Disclaimer Dean Ambrose is the property of the WWE and/or the actor / sports entertainer / superstar that portray him. This story is intended as tribute only and is not intended to infringe on any copyrights.

Original characters are the property of me, and the children of my own imagination. Any resemblance to any real persons, living or dead is purely coincidental.

This story is dedicated to Lauraxxx, who really, really, wanted to read a story about Dean and Neil in the ring. I don't know if this is the story you were hoping for, but I hope you like it.

Chasing The Darkness
Part I

"Uh oh," Cinnamon said, looking out the kitchen widow, into the back yard. "We've got trouble."

Dean looked up from the coffee he'd been stirring and frowned. He had gotten home very early morning, having flown here right after the taping for Main Event and Smackdown and he didn't have to report back until Friday morning. Two glorious nights to spend with his fiancee and hopefully some time to spend with Neil too, even though the kid was in school for most of the day. It had been close to three months since he had any time off, when he had gone back to the WWE in January, after his extended break, the Powers That Be seemed to want to punish him for those months by keeping him busy every second they could. He had done his best to keep in touch with Cinnamon and Neil via Skype, cellphone, and even land lines a few times, but even that had gotten spotty as his schedule seemed to involve being in the ring, or doing WWE promo work every second he wasn't sleeping. And even sleep had been tough to get. He was so looking forward to these two days, he did not want to hear there was trouble. "What's up?"

"Neil," Cinnamon answered, as if this explained everything. "He's in his wrestling ring."

"So?" Dean asked, taking a sip of his coffee and then adding a splash more of cream. "He spends a lot of time in that ring, it's his favorite possession." Dean didn't really blame him for that, the ring was extremely well made for a back yard ring, a gift for his birthday from his mother and the guys at WVW, who had built it. Dean was almost jealous of it, he would have loved to have had such a great thing when he was a kid. Of course, he would have also loved to have had a back yard to put it in, too, but the projects he grew up in didn't allow for such luxuries. Dean was glad his son was getting better than he had.

"Yeah, he does," Cinnamon said, still not taking her gaze from the window. "He plays there, but he also goes there when he's upset, which he is now."

"How do you know he's upset?" Dean stirred his coffee again and took a sip, it was absolutely perfect. Cinnamon bought good quality coffee, used nothing but filtered water to make it, and if she had the time, like she did today, used a French Press coffee maker. Dean had never concerned himself much with coffee before, he just drank what was there. But, if he was to be honest, Cinnamon was making a bit of a coffee snot out of him.

"First, he didn't come in the house after school. He just went around back and climbed in the ring," Cinnamon said. "Second, he's pacing. Third, he's got that look on his face."

"What look?" Dean asked, getting to his feet and coming over to look out the widow, bringing his coffee with him.

"That look that reminds me of you," Cinnamon said. "That look that tells me he's chasing the darkness."

Dean didn't need to hear that last part, because now that he was looking at Neil, he saw exactly what was going on. Neil was pacing, but his motions were jerky and stiff. One hand was curled, the fingers looking more like claws than normal fingers and he kept running the fingers on his other hand through his hair. Neil's hair, like his mother's was a copper color, but like his fathers, it was curly and without regular, short haircuts, it was the type of hair that probably inspired the expression, "Unruly mop." It was obvious Neil was a little overdue for a haircut, and the more Neil ran his hands through his hair, the more messy it seemed to become. "Does this happen, often?" Dean asked, frowning. He had seen some vague signs of this in the months he'd stayed here, but nothing so full blown as this.

"No," Cinnamon said. "Not very often at all."

Dean didn't take his eyes off of Neil. "Shit, I was hoping this wouldn't happen to him."

"It's not nearly as strong as it was with you," Cinnamon said. "And usually I just let him pace it out of his system and then we talk about what's bothering him, if he's willing to talk."

"Really?" He forced himself to turn away from his son and look at Cinnamon. "Well, I'm going out there."

