The phone rang, insistent until a voicemail prompt silenced it. I semi-roused from the swirling darkness of blessed sleep, rolled over, and sighed, drifting back down into emotionless slumber. There, I found refuge from the pain.

Yet, the ringing of the bells woke me. No, wait, it was the phone again. Someone truly wanted to contact me. Everyone in my life knew to text. Granted, I'd been ignoring the texts for over a week; talking to people and having to endure them trying to coddle me made me grind my teeth.

I had been napping on the couch. If I slept most of the day away on the couch, I didn't feel the guilt that rode a decision to just stay in bed. Now, I was awake, but the phone stopped before I could catch it.

I knew it would ring again. It had to be my best friend, Shawna. She was the only one, except my family, who would be so insistent. Hell, maybe my family put Shawna up to it.

I had just closed my eyes when the grossly annoying ringtone sounded a final time. Damnit! I reached out.

"Hello, Shawna," I answered the call flatly. "I'm napping. What's going on?" I tried not to sound annoyed but failed miserably.

"Olivia! We've all been so worried! You're not responding to texts or emails, or instant messages. You're not even on Twitter or Instagram. You love Twitter and Instagram."

Spent, I sighed. "Loved. I loved Twitter and Instagram. Back when I had a daughter to share with the world. She's gone, Shawna, and I'm mourning and need a little solitude. What do you want?"

"Well, gee Olivia. I know you feel about as crappy as anyone could rightly feel, but that doesn't excuse inappropriate behavior. Say you're sorry."

"Ha!" I barked before hanging up on my closest confidante. What a bitch! She doesn't understand. I turned the phone to silent, rolled over, and tried to locate that place of no emotion once again. But it was too late. I was awake now, and I knew I needed to find something to do to distract myself.

Just as I decided to get up, a light tapping sounded on my French door, accompanied by a deep, but enthusiastic, bark. The sound came again, and I groaned, peeking over the couch's back to see who was being so insistent.

At first, only Angel appeared to be outside, but then, a hand reached into the half-shadow from the bright sunlight to tap on the door again. "Olivia! Come, take a walk with Angel and me! You need to get out of the house."

Grumbling, even as I knew Lucifer was right, I shuffled to the door. I unlocked and opened it enough to squeeze through so Angel wouldn't barge inside and wreak havoc. Lucifer once again dressed in khaki shorts, a hoodie, and beach shoes.

"If you will not get up and go to therapy, I have no choice but to bring therapy to you." He pointed at the panting dog.

"A dog? You think a dog is therapy?"

"No, actually, I think a kitten is therapy!" He held out the vented carrier box that appeared in his hand.

A tiny mew called from the cardboard crate, and, despite my heart melting, I crossed my arms and scowled at him. "I don't need a kitten, thank you."

"No? Would you rather have a puppy?" The box was suddenly heavier, and a whine escaped it.

"No! I don't care for dogs."

"A turtle, perhaps? Or a parakeet? How about a hedgehog?"

I imagined each animal appearing in the carrier, a virtual mini zoo of household pets, and finally grabbed it from him, just to get him to stop.

"Do I have a choice about this?" I asked.

"Your choice is which baby beastie you would like to have to love and pet and squeeze and name George," Lucifer explained, grinning.

"Why?"

"Why what? Why do you have a choice?"

"No, why are you insisting on me having a kitten?" I asked and heard the mew again. I set the box on the ground, and Angel sniffed at it, curious. I pushed the big oaf away.

"Because you're stuck, and having something to focus on other than your grief will be good for you."

I opened the carrier and lifted the cutest ball of fluff I'd ever seen. It was black, naturally. I couldn't help but snuggle it close.

"Why do you care?" I demanded. "Aren't you happier that I feel miserable? I mean, don't you feed on that sort of thing or something?"

Lucifer picked up Angel's ball and threw it toward the ocean. The dog barked gaily and barreled after it, determined to massacre the bright green toy, I concluded. He stood watching Angel. "Whether I do or not is immaterial. What is important here is, if you continue to mope around, I will never get the souls." He twisted to gaze at me. "And I want those souls." His eyes glittered, even in the half-shadow of the overhanging roof.

I turned to take the small cat inside. "Ah. I should have known this was about you and not me." I eyed the pile of kitten-care-package items which appeared just beyond the door.

"Oh, come now, Olivia. I want what I want. Is there harm in it if it helps you get better? We can both benefit here." He touched my shoulder and stopped me. "Come with us. Bring George."

