Disclaimer: Not mine. They belong to smarter and richer people than I.

Chapter 10

Early June, 2005

Another victim of Thursday's accident has succumbed to his injuries today. That takes the count to three fatalities and four still in critical condition. Another two are in serious, but non-life-threatening condition. Authorities are doubtful they will ever find out the cause of the accident, and ask that anyone with knowledge pertaining to the incident to come forward.

The freeway accident thing was still freaking him out even days later. He'd upped his Bennies dosage because he didn't remember dreaming of the accident, only waking with the knowledge that it had happened and that was enough for him to not want to sleep ever again.

Holy-fucking-hell.

He'd known the news crews would show footage from the roof of a nearby building hours before it aired. He'd seen the emergency crews scurrying around, he'd seen the twisted metal carcasses of the cars, he'd seen a lazy trail of smoke wafting towards the sky… and he'd seen it long before it aired on TV. He'd been plastered to the little TV at his watch desk the entire night, and when the eleven o'clock news came on and showed the scene he felt his chest constrict and his stomach drop and his heart fucking stopped because he'd seen the whole thing in his head already.

And he didn't understand why he knew there would be an accident. Was it something to do with the Shadowman? No. He'd remember if the Shadowman had been involved – of that he was sure. And how would that be possible if he had been involved? The Shadowman was a clairvoyant and was into sharing? That was freaking ridiculous. The Shadowman was a dream… well… whatever he was, he was more than a dream. But he hadn't dreamt of the Shadowman since he'd killed Dean in Dreamland, and Dean wasn't dead cuz he'd know and no one called him and someone would fucking call him if Dean was dead and no one fucking called him so Dean was fine!

Get a grip Sam!

So Shadowman wasn't involved with this. This was just something really screwed up and he'd find the answer soon cuz no way in hell was he sleeping again. The little white beauties in his pocket would take care of that.

He wrote his LSAT yesterday. The whole thing was a blur as he tried not to look at the people next to him to see if they were watching him. He could feel them watching him – watching and judging. They could see what a freak he was, he knew it. He'd known of an accident happening before it actually happened – of course he was a freak. And they kept looking away every time he cast a quick furtive glance in his neighbor's direction. They were sneaky, they knew he was watching them watching him and they looked away just in time to avoid his detection. But he knew.

He tried to concentrate on the test. It was important to get a good score if he wanted to get into a top notch law school. Better still, he needed a good score to get a scholarship to a top notch school. He could always apply for student loans, but that would run up a fortune sooner rather than later, and he wanted his and Jessica's future to start out on the right foot – not be over laden with massive debt. The small amount of debt they were both carrying now was not an easy burden to bear, and not for the first time he considered going the route of his father and brother and doing a little credit card fraud. The only reason he didn't was because he wouldn't be able to hide that from his angel, who would not look kindly on that level of unlawfulness. So a scholarship was necessary. Hell, a scholarship was paramount. So he really needed to concentrate on the fucking test instead of the red-headed dude next to him who kept fucking looking at him when he trying to look at the paper that could decide his future.

When the administrator called an end to the test, he looked down to see that everything had been filled in in his messy handwriting, but he was sketchy on remembering how it got there. His head was echoing and pounding in that expanded way he was starting to get used to and when the hell did he fill in the fucking test?

When he got home that evening, Jess was in the kitchen. "How'd it go Baby?" she asked eagerly, reaching up to kiss his cheek and give him a concerned once over.

"I don't know, it was all kind of a blur," he answered truthfully.

"You did great, I know it. All those late nights you put in studying? You did great."

"I hope so."

But that was all yesterday, and he was getting seriously desensitized to the pills now. He was taking twice as much as he used to, and that wasn't cutting it anymore, so he upped it to three times what he took. The first couple of days he was a wreck, and was grateful that Jess was working overtime at the restaurant because Amber had landed a small role on some soap opera – 'Turning Worlds' – or something, and she was covering for her. Jess wasn't in a great mood anyway as she was certain she bombed the job interview across town. She was pretty bummed out and took extra shifts to keep herself busy – which suited him fine because he was freaking stratospheric.

