Mabel stood in the bathroom of Lucy's apartment later that night, eyeing her reflection critically. She didn't look any different, but she wasn't sure what she expected. How, exactly, was one supposed to look after being brought back from the dead?

It doesn't really matter, in the end, Mabel decided finally. She was back, and that was what counted. Now, all she had to do was get in touch with Aleron. Saying his name hadn't worked, and she wasn't fond of the idea of drawing his name in blood, so what other options did she have?

It was only a couple hours later, nestled on Lucy's couch while her two best friends slept on the floor, that Mabel came up with an idea. She crept away as silently as she could, pulling on clothes before slipping out into the night.

In the hazy light of the streetlamps, Mabel called different names. "Zephyrine! Thora!" she wasn't sure whether they would hear, if they would want to see her after she killed Nephele, or if they were even alive themselves.

She didn't have long to worry, however.

Thora popped out of the shadows, face slack with surprise, her scaly tail falling against the pavement with a harsh slap. "Mabel?" the serpent-woman exclaimed, "What? H-how . . . it's so good to see you!" she flew forward, sweeping Mabel into a crushing embrace.

"Hi, Thora," Mabel grunted, untangling herself and managing a weak smile. "It's good to see you, too. Is, uh," she cleared her throat, "Is Zephyrine okay?"

Thora's grin became sad. "Yes, she's alright. A little banged up, but she'll be just fine with time."

Not oblivious to the cloud that hung over them, Mabel pushed back her shoulders, determined to get the words out. "Thora, I am so, so sorry about Nephele. I didn't—" Thora held up a hand, stopping Mabel.

"I know you didn't want to and it's okay, Mabel; Nephele will be reborn in several decades, and it's not even your fault. In fact, I'm sorry. Nephele killed you, and everything's been so bad since then."

"What?" Mabel's brows shot up. "What do you mean? It was over after that, wasn't it? The Door was closed, so the souls didn't leave again, right? If I died for no reason, I will be seriously pissed."

Shaking her head with amusement, Thora released a chuckle that bordered on a sob. "It is really, really good to have you back, Mabel."

Stunned, because even for Thora the amount of emotion was a little excessive, Mabel was silent for a beat. "Um, thanks? Thora, what are you not telling me?"

"Oh, Mabel," Thora plopped down on the concrete, her tail bending to support her, her arms braced against the ground. "It's been so awful!" she closed her eyes and thrust her head towards the sky, as if the mere thought was too traumatic to even say out loud.

"Aleron is an absolute monster! He keeps forcing us to do these stupid tasks just to keep everyone busy, he won't talk to us about anything except for those jobs, and he snaps at everything and everyone. Not to mention, he blames Zephyrine and me for Nephele biting you, and . . ." she blew out an exasperated breath. "It all just sucks, you know?"

Mabel blinked twice. "Wow. Uh. Okay. So, should I even go visit Aleron? I'd hate to bother him if he's in the middle of something . . ." It would suck to put off reuniting with him, but if he was deeply involved in some Hell-related issues that couldn't wait, then she would hate to distract him.

Her thoughts were brought to a halt by the almost disgusted look Thora sent her.

"Are you kidding me?" the serpent-women shot off the ground, snatching Mabel's hand and pulling her closer. "You are the only thing he wants to see, and I am not going through another round of snarling. Come on."

Thora snapped her fingers, and the lights on the street went out, encasing them in darkness. Before Mabel could ask what was happening, they were surrounded by rushing wind, and then nothingness.

Mabel stumbled out of Thora's arms a beat later, barely catching herself before she toppled onto her face.

"Oh, thank God," Mabel whirled to find Zephyrine settled on a shabby couch with a magazine obscuring her features, "I am seriously glad you're here."

Mabel ignored her words, eyes soaking in what seemed to be a home of sorts. It was circular, with brick walls and only a couple of rooms, from what Mabel could see. No two pieces of furniture matched, and it went without saying where they were.

"This is your home?" Mabel asked, just be sure.

"Indeed!" Thora chirped, seeming much happier than earlier. "Did you see, Zephy?" the other ala didn't even look up from The Problems with Project Runway: An In-depth Look.

"See that Aleron will finally stop chewing us out? Yes, I saw. Go ahead and take her to him, because I am not going out to tear up a hundred more farms today. I refuse."

Thora nodded eagerly, slithering out the door and beckoning for Mabel to follow. Instead of the black clay and familiar landscape of Hell that she expected, Mabel was surprised to find a winding staircase leading down.

"Where exactly are we?" she asked, eyes solely on the steep stairs so as not to trip as she clambered down them.

"We're in Death's castle, of course. Our home has always been located in the far East tower; there's quite a few demonic beings that live here, actually. Only the trusted ones, though. Hurry up!" and then Thora disappeared through the doorway at the base of the stairwell, leaving Mabel to curse her own lack of wings and rush down faster.

