Guyssssss, I'm so sorry! I wanted to have this out much sooner (note from the future: applies only to AO3 version, which took several months to update; FFN kids are lucky!) but I'd been planning to have a crossover with something else as part of Sam's backstory and I didn't know the exact outcome I wanted. I knew I'd be alluding to it in this chapter and that it'd have to set up the next part of the series (bc I was planning a flashback to that part of the backstory and I wanted to know how Sam would look back on that time in her life). Eventually I realized that the events couldn't play out the way they had in that particular thing, because otherwise it would've messed with Sam's perception of a normal life and might've changed things too much! Therefore, I'm still keeping the crossover still kinda quietly canon to her backstory, but all the characters lived happily ever after and nothing bad happened to any of them. :'D (... I MIGHT undercut that still by doing an AU non-canon to this series but exploring one of the ideas I had, because it was so! interesting to me! But it'd probably be a one-shot and again, not canon to this series.)

Why am I being so vague about what thing I wanted to do a crossover with? So you can try to guess! Your hints are that it is slightly related to the second episode of Supernatural and that Sam alludes to the characters a bit. Anyone who guesses what it was/is before the crossover goes up (if it goes up! I still don't know how interesting it would or wouldn't be) will get to them, a real! genuine! actual! physical! veritable! VIRTUAL COOKiE to their very own real-life home! (Note: real cookie not included.)

I'll try to have the last chapter of this part up soon as I can, hopefully within the next week or so, but am very easily distracted. :( After this, I'll probably want to do three oneshots and maybe then just skip ahead to start a new multichapter fic to cover "Devil's Trap" and "In My Time of Dying" because there's some stuff there I'm dying to get into! *badum tish man does his thing; I flip a coin into his tip-hat* Thanks, guy. Anyway I would like to introduce Meg first, but I don't know that "Scarecrow" or "Shadow" would be too different from the canon episodes, so I might skip 'em... We'll see, though! Lots of possibilities!

The party goes pretty much the way Sam expects: loud, embarrassing, and way too much booze. Sam declines a drink, not wanting to come home to Brady with alcohol on her breath, so they decide on Shirley Temples for her instead (and go from congratulating Sam on passing her LSAT to talking shit on annoying Shirley Temple DVD collection commercials in the process) while her friends order shots "for" her and cheerfully drink them themselves when she reminds them she doesn't drink anymore. Shockingly, almost all her friends end the night shitfaced.

Grateful the bar had been close enough that none of them had had to drive, Sam herds them back to their dorms and motels, the group - leftover bags in hand from the food they'd gotten at the bar - laughing and shushing each other as they dodge around the last of the tiny trick-or-treaters and other costumed party-goers. They drop each other off after one last parting hug and yet another round of congratulations to Sam. The noise quiets as the group thins, until it's just Sam and Jessica again. Which isn't coincidence; Sam hadn't drank anything at all and Jess was the least buzzed, so they had decided to make sure everyone got home safe.

Their heels clack on the sidewalk, pleasantly loud, solid, crisp notes. Sam likes it. She hadn't been especially keen on the idea of the party, but she'd missed her friends and seeing them all again, talking to them all again, filled something inside her. Having to end the night by saying goodbye again to them all gives her a bittersweet feeling. Having Jess makes her feel a little less lonely.

Sam sighs. She's doing it again, thinking too much. Ruining things. Halloween has never been a good time of year for her.

Jess nudges her. "Hey, what's that all about? Are you tired?" Sam feels her looking over at her face. She'd covered it up with makeup after getting up, but she wouldn't be surprised if Jess remembered the bags under her eyes from when she came in to wake Sam up. Jess is too polite to ask, but she's sharp.

She was Sam's roommate. She knows about the nightmares Sam has.

Sam hesitates. "A little," she admits. "I'm not much of a party-girl, you know."

"I know," Jess says fondly, and links her arm through Sam's, giggling. Sam's melancholy lifts a little. "It was worth it though, right?"

Sam looks directly ahead and gives a noncommittal, "Hm."

Jessica laughs. "C'mon, Sam! I saw you smiling."

"I guess it was. A little bit. ... Thanks for putting it together for me."

"You don't need to thank me. I mean, I did kinda force you into it - "

"True."

"Hey, no, no! You had fun, I know you did. And you know what? I was happy to do it for my best friend."

Slightly overwhelmed at hearing anyone call her their best friend, Sam looks away. "Thanks," she says, almost too soft to hear, and Jess gives her a gentle hip bump in response.

Sam clears her throat and they go back to talking about the guy who keeps flirting with Jess and debating whether she should give him a chance, what she wants in a guy, whether she even wants to be dating right now with the workload from her classes, and how to pull off an alcohol-free party with Brady to help him feel included. At the dorm, they hug and Jess promises to call her over the weekend. Sam waits until she hears the door lock before she heads home.

It would be dark out if it weren't for the Halloween lights out everywhere to light the way for the little kids. Sam enjoys the chance to stretch her legs. She itches for a good jog home, but there's the bag of food to consider and she doesn't want to risk jostling it.

She's home before she knows it, climbing the small square red steps leading up to the door. She's lived here with Brady for a year now and it's not much, but it's theirs and she's damn proud of it. She works hard to make it look as clean and well-maintained and beautiful as any of the billions of houses she's seen, whipping by in car windows with envy in her heart.

The lights are on in the windows, she notes. Brady might've fallen asleep on the couch watching his movies.

She knocks on the door to give him a heads-up. "Brady? I'm home."

Nothing. Her hand drifts to the doorknob, touching the cold metal, when she hears it turn.

The door swings open with a low, ominous creak and Something is staring at her with big alien-black eyes and ruined, wrinkled skin and gnashing teeth streaked in red.

Sam doesn't blink. "Boo. Very scary. You know, you're only the seventh person to pull that tonight."

"Ha. Well, 'tis the season." She can hear the asshole grin in his voice, muffled as it is. "Holy shit, is that food? You brought me food?"

She holds up the bag. "Hmm. Good question. That depends. You weren't doing that to the trick-or-treaters, were you?"

"No, ma'am! I didn't scare a single hair on the little kiddies' sweet little heads. I even gave them most of our candy."

"Yeah, you were supposed to do that. That's kind of the whole point."

Brady chuckles. "Not my Halloween. I deserve a gold star for good behavior."

Smirking, she passes him the bag. "Sorry to disappoint, no gold stars. But you can have pizza."

He finally pulls the ugly mask off, releasing blond hair and flushed cheeks, using his free hands to pull the small box free of the bag. "Pizza's not a bad start! What kind?" He pops it open to inspect. "Aw, Sammy, I knew you loved me!"

Sam snorts as she closes and locks the door behind her. "You're lucky I do, with taste like that. Pineapples. On a pizza. Ugh. Who came up with that?"

He throws her a smile. "Oh, I don't know. I happen to think I've got pretty good taste."

"Are you... really comparing me to pineapple pizza?" Sam asks in mock disgust.

"Yes."

"Okay. Wedding's off."

"Oh no," Brady says, untroubled by this unfortunate turn of events in his love life. "Am I still allowed to have the pizza?"

"Yes, you can still have the pizza that ruined our engagement."

"Hey, all right! Things are looking back up already."

Brady walks off to the kitchen with his box and Sam hears him opening the fridge. She takes off her jacket and hangs it inside the closet by the front door, glancing around the living room. The TV's off now. "Were you going to bed?" she asks, raising her voice slightly to be heard.

"Nope! Waiting for you!"

Sam smirks. "How long were you waiting here in that mask?"

"How was the party?" Brady calls back instead and she giggles to herself. Subtlety is not his forte.

She follows him into the kitchen. "Uh, not bad. I mean, it was fun. Got to catch up with the old gang. They're all doing good. Emily and Zack are apparently a thing now."

"Poor Zack," Brady mutters into the fridge.

Yeah, but still. "Be nice."

"I'm always nice, Sam. I'm just saying, my condolences to Zack and his family. Anyway, fun, that's good. You glad Jess made you go?"

Sam fiddles with her ring, twisting it on her finger. "I guess. It was okay, I just wish you could've come. It would've been better with you there too," she says.

A soft smile on his face, Brady reaches for the hand that wears their ring, taking it to his lips and dropping a kiss on the knuckles before he kisses the ring itself. Sam lets out a nervous laugh, embarrassed by the heat rising on her cheeks. It's been months since she got engaged, it's really kind of embarrassing that she's still not used to this.

But she smiles back. She doesn't mind too much. Brady sets butterflies loose in her stomach with just a kiss and that's thrilling. It's nice to have something so nice in her life. Maybe it's a good thing. One day, she'll accept it like an everyday thing and it'll replace the other thing she still can't quite shake (the looking for exits in every room as soon as she walks in, the jumping at sudden noises, the fucking nightmares). Until then, maybe it's not so bad to feel like this. It's not a bad feeling at all.

"Jess and I were talking," Sam says.

"Oh? My Jess or your Jess?"

She huffs. "Roommate Jess, not high school Jess."

He grins. "Oh, you mean my Jess, then. Go on."

"We were thinking about maybe having another get-together, but with you along. Maybe soccer."

"Hm, I do like to point and laugh when you trip everyone with your long-ass giraffe legs," Brady says thoughtfully. When she glares, he amends it with a cheeky smile. "Sorry - sexy long-ass giraffe legs."

"Want to be my cheerleader?" she offers.

"Hell yeah, baby, I'll be your cheerleader. But you also wanted to pick up new clothes for your job interview, don't forget. And we need groceries."

"We can fit that all in tomorrow, s'long as we get up early."

"Want to go to bed now, then?" Brady asks, eyes glittering. Even without the way his fingers play up her thighs, she'd get his meaning. And she wants to, she's been thinking of other ways she can make up for the missed party and he can celebrate her score in private, but there's one potential problem.

"Uh, I don't want to get involved and then be interrupted by trick-or-treaters, Brady."

"How late do you think kids are allowed out? They're all already home. Anyone who comes knocking now is either too old for candy or a serial killer."

Sam smiles tightly. "I have got to stop letting you watch those movies," she says, and Brady laughs.

Why, Sam?

She wakes up to a scream in her throat and a hand clamping over her mouth. "Shh. It's just me," Brady whispers beside her, and his tone wakes her all the way up immediately; she's never heard him talk like that.

He takes his hand away from her mouth and touches her shoulder. "I'm sorry, but I thought you were going to scream."

"What's wrong?" she asks urgently.

"I need you to be brave. Be brave for me?"

A chill radiates through her at his words. Her muscles tense under him. "Brady, what's - "

Somewhere in their apartment, something crashes.

Sam hears footsteps.

"Someone's inside," Brady hisses in her ear. "Broke in, just now, a burglar. I need you to go out the window, run as fast as you can, and get the police. Don't stop no matter what you see, just get outside. I'll distract them."

Sam's eyes widen in horror and she quickly turns to grab him, but he's already gone, pushed himself quietly off the bed and pulling up a pair of boxers. "I'm not leaving you," she says firmly. The thought of soft, good-natured Brady charging into a fight with anythi - anyone quite frankly terrifies her, but she knows she won't be able to convince him to be the one who runs out instead. "Wait for me." She slips out of bed as well and creeps to where the closet should be. The only light in the room is the digital clock, glowing 3:52 AM at her in blocky acid-green.

(It's always 3-fucking-52 AM when she wakes up from a nightmare. But that's not unusual. Circadian rhythms. Sleep patterns. She would wake up this early when she was still living with Dad and Dean, to speed through her homework, before the morning drills and practices and then school. Sometimes it was the only way she could do it. All this stressing about the LSAT must be tapping into her old unconscious associations with stress and school.)

"You're not coming with me, Sam! You don't know who's out there, you don't know how many are out there! You'll only get yourself killed, or worse! Just go, okay? I'll be fine."

"Trust me, I can handle myself," she says tersely. She pulls the shirt over her head as quick as she can, pulls the pajamas on even quicker. She can't even see which ones she picked, but it doesn't matter. They cover her and they're lightweight, breathable. They'll work in a fight. That's all she needs. She breathes in through her nose. "Look, I know what I'm going to say isn't exactly the way you're used to thinking, but it'd be better if you went out the window and I went to distract them, believe me. I know how to take care of this. But I don't want you to get hurt and if I'm worried about you, I might not be able to concentrate the way I need to."

The door creaks open and Sam spins, falling back into a tensed-wire stance, searching for enemies in the dark. But there's nothing.

Nothing at all.

She thinks she hears something outside in the hall, though.

And she realizes Brady isn't in the room anymore.

The nightmare tries to come back, but she pushes it out of mind, sick to her stomach at the idea of anything happening to him. The idea of Brady getting hurt, getting killed, is more than she can bear.

