Chapter Five

After Dean was sure Sam wasn't going to wake up, he gently laid Sam back down on the bed and covered him with the thin white blanket, and then fished his cell phone out of his pocket. After jabbing at it for a few seconds, he held it to his ear and waited.

"I don't understand. Why do you want me to say my name?"

"Cas," said Dean, his tension spilling out in his urgent tone. "Cas, I need you to get to Lebanon General Hospital now, I don't care what you're doing. Please, Cas... it's Sam. He's – he's sick, Cas. Please."

"Can Cas help?" asked Adam, keeping his voice quiet so he wouldn't wake Sam.

"I sure hope so," Dean muttered, just as the door opened and the angel walked in.

"Hello, Dean," he said gravely. "I got your message."

Dean got up and strode over to Castiel. "Fix him," he demanded. "Please, Cas!"

"What's wrong with him?" asked Cas, sitting down in the spot Dean had just vacated.

"He puked up like half the blood in his body," Dean informed Cas, "and then he passed out. And when he woke up he couldn't see."

"Couldn't see?" repeated Cas. "What do you mean?"

"He's blind, Cas," said Dean, the words leaving a bad taste in his mouth. "He can't see a thing even with his eyes wide open."

"Help him," requested Adam.

"I'll try," Cas said. "And by the way, Adam, I apologize."

Adam blinked, surprised. "What for?"

"For calling you an assbutt," said Castiel seriously. "You see, I aimed it at Michael, but in retrospect I can see it might have offended you too."

Adam couldn't help but laugh. "I'd almost forgotten that," he told the angel. "Don't worry about it, though there is one thing – assbutt? Really?"

"Dean said the same thing," Castiel replied. "He seemed to think it was not an adequate enough insult."

Dean cleared his throat menacingly. "Sam is sick," he reminded them, sounding angry. "Will you stop dicking around and fix him, please?"

Cas nodded to Dean and then touched two fingers to Sam's temple. Sam didn't stir, and nothing else happened either. It was very anticlimactic. Castiel looked at Dean again, and frowned. "I do not understand, Dean," he said. "There is nothing to fix."

"What do you mean?" asked Dean loudly, his anxiety hitting the roof.

"He is perfectly fine," Castiel told Dean. "There is nothing physically wrong with him."

"But you said – he's damaged in ways even you can't heal–" Dean began pacing, running his fingers through his short, spiky hair. "What the hell, Cas?"

"I don't know," Cas said, sounding regretful. "I'm sorry, Dean. There's nothing I can do."

"What the hell?" repeated Dean. "What am I supposed to do now, Cas?"

Cas just looked at him sadly.

"All right, what are his chances?" asked Adam, looking just as worried as Dean.

"Slim," answered Castiel at once. "I doubt he'll survive."

"Cas, no," was Dean's instant reply. "There's got to be something."

"I know of nothing that can fix this," Cas informed Dean. "I'm sorry. I wish I could tell you something different."

Dean collapsed on Sam's bed, missing sitting on Sam's legs by inches. "Please, Cas." His voice was quiet and pleading – and very unlike him. Dean Winchester did not plead.

Cas just hung his head. "Take care of him, Dean. He needs you." And in a flutter of wings, he was gone.

"Dammit!" cursed Dean, dropping his head into his hands. "Dammit, oh God, what am I going to do?"

"Don't give up, Dean," said Adam sharply, recognizing the symptoms of utter despair. "The angel dude was right. He needs you."

"I'm not giving up," Dean informed Adam. "Never. But, Small Fry, I got nothing."

There was silence after Dean's confession, in which Adam just sat and thought about the entire situation, and Dean began absently tapping his fingers on Sam's arm, dully noting how his skin seemed a bit too cool. His brother was fading right before his eyes, and he was powerless to do anything about it.

Where had he gone wrong? Dean wondered. Somewhere along the line he'd failed in looking after Sam, and he'd made one of the biggest mistakes of his life in allowing Sam to do the trials. And now Sam was lying lifeless in a hard hospital bed, with someone else's blood running in his veins and his eyes deprived of their light. And Sam's blood? It was all over the floor of the Batcave, on Dean's clothes and in the backseat of his car.

