Disclaimer: Yeah, yeah, I know… the boys, the car, the whole thing is Kripke's. But I have the dvds and I reserve the right to play with my boys like puppets and put them through all sorts of dilemma's that make me feel better about the fact that I have nothing to do with the show itself! I like to call myself the PUPPETMASTER! Mwahahahahaha! Point? Not mine. Sad.

Special note to: SAIRAH. Thanks for reading Inner Musings, I really appreciate it! It really made me smile when I realised you read the story because you saw I'd written it, thanks heaps!!! I'm glad you liked it!

Chapter Ten

Dean sat awake in the seat by Sam's bed, watching to his brother sleeping. Sam's breathing was even and calm, and Dean hoped it would last the rest of the night. A night of peaceful sleep was exactly what Sam needed to recover some of his lost strength – not that he looked very lost when he was taking out those bikers, Dean thought. He looked just as strong as ever, and Dean had to admit – if only to himself – that he wasn't sure he could have fought quite as well with the injuries Sam had. Dean had seen some of the damage Sam suffered after the fight, torn skin, ripped stitches, he must have been in some pretty serious pain and yet, somehow, he found the strength to keep fighting anyway.

He had to admire his little brother for that. He wondered if Sam realised how much Dean actually admired him. Sam was so smart, and he just seemed to thrive on learning. It didn't matter what he was learning, as long as there was research, work and thought to it. And the harder he had to work for that knowledge the better he felt about it.

Dean would never understand that, but he still admired it.

Shifting in his seat, however, his thoughts shifted over to the little revelation Sam had dropped in their laps even earlier in the night. He was leaving the hunt. He thought Dean had no faith in him, that he didn't think he was up to the hunt. It didn't help that Sam had overheard the conversation with Jim that Dean had had. Sam took it out of context, but that wouldn't matter to him. Sam already doubted himself, his abilities, and Dean wasn't sure that there was anything he could say would make that any better.

How do you find faith in yourself once it's gone? How could anything ever make that okay again?

Dean felt himself growing angry as he thought of the bastard who had done this to his little brother. What he had done to take away that natural confidence Sam had always had. He was sometimes shy, a little quiet, and yet he had this air of confidence about him that made people stand up and take notice – even if Sam didn't realise that. Dean hadn't seen that confidence in Sam since he'd pulled him out of the cellar, and while that seemed perfectly normal after what he had been through, Dean didn't have like that it seemed to be taking hold of his little brother. He wanted to see Sam pull himself through this, he wanted him to be able to look himself in the mirror again, and not just see this scarred person looking back but see the awesome hunter he was.

The scars would heal, Dean thought. He remembered walking into this very room last night as Sam was getting dressed for the hunt. Even though Dean had seen Sam's injuries several times before, his heart stopped for a minute at the sight of them. Sam… damaged, broken, hurt… Dean would never get used to seeing that.

But to leave the hunt? Dean hadn't seen that coming. He wondered if saving Jim and Bobby's lives last night would do anything to change Sam's mind. He had, after all, taken out most of the bikers single handedly, surely that would make him realise he wasn't helpless! But Sam was a thinker, he was sensitive, and if he couldn't get passed the thought that he was going to get Dean killed or that he was a liability to Dean – or if he was convinced that that's what Dean thought of him – there'd be no stopping him from getting on that bus in the morning.

The thought of Sam leaving brought a lump to Dean's throat. He couldn't stand the thought of not seeing Sam again, of losing the one person he had always been able to rely on, to trust. No matter what else was going on in their lives, Sam was always Sam and he had always been there for him. As much as Dean liked to think of himself as the protector, he knew that Sam saved his life in a hundred different ways every single day. But last night, when Dean had told Sam he needed him, Sam had just looked back at him with disbelief in his eyes. There was something else shadowed in his eyes too, that Dean hadn't been able to identify but now the realisation struck him and it made him sick.

Hate. He had seen real hate in Sam's eyes. Not hate directed at Dean, it was worse than that. It was an inner hate that was finally showing through. Sam had hated himself in that moment, and that certainly wasn't helping him regain his confidence. Sam thought so little of himself that he actually hated himself – how the hell was Dean supposed to fix that? Or any of this, he wondered, rubbing his temple to ward off the headache that was trying to settle in on him while he watched Sam.

