Shaz- I'm sorry!! That last chapter was supposed to be the shocker, not the stumper :) I hope this next one helps explain, but just in case it doesn't, here are the answers to your questions:

Yes, you read it right. Dean just 'disappeared' off the ferris wheel... Poof...in a demonic sort of way. I was hoping some of the previous posts had lead you to suspect something was off with him, but it's okay. Either I'm really great with hiding clues, or really terrible with making them... here is a quick-list of some of the ones I planted in previous chapters. ( saga.foreverfastlane'com/the-clues.html ) Just replace that apostrophe with a period, for the .com

What does Dean remember? Well, bits and pieces will start leaking through, but the simple answer is "A lot!" Basically everything, and it was way too much to write in just one chapter (plus that would ruin all the mystery--I have to have my suspense, you know.)

As a warning, the next few chapters are a complete contrast to the rest of the story. Very dark and abstract. Dean's about to meet his maker, and I won't say any more than that for now, because I don't want to ruin it for anyone. Let me know if you're still having a hard time with it, though, and I will gladly explain.

stakemenow - I remember you--and I'm glad I didn't scare you away with those two chapters. You are right on the money, there is definitely something evil inside of Dean. (And I'm very glad I could throw that curve ball in there.) However, I wouldn't necessarily say he "gave up." As we know, Dean never gives up--but he can be overpowered--I won't say any more than that :)


When I'd returned, to wherever it was I had been, the darkness spoke to me.

But it wasn't the first time. No. I had definitely heard its sound before. Somewhere. I just hadn't recognized it then.

Now I did, though, and now that I did, I knew. It had been there all along. A white noise, calling me in my sleep. My dreams, my nightmares, and even my blackouts. It had been a constant ringing in my ear—one that I had shrugged off as a mere hangover. But I heard it now, so loud and so clear, and somehow I even recognized the voice. More than that, though, I knew what it wanted. It told me everything and more. In my own words. With my own voice. I could tell the words it spoke were not just meant for me, they were from me.

We were one.

A whisper in my ear welcomed me back. Breath on my neck made my heart race, and though I felt nothing but cold fear, I smiled.

Don't know why. But I did.

"Do you remember?" She asked me softly. Fingers curling up my spine. "Do you remember the plan?"

I did, and it made me sick.

"Because, if you do remember," Her voice grew loud and bitter, "If you remember, then you sure fooled me. That little skit back there? That wasn't part of the plan. Not even close."

I knew exactly what the darkness was talking about—Mariah. Mariah hadn't been part of 'her' plan, but I didn't care, and I wouldn't apologize either. I wouldn't even speak. In fact, I couldn't speak; I could barely lift my tongue. Something was wrong. Really, really wrong.

"It's okay though." She spoke as her fingers traced playfully up my back. I tried to pull away from this madwoman's touch, only to find that I couldn't. I couldn't talk, I couldn't move, I couldn't scream, or defend myself. I couldn't call for help, or even say 'boo.' I couldn't even turn to see her face. I could do nothing but listen. And pray for mercy, or death.

I was disconnected, and yeah, it scared me out of my mind. I felt her dead fingers rest gently on my shoulder. Felt her icy breath against the back of my neck, and I wanted to die.

With everything I knew. And everything I'd done, I wanted to die.

"I forgive you." She says, another whisper in my head, "You were confused. Scared. Didn't know what was happening, did you?"

Somehow, my head shook.

It told her what she wanted to hear, but I was positive that I hadn't moved. Not an inch. I tried, and tried again, but I still couldn't. Imagine, trapped—inside my own damn body— and worse? If I wasn't her puppet on strings that meant that something else was inside me. Controlling me, like a toy car. I tried yelling, tried flailing my arms and kicking my feet, but my body didn't move. It only made me tired. Weak.

"But, now, you 'do' know." She sounded happy, for a change. "You remember. You remember how you swore to help me. Swore on your life, on your precious car. On your brother, you swore to help me—you remember, don't you?"

I heard the anger return in her voice, and I thought for sure she was ready to kill me. Like some pet, her gentle hand rose to touch my chin. Her fingers turned violent, grabbed a hold of my skin and she pulled my face to hers.

I couldn't believe it.

I knew the minute I saw her, it was impossible. But, there she stood. The bitch.