A/U: Hello lovelies. I don't have much to say besides the usual. It's late and I'm only editing this once, like always, so excuse errors and crap writing. I know it'll escape me in here somewhere.

Chap Warning: Bad words, medical terms sort of?, hurt Sammy, mpreg.

Twinchester keep your reviews comin'. They're fabulous, thanks so much hun:D

"I don't understand why we can't just take it all out of him!" Dean asked trying not to shout. He'd passed exasperation hours ago. Dean and Meyer had been arguing about abortion and surgery options for Sam since practically the second they'd arrived at Bobby's.

"Because I need to run blood test and x-rays…" The doctor replied trying to keep his calm, "Dean this could be seriously dangerous for your brother, we just have no idea-"

"No you know what could be seriously dangerous for him? Have three fucking kids!" Dean screamed, absolutely loosing it.

The doc took two deep breaths as they fumed at each other and then finally proceeded, "I've never dealt with something like this before, Dean. I wouldn't even know how to begin the surgery to take everything out and Sam's body hasn't recovered enough for me to go in and try and abort the babies safely. Both options could kill him." He emphasized, voice strained from trying to keep it low, "Be patient." He growled and turned on his heel, done with the conversation.

On the way over to Bobby's Sam had woken up from his unconscious slumber, confused to see the road flying by him out the Impala's window. Last thing he remembered was the motel. But Dean had quickly explained, pulling over to let Meyer check him. After a clear bill they'd set off again, giving Sam a chance to deal with the news that'd dragged him under in the first place. Unfortunately 'dealing' proved a little more difficult than he thought or could handle so as soon as they'd arrived he'd escaped to his unconscious once more.

He remembered wishing he could stay there in dream land forever if it meant he wouldn't have to deal with this shit anymore – it'd been his last thought. Until now, when he'd been ripped from sleep by distinct voices yelling at each other. To his fierce disappointment, almost every word between his brother and doc reached him, even through the closed door and pillow covering his head. He didn't want to hear about this anymore, and he definitely didn't want to hear about it if it was the doc giving vague, half-assed explanations about why he wasn't going to try and fix him. Which was exactly all he heard.

The yells died down after a while and he heard the doc speaking quietly before a few seconds of silence, then footsteps ascending the stairs. His door creaked open a couple inches and Sam saw Dean grimace at the sound, probably thinking it might wake him. But then he caught his eye, realized Sam was awake – had been for a while if the look on his face said anything – and right away felt incredibly guilty.

"Shit. Sorry Sammy. We didn't mean to wake you." He said quietly as he entered the spare room. Sam was curled up on his side, looking as dejected and heartbroken as Dean had ever seen him. He suddenly wished he'd go back to being angry instead, at least then he'd had some life in him. Some fight.

Sam shrugged lightly, "It's fine."

Dean sighed as he sat down behind his brother's back, "We're gonna figure something out kid. Don't worry okay I'm gonna take care of this." He promised, wondering if there was any chance at all he could keep his word.

It was Sam's turn to sigh as he rolled halfway onto his back to look at his brother, "How can you say that. You heard Meyer. It could kill me if we mess with this, and it could kill me if we don't. I'm fucked Dean…"

"Don't you dare say that Sam. You start giving up now and of course you won't stand a chance, but if you keep fighting, if you remember how much you have to live for…I know you'll be just fine." Dean said, voice shaky and stressed and so full of sincerity he surprised himself.

"How much I have to live for?" Sam asked in astonishment, "Dean I don't have anything to live for." He stated completely serious, "Hunting's over – not that I'll miss it but at least it gave me purpose – and school's out of the picture, that 'normal life' I wanted... gone. There's nothing left for me." Sam finished finally looking up to his brother. He was taken aback by what he saw.

Dean had tears in his eyes, big fat welling tears, "Sammy," He breathed, "You have me man." He stressed, voice deep and thick with the ball in his throat, "I can't believe you think you've got nothing to live for." He shook his head, brow furrowed in disbelief, "As long as I'm around you have me to live for whether you feel you like it or not." He said mood suddenly shifting, "I frankly don't give a shit if you want to be around, you're staying, because-" He huffed and tilted his head down to look at the bed spread, Sam watched a small tear fall, "Because if you don't…I'll be right behind you." He swore, looking back up.

