Now it's the last chapter. I just want to thank those of you who've stuck with me through this (because it took me two fucking years like wow I suck). Each review, each favorite, each follow...they all mean so much to me; y'all have no idea. I'd especially like to thank Kirabaros, sarahmichellegellarfan1, and shewaslikeahurricane for reviewing on basically every single chapter. You three rock my socks.

I'm planning to wait a month or so before posting the first chapter of the next story, titled There Will Still Be You and Me. (Of course this isn't the end.) So, if I'm not already one of your followed authors and you actually wanna read the next story, start following me! Or, if you're like super opposed to that for some reason, just check back every now and then within the next four or five weeks. I hope that you'll all stick around!

I don't own Supernatural or any references to anything else you may recognize.

"Good morning, beautiful," Sam said as my eyes fluttered open.

I groaned and rolled away from him. "Too early for cheese," I mumbled, and he laughed.

"We have different definitions of early," he said, "and cheese."

A reluctant grin crossed my face, and I turned back to face him. Of course, he was already dressed and ready to go. Glancing around the room, I saw that he'd also packed our bags. I pushed myself into a sitting position and yawned widely. "Food?" I said hopefully.

He grabbed a paper bag from the nightstand and handed it to me. "Biscuits," he said as I reached into the bag. "And coffee." He held out a Styrofoam cup, and I frowned.

"Hotel coffee?" I pouted.

He rolled his eyes. "It's free."

"Everything's free for us."

"D'you want it or not? Because I'll drink it if you don't."

"Ugh, fine," I huffed. "Give it here."

He grinned. "What's the magic word?" he teased.

I glowered at him. "Now."

"Fine, but only because you're cute when you're grumpy."

"I'll kill you," I threatened, though the force of it was lessened by my barely suppressed smile, "and sell your body on the black market—$250,000, remember?"

He shrugged, unconcerned. "I'll just come back in a few months, anyway. And then we can split the money."

"Not funny."

"Sorta funny."

I gave up, and I made a face as I took a tentative sip of coffee. "This tastes like death." He raised his eyebrows at me and reached for the cup. "I'm still gonna drink it!" I protested. "I'm just not happy about it."

"You're never happy," Sam said, gazing at me fondly, and I blushed.

"That's not true," I muttered, not meeting his eye—I wasn't used to being the cheesy one, and what I was about to say was definitely cheesy. "I'm always happy with you."

I let him take the coffee cup and the paper bag away from me then. He pushed my hair behind my ear and lifted my chin, guiding my mouth to his, and I closed my eyes and melted into the kiss.

Wait, I thought suddenly. This has happened before. Exactly like this. I pulled away from Sam, and he watched me expectantly.

"Sam, does this feel weird to you?" I asked him. "Like déjà vu but worse?"

He didn't reply; instead, he laughed, and I got the feeling he couldn't hear what I'd said. I climbed out of bed and backed toward the door, a sinking feeling growing in the pit of my stomach. Something's wrong. Sam didn't react to me getting up; he just continued to stare where I'd been sitting. Something is seriously—

Then it all came flooding back: Sucrocorp, Meg, Sam, the burning pain in my back and chest…

"I'm dead," I breathed, and I held onto the wall for support. I felt my chest for the stab wound but only found old scars. "Holy fuck. I'm dead." I looked around the room. Sam was talking to the spot I'd vacated as though I was still there. It's a memory, I realized. I glanced down and saw the ring on my finger. This was the morning after he proposed. Wait, does that mean—? "Am I in Heaven?!" I exclaimed aloud. "How the hell am I in Heaven?!"

"You have such a low opinion of yourself," an amused voice said from behind me. I spun to see an unfamiliar man standing there with his hands clasped in front of him. "You spent too much time with the Winchesters." There was a sparkle in his eye and the hint of a smile on his face as he said those words, and I knew that he was joking—mostly.

"Who the hell are you?!" I was too shocked to be polite, but my rudeness didn't seem to bother him. "Or—or what the hell are you?"

"I am Ezekiel," he said, his smile growing. "I'm the angel appointed to you."

