No matter how much Dean tried to scrape together a good explanation – as to why Sam and Gabriel were standing so close to each other in the hotel hallway, while clearly wearing each others' clothes – logic just wouldn't let him. As much as it baffled Dean's mind, there was only one, glaringly obvious, conclusion to be drawn; from the sight of Gabriel drowning in Sam's baggy shirt and Sam barely being contained inside those tight boxer-briefs. It meant they had swapped clothes. Which meant they'd taken them off. Which meant... they had been naked together.

"Wh – what the hell is going on?!" Dean attempted to shout, only it came out as a raspy gasp.

It felt like a swarm of hornets were zooming all around the cavity of Dean's chest, as he glanced in horror from his brother to the trickster beside him. It was no secret that Gabriel's signature talent was dicking around with people; tricking them into destroying themselves, or lying to them in order to gain something. The only thing the bastard knew how to do was screw everything up. And it chilled Dean to the bone, to think that Gabriel had been tricking Sammy like that; for God-only-knows how long. Right under Dean's nose. The same way he did at the damn mystery spot.

"You took the words right outta my mouth,"

Dean blinked down at the archangel, astounded at the amount of calmness that resonated in his voice. Gabriel's golden eyes were flickering between Dean and Cas while a smile played on his lips.

"Cassie? You're riding the Winchester Bandwagon, too?" he asked, as the smile finally burst across his smug, annoying face, "For once, it looks like you've beaten me to the punch! Props, lil' bro. Didn't think you had it in you."

A small tingle of embarrassment mixed in with Dean's anger, as he felt Cas inch closer to his back. Oh, shit. He'd forgotten that Cas and Gabriel were technically brothers. Did that make a difference, somehow? Did the archangel have a protective sense over Cas; like Dean had for Sam?

Dean was suddenly tugging his stare away from Gabriel and shifting his sight toward Sam. Sammy was already looking back at him, wearing a fearful and weary expression; appearing like a kid whose parent had just caught him sneaking his girlfriend in through the bedroom window. The swarm of hornets buzzing in Dean's chest were beginning to sting, as he and Sam shared this tense stare. There was no denying that it was time for the two of them to sit down, alone, and have an honest conversation. Without the distraction of halos and fluffy wings.

"Sam," Dean growled, reaching out to firmly clutch his brothers arm, "we need to talk."

Before Sam had time to argue, Dean yanked him away from the group. The younger brother's feet were clomping nervously against the soft hotel carpet, as Dean led them away. All the doors in the hallway looked the same all of the sudden; with teasingly similar paint jobs and wooden frames. For God's sake, which door was his?! Just as Dean recognized the sight of the golden-plated 69b, Gabriel's distant voice was calling to them.

"Hey, I'm gonna need that peach back when you're done," he yelled, sounding oh-so chipper, "and it better be in perfect condition, too!"

Dean tried his best to ignore the tricksters strange words, as he shoved the way inside the room. Whatever the hell Gabriel was rambling about only made the hornets sting without remorse. Did he really just refer to Sam as a peach? And in the same tone that a flirty playboy would give a cat-call to a hot chick? Ugh! This was all too much...

Dean felt his stomach beginning to turn with the morbid thoughts taking place in his head, as he yanked his little brother into room 69b and slammed the door shut behind them. It was a bit darker in here, and eerily silent. And, unfortunately, the air still housed a faint scent of Dean and Cas's sex. The cart of pie was still cornered next to the unmade bed and the furniture was still tossed about. But Dean ignored his own broken hotel room to focus on his little brother.

Sam edged his way over to stand against the wall opposite Dean, bracing his back against the flat surface and taking deliberate breaths. Sammy still looked scared out of his mind; pale and wide-eyed, with his fingers nearly trembling at his sides. And the kid had every right to be afraid. Because Dean wasn't sure exactly how he was supposed to react to all of this. The piercing hornet stings were starting pissing him off. After a few ticks of silent staring, Dean simply opened his hands in disbelief.

"What the hell, Sam?" he breathed, his shoulders squaring.

It was the only thing Dean could think of to say, and he truly wanted an answer. He watched Sam's massive Adam's apple rise and fall with a sharp thud, able to see the terror glowing in his eyes.

"Dean," he started in, his voice high and unmistakably defensive, "I know this looks bad -"

"Looks bad?!" Dean repeated, his forceful heartbeat rattling his ribcage, "Sam, you're wearing polka-dot midget boxers! Forget 'bad!' This looks freakin' horrifying!"

