As soon as Tommy stepped into the saloon, he knew that Death had come for him.

He stood for a second in the doorway, halfway in the scorching desert sun and the chill of the saloon. He couldn't help staring at the stranger sitting by the window, his face buried in his hands, a dark aura hanging about him.

Keeping his eyes on the stranger, Tommy skirted over to Niki at the bar, wiping down her already pristine counter.

"That the guy?" Tommy hissed.

Niki didn't look up at him and nodded. "'Said he's lookin' for a necromancer and Mayor Quackity called him an angel."

"Quackity's been here?"

Niki nodded again.

Tommy swore and leaned against the counter to study the stranger. He certainly didn't look like an Angel of Death. No wings, no tendrils of darkness, no glowing golden eyes. He wore only a filthy blue shirt, muddied pants, a maroon kerchief, and scuffed boots.

Despite his appearance, Tommy knew he was the real deal. The shadows hung inexplicably darker above the stranger's head, a slight draft blew out from under the chair he sat on. A primal sense of danger stirred in Tommy's chest whenever he considered getting closer.

After a few minutes, Tommy said, "That's him."

Niki sighed and tossed the rag over her shoulder. "Just please leave my saloon out of this. I didn't ask for trouble."

"Don't worry, Niki. We'll be out of yer hair by evenin'." Tommy pushed himself off the counter and headed towards the stranger, biting down the foreboding bubbling under his skin.

"Howdy." Tommy pulled out the chair across from the stranger and sat down. Goosebumps crawled up his arms and he forced himself not to squirm.

The stranger peeled his hands back from his face and looked Tommy up and down. "Who're you?"

"Name's Tommy." Tommy stuck out his hand and grinned. The stranger stared at his hand and made no move to shake it.

Tommy laughed uneasily and lowered his hand. "Heard yer new in town. Thought I'd introduce myself."

Dead silence.

Tommy cleared his throat. "What's yer name?"

The stranger rolled his eyes and rubbed his face. "What do you want?"

"Well… I…." Tommy struggled to explain himself. "Niki said… Um…."

"I don't have time for this." The stranger pushed back his chair and stood.

"Wait!" Tommy exclaimed. "Don't leave."

"Give me one good reason not to."

"I want to help you find the necromancer."

"Right." The stranger crossed his arms. "And how can you 'help' me?"

"I'm a bounty hunter." Tommy leaned forward in his seat and pressed his palms onto the table. "I've been tracking down Dream for months now. I know him better than any man in the west. I know how to find him."

The stranger studied Tommy, his head slightly cocked, finger tapping his chin. Tommy shifted in his seat, praying that the angel would listen to him. This could be his only shot at killing Dream.

"You're not supposed to be here," the stranger murmured.

"Excuse me?"

The stranger slowly sat in his seat, his eyes boring into Tommy, complete fascination on his face. "You're supposed to be dead."

That punched Tommy straight in the gut. His eyes darted to the floor and he gritted his teeth, pushing back memories. He hated being reminded.

Tommy forced himself to look back at the stranger. "Yeah. So?"

The stranger laughed and shook his head, still watching Tommy as if he had sprouted three heads, utterly fascinated. "I can't believe Dream would resurrect you. The first successful human-led resurrection and it's you."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

The stranger shrugged. "You're very annoying. I wouldn't have wanted you brought back to life."

"Oh, come on—"

"Why are you hunting down Dream if he saved your life?" The stranger spoke faster now, his words hitting Tommy like bullets. He leaned over the table, eyes huge and wild, the shadows under the window coiling around his chest.

Tommy couldn't help shrinking under his gaze. "Dream didn't save my life. He's the one who killed me!"

The stranger nodded his head vigorously, his hair flopping in his face. He leaned in closer still, taking up the entire table. "Do you want his power? For yourself?"

"No." Tommy spoke with as much conviction as he could. "I want necromancy gone. Forever."

"Interesting…."

The stranger slowly pulled away and Tommy sighed in relief. The stranger leaned back in his seat, shadows slithering up his arms, still concentrating his gaze on Tommy.

"So…. Can I help you?" Tommy asked.

It was a few seconds before the stranger answered, "Yes. I suppose you can."

"Alright!" Tommy exclaimed. He grinned, his stress melting away. With an Angel of Death on his side, nothing could stand in his way. Finally, finally, he would kill Dream.

...

Izrail didn't much like this child.

He sat across from Izrail, smiling like an idiot, his blue eyes sparkling with stupid hope. He kept talking about something with his horse and revenge and yadda yadda. He was so loud. It gave Izrail a headache.

So, why did he let him tag along?

Izrail didn't quite know himself. Maybe it was his innocence, the way Izrail knew he desperately needed help. Maybe it was simply the fact that he knew Dream and Izrail was getting desperate himself.

Maybe it was the fact that this boy had died.

It fascinated Izrail. This blond-headed buffoon had entered Death's realm and come out the other side. He was proof that Death was infallible, temporary, and breakable. It gave Izrail hope that, maybe one day, he too would break out of Death's grasp and never have to answer a call again.

"We need a plan." Izrail cut across whatever one-sided conversation the boy was having.

"Right, right," Tommy said. "A plan. Um…."

The absolute stupidity of these humans. Izrail sighed, again, and realized he'd be doing a lot of that in the future. "Where was Dream last spotted?"

"Oh! In Redrun, about two days ago. Sheriff Sam went out to check and found one of the horses Dream stole, but Dream was already gone."

"Where do you think he went?"

"Well, if I know Dream—" the boy smirked "—and I know Dream, "he'll be headed for Dusthollow."

"Can we beat him there?"

"You bet yer life we can beat him there."

"Good. We need to leave before morning, or Mayor Quackity is going to kill me."

Tommy laughed in surprise. "We can do that. I've got a horse hitched up and ready to go."

"We'll need to make that two horses."

"You have wings, right? Can't you just fly?"

"No. I don't fly."

"Oh, come on. All angels fly."

"Not this one." Izrail glared at Tommy to put an end to the conversation.

Tommy stood and kicked in his chair. He adjusted his jacket and hat and smiled down at Izrail. "Okay, then. Two horses. I'm on it." Tommy turned to leave, stopped, turned back. "What's yer name, by the way? I can't just keep calling you 'The Angel.'"

"Izrail."

Tommy stuck out his hand, and this time, Izrail shook it.

"Nice doin' business with ya, Iz." Tommy winked and spun around on his heels. Izrail watched him tip his hat to Niki and saunter outside into the desert sun.