Dedication to: POAETPAINTER for feeding Missy for me while she was AWOL!!! Nice to have her home, thanks very much for keeping her well fed! Hopefully the sugar buzz will kick in soon!!!

Disclaimer: As usual, not mine… not feeling particularly witty, so that's it. Saving my energy for the story ahead…

Chapter Six

The Dark Place

Sam shifted, pain radiating through his body as consciousness began to reach him. He opened his eyes, glancing around him in the dark. He had no idea where he was, but he knew he wasn't in the woods anymore. There were no trees, everything was silent, cold.

"Dean?" Sam muttered, reaching an arm instinctively into the darkness in search of his brother. The minute he moved it, however, pain tore through his body emanating from his shoulder. Agony sent ripples through him, pulsating in time with his beat. Dean hadn't responded t his call, had come to his side… hadn't tried to calm his pained cry.

Sam knew he was alone.

Tears pricked his eyes, wondering where he was and how long he'd been there. Dean would be going out of his mind, he knew. He had to figure out a way to get out of there, to reach his brother and let him know he was okay. He tried to pull himself to sit up, but he couldn't seem to move. With his good hand he reached around him, feeling everything nearby that would give him an indication of where he was.

The surface he was lying on was cold and solid, like cement. His hands met with leather straps that bound around his chest and legs tightly, though his arm remained free. Panic rose in his throat at the though of being somewhere unfamiliar, unprotected, alone… he was vulnerable, injured and restrained. Of all the predicaments he was in right now, the restraints were the ones that bothered him the most. If it weren't for them he would at least have a possibility for escape.

Running his hands across the leather straps, he found where they were fastened to the slab he'd been tied to. He swallowed his panic and began fiddling with the straps, limited to using his left arm. It soon became apparent he wasn't going to be able to get free when he discovered they had been bolted to the table.

"Shit," Sam hissed, tears thick in his voice. He was in serious trouble, he knew that. Beginning to struggle against the restraints, he let out a cry of pain that sent echoes through the room. He couldn't remember what had happened to his shoulder, but he knew it had hurt like hell and since the pain was the last thing he remembered he knew he'd been unconscious since.

He began to struggle again, hoping to be able to grit his teeth through the pain and get free, but this time it was worse. He felt his shoulder shift, pain shooting sharp messages down his shoulder and through his chest.

"SHIT!" Sam cried, louder this time. He bit his lip and closed his eyes, forcing himself to remain still when he heard the noises nearby. He wasn't sure where he was, but he could hear footsteps and they sounded like heavy thuds. He didn't want to be alone anymore, but he sure as hell didn't want anyone to join him unless it was his family coming to rescue him. He couldn't stand the thought of seeing whatever had taken him, having to face it when he was hurt and helpless…

The footsteps approached him. Hands reached out to him in the darkness, probing his arm until it reached his shoulder. Sam forced himself to shift once more as he pulled his body as upright as he could and launched his good arm fist first in the direction of the figure bending over him. The punch landed square on a jaw that felt shockingly human, but Sam felt better for having inflicted some pain on whoever had taken him – even though the man's grunt was followed by Sam's own growl of pain.

"Gonna be like that, huh?" the man muttered, grabbing Sam's arms and strapping them down but his sides. "I was gonna be nice and give you a glass of water, but now I guess I'll just have it myself…"

Sam watched, eyes wide as the man swallowed the water in three gulps. Sam was thirsty, his mouth dry even as his tongue worked to find saliva to sooth his sore throat. He regretted hitting the man as he imagined what the water would have tasted like, how soothing it would have been as it slid down his throat…

"Never mind, maybe tomorrow you wont be so stupid," the man growled at him. He put the glass down nearby and returned his attention to Sam's injured shoulder. "Do you remember how you hurt your shoulder?"

Sam looked away, refusing to answer. It was too dark to be able to make out anything beyond basic features. This man was tall, about as tall as Sam's father he figured, with broad shoulders. But aside from that he couldn't make out any identifiable features.

Dean, Sam pleaded. Please come find me…

"You don't remember?" the man clarified when Sam didn't answer. He chuckled cruelly. "Your brother did it… he shot you… he tried to kill you…"

Sam gasped involuntarily, not believing what this man was telling him. Dean would never hurt him, never!