Dean knew that if he did the trials himself he most probably was not going to make it. He knew Sam would be angry at him. He knew it would cause Sam untold pain to watch Dean suffer the way he was doing now. And he knew Sam would never forgive him for leaving him – again. But it was okay with him. Because it meant Sam would be okay. He'd be alive.

It was Adam who snapped Dean out of his thoughts. "Hey, Dean," the boy began, "you said Sam killed a Hellhound thingy, yeah?"

Dean nodded, surprised and wondering where he was going with this.

"And he got drenched in the fugly's blood?" questioned Adam. Again Dean nodded. "Dean, what if it's not the trials? What if it's the blood?"

"I don't get it," Dean said. "What do you mean, Small Fry?"

"Hellhound blood," clarified Adam. "What if it's what's causing the blindness, and not the trials?"

Dean considered this for a few minutes, and then said, "You know, I think you might be on to something."

Adam looked pleased with himself, glad to prove himself somewhat useful. "Think those big-ass books in the Batcave might have some info?" he asked.

"Let's find out, shall we," Dean said, standing.

"Wait," Adam said, still sitting. "We're just going to leave Sam here?"

"No, of course not," Dean told him. "You're going and getting some books, and I'm staying here with Sam."

"I don't know the way," Adam pointed out. "I'll probably get lost. And besides, isn't driving your car like, a major offense in your books?"

"It is," conceded Dean, "but I can't leave Sam."

"And I don't know the way," repeated Adam. "I'll stay here, Dean, and you go get the books."

"But Sam–"

"Will be fine," interjected Adam. "Don't worry. It's not that far, you won't be long."

Dean nodded reluctantly. "All right, then, Small Fry. I'll be back." He walked to the door and turned for a last glance at Sam. The kid looked sound asleep, fatigued as he was, and Dean figured he wouldn't wake up for a while, at least.

With a sigh and nod to Adam, Dean walked out of the ward.

Dean and Adam went on reading past sunrise and noon, just sitting there quietly and flipping pages, yawning occasionally. Dean had taken a page out of Sam's book and gotten himself a gigantic cup of coffee, which he took a sip of every now and then to stay awake. Adam was nodding off into Creatures of Hell and Purgatory.

And throughout it all, Sam slept on.

It was 2 PM when Dean jumped, read the paragraph he'd been reading again, and then shook the now-asleep Adam awake. "Hey, wake up," he said, slapping Adam's face lightly. "I found something."

"Just five more minutes," muttered Adam, batting Dean's hand away.

Irked, Dean slapped Adam upside the head and snapped, "Get up, before I revoke your porn privileges!"

"I don't have porn privileges, asshole," grouched Adam, raising his head from his arms and glaring at Dean. "All I got was the Whore of Babylon, and she's got nothing on my prom date."

Dean did not look even slightly amused. "This is serious, Small Fry," he said. "I've found something that might help Sam."

"All right, what?" asked Adam, fully awake now.

Dean marked the page and handed the book to Adam. "It lists the properties of Hellhound blood," he told his brother. "See, right there."

Adam squinted down at the page. "Black, not red in color, due to lack of oxygen," he read out. "Constituted mainly of sulfur and its compounds. Toxic in large quantities. Damages certain centers of the brain, which may lead to parts of the body shutting down." He looked up at Dean. "All it does is confirm my hunch."

"Read on," Dean told him.

Adam turned the page, then grimaced at the illustration of a man being ripped to shreds by Hellhounds. "There is one, and only one, antidote, but it is extremely rare. The effects of sickness caused by Hellhound's blood can be countered by a potion." He continued reading silently, and then frowned at Dean. "Dragon's incisor, fairy dust, demon blood... where do we get these things? If they even exist," he added, looking skeptical.

"Oh, they exist," Dean told him. "But they're hard to get. Demon blood and the rest of the list – salt and holy water and that sort of thing, that's not an issue. I'm more worried about the dragon's incisor and fairy dust, though."

"Can your angel friend help? Castiel?" inquired Adam.

Dean looked doubtful. "I don't know. He hasn't exactly been himself lately. I'll ask him."

"Now?"

Dean nodded. "We've got to get this done ASAP, Small Fry. It's Sam," he added, as if it explained everything. It kind of did, at least to Adam.

Castiel confirmed that he could, in fact, help, though he did express his concern that the potion might not work, and if it did, there might be consequences. Dean told him to get the ingredients, and they'd burn those bridges when they came to them.