She isn't going to let it happen. She slips outside the room too, light and silent as a ghost, to go save her fiancé.

The lights are all still off, but Sam's eyes have adjusted a bit more and she knows her way well enough around her own home to navigate. She moves through the dark like a predator out on the hunt, making her way to where she heard the crash and listening intently for more sounds, hoping for footsteps. Whoever is closest is first, and please God, let it be Brady, so she can send him off to safety while she deals with the rest.

Sam's luck isn't nearly that good, so instead she gets the sounds of a struggle break out in the living room. She rushes in and slams on the lights, ready to take advantage of the intruder's unexpected surprise to jump into the fray.

To her shock, the intruder is already on the floor, curling up on his side and breathing raggedly. Brady stands over him, looks over at her, and.. he actually seems okay. The surprise and relief she feels at that nearly bring her to her knees.

Her heart is pounding so hard from anxiety and adrenaline she feels like she was the one who was just in a fight. "Brady?"

"I'm fi- "

"Sammy?" croaks a new voice, cutting right through her before she even knows why. Sam turns to look at the intruder again, and her brother, four years older and rougher since she last saw him, stares up at her from the floor with pain in his eyes. Older and rougher, but alive and goddamn there's emotion coursing through her now that she can't describe at seeing him again. She hasn't seen or heard anything from him and Dad in four years. When she left that night, she left knowing that they might not ever speak to her again and she might never know what would happen to them.

(She had to take that chance, because Dad didn't give her any choice, and she'd had to live with that for four years.)

"Dean," she says hoarsely, because she doesn't know what else to say. What is there to say?

(Too much, it turns out.)

Brady glances down at Dean and then back at her. "What, you know this guy?"

"Yeah she does, asshole, I'm her brother," Dean spits out before she can answer. He clutches his side again and grimaces. "Sam, some help here?"

"Brother? Wait, this guy's your brother?" Brady asks her.

"Yeah. That's Dean," she says. She reins herself back in and crosses the room to Dean to give in and help him up, but seeing him holding his side like that, she's worried about him now. He might be fresh off a hunt, and who knows what kinds of injuries he walked off in that one? Sam bites back a twinge of guilt, and drops down to gently prod at his side.

Dean tries to wave her off. "Get off of me, it's not that bad." She gives him a light poke and he winces.

"Sure it isn't," she says, locking eyes with him. "Man, I can't believe you lost a fight." To a civilian, her lifted eyebrow adds, and Dean instantly gets a grumpy expression on his face. And that's a relief, because if Dean is feeling well enough to get huffy, he probably doesn't need a hospital. That's what you get for breaking into my apartment at 4 in the morning, you lunatic. Resisting the urge to smirk, she grabs his hand and hauls him to his feet, grunting with effort; it's not an easy task for a big dude like him. "You must be getting old, big brother."

"Maybe I am," he says, and looks back up at her. "Maybe I need your help."

Instantly wary, she drops his hand and steps back towards Brady. "With what?"

Dean nods meaningfully at Brady. Get him out of here.

Instead Sam steps back again and takes Brady's hand in hers, deliberately ignoring Dean and searching her fiancé's face. He's been unusually quiet and he gives her a quizzical look, but she still doesn't see any blood or bruises or... anything really. Nothing from his and Dean's fight. God, he must've really gotten the drop on Dean. Maybe that should make her proud of him or something, knowing he can take care of himself so well... but it kinda... doesn't. Dean could always kick her ass. If even her yuppie boyfriend can get one over on him now -

Suddenly dread sinks into her, heavy as a blanket on her bones. Because where's Dean's backup? Dean wouldn't come here without Dad's say-so, and she's pretty sure Dad isn't interested in having anything to do with her anymore. And now that she thinks about it, breaking into her place sounds like Dean, not Dad.

"Say what you came here to say," Sam says, grabbing Brady's hand. She feels a little cowardly doing this, using him as a shield, but it's the only way to stop Dean from talking about what she doesn't ever want to talk about again. The crazy shit. He won't do it in front of a civilian. "But Brady's not going anywhere."

Dean looks at her and Brady's entwined hands, and too late, she remembers the engagement rings. She hates the sudden hurt look of realization on his face. She hates it. He doesn't get to be hurt, not after how he and Dad hurt her. They were the ones who cut her out, what did he think...?

