AN: Enjoy! There's only one more part after this, so thanks for reading!

Chapter Seventeen

When Sam came to, two worried faces were peering down at her. One was God; the other was his assistant. Sam sat up awkwardly, rubbing the bump on her head and wondering if she needed to be embarrassed in front of God.

"Are you all right, Sam?"

Sam nodded, wondering if she was going to wake up from the dream she'd been having the three weeks any time soon.

"Get her some juice, Hannah."

The redhead hesitated. "What kind of juice?"

God smiled. "Apple juice was always her favorite, right, Sam?"

Sam nodded. She wanted to be amazed that a complete stranger knew that, but she reminded herself that he was God. "Yes, sir." She watched the girl leave and found her mental list of questions. "Have you always been God?"

He smiled. "Of course. It's not really a job you'd find in the classifieds."

The girl returned with a cup of juice. "Here you go."

Sam reached for it, not actually having any desire whatsoever to drink it. "Thank you-" She paused, searching her memory for the name she'd just heard.

The girl smiled. "Hannah."

Sam nodded, glancing between God and Hannah repeatedly. "So, if you're God," She pointed at him and then turned to Hannah. "Does that mean you're holy Hannah?"

Hannah shook her head. "No, just regular Hannah."

God stood up, offering his hand to help Sam up. "Drink your juice. I don't want you passing out again."

"I don't really think my problem is low blood sugar, sir." She obediently swallowed the liquid anyway.

God smiled. "No, probably not, but you did love apple juice."

Sam couldn't argue. As a kid, she'd sneak drinks of juice and then fill the bottle up with water to hide it. She started to wonder if she should apologize for that. "So, you've always been God?"

God furrowed his brow. "Didn't I just answer that?"

"I know. I just-" Sam shrugged and decided she wasn't going to resist the urge to do so ever again because there was no point. "I guess I always thought your obnoxious omnipotence was ego."

He smiled widely. "No, I am all-knowing."

Sam handed her empty glass to Hannah. "And all this time I just thought you were my dad."

He nodded as he led her into his office. "It used to be that people were comforted by their father."

Sam sat down in the chair facing God's beautiful cherry desk. "I am comforted by my father. It's just that I never realized you were God."

God sat down and pressed a few buttons on his keyboard. "I'm not actually your father, Sam. I usually assume the appearance of one's father when I speak with them."

"You're not really Jacob Carter, then?"

"No."

"You just look like him?"

"Right." God folded his hands. ""I can appear in my natural form if you prefer."

Sam's face lit up. "Oh, thank God!"

"You're welcome." In a second, God's image switched from that of her father to a non-descript, perfectly average middle-aged man with warm eyes and flecks of silver in his dark hair dressed in what Sam could tell immediately was a very expensive suit. His hair was cut neatly and is fingers were perfectly manicured. Sam knew he was one of those rare men, or deities, who could pull off getting a spa treatment while reading The Wall Street Journal at a high-end salon without looking out of place. He noticed Sam's study and smiled. "What? Were you expecting long hair and flowing robes?"

Sam felt like an ass and squirmed in her seat. "Yeah, kind of. And maybe a trident or something."

God chuckled. "I'm not King Triton." His laugh faded into a fond smile. "I used to wear the robe though. It kept getting caught under the wheels of my chair and the long hair was a little too hippy-ish for meetings."

Devastated by the utter dullness when she'd expected more, Sam sat in her chair feeling thoroughly disillusioned even though she hadn't even believed in heaven and God and all that. If she was going to be proven wrong, then she at least wanted choirs of angels and floating on clouds, not an office building.

God was a little more used to her reaction than he would have like, but a dumbfounded, open-mouthed, disappointed stare was usually all he got. "I have to maintain a modicum of professionalism. This is a business after all."

"Really? Do you post your third quarter earnings? Do you have a board of directors? Do you have competitors? She was waiting for him to say hell, because having seen Hitler and having talked to Marge, it appeared that there was no such thing as hell.