"Dean, no." Sam said suddenly frightened, "Don't you ever say that." He growled almost repeating Dean's previous words, "I mean, it's not like I'm gonna go off myself or something because life is shit right now, I would never do that to you." He shook his head trying to meet Dean's eye, "But…I don't ever want to hear that again. If something happens to me in all this, if you lose me, you do not get to follow me." He said, voice hard and unforgiving, "You get to stay here and keep hunting, or find a wife or do whatever but point is, you're staying here." He pointed down, his words sharp and desperate, "Understand?"

And boy did Dean like being bossed around… but he accepted it. They were basically asking each other to promise not to kill themselves, so as fucked up as this conversation was anything was going at that point.

Dean took a minute and they both simply stared at the other, trying to decipher what was going on behind the eyes they watched. Finally Dean spoke, "Okay." He whispered, "But then you gotta promise me man you won't go doing anything stupid…you won't start talking like your life's already over again cause that shit…that's gonna be a deal breaker for me. I can't hear it, never again alright?" He asked, the words loaded with more meaning than just their own, "And for the record, you're not goin' anywhere either alright?" Sam nodded, his almond, hazel eyes showing the depth of his belief. He trusted Dean. If he said he was going to make it through this, then it had to be true.

"Okay, so are we done with this?" Dean questioned a moment later, his tone lighter, "Cause I think I passed my quota of emotional shit just walking through that door." He teased and nudged Sam's shoulder. He gave his own little crooked smirk back and that was that.

The heavy stuff was over and the only remnants to prove the conversation ever existed were the dried tears on Dean's lashes. Sam watched them dance and twinkle in the glowing light of the late afternoon sun as they sat on their bed and tried to just…talk like they used to. With their light banter and inside jokes, their memories of times they both understood: anything besides the fucked up reality they were both living now.

"Hey Sam." Meyer walked in a few hours later, after they'd all eaten a quick dinner and retreated back to their rooms. He had a brief case in his hand as he pushed open the door, "Can I come in." It didn't escape either Sam or Dean that he was only addressing Sam now. Dean gave a light chuckle at that but kept his eyes away from Meyer, not wanting to egg him on too obviously.

"Yeah." Sam said as he sat up straighter against the head board. Meyer nodded and walked in.

"I'd like to take a blood sample if that's alright with you."

"Uh, yeah." He agreed looking straight ahead, "What's it for again?" He asked quietly, simply curious.

"Just like to get a feel for how your immune system's doing, see how your body's reacting to the new…additions." Meyer offered taking out a rubber strap and syringe. Dean absentmindedly wondered when they'd all stop tripping over their words trying to talk about the…situation. Yeah, probably never.

Meyer tied the rubber strap around Sam's bicep, which until now Dean hadn't really noticed was quite as impressive as it was, and a couple seconds later the veins started to rise. It looked good spanning across his wide, tanned forearm. And what a strange thing to notice, Dean thought, but hurriedly brushed it off as Meyer's voice pulled him from his head.

"You've got some Hulk veins goin' on Sam." Meyer joked quietly, seeming uncomfortable with the silence that'd settled. Sam gave him a quick smile, trying to appreciate his effort at humor in this mess, but rapidly returned to his brooding thoughts.

Sam didn't move, didn't twitch or wince when the needle pierced his skin, not that anyone expected him to, but seeing Sam so hard and tense, it made Dean uneasy. It was so unlike Sam, all tough and masked.

So he grabbed Sam's hand and gently stroked the back with his thumb, very uncharacteristically, but he just wanted to see his brother again. The softer one. He take the girly emo version over this hardened, lifeless one any day.

And he got him: Sam responded to the touch, turning his attention away from the needle in his arm and looked up at Dean, smiling with eyes. Dean smiled back, teeth and all.

It took about two minutes and then they were done. Meyer pulled out the offending syringe, took the vials of blood and thanked Sam before standing.

"I have friends at the hospital nearby, they'll let me run my tests there…obviously I don't have equipment to do it here or I would. My daughter's bringing over the rest of the supplies I'll need. I pretty much have a hospital in my home, if we were there we could do this more discretely, but I'm sure your more comfortable here so, it's no problem." He shook his head looking away like as he started out.

"Why are you doing all this?" Sam asked, genuinely curious.

