(So two notes. I know some people like the concept of Jessica being alive and hunting with Sam, but I am a firm believer that she had to die in my universe. It sets things off. Gives characters motives. Answers questions even. Second note, to those who read through the first version- the death has changed. She originally died just like in the show on the ceiling on fire. I asked people dozens of questions- those who did or didn't watch the show- and in each case they seemed to like the idea, so I did it. Still nervous on the new death- and it made me have to change out small details.)

Unforeseen Future

Chapter Five: Destroyed Future

The apartment was noisy. Sam was confused. He didn't have a party going. Since meeting Jessica they'd slowed that part of their lives down. And yet there was static as if there was a radio, and people talking- and hands on him. And-

"Let me go-"

Dean?

"I swear, you will be missing a few limbs if you don't let me go to him."

Dean sounded mad. What was Dean doing here anyways? On his cheeks, moving his head gently. Patting them a minute later. "Hey, hey- come on wake up buddy." There was another pat. "There is a lot of blood, and I need to see some eyes, Sam. God, a lot of blood. NO- no you're okay."

"Sir- we need to-"

"Go sit on a tack, lady." Another pat. "Come on. I need to know you can still be an obnoxious prick- you still gotta be you, Sam." This time no pat. But his body did vibrate as there was a shake. "Come on- just wake up, Sam."

Against better wishes Sam opened his eyes slowly adjusting his sight to the light. The world was spinning, and painful.

"Hey- hey. There you are little bro. You still remember the alphabet? Who's the lead singer in Metallica?" Dean kept a grip on Sam's cheeks. His big brother's eyes kept staring deeply into Sam's.

"James Het- Hetfield." Sam grunted. Sam finally focused and really looked at Dean. There was a slow trickle of blood coming from Dean's neck. Why was Dean bleeding? Why was his world so fuzzy? "D'd I go drinking 'gain?"

Dean let off a low chuckle, but there was nothing but worry in his eyes. "No, you didn't go drinking." Big brother coughed and tried to clear something from his throat. "You don't remember last night?"

"No." Sam went to wet his lips, but his tongue had no moisture. He hadn't tried to be obvious, but maybe he was, because Dean looked back and pointed towards the cabinet with cups, and the sink demanding some water. Paramedics looked irritated, but with the impenetrate wall of Dean they couldn't get to their patient. "Remind me."

Dean's attention swayed from the sluggish movement of his brother's eyes to the status of his water. "We got home from our road trip and-" Dean hesitated.

"Road trip? We did-" Sam stopped. The hunt. Woman in white. Cookies- Jess! Sam's hand came up and closed over Dean's arm. "Jessica? She here?"

"Sir. We should take a look at your brother." The woman paramedic was trying to say kindly, despite the bulging vein. She handed down a cup of water. It was in a large plastic cup from Jessica's favorite pizza joint. They went there last week.

Another paramedic, man, came up behind her. "This is ridiculous Tom, get me a sedative. These two both need to be on route already."

"I need to tell him. He can't hear it from anyone else. So just give me a god damn minute." Both paramedics stilled at Dean's request. Big Brother took this as an all clear, and focused back on his baby brother. He gently tipped the cup back and gave Sam some water.

"Tell me what?" Sam was starting to panic. "Where is she? She's okay- right?"

Dean ran a comforting hand in his brother's hair after putting the cup down. "Look- she- after we got attacked she went to Wilbur Field and-"

"And what?" When Dean didn't continue. Sam's hand tightened on his brother's arm. Dean winced at the hold, but Sam didn't care. "-and what?!"

There was no good way to tell him. "She's dead Sam. She stabbed herself, and bled out. They found her this morning."

"No. No." Sam released Dean. His world started spinning faster. "No. No. No. Your lying."

"Sam. Please calm down. You're going to work yourself up."

How could he tell Sam to calm down? Jessica was- Jessica was dead, and it was his fault. He should have told her to stay away. Broken it off before they became anything. Having her mad and with a broken heart was much better than having her dead.

Someone was crying. Loud sobs and wails. It took Sam a little to figure out that it was him.

Dean had him pressed against him instantly running soothing fingers through his hair. "I'm sorry. God, I'm so sorry."

WHYNOSAVEDIVIDES

The lump on the bed wasn't moving with the exception of the rise and fall of breathing. As much as Dean was thankful the lump was breathing he wished it would do a little more. Like talk, laugh, move, maybe even eat some solid food.