(- - Paranoid Freak, by The Trews - -)

The paranoia was getting worse though. Everywhere he went, people were looking at him and he hated it. He wanted to shout at them to stop staring at him, but knew that would draw even more attention so he tried to blend in better. He hunched more while he walked so he wouldn't look so tall, and he kept his nose in a book while on the bus to and from work every day so that no one would notice the dilated pupils and the black rings under his eyes. The books he didn't read because he was having difficulty focusing on the words with his thoughts in a thousand different directions like they were, but for some reason he was absorbing what was there – just like the last bit of school where things were just in his head and he had no idea where they came from.

Keep your head down and blend in…

Probably the only useful bit of information he'd ever gotten from his dad that he could use right now. And if the Skid at the back of the bus didn't stop looking at him he was gonna snap…

Deep breathing Sam, he coached himself. No one is looking at you, well… they are… but you can't do shit about it so stop clenching your fucking fist. Look, just two more blocks until your stop. You can do this. Just hold it to-fucking-gether for two more blocks.

He nearly fell off the bus in his hurry to get free. He caught the Skid at the back raising an eyebrow in alarm in his direction, and he was almost tempted to charge back on the bus and break dude's face for him.

Get a fucking grip Winchester!

One deep breath, then another and another.

There, now walk the three blocks to work and get this done. Blend. The fuck. In.

He took over Cliff's seat, letting the paunchy, shiny-headed guy clock out and did his best to ignore the concerned look the guy gave him. He liked Cliff. Cliff was a good guy… he just didn't need anyone looking all concerned for him at the moment.

He did his rounds, he watched the TV without really watching it, he read his book without really reading it, and he went home to an empty apartment in the morning.

Things went on like this for another week with only a couple hours of sleep scattered here and there. Every time he got tired he would just pop another White Beauty until he succumbed to needing an hour nap. He was so out of it, that if he dreamt anything consequential, he didn't know it. He would just wake up and feel really disorientated until he could take another pill and start flying again.

Mid June, 2005

He didn't recognize where he was.

It was bright and sunny, it was a crowded street, there were palm trees in the distance and salt water on the air, so California seemed like a logical state to be in, which was good to know when you don't know where you are and your chest seems like it's going to explode. So knowing what state he was in was fucking awesome.

He turned on the spot wildly, trying to read a sign or see a building that would indicate to him where he was. People milled past him like he wasn't even there, and how do you ignore a giant whirling around like a lunatic in the middle of a busy sidewalk? Was he dreaming? Was this something to do with the Shadowman? Where the fuck was he?!

"Hey!" he shouted randomly at a guy in a gray suit. Normally he wouldn't try to draw attention to himself but he was freaked and this deep, insistent panic had him in its grip and he felt like he couldn't breathe. Suit-dude ignored him so he chased down a woman in jeans and a tank top. "Hey!" he called to her but got no response there either.

No one can hear me.

He started running up the sidewalk, dodging people as he ran because he really didn't want to see if he would knock them down or pass through them like a ghost cuz that would be freak-tastic and his heart couldn't handle that shit right now.

"Somebody!" he called out, frantic because no one could hear him.

Then he saw her.

She was small – not just short but painfully thin as well. She had shoulder length dark hair and a large forehead and giant eyes and she was looking at him in fear. And as soon as she realized that he noticed her looking at him, she turned and hurried up the sidewalk in the opposite direction.

"Hey!" he shouted, starting to hurry after her because she was the only one to react to him shouting like a maniac. "Hey you! Wait up!"

But the girl, who looked like she might be about his age, just tucked her head down and picked up her pace. She turned abruptly and wrenched open a heavy door to a used book store one-handed as her other arm was in a sling.

"Hey!" he called angrily as he reached for the door before she could disappear inside it. She spun around and stepped back to put a little more space between them. There wasn't much space to be had as he pretty nearly had the small woman pinned between himself and the wall to the store. "Who are you? What's going on?" he demanded, noticing a large bandage on her forehead beneath the thick, side-swept bangs

"Go away," she hissed. "Leave me alone."

"Not 'til you tell me what's happening. Why can't anyone see me but you can? Is this some sort of a messed up dream?"

She scoffed at him at that, "A dream? You think this is a dream? Is that some sort of joke?"

"This is real? Where are we?"

"Stop. Just stop it," she glared at him. "Don't pretend you don't know."

"Know what?" he was beyond frustrated. "If you know what's going on, then tell me."

"Uh-uh," she shook her head. "I'm not falling for the little-boy-lost routine. You tell your boss to fuck off and leave me alone."