"Bobby's my friend," He shrugged, "I owe him a lot and he asked me to. Plus I feel I'm a part this now. I have to see it through…call it a doctor thing." He chuckled and turned away again. Dean still wasn't sure how he felt about the guy, but he couldn't deny he was grateful having him around.

"Well, thanks." Sam muttered and Meyer left with nothing but that bright smile he seemed to wear like a pair of pants.

It was four hours later, midnight, when Sam woke up from a light sleep he hadn't wanted to be pulled from. He wondered for a moment what'd woke him up, but then he felt it.

Oh shit.

He laid back down as his heart started racing and his skin broke out in a cold sweat. Something shifted, pulled and then pierced through the very bottom of his stomach.

"Ah, fuck" He whispered, careful not to wake Dean in the next bed. It kind of felt like when someone massaged a knot in your muscle too long and too hard, it ached and contracted with spasms and jolts, pulling on muscles around it. And this was no different; he couldn't control it, he was at his body's mercy and hated that it felt so out of control. He managed to stay quiet for what seemed like an eternity, but was probably only a few minutes, before he started muttering muffled curses into the crook of his arm.

Don't wake Dean. Don't wake Dean.

He chanted to himself, but just then as if his body was taunting him, it upped the ante. God it felt like someone with wringing out his gut like a rag.

He whimpered and bit down on his lips unable to stifle the next couple affronted moans that escaped him. And, of course Dean woke to that. He was attuned to the sound of Sam in pain; it could've passed as a fire alarm for him considering how loud it was to his ears.

"Whoa Sammy what's wrong?" He asked, voice ruff with sleep as he quickly rubbed his eyes to see clearly.

"I-I don't know. It's the same…like before." He ground out trying to settle his uncontrollable writhing.

"Bobby!" Dean yelled, and did this feel vaguely familiar… "Get the doc." He kept shouting.

A minute later both men came bursting through the door.

"Sam," Meyer said determinedly, "Talk to me. What's going on?"

"It's his stomach," Dean said for him knowing it was hard for him to speak, "It did this earlier. Before you got here," The doctor was already pulling up Sam's t-shirt, "He said it was cramping or something. It went away after a little while." Dean explained trying to stay calm.

"It's worse." Sam added faintly and his face scrunched up, "Ah-i-it aches but it burns and stings. I can't-I don't…know how to explain it." He kept going, voice quiet and so full of pain Dean was going to lose it, "Like someone's ringing out my gut or using it on a cheese grader or somethin'." He paused for a second and everyone winced at that mental imagery, "It's like it's…making me want to-" Through all that pain Dean could see he was embarrassed. It made him all the more curious, and scared shitless.

"It's okay Sam, try and relax." Meyer spoke up encouragingly as he laid his hand on Sam's stomach, where Dean's had been the last time this happened, "Your muscles are contracting pretty intensely, it's probably making you feel like you need to push?" Meyer offered looking to Sam for confirmation.

Sam looked surprised through his grimace, but nodded his agreement, "But I can't…" His breath stuttered and caught, "'Cause it hurts like a bitch."

"Alright, then you need to relax Sam." Meyer said and took away his hand, "Don't push, you'll hurt yourself." He instructed, his eyes hardening to hide their concern. Sam didn't catch it, a little preoccupied as it was, but Dean sure as hell did.

"Okay Sam, hey I'm right here." Dean said choosing that moment to intervene seeing the doc had no more to offer. Sam looked over, eyes bleary and nearly closed, "That's it, just focus on me and remember how we did this earlier." Dean gently laid his hand back down where it'd been last time, wincing when he felt the muscles tensing and rolling under him: as if something was clawing to escape or tearing itself apart, "Alright remember, you gotta breathe Sam." Dean said, but he wasn't sure that alone would be enough this time, "Hey, remember the first time you rode a bike?" Dean asked, hoping a gentle distraction would make it easier for Sam to concentrate on relaxing; he could easily see it'd be harder for him to just let go this time. His body was working fervently against his efforts.

