Trina awakened from her nap a little disoriented. Hours had passed and the bedroom had become dim. The setting sun provided just enough to aid in lighting the candles. In these moments, she missed good, old-fashioned electricity and light switches and the modern conveniences she had taken for granted. Sure, Wyndemere had running water, solar panels, and a generator, but they were advised to be mindful. She and Noelle decided to use candles as much as possible or not at all if they could avoid it.

As she moved around the room, she couldn't help but compare the reality of Wyndemere to the stories Dawn had shared with them. The sense of stepping back in time was overwhelming. Despite the changes in their world, the mansion had an otherworldly vibe. Trina wasn't completely creeped out by the dark furnishings and shadowy corners. Dawn's descriptions had understated everything, and Trina wondered why. She didn't believe her godmother had a poor memory. Maybe something else prevented Dawn from divulging the castle's intriguing personality.

Trina grabbed her sketchpad and pencils. So far, her work focused on the room she shared with Noelle. She needed something more interesting. She tossed her jacket over her arm and headed downstairs. The tour with Spencer had been too short. There was so much more Trina wanted to see. Would it be better to sneak to the other wing or just take a breather outside?

"Decisions, decisions," she murmured under breath.

If she had a quarter, she would let heads or tails decide. Instead, she moved down the hall, retracing the steps from the tour. The hall of Cassadine paintings showcased generations of the family. The artists were quite talented. Tiny details added character to each person. Like Noelle, her attention was drawn to Stefan. His green eyes shone like emeralds and although his expression was stoic, there was a hint of warmth to him that was not evident in the other paintings, except for Nikolas'.

"Can I help you?"

The quiet voice startled Trina. She turned and saw Spencer standing in a doorway, watching her. His dark gaze was locked on her. He stood with his arms folded across his chest. The candlelight cast a warm glow against his skin. Against her better judgment, she silently admired the fit of the dark blue sweater as it stretched across his broad shoulders and thick arms. A sudden rush of heat rippled through her and she looked away.

"Where are you going?" he asked as he moved to stand just inches from her. He briefly touched the lapel of her jacket. "There's several feet of snow outside and it's getting worse. What were you thinking?"

"Excuse me," she said. His tone irked her. She took a step back to give her space to stare up at him. "I know that."

"So, why do you have your jacket?" Spencer asked. His gaze raked over her from head to toe. "What else do you have?"

"None of your business!" She moved again as he reached for her sketchpad. The pencils fell from her grasp, and she muttered an expletive. They reached for the writing utensils at the same time. Their fingers touched. The electric surge surprised her, but Spencer's quick removal of his hand shocked her even more.

"Excuse me," he mumbled.

Trina clutched the pencils and hugged the sketchpad to her chest. Words lodged in her throat, but in all honesty, she didn't know what to say. She had never felt anything like that before.

Red colored Spencer's cheeks. He blew out a low breath. "Um…just don't go outside."

Before Trina could respond, he was gone. Just as quickly as he had arrived, he left.

For several moments, Trina stood spellbound. The touch of their hands and the look on his face grounded her. In the next instant, she knew she had to recreate the moment. Thoughts of going outside were abandoned. She returned to the quarters she shared with Noelle, made herself comfortable near the fireplace, and began sketching. First, she began with Spencer's beautiful soulful eyes.

Grudgingly, Noelle left her vigil at her mother's bedside. There was so much left unspoken about her father's return. Of course, six months was a long time, but she felt like he was still out there. After days turned into weeks, she and her mom rarely discussed what could have happened. They both knew that Lorenzo (known as Lucky in his youth) Spencer would move mountains to return to his girls. Nothing would keep him from them. As Noelle left the west wing and descended the stairs, she feared to guess what "nothing" blocked her resourceful father.

"Hey," a cute guy with wavy hair, containing multi-shades of brown, greeted her in the hall. "You're one of the new girls."

"Noelle," she said. "You?"

"Cameron Webber," he replied. "Headed to the kitchen?"

She shrugged. "Sure. Why not?"

"My shift starts in 10," he explained. "How's your mom?"

"News travels fast."

He chuckled. "What else is there to do around here?" He pulled keys from his jeans pocket and unlocked the door. As he held it open, he asked, "Is she better?"

"She's getting there. Do you have any snacks I can take to her? She hasn't eaten…"

"No problem. Have a seat. I'll heat a bowl of soup for her. What would you like?"

Noelle sat at the counter where he had indicated. As he moved about, she took in the space. The kitchen was nothing like the one the Spencers had back home…back before things changed. This kitchen resembled a restaurant's and had all the fancy appliances. Cameron washed his hands and handled everything with ease. Her father was a pro in the kitchen, too. Watching Cameron reminded her of that and how much she missed cooking with her dad.

"You never said," Cameron said, after pouring the soup into a pot and setting it on the burner. "What are you hungry for? I can cook just about anything."

"You don't have to go to any trouble—"

"I'm not," he said. "When was the last time you ate?"

“I think I had a sandwich, but…” She frowned. "I don't know. I can't remember."

"Then it must've been too long."