Sammy's eyes fell briefly to his own crotch – where it looked like he was smuggling a Vlasic pickle and a couple of tennis balls underneath some circus tent fabric – before glancing back up with defiance.

"Well, it's no worse than you standing naked inside Cas's trench coat, is it?" he spat in return, visibly trembling.

Dean gulped, instinctively patting the warm, tan fabric against his thighs. He couldn't deny that Sam had a point. But this wasn't about Dean and Cas. This was about Gabriel screwing around with Sam. This was about the trickster toying with the one and only person Dean had spent his whole life trying to protect.

"Don't try to turn this around," Dean warned, "That filthy liar out there has done something to you, and I wanna know what the hell it is. Tell me the truth, Sam, dammit. Look me in the eye and tell me what is going on!"

"Okay!" Sam exclaimed, having to pause to breathe before continuing, "I – I'm – I'm with Gabriel, alright?"

Dean blinked, trying to let his little brother's words burrow deep into his mind. He honestly attempted to visualize the scenario in his head – Sam being all lovey-dovey with Gabriel, laughing and smiling and saying 'no, you hang up,' on the phone – but he just couldn't believe it. Sam would never really consent to something like that, would he? Of the two Winchester siblings, Sammy was probably the normal one, when it came to sex stuff; no kinks, no wacked-out fantasies, no angel fetishes... At least, none that Dean was aware of. So, to imagine Sam being intimate with someone like Gabriel was just insane. Not to mention the blaring red flag of all the other shit the trickster had done to Sam in the past, that could turn him off.

"No," Dean said, shaking his head, "There's no way."

"It's true, Dean," Sam replied, nodding, "I – I know it's crazy, but we've been together -"

"For how long?" Dean blurted, suddenly trying to piece together a time line.

Sam gulped. His large eyes flickered away to glance around, as if he were trying to count the days in his head. Dean resisted the urge to tap his foot with impatience. How long had the trickster been screwing around with his little brother, behind his back?! Did Sam really need to think this long about it?!

"Um, I guess... ever since the morning I had that candy necklace," Sam seemed to mumble, still not meeting Dean's eyes.

Dean instantly recalled the object Sam mentioned, and knew the exact day he was referring to. It had been the morning in the kitchen at Bobby's. The same morning Dean had to confess to Bobby that he and Cas were together. Sam had stumbled in wearing that ridiculous candy necklace, smelling like alcohol and bad decisions. Dean had assumed he might have got drunk and made out with some chick – not Gabriel the freakin' archangel.

"I can't believe this," Dean uttered, genuinely lost, "you're a lady's man, Sam! And now you're deciding to go on an all-archangel diet?! What about that girl at the diner yesterday?" Dean pointed out, remembering how friendly she had been with Sam, "She was practically offering herself to you on a golden plate, man. Were you not going to give her a chance?"

A flash of terror streaked across Sam's face, at the mention of the girl at the diner. He flattened back against the wall again, fearfully bringing his eyes back to Dean's. Dean eyed his little brother with confusion. Why did bringing up the waitress make Sam uncomfortable?

"What?" Dean snapped.

Sam exhaled slowly, letting his shoulders fall with defeat. He suddenly looked like a guilty sinner, preparing to confess to a priest. After a second or so of gathering courage, the younger brother finally spoke.

"Gabriel was the waitress," he mumbled, lips barely moving.

Dean blinked. Did he just hear Sam correctly? Did Sam just say that Gabriel was the waitress?

"Come again?" Dean asked, thinking he might have misheard Sammy's words. After all, there was no way that it was actually possible.

"The waitress at the diner," Sam forced out, his cheeks appearing to redden, "It was Gabriel. He disguised himself."

Though Dean's mind didn't want to believe it, his gut told him otherwise. Looking back with this new information, the waitress's bitchy demeanor made perfect sense. Her name calling and flat-out rudeness; it was all just Gabriel being a royal prick. And – Oh God, – it had been Gabriel flirting with Sam like that; patting his arm seductively and hitting on him. Ugh! Gabriel had been doing that shit right in front of Dean. And Dean felt strangely violated.

"Oh my God," he grumbled, feeling himself turning pale, "that was – he – I was sitting right there!"

Sam nodded slowly, grimacing. The swarm of painful insects in Dean's chest seemed to be growing and multiplying; spreading out though his body like a cloud of rage. As he stood staring at his little brother, Dean's emotions began to over-take his reason. That manipulating, two-faced bastard! How dare Gabriel try to play with Sam right in front of Dean! He must have balls of steel or something, to think that Dean would just let this slide! Anger was pulsing through Dean's veins with every pound of his heart.

