I couldn't breathe. I struggled and struggled to take air in; something covered my face preventing the sweet, sweet oxygen from reaching my lungs. Out of nowhere the fact that I was dead hit me.

How many times could I forget I didn't have to breathe? A lot.

"Rafe, you might want to hurry up, I think she's waking up," Death said. My eyes almost flew open at the sound of his voice and when I realized the warm pillow my head rested on must have been his lap; they didn't, too heavy to do anything more than twitch.

"I'm working as fast as I can. There's only so much my powers can do. I have no idea how she survived in the first place. Hold her still."

Death's hands clasped around my wrists. I wondered why, and I got my answer when searing pain shot along my every nerve ending. My body spasmed; Death's grip held firm. A scream tore from my lips.

"Sh," Death hushed. "Sh, shush. Kid, you need to hold still."

"Death!" Raphael's hand gripped my leg, pinning it to the bed. Warmth wrapped around my ankles, meaning he was using his Grace to keep my legs still."You're not doing a very good job."

"Well, I'm sorry, do you want to hold the girl who's currently trying to phase through my body and the bed? Because I'd be glad to switch you."

"You don't know how to stitch a soul back together, so unless you want to hold her as she fades out of existence I suggest you pin her down."

Even as those words hit my ears, I continued to struggle, desperate to get away from the pain. It hurt so much, more than the tree.

"Kid," Death said, his voice wavering. "Ardia, hold still. He can't help you if you don't let him."

I didn't stop of course. No amount of words could convince me to. I freed one of my arms from Death's grip. I flailed, but he quickly caught it. Bruises would end up forming where his fingers were, but it was hard to feel how tight his grip really was. My eyes scrunched together, tears leaked from them.

"Make it stop," I mumbled. "Please." My voice broke into a cry. The towel covering my face disappeared, only to be replaced over my eyes. Something pressed against my lips. A hand slipped under my back and lifted me slightly.

"Death." Raphael's tone was a warning one.

"She was a mortal, it'll be easier for her to drink it sitting up. Come on, kid."

I pulled my hand free again, using it to blindly feel for whatever he was holding to my lips. A small vial, no bigger than size of my thumb. I guessed it was medicine.

Death released my other hand. "Sorry about this." I almost asked what, but I got my answer. He stuck his finger into one of my wounds. I screamed. Liquid spilled into my mouth. When it first hit my tongue, it wasn't bad, sweet but not bad. Only after that initial taste did I realize how bad it was. I started gagging at the overwhelming sweetness.

Laying me back, Death held my mouth closed. Warmth spread through me, and then coldness. As the seconds passed, my arms felt heavy, so did my legs.

"You couldn't've done that earlier?" Raphael asked. I no longer fought against him. Pain still coursed through me, but there wasn't anything I could do.

"I don't have much of that lying around. The last batch of it I made was for Jesus, and your dad only gave me enough for him and his miracles plus this last little bit." Breathing in awkward pants, I drew Death's attention. His hand brushed a cut on my cheek; it didn't heal.

Time passed, and I grew numb to the pain. Eventually, Raphael sighed. The warmth around my ankles disappeared. "That's the most I can do for her, short of a miracle from my dad. We both know why he won't give you one."

"Yeah, I heard what you guys said," Death said harshly. His tone softened as he tacked on, "Thanks, Rafe."

Raphael never responded.

When the towel was removed, I stared at the blurry ceiling. I blinked, everything coming into focus. I turned my head slightly, and found myself staring up at Death. With his eyes locked on the wall across from us, he messed with a piece of my hair. He sighed and looked at me.

"I'm going to let you get some sleep." He lifted me enough to get up. "If Rafe couldn't heal them, I can't. Night, kid." His feet seemed to slide across the floor as he headed for the door. Swallowing, I forced my way past whatever he gave me and sat up.

"What did the angels say?" I asked.

Death froze and spun around. "Kid, you need to stay laying down. You aren't healed."

"I will, if you tell me what they said."

"Kid."

"I'm not doing it until you tell me." I crossed my arms, ignoring the twinge of pain. This of course devolved into:

"Kid."

"Death."

"Ardia."

"Spooky man with a farming tool."

"Ardia Leanne."

"Death- Hey, what's you're full name?"

"Ardia Leanne Smith."

"Death Ardia Leanne Smith." The coincidence was astounding. Death stared at me, exhausted. He messed with his scarf.