I raised my eyebrows in confusion. "What d'you mean, 'appointed to me?'"

"Each person in Heaven is appointed an angel to watch over them—to supervise, make sure everything is running smoothly. Each angel has multiple charges—you are one of 3,000."

"Whoa." I blinked in surprise.

"It's my job."

"You must be loaded then—or do angels work for free?"

"The job is reward enough," Ezekiel said loyally.

"Uh-huh… So do you appear to every one of your charges, or just to those who start majorly freaking out?"

He smiled again. "You are a special case, Garideth."

"I'm flattered," I said drily. "What does that mean, exactly?"

"You defied your nature and became a hero. Like the Winchesters that you're so fond of, you are not an ordinary human."

I frowned. "I'm not human at all. I'm part demon, part witch, all freak. By rights, I should be burning in Hell with my dear old dad right about now—you said it yourself: evil's in my nature."

"I also said that you defied that nature," Ezekiel reminded me. "And you did. You helped the Winchesters stop the Apocalypse; you fought the New God; you brought about the fall of the Leviathan."

"Yeah, and I also killed my dad, got addicted to demon blood, and murdered a bunch of innocent people," I said sourly. I didn't know why I was arguing—it wasn't like I wanted to be in Hell. I just couldn't understand how I could end up in Heaven.

"You showed regret for your actions, and you've spent every moment since then making up for your mistakes," Ezekiel said patiently, as if talking to a small child, and I bristled at the slight condescension. "We recognize repentance and the determination behind it—why do you think Catholicism is so popular?"

"Was that a joke?" I said, impressed. "Wow, Zeke, I didn't know you tree toppers made jokes."

"Zeke?" he questioned. "Is that a nickname?"

I shrugged. "Yeah, I guess. Quicker to say than Ezekiel."

"We don't have nicknames."

"Well, now you do." I glanced around the room again. Sam was still sitting in the bed, and it looked as though he'd been frozen in place. "So, uh, can we get outta here?" I asked Zeke, still gazing longingly at Sam. "This is kinda creeping me out." As I said the words, the room faded away, leaving us in an office with cold white walls and a metal desk. "Huh. No, this is worse." I frowned. "Is this your office?"

"All of the offices look the same," Ezekiel said, "but, yes, this is mine."

I made a face. "I get why you're all so uptight all the time now. This is enough to make anyone an emotionless douchebag." I glanced at Zeke, waiting for a reaction, but he just stared back at me. "So, you said I'm a special case because of what I did with Sam and Dean. Does that mean I get special treatment?" He frowned at that, and I thought that maybe I was onto something. "I mean, I'm sure you don't let everyone else leave their personal heavens whenever they want."

"You're right," he said finally, sounding defeated. He narrowed his eyes, scrutinizing me for a moment. "Do you remember your reaper?" he asked, and I wondered where that question had come from.

I shook my head. "I closed my eyes and woke up beside fake Sam. Why, am I supposed to remember my reaper?"

He let out a long sigh. "Just as I thought."

"What? What's wrong?"

"Yes," he said. "Yes, you're supposed to remember your reaper. But Heaven is a bit…disorganized at the moment."

"Because of the Leviathans?" I asked, and Ezekiel's eyes widened in surprise. "Cas—uh, Castiel said that they wiped out his entire Garrison. I thought that meant all the angels, but I guess not. But that had to cause some discord, right?"

Ezekiel nodded slowly as he got over his shock. "Yes, that's right. They were among the highest order of angels since the archangels died. Without them, we're a little…lost," he admitted somewhat shamefully. "We're following the orders put in place before—before the massacre, but those can only last so long."

"So why does it matter if I remember my reaper or not?"

"Reapers are supposed to guide souls to Heaven, as you know," he said, "or give the choice to stay as a spirit. In some cases—quick or very violent deaths, for example—the process is simplified. Quick deaths usually go straight to Heaven and violent deaths stay behind."

"Then shouldn't I be a ghost right now?" I asked curiously. "Being stabbed in the back and left to die is pretty fucking violent."

