Death of a Musician, Part 4/4

[woollysocks]

Part 3

The first place Spencer stopped when he got back to Lochdubh was at Jon's. He answered the door with a tight smile, before leading Spencer into the kitchen and pouring a mug of coffee for each of them.
Spencer sat down at the table with a tired sigh. He hadn't gotten much sleep the night before, after Brendon had called. "Thanks for helping last night, Jon."

Jon took a sip and set down his mug. "I'm glad you called. I can't believe somebody's threatening Brendon. I mean, have they even met him, do you think? I can't imagine anybody wanting to hurt his poor little face."

Spencer gave a low chuckle. "I know, right?" He blew on his coffee and took a careful sip. "I just wish I was around here last night."

They each contemplated their mugs for a moment, before Jon broke the silence. "Who knows about Brendon? His dreams, I mean?"

Spencer shook his head. "The whole village, probably. I don't know how many know about the Brent one, though. What I want to know is, why now? What prompted this attack?"
Jon bit his lip, looking worried. "Actually, Brendon and I were talking about it in the pub yesterday. I didn't think anyone was listening, but we weren't exactly whispering. I guess I didn't realize it might put Brendon in danger."

"Do you remember who else was there?" Spencer leaned forward on his arms eagerly. "If the murderer was there and overheard..."

"Well, obviously Victoria and Nate were there, and the Butcher stopped in for a minute. Um, I think I saw Angus McLean in, and there were some tourists that were probably staying there." Jon shook his head resignedly. "I don't really know. I wasn't paying that much attention at the time."

Spencer drummed his fingers on the tabletop. "I should go find Brendon, take a look at his house. I'll have to write up a report, too."

"You should call him first. He might still be at Ryan's," Jon said, with a smile that looked a bit mischievous.

"You think?" Spencer asked. "It's about time the two of them figured some things out."

"Aye, you're right." Jon agreed, looking thoughtful. He repeated, "You're right."

Spencer sighed, contemplating the bottom of his, now unfortunately empty, coffee cup. "I shouldn't have gone yesterday. I didn't get anything answered, and I had to buy some girl dinner."

Jon laughed and leaned back in his chair. "Aw, I'm sure it wasn't so bad."

Spencer snorted. "She was hoping to get some last night, I think. I had to tell her I was seeing someone back here to make her back off. Got pretty awkward after that."

Jon laughed. "I'm sure it did. Lying to the ladies, now, Spencer? I'm surprised at you."

"It's not like I wanted to lead her on or anything," Spencer protested.

"Well, since you had such a bad dinner, maybe we can make up for it." Jon leaned forward again, his smile smaller now, less certain. "Have dinner with me? Tomorrow? We can go somewhere nice, no frozen pizza."

"I -" Spencer looked up, startled. "Aye, sure." He couldn't help the smile that threatened to take over his face. "That'd be great."

"Maybe you won't have to lie the next time you meet that girl," Jon said, and took an innocent sip from his coffee.

Spencer ducked, feeling his cheeks heat up. "Maybe," he said into his coffee mug. Maybe I won't.

--

Spencer did call Brendon and confirmed that he was still at Ryan's, safe and healthy and in one piece, and not, apparently, all that willing to leave Ryan's company. Spencer made him give the phone to Ryan then, who promised he’d keep on eye on Brendon. Spencer didn’t think anybody would attack Brendon in broad daylight, but it would probably be better if he stayed around other people for the time being.

Spencer let himself into Brendon's house, grumbling at the sight of the broken window. He gathered up the brick and the note, taking care not to touch them. Maybe he could convince the lab to put a rush on some of the evidence, as it seems that the murderer wasn’t going anywhere and there was still some present danger.

The one part of police work that Spencer definitely hated was all the paperwork. In this case, though, he wasted no time typing up his report. As he sent it off to Hall, he figured he could reward himself by making through the report in one sitting, and decided to go get some dinner at the pub.

He ran into Frank, who was just leaving Pete's.

"You're still here?" Spencer asked, shading his eyes against the setting sun.

"Yep," Frank sighed, shifting his bags from one hand to the other. "I can't face going back to Campbell just yet. The man keeps calling and asking me if I think Brent got anything recorded before he died, whether it's enough to make an album, how much we could get from marketing an album posthumously."

Spencer made a face. "I get why you wouldn't be too eager to go back there. Aren't you getting bored up here, though? I'd think a few days'd be enough for anybody, without some sort of purpose up here."

