A/N – This contains the (slightly modified) portion I chopped off the first chapter when I fixed my soulgaze mistake. I had to cut out the conversation between Murphy and Harry in the living room as a result, so I apologize if the result is a bit lame.

The soulgaze broke, and once again I found myself sprawled on the pavement. This time, however, I had a bit more to think about. Murphy wasn't the angel I had always suspected. She was a freaking valkyrie.

I eventually realized that I looked like a baby bird wanting to get fed, so I clamped my mouth shut. Murphy just stared.

"Well. Wow. A soulgaze. Or we could do that."

I studied Murph some more. She still had her hair chopped off way too short in my opinion, but the steel in her eyes was melting and the gun was no longer pointed between my eyes. Yippee for progress!

"I wasn't thinking straight, you know. The whole deal with Maggy..." A lump formed in my throat and threatened to choke me. I closed my eyes, swallowed and ploughed ahead. "I made some shitty choices. Actually, I made a lot of them. I never meant for this. I'm so sorry Karrin; you have no idea how sorry."

Call me crazy, but I think she tried to blink away some tears too. She looked over my shoulder, and I realized that my driver was standing about two feet away – behind me and slightly to the left. She must have gotten out of the truck when Murphy started shooting.

The redhead just shrugged. "I'll go wait in the truck."

"No, no." Murphy looked chagrined. Apparently some early childhood hospitality training had kicked in. She stepped aside and finished lowering the rifle. "I won't invite you in, but I'll still serve you coffee in the living room."

The girl smiled slightly and shook her head. "This isn't my party. I'll wait outside." She shooed me away with her hands, and turned back towards the pickup.

Me? Well, I walked across the threshold and left most of my magic behind.

Murphy pointed me to the couch and walked into the kitchen, leaving me standing in the doorway feeling awkward. Nothing new there. So I decided to play the good guest, and seated myself where she had indicated.

The room hadn't changed since the last time I had seen it. A little too girly for Murph, but she did her darnedest to offset the doilies by adding a gun cleaning kit and various firearms to the decor. The room was chilly, and I wondered why I wasn't wearing my duster. It took me a minute to realize that my duster was pretty much destroyed during the battle at Chichen Itza and that I was naked when I woke up in the cave.

I didn't remember getting dressed and panicked a little.

I panicked a little more when I realized that I was dressed. What I was wearing could loosely be called clothes. Mab or my godmother probably picked it out as some kind of cruel joke.

I was wearing shiny silver dress pants, thong sandals and a silk baby blue version of the puffy shirt. Yes, the freaking puffy shirt. Sheesh, no wonder Murphy was sceptical.

I could hear murmurs from the kitchen – Murphy was probably talking on the phone – and started picking at the frills down the front of my shirt. I was still fiddling with them when Murphy reappeared in the doorway and burst out laughing. I transferred my scowl from my offensive clothing to her.

"I can't believe they dressed me in this crap."

"I like it. It's payback for putting me through hell." She handed me a mug of steaming coffee and sat on the chair across from me.

I took a sip of the piping hot ambrosia. Neither of us said a word, we just sat there drinking coffee as the clock ticked.

"I sort of expected you to be angrier." I could see a wry smile appear half hidden behind her mug.

"Later. I made some calls, people will be getting here very soon. Then you can explain." She took another sip. "And I still haven't ruled out shooting you."

Another minute of silence, and Murphy caught me rubbernecking around. "Where's Mister?"

"Out. I suspect he's hunting deer."

More silence. Which was probably a good thing considering how good I am at sticking my foot all the way down my throat.

After approximately three geological epochs, the doorbell rang and my stomach dropped down to my ridiculous sandals. If there's one thing I'm good at, it's keeping cool, calm and collected in the face of confrontation.

Murphy got up, walked over to the door, and whispered something to Thomas before she let him in. I, clever guy that I am, got up to greet him. Thankfully, I had put the coffee down first because he crossed the distance to me in about two steps and sucker punched me. It would've been such a shame to spill my first coffee in six months all over Murphy's nice furniture.

He didn't hold back either. The force of the strike knocked me backwards over the couch and onto the floor beyond.

"On the floor again. This must be some kind of record." The power of the Winter Knight kept the brunt of the pain away, but my lament still came out as a groan. And my brother was walking towards me again with murder in his eyes.

Murphy piped up, her voice suspiciously gleeful. "Relax, will you? Other people will want a round with him too."

"Did you hit him yet?" This from my darling brother.

"No, I shot at him."

"You missed?"

"On purpose." She shot Thomas a wide smile. "We'll save the best for last."

"I don't know. You'd have to do some creative shooting to outdo what Molly has planned."

I blanched a little. "Good grief," I muttered, setting myself back onto my feet for the umpteenth time today. "My ears work."

"So does your mouth. So use it." His murderous advance might have stopped, but his demon hadn't completely subsided. His skin was otherworldly pale, and his pupils had vanished behind the white of his eyes.

I took a step away, and heard a car door slam. Talk about nice timing.

Murphy raised a finger at Thomas to tell him to wait, and opened the door once again.

Will walked in first, holding what looked to be a suitcase and some sort of baby carrying device. Georgia soon followed, holding a bundle wrapped in a blue blanket. I used my super duper investigative skills to determine that it must be their kid and that they had a boy.

And then a gray coloured missile streaked through the door and lunged at my knees.

And I fell over. Again.

Final A/N – I can't recall if Georgia's baby mentioned in Ghost Story and Google was no help at all, so I'm using a bit of creative license here. Don't shoot me if the baby is the wrong gender and supposed to have been called Francine. Or something.

2nd Thing - The next chapter is rather big, and there will probably be four total.