Happy Valentine's Day! If you have a special someone, I hope you have a wonderful day with them! For the rest of us...hey chocolate is on sale! :D And there's always fanfiction... ;)

I was going to post this tomorrow but then thought, why not today? So here's a Valentine's Day present for all of you! It won't cause tooth decay or diabetes. ;) Enjoy!

Chapter 38

Sam waited until Tommy and Arla had left the house before he sought out his brother.

All in all, it had been a good day. After choking down breakfast, he'd spent the rest of the morning sitting outside alone and trying to read the book Dean had given him. More time was lost staring at the pages than actually reading the words, but he'd managed to finish one chapter by lunch time so at least that was some sort of progress.

Everyone had left him alone which surprised him. Once he'd blabbed to his brother about not taking the pills, he'd expected a lecture. Or at least an argument. But Dean had surprised him by leaving the topic alone. In fact, everyone had been leaving all the topics alone.

After what he'd said to Dean outside the clinic and what he'd said to Arla yesterday on their walk, Sam hadn't expected for the seemingly never-ending press for him to talk to dissipate. Maybe they were leaving him alone because he finally had talked.

And he had talked.

A fact that still left him stunned. Despite his best efforts at control, he'd talked and, just like he'd been afraid of, more came out than he ever wanted anyone to know. He wasn't convinced talking had helped, but Sam was at least starting to feel more like himself.

Tommy had brought him out a sandwich for lunch and revealed that, while he'd been sitting outside trying to read, his brother had been sacked out on the couch napping. It amused him, but also showed how screwed up their lives had become - and how sick Dean still was - if he was napping. Even so, it had also been a relief. The fact that his brother could (finally) leave him alone and unsupervised for a few hours, and get the rest he himself so desperately needed, made Sam think Dean was starting to get better, too.

After lunch, he and Arla had taken another walk that had almost turned into something resembling jogging. It was discouraging how out of shape he was but it felt amazing to get back to doing something normal. They came back to find Tommy and Dean with their heads under the hood of the Pacer.

Sam had considered taking a nap of his own. He was exhausted enough at this point. But when Arla had mentioned she and Tommy were going to go to a movie, he'd declined the invitation to join them, and decided it was time to talk to his brother.

About Cas.

He was probably making a very bad decision. Mentioning Bobby certainly had been, but Sam couldn't wait any longer.

All this time, his worry over the angel had been shoved to the bottom of all the other crap that was happening. Of course, it helped that he was finally able to form a complete thought these days. He might stand a chance of holding a conversation with his brother now, even if it turned into a shouting match.

So he took a deep breath, briefly reconsidered abandoning this foolishness and taking a nap instead, and walked out into the garage. Dean was still under the hood which was encouraging. If he was busy, this conversation might go better. And, hey, in the grand scheme of things, Sam thought this still might be a safer topic to discuss rather than Dean's drinking habits. He was feeling better, yes, but nowhere near better enough to have a hope of withstanding his brother's anger if he dared bring that up.

His anger over Cas was still likely to kill one or both of them.

"Hey," Dean looked up. He wiped a hand across his face and offered a tentative smile. "How are...how was the run?"

Sam smiled and hoped some day they wouldn't be walking on eggshells around each other. He could tell Dean wanted to ask how he was doing, but was carefully sidestepping that question. Which was just as well because being asked that question still made Sam want to punch a wall.

"It wasn't a run. Fast walking at the best," Sam said, leaning a hip against the car. "I'm not sure it even qualified as jogging."

"It's a start." And the expression in Dean's eyes told Sam that his brother was probably more excited about the accomplishment then he was.

"Yeah," Sam relented, because Dean had a point. "It was good. Felt good."

Dean nodded, looking more pleased and less worried.

"How's the car?"

"She's coming along." Dean leaned back over the engine and started a five minute lecture on what had been wrong with the car and what was still wrong with the car and how much he didn't like AMC Pacers.

Since he had no grounds to disagree with all the reasons Dean thought Pacers sucked, Sam held his tongue and almost allowed himself to ignore the fact he'd come out to the garage for a reason. At least Dean was in a good mood. Clearly, spending all morning on the couch napping and then being waited on hand and foot by Arla (a scene Tommy had gleefully described to him), had done Dean a lot of good.

Having his hands covered in grease and working on a car also seemed to be helping.

