Six Months Later

Sam truly missed the smell of the swamp. He missed the nose-wrinkling stench of stagnant water and alligator droppings, battling the equally delectable scent of home baked goods and Cajun cuisine. He missed the glow of fireflies as they danced across the inky, black skies on a hot, wet night and the taste of gumbo in the quiet afternoon sun. He wanted to return to Louisiana, to bathe in the warmth and familiarity of it, he just didn't know how, or when, or why really, and he knew that Dean certainly never would. He tried, so hard, to shut out the pain and the hurt that he felt, like a chainsaw running wild inside of his chest, and immersed himself in research instead, throwing everything that he had into finding a solution, a way to bring back what they had lost, a way to bring her back. Several months had passed since the events that had taken place in Washington and each fleeting second came with a gnawing ache, a gaping hole carved out of her shape; her shadow, her imprint. Each brother felt it, too, felt the sting of her empty silhouette, the complete and utter lack of her, but neither talked about it. Sam had tried, at first, but Dean, he ... well, to put it mildly, Sam hadn't tried again. The wrongness of it all haunted him every hour that passed by and each time he closed his eyes, he saw her disappear amidst the smoke; the trace of a smile - reassuring - upon her cracked, pretty lips. It drove him mad. It drove Dean even further. She was supposed to be there, with them. Things weren't supposed to be this way. They just weren't.

Folded into the small dining booth, his fingers tapping away madly at the keyboard, Sam stumbled, a thought suddenly invading his mind as an image of a halo-donned cherub flitting through time and space traversed across his brightly lit screen. A low whistle escaped his lips, hopeful, and Sam cracked his fingers, glancing up from behind his monitor. He peered at his brother, who was propped against the headboard of his single bed, eyes awash with the glaze of inebriation, staring, unseeing, into the empty bottle of beer in his hands.

Dean hadn't been the same ever since. How could he be? There was an otherness to his brother that he had never seen before, a shortage of empathy, an emptiness. He was still Dean, only ... less. He cracked jokes, half-hearted and chased them down with a double bacon cheeseburger, and every night he crawled deeper and deeper into a whiskey bottle. He seemed to have lost his will, a reason to fight. He still slayed monsters and saved the innocent, but he did it out of routine, out of duty, rather than care. Heck, some nights he'd even found his brother tangled between the limbs of a pretty blonde with the twinge of an accent and a luminous grin. Still, the void within Dean's heart could not be filled. The women, they could never replace her. Never be her. Sam knew that. Sometimes he imagined that Dean did too. The fire in his brother's eyes that had once burned so brightly had gone out, extinguished, and Sam was struggling to find a way to reignite it.

When they had left Louisiana, they had left in the wake of grief, bidding farewell to a broken woman, a family torn a part; brothers sobbing in each other's arms and a father, pale-faced and grim. The absence of her was so great that it had been felt across the entire bayou. Tommy and Cadence had found solace in one another, huddled underneath the bed sheets, and the swamp itself had been lit with candles, a farewell in the absence of a body. It was their worst fears come to life. She had been snapped out of existence, mind, body and soul, as though she was never even there to begin with. The last piece of her, Sam had noted, as they departed that day, could be found in her mother's eyes; in their deep, blue depths, and he had a hard time looking Maggie in the face when a single tear had rolled down her cheek and her soft hand had squeezed his once, tightly, before slipping away and becoming slack at her side.

Maggie had attempted to reconcile with Dean, to explain why she had done what she had done all those years before, why she had condemned her unborn child, her daughter to such a fate, but he couldn't bear to hear her through his own blistering rage. He couldn't even bring himself to look at her. He didn't care what she had to say. She may as well have taken her daughter to the other side herself, it would have been just as much her fault. He'd been wrong about a person before, but Maggie, sheesh, that one shook him. Maggie had been a safe place, a comfort, she had been a mother. How could a mother do that? How could a mother sell off her own flesh and blood? An extension of herself? How could a mother gamble with the fate of her own child? ... But then, had his own mother not done the same to Sam? To save John? Was it really so inconceivable? In any case, Dean had wanted to blame someone that day, to hate someone, and he had chosen her. Because he couldn't choose Sam.

