Author's Note: I AM SO SO SORRY FOR THE LACK OF UPDATES GUYS. Between a seven day work week, trips to the hospital, and a nasty cold, I just haven't had the time to get these chapters done. Hopefully that should be the end of the hiatus, but I apologize in advance if there are any more. I hope you enjoy this chapter!

The most primal kind of terror settled into Rowena MacLeod's stomach as she stared at the empty crib where her son had once lain. All that was left was his teddy bear and blanket. She picked up the bear and held it in her arms, shellshocked by it all.

"He's gone." She said to no one in particular.

Then, adrenaline rushed through her system, urging her to do something. She ran out of the room, shrieking for help. She scrambled to find her cell phone. She had the Winchester's on speed dial. Sam was the one to pick up.

"Rowena?"

"Moose, get down here now. My son is missing!" She shrieked. The panic edged in her voice let Sam Winchester know that this was no joke. He jolted up in his chair and almost knocked it over.

"We'll be right there." He assured her. She hung up her phone and stared at it, agonizing over her son's impending demise. In a fit of rage she chucked it across the room and screamed at the top of her lungs. She bolted toward her bedroom, flinging the door open and shut. She knocked over the books she had there and sent them crashing to the floor. She clutched at her head, sobbing in great heaves as she tried to cling to her last shred of dignity. She happened to glance a bit to her left and saw the mirror that hung on the back of her door. In it, she saw a reflection that she was certain wasn't hers.

The woman in the mirror had her face, but She had one hand stroking the hair of a brown haired little boy whose head leaned on her stomach as he clung to her, brown chocolate eyes seemed to stare into her soul. She screamed as loud as she dared, and ran towards the image. She slammed her fist into the mirror, beating her fists as the glass fractured and split further with every further pounding. When the anger faded, leaving her depleted and numb, she realized that her hands were bleeding from the glass. The adrenaline that had pounded through her initially had made her completely unable to feel the damage she was sure she had done to her body. She felt herself breathing heavily, and knew logically that she had done serious damage to herself and that she shouldn't have acted so irrationally, but it didn't seem to matter. Not with her baby in danger. Feeling a sense of complete disconnect from her body, she went into the bathroom to wash her hands. She cleaned the blood off of her knuckles and bandaged them, when suddenly she was faced with a new dilemma altogether.

Lurking innocently by the sink was her toilet.

For a very long moment, she stared at it. Images of past purging flashed through her eyes, one after another like dominos toppling over in a line. Her fingers twitched.

The doctors at the hospital had given her instructions for moments like these. They had made her practice a hundred times so that when they did come up when she was in the real world, she would be prepared. She ticked off the steps on her fingers one by one.

Identify the feelings and emotions

Recognize thought distortions and negative self talk

Speak positive affirmations until the urge is gone

Call a therapist if urges continue

Take medications as prescribed

She tried to begin the steps, but the feelings and emotions she had were so jumbled and mixed together that she couldn't tell where one ended and another began. She was so frightened by the thoughts in her mind that she was shaking, clutching the sink to keep herself upright. There were things she had to do now, she knew. She wasn't going to find her son by standing there and wallowing in her own misery and guilt. She had to go on.

"Come on." She whispered to galvanize herself into action. She let go of the sink and looked at her room. It was destroyed and a complete mess. She swept up the glass shards on the floor, careful not to miss a piece. When her baby boy came home she couldn't let him get cut by that. She swept the remains into a trashcan and left the rest of the room be. There was no point in cleaning the rest. Not yet, at least. When she dumped the glass chips into the trash, she stood there for a moment, listless. What was she to do now?

Her legs carried her back into the nursery, looking for any sign or signal of what might have happened to her son. Her eyes scanned the room, lasers searching for a hair out of place. She found herself drawn to the crib, magnetically pulled toward it. She stared inside. Left inside were his beloved blanket and bear. She lifted the blanket from the crib and lifted it to her nose. It still smelled like her son, and was still warm from sleep. She had barely missed him. She held the scrap of fabric to her chest as she felt tears sting her eyes. She put one hand on the crib railing as the tears she had tried so hard to restrain flowed freely and cried. She just wanted a good life for her son, and just when she had begun building it, he was snatched from her in an instant.

It could be over so fast.

Slowly, she regained her composure. The time for breaking apart and feeling too much could come later when her baby was safe in her arms. For now, she had a job to do. She stroked the furry face of his teddy bear.

"Don't worry, Fergus. Mummy's coming." She swore. She would not let him go without a fight. The sound of her doorbell ringing pulled her away from her thoughts. She gave a small nod to the nursery, and then went to welcome the Winchester brothers into her home.