The drive out to the Freas' house was spent in a terse silence, during which I found myself gnawing at my nails. I racked over the case in my head, trying to figure out what I had missed. Was something else holding Robert Unther here or was it someone else entirely? Maybe it was a Tulpa. What had I missed?

I had absolutely no idea what, but I did know one thing. My mistake had cost someone their life. Some boy probably about my age was dead, and that was on me.

Sam glanced back as my breathing started to get heavier, and a concerned look flashed across his face.

"Lucy. Hey, Lucy. This isn't your fault."

I slanted him a disbelieving look. "Yes it is," I argued.

"No it's not," said Sam. "We all agreed on what was going on, we all missed- whatever it is we missed. Alright?"

I pressed my lips together in a thin line, and I shook my head ever so slightly. Sam could say what he wanted. I'd been the one who'd done the research, who'd stopped at the first possible person and decided it must be him. It was my lack of effort that had led to the mistake.

Dean used the rearview mirror to glance back at me. "Do you want to head back to the motel?" he asked. "You don't have to come with us; Sam and I can take this one alone."

I shook my head. "No, I need to do this. You know that."

Dean sighed and averted his eyes; he did know that.

A few minutes later the headlights of the impala fell on the house. It looked exactly the same as it had earlier that day; old and dilapidated, with ivy crawling up the walls. Except now there was yellow police tape stretched across the front door.

"How long ago did he die?" I asked. "Actually, tell me everything you know, cos I don't know much."

Dean shrugged. "Neither do we. I was listening in on the police radio when I heard them mention it. All I heard was that the kid fell down the stairs. Was pronounced dead on scene."

I gulped. "Kid?"

Sam slanted a glare sideways to Dean. "Yeah," he said. "The daughter Mia is seventeen, so the boyfriend was probably the same age."

I nodded and glanced away, mouthing the word was to myself. It was funny how easily Sam and Dean were able to refer to someone with that term, like the fact that they no longer existed was insignificant. To me it still felt surreal, wrong.

"You ok?" asked Dean.

I nodded. "Yeah. Let's go."

Both Sam and Dean looked disbelieving, but as I was already climbing out of the car they didn't have much choice but to follow. We hurried to the back of the impala, sticking rock salt guns and angel blades in our belts. The blades, we'd learned, worked on everything, including ghosts.

When Mrs. Frea opened the front door it was with a scared, exhausted expression. Her eyes focused on Sam and Dean and she blinked rapidly, taking a few moments to recognize them without the suits they'd been wearing earlier.

"Mr. Bennet. Mr. Harvey. What are you doing here?" she asked.

Dean smiled. "Yeah… about that. We're not who we said we were."

Mrs. Frea frowned. "What do you mean? Who's this?" She spotted me for the first time, hovering anxiously behind Sam and Dean.

Sam sighed. "Mrs. Frea, would you mind if we all stepped inside for a minute?"

Her eyes flickered back inside her house nervously, and she ran her tongue over her lips to wet them. "I don't think that's possible," she said. "We were just leaving."

The boys and I exchanged looks.

"Sorry," apologized Dean. He gave a small shove against the front door, and with a yelp of surprise Mrs. Frea stumbled back. We pushed our way inside the house, and I saw that stacked just by the door were several suitcases.

"Going somewhere?" I asked.

"A motel."

I glanced up to see Mr. Frea approaching. He was a lanky man dressed in jeans and a plaid shirt, the house lights above him glinting off the large bald spot on the top of his head. He came to stand behind his wife, placing his hands on her shoulders.

"Our house is a crime scene. We were asked by the police to find a motel to stay in for the time being. Who're you?"

Sam stepped forward. "I'm Sam," he explained. "This is my brother Dean and my sister Lucy." He ignored the questioning glances I got from the couple; we were used to people doubting us based on my skin color. "We're here to help."

Mr. Frea gulped. "Help with what?" he asked.

Dean rolled his eyes. "Don't play dumb. We know about Casper the not so friendly ghost."

Mr. and Mrs. Freas' eyes widened, and they exchanged nervous looks.

"I- I don't know what you're talking about," stuttered Mrs. Frea. "I really must ask you to go." She tried to move to the door, but a vase flew off a nearby table, smashing against the wall inches away from her head. She screamed and leapt back, and Sam, Dean, and I drew our guns, sweeping our eyes over the living room. Nothing was there.

