Disclaimer: Nothing Supernatural belongs to me. Woe.

A/N: Because it's gut-wrenching, but it's also so very them. The obligatory meeting-Sam's-college-friends fic. And then, of course, the supernatural had to interfere. Set just post 'Something Wicked', S1. I should be working on stuff that's in limbo, but the muses wanted S1 casefic, so here I am. Updates will be sporadic and unreliable, as usual.

LIKE THE RIFLE

-- August 23, 1879 --

"Oh where are you, Katherine!"

Muffling a giggle in her sleeve, she darted around a bristly pine, careful to stay out of sight. Easy enough, in this deepening twilight, though the cheery yellow calico of her dress made blending with tree-cast shadow practically impossible.

He was coming from the west, so if I circle back around to the south, I'll return to Sunset before him. Hiking her skirts high, she listened for a moment as the muscles in her legs tensed, ready to dart off through the brush at the slightest –

"Caught you!" Strong arms circled her from behind.

"Oh!" Katherine squealed, surprise pumping her heart quick as a jackrabbit's when for a moment, she was lifted off her feet.

Under a thatch of red hair, blue eyes shone down at her, laughter shortening the space between them.

"It's right wicked you are, Richard Nielson," she declared as soon as her feet hit the dirt once more. The rains had been kind to them, softening the soil for crops and people. Hands on hips, Katherine couldn't stop a smile from twitching the corners of her lips at his little-boy grin of mischief. So sweet, he is.

And the handsomest man in all of Sunset, and one day she would be his in name as well as heart.

"So now that you've caught me, what do you intend to do with me?" she grinned saucily. Mother would have my hide could she hear me now! But Richard loved her boldness.

He proved it with a wink, straightening the vest he wore over a thin summer shirt. "Come along, Katherine. I have something wonderful to show you."

His palm, warm and smooth, settled against hers. Katherine linked their fingers together with a smile.

Richard had held her heart since she'd first seen him, on the trail to Sunset following her father, Lot. His family was small but well thought-of in their tiny community. The years had not been easy, but the settlement was succeeding, pulling life from the land and building a home from the wilderness. My children will live in the town we are making. And it would be –

"Here," Richard's light tenor pulled her from pleasant musings of the hopeful future.

Before them, the trees had cleared away and they were at the top of a gently sloping incline, that had all of the floodplain set before it in rich beauty.

"Oh, Richard," she breathed. The colors of the drooping sun had set the world ablaze in deep reds and vibrant oranges, with night behind it bringing a cooling darkness to drip down across the land. "It's beautiful."

"No more so than you." His voice came from waist level.

Brown eyes blinked, peering downwards. Her breath caught, as she registered that he was on one knee before her, both hands clasped in his. "Katherine Wilhelmina Smith. Will you marry me?"

Oh! Katherine sucked in a breath, brown eyes widening. Happiness surged through her blood, smile dancing across her face as she threw herself into his arms. "Of course I will, Richard!"

On his feet, they spun in a dizzy circle. Katherine felt delirious with joy, aglow with its promise. Richard's lips pressed to hers, soft and sweet, and she kissed him back. His chest heaved under her palms, and one arm settling tight about her waist. Oh, Richard!

She pulled back, nestling her head beneath his chin.

"I'll formally ask your Father after Sunday service," Richard said softly. She could feel his voice rumble beneath her ear, and burrowed deeper into his embrace. Giddy happiness swamped her, a smile curving her lips as she listened. "I believe he'll -"

In the darkness, something screamed.

Katherine jumped, badly startled. What was that?

"Maybe a mountain lion," Richard whispered uneasily. His hands rested on her shoulders. She felt him shift behind her, strong and warm, as she twisted toward where the sound had come from.

"We should get back to Sunset." Katherine was proud of how her voice didn't tremble. She swallowed past the tightness in her throat. "Mother will be becoming worried for me." And Father will skin you, Richard, if he finds we were out here together without a chaperone.

Vibrant red hair flopped as he nodded. "Let's."

Together they turned, pushing back the way they'd come with more speed than care. Richard's strong grip crushed her fingers, and she squeezed back with all her might. Ducking branches and dodging fallen logs slowed them, but it had only been that one -

The second howl tore the night, closer and louder and then they were pelting through the woods, shoes catching in fallen leaves, racing harder and faster. Another scream ripped through the blackness, almost at their heels, tripping her heart painfully against her ribs.

