Spot watched from the other side of the room as Dimples gave Will a 'good luck hug'. Dimples hadn't left his brother's side all day, in fact he'd insisted on sitting on his brother's lap for most of the morning.

Now the two were talking quietly, saying their final goodbyes before Will headed to the fight with the rest of the older boys.

Spot checked the time and whistled, drawing the attention of the boys. "It's time to head out!" He announced loudly.

The boys scrambled to their feet and headed out the door.

When they got to the arranged meeting place, no one was there.

"Where's Kelly?" Cards asked, looking down an alleyway.

"I don't know. Probably late, like usual."

Cards accepted this, and turned to one of he other boys to complain about Jack's lack of responsibility. Spot just rolled his eyes, watching and listening carefully for Hook and his boys.

Nearly ten minutes had passed and all of the boys were growing restless. No one had shown up.

"I think we might've been a little early, Spot," Bones suggested.

"Really?" Lip asked, sarcasm dripping from his voice.

"Yeah, otherwise they'd be here," Bones explained patiently.

"I don't think he caught the sarcasm," Grit informed softly.

"He wouldn't have caught it if he was Deacon McGuire!" Lip said, rolling his eyes.

"What's that s'posed to mean?" Bones asked dumbly.

"Youse right!" Trip laughed. "He didn't even catch your joke!"

"Yeah, he's too dumb! He couldn't catch it if it was stealing a base and his name was Duke Farrell!" Cards added, joining the conversation.

The boys chuckled, but were quickly silenced by Spot.

"Shh! I'm tryin' to listen for 'em! Quiet down."

The boys did as they were told and lapsed into another boring silence, broken by the occasional cough.

"Where is everyone? This doesn't make sense!" Spot growled as he began pacing back and forth.

Somewhere in the crowd, Match watched worriedly. He agreed with Spot. Where was everyone? Were they even coming? Had the whole thing been called off?

Match's hand felt for the cool knife that was hidden in his pocket. What if Hook was hiding, and they were waiting for him to kill Spot first? Match didn't want to kill Spot, he really didn't want to kill anyone, except maybe Hook, but he didn't have a choice. He knew the consequences if he failed his mission.

Match slowly made his way over to Spot, who'd crossed over to the other side of the open courtyard. It was considerably darker, you could barely see him from where the rest of the boys stood.

"You're doin' my job for me," Match muttered, drawing closer.

Spot's back was turned and he hadn't noticed Match yet. If Match kept quiet, held his breath, he'd be there in a few steps. Just another foot and he could finish the job...

As he realized what he was about to do, Match quickly took a silent step back, then another, and then another.

Soon he was running back over to the boys. He couldn't kill Spot now! No, the boys would know who'd done it and he'd get killed by them.

It was better to wait until the battle started. Then, in the confusion of the moment, he could easily stab Spot without anyone noticing.

Yes, much better to wait.

***

Eventually Hook and his boys appeared, yet Jack still hadn't shown up.

"What's wrong Conlon? Afraid to start now?" Hook taunted when Spot had asked for a few more minutes.

Hook had however agreed to give them five minutes. Those five minutes were up very quickly, and there was still no sign of Jack or any Manhattan boys.

"You ready yet?" Hook called out when he decided that the time was up.

Spot hesitated for a second before nodding. "I'm always ready!"

"Great!" Hook exclaimed, clapping his hands together. "Boys, it's time to have some fun!"

***

The fight was not going well. It'd been going on for a good half hour and it was clear that Brooklyn was not winning. They were too busy avoiding knives and pipes to actually inflict any harm.

It was around this time that Race finally showed up. He scanned the crowd of boys clumsily fighting, squinting as he tried to find Spot.

He completely overlooked the boy that was approaching him.

Race hunched over as the wind was knocked out of him, a sharp pain in his gut as a result of the solid blow the other boy had landed. He knew this situation wasn't good. He was struggling to breathe and couldn't defend himself other than throwing an arm up in front of his face.

Lucky for him, that was the only punch the other boy wanted to land.

"It's about time you showed up!" A voice growled.

"Spot?" Race wheezed. "What'd ya hit me for? I'm trying to help!"

"You was s'posed to be here ages ago! Now where's the rest of youse?"

"They ain't comin'," Race answered, anger filling his own voice.

"What do you mean 'they ain't comin'?"

"I mean that Jack went and got it through their heads that fightin' was a bad idea. Theyse stayed in 'Hattan."

Spot cursed a few times, glancing around at his boys. The fighting had slowed down, everyone was getting tired or too injured to keep it up for much longer. They were greatly outnumbered.

"Stop wastin' time!" Race said, moving around Spot towards the fights. "We gotta get back in there!"

***

Match didn't think he could do it. He couldn't kill Spot, could he?

The boy could be a pain, but he didn't deserve to die. No, Hook deserved to die.

He'd killed so many people who'd done nothing wrong. He was terrorizing the working boys of New York. He had to be stopped.

Match pushed through the boys, dodging elbows and punches. He felt a hand connect with his ribs, heard a crack, and hissed in pain, but he kept going.