"You were seven." He continued, "I was so proud a you. You were a pro right away. Doing so good, just flyin'." He chuckled lightly though he felt no real humor at the moment, but Sam was still paying attention, trying to even his breaths, so he went on, "I had a hold of your seat, running next to you, and I could see you had it." he said animatedly, "So I let go. But then a couple seconds later you realized how fast you were going. You turned around for help and ended up jerking the handle bars, landing in that rose bush." Sam actual smiled at that, somehow focusing on Dean's walk down memory lane through his pained spasms, "I took you inside and Dad started cleaning out your scratches. Man they were everywhere. I felt so bad," Dean shook his head but kept his small smile in place. "That was the first time dad gave you the 'Winchester's pain' speech." Dean said deepening his voice to sound like their father, Sam grinned again and nodded,

"Yeah, it's basically a rite of passage in this family." He said, voice sounding whiskey-scratched and broken, but he kept the smile intact. God Dean admired this kid; he was so much stronger than he often gave him credit for.

"Yeah," Dean nodded, "You remember what he taught you that day. Told you the stories about people who could concentrate – could focus hard enough to block out pain altogether, like those coal-walkers. It's all about focusing on something else, convincing yourself that pain's just a state of mind, not physical." Sam nodded again, already much calmer; his muscles were still acting to their own accord but he wasn't fighting it so instinctively anymore. "Focus on that. Remember that. And keep breathing, nice and slow. It'll be over in a couple minutes." Dean soothed rubbing the hand over his stomach slightly, feeling the muscles calm.

Sam lifted his hand and put it over Dean's, light but still warm and comforting over his muscles. "Thanks Dean." He whispered, the words heavy with meaning.

Neither boy even realized their audience had left the room a while ago, seeing the situation had been under control. They still hadn't noticed a few minutes later until Sam was completely relaxed, wiped out and limp on the bed, eyes fluttering closed and snapping back open every few seconds.

"It's okay Sam, you can sleep." Dean whispered. Sam nodded gratefully as if those were the words he'd been waiting for and rolled over snuggling into his pillow. Dean watched affectionately, heart swelling and clamping and freezing as different thoughts drifted through his clustered mind.

Finally, once he thought Sam was asleep, he got up and walked out into the hall making sure he avoided the floor boards that creaked so as not to wake Sam. He heard voices drifting up the stairs from the kitchen as he snuck down them quietly, stopping when he reached the entry. He knew he shouldn't be eaves dropping, just the principal of it all, but he couldn't help himself. He flattened his body against the wall outside the kitchen and listened,

"…yeah that was pretty incredible." He heard Meyer say, "Just watching the light flood that kid's eyes when Dean started talkin'. I've never seen that kinda trust between two people before."

Dean felt an insane swell of pride at the words, and he knew he should have stopped there, but something kept him in place.

"They're definitely one of a kind, those boys." Bobby agreed.

"It must've been their father's death that brought 'em so close. I heard the great John Winchester passed a few months ago."

"Well, it's true, but I don't think they've changed all that much since it happened. Not with each other at least, they've always been that close. But Sam sure as hell's grown up since it happened. Dean's always been mature for his age, basically raised Sam." Dean heard Bobby pause, "But Sam, he's more and more of a man every day I see him. He took their daddy's death pretty hard, I know he did. And now with this whole situation…he's gonna be seventeen goin' on forty pretty soon." Bobby huffed a partially humorless laugh.

It was true; Sam was more of an adult every day, out growing the little shreds of innocence he still had right before his eyes. Dean could see it all too clearly. And their dad's passing had a lot to do with his jumpstart toward adulthood, not to mention their profession…but this? If they didn't find a way to fix it soon, Sam was going to lose any childhood, or teenage-hood he should say, that he had left.

"Dean?" He heard Bobby call and he jumped, startled out his somber thoughts. He looked up to see Bobby opening the fridge, getting a clear view of where Dean had been hiding, "What're you doing out here boy?" He asked shutting the door and approaching him, "Sam okay?" Dean was grateful he hadn't brought up the fact that he'd rudely been loitering and obviously eavesdropping.

"Yeah he's asleep." Dean said pushing off from the wall and scratching the back of his head shyly. Bobby nodded considering him for a moment, but Dean felt scrutinized under the watchful gaze and quickly slid past him into the kitchen to see the doc leaned up against the counter.

"Dean," Meyer greeted with a polite smile. Dean nodded and grabbed a beer from the fridge, offering one to Bobby, figuring that'd been what he was after earlier. He took it gratefully.

"So, Meyer, you have any idea what these little episodes are about?" Dean asked trying desperately to keep the serious fear pulsing through him out of his tone as his mind conjured up all sorts of horrific ideas. All ending with Sam's death. He couldn't suppress his shudder.