Sam. Freakin' Sammy. Sam, who had failed, time and time again, but who wouldn't quit. Sam, who had tried to right every wrong that he'd ever made. And he had made plenty. Sam, who even now, trying as hard as he damn well could, could not help but feel responsible also, riddled with guilt, and though his brother would never admit to it, he knew that Dean still held him accountable as well. Resented him for what he had done. Hell, he resented himself. He had made a terrible, terrible mistake and it had cost him a dear friend. It had cost Dean even more.

Sam cleared his throat and lifted his numb fingertips from the worn, silver keys. "I think I've found something." He announced.

Dean glanced up and his eyes were bleary.

In the days after Tandy had left them, spirited away into some other realm by her father, they had tried a summoning ritual but neither she nor Baron Samedi had showed. Maggie had tried utilising prayer and sacrifice; to renegotiate, to beg for the return of her daughter, but again, nothing had come of it, nothing save for the pain and devastation and disappointment that followed them when they were met with more silence. Even the Haitian God's, or at least, those that they could make contact with, weren't talking. It seemed that Baron Samedi was one scary son of a bitch and to cross him would lead to a fate even worse than death, for he, to them, was death. Those that weren't afraid simply did not care. They were the lucky ones. Their demise came quickly. The others, not so much. Their ends were slower. Messier. His brothers face painted, sticky, in their blood. It haunted Sam in his dreams just as much as the absence of Tandy haunted him in his wakefulness, a fresh batch of nightmares where he would be the one strapped to the chair, and it would be him that Dean tore a part, over and over and over again, until there was nothing of him left, nothing but his own guilty conscience. Then the nightmare would recommence, only this time it would be Tandy glowering down at him, her eyes filled with hate and betrayal.

"Then lay it on me." Dean grunted, drawing Sam away from his dark thoughts as he shuffled towards the end of the bed. He fell forward, back-arched and slumped down onto his knees, slowly dragging on his boots. The beer bottle, having been drained, toppled off of the side of the bed, abandoned. It rattled across the floor, spilling the remaining dregs, and rolled to a stop beside Sam's foot.

Sam spared it a fleeting glance and cleared his throat once more.

"Time travel." He proposed.

Dean grunted and paused mid-lace. He glanced up to offer Sam a withering look. "You made me pull on my boots for freaking time travel? C'mon, Sammy, we need an actual lead."

Sam ran his fingers through his hair and they came away wet, reminding him that even in the coldest of Winter's - and Winter in Seattle was freaking cold - the heat could still find them. "Look, I know we're drawing at straws here, but think about it. Angels can travel through time and space, right? Well, what if we asked Castiel, or, or one of the other angels to go back, to undo it?" He suggested.

"If the answer were that simple, Sam, don't you think that those holy asshats would have just jumped back in time and stopped every bad thing from happening in existence ever? No, they didn't, because they don't work like that. Because they don't care, Sam. Look at all the horrible, shitty things that have happened in this world. The angels do not care." Dean replied, an equal combination of pout and glower taking residence on his face.

"Cas cares." Sam muttered softly.

"Yeah, and where is he? Hmm?" Dean barked, kicking off his boots and collapsing atop the scratchy, pay-by-the-hour motel room mattress once more. "'Cause I sure as hell don't see him."

Sam furrowed his brows and opened his mouth to speak however, when no words seemed to manifest, he quickly closed it again. It was true, what Dean had said. Castiel had disappeared soon after the wake, hoping to restore some semblance of order in Heaven now that the apocalypse had been averted. They had not seen or heard from him in months, despite how many times they had clapped their hands together and called out his name, he would not show.

"I'm telling you, man. No one cares." Dean mumbled, folding his arms behind his head as his eyes drifted closed, signaling to his brother that he was done with this conversation. In his dreams, that's where he would find her, and so that's where he would go. Sam could stay up all night for all he cared. He could stare at that damned computer screen until his eyes turn to glass and fell from their sockets to shatter upon the floor. That was on him. If that's how he chose to cope, then so be it.

When Sam had spoken again, his voice was distant and muffled.

Dean was already half-way to her.


Tandy paced the corridors, pausing at each of their rooms, vacant and lifeless. Wade; her eldest brother, his room bare and scarcely dressed in old, rattan furniture. Jesse; the middle child, his room bright blue, brimming with posters of his favorite idols. Her parent's; well, she barely peeped into there. She didn't need the reminder of what she wouldn't find. Not again. She had spent enough time in there since she had appeared in this place. This place ...