"I suppose you're gonna try and say that was some weather anomaly or something," Dean stated. "Don't bother. We've heard all the excuses. That," and here he pointed to where shards of the vase were littering the floor. "Is not natural."

"It's Supernatural," I muttered. I couldn't help a small feeling of glee at my own inside joke, but no one else seemed to find it funny.

"Fine. Fine." Mr. Frea began pacing back and forth. "So it is. Supernatural, or whatever you want to call it. We need to get out of here before it hurts anyone else!"

Sam shook his head. "It won't," he promised. "That's why we're here." He gestured imploringly to the couch, and after a moment Mr. and Mrs. Frea sat.

"Where are your kids?" I asked. I frowned; surely the sound of the vase breaking should have drawn them downstairs.

"They're packing," answered Mrs. Frea.

I nodded. "I'll go get them. They should know what's going on."

Before anyone could respond I hurried up the stairs, eager to escape the explanation Sam was about to give. I didn't need to listen to my failure being described.

The first room on the right at the top of the stairs was open, empty. I assumed it had been Mr. and Mrs. Freas'. The one on the left led to a small bathroom, and I moved quickly past. The next room I got to was on the right side of the hallway as well, the door shut and music pounding from within.

I knocked, but when no one said anything I frowned and pushed open the door. A teenage girl with blonde hair was standing at the edge of her bed, staring blankly at the wall. Tears were running down her cheeks, but her sobs were- for now- silent. I guessed that was why she'd put on the music. So that no one would hear her crying.

I knocked again on the now open door, and this time she heard me. Mia gave a small frightened sound and backed away, automatically searching her room for something she could use as a weapon. Unless she was planning on clobbering me with tiny cellphone on her nightstand, she didn't have many options.

I held up my hands anyway, putting a placating smile on my face. "It's ok," I reassured her. "It's alright. I'm Lucy. My brothers are downstairs with your parents. We're here to help."

Mia relaxed slightly, but still eyed me warily. "Help with what?" she asked.

I rolled my eyes. "Come on. We both know what's going on here. There's a ghost hanging around your house, and you need it to leave. That's where we come in."

Mia gulped, her already big blue eyes growing bigger. "You- you can do that?" she asked.

I nodded. "Yeah, we can. But I need you and your brother to come downstairs. It makes things easier if everyone is in the loop."

Mia nodded and started to brush past me, but I grabbed her arm to stop her. "I know this must be hard," I whispered. "All this." I waved an arm around to indicate her uninvited house guest and all its havoc, and both our gazes went to the stairs. "I'm sorry. I know that doesn't mean much; it won't bring back- back—"

Oh god. I didn't even know his name. Mia's boyfriend had died because of me, and I didn't even know who he was. I gulped, a guilty flush overtaking my face, and beside me Mia stiffened.

"Danny," she said. "His name was Danny. Danny Briant." She sniffled, tears welling to her eyes again. "It's my fault," she moaned. "It's my fault he's dead."

I shook my head. "No it isn't." I sighed and took her hand, leading her slowly back to her bed. As much as I hated it, I needed to explain things to Mia myself. "It's my fault."

Mia looked at me in confusion, so I rushed to continue. "I did some research, and I found someone who I thought was the ghost. He was buried in the local cemetery, so earlier tonight my brothers and I went and burned the body. It's how you get rid of a ghost."

Mia shook her head. "I don't understand. If you killed it then…"

I sighed. "I must've been wrong. I don't know if there's something else holding him here, something in the house maybe, or maybe even the house itself. Or he might not even be the ghost. All I know is that I jumped to conclusions; I was wrong. It's my fault Danny is dead."

I had to force Danny's name past a lump in my throat. The name made him that much more of a person, that much more real. It was a stabbing reminder of what my inefficiency had cost. I was forced to blink back my own tears and glance away from Mia, afraid of what I would see in her eyes.

"No." She took my hand again- I hadn't even realized I'd pulled out of her grasp. "It's not your fault." She took a deep breath, sounding like she was still on the verge of crying. "You guys are the best, right? The best at what you do? If you missed it, whatever it is, no one else would have seen it. It wasn't your fault."

I bit my lip. While I was sure Sam and Dean were the best hunters out there, I wasn't so sure about myself. I decided not to tell Mia that though. All of her feelings of safety, of reassurance that the boys and I could actually get rid of the damn ghost, were probably riding on her belief that I knew what I was doing.

Besides, it was an easy way out of what I'd done. And I was weak enough to take it.