It was only after he'd hung up did he realize what the angel had meant. One of the ingredients was demon blood. As in, not good for Sammy. Not good at all.

"What's wrong?" asked Adam, seeing how Dean's face resembled a stone.

"The potion needs to have demon blood," Dean told Adam.

"So?" Adam didn't understand.

"Demon blood is, well, it's not good for you," explained Dean, a tired sigh leaving his lips. "And did I mention Sam used to be addicted, and it – it changed him."

"Changed him, how?" questioned Adam.

Dean looked at the boy. "Well, he wasn't Sammy anymore, you know? He wasn't even Sam. He was just violent and dangerous. And what really sucks is that the poor kid thought he was doing the right thing." He scoffed bitterly.

"Maybe it's not effective when it's mixed with the rest," suggested Adam hopefully. "Maybe some of the ingredients neutralize it."

"Let's hope so," Dean muttered in answer, tugging absently at his hair. "Maybe Cas knows, we can ask him."

Adam didn't reply, instead opening Dean's book to the first page and beginning reading. "Relax," he said, without looking up, somehow knowing Dean was watching him warily. "I'll be fine."

"It's what you said the first time," Dean said accusingly.

Adam huffed and handed Dean the book back. "Fine, then," he said. "I won't read it." He crossed his arms and sulked for a few minutes, before asking grouchily, "So is this how it's going to be? A filter on everything I come into contact with?"

Dean raised an eyebrow. "Well, until we figure out a way to get Lucy out of your head, yeah Small Fry, that's how it's gonna be."

Adam huffed, in a manner so reminiscent of Sam's that Dean had to remind himself it was Adam who'd made the sound, and Sam was asleep. Choosing not to dwell on those thoughts, he opened the book back to the Hellhound's blood page and continued reading.

Soon Adam fell asleep again, resting his head on his arms and his arms on Sam's bed. He truly was exhausted – he hadn't fully recovered from his breakdown when Sam had started throwing up blood, and the nap he'd had a while ago hadn't been anything solid, just a reduced state of consciousness.

"Hey. Hey, Adam."

He looked up. "Did you say something?" he asked Dean.

"No," Dean said, not looking up from the book. "Go back to sleep."

"Adam, hey, it's me."

Adam whipped around to see Lucifer standing there, grinning like he was an old friend reunited after a long time. "How's it going, kid? Enjoying with your brothers?"

Adam squeezed his eyes shut and began chanting the old mantra inside his head. Not real not real not real Dean and Sam are real Lucifer is not

"Come on, Adam, that's just rude. I'm wounded." Satan pouted.

not real not real don't listen to him Adam not real Sam Dean Sam Dean not Lucifer Sam Dean

Lucifer took a step closer and poked Adam on the shoulder. The boy stiffened – he hadn't known he would actually be able to feel the touch. "Dean," he whispered. "Dean, help."

Dean looked up, but it was Lucifer's face. "Let me work, Adam," hissed Lucifer-Dean. "Sam's more important."

"No, come on, not real, Dean–"

The real Dean glanced at Adam, who once again had his hands over his ears. Putting the book aside, he stood and walked over to his brother and grabbed his arm, pressing down on the cut he'd made. Immediately Adam winced and looked up, and then sighed in relief when it was Dean he saw and not Lucifer. "Thanks," he said.

Dean nodded, before going back to his previous spot. Flipping a page, he asked, "You want a couple of sleeping pills?"

"Do they help?" asked Adam, rubbing his eyes wearily.

"They helped Sam, in the beginning," Dean told him.

"And after?"

"After even hardcore drugs couldn't get him to sleep, not even sedatives," Dean said. "He was half-dead, and I'm not kidding."

Adam's eyes went wide. "That's not a very hopeful picture," he groaned.

"I know, Small Fry," said Dean, sounding sympathetic. "I'm just telling you what happened. Hopefully, with you, we'll be able to fix it before you end up in a hospital."

"How did you fix Sam?" asked Adam.

"I didn't, Cas did," Dean answered. "It messed with his own noggin, but seeing as he's the one who broke Sam's mind in the first place I'd say it's just desserts."

Adam narrowed his eyes. "Isn't he your friend?"

"He is," Dean said grimly, "but that doesn't give him the right to mess with Sammy."