He knew that he couldn't let Sam get on that bus in the morning, he had to figure out a way to stop him… but he had no idea how to do it. He had no idea how to convince Sam that he was needed, that he was not just important to the hunt but he was important to Dean. Sam had no idea how much better he made things, and Dean wasn't sure he could put it into words!

He had a horrible feeling that it was going to take one hell of a chick flick moment to convince Sam to stay!

Dean turned the last two years over in his head, remembering what things had been like since he had dragged Sam back into the hunt and what things had been like before that. He had been hunting on his own for the most part, he didn't really hunt with his father that often back then. Sometimes, when a hunt needed more man power, they would team up, but generally speaking he was on his own. Again. He had always felt kind of alone, except when Sam was there. Especially when it was just the two of them.

When Dean had realised that John was missing, though, he knew he had to do something. He had told Sam he didn't want to do it alone, but the truth was he really couldn't. He could hunt on his own, sure, but he could be alone. He didn't want to be. He hated the thought of being on his own, he wanted his family together. He needed them more than they needed him, he was sure of that, but it didn't matter. Sam had joined Dean the Woman in White hunt, and it had been the best hunt Dean had ever been on. Just him and his little brother, hitting the road with Metallica blasting in the Impala, teasing each other the way they always had. They were on a different level this time, they were both adults, hunters, fighters… the banter flowed between them easily, they picked up where they left off but there was another element to the bond they had that Dean had never been able to put his finger on. He didn't think of it often, he didn't pretend to be that deep, but he was always aware of it.

After Dean had pulled Sam from the fire that had killed Jessica, though, he wasn't exactly his normal self. He was angry, depressed, grieving – which was to be expected. But somehow, even when he was calling out her name during the night, Sam still managed to make Dean feel better.

He couldn't let that go!

But what the hell am I supposed to do about it, Dean thought,

If Dean couldn't stop his little brother from getting on that bus in the morning… he shook his head angrily, annoyed with himself for not knowing how to fix things.

"Damn," he muttered, his voice so long he could barely hear it himself. "I'm completely useless!"

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Sam awoke several hours ago, images floating before his eyes that made him jump awake but they weren't a full on nightmare. They were just flashes of different things he had seen in the cellar, of memories of what he had been through, of what had been done to him. But he didn't want to remember anymore, and he had managed to pull himself out of the dreamland before it had taken hold over him.

He heard a noise nearby and turned to see Dean asleep in the chair by his bed again. He felt better seeing him there. He didn't feel like it made him pathetic to be relieved to see Dean sitting there, he was more relieved to see that Dean was okay after seeing a gun trained on him earlier in the evening.

Sam wondered what it would be like to get up in the morning and not see Dean polishing a weapon or chewing on a piece of bacon – or passed out asleep on the bed across from Sam's, which was most often where Dean was when Sam woke up. He knew he was going to have to find out what life without his brother was like before he got them both killed, but he wasn't looking forward to it. He just knew that he couldn't hunt anymore, too much had happened and he just couldn't handle that life now. Every time he closed his eyes he saw The Boar, or relived the beatings he had suffered. He was remembering things that had happened in that cellar that he hadn't been aware of!

One of these days, Sam knew, Dean really was going to get killed saving his life, and he wasn't sure he'd be able to live with that. He wondered if he could talk Bobby into joining Dean on the hunt, but wasn't sure that was fair. Bobby had a house, a home, and he'd done most of his hunting and travelling years ago. He didn't hunt full time anymore – unless he had to. He had don't his part, and Sam didn't want to drag him into that world again when it was his responsibility. It wasn't Bobby's job to keep Dean safe, that was what Sam was supposed to do…

…but how could Sam stick around when he spent more time putting Dean in danger instead of watching his back? He was going to get him killed, and Sam couldn't face that! He couldn't stand the thought of losing his brother, and he was certain Dean was more likely to get hurt or killed if Sam was there. He sure wasn't helping him!