I sighed, twisted out from under his light grip, knowing he'd only bug me until I gave in. "Okay. Let me get my hoodie."

He waited on the deck for me, receiving the ball Angel spat out at his feet. He threw it again.

I returned, trying to pull the hoodie on but struggling to do so because of the kitten, now named George. I wondered if he knew or cared she was female.

"Here, let me help you." He reached out and grasped the bottom edge of the hoodie, pulling it down, scraping his hands along my ribs and sides as he did.

I shivered at his tingling touch, and he chuckled. My glowering head popped out of the neck, and he laughed outright. "You do look delightful when you are angry."

"Those kinds of bullshit sentiments will get you a lengthy delay on those souls you want," I stated.

He knew I was serious. "I am sorry. That was derogatory and misogynic of me. It will not happen again."

I stuffed George into my hood, and the kitten settled, content to ride in the relative warmth under my long hair. I'd considered cutting it recently but hadn't decided. It meant going out of the house and interacting with people, and I didn't feel ready. The reason loomed, ever-present in my psyche, and my heartfelt as if squeezed by an invisible hand until it was hard to breathe. Deirdre.

I understood the phrase, 'Dying of a broken heart.'

He looked at me with compassion and reached for my hand, tugging on it. "Come on."

I pulled out of his grip as Angel loped up to me and spat out his favorite toy again.

"Throw the ball for him as hard as you can. It will make you feel better," Lucifer encouraged.

"I am not picking up a drool-soaked ball! Ew."

He snapped his fingers, and the tennis ball appeared to be as new and as dry as when it first came out of the can. I sighed, carefully squatted down so I didn't dump George to pick it up. Turning to the ocean, I threw it overhand with all my strength.

"Next time, yell when you throw it."

"What? Why?"

"Because scream therapy works when you are in mourning."

What's with him and all this therapy bullshit? I rolled my eyes and stepped off the deck into the sun-warmed sand, Lucifer trailing behind me. Angel, bless his heart, ran back to me full tilt, just like he did the first night we met. Only, this time, when he attempted to skid to a stop, he hit a section of beach which caused him to roll tail-over-head toward me.

Lucifer reached out and, quicker than I could hope to react, pulled me out of the way of being the human bowling pin. He clutched me to him until Angel came to a complete stop. The dog must have had the time of his life because he jumped up, barked like mad, and ran in circles.

I yanked myself out of the Devil's warm embrace, scowling. I seemed to do that a lot around him. "You keep touching me. Stop."

He looked more sorrowful than I had expected. It reached his eyes; they appeared old and lonely.

His expression was one of the saddest things I'd seen in recent memory, and the realization he had few people in his life had me reaching for my phone. I dialed. "Hey, it's me." I paused, walking away to have a more private conversation.

"You hung up on me!" Shawna exclaimed. I could hear the hurt in her voice.

Crap. "Yeah, you're right. It was uncalled for. I'm sorry."

She was silent for a moment. "It's okay. I mean, I understand you're upset. I just wanted to know if I could come and see you?"

"Yeah. Come by tomorrow. Bring Chinese for lunch. I don't feel like cooking, and your skills in the kitchen frighten me."

She cheered considerably. "Will do!"

"Okay. Bye."

"Ta!"

I gave a weak smile at her antics as I made my way back to Lucifer and Angel; she always sounded so ridiculous when she said it.

I was watching him, hand stuffed into his hoodie pocket. "You are fortunate to have friends and family who care about you, Olivia."

"Yes. I agree. I was pretty crappy to her a little while ago. I'm glad she was so understanding."

Lucifer only nodded and handed the magically dried ball to me once more.

I turned again to the ocean and, as I threw it, I funneled all the sudden rage I felt into the ball and screamed as it careened toward the surf. Angel cocked his head and looked at me for a moment before barking and running after it.

Perhaps I'm not as far along in the grieving process as I think. I burst into tears and leaned into Lucifer, who didn't quite know what to do. He'd promised not to touch me.

"Um. Can I hug you?" he asked, and I nodded into his chest. He wrapped his arms around me, comforting me as I sobbed until all the tears had fallen.

What am I doing? He's the Devil! I stepped away abruptly. "I'm sorry."

He attempted to close the gap I'd made. "I am not."

I put a hand on him and pushed gently. "I can't. Not with you. We have too much bargain between us to have this work."

He sighed. "Perhaps you are right."