A/N - Takes place after Ghost Story. To be safe: spoilers for everything, including short stories. As usual, I don't own anything – I'm just borrowing these characters.

A/N #2 – 10/12/11 – I'm extremely sorry. I could've sworn that Harry and Murphy had soulgazed in the books at some point, but it's also really likely that I'm wrong. Thank you larabeckinsale for pointing that out to me. So I fixed those comments and reworked this chapter a bit to enhance that scene. I was going with the bare minimum originally – since I had thought there had already been one. I changed the way this chapter ends as I also need to rework a few things later on. The reasoning behind the 2nd soulgaze was going to come into play in a future chapter, so yeah.

I don't really remember getting here. There's some girl that Mab sent with me sitting in the driver's seat. Probably we drove. But I don't remember getting into the truck. I don't remember crossing the lake. Hell's bells, I don't really remember the argument that got me here.

I feel paralyzed again. My legs won't move and both hands are frozen onto the truck's door handle. I vaguely notice the vibrations of the vehicle stop, and that girl – who I can't remember the name of – turn to look at me. Her head is slightly tilted, a riot of flaming hair spilling over her shoulders, and a look I can't quite place in her eyes.

Sympathy? Maybe it's pity. She touches my shoulder and my limbs start to respond as I hit my head off the roof. Yep. Suave, that's me.

"She's home," the girl murmured.

Damn, I really should try to remember her name. Since my vocal cords didn't seem to want to work either, I nodded and climbed out of the vehicle.

I didn't trip. Really.

It should be illegal for trucks that big to not have running boards.

I slammed the door on the muted laughter coming from inside the vehicle, and stomped up the walkway to the door. I knocked on the door. And promptly fell on my ass when the wards zapped me. Super.

I noticed Murphy standing in the doorway with a shotgun aimed at my face about the same time I realized that I was sitting on the ground rubbing my own ass.

"I must be special; I don't remember those wards trying to electrocute Mort when he knocked."

Still standing behind the wards, she cocked the rifle. Apparently Murphy has become immune to my charming wit and good taste.

"Um. Hi, Karrin?"

"This is NOT funny. You have a three second head start, and then you can dodge buckshot."

Yeowzers.

"Um..." Gosh, I'm brilliant. I know that she's become extremely paranoid, and I hadn't even thought about what to say. Well, that's not entirely true. I probably did think about it on the way, but seeing the house rendered me nearly comatose.

"Look, I realize you don't believe me right now – but it IS me. Call Mollie. Call Butters and have him bring over Bob. Heck, go get Mister or Mouse.

"Because you were right. I wasn't dead – I was a pawn for Mab and that spirit on Demonsreach. Well, I think it was that island's spirit. I can explain, just let me explain."

She narrowed her eyes and glanced at the Dodge Ram sitting on the side of the road. "Who's that?"

"Uh. Yeah. Not sure. Mab had her take me here since I had no car... or anything really."

"You don't know her name."

I could feel my cheeks heating up. "Well, no. I'm sure I was told... I just... a lot of things are blurry. I remember getting dragged into Molly's head when she battled the Corpsemaker. I remember chatting with Uriel. I remember walking through a doorway expecting to pass on or something - and waking up in a cave with Mab leering over me instead. I remember who ki–"

I bit my lip quickly. If I tell her that before she's sure it's me, she probably wouldn't bother counting. She'd just start shooting.

Of course, she might start shooting even after she knows it's me when she finds out that I put a hit out on myself.

Note to self: stand behind somebody she likes when we get to that part. Or at least make sure there aren't any firearms in easy reach. Besides, I was still sprawled out on the pavement. I was a sitting duck and she already had the gun trained on me.

"Who killed you, then?"

"Murph..."

"Damnit, I'm not getting anyone over here for some prank. Get. Lost."

And she fired a shot that missed my foot by an inch.

"Hell's bells Karrin." I scrambled to my feet. "It's me."

She narrowed her eyes and met my gaze. I felt a pull as a soul gaze began, and this time neither of us looked away.

Karrin was gone. The house was gone. Instead, I was standing in the doorway of an office that badly needed a date with a decorator. A scarred desk featuring a mountain of paper and a typewriter was situated across from me facing the door. One leg was being held up with a book. Two chairs sat facing it, both bright orange and upholstered in ripped vinyl. The chair behind the desk wasn't much better – but at least it was black instead of orange. Bookcases flanked the window on the far wall, while wood paneling coated the walls down to some truly amazing lime green linoleum tile. I'm sure it was the height of style during the 60s.

One wall to the side was virtually swallowed up by a single huge painting. From the door it looked blank. Since nothing else seemed to be happening in the office – and the door behind me was locked – I went and stood in front of it.

After a moment, the stark white canvas began to swirl – it looked as though the canvas was being twisted in the frame. After what seemed like a year, a picture snapped into place with an audible pop. I looked in at Murphy's childhood bedroom, and my eyes nearly fell out of their sockets. It was girly.

The carpeting was pale pink shag. Eggshell white paint gave way to a mural of Sleeping Beauty's castle. From my perspective, I could see that it was a shared bedroom. One side of the room held a crib painted white with a Winnie-The-Pooh mobile hanging over it. The other held a single bed – also painted white – with a lacy pink bedspread. Stuffed animals crowded the pillows and it looked like eleven year old Murphy was trying to drown herself in them. She was shaking with tears.

"Aww, Karrin..."

Somebody cleared their throat behind me, and I spun around.

She wasn't the angel that I remember Seeing. Her cropped blond locks were once again long, flowing and glowing brilliantly. But the tattered and stained white robes I last Saw her wearing were replaced with gleaming silver armour. A winged helmet graced her head. The shotgun was gone. Instead, she held a wooden longbow covered in both scrollwork and runes. A silver arrow fletched with white feathers was cocked and pointing at my face. Some things never change.

"He was my everything," she murmured as tears streaked down her face. And then she loosed the arrow.