Dean shifted in his seat and Sam watched him for a moment before rolling onto his back again. He stared at the ceiling, remembering Dean's reaction when Sam had told him that he was going to leave the hunt. His face had had so many things written across it, Sam wasn't sure he could identify them all. Dean had even gone a little pale! Sam hadn't been expecting that reaction, especially after everything that had happened. Dean should have been relieved to see Sam go, not… scared? Worried?

Dean had told him he needed him, but Sam couldn't believe that. Dean wanted him around, sure. He had never made a secret of the fact that he wanted Sam on the hunt but Sam had always suspected it was because Dean was trying to get back what they had lost when Sam had gone to college. Dean had basically admitted that to him when Meg had kidnapped their father, telling Sam that he didn't want him to walk away the minute the fight was over. Dean wanted him to stick around, but Sam knew now that it wasn't because he was saving any lives…

…Dean didn't need him to hunt, he just needed him. Or Dean thought he did, anyway. Sam knew different, he knew that Dean would be better off without him.

His mind raced forward to seeing those guns trained on Dean and he shivered. If he had hesitated for even a second longer than he had, Dean might have been shot. The thought of Dean dying brought an ache in Sam's chest and he pulled himself to sit up against the pillows, trying to relieve the anxiety he was feeling. He remembered how he had felt when he thought Dean had died. The room he was in had seemed even darker than it was, and the darkness seemed to reach out to him and mock him cruelly. Sam had been so relieved when he'd seen Dean alive and well – and beating the crap out of The Boar in the corner, that had definitely been a memory worth holding onto.

But that didn't change the fact that Dean had been hurt. He had been hit with a taser – again – and shot in the shoulder. Sam wasn't sure if Dean realised Sam knew that, but he had recognised the signs in Dean even though Dean had tried to hide it. He had better movement in that shoulder than he probably should have, but he had still been favouring it a little. Sam had heard the gunshot and put the two things together… he remembered hearing the gunshot and tears spilling down his cheeks as he had screamed for his brother. Six years old, trapped in a sack and being driven away on a motorbike, the only thing he had heard after the gunshot was a grunt of pain from Dean.

Sam rubbed his eyes, trying to get his thoughts away from thoughts of Dean getting hurt and killed. He couldn't stand thinking about it anymore, and he felt tears slipping down his cheeks again. He didn't want to leave, he wanted to stay with his brother and hunt the way they had for so long… he wanted to ride shotgun, listening to classic rock and enjoying the easy banter they had always shared…

…but he couldn't stay.

Sam forced his eyes shut and tried to sleep through the tears that still insisted on flowing freely down his cheeks. He didn't bother to brush them away, instead he just waited for the nightmares to begin and hoped none of them involved anyone shooting Dean.

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Dean awoke the next morning earlier than he had expected to. His eyes shot open and saw the empty bed before him. He wondered if Sam had taken off without saying good bye, without letting him drive him to the bus station, and his heart was immediately in his throat. Sam wasn't well enough to walk all that way! He was still hurt, still stiff and sore, he needed more time! Dean needed more time! Sam couldn't be gone, not just like that! He wouldn't just sneak off on his own without a word!

He wouldn't!

Had something happened? Was Sam missing? Had he slipped out of bed to get something and gotten hurt? Dean was on his feet in an instant and was about to race out of the room when he heard voices in the kitchen. Dean couldn't tell who they were, they were speaking too quietly, but he hoped – hell, he prayed! – that one of them would be Sam.

He ran the length of the hall way and tripped over himself into the kitchen, barely managing to stay on his feet. Sam was sitting at the table, freshly showered and dressed, munching on a piece of toast. Dean blinked, trying to take in the image that seemed to be perfectly normal for most families, and yet the images flashing through his own mind in those few seconds when he didn't know where Sam was had seemed more likely since they were Winchester's.

Trouble did have a habit of finding them, after all.

"You're okay," Dean stated dumbly, relief hiding behind a flash of anger. "I thought you had left or something."

"Left?" Sam asked, blinking in confusion. "I couldn't leave, I can't get to the bus unless you drive me."

"Maybe I just shouldn't drive you then," Dean snapped under his breath as he stalked to the fridge and pulled the door open.

"Huh?"

"Nothing," Dean snapped again, louder this time. Jim was madly trying to catch Dean's attention, warning him against upsetting Sam, but he ignored the warning. After all, Sam wanted to be treated normally right? Well, this is how Dean would normally react to the thought of Sam leaving, bailing on the hunt, running off when Dean needed him. "I said I shouldn't drive you to the bus then!"

