Generic Disclaimer: Gensomaden Saiyuki and the characters contained within don't belong to me, much as I wish they did. sigh...

Wow. I absolutely abhor this chapter. Possibly because I got sick and tired of staring at the same scene over and over and over again. This has to have been the hardest one for me to write – has it already been a whole month since I put up chapter 8? How sad. I can only hope that I won't take as long to write up Goku's nightmare and the ending. Two more chapters, folks; hope you're still enjoying the ride and don't hate me after you finish this chapter. Hints of 39 love for anyone who doesn't blink!

PG-13/R for Homura's stunning good looks and tendency to tease the hell out of Sanzo. There are barely enough swear words in here to warrant an R rating. Huh. That's quite strange. Spoilers for the history of the kudzu vine, but that's what you've been wanting to read, right? A hell of a lot more dialogue than in previous chapters. Maybe that's what tripped me up for so long. Kudos to anyone who spots my vague and inadvertent reference to A Wrinkle in Time. But don't think to hard on it – don't want anyone to hurt themselves. :P

Review comments on the bottom.

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italics indicate emphasis, internal dialogue, and dialogue that has occurred in the past/memories.

FEAR ITSELF

"...the only thing we have to fear is fear itself -- nameless, unreasoning, unjustified terror which paralyzes needed efforts to convert retreat into advance."

Franklin D. Roosevelt, first inaugural address – March 4, 1933

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SECTION NINE

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"I am in no mood to play any of your games," Sanzo said harshly.

Homura's only reply was to smile, a faint upturning of the lips that complemented the mocking look in his mismatched eyes.

The blonde priest couldn't honestly say what it was about the War Prince that put his hackles up; it could have been his haughty entrance, the way he spoke, the way he held himself – it could have been anything. Homura was certainly arrogant, but it was more than just that trait that pissed Sanzo off. Whatever it was, it caused a knee-jerk reaction that Sanzo was unable to inhibit, and wasn't even sure he wanted to inhibit. He wasn't one to ignore his instincts, and his instincts told him that despite all outward appearances and declared intentions, Homura was not a good guy and therefore needed to go. Not even Kougaiji and his various minions inspired this kind of gut-level response.

Perhaps that was because he and his traveling companions were more than capable of defending themselves against Kougaiji and his minions. They had yet to do the same with Homura and his fellow gods.

"Why don't you come out into the clearing, Konzen?" the god said after a lengthy silence. "Or is the harsh light of the moon too much for you right now?"

The priest managed to suppress a twitch that might have resulted in him shooting himself in the foot. What kind of mind-game was the war god up to now?

"For what reason are you here to aggravate me?" he asked instead. "If you want the Maten scripture, you already know the answer, so don't bother asking any stupid questions."

"I could have taken the scripture away from you hours ago, had that been my intention."

The other man's voice was lazy and matter-of-fact, and it set Sanzo's teeth on edge. Yet another reminder of his weaknesses, his inability to protect himself. No doubt the god was referring to the time in which the monk had been tangled in the kudzu vine, unconscious and wrapped up in a nightmare of realistic proportions.

The kudzu vine. Something abruptly clicked in Sanzo's mind, a piece of the puzzle that had been missing and dangling just out of reach this whole time. We never would have run into the vine if Homura hadn't driven us off the path. Why, though, would he have gone to the effort of making sure we got close enough to be attacked if he wasn't interested in the scripture...? He shifted slightly, adjusting his grip on the shoureijyuu. The vine was all part of Homura's game. But how did it fit in? What purpose did it hold?

"What's so important about this kudzu vine?" he asked aloud.

One slender brow arched, and the war god's smile altered into something that more resembled approval than mockery. "So quick to find the heart of the matter," he replied. "One of the many things I've always liked about you."

"It gets tedious to beat around the bush," Sanzo said. His temper was steadily rising at this obstruction, and he struggled to keep a tight reign on it. "Why did you lead us to the plant?"

Homura regarded him in silence for a moment, the smile fading yet still lingering around the edges of his lips, before he tilted his head back to stare up into the night sky. The stark light of the moon highlighted the column of his throat and the sharp contour of his collarbones beneath the shirt he wore.

"Why don't you come out into the moonlight?" he asked at length. "Though I must admit, the complex play of light and shadow does better to describe you, of all people; standing at the edge, where the light will keep the demons at bay, and the darkness will prevent you from looking too closely at your deepest – "

Something murky closed around Sanzo's lungs, making it hard to breathe. "I have no interest in your metaphors, either," he snapped, cutting the god off. "What the hell is your game this time, Homura?"

Blue-and-gold eyes shifted to stare back at him, and the smile returned in full force – there, he realized, was the reason why he did not like the god; because somehow Homura could look right through him, strip away his most basic defenses, and see the truth that Sanzo tried to hide even from himself. He saw the truth, saw the weaknesses of the soul and body, and then sought to use them as weapons.

Just like the kudzu vine.

"This is no game," the War Prince replied mildly, "not for me, and certainly not for you and your companions. If you wish to call it anything, call it a test."

"Yet another," the priest spat out bitterly. "If you want the Maten scripture so bad, why do you continue to play with us like this?"

Homura stared for a moment before crossing his arms over his broad chest, the shackles that constrained his wrists jangling quietly. The smile disappeared from his lips. "In Heaven, the gods are forbidden to kill."

The sudden change of topic made Sanzo blink. What the hell?

"But you, of course, understand that there are exceptions to every rule. Like the War Prince Nataku, for instance, the only god in Heaven allowed to quell Gyumaoh's uprising."

"Like you?" Sanzo asked archly. "What does this have to do with anything?"

The other man inclined his head slightly, never breaking his gaze away from priest who remained in the shadows. "However, even with these holy laws in place, the gods still killed. They did so secretly, in the dark places where light frequently did not reach. Those killed were humans, demons, and occasionally other gods – those who had gotten in the way and needed disposing of. Those who were too important to send simple assassins after; those who needed to be silenced in a manner that would not attract attention. That, my impatient monk, is what your kudzu vine was for."

Sanzo pressed his lips together, ignoring the pain that was slowly beginning to pound in his temples again. Here was yet another reason why he did not like the god – Homura apparently liked to hear himself talk. But this appeared to be a point in Sanzo's favor... it was entirely possible that the War Prince might drop a hint that would enable him to destroy the vine all that much quicker. He was well aware, though, that Homura would not let anything slip by accident; he had probably planned out everything he wanted to say days ago, long before Sanzo and his party had reached the edge of this godforsaken forest.

"I don't suppose I should be surprised that this monstrosity was created by the gods," Sanzo said dryly.

Homura smiled once again, and a faint chuckle escaped him. "Oh, it wasn't always a monstrosity, not like this. The kyuuseishin was originally a tiny plant from which a short length of vine was plucked. This was then placed in the bed of the victim, who would subsequently die in their sleep, killed by their worst nightmare. The kyuuseishin vine would die and wither before morning, leaving no evidence of its having been there. Now, though..." Mismatched eyes turned to wander along the edges of the clearing, gazing into the darkness of the forest, before returning to Sanzo once more. "Now, after a few hundred years of neglect and the effects of about ten years of the Minus Wave, the kyuuseishin has... gotten a bit out of control. As you can see."

"Quite clearly." The monk frowned. "I still fail to see what your little history lesson has to do with anything."

"Perhaps I was wrong in believing you see the heart of the matter?" was the gently chiding response.

"Indulge me. These pop quizzes are annoying when given without prior chance to study."

A faintly disappointed sigh. "Sanzo. Can you really be so blind of the situation? There is more here than kill or be killed, destroy before being destroyed. The kyuuseishin may be nothing more than a mindless enemy in your path, but can you so easily dismiss the impact of its presence? Have you already forgotten your own encounter with it? Or do you enjoy the pain of ripping open old wounds?"

crimson-silver blade cutting a deadly arc through the air, the sharpened edge seeking to embed itself in his back

A gunshot rang out before Sanzo realized he had raised his pistol and pulled the trigger; unsurprisingly, the bullet dissipated before coming anywhere near the god. He barely felt any satisfaction at the knowledge that, had Homura not blocked it, he would have pegged the man right through his bloody chakra.

"Hit a nerve, I see," the war god said wryly, once the echoes had faded back into silence.

It was funny, Sanzo thought briefly, just how easily this man got on his nerves. Even Gojyo, who had all the appeal of a pimple on his ass, inspired more patience than Homura. Somehow, with hardly any previous interaction, the war god knew exactly which buttons to push and when. The last thing Sanzo wanted to think about right now was that blasted nightmare and all the baggage that came along with it. Such contemplation could wait until he got out of this forest and into a decent inn. And found a fucking lighter. And he couldn't do any of the above until he found Goku. Every second this encounter took was a second that he lost in freeing Goku from the kudzu vine.

"Get the hell out of my way," he growled. "I do not have time for you."

"What kind of vision did the kyuuseishin invoke for you, Sanzo?" the god asked bluntly. "What bloody nightmares haunt your sleep? Are those the demons that you fear to see under the bright light of the moon?"

blood on his hands from when the demon had hacked into osho-sama's frail frame

"Enough," Sanzo snapped, keeping the sights of his shoreijyuu trained on Homura's chakra. "Your asinine drivel is boring me to tears. Get out of my way before I am forced to go through you."

The War Prince only uncrossed his arms and rested his hands on slender hips. "What about your friends Hakkai and Gojyo?" he persisted. "What fears can the kyuuseishin tap into, what ugly memories can it use to kill them in their sleep?"

You think you know?! You don't know anything, you filthy animal! Get away from me! Get away from me!

"I could care less."

"Really?" A slow, taunting smile curled Homura's lips. "What about your Goku? Do you think he's dreaming of his time spent in the prison on Mount Gogyo?"

Without thinking, Sanzo reached out for that delicate link between him and Goku, seeing if he could seize the thread and get a more precise location on the missing member of his party. But the result was negligible; although he could sense that the boy was alive and breathing (if not unhurt), the contact was still unresponsive. There was no comforting pressure in the back of his skull, silently watching and giving reassurance just by its presence. Sanzo might as well have been climbing a rope that ended at a brick ceiling.

"He's probably dreaming that he's tied to a wall in an all-you-can-eat buffet and can't get to the food," the priest replied after a moment, doing his best to keep the 'your Goku' comment from rattling his anger even more.

"I wonder," the god continued, a curious, almost reflective tone to his voice, "if there is something more horrifying than five centuries of loneliness and silence, something that can make a man wake screaming in blind terror. What kind of repressed memories can the kyuuseishin draw from? And do you think he'll remember when he wakes?"

Repressed memories? Sanzo wondered – and then realized, with the sudden clarity of a drowning man coming up for air, exactly what Homura was trying to do this time.

"...you're trying to find a way around the seal the gods put on Goku's memories," he accused. "What good will that do you?"

A sharp, pleased chuckle escaped the War Prince. "Wouldn't you like to know, Sanzo? You'd be surprised the difference that one single memory can have on a person – its presence or lack thereof. Would you be the same man you are today if any one single event had, for all extents and purposes, never happened to you?" He smiled again, and this time the priest couldn't tell if it was nasty or merely amused. "Do you think Son Goku would remain the same person he is now if his memories were returned to him?"

When he had found the boy – chained up and dirty like he had sat on a shelf without dusting for one too many years – Sanzo had given little thought to the seals that surrounded him. He knew what they were, of course, but his somewhat... aborted... training of all things a Sanzo should know left him ignorant of their true significance until he had discussed the skinny demon child with the Sanbutsushin. The seiten taisei, the embodiment of chaos, sealed by the gods five hundred years past for a crime no one remembered – Son Goku's silly pranks and almost childish outlook on life were a complete polar opposite to the monster unleashed when his limiter came off. But after the first time he had been forced to reseal the boy, and even to this moment, the priest believed that whatever crimes Goku had committed had been done while in that demonic form. And he didn't believe this simply because it was difficult to view Goku in the light of a 'bad guy' – but because he knew it, instinctively. Whatever the boy had done in the heavens was not executed with his conscious consent.

"That would be foolish to expect," he replied with certainty, "but I have a feeling the change would be far less than you think."

"So you say," the war god said quietly. "And fifty feet from here may be your chance to find out. Let's see just how accurate your hunch is, then." A soft hiss of air, the slight blurring of features – and then the god was gone, leaving the clearing devoid of shadows save for the darkness cast by the grass and trees.

Sanzo lowered his pistol, exhaling slowly. This little goddess-ordained joyride was getting worse and worse. Keeping demonic warlords from being revived from the dead was one thing; surviving assassins, demons driven insane by the Minus Wave, renegade gods, the raging stupidity of his companions, and Mother Nature's Revenge was another altogether. Someone was having far too much fun up in the heavens, and the blonde priest was more than ready to put a bullet between her (or his, or whatever) eyes.