Zeke flinched, and I wondered bewilderedly if my language offended him. "You died in Sam Winchester's arms—" I dropped my gaze, uncomfortable with the memory "—you died content, with no ill will. You should have had a choice, but it seems that you were streamlined to Heaven."

"It doesn't matter," I assured him. "I would've chosen to leave, anyway. Staying behind never works out the way you want it to," I said, thinking of Bobby.

Ezekiel huffed. "No, it's more the principle—it's how things are done. We're all wandering around, blind in the darkness without our superiors. If we don't have order, we have nothing."

"You guys place way too much stock on rules."

"It's how we were made."

"Not all of you."

He knew instantly what I was talking about. "Castiel is an exception. He is more susceptible to humanity than most."

"You say that like it's a bad thing."

A tiny smile crossed his face. "Castiel is one of the most compassionate angels I have ever met—but that has been his downfall many times."

I shrugged. "Well, you're not wrong. Anyway, so do I get a conciliation prize or something?"

He frowned. "Excuse me?"

"Y'know, for not having a proper death experience?"

"Oh. No, I have nothing to give you."

"You could send me back," I suggested, playing it as a joke, but we both knew I was being serious.

Something flashed across Zeke's face so quickly that I couldn't read it, and he shifted uncomfortably. "Wouldn't you rather stay here where you're always safe and happy?"

"You're such an angel," I sighed.

"Well, yes," he said confusedly.

"Safe and happy is boring," I explained, and it was my turn to sound knowledgeable. "The best moments come right after the danger and the pain—that's when you really appreciate everything. You can't be happy without the threat of being sad later. You're happy whenever you can manage it, and it's better because you know it's fleeting."

Ezekiel gazed at me thoughtfully for a moment. "I can't say that I understand," he said at last. "But I see that you truly mean this."

"Well, yeah. Y'know, maybe you should take a page outta Cas's book and spend some time among us humans," I advised. "It might do you some good to be more susceptible to humanity."

"I'll have to take your word for it," he said, still regarding me curiously.

"So what now, huh?" I crossed my arms over my chest and looked at him expectantly. "You gonna put me back in my memories and never talk to me again? You should probably make me forget this little encounter, though, because there's no way I'll just stay in my own heaven for the rest of eternity. I'll get bored, and you'll have to deal with me."

"Actually, I was planning on persuading you," he said matter-of-factly.

"Oh, yeah? And how were you planning to—?"

Suddenly, the small office started spinning, and everything went dark.

~Supernatural~Supernatural~Supernatural~

Greg sat our scrawny little Christmas tree down in the corner of our disorganized hotel room. Ella handed me a bag full of pine tree air fresheners while she kept the bag of candy canes, and we knelt down in front of the tree to decorate it. It seemed that both of us were determined to put everything we'd bought on the tiny tree's few branches, and the poor plant was suffering because of that—it was tilted to the side, causing the bottoms of the air fresheners to rest halfway on the old, dirty carpet.

Greg had been cracking jokes about the tree the entire time we'd been decorating it. "Don't put too much stuff on it," he teased us, "or ya won't be able to see the tree!"

I narrowed my eyes at him over my shoulder. "Shut up!" I shot back. "You're just jealous that the tree is prettier than you!"

His face broke into a large grin, causing his eyes to crinkle at the corners and his cheeks to dimple deeply as he let out a loud laugh. "Yeah, sure," he chuckled, "that's the reason I'm makin' fun of it."

Those words shook me out of the scene. I curled in on myself, blocking Greg from view. I didn't want to see him. It hurt too much. "No," I mumbled. "No, no, no. I'm not doing this. I'm not." Greg and Ella continued joking with each other, oblivious to my actions. "I don't wanna do this. I know it's not real. I don't wanna do this."

"Does it really matter that it's not real?"

My head shot up at Ezekiel's voice, and I glared up at him from my spot on the floor. "Of course it matters," I snapped. "They're just memories. They've happened before. I can't ever really be with Greg again. This is…" I blinked rapidly, trying to hold back the tears in my eyes as Greg's laugh reached my ears again. "…it's cruel," I finished quietly.

