Purgatory had completely fucked up Abbie's sense of time. It had felt like an hour, like a year, like a lifetime all at once. She'd been surprised when Crane and Jenny told her she'd really only been away for about forty-eight hours.

Even now that she was back home, it was only the startling change in the shower's water temperature (causing her to jump and nearly slip) that alerted her to the fact that she'd probably been standing there in a daze for over thirty minutes rather than her usual efficient five.

"That's great, Mills," she thought as she steadied herself. "You fight off Moloch in Purgatory only to nearly die in a freak bathroom accident."

Shaking off the embarrassment no one was there to see, she toweled dry, applied lotion and pulled out her hair dryer only to say a silent "fuck it" to herself and throw it back in the drawer. She'd just been to hell (or close enough to it) and back, why not give herself a break and rock her natural curls for a day or two?

As she slipped into a t-shirt and jeans she allowed her mind to wander back over the last few days. Even though she knew it was to be a seven-year long battle with evil, Abbie had half hoped while she was in Purgatory that between Crane, Jenny, Henry and Katrina (and everyone else who wasn't stuck in another realm) something magical would have happened and life would be back to normal by the time she got out. Clearly that was not the case and they were back to square one.

Crane and Jenny had been excitedly talking over each other the night she got out of purgatory, both eager to get her caught up on what had happened when she'd been away; but the joy of being free again quickly settled and she'd suddenly become way too tired and distracted to absorb more than every tenth word.

She'd finally put her hands up and said, "Please. I just can't… Not tonight. We can try this again later."

The rest of the car ride back was mostly silent. Everyone was kind enough to give her a few days rest with little interruption aside from highly apologetic texts from an exasperated 200-year-old Witness:

"What is Error 8438s 896wt 98738 68916w 000d86 687l38 36y975 69h176? How does one correct it and also remove the infernal blue screen that insists on displaying at the most inopportune moments?!"

And later:

"I am told by your Sister that a Computer made by Apple does not experience these difficulties. When you are fully rested, might we peruse an establishment that sells these clearly superior devices?"

Abbie sighed when she thought of Jenny. It was difficult to switch off that part of herself that always had to be the big sister and have the answers. She kicked herself for not listening to her advice now. They'd successfully resurrected The Kindred and fought off the Headless Horseman, but for what? She had put a positive spin on the whole deal so that Crane wouldn't feel too bad but couldn't shake the image of Katrina's face as they left her behind. It offered little explanation just… surrender and resignation. Now Jenny was locked up again and her new boss, full of suspicion and questions, was riding her ass.

The sound of the toaster popping up and a glance at the clock let Abbie know she'd once again lost track of time and was already running ten minutes behind on her day. She tucked her chapstick into her pocket, but it wasn't until she slid into her shoes and started leaving the room that she remembered she hadn't put anything in the toaster.

Grabbing her service revolver from it's holster, she did a quick sweep through her bedroom before cautiously making her way out into the hall. She'd just finished clearing the guest and laundry room before her eyes settled on the familiar smirk of the very beautiful man reclining oh so comfortably on her sofa.

"What… aren't you even going to say 'Good Morning, Gracie?'" He took a large bite of her last Pop Tart.

Abbie eyes narrowed. She pursed her lips and let her finger rest on the trigger for just a second longer than necessary while she momentarily considered shooting him in a non-lethal spot.

She dropped her arms and let out an indulgent sigh. "Matthew… You know I hate it when you call me that. What are you even doing here?"

Matt raised his hands in mock innocence. "I was just in the neighborhood and thought I'd stop by. Just so you know… I did try knocking, but the door was unlocked. I said 'hello', but you were in the shower for such an awfully long time." He paused for a moment as if he'd had a thought and then chuckled to himself and winked at her before continuing. "Then I got hungry, so I figured..."

Abbie rolled her eyes, and put up a hand to interrupt him. "Ok, number one: the door was definitely not unlocked. The door is never unlocked. Number two: seriously, dude… What is it with the men in your family and boundaries? Did you and Andy take classes on stalking and B&E's at your family reunions?"

Matt's body grew rigid at the mention of cousin's name. His jaw tightened as he silently locked eyes with her.

Then she remembered.

"Oh shit, Matt! Andy! I..." She stopped, unsure of what to say.

For Abbie, it was almost as if Andy hadn't really died. It had been only a few days since she last saw her former partner in Purgatory, or some version of him anyway; but for his cousin Matt, it had probably been several weeks of confusing and conflicting information. She couldn't tell him Andy had sold his soul. She sure as hell couldn't tell him she'd been the one to finally kill him.

She had no idea what Captain Irving had even told the family. He'd gruffly said, "I'll handle it!" and waved her and Crane out the door. After that she'd been too caught up in everything else that was happening to even give it a second thought. Now Irving was in Tarrytown Hospital awaiting trial and… Fuck!

Abbie put her hands on her hips and exhaled sharply.

Matt was patience itself while she collected her thoughts. He carefully dusted the last of the crumbs off his custom-tailored designer slacks before leaning back and resting his arm over the back of the sofa. It could easily have been mistaken for a casual, relaxed pose if you didn't know him as well as Abbie did. She knew to look for the throbbing vein in his neck.

"Abbie," he said in a somber tone, "let's talk about Andy now, shall we?"