So, I went back to check the rating for my story. It's rated Teen for a reason. I try to avoid strong language in my writing if I can but sometimes a character will suffer more if I don't use it when they really would have. Also, sorry about Sarah. The human one. Not the Thanksgiving Citizen.

Sorry chapters are taking so long. Advice you any of you going off to college. Please. Please for your own sake, don't sign up for 16 credit hours.

Chapter 34

Perspectives

Thanksgiving Day 1995

Afternoon, hours before Anna came to the Real World

The flash of a sharp movement pulled his eyes away from a listless stare at the dash of his car.

Marcus August Deaton watched without reaction as James snapped something at Jillian, a bag of nuts spilled on the ground between them.

Mark pretended not to have seen the event when James jogged to the street and slid into the passenger seat of the teenager's car, slamming the door a little harder than necessary.

The two boys didn't say anything until the form of Jillian quietly huddled on the curb faded into the distance.

"Everything alright?" Mark said, voice even.

James made a small noise, looking away with a glare and pulled his legs up to his chest, tangling himself in the seatbelt.

"She didn't want to come." The preteen distractedly shoved a half-empty bag of nuts in the cupholder.

Mark gestured at them with his chin. "Those for the Ram?"

"He doesn't like you calling him that."

"Well he's not here," Mark said, a grin peeking through.

James smirked, but the smile didn't last. He turned his face away and looked out the window.

Mark kept his eyes on the road as he merged into traffic, the Thanksgiving rush to get home if work let out early crowding the street of Yomen. It wasn't too bad. Mark was thankful Yomen wasn't that huge of a town.

"Why won't she talk to me?"

Mark jumped, startled by the voice after a long stretch of silence. He glanced at the kid four years his younger and tried not to sigh.

"Everyone…everyone has their way of coping…" he said, lamely.

"What are you doing?" James snapped in response, the harshness in his voice sudden and biting. "How are you 'coping'?"

Mark looked surprised but kept his eyes on the road best he could.

He didn't answer as he pulled into the building complex where Dr. Ramsey had his practice. He still didn't answer until he had found a parking spot and pulled out the keys.

"James…" Mark said slowly, "Do you actually want to talk to me about her?"

James' stubborn glare hardened. "Say her name."

"Anna. Do you really want to talk to me about Anna? You've barely said more than a couple words to me lately," Mark pointed out hesitantly.

"Dr. Ramsey said it would help to talk to someone besides him if I wanted. He suggested you since you're always bringing me here anyway," the younger boy frowned, "Mom forgot our appointment again. I didn't want her driving." He muttered the last sentence with bitterness.

Mark's lips twitched downward at that but didn't comment as James continued.

"And it's like everyone's afraid to talk about her around us," James said furiously. "It's like they're trying to forget her."

"No one's going to forget her, James," Mark interrupted, voice distant. "Everyone's…just...shocked. They're shocked. It's only been a month.

James stared at him expectantly and didn't press for his answer as Mark set his forehead against his steering wheel and breathed sharply.

After a moment, Mark nodded and sat back, sinking into the car seat a little. "I'm not coping. Not very well at least. What does that even mean? Coping."

James didn't avert his gaze, eyes reflecting a seriousness older than his years. "She'd think it's stupid."

"What?"

"Us being sad like this," James said, "She's probably having a party right now." James glanced outside at the large uninviting building looming outside. "She probably started tracking down all her favorite writers the second she got to Heaven."

"Who do you think she went for first?" Mark asked, cringing from a pain in his chest as he spoke, but pushing through it. He already knew the answer.

"Edgar Allen Poe definitely," James snorted. "He probably thinks she's crazy. Did you know she memorized the whole Raven poem?"

"James, I was there when she jumped on the stage for a talent show and pretty much rapped the whole thing. You were like, eight." Mark struggled to remember the words for a moment. "Uh…Once upon a midnight…something something."

"Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered weak and weary…" James recited, recalling countless days of hearing Anna recite her favorite verses from behind a thin bedroom wall. "Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore, While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping, As of someone gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door. 'Tis some visitor,' I muttered, 'tapping at my chamber door— Only this and nothing more.' I think I remember that. Did she get in trouble for arguing with the principal?"

Mark smiled and nodded, impressed at how much James had memorized merely from Anna's insistence at using her siblings as a practice audience, "They didn't think the poem was appropriate, so they told her to stop then turned off the microphone when she didn't."

"…What did she do?"

"Oh, she kept going, yelling the rest of the poem out to the crowd and running around so the teachers couldn't catch her. Then she started yelling that Halloween wasn't the Devil's birthday and that it was stupid people kept saying that." He let out a strained laugh. "She said it was only okay to call it the Devil's birthday if they were referring to her."

James stony expression broke for a split second. "She was a really strange person."

Mark nodded, a lost expression filling his face. Is. Is a really strange person.

"Mark?"

"…Yeah…"

"Did you…" James trailed off before he even asked.

Mark waited for a long second. He glanced at James to ask what his he was talking about and froze at the look on the boy's face.

James stared straight ahead, tears brimming in his eyes as he refused to let them fall. "Did my dad call you?" His voice cracked.

Mark nodded softly. Without a word, he pulled a small chain out from under his shirt, threaded through a silver ring that glinted in the light, slightly tarnished by scorch marks no matter how many times he ran it through his mother's jewelry cleaner. It was somewhat warped, proof of heat that should have melted it, yet it had remained whole somehow. His fingers shook as he held the ring where James could see.

James sniffed, his voice wavering. "Dad…uh…dad s-said it was in Evidence, but the police chief gave him permission to take it to give it back to you after they…cataloged it and…stuff."

"I know," Mark said, "He told me…"

"Did she say yes?"

Mark stared at James, caught off guard by the question. "What?"

"Did she say she would marry you?"

"I wasn't…" Mark stalled for a second, "I said this at the memorial. James…I wasn't proposing. I was promising that I was going to propose later. When we were older. We're only sixteen. We both agreed it was kind of stupid to get married now, or even two years from now."

"So?"

Mark acquiesced. "She said yes."

James sunk into his seat, the tense silence stifling.

They were startled by a sudden knock on the driver side window.

Mark jumped, jerking away on instinct.

The figure outside waved apologetically, and Mark sighed in relief as he opened the door.

"Hey Sarah," he greeted.

"Hi. Sorry. Did I scare you?"

"Nah. I just thought you were someone else."

"Who?"

James started gathering his stuff as the two teenagers talked.

"Rick. He's been kind of stalking me lately," Mark said, far too calmly for the girl's liking.

Sarah jumped in shock. "The cult guy?"

Mark shrugged and nodded, sticking his hands in his pockets as a harsh breeze whistled by.

Sarah was about to ask him why he's never mentioned something like that before. However, she was interrupted by a startled shout, and the slam of the car door as a strong gust of wind caught the side of James' door and shoved it closed before the kid could exit, bruising the arm he was using to open it.

"The wind's really strong today," she called over the noise as Mark ran around the car to help James get out.

"I don't remember the forecast saying anything, but it's been like this all day," Mark half shouted as a leaf whipped past his face.

"Really?" Sarah frowned. "It's been pretty normal all day to me." She glanced up at the sky as Mark actively struggled with the door for a second, the wind slapping her long hair into her face. "Except now…"

"Air pockets?" James muttered shortly, though he wasn't sure it was the right thing to say. He managed to get out and closed the car door with a glance at Mark. He quickly grabbed his bag and bunched his sweatshirt close to himself as he quickly walked toward the building.

Mark tried to say "goodbye," but his words were lost as the wind kicked up again, whipping as if attempting to tear their coats off.

Then as quickly as the small storm had started, it stopped the second James disappeared inside, reducing to a chill breeze that curled around Mark and Sarah.

If they had considered it, they might have thought the wind felt almost frustrated.

Mark stared after James for a moment before turning back to Sarah. He leaned on the roof of his car and gestured at the blond, blowing his own locks out of his face. "What are you doing here?"

"I just got out of the doctor's."

"You're seeing Ramsey too?" Mark knit his brows.

"The school counselor's an idiot," Sarah rolled her eyes. "I told my 'rents I didn't need anyone, but they took away my phone privileges unless I talked to someone, ironically. I figured Ramsey was a good choice since he knew Anna pretty well."

Mark sunk into his arms a bit. "I haven't seen you around much."