"Do you think that's best?"

Dean nodded, taking a gulp of coffee. "This is kind of my fault, isn't it? So it seems like the least I can do is handle it."

Cinnamon frowned. "It's not your 'fault.' I told you back when we first met, I accepted you, even your dark side. I accept it in our son, too. It's part of both of you. It's a little...unusual, but I never felt you were dangerous. I don't feel Neil is dangerous either."

Dean finished his coffee and put the cup in the sink, "Yeah?" he asked, looking at her, "If you were so accepting and so sure I wasn't dangerous, then why did you so easily believe I shot your dog?"

For a moment, Cinnamon looked as if she'd been struck, but she recovered quickly. "You sold it like a pro, remember? And I suspected you hadn't killed Rocky a lot sooner than you might think."

"I just thought that this was my thing, a self defense mechanism I'd come up with to cope with a crazy life," Dean said, as he headed for the back door, "But Neil hasn't had a bad life, so I guess it's just hereditary." Before Cinnamon could respond to his observation, he headed out the door, closing it behind him.

"Neil," Dean called as he headed over.

Neil's head whipped around to face him and Dean watched as he pushed aside the upset, pushed aside the crazy, and broke into a grin instead. "Dad!"

"Got a hug for your old man?" Dean called up coming over to the ring.

"Sure!" Without even thinking about it, Neil climbed to the top rope in the corner and jumped. Dean caught him, expecting the kid would feel like catching a sack of cement, but instead, he fell into Dean's arms easily and the two of them hugged each other. Neil had clearly been practicing things, most likely with the members of WVW. "When did you get back?"

"This morning, when you were at school," Dean said as they drew apart. "And sorry, but I'm only here for a couple days. I have to join up with the WWE on Friday."

"Well, two days is better than no days," Neil said, but the look in his eyes told Dean he wished the stay could be longer.

"Well, we'll have the summer, "Dean reminded him, also wishing they had a little more time. Cinnamon had agreed to the idea that she and Dean would get married right after school got out for Neil, then the three of them would be on the road for the summer. It wasn't much of a honeymoon for Dean, but it was better than not having any time together.

"I can't wait," Neil said. "I'm gonna get to go to almost all your shows and see what it's like to be a big time wrestler!"

Dean marveled at how quickly his son had pushed back the darkness, pushed away the insanity, Dean didn't find it that easy himself, but perhaps it had been easier when he was younger. However, Dean also had the feeling that Neil hadn't eliminated the darkness, just pushed it away temporarily in his excitement over his father being here. He worried that if Neil didn't confront whatever it was that was inviting him to "chase the darkness," it would just stay inside him and fester until it forced its way out, and when it did, it would not be pretty.

Cinnamon never minded my chasing the darkness, he thought. She didn't like that it happened to me, but she didn't mind. She'd encourage me to do things, to burn it out of my system. I wonder if she does that with Neil? She also "fucked " me out of it one time and that was a hell of a night, but that's not going to be a solution for Neil, at least not until he's older and meets the right woman.

"So," Dean said, climbing into the ring. "I didn't have much of a chance to show or teach you anything when I was on my break, because you were in the cast."

"True," Neil said, climbing in with him, "But the leg is fine now."

"Yup," Dean nodded. "You were pacing really good up here."

Father and son looked at each other, and Dean knew Neil knew what he had seen. And, that Dean knew what it was. "Yeah, I wanted to make sure the ring was okay, we've had some rain lately."

It was a blatant lie and both knew it, but Dean decided not to push it. "So, does your Uncle Jasper or any of the other wuss-bait from the WVW show you stuff?"

Neil's head bobbed. "They've been showing me stuff all my life, it seems."

Dean nodded, "They've shown you how to run the ropes then, right?"

"Yeah, of course they have!" Neil rolled his eyes at this.

Again, Dean nodded. "Okay, show me."

