Sasha toyed listlessly with his food. He had no appetite whatsoever. All he wanted to do was to go to his room and sleep. Preferably forever. Or at least till after the Prom.

Skye refused to talk to him. He sent message after message down, first with Chris, then with Emmy, all to no avail. He even tried to call her on the phone, but she hung up on him.

"May I be excused?"

"Aye, kiddo, but--" Declan's concerned eyes followed his son as he pushed himself away from the table and stood up.

"I've got homework to do. I'll be in my room," Sasha said quickly. He already regretted the way he'd lost control in his father's arms earlier. How could he convince anyone that he was virtually grown-up when he couldn't even control his emotions?

"But it's Friday. You have all weekend to--"

Declan shook his head at Emmy as if to say, Leave the boy alone. But they all watched as Sasha walked away from them, slowly, painfully, as if something deep within had been wounded.

*****

He didn't touch his homework. Or a single book. He pulled his clothes off with unfeeling hands and threw them into a corner of the room. Then he slid under the covers, naked, his skin hot and flushed against the cool linen.

He rolled onto his stomach and buried his face in his pillow. He refused to cry. There was little point in tears. Tears were not going to change anything. The only thing that would help was time. Time would make him forget the pain. But more than that, time would make Skye older.

*****

"You look beautiful."

Skye blushed, but she didn't turn away from Sasha's scrutiny. For once, she was glad she had inherited her parents' height, for it made her tall and willowy. Her pale violet gown made her look ethereal, like the angel that Sasha professed her to be. Amethysts decorated her ears and neck and Sasha had given her an orchid corsage for her wrist.

She wore her long blonde hair up, a single braid coiled around her head, making her look regal. Her light blue eyes darkened slightly, picking up the subtle color of her gown.

This was her time to shine. She was 17 to Sasha's 20. Sasha was now in college and the other girls envied Skye for capturing a "college boy" as her date for the Senior Prom.

"The other girls are jealous," she said softly.

Now it was Sasha's turn to color furiously. "That's because of who *you* are, not who *I* am."

"You're wrong."

"Um...can we talk about something else?"

"Like what?"

Sasha laughed nervously. "I don't know. Anything."

"I want to be with you."

He almost missed what she said. She said it so quietly, he was sure that no one else heard her. "You will be."

"Tonight."

His mouth went dry. "Skye--"

She reached out with her index finger and placed it on his lips, silencing him. "I love you."

"Oh, God, I love you, too."

He took a step forward to kiss her, but her figure shimmered and grew insubstantial. "No! No--"

*****

Sasha twisted and turned in his bed, consumed by the reality of the dream, devastated by the apparent disappearance of his beloved. Suddenly he sat bolt upright, his eyes wide open but unseeing. "Skye!"

When he realized that she wasn't there, that he had literally dreamed her into being, he fell onto his back with a sob. Flinging his arm over his eyes, he cried quietly.

*****

Emmy moved away from her brother's bedroom door with great reluctance. He had always been there for her. More than a brother. A true friend and protector. Now he was hurting and there seemed to be nothing she could do about it.

She had to talk to Skye again.

She had to make her understand. What she was doing to Sasha. What she was giving up by letting him go.

"Hey, Em," Chris murmured as soon as he saw her.

Emmy intertwined her fingers with his and brushed a light kiss across his lips. "Hi."

"As glad as I am to see you, I know you didn't come down just for *me*."

"No, I need to see Skye."

Chris sighed. "Skye's not seeing anyone."

"But--"

"Give it up, Soleil. She's even more stubborn than Mom when she gets into one of *those* moods."

"But we've got to do something, Tosh. Have you seen Sasha?"

"Yeah." Chris hated defeat. He sometimes thought that was what kept him going long after everyone else had forgotten what the hell they were fighting for. "If only there was some way to cheer him up..."

Emmy smiled. "That's what I like about you. You're always thinking of somebody else."

"Always thinking of *you*, you mean." Chris pulled the slender redhead into his arms and kissed her, more thoroughly than she had earlier.

They broke away when Nikita's voice called out suddenly. "Chris! It's awfully quiet up there! Say goodnight to Emmy and let her go!"

Emmy giggled. "Your mom has eyes in the back of her head."

"I think your dad gave her surveillance equipment to play with."

"He wouldn't!" Emmy said, sounding faintly outraged.

"I think he would," Chris said with a nod.

All at once Nikita appeared behind them on the landing. "Actually, the surveillance is for security purposes, Chris. But with a houseful of horny teenagers, it comes in handy."