"But…" Sam was even more confused. "But… then I'd have to walk…"

"Then walk if you want to get out of here that badly!" Dean slammed the fridge shut again and walked out of the kitchen.

Two seconds later, the front door slammed behind him.

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Sam turned hurt eyes towards Jim and tried to steady his voice before he spoke. When he opened his mouth, he still wasn't sure he was going to be able to get the words out without a tremor or two, but if he waited any longer that would be impossible.

"What just happened?" Sam asked, sounding younger than the six year old he had been so recently.

"Ohh, Sam," Jim sighed, dropping into the seat across from Sam. "Don't you get it? Dean doesn't want you to go."

"But he's better off without me here," Sam reminded the pastor as if it was the most commonly known thing in the world and everyone should be able to see it. "I'm going to get him killed one day."

Jim laughed lightly.

"You know, he was saying pretty much the same thing not too long ago," Jim announced. "He was so angry with himself when you nearly drowned… do you remember falling in the lake?"

Sam shook his head.

"I just remember waking up and seeing Dean looking at me," Sam answered.

"Well, we nearly lost you… I think that was the scariest moment of your brother's life… I've never seen him like that before, not ever," Jim continued. "But now, you're leaving and that probably scares him just as much – maybe even more. He doesn't want you to leave, Sam. He needs you, and not just because you're a hunter, but because you're his brother."

"I'm not much of a hunter," Sam disagreed, looking down at his unfinished toast. "Especially not anymore."

"No?" Jim asked, not surprised by the statement Sam was making and yet surprised that anyone could think that of a Winchester, especially Sam Winchester who had been fighting his whole life… he hadn't always fought demons, sometimes he was just fighting for the right to live a normal life and Jim thought that was just as noble. "You could have fooled me last night! Who took down that biker gang when no one else could? Dean couldn't move, he had too many guns trained on him! One itchy trigger finger and he would have been shot! And I was knocked out… Bobby! Well, Bobby never even made it to the truck! But then you come out and did what the rest of us couldn't do… and you saved all our lives in the process… how can you not think you're a hunter? And a damn good one, for that matter!"

Sam hesitated, thinking over what Jim had said a moment before speaking again.

"Can a pastor say 'damn'?" he asked.

Jim chuckled.

"This one can," he decided firmly.

Sam sighed.

"I'd better go pack," he announced, getting to his feet. "It looks like I'm going to have a bit of a hike ahead of me…"

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An hour later, Dean had snuck in the back way and grabbed his duffel bag from the bedroom and had shoved them into the trunk of the Impala. He was sitting on the porch when Sam came out with his bag tossed over his good shoulder. Jim and a barely awake Bobby followed him out of the house to say good bye.

Dean said nothing.

"Are you sure you don't want a lift?" Bobby asked, obviously not for the first time.

"You have a concussion, Bobby," Sam reminded him. "You shouldn't be driving anywhere for a few days. Don't worry, I'll be fine."

Dean sighed. He listened patiently as Sam said his good byes to the others and then made his way gingerly to the bottom of the porch steps. Dean could see the hint of pain etched into Sam's features, but he seemed to be trying hard to hide it so Dean didn't say anything.

"You're off then," Dean stated, not looking at his brother. He kept his eyes trained on the ground instead and he saw Sam shift his weight from one foot to the other uncomfortably. "Good luck…"

"Dean…" Sam began. Dean looked up at him, knowing the look on his face would be one of anger, but wishing he could change that. If Sam really felt like he needed to leave, then Dean needed to let him. He had always tried to do whatever Sam needed him to do after all, no matter how hard it was for him.

When Sam realised that Dean wasn't going to say anything, he sighed and walked away. The hurt look in his eyes hadn't gone without notice by Dean, and he mentally kicked himself. Why couldn't he just say it? Why couldn't he just tell Sam the truth! Sam would stay then, he was almost certain of it…

…but the words wouldn't come.

Dean got to his feet and stretched his back. Sam hadn't gotten far, and he was walking with a slight limp. He was probably trying no to pull the stitches in his back and stomach as he moved… what a low blow, Dean thought.