"I'll just let you lay there and think about it for a while," the man decided. "Maybe tomorrow I'll go digging around in there to get the bullet out… don't worry about infection, though… I can always cut it off, too. I'll bring my bone saw…"

Bile rose in Sam's throat at the thought of losing his arm, but he forced himself to swallow painfully. He wasn't going to give this asshole the satisfaction of knowing he was getting to him. He wasn't going to show his fear, he was going to wait it out and figure a way to freedom.

Dean would be looking for him, anyway. One way or the other, he was going to get out of here…

Before leaving, the man removed the straps on Sam's wrists but maintained his grip. He yanked them forcefully above Sam's head and attached another strap around each. The pain shot through Sam at the movement that his breath caught in his throat and he grimaced as his body threatened to give way to a haze that wanted to take his consciousness away. He tried to move, to bring his arms back to his side, but the restraints rattled above his head and he knew that chains had been attached to his new restraints…

He was not going to be able to get out on his own, he realised as a dull, constant pain settled into his shoulder…

Dean, Sam silently pleaded, wishing that he could transport his thoughts to his brother somehow. Please come and get me…

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

Dean…

"Sammy?" Dean mumbled through the darkness, his eyes struggling to see his little brother. "Where are you?"

Dean… help me…

"Sam?" Dean felt his heart racing painfully in his chest. "Sam!"

Dean! You have to help me!

Dean frowned. His brother's cries were becoming more desperate, more pained and filled with more fear. He hated being apart, hated the thought of Sam being scared and alone…

Dean… please!

Dean's eyes shot open and he jumped straight out of bed. Something moved beside him, reaching out for him, but he side stepped from the person's grasp intent on reaching his brother. He wasn't going to leave Sam cold, scare and alone in the dark… he had to help him! He had to be there with him.

As a hand gripped him by the shoulder, tugging him back toward the bed, Dean could hear a voice reaching out to him. He turned and swung a fist at whoever was trying to stop him from reaching his brother.

The punch landed squarely on a jaw, though it sent waves of pain up Dean's arm even as the growl of pain reached his ears.

Ignore the trickle of blood he could feel on his hand, he turned back to his bag and grabbed out a gun. He was going to find his brother if it killed him… and if it was going to kill him, he hoped he could at least survive long enough to reach him.

If he was going to die, it would be by his brother's side.

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

Sam's eyes remained closed as the pain in his shoulder radiated throughout his body. His mind was racing, thoughts assaulting him no matter how hard he tried to make them stop. His brother's face… Dean… normally so protective of him, so careful with him on a hunt… so aware of where he was and determined to make sure he was safe… Dean's face had worn an expression of hate and anger. He had raised his gun to take aim… he had pulled the trigger…

…with Sam in his sights.

Sam squeezed his eyes closed tighter, trying to understand what had happened. Dean would never have shot him, never! He must have been aiming at the thing that had been chasing Sam, must have been trying to protect him… but then why was he aiming further back? Sam had made a run for it the minute he saw the creature heading toward him, knowing that he wouldn't be able to take it on by himself, and he remembered running towards Dean, calling out to him for help… why would Dean shoot when he couldn't see the creature? And why did he use the shotgun? They were only in case the people who controlled the demon showed up… it wouldn't have hurt the creature.

Could he have been aiming at me? Sam wondered, a lump in his throat. He tried to shake his head, to convince himself that he was wrong, that Dean wouldn't do that, but he couldn't move. His shoulders were starting to cramp now, and they were sending shooting pain through his neck and chest.

Dean…

Sam took a deep breath, unable to stand the silence anymore. He hated hearing the thoughts that raced through his mind, hated thinking about how much he had disappointed Dean lately… he knew that Dean must have been mad at him for drinking something given to him by a person he didn't really know… he knew that Dean would think that was stupid, that he had been irresponsible. The Winchester family didn't trust people easily, didn't take things from people no matter what. They covered their own ass, they protected themselves and watched out for their own…

Sam took another deep breath and, through the pain that racked his body, let his voice ring out as loud as he could.

"DEAN!"

Footsteps approached once again and a moment later and face, scarred and disfigured in such a way that the man could only be described as monstrous, appeared before his eyes. He grinned wickedly, his teeth stained yellow, rotting gaps between some of them, his breath a stench so horrible that Sam held his breath to stop from being overcome by it.