Sam made a mental note to thank Tommy again for both his generosity and wisdom. There was no medicine in the world that would heal Dean as well as being busy and productive and fixing a car would. Dean still didn't know it, but when Tommy had brought him the sandwich, Sam had discovered the truth about the Pacer. It had blown him away, yet again, that there were people who were so generous.

People so interested in helping them.

"Earth to Sammy," Dean called, waving a greasy rag in front of his eyes.

Sam took a step back to avoid getting slapped in the face by the rag. Dean smacked him on the shoulder with it instead and grinned smugly before saying, "It occurs to me that you're not interested in power steering pumps."

"Oh?" Sam smiled.

"Yeah, something about the way your eyes glazed over when I started talking kind of gave it away." Dean wiggled his fingers in front of his eyes, then walked over to a low shelf where the tools were laid out. "So spit it out."

"Spit what out?" Sam hedged. Damn, but that nap is sounding better by the second.

"Whatever it is that you came out here to say that I'm probably not going to want to hear or talk about," Dean said, walking back to the car and avoiding Sam's gaze.

There was a teasing element in Dean's tone, but the underlying tension came through loud and clear. Sam watched as Dean went back to doing whatever it was he was doing under the hood. Mouth dry, Sam realized he hadn't thought this through very far. He didn't know what he wanted to say or how to say it that wouldn't result in an explosion.

"Sam." Dean straightened and, instead of looking angry, he just looked tired. He rested a hand on the edge of the upraised hood and asked, "What's going on?"

"I think we should talk about Cas," Sam said in a rush, feeling breathless.

There was a flicker of something in Dean's eyes. Pain? Definitely. Anger? Absolutely. Betrayal and deep hurt mingled with everything else and Sam wanted to crawl into a hole. This might have been an even worse idea than bringing up Bobby.

Dean's expression went blank and he moved away to pick up a few tools on the floor. Tossing them into the toolbox, he asked, "Why would we need to talk about him?"

"Because Cas is our friend."

"Was our friend. Pretty sure he stopped being our friend about the time he tried to kill us." A socket wrench hit the inside of the toolbox with more force that was necessary.

Sam was grateful the wrench had gone into the toolbox and not into his teeth. Everything in him was screaming Retreat! but he kept going. "Dean, he was screwed up big time and-"

"And what, Sam?" Dean spun around, the anger he'd barely been keeping under the surface breaking through. "And what? Was a little foolish? Tried his best? He almost destroyed the world. The world we just barely had put back together again-"

"Because I almost destroyed it," Sam interjected quietly, but either Dean hadn't heard him or didn't care.

"-and he turned around and tried to take it out again!"

"That wasn't his intention."

"I don't care what his intention was!"

Dean pitched a screwdriver at the toolbox and it hit the wall instead, rolling toward the open door of the garage. Sam fought the urge to duck when Dean turned his way.

"I tried to tell him. Tried to get him to listen but he didn't. What kind of guy doesn't listen to their friend trying to tell them they're making a huge mistake?"

Sam couldn't help but smile a little. He understood Dean's point, but at the same time he saw the other side of it. "Dean, I'm your brother and I didn't listen to you about Ruby and look where that got us."

"That's different." A breaker bar landed with a thud in the toolbox, but Dean seemed to be running out of steam.

"How is it different? It's not different. What Cas did, and what I did, was done with good intentions gone wrong." Sam knew he still wasn't getting through, even though it all seemed so logical to him. Dean was turned away, hands braced on the tool bench. Trying again, Sam said, "He's still our friend."

Dean's shoulders tightened, but he remained still. Sam waited. He didn't know what else to say. He hated what Cas had done and hated what it had done to his brother.

"So you just want me to forgive and forget, is that it?" Dean asked, his voice rough and low. He turned around and the anger didn't seem to have diminished any. "Forgive and forget and move on? That's what you want, huh? Let me ask you this. You forgiven and forgotten anything yet?"

"Yes." Sam nodded. "I have."

Dean must not have been expecting that answer. Or maybe he had, but not expected the sincerity in Sam's voice. Either way, he seemed stunned. After a moment, he shook his head and his shoulders slumped.

"You know what? I get what you're trying to say. Him thinking he was somehow saving the world...that's one thing. But...what he did to you?" Dean was speaking more softly, although the intensity had not changed. "That's different. He didn't do that because it was important in his insane plan. You know why he did that?"