"My boss? What the hell are you talking about?"

"Don't play stupid – I'm not buying it. You know exactly who I'm talking about."

Sam didn't miss her shudder as she spoke and hesitantly he asked, "The Shadowman?"

"Is that what you call him?" she sneered.

He felt his stomach drop at her recognition of his nightmare. Did the Shadowman haunt her as well? What was he and what did he want?

"What do you call him?" he whispered, fear and dread pulling at him and it seemed to soften her a bit.

"Satan," she breathed.

"Satan isn't real." It was an automatic response to something like that. Jess and her family believed in God and heaven and angels, but they didn't believe in hell or Satan. He could quite literally rock their beliefs to their very foundations with all that he knew – that hell was indeed real, that demons were real and incredibly dangerous. Lucifer was another story though. There was no way that the Big Bad was real. Otherwise, the planet would be a steaming pile of ash. Things were bleak with all the global warming talk going around and all, but apocalyptic? No. Not even close.

"Then why are you here?"

"I don't know. I don't even know where we are."

A dark laugh escaped her, "Don't even think of asking me where I am. You'll just go back to the boss and tell him where I am so he can get me."

"But why? Why does he want you? Why does he want me?"

"He's using you," she hissed at him. "And I won't let you use me." She reached for the door handle and pulled it open. Darting inside the bookstore, she slammed the heavy door on Sam's fingers as he reached for it.

The pain shot up his arm like a bullet, as did the rest of him.

He was bolt-upright in his bed, in his apartment… chest heaving and clutching his fingers. There was no pain – not even a tingle. The latest dream wasn't alleyway/beast scary, but it was alarming in its realness. That girl had been scared, and he wondered who she was and why he was dreaming of her. She was a figment of his imagination surely, a trick of the Shadowman to lull him into some sort of trap or complacency since he hadn't been sleeping the last few weeks for the real nightmares to get him. But whatever the Shadowman's new plan of attack was, it wasn't gonna work. This frightened girl wasn't any more real than Dead-Dean in Dreamland and he was not about to be duped by the Shadowman.

He leaned over the side of the bed for his book-bag and fumbled around inside for the bottle of Alan's pills. Popping one in his mouth, he threw back the blankets and got up.

Whatever you're playing at Asshole, it isn't gonna work.

Late June, 2005

He didn't really know who he was anymore. It was hard to tell what day it was, his head always hurt, he felt like there were miners digging in his brain, and there was still all this space in there. His thoughts echoed around in there, beating off the inside of his cranium to rocket around his skull again and again. And things were a little strained between him and Jess. It wasn't as if they saw each other much, much as that was by his design, but when they were together, things were a little... off.

And the pills weren't working as good anymore.

They really weren't working as good anymore.

He was already up to five pills a day, and he knew that was too high to start with, let alone adding onto that count would cause some serious damage to him. The amounts of the drug he's taken already should, by all rights, have already landed him in the hospital, so upping the dosage again had him on a sharp precipice with temptation on one side, and alarm for his safety on the other. He wanted the safety of wakefulness, but he didn't want to end up some vegetable on a gurney with tubes all over him.

The dreams of the dark haired girl were coming everyday now. He just couldn't stay awake any longer and when he drifted off, she was always there. He was still in the unknown city, and she had resigned to ignoring him. He would talk a mile a minute at her, and she would pretend he didn't exist. And he felt like he was compelled to follow her, so he was like a stray dog in the way he trailed along in her wake. He would follow her into stores, into buildings, and all the signs that were on these buildings were messed up like a dyslexic's nightmare so that he couldn't read them – which reinforced his 'this is just a screwed up dream' theory because reading was done with one side of the brain, while dreaming was done with the other and you can't really read in dreams. So this chick was a figment of his imagination, and he was stuck in Dreamland with her instead of the beast or the Shadowman, and whatever the point of this was, he didn't know. But the strange chick ignoring him was a hell of a lot better than being chased down alleyways.

One morning after work, too tired and strung out to even think about staying awake, he fell into his bed fully clothed and on top of the covers. His face was mashed into the mattress, and he was literally asleep before he even closed his eyes.