"Does he know, Sammy?" Dean asks. Very quietly, but it carries and God, it sounds so loud. She swallows down the urge to tell him to shut up. To tell him to get the hell out of her apartment before he messes everything up.

"Dean," she says again, ice-cold and perfectly clear.

"Huh. Doesn't sound like it," Dean muses. He pins a falsely bright, friendly grin on Brady next. "Hey big man, getting married to my little sister. Welcome to the family. Brady, right?"

Brady smiles back, all straight white teeth, and stretches out his free hand as Sam looks back and forth between them in alarm. She squeezes his hand tighter to tell him to put the other one back down, but he doesn't seem to get the memo. "Yes, sir! Can't wait for the big day. Did Sammy tell you?"

Dean walks over and grabs Brady's hand in what Sam bets is the hardest grip he can give - which, having once been dangling off the top of a demented Ferris wheel, about to fall to her death, and only Dean holding onto her to keep her from splattering, she knows can be bone-crushingly hard.

Now it's Brady's turn to wince.

She grits her teeth. "Dean!"

Smiling dangerously, her jackass brother jerks Brady over to him and Brady, looking startled, stumbles. "You know, I gotta tell you. My sister is totally out of your league," Dean says, and lets him go. Brady retrieves his hand and flexes his fingers.

Sam sees red and gives her brother a hard shove in the chest to knock him away from Brady and hopefully back to what little sense he has. "That's enough, Dean! You can't break into my house in the middle of the night after four years of radio silence and fights with my fiancé! You wanna talk, so talk!"

"Yeah, why don't we talk, Sam?" he snaps back. "Why don't we all have a nice talk? You, me, and your shiny new fiancé, huh? Lots to talk about. We're all family here! Nothing to hide!"

Don't you dare, Sam glares at him.

Dean looks coolly back, but she doesn't know what he's thinking. They've been apart too long.

"So, Brady," Dean says, ignoring Sam's low "Dean..." "How much has Sammy told you about us?"

"Dean!"

Brady shrugs. "Not much. She never mentions you guys, to tell the truth. I didn't even know you existed until tonight."

Both Winchester siblings recoil. "Brady!" Sam exclaims, now looking at him, hurt he'd betray her like that and take part in this even when she's made it clear she wants this to stop.

Brady looks at her apologetically. "Sorry, baby, but it's true. And if I'm marrying you, don't I deserve to know more about the family I'm marrying into? About you?"

Sam lowers her voice; it's so damn uncomfortable to be doing this in front of her estranged brother. "But you do know me."

"Not all of you," Dean interrupts. "I bet there are things about her you've noticed. Maybe you never mentioned them because you figured she'd tell you eventually, or maybe you asked and she said she'd tell you later. Guess what? She never will."

Sam pulls away from Brady. "Dean, shut up. Point taken, okay? We can talk about this outside, you don't need to - "

"No, let him talk," Brady says. He looks at her in a way he's never looked at her before and it nearly shatters her.

"Okay, I'm sorry. I really am. I'll tell you, Brady, just not tonight," she pleads. She'd say anything to get that look off his face.

Brady narrows his eyes. "No. You always say that, Sam, and it's always 'later.' I don't know what the hell it is with you, but everything's a damn secret! Everything before you came here is off-limits. And now your brother you've never mentioned before is breaking into our apartment and you want to drag him off to talk about something else you don't want me to know? Hell no. I love you, Sam, I do. But I've waited long enough. I want to hear it now. All of it."

Sam's mouth trembles as though she's about to open it and say something. She's not. She has no words. Brady has always been the most patient, understanding man she's ever met; she had no idea he thought that way. Or that there was any limit to his patience. She just... took it for granted that there could always be a "later."

She never intended to tell him. Or that he'd ever find out. He loved her, he said so, but there was always a part of her sure in the pit of her stomach that he didn't. Not enough. Not really. That he would think she was a crazy bitch and leave her if he knew.

She feels like she's back in the motel room with Dad and Dean again. Nobody on her side, always wrong.

Suddenly she wishes he would put his arms around her again, the way he always does when knows to do when she's cold or unhappy. But he doesn't this time.

She crosses her arms in front of her chest to hide her wounds, and looks at the floor to avoid Dean's attempt to catch her eyes. Slowly, Dean starts to talk again.