"Yeah. He did it so we'd back off him and-"

"He did it because he knew it was the one thing that would make me back off," Dean said, shaking his head. The emotions were bright in his eyes as he went on, "Bobby knew it. Said as much to me. Cas wanted me to fall apart. He broke that wall not just to hurt you, but to hurt me. We just got you back, Sammy. Cas knew what breaking that wall would mean. He was all hopped up and had super-mojo and he could've just, I don't know, locked us up somewhere and we'd never have been able to break out. But he didn't. He didn't."

Sam studied his brother and knew he wasn't the only one damaged by what he'd gone through. Cas was their friend and his betrayal had been painful. Watching him turn against them and start tearing the world apart had been a nightmare. But Sam knew it was the more personal betrayal that had cut Dean far deeper. Much as he could relate to Cas' misguided attempts to do what he thought was the right thing, Sam put himself in his brother's shoes.

If their roles and been reversed and Cas had broken Dean's head, Sam realized he'd probably be every bit as angry and bitter as Dean was.

"Dean-"

"I don't care that he said he'd save you when it was all over," Dean said and for the first time Sam could hear more than anger in his brother's voice. "All this you just went through? That you're still going through? Hedid this to you, Sam. He almost killed you. How can you forgive him so easily?"

"I never said it was easy." Sam's smile was brief.

It wasn't easy. But he'd done it anyway. Maybe it was because, once upon a time, he'd done something so similar that he found it easier to understand why Cas had done what he had done. Maybe it was because he was ok now and Cas had done that for him and had taken the crazy on himself and the guy just plain deserved to be forgiven.

Dean interrupted his thoughts. He asked, "Not easy, but you did it?"

"Yeah."

"Why?"

"Because he's my friend. And because you did it for me."

Sam knew Dean understood what he meant. He might never have said it aloud, but Sam knew Dean had finally forgiven him for what he'd done with Ruby. What he'd done to Dean. It wasn't all forgotten; probably never would be. And Sam figured there was a lot of it that Dean hadn't forgiven him for, but he'd forgiven him enough to allow them to pick up the pieces and move on at least.

Dean studied him for a long time, then nodded.

When he didn't say anything else, Sam said, "We can't leave him alone back there."

"He isn't."

"What?"

"He isn't alone."

"What are you talking about? We suddenly make a new friend I don't remember?" Which was possible, Sam supposed given how much he still couldn't remember of the past few months.

Dean shook his head and looked uncomfortable and irritated by the question. "Not a friend exactly."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Meg." Dean shrugged and looked away, wiping some grease off his hands. "Meg helped...well, she helped me and Cas get into the hospital to get you out. There were demons-"

"You left Meg with Cas?" Sam couldn't believe what he was hearing. His skin started crawling at the very mention of her name and he fought the urge to scratch until he bled. He shoved his hands into his pockets.

Dean didn't look like he could believe what he was hearing either. He shook his head. "We talked about this when we left. He about destroyed the world. I'm not the only one pissed at him. It was safer for him - and us - to leave him there where no one but Meg knows about him. You don't remember that?"

Sam snorted. "I barely remember being there. So yeah, let's go with I don't remember the part where you left Meg to watch out for Cas."

"Look, it's not ideal. I get that." Dean slapped the rag down on the edge of the car, eyes blazing. "I didn't exactly have a lot of time to think up a stellar plan."

"I know," Sam interrupted. Dean looked defensive and the last thing Sam had intended with this conversation was to make him feel that way. Sam tried to change the direction of the conversation. "Dean, I get it. I do, ok? You had a lot on your plate. You made the best decision you could."

Dean's shoulders dropped and the anger faded, leaving him looking tired and defeated.

Sam went on, "All I'm saying is maybe we should give some thought to where we go from here. Right now, maybe Cas is safer there. But maybe we should, I don't know, stay in contact with Meg and make sure... he's ok."

"He's not ok," Dean whispered, meeting his gaze for a split second before staring at the engine.

And because he'd had the crazy pulling his own brain apart for months on end, Sam could only nod in agreement. He didn't even really remember seeing Cas in the hospital. Cas had done...whatever he'd done, and then Sam just remembered soul-deep emptiness, utter exhaustion, fear and confusion.

It had felt like death.