"It's not so bad." Frank shrugged. "I've been helping Ryan out some, actually. Gives me something to do. And Lochdubh is a really nice place. I can see why Ryan came back."

Spencer was just opening his mouth to reply when Jessie and Nessie Curry rounded the corner and marched up to them.

"Spencer Smith, we were just coming to look for you." Jessie pointed an accusing finger at him. "You weren't here yesterday."

"Weren't here yesterday," Nessie parroted, nodding.

Spencer held up his hands defensively. "I was on vacation! I'm allowed time off, you know."

"Hmph." Jessie lowered her arm. "All the same, we need to talk to you. We haven't seen that nice artist man in a couple of days. We're worried about him. You know what happened to Brent."

"What, you think somebody broke into Gerard's house and murdered him, too?" Spencer raised an eyebrow. "Did you check his house?"

"Aye." They nodded simultaneously. Jessie continued, "We knocked on his door and nobody answered. But somebody must have been there because we could see the light was on."

"The light was on," Nessie confirmed.

Frank was biting his lip and looking worried. He turned to Spencer. "You think somebody might have attacked Gerard, too?"

"Maybe," Spencer shrugged. "Don't worry ladies, we'll figure it out." He turned and opened the door to Pete's shop, then said firmly, over his shoulder, "See you later, ladies."

Frank followed him back into the store, closing the door behind him and cutting off the sound of the Curry sisters clucking at Spencer. "You don't seem too worried."

Spencer looked back over his should as he headed down the aisle. "I know Gerard. Just wait." He picked up some bread, peanut butter, a tin of coffee, and a few other staples.

Pete nodded at the two of them as he scanned the items. "Gerard disappear again?"

"Aye," Spencer replied. He grabbed the bags and motioned for Frank to follow him out the door.

"Sometimes Gerard gets really caught up in his work. He'll be working on a painting or something and completely lose track of the time,” Spencer explained.

"Artists," Frank snorted. "Tell me about it."

When they reached Gerard's cottage, Spencer rapped on the door. Frank started looking worried again when no one answered. Spencer just raised an eyebrow at him and groped under the mat for the extra key.

They let themselves in. Spencer called out Gerard's name, but they still didn't get an answer. Spencer was starting to get a bit worried now himself, but he put the groceries down on the kitchen table and led Frank further into the house.

They stopped outside of the closed door that Spencer knew led to Gerard's studio. He knocked as he opened the door, revealing Gerard hard at work, headphones on, music blaring loud enough they could hear it from the door.

Spencer went up and laid a hand on Gerard's should. Gerard jumped about a foot in the air.

"Holy shit Spencer, you scared me." Gerard gave Spencer a dazed look. His hair was as unruly as ever, and could have used a shower. There were paint smears all over his hands and face, and he added another when he rubbed his forehead with the hand not holding his brush.

Spencer smirked. "Sorry, Gee. The Curries were worried about you. They thought you'd been killed in your sleep, like Brent."

"Oh." Gerard relaxed back into his seat. "No, I'm fine, just working on -" He cut off as he caught sight of Frank, lingering in the doorway. His face lit up. "Oh, hey. Hi Frank."

Frank smiled back. "Hi. We, um, we brought you some groceries. We figured you might not have been out in awhile."

Spencer resisted the desire to roll his eyes. Right, we.

"Oh wow, can I see your painting?" Frank came further into the room, looking raptly at the canvas. He breathed a soft, "That's amazing."

Gerard's grin got even wider, if that was possible. He started pointing out the finer points of the work, gesturing wildly with his arms as he described the scene.

Spencer tried to catch Gerard's attention again. "So, since you're fine, Gee, I'm just going to go, okay?"

Gerard only waved at him absently and continued his discussion with Frank.

Spencer really did roll his eyes this time, before backing out the door. Hopefully Frank would get him to eat something tonight, maybe get him out of the house. Whatever, Spencer had done his job, everybody was still alive.

--

The next day the weather started to turn for the worse. There was supposed to be a snow storm coming. Spencer hoped as this was one of the first of the season, it wouldn't get to bad. He wanted to get something done about Brendon's threat today, so he ran the brick and the note over to Strathbane. He hoped the lab would be able to pull some fingerprints off of them, although he doubted the perpetrator would be stupid enough to handle both without gloves.