Getting it, Adam nodded, and then accepted the sleeping pills and glass of water Dean handed him. Since he was already so tired it wasn't long before the pills took effect, and soon he was snoring face-down into Sam's blanket.

Adam woke to find himself not in the hospital, but back in the Cage. His heartbeat speeding up, he looked around, his throat constricted. No no no, this can't be happening. I can't be back.

It was Michael's indifferent expression that he saw first, mirrored on his own face – Michael had chosen to remain in a copy of Adam's body, which for the boy was extremely unnerving. Seeing such an expression of supreme apathy on his own face made him hope he'd never turn out to be such an ass.

"How am I back here?" he demanded of the Archangel, who just looked bored. "Answer me!"

Michael just faked a yawn. It was then that a sound filtered through to Adam's ears – screaming. Agonizing, excruciating, painful screaming.

Sam's screaming.

"Oh shit," whispered Adam. "We're both back, oh no." He thought of Dean – the poor man was probably devastated. Again.

"STOP IT, STOP IT, JUST STOP!"

Adam moved towards the sounds, every scream of his brother's driving a knife deeper into his heart.

"Do you want it to stop, Sam? I can make the suffering stop. Your brother can take your place."

Adam froze in his tracks. Nearby, Michael was playing with the hem of his shirt, acting as if he couldn't hear a thing.

Sam's answer was barely audible, breathed through broken jaws and burned lips, but Adam heard it loud and clear. "Never. You keep your hands off him, you – you bastard."

Lucifer clicked his tongue. "Too bad, Sammy. Just too bad for you." A second later, Sam's screams started up again, no words discernible this time – just raw, animalistic sounds of pain. Unable to take it, Adam sank to his knees and curled in on himself, covering his ears. This was all on him, his brother was suffering for him...

Lucifer got bored some time later, and wandered off to begin a shouting match with Michael. Amid the yells of "I'M STRONGER!" and "NO, I'M STRONGER!" Adam sneaked away, making his way to where Sam was lying, broken and bloody.

"Sam?" he whispered. "I'm so sorry, Sam."

Sam's burned and twisted face looked up at Adam. "Dean," he murmured. "I want Dean."

This wasn't the first time he'd asked for his big brother – during some of Lucifer's more extreme games Adam had heard Sam scream out Dean's name, begging for his brother to come and end it all, to take the pain away. And Adam knew that when Sam asked for Dean what he really wanted was to somehow end the pain, somehow cease to exist.

"I'm sorry, Sam," repeated Adam, a dry sob escaping him. "But Dean's not here."

Sam looked confused, the expression so disturbing on his damaged face that Adam looked away. "Dean?" he asked, his voice breaking. "I want Dean."

Adam took Sam's ravaged, broken hands in his, and together they cried, Sam for Dean, and Adam for Sam.

He woke, really woke, with a start, to find Dean staring at him. "You were muttering in your sleep," he told the boy.

Adam rubbed the sleep from his eyes. "Yeah. Had a nightmare. Your sleeping pills suck."

"No they don't," Dean said, pointing at the clock. It read 6 PM. "You've been out a long time, Small Fry."

Adam didn't answer, just yawned and sat back in his chair. After a while he said, looking anywhere but at Dean, "Sam. He was in my nightmare."

Immediately Dean's entire body went tense. "And?" he asked roughly, both wanting and dreading the answer.

Adam just sighed – this was going to be a hard story to tell. "We were in the Cage, Sam and I. Lucifer was hurting him, and he said he'd stop if Sam let me take his place. Sam refused." Adam stopped and swallowed past the lump in his throat. The number of times Sam had done that for him was literally uncountable. "So Lucifer just... carried on. And then he left to argue with Michael, so I went to Sam and... he asked for you."

"Has this actually happened?" asked Dean in an unusually quiet tone, and Adam was not surprised at all to see tears in his eyes. Mutely, the boy nodded.

Dean looked skywards, mopping his eyes with his knuckles. Then he buried his head in his hands. "Oh God, Sammy," he breathed. "Sammy." Lifting his head again, he took Sam's cool hand in his and just sat there, not saying a word, just staring at his brother. Adam pretended not to notice the tears running down Dean's face.

Or the ones running down his own, for that matter.

Castiel came at around 8 PM, holding a bag which he dumped on the small table next to Sam's bed. "I got everything," he informed Dean, "though I still think we must reconsider this."

