I wrote this a long time ago, posted it, then took it down. I'm editing it. We'll see how it goes :)

Disclaimer: I own nada.

Enjoy the prologue :P

One man cannot single-handedly prevent the end of the world. Henry Spencer had tried, and he had tried hard, but there were some things that just weren't meant to be.

If someone had asked him a week ago whether or not the world would come to an end, Henry would have told them to spend more time thinking about life. Death was something common in his line of work and he would rather spend his free time with thoughts about fishing, cooking, or anything else he had some control over.

And if someone had come up to Henry and told him that within a week's time the world would end, he would have completely disregarded the statement. The end of the world was a topic of conversation for hippies and religious fanatics and he simply didn't have time for all that nonsense.

Funny, though, how the world did come to an end within that week, in the middle of the night when Henry was sleeping soundly. A phone call had knocked the wind right out of him, informing him the world had come to a horrible, bitter end.

A phone call informed him that his son was dead.