I nodded slowly. "Ok," I said. I scanned around the room, gulping as my gaze fell on a picture of Mia and Danny. Danny had been tall, with dark curly hair that fell into twinkling eyes. I glanced away so I didn't have to look at the happy, boyish grin he was aiming at the camera.

My eyes fell on Mia's arm, and I frowned. "Where did you get those bruises?" I asked.

Mia glanced down at her bare arms, frowning as she noticed for the first time the thin bruises running along her forearms. Four in a neat little row, with a fifth on the other side of her arm. Almost like a hand gripping her a little too tightly.

She gulped. "That- that was when Danny fell. I tried to grab him, to stop him from falling. It- it didn't work."

She glanced away, her hands fidgeting in her lap, and I frowned. If he had grabbed her arm when he fell with that much force, he would have dragged her down the stairs with him. Not only that, but the bruises were at the wrong angle.

"Try again."

Mia glanced up sharply.

"What really happened?" I asked.

Mia sighed. "Alright. Alright. We were- we were fooling around in here. Nothing serious. I decided I wanted some fresh air; we were gonna take a walk around outside or something. I dunno. I think I just wanted him out of the house before- before—" She broke off with a sob, and I rubbed her back soothingly until she could continue. "We were in the hall when he suggested that while we were out, we could go all the way. You know."

I nodded. I'd figured it out. After a moment Mia continued, staring at her hands as she did.

"I laughed and said no, and he pushed me against the wall. Tried to convince me. His hands got a bit tight, but he didn't mean anything by it. He was just fooling around." She looked at me imploringly, begging me to believe her.

I crinkled my nose. It didn't really matter what I thought of her boyfriend. All that mattered was catching the ghost that had killed him.

"And then what?" I asked.

Mia gulped. "I- I uh, I told him to get off, and he did. After a minute. He was laughing, we both were, it was just a game. But then something- the- the ghost- shoved him down the stairs. Not just down the stairs, over the banister." Her breathing grew heavy, and I was again forced to comfort her.

That was interesting. Was it a coincidence that the ghost had decided to make an appearance when it looked like Mia was in trouble? When her boyfriend was getting a bit rough? Something told me it wasn't.

My heart beating faster with anticipation, I stood and moved quickly across the room. "Come on," I told Mia. "I've got an idea. Let's get your brother and join the others."

Mia nodded and followed me out of the room, drawing me to a halt outside of her brother's door. "Maybe I should go in and bring him out to you," she said. "I don't want you to scare him."

I nodded, stepping back. Mia knocked lightly on her brother's door.

"Matt?" she called. "Matty?"

When no answer came she pushed the door open, slipping inside. For a moment there was silence.

"Matt!"

I shoved into the room, scanning around me. With the exception of Mia and I, no one else was in the there.

Mia spun and grabbed my shoulders, verging on panic. "Where is he?" she asked. "Where's my brother?"

"I don't know." I grasped Mia's hands in mine, forcing my breaths to come deep and even. "It's ok. We'll figure it out. Mia, you need to calm down."

It took a minute, but at last Mia's breath began to slow. She nodded as she stepped back, and I turned my attention away from her. The room looked completely normal; there weren't any signs of a struggle.

"Maybe he's just downstairs?"

Mia nodded eagerly, and we sprinted downstairs together. In the living room we found Sam and Dean with Mia's parents, all talking quietly. No Matt.

They all glanced up as we came in. "Where's Matt?" asked Mrs. Frea. Her gaze drifted back and forth between Mia and me, worry slowly taking over her features. Beside me Mia was beginning to hyperventilate again.

Sam and Dean stood. "Where do you remember seeing him last?" asked Sam.

Mr. Frea blinked a few times. "Uh- we sent the kids upstairs to pack."

Dean started up the stairs, gesturing for Sam and I to follow him. In Matt's room I pulled my EMF detector out of my pocket; I had never taken it out of my jacket earlier that day. The thing went crazy.

"Ok," I said. "Where could he have gone?"

"Anywhere if his parents weren't paying attention," Dean stated. "Which they probably weren't. They were rushing to get the hell out of here."

I sighed. "Ok. I might have a clue as to what's going on." Quickly I explained what Mia had told me, and the boys listened eagerly.

"Hold on," said Sam. He moved to the closet, wrenching open the door.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

Sam pulled a flashlight out of his pocket and shined it around the small space. "Look there," he said.