After a quick lunch at home, he explained a whinging Jock, "You're going to have to stay home, this time. It's too cold for you to stay in the car now." Spencer got into his Land Rover and set off for Cnothan, hoping to get there and back with plenty of time before the snow hit. Besides, he had to be home to get ready for his dinner with Jon tonight. Spencer allowed a small grin to himself, before pulling his hat down firmly on his head and making his way to pay a visit to Mr. Patel and his new apprentice. He was happy to see Toby at the shop, apron on and broom in hand.

Patel walked up to Spencer and shook his hand. He saw Spencer looking at Toby and shook his head. "Wouldn't you believe it, that kid has shaped up. He's been here every day, on time, and does everything I ask of him. Complains a lot, but does it. I’m probably going to hire him on for good."

"Put the fear of the law in him, I guess. Glad it worked." Spencer chuckled. "Actually, I have to talk to him for a second, if you don't mind."

Patel nodded, and went over to take the broom from the boy, sending him in Spencer's direction.

He came over, looking wary, and crossed his arms. "Something the matter?"

"I hope not," Spencer answered lightly. "A friend of mine had a brick thrown through his window two nights ago, and I just wanted to make sure you weren't getting back to your old tricks."

Toby started shaking his head before Spencer even said anything. "Uh-huh, wasn't me. Besides, two nights ago I was down in Inverness with my lads anyway. Ask any of them."

"It's alright, I believe you. I just had to ask." Spencer ran a hand through his hair. "I think it was the murderer."

Toby's eyes widened. "You think they're still around, whoever it was? That means it's got to be somebody local, right? I mean, I figured it on a crazy fan, and they would get in and out as fast as they could, I would think."

"Aye." Spencer nodded. "That's just what I'm afraid of, and we'll never catch him. But do you think he'd really have fans crazy enough to come up here randomly and just bash him over the head?"

"I don't know, man." Toby looked doubtful. "There's some crazies out there. When we saw him that one time in Inverness, there was this dude that worked at the hotel, right. He was weird. This big blond guy with crazy eyes, honestly. I don't think he took his eyes off Brent all night, didn't say a word."

Something nagged at Spencer. "Big blond guy, at a hotel in Inverness? He didn't have a beard, did he?"

Toby thought for a minute, looking over Spencer's shoulder. "No, I don't think so. I don't really remember. He tried to talk to Wilson after the show, though. Wilson just kind of shook him off. I would've too, crazy guy like that."

"Huh." Spencer turned this over in his head, chewing on his lip. "What hotel was this at?"

Toby shrugged. "Dunno. I can't remember the name."

Spencer thanked him and turned to leave, still mulling it over. He glanced at the sky. The snow hadn't hit yet, but the skies looked dark and threatening, and the temperature had dropped.

Spencer hurried home, trying to call Ryan on his cell phone, but only getting voicemail. He left a quick message, asking about Angus’ former employment, and hoping Ryan would call him back quickly.

When he made it back, Jock greeted him at the door and Spencer quickly moved to switch on his computer. He pulled up his browser and opened several tabs, cursing his slow connection. A search for Brent Wilson got him his tour page, and another search for hotels in Inverness found him the Stag Inn and Bar, where Brent had played the previous year.

Luckily, he managed to find a page where people had taken photos of different events and posted them to Brent's webpage, for the most part labeled by concert. Spencer scanned the ones from Inverness, looking for a familiar face until - there, just there, staring at Brent, beardless, but the same face otherwise, was Angus MacLean.

Spencer ran for the door, but was blocked by a whinging Jock. "Oh alright, come on now." Spencer clipped a leash to Jock's collar and raced out the door.

He drove the short distance to Jon's house, and rapped on his door. "Hey, Jon, can you look after Jock for a bit? I've got to check into something, and he's been alone all day, you know how he gets."

Jon took the leash from Spencer. "Of course I don't mind. But you're not going to be gone long, right? You haven't forgotten about our dinner plans?"

"Oh, right." Spencer paused for a second, frustrated, and ran a hand through his hair. Finally he gets to go out with Jon, and he's got to maybe catch a murderer the same night. "I - No, I haven't forgotten, hopefully this won't take long." It better not, he thought to himself. He really was looking forward to dinner.

"Okay." Jon smiled that smile at him, the one that made Spencer a little weak in the knees. "I'll see you soon then? I don't want to be out too late if this storm's coming."

"Of course." Spencer smiled back, and Jon ducked his head. Spencer resisted the urge to reach out and touch Jon, on the hand, or the neck, or anywhere, really. He settled for a promised, "I'll be back."

Spencer got into his Land Rover once more, and waved back at Jon and the dog before taking off in the direction of the hotel.