Tears well up in her eyes. He's going to leave her.

She's going to be alone again.

Brady holds up three fingers and counts them off. "So. Dead mom, monsters, missing dad." He nudges Sam. "See? That wasn't so hard to explain, was it?"

"It's not a Powerpoint presentation, Brady," she mutters. She didn't talk much as Dean did his whole show-and-tell on their lives. She's still reeling from all this: Brady's anger. Dean showing up again out of nowhere and telling Brady everything.

The voicemail with her dad's voice. And the EVP. "I can never go home."

Sam wishes she couldn't empathize so much with a ghost. Not a great sign about the direction her life has taken in the past 24 hours.

"I know," Brady says. And now he does sling his arm around her shoulders, hugging her close to him and rubbing her shoulder. "And it's a lot. I'm sorry you had to go through all that... and I'm sorry I lost my temper. It's just been a weird night."

Sam nods stiffly, resisting the urge to melt and rest her head on his shoulder when she's still waiting for the other shoe to drop.

"So..."

"What?" she asks, dreading the answer. Here it comes.

"You're going with Dean, huh?"

"Looks like it." She was upset with her brother, no doubt, but. She just couldn't shoot him down. He and Dad had left her alone, and she still felt the pain from that like a broken rib that'd never heal. She couldn't do the same thing to him, no matter what he'd done to her.

Brady traced the tips of his fingers along the exposed skin of her bicep. "Okay," he says mildly. "Then I'm coming too."

Sam's head snaps up to look at him. He raises his eyebrows in challenge. "No. You're not," she says, and that is fucking that.

Brady smiles cheerfully, like this is all some game. Like he still doesn't get it. "But I want to meet my father-in-law. After all, I've heard so much about him."

Her eyes widen. "No, no. God, no. Definitely not." Dean is bad enough; Dad would eat Brady alive.

"What, I don't get a say? My fiancée goes to risk her life, and I'm not allowed to have her back? Do you just not want me to meet your dad? Are you ashamed of me or something, Sam?"

"No! God, no. Brady, it's not you who- Listen, Dean will be there. He'll look after me, he always has. We know how to handle these things, and you don't, so no, you're not coming." She releases a shaking sigh. "I kept this secret because I thought... I thought you'd be safer that way. And I'm sorry if I ever hurt you or made you doubt me or betrayed your trust in me because of that, I'm sorry." She blinks as the tears start coming down. She hopes Dean doesn't come back in right now or he'll definitely start shit again, overprotective jerk. "I-I can't lose you. You know? You're everything to me."

"I know, I know," Brady says softly, and kisses the tears on her cheeks. "Believe me, Sam, I understand. But you have to look at it from my side too, huh? What if something happens to you and I have to live the rest of my life thinking that maybe I could've done something about it if I'd just followed my instincts? Honestly, Sam? I don't trust your brother to look after you. He doesn't seem like much. I handled him pretty easy, remember? You didn't think I could, but I did. You think I can't do this, but I can."

Sam puts her fingertips on his face and looks up at him, begging him to understand, willing understanding into him. "But you can't," she says, her voice wavering. "Brady, baby, you'd only get yourself killed. I've seen so many horrible things, Brady, I can't forget them. I see them when I close my eyes. I still have dreams about them, and I think I always will. You don't know what it's like. You can't possibly imagine. You'd die, in some godawful way. Or... or you'd live. And you'd never forget. Not ever... And sometimes, I don't know which one is worse."

"Then allow me to make it easier for you." Brady catches her fingers on his face, light as can be, and holds them there against his skin. She can feel her pulse through her fingers, trapped in his. "Feel that? You and me, alive. Together. I've seen some bad shit too, Sammy, believe it or not. We all have our bad dreams. We all have our secrets. But none of it matters more than you. You're special, Sammy, and we can do amazing things together. Do you trust me?"

"I do," she says, and now she closes her streaming eyes and presses them against his chest. His heart beats against her eyelids, calm and measured, and nothing is more precious to her than it. "I do," she whispers. "I'm so sorry if I ever made you doubt that, Brady, I trust you. I love you."

"I love you too, Sammy. Never forget that." He kisses her fingers, each one, and she feels his smile through his kisses. "Trust me, it's all gonna be okay."