Oh God it's behind us run run faster –

Richard's longer legs ensured he was a pace and a half ahead of her, pulling her hand in his own, slick with sweat. Lungs burning, she pushed to keep up. Sweet Lord please save us -

Something tugged sharply at her ankle, throwing her off balance, slipping her hand free from his.

"Oh!"

And she was tumbling into the dirt, rocks and sticks pounding bruises into her skin, rolling over the ground at terrifying speed. Katherine shoved her ankles as far apart as she could, skidding along the ground, skinning knees and palms as she grabbed for something to force the whirl of her world to stop.

The crazy tilting subsided, leaving her panting against leaves and pine needles. Grit coated her tongue. Oh . . . this will hurt tomorrow . . . But the terror hadn't left her, and Katherine did not hesitate, throwing herself to her feet.

But for her heaving breath, the forest was utterly still.

I fell off the path.

The hill was not a steep one, but at such a pace as they were running . . . she'd stopped herself just short of fetching up against an unforgiving oak. But there was no sign that her love had followed her down the hill. Might he have fallen the other way?

"Richard!" she called, shoving down her worry. He's well. He must be here, somewhere. "Richard?"

She couldn't hear any bird-sounds. Night had settled fully as they had run, frantically, towards the settlement. Katherine couldn't even tell what direction she was facing now, the sky clouded and black without the slightest hint of stars. "Richard?!"

He should be here, somewhere.

She couldn't remember now which one of them had been the one to trip; she only knew the hot rush of terror, rolling, hands ripped apart by gravity. What if he's been hurt? Fear spiked, sending her heart slamming. "Richard!"

Katherine raced back up to the path, straining through the blackness past hanging branches and the soft tumble of leaves underfoot. Her ankle throbbed mercilessly. He hadn't fallen with her, but he might be still –

Panting, she gained the small incline, bedraggled hair hanging in her face.

The path was empty, and eerily silent.

He wouldn't . . . leave me. Not my Richard.

But she followed the scuffs in the ground, the deep marks of desperate feet fleeing through the trees. One set, booted, running for his life. He left me!

Violent fear set her body atremble, tears choking her breath. Katherine hastened down the path, following the footprints headed back toward the settlement. He left me. Why would he – he said he loved me. My Richard. But he – he left –

At her back, leaves scraped together, horribly loud in the silence.

Katherine froze, quaking, gasping for breath. Mouse, she thought inanely. Cornered by cats against the wall of the barn. Just a tiny bundle of fur, helpless against claws and wicked teeth, with no other fate than to be shredded into strips of bloody flesh and small bones.

She was going to die.

No please God no please please Richard where are you!

A sob tore from her lips. Katherine shook, but she was her Father's daughter, so she turned to face her death head on.

Brown eyes widened in horror.

If her throat hadn't strangled on sound, she might have screamed.

-- September 8, 2006 --

"So I figured we could check out the price here and see what our best bet is."

Uh-huh. Lay it on a little thicker, whydontcha? Joel rolled his eyes, grinning. "Please, Nate. It's not like we don't know you."

"Miserly, money-grubbing, tight-fisted sticky-fingers," Erin added from the backseat, thumping the young man next to her on one sweatshirt-clad shoulder. Joel could see her smirking in the rearview mirror. "Math majors are all the same."

Laura laughed brightly, hands confident on the wheel despite the weather.

"Says the girl with pink stripes in her hair," Nate flung back, café-au-lait skin flushing at the jibe. Still, he leant forward through the gap between the front seats, one hand hanging off Joel's headrest as he peered through the windshield. The wipers were going slowly, fending off the light drizzle that had come with nightfall. "Hey, pull in here."

Here was a long, low line of motel rooms colored a gaudy lime green, the numbers one to fifteen stylized on each door in painted tree trunks and twisting branches. Ah God, it's "nature-themed". Joel grimaced. The office was brightly lit, but the fluorescent light spilling into the small parking lot only emphasized the dingy siding and precariously-shingled roof. Ten dollars says it leaks like a sieve.

"Boone's Lick Trail Inn?" Laura peered dubiously at the flickering neon sign, hazel eyes squinting behind slim, wire-framed lenses. "'We have cable'? Yeah, I just bet they do," she grumbled suspiciously. But there was a smile twitching the corners of his girlfriend's mouth as she flipped the turn-signal, no matter how hard she tried to look disapproving.

