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"description": "Annnnnnnnnnnnnnnnd thats that. That's the story that happened to the little witch, and turned her into a neutral party. Since I doubt I'll make a sequel to this, here's the skinny on what happens after. Spark ends up being a very -very- important mortal to both factions, since she can serve as a go between with either side. Meaning, that instead of simply influence like demons and Angels do, they can directly ask her for favors.\nNot that she plays favorites. She refuses to get involved in the politics of heaven and hell, but it doesn't mean others won't try to sway her anyway...\n\nFor those wondering, here's a little clarification. This story is written based off the JACK universe created by Dave Hopkins. Spark managed to \"Wake\" Ricochet up by 'opening his eyes' to his sin. In that, he realized why he went to hell. (Stealing) He'd forgotten his Sins, which was part of the process of his punishment, and forced to remain ignorant and reliving the same day over and over and over again- failing to save Serena, until Spark showed up and interrupted. Now that Ricochet's eyes are open to what he did wrong, he can begin the journey to try and redeem himself.", "description_bbcode_parsed": "Annnnnnnnnnnnnnnnd thats that. That's the story that happened to the little witch, and turned her into a neutral party. Since I doