A/N: So we've reached the end of the road. I admit that I am sad to see this end as well as I had fun writing it. This was my longest story I have ever written and I am proud of it even if the end might not have turned out exactly as I wanted it to. I really hope you enjoy the conclusion and I again want to thank everyone who took the time to read, review, and favorite this story. I also ask that you please take a moment to read the end notes.

"It hurts 'til you come back

Everything goes black"

Dr. Joseph rushed in with a team of medical personnel and grabbed a crash cart. Dean hadn't even realized that Sam was coding. He was ushered out of the room so fast that he barely had time to register what was going on. He stood out in the hallway unable to escape the memory of his brother's frightened eyes staring into his own. He knew it would be seared into his mind forever, a lasting scar.

Dr. Joseph came out of the room then to brief him.

"Sam's heart stopped beating but we were able to restart it relatively quickly. I'm not exactly sure why this happened but we are going to run some tests. It seems there was a sudden enormous spike in his blood pressure. Then he experienced an accelerated heartrate and went into ventricular tachycardia."

Dean didn't need all the mumbo jumbo to know why it really happened.

"He woke up for a second before this happened," Dean said, wanting the doctor to know. He felt as if he needed to confess to someone that this was his fault.

"Did he seem alert?"

Dean shook his head no, but then nodded.

Dr. Joseph looked at him confused.

"It's possible that if Sam wasn't coherent that he is altered. He might have a head injury from the many blows he received," Dr. Joseph said, trying to guess at what Dean was trying to tell him. Surely that was it, the doctor believed, but it couldn't have caused Sam's heart to stop. Dean knew otherwise. Sam was afraid of him and the fear had practically killed him.

Dr. Joseph told him he could go back in the room but once again Dean had the urge to flee. This time there was no stopping him either. He found the nearest exit and left the hospital. He went back to the bunker and he didn't know what possessed him but he cleaned. He got down on his hands and knees and scrubbed the blood stains off the floor of the dungeon, this time the smell of Sam's blood unmistakable. Then he cleaned up the bathroom where his brother had little success of cleaning himself up and then he arranged the books just as Sam would want them, alphabetically and orderly. Next he took care of the car, scrubbing blood stains out of the inside and then waxing the outside.

When he was finished he was sweating, exhausted and slightly out of breath but then he decided to clean himself up. He stood in the shower, allowing the hot water to wash over him as if it could wash everything away. He saw bloody water swirling towards the drain, knowing it was Sam's blood and it made him sick to his stomach. He knew what was coming but he didn't try to stop it this time. He was struck by memory after memory: a man named Riley telling his brother, Jackson, to run and then he had cut his throat. He saw more innocent victims like him screaming and begging for their lives, a waiter in his favorite pie shop cut down by his own hand. He knew he had done these things and he couldn't understand why he was allowed to breathe, to still be existing.

He got out of the shower, shivering even though the water had been scalding hot. Then he took the razor and adjusted it, trimming his hair into the neat way he always wore it. He shaved the stubble from his face. He felt like he was becoming himself again as if undergoing a transformation, a metamorphosis. He wiped the fog from the mirror as it had steamed up again and stared at himself. Then he was suddenly hit by the flashback he was dreading most. It was so vivid now as if he'd cleaned the camera lens. He saw Sam running toward him with the syringe. Once again denial tried to take over. Maybe Sam ran into the blade but he saw it now, as Sam came toward him, he brought it down and forward, stabbing his brother. It was what he'd known all along. He was responsible. He saw stubble in the sink and he wished every hair he shed could shed him of himself. He also saw tiny droplets of blood, realizing he had cut himself and he wished every drop could absolve him of having done the unthinkable. However, he knew no amount could equal the amount of blood he had shed.

His mind told him that he didn't deserve to live, to give up and for awhile he did. He took to his bed and let himself fade into nothingness. He woke up the next day realizing he'd slept for over 12 hours. He thought about never getting up but then he thought of Sam. Somehow he found the motivation to push forward. He grabbed the amulet from where he'd left it on the nightstand and slipped it over his head. He had to get back to the hospital. He had to see his brother.

ooooo

Dean returned to Sam's hospital room and was met with shock. Sam's bed was gone. Where was he? Did Sam die? Dean thought in horror.

He ran to the nurse's station demanding answers and then he spotted Dr. Joseph who took him aside.

"Where is Sam? Where is my brother?" Dean exclaimed.

"He's in x ray."

Dean took a deep breath, realizing he'd barely been breathing since he'd arrived back at the hospital.

"He's actually doing quite well today, which is why we want to evaluate his other injuries to see what we can do."

Dean nodded and looked down at the floor. Sam was doing better because he wasn't there. Should he even stick around?

"How are you doing?" Dr. Joseph asked him pointedly.

"I'm not the one at death's door. You should probably be asking Sam that," Dean quipped.

"No, I'm asking you. You've seemed rather disengaged through Sam's care. You've been jumpy and yesterday you ran out of here. Would you like someone to speak to you?"

"Speak to me?"

"Yes, we have psychologists on call. You've been through a tremendous trauma, knowing some unknown assailant stabbed your brother and seeing the terrible condition he's in. It's hard to fathom how someone could do that to someone else—"

"Look," Dean said, cutting him off. "I appreciate the concern but I'm fine. I just needed some time away."

He couldn't bear to hear the doctor discuss the monster who'd done this to his brother, especially when the monster was staring them all in the face.

"Okay, but let me know if you need to talk. Your brother's been hurt, yes, but so have you."

Dean didn't even respond. He really did not deserve words of comfort. It was Sam who needed comfort and somehow he had to provide it to him but how could Sam ever trust him? What if he had another episode and his heart stopped? What if he could never go near Sam again?

Dean went back to Sam's room to wait and they wheeled him back in shortly thereafter. Sam was going to require facial surgery and surgery on his shoulder to fix the damage but right now he was too weak.

Dean approached the bed this time. He wanted to reach out so badly but he didn't know how Sam would react. He couldn't let Sam be hurt again by him. He let himself sit close to Sam but didn't dare touch him or wake him up. The next day the doctor announced that he'd be removing Sam from the ventilator. Sam responded well but Dean was grateful that he didn't wake up. Dr. Joseph explained that Sam was on heavy painkillers and he'd probably sleep for awhile and as much as Dean hated to admit it, he was grateful.

There was still the nasogastric tube snaking from Sam's nose but the amount of machinery was thankfully diminishing. The amount of swelling on Sam was also becoming less and less and Sam looked like his Sammy again, still bruised and broken but recognizable.

"Hey," Melanie said, strolling into the room. "Sam looks great doesn't he?"

"Yeah he does," Dean admitted.

"It's good to see you sitting close to your brother again. You seemed…hesitant before," Melanie admitted.

Dean broke eye contact with her, feeling shame creep over his body like tiny insects crawling everywhere. He felt maybe if she looked him in the eye, she could tell why he'd been hesitant or why Sam was in that hospital bed in the first place.

She brought over a basin with water containing a sponge and a dishrag.

"Unfortunately I'm going to have to ask you to move though," she continued.

Dean went to the back of the room once again. Melanie began washing Sam's face and then she pulled down his hospital gown to wash the rest of him. Dean inwardly sucked in a gasp when he saw the condition Sam was in. He was bruised everywhere and impossibly thin, ribs and bones protruding everywhere. Sam had a thick bandage covering his midsection and Dean could just make out the apparatus that the doctor had told him about.

"He's handsome," Melanie admitted. "But I'm afraid he hasn't been taking very good care of himself. He's underweight."

Dean felt the guilt crumple his insides like a wad of paper.

She finished her job and adjusted Sam's hospital gown, and pillows. Then she gently tucked the blankets around him once again.

"Well look who's awake. Hey sunshine," she said, smiling down at Sam.

Dean felt his heart skip a beat, wondering if he should make an excuse to leave.

"Hi Sam, remember me?" She asked.

Sam suddenly became combative, thrashing on the bed. Dean heard a strangled cry escape his lips and he eyed Sam and the door, debating which way to go.

"Sam, it's okay," she soothed. "Did I hurt you?"

Sam's eyes were tightly squeezed shut and he hoped he didn't even know that he was here.

"Your brother is here. Do you want me to go get him?" She asked Sam.

Dean saw Sam's eyes shoot open as he surveyed the room. Both of his eyes were able to open now so he probably had already seen him. Then Dean inwardly cursed because that was the last thing he wanted her to say.

"Dean, I think you need to come over here and sit with him," she continued. "I'm going to get the doctor. He looks like he's in a lot of pain."

Dean got up then feeling like something else was propelling him forward as Melanie left him alone with Sam. Sam was staring at him again fearfully and weakly crying. Dean could see tears splashing down his cheeks and it nearly gutted him.

He flung open Sam's door and rushed outside. He had to put Sam first and right now he was dangerous to him.

"My brother is hurting. You need to do something!" He yelled.

Melanie returned with the doctor and Dean worked up the courage to go back in. He felt there was safety in numbers and better if he wasn't alone with Sam who probably thought his brother was there to finish him off.

"Sam, can you look at me?" Dr. Joseph asked him as Sam continued to whimper.

Sam continued to stare at Dean and try to get up, while the heart monitor once again sped up.

"Are you in pain?" The doctor asked him.

Sam threw out his good arm in desperation and the doctor latched on to his wrist while Sam futilely tried to make him let go.

Dean didn't know what possessed him but he reached out a hand and brushed an errant strand of hair from Sam's forehead. He just couldn't look at his brother's terrified eyes any longer. He had to do something to let his brother know he wasn't going to hurt him, and he only hoped it wouldn't cause further harm.

"It's okay," Dean said.

Sam stopped fighting then and really looked at him. Suddenly Sam's eyes grew wide and Dean watched as they tracked his face. Sam reached out his hand and ran it across his now freshly shaven face. Then Sam looked down at his shirt and stared at something then. Dean looked down to see it was the amulet. Sam reached out his hand again this time, and gently patted it.

"De…Dean?" He questioned.

"Yeah, it's me, Sammy," he said, affectionately.

Sam then went completely limp on the bed and for a moment Dean was frightened. However he realized that Sam had instantly calmed down, his eyes closing, peacefully as he settled into sleep.

"Guess all he needed was his big brother," Melanie said, fondly.

"I think so," Dr. Joseph concurred.

Dean felt a sudden surge of happiness attempting to greet him but then he rebuffed it.

No, it can't be this way, he thought. Sam isn't supposed to look at me like that, to look like he's glad to see me.

"I was going to go get some pain medication, but I think he's okay now," Dr. Joseph said. "He probably was in a lot of pain. Abdominal surgery is no laughing matter, coupled with his other injuries. It's good to see him wake up this time and he seemed fairly coherent too. He recognized you and seemed pleased to see you. You're a good brother," Dr. Joseph said, smiling.

"Thanks," Dean squeaked out, hoping it sounded convincing. The last thing he wanted was praise.

He was left alone then, completely bereft. He just wasn't sure how to feel anymore. His emotions were so jumbled that trying to figure out where one began and where one ended was like trying to untie the knot in a string of infinite length. He felt tremendous guilt about what he'd done to other people, but especially what he'd done to Sam. Then he was relieved and happy that Sam was okay, that Sam had given him the time of day, but at the same time he felt guilty and undeserving that he even felt that way at all.

He sat down close to Sam again. He couldn't help it because Sam made him feel like he was still himself, that at least a part of him was still Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester's big brother. Hours passed and Dean looked up to see that Sam was staring at him, one eye open and the other now a slit.

"S..sorry," Sam whispered.

Dean stood up then, hardly able to hear Sam unless he stood closer to the bed.

"Sorry," Sam repeated. "Did..didn't think…"

Sam's words were slightly garbled and had petered out but Dean heard them loud and clear. However, Dean couldn't respond, couldn't form words because how could Sam be apologizing to him?

"Tired," Sam said, groggily. Then he drifted back to sleep.

Dean knew he needed to talk to Sam, to tell him he was sorry but he could see Sam was just too exhausted that he needed time to heal. However, he questioned if they ever really could heal after everything that had happened.

ooooo

Dean got used to life in the hospital as he refused to leave Sam's side. He also got used to an endless onslaught of flashbacks playing in a constant loop in his mind. The one that haunted him the most was seeing himself as a primal animal, punching Sam over and over again. Then seeing himself stab Sam while still being able to remember how he relished the power he felt. The thought he'd stabbed Sam was bad enough but the fact that maybe his twisted mind enjoyed it was far worse than anything he could ever imagine. Sometimes he thought about removing himself from the situation completely as a way to avoid it but then it also seemed fair penance so he'd stand up and pace the room just to get it off his mind. If Sam could stand to be in the room with him, he'd deal with whatever came with it.