The crazy might have been gone, but the damage left behind wasn't.

Sam studied his brother, realizing that as angry as Dean was, he was also torn up about leaving the angel in that hospital; crazy and alone with only a demon for protection. Getting to the place where he could forgive him might take a lot longer, but Sam was glad to finally get an indication that Dean hadn't completely written Cas off. That there was some part of him that still cared despite the anger. A part of him which might, with time, be able to forgive Cas.

And, suddenly, the realization of what Dean had done for him hit full strength. Sam couldn't remember if he'd even - "Thank you."

Dean's head snapped up and he looked confused.

Sam quickly elaborated, "For everything. You know...uh, I don't remember if I thanked you before or, well, I just know how-"

"Shut up, Sammy," Dean said, but there was no anger or annoyance in his tone. "You don't have to thank me."

"Yeah. Yeah I do."

Dean studied him for a moment, then nodded. He slammed the hood and said, "You're welcome."

Sam smiled, then asked, "How long has it been anyway?"

"Since?" Dean asked, wiping a spot off the hood of the car then leaning down to start packing up rest of the tools.

"Since we left the hospital."

"I don't know. You think I've been paying attention to the date? I don't even know what day it is." Dean patted his pockets and smirked. "Must've left my calendar in my other pants."

"Funny."

All of a sudden it was like the effort of thinking about everything, trying to remember, trying to deal with it, all hit him like an earthquake. Sam put both hands out on the hood of the car and lowered his head, closing his eyes. He wasn't dizzy, wasn't afraid. Wasn't having a flashback or a panic attack.

He just needed to hit the pause button for a second.

"Sam?"

Of course, trying to communicate that to his brother wouldn't be an easy task and Dean already sounded like he was heading down the short road to panic. Not quite ready to move, but wanting to reassure him, Sam said, "I'm ok."

Dean didn't say anything else. The garage remained silent and still for a moment. When he felt a bit recovered, Sam straightened. Dean was studying him carefully, but not crowding him or pressing for answers.

"I'm ok," Sam repeated. "It was-"

"A lot to process?" Dean asked softly.

"Yeah."

"Now you know how I feel all the time when you lecture me."

Sam caught Dean's teasing smile and rolled his eyes. "I don't lecture you."

Dean waved his hands between them. "What was this then? This thing that just happened where you lectured me about not giving up on Cas? That wasn't a lecture?"

"Shut up."

"I thought so." Dean looked smug, but he also looked better. "It probably sounds stupid, but I guess I'm glad you're feeling up to lecturing me again."

"You missed it?" Sam teased back, grinning.

"I missed you," Dean responded simply, blowing Sam away with his sincerity.

Of course, he couldn't leave it there. It wasn't really their style to come right out and say what they meant. So when Dean quickly added, "I also miss my car," Sam knew what he meant was I'm glad you're alive and I love you but we are so never saying that aloud right? Good.

And when Sam shook his head and said, "You're such a jerk," he knew Dean understood what he meant too.

Dean smirked, then looked back at the Pacer. "Got a bit more to do here before I can call her road-worthy."

"Ok. I'll leave you to it."

"What're you gonna do?"

"I'm gonna go back and try to read," Sam said over his shoulder. "Maybe I can finish chapter two before midnight."

He heard Dean's laughter as he walked away.

Half an hour later, Dean found him asleep in the grass and couldn't help but smile. The book was next to him, under his right hand, and a quick peek revealed that it was open to the first page of chapter two. Fighting back the urge to laugh, Dean left him alone and went back to the house.

He raided the kitchen, then made his way to the living room. The Penders weren't home yet, so he crashed on the couch and flipped on the tv. Not really paying attention to what was on the screen, Dean spent the time thinking about everything Sam had said. He'd made some very good points, but some very good points didn't magically erase what Cas had done.

Nothing was going to erase it.

Dean knew he'd never forget; how could he? And, despite Sam's heart-felt efforts, he wasn't so sure about the forgiving part, either. All he was willing to do was try. Try to remember Cas had been their friend before he'd become their enemy. Try not to hate him. Try to care that he was locked up and insane even though he deserved it for what he'd done to Sam.

Dean sighed. This wasn't going to be easy. Shaking his head, he flipped through the channels until he found some wrestling. He pushed Cas to the back of his mind because he couldn't keep thinking about him. Sam had said what he'd needed to say and Dean had listened. But if he kept thinking about it, he was going to drive himself crazy.

