A/N Here is the beginning of the sequel. Let me know what you think.

There were drawers under my couch. I could see the edge of them peeking out as I walked through the door in the wee hours of the morning. I had no idea why there would be drawers under my couch, but I guess they made as much sense as the dirty diaper on the coffee table along with the boots that were supposed to be on the back porch, but instead were currently unleashing their funk that rivaled that of the diaper, upon my living room.

Had some communal boy nakedness gone on in my living room? Daughter was gone off to tour a college with her friends, so I knew she had nothing to do with the fuckery that had obviously gone on. If the Captain and J.D. were involved, then me and the young rock star were going to have to have a chat about what was going on around my child, after all…I didn't need anymore psychological scars inflicted on him that I had already done.

Dropping my gear in the mud room, I figured it was probably best I not be armed when I encountered whatever had required him to leave his drawers under the couch. I was tired as hell, damp from the never-ending rain, grumpy and really not in the mood to deal with whatever insanity had gone on, but I also couldn't stand the extraneous crap making my house smell like the monkey house at the zoo.

I stripped down myself,( keeping my own damn drawers on), and wandered around picking up after my over grown problem child. Diaper in the trash, drawers in the laundry, boots on the porch, and a half dozen beer bottles in the trash as well.

He had been drinking? That was new. He usually didn't drink when he was home alone with the baby, especially not a six pack. That did not make me happy at all.

Things had been interesting over the last few months. I was still working on learning to deal with having a young, barely housebroken man in my house pretty much constantly on top of a baby and the accompanying drama, and he was getting used to living with all the excitement that came from living with me and a baby and my daughter as well as a bunch of cops that tended to wander in and out with guns and all kinds of things like tasers that they found funny to threaten to test on him.

Luckily, he still hadn't been spotted yet by any fans so we had relative peace and quiet outside of all the normal commotion that went on in my life. He stayed close to home and took care of Spence when I was working, and that gave him time to bond with his son as well as work on his music and trying to figure out what the heck he was going to be when he grew up.

He seemed a bit mopey from time to time, and I had no idea why other than he had left behind the life of a wild and free young man and had pretty much over night become a house husband,(shudder at the mere thought of that word), but I hadn't forced him into it, Hell! I had strongly tried to discourage it if ya'll will remember.

He had been doing pretty good at keeping himself entertained, learning to navigate the computer and Twitter. I was shocked to learn he was about the only 20 something year old man I had ever met that didn't know a computer from a hole in the ground. He spent a few weeks with daughter coaching him and nagging him to Tweet his rapidly growing following of minions, so he seemed to be pretty happy.

His band had come up and he had played a few nearby clubs and had even gone down to L.A. and shot a video or two and promoted his stuff, so it seemed all was well, but I knew he was getting pressured to tour with them. Hell, I encouraged it. The baby was growing like a weed and was happy, they were bonded and it was evident they loved each other, I thought it would do him some good to go do his thing for a little bit, but he seemed to just be stuck in a rut.

Walking down the hall I found more beer bottles and now im starting to get pissed off. Where is the baby? Where is the boy? Why is there crap all over the house? Checking in Spence's room I find that he is in his crib, but the side is down. He could have easily stood up and fallen out. Now I am really torked off. Someone is getting their ass handed to them.

I put the side up and make sure he is settled fine and then after I shut the door to damper the coming storm, I go looking for the boy. I count a total of 13 beer bottles by the time I reach the bedroom. I stop at the door and go back to the living room. The old me would have gone in and just killed him, the new me picks up her cell phone and calls the Captain.

"Do you know what time it is? What has he done and is he still alive?" He knows me well.

I ask, "Were you or J.D. over here tonight?" I hear Cullen sigh, I know he's debating what to say. If he gives the wrong answer, he's in trouble too.

"We were there for a few hours and had a few beers with him. He was in an odd place."

What the hell do you mean, "An odd place? Did you and him…?"

Cullen laughed, "See! I knew you suspected he swung from both sides of that tree! But no, not that odd of a place. He's got the wanderlust like J.D. told you he would get and its tearing him up. He doesn't want to leave you guys but not doing his thing is eating him up. He needs to go and you are gonna have to kick that alley cat out the door and make him go for a bit before he gets all fat and useless."

So I am going to have to be the bad guy and do the right thing? I was feeling sick inside. I may bitch and gripe inside my head about my alley cat that takes up half my bed and always seems to end up laying half on me by morning, but I am used to him by now and Im kinda protective and attached to him. He doesn't take care of himself when hes on the road.

"You are mighty damn quiet. You got attached to that boy didn't you, Hard Ass?" All that talk of not wanting a keeper and neutering him, and him being nothing but a pain in the ass kid, and you have gotten attached. You have a link, he will come back and not just for that kid, but hes got to run for a bit."

I knew what I had to do, I had to send him packing even if it meant he took my heart with him for a bit.

I slammed open the door of the bedroom and said in my most terrifying command voice, "I AM DONE BABY SITTIING A PETER PAN SYNDROME, IRRESPONIBLE, PUNK ASS THAT CANT EVEN STAY SOBER LONG ENOUGH TO PUT THE SIDE UP ON A CRIB! PACK YOUR CRAP AND GET THE HELL OUT!"

He shot off the side of the bed and fell onto the floor, bare ass naked and looking every bit the deer in headlights. I tore into him, calling him every kind of thing I could think of, invading his personal space as he tried to explain himself, but I threw his jeans at him and told him over and over, "Just GO! GO WITH YOUR DAMN BAND!"

He tried begging, but I just kept on until he was nudged out of the bedroom and I slammed the door in his face and locked it. Listening through the baby monitor, I could hear him rattling around in the house, throwing his things into a bag and then staggering into his old room. He was alternately sobbing and muttering, and after a bit I heard him call Cullen and about 30 minutes after he left with J.D.

I don't think I have had a worse nights sleep in years.