But... what if Homura's plan went through, and Goku was finally able to reach his memories again? How could that affect the efficiency of their team? He knew that if Koumyou Sanzo had never died – or if the memory had been taken from him – he would not be who he was today. He would still hate people, still have a strong dislike for Gojyo, still be blunt and distant and uncaring for the opinion of others. But perhaps he would not hate physical contact so much, perhaps he wouldn't find so much solace in solitude. There were a hundred million little things that might seem like small changes, but amounted to so much when the total was tallied. His life would have been different if he hadn't become a Sanzo at thirteen. The person Goku was, he knew, would also risk becoming vastly changed if his memories of the past were returned to him.

As much as Gojyo and the stupid little monkey annoyed him, their presence had become an integral part of his life – none of them could survive singly what they could as a group. Their reactions were as second-nature to him as to them; Sanzo knew which way Hakkai would step when attacked by a demon, where Gojyo would fling the chain of his shakujou, where not to shoot when Goku threw himself into the fray. Give him a hypothetical ambush and he could plot out exactly how each of his companions would react, and how he would fit his own style of fighting around them. None of them even thought about it any more, not even Hakkai. It had become instinct.

If even one of them were to step out now, the bond they had developed would fall to pieces. No matter how badly Sanzo might want to leave one or all of them behind, he knew it could not be done. Especially if it was Goku – the only one who had managed to slip past his defenses and find a home in the back of his mind.

Somewhere deep down, he desperately hoped that the boy's memories would stay right where they were: in the darkness, never to be revealed by the light of remembrance. Change was inevitable, but that was one change he never wanted to see happen.

Why don't you come out into the clearing, Konzen? Or is the harsh light of the moon too much for you right now?

Not for me, he thought. For Goku, perhaps, but not for me.

"I fucking hate you," he said aloud, uncaring if the god could hear him or not, and stepped out of the shadows to make his way across the clearing.

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It sounded like rain.

Like rain on the treetops, like wind through the branches – a constant, monotonous, sibilant hissing that assaulted his hearing and vibrated in his lungs, his very bones. Hundreds of thousands of millions of huge, spade-shaped leaves that chafed together in some kind of eerie song that only nature itself knew the music to – the forest around him quivered as though in anticipation of something more to come.

The sound was slowly driving him insane.

Sanzo could barely see the plant for what it was, the canopy overhead woven so tightly that only the tiniest spots of light shown through – but that hardly mattered, considering the racket it was making. He had heard it the instant he crossed the clearing Homura had briefly dominated, the reverberation growing and growing until finally there was no other sound but the kudzu vine vocalizing its hunger. If the hissing had been that of a beating heart instead, he knew his own pulse would be keeping time with it.

There was little enough light to see by, and it was all Sanzo could do not to trip or catch the hem of his robes on a root and fall flat on his face. But thankfully the forest floor quickly grew barren, littered with nothing but the deep pile of years of leaf litter. Everything under the canopy of the kudzu vine had been smothered; likely nothing had been able to grow there for decades. Whatever sound he made while kicking aside the withered foliage was lost amongst that of the trembling branches suspended above him.

The scent that surrounded him, just like the sound, was too powerful, overwhelming; the smell of grapes was so sickly sweet and cloying that the act of breathing itself made his stomach threaten to rebel against the laws of gravity. The blossoms were too dark in color for him to see them against the paler green of the leaves, but the priest knew they were there nonetheless – and with them, the flat suckers that the vine used to assault its victims. But never once was he attacked as he made his way closer and closer to the source of the hunger that permeated the forest, and it wasn't until he found Goku that he realized why.

The main stalk of the kudzu vine was, to put it mildly, enormous. Woody branches as thick around as his waist curled and twisted and wove around each other, dozens of them that erupted from the earth to rise, entangled, into the canopy. Overhead, the limbs were entwined so tightly that even the relative brightness of the moon had difficulty breaking through, instead tingeing the cavern-like clearing with green shadows. These vines were so aged that time itself had frozen their movements, encased them in a brittle form that only allowed existence, and nothing more. Eventually younger, more mobile vines split away from the main branches, and these he could see rippling in the distant edges of darkness, either unable to reach or more wary of approaching him after the priest had escaped their clutches twice. There were no creepers close enough to reach him from the root of the kyuuseishin.