Joel snickered.

"Oh, you've got to be kidding me," Erin muttered. Gray eyes blinked incredulously at Nate. "You did this on purpose, didn't you?"

"Yep," Joel added cheerfully, watching her glare at his friend in the rearview mirror. "Pretty much as soon as Niz called."

"So you were in on it too?" Mock sternness. Laura was having fun, and doing a miserable job hiding the twinkle it brought to her face.

Joel leant forward, stealing a quick kiss. "Economics, babe."

A growl drifted forward from the backseat. "Why, you -"

"I thought you'd like it," Nate cut off Erin's sputtering, ruffling her short hair fraternally. His grin was nothing short of wicked. "It's got culture, and you Anthro majors are all about that."

"Roaches aren't culture, Nate," Laura interrupted. Still, she pulled their car smoothly into the empty lot, next to the office that squatted directly in the center of the motel. Or almost empty, Joel amended. A long, sleek beauty was parked at the opposite end of the row of rooms, just visible past the central office that jutted slightly into the lot. Big, black, and probably gorgeous in the daylight. "They're just nasty."

"But we're closer to the reservation now than we would be if we stayed in Winslow," Joel pointed out. "It takes literally about an hour off the drive. And this place can't be that bad."

"Oh yeah?" One strawberry-blond brow lifted, dripping a mix of amusement and disgust. Laura's fingers tapped against the steering wheel. "Why not?"

Um . . . He tried a charming grin. "Because."

Nate snorted. "Good one, there, Joel. Yet again, your fierce business instincts allow you to descend on your competitors for the kill. Like a turkey vulture. How you ever think you're going to bully anyone into anything I have no friggin' clue. Especially not a bunch of creditors."

A turkey vulture? Joel shook his head, biting down a grin. Nate didn't notice.

"So are you going in to book us a room, or not?" Laura didn't even twitch toward the ignition, the car's quiet engine filling the silence. No one really moved.

"I vote for not," Erin said quickly. "It's -"

"Cultured?" Nate drawled, all California smoothness.

But he's still not getting out of the car. Joel stifled a laugh. The Inn hadn't sported a picture on the website listing of local motels, and now they knew why.

"Try disgusting." Laura was staring in horrified fascination at the fist-sized chunks of paint peeling straight from wooden siding. The drizzle was dying away even as they watched, but she kept the wipers on their occasional swipe across wet glass. "I bet they have bedbugs."

"Our dorms had bedbugs. Remember freshman year?" Nate's enthusiasm was still there. Forced, but there.

"I try not to," Erin said blandly, sitting back against the seat and folding her arms. "And if Becky was here, she'd kill you for even thinking about bringing it up."

"All right, all right, I'll do it." Joel's fingers found the door lock, fumbling only for a minute. "At least it'll be cheap, right?"

Laura's lips pursed, real annoyance starting to grow.

"And look, there's someone else trying to get a room too." Nate tapped his finger against the window, indicating a tall figure ducking through the sickly yellow door to the office, fishing for a wallet sequestered in a back pocket.

Laura rolled her eyes. "Other people as apparently desperate as us. How encouraging. Not!"

"Maybe we'll only have to pay by the hour," Erin snarked, thumping Nate again. Hard.

Chuckling, Joel closed the door on his best friend's whine of pain.

"Forty-five."

Not bad. With any luck, they'd have hot water and reasonably clean sheets. Sam poked through the cash in his wallet, forking over two twenties and a five.

The older guy waited until Sam's fingers were clear, and then picked up the bills. One hand stayed out of sight under the counter the whole time. Handgun, maybe shotgun. The former was harder to get ahold of, but more likely given the motel owner seemed more than practiced at opening the till with only one hand. And most shotguns – pump-action, and those that aren't sawed-offs, his brain automatically supplied – generally required two.

"Thank you," Sam smiled as the key slid over cracked Formica to him. Then again, politeness and a smile had power too. And we won't have to dip into the credit-card stash for a bit, if we can afford to stay here so cheaply. At least until they wrapped up their latest gig.

Bodies torn apart.

He reached for the door, mind ticking over the details they'd gathered so far –

"Sam?"