--

When he got there, Angus was sitting at the reception desk, balancing books. He looked up when Spencer arrived. He did have crazy eyes. Spencer swallowed.

"Ryan's not here," Angus said, staring at Spencer with said creepy eyes. "He's over at that friend of your's house."

"Brendon?" Spencer paused for a second. Huh. Good for him. "Actually, I came here to talk to you."

"Oh?" Angus straightened up, putting his pencil down on top of the ledgers. "What can I do for you?"

"Did you used to work at the Stag Hotel, down in Inverness?"

"Aye." He was eyeing Spencer warily now. "What of it?"

"So you must have seen Brent before, yes? He played there last year."

"I - yes, I suppose he did." Angus was narrowing his eyes, now. "I did see him play, last year."

"You tried to talk to him, too, right? And he blew you off. It's a shame, since you liked him so much."

Angus' hands were clenched into fists, now. "What are you trying to say, Smith?"

"Well." Spencer crossed his arms and cocked a hip, looking thoughtful. "I don't know if getting blown off is enough cause for murder, but crazier things have happened."

"I just wanted to talk to him, you know. I was his biggest fan." Suddenly Angus was standing up, looming over Spencer.

Spencer swallowed. "So that's why you came all the way out here to get a job? You were just following him."

"Aye." Angus nodded. "I would have followed him anywhere. His music was amazing. I loved him."

"Ah," Spencer nodded slowly, "Love, now. That's plenty of reason for murder. So you came out here, and he didn't even recognize you at the party, did he? So you went to his house, afterwards, to talk to him."

"I just wanted to tell him. I thought maybe, if he knew me, he could love me too." Angus started to look angry, now. "But, no. He wouldn't have anything to do with me. So I waited till his back was turned, and I bashed him over the head. If I couldn't have him - "

"Nobody could, right, I get it," Spencer finished. "I'm going to have to arrest you, Angus MacLean."

Angus looked furious for a moment, but then slumped over and sighed defeatedly. "Aye, I suppose so. I knew I shouldn't have stuck around after all that happened. It was nice up here, though, and I liked watching you all running around in circles, trying to find the murderer in your midst. It was pretty amusing." He started walking around the desk towards Spencer.

At that moment, the wind started howling right outside, throwing snow and hail forcefully against the window. Just as it distracted Spencer, Angus grabbed the ancient, massive stapler off the counter. Out of the corner of his eye, Spencer saw him bring his arm around in a wide arc, bringing the stapler to hit him right on his temple.

The world went black.

--

The first thing Spencer heard was the howling wind, sounding much closer than it had earlier. He tried to rub at his eyes, his pounding head, but found that he couldn't move his arms. Blearily, he managed to blink his eyes open. There wasn't much to see, however. The dim light was just enough to reveal that Spencer was in some sort of large shed.

A clatter to his right made Spencer turn his head, too quickly. He groaned at the sudden flare of pain, which brought him to the attention of Angus. The madman was busy digging out a ladder from the depths of the shed. Spencer tried his best to figure out what this insane person could possibly need with a ladder, when Angus set it up close to where Spencer was slumped on the ground.

"You recognize this place, Smith?" He leaned over Spencer and flicked him in the forehead, grinning cruelly. "The shed out back of the castle? The one Ryan hates, absolutely refuses to go into?"

Spencer groaned again, trying to get his sluggish brain to catch up. There was a shed out back, old and in disrepair. When they were younger Ryan's father told them stories about ghosts in the shed. One time Spencer had dared Ryan to spend ten minutes in the shed with the door closed. Ryan only lasted five before he came running out, eyes wild, going on about ghosts and claws and dripping blood. They had both ran back to the house as fast as they could, back to Ryan's room, to hide under the covers in his bed. To this day the shed freaked them both out, although now Spencer figures it was only a squirrel Ryan heard scrabbling around in the dark.

Angus knelt over Spencer and started going through his pockets. He continued, "See, I'm the only one who goes in here, now, so I figure I can keep you here for a while without anyone finding out. So I leave you here, see, and it's cold enough that I think you'll die before too long. Then once you're gone, I set it up to look like you were doing me a favor, getting the sleds down for me from the loft, but took a bit of a spill right off this ladder. Knocked you right out, and you froze to death." He held up what he was looking for, suddenly, and put the items in his own pocket. Spencer's cell phone, and his pocketknife too. Great.

Spencer licked his dry lips and tried to get his thoughts together. "But my hands... You've tied me up."