Sam spent a good majority of the time asleep but he'd woken up a few times. The doctor had wanted to examine him and check if he'd sustained any damage to his brain. Sam had cooperated the best he could even though he seemed positively depleted of energy once the doctor was finished. The doctor had concluded that Sam's cognitive abilities did seem to be in working order. However, the eye that had been swollen shut was still slightly blurry and the doctor couldn't be sure if it would correct itself.

Sam had also woken sometimes just to glance in his direction as if reassuring himself Dean was still there, that his Dean was still there. It should have brought him great joy but instead Dean just felt hollow inside, unworthy to even be with Sam at all.

A few days after his abdominal surgery, they decided it was time to surgically repair Sam's broken bones. Dean wasn't too happy that he didn't get to explain to Sam what was going to be done to him but he knew it had to be done. Sam was in surgery several hours and when he returned, there was renewed swelling to his face from where they repaired his broken nose and fractured facial bones. It wasn't nearly as bad as before but it was still disheartening to see his brother still so banged up, sporting a bandage on his nose. They'd also repaired Sam's shoulder and he was now back in the brace. Seeing it caused Dean to flash back to when he'd found Sam in a pool of blood on the floor but he got himself together.

He only allowed himself to leave the room occasionally to do what was necessary such as grab something to eat. He was returning from the cafeteria when Melanie met him at the elevator, practically frantic.

"You need to go to Sam," she said. "He woke up and I was trying to get him to eat some ice chips but he didn't see you there and he's in a panic. Honestly this is the most I've heard him talk since he was brought in. He keeps saying something about 'failing' and how it was a 'dream.' Do you have any idea what he's talking about?"

Dean put his coffee down on the counter of the nurse's station and rushed towards Sam's room. He found him propped up on his bed pillows refusing to talk to the doctor. He looked like he was fighting sleep.

"I had to give him a sedative. He was close to ripping his sutures," Dr. Joseph said. "I'll let you sit with him awhile but if he reacts this way again, I'm going to have to send him for an MRI."

Dean nodded and shooed Melanie away as well. Sam was still awake, fighting the sedative.

"It's just you look like you, but you were dead and then you were a demon. But you called me Sammy and the amulet…" Sam rambled. "I thought maybe I'd dreamt it and that I failed you again. Didn't think it worked."

"Sam, you...you didn't fail, okay? You've never failed me."

Sam choked back tears, his lip quivering like he was a little kid again with a scraped knee who needed his big brother to give him a bandaid.

"Not true," Sam cried. "It was my fault about what happened. You thought I didn't care so you took on the mark and—"

"Sam, it was my fault okay? I made that choice. It's also my fault that you are in this hospital bed too."

"Not you. Wasn't you," Sam shook his head. "My brother would never say that," Sam asserted, his eyes slipping closed. "Don't…wanna…sleep," Sam said, his speech slurring.

"You need it Sam. Rest okay?" He said, placing his hand on Sam's forehead.

Dean watched him drop off but was shocked when just a couple hours later, Sam woke up screaming.

"No, Dean, no!" Sam screeched so loud that Dean jumped out of his chair.

"It's okay, Sammy. I'm right here," Dean said trying to calm him down. However, Sam was in the throes of his own flashbacks. Dean could see the signs.

"I'm sorry," Sam whimpered, his eyes still closed. "Jackson!" He yelled, this time his entire body practically launching upward.

"Sammy, come on listen to me. You're dreaming. You need to calm down. You're going to hurt yourself," Dean said, trying to push his brother back down into the hospital bed. However, Sam wouldn't cooperate.

"No Dean, you don't understand. Jackson's dead," Sam said, tearfully.

Suddenly Dean remembered the piece of paper back at the bunker with the name Jackson scrawled on it, and how he when he called it, he got an emergency room. Then he remembered his own awful wrongdoings and Riley, trying to protect his brother. Wasn't he Jackson? Could this be the same person?

Dean tried in vain to comfort his brother and it was agonizing beyond belief to see he was not succeeding. He was trying to hold Sam down but when he took his hand away, he saw blood. There was some blood covering the front of Sam's hospital gown and knew he couldn't let Sam cause himself further damage. He panicked and ran for the doctor.

Dr. Joseph came in to find Sam fighting again, trying to get out of bed. He put something in Sam's IV until he completely gave up the struggle and passed out. He began checking Sam over, shining the penlight in his eyes and checking Sam's stitches.