"I usually come Tuesdays," Sarah said as she shifted on her feet, "But I had to miss."

Mark's mouth twitched. That wasn't what he was asking, and he was pretty sure Sarah knew. But he didn't press.

"How come?"

The other teen ducked a bit, scowling even as she looked away in embarrassment. "I..uh…I went to the city council meeting instead. They were talking about what to do about the school."

Mark didn't react. "You never cared for that stuff before."

Sarah shrugged her arms and folded them from the cold. "I heard they were talking about rebuilding the school and naming it after her."

"Oh."

"I just wanted to make sure they weren't idiots about it," Sarah huffed. She looked up in anger, though it wasn't directed at Mark. "You know Mrs. Roberts?"

"Uh…I know Cash Roberts," Mark said with a frown. "He's on the basketball team."

"Yeah well, his mom said some crap about it being 'inappropriate to name the school after such a traumatic event.'"

Mark scoffed, "Does she even talk to her kid? Everyone wants to name it for Anna."

"Well, at least some of the others listen to their kids I think. She got shot down. But someone else suggested making a sculpture or some crap as a 'compromise.'"

Mark sighed. "Anna would hate anything besides…a book or something named after her." His eyes drifted to the side, "You know, Mrs. Robert isn't half wrong. I don't really want to go to a school with a name that reminds me my girlfriend died. Or James and Jillian's sister."

Sarah glared at him.

Mark jumped as Sarah stalked around the car and went right up to his face before he had even processed what she was doing.

"You listen here, you selfish prick."

Mark blinked in surprise and instinctively stepped back as Sarah poked his chest.

"She freaking gave her life to save her brother and sister, and if you don't think that's the most badass thing you've ever heard then you better throw that little trinket away," she poked the ring dangling around his neck into the flesh of his chest. "I'll sooner get my virginity back than let anyone forget what she did."

They stared at each other, lingering inches apart.

Sarah glared at him with righteous anger, sure in her reasons.

Mark smirked at her wording in sad amusement. "I sometimes forget exactly why you were her best friend."

"Still am you ass." Her tone left absolutely no room for argument. "What are you doing here?"

"I have the appointment after James," Marcus said as Sarah got out of his personal space. "I volunteered to drive him and Jillian when I ran into them and Mrs. Grisholme coming out a couple weeks ago."

Sarah didn't question where Jillian was, her personality suddenly back to her usual. "It's nice of Dr. Ramsey's to have appointments for us on Thanksgiving."

"Yeah. I'm surprised you're here, no offense, because I mentioned it and someone told me he never does that unless it's an emergency."

"He's probably extra nice to us because of Anna and all."

"Probably," Mark shrugged.

As the older humans caught up outside, James made the short trek to the floor where the therapist's office was.

The receptionist lady glanced at him a moment and cast a sweet smile.

"James Grisholme," the boy said automatically.

"I already have you in, James," she said kindly, though her eyes were tired. "The doctor's in the restroom. You can just go on into the office. He shouldn't be more than a couple minutes."

James adjusted his backpack and nodded, his movements slight and jerky. As he opened the door, he and the receptionist jumped in shock at the sound of glass shattering in the nearby bathroom.

The receptionist quickly waved James in the other room and went to go check on Ramsey.

James was idly studying the various pictures of Ramsey's family and friends and the other decorations when the doctor came in.

The boy cast the doctor a short glance and started to turn back around. He never sat down until the doctor asked him too. But a flash of dark red caught his eye, the crimson in stark contrast to the browns and blues and softer colors of the room.

James stared at the cloth seeped with blood on the doctor's hand. "What happened?"

Ramsey looked up, almost like he had forgotten James was waiting in the room for him. "Ah, James!" He grinned and held up the hand sheepishly. "I broke the potpourri jar in the bathroom."

James looked really confused.

"A potpourri is a jar or bowl of dried flowers and herbs to make someplace smell nice," the therapist explained as he sat, adjusting his glasses as he realized the question on James' lips.

James nodded, "I didn't realize those things were called anything."

"Learn something new every day. Have a seat, James."

James did so, pulling out something from his backpack. He swung the small bag of nuts at the doctor. "I got you this," he said awkwardly.

Ramsey chortled for a second. "Nuts?"

