, such as making myself appear human, for short periods of time when I really want to. And, well, I was not fond of the idea of being stuck in a tiny cage through the entire trip to Rome."

I blink four times in succession, too many questions running through mind to ask them even if I were allowed to.

"It was obvious you needed me. Despite your foolish ramblings earlier, you can not function without someone as dignified, powerful, wise, honest...well, you get the idea, without me. Samantha would have accompanied you, but she could not offer you much help or support. I can. Besides, you are my charge. I can not let you out of my custody so that you can go wreak havoc upon the innocent peoples of Rome. And..." She trails off momentarily, before meeting my gaze. She takes a step and puts her hand on my shoulder. I look down at the hand, a confused expression on my face before looking back up to her face. "I could also not let you believe I did not care for you. Marco, you are my charge, and I must be hard on you. I must push you to your limits, only because I want you to survive. Though I may not show it, I truly do lo- lov- lo-" She takes a deep breath. "You, Rom Baro, are like the second cousin twice removed I never had, and I lov- Oh, screw the sentimental. We're going to miss our flight."

I can't stop starring. Is it really be Mozzy? I mean, yes, I know she still has her powers, so it makes sense that she could do this kind of glamour but...

This last time. This last time I will give her the benefit of a doubt, I will try to trust her.

I only hope it doesn't backfire this time, but I need someone to help me.

"Come along."

I look up to see she has already turned, and is heading towards our terminal. I begin walking forward, when I stop. "M-Mozzy?"

She pauses, then turns back to me. "I told you, Rom Baro, we don't have time for-"

I cut her off by throwing my arms around her middle, embracing her in a hug. I bury my face into her...ah! I pull back quickly, my face red, cursing my height, as I realize I was just smashing my face into her, erm, ample bosom.

"I'm sorry," I whisper, referring to both the harsh words I said earlier, and the bosom-smashing incident.

She merely shakes her head and smiles. "It's fine," she says. "Now, come along."


"What are you doing?" Mozzy asks, trying to look over my shoulder.

"Nothing," I murmur, quickly placing my hands over the napkin I am writing on.

She gives me an odd look, then turns her attention back to the magazine on her lap. I tap the pen, which I borrowed from some businessman sitting in front of me, against the side of my chin, trying to think. After being on the plane for about an hour with nothing to do, I decided that I might as well write something. Don't know why. Just seemed like the most productive thing to do at the time. I've already used up about four napkins. Sighing, I look down at the napkin, scanning over the words I have written.

You do not care for me now

You just could not understand me

You did not know how I felt

When you shoved me to the ground

My feelings were tossing inside out

But you did nothing, you just walked away

Then, I did what you said

I went with him,

I regret that I did

I blink a few times. I guess I didn't realize I had written those exact words. My mind has just been wandering, thinking about Spinner, about the way this past year has been doing. The kiss at the dance, the kiss in the gym, the kiss in his house, the whole Slade...

I just don't give a shit.

I swear, I will get over that someday. I think, for reasons completely unknown, I blame Spinner a little bit for Slade. If he would have only told me how he felt about me sooner, only let me know who he was, if he would have come over to my house that night, if he wouldn't have lied, if he wouldn't have hurt me, if...if...if.

Tiredly, I scribble the words Broken Glass near the top of the napkin, since I really can't think of a better title at the moment. I want to write some more –this poetry thing is really good for getting out feelings; especially the ones you didn't know you had- but I don't really feel like thinking anymore. I need to distract myself. Not allow my thoughts to wander. How am I supposed to save someone when I am starting to blame them for all of my problems?

A light yawn escapes me, and I stretch out my arms to the side. When did I become so exhausted? Well, I suppose after going through everything I just had, anyone would need some sleep. But, I'm afraid of that, too. After all, what are dreams? Just a way into the subconscious. I don't want to know what my subconscious is thinking. There are probably bad, bloody, perverted, twisted thinks lurking in the depths of my battered psyche. I don't want to go there!

