YES, MY DEAR READERS, I RETURN. WITH A NEW CHAPPIE TO BOOT! SORRY IT'S BEEN SO LONG, WHAT WITH WORK, AND SCHOOL, AND THAT STUPID STUFF NECESSARY TO SURVIVE IN SOCIETY AND EAT, AND ALL THAT… ANYWHO – HERE WE GO! PLEASE REVIEW IF POSSIBLE. IF NOT POSSIBLE, THEN THINK GOOD THOUGHTS REALLY HARD, AND I MIGHT GET THEM TELEPATHICALLY. HEY, YOU NEVER KNOW!

"Aren't you just the cutest little thing?" the woman cooed as she reached out to pinch my cheek. I shied away into Dean's shoulder. At least I was wearing something other than a large t-shirt this time. I'd gotten dressed in a blue shirt with black overalls (like hell I was gonna wear a dress), and had futilely put a fight when Sam ordered me to wear shoes. They were black, too, thank the Lord. God, what a cliché. White hair in a tight bun, too much rouge, and not enough breast support. "How can I help you, young man?" she asked Dean, ignoring Sam altogether.

"We're FBI Agents ma'am," Dean fished the fake badge from his pocket with one hand while giving her a charming grin, "and we just wanted to ask you some questions about your neighbors."

I was already bored.

I wriggled impatiently, but Dean just held on tighter. Stupid, strong arms. I oughta chop 'em off. I wonder if they make kid-sized chainsaws?

The lady, Ms. Thunmaker, invited us in to her mobile home, and sat us down on a floral couch. I was still in Dean's arms. I looked around hopefully, a thought popping into my head, but was disappointed. What kind of little old lady doesn't have any cats?

I could hear Sam asking her some question, and her inevitably long tangent, which would lead to a grandchild of some sort, I was sure, but I didn't pay any attention. I wriggled back into Dean, smelling his gunpowder-sweat=leather perfume, and closed my eyes. Well, if he wouldn't let me go, I suppose I'd better take advantage of his comfortable lab.

"Wake up, you little shit," a voice crawled into my ear from the depths of my unconscious. I stirred slightly, digging myself back against Dean tighter, not liking the voice, or how close it was.

"I said, wake up!"

Thunder boomed nearby and I sat up with a start. What a nightmare, I shivered, hugging my arms to my chest. And then I noticed where I was.

I was in a dog cage. Yes, a dog cage. I was still three, so it wasn't that tight of a fit, but still. A dog cage?! What the hell? My left arm hurt and I rubbed it absently while I stared at a man who grinned at me maliciously.

"Oh, is the wittle girwy scared?" he mocked, showing his yellow teeth, and I grimaced more from disgust than fear. "Don't worry, the dwugs have wubbed off now," he winked and glanced around as though showing me off to someone I couldn't see. "I wonder where the wittle girly went in her pretty beddy-bye dweams."

God, I hated this creep instantly. If not for the fact that he put me in a dog cage, or that he drugged me, than for the fact that he was annoyingly condescending. Although, I guess its good that he thought I was an actual three year old. All things considered.

"Found you in a bathtub, I did," he continued in a sing-song voice. "Who left such a pretty little girl in a bathtub? S'not very nice. Saved you, I did." He shook his head at the injustice of it all, his dark eyes showing sympathy mixed with glee. He pointed a finger at me, and his expression hardened into a stern, foreboding look. "You do any bad things, little one, and you'll be punished, you will."

He motioned behind him, and then stood up so I could see the row of belts hanging on little hooks like tools in a garage. I felt sick.

And then I saw the row of doggie cages across from me. There were twelve, I saw, three high and four long. Probably the same on my side. There were only five girls in them, most sleeping, but there was a small redhead one cage down from mine who was staring at me with the greenest eyes I'd ever seen. They reminded me of Dean.

I felt sicker. So none of this was real? It had all been a dream? Then where the hell was I? I figured I still had to be in the Supernatural universe 'cause I was still three, but…oh, god, none of this made any sense.

"You get some sleep now, you hear?" the man gently scolded, as though I were his daughter and I was refusing to go to sleep without one more story. "You'll need your rest, little one." He pet the air in front of the cage door softly, and I imagined he thought he was stroking my hair. I shivered. How the hell was I supposed to get out of here?

Well, shit.