She was home. Somewhat.

It was home, but it wasn't.

She had spent the last few months here, a ghost in her own home, neither trapped nor free, but just ... existing.

Bonne Huere was hers, but it wasn't the home that she had known and loved. This place was a foreign land, unfamiliar and empty. The chaos and the laughter that once tunneled through the halls were gone, replaced by silence and solitude.

She crept down the halls further, feeling the cold mortar beneath her fingertips but feeling nothing but loneliness. At least she had the peace of mind to know that they were in a better place. They were all in a better place, because of her. Because of her sacrifice. She had left the world knowing that Dean and Sam would be safer. Her friends and her family, they would all be safer. Another crisis had been averted, another end-of-the-world had been stumped and they had her to thank for that; at least they still had one another.

She could hear her mama's prayers through the walls, through the thin veil that separated them - her world from theirs - and, not knowing if they would reach her or not, she would send back thoughts and feelings of love and peace. She didn't feel at peace, not really, but at least she was alive, and at least she could give her mama that. She had had time to reflect and she had come to the plain conclusion that she didn't blame her mama, the devout woman that she was. Her God had wanted a child and she had appeased him. Her mama hadn't loved her any more or any less than her brothers. She had been good to her; the best. It must have been Hell for her, for her papa too, to have lived with the knowledge that their daughter had stemmed from somewhere else, from someone else, but still treating her just the same, if not slightly more harshly in her papa's case. She could forgive him for that. He'd always tried. He'd always cared. Too much, sometimes. And it wasn't like her mama had just given her over, willy nilly. No. She had made that choice. She had.

Tandy had felt the pull of their ritual, their sorrow, their anticipation, in the days after she had left them, but Baron Samedi had forbidden her to answer their call. He had told her that he had 'a use for her' - whatever that meant - and that he would not give her up so freely, not when he had just gotten her, and not when they had so much time to make up for.

Tandy had wanted to tut. They had a damned eternity for all she knew, what did he care about time? He'd waited twenty-eight long years for her, after all. And where was he now? He came and went as he pleased, mostly to offer her company that she neither wanted nor needed, rolling in an out like a bad smell drifting along the breeze. There was no breeze where she was now though.

Tandy exhaled. She couldn't believe that she used to pray to this loon. How he was better than any of the other gods, she did not know. He was just as selfish, just as arrogant. That didn't change, apparently, just because he was her 'father'. The thought made her cringe in any case. It felt wrong; uncomfortable, like eating a kiwi fruit with the skin still on, prickly and bitter.

Tandy sighed again. Regardless, she was his to control, and how he had planned to use her, she could only imagine. It just didn't make any sense to her though. By all right, she was useless. A mortal. She hadn't exhibited any god-like powers. She was not impenetrable or invincible. She aged and she hurt and she bled. All that she had was strength and courage, but no more than what any other decent human being had had. She wasn't a nephilim. What power did she have that he himself did not have? She was completely vulnerable.

Finding her own room, Tandy collapsed onto the floor, neither feeling the softness of the rug below her or the warmth from the flames that blazed brightly in the fireplace. In answer to her own idle questions, nothing came to mind, nothing that she could conceive, nothing but more questions.

"Hello, child."

Tandy peered up, propping herself onto her elbows, to take in the appearance of her father, with his gaunt, skeletal face and weathered top-hat. She scowled.

"You are not happy to see me?" He guessed, leaning forward on his cane, dark eyes swimming with intrigue.

Tandy scoffed. "Should I be?"

Baron Samedi shrugged. "I am happy to see you, daughter, if it's any consolation." He chided.

"It's not." Tandy snapped. "And don't call me that."

"What? Daughter? But you are my daughter." Baron breathed and he flared his nostrils. "Do you really care so little for me?"

"Well, to be frank, papa," Tandy drawled, her eyes cold, "ya mean about as much to me as a bucket'a empty crawfish shells."

Baron sighed and rocked back on his heels, contemplative. "Ah. You are still angry with me for saving your friends." He theorised.

Tandy huffed, shaking her head. "I'm not angry." She said, rather annoyed. "But, if it is my favor you wanna earn, then you'd mean a heck of a lot more to me if you let me go back."

"Why?" Baron shot quickly. "So you can go running straight back into de arms of dat hell-bent lover boy of yours and find a way to double cross me? I do not tink so."

