Author's Note: Screw it, I already had this chapter written and I figured you guys might want to see how it ended before whenever I remembered to post this. XD Enjoy, please review, and let me know what you thought of Andrea, Walker, and the rest of the gang!

This has been a pleasure to write, even more so because of you lovely readers. Keep on keepin' on!

Chapter 15: Moving On

The street was empty except for the girl. It was before seven in the morning, much too early for any sort of traffic in the sleepy residential neighborhood. Clouds covered the sky and the air was cool, but the permeating grey light and a promise of later warmth made her glad that she had left her sweatshirt at home. A single car rolled past, barely disturbing the still air. Birds sang loudly and continuously enough to remind her of the tropical rainforest exhibit at the zoo.

The girl, perhaps sixteen or seventeen years old, clutched a journal close to her chest, clearly too concerned for its safety to risk stuffing it into her overflowing backpack. Despite the fact that this was crammed with textbooks and loose sheets of paper, a thermos and a metal lunchbox clanging merrily against the side, she ignored the weight and focused on the sound of her flats slapping the asphalt, the tickle of a strand of hair against her neck, the smell of new bark which her neighbor had laid down the week previously.

The girl reveled in these sensations because of her nightmare: it was one which troubled her frequently, more strange than frightening. She was always drifting, clearly aware and present, but could not feel anything. She could vaguely sense sounds, but the temperature of her environment, the scent of the flowers on an unfamiliar dining room table, the taste of bread that she hopelessly placed in her mouth; all of these escaped her. She couldn't even touch other people, but only passed through them.

So she shuffled her feet through every clump of damp leaves and enjoyed it. The dream always just tapered off, so it never disturbed her into the day.

"Good morning, Sophia!"

The girl turned her head and smiled widely. "Good morning Mr. Walker. How are you?"

"Oh, fine, fine," the man said, waving away the question with his hand. Mr. Walker, with his pale skin and long blond hair, used to unsettle her a little with the sad expressions he sent her way. Then her parents whispered to her that his young wife, to whom Sophia bore a slight resemblance, had passed away before she was born. In her, he saw a lost loved one.

Sophia had seen a picture of Andrea Walker when her husband had held a neighborhood barbecue. She was pretty and tall and had curly auburn hair. Sophia was short and rather plain with pitch black hair, but she had to agree that something about the curve of her jaw and the corners of her eyes was reminiscent of the face in the photograph.

At first, she had avoided the man, feeling pretty creeped out by being thought of as nothing more than a ghost. But, eventually, Mr. Walker's fascinating conversation and general neighborly presence put her at ease. He was a history major, and his favorite thing to do was to recount battles from the Revolutionary War with as much zeal and detail as if he had actually been there. She pitied him, too, for his sad past, and made a special effort to be kind to him. They were friends now, and he was always up to say "good morning" to her on her way to school, even when she left the house before her parents were awake.

Today, Mr. Walker was watching her pass by his house with his habitual sad smile. He gestured to his temple. "You have… a smudge of something there."

Sophia brushed her hand across the side of her face and the tips of her fingers came away black. She rolled her eyes and laughed. "I fell asleep with a pen behind my ear last night. It's just ink." She rubbed at it with her sleeve and stained that, too. She didn't really mind. Most of her clothing already had blue or black or red or green ink splattered or spilled or smudged on it.

Mr. Walker's eyes followed her hand down, his eyes saddening even as his smile brightened a little. "Indeed." He seemed to shake himself as Sophia looked pointedly at her watch and then towards the bus stop. "I'm sorry, I mustn't keep you. Are you still able to watch Casper this weekend while I'm out of town?"

Sophia grinned. "Of course!" The boisterous chocolate lab seemed to love her even more than its owner, if that was possible. "You know it's not any trouble."

"Thank you." Both of them glanced up as the rumbling diesel engine of the school bus trundled its way closer. "Hurry. Don't be late."

Sophia waved goodbye and began jogging, tightening her grip on the notebook. The school newspaper was due to be published at the end of the week, and she had stayed up late to perfect her article on feminism in modern art. A handwritten piece of paper titled "AHS Student Makes All-State Band" drifted carelessly from Sophie's backpack and skittered along the ground.

The wind blew the piece of paper alongside her, barely brushing her heels, until Sophia stopped running and leaned against the stop sign which marked the bus stop. No one else stood there. Then the piece of paper overtook her, and Sophia cried out and leapt forward into the street to grab it, horrified at losing her secondary article, toe catching on the curb as she tipped forwards and crashed face-first into the road.

Suddenly, the school bus was looming over her, tires and brakes screeching deafeningly as the startled driver swerved-

But she was no longer in the street. Someone had grabbed her by the backpack, dragging her upright. She whipped around to see Mr. Walker, shaking but determined, holding her still and… flickering?

He looked at her, jaw clenched. "Try to be more careful," he grunted.

"I will," Sophia gasped, out of breath.

And he turned and walked back towards his house.

"You told me that it was a ridiculous idea. You told me that I couldn't do her any good. But you saw that!"

Castiel sat nonchalantly on Walker's kitchen table and shrugged. "You did Sophia Assaro some good. But you didn't do anything for Andrea Fosters. She's gone."

Walker sighed, leaning against the refrigerator, defeated. Casper nudged his leg. He ignored him. It had been a decade and a half, and so many things were still painful.

"You don't have to stay here any longer." Walker jerked his head up, suspicious, but Castiel was as matter-of-fact as always. "You were overlooked in a war. In a system as complex as the afterlife, it was bound to happen eventually. Sam and Dean usually take care of those, but you were the exception. Now you don't have to be. You can come to heaven. It's rebuilding, and all the souls are still there." A tentative pause, that of an angel still unfamiliar with the patterns of human emotion. "Your family are still there."

Walker looked out his window at the white picket fence in his yard, at the worn path where a student who pitied him walked to school every morning. An adolescent who didn't know that she held the keys to the universe locked up in her mind, and who certainly had no memory of his true form. He looked down at the pleading brown eyes of the part-hellhound that he had to hide in plain sight. He looked around at the carton of milk on the counter, some of which he poured down the drain every morning to keep up appearances. He looked at the angel who had become his friend, sitting in his kitchen and making him an offer he already knew he couldn't refuse.

A doubt flashed through his mind. What would Sophia think? Would she worry about him? If he left a note saying that he had had to leave town for some family business and could she watch Casper indefinitely, would she suddenly remember the laughter they had shared in another life, or even miss him at all?

No.

His throat tightened. "All right."