Not Dean's voice; and when he focused in on the face, surprise slammed into him with all the force of a bullet. "Joel?" What the . . .

His former roommate grinned, grabbing him up in a quick hug. "What the hell are you doing here, man? I haven't heard from you in months!"

"I – well, yeah, uh . . ." Sam sputtered, shock still filtering through his system. "No, I've been – um, working. What are you doing here?"

"The gang's all here," Joel grinned with his whole face. One hand ruffled blond hair, before flapping in the direction of the parking lot. "Niz invited us all down before fall really set in, you know, jobs and grad schools and stuff. Just to visit her on the reservation, do some hiking and camping, that kind of thing." Blue eyes brightened. "Hey, did she email you, too? She didn't say you were coming -"

"Ah, no." I don't think. Sam scratched at his own head, tucking the key into his pocket. "No, I haven't heard from her at all. Just passing through -" I sound like a walking cliché. And someone who'd fallen so far under the radar it was a wonder his former roommate even recognized him.

"That's awesome!" Joel bounced on his toes, wet sneakers squeaking against the office's dirty linoleum. "I know Erin'll be thrilled to see you, Laura too – and Nate'll probably have a cow. Niz won't mind you coming with, she's probably dying to see you too – wait, how long are you going to be here?"

The possibility of disappointment cut through Joel's enthusiastic plans, leaving Sam blinking. "Ah, I'm not sure," he hedged. "A few days, at least, but -"

The bells on the glass door tinkled.

"Sam?" Familiar green darted between his surprised pleasure at seeing Joel, and his old roomate's smile. Dean settled for a cautious, "What's up?"

He caught the weird look Joel was shooting him and mentally rolled his eyes before jumping into introductions. "Dean, this is my roommate from freshman year, Joel Van Aalsburg. Joel, this is my brother Dean."

A different sort of surprise sent Joel's eyebrows shooting up under his bangs.

"Ah, nice to meet you," Dean offered a hand, green eyes still searching Sam's face for cues.

"Likewise," Joel returned, but his excitement was considerably dimmed.

The situation threatened to descend into an uncomfortable silence, but Sam decided to head it off at the pass. "Here," he tossed their room key to Dean. "I'll be there in a minute, okay?"

"Sure. I'll pull your stuff from the car." Dean darted one last look between them. Sam could almost see the mental shrug his brother gave, green eyes darting his way with the promise of extracting an explanation. Spiked hair nodded toward Joel. "See you around."

"Did I know you had a brother?" Joel asked. In his voice was a mix of curiosity, reproof and wary tact, but at least he keep quiet as the door shut behind Dean.

Probably not. He hadn't talked much about his family to anyone, though Jess had had more details than the rest. Sam sidestepped the question with one of his own. "How long are you guys going to be here?"

A gleam in blue eyes said Joel wasn't fooled, but willing to set it aside for now. "A week and a half, I think. Or until Niz gets tired of us and cuts us loose. Laura took two weeks off, just in case -"

A throat cleared behind them. Sam darted a look over his shoulder, internally wincing at the irritation on the motel owner's face. Better not break anything this time around. "You want a room or not, buddy?" the man barked.

"Oh!" Red flushed over Joel's cheeks. He moved to the desk, pulling his wallet free. "Two doubles, please."

"For the night?" The gruff voice was devoid of any inflection.

Joel's face burned brighter, and Sam's lips twisted as he tried not to laugh. "Y-yeah."

"One-ten," was the determination.

Should only be ninety. But Sam knew that the motel owner saw Joel's Stanford class ring, the good leather jacket on his shoulders and crisp new jeans. And he saw Sam's own jacket, faded and stained with use, sneakers well broken-in and jeans sporting holes gathered from hard wear. Good business sense. Mercenary, but good. So he kept his mouth shut.

"D'you take Visa?"

The old man's other hand reappeared from under the counter to swipe Joel's credit card and tap over the machine, printing out a receipt and handing Sam's former roommate a pen. Finishing off his signature with a flourish, Joel accepted the keys and turned back to Sam with an expression familiar to him from numerous pranks.

Uh-oh.

"Great," Laura sighed, dropping her suitcase neatly next to the dresser. "Tulips. I hate tulips."

Erin was standing a watchful distance away from the television, leaning forward with a grimace to peer at the cardboard ad offering adult pay-per-view channels that was propped above the screen, careful to not actually touch it. "Could be worse."