"Just add more soup to the pot."

"Your mom is recovering," Cameron said gently. "You aren't. You should have something sturdy."

"Sturdy?"

"Are you vegan?"

She shook her head.

"Any food restrictions?" His gaze held hers.

"None."

"Okay," he said, nodding and tying on an apron. "How about burger and fries? It's not exciting, but the meat is fresh, and the fries are homestyle."

Noelle laughed. "What do you mean 'the meat is fresh'?"

"Wildlife is ranging freely. You can't tell my mom," he loudly whispered as he leaned toward her in an exaggerated gesture, "but my dad shot a deer before the whiteout." She pressed a finger to her mouth. "Sealed. Secret's safe. Besides, I don't know your mom or your dad."

"Right." A faint blush colored his face. "Mom is Dara. She's about this high." He indicated to a mid-point of his chest. "Don't let the height fool you. She's a powerhouse. She used to be a judge. My dad is Alex. We're the about same height. And before it gets weird, I’m adopted.”

“Oh…okay,” Noelle said. “But why would it get weird?”

Cameron chuckled. The lights in his eyes danced with mischief. “It can be for some. You’ll see when you meet them.”

"Do you live in the west wing?”

Cameron nodded. “I’m family in a strangely complex way, so yeah."

Noelle's brow crinkled. Her mom had told her a few details about her life in Port Charles before leaving with her dad, but Noelle wasn't so naïve to believe that her mom had told her everything. Being in Wyndemere felt surreal, but having this conversation with Cameron Webber was pleasantly surprising.

"That sounds intriguing," she said.

He grinned. "You think? Wait until you hear about the committees—"

"Committees?" She couldn't resist his cute grin or hold in a chuckle. "Now, that was an interesting topic switch. Okay, let me get this straight. How many committees are you talking about?"

"Oh, there's food, health, safety—"

The main door pushed open, and Spencer stood in the doorway. "You shouldn't be here. Cam, you know the rules."

"I know that you aren't the enforcer," Cameron said, his voice firm. "She's still a guest. You know the rules, Spencer. Mind your manners."

Noelle regarded the exchange between the two. Things had become a little stiff with Spencer since she revealed her knowledge about Stefan. Of course, Trina didn't seem to notice as he was sweet as pie with her. Noelle resisted the urge to roll her eyes and instead focused on the battle of testosterone that waged silently before her. The longer the two stared at each other in annoyance, the cuter Cameron became. In seconds, the war ended, and Spencer exited with a loud slam of the door.

"What was that?"

Cameron shook his head as he rolled his eyes. "My best friend."

"I'm sorry."

"Me too sometimes," he said with a laugh. "We'll get over it. We always do. Anyway, don't take offense, okay? All that wasn't about you or about me. Some other bug is up his ass."

She winced. "Sounds painful."

"Bugs always are. Enough about that." He strode to the sink and washed his hands again. "One burger and fries for the pretty lady coming right up!"

He really is cute, she thought. Oh boy.

Thom glanced at his companions and silently questioned himself again why he hadn't asked Nikolas to join him instead. Alex Garcia, AJ Quartermaine, and Justus Ward were capable, but none of the men was good at following instructions. All preferred to give orders and with so much at stake, Thom didn't have the patience to soothe their inflated egos.

The four of them stood several feet apart on the roof. Snow and ice made the journey difficult, but the leak demanded their attention. So far, significant damage hadn't occurred, but more snow was due in the coming days. They needed answers and a plan. Puffed chests and posturing wouldn't produce results.

"Anything?" Thom asked. He had shoveled and now he saw the roof. Nothing seemed out of place, but the weather was not too forthcoming with answers.

"I don't think it's a footprint," Justus said.

Alex moved in and squatted to get a closer look. "It's too small," Alex added.

"Take a picture," AJ advised.

"I did." Justus waved his hand. "What about you?"

"There's a small hole here," AJ said. "Could have been caused by an animal or a strong icicle."

"Be serious." Justus glared at his cousin.

"I am."

"He's right," Thom said. "Last spring, we found a rabbit in the attic. The only explanation was the roof."

"I'll tell Cameron to check," Alex said.

"He's busy in the kitchen," Thom said.

"Michael can check when he does rounds," AJ offered.

"He's added more shifts in the infirmary," Thom said. "Chase is the lead on the next shift change."

They continued their inspection of the roof and followed with a perimeter check of the grounds. Guards greeted them with nods and Thom made a mental note to adjust the schedule so that shifts were no more than two hours at a time. The drop in temperature required that everyone focused their attention on staying diligent and warm. Doing both simultaneously could be a challenge but it was doable.

After the four finished, they warmed themselves by the fire in Thom's office. With the door closed, they discussed what they had been hesitant to say aloud for the past hour or so.

"We can't be certain raiders haven't crossed Spoon Lake," Thom said. "It's completely iced over now."

"We'll have to double guard duty," Justus suggested.

"We can't risk it," AJ said, his tone even. "We should have guards inside, as well."

"Agreed," Thom said. "Nikolas and I have discussed this. Although we haven't had any problems, we can't ignore the threat potential."