"You seem tired Rom Baro," Mozzy whispers to me.

"M'fine," I murmur.

"Get some sleep. You will need to be well rested if you wish to get anything done. If you really wish to save your lover."

I feel a bit of heat rushing to my face at the name –lover? I mean, we're not even really going steady yet. I doubt we'll ever get to go out. I mean, other than the fact that there is a good chance he will be killed, there are also other forces working against us to factor in. Say that I do save him, say we both survive; then what? Are we going to go back to Degrassi and live gaily ever after? There is no way that he'll ever come out of his closet. It's not as if we'll enter the school one day, hand in hand, and he'll be able to ignore everyone's sneers. I won't, either. We can't have an open relationship...I don't know if we'll even have a closed relationship. Do we have any kind of relationship? I told him I loved him, and I do...I know I do. And he said he loved me. But, since when was love enough to keep two people together?

This, this is depressing. I don't want to think anymore. I just want to clear my mind and do something else. Hey, I wonder if they have any coloring books on here. I bet they will. I could make a red duck, cause red ducks are pimp, and then give it to Ellie, because she really likes ducks, and then-

"Rom Baro!" Mozzy says again, gaining my attention.

"Huh?" I ask.

"I said, get some rest. You'll need it."

I frown at her. Doesn't she understand I don't want sleep and the possible disturbing dreams that could come with it? Doesn't she get all I want to do is color my red duck in peace?

In order to humor her –and be rid of the intense glare she gives me- I fold my arms on top of the tray and lay my head down, before allowing my eyes to drift close. If I just pretend to fall asleep, then maybe she'll just leave me alone. If I can just...

It's cold.

Like, really, really cold. Freezing. Almost as if I am standing on the top of a mountain, one covered in pure white snow, with bits of icy rain falling on top of me.

Oh, hey, maybe that's because I am standing on the top of a mountain, one covered in pure white snow, with bits of icy rain falling on top of me.

Hell, I fell asleep, didn't I?

I look around, shivering, my teeth chattering, trying to figure out where I am. Usually when I dream, I am in a desert. Not at the top of a snowy mountain. Of course, those are the dreams that take place in my territory. Maybe...maybe this isn't my dream at all?

I turn around, because I think I just heard something. I become deathly still and strain to hear the noise again. Soon, the same sound, almost like crying, reaches my ears. It is coming from the ledge above me. Squinting my eyes, I notice that there are a series of rocks which jut out from the side of the mountain, leading up to the ledge, almost as if it is some type of ladder. Unsurely, I approach them. I place my hand on one of the rocks, testing it. It is cold, and my hand is almost instantly frozen, but I think it is steady.

I begin to climb up, biting my lips, trying to keep from whimpering at the cold so I can keep my attention trained on the voice from up above. A sigh escapes me, and I am relieved, since I am finally near the top. I reach up, trying to grab the next rock, when my foot slips off the rock below me. I feel myself falling off, the side of my cheek beginning to brush against the side of the mountain, a particularly sharp rock pricking my cheek.

"Eep!" I scream in distress.

I know I am going to fall. Oh, no. They say that if you die in your dreams, you will die in real life. I usually wouldn't believe something like that, but now that I'm a witch...well...anything is possible!

No sooner than I started falling, a strong, warm hand is grasping my arm, pulling me upwards. My body is scraped against the mountain, and I can feel part of my shirt being torn. Thankfully, other than my cheek, this is the only kind of wound I get before I am finally brought to the top of the ledge.

I take in a few deep breaths, pushing myself on to my hands and knees, looking up, not half surprised to see a tear stained Spinner starring back at me.

"Spin-" I start, not sure how I am here, or if this is even real, but reaching out to touch him anyway.

I crawl over towards him, settling myself into his lap. Though he does nothing else, he wraps his arms around me, holding me closely. I allow my cheek to rest against his neck, reveling in the small warmth there. I can't believe he is still so warm, even in this unbearable cold.