God grimaced much the way Sam did when she knew she was caught. "You're thinking about Hitler, aren't you? I don't really want to talk about that."

Sam felt a laugh bubble forth. "Yeah, I guess not." She never imagined God would be the type to dodge a question, but she wasn't bothering to e surprised anymore.

He sighed. "It was a mistake."

Somehow his attempt to apologize made him seem callous. "What? Like oops, my bad?"

"If you want to dredge up mistakes, Sam, how about we discuss some of the things you said when your mom came to me or perhaps your even worse transgressions in the last decade of utter disbelief that I was even here to curse? Just because you met a few false gods is no reason to stop believing in the real one."

Sam felt tiny and stupid and slid down in her seat.

God waited a beat. "Never thought I'd stump you."

"I'm sorry. I was just a girl when my mom died and I've seen some pretty awful things in the last ten years." Sam crossed her arms over her chest as she started to feel defensive. "And I seem to remember a few exams I begged for your help on. I don't remember you coming to my rescue!"

God sighed. "You turned out ok."

"You sound like my dad." Because, until the presence of Selmak, Jacob's answer to any requests she made for his help had always been something along the lines of figure it out yourself.

"Is it a bad thing to sound like your father?"

"No, not if you want to convince me you really don't particularly care about me." Sam pouted, realizing there was no way to win since, even though her father hadn't shown it, she'd never actually doubted that he loved her. "I know you both love me, but it would have been nice to hear it once in a while when I was gawky and awkward and nerdy."

God nodded. "Ok, so I didn't let you ace tests you didn't study for and you were rather rude to me, so it was even. But then you grew up-" He motioned at her body. "And I think I more than made up for you being gawky and awkward and not having any boyfriends, considering that you won the heart of the man of your dreams the first time he looked at you."

Blushing and mortified and suddenly very aware that the man she was talking to both knew about the mesh underwear and wasn't Jack, Sam wiggled uncomfortably. She sincerely wished she didn't feel so inept in front of God. "I'm sorry."

God smiled. "Don't worry. I'm not mad anymore."

"Ok, good." She paused for a moment. "Wait, you were mad?"

"Wouldn't you be?"

Sam thought about her behavior over the years, including the time right after her mom's death when she'd used the f-word quite a few times in relation to God. "So why didn't you smite me or something?"

God waved his hand dismissively. "Smiting is so old testament."

Sam leaned forward, deciding she was going to get one question answered once and for all. "So which religion is right?"

"All of them and none of them." God grinned. "It's not so much about anything organized, although it's fine if everyone wants to get together and sing my praises quite literally. I just want people to believe in something and not be mean to one another. Is that so much to ask?"

Sam shook her head. "No, not really."

"So, about why you're here."

Sam suddenly sat up straight. "Apparently one of your employees made a very large mistake."

"Yes, I realize that and I do apologize because I do strive for excellent customer service ratings." God leaned his head to the side. "But I'm afraid there's a problem."

Sam had a terrible feeling in the pit of her stomach, much like she'd had taking those tests that she hadn't studied for, and she suspected God would be as much help. "What sort of a problem, sir?"

"You're not supposed to have a torrid affair with the living."

"I asked about the rules and I was told there were none."

God leaned forward and smiled a tight-lipped smile at her. "Because no one's ever succeeded before. But you're still not supposed to."

Sam's nerves turned to anger. "I wasn't supposed to die either. Shit happens."

"You've created a run on the haunting counter. Every soul is determined to go back and live vicariously through a human's belief in them."

Sam wasn't going to let God intimidate her. "That sounds like your problem, not mine."

God sat back, his body language taking on a much more authoritative stance than he had previously. "I'm God, young lady. My problem is your problem."

Sam's voice was very small when she spoke. "I thought you stopped smiting people."

"You're making trouble, Samantha."

"What do you want me to do?" She couldn't believe her arrogant tone.

God's eyes narrowed at her. "Stop."