"I have to say, you're the first person who has ever said that," Zeke said, and I could tell he really didn't understand the difference just by the way he was looking at me.

"Show me a future with him," I said, and I glanced over at Greg, "and then we'll talk."

Ezekiel shook his head slowly. "I'm sorry, but that is not how this works. Perhaps another memory?"

I realized what he was saying a moment too late.

~Supernatural~Supernatural~Supernatural~

"Anywhere But Here," Ella prompted as she sat down on the couch beside me. She had just put Sami and Johnny to bed, and the boys were out drinking. I'd decided to keep Ella company—it wasn't like she could really enjoy a bar in her current pregnant state, and I figured I should spend as much time as possible with her while we were in town.

"What are the rules?" I asked. "Celebrities only, or…?"

She shook her head. "No rules."

"Hm…" I propped my head on my hand as I thought of a scenario. "Fabio, sailing the Spanish Main," I teased, and she rolled her eyes.

"I dunno how ya still remember that," she giggled. "I can't remember anythin' 'bout yours except it was with Angel."

"Alaska if it was Angel; a beach in Italy if it was David Boreanaz," I said automatically, and she raised her eyebrows at me in surprise. "What?" I shrugged embarrassedly. "I take my Buffy very seriously."

"Don't I know it. But, c'mon, be serious!"

"Uh...well, with Sam, obviously," I said, and she nodded.

"Of course."

"Maybe on a beach? We haven't been to the beach in so long, and, hey, any excuse to see Sam with his shirt off."

Ella snorted. "If we went now, I'd get thrown into the water for lookin' like a damn beached whale." She ran her hand over her large stomach and sighed. "Just four more months."

"You really didn't try to find out what it's gonna be this time?" I asked.

"It doesn't really matter—I still got Sami and Johnny's old clothes, so I'm ready for anythin'."

"But what about names?"

"Who said I don't have names picked out already?"

"Last time, you said that no one had died recently so you didn't know what to name it."

Ella winced. "Did I really say that?"

"Pretty much."

"Oh, God. I'm a terrible person."

"You get that from me," I joked, and she laughed. "Okay, your turn. Anywhere But Here. Go."

"Dean, back in our house in Abbeville, with you and Sam and Bobby and Cas and the twins and this new kid, whatever it's gonna be," she rushed out, not even having to think about it.

The matter-of-fact way that she said it had left me breathless the first time we'd had the conversation, and it did it again, too. "Zeke!" I called weakly. "Stop doing that!"

The angel appeared beside the couch, looking very put-out. "This one lasted longer than the other two," he noted. "What happened?"

"I'm pretty sure intense emotion is what messes it up," I told him, for I'd just been wondering the same thing. "The first time, Sam kissed me. The second time, Greg laughed. And this time…" I looked back at Ella, who was talking slowly with tears in her eyes. "Well, you get the idea."

"I don't understand," Zeke said. "If this conversation is sad, why is it a happy memory?"

"We played Anywhere But Here," I said, and I sighed at the clueless look on his face. "It's a game of pretend. You think of a person you wanna be with and a place you wanna be with that person. It can get really out of control, especially with Ella. The first time we played, she—" I broke off then as I realized I was getting carried away. "It was the first time we'd done it in a little over a year. We ended up talking about how awful of an aunt I'd be; then the boys stumbled in drunk and Dean accidentally tried to kiss me." I grinned at the memory. "And then he threw up." I was unable to hold back my laughter, and Ezekiel watched me with an increasingly troubled expression. "What?" I asked when I'd finished laughing. "What's wrong now?"

"Nothing," he said quickly, and, before I had time to pester him, the room started spinning again.

~Supernatural~Supernatural~Supernatural~

I was aware of what was going on the moment I saw the ring in my hand, but I couldn't bring myself to interrupt this memory. It had only been a couple of weeks ago, hardly any time at all—it still felt close, still felt real, and real was what I wanted. So I decided to let the memory control me like the others had.