Dean stood there, his fists tightly clenched. He could still feel the sticky blood on his hand and it practically sent him reeling. He knew he had his own tormented past to live with but now Sam did too, all in what he did in the name of finding him. It was unbearable to watch Sam so wracked with remorse that he was doing physical damage to himself. Also this was just another weight to add to his already impossible load of guilt to carry.

"Unfortunately he's ripped some sutures in his abdomen. We need to make sure that he didn't do anything internally. I don't like administering sedatives so close together but he's going to need some tests."

They rushed Sam out of the room again, away from him and Dean wasn't sure what to do. He once again washed Sam's blood from his hands, using far more soap and water than necessary, until his hands were rubbed raw. He wasn't sure what to do with himself while he waited but then he decided there was something he could do to help Sam.

He used the computers in the hospital library to do some research. He remembered that Jackson and Riley were both from Phoenix and after a quick search he was able to find the relevant news article. He read about the murder of Riley, how he'd been killed outside a poolhall, seemingly for nothing. The parents were quoted by saying how "senseless" it all was. It was hard to read when they discussed the suspect, knowing that they were referring to him. Then he read about Jackson who was beaten pretty severely, in an alley near a bar. However, this article made Jackson seem slightly less innocent as they found he was armed, with several rounds of ammunition as well. Dean could only imagine that what Sam did was self defense even if his brother couldn't. Dean read on and saw that miraculously Jackson had survived his injuries. He'd been in a coma for a couple of weeks but was now expected to make a full recovery. The police were investigating why he was heavily armed.

He left the library feeling slightly hopeful that Sam could find some solace in the fact that he hadn't killed anyone. He returned to Sam's hospital room and found Dr. Joseph outside.

"Is Sam back in there? Is he okay?"

"Yes, luckily he only ruptured some outside sutures and didn't damage any of the surgeon's other handiwork. We did an MRI of his brain as well to try to figure out why he's been so combative and everything came back clear. Do you have any idea why Sam is behaving this way?"

Dean shook his head no but inside he was screaming, yes.

"Well we are going to keep a close eye on him in the ICU for awhile longer."

Dean entered Sam's room to find Melanie again, fixing Sam's blankets.

"I'm very sorry that Dr. Joseph doesn't have more answers on why Sam is reacting this way. It's almost like he's not seeing you when he has these nightmares. It's like he's reliving something horrible, but then again after the stabbing, I guess maybe he is. He reminds me of war veterans."

Good way to put it, Dean thought privately.

Dean saw that the doctor had finally removed the nasogastric tube in Sam's nose and the larger bandage that covered his nose after the surgery to set the bone. Sam looked peaceful again, a nasal cannula under his nose. Much of the bruising was fading but Dean knew that the emotional scars would remain a long time.

"Thank-you," he told her as she left.

ooooo

Dean was surprised when Sam woke up seemingly very lucid the next day. They didn't say much to each other at first. The doctor wanted to explain about Sam's colostomy bag and how he could take care of it. He also wanted to see him eating solid foods again.

Later in the day, Sam tried to sit himself up, grunting in pain.

"Hurts?"

Sam shook his head no but Dean could tell by the way he moved and the way his face was bleached of color that he was lying.

"You want me to get the doctor?" Dean asked.

Sam shook his head again, looking like he was on the verge of passing out.

"No drugs," Sam grunted.

Dean helped him adjust his pillows so he could get in a comfortable position.

"How's your eye," Dean asked.

"Still kind of blurry," Sam admitted.

"Do you feel like talking?" Dean asked.

Sam looked conflicted but then nodded his head at last.

"We need to talk about Jackson, okay?"

Sam looked grief stricken.

"He's alive. I did some digging and he's recovering from a nasty knock to his head, but he's not dead. I also found out he had his own arsenal on him so he wasn't exactly Mr. Perfect was he Sam?"

"He was trying to avenge his brother, Dean. You…you…" Sam hesitated to say it.

"I killed him? I know Sam. I remember. I remembered a lot of what I did. I hurt a lot of people. I remember what I did to you too."

"But it wasn't you, Dean. You were a demon. Everything I did was me. Jackson didn't deserve what happened to him. He was just a scared kid, devastated about his brother. He wasn't much different than me, really. I'm guilty of so many other things too. I never even closed the gates and I let Crowley get away. It wasn't just Jackson either. There were others too, Dean. There was a possessed businessman. He didn't make it after I interrogated him. I cleaned up crime scenes Dean. I even erased the tape at the Stop and Snack."