"Anna said you liked them," James said.

Ramsey controlled himself and sighed, taking the bag with a nostalgic grin. "Your sister is quite the character. She likes to compare me to a squirrel and often brought me 'gifts' to remind me." The doctor leaned back in his chair. "We're coming up on a month. How are you holding up?"

James shrugged. "The burns are almost completely gone. The doctor said I could take the band-aids off next week. Bandages," he corrected, "The big ones." Talking about his injuries made him suddenly aware of the phantom itching and the crinkling of the wrappings at every little movement. He grimaced and hugged his backpack tighter into his stomach.

"That's great to hear, but I think you know that's not what I meant."

James didn't answer.

Ramsey let the silence stretch on for a couple minutes before peeking at his file.

"I spoke to your mother the other day," he said, waving his hand at the panic on James' face. "It's okay, I didn't tell her anything you've told me during our sessions. I just asked what she had noticed about you and your sister. She tells me you've been doing very well in school. Your grades have gone up a lot recently."

James shifted.

"You were doing well, but were fairly lax about school work before the fire right?"

James shrugged.

"Why the change?"

"I don't know."

"Can I tell you what I think?" Ramsey said, setting down his notes when James nodded. "I think you're focusing on school because you think it's the one thing you can control. Something mindlessly repetitive, despite your concentration issues."

James shrugged. "Maybe."

"What do you think?"

The boy stared at him, not sure what to say. "I think…" he trailed off, but Ramsey sat patiently.

"I'm really worried about Mom and Dad and Jilly," he said slowly, tasting the words. "Mom's drinking wine a little too often I think, and Dad's never home. He's always at the station even though his boss won't let him work on the fire. I think…I think maybe…I…just don't want them to worry about me. No one else is fine, so I have to be the 'fine' one."

"Hm. And Jillian. How is your sister doing? I noticed she isn't here today."

James shrunk into himself a bit. "She didn't want to come. We got into a fight about it."

"Is she speaking now?" Ramsey asked surprised. His eyes narrowed in interest.

"No. She just slapped the nuts out of my hands," James looked up at the doctor, brows knit, "She still hasn't said anything to anyone."

"Well, sometimes a traumatic event can scare people into silence. Give her time James," Ramsey kept his voice even and understanding. "Have you ever been so surprised that you're speechless? And it's only until after the event happened that you think…" the man snapped his fingers, "'Now why didn't I say that?!' It's kind of like that except stretched out a long time. Or perhaps, more simply, she's just not ready to talk."

James shrugged.

Ramsey looked thoughtful for a moment.

James glanced up in confusion when the psychiatrist stood.

The man walked to a bookshelf alongside one wall. He surveyed the photos propped up and filling the shelves. After a moment, he picked up one of them and turned back around.

"I know you haven't been keen on talking with me these past few weeks." Ramsey settled back into his chair, picture frame in hand, careful of the bandage. "I'm very proud that you've been willing to do this, even if it's just to keep your family from worrying about you. What regardless of your motives, it's so vital that you're trying."

James glanced away. "I don't want to have anything wrong with me."

"James," Ramsey said seriously. "There's nothing wrong with missing your sister."

"Yes, there is!" James snapped through gritted teeth, his voice louder than he intended. "There's something very wrong with that because I shouldn't be missing her in the first place." He pounded a fist into the arm of the chair, "She should be sitting here, not me. She should be sitting here talking to you about her brain, learning tricks to pass as normal."

Ramsey sighed, "James, believe me, or don't, but I miss her too." He handed James the picture frame. "I've been Anna's doctor for a long time. I love her like one of my own. She has this…bright color around her soul that was hard to ignore and a personality to match."

James stared at the mischievous smile of Anna that looked up at him from the photo.

She was grinning, a milling crowd behind her while a somewhat uncomfortable looking Dr. Ramsey posed with a hand on her shoulder.

"She asked your mother to take that when we went to a neuroscience lecture convention last year," Ramsey explained. "In Seattle, you remember."

"I remember. Dad was going to go with you, but something came up at his job, so mom went, and we stayed over at friends for a couple days," James set the frame on his lap. "Anna called every night talking about how cool it was."