I peered closely. Scribbled onto the lower portion of the wall in red crayon was a drawing of two boys playing. I couldn't help a small smile as I realized what was going on, the familiar feeling of game on rushing through my system.

A ghost that interceded on a girl's behalf to protect her from an abusive partner. A little boy that had disappeared with a ghost. Cans in the cabinet had sometimes been knocked down, like a child carelessly going through, searching for his favorite jar of sauce. Other times they'd been stacked neatly, like a mother reorganizing her child's mess.

"Small town like this?" muttered Dean. "No one just vanishes. I should've realized it earlier."

I gulped. I should have realized it earlier.

"Ok, I don't understand," said Mr. Frea. "What are you thinking?"

Sam turned to them. "We're thinking Robert Unthur's wife and son never left."

I ignored the perplexed look on the Freas' faces.

Dean started pacing back and forth, thinking. "Ok, so maybe Robert comes home some nights after work, maybe he's a little drunk. Maybe he hits his wife a bit. His son too."

"That would explain why they left," I said. "But not why he hung himself a month later. He would've gone looking for them if they'd run off, not killed himself. Which means he knew exactly where they were the whole time."

Sam nodded. "It would have had to have been inconspicuous. People would notice a couple of freshly dug graves in the yard. It also had to be big enough for him to fit their luggage too, to make it look like they ran off."

"But why?" I asked. "Why would he kill them? Why would he kill himself?"

Dean shrugged. "Late night booze coupled with an already shitty husband. It was probably an accident. But then the wife and kid came back for revenge."

I nodded. That made sense. Where could Robert have hidden his wife's and son's bodies? Someone would have noticed him bringing them and their luggage out of town, and either way he had an alibi for the night they'd disappeared. Which meant that whatever he'd done, he'd done it quickly.

"The porch!" I yelled.

I ran from the room, ignoring the confused exclamations behind me. Within moments I had left the house, and was shining my flashlight around the perimeter of the porch.

There. A few boards were missing from the side, creating a hole just big enough for a small boy to crawl through. I pulled at the other boards, and was able to widen the gap considerably. It was now big enough for a grown man to crawl beneath the porch, dragging a large object.

"Lucy, don't do it!"

I ignored Dean's voice and crawled into the hole, and wasn't able to resist a smirk as he began cursing behind me. As soon as I was in there was a shuffling, and Dean began to crawl under.

"Matt?" I called. "Matty? My name is Lucy. Can you hear me?"

I cast my flashlight around, my eyes focusing on a flash of movement off to the side. The young boy from earlier that day was sitting in the dirt, hunched over as he played with something.

"Matt!" I called. I had to crawl towards him, but as I neared I saw that he was rolling a toy car around. "Are you ok?"

Matt glanced up at me. "Yeah," he said. "Why? Who're you?"

I rolled my eyes. "I'm Lucy. It's time to go."

Matt frowned. "But I was playing," he said. "Willy and I were playing."

I gulped. "I'm sure Willy will understand. Tell him you'll see him tomorrow. It's bed time."

Matt sighed and nodded, glancing to a space somewhere beside him. "I'm sorry Willy," he said. "Goodnight."

I breathed a sigh of relief as Matt began to crawl out. Dean helped him out of the porch, and then he moved over to me, his flashlight in one hand and his rock salt gun in the other. I drew my own gun.

There was a curious looking mound near where Matt had been sitting, and Dean and I shifted towards it. It turned out to be suitcases, and when we opened them we found they were filled with clothes for a woman and small boy. Dean and I exchanged sad glances but continued forward, edging around the suitcases to look at what we knew was just behind them. I grimaced as my eyes fell on the two bodies; by now simply bones stripped of all flesh. Even their clothes were hanging in tatters.

I shuddered and looked away. Why was this bothering me so much? I'd seen bones before. I spent half my nights digging them up and torching them.

"It's because of what happened to them," whispered Dean. I glanced over at him in shock; how had he known what I was thinking? "It makes it sadder."

I nodded. Dean had the same look in his eyes that I was feeling, and in the darkness he reached over and squeezed my arm comfortingly.

"Guys!" called Sam. I glanced back to see Sam poking his head through the hole we had crawled through. "I sent the Freas away. They're going to wait for us outside our motel. Did you find them?"

"Yeah," called Dean. There was a rough edge to his voice that only Sam and I would ever be able to detect. With a sigh he turned back to the bodies before us.