"Well, I can't have you getting out, can I? Don't worry, I'll come back out and take off the ties after you're dead. Throw those ropes into the loch, like I did that pan I used to smash Brent's head." He looked sorrowful, suddenly. "It was a shame about Brent. I didn't want to have to kill him, you know, but he didn't give me much choice." He cracked opened the door and peeked out. Snow came swirling in through the opening.

"Aye, shouldn't take too long. It's getting colder by the minute. Just in case, though, I don't want you getting any ideas of escape - " Angus came back over to Spencer and hefted the same stapler. Why it was out in the shed, Spencer had no idea, but didn't have much time to wonder before Angus swung it down once more, and again the world went dark for Spencer.

--

This time, it wasn't just the wind that woke him, but the pervasive cold that was permeating his very bones. Spencer had on a jacket, but it wasn't his warmest winter one, designed for the harsh Scottish winters, the one still sitting in the closet at home. No, Spencer had been in such a hurry that he had just grabbed the one that was still out, his lightweight windbreaker perfect for the autumn weather they had been having, and not much use at all in the blizzard that was raging outside.

Spencer tried to sit up as best he could with his hands and feet tied. His head was throbbing and he could feel something sticky on the side of his face. He tried to get his whirling head under control, but it was the most he could do not to just vomit, nonetheless come up with an escape plan.

"Think, Spencer," he said to himself. His eyes rested on the door. He was sure Angus had put the padlock back on the outside, but the door was pretty flimsy. Spencer looked at his tied feet with dismay. He didn't think he could even try to stand up right now, and certainly breaking down the door wasn't in his realm of possibility.

The ladder! It was an old, heavy wooden ladder, tall too. If Spencer could knock it over, maybe, he could get it just right and splinter the old wooden door. He carefully edged his way towards the ladder and eyed the distance to the door. It looked about right. If only now he could get it to - He gave it a big kick with his bound legs. The ladder fell over and crashed down on the floor, a good foot from the door. Damn.

Spencer leaned his head against the wall behind him and shivered as the wind blew through the cracks. Even if he had broken down the door, he couldn't go anywhere with his feet tied together like this. He closed his eyes, thinking about the irony of dying in the shed that Ryan was sure he would die in himself so many years ago. Ryan, if he had only been at the hotel now, would have certainly stopped Spencer from being so rash as to confront a crazy madman killer by himself. Only no, Ryan had to be at Brendon's, and Jock couldn't go be Lassie and save the day, because he was with Jon - wait, Jon!

Spencer opened his eyes suddenly. Jon was at home, with Jock, waiting for Spencer to come back. What would he do when Spencer didn't show up? He had to come looking, right? Damn, if only Spencer had mentioned where he was going.

Spencer sighed and leaned back again. As far as he could tell, Jon was his only chance. But he would look, Spencer knew he would. As long as he came looking in time...

He shivered again, and tried to fight off the fog that was creeping slowly into his brain. Don't go to sleep, he thought, don't sleep, you'll freeze.

Spencer did his best to ward off the chill that was settling into his bones and the sleep that was threatening to overtake his body. Under his breath, he sang every song that he could think of, even all the horrible ones Ryan had written when they were teenagers and had grand plans on rockstardom. He recited as many elements of the periodic table he could remember (not too many, it turns out.) He tried to do long division in his head. He tried to remember each and every conversation he had with Brendon, every time Jon made him laugh, every stupid story Ryan and him came up with under the covers during their many sleepovers.

But as he curled up, trying to save his body heat, he drifted in and out of consciousness. The howling wind and his throbbing head were playing tricks, making him think he could hear people outside, crying out and screaming, banging on the walls and the roof.

He had just about slipped away completely, thinking this is it, this is the end, when there was a sudden banging on the door. He was sure the wind was playing tricks on him again, when he heard... Barking? And yes, that was definitely somebody calling his name.

"I'm in here!" he called, weakly. He coughed, and tried again. "It's me, I'm in here, help!"

"Spencer!" he heard faintly over the screaming wind, "Spencer, we're here, it's okay!"

Jon, he thought with relief. Spencer knew he'd come.

Abruptly there was a big bang on the door, and the whole shed shuddered. Another bang, and another, and suddenly there was a large hole where the door used to be, and Jon was on the floor, just inside the shed. He looked surprised for a minute, mouthed a silent ouch, before jumping to his feet and rushing towards Spencer.