Alex nodded. "True. The last time Cameron and I went for supplies, we noticed more wreckage."

"Port Charles is becoming more of a waste land," AJ murmured. "I'll add more training sessions in the gym."

"It's time for another community meeting," Thom said. "We have to make sure everyone is ready for Plan A."

The meeting with Thom lasted longer than Nikolas expected. His best friend believed in details and Nikolas agreed that preparing for a potential raider attack demanded that every possibility was addressed, including Plan A. The frigid temperatures created cause for concern, but the guard detail was eager to step forward. Wyndemere had been a fortress prior to the downfall. Keeping the estate in prime condition when everything else was falling apart had been a challenge. Yet, the walls held firm, and the sanctuary grew.

After the meeting, Nikolas grabbed a tray from the kitchen and headed straight to his quarters. To his surprise and dismay his suite was empty. He set the food on the table and retraced his steps to the ground floor. In the back of his mind, he questioned his desire to find her. Perhaps she had joined Noelle and Trina in their rooms. She had become a little more active lately.

He finally located her in the drawing room. Looking back, he would never be sure what he noticed first. Was it how the moon illuminated her nut brown skin? Was it the way her dark brown hair curled around her face? Or was it the loose, albeit perfect fit of his robe against the soft curves of her body?

Dawn turned to him with a faint smile. She carefully sat on the settee closest to the blazing fireplace. "I was looking for the piano. I remember it being here. Was I wrong?"

Nikolas shook his head. "No…uh. The piano was moved."

"You mean removed—"

"No." He took measured steps toward her. "When…everything changed, a few found shelter here. Then a few multiplied. As the numbers grew, so did the need for space. The piano will be returned tomorrow afternoon."

Her brows drew in tight. "You don't have to for me."

"I know, but maybe I'm doing it for me." He found himself staring, watching every nuance of her silent response because he knew what she didn't say was just as important as what she allowed to be spoken.

Sparkles lit her brown eyes. She shifted toward him and paused. "Why?"

"I miss your music."

"In all honesty," she said quietly, "it's been a while. I've missed it, too. Now isn't really the time for music, is it? There's a blizzard outside. You're housing half of Port Charles inside—"

"Not half."

"I didn't want to say…"

"Say what?" he asked.

"Maybe not half. Maybe what's left. Port Charles feels…empty. I wonder what the world is like beyond the city limits. Everything is so quiet."

"Your wound suggests otherwise," he replied. "Noelle nor Trina would say. Who did that to you? Was it raiders? Do you remember?"

"It doesn't matter, Nikolas. I gave almost as good as I got." She extended her hand. "Can you help me? I'm suddenly very tired."

He helped her stand, then lifted her into his arms, and carried her to his bed upstairs. To his surprise, no protests came from her. One of her slender arms draped around his shoulders and her hand held firm to him. Her breath tickled his jawline and he felt every deep breath she inhaled. Sooner than he wanted, they reached his room and he sat her on the bed. She noticed the tray of soup and grilled cheese sandwiches. A pretty smile graced her face.

"I can't eat all this. Noelle brought me soup earlier…"

Nikolas said, "I was hoping to join you, but I can see you're tired."

"I said I couldn't eat it all. I'm not too tired to eat some of it." She patted the space on the other side of the tray. "Please."

She stood and shrugged free of his robe. He tried not to notice how lovely her brown skin glowed in the white nightshirt. He never remembered her sleeping in socks, but the look was adorable on her now. When she slipped between the covers and pulled them to her neck, he knew that his stares had not gone unnoticed.

"Where do you sleep?" she asked.

"In a bed," he answered as he reached for one of the sandwiches.

"You're being coy. Isn't this your room?"

Nikolas laughed. "Every room is mine."

She rolled her eyes. "You're a regular comedian, Nikky."

His laughter abruptly halted. The endearment went straight to his chest. No one had called him that—no, she hadn't referred to him in that dear way in years. He stared, waiting.

"I'm so-sorry—"

"Don't." Nikolas shook his head. "Don't do that."

She wrapped her hands around the bowl of soup and held it to her chest. Wafts of steam floated around her face. She took the spoon and stirred, but her attention was on him.

"The last time I was in the drawing room we were celebrating our engagement. Walking in there this evening felt weird. You'd think after all this time… For a moment, I could see, hear, and feel everything about that night." She extended her left hand. "The weight of the ring was there. The other ring…the one you gave me."

"Not the one you're wearing now?" Nikolas asked. "The one my brother put on your finger? How can you tell the difference?"

"I couldn't begin to explain that to you," she said, "but there is a difference."

Nikolas pulled his gaze from hers for a moment to catch his breath. He had forgotten how brutally honest she could be. Was that one of the many things he loved about her? Probably. "I remember that night, too. You wore a pale pink gown. Your hair was a mass of curls. Your eyes glittered like stars. I remember making love afterward. On this bed."

"Nikolas…"

"I know." He rose from the bed and went to the door. "If I see Noelle or Trina, I'll let them know you're awake. Goodnight, Dawn."