The lump, aka Sam Winchester, had spoken little in the hospital. He'd answer simple questions. Does this hurt? Are you hungry? Can you move for me? And they were all limited to yes and no. No sentences, no dumb facts that his brother would sometimes spout, just yes and no. When he'd signed out his brother, the hospital hadn't want him to go. Further testing they said. Psychiatric ward they'd said. Hell no. No way his too smart for his own good brother sat in a padded room.

The police had bought it. The story of how Jessica had surprised them. Hit Sam over the head, and given Dean a hard hit when they'd tried to stop her on her way out. The brothers had been whipped by a girl- a suicidal girl – but Sam didn't get hauled into jail. Besides Sam was the right amount of shock and catatonic.

Task one and two had been complete. Have Sam heal, one, and keep Sam from wearing orange or stripes, two. Three was going to be much harder. Three was going to be difficult, but Dean wouldn't miss that step for the world. Step three was to bring Sam back from wherever his mind was. Help him cope with the loss, of a loved girlfriend- a future fiancé, wife, mother.

He'd already started that. He'd started that two days ago. Brought the big kid to a motel nearby and parked him in the bed. Kept talking to him. Shifting him to the bathroom to use the toilet or slowly rub soap over himself. Then try and get him to eat and drink. Water was fine. Water was kept down, but food- any kind of food was chunked back up. Only thing the kid was tolerating was broth. On day three Dean was wondering if he'd ever eat. If maybe he should have left Sam in the hospital to be tube fed.

No. He was where he needed to be. In fact, he needed to be at home, with Bobby and Dad. All he had to do was get Sam moving again and he'd be there.

Dean turned back to the TV, where Dr. Sexy was currently making out with sexy but irresponsible Dr. Selena Nunez in the supply closet. Despite the compelling drama between the arrogant Dr. Wang and earnest Dr. Piccolo, he wasn't into it. And it was now- 2:15. Time to pour more broth down his brother's throat.

The ringing phone on the bed stand stopped him however. There on the caller id showed someone hoped would call him back a lot sooner. Well one of the two people.

"Bobby."

"I didn't get the messages until I got back from a hunt with Rufus. How is he?" The man sounded urgent and out of breath.

Dean sighed and glanced back at the lump. "He's not good. Hasn't said anything beyond two words, and- he's not responding. To anything. I've called him all the names in the book, and I've tried talking to him about anything and everything."

"Shit." Bobby sounded irritated. As he should. This was a shitty situation. There was no reason or rhyme for this to be happening, besides the obvious Winchester luck. "He healing okay. His head doing well?"

"He was concussed. Pretty badly. They stitched up the cut on his head though, I've been cleaning them regularly. I should take them out soon. The bruising is going down significantly too." Dean scrubbed a hand across his furry face. "What do I do though, Bobby? He's not eating. He's not even looking at me."

"What you are doing." His uncle was patient. "It's a big shock and- it's not going to heal over the course of a week. Hell, even a month, boy. It's going to be a while before Sam is remotely okay. So just keep talking to him, and whatever you do keep dangerous things away."

"Ahead of you." Dean nodded. He'd gotten rid of alcohol and all sharp objects from the room. No razor either- hence the furry face.

There was a heavy sigh on the other end. Dean gave Bobby the time to absorb it all. He was sure he was not only worried for Sam's mental state, but sad for Jessica. She had fit well in the family. Kept up with each man and hadn't been afraid to give come backs when offenses were slung around. A better person couldn't have died.

"Has he been back to the apartment?"

"No. I haven't taken him back, and- the police tape is still up. Before I take him, I need to remove that and a few other things. I've just been focused on him since." Dean knew he'd have to go back. Then there was school. Sam had missed the interview, and the school couldn't be lenient. They'd stated though that if the kid wanted to try again next year they would be more than happy to have him back. "Sam needs to eat- I need to go."

"Take good care of him, Dean."

"Always." Dean responded easily.

WHYNOSAVEDIVIDES

"Please. Just- just look at me- please." The next day Dean wasn't so generous. He was tired of catatonic, Sam. "Just look at me, say something. Do anything." He'd finally ripped the blanket off of the lump, Sam, and propped him up against the wall. Somehow a casual conversation turned into pleading. "I just want you to do something."