"Really?" Ramsey hummed, "I thought she was bored. Guess I'm not doing my job right huh?" He winked, and James blinked at him.

James tried to hand the photo back, but Ramsey shook his head.

"You can keep it for a couple days. I'm sure you've gotten used to seeing the pictures you already have."

"You sure?"

Ramsey nodded and tightened the cloth around his hand a little more.

Mark glanced at his watch and jumped when he realized the time. He slapped closed the book he was reading and left the first-floor lobby.

James was just coming out when he arrived.

"How'd it go?"

James shrugged. "Good."

"Well, that's an improvement. Usually, you say 'fine,'" Mark immediately regretted the comment when James looked annoyed, "You got your homework?"

James nodded.

"Cool," he glanced around… "Dude, where's the receptionist?"

James looked up and frowned. "She was here earlier."

"Amy had to go home," Ramsey said, poking his head into the room. "Family emergency. Come on in Mark."

Mark turned back to James, distracting the boy from staring at the receptionist desk, "Hey buddy, your mom has the office number, right?"

James rolled his eyes, "Yeah. I'll come get you if I need to go home."

"Get started on that English assignment."

James muttered something under his breath and settled into the couch in the waiting room.

"You've been very involved with the Grisholme household," Ramsey said as he sat down for a third session that day. His eyes flitted to the bag of nuts still on the table.

Mark shifted and glanced out the window. "Is that wrong?"

"Not necessarily," Ramsey said quickly. "I'm just curious about your motivations."

"Anna would have wanted me to take care of them."

"Would she really."

Mark bristled, "You think she wouldn't?"

Ramsey held up his hands placatingly. "Mark, I'm not accusing. I'm just concerned."

"About what?"

"If you're taking on the older sibling role to make up for Anna's absence, it shouldn't be out of guilt. I fully support you supporting their family, G-…" he paused for a second.

Mark was embarrassedly reminded of the time he ranted at God in front of the Doctor during a session. He said some pretty awful, angry things at the Big Man Upstairs. Why did Anna have to die? What could he have changed? Why did God let this happen? Things he thought anyone would ask, plus a few angry curses.

But the Doctor had just smiled and congratulated Mark for getting in touch with his emotions instead of hiding them like he did daily.

"Goodness knows they need some support," the "Ram" continued as if he hadn't just spent a second considering his words. "However, if you intend to help them, you should prepare yourself for the inevitability that they won't need you anymore. Humans heal, Marcus. And when that happens are you still willing to be a figure in Anna's siblings' life? Or will you leave them the second your debt is paid?"

"What are you talking about, doctor," Mark scoffed, "I'm not just going to abandon Anna's family. I made a promise."

"A promise?"

"I promised Anna that I was going to make things right, as best I can," the sixteen-year-old said gravely, leaning forward.

Ramsey leaned forward, mirroring the young man's posture, "What does 'right' entail, Mark?"

Mark hesitated, words just barely on the tip of his tongue. A feather-light touch of an idea brushed the back of his mind before he forcibly shoved it down.

The doctor stared at him, not breaking eye contact.

"I'm not entirely sure, sir," Mark admitted slowly, deciding some things might get him admitted to an institution, "I think it'll change as I go, but right now that means taking the pressure off her parents and taking care of her brother and sister."

"But not loving them."

That caught Mark off guard. For a moment he could only stare at Ramsey uncomprehending. "What?"

"Taking care of someone is often an obligation. You don't need to love them to do that."

"Of course, I love them!"

"Be sure of that," Ramsey said sternly. "Let move on, shall we? Unless you want to continue? I just want you to turn over these thoughts in your head for a while. You don't have to say anything, but I want to know what you think when you come back next week."

Mark sat back in his seat a thoughtful frown on his face. He nodded stiffly and gestured for the man to move on.

Ramsey nodded and glanced down at his notes. "How has your social life been, Mark?"

"Fine."

"Define fine? You still going to basketball practice?"

"Mostly. I woke up late a couple times last week."

"Sleeping well?"

Mark stiffened. "Yeah."

Ramsey eyed him, "I won't press, but you know I can tell you're lying."

Mark shifted and looked away. He didn't want to discuss the nightmares. Fire. Black and White. Screaming. Anna begging him to save her.