And it might be. For all her grousing, Laura had to admit the room wasn't actually that bad. Old, sorely lacking in taste, and in need of a thorough scrubbing, but she'd seen worse. "I wonder if -"

Tap tap tap.

"If it's Nate, I get first dibs on kicking him in the shins," Erin's voice carried clearly through the tiny door hiding their bathroom. It can't be that bad; she doesn't sound like she wants to scream.

"You'll have to beat me to it," Laura muttered, going for the door. It just figured that there was no peephole; that would be a cut above this place.

"Open up!" Joel called cheerfully from beyond thin wood.

Laura raked a hand through her hair, throwing the flimsy bolt. And came face-to-chest with someone far too tall to be her boyfriend. Hazel eyes blinked, and looked up. "Sam!"

He ducked behind the hair he'd always kept a bit long, smiling sheepishly. "Hey, Laura."

"Erin!" she yelled, wrapping him in a hug. "Get out here!"

"Geez, stop with the – Sam?!"

The ribcage under her arms contracted with an "Oof!" as the tiny would-be anthropologist barreled into them both. And without taking a pause for breathing,Erin was off. "Oh my God, it's so good to see you! Where have you been? I tried emailing you but then like a month ago your account closed down and your cell number changed and then you weren't listed anywhere that I could find, and no-one knew how to contact you -"

Can she even breathe through all that? Laura extracted herself from the hug, smile controlling her face. Joel had slipped around them into the room, coming up behind her and pulling her back against his chest. Grinning, he pecked her on the lips as she twisted up to meet him. "I give good gifts, huh?"

Laura laughed, full-throated and joyful. Yes, you do.

"Whoa!"

And that was the Sam Laura remembered, hiding a little behind his bangs with the shy, sincere smile. Erin had pulled back too, hands planted firmly on her hips, and was now failing miserably at smiling and glaring at the same time. "Sam Winchester, where have you been?"

"All over." It was said with a smile, but his eyes – the ones Jess had always gushed over – were still sad.

Laura moved forward, tugging on Erin's shoulder a bit when she would have prodded for more. Erin meant well, but sometimes her mouth ran away with her.

"Are you all right?" Laura asked uncertainly. Her friend's death, and the horrible absence it had left in her life, was something she was only now coming to terms with. It still sent a pang through her every time she turned to say something to Jess, and she wasn't there, or thought about calling her and remembered that she'd never pick up.

Green-blue wouldn't meet her gaze; Sam didn't look at any of them. "I'm . . . better," he said at last.

Not 'fine', not 'good', 'better'. How much better? But he'd been living with Jess; Joel had confided that he'd thought Sam might have been getting ready to propose, maybe at graduation. Sorrow clutched at her again with seeing how worn down he was. Leave it alone for now.

Erin had moved awkwardly back, as if she'd just remembered the ghost between them. She hadn't been as close to Jess, though the feisty anthropologist had joined Laura in crying at the funeral.

"I'm glad," was all Laura could say. She patted Sam on the arm, and forced some cheer into her voice. "Where's Nate? I can't believe he missed the reunion. Or the chance to spring this on us." She mock-glared at Joel, just a little.

Her boyfriend's answer was an unrepentant grin. "I shut him in the bathroom in our room, since he wanted to be here so badly. I figured he could bond with the mold."

"I'm surprised he didn't break the door down already to get out," Erin snorted. She took two steps and bounced on the bed. Her face echoed Laura's silent relief when the springs pushed back instead of sagging. "It's not exactly the gate of Helm's Deep, y'know?"

Laura settled at her side, leaving Joel to pull up one of the two stick-thin chairs and perch dubiously on it. "Ah, but if he broke it, he'd have to pay for it," Joel snickered. "Like that would ever happen. He's stuck until I decide he can come out."

That drew a laugh, soft but real, from Sam; the first they'd heard since October of the previous year. He didn't sit, though; he tucked his hands in his pockets and leant on the wall by the door.

So far away. And Laura remembered with a shock their freshman year and the first few times she'd met him, when he'd very carefully held himself away from the group. Shy, she'd thought then. Oh, Sam.

"Hey, pull up a chair," Joel waved an arm at the room's other seating option. "I'll even go spring Nate so we can catch up."