"It wasn't just the angels. God and Lucifer got in on it, and they both agree. Which isn't a sentence I thought I'd say, but this has been a weird week, even for me."

"What did they say?" I asked, leaning forward. I almost fell off the bed, but caught myself at last minute. If I hadn't, I would've been hurting a whole lot more.

"They thought you were being an idiot, that I gave you too much freedom."

"So? I got your scythe back, didn't I? You can't seriously think-"

"They're right."

I stared at him in stunned silence. "They're right?"

"Kid, if something would've happened to you, the balance would've failed." He kept talking and talking, but I zoned out. They wanted to blame me if the balance failed? Me? The person who knew they couldn't handle it and asked for help before resorting to drastic measures? He paused, probably to think up more reasons to yell at me. My voice broke the silence.

"You're taking their side?!"

His eyes widened and he put his hands between us. "This isn't about sides-"

"-I can't believe you! What next? You lock me in my room like a misbehaving child-"

"-YOU COULD'VE DIED!" In the aftermath of the shout, the silence seemed deafening. Death took a step closer, clutching hold of my shoulders. "You could've died," softer. "I nearly lost you. If you want to make this about sides, I'm on whatever side keeps you alive. Can't you see that?"

Whatever arguement I could've thought of died in my throat. My eyes focused on Death's face, on the tears streaming down it. His eyes which had flared up as he yelled at me dulled to be as lifeless as his domain. Dark particles floated around him, and I half worried they would rot through the bed frame.

His grip tightened, fingers digging hard into my shoulders. He closed his eyes and dropped his head.

"Kid, don't get me wrong, I appreciate what you did, you didn't have to do it. You came up with an idea and you acted on it, but it was the stupidest idea you could've possibly came up with!" One of Death's hands moved to adjust his scarf. "If Rafe hadn't been there you-" He cut off; he swallowed. "-you wouldn't have survived. You're soul would've ripped itself to shreds. I wouldn't have been able to bring you back."

I didn't move when Death dropped his hands. He moved his cloak to the side and reached into one of the pockets. After an awkward minute of searching, he pulled out a small book.

Cracks covered the dark weathered cover. Small green wisps of light danced along the leather, slowly mending the gashes. Death stared at the book, before holding it towards me.

"Uh, isn't that the book with my soul in it?" I asked. I didn't take it from him. Looking at it filled me with dread, and the grim expression on Death's face did nothing to ease it. There was no hint of a smile on his face, and his eyes were the darkest I'd ever seen them. He nodded.

"You said you wished that I would have sent you on your way. I'll do it. I'll let you pass on. Just take the book, and I'll take you to Heaven. You can give the book to God. You'll move on, see your family again, do everything I kept you from being able to do, and you'll never have to deal with me or Life again," he said, dropping the book into my lap. I winced as it hit one of the wounds not yet healed, sending a fresh surge of pain through my body. I gritted my teeth until it passed.

I brushed my hand across the cover. The leather gave off warmth, making the rest of my body cold by comparison. I stared at the book. Cursive script spelled out my first name in silver letters. I dragged my thumb across it, expecting it to be warm. The cold from it shocked my body, making my entire hand ache like I stuck it in the snow for too long. The realization hit me harder than Life. I could leave. I wasn't trapped being an apprentice, I wasn't trapped doing a job that I didn't really want. I could live the rest of my afterlife in peace, well, at least until the apocalypse. My days could be spent doing whatever normal dead people do. I picked the book up with a smile on my face, and I stood up

"Ready, kid?" Death pulled his scarf up, and he stared out the window. Nothing interesting could be seen outside, something I'd grown to accept as fact. Being on the second floor in a dimension devoid of life didn't exactly come with a five-star view. Though if I got lucky, I could see one.

As my eyes lingered on him, my resolution wavered. I hesitated. Trails from his tears could still be seen on his cheeks, the residue shining in the light from my lamp. His eyes hadn't yet returned to their normal, bright glow. My gaze moved to the book in my hands.

He had no reason to care, not about me, so why did he? I couldn't come up with one, well, one that made sense. Over and over the questions played in my mind. Why would Death care? Why would he be this upset about my near destruction?

I swallowed. I was going to hate myself later. "Here," I said, pushing the book back into his hands. "I think I'm going to stick around for a little bit longer."