He was following her down a sidewalk. The weather was a little gray, there was the threat of rain on the horizon and the smell of ozone on the air. He exaggeratedly sang the song "Eyes of a Stranger" by the Payola$ to see if he could get a reaction out of her out of pure annoyance - much like Swayze had sang Henry the Eigth to Whoopi Goldberg in Ghost so that she would help him just to shut him up. Her jaw clenched a bit but that was it. So he continued to sing the song in that enthusiastic way you did when you were six sheets to the wind and how the hell do you feel strung out even while you're dreaming?

She walked into an office building, past several secretaries with name plates that he couldn't read, up a set of stairs and past more receptionists. She was told to wait and he took the seat across from her.

"Where are we today?" he asked her. She only crossed her legs and jiggled her foot impatiently.

"What are we doing here? What's your name? What city are we in? Why am I dreaming of you? Who are you? What do you know of the Shadowman?" He asked the same questions over and over again and never got a response.

"Melissa?" the receptionist called from her desk, "the doctor will see you now."

Finally! Melissa. Okay. A name is good.

So this was a doctor's visit was it? He hoped he wasn't going to have to witness something he didn't want to see and he wondered if he would be able to look in a corner instead of at whatever Doctor McDreamy was gonna do to her.

He followed her into a tastefully decorated room, with a living room set, nice armchairs, and a coffee table. Apparently, this wasn't the kind of doctor he was expecting. Looks like Melissa was seeing a shrink.

"Good morning Melissa," a portly balding man spoke in a refined Boston accent as he approached her with a mug of coffee and set it on the coffee table.

"Hey Doc," she answered, tossing her purse on the floor by the leather armchair and flopping into it. Tucking her feet under her body and curling up on the arm of the chair, she pushed her thick bangs off to the side of her big forehead. Sam could see the bandage had been removed, and the sling she'd stopped wearing a few dreams before.

"How's the arm?" he nodded towards the appendage in question.

"Twinges a bit here and there, but otherwise it's a whole lot better." She leaned forward and wrapped her hands around the mug of coffee before settling back in the armchair.

Sam was listening to their chit-chat while examining the room and looking for anything that would tell him where they were or what was going on. There was a newspaper on the doctor's desk, but it was all jumbled and he couldn't read anything on it. Same with all the framed degrees on the wall, nothing made any sense to him.

The shrink took a seat in the chair opposite her and settled in with his own mug and a notebook. "So what would you like to discuss today Melissa?"

"It's Mel, Doc," she rolled her eyes as she took a sip of the coffee and closed her eyes in appreciation.

"Forgive me, I keep forgetting."

"Bull," she snorted, "you just think you can solve all my problems by trying to re-direct blame on my reasons for preferring my nick-name over my real one – or some shit like that."

The shrink actually chuckled at her. "Is that why you think you're here? To learn to re-direct blame?"

"Come on Doc," she whined, "I don't feel like being analyzed today."

"Or any other day for that matter."

"My mother thinks that coming here will help me. I want her off my back."

"And that's the only reason why you come here?"

"Well I certainly don't think you can help me. You are woefully under-qualified."

"Maybe I could help if you told me what was wrong..."

"Yeah. Thanks but no thanks Doc."

"Well then, how about we discuss Amanda?"

"How about we don't." There was a dangerous edge to her voice when she said it and it piqued his interest slightly.

"You carry a lot of guilt around with you Mel. If you would just learn to accept that the accident was just an accident..."

"It was my fault!" she shot back at him and Sam turned to stare at the pair of them from his spot near an impressive looking bookcase. Her face was twisted and her big eyes were narrowed into slits as she hissed. "It was all my fault and people died."

"Car accidents happen hourly in this country Mel. There is a car accident every second some place in the world."

'Yeah, well I didn't cause those ones."

"And you're not at fault for the one you were in. You weren't drinking, you weren't on drugs... it was one of those things that happen and all you have to do is learn to let go and move on."

"Well gee Doc, that's all I have to do? That sounds swell. Wow, I feel better already. You really earned that steep hourly fee today."

"You're being more sarcastic than usual today, any particular reason why you're deflecting so much?"

Sam actually caught her glance at him warily before answering the shrink, "No."

Apparently, the doc didn't miss the eye flick either. "Why did you look over there for?"

"It's nothing."

"I don't believe you. Is it your demon again? The one that you said caused the accident? The one that haunts you?"

Sam actually strode up to her and stared down at her where she was still curled up against the arm of the chair. She was staring back at him with dark, fathomless eyes that were full of fear as she whispered to him rather than the doctor, "No. He's a different one."