And there, curled up at the base of the main kudzu – vine? tree? – was the very person Sanzo was looking for. Clothing smudged and stained, already messy hair further worsened by twigs and leaf-litter, the gaudy orange of the cape he loved so much almost glowing in the darkness – Goku looked like he had fallen asleep by accident, as though he had grown tired of sitting against the trunk, tired of waiting, and had simply slumped over onto his side. His nyoi-bou, which normally vanished if he fell unconscious, rested innocuously only inches from his fingertips, useless while not in the grip of its wielder.

Short lengths of vine had pushed their way up through the forest floor in order to twine themselves around the young demon's body, dozens of them wrapped around his wrists and throat and ankles, curling around his waist and legs. They looked more like roots, really, for there were no leaves or flowers, just the dark green of the creepers and the sucker-like appendages that graced their tips. The priest could only see where one was attached, to the length of throat visible beneath the high collar of the shirt Goku wore. It was too dark beneath the canopy to see if any more were trying to drain away his chi, but Sanzo was more than certain there were.

Sanzo came to a stop only a few feet away from the boy he had practically raised by himself, just out of reach in case any of the creepers decided to detach themselves and attack him as well. From here, he could see the tension in the small body, despite how deceptively relaxed he looked sprawled out on his side. Eyes fluttered under dark-lashed lids, thick brows were drawn together in a faint frown, a muscle jumped in his cheek as he clenched his jaw – Goku looked angry, more like he was pissed at an enemy than caught in a nightmare.

Then again, the boy almost always reacted with anger in the face of something that should have frightened him. Fear was a weakness, an emotion that could freeze the body instead of sending it into motion. Perhaps, like Sanzo, he had grown sick of being frightened, of being weak, and found that anger allowed responsiveness, using it as a crutch to briefly escape his own faults.

But Sanzo didn't think so. He had never met any one with the level of self-confidence this simple-minded boy displayed – not even Gojyo, whose bravado was a thin disguise for his fear and self-loathing. Goku seemed to genuinely believe in his own strength, even in the face of tremendous defeat, and that same belief extended to the three he traveled with. Sanzo had never once seen the younger man show doubt in himself, or doubt in others (which had caused considerable trouble, on more than one occasion).

On the one hand, such lack of fear could be attributed to stupidity, but... Goku wasn't as stupid as he acted. He simply... saw things differently than other people did – not logically, but emotionally. It was difficult to follow his train of thought when he tried to explain himself, and when he was able to find words for what he meant, he only came across as dim-witted or easily distracted. But the priest would not have been able to stand Goku's presence for so many years if he really was that retarded; if it wasn't for the moments of deep insight he occasionally displayed, Sanzo would have left the boy at a foster family a long, long time ago.

However, lack of fear in the face of danger did not necessarily mean that Goku didn't fear anything. Sanzo remembered all too well the nightmares that would wrest the boy out of sleep and into the priest's room, looking for any physical comfort he could possibly get to ground himself in reality. There was a bone-deep fear hidden somewhere in the back of Goku's mind, something that was easily overlooked and ignored in favor for more pleasant thoughts (like food). Sanzo once believed the nightmares had to do with the centuries imprisoned at the peak of Mount Gogyo, and that the fears had faded with time, but... perhaps he had been wrong.

/ ...just a dream... just a dream... /

Was there something more frightening than five hundred years of isolation, as Homura had suggested? Something so terrifying, so damaging to a child's mind that the gods were merciful enough to take those memories away? If Goku hadn't been dreaming of his imprisonment, back when he woke screaming from his nightmares, what had he been dreaming of?

And was he dreaming of it now?

Withered and long-dead leaves rustled beneath stained robes as Sanzo knelt at the unconscious boy's side, brushing aside the discarded weapon. There were deep secrets here, he knew – dark and tangled creatures that probably weren't meant to survive the centuries that had passed. But because Goku had been witness to those secrets, and had been sealed away for a crime no one remembered, they had managed to live on in his mind, somewhere that Goku couldn't reach even if he wanted to. But the subconscious had a frightening way of pushing those memories to the surface at the most inopportune moments. Sanzo should know – he had to relive the painful events that had happened to him over ten years ago every time the sky clouded up and let loose the rain.

Or when he dreamed.