Death stared at the book, not processing what I said. Suddenly, his eyes widened, and he looked at me. "Kid, if I don't sever your connection to me soon, I might never be able to do it. This could be your only chance. Your only chance to have a normal afterlife."

"Normal's overrated," I said. "Besides, I'm perfectly fine staying here, I mean, wherever I end up I'll have ticked someone off. Raphael doesn't exactly like me; he probably only helped me because he's a healer or whatever. On the other hand, we have Luci, and I don't need to start on why ending up in Hell would end up bad for me." I chuckled.

Death joined in before shaking his head. "He'd torture you himself." He paused. "But are you sure? I'm not going to keep you here unless you really want to, plus getting tortured by Lycifer himself would earn you major points in Hell." The book bent under his white-knuckle grip, but the cracks kept sealing.

"I'm sure. At least I know I'll never get bored, and that's worth more than security. What's the point if an afterlife if you can't enjoy it?"

His eyes searched mine one last time, as if making sure I was sure. Satisfied, Death tucked the book into the pocket of his jeans. He turned away from the window. Why he didn't do that earlier, who knows? It would've kept him from straining his neck. "Get back in that bed and rest. You're still not fully healed, and you're grounded."

"Hey!" The indignation clear in my voice, I crossed my arms. "I tracked down Clara, got the key, and brought back your scarf and scythe. I think that's enough to keep me from getting grounded."

"Hey, you're the one who wanted to stay," he said with a smile. I couldn't see the smile itself, but it reached his eyes. Death walked out of my room; he looked back. "And for the record, I didn't think about doing this until you mentioned it. See you at dinner." He closed the door. The lock clicked.

I should've been mad. I should've been upset that he locked me in my room like some seven year old because I tried to do something nice for him, for the world. Somehow, the emotions avoided me. I couldn't bring myself to anger. I may have mumbled out a few choice words about him being an overbearing dad, but those stemmed from annoyance more than anything else. Half of that annoyance was aimed at myself for giving him such a stupid idea.

I laid back on my bed, hoping I made the right decision. The pictures on the wall stared at me, and I stared back. Somehow the cold, dead yellow eyes couldn't stop that hope from swelling in my chest, though they did make a lurking question rear its ugly head. Would I regret staying? Probably, most likely, yes. I didn't fall asleep, but I didn't move from the mattress. Until the lock clicked and I shot up, jumped off the bed, and promptly collapsed into a heap. The door opened and Death stared down at me.

"Do you need help?" he asked, leaning crutches against the wall. I stared at him; he helped me up and handed me the crutches. With the scent of grilled cheese filling my nostrils and a way to get to it, I rushed out of the room. Behind me, the unmistakable sound of falling paper almost got drowned out by the click click of my crutches, but I heard it. I'd pick it up later.

Honestly, Death's cooking could be reason enough to stay on its own, but as we sat talking and laughing there was something I realized. He seemed happy. Whatever cold indifference that lurked in our every interaction had vanished. I started to see the difference Uriel mentioned. Watching him laugh at an extremely bad pun, I sighed.

The possibility of regretting my decision weighed on my mind. My heart and my soul were two separate things, but I had no idea which was telling me this. Either way, I ignored it. I listened to the identical voice, the one telling ne everything would turn out okay, that thos was the best thing to do with my afterlife.

"Kid? You okay?" Death asked, snapping me from my thoughts.

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"I asked you a question, and you just stared at me."

I smiled. "Just wondering how much I'll regret not moving on." I took another bite from my sandwich, finishing it off while trying to convince him I hadn't been second guessing myself.

A wide bright smile on his face, he laughed. It was his bright, happy laugh, one I'd heard only a few times before. "I regret this job, and I never had a choice."

I smiled and laughed along, not missing how his began to sound forced towards the end. Out of nowhere, he stood and walked to the fridge, returning with a can of root beer and a bottle of his favorite soda.

"What's this for?" I asked, taking the can from him.

"We took care of four, technically five, immortals, kid. I think this is cause for celebration. I'm thinking horror movie marathon?"

"Only if you invite Luci and the angels. I'm not getting jumpscared by an actual demon." I smiled. I was going to enjoy the rest of my afterlife.

Chapter: 2,751

Book: 80,054

No more chapters! This book is done!

So any suggestions are welcome

So are any questions.

I'm gonna eat.

See yah