Panting as she emerged through the exit, Mabel took a moment to catch her breath, the weakness of her body obvious with the pain that echoed in her muscles. "Thora?" she looked up to see that they had come out in a wide expanse of hallway, like something out of the medieval times, decorated with demon horns and other knick-knacks Mabel didn't want to question (ignorance was sometimes bliss, after all).

At the end of the hall stood two tall, ornate wooden doors, and Mabel didn't have to think hard about what was probably on the other side. Where else would Death and his right-hand man be?

Biting her lip at the sudden nervousness building in her stomach, Mabel strode forward slowly, stopping against the door and laying her ear against it. She didn't want to walk in unannounced, and what if Aleron wasn't in there?

The thought was quickly debunked when she heard a familiar growl through the oak. "Why do you bother me, Thora?" the sound of something shattering made Mabel wince. "Do you not listen?! Leave me!"

"Aleron," Thora begged, "you need to understand that this is actually important! It's about Ma–!" the word was cut off with a squeak, and Mabel had to strain to hear Aleron's next words, they were said so lowly and with such menace.

"Do. Not. Speak. Her. Name. Ever. Her name is not for you to say, Thora, and I will not have you sully it so. You do not deserve to say it."

"What are you doing out here? And how the Hell are you alive?" Mabel clamped a hand over her mouth to stop a squeal, spinning around to find Colby leaning against the opposite wall and looking torn between shock and confusion.

Other than his expression, he looked normal, especially considering that he had gone from male prostitute to King of Hell in less than a month. "Colby," Mabel wheezed, moving her hand to her heart, "You scared the life out of me."

"I hope not," he gathered his emotions and flashed one of those stupid smirks. "If you're alive, I'd rather you not die again. Aleron's been worse than a sexually-frustrated teenage boy."

Mabel rolled her eyes at the continued over-dramatized description of her favorite demonic guardian. "Oh, please," she began, "I doubt he's really been—"

"" Mabel barely had time to jump out of the way before Thora came hurtling through the doors, shuddering to a stop halfway down the hall.

She shifted to face Mabel and Colby, an embarrassed smile on her face. "I don't think he believed me."

"'Cause he needs proof," Colby said with a duh tone. "Of course he's gonna doubt that. You should have sent Mabel in first, idiot."

Thora glared at him. "Shut up. Just because you're Death doesn't mean you get to act like such a spoiled, know-it-all brat all the time."

Colby grinned wickedly. "Oh, really? This coming from the . . ." their argument grew further away as Mabel slipped through the doors, her bare feet silent against the rugs that had been laid across the brick flooring.

Eyes landing on Aleron, she felt her heart swell with pity.

Once tough and intimidating, he looked like someone had taken a hammer and hit him until he'd splintered.

He sat to the left of a large throne (Death's, she figured), head braced in his hands, shoulders heaving, and . . . Mabel's eyes widened when the noise registered. Her strong, brave, unbreakable guardian was sobbing.

"You should not have done it," his words were strangled with tears. "You should have listened to me. You stubborn, stubborn girl." He was talking to her, Mabel realized. Or, well, her memory, anyway.

Creeping closer, she sat a few feet from him, not wanting to startle him. "I'm sorry, Aleron."

His head snapped up so fast she was afraid it would fall off. "No," he muttered when his eyes landed on her, his expression horrified. "No!" he shot up, stumbling away from her until his back hit the wall. "No, Mabel, you cannot be here. You are supposed to go to Heaven, where you will be at peace. You cannot come here—your soul is too pure."

He closed his eyes tight, as if it would somehow send her to Heaven, shaking his head frantically when he opened them and she was still there.

"You cannot be here," he croaked. "Please, Mabel, do not go this way."

"I didn't, Al." She licked her lips and stood carefully, "I went to Heaven, I did. But Leora said it wasn't my fault—she said I wouldn't have died if I hadn't tried to save everyone, and they told me I could come back." A smile tugged at her lips. "I met another one of your relatives, by the way. I like this one better than Blagdan, though."

She'd hoped he would chuckle, or at least smile, but he did neither. Instead he slid down the wall, the hopelessness etched into his features enough to make her heart crack.

"My Little One," he whispered softly, his eyes blank, "My stubborn, foolish little Mabel."

She kneeled in front of him, clasping his hands in her own. "I know, Al, and I am sorry for what I did. I'm back now, though. Back for good. You hear me?"

"Back for good," he echoed, staring straight through her. "That is not how death works."

Mabel blew out a forlorn sigh, wondering how exactly she was supposed to fix this. "Al," she pleaded finally, leaning forward and placing a soft kiss on his nose. "I'm right here. I'm back."

His eyes snapped to hers, but he stayed silent, just watching her. She smiled reassuringly, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and pulling his face down to her neck, where she could feel tears trickle down her collarbone.

"It's alright, Al. It's alright now." She raked her fingers through his hair, murmuring in his ear. Finally, as if something had snapped within him, Aleron wound his arms around her waist, lifting her into his lap, his embrace almost crushing. He held her as though she would float away at any second.

Yeah, she mused as she kissed his temple, Everything's alright now.