"Do we have to burn the luggage too?" I asked.

Dean shrugged. "Not sure. We might as well, just to be safe."

I nodded and grabbed a suitcase, working on wriggling my way backwards. At the entrance Sam took the suitcase from me, and I moved aside so that Dean could shove the other one outside.

"Get the tarp from the car," he called. Sam nodded and disappeared, returning a few minutes later with a wide tarp that had probably seen better days.

Dean and I gingerly loaded the bodies onto the tarp, and though we tried to be gentle, they invariably fell apart. I grimaced as I picked up a piece of vertebrae, setting in delicately onto the pile forming on the plastic sheet.

"Make sure we've got everything," ordered Dean. "We have to get it all. Even the clothes."

I nodded and swept my flashlight around, scanning the ground for small bones or pieces of cloth that had fallen off the corpses. A metallic glint caught my eye and I edged towards it, picking a small gold wedding band off the ground. I gulped and quickly added it to the tarp, nodding to Dean that we were ready to go.

"Sam," I called at the edge of the hole. "Give us a hand here!"

There was no answer, and with a frown I clambered out. Sam was nowhere to be seen.

I sighed and turned around, grabbing the edge of the tarp. Together Dean and I managed to tug it out from under the porch, and then Dean himself emerged, covered in dirt. I doubted I looked much better.

"Sam?" he called. "Sammy?"

Nothing.

Now I was getting worried, and Dean and I started away from the porch, heading towards the car. Maybe Sam was getting supplies.

Sam was lying on his back on the ground, struggling to keep the little boy sitting on his chest from choking him. The kid was surprisingly strong- an aftereffect of being a ghost- but Sam managed to toss Willy Unthur off of him. As soon as the kid was off I fired off my rock salt gun, and with a shriek he flickered from view.

"You ok?" Dean hurried to Sam's side, and Sam nodded.

"Fine," he panted. "Damn, that kid is fast. I came to start getting the salt and gas; didn't see him coming."

Dean nodded, glancing back over to me. "We just pissed them off," he warned. "Not to mention they've probably figured out what we're about to do. Let's- Lucy!"

I didn't have a chance to react before I was knocked off my feet, giving a small shriek of fright as I flew through the air. I landed several feet away and rolled, scrambling to my feet. There was a shimmer in the air in front of me, and then Veronica Unthur appeared. There was a dark bruise around her throat where she had been choked to death, and in her hands she held what was probably her husband's belt.

In retrospect, shooting her son, even if it was only her son's ghost, might not have been my smartest idea.

She rushed me, and with a yelp I moved to the side. I tripped though, tumbling to the ground. Glancing up, I saw that it had been Willy who had tripped me. He had the same bruise around his neck as his mother.

Before either could do anything Sam and Dean both shot them. I scrambled to my feet and backed away, and Sam grabbed my arm.

"Are you alright?" he asked.

"Fine. We need to get those bones burned."

Dean nodded and grabbed a bag of salt from the trunk of the impala, and Sam grabbed a tank of gas. I dragged the tarp away from the house- the building didn't need any help falling apart- and as Dean began dumping salt over the bones I grabbed the suitcases. Sam stood to the side with his gun in his hands, eyes scanning around him.

He fired off two shots to my left, and I spun to see Veronica and Willy disappear. I drew my gun again, and as Dean began throwing gasoline over the bones and suitcases I fired at the mother and son as they appeared behind Dean.

As Dean tossed a match onto the bones I heard a chilling scream. Glancing around me, I saw Veronica and her son standing near the porch. They had been getting ready to come at us again.

Now both were slowly lighting on fire. Willy tried to charge forward again, but he barely made it two steps before he fell to his knees. His mother knelt by his side and wrapped him in a hug, forgetting completely about me as she saw to her son's terror, and as their ghosts became fully engulfed in flames I felt tears come to my eyes.

Then they disappeared, and I knew it was over.

I took a deep breath and glanced back to Sam and Dean. They didn't seem emotional about what had just happened, but then again they'd been doing this longer. They'd had more practice hiding it.

We left quickly, driving in silence back to the motel. The Freas were waiting for us in the parking lot, all bunched into their car. I knew the boys and I must've looked awful, because all four of their eyes widened as we climbed out of the impala.

"Let's get inside," suggested Dean. He led us all into the room he and Sam were sharing, and while the Freas sat on one of the beds the boys and I moved to the table. It didn't take long for Sam to assure them that the ghosts were gone, and the look of relief on their faces was clear as day.