"You know why you did those things Sam? To protect me! That's not your responsibility. I'm the one who should be protecting you."

"Dean, I have to take care of you too. You're my big brother."

Dean forced himself to look away from Sam's plaintive eyes.

"Sam, please don't try to make anything you did equal to what I did," Dean continued. "I don't even deserve you talking to me right now. I tried to kill you. I stabbed you, without a second thought."

"But you're here now, Dean. That's all that matters," Sam said, honestly.

"You should have just let me go."

"Would you have let me go?"

Dean didn't respond.

"No, Dean you wouldn't," Sam said, answering for him. "This whole mess is my fault. I was angry about the possession and I made you think I'd let you go and-"

"Don't Sam. That's over. I know that's not what you meant and it doesn't excuse what I did. I meant what I said before. It was my choice to take on the mark without knowing anything about it."

"And it was my choice to figure out how to get rid of it so whatever happened, happened."

The words hung in the air for a moment, neither knowing how to lead off of that.

"How did you do that anyway Sam? I know there was a tattoo involved."

Sam looked down to see that it was gone.

"I summoned Abel and he told me how to do get rid of the mark and that he tried to talk Cain out of it but he wouldn't listen."

"Sounds familiar," Dean said, sadly. "I'm just not sure how we move on from this Sam."

"We already have, Dean. Look at what you're wearing."

Dean looked down at the amulet.

"I couldn't throw it away, Dean. I never could," Sam continued. "You never threw me away. You always forgive me and I forgive you too. We get through it together," Sam said, decisively.

Dean didn't get a chance to respond as Sam's lunch was rolled in.

Sam uncovered it to find a bowl of soup, a grilled cheese sandwich and a piece of pie.

"This is actually for you," Sam admitted, gesturing to the pie, once they were gone. "I told them to bring it during breakfast. I thought maybe you got your taste back for it."

Dean grabbed it off Sam's lunch tray and took a bite.

"Not bad," Dean admitted.

"Well you are the pie connoisseur. I told the staff if you liked it, it must not be bad."

"Not as good as the Stop and Snack but I guess I'm going to have to find a new pie place," Dean said, half jokingly. "So you met Abel huh?" Dean said, eating the pie.

"Yeah," Sam said, smiling.

"I said it before but I'll say it again, our lives are weird, man." Suddenly he couldn't help it. Dean found himself actually laughing.

Sam couldn't help it either. He joined in too.

"Dean don't make me laugh. It hurts my face," Sam said, holding back a chuckle.

"Oh does your face hurt?" Dean asked. "Because it's killing me."

Sam rolled his eyes, a classic bitch face.

"I missed that clever wit," Sam said.

"And I missed that face."

They looked at each other and smiled. Everything was certainly not perfect as Sam still had a physical recovery ahead of him, a colostomy to contend with, and vision and mobility that was hardly one hundred percent. They both would have to recover mentally as well. Sam still felt like he failed his brother in some way and Dean knew he had failed Sam too.

They had both barely scratched the surface of their issues and Dean still didn't think any apology would be enough. Dean knew that maybe nothing would ever be the same and he didn't think there was enough recompense in the world to make up for what he did but if his brother had it in his heart to forgive him, maybe Dean could forgive himself. They still had the one constant which was each other and knew that neither one of them would give up on the other, so they'd let that be enough for now.

The End

End Notes: I've decided I am going to take a writing hiatus. I'm not sure how long it will last and it's not due to the fact that I've run out of ideas. I have plenty of story ideas brewing and some are already partially written. It's just that I think I need to evaluate some things. My stories do not get much mileage unfortunately and after a disappointing response to "Those Christmas Lights" and "Let It Go," I admit I was feeling very disheartened. My friend and I discussed authors that put stipulations on their stories such as "Leave 5 reviews or no update" and we both agreed that it's not very nice and kind of an emotional blackmail if you will. I would not do that. I do think I need to take some time to evaluate the quality of my stories and see what the issue is. I know I can't stop writing because I love it, and I don't plan to. In each story I write, I put a part of me into the characters and I take a part of them with me so I can't just lose that part of myself. It's hard to explain but I think I just need time to, well, think. Thanks for the support and see you soon.