"Your brother ain't comin'," the man told him cruelly. "He's the one who put you here, kid… he's the one who left you behind, dumped your ass on us…"

"He wouldn't do that," Sam insisted, breathing heavily as the man pressed a sharp finger into his shoulder, causing new waves of pain to shoot through his body. "He's going to come for me, he wouldn't leave me here… he's going to… find… me…"

The man watched him a moment longer, his smile widening. He opened his mouth wide and silent for a moment before finally letting out a raucous laugh.

"You don't understand yet, do you?" the man hissed, leaning in closer. Sam closed his eyes and tried to move away but the hand that had been pressing into the bullet wound on his shoulder now cupped his chin, forcing him to turn awkwardly and face him. "You're brother knows where you are, you stupid little boy... why do you think he shot you? He left you for us! He gave you to us!"

Sam nearly choked on the rotting stench that emanated from the man's mouth but forced the fear away from him and worked up just enough saliva in his mouth to spit it straight in the horrible man's eye.

"My brother would NEVER do that!" Sam insisted as the man wiped the spit from his eye. "My brother WILL find me and when he does, you're going to wish you were dead…"

The man grinned, an odd delight shining in his eyes. He raised his fist and backhanded Sam across the face, leaving a trail of blood dripping from a cut by Sam's lip from one of the man's unusually long nails that caught his skin.

He leaned in close to Sam.

"That's what you think," he whispered, flicking his tongue over the drip of blood. "He's just happy that you're not around to bug him anymore… he wished you were dead ever since you killed your mother!"

Sam bit back the nausea that threatened at the contact with the man, feeling more vulnerable than ever before.

"I didn't kill my mom," Sam whimpered, unable to fight the emotion that played in his chest as tears slid down his cheeks. "It wasn't my fault…"

"She died trying to protect you," he hissed again. "She died because of you… it was your fault, everyone knows it was your fault… Dean has always known it was your fault and he's sick of seeing your pathetic face and reminding him of that night…"

"That's not true!" Sam snapped, anger flashing through his tears.

"Isn't it?" the man grinned. "You don't look like your daddy, now do ya? Nah… you look like your momma, and Dean's sees it all the time… so does your dad… they can't stand the sight of you!"

Laughing cruelly, the man slithered out of the room, his words echoing in Sam's head. Sam squeezed his eyes shut, desperate to convince himself that the man was wrong, that he was just trying to push Sam's buttons… but he had to admit that he had always known that he looked more like his mother. He had finer features than his father and brother… his eyes… he wasn't like his Dean and their dad.

Was it really that hard for his family to look at him? Did they remember the pain of that evening when they saw him? Did his father remember having to leave his wife burning on the ceiling while he rescue baby Sam? Did he ever regret his decision… did he ever wished they had all gone up in flames?

Did Dean blame Sam for their mother's death? Sam had often wondered if it had been his fault… if his mother had died because of him…

If the slimy man had been right about that, was it possible he was right about the rest?

Sam took a deep, steadying breath as he tried to clear his thoughts, to calm himself. What the man had said was ridiculous. The hate and anger that it would have taken for his brother to abandon him, leave him for a demon to deal with, shoot him… try and kill… none of it seemed right. Dean had always taken care of him, watched out for him, protected him. Sam knew, even though Dean had never said it, he knew that Dean loved him. He had seen it when he'd been sick, seen it when Dean had held him after a nightmare... he had seen it when he'd woken up in hospital mere days before.

Dean loved him, Sam was sure of it…

Or…

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

Before Dean had been able to move any further, his father's face appeared before him. He gritted his teeth, determined to leave the room and find his brother's body… he would not leave Sam out there in the cold and dark for another night. He knew his father hadn't found Sam's body, had heard them talking about it earlier, but he wasn't going to let that be the end of it. He didn't want Sam to be… there were so many creatures in the woods… the thought…

"Dean, you've gotta lie down, dude," John told him, the tone of his voice making Dean think that psychologists probably used the same one on crazy people. "You're not well, Dean… but Pastor Jim is coming and he's going to help you feel better, okay?"

Dean shook his head, checking his gun was loaded before turning toward the door.

"Dean, you have to stay here," John said, more force in his voice this time. "You can't leave right now, okay?"