It was all too easy to dredge up the anger that he felt towards this plant, this construct of the gods, and the way it managed to stick its filthy creepers into dusty corners of the mind that were better left untouched. What other nightmares had it used to feed on innocent traveler's chi? How many people had been forced to relive the death of a loved one, a close shave with death, a rape, a murder? Why had the gods, who were supposed to merciful, created such a monstrosity?

Sanzo had known exactly what dream of Gojyo's he had stepped into once he heard the screaming issuing from behind the faded and ill-painted door. And, in thinking on it, he could predict exactly what dream Hakkai was caught in – although the particulars were unknown to him, the priest knew Gojyo would have to fight through the memories of Hyakuganmaoh's castle if he expected to release his old friend from the kudzu vine's grasp. If not for Homura's unexpected appearance, he would have guessed that Goku's dream would involve the cold, dry peak of Mount Gogyo, and the same cavern he had found the boy in so many years ago. He would have thought releasing Goku from that dream would be a piece of cake. But now he wasn't so sure. The war god's words could have been a ploy to undermine his confidence, but something in them... rang true. A sense of truthfulness, that Homura knew something Sanzo did not. And he hated that.

Do you think Son Goku would remain the same person he is now if his memories were returned to him?

I don't know, the blonde priest thought honestly. He probably wouldn't be. But regardless of what those memories are, regardless of what crimes he might have committed in Heaven, whether he deserved the punishment or not, he'll still be the same idiot monkey-boy who has terrorized me for over four years. I will not allow my opinion of him to be swayed by what I may or may not see in these dreams.

Because... life would be awfully quiet without him around.

Sanzo checked his pistol one last time, ejecting the spent cartridge he had futilely used on Homura and refilling the empty chamber. He didn't want to run out of bullets once he pulled Goku out of his dream.

He ignored the hostile rattling of the kyuuseishin vine, ignored the heavy feeling of dread that threatened to push aside his anger – and laid a hand on the sleeping boy's cheek, curling his fingers through the thick hair, and let himself be blinded by the white brilliance of Goku's nightmare.

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keistje: Some 39 love just for you. Told you I'd get around to it... eventually. –sweatdrop- Now I just have to concentrate on finishing this so I can get you your smut. :3

Me-Nuriko: I'm glad that you've enjoyed the Gojyo/Hakkai scenes so much – though they aren't my favorite pairing, I do think it's probably the most canon one of them all. I wasn't sure whether or not I'd capture their relationship right, and your assurance that I have is very pleasing. :) The bit with Kanan was probably my favorite part, except for perhaps the cuddling at the end (I can't choose! I love them both so much! XD). Hope the Sanzo/Goku works out for you just as well!

Koinu-Chan: Sorry I took so long to update, but I hope this meets your approval. "The world is made of... LOVE and PEACE!" :3

Haruka Hana: Hope I didn't disappoint you with the lack of physical fighting between Sanzo and Homura. But that would have been no fun – he'll have enough to do in Goku's nightmare, why make things worse for him? Other than the fact that we enjoy it? ;) I'm writing, I'm writing!

Blades of Ice: Everyone seems so pleased with my action scene – that makes me so happy! There's nothing more pleasing to me than knowing I'm drawing my readers in and really letting them experience the story. This chapter is more dialogue than action, but I hope it's up to your standards. Thanks so much for your reviews!

Merf: Kanan's part in the chapter wasn't originally there, but I ended up making a few changes in my head, and I think that was probably the best change I could have made. So glad you like it! :)!

Eclipse45: Breathe! Breathe! :)! There's so many chapters uploaded onto ff .net that it's no surprise that mine gets lost amongst the bunch – but I'm very glad you found it! There's nothing better than finding a story that had you coming back and checking your favorites page every day in case there's an update, right? But I promise that I won't do too many bad things to our Goku. Just... you know, a few. :3

stitcher2ficcer: Wow! Your reviews give me the warm and fuzzies every time I look at them! Thank you so much for all of them – they make me blush just thinking about them! I really don't know what to say in response to any of them, besides the obvious THANK YOU!!! for leaving your opinions on the story, and for recommending this to others. This whole story is pretty saturated with angst, isn't it? I'm surprised I haven't scared anyone away from it yet! I can only hope that these last three chapters will meet with your approval as well. :3 Thanks again, sooo much, for your reviews! -heart!-