Big brother dropped his head on his little brother's chest close to tears. "I'm sorry. I should have- I should have started the exorcism sooner- I should have-" His voice choked off. "Please say anything."

Sam inhaled deeply. "What do you want me to say?"

Dean jumped back like he'd been electrocuted. "Hey, hey." He shifted his hands to his brother's face and lifted Sam's head, searching his eyes. "Let's just talk, huh. Anything that comes to mind."

"I don't want to." Sam's eyes met his brothers for the first time since he'd passed out at the apartment. They were empty.

"It doesn't have to be about- that. Just anything Sam."

That afternoon Sam rattled on about puffins and their beaks, the laws circling child abuse, and anything that didn't pertain to that night. They watched Bonanza, and the Andy Griffith Show. Sam stomached half of a peanut butter sandwich and a glass of orange juice.

WHYNOSAVEDIVIDES

"We should talk about it." The next Day Sam was sitting back up starting at the TV watching the shit movie that was playing.

A flash of emotion drifted over his brother's gaze. "No."

"I know you. You keep this in and it'll eat you alive."

"No." Sam had more bite to his voice. The first bit of emotion he'd heard.

"Look I get it, Sam. You-"

Sam cut Dean off quick. "No, you don't." This time there was no small bite. There was fury in it. "You get it? You think you fucking get it? Why don't you keep your sentimental, chick flick talk, to yourself?"

Dean got the anger. Sam thought for a little while that he could be happy. That he could accomplish the white picket fence dream. Sam had fallen madly in love with a girl and she had accepted him for who he was. Freak with crazy things coming after him. Now the loving, accepting woman was gone. Disappeared in a pool of blood. "I didn't mean-"

"Shut up. God- just shut up." Sam rose fast and furiously to full height. After being curled into himself trying to disappear, his brother looked so large and imposing. "You don't get that everyone dies. Mom died above my crib, and Jess- Jess bled to death. Everyone dies. I cannot be normal. I cannot be happy. I thought I could. I had her for such a short time, but she was- she was perfect." His voice broke, and he collected himself with a deep breath. "Fuck your understanding, and fuck life."

Dean kept his voice soft. "Sam-"

Sam ducked his head down. "I was going to propose." Dean had seen the ring in Sam's possessions at the hospital. He'd shown the cops it when they asked how far their relationship had gone. "I was going to keep her next to me for all time, and- now nobody has her. Not her parents. Her sisters. I ruined another family, Dean." Sam stared at his hands like they were burning. The beginning of tears pooling at his eyes. "I'm a cancer, Dean. I'm a cancer…I just need to be cut out and destroyed."

"God no." Dean rushed forward and gripped his brother's shoulders. "Don't say that."

"I am. And you should cut me out of your life. I don't want you to die. I don't want any of you to die. Dad, Bobby, Pastor Jim, Caleb-"

"Sam." Dean forced his brother to look at him. "You are not a cancer. Everyone loves you, and wouldn't dream of not having you in their lives. In my life. Without you Sam, I'm not anything. I need you."

"What if he gets you too? What if any of you die all because of some stupid plan with some stupid unnamed demon. I don't want to be responsible for another death. I don't want to watch as everything I care about crumples around me."

Dean had enough. "I will never leave your side. As for yellow eyes; that fucker will have to do a whole lot to kill me. You know me. You know Dad. We do not go down without a fight. And I'm sorry about Jessica. I really am. She was a nice girl, but you are not to blame. It is not your fault." Sam ducked his head down, and Dean brought it back up. "Hey, hey Sam. Get that through your thick college brain. It was not your fault."

"But it was." Sam said. His voice low. "I could have stopped it."

"Unless you've gone all psychic and saw it all happening, then you couldn't have known." Dean chuckled, but his attempt at humor died when his brother's sad eyes drooped down again. "You didn't, did you? You would tell me if something this big was happening? Right?"

"You don't want that answer."

"Sam." Dean prodded further. Yes, Jess had died and he wanted to be supportive. But this was too big a loop to be kept out of. "How on earth do I keep you safe if you keep a secret like that from me?"