"It's a moonstone," Sam explained, and his voice was a little steadier, like he'd gained encouragement from me not throwing the ring back in his face. "That's why it shines like that. I didn't wanna get you something really big or really fancy because of what we do. D'you like it? Because, I mean, I can't really return it, but I can get you something else or you can just toss it out or—"

"Shhh!" I placed a finger on his lips again and continued to study the ring. It really was beautiful—the most beautiful ring I'd ever seen. I didn't want to stop looking at it. My heart was thudding so hard in my chest that I was afraid Sam could hear it. What if I'm overreacting? What if it's just a ring? Oh, God, I'm gonna feel so stupid. I felt Sam smile against my finger, and I looked up at him confusedly. "What?"

"Nothing," he said, pulling my hand down. "It's just reassuring to see that you're freaking out as much as I am. So am I right in saying that you like it?"

I resisted the urge to look back at the ring, and I shrugged, trying to act casual. "As non-birthday presents go, it'll do."

Of course, that didn't fool him, and a wide grin stretched across his face. "Can I see it?" he asked, and I reluctantly gave it back to him. He gazed down at me for a minute, still grinning, but it faded as he glanced down at our hands and nervousness took over again. Oh, God. Oh, I'm gonna pass out if he does what I think he's gonna do.

I could feel his hand shaking as he took my left hand in his right, and I bit my lip as I waited with a mix of fear and excitement for him to make his next move. Finally, scrunching his brow up in concentration and staring fixedly at my hand, he slipped the ring on to my ring finger and pressed a soft kiss to my knuckles. I removed my hand from his grasp and admired the ring with a small smile on my face. When I looked up, I noticed that Sam was watching me closely, still looking afraid that I would reject him.

To reassure him, I ran my arms up around his neck and rose up on my tiptoes, giving him a long, slow kiss. "I love it, okay?" I said as I pulled away, and I rested my forehead against his, not wanting to break too much contact. "I love it and you. So stop worrying."

"It's kinda in my nature," he said shamefully, and I grinned and kissed him again.

"I know. And I love that, too." I tightened my arms around him, and he pressed his lips to the top of my head. "So, um," I started, my voice muffled against his neck, "can I ask what it's supposed to mean?"

He was quiet for a moment, and I could feel his heart rate pick up. "It means whatever you want it to mean," he said at last, and I smiled.

"Okay." I kissed his neck and trailed my lips up to his jaw, then to his mouth, pulling him in once more.

He was the one to break away this time. "Wait. So what do you want it to mean?" he asked hesitantly.

"I just thought it was a pretty ring," I said innocently, and it was worth it to see the look on his face.

"Gari—"

"Kidding, kidding!" I laughed. "I'm kidding. I promise."

"Can you be serious for five seconds?" he pouted.

"Not if I can help it. But if we're making out, I can't make bad jokes."

"That's an interesting point," he noted, and then he was kissing me again.

As he pulled off his shirt and slid his hands under mine, I finally had the strength to step away. "Alright, Zeke," I said quietly. "I'm done."

There was the sound of wings flapping, and Ezekiel stared back at me sadly. "You knew from the beginning," he said confusedly. "Why did you keep going?"

I avoided his question, instead saying, "Can we go back to your office?" The room faded away, and I sank into one of the stiff-backed chairs in front of Zeke's desk. "I don't want to do this anymore," I said tiredly, dropping my head into my hands to hide the tears streaming down my face. "I can't do this anymore."

Ezekiel was quiet until I looked up at him again; then he asked his previous question. "Why did you keep going?"

"I-I dunno," I said shakily. "I-I guess it felt more real."

"Then how did you know it wasn't?"

"The memory started after I'd already seen the ring," I said. "I was already experiencing a very strong emotion—panic."

"I've observed that humans feel so much," Zeke said conversationally, "and I've often wondered how they survive with such emotion. But, you—you feel more than any human I've ever been appointed to."