"Because you have a use for me?" Tandy pouted, and Baron Samedi chuckled, muttering an endeared "Children", beneath his breath.

"What can I do then?" Tandy asked, suppressing a yawn. "I'm bored."

Baron smirked and his eyes glowed obsidian. Gently, he tapped his cane against the tip of his foot and a leather-clad hunter appeared, his white teeth flashing at her behind his full, sexy mouth.

Tandy gasped, taken aback and quickly lurched to her feet.

"That ain't ... he ain't ... He ain't real." She stammered, cautiously approaching the damn near perfect double of her former flame.

The imposter chuckled and the sound rumbled throughout his chest, causing her heart to clench. "Oh, trust me, sweetheart, it's gonna feel real."

Tandy choked and stepped away from the Dean-Not-Dean, hooking an accusatory finger beneath Baron Samedi's top hat.

"What are you, a Djinn?" She demanded, feeling her face flush hotly. "You keep me trapped here in this damn dream world til you drain me dry and throw my corpse down a muddy ditch, s'at it?"

"I take offence." Baron Samedi shot back, and the materialisation quickly dissolved into nothingness. "Do not compare me to such inferior beings. I was only trying to give you a gift."

"Oh, a gift? Well, you're 'bout twenty-eight birthdays too late, Pops."

Baron Samedi shrugged. "On top of dat, I do not wish for you to feel about me in such a way." He admitted.

"Then loosen the collar a bit. Geez." Tandy remarked. "And not like this. Not with some fake version of him in some fake version of my home."

"And what would you do if I did, child?" Baron Samedi queried, quirking a bony brow.

"Well, I wouldn't try to double cross you." Tandy confessed.

"No?"

"No."

"Hmm." Baron Samedi hummed, thoughtful.

"If you let me go, I'll still be here, at your beck and call. I don't really have a choice, do I? I ain't 'bout to screw you over, and I mean that. I made a promise, me, I used a favor, and I'll wear my punishment for as long as I damn well live." Tandy explained.

"And you can promise me dis?" Baron Samedi asked.

"Yes."

"Well, I suppose I could allow you to ... make an appearance." Baron Samedi conceded, much to Tandy's surprise.

"What?" She asked, inching back until her knees touched the edge of her bed. "You'll ... you'll let me go?"

Baron Samedi nodded and Tandy fell onto the duvet, onto it's nothingness, incredulous.

"I will return you, for now, yes, if it will please you. But do not forget, you are, how did you put it? At my beck and call." Baron Samedi stated, before he added, "Of course, there will be a minor ... adjustment."

Tandy frowned. "Adjustment? And what's 'at?"

"You will not remember dem." He said.

"What?!" Tandy gasped.

"Dose pesky Winchester's. You will have no recollection of dem."

"No. Nu-uh. No! Forget it." Tandy exclaimed, shaking her head willfully.

"Den forget dem." Baron Samedi quipped.

Tandy chewed on her thumb nail, contemplative. Why did these deals always have to come with a catch? Maybe it was 'cause you were never meant to get what you wanted, Tandy mused grimly, because why should anythin' ever come so easily?

Baron Samedi sighed, growing impatient. "Agree, or you can stay here until I return, whenever dat may be." He said, making a gesture as he raised his cane, ready to tap it against his foot.

"And I'll ... I'll still be me?" Tandy asked quickly, having made her decision.

"Of course." Baron Samedi smiled. "You will still have memories of your mother, father, brother's, friends, even early memories of der father, John. You just won't remember dem." He explained.

Tandy narrowed her gaze, still unhappy with their negotiation. "But why?" She challenged.

"Because I said so." Came his simple response.

"So what, you wanna punish 'em? You're punishin' me, ain't you? For not bein' ... like you." She mumbled, her lips turned-out, forming a pout.

"No, sweet girl. I just cannot have dem getting in de way again." Baron Samedi reasoned, reaching forward to touch her cheek however, when Tandy flinched, he drew back, concealing his dismay behind a tooth-filled grin.

No, you'll just make me crush 'em when I turn around and say that I have no freakin' clue who they are instead? She thought sarcastically, disgusted that he had just tried to show her affection.

"So, you will agree den?" Baron Samedi urged, changing tact. Gently, he summoned her with a single, bony finger.