Sam stared at Dean imploring him to leave it be, but the little brother saw the resolution in his brother's eyes. Dean would grip on and he wouldn't let this matter go. Sam's voice was broken when he started. "I have these dreams at night. They're so vivid and horrible and at first; I thought it was the job. I thought the horrors of hunting were just following me. But I looked in the paper one day and there my dream was. The same woman in the picture, and the same death. She was shot- jealous, angry husband when she had cheated. I would try to match my dreams to stories in the papers after that. And the headaches I would get with them I started taking migraine medication for." Sam stopped for a second, but Dean didn't dare interrupt the silence. He was too busy absorbing the information. "Then about a week before you showed up I had this nightmare about Jessica. She was in the middle of Wilbur Field wearing nothing but a robe - and she -"

Dean swallowed, and watched his brother flounder with the words. "We both know. You don't have to say it."

"Yeah." Sam put a hand to his head. "Thanks…anyways I was so afraid that it would come true, but I also convinced myself that it wouldn't. Because usually it would happen a day or two after the dream. And I thought after a week-" Sam lost the strength in his legs.

Dean guided his brother down the dirty carpet. Not minding the cleanliness at the moment. They ended up on their knees Sam's head pressed into his chest and Dean's arms went around his kid brother. Sam matched and finally broke down. He started shaking and sobbing into Dean's shirt.

"I failed her. I'm just as monstrous as the things we hunt."

"You know that isn't true. It's never true."

WHYNOSAVEDIVIDES

Bobby's head perked up at the sound of the Impala's engine. Finally, the boys were home. Buddy lazily sleeping at his feet perked up as well and bounded out of the dog door. Bobby couldn't catch the mutt before he'd disappeared. Today was not the day for the dog to get excited and jump around and he hoped Buddy would keep his wits about him and sense just that. Sure enough, once he stepped out onto the porch, Buddy was half in the impala and half out giving the boy some kind of hug. Bobby was about to call the dog but he saw break into a small smile and laugh. From Dean's look, he hadn't done that in a while.

Dean shifted out of the car and tried to close the door quietly but since that wasn't possible with his car he ended up startling the two reconnected friends. Dean threw Sam an apologetic look, and Sam shrugged. He glanced down at Buddy and rubbed to top of the dog's head.

"Come on boy. I bet I can beat you around the lot." The wide smile he gave the dog was reminiscent of what his boy used to always give him but Buddy knew his boy wasn't really happy. None the less he knew that his boy needed this, and leapt off the kid and got into a position to race. Sam tagged Buddy and raced off into the lot and Buddy ran behind barking. The kid and the dog disappeared into the maze of the lot.

Dean watched his brother go with a sigh. "We'll have to find him. Kid will exhaust himself and not have the strength to walk back."

"He's been dying to do that since he broke out of his state." Bobby threw out an observation as he walked down the stairs and helped Dean unload the Impala.

"Yeah. I kept him in the room. Didn't know where he was going to run off." Now the kid was home and Dean knew all the hiding spots his brother could crawl and squeeze into it was okay. Okay not being the right word. It was more acceptable. But some reason Sam always felt better after an exhaustive run.

Bobby dragged out a box from the back seat and scowled. "This it? That's all the kid saved?"

Dean looked sadly at the box. The picture of Jess and Sam standing in front of the pitiful Christmas Tree peeking out. "Yeah. He has his clothes. Took pictures, a ratty shoe box, a coffee mug, and a snow globe. Everything else he left behind. Her family came in and swept everything else of hers up. Her father had the gall to-" Dean shook off his anger. The look her father gave his brother made his blood boil. The mother had been sympathetic. She'd comforted Sam. The sisters he'd luckily hadn't seen, they were flying in after Sam was due to be gone.

"Probably all memories in that box. I kept Karen's favorite books. I couldn't toss those for the life of me." Bobby stated wisely. He cut off any statements afterwards. Of course, the family was a bit angry at the death of their daughter. If Sam had gone-

"Yeah. I'm just mad that's all Sam has left of her. Pictures and trinkets." Dean said quietly. He shook himself from his mood though and popped the lock on the trunk, producing his own duffle and two more, evidently what Sam had brought back from his closet at Stanford.

Bobby followed Dean up the walkway and into the house, shouldering the door closed. "He always has us though."

"Of course, he has us." Dean agreed. He dumped their bags in the entrance to the living room and looked cautiously over at Bobby. "You heard a word from our old man?"