Neil shrugged then started running across the ring, bouncing off the ropes and running back. Dean watched him going back and forth, nodding. The kid had it, that was for sure. Dean's first experience running the ropes wasn't until he was fourteen and the first few times weren't so great. Neil was ten and knew how to run them like a professional already. He's going to have a hell of a leg up in the business, if he keeps it up. "How long can you run them?" Dean asked.

"I've run them well over an hour," Neil said, still running. "I did puke once, but just once."

Dean grinned, "You were hitting them wrong, then. Don't worry, that's happened to me. Keep going." He watched as his son ran from one side to the other, doing that quick turn, putting his arm around the rope, then putting his back against the rope, then running to the other side to do the same thing. "You seem to know how to do it, now."

"Yeah," Neil admitted, running them at a slow, easy pace. "When I first started, I had to learn to do them with the middle rope, because if I did it on the top rope, I'd be hitting them with my head or neck instead of my back. Uncle Jasper would take off the top rope on the WVW ring after the shows and have me run them that way. One of the reasons I didn't get my own ring until I was nine was because he told mom it was best to wait until I was tall enough to handle a real top rope."

"Well, you seem tall enough now," Dean said. "I'm glad."

"Yeah, glad I grew, too," Neil remarked. Neil was taller than most of the boys in his class, standing at 5'2" tall. He weighed 106lbs of mostly muscle. He wasn't built like a weight lifter/body builder, he seemed instead to have long, lean muscles. He was an avid bike rider, who also enjoyed swimming, hiking, and being active in general. When he had been in a cast, the worst part of that, for Neil seemed to be that he couldn't be as active as he was used to. For a few weeks, while his splinted fingers healed, he was difficult, but after that, he got crankier and crankier, ready to blow up at anything. Finally, Dean took matters into his hands and started taking the kid to the gym with him, where they could put him on machines and give him lighter weights to work his upper body. At first Cinnamon had been scared, but Dean confirmed with Neil's doctor that it was okay. A few days after he started going to the gym with his dad, the moodiness stopped, he started sleeping better, and he had regained a lot of his rather sweet disposition.

"Can you go a little faster?" Dean asked. "Let's see if we can do it together."

"Sure."

While Neil ran the North/South ropes, Dean ran the East/West. Dean was surprised at how smoothly they fell into it together. Usually when you did this with someone else, it was too easy to meet in the middle and one of you would have to pause for the other, which would break the stride of the one who had to pause. Or, you'd end up smacking together and you'd both lose your momentum. But Neil and Dean seemed to have an awareness of each other that allowed them to do this with a minimal amount of interference from the other. "Let's go faster," Dean suggested, once they had such a smooth rhythm going that it almost seemed too easy. They both picked up the pace, running faster. There was a little more interference with each other at first, then, as their bodies got used to that and started running smoothly again, Dean again suggested they go faster.

Dean waited for the kid to give up, to yell out, "Enough!" but he didn't. What finally ended the game was the two of them crashing in the middle of the ring together, unable to stop themselves they were going so fast. The two of them fell to the ground, suddenly needing to breathe deeply. They rolled on their backs and looked up at the sky. "Good job," Dean said, moving to sit up. "Your leg seems to have heeled nicely."

"Yeah," Neil agreed, sitting up. "At the last appointment with the doctor, he told Mom he'd never seen someone recover so quickly."

"Good," Dean nodded. "So, tell me, have your WVW buddies taught you a Spike Bump?"

"Yeah," Neil said, looking almost as if he would roll his eyes. "Uncle Jasper says that's one of the crucial moves to know. And, it's one I can practice alone."

Dean's brows raised. "But you don't do that, did you?" he asked. "You always make sure you have proper adult supervision, right?"

"Oh, of course," Neil said, nodding as well.