Dean sighed, switching off the safety on the gun.

Dean, I'm scared!

He closed his eyes a moment as Sam's voice invaded his mind. He had to reach his brother, no matter what. He had to get to him, he couldn't leave him there like that… He aimed the gun at his father, willing to do anything to get to his brother.

Dean? Are you there? You have to help me…

"I'm coming, Sammy," Dean muttered, glaring at his father. "Move out of the way, old man… don't make me go through you."

"Dean, put the gun down," John's words were an order, and John's orders were always followed… at least, always by Dean. Dean grinned, seeing his father's outstretched hand. "Come on, son, give me the gun…"

"Not this time," Dean told him. "Get out of my way! I'm going to find Sammy… I have to find him, he's scared…"

"Sam's fine for right now, Dean," John assured him. "Bobby thinks he knows what's got him and he says we have time before we have to worry too much… Sam's going to be fine, we're going to get him back…"

Dean shook his head.

"No," he whispered. "He's not fine… I shot him… I killed him… he's never going to be fine again! But I can at least go to him so he wont be scared anymore… he wont be alone…"

"Dean…"

"NO!" Dean cried, his finger shifting against the trigger as he stepped toward his father.

And then nothing but darkness…

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

John let out his breath slowly, leaning back against the door.

"Thanks Joshua," he said gratefully, eyeing the man standing a foot behind when Dean had been standing a moment before. Joshua nodded and pocketed his gun in his waistband. He'd knocked Dean out with the butt of the gun, John realised. Under normal circumstances that would have led to some serious problems between him and his friend, but given the nice bruise Bobby was sporting and the fact that Dean was seconds away from pulling the trigger, John knew that Joshua had done the only thing he could have.

"You okay?" Joshua asked him.

John nodded, though he was sure he probably looked a bit pale.

"Bobby?" Joshua turned to the man getting up from the floor. "Nice bruise…"

Bobby glared at him, rubbing his chin carefully as he worked the kink out of his jaw.

"You guys get him back in bed and I'm going to call Jim again," Bobby announced. He glanced at John as he and Joshua pulled Dean up carefully. He hesitated, knowing that his suggesting was going to be met with anger and disapproval, but given the situation he knew he had to be suggested. "Maybe we need to consider…"

John shook his head, pre-empting the suggestion.

"No," he stated simply.

"It might be the only way to keep him alive…"

"Bobby, no!" John snapped. "Dean would hate it!"

"But if it keeps him from doing something…"

"I'm not restraining MY SON!" John yelled, anger flashing his eyes. He would have clocked Bobby one if he hadn't been holding Dean up, and he knew Bobby knew it. He took a deep breath and sighed. He knew Bobby was trying to save Dean's life, but John stood by his decision. "If Dean woke up like that, he would hate it… he would…"

Bobby nodded.

"Okay, John," he acquiesced. "We wont restrain him, but we might have to figure out some way to keep him down at least… we can't go through this every time he wakes up."

John and Joshua carefully laid the unconscious form of John's son on the bed.

"How much longer, do you think?" John asked, turning to face Bobby.

"I don't know," Bobby admitted. "He seems to be deteriorating a lot quicker than the others. Jim's not due til tonight, it's only just passed noon now… I know the infection works differently on everyone, but this isn't something I've ever heard of. I've never known anyone to go down hill so fast."

Bobby left the room to make the call, leaving John to stare down at Dean.

"I don't understand," he admitted, speaking to Joshua but refusing to take his eyes off his son. "When did things go so wrong? Why would the infection do this to Dean?"

Joshua hesitated. He'd been reading up on the creature, going over Sam's notes as well as Bobby's and reading the extra books Bobby had brought with him and he had a theory on why Dean's symptoms were so much worse than other victims… he just wasn't sure John would want to hear it.

John recognised the silence and glanced up at Joshua carefully.

"What?" he asked. "You know something, don't you? Tell me."

Joshua sighed, leaning forward in his seat.

"I think that it depends on the persons natural instincts," Joshua told him. "I don't think it can just plant emotions in someone's head like this… I think there has to be a tiny something there for it to work with."

"You mean Dean was already suicidal?" John asked, feeling only a small amount of anger rising in him. He was too exhausted to be able to feel anything but fear, devastation and anxiety and they took all the energy he had.