Tandy licked her lips and then nodded, rising to her feet so that she could face the Haitian God. She looked up and he placed his cold, sharp fingers on her shoulders, a bothersome smile shadowing his lips.

"And just so you know." He breathed, before her eyes slid closed and she sank into a cloud of viscous, black smoke, "You are far more like me than you tink. Remember dat, daughter."


Out of the darkness and into more darkness, Tandy awoke, shivering. Through the pale, silver moonlight, Bonne Huere appeared before her.

She felt the spray of something cold hit her face - the sprinkling system, laced with Holy Water - and chuckled wryly before sucking in a sharp breath. It stung, like tendrils of ice slapping against her skin, but after being senseless for so long, Tandy welcomed the cool burn happily.

A moment later, Wade appeared before her, his blonde hair cropped closely to his scalp, tartan over-shirt flapping wildly in the frosty breeze as he bounded towards her. He threw aside the wrench that he had been holding and crushed her beneath his thick, bear-like arms, his heavy bracelet pressing uncomfortably against the exposed sliver of skin on her collar. Light spilled out of the shed behind him and her faded, orange truck idled lowly in the garage, exhaust fumes visible through the dense fog.

"Damn it, Tandy! We thought you were gone gone! What in the Hells Bells happened to ya? Where've ya been?!" He shouted, his voice shrill, as though someone had just kicked him in the junk. She wanted to chuckle. Her eldest brother; tall, thick, intimidating, squealing like a dang pig.

"Wow. I'm fine. Really." Tandy gasped, finding it difficult to breathe beneath his crushing hold. "Now can you quit squeezin' me, 'fore I really do go gone gone."

Wade released her, his blue eyes wide, flitting through an array of emotions, some excited, some confused. "M'sorry, its just, its so good to see ya, lil sis." He breathed.

"What in the Gods green ... Tandy?!" Jesse exclaimed, peering out of the shed to assess the commotion, a bottle of whiskey in his jewel-encrusted fingers.

"Hey, brother." Tandy mumbled quietly, holding her forearm coyly.

"For the love'a baseball!" Jesse exclaimed, dropping the bottle as he raced towards them. "Is that really you?!"

Before she knew it, Jesse's arms were around her, hugging her just as fiercely as her eldest brother's had and Tandy sagged against him, gripping his fleece over-coat tightly.

Gosh, she'd missed these two so damn much it hurt!

"D'ya check her?" Jessie uttered, meeting Wade's gaze over their little sister's sodden shoulder. This made Tandy smirk.

Wade nodded. "Holy water in the sprinklin' system, silver from my band. It's her, Jesse."

"Oh my god." Jesse gasped, his voice still tainted by disbelief. "We all thought you were ... well ... gone. "

"I know, boys, been hearin' that a lot lately, and m'sorry for scarin' ya. It's all just a bit foggy, ya know? Like I've just woken up from a really long nap." Tandy admitted, pressing her fingers to her temples to further convey her confusion.

Wade nodded. "What's the last thin' you remember?" He asked.

Tandy pursed her lips together, thoughtful, then snapped her fingers. "I remember Baron Samedi took me home, but it wasn't here home. More like, I dunno, some alternate dimension where nothin' was real and everythin' was a fabrication. Before that, I guess uh, it was the Atchafalaya Basin. Somethin' was chowin' down on locals. Tommy was almost next." She recalled.

"The Aswang?" Jesse queried, peering worriedly at Wade.

"Tandy." Wade replied softly. "That was over six months ago."

"What?" Tandy choked.

"Look, don't worry about it, little sister. We'll fill you in. First, go inside, have mama fix you some tea. It might help to clear the cobwebs. Gee whiz, she's goin' to hit the dang roof when she see's ya." Jesse instructed, rapping his sister lightly on the back and guiding her towards the plantation.

"Daddy, too?" Tandy asked over her shoulder.

Jesse and Wade shared a look, the kind of we-speak-without-speaking look that Tandy had always wished she'd been privy to, before her eldest brother replied. "Uh, Pa ain't here any more. After your tribute, he split. I'll do m'best to get word to him though." He replied, his voice tender.

"Tribute?" Tandy felt her insides grow cold, like the chill had managed to seep through her shirt and travel deep into her bones. "What, like a funeral?!"