"Mom!" Chris wanted to fall through the floor and take Emmy with him.

"Just checking. Say goodnight now." Nikita's face looked more than sympathetic, but her voice brooked no refusal.

Chris shoved his hands into his pockets. "Night, Em."

Emmy's pale grey eyes twinkled as they met Nikita's. "Night, Aunt Nikita."

"Goodnight, sweetie."

"You think about what I said, Chris. Okay?" Emmy reminded him.

"I will."

Nikita watched Emmy go downstairs and head for the back door. "What're you two up to?"

"Nothing, Mom. Why do you ask?"

Nikita scratched her head. "Just a feeling."

"Oh, right, Mom. That sounds real scientific. Let me know when you get some empirical evidence, okay?"

"I'll keep my eyes open."

"Won't that make it hard to sleep?" Chris quipped dryly.

Nikita laughed. "You've been hanging around Sasha too much. I'm not sure I like you developing a sense of humor."

"Hey, just cause Dad doesn't have one..."

"Dad doesn't have one what?" Michael asked, coming up behind his wife.

Nikita and Chris exchanged guilty looks, then chorused, "Oh, nothing."

"Why don't you come?"

Sasha made a face and kicked the ground with his sneakers. "I don't know, Jazz. I'm not much fun to be around lately. Ask anyone."

"I could. But you're my best friend, Sash. I'm asking you."

"Jazz..."

"It might help. God, you need to think about something else, man. I've never seen you like this."

"Don't you think I would if I could?" Sasha shouted, his body visibly shaking.

"Let it go, man. Just for now."

"I can't." Sasha closed his eyes and shivered. "I can't," he repeated in a much softer voice.

Jazz put his hand on Sasha's shoulder and Sasha stared at him for a full second before reacting. "Don't be nice to me, man. I mean it. I'm on the fucking edge here."

Jazz ignored what Sasha said and listened to what Sasha's body language told him. "C'mere."

Sasha shook his head mutely, but he was already losing the battle for control. Jazz wrapped his arms around Sasha, and though Sasha flinched, he didn't make any real effort to pull away. Finally, after several moments, Sasha gave in to the urge to hold onto something, anything, and hugged him back.

"Come with us. Please?"

"Okay," Sasha eventually responded.

"We'll have a good time. You'll see."

"Yeah."

*****

"What did Dad say exactly?" Chris asked his sister.

Faith frowned. "Ummmm...is *no* exact enough?"

"Damn."

"Yeah, looks like we're going to have to sneak out," Faith said matter-of-factly.

"Are you crazy?"

"Some people think so. But I think it's still a matter of opinion."

Sasha stared at the twins incredulously. "You guys invited me to a concert that you're not allowed to go to?"

Faith nodded. "Yep."

"And that doesn't bother you?"

Faith shrugged. "Had to happen sooner or later. Guess it's going to be sooner."

"Wow."

Jazz patted Sasha on the back. "Don't weasel out now, man. There's safety in numbers."

"Riiight. Like we'll be any less dead when our bodies aren't found in bed by a certain time."

"Well, gee, when you put it that way...you're a real killjoy, you know that, Sash?"

Adam joined the group on the back lawn, his face decidedly grim. Jazz draped himself all over his lover and gave him a flirtatious look. "That bad, huh? Can I kiss it better?"

Adam let out the deep breath he'd been holding. "Concert's sold out."

"You don't even have tickets?" Sasha exclaimed in disbelief.

"Nope."

"I am *so* out of here," Sasha announced.

"Hey, maybe we can find a scalper outside."

"Oh, yeah? What kind of allowance have *you* been getting?"

"Sooo...we'll just sneak *out* of here and sneak *in* there," Faith said blithely.

"Hello? Does it bother any of you that what you want to do is, like, illegal?" Chris asked.

"We don't have to be bothered, bro. You do it for us," Faith quipped.

"You'll be grounded till you're *really* old," added Sasha.

"Maybe. What if we don't get caught?" She winked at Sasha and he wondered why he wasn't walking away from this. Fast.

Adam nodded. "It'll be fun. You in, Sasha?"

He must have lost his mind. Because he distinctly heard himself say, "Sure."

"Shit, it's Uncle Dav."

Faith turned to her twin brother and gave him a quizzical look. "You didn't know he was working security at the concert?"

"Hell, no. What do I look like, Miss Cleo?"

Sasha started to laugh, but the Michael-like intensity of Chris' glare made the sound die in his throat. Instead he coughed. But they had all come to the same conclusion at the same time. Only Faith had the nerve to say what they were thinking.