"Holy crap, Spencer, you're bleeding." Jon got down on his knees right before Spencer, and grabbed his face in his hands. "Spencer -" But whatever he was going to say got caught in his throat, and suddenly, without warning, he planted a kiss on Spencer's frozen lips.

"Um," Spencer said, when Jon moved his head back again. He licked his lips, and tugged at his hands. "Um, do you think maybe we could try that again, later? When I'm not tied up and frozen?"

"Oh," Spencer heard from the door. He turned his head to see Ryan looking in at him and Jon, Brendon right behind him. Jock was barking at their heels.

Spencer smiled through chattering teeth. "Thanks for coming, guys."

Jon laughed and wrapped his arms tightly around Spencer, hiding a smile in his hair. "Anytime, Spence." He let go and pulled out his pocketknife, working quickly at Spencer's bonds.

Once he was free, Ryan came forward to help Jon get Spencer off the floor. Spencer was grateful for their arms holding him up, because he sure didn't think he'd be able to stand on his own.

"Brendon, take Jock, run ahead and call the police. Tell them to look out for Angus' car. We'll take Spencer to the hospital in Strathbane," Jon ordered with his take-charge voice. Spencer smiled weakly at him. He loved that voice.

--

Ryan got them to the hospital safely, despite the falling snow. Jon cuddled up close to Spencer in the back seat, explaining that they should share body heat to combat hypothermia. Spencer saw Ryan smirk at them in the rearview mirror. Whatever, Spencer wasn't going to complain about sharing body heat with Jon.

At the hospital, Spencer was wrapped up in heavy blankets and forced to drink copious amounts of coffee. They stitched up the cut on his head and, after being poked and prodded by multiple nurses and doctors, they finally decided he had a mild concussion and that the hypothermia was under control, and he could be released into Jon's care once all the paperwork was done.

"Dr. Walker." Spencer smiled goofily up at Jon. He was exhausted, they had given him some strong pain medication, and he maybe was a little ecstatic at not being dead. "You're my hero."

Ryan huffed a laugh at that from his chair. "Really, it was Jock that found you. He's got a good nose."

Jon laughed too. "Aye, if it wasn't for him running towards that shed and barking his head off, we may never have found you."

Spencer took another sip of his coffee. Yummy, yummy coffee. And he had thought that he would never get to drink coffee again.

There was something was niggling at his thoughts, though. He frowned. "So wait, how did you guys know I'd be at the hotel?"

"Well, when you didn't show up for our date -" Jon was cut off by Ryan, who was apparently choking on his mouthful of coffee. He waved his hand to go on, though, and Jon turned back to Spencer. "When you didn't show up, Jock and I went back to your house. Your computer was on, so I took a look. It was a good thing I did, too, because there was that picture of Angus, looking crazy as anything."

"I know, right?" Spencer shook his head, then winced. Not a good idea just yet. "He's got crazy eyes."

Jon huffed a laugh. "Aye. So anyway, I went to Brendon's, and Ryan was there too, and neither of them had seen you either. Ryan checked his phone and found your message about Angus, so then we started to get worried."

"I called him, then," Ryan continued, leaning forward. "He said he hadn't seen you, but he sounded weird. Well, weirder than normal. I think I spooked him, because his car was already gone by the time we got up to the hotel."

"And that's when you found me." Spencer beamed at the two of them. "Jon broke down the door, Ryan, did you see that?"

"Aye," Ryan glanced between the two of them, "I did. Jon, why don't you go get us some more coffee? I think Spencer's nearly out."

Jon looked like he was going to protest leaving Spencer's side when Spencer said, a little dreamily, "You always find the best coffee, Jon Walker."

Jon gave in and gave the blankets around Spencer's shoulders a quick tug, securing them tight. He dropped a kiss on Spencer's head before heading out the door on his mission.

Ryan raised an eyebrow. "So, you and Jon, huh?"

"Yeah," Spencer sighed happily. "Me and Jon."

"Well," Ryan mused for a minute. "Brendon doesn't care?"

"Why would Brendon care? I mean, I think he'd be happy."

Ryan shook his head. "I just thought - you and Brendon. You're pretty close."

Spencer looked at Ryan, and just laughed - carefully, so as not to move his head very much. "Really? Brendon? No, uh-uh. He's all yours."

Ryan blushed at that. "Well, we'll see about that, I guess." But he smiled over the top of the paper cup at Spencer, and Spencer smiled right back.

A minute later, and the door opened to show Brendon himself, snow in his hair and concern on his face.

"Hey, Spence, how are you doing?" he asked, easing into the room.

