2 Chapter one:

I'll make you some eggs. Elijah said as he picked up a pair of jeans from the floor. We're going to Morse Reservoir today, if you want to come. Deanna heaved herself back onto the bed.

No thanks. I'll just stay here.

Elijah's eyes flicked over Deanna's un awakened face.

Why don't you come? It might be fun. Remember fun?

Deanna smiled tightly, the levity of the conversation almost making her nauseous.

Besides, you haven't talked to Ben in a week. Elijah sat on the bed next to Deanna, taking her hand in his. I don't mind you staying in our spare room, but it's like living with a ghost. I told you I wasn't going to push you-

You're right, you did. Deanna cut in, regretting her tone. I'm sorry. I'm trying.

I know you are. So am I. That's why I'm asking you if you want to go to the park.

He brushed the light hairs on the back of Deanna's neck. The pure emotion made her stomach twist. Deanna withdrew his hand from the back of her neck.

Give me a couple of minutes.

Elijah pursued her lips, as though he wanted to say more. Instead, she kissed Deanna on the cheek and stood up. As the door he turned and held up Deanna's discarded jeans.

Just in case you care to join us, I'm going to throw these in the wash.

Deanna nodded.

Elijah closed the door to Deanna's room, slowly clicking the lock. He stood there for a moment wondering whether he had made a mistake when Deanna came to his front door and he let her into his and his son's life. Ben was twelve, impressionable and sensitive. He knew deep down how generous and kind Deanna was, but he also knew that the years of hunting had calloused her ability to commit herself emotionally.

He thought that perhaps he could get through to her. Two months on, he wondered if he had done the right thing. Emotionally, Deanna was out - of control rollercoaster with flat brakes. It was only a matter of time before she ran off the rails.

Deanna sat on the edge of the bed, then lay back and closed her eyes. In her head she played over again the vision of Samantha jumping into the pit of Hell: the fiery opening swirling and writhing in the middle of the cemetery. She had been there for her sister, but there hadn't been anything thing that she could do to stop her.

Talk about being impotent. Samantha had to jump, but an acidly feeling of regret constantly swirled in Deanna's stomach. She should have stopped her. But there wasn't any other way. Every so often, like every two minutes, Deanna's heart would palpitate and leap into her throat. The reality was constantly there, Deanna's brain wouldn't let it go: Samantha was gone forever. The smoky Scotch she drank in large gulps helped her cause. But frequently, mid- morning, after Ben had gone to school and Elijah had left to teach an early morning yoga class in Carmel, Deanna's mind would clear enough so that once again she remembered, moment by moment, Samantha jumping into the pit.

There had been no other way to save the world. Samantha had said yes, and Lucifer had taken over Samantha's body. The plan rested on the tenuous idea that Samantha could somehow gain enough consciousness that she could hurl herself, with Lucifer within her, into the hole. The sisters had collected the four horsemen rings- Death gave Deanna his ring outright - and together the rings opened the portal to Hell. But it didn't go down like that. They weren't able to get Lucifer into the portal. As was their fate, Lucifer and Michael met on the battlefield, ready to duke it out. The collateral damage would only be a few hundred million lives, and no one would need Pay- Per View for this fight, it was going to be outside everyone's front door.

But on the field, in the middle of the fight, somehow Samantha had gained enough control of her own body, while possessed by Lucifer, to hurl herself into the cage. And there she would stay for eternity. With that act, a hole opened in Deanna's soul and there was no way to fill it. The Scotch only anesthetized her for a few hours. After that, the thoughts would come flooding back. The panicky guilt would set and Deanna would race down the stairs to the kitchen looking for everything and anything to drink in order to knock herself out again.

Once, Elijah had found her on the kitchen floor in just her night shirt and panties: a bottle of cough syrup spilled onto the linoleum beside her, a glass smashed on the floor and several shards embedded in her feet. Elijah had patiently brought her upstairs and put her in the shower then waited until she sobered up enough to get into bed. The next morning when Deanna woke, Elijah was perched on the side of her bed watching her.

Not your finest moment yesterday, she said.

Yeah, sorry about that. Maybe it wasn't the best idea coming here.

Maybe I want you to get better, Deanna.

Deanna drew her fingers across her brow and pinched them together.

I don't think you can better from something like this. That's why I probably should leave. Deanna made a move to get out of bed.

You're not leaving. You can stay as long as you want. But you have to make the decision if you want to move past that this.

You can't just move on from something like this,, Elijah. I let her do it.

There was no other way. Remember you said that? I can't forgive you, Deanna. You have to do that on your own. Elijah got up and turned at the door. You couldn't have done anything else.

Deanna shook her head. I'm not sure about that.

No one could have. Elijah hand hovered over the doorknob. I'll bring you up some coffee. He shut the door, leaving Deanna with her heart beating in her ears. Day by day, Deanna had started to rejoin the ranks of the living: she got up a little earlier rather than sleeping until noon, at night she would join Elijah and Ben while they were watching TV, still with a bottle close to hand, but drinking a little less every day. Deanna's relationship with Elijah thrived through Deanna's self- imposed confinement.