"Hey, Bitch!" Dean called out. Sam turned around, shifting the weight of the bag he carried carefully as he waited to hear what Dean had to say. Dean took a deep breath and tried to sound more cheerful than he really felt. "You want a lift?"

Sam smiled.

"Sure… Jerk…"

Dean turned to Jim and Bobby.

"I'm gonna hit the road after I drop Sammy off," Dean told them as Sam headed for the Impala. "Thanks for everything… this is one hunt I… well, thanks."

"No problem," Jim assured him.

"Sure," Bobby agreed. "And next time I see you, you guys can fill me in on the bits I missed… coz… well, things are a little hazy."

Dean chuckled.

"Jim, maybe he should get checked out by a doctor," he suggested.

"Don't worry, he's going today," Jim assured him. Bobby was looking confused and frustrated, but a smile broke out on his face and he nodded.

"See you boys later!" he grinned.

Dean shook his head and walked to the car. The next ten minutes was going to be painful, he knew, as he drove Sam to the bus station. He had to tell Sam the truth, and it had to be soon or he'd never get another chance… but he just wasn't very good at these kinds of conversations, he wasn't sure it would make any difference in the end.

Ten minutes later, after complete silence had given Dean a headache, he parked the car at the bus station. The bus that would take Sam to wherever he was planning on going was already waiting for him and Dean felt an immediate flare of anger directed at it. He didn't want to let Sam out of the car. He wished he had one of those child locks so he could make Sam stay, but he knew that wasn't what he needed to do.

What he needed to do was so much harder.

"Sam," Dean began as Sam made a move toward the door. "I'm not very good at this stuff sometimes, you know… normally when we talk, you start it and I just get to listen and then I get frustrated enough to say something that eventually shuts you up… but this time…"

"Dean," Sam tried to interrupt him, but Dean shook his head and glanced back at the bus. Sam would be getting on that bus any minute now, Dean thought. Unless he could get the words out to say what he needed to say.

"Sam, just shut up, okay? Don't make this harder," Dean pleaded with him. He turned in his seat and faced Sam, remembering the last time he had done this was when he had asked Sam told tell him why he thought Bloody Mary would go after him, and his blood ran cold at the memory of Sam announcing that there had been more to Jessica's death than Sam had told him at the time. He felt that same sense of dread now when he thought of Sam leaving.

"Dean, I have to go, I still have to buy my ticket," Sam reminded him.

"Yeah, well if you miss it you'll just have to take the next one," Dean snapped, growing frustrated. He wasn't annoyed at Sam, he was getting angry at himself. This shouldn't be so hard! "Look, I don't want you to go, okay? I want you to stay here."

"Dean…"

"I know what you're going to say, but you're wrong," Dean told him simply. "You're a bigger idiot than you think you are if you think that I'm better off if you left… and you're an even bigger idiot again if you think I'm going to let you get on that bus without trying to stop you!"

Sam looked out the window and Dean kicked himself. He was saying this all wrong, and he wished he could rewind it all and start again. Why couldn't this just be a practice run?

"Look, I'm not saying this right…" Dean sighed, softening his tone. "What I'm trying to say is that I need you… I need you because you keep me alive, you keep me safe. I'll be the first to admit it, I take more risks when you're not here, and I'm a better hunter when you are here."

"Dean, I'm…"

"You are a damn good hunter, Sam, whether you want to believe it or not. You're not a liability, you're not in the way, and you're sure as hell not going to get me killed! I'm sick of hearing you put yourself down all the time, you're better than that. You shouldn't doubt yourself, and I sure as hell don't doubt you. I don't think any less of you after what you've been through, none of us do! Hell, I admire you're strength just to get through it alive!" Dean told him, talking faster as he continued. He felt like he had to rush through it while the words were spilling out. "You did what you had to do. You lived, you fought back when you could, you even tried to get away! And then, when we found you, we weren't bringing you home to bury you because you survived… you have no idea what that means, Sammy. What that meant to me! You have no idea what I was going through while you were gone… I was going out of my mind! And when I walking into that room and saw you lying there, I thought you were dead, but even if you weren't, I was pissed as hell at what they'd done to you! What I couldn't protect you from!"