"Eep?" he whispers into my ear, and I jump slightly. I see a confused expression on his face, one that holds a mixture of amusement.

I pout slightly. "Yes, eep. What's it to you?" I question, sniffling a bit, pushing myself closer to his warmth.


I curl my fingers around the fabric of his t-shirt, starring down at the designs on it. "Where am I-where are we?" I question him.

He shrugs his shoulders a bit, lifting one hand to run it through my hair. "I don't know, really. Most people have some place where they retreat to in their minds. It's kind of like...um...I can't explain it. It's just weird. You know that desert thing that you were always in when I...we were in?" he asks.

I nod my head, trying to ignore the stinging when he reminds me once again of the fact that my first love is also my first true fear. You know, besides bees. Shudder.

"That's your...place. This is mine."

"Oh," I murmur dumbly. "So...how did I get here?"

He meets my gaze, a little smile on his lips. "I guess you just really wanted to see me."

Where I would usually blush at the comment, I instead lean up, lightly brushing my lips against his. He sighs, allowing his eyes to close, and melts into it. I pull back only a moment later, since I really didn't mean for it to become anything more than a soft peck.

"Yeah, I did," I tell him.

We are silent, the only sounds of cruel, whipping winds. I amuse myself by continuing to run my fingertips over his shirt, entranced by the warmth. His hands are splayed on my back, and he allows himself to relax a bit by placing his head on my shoulder. He nuzzles my neck slightly, allowing his warm breath to brush over my skin, before just breathing normally.

"I'm gonna save you," I tell him softly.

He laughs, a bitter sort of sound, one that I think actually hurts him. "Why?" he asks.

I pull back, causing his head to fall from my shoulder. He snaps his gaze up to me, and I glare harshly at him.

"Don't say things like that," I tell him in all seriousness.

His own eyes harden. "Don't tell me what I can't say," he retorts.

I open my mouth, prepared to give him some very moving speech about how in the end, he is worth it, and how I care about him, and how I don't know if I could make it without him, but am cut off when his lips swiftly capture mine. My initial reaction is to put my hands on his chest and push him away, then berate him for trying to district me, after which I shall give him the speech. But, somehow, this plan is completely erased from my memory when his tongue slips past my lips, and he wraps an arm around my waist, pulling me closer to him. A little whimper/moan escapes me as our hips meld together, and I go slightly limp in his arms. He removes his mouth from mine, and I whine a little at the loss.

"I'm really not worth it," he murmurs against my ear, moving to nibble at my jaw. I tilt my head, allowing him better access to my neck, which he quickly takes advantage of. "I hurt you, so much, and I don't deserve another chance," he tells me softly. He kisses his way back to my lips, and I quickly press my mouth to him, trying to keep my lips moving at the speed of my heart. He groans and tangles his hand into my hair. I run my tongue shyly across his bottom lip, before taking a chance and shoving it into his mouth. An indefinable sound of pleasure escapes from him as he pulls his mouth away. "God, Marco, please...just give up on me," he begs. His fingertips come up to the rip in my shirt, making soft stroking motions across the exposed skin. I barely register his next words as he dips his head down, replacing fingertips with his mouth. "Don't try to save me, Marco. Let them hang me, let them burn me at the stake, it doesn't matter anymore. You can't still want me..."

Something in the words seem to break the spell his kiss has put me under, and I shake away from of the pleasure induced fog which has taken control of my mind. I pull away from him slightly, only to be pulled back as he grabs my wrist. I push against him again, telling myself that I will not allow myself to be taken advantage of. He's just trying to use my molestality to his advantage, but it won't work. The salvation of Spinner is much more important than some dream-quicky in freezing snow.

"I told you, don't say things like that, Spinner."

Oh, that feels good...

"You...you're always worth it."

So very, very good...

"Of course I w-want you...I lo-love you."

Damn it, where did he learn to do that?!