"What can I say?" I grinned feebly at him. "I spent too much time with the Winchesters." The shifty look I'd quickly become accustomed to appeared on his face again, and I sighed. "Are you gonna tell me what's up this time, or are you gonna deflect by sending me into another memory?"

He didn't answer for a long time. He walked behind his desk and sat down in his chair, looking as weary as I felt. He pressed his hands together, almost as if he was praying, and then he closed his eyes, making me wonder if he actually was praying. Finally, just as I was opening my mouth to say something, he spoke. "I've orders to let you choose," he said reluctantly. At the confused look on my face, he clarified, "To let you choose between staying here and going back."

"Going back?!" I echoed disbelievingly. "Like…for real?! Not as a ghost or anything?!"

"For real," Zeke confirmed; the words sounded funny coming from him. "But choose carefully. While it's an honor to be given this option, staying in Heaven would be a much better choice."

I scoffed. "I've heard about how things in Heaven are going lately—hell, you told me yourself how disorganized it is—and I'm pretty sure I don't wanna be a part of that mess."

Zeke's eyes hardened slightly, and I realized that I'd struck a nerve. "Humans are in no way affected by the…problems we're facing."

"Except when they don't get their reapers."

He continued talking as if I'd never spoken. "You'd be safe in your own personal heaven. You'll be a part of all your greatest memories. You could stay with Greg or Ella or Sam or Dean forever, and nothing bad would ever happen."

"Remember what I said about being safe and happy?" I reminded him, and he frowned. "I guess this is what you meant by 'special case.' Hang on…" I narrowed my eyes at him. "If you knew I had a choice, why were you trying so hard to make me wanna stay?"

"I was doing my job," he said. "I was supposed to give you the choice, but I was also supposed to make you realize what you will be missing if you leave. You don't have to fight anymore, Garideth." He sounded as though he was almost pleading with me. "There are no more monsters; there is no more pain. You can stay here."

A part of me—a larger part than I'd like to admit—wanted to say yes. Zeke was right—safe and happy may have been boring, but I'd often thought that boring wasn't all that bad. Ella had said herself that she was happy when she was bored because it meant that she was normal. Is that what Heaven would mean for me? Finally being normal?

"Is there any way I can see the others?" I asked abruptly as I realized I was beginning to like the idea of Heaven way too much. "Can I see Sam? Or Dean and Ella? What they're doing now?"

Ezekiel hesitated before saying, "I'm under orders to let you do that, but I advise against it."

"What? Why?"

"Wouldn't you rather just stay here?" he pressed, obviously avoiding the question. "Isn't this what you want?"

That only made me want to know what was going on even more than before. "No, I wanna see my family," I said firmly.

Zeke sighed and grabbed a tiny remote from the top drawer of his desk. "Look there," he said, pointing to the wall to the left of me. He pressed a button on the remote and the wall became what looked like a giant TV screen.

I inhaled sharply and leaned forward as Sam appeared on the screen. A bouquet of flowers was clutched tightly in his hands, and I wondered what they were for. He looked on the verge of tears, but he also looked like he was trying to smile, and I couldn't decide what would've caused that or how I should feel about it.

"Hey, Gari," he said, his voice falsely upbeat, and I gasped slightly as I suddenly realized why he had flowers. "I, uh…I brought you flowers. Roses and lilies, right? You—you said you wouldn't burn these." The hint of a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, but it was gone as quickly as it came.

He sat down on the ground, and he stretched out his arm and laid the bouquet on top of a grave—my grave. I quickly read the gravestone, tears welling up in my eyes again as I saw my name etched into the granite. It hadn't seemed real before, me being dead, even though I was supposedly in Heaven. It had seemed like a weird dream. But, now, staring at my own tombstone, I couldn't deny it.

I was really dead.

Oh, God.

"Ella insisted on the gravestone," Sam said, his voice low and shaky. "After I talked her down from selling her soul, anyway. I remembered our promise. You kept up your end, so I-I figured I'd keep up mine." I held my hand over my mouth as the tears streamed down my cheeks. Oh, Sam… I'm so sorry for doing this to you.