He shut his eyes forcibly. Sometimes they weren't so bad. Sometimes he was in another world, a world where she didn't die. They got married. She was a history professor and writer, he was a Marine, or maybe a lawyer. He didn't have his life planned out like Anna did. Sometimes they had kids, though he couldn't for the life of him come up with any faces for them nor could remember how many. But the dream wouldn't last. It was always consumed by fire, and each time he was more desperate than the last.

"Okay…what about outside of practice?"

Mark snapped out of his daze. "Hm?"

"Are you 'hanging out' with friends outside of school activities."

Mark shrugged. "I've been…pretty busy."

"You make any new friends?"

Mark frowned, "No. Why?"

"Just curious," the doctor said as he jotted down something without noticing Mark's suspicious tone. "What about Sarah?"

"What about her?"

"She's Anna's best friend," Ramsey said, "They practically grew up together. Have you made any effort to reach out to her?"

"Yeah…" Mark muttered. "She…uh…may be avoiding me. Not entirely sure if that's true though." He swallowed, a little shamed. "I kind of gave up looking to run into her."

"It might help you both to keep trying," Ramsey suggested, "You both have relationships with Anna that differ from her family. For one, you choose each other. In some ways that make the relationships stronger."

Mark sank into the chair a bit. "I'll try."

Sarah didn't live too far from downtown, so she merely walked home from the doctor's. She pulled her coat tighter as the wind blew against her path as she turned down a street. She spat out her hair distractedly.

Suddenly she froze and looked up. She thought she heard a voice. But there was nowhere.

"Turn around! Go another way!"

Sarah stiffened and spun around in fear. She couldn't hear the specific words, but the voice sounded like a warning.

After a moment she made a mental note to ask Ramsey about anti-psychotics next week if she kept hearing voices. She didn't want to be on drugs, but hearing voices was a huge issue. There go her hopes of ever owning a gun.

She turned back around with a glare and immediately ran into someone.

"Hey, watch it!" they both shouted with a few variations of language.

Sarah frowned as she got a good look at the individual. She shifted awkwardly as the boy brushed his jacket off.

"Rick, right?"

"Who wants to…" the older male spat before he recognized who he was talking to. "Oh. Sarah, right? You know Anna."

Sarah frowned at the guy, his choice of tenses itching the back of her mind, and wrapped her coat tighter. "You knew Anna?"

"Well, I had the locker next to her for two years so yeah," the boy snorted as he pulled something out of his pocket.

Sarah glared at him as he lit the cigarette. "Those will kill you ya know."

"Eh. I'm dead inside already," Rick joked dryly. "I know a guy. I can hook you up?"

"No thanks," Sarah said tersely.

"Suit yourself," Rick shrugged, "See you both around!"

Sarah started walking before she realized the oddity of what Rick said. "Both?"

Suddenly the air was still.

The loss of pressure against her body made her stumble slightly, the unconscious habit of leaning somewhat against a strong wind betrayed her.

The Wind hated this. He hated knowing what he did but being forced to take a neutral ground.

It watched, frustrated as that Rick boy watched from across the street of the building Anna's younger brother and old lover entered, waiting for them to leave.

It was such a long shot, he knew, but it tried its damnedest to make them leave. That other human did not need to know where they were all the time. Rick hung around that building far too often for it to be safe.

The Wind wasn't sure if he needed Anna's humans to stay away from Rick, or from the building Rick hung around even without Anna's loved ones there.

He wasn't sure whether "Rick" was actually aware of his presence or if he was just messing with that other girl. But he wasn't willing to risk it.

The Wind twisted in frustration to the towns small graveyard, knowing there wasn't much he could do at the moment. As luck would have it, the creature he was looking for was there.

No one ever told him anything.

"CHAKIS!"

The Reaper didn't react at first. She continued to survey some of her sibling's work, headstones upon headstones stretching across the grassy little groves in a gently wooded area. She appeared visible to the human eye wearing a grey wool coat that reached to her pale ankles, hands tucked away.

"CHAKIS! That is your name is it not?!"

The Lady didn't move her eyes from her searching gaze at the field of solemn marble and granite. "You're an aspect of nature. Why do you care?" her voice was soft. "Does the Earth care for the death it consumes? Does the Ocean caress it's dead?"

