Billy gaped. Or he would if he'd had the capacity. Sean had told him that this Sam was a fallen angel. He hadn't known what to expect, but it wasn't this. The few times he'd bothered to think of Samhain at all, he had pictured a dark character, someone slimy and dislikable. That was about as far from the mark as was possible. What Sam really looked like was...perfection. It was like someone had taken all the best features of every superstar on the planet and put them into one person. His jaw was the perfect ratio of round to square, his every muscle tightly defined, not a hair out of place. Man perfected.

"You made the news." Sam said, giving Lindsey a warm hug as she reached the top of the wide ornate staircase to the porch.

Lindsey returned the hug, then signed something to reply, her movements coming quick and agitated. Sean followed up the steps, grinning. Billy slid warily sideways toward the group, never taking his gaze off the hounds that eyed him like a tasty snack.

"So what brings you two to my door?" Sam asked as he signed the same question to Sean. "Is it the high profile murder, or the idiot of the damned?"

Sam ran his eyes over Billy as if he could see him whole. He had a distinctly unfriendly gleam to his eyes.

"We were on our way here already when that shit fest at the gas station happened." Sean replied in his usual mumbling drawl. "Sam, meet Billy. Billy, Sam."

"It's incredible to meet you." Billy said, still gawking.

Sam looked unimpressed. "I don't usually open my home to the damned, but there's just something about a lost cause that makes me want to try even harder."

He cracked a grin. "Besides, its in my nature to be generous."

Turning to Sean and Linsey he said, "As always, make yourselves at home. Later we'll see what we can do about your ride, right now I will deal with Mr. William Reuben Randall."

Billy tried to blink in surprise, but of course he had no eyes. The constant lack of the expected physical reactions had not gotten easier to bear as time passed. If anything it was getting worse.

"How did you know my full name? No one said it." Billy asked.

"Oh some things I just know." Sam waved aside the question as if the reason didn't matter. Sean chuckled.

"Come with me William." Sam said, heading toward the mansion's massive double front doors.

Billy floated along in the angel's wake as he led him through a grand entrance hall. To the left and right of the hall were wide spiraling staircases. It was lined with portraits of Southern gentlemen, and a magnificent crystal chandelier illuminated the space. The red carpet that ran down the hall and up both staircases looked thick enough to sleep on. Two of the single-wide's he'd grown up in would fit comfortably side by side in this room.

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Sam walked the length of the hall, and gestured Billy into a room on the back left. Sam's steps left no imprint on the thick carpet.

The room Sam had ushered him into was a library. Billy looked around in wonder. He'd never been much of a reader, but then again, if he'd had a place like this to read, he might have spent more time doing it.

The room was two stories high, another ornate spiral staircase sat against the far wall, granting access to the upper floor. Books were crammed tight into every shelf, their spines creating a multi-colored collage. The shelves were lined with rolling ladders to access the hard to reach spaces, and every few feet a thick and comfortable looking chair or sofa was placed so a reader wouldn't have far to go before plopping down with their latest find.

Sam walked to a mini bar next to the room's grand fireplace. He poured himself a tall glass of milk and took it to the armchair in front of the fireplace.

Gesturing to the adjacent armchair he said, "I'd offer you a seat, but you cant sit, can you?"

Billy tried, futile as he knew it would be, but he could not feel the chair, the warmth of the fire, or even himself in anyway. He felt nothing, as had been since he awoke.

"Eventually it will be too much for you." Sam said, as if he could tell exactly what Billy was thinking. "Any ghost, for lack of a better word, will eventually succumb to the hopelessness. You will lose yourself to that nothingness if Sean can't help you, and you'll end up haunting whatever crack den you died in."

"I never did crack." Billy said, defensive, but he was still gawking around the room. He spied a display of a Gutenberg Bible under a glass display. "How do you afford all of this?"

Sam gave a contemptuous chuckle. "Money is just something that accumulates over time when you can't die. And if you always expect the worst of humans, you can make some easy investments. I hold major stakes in just about every weapons manufacturing company in this barbaric hole."

"Why a plantation?" Billy asked next.

Sam took a long drink of his milk, smacking his lips in appreciation before answering. "I suppose I enjoy a bit of irony. I bought a place where horrible things had been done by horrible people. From this place I use my millions of dollars, gained through the suffering of millions of innocents, to try to reduce the influence of evil on this world.

"I've tried more direct approaches to battle against Lucifer and his ilk. But you humans are a stubborn breed. You cant be forced into an idea, no matter how plain the outcome, you would rather die, horribly I might add, than change a deeply held belief."

"More direct approaches? You are financing a man who travels around murdering people." Billy accused. "That's pretty direct."

"Murdering the right people." Sam corrected. "A well placed execution here and there prevents more bloodshed in the long run. That poor man at the gas station the other night, well he was a casualty of the cause. It's unfortunate, but there are a hell of a lot less casualties here than those in my past."

"Shit, what have you done in the past?"

"You've heard of the Spanish Inquisition?"

"That was you?"

"Me and a few others. We had the idea that humans could be forced into accepting heaven if they lived through hell. It was a lesson in the stubbornness of humans, and possibly the worst mistake of my very long existence." Sam explained, sounding truly regretful.

"And you're what helping me out of the goodness of your heart?" Billy asked. "Sounds like you've got a pretty fucked up idea of what help is."

"I couldn't care less what happens to you." Sam said bluntly, taking another sip of his milk. "One soul, one way or the other, isn't even going to register in the infinite ocean of my sins. But it will make a hell of a lot of difference to you."

Billy couldn't think of anyway to respond to that. He just stared at Sam, trying to understand.

"So, do you want my help or not?" Sam demanded.

Billy tried to take a deep breath to calm himself, as he used to do before making a big decision. His inability to do so cut at him like it always did.

"Okay." he said, " What can I do?"