He saw Hook and nearly changed his mind, but remembering some of his own friends who'd been killed, he shook away his doubt.

Match cleared his throat when he reached Hook, who'd stopped fighting in favor of watching the other boys beat each other senseless.

"Match!" Hook grinned when he noticed the boy. "Whatcha doin' over here? Youse done with your mission?"

"Uh, not exactly," Match muttered, tugging at the hem of his shirt. He could feel sweat beading on his forehead as his right hand closed around the knife that was in his pocket.

"Then why is you here?" Hook scowled.

"I-I don't know if I can kill Conlon," Match admitted.

"Yes you can, and you will. You know why?"

"Why?" Match asked bravely.

"Cause if you don't, I'll kill Cha-"

"No!" Match said loudly. "You won't!"

"And why is that?" Hook asked, and eyebrow quirked as he glared at the red haired boy.

"You can't kill someone if youse dead!" Match exclaimed, pulling the knife out of his pocket and quickly swinging it down towards Hook's chest.

But it never reached its target. Hook was fast and he hadn't trusted Match for a while. Match hadn't been that sneaky either. He thought he was, but Hook was smarter than he looked.

You didn't get where Hook was by being stupid.

Hook's fingers wrapped tightly around Match's wrist. "What's this? Youse tryin' to kill me? I was right! We do have a traitor on our hands!"

Match paled, his hands shaking with fear as he tried to step away from Hook, but it was too late.

This was the end of the line for him.

Hook wasn't going to let him leave alive.

***

After taking a thorough beating, Spot had to admit defeat. He gave in, and Hook had left with a triumphant smirk.

"This won't be the last you hear from us!" He called. "I'll be comin' to take over in the next couple of weeks!"

Spot glared at him until they disappeared, then his face dropped as disappointment washed over him.

"Wese lost," he whispered in shock. "We lost. I'm losin' Brooklyn. He's gonna kill all my boys!"

Race, who was using his sleeve to clean up his bloody nose, looked over at him. "It ain't over yet Spot. Wese ain't gonna stop fightin', not ever."

Spot scoffed. "Why shouldn't we? Wese got destroyed Higgins!"

"We can't let him hurt anybody else," Race said softly.

Spot sighed and gave a nod, then turned to Cards, who could barely stand on his own. "How many died?"

"Four," Cards answered, though his voice came out funny due to a probably broken nose.

"Who?" Spot swallowed shakily, his mouth dry. Four boys dead.

"Trip, Spinner, Tow, and Ginger."

"Ginger?" Spot asked, feeling sick.

"Yeah," Cards said, sinking to the ground and sitting with his head between his knees. "Theyse over there!"

Spot hurried in the direction Cards had pointed, Race hot on his heels.

"Who's Ginger?" Race asked.

"That's what the boys call him, his name's Will."

"The tiny kid's brother?"

"Yeah," Spot answered. He hoped it wasn't true. How would he tell Dimples that his brother was dead?

His heart sunk when he saw the familiar face. It was Will. He looked as though he'd taken many heavy hits to the face, but it was unmistakably Will.

"There he is," Spot motioned. "That's-"

"Match?"

"What? No, it's Will. I was just tellin' youse about him."

"No," Race argued. "That's Match. He's the kid who took me, Finchy, and Jack to Hook the first time."

"You sure?" Spot asked. This was even worse than he'd originally thought. Not only would he have to tell Dimples that his brother had been killed, but 'Will' had been working for Hook the whole time.

"Sure as shooting," Race said without a second thought.

"That's filthy, disgusting liar!" Spot hissed. "Bones! Grit! Move him. Get him away from the boys!"

The two did as they were told, though quite confused, but they knew better than to question Spot.

Spot couldn't handle seeing Will next to the dead boys after learning who he was. He couldn't help but blame the young boy for their deaths.

"Spot, this ain't his fault," Race said, reading Spot's mind.

"It has to be."

"Why? Why's it gotta be his fault?"

"'Cause he was workin' for them!"

"Uh, Spot?"

"What?" Spot snapped, looking at Bones who had interrupted his conversation with Race.

"I, uh, I saw it happen. Will tried to kill Hook, then Hook killed him. I think, maybe, y'know, that Will was on our side."

Spot shook his head. "No," he said. "That can't be true."

"I don't know about Will tryin' to kill him first, but I did see Hook stab Will," Slick added carefully.

"Get back to the lodge!" Spot ordered, pushing the boys away. "This ain't your conversation anyway!"

The boys did as they were told and Race turned to Spot, face crinkled in confusion.

"Why are youse insistin' that Match caused this?"

There was a long silence before Spot admitted his thoughts.

"'Cause it's gotta be someone's fault, and if it ain't his fault..." Spot murmured, face crumpling.

"If it ain't his fault, it's mine."

***

When they returned to the lodge, most of the boys trudged upstairs to their room, trying to sleep off the pain before they had to get up and sell in the morning.

Dimples was sitting in a chair, eagerly awaiting the return of Spot and Will. His face lit up upon seeing Spot, but it sunk into confusion when Spot closed and locked the door behind him.