He ran a hand through his hair and rested his elbows on his knees. "Ella's actually the reason I'm here," he said. "She, uh, she had the baby!" He forced a smile, but I could tell how much it hurt him to make that effort. "She named him after you and Bobby—Robert Lee. I told her you'd make fun of him sounding like a Confederate general, and she just smiled and said she knew."

I let out a sound halfway between a laugh and a sob, and I saw Ezekiel gazing at me sympathetically out of the corner of my eye. "Had enough?" he asked, and I shook my head and looked back at the screen.

"Still no leads on Dean or Cas," he said conversationally. I frowned in confusion. What the hell happened to Dean and Cas? "They just disappeared when Dean stabbed Dick Roman; all three of them. And Crowley took Kevin, and Meg's gone, too, and you're—"

He took a deep breath when he realized how worked up he was getting. "I'm sorry. I just… I wish you were here, Gari. I dunno what I'm doing anymore—I've stopped hunting, and I'm helping Ella with the kids, and I've actually got a job in town—we're back in Abbeville now. Ella didn't wanna stay away anymore, and we haven't seen a single Leviathan since Dick. It's like they all just disappeared. It seemed safe enough to let her go back home."

He stared at my tombstone for a long time without saying anything, and I watched him closely, memorizing everything I could. He was wearing the green striped shirt I liked so much and a pair of worn-out jeans. His hair had grown longer, nearing his shoulders, and I wanted to tease him about how it would soon be longer than mine. I saw the stubble on his face and closed my eyes as I imagined the feel of it scratching my cheek when he leaned in to kiss me. I tried my best to ignore the bags under his eyes, instead letting my gaze drift to his hands, which were more calloused than before, and he had something that looked like grease under his fingernails. I could clearly picture him leaning over the opened hood of a car, putting all the skills Dean had taught him over the years to use, and I let out a breathy laugh.

I could tell there was something specific that he wanted to say, but he seemed to have trouble getting the words out. "When, uh, when you were—uh, when I was holding you," he said finally, staring at his hands, "a-and your hand was—you were touching my face…I-I thought I heard—in my head, I thought I heard you." Wait, what?! How could he have heard me?! "A-and at first I thought I was crazy, y'know, that I was just hearing…what I wanted to hear, but, then, this—this is you, after all." He looked at the gravestone then and almost smiled.

"You told me I was the strong one," he said quietly, the smile fading. "But I'm not. When I—when I told you I needed you to keep going…you know I meant it, right? I still do—I dunno how I'm holding on right now. I-I think you always thought you needed me more than I needed you, but...but that's never been the case. I-I feel like…" He trailed off; then he shook his head and sighed."I dunno. You, uh, you also swore I was gonna see you again—you swore on us," he said, and his voice would've sounded almost accusing had he not been smiling again. "E-even when you're dy—" He broke off abruptly, a terrified look on his face, but he quickly masked it. "—you still manage to mock me."

I let out a strangled laugh then quickly covered my mouth as he started talking again. "You were right, y'know," he mumbled, once more avoiding my grave. "I-I have seen you again—I see you everywhere. I saw you so much right after you…uh, that I thought you'd decided to stick around. B-but I knew you wouldn't—not after Bobby." The desperate, shameful hope in his voice sent a pang through my heart, and I squeezed my eyes closed against another flow of tears. He sank once more into silence, and I fell back to just watching him as I wiped my eyes.

"I hit a dog," he said suddenly, looking at my gravestone again. "I-I was driving around one day before I went back to Ella, wasn't paying attention, and there he was." I wondered how this was important, but I realized that I didn't care as long as he kept talking. "I took him to the vet—he was bleeding pretty bad, and I didn't know if he was gonna make it." I found myself smiling at the thought of Sam carrying a wounded dog into a vet's office instead of just leaving it on the side of the road because that's exactly what my Sam would do.

"The vet was just rude, though," Sam continued. "As if I didn't feel bad enough, y'know? You would've hated her." He grinned, and I felt tears running over my own smile. "But she guilted me into taking the dog. His name's Riot. We both stay with Ella, and Sami and Johnny love him. You'd love him, too, but Dean would probably hate him. Y'know, I always wanted a dog. I had one—Bones—when I ran away from Dad one time."