" 'm fine," Spencer replied, stifling a yawn. "Hoping they come back soon to tell me I can go home." He squinted at Brendon for a second. "Wait, weren't you supposed to be at the hotel, talking to the police?"

"Oh crap." Ryan paled suddenly. "If Angus is gone, there's nobody at the hotel -"

Brendon grinned, sudden and bright. "Don't worry about it. Frank's totally covering for you. I swear, the dude doesn't know how to take a vacation."

"Oh." Ryan, in the glare of Brendon's smile, couldn't help but give him a small smile back too. "Thanks. But what about the police?"

Brendon glanced back at Spencer then. "Right, sorry. I talked to Hall himself, told him about Angus. He said they'd set up a roadblock, and he probably won't be able to get too far in this weather, anyway. Don't worry, they'll get him."

"I hope so," Spencer muttered, peering blearily at the bottom of his empty cup. He looked up suddenly at Ryan. "Just so you know, I am never going in that shed again."

--

Once the hospital finally released Spencer, Ryan drove him and Jon back to Lochdubh and dropped them both off at Spencer's house. Spencer, exhausted, collapsed into bed right away and fell asleep as soon as his eyes closed.

He was woken up what felt like only a few seconds later, though, by a soft "Spencer, Spence, wake up."

"Mmph," he replied. "Time to sleep now, Jon."

There was a low chuckle behind him. "In a second. I've got to wake you up every few hours and make sure you're still alive, remember?"

"I'm alive." Spencer rolled over and found himself inches from Jon's face. "Hi."

Jon smiled. "Hi. How are your pupils?"

Spencer blinked, trying to make sense of his question. "What?"

Jon was studying his eyes. "They look about the same size. I think you're good."

Spencer smiled back at him. “‘Course I'm good."

Another chuckle. "Okay, well, if you need anything I'm going to be right here, okay?"

Spencer nodded as his eyes fell closed again. He felt careful lips on his forehead and an arm snaking across his chest just before he drifted back into sleep.

--

When Spencer finally woke up and the sun was out, he was alone in his bed. He laid still for a moment, missing Jon's warmth next to him, before carefully sitting up. His head throbbed and he seemed to ache all over, probably from getting dragged from the house all the way out to the shed. Great.

Spencer grabbed a blanket off the bed and wrapped it around his shoulders, shuffling carefully to the living room. He stopped when he saw Brendon sitting on the sofa, a bowl of cereal in his hands, chuckling softly at the cartoons playing on the television with the volume down low.

"Hey," he said thickly, swallowed, and tried again. "Morning."

"Spence!" Brendon looked up from the television. "You're up, great."

Spencer groaned and lowered himself carefully to the couch. "Maybe. I feel horrible."

"Oh, wait a second." Brendon got up and ran into the kitchen, coming back with a glass of water and a couple of pills in his hands. "Here, Jon said you should take two of these when you got up."

Spencer thanked Brendon and swallowed the pills, hoping they would kick in fast. "Jon left?"

"Yeah, he had to go to the surgery this morning. He wanted to cancel his appointments but I told him I'd stay here with you." Brendon picked at the fabric of the couch, not looking Spencer in the eyes. "So... you and Jon, huh? Is Ryan upset?"

Spencer snorted a laugh. "Not you, too? I got the same talk from Ryan last night."

Brendon crossed his arms then, still avoiding Spencer's eyes. "I mean, you too were close before, right? Pete even said you guys were engaged, once."

"Aye, we were." Spencer nodded solemnly. "Ryan asked me to marry him when we were about five, Brendon. And then he fell in love with Marjorie Peters in our class because she had this pink coat Ryan loved. I had to let him out of the engagement after that. It was the only honorable thing to do." He cracked up at the relieved look on Brendon's face. "You shouldn't listen to a thing Pete says. Ryan and I are just friends. He's all yours."

"Oh." Brendon smiled at Spencer then and reached out to grab his bowl of cereal again. "Alright then. You want any breakfast?"

Spencer just shook his head and slumped against Brendon on the sofa. Honestly, he had the stupidest friends.

--

Zack called Spencer that day to congratulate him on finding the murderer, and to berate him for confronting him alone. Spencer didn't blame him; he certainly learned his lesson.

Apparently, in his rush to leave town, Angus had skidded off the road and overturned his car in a ditch, which was where the police found him. Between Spencer's reports and the garbage bag they found in the trunk which contained Spencer's cell phone, pocketknife, and a bloody stapler, they had enough to arrest him, after which they got a full confession.