"Dean," Sam said, taking a step forward to hold out a calming hand, "I like Gabriel, okay? I know it sounds ridiculous, but it's true. He's grown on me, man. And I can't -"

"You aren't seeing this clearly, Sam!" Dean nearly shouted, making Sam flinch back, "Gabriel is a liar, and a cheat! How do you know he isn't poisoning you? Or tricking you into getting naked? Ugh! Please tell me you didn't have sex with him."

Sam gulped, looking guilty as charged.

"Dean, -"

"You did?! Holy shit, Sammy! What the hell is the matter with you?!" Dean gasped, unable to stop the rage from flowing, now, "Do you know where that dick has been?! God only knows how many people the trickster has screwed!"

"Dean," Sam repeated, looking defensive again, "I already asked -"

"No, stop!" Dean growled, feeling his blood boiling, "Stop defending him, Sam! He's not your friend. He's not a good guy. He kills people for fun. You've seen it with your own eyes. Who's to say he wouldn't turn right around and gank you a couple hundred times, like he did to me, huh? How do you know he wouldn't find it funny to stuff your ass in hell again, just to watch you burn?!"

"Dammit, Dean," Sam snapped, "would you just listen -"

"I'm not gonna let him hurt you, Sam!" Dean shouted, "You're my brother and I care about you! And I am not gonna stand by and watch you fall into another one of Gabriel's psychotic traps. I'm not gonna let him molest you against your will -"

"He's not molesting - "

" - or trick you into giving him what he wants! That bastard's got another thing coming, if he thinks he's gonna mess with you and not have me to answer to! I'm gonna end this, Sam, for your own good. I'm not gonna let you be manipulated like this anymore, understand?"

Sam was glaring at the floor, with a few pieces of his lengthy hair hanging in his face, but Dean could still see the look of bitterness resting in his expression. His lips were pressed into a hard line, and his fists were drawn on both sides of his waist. It took a moment for Sam to bring his sight back to Dean's stern stare, and when he did, Dean could see something he hadn't seen in Sam's eyes for a long time. Dean didn't know why it looked so familiar – until Sam finally spoke. The younger brother's tone was cold and callous; holding only the dried up remains of tarnished respect.

"Yes, sir."

Sam's low voice seemed to each all the way inside Dean's chest, and slice open his pounding heart. Dean's mouth slowly fell open, and his fingers turned numb, as he searched his little brother's hard face. Dean suddenly knew why that twinkle of bitterness gleaming in Sam's eyes looked so familiar. It was because this was how Sam had looked at John Winchester; body tense with distrust, and eyes holding fear buried under heaps of false courtesy. Yes, sir. They always had to say it, whether they wanted to or not; it was the old man's golden rule. And, God, Sam's tone had sounded just as cold as it did in their childhood.

But the worst part of all, was that Sam had said those words to Dean. He was responding to Dean with the same line he fed their father, when he'd had enough of being told what to do. And it made Dean's stomach churn with disgust. John Winchester was something that Dean hoped he would never turn out to be. But here he was; scolding Sam in the same manor Dean had always feared John would do to him. Had Dean somehow turned into the person he feared the most?

Feeling lightheaded, Dean swayed a little bit before stepping back to lean against the wall behind him for support. His eyes were unfocused toward the broken shards of glass on the floor, as the unwanted image of John Winchester returned to his mind. That's my boy, he could hear his father saying, Good job, son. Raspy breaths were escaping Dean's chapped lips in a hush. No. He didn't want to be the father that controlled everything. He just wanted to be a good brother.

"Dean,"

Dean swallowed harshly at the sound of Sam's soft voice. His tone was friendly, now; almost apologetic. Dean forced himself to look back up at his little brother, even though he felt almost too ashamed. Ah hell, he felt worse than shit, now. Sam never once said anything bad about Cas, did he? He never jumped down Dean's throat, or accused him of being manipulated. Sam just... accepted it. The younger brother took a large step forward in the small space behind the door, and his eyes seemed to be full of regret.

"I – I'm sorry," Sam breathed, sounding honest.

Dean's heart throbbed with pain.

"No," he replied, giving his head a firm shake, "I'm sorry, Sammy. I didn't mean to upset you. I just... I want you to be alright."

The tiniest smile seemed to flicker on Sam's mouth. He curled some of his long hair behind his ear as he nodded.