"We are *so* busted."

"Not necessarily," said Jazz.

"And? Don't hold back on us now, man," Sasha urged.

"We need to create a diversion," Adam jumped in, suddenly seeing what his lover meant.

"Exactly," Jazz confirmed, smiling gratefully. "We can't ignore him. That would be stupid. But we can use this to our advantage."

Chris frowned. "Are you sure *you're* not the one who was raised in Section?" he said, his thumb gesturing at Sasha.

Sasha raised an eyebrow in true Declan-esque style and regarded Chris impassively. "It's best if you don't mention Section."

Chris almost backed up, but that would have been like admitting that he was intimidated by Sasha. He wasn't. He was just...careful.

After a brief conference, they decided to let Jazz take the lead. He was the one with a plan.

*****

Davenport saw Jazz and smiled in welcome. "Hey, kid. What are you doing here?"

"Just going to the concert. Like everyone else."

"Anybody else with you?" Davenport automatically checked for Jazz' lover.

But Jazz was saved from answering by the hue and cry that was set up on the other side of the main entrance.

"Oh, my God, it's N'Sync!" a female voice cried out.

The screaming that ensued would have drowned out any response that Jazz cared to make. If he'd made one. Suddenly half of the concertgoers, most of those female, began to trample everything and everyone in their path to get a better view.

Davenport took off at a brisk clip, leaving Jazz behind. Jazz ducked out of the way of the crowd and quickly met up with the others, already on the other side of the doors. They fled to the stands as rapidly as possible, completely out of breath by the time they reached what passed for safety.

One by one, they sat down and spread out. Cold hard metal bench seats. In the nosebleed section. But they were in. That was all that mattered. "That was exciting," Faith panted.

"N'Sync? You couldn't think of anyone better than N'Sync?" Chris asked incredulously.

"Well, I was going to shout Britney Spears, but I can't stand her," Faith replied amicably.

Chris merely rolled his eyes.

*****

The music was, as could be predicted, loud. The bass reverberated through their chests and made it impossible to talk. But that didn't matter. Faith stood up to dance a couple of times, only to be pulled back into her seat by Connor. "Con-nor, what's your problem?"

"No problem. I just don't want every guy in the place staring at your breasts."

Faith pouted. "You don't want me to have fun."

"Not that kind. If you ask for trouble, Fee, you're going to get it. But it's going to *me* who gives it to you. Not anyone else."

"Oh," she said brightly, perking up considerably. "That's different."

"Way."

Faith giggled and kissed him. He could feel her hands in his hair and her nipples pressing into his chest. But Connor prayed for strength and resisted the temptation to take what she offered.

*****

Sasha stared at his friends and sighed. He had never felt so alone in the midst of so many people before. It almost made it worse. Everyone paired off. Everyone taking advantage of the unexpected freedom to act on the intense feelings and rampant hormones flowing through their bodies.

Except for him.

All that fervent kissing made his groin ache.

*****

By the time they left, they were pleasantly buzzed from the pervasive amount of pot that circulated throughout the arena. Getting a contact high was almost unavoidable. The odor was everywhere.

If they'd been thinking straight, they would have headed straight home. But they weren't.

So they didn't.

Go straight home.

It was Jazz' idea. But not entirely his fault. It was *everyone else's* fault for listening to him.

"Hey, I know this great tattoo parlor. Why don't we all get tattoos?"

Emmy made a face. "I don't want a tattoo. Ugh."

Faith piped up, "Do they do piercings, too?"

"Yeah. Why?"

"I want my body pierced," she said in a sultry voice that made Connor want to smack her.

Adam gave her a bored look and said, "We know you do, Fee. That's what Connor's for."

She swatted the older teenager on the arm. "Not like *that*, Adam. You are *so* bad."

"Not half as bad as you, babe."

Jazz' eyes darkened as he cast a jealous look at his lover. "How come you called *her* babe?"

"It didn't mean anything, Nicky," Adam purred into his ear, his tongue swiping at the tender earlobe.

"Make it up to me," Jazz whispered.

"Later," Adam breathed, his breath almost hot on Jazz' skin.

Chris slung an arm around Emmy and leaned heavily on her. "Putting a mark on that skin of yours would be a crime, sweetie."

Emmy blinked sleepily. "It's *my* skin, Chris."

"Well, yeah. But--"

"I can get a tattoo if I want one," she said mutinously.

"But--"

"And you have nothing to say about it," she declared.

"Oh." He knew better than to argue with her when she was like this. She would do something she didn't even want to do, just to prove a point.