"So is that it?" asked Mr. Frea.

Sam shrugged. "It is on our end. I'm sure the police are going to want to look into Danny Briant's death a bit more, but just stick with he fell down the stairs and you should be good. Eventually this will all go away."

Mrs. Frea nodded. "Thank you," she whispered. She sniffed and stood, tugging Matt's arm to bring him with her. Somehow I doubted she'd let that boy out of her sight since we'd gotten him out from under the porch.

"Where will you go?" I asked. "I mean, something tells me you're not going back to the house."

Mr. Frea shook his head. "What I said about the police wanting us out for a few days is true. We've got to find somewhere to stay until the investigation is done."

Next to me Dean groaned, knowing what I was about to do.

"You can have my room," I said. I pointed to where my motel room was next door, smiling slightly at the shocked looks on the Freas' faces. "I can stay in here."

"You're sure?" asked Mrs. Frea.

I nodded. "Yeah. There're only two beds in there, but it's better than running all over town trying to find a motel with empty rooms. And I can kick these two to the same bed."

Mia glanced at Sam and Dean, who probably had identical annoyed expressions on their faces, and giggled.

"Thanks." Mr. Frea exchanged looks with his wife, and the two gave each other small nods of agreement. "Thank you."

I nodded. "No problem. Let me just clear my stuff out of there."

I did so quickly, taking over the bed furthest from the door in Sam and Dean's room. We each took turns in the shower, and once I finished I found myself sitting outside, needing the fresh air.

I glanced up from checking my phone as Mia slipped out of her room, and she sat beside me.

"What about you?" she asked. "Where are you guys headed now?"

I shrugged. "Not really sure. We sort of just follow the cases."

Mia blinked in surprise. "Are there a lot of them?"

"More than you'd think." I allowed myself a small chuckle. Even without the demons terrorizing Earth, there was still plenty going on. Ghosts, witches, and other such monsters, they were still around. If anything, the lack of competition by the demons had made them that much more prominent.

Sometimes I really wished I'd had a chance to do more during the Grace Crisis. A chance to get rid of the monsters for good. Another part of me was happy I hadn't. Sam and Dean were fueled by the chase; they needed to hunt. I was slowly falling into the same mindset as them. As much as we hated the late nights and the stress and the constant injuries, we needed them.

"Here." Mia held out her phone, and hesitantly I took it. "Put your number in."

I frowned, but did as she said. "Why?"

Mia shrugged. "Just- just cos. What you do, it's got to be lonely. And no one else would believe me if I tried to tell them about this." She waved her arm around to indicate the hell that her life had just been. "And no one would believe you if you told them what you do. So if you ever need to talk, about- about whatever it is you do, or if you just need to bury your head in the sand for a bit, give me a call." She offered a thin smile, and I felt tears come to my eyes.

I was the reason her boyfriend was dead. I was some weird chick who showed up at her house in the middle of the night with a gun and a story about how I was going to kill a ghost. She should be terrified of me and what I was mixed up in. She should at least hate me for not getting things right the first time around. But instead she was exchanging numbers with me, offering herself up as my very first friend in this universe.

I paused a moment as I realized that.

I didn't have any friends here. Sam and Dean were like brothers and Cas was my boyfriend. I was friendly with some of their friends, like Jody Mills and Garth Fitzgerald, but I didn't actually have any friends of my own.

The thought was suddenly strangely appealing, almost painful as I pushed my phone at Mia. She quickly inputted her number, then reached out and squeezed my hand. I hadn't even realized I was crying, but then I felt a tear drip slowly down my cheek.

Mia gave a shaky laugh. "God," she whispered. "When did everything get so complicated?"

I chuckled. "It gets better," I offered.

"Really?"

I sighed. "No. I was trying to be comforting, but uh- yeah. Sorry."

Mia laughed. "It's fine." She paused for a moment, then raised her phone in the air. "Here's to complicated."

"Complicated and crappy," I agreed. "But worth it." We clunked our phones together, then fell back on the pavement laughing. It was probably from stress or lack of sleep, maybe both, but our little toast seemed much funnier than it normally would have.

After a few minutes Mia sighed and rose, stuffing her phone back in her pocket. "Night, Lucy."

I nodded and gave a small wave as she backed towards her door, flipping my phone around in my hand. "Night, friend," I whispered.