"Another apparition that comes to you?" the doc asked with feigned interest. Sam ignored the smarmy shrink, so did Mel as the two of them stared at each other, and Sam wondered if his eyes showed the same fear that hers did. "Mel? You have another apparition that appears to you?"

"Yes," she breathed, big dark eyes bored into his.

"Is this one evil as well?"

"I-I don't know... he follows me and then he just disappears."

"What does he want?"

"I don't know."

"Have you asked him?"

"What do you want?" she whispered.

"It's here?" the doc's eyebrows shot up as he looked towards where she was looking which was right beside the arm of her chair.

"He's right there."

"Mel... Why is he haunting us? What does he want?" Sam crouched by her chair and placed a hand on top of hers.

"I don't know."

"What did he do to you?"

"He whispers, he laughs, and he tells me he has plans for me," she breathed.

"What accident are you talking about?"

Sam didn't get an answer though as the shrink interrupted. "Melissa," the doctor sighed, "this isn't healthy. There is no one there and I can't allow you to foster this delusion of yours."

"No one there?" she hissed at the shrink and gestured wildly at Sam. "He's six and a half feet tall and he's two feet from you you bloated pompous quack!"

"Really Melissa – name calling? There is no one there and you need to accept the fact that the accident you were in wasn't your fault and you need to stop feeding this delusion of yours of demons following you."

"And that is why you can't help me Doc," she snarled. "You're as blind as you are ignorant and completely unable to understand that there are things out there that you can't explain away. That there are scores of things out there that would make you piss yourself in fear but that don't show up in any of those scientific, pompous magazines you're so fond of."

"I don't believe in demons Melissa," Doc leaned forward in his chair to look her in the eyes.

"Well they sure as hell believe in me," she shot back, picking up her purse and striding for the door with Sam following in her wake, his expanded head-space muddled with the bits he had learned and wondering if he'd be able to piece anything together.

The dream dissolved when she slammed the door to his office.

"Baby, you look horrible," Jess commented as she came into the kitchen to find him there nursing a cup of coffee. She had Nina and Amber with her and he vaguely remembered her telling him that the three of them were going out to help Nina pick out her wedding flowers.

Fuck, the wedding is only two months away.

He tried to keep his game-face together. Nina and Amber were there and the last thing he needed was Nina getting a good look at him and putting two and two together and realizing that he was tripping half the time. Luckily she was too busy discussing the flower arrangements with Amber to pay too much attention to him.

"Yeah, I didn't get too much sleep today. I think old Mrs. Esteban upstairs had her grand-kids with her today or something. What a racket."

"You poor baby," Jess kissed the top of his head in passing and let her fingers trail across his hair. He leaned into the touch like it was life support and his stomach clenched when she drifted past him. He wished Nina and Amber would take off – he just wanted to hold his angel and forget about life for awhile. "I'll make you something to eat before I leave, 'kay?"

"You're leaving?" he sat up straighter, brows knit together and trying to remember her telling him anything last night before he left for work.

"Yeah, remember? I told you about it a few days ago? I'm going to L.A. with Amber tonight. She's filming on Monday and told me she could get me in this weekend for a tour of the studio, so we're going to stay with her cousin Juanita and we're going to do some shopping and stuff."

Did she tell me that?

"When are you coming home?" he asked instead.

"I'll be back on Sunday," she flitted to the fridge and pulled some eggs and milk and cheese out.

"Don't worry Sam," Amber smiled as Jess dropped some bread in the toaster for him. "I'll watch my Chika's back."

"Why? Are you going drinking?"

"Yeah, Amber is taking me to a club and there are going to be some of the cast members from the show there," her eyes were glowing with excitement and his gut churned at the thought of not having her to himself tonight like he'd hoped. But he couldn't ask her to stay when she'd apparently told him days ago, and he couldn't ask her to stay when she was so excited to be going. "I've never been to a club in L.A." she grinned as she whisked the eggs and milk together and nudged the cheese and a knife towards Amber to slice for her. Nina had wandered into the living room and was talking into her cell phone to Dave.

"We're going to have so much fun Jess," the dark-haired beauty smiled as she picked up the knife and started slicing, popping a piece into her own mouth as she did it. "I'm taking her to this place," Amber spoke to him as she and Jess worked in tandem making him a three o'clock brunch, "where they actually have a list at the door. Can you believe it? You think that only happens in the movies but they exist and our names are on the list and we'll be hob-knobbing with the rich and famous."