"I know," he replied, "and I am alright. Actually, Dean, I'm better than alright. Gabe really makes me happy."

Dean couldn't stop his eyes from narrowing. Shit, that was going to take some getting used to; hearing Sam talk about 'Gabe' in such a friendly tone. Dean just couldn't see the trickster as anything more than what he knew him to be, which was just that; a freakin' trickster.

"Just give it a chance," Sam requested, seeing Dean's hesitation, "If you just sat down and talked to him, you'd change your mind about him. Trust me, I would know. I had go through it myself."

Dean was still rightfully skeptical. Sam was always willing to give someone a shot; not Dean. Nope, you give most people an inch and they end up stealing a mile... but if this was something Sam really wanted, than who was Dean to deny his little brother?

"Fine," Dean forced out, still clinging to the wall behind him, "I'll give the prick a chance. But I want you to remember that I'm dong it for you, Sam. Not him."

A large exhale of relief seemed to escape Sam's mouth. Before Dean knew it, he was wrapped inside his brother's large arms; being hugged with nearly enough force to choke a bear.

"Thank you," Sammy grinned, clinging to Dean's shoulders, "it – it means a lot to me, Dean."

Dean squeaked under the tight grip, as he bent an arm up to pat his little brother's bare back. He glanced down to see that they were still wearing their angels' clothes, and couldn't help but think about how ridiculous this must appear to anyone who was out of the loop.

"Our lives could be a freakin' sitcom," Dean grumbled against Sam's shoulder, rolling his eyes, "These are the kind of antics that belong on TV."

Sam chuckled as he stood back up. Dean was glad to see the smile back on his little brother's face.

"No shit," he mumbled, tugging the polka-dot fabric down his thighs, "So – so, are we good, now? You're not gonna kill Gabe, right?"

"As long as he doesn't give me a reason to," Dean replied, still feeling an ache in his chest, "and he better not ever give me a damn reason. I want to talk to him, too. But, I think we all need to change clothes first."

The trench coats and underwear were a bit too much, Dean had to admit. He couldn't very well stare down Gabriel, if the archangel was wearing Sam's shirt and nothing else. Ugh, just the remembrance of it gave Dean another shiver. Sam nodded at Dean's words.

"Okay. Let's meet downstairs in twenty minutes," he suggested, edging toward the door.

Dean gulped as he watched Sam stepping back out into the hall. A large mass of discomfort had settled in the center of Dean's chest,... and there was only one person that could really dig it back out.

"Hey," Dean called after his brother, "send Cas back in here, would you?"

An understanding smile rested on Sam's face.

"Sure."

Castiel stood frozen in the hall, as he watched Dean forcefully pulling Sam toward room 69b. The angel had half a mind to call out and stop them, because he knew Dean's anger was slowly on the rise and it might be only a matter of time before he exploded with rage. And it seemed that Gabriel could sense it, as well.

"Hey, I'm gonna need that peach back when you're done," the archangel called, causing Castiel to look in his direction, "and it better be in perfect condition, too!"

A few feet away, the Winchesters ducked inside the hotel room and the door slammed shut. Castiel's blue eyes were resting upon Gabriel's familiar face, now; blinking with sincere confusion. Cas had been aware that some angelic presence was following Sam around, but he had no idea that it was Gabriel. And the angel's mind was buzzing with questions about his interaction with Sam. But Gabriel was speaking before Castiel had time to ask.

"Well, well," the archangel sighed, eying the entire length of Castiel's vessel, "as anyone ever told you how good you look in denim? I'm tellin' you, bro. That Winchester-wear makes your eyes pop."

"Why are you here, Gabriel?" Castiel asked, dismissing his brother's strange compliment, "What business do you have with Sam Winchester?"

Gabriel gave a hard chuckle, his vessel's golden hair tossing back with his head.

"You always were slow to catch on," he mused, nudging Castiel's side, "Do the clothes not make it obvious enough? No? Then, fine. I'll put it in a way you'll understand," Gabriel cleared his throat before continuing, "Sam is to Gabriel, as Dean is to Cas."

Though Gabriel had molded his sentence into the form of a standardized test question, Castiel understood what he was attempting to say. It obviously meant that Sam and Gabriel were engaging in the same type of relationship that Dean and Castiel shared; an intimate one, in which physical pleasure was a natural occurrence. Proof was evident by Gabriel's attire, which consisted of only Sam's large shirt. Castiel wasn't sure how to feel about this news. And, to be honest, he was more concerned about Dean's reaction at the moment. The angel's blue eyes instinctively glanced toward room 69b. Should Castiel go in and attempt to offer some form of support? Or should he leave the Winchesters to their private discussion?