Bullshit, Dean thought, and wasn't quite sure what he should do about this. Technically, he supposed he should lecture Neil about safety and then tell Cinnamon to keep a very close eye on him. But on the other hand, kids were kids. Was practicing basic wrestling moves alone any worse than climbing trees alone? Riding his bike alone? Dean thought of some of the crazy things he'd done as a kid. "Well," he finally said, his voice slow as he collected his thoughts. "Just be very careful, okay? I don't want to see you get hurt."

"I'm careful," Neil said. "I don't want to get hurt and Uncle Jasper has warned me time and time again that one wrong move and I could screw myself up, but good."

"Good for your Uncle Jasper, then," Dean said. "Remind me to thank him. Meanwhile, show me your best Spike Bump."

Neil shrugged and rose to his feet. Dean also rose and went over to the corner to give Neil room. He watched carefully as his son fell forward, bringing his left arm up to his head, elbow bent and brought his right arm up, palm flat. He landed on the ring, looking as if he had landed on the top of his head, his legs going straight up, and then flipping over on his back.

Dean was impressed, Neil had done the move smoothly, flawlessly, and safely. He made it look like he had landed straight on his head, but he hadn't, he'd landed on his left forearm and his right palm, which he then elevated into a headstand and then fell over onto his back, selling it perfectly. If someone had grabbed him and made it look like he had caused that spike bump, it would look for all the world like someone had thrown him on his head so hard that Neil was forced straight up in the air and then flipped over flat on his back. Dean was more than impressed, Dean was proud of his son. Jasper Coleman and the other wrestlers from the WVW that were training Neil deserved a lot of the credit for teaching him right, as well as Cinnamon who had raised him to love wrestling like she did. But some of the credit, Dean realized, could go to him. Cinnamon may love wrestling, but she never wanted to be a wrestler, she wanted to be the audience. Even though he hadn't been a part of his life until recently, Dean knew that somehow, maybe on a genetic level, he was responsible for Neil's desire to do more than watch, but to actually be a wrestler. Neil was going to be a second generation wrestler, thanks to him. "Wow," he said, honestly. "That was pretty good!"

"Thanks," Neil said, "I really worked hard at that. I know how to do some other stuff too, pretty good, at least that's what Uncle Jasper and the other guys tell me."

"Like what?" Dean asked.

"Back drop," Neil said, and without even being asked, he fell backwards, spreading his hands out to give as much surface area to spread out the impact. When he rose, Dean notice he even did that correctly, he planted his right elbow on the mat, rolled to his right knee, planted his left foot, and stood up and he did it easily, as if this was his natural way to get up. This was the best way to rise to be prepared for the next move with your opponent. Clearly Jasper was taking Neil's training quite seriously.

"Face bump," Neil called out. He leaped up, then fell forward, again spreading his legs out, but bringing up his arms out at the sides, to take the impact off his face. The trick was to keep your head above the mat and to fall so you first landed on your arms, legs, and chest, despite the name "Face Bump." If done correctly, it was a simple move with little chance of injury. Done incorrectly, and it could lead to a variety of medical problems, a broken nose, or missing teeth being the lesser of the evils. Dean had a bump on his nose that owed part if its creation to a botched up face bump.

"Wow, looks like they've taught you the basics, then," Dean said. Cinnamon had said they were good with Neil and were doing everything right, but Dean was thrilled to see the evidence of this as well. It wasn't that he didn't trust Cinnamon, he did, but he was a wrestler, she was not.

Neil nodded. "I can do a flip bump, too," he said, looking proud. "That took me awhile."

"Really?" Once again, Dean was impressed. A flip bump involved being able to get enough upward momentum from a standstill to do a somersault in the air and then land on your back in the ring, spreading your arms to take some of the impact off. It looked very impressive and it was a great way to "sell" a move your opponent made on you.

"Yeah, wanna see?"

"Sure."

Dean was thrilled, but not surprised when Neil did the move perfectly, landing on the floor of the ring with a resounding thud sound, that would make anyone think he'd trashed his back, but of course, he was fine. He rolled to his feet and grinned. "Okay," Dean said. "Color me impressed, it took me a long time to learn that move, it's not easy to flip in the air from a standstill."