"Make sure she doesn't get swept off her feet by Ryan Reynolds or Paul Walker or something then, okay?" he bargained with her. "Kick him in the jewels with those spiky heels of yours."

"Hey!" Jess nudged him in the shoulder as she passed by with a hot skillet full of scrambled eggs and reached for the cheese that her best friend had cut for her. "Like Paul Walker would be able to keep me away from you."

"Besides Sam," Amber grinned mischievously, "You got something Ole Paulie doesn't have."

"What's that? A nifty uniform and a massive amount of student dept?" he offered, trying to keep up with the banter when all he could focus on was that Jess was leaving for the weekend and he wanted to just go lie down with her and breath in the scent of her shampoo.

"No Dummy," Amber smirked and winked at him, "an ass you could bounce a quarter off of."

"Amber!" Jess admonished her but it was all lost on the giggling that was leaking out and making her shoulders shake. Jess slid a plate in front of him and reached into a drawer for a fork for him.

"Ughh!" Amber looked at the plate and curled her lip a little. "Chika – is that salsa from a jar?"

"Shut up!" she shot back, still giggling. "Not all of us have mothers that make absolutely everything from scratch."

"No, but fresh-homemade is so much better. And I know you know how to make it because Mama taught you at the restaurant."

"She might have taught me the salsa recipe, but she's got that Tamale recipe on lock down.

"You kidding? She'll probably never tell me how to make them," Amber rolled her dark eyes.

"That's cuz you have a big mouth," Jess flicked a small shred of cheese at her. "You know she taught your sister Louisa. Besides, you're on your way to being a big TV star, what do you need with a Tamale recipe when soon you'll have maids and butlers and trainers that will frown at you if you eat anything more substantial than a leaf of lettuce?"

"If I get some whiny douchebag telling me not to eat, I'll purposely gain ten pounds and sit there off set eating chocolate cake right there in front of him."

"As if," Jess rolled her eyes in exasperation. "I'll be right back, I have to grab a few things before we head out. Nina?" she called out to her sister who was still in the living room on her phone.

"What?" she called back.

"We're out of here in ten minutes. Okay?"

"Yeah, yeah."

Jess left the kitchen and headed for their room. He could hear her opening and shutting drawers and the closet door and he shifted uncomfortably in his chair when he caught Amber looking at him out of the corners of his eyes.

"You don't look so hot Gringo."

He pushed his food around on his plate a bit with the fork, not making eye contact with her. It had been a few hours since his last fix, but Amber didn't look at him in the same way that Jess did – clouded and foggy with love – and Amber wasn't as distracted with wedding plans like the others were.

"Night shifts are a bitch," he muttered, making an effort to put some of the eggs in his mouth. He was saved by any further questioning by Nina bustling back into the kitchen, snapping her phone shut and snatching a piece of toast off his plate.

"I'm starved," she mumbled around a mouthful of food. She actually reached for another slice and he just pushed the whole plate towards her. She snatched it up and leaned against the counter, rummaging around in the cutlery drawer for a new fork and started digging into the food.

Amber arched a dark eyebrow at her, "Hungry Nina?"

"I could smell them cooking from the living room and my mouth just started watering," she offered, still piling scrambled eggs into her mouth and biting off a chunk of toast.

"Really?" Amber asked, a bemused expression on her beautiful face. "That been going on a lot lately?"

"What are you smirking about?" she queried. Amber gave a pointed look at Nina's stomach and Jess's sister actually blanched a bit. She set the near empty plate on the counter and started counting something on her fingers. She looked up with an almost comical look on her face, "Oh my God," she breathed. "I've been so wrapped up in the wedding I wasn't paying attention..."

"You might want to make a stop at the drug store on the way home Sugar," Amber giggled.

An angelic smile ghosted across Nina's face before she shook her head. "You can't tell anyone until I know for sure," she pointed her finger at both of them.

"It's your news to tell Neen," Amber smirked, trying to bite down her smile before Jessica came back out in the room and started demanding to know what was going on.

He pushed away from the table and snatched up his mug of coffee. Jessica was ecstatic that she was going to be the Maid of Honor in her sister's wedding. She was going to be over the moon when she found out she was going to be an aunt too.