He stopped there, a faraway look on his face. I opened my mouth, about to encourage him to keep talking, but then I remembered that he couldn't hear me. Ezekiel looked like he was trying very hard not to be impatient and to let me have my moment, and, since he didn't say anything, I went back to gazing longingly at Sam.

I noticed something else this time: there was a thin black cord around his neck. Whatever was on the end of it was hidden by his shirt. I'd noticed earlier that, whenever he got emotional, he would put his hand over the center of his chest. I wondered now if that was where the pendant was. But what could it be? He's never been one to wear amulets or any kind of jewelry, really. Dean had the Samulet, but Sam never had anything. Suddenly, a thought struck me. I'd realized in my memories that I was wearing my ring if they'd taken place after Sam had proposed—both memories of Sam had, but neither of my Ella memories had. And, now, while I was simply sitting in Zeke's office, there was no ring on my finger. He has it, I thought, and I inhaled shakily at the realization as tears once again brimmed on my lashes. He kept it. He's wearing it now. Oh, God, Sammy…

"Gari, I…" Sam's words broke me out of my thoughts. It seemed like he had once again given up on trying to look happy, for his shoulders hunched forward and his hair hung in front of his face. "Y-you have no idea how much I wanna break our promise. I don't—" He stopped, seeming to realize what he was saying. "I'm sorry," he said quietly. "I-I guess you do know."

He cleared his throat awkwardly. "Sorry this is my first time out here since the funeral." They had a funeral for me? "You've been gone for almost two months, but I just—I-I couldn't do it."

I spun to stare at Zeke. "Two months?!" I exclaimed. "But how?!"

"Time passes differently here," he replied calmly. "Now, are you ready to choose? I have—"

"No," I interrupted swiftly. "Not yet." I looked at the screen again, trying to ignore the slight sound of annoyance the angel made at being interrupted.

"Ella's been out here a lot," Sam was saying. "She said she already came to see Camilla and her mom, so you were just one more person she got to talk to." I frowned as I tried to work out what he meant; then, looking around, I saw a gravestone beside mine that had Camilla's name on it, and I knew the one beside it had to be Amelia's. Tears sprang to my eyes as that sank in. She buried me with her family, I thought, torn between feeling happy and sad.

"She's fine, by the way," Sam said, startling me out of my thoughts. "Well, as fine as someone who's lost everything can be." I got the feeling he wasn't just talking about Ella, and everything in me yearned to reach out to him, to take him in my arms and tell him that everything was going to be okay again. Seeing him so broken and not being right beside him, not holding him, not kissing his pain away—it was pure torture.

Sam slowly rose to his feet, brushing the dirt off his jeans as he continued to stare down at my grave. "I'll take care of her," he promised, "her and the kids."

"I know you will," I replied with a small smile, even though I knew he couldn't hear me.

"Well, I-I guess that's it, then," he said sadly. "I just wanted to let you know what's going on. I know it's stupid."

"It's not," I assured him, my voice shaking as I started crying again. "I swear it's not."

"I just… I want you to know that—that I love you," he said, and my heart broke as his voice cracked. "A-and that I miss you. I—oh, God, Gari, I—" He took a long, sharp breath, running both hands through his hair and briefly turning away from my grave.

I wrapped my arms around myself as I saw the tears in his eyes when he faced me again. "Love you, too, Sammy," I whispered brokenly, letting out a choked sob. I pressed a hand over my mouth to hold back others soon to come.

Sam gingerly ran his hand along the top of my gravestone. I nearly closed my eyes, unable to bear the look of devastation on his face any longer but unwilling to stop looking at him. "Bye, Garideth," he said softly, his hand lingering just a second more before he pulled it back and started to walk away.

I turned to face Zeke as I dried my eyes and sniffled loudly. I met his expectant gaze straight on, disregarding the sympathy in his eyes, and I could tell that he knew what I was going to say before I said it.

"Send me back."