"She most certainly does!" the Wind whistled, "She mourns the souls my storms send to her depths and blesses the brave whom sails I filled."

Chakis smiled through a flash of regret that struck behind the grey eyes. "The Earth and Ocean bring life. They also bring death, and they are content in that balance. Why are you not?"

"Because I can choose to care," the Wind explained. "Ocean picks her favorites. As does Earth. Even the Stars shine brighter on certain souls."

"Yet you choose the damned to favor," Chakis said knowingly, "The broken. The imperfect. You choose to be associated with death, mischief, and the dark, cold storms of horror stories, a not-so-silent witness—an accomplice even—to death and destruction." She looked up and for a brief moment the Wind could imagine what it was like to have someone look you in the eye. "Yet at the same time, you care. You bring relief and reprieve." She looked back down and smiled gently, "You fill the sails."

The wind was silent for a long moment, though it twisted around the graveyard in thought.

"Are we still speaking of me, Reaper?"

Chakis just stared in her far-off way, the fake act of familiarity between the two ancient consciousnesses tense. "Do you know who the demons are?"

"Only when they reveal themselves. I can't sense them. Is that Rick human one?"

Chakis huffed a surprisingly soft noise. "I can't tell you. Surely you understand."

She continued even as she felt the Wind bristle, "I am caught in neutrality too, wind. I am death. Death does not discriminate. I take the old, the young, the bright, the faded. I snuff out all the lights put in my path. And yet…" She paused and frowned, though the expression was just a slight dip of her lips. "I couldn't help getting attached. To the girl."

The wind stilled for a second.

"Her's was not the first soul tainted by the deal of a demon, whom I've had to collect. I Reaped those souls without blinking an eye. But they chose their fate. I bear no sympathy for humans who value their life more than their soul. Nothing could disgust me more, throwing away eternity in light for eternity in suffering. I would have to take the baby so long ago without a second thought. It would have been…sad…perhaps…I believe that to be appropriate. But at least the child could wait up for her parents. Anna does not have that to look forward to. I never concerned myself with what was fair or not, but this was too far."

"How can anyone be able to trade another person's soul? A soul belongs to that person and that person alone. I've asked this for centuries. I've witness many similar deals, but none with the soul of a third party with no say in their own fate."

"Ah. There's something a millions-year-old entity such as yourself doesn't know," Chakis said, amusement leaking through her emotionless voice. "How strange. Jack Smith…or is it Skellington now…didn't trade Anna's soul."

"…What..." The Wind genuinely sounded shocked. He thought he knew that detail for ages.

"It seems to me everyone has this misconception. He traded her life. Lives of others are easy to trade. Humans do it all the time, though they shouldn't. All her remaining years for the other child. Until those years are used up in this world, she's stuck between Heaven and Hell, just as Jack was. Until that time, she is unguarded. A free soul floating around for a demon to grab. And a certain one has his claim etched deep into her soul. I explained this a long time ago."

"I may be an 'entity,' but I do not have a perfect memory," the Wind sounded almost sour.

"Hmm. I will explain this at greater length to Anna personally," Chakis assured, as she arose. "But for now, I believe it's time she learns the truth. She makes it far too easy to guide her mind to the past, losing herself to unconsciousness so often."

"She's in Thanksgiving," the Wind grumbled. "Knocked out. The fool."

"I know. Perhaps your friends will need your assistance. They will find her missing very soon."

"That's why I come for your assistance. Demons blocked my voice! I haven't been able to go home except to watch! Each time I try to speak, they hold me back. They shouldn't have power in Halloween!"

Chakis frowned, the first inkling of concern the Wind had ever seen on a Reaper's face. "I can't help with your voice. But we both know they can't completely limit you. I must go. Begone."

And with that the wind was gone, it's voice pushed far away from the angel of death. If the wind could scream in exasperation, he did.

Greetings. Yes I know, lots of confusion. Everything gets cleared up eventually. If you couldn't figure out, the Wind is a very concerned player, though he hasn't shown up much. His fight is more of a silent one. Chakis too. This chapter is stuck in such an odd place to remind you all that Anna, Jack, and the other Citizens aren't the only ones in trouble.

I would really suggest heading over to read Tricked Out relatively soon.