I groan again, his tongue slipping from my collar bone to my ear. "Spinner..." I try to say something, but I can't seem to get out any words, as Spinner has decided that he's going to keep his hands busy by trying to unbutton my pants. I try to wriggle out of his grip, but one arm is firmly wrapped around my back. The other undoes my fly and slides to my thigh, the area just below my boxers.

"I'm worthless, baby," he whispers into my ear, his hand still rubbing my leg. "I deserve everything I'm going to get. You can't save me. You can't save yourself, so there's no way you can help me through this."

"Spinner, please..." I beg pitifully, not even really sure what I'm asking for. I lift my leg up, pressing it against his hand. "Please, please, please..."

"I love you," he says, and kisses me harshly, stealing my remaining breath away. When he finally pulls away to breath, he removes his hand from my leg, causing me to whimper loudly, and places it on my shoulder. Then, taking me completely by surprise, he pushes me off of him.

I fall, my back hitting the ground hard. I wince, a sound of pain escaping me. Angry, I push myself up, looking him in the eye. He has a sad, lost expression on his face, like he wants nothing more than to just grab me and hold me again. Why...why can't he? I begin to near him again, preparing to ask, when suddenly, the snow stops falling. Looking around in confusion, I can see the snow beginning to melt, forming small rivers of clear liquid.


"Just...forget about me, Marco. You can't help, and I'm not worth it, anyway."

I surge forward, and the lunch tray I was laying on slams into my throat. The contact jolts me awake, and I shoot up, the back of my head making contact with the seat. My eyes open quickly, and I look around, pain and cold and frustration curling through my tension filled body.

"Spinner?" I whisper, looking around. I don't see him, which quickly leads me to the realization that indeed, it was only a dream. I look to my side, seeing Mozzy starring at me, and odd expression on her face. "What?" I snap.

She grins. "Have a...pleasant dream?" she questions me.

"No, not particularly," I answer. "Why do you ask?"

If possible, the smile widens. "Oh, no reason," she answers. "Do you know that you tend to speak in your sleep?"


"What's most interesting, well, at least, to me anyway, is the fact that instead of just using dialogue, you tend to make a lot of odd noises, as well."


"Either you were having one hellish nightmare, or your little boy toy was getting freaky and kinky with your little dirty self."


Oh my God, please tell me Mozzy was the only one who heard me.

Biting my lip, I raise my gaze, only to find several pairs of eyes on me. My face turns red instantly with the looks of horror, disgust, and...lust I am receiving. Oh, and she looks in her eighties, too. That is just...sick and wrong. And...eww...

I bury my face into my hands, trying to forget that everyone here has just heard my little dream. That's just great. I frown, wrapping my hands around my shoulders. I can't believe they just heard...that! Damn Spinner. Why couldn't he have just let me talk to him? Why did he have to keep being all touchy?

"Are we there yet?" I murmur towards Mozzy.

I expect her to laugh, or make some sarcastic comment, but she does nothing. I look up at her, a questioning expression on my face.

"What?" I ask.

"Don't get too excited," she tells me seriously. "When you get there...things will be tough."

"I know, Samantha told me that it would-"

"Did she tell you that you could die?" she asks me. "Did she tell you that you might have to watch his death before suffering your own fate? Did she tell you that even if the two of you do survive, you will be shunned by the witching world forever? Did she tell you that the others will hate you, will want to destroy you? Did she tell you that the chances of you surviving this are one to a trillion?"

One to a trillion?

"So that means, I still have a chance, right? That I can still save him, if I really, really try...?"

She says nothing, only turns her attention to the window.

I'll take that as a yes.


Spinner: That was a sucky chapter!

Marco: It wasn't sucky. It was kind of...

Spinner: Crappy, drawn out, awkward, anti-climactic, retarded, smutty... Well, okay, the smutty was good...

Thank you.

Spinner: But the rest blowed.

Marco: I thought it sucked?

Spinner: Suck, blow, they mean the same thing!

Which is...?

Spinner: I get to screw Marco!


Marco: Review. Please.