"I know why you're worried, Cas," Dean said, "but there's no other way. This is Sam," he reminded the angel.

"I wish just as much as you do that it was that easy," Castiel told Dean. "But the detox process after an intake of demon blood, combined with the effect of the trials... Dean, he may not survive."

"It's a chance we'll have to take," insisted Dean. "This is my baby brother we're talking about, Cas. We've got to try."

Castiel nodded. "I understand. I just thought I'd warn you."

"Hey, uh, Cas," Adam began, not used to addressing the angel. "Is there any way the effects of the demon blood in the potion can be lessened? Like, by any of the other ingredients?"

Castiel shook his head sadly. "No. Demon blood is too potent."

Adam huffed in disappointed, and Dean looked like he'd been punched in the gut. Every step they took closer to helping Sam was countered by two steps backwards. Every stage involved unpredictable danger to Sam.

"That's it," growled Dean, beginning to pace. "Once Sam's okay, I'm tying him down to a chair and finding myself a Hellhound."

"No," came Sam's weak reply from the bed, startling everyone. "You're not, Dean." He sat up after a bit of a struggle, and aimed a bitchface in Dean's general direction (Oh-My-God-Dean-Just-Shut-Up-You-Self-Sacrificing-J erk). It was astounding how talented he was at bitchfaces even when he was unable to see.

"Sam, we found a cure," Adam hurriedly informed his brother, before another argument could break out. "It's the Hellhound blood messing with your system, there's an antidote..." He began telling Sam all about it, while Sam listened and Dean and Castiel watched.

"He is a lot like both of you," observed Castiel, watching Adam. "I do not think he knows it yet."

"He's a little ass," Dean said, but he was smiling a little.

"Assbutt," corrected Cas, and they both grinned, though Dean noticed Castiel's was strained.

"Hey, man, I gotta ask you," he began, "what's up with you? You've been acting so strange. Is Naomi still screwing with your head?"

Castiel's face shut off and his expression became unreadable. "I am fine, Dean," he told the hunter. "She cannot get to me anymore. I am just fatigued, that's all. Being on the run from Heaven and Hell both is hard work."

"You've hidden the tablet somewhere?" inquired Dean.

Cas nodded. "It is in a safe place," he assured Dean.

Their conversation was interrupted by Sam's sudden exclamation. "Wait – demon blood?"

Dean nodded, and then with a painful pang remembered Sam couldn't see him. "Yeah, Sammy."

"Dean, no," Sam said, sounding both panicked and angry. "You can't put me through that again!"

"It's the only way, Sammy," Dean said regretfully. "It'll fix your eyes."

"And I'll be in detox for how long?" demanded Sam. "And where, exactly? Bobby's house is ashes, remember?"

Dean hadn't thought of either of the two problems. It was Cas who said, "Detox will take longer than usual, Sam, even with the minimal amount of demon blood. And I'm sure Dean will find somewhere."

Immediately Dean thought of the Batcave, but didn't mention it in front of Castiel. If the angel was off his rocker and went berserk again, Dean wanted a place to hide that was unknown and impenetrable to angels.

"Don't worry, Sammy," he assured his brother. "We've got it covered."

"Dean, please," Sam said pleadingly, "don't make me do that again, Dean..." His eyes were distant and unfocused but also, Dean saw, somewhat frightened.

He put his hand on Sam's arm, squeezing lightly. "Adam and I will be there with you," he said. "Every second. Don't you worry, Sammy. We'll take care of you. Won't we, Small Fry?"

"Yes, we will," Adam said confidently. "It's all right, Sam."

Sam just shook his head mutely at his brothers and lay back down, closing his eyes. For a long time he didn't speak or move, and Dean thought he might have fallen asleep, but that idea was proved wrong when he whispered, "Cas? You'll be there too, won't you?"

Cas hesitated. "Do you want me to?" he asked, sounding unsure of himself.

"Yes," Sam told him.

"Then I will," Cas promised.

Sam smiled in the direction Castiel's voice was coming from. "Thank you, Cas."

Cas looked at Dean, visibly perturbed, before turning his attention back to Sam. "I do not want you to thank me, Sam," he told him. "In fact, I should be the one thanking you."

"Don't be stupid," muttered Sam.

"How does one be stupid?" wondered Castiel, momentarily forgetting what he was going to say.