"Well, that's-" Neil started to say, then stopped abruptly. For a moment, Dean saw that look flash into his eyes again, that anger that had started this whole thing in the first place. Then, his eyes flashed again, and Dean knew he was putting it aside. "-that was pretty hard for me to learn, too," he said, and Dean knew that wasn't what he was going to say at first.

Dean decided not to worry about that for now. "You want me to show you something?" he asked.

"A wrestling move?" Neil asked, his voice hopeful.

"Well, I'd suck at showing you ballet moves," Dean said, "Because I never took ballet. So, yeah, a wrestling move."

"Sure!" Neil's grin was so bright it was hard to believe that he had been chasing the darkness not too long ago.

"Okay, I'm going to show you a headlock driver," Dean said, walking over.

Neil thought for a moment, then his grin got even brighter. "Dirty Deeds!"

"Well, it's the old Dirty Deeds," Dean admitted. "Now I do a double armed DDT, and that's become Dirty Deeds."

"Yeah, but I'll always think of the headlock driver as Dirty Deeds," Neil confessed. "I like it better. I know a lot of folks like the new one, but I liked the old one a little bit more. Not that your new one isn't cool," he added hastily.

"Well, do you want to learn it?" Dean asked, not really caring which finisher Neil thought was the better. Either of them were fine with him.

Neil nodded, eagerly.

"Okay," Dean said. "I'm going to perform it on you, as slow as we can to get you used to it, so get along side of me." When Neil quickly did as asked, Dean nodded. "Okay, if we were in a match, I'd do a kick on you before. First to sell the move, second to give you an excuse to bend over so I can easily get my arm around your head. I won't kick you now, but lean forward a little, giving me access to your head."

When Neil leaned forward, Dean put his left arm around Neil's head and neck and moved his right arm under, so it looked as if Neil's head was trapped. In truth, he was barely touching it. "Make like this is a basic side headlock," he said. Neil put his arms around Dean, resting his palms lightly against his belly and back. "Good job," Dean told him. "Now, I'm going to kick my right leg forward, which will help give this whole move the look of incredible momentum, which helps sell it. Then, basically, I'm going to do a face bump, and you're going to do a spike bump. Now, notice my arm is pretty loose. That's because the most dangerous part of this for you, is that I could drive your head into the mat. You're going to have to do the spike bump with my arm around your neck, but it will be lose enough that you still have control Get your arms up in position for the spike as we're falling. Again, I'm going to try to do this as slow as I can. If you can't get your legs over so you're doing a back drop after the spike, that's okay, sometimes you need more momentum to do stuff like that. Are you ready?"

"Yes," Neil said, his voice a little muffled.

Dean swung his leg forward, slowly, then pulled it back, As he pulled back, he moved forward, going into a face plant. As Neil brought his arm up to do the spike bump, which served also to hide how lose Dean's arm was around his neck. They landed, Dean moving his right arm away from Neil to absorb some of the impact on his body. When they landed, he though Neil would just fall, but he spiked it, perfectly, moving his legs straight up in the air, then falling on his back. Dean went from being impressed by his son, to being amazed. He'd fought professionals who couldn't sell the move that hard, who merely protected their heads and pretty much just did a modified face plant. Neil did a true spike bump, making it look like Dean had slammed his head to the mat so hard, that he was forced to go "ass over teakettle" as the saying went. Yes, Neil was very young, and thus a lot more flexible than many of the wrestlers he used this move on, but it was still a credit to Neil's determination and drive that he had learned to sell so hard. Dean had helped train more than a few students who, in the beginning, were more concerned about making themselves look good, that they forgot that it was just as important and in many cases, more important, to make your partner look good, too.

