Sorry! I have been soooo disloyal to you! Well, I've been busy! Sorry! Last chappie, unfortunately. You guys have been so great. I'll be writing more! Not of this story, but some other things. I know I could have made this chapter better, but I really couldn't. It had to be this way.

To Sweeney, this was as close as Hell he could possibly imagine.

He was standing at his own wedding. But not to his angelic Lucy. No, he was standing beside Nellie Lovett. Why on Earth was he here? Okay, the beach was weird, but now?

I hate my life, thought Sweeney, or whatever this is. Alive or not alive, I am in Hell.

Sweeney felt his head nod. Once, and just slightly, but a nod nonetheless. He looked over at his "bride".

She really is quite beautiful when she's happy, concluded Sweeney. And, of course, he was right. Mrs. Lovett had her hair up, but not in the normal fashion. It has a little bough of flowers in it, and it seemed to sparkle. Her eyes also seemed to have a bit of a twinkle in them. So cute, so innocent (even though Mrs. Lovett was neither). Her dress was a gleaming white that seemed to brighten up the room. His eyes scanned the bodice, so that Mrs. Lovett didn't notice, but enough for Sweeney to get a full glance. Her chest was beautiful and pale. Like the daises, Sweeney realized.

Sweeney felt his body lean in, and he let it. Coming to his senses right at the last second, he gave her a quick peck on the lips. Her face lit up, so that it seemed to have an angelic quality.

A devils angel, though Sweeney, Oh the irony. Wait? Angel. Nellie Lovett is no angel. She is possibly the least angelic thing I have ever known. Only my Lucy is an angel. Was…she WAS an angel. Lucy…

Before he could comprehend what was happening, they were at the beach again. I swear I'm going to get seasick from all this movement, he thought darkly.

She was looking out on the sea. He gagged when his hands suddenly had a mind of their own. He fingers danced over to her knee, and rested there, only for a moment. Then, they returned to their rightful place, in Sweeney's lap.

Suddenly, they were back at the picnic. Sweeney closed his eyes to get over the wooziness. When he opened them, Mrs. Lovett was peering curiously into his eyes.

Maybe this never happened. Maybe it was all a dream.

No, not a dream, concluded Sweeney, a nightmare.

But deep down, Sweeney knew that wasn't true.

Fin