Grabbing a tissue in the nick of time to catch a sneeze, Dean blew his nose. He dropped the tissue into the wastebasket next to the couch and settled back with his plate of snacks. The snacks disappeared fast and he was half-asleep by the time he heard voices out in the kitchen. He rubbed his eyes and sat up a bit, listening.

Cupboard doors and the refrigerator were being opened and closed so he assumed the Penders were back. A peek at his watch showed that it was going on six. Despite the snacks, he was already hungry for supper. Wondering if he might be allowed a beer at least, Dean almost got himself off the couch. But he figured the answer to that request would still be a no, and it didn't seem worth it to bother moving yet.

Then he picked up on the fact that it wasn't just a two-way conversation between the Penders happening in the kitchen. Sam was there, too. Dean had no idea when he'd come inside, but he could hear him talking. Turning the tv down just a pinch, he strained his ears to tune into the conversation.

They must have been talking about the movie they'd just gone to see. Dean couldn't remember the last time he'd gone to a movie. Seemed like lately there had been no break. No slow down. No time for anything except the job. His mood soured for a minute and then he heard laughter.

Arla was laughing at something Tommy had said, but it was when he heard Sam laughing, Dean decided to get off the couch and investigate. He paused in the hallway where he could see the kitchen, yet remain mostly out of view.

He stood there and took in the scene before him.

Tommy was sitting on the counter, munching on chips. Whatever he was talking about was making Arla laugh and Sam smile. She was standing in front of the stove and cooking something. Dean couldn't tell what, but it smelled fantastic. Sam was leaning against the counter next to her and handing her things from the pantry when she asked for them. In between, he was snitching cookies and carrying on half of the conversation.

Dean couldn't believe what he was seeing. The scene itself would have been amazing on an ordinary day. Sam in the kitchen wasn't typical and Dean was grateful for that. His little brother had a tendency to consistently overcook anything and everything. But it was more than the fact Sam was contributing to the dinner effort that was blowing Dean's mind.

After everything, Dean found it utterly miraculous to see Sam acting so...normal. He was talking to Tommy and Arla like they were old friends; which, in a way, they were. Things had been getting better, Dean knew it, but witnessing something like this after the nightmarish week behind them, showed him how much better.

Standing there eavesdropping, Dean heard Sam saying something about a drugged burger. He narrowed his eyes. Surely, Sam wasn't-

"Yeah, he was totally stoned." Sam grinned, accepting the bag of potato chips when Tommy offered it to him.

"On a sandwich?" Tommy shook his head.

Sam nodded, more amused than Dean had seen him in a long time. "The Terducken Slammer."

Tommy busted out laughing and held up a hand as he tried to stop laughing long enough to talk. "Lemme guess...turkey? And duck and chicken? In a sandwich?"

"That would be it," Sam said, munching on a handful of chips.

"That's disgusting!" Arla turned to look up at him.

Sam nodded enthusiastically. "That's what I thought, but man, Dean thought it was the best thing since...I don't know. Since someone figured out how to make a cheeseburger."

"And it drugged him?" Arla asked.

"Yeah. Part of Dick Roman's take over the world plan. Long story." Sam waved a hand like it didn't matter. "Took all night and half the next day before he sobered up."

Dean rolled his eyes at how amused his brother seemed with the episode. It hadn't been that funny. Not really. He'd been a little out of it, sure. But it wasn't like he'd-

"He sang Bohemian Rhapsody in his sleep. Twice," Sam said, grinning again. "Then he woke us up at two in the morning because he couldn't find the other end of the rainbow and he was hungry for sushi. Bobby was not amused."

What the hell? He frowned, wracking his brain. Dean didn't remember any of that. All he remembered was a wonderful feeling of absolute apathy. But he must have been stoned out of his head if he'd been hungry for sushi. Dean wasn't sure he'd ever even eaten sushi.

Tommy and Arla were laughing and it bothered him a little that everyone was laughing at his expense, then he decided it was actually pretty funny. It hadn't felt funny at the time, and the entire situation was tied up with Bobby's death, but Dean couldn't deny it was funny in retrospect. Of course, Sam was far too amused with the entire situation and Dean was suspicious he was making some of it up.