"Well my guess is his body's trying to expel its new additions. It realizes something's changing the way it's used to functioning and it's working to get rid of the source." He shrugged, "But I could be wrong."

"Okay well if that is true though, and his body's already working to get that shit out, I don't understand why we don't just help out a little?" Dean asked seeing his opening to restart their earlier 'discussion'.

"Dean, you're not talking about some little quick-fix procedure here." Meyer enforced with a stern gaze, "You're asking me to reopen him up a couple days after his last surgery and remove a whole system from his body. One that's been newly attached – sewn into him. You can't just-"

"Wait what do you mean sewn into him?" Dean interrupted, a little horrified.

"Well I'm not absolutely sure, I'll have to ask Sam if he knows anything about it, but I was looking over the pictures from the ultrasound again and if I'm not mistaken it looks like the uterus had been anchored to his body so the exit is the anal canal. I think the doctor who did this made room by cutting a piece of the colon so both share the exit, once the babies are ready to be born though I think the colon will close as he dilates-"

And that was officially all Dean could hear and way, way more than he ever wanted to. He sprang from the room, barely making it to the toilet down the hall before spewing his guts out. He knelt there, wretching for a good five solid minutes and panting into the sick-smelling air around him before quickly flushing the toilet. He fell back against the wall behind him, completely dazed as he continued greedily sucking air into his lungs.

Bobby chose that second to softly push open the door and peer his head in.

"You okay son?" He asked gruffly. Dean could tell he'd been as shocked as he was by Meyer's words from the look in his eyes. He was trying to hide it, but that had not only been way too descriptive and totally crude – in his opinion at least – but it'd also made this entire thing as real as it could get.

Dean tried to nod, but took a second before changing his mind and shaking it vigorously.

No he was not 'okay'. 'Okay' had been a distant land of hunting and the road and slummy motel rooms and Sammy. This – the psychotic doctors and overly blunt, I-don't-know-when-to-shut-up doctors and babies and a seriously traumatized brother – this was a land that'd never heard of the word. He was very, so very far from 'okay'.

Bobby came in and took a seat next to him, mirroring his position with his elbows resting on knees, hands loosely clasped together, and face drawn into an unrecognizable mask of too many emotions.

"I know." He whispered, "That was a lot to hear. I gave him an earful for announcing his…theories like that." Bobby spit the words like they were poison and shook his head, "But we'll figure this out." He added more smoothly.

Dean shook his head. "Everyone keeps saying that. Hell even I'm saying that…but what the fuck is there to figure out really Bobby?" Dean felt the tears already gathering, "My brother's pregnant." He whispered and suddenly felt the urge to vomit again.

He clamped his fist down in front of his mouth and sealed his eyes shut, half way trying to stave off the tears and half way focusing on the nausea. Eventually he got his stomach under control though, and the sting of rebellious, salt-ridden tears won, beating him down relentlessly and he couldn't – just couldn't fight them. He couldn't find the strength.

Once again, he broke down for Bobby…who simply wrapped an arm over his shoulders and sat with him quietly.

Dean let go with quiet, almost silent sobs muffled into the crook of his forearm. The only way Bobby even knew he was crying was the gentle shakes of his hunched back and the stuttering inhales Dean tried to control. That and the soft splash of small tears hitting the linoleum beneath them.

And Bobby didn't say a word. Knew if he did Dean would clam up like a frightened animal and fight this even harder. He'd ignore it and bottle it and bury it until it literally exploded out of him. Bobby had seen it happen; the boy had very precarious, ineffective ways of dealing when it came to emotion.

So damnet Dean needed this. He'd never admit it, not in a million years, but he had to get rid of all this anger, this fear currently drowning his world somehow. And if it wasn't this it was too much alcohol and a lot of violent destruction.

So he stayed quiet through Dean's release and instead grasped the bobbing shoulder under his hand tighter, squeezing gently to steady the boy.

They sat that way for a half hour, Bobby's legs were falling asleep and his back was killing him, but he still didn't say a word and made no move to get up. Not until Dean finally lifted his head, his tears long since dried and stood without a word. He held a hand down for Bobby who took it gratefully and hauled himself up.

Then they left that little bathroom and didn't speak of its occurrences again.