Brendon, of course, got the full scoop on the story from Spencer. His coverage not only made the front page of Listener (which wasn't that hard to do considering there was only about three people who wrote for it), but also got picked up by a few of the bigger papers around the country.

The weather cleared over the next few days, leaving Lochdubh covered in sparkling snow, and the lifting clouds seem to take the anxiety that had covered the village ever since the murder with them.

Ryan planned another party, this time a "Hurray, we caught the murderer in our midst" party. Spencer, being mostly recovered by then, showed up to the loud sounds of the ceilidh band playing in the ballroom. There was another large turnout, as the people of Lochdubh were not about to turn down a chance to party when one came along. He managed to find Jon, in his jeans and blazer, leaning against the wall with a beer in hand.

Jon saw him approaching and gave him a lazy smile. "Looking handsome as always, Spencer," he greeted him, leaning in to give him a kiss on the cheek.

Spencer did his best not to blush. He didn't bother wearing a suit this time, instead opting for his nicest pair of jeans and a black button down. Apparently Jon didn't care, though, because he set his drink down on the nearest table and took Spencer's hand, tugging him out onto the floor. "Dance with me?"

When the band finished their lively song, Spencer insisted they take a break and find something to drink. They had just turned around when they practically ran into Brendon, sweaty and smiling.

"Spencer!" Brendon laughed and gave him a big hug. "Isn't this fun? Ryan just went to check that Frank's doing alright at the desk, but he'd said he'd come back in a minute and dance."

"Wait, Frank's at the desk?" Jon asked, confused.

"Aye, haven't you heard?" Brendon continued, a bit breathlessly. "Since Angus was arrested, Ryan had an opening here. So Frank quit his job in Edinburgh and is moving up here to manage the hotel. He says crazy guests aren't nearly as bad as crazy fans, so." Brendon shrugged. He turned to look at the door and his face lit up. "Oh hey look, there's Ryan."

Ryan had appeared in the doorway, scanning the crowds. When he finally lit on them, he started over.

He grabbed a drink on the way over and nodded at them when he arrived. "You know, I felt bad about leaving Frank at the desk, but it turns out he's having a pretty good time."

"What, sitting at the desk?" Spencer asked, bemused.

"Well, turns out he's got some company." Ryan paused and took a sip of his drink. "Gerard's keeping him pretty well entertained, I think."

Jon chuckled and wrapped an arm around Spencer's waist. "Sounds like we're all having a pretty good time, then."

"I think I need some more dancing." Brendon started shaking his hips as the music started back up again. He held a hand out to Ryan. "Ryan, come dance with me."

"Careful, he's liable to put an eye out," Spencer warned.

Ryan looked at Spencer, then back at Brendon. He handed his drink to Spencer and said with a smile, "I'll take my chances."

"Hey," Jon said in Spencer's ear. "All's well that ends well, right?"

"Aye," Spencer nodded somberly, "Except, you know, Brent's dead, Ryan's manager was insane, and now I've got to put up with Brendon and Ryan, but other than that, everything's great."

Spencer looked at Jon's solemn face, then broke out in a smile. "Well, okay, I mean, that stuff sucks. But everything else? Yeah, that's all great."

"You ass." Jon punched him in the shoulder, then looked around furtively. "Hey, your hands aren't tied now, right?"

"What?" Spencer lowered the cup Ryan handed him that he was about to steal a drink from. He wrinkled his brow. "What are you talking about?"

"It's just, you told me we'd have to try again sometime when you weren't tied up." Jon wiggled his eyebrows up and down a few times. "You totally owe me a kiss, Smith."

Spencer smirked. "Yeah? Then I guess you better do your best to sneak us out of here, Walker."

Jon grinned at him and grabbed him by the wrist, leading him towards the door. "I'll see what I can do," he shot back over his shoulder.

Spencer just grinned right back. Before he let himself get pulled out of the doorway, though, he took a minute to turn around and take in the sight before him. There was Brendon and Ryan, one dancing recklessly, the other doing his best to avoid flailing limbs and looking rather awkward himself. In the corner Pete and Patrick were clasped together, standing in one spot and swaying slowly. Greta looked like she trying to rope Victoria into something or other, waving her arms around emphatically with no concern for the drink in her hand, while Bob and Nate just stood to one side, observing silently and making sympathetic faces to each other.

The whole room was filled with people Spencer knew and loved, and he wouldn't have it any other way.

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