Bobby reached over to a coat rack and unwound something long and white. He tossed it over to Dean, who easily caught the rope of- charger. "Shit. He left his fucking charger behind. No wonder every call has gone to voicemail."

"He should be coming home-" Bobby stopped and glanced towards the door at the rumble of a familiar engine. "-now? Well I'll be…"

Dean glanced out the window of the living room and saw the dark truck drive to the front of the house and park. Bobby stood at the younger man's elbow and watched as John hopped out of the truck, a thick bloodstained bandage on his arm.

"Tore stitches probably." Dean grumbled. He looked to Bobby. "Look- would you mind letting me-"

"Of course. Why would I get in the way of that?" Bobby cut off the kid easily. He restudied the bags under his boy's eyes, and wondered how much sleep and food had he gotten the last week or so? He would have to talk to him as well, and make sure the kid wasn't going to overwork himself to the point of collapsing. "I'll be in the study if needed. Annie is on a hunt in Milwaukee and called for some help."

Any other day Dean would have teased Bobby about his girlfriend, but today was not that day. "Thanks." Before his father could reach the door, Dean had opened it and stepped onto the patio. He scowled and gestured to the arm. "Hey you okay?"

Apparently, his poker face wasn't up to par because his father's suspicions raised instantly. "I'm doing fine. Got clipped by the claws. I just need to have Bobby redo my stitches is all. What's wrong?"

Dean thought about words and sentences, and how to form them to get his points across. The call to Bobby had been bad enough. "I wasn't hoping to be that obvious. Uh- look Sam-"

His son's cut off concerned John. "Sam what? Is Sam okay?"

"Not really." Dean held up a hand and stopped his panicking dad. "Let me word that better. Sam is okay physically, it's Jessica. She's dead." Dean watched his father process the words. "We came home from the hunt and she was there- but it wasn't really her. She was possessed. We tried at an exorcism and failed."

John still didn't say anything.

"She knocked us out and stabbed herself on the campus. Sam's not taking it so well."

"When did this happen?" John went white.

"Week or two ago. We tried calling but Bobby found your charger." Dean scrubbed a hand across his face.

John dropped the duffle he'd been holding, and cursed out loud. "The bitch say why?"

"Yeah, he's a pawn of the demon after Sam. Didn't want Sam getting to comfy in his apple pie life. What's worse is before he was in Jessica, he was in his old roommate. Brady."

"That drunkard roommate of his? Son of a bitch was watching him." This all made sense. Sam had come back home for the holiday talking about how Brady had gone down-hill fast. The family hadn't known the kid long, but it didn't make sense that a break up would be that dramatic for him, especially when he had been the one to break up with the girl. "PD?"

"Off his back. When she knocked us out and left us in the apartment she gave him a good concussion- maybe myself as well. They may have raised their eyebrows a bit when we mentioned a girl kicked our ass, but they bought it. As far as anyone knows Jess got depressed real bad, and committed suicide." The lie hadn't been easy on Sam either. Sure, it saved Sam's skin, but it also made his girlfreind out to be crazy. Not ideal either. "Her dad kicked up a fuss, but de doesn't have a case on, Sam. Especially when the wife and sisters are quick to vouch on the love the two had. Also- Sam had bought a ring, why would the kid drive his girlfreind to suicide if he was planning to propose?"

John searched for words and all he found was "-good." Not perfect in this situation, but Dean got it. The police off his son's back was a good thing. He'd had to deal with suspicious cops and CPS when the fire broke out. Never a fun situation. "Where is Sam now?"

"Off running. We just got back ourselves. I'm giving the kid sometime to let out- everything, then I'm hunting him down." Dean winced at the term. The thought of whatever was actually hunting his brother made him regret using the word. "He's quit school."

John sighed and wasn't sure how he felt on that matter. On one hand his son was safer being around his family, that had always been certain. But on the other hand, Sam was a highly independent kid. He hated being under the scrutiny of his family, however well meant it was. Not to mention just how hard his smart boy had worked at to get in there in the first place. That school had been his first choice. "He quit school?"

"Yeah, he says it's not safe."

"For him or everyone else?" John asked pegging his son's point without much thought.

Dean scowled. "Both, I imagine. He obviously isn't taking this very well, and I didn't expect him too. I had to keep prodding him to finally break down that night."