The small K9 on the floor gave a few quiet barks.

Castiel glanced down at the small brown and white animal. It was pawing at Gabriel's leg, as if it craved his attention. A small rush of blood heated Castiel's cheeks, as he caught sight of Dean's pink undergarments still latched onto the dog's head. That fabric was meant to be seen only by Dean and Castiel, and no one else. And the angel knew that Dean would not wish for it to remain out in the open.

"Dammit, Dickie," Gabriel sighed in annoyance, reaching down to pick up the small animal, "I've told you a million times. Leave the panty raiding to the professionals, you perverted little hump-machine."

While Gabriel spoke to his animal, Castiel reached out and untangled the soft, pink fabric from around the K9's head. Once the underwear was free, Castiel took the time to inspect the satin. It was badly damaged; torn down the front, ripped along the hem, and stained with the dog's saliva. A long sigh exited the angel's lips at the devastating sight. Despite Cas's best efforts, it seemed that Dean was having a terrible morning.

"So, Deanie-weenie is into the kinky stuff, huh?"

Castiel realized that Gabriel was referring to the fabric in his hand. The two angels met eyes again, and Cas could see a glowing enthusiasm in Gabriel's stare. It was the same he wore long ago, when their father first began the earth's creation. It was a look of genuine interest and excitement.

"I never would have pegged him as the panty-wearing type," the archangel shrugged, "but, then again, I never pegged you as the rebellious type. Did it hurt, Cas? When you fell from heaven, and came crashing down into the arms of the not-so-righteous man?"

Something about the way Gabriel referred to Castiel falling into Dean's arms made a small tingle reverberate up the angel's spine. Cas had never looked at it that way before, but perhaps Gabriel was right. Perhaps Castiel had simply tumbled from heaven like a feather, and floated down into Dean's path for a reason. The thought made the angel smile.

"No," Castiel replied, his fingers tracing circles against the back of the fabric in his hand, "It didn't hurt at all... Gabriel, why are you sharing an intimate relationship with Sam Winchester?"

Not only was the notion a bit odd, and obviously distressing to Dean, but Castiel also knew that Gabriel had a tendency to do things just to spite people. The archangel had a strange relationship with humanity; exacting justice on them the way he saw fit, perhaps to be some form of 'guiding light.' But his methods weren't always courteous. Was Sam aware of Gabriel's true nature? Was he aware that Gabriel possessed the same terrifying, angelic power... as Lucifer?

"Well, since you asked sooo nicely," Gabriel began, rolling his golden eyes, "I think the moose and I have a few things in common. He likes dogs, I like dogs. He hates being sad, I hate being sad. He likes salad, I like... well, I like sugar, but that's beside the point."

"You have genuine affection for him?" Castiel asked, finding it difficult to believe.

A look crossed Gabriel's face at Castiel's question. A fire seemed to spark in his eye; defensive and meaningful. The dog in his arm seemed to sense the change, as it, too, looked up at Gabriel's face. There was sincere honesty in the archangel's expression, making him look almost vulnerable.

"Yes," Gabriel breathed, his golden eyes glowing with trust, "I'm in love with that kid, Castiel."

A small smile threatened to emerge on Castiel's lips. Never, in their millions of years of existence, did Cas ever hear such honesty in Gabriel's voice. He was never this passionate about anything, or this caring. Perhaps Sam Winchester had mended something within Gabriel; turning him into the being he'd always had the potential to be, but never the drive. Perhaps Sam had been the missing component in Gabriel's completion...

As Castiel opened his mouth, to state his delight concerning Gabriel and Sam's relationship, the door to room 69b was opening again. Both angels turned toward it, watching to see which Winchester would walk out first. Castiel secretly hoped to see both of them exit in a joyful mood, but he knew the notion was reaching. It was only Sam, who backed out of the room, still only wearing a pair of strange underwear. The younger sibling left the door cracked open, as he faced the angels and began to walk toward them. Where was Dean? Would he be wearing the same look of weariness that Sam's expression held?

Gabriel gave a sexy whistle beside Castiel, as Sam made his way toward them.

"You are working those boxers, sweetheart," the archangel commented, his eyebrows bouncing.

Sam smiled a little at Gabriel's words, but turned toward Castiel.

"Dean wants to see you," he informed.