Sam laughed. "Forget it, Cas."

Even Dean and Adam couldn't stop the grins that unfurled on their faces at Castiel's bewildered expression.

Later that night, after Castiel had left, Dean said, "Sam, you'll be detoxing in the Batcave. We can't have Cas there."

"Why not?" asked Sam.

"Because if he goes wonky again, where are we supposed to hide?" questioned Dean.

"I don't think he will," Sam opined. "He's our friend, Dean," he added, sensing Dean's skeptical expression. "Have some faith in him."

"You have no idea, Sammy," muttered Dean to himself. He'd prayed to Cas every night until the angel had tried to kill him, and two nights after that, when the initial shock had worn off, he'd continued. He knew wherever Cas was, he'd hear him.

But, he wondered uneasily, how could Cas look after Sam, if he'd tried to kill Sam's only protector in the world? Did he really trust Cas with his little brother – both his little brothers? Dean decided to wait, observe Cas for some more time before reaching a decision on that one.

"When do we make the antidote, Dean?" Sam asked quietly, jarring Dean from his thoughts.

"Uh, the book says it has to be made at sunrise," Dean answered, "so in a few hours."

"Okay," Sam said. Then, his tone uncertain, "You'll both be there, right? You'll help?"

"Of course," said Adam, at the same time that Dean said, "You don't even have to ask, Sammy."

Looking somewhat reassured, Sam smiled at where he thought they might be, and then turned on his side. "I'll just get some sleep, then," he said. Normally he'd have stayed up and researched more on Hellhound's blood and its effect, but without his eyes he felt useless and bored, and so decided sleep was better than staying awake and brooding and feeling sorry for himself.

But he couldn't lie to himself – he was dreading it and looking forward to it both. It would give him his sight back, but at what cost? What would the demon blood do to him, in his weakened state?

"Stop thinking about it so much," Dean said, knowing from the expressions passing over Sam's face what was going through the kid's mind. "It'll be okay, Sammy." The kid had been having trouble hiding his emotions ever since he'd lost his sight – being unable to discern reactions and facial cues made him unsure of just how much he was displaying on his own face.

"Okay, Dean," Sam answered his brother, his voice quiet. "Good night."

"Good night," replied Adam, and Dean said, "Sleep tight, Sammy."

"You guys don't worry either," Sam said to his brothers, voice sleepy. "It'll be okay, right?"

"Yeah," they replied, and Adam said, "It'll be just fine."

All three of them pretended they believed it.

Here is Chapter Five, peasants. Thanks for your reviews on the previous chapter, though with my army of ninja dolphins breathing down your necks I really don't see how you'd have done otherwise.

To all those who reviewed the previous chapters - here you go, 5-acre plots of land, and your phones are upgraded from iStone to Stonesung. Aren't I the best Czar ever.

Speaking of, I know have co-Czars :D xxDodo and agent iz hyper. Their job is to make sure you peasants are behaving yourselves and not causing any uprisings. Uprisings make me sad, and then I don't write, and well. You know. No more story.

So no revolutions, 'kay, peasants?

I have downloaded the songs suggested by you guys for the last chapter, and I must say, these. Are. Awesome :D you peasants have pretty amazing taste in music.

Today's question is: Which one of Sam and Dean's love interests is your favorite, and which one do you like the least? Why?

For me, in Sam's case I seriously freaking loved Jessica, and also Madison, and then, as per usual, they died. Sam Winchester is a step above the usual brand of forever alone, poor boy. He's like a combination of Bad Luck Brian and Forever Alone, come to think of it. The one I like the least has to be Amelia - she's even lower down the ladder than Ruby. At least Ruby was kickass. I actually liked Amelia - until she slept with Sam after Don came back. Way to make problems for yourself, lady. And for Sam. Ugh. If there's one thing I can't stand, it's being unfaithful to someone who loves you.

In Dean's case, I'd say Lisa, then again there isn't much choice to pick from. And the one I hated the most was Cassie from Season 1, ugh. Worst SPN character ever. Badly written, even more badly carried out, and lady, your father died and you're going to eat Dean's face? I get he's hot, I do, but NO. Just NO. Also, that was probably the worst SPN episode. Like, ever.

Peasants that review can have new Mercedes-Benz horsecarts.

-Peace x