"Spot," he started. "You locked the door too early. Will's still out there."

Spot took a seat next to the boy and faced him, a hand resting on Dimples' shoulder.

"He ain't comin' back, bud."

"W-what?" Dimples whimpered, his lower lip trembling.

"He got real hurt and God decided it was time for him to go," Spot said.

"He's gone? He left me?" Dimples cried.

"I'm sorry," Spot apologized only loudly enough for the two of them to hear.

Dimples began to sob and Spot hesitated for a second, before slowly wrapping his arms around the boy, gently rubbing his back.

Race looked away, feeling uncomfortable, like he was watching something private.

When Spot pulled away he stood up and rubbed his hands on the front of his damp shirt. He sent Dimples up to bed before turning to Race.

"Race, you goin' back to 'Hattan?"

"No," Race said. "I don't think I want to right now. I'm still mad at Jack, 'specially now. I'll just find somewhere to stay."

"Don't be stupid," Spot rolled his eyes.

"I ain't!" Race complained.

"If you think I'm lettin' you leave, youse crazy. We'll have an empty bed now, you can stay here."

"You sure?" Race asked, thinking back to their argument in the bar. "You sure you want me around?"

"Of course I want ya around."

"But I said some pretty awful things."

"So did I. But that was a few days ago. What's that got to do with now? You showed up and helped us, even if you was late. I think youse just about made up for it," Spot said, scratching at his neck uncomfortably.

"Really?"

"I wouldn't say it if I didn't mean it Higgins."

"So wese okay?" Race asked, biting his lip.

"Yeah, wese okay," Spot agreed.

"Good," Race mumbled with a nod. A second passed before he looked at Spot again. "Wese still brothers, right?"

"Yeah," Spot nodded. "Wese still brothers."

A smile crossed Race's face and he relaxed.

"I missed ya, Spotty Boy," he said, giving Spot a quick hug and a pat on the back.

"Don't push your luck," Spot grumbled.

***

Jack knew that several of the boys were upset with him, and while he hated to disappoint them, he didn't care.

Ike had already died, he didn't look forward to losing any more boys. If it took this to prevent any more boys being beaten or killed, he'd just have to live with that.

Crutchie hadn't said much to him since he found out, and that was what Jack was worried most about, except Race who'd run off to help Spot.

"Where's Kelly?" A voice shouted from the front door.

"I-In the o-o-office," Henry stuttered.

Jack braced himself as Spot stomped down the hall and into the office.

"I've half a mind to kill you right now," Spot hissed, eyes flashing as he shot Jack an admittedly terrifying scowl.

"Spot, wese both runnin' boroughs, you know as well as I do that sometimes your boys gotta come first."

Spot shook his head, disgust painting his features. "I don't believe it. I forgot about your slip-up durin' the strike, figured it was a one time thing, but it wasn't. That's just who you are."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Youse selfish. That's what."

"Spot, Ike's dead. Then Romeo came back with Albert and Buttons, and they was beat so bad, they can't even move! I couldn't send my boys out, knowin' that they was gonna die!"

"I did!" Spot argued.

"And how'd that work out for you?" Jack asked, before trying to take it back. "Wait! I didn't-"

"Not well."

"How many?" He asked, not sure if he really wanted to know.

"Four," Spot snapped.

"I'm sorry," Jack said, wringing his hands. "But if one of the older boys got killed, how would I explain that to Snipe or Tommy? They'd be devastated."

"Yeah, I know. Thanks to you, I had to do that last night."

"W-what are you talking about?" Jack wasn't aware of many young Brooklyn boys who hung around Spot. The boys who stayed with him tended to be fourteen at youngest.

"We got a new kid, maybe a year older than Tommy Boy. Hook got him with a knife. He's Dimples' brother. Dimples is just past seven."

"Spot, I didn't, I didn't know. I'm sorry about that too, but-"

"Save it Kelly! I don't wanna hear your apologies! That don't bring none of 'em back!"

"I know that, but-"

"The only thing you need to know is that if any one of youse steps one lousy foot in Brooklyn, that you'll be gettin' ten times worse than any of my boys did."

***

Hey guys! Sorry this chapter is a so much shorter than the last one! It's not super short though, is it?

'Cause I was thinking, if I do super long chapters, I might only be able to do one update a week, but I can finish the shorter chapters is 3-4 school days, so maybe two updates a week.

So longer updates once a week, or shorter updates 2 times a week?

Also, earlier in the chapter a few boys made some jokes that probably no one understood. I wouldn't have even understood until I did some research.

Deacon McGuire and Duke Farrell were pro-baseball players. Deacon McGuire was a very famous and talented player, who holds a few catching records to this day.

Duke Farrell also has a record for catching 8 out of 9 guys trying to steal bases(that's REALLY good).

In 1899 they were both catchers for the Brooklyn Superbas. Since baseball was so big back then, it was their home team, and the newsies were selling papers that would have had sports articles, I figure that the boys would've known quite a bit about the game and players.

Unnecessary? Maybe, but I'm a history geek, couldn't help it!

Thank for reading!
-Anna