Sam took a shaky breath, but he didn't say anything.

"And then after all that, you saved our lives," Dean kept going. "I don't even know what to say, Sam… you're my little brother and I'm supposed to look out for you, but…"

Sam looked at him.

"But what?" he asked.

"But you end up looking out for me even more," Dean finished. "Just by being there you've saved my life and I don't just mean the hunt. I hunted before because it was all I knew, all I had ever known. But when you came back, I hunted because I wanted to. When Dad died, I was so scared about what might happen to you I… I wanted to quit hunting, and you kept me in it. You pulled me though and reminded me how good it feels to save lives… and you saved my life back then because I would have gotten myself killed so many time if it weren't for you."

Sam held Dean's gaze for a moment, but still didn't say anything.

Dean sighed.

"So, go if you really need to go," Dean told him. "But don't go because you think I've lost faith in you because that's never going to happen…"

Sam climbed out of the car and headed toward the ticket office. Dean watched him as he bought a ticket, keeping his eyes on him right up until he disappeared behind the bus. Tears filled his eyes and Dean hit the steering wheel angrily. He had been sure Sam would have stayed if only Dean could tell him what he really thought, how he really felt. He had finally gotten the words out, but somehow Dean had failed. He had said the wrong things, he was sure of it. Or maybe Sam just didn't believe him. Maybe he still thought Dean was just trying to make him feel better.

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Sam walked across the road toward the ticket office. He still wasn't sure where he was going to go, but he figured he should aim for California. At least he'd been there before and had some sort of idea what was there. He was going to be started out all over again, but that didn't mean everything had to be completely new.

The thought of going back to school had occurred to him, but he'd immediately decided against it. He couldn't do that, not now. Things were different. Too many things had changed, too many things had happened. He didn't want to go back there…

He stood in front of the ticket office, hearing the lady asking him again where he wanted to go. He told her California and handed her the money. When he had the ticket in his hand, he headed straight for the bus. He walked as quickly as he could, averting his eyes from the Impala. He didn't want to look over there again, he knew that if he caught sight of his brother again he'd lose his nerve and wouldn't get on the bus.

It had taken all his strength just to get out of the car after Dean had finished talking, but he knew it was the right thing for him to do. He had to leave, he had to get on this bus and go somewhere far away where he couldn't get Dean hurt. If Sam was going to get hurt in California, at least Dean wouldn't be there. It was the only way Sam could think of to help now, after… well, since he had lost his nerve. He was afraid, and he knew it. It wasn't the good type of fear that kept you alert during a hunt, it was the debilitating kind of fear that would get them both killed.

"I need you…"

Dean's voice echoed in Sam's head. He tried to push the thought aside as the bus driver opened the door for him, but couldn't get Dean's words out of his mind.

"Don't go because you think I've lost faith in you because that's never going to happen…"

Sam hesitated.

"Are you getting on, kid?" the driver asked. Sam looked at his ticket, one foot on the first step of the bus. "I gotta go if you ain't getting on."

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Dean heard the bus start up and closed his eyes. He didn't want to see it leave, he didn't want to watch Sam drive away from him. He wasn't sure he could handle that…

Until…

There was a tap at the window and the passenger door opened. Sam stuck his head in the car. Dean glanced back at the bus as it rounded the corner and then turned to his little brother.

"Sam, what…"

"Hey," Sam greeted him, smiling more than Dean had seen in a while. The smile actually reached his eyes this time. "Can I get a ride?"

"Depends," Dean answered. "Where're you going?"

"Wherever there's an evil son of a bitch that needs killing," Sam told him, climbing into the car and pulling the door shut. "I can't let you have all the fun, can I?"

Dean started the engine, unable to keep the megawatt grin from spreading over his features.

"No," he agreed. "I guess not…"

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Sam smiled when he saw the look on Dean's face. He was happy that Sam was staying, genuinely happy. There was no hiding that, no faking it. Dean was relieved… he had meant everything he had said to Sam, and Sam finally believed it…

He would just have to work out his issues the Winchester way…

…by killing as many evil things between here and wherever.

SUPERNATURAL

A/N – Well, that wraps it up for you! Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoyed the ride!

Reviews are always welcome.