Without hesitation, Castiel flew to the open hotel door. The satin underwear was still tight in the angel's grasp, as he made his way back into the room that he and Dean had shared – and partly destroyed – the night before. Cas's eyes were searching as soon as the door swung open. He was worried that Dean may have gone into a fit of rage and broken more objects around the room, and Castiel felt he needed to find the man as soon as possible. Thankfully, he didn't have to search for long.

Dean was leaning up against the wall behind the door; hunched over as if a very large burden was resting on his shoulders. His face was severely pale and his lovely green eyes seemed sunken back. The sight of Dean's distraught form made Castiel wonder what had taken place between him and his brother. When the angel stepped toward him, Dean's weak eyes found there way to Cas's face – and the man instantly seemed to fall apart. His large arms flew around Castiel's bare torso and his face buried into the side of the angel's neck. Castiel cradled Dean closer at once, even though he wasn't sure of the cause of the man's distress.

"Tell me I didn't do it, Cas," Dean nearly begged in a broken slur, his hot breath clouding against the angel's neck, "Tell me I didn't become my old man."

Castiel tilted his head back, in order to peer down at Dean's face. The mere mention of John Winchester caused a twinge of anger to draw Cas's stomach muscles into a tight knot. Had Sam said something, to remind Dean of their father? The scene from the alley – the one in which Dean had pushed Castiel away, based on the assumption that his father would not approve of their relationship – was suddenly playing in the angel's mind. It baffled and angered Castiel to no end, to see the pain on Dean's face placed there by John Winchester. What on earth made Dean believe that he was anything like him?

Castiel reached up to cup the man's heated cheeks and level their eyes. Dean allowed the interaction, raising his head enough to meet Cas's sight. The angel gazed into the suffering emerald orbs with enough power to shift the course of an ocean currant, as he spoke with deliberate sternness.

"Dean," he began, caressing the man's cheekbone with the edge of his thumb, "You are nothing like your father."

Dean appeared to accept these words, as he swallowed with a sudden 'thud.' His green eyes searched Castiel's for a moment, before he craned his neck to press their lips together. The angel kissed the man with as much affection as he could muster; holding the back of his delicate head, while their lips parted softly. After a moment or so, Dean pulled away to release a warm sigh.

"Thank you," he breathed, sounding a bit more calm, as his fingers curled against the bare skin of Castiel's back.

The angel gave a firm nod. Any time Dean needed a reminder that he was his own, important being, Castiel would always be there to recite the words. The man eyed the angel's lips, as a more annoyed look crossed his face.

"Sam's getting it on with the trickster, everyone knows I own a pair of panties, and I didn't even get to finish coming this morning," he grumbled, bitterness weighing on his tone, "Today's just gonna suck, isn't it?"

Castiel gave his own heavy sigh, as he gently scratched the back of Dean's head. He couldn't deny that Dean was having a terrible day, so far... but perhaps Cas could attempt to make it better.

"I could help you get dressed, Dean," he offered, purposefully adding a bit of lust to his tone, "and feed you more pie."

Delight flooded the angel, at the sight of Dean's smirk returning at full power.

"Have I told you lately, how much I love you?" he asked, tugging Castiel closer, "because I freakin' love you, Cas."

Castiel's smile over-took his entire face. Those words seemed to never become stale.

"I love you, too, Dean," he simply replied.

(Author's Note: Wow. I really didn't plan for this first chapter to be so long. Honestly, I didn't! It just sort of... happened. :) How do you guys like the first chapter, huh? I know it seems a little heavy, right now, but it's going to get a lot lighter along the way. :) Plenty of pranks and humor, plus a few really hot sex scenes, are headed your way! Once again, I must bow to you all and offer my most sincere appreciation. Your suggestions, comments, and flattering words have rendered me stunned. Bless all of you! I love you so much! Thank you, for reading these ridiculous stories and taking the time to give me your opinions! You honestly have no idea, how much it means to me. Thank you! :) I will be working diligently on the next chapter. It will be out soon!

In case you're new to this story, just read that entire thing, got to the bottom here, and are thinking "what the hell did I miss?", you can find out by reading the first four parts, which are located on my page. The titles go in order, as: Solo, Gray Areas, Affection, and Fantasies. This fic also goes hand-in-hand with my Sabriel companion fic, Sweet and Sour. It's really just a big wibbly-wobbly timey-wimey mess, now that I think about it. :) But feel free to go check them out, if you'd like. :) thanks for reading!)