To say John wasn't happy about this would be an understatement. John was furious. It was one thing to mess with his happiness, but it was another thing to go directly after his son. Any one of his sons. Any supernatural son of a bitch with the balls to touch a hair on either of his boys usually ended up with said balls ripped off in a horrifying manner. John bit back his anger though. This was not what Sam needed. He had gone down the anger route when Sam was a child and look where that had gotten his family. Him as a drunk, Dean as a mother, and Sam in a cooler nearly dead. "How long are you giving him?"

"An hour. He isn't back by then; I'm searching for him." Dean shrugged.

John wasn't stupid. He knew his son would run just like he would. Now when John ran, he got in a truck and went days away from the boys no cell phone no contact, but Sam he'd just take an hour to exhaust himself. It all came from the same place though. If they were honest Dean was the one keeping everyone together. Dean was the strongest of all of them. "You already know he won't come back on his own. He'll need help."

"I know. And I'll be there. I've always been there." It wasn't a dump on his dad but he saw the old man wince all the same. "He'll need you too." Dean added quickly. "He'll need you to help him through all this. Just don't let him spiral down like-"

"Like I did." John finished. He raised his hands when Dean tried to correct the nature of the statement. "I get it son. I will suggest though that the alcohol in the house disappear. Sam wasn't a big drinker before, but- but tragedies tend to change someone's nature."

Dean nodded. "Bobby took care of that before we even showed up. No beers for anyone for a little while."

"I can handle that." John stated easily. Despite being sober a long time now, he still had his issues with alcohol. If he could he tended to avoid it. "I shouldn't be near the stuff anyways."

The discussion died down. Dean was emotionally spent from the week he'd spent in Palo Alto; with the police, with the demon, and with his brother. And John, was uncomfortable. He was still the kind of dad to throw meaningful glances and not words. When they both entered the kitchen dumping John's belongings in a heap next to the door they met Bobby's steady gaze. John went straight for the coffee and Dean joined his uncle at the table.

An hour went by and no words were exchanged. Neither did anyone look at each other. The only shift was when Dean glanced up at Bobby's clock and sighed. "I'll be back."

Sure enough about thirty minutes later he was. John beat Bobby out the back door as they heard Buddy barking a warning towards the house. The boys were coming in. Dean was helping a very drooped Sam back towards the house Sam's long arm draped over his brother's shoulder. Sam had his head ducked down pressed into his big brother's chest, but he shifted his feet awkwardly in time with Dean's. John looped Sam's other arm around his shoulder and supported his son's other side.

"Hey kid." He said softly.

"Hey dad. She's dead." Sam didn't start crying but his face drooped further. In an attempt to meet his father's eyes, he raised his head and missed a step. Had his family not had a firm hold he would have taken them all down.

John brought one of his hands to support him. "I know. I'm sorry."

"I loved her dad." Sam's voice cracked in a bizarre combination of emotion and exhaustion.

They had reached the porch and stopped in front trying to get Sam to lift his feet high enough to make the step. "Hey sport. Help us get you up this step."

"I loved her sooooo much." Sam almost drunkenly pulled his foot up and they cleared the step. "Why do I bring bad things? I don't want to bring bad things."

"I'm sorry, son." John soothed. They brought Sam in and Bobby closed the door behind them.

"Straight up." Dean grunted as he continued to support his huge little brother's weight. Bobby flanked the trio in case they needed help.

"I don't want to see things in my dreams anymore." Sam sobbed. "I don't want to see people dying. I don't want to see her dying."

That caught John's attention. John cast his glance to his eldest who shook his head firmly. The idea was clear, there was something up, but not now. This was not a discussion to have at the moment with an emotionally distressed Sam between them. "I know Sammy. I know, no visions tonight."

"You promise." Sam slurred.

Dean scowled. He hated promising anything he couldn't prevent. He was still looking into his brother's situation and didn't have a clear read on what was going on with him. But right now, Sam just need to hear some reassuring words. And who knew, maybe he wouldn't wake up screaming tonight. "I promise, dude."

(As always- if you have reached this point then I appreciate it. I wouldn't also hurt, if you left a review. Let me know how I'm doing- whether you are new to this whole story, or reading through the redo. Notice anything off- spelling, continuity, grammar- then let me know. It's me, myself, and I writing and posting this- and as many freakin' times as I reread this junk, I always catch some stupid mistake that I just passed.)