"No," Joshua answered, shaking his head. "Not suicidal… willing."

"Willing?" John rubbed his eyes, trying to follow his friends explanation unsuccessfully. "I'm too tired to pry this out of you, Josh, just… tell me, okay?"

"What I mean is, Dean has been willing to die for Sam his whole life… it's all he's ever known. He's only ever been Sam's big brother and it's been his job to look out for the kid, even if that means killing himself in the process… Dean doesn't care about his life as much as Sam's, and that's what I think the creature's working with. That and the fact that Dean carries this huge responsibility everywhere he goes. He's responsible for Sam's safety regardless of what's going on… and now, he's shot Sam… imagine how much that would mess with his head normally and then tell me how bad it could get if a demon were to be able to use that against Dean…"

John listened carefully, finally understanding what Joshua was saying.

"This is my fault," John whispered, wiping away a stray tear. "I always told Dean it was his job to look out for his little brother… even before we started hunting. I raised him to watch out for Sammy and now…"

"It's not your fault, John," Joshua assured him. "Dean didn't do it because you told him to… he did it because he loves Sam. You never had to tell him to look out for Sam because he would have done it anyway."

John sighed.

"That's not much better… either it's my fault for raising Dean to carry that burden with him for the rest of his life, or the creature is using his love for Sam against him… either way, it's going to kill him and I…" John shook his head, barely able to continue. "I don't know how I'm supposed to deal with this…"

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

"Your brother ain't comin' he's the one who put you here, kid… he's the one who left you behind, dumped your ass on us…"

Sam heard the words as if the vile man was leaning over him, whispering them in his ear. His stomach churned at the memory of him, of his tongue flicking over Sam's skin… he shuddered involuntarily, hoping – praying that he would never have to see him again. He would take the man with the bone saw in an instant over that… thing!

But Sam couldn't deny that he hadn't effected him. The tears that had fallen from his eyes for well over an hour after he left had been painful as Sam sobbed, his body shaking with every painful tear. He wished he could see his brother, knowing that the minute he saw Dean he would know that the man had been lying, that he hadn't known what he was talking about. He needed to know that Dean didn't hate him, that he would never blame him for their mother's death… Sam couldn't help but wonder, after all he had considered his responsibility for that night more than once. How could he not? She had died pinned to the ceiling of his nursery, after all… John had had to leave her behind while he got Sam to safety… they had abandoned their home, their lives, everything they had because of that night… and Sam couldn't help but think if he'd never been born then maybe, just maybe his mother would still be alive.

She wouldn't be his mother then, since he wouldn't exist, but sometimes Sam thought that would have been better. Dean could have grown up with two parents, a nice home and a white picket fence… he could have gone to school and had a normal life instead of running around after a brother that seemed to be a magnet for trouble.

If nothing else, Sam often wondered if the Winchester family would have recovered quicker if he had died that night instead of Mary… she was the soul of the family, the reason they hunted, the reason they moved from one town to the next, searching for whatever unnatural creature they could find to hunt and kill… if she had survived, John wouldn't have had to start the hunt.

If only Mary hadn't walked into that room that night…

"You don't understand yet, do you? You're brother knows where you are, you stupid little boy... why do you think he shot you? He left you for us! He gave you to us!"

Just as Sam thought the painful shudders had subsided, his breath caught in his throat again. He felt starved for oxygen, like his chest would explode as he heart leapt painfully against his ribs. He could feel the panic rising inside him, and immediately wished Dean was by his side.

"Dean," he whispered to the darkness, trying to draw strength from the thought of his brother the way he would have if his brother had been with him. Dean's face entered Sam's mind, but instead of seeing comfort he saw anger… hate… the way he had looked just before…

Sam closed his eyes, wanting to forget the world, leave everything behind and just hide. He wouldn't let these people tell him his brother had abandoned him, he'd never believe it! It wasn't true, it wasn't even possible! Dean had risked his life for Sam more than once, and…

Maybe that was the point, Sam thought suddenly. His mind was a mess of confusion as his thoughts began contradicting each other. He felt like there was a battle raging in his mind as his mind tried to departmentalise everything he'd heard, everything he'd seen, everything he knew and thought he believed.