Shaggy bangs flew as their wayward friend shook his head. "No – I'd – well, I'd better get back to our room," Sam apologized, again avoiding eye contact. "My brother's probably waiting for me."

Brother? Laura felt her eyes narrowing, but she only pushed her glasses up a bit and shoved a smile on her face. "All right. We'll see you tomorrow, though, right? Breakfast?"

He wavered, but in typical lawyer-fashion, changed the topic. "Is there even a diner nearby?"

"Yep," Erin said cheerfully.

"How do you know?" Laura

"Because Nate's stomach is roughly the size of the Gobi desert. And about as empty." Erin kicked her combat boots against grungy carpet. "No way he'd make us stay here without some sort of food in easy driving distance."

Laura fought back a smile. True. And then she pounced, trying to keep the cheer she was injecting into her voice from ringing false. "So would eight be okay to meet up? Outside the office, and then we can all go to the diner and get food, see what happens from there. I can't wait to meet your brother." Oh, can't I.

Sam blinked, and Laura caught Erin's eye.

"Yeah!" the anthropologist grinned. "And we can figure out our schedules over breakfast, see if you don't have some time to come down to the Rez with us. Niz'll be thrilled to see you, I know it!"

Erin might not know what the plan was, but she'd missed Sam too; of the couple he and Jess had made, the anthropologist had always been closer to the pre-law who, she claimed, was far too nice to make it in anything other than corporate law. Sam had always used that as an excuse to pluck whatever java she was drinking out of her hands and dangle it high out of reach over her head as the rest of the group looked on, laughing.

"Um, okay," Sam was glancing between them, wariness in every line of his body. Laura remembered that from the early days; how Jess had been the only one who could really erase it. God, I miss her. "I'll see you in the morning, then."

With a guarded smile and a half-wave, he disappeared.

"Well, it was longer than I thought he'd stay," Joel shrugged, stretching out over the foot of Laura's bed.

She shot him a curious glance. "What do you mean?"

"Nothing." The former athlete waved a hand. "Just. His brother came in to check on what he was up to in the office while I was there. Probably just looking for the key or whatever."

Sam was only in there for maybe five minutes. Laura felt a frown work its way over her forehead. That's weird.

"So you've seen his brother?" Erin pounced. "What does he look like?"

That got a laugh from her boyfriend. "Well, he's not as tall as Sam."

Laura smiled. "No one's that tall. Except maybe Goliath."

A frustrated noise burst from the anthropologist. "How many times do I have to go over this with you -"

"And on that note, I'm saying goodnight," Joel shoved up, sending the mattress bouncing. He bent over, planting a kiss on her cheek. "See you in the morning, okay? And – wedge that chair under the doorknob after I leave. Just in case."

Laura rolled her eyes. "That's so comforting, Joel, thank you. Never again, do you hear me?" Great, now I sound like Aunt Ruth. Nag, nag, nag. But seriously, this place was a dive.

"Just do it," he instructed, blue eyes serious.

The chair itself was rickety and probably older than she was. Yeah, I really don't think it's going to keep out anyone determined to get in, babe. But Laura nodded in agreement anyway. "Goodnight," she mouthed, ignoring the continuous mutterings about distortion of stories through time and telling that was emerging from the other girl in the room.

The door closed with a click, and like she'd promised, Laura dragged the shaky piece of furniture over to the door, tilting it back on its hind legs to prop the back under the doorknob.

Erin followed her, tirade cutting off so she could eye the entire set-up dubiously. "Does he really think this is going to keep someone out?"

"No," Laura sighed, moving back to her suitcase to dig out a set of pajamas. "It's just for his piece of mind."

"Well, on the bright side, no one will be able to get through without making enough noise to wake up the whole motel." Erin reached out a hand, shoving gently at the chair. It rattled against the knob, wooden joints creaking dryly. "Probably."

"I'm going to kill Nate," Laura muttered, heading towards the bathroom.

There was a horrendous squeaking noise as Erin threw herself onto her bed, followed by the bang! of a cheap wooden headboard impacting with the wall. The anthropologist's growl of frustration was clear through the thin bathroom door. "Not if I get him first!"

A/N2: The "Boone's Lick Trail Inn" supposedly exists, but in St. Charles, MO. And it sounded just suggestively sketchy enough that I couldn't resist relocating it to suit my own purposes. Expect slow, random updates to this; I'm just playing.