After Sam shared yet another example of how out of his mind he'd been, Dean decided it was time to make his presence known. At the rate Sam was going, he would be so embarrassed he'd never be able to show his face again. Seriously, though. He has to be making some of this up, right?

"Hey." Dean walked into the kitchen and awkwardly inserted himself right in the middle of one of Sam's stories.

"Hey. I was just telling them about the Terducken Slammer," Sam said, smiling brightly. He was far too pleased with himself.

Dean couldn't help but return the smile, though. "The drugged sandwich. Of everything from this entire year, that you remember."

"That I remember." Sam nodded, and he looked so happy about it that Dean couldn't even be annoyed.

"Think I'm staying away from Biggerson's," Tommy said, sliding off the counter. "Although the sandwich does sound amazing."

"Right?" Dean grinned. His stomach growled just thinking about it. "That was the best sandwich I've ever eaten. Up to the point it turned out to...you know...be part of a monster's scheme to take over the world."

"Well, I'm not sure these burgers are better than that sandwich," Arla said, turning the stove off and sliding some burgers onto a plate. "But they aren't drugged, I'll guarantee that."

"Good." Dean smiled, mouth watering. "They smell amazing."

Arla handed him the plate. "Thank you. Take them out to the back porch would you? We're going to have a picnic dinner. If someone hadn't forgotten to pick up charcoal when we were at the store, we would have been grilling these burgers."

"My bad," Tommy said, rummaging through the fridge for the condiments.

Dean didn't care if she'd microwaved the burgers, he was ready to eat them. Arla handed him the bag of chips and shooed him toward the door. Sam followed with a tray of glasses, plates and napkins.

While Sam organized the table, Dean asked, "So, did you get through chapter two?"

"No." Sam shook his head, sitting down. "I had to go back and reread chapter one because I didn't remember anything. I couldn't even remember the main character's name."

It made him smile, but Dean was careful not to laugh. He could tell it bothered Sam and he didn't blame him. Not being able to get through a simple paperback novel when he was used to reading hundred year old books and reciting Latin exorcisms from memory had to be frustrating.

Tommy and Arla walked out before he could say anything else about it, though.

Dinner was a pleasant, relaxing experience. He didn't eat as much as he wanted to, or usually would, but everything settled better than he'd expected. Sam made up for whatever he wasn't eating and it was a relief to see him eating without looking at the food like it was going to bite him back.

They played a few rounds of poker after dinner, then sat around the fire for an hour or so. Sam turned in first and by the time Dean went inside, he was sound asleep. Standing in the doorway, Dean's gaze was drawn to the collection of pill bottles. He wondered if Sam had taken anything tonight. Hoping that, either way, Sam was going to be able to sleep, Dean headed for the other room.

Sleep didn't come as easily for him as it had for his brother and Dean found himself staring up at the ceiling thinking, once again, about...everything.

When, after an hour, he still hadn't been able to quiet his troubled mind, Dean pushed himself up and went for his jacket. He hadn't even realized how much his hands were shaking until he started to open the bottle. Hadn't realized how thirsty he was until the scent of the whiskey hit him. Legs going out from under him, Dean sank down, his back to the foot of the bed.

The door was half open because he knew if he closed it all the way, Sam would take that as a blatant do not disturb sign. He really hoped Sam wasn't going to disturb him right now, but he hadn't shut the door all the way since he'd been here and he wasn't going to start now. From where he was sitting, he could keep an eye on the door while also having a good view of the night sky beyond the open window.

Rubbing his hand across his mouth, his gaze drifted from the window to the bottle in his other hand.

It's just a sip to help you sleep, he told himself, lifting the bottle.

It stung going down and he pressed a fist to his stomach. After a moment, he took another sip because the first one may have hit his stomach like a burning fireball, but it worked miracles for every other part of him. The second and third sips hurt as much as the first, but by the time he was on his fourth sip, Dean wasn't paying any attention to the pain.

He slept better than he had in weeks.

Hope you enjoyed!

As a heads up...This story is officially complete! I typed "the end" on Sunday night! ahhhh! To prepare you...there are 44 total chapters and then 45 will be a very brief epilogue. Yeah...so much for ending on ch 40 lol. Sounded like most of you didn't mind there being some extra chapters though. ;) But that is the official count now, 44 with an epilogue.

Have a wonderful day!