Dean loved him…

He had been watching out for him their whole lives…

He had protected him…

They had fought side by side…

They were brothers…

Dean shot him…

"That's what you think," he whispered, flicking his tongue over the drip of blood. "He's just happy that you're not around to bug him anymore… he wished you were dead ever since you killed your mother!"

Sam felt sick, wishing he could have a shower – or at least wipe his face. He couldn't accept that the Dean he had known his whole life could have blamed him for their mother's death, but he had to wonder if it had ever occurred to him. It had occurred to Sam, after all… he thought he'd seen it in his father's eyes more than once when he'd done something wrong and he'd seen sadness, disappointment reflected in his fathers gaze. Had he been wondering if he'd saved the right person? Had he been thinking their lives would have been different – better – if only it had been Sam who'd died that night.

No! Sam shouted silently at himself, angry at his own thoughts. He had just been a baby! There was no way anyone would blame him for what had happened! How could anyone think that a six month old could be responsible for a fire!??!

His father loved him…

His brother loved him…

'So where are they, you moron?' a tiny voice hissed at the back of his mind. 'Why are you still here? Cold… alone… scared… if they loved you, they'd be here by now… wouldn't they?'

"She died because of you… it was your fault, everyone knows it was your fault… Dean has always known it was your fault and he's sick of seeing your pathetic face and reminding him of that night…"

'See?' it continued, taunting him. 'Dean knows… he's always known… he just hasn't wanted to tell you, he didn't want to hurt his mom by telling you that it was your fault… she wouldn't want you to know that, but she blames you too… don't you realise what you've done?'

"I didn't," Sam whispered, hearing he catch in his throat as more tears threatened. "I was just a…"

'What? A baby? You think that makes it okay that she died because of you?'

"No," Sam sobbed, his heart breaking in his chest. "It's… it's all my fault…"

'You've always known it, too, haven't you?' the voice told him. 'You knew it was your fault… you've lived with it every day… lived with seeing it in their eyes whenever they looked at you. That's why Dean's the favourite, because he's not the one who killed John's wife! You are! He'd never love you, never!'

Sam cried, his breathing becoming even more erratic. He wondered how long he'd been in this dark place for, if he would ever see daylight again… he wasn't sure what time it was, but he knew he hadn't seen the first man in some time… the man with the bone saw… anything would be better than this, than having to live with his own pain and guilt…

"Nah… you look like your momma, and Dean's sees it all the time… so does your dad… they can't stand the sight of you!"

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

Bobby was worried. He had been trying to call Jim for what felt like forever but he wasn't picking up. He had been driving non-stop for… Bobby scratched his head, glancing at his watch unable to remember when he'd first called the man. But he was really starting to worry… he should have figured something out, some way of taking care of this himself, some way of saving Dean without bringing Jim into it…

He knew that Jim would have hit the road immediately upon hearing the Winchester's were in trouble and needed help. He knew that Jim wouldn't stop until he reached them, until he'd helped them, until he'd pulled them out of the fire. The man had such love for the family that he would do anything for them, but Bobby regretted the call just the same. He remembered how worried Jim had been when he'd been told what had happened, and now he wondered…

Was Jim okay? Could he have fallen asleep at the wheel? Had he been in an accident? Was he…

"Bobby?" Jim's tired voice finally sounded through the phone line. "How is he?"

Bobby was even more worried upon hearing the exhaustion in the pastor's voice, but he swallowed his concern and filled him in on what was happening instead.

"He still has time," Jim reminded him carefully. "He should have at least until tomorrow…"

"I don't think so anymore," Bobby disagreed. "He's getting worse… and a lot faster than I had expected… either John was wrong with the days he told me, or this infection is working a lot faster on Dean than we could have been prepared for… I don't think he'll make it until morning…"

Jim sighed, weariness and grief taking their toll on him.

"I'm about three hours out," Jim announced. Bobby could hear him pressing harder on the accelerator and as worried as he was he sighed a breath of relief. "I'll see you really soon…"

Bobby closed his phone and pulled the door open.

"John, I…"

Darkness overcame him before he even realised what had happened…

TO BE CONTINUED…

A/N – So Missy is back, but a little sluggish. Sorry about the delay in this chapter but thanks for all the reviews so far, they are really encouraging and inspiring! Keep 'em coming!

Feeling a little blah, could use some cheering up… and nothing cheers me up like reviews!