Dean didn't have the energy to confront Meyer about his words, and he knew tomorrow would be awkward as hell if he didn't do something about it now, but at that moment he didn't care and went straight up to his and Sam's room. The door creaked a little when he pushed it open and he hoped it didn't wake Sam as he padded silently over to his bed. But his hopes were diminished when he noticed Sam's eyes gleaming in the white light of the moon.

"What are you doing up?" Dean asked abandoning his bed in favor of Sam's.

Sam shrugged the shoulder he wasn't laying on, "I heard you coming up the stairs. What were you doing?" He asked, voice trembling slightly.

"Nothing really, had a beer." He lied, "Sammy you okay?" He asked putting a hand on his shoulder. Sam took a deep breath and kept his eyes down while he seemed to debate something in his head. Dean waited, patient.

"What's happening to me Dean?" He whispered nearly inaudibly, "You think this is what happened to the other guys he did this to? What if this is what happened before they died?" He asked keeping his voice a crisp whisper, not trusting his voice.

"No Sammy I don't. I was talking to Meyer downstairs," He began, proud he didn't falter over the words as they reminded him of that other part of their conversation, "He said he thought it was just your body reacting to the new stuff. Trying to get it out or something. But if we keep doing what we're doing, just letting it run its course and keeping you relaxed, they'll pass and you'll be fine. I'm sure it'll stop soon." He didn't look quite convinced, "I swear nothin's gonna happen to you as long as I'm around." Dean promised, reassured by the same words he'd spoken to Sam a million times before. He'd always kept his word then, so he had no intention of breaking it now.

"But if I'm already trying to get it out then why can't we just take it out?" He asked unintentionally rewording the exact question Dean had asked not an hour earlier.

Dean shook his head sadly, "I asked the same thing. Apparently it's a lot more…complicated," he swallowed trying his damnest not to let the doc's words re-run through his head, "than we thought." He finished just a beat too late. Sam looked mad and for good reason, but confused too, in that puppy-dog-eyed sort of way. The one that made Dean want to slap him upside the head and spill his guts and pull him into a hug all at the same time. But he didn't do any of those things.

"You need your rest Sammy. C'mon close your eyes." He whispered rubbing Sam's shoulder gently, completely slack and hunched as exhaustion overwhelmed him. He wanted to sleep, so bad, but he needed Sam asleep first. "I will climb in this bed with you right now if you don't listen to me." He threatened, but Sam's defiant glare didn't falter and his eyes definitely didn't close. So Dean, a man of his word, climbed over his brother and yanked down the comforter, crawling under and jumping around as he got comfy.

Sam couldn't help but laugh lightly as he watched Dean bounce like a five year old until he was flat on his stomach, face toward Sam, breath coming out of his nose in loud puffs. One eye cracked open as he felt Sam watching him.

"Sam." He warned, and Sam sighed closing his eyes.

A few stretching minutes passed.

"Jesus man could you keep your thoughts to a dull roar?" He asked mildly irritated as he jolted upright onto his elbows and looked down at Sam, who was feigning sleep.

"It still creeps me out that you can always tell somehow when I'm not sleeping." Sam said opening his eyes, "I'm sorry," he apologized a moment later, "but I'm not tired. I've been sleeping all day, and when I wake up in the middle of the night I can hardly ever get back to sleep you know that."

And yes Dean most certainly did, it'd kept him up on countless occasions before, entertaining little Sammy till sleep reclaimed him. With a sigh he realized tonight would be no different.

So like the incredible older brother he was, Dean turned over onto his back and sat upright, gently pulling Sam to rest against his chest. The way they'd done so many nights before. He snagged the remote from the night stand and turned the TV on, keeping the volume low enough that they could still talk, like he knew Sam would want to do, and rubbed his back soothingly, calming him back down. He kept up his ministrations for a while as they shared quiet meaningless talk to the background of a sitcom rerun until finally he could feel Sam going slack in his arms.

Yes. He sighed, settling them down into the mattress and passing out as soon as he heard the soft snores coming from the limp figure asleep on his chest.

A/U: Sorry I know, me again. Okay after reading this, I couldn't help but feel it might've been a bit choppy. I don't know if it's just me being delirious and tired or if it's true. But if it is, I do apologize! Sorry again for mistakes. Hope you all still enjoyed it anyway. You can tell me in a review;)

Have a fabulous Holiday and I'll see you all on another chapter soon!

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