He knew there was another reason why they did the move perfectly this first time, trust. Neil trusted his father completely, knowing that his dad would do everything in his power to make sure Neil wasn't hurt. Trust was the key in wrestling, which was why in the old days of Kayfabe it was hard on wrestlers because their arch nemesis was often their best friend. When you had to trust someone with your life night after night, it had a tendency to make you closer to the person. That's why he had loved that rivalry against Seth when The Shield broke up. Because once Dean got over the shock of not having Seth as a teammate, he had a nemesis he trusted with his life. Sometimes, Dean wished he and Roman could get into a heated rivalry, because he was sure the two of them could put on matches together that people would talk about for years.

"That was epic!" Neil said, rising to his feet. "Can we do the whole thing?"

"Sure," Dean said. "Slowly though, at least the first few times."

"Cool."

"Okay," Dean walked to the center of the ring, motioning Neil to take a few steps back so he was closer to the corner posts. "Remember, slowly; now come at me."

Neil walked over, when he was close enough, Dean raised his foot in a kick that was more of a slide down Neil's stomach. Neil's face twisted in an over-exaggerated expression of pain and he bent forward as if his stomach was hurting. Dean slipped around so he was at his side, got him into the side headlock. The two of them pitched forward. Again, Neil executed a perfect spike bump, legs shooting straight up as if from the force of the fall, then falling onto his back.

"Do you know how proud of you, I am?" Dean asked, ruffling his hair as they got up.

"That was fun," Neil said, "Can we do it again?"

"Sure."

They did it a few more times at the snails pace, then little by little began speeding it up. Dean started wishing he had a video camera trained on the ring so he could tape it. It was hard to see when he was actually performing the move, but he was 99% sure that the two of them were selling it perfectly. He wondered if maybe he could get Cinnamon out here to tape this, but dismissed that, at least for now. He was hoping to still talk to Neil, and if she was filming this, she might want to stick around; she might freak watching the move. Cinnamon knew that wrestling moves were designed to protect the wrestlers as much as possible, but she was the house paramedic for the WVW local shows, so she knew that even the safest move could go horribly wrong.

When they had done it several times at top speed, Dean asked Neil, "Do you think you can perform it on me?"

Neil hesitated, then nodded. "If we do it real slow to start with."

"We will," Dean said. "I don't know if I can spike bump quite as well as you did when we're going slow."

"I"ll bet you can," Neil said. "I've seen you do it before on TV. That was one of the reasons why I had to learn how to do it, because I saw you once just go shooting straight up and over, like all your... body parts?" He paused and thought. "All your joints were fuse together. It was so cool."

"Well, again, it's easier when you go fast and have that momentum on your side. But let's go."

This time Dean went to the corner while Neil stayed in the middle. He walked out slowly. "Okay, kick," he called out. Neil brought his foot up and grazed it off Dean's stomach. Dean bent over at the waist, far enough so Neil could get him in the headlock, then Neil put his foot forward and pulled it back, falling forward, Neil doing his face bump and Dean doing a spike bump.

"I did it!" Neil crowed when they were finished. "I did it!"

"You sure did," Dean agreed. "Let's do it again."

Just like when Dean was the aggressor, they did the move over and over again, speeding up a little bit each time, until they were doing it as fast as they did it in the WWE, as fast as just about anyone else Dean had wrestled with before. And Dean had an overwhelming urge to take Neil to his next event and bring him out. "This is my son," he'd say, not just to the audience, but to all the other wrestlers. "He's ten years old, and he can do a headlock driver better than most of you can. Both give it and receive it. And he can do a spike bump that puts half you professionals to shame." Dean would have loved Neil even if Neil had hated wrestling, but if he were totally honest with himself, he loved that Neil wanted to be a wrestler. If he changed his mind when he got a little older, Dean would be very supportive and understanding, because first and foremost, he wanted Neil to be happy. But, oh, not so deep down, Dean was hoping his son would become a professional wrestler, one who loved it as much as he did.