"Uh, like I said, we'll fill you in." Jesse responded. He pulled Tandy into his arms once more and brushed his lips against her forehead. "Now get inside before ya catch a chill."

Tandy smirked. "Ah, beat it, ya creep."

Wade pushed Jesse back towards the shed and smiled once more. "I love you, Tan. I'm glad you're back." He admitted.

Tandy smiled, sincere, and made her way towards the plantation, her boots sinking into the moist soil. "Me too, boy." She uttered, her breath projecting in a thin cloud of condensation. "Me too."


Tandy strode towards her home, her real home, and pulled her bottom lip between her teeth. She had just done something that she did not like to do. She had lied. Lied. She had told her brother's that the last thing that she could remember was the Aswang, but that wasn't true. In fact, she remembered ... all of it. Everything. Everyone. But, as painful as it was for her to pretend, as painful as it was for her not to 'go running back into the arms of dat hell-bent lover boy of hers', she could not admit to her memories. If she did, Baron Samedi would appear and he'd haul her ass straight back to his realm and that would be the end of it. No, she needed to find a way to destroy him, and she needed to do it alone. The first sign of her divination had come; she had been impervious to his will. He wouldn't be expecting that, and she would use it to her strengths.

With her teeth chattering together, Tandy trudged up the back steps, spying her mother's thin figure through the kitchen window.

Maggie was cradling a cup of tea in her hands. She brought it to her lips and nearly choked, losing half of her cup to the kitchen floor as her daughter, cold and wet, sauntered in through the back door, offering her an apologetic smile.

"Hiya, mama. Didn't mean to frighten ya." Tandy mumbled.

Maggie's lower lip trembled, but the tea cup held fast between her shaky fingers.

"You always surprise me, baby." She breathed at last, a wistful smile taking shape on her lips. "I see most things comin'. This, I did not."

Tandy raced forward and captured her mother in her arms. A strangled sob escaped Maggie's lips and she placed her tea cup on the island bench. Fiercely, she wrapped her arms around her daughter and held her tightly, drawing her closer.

A silent tear rolled down her chin and Maggie brushed her lips over Tandy's hair, inhaling her scent, before the pressed her cheek against her daughter's damp forehead.

"My gods, kid, you're freezing! I've missed you so, so much." She sobbed, and she closed her eyes, frightened that if she opened them again, Tandy would disappear and this would just be another one of her mournful dreams. "It's been too long."

Tandy chuckled and her voice sounded rough, as though she'd been choking back her own tears. "I know, six months, so I heard." She swallowed. "Wild."

"I have to call the boys." Her mama breathed, frantic. She reached for her cell phone, which rested upon the bench before them, with one hand and re-collected her chamomile and honey in the other.

Tandy made a small sound in the back of her throat and her mama glanced up, worried.

Quickly, Tandy plastered a smile across her face and shook her head, running her hand down the length of her arm.

"No need, mama. I just saw 'em in the yard. I'm glad that they're here. I've missed those bone heads." She said.

Her mama grinned. "No, no, not your brothers, baby, I meant Dean and Sam." She explained.

Tandy looked up, feigning confusion and her mama's face grew pale. It almost frightened her, how ill she suddenly appeared, but despite the unease, despite the wrongness of it, she had to maintain a guise, she had to ask.

Tandy slanted her gaze and her mama's cell phone clattered onto the bench. Slowly, she lowered the cup in her hands, almost as if she were using it as an anchor, grounding her to this mortal plain. She peered up, through pale lashes, and met her daughter's gaze.

Tandy swallowed and then, with as much perplexity and sincerity as she could muster, she asked, "Uh, who?"


A/N: Faithful readers, thanks for sticking it out with me! I'm hoping to churn out chapters at a much quicker rate, but sadly, time is not on my side these days! If you hang in there, I promise there will be an 'ending' for everyone. Happy or sad. Mwuahahaha. So, stay tuned! Also, Hart of Dixie fans, you may contain your excitement over my "borrowing" a certain Southern bartender and his brother ;) In any case, my disclaimer is that I own nothing, NOTHING! Hehe.

I'd also just like to give a heart-felt shout-out to the awesome frankannestein. She rocks. Seriously. Go check out her stuff, particularly her Supernatural tale Among Us, it'll blow your mind!

Oh, and please review, let me know what you think! The more reviews I get, the faster chapters will appear. Magic, right? Hehe.

Much love x