He just hoped he could live with the consequences.

Sasha stared into his reflection across the bar. His contact high had rapidly faded, leaving him feeling even more depressed than before. When the others decided to get tattoos, Sasha begged off, preferring to be on his own, no matter how miserable he felt. That was how he ended up where he was.

An underground club that catered exclusively to teenagers. Officially it was called The Dungeon, but it really had no name. It was simply the place to go if you were a teenager bent on getting into trouble. There was everything an adolescent could want: hard liquor, drugs, and sex.

If Sasha had been thinking straight, he would have realized that the place could not possibly be legal, in any sense of the word, but he wasn't. He debated ordering another drink, but the moment the words left his lips, he was sorry. Cause he wasn't alone anymore.

Jazz was at his elbow. Bright, charming Jazz, who for all of his street smarts, wouldn't know alcohol if he used it for mouthwash and gargled with it.

"Where did you come from?"

"I don't need a tattoo," Jazz chirped happily. "I know how I belong to."

"Good for you, man." Sasha took a big sip of his Irish whiskey and made a face at his reflection. Ugh. How did Da stomach this stuff? Granted, Declan rarely drank, but this was his drink of choice. Bleah. Maybe it would start to taste better once he'd had a little more. He took another sip. Ugh. Or not.

"What are you drinking?" Jazz asked.

"Irish whiskey."

"Yuck. Isn't there something a little less...?"

"There's a menu on the bar. Knock yourself out. My treat."

Jazz scanned the rows of specialty drinks and quickly decided. "Long Island Iced Tea. I'll have that. I love iced tea."

"I don't think it's really iced tea, Jazz," Sasha warned, but his tongue got in the way of what he wanted to say and somehow it came out, "it's really iced tea, Jazz."

"So where's the boyfriend?" Sasha slurred.

"Back at the tattoo parlor. He's going to come and pick us up in a little while."

"Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why's he gonna pick us up?" Sasha suddenly felt like he couldn't focus his eyes. That couldn't be good.

"Cause you're getting drunk."

"Wow. You're real observant, Jazz. I'll let you in on a little secret. Come closer." Jazz leaned forward and Sasha breathed hot alcohol breath in his face.

"That's what I came here for. To get drunk."

Jazz took a deep breath and held it. "Well, I'll tell you a little secret, too, Sash. I came to stop you."

"Why?" Sasha moaned.

"Drinking won't help."

"Trust me, it will. Being unconscious is my only hope of surviving the next few years."

Jazz shook his head and sipped his Iced Tea. It was really quite delicious. But it was a trifle bitter. Maybe it could use a lot more sugar.

*****

An hour later, Sasha was feeling no pain. In fact, he had difficulty standing on his own two feet. Jazz, on the other hand, charged with stopping or at least slowing down Sasha's drinking, had done so to his own detriment. He was pleasantly tipsy. A condition that made him *very* touchy-feely.

"Sa-sha," Jazz sing-songed. "I *love* iced tea," he said, waving his empty glass at the other teenager.

"I bet," Sasha said. "I gotta pee."

"'kay."

On his way to the men's room, Sasha got lost. Not that he minded. He accidentally wandered into the room regulars had dubbed The Petting Zoo because of what went on there. The room was almost completely dark. Sasha couldn't see anyone, but he could hear them. Groaning, grunting, sighing.

Instantly hard, Sasha closed his eyes. He could come from the mere sound of other people fucking. How sad was that? He started to turn around and head the other way, but a nubile young girl grabbed his arm. In moments, they were kissing, hot, wet, deep kisses that went right to his crotch.

He slid a hand up her skirt, only to find that she wore no panties. Jesus. He was drunk as a Lord and still hard enough to--

"Fuck!" he swore loudly when someone pulled him away from the girl.

"C'mere, buddy," Jazz said, wrapping his arms around Sasha. To outsiders, they must have looked like a gay couple because the girl immediately disappeared into the darkness, leaving Sasha alone again.

"What'd you do that for? She was willing to--"

"Yeah, yeah, you'll thank me later."

"No, I won't, you dick."

"C'mon, don't be mad," Jazz pouted.

"Then stop climbing all over me, okay? I'm not into guys."

"You dip your wick into one of these girls, Sash, and you'll go home with the creeping crud."

"Adam!" Jazz chortled. "Missed you, honey."

"I know, Nick. And Nick? Don't call me honey, okay?"

Jazz sniffled. "Okay."

Then he brightened. Everything was going to be okay again. Adam was here. Peace and equilibrium would be restored.

He hoped.