End of Part One

Special thanks to:

Nancy: Aw, thank you. And I hope your son is doing better after surgery? That must have been rough on all of you, having to go through something like that around the holidays. I'm glad if Blinded by the Lights made you smile. And, I'm glad you liked The Morning After too. I figured Dean and Neil needed a little father/son bonding time and Dean thought he should be the one to tell Neil. And thank you for the nice comments about my writing, I really do appreciate it.

Guest: Well, thank you, I'm glad you like Neil. I've gotten pretty fond of him, myself! I love that he reminds you of your own nephew, that's is so neat. And, I'm glad you put me in the same category for writing as Lauraxxx, as she's one of my favorite authors on this site. Thank you so much for your review!

Just A Reader: Aw, well, thank you! It warms my heart that my story was able to make your day a little brighter. This story is not my "big" project, but something that came long and interrupted me that I had to write. I am hoping to go back to working on the big project now. Again, thank you so much for letting me know that The Morning After made your day. It's one of the nicest things I've heard about my writing.

Author's Notes:

Reviewing is important enough to me that I've decided that in my author's notes I'm going to start addressing the many reason why people don't review (because lurkers have a million excuses, that they'll go into loving detail to explain if they are asked why they look at Fanfiction as a free buffet where they take willingly but never want to give) I know I can't force you to read this and I'm sure most lurkers won't, but I can convince one person who was lurking to step forward and review (or, if on AO3, at least press the damned Kudos button) then I've done good. If I can convince that same person to review someone elses work that they've been reading and enjoying as well, then I'll consider this a major success.

I am aware that most of my arguments are based on if you like the story. Negative reviews are another matter entirely and I will tackle them another time. So, for now, all arguments will be based on the idea that you like the story. You may not be in love with the story, but you like it and you read it whenever it's updated.

Okay the argument for this time is:

I don't know what to say! This comes with a twin, I might say something stupid and feel bad. I find this one interesting, because it comes across like the reader feels that their "reputation" is far more important than showing a common courtesy to someone who gave you something.

When I compared fanfiction to homemade sweaters given as gifts, I was called to task because a sweater is a gift for one specific person, while fanfiction is given to "Anyone and everyone." People have used this argument to justify why they don't have to review. "It wasn't something made specifically for me, so I don't make me feel obligated to do anything."

So, maybe I need a different example. Writing fanfiction is a lot like being the person who hands out those little samples at the grocery store, but the big difference is that we actually make the food we're passing out, we don't just heat it or open it and put it in little cups, we've completely cooked it. You may walk right by that person, not stopping to sample the mini sausages, or whatever it is they are offering. That is certainly your right and of course if you don't take a sausage, you don't owe Sausage lady anything.

However, if you do take the sausage, do you just rudely grab one and walk away? Do you say to yourself She gets paid to do this, so I don't owe it to her to be polite. (Remember that fanfiction writers don't get any pay but feedback) Do you help yourself to sausages and justify it by saying, If she really cares about this food, she doesn't need to know if I like it or not. A true cook doesn't need anyone to appreciate her food but herself! If she expects me to say thank you for this than she isn't a real cook.

No one is saying that you have to take the sausage and then wax poetically about how that was the best morsel of food you've ever eaten, or that your taste buds are now dancing with glee. Sausage woman will most likely love hearing those things about the food she's pushing but you know, she'll also be pretty happy if you at least say, "Thank you" as you eat your sausages.

There is nothing wrong with leaving a review that says nothing but, "Hey, great story," or "I liked this story," "Good idea," "Thank you," or, "I enjoyed this..." Are you getting the point? You do not have to write a thousand word essay praising me (or any other writer) on our clever use of vowels and quotation marks. Would we like an essay? Of course we would. Just like Sausage lady would likely appreciate hearing an in depth opinion about her sausages, we writers would love an in depth review on what our readers liked about our story. But anything, even a mere, "Thanks" is better than silence.

To not leave even a simple "I liked this" review on a story you've read because you feel you'll look bad is the same as not saying "thank you" to sample lady because you have the sniffles and you're afraid your voice will sound less than perfect. Ask almost any writer on this site and they will tell you that seeing "Thank you" or "I liked this" is a lot better than silence. At least we know you read it and you enjoyed it.

Leaving a review shouldn't be something you do for only yourself. You shouldn't refuse to leave a review because you feel other people (not the author) will go, "Wow, look, all this person did was say they liked it. My god, that's it? Why not say a lot more? What a terrible human being!" Leaving a review on a story you read is not supposed to be about you. It's supposed to be about the author. You already got something for free based on another person's hard work, you got to read a story. Leaving the review is just a way of thanking the writer. How much you thank or how you say thank you is something between you and them and shouldn't be influenced by what "They" will think. Let's go back to Sausage lady, but imagine now that you just got your sausage and now are taking a coupon. The next person comes up and takes a sample, mumbles a quick, "thanks" and ducks off. Do you really think, What a terrible person! They really just only said thank you instead of lovingly eating the sausage and describing every single bite!Doubtful. More likely you barely register what they said, but Sausage lady heard it, and she's probably glad to get it.

Be honest, do you really feel it's okay to always take and never to even say thank you to the folks providing all this entertainment? Yes, five other people might thank Sausage lady, but if you're taking a sausage, it doesn't matter what the person before you did. You should say thank you. You shouldn't expect some else to be polite so you can be impolite.

Predictable counter argument:

"Not so fast, Willow! Reviews are not only between the reader and writer. People read these reviews sometimes to see if they might be interested in reading the story!" That is true. (Stop chortling, you haven't won this argument yet.) There is a huge amount of fanfiction on this site and sometimes reviews are and important way to see if the story is any good. So, if you are one of those people who can't bring yourself to say anything negative and see nothing positive about a story, and don't think anyone should waste their time reading it, you should not leave a review. But if you think the story is worth reading, say something. Sure it would help the reader if you wrote a long review about exactly what you liked in the story, but still, writing, "Good story," "I liked it," "Yeah, Dean in the ring!" and even, "I hope to see a new chapter soon," is telling anyone looking at reviews that you think this story is worthy of their attention. That you are reading it and enjoy reading it. It's not saying it's the best story on the site, no one will take you to task if they don't find it as good as you, you're simply saying that you've read the story and you like the story.

Again, going back to Sausage lady. You're at the supermarket and you're not sure you even want a sausage. You're more of a bacon person. But, as you walk by, you hear, "I like these." "These are good sausages." "I hope she brings out more, I'd like another one," Aren't you going to be more inclined to take a sausage than if you hear... nothing? No one is going. "MY GOD THESE SAUSAGE ARE A TINY MORSEL OF PROCESSED MEAT HEAVEN AND ANYONE WHO DOESN'T CHOW THEM DOWN IS CLEARLY PERFORMING THEIR OWN RECTAL EXAM!" They are merely saying that yeah, these are good sausages. And if you're feeling in the mood for sausages, you're likely to take one, right?

You speak when you give a review, even two words says something. But, so does silence. It's just with silence, nobody is being helped. The author isn't, because she doesn't know what you thought. As far as she knows, you might have printed the story out and wiped your arse with it. Or, read the first paragraph and that was it. Potential readers aren't helped because they don't know that you liked it. As far as they know, the only people who bothered to read the story are the people who left a review. If you don't leave a review, what you're saying is, "I don't care if this person never posts another word again." So, do you care? If you don't, then nothing I say will help. But if you do...well, the next step is up to you.

Okay, until next time, Take care. And if you want to argue this point with me, but would rather not do it in public, you are welcome to PM me with why you disagree. I treat PM's as exactly that, private messages. Even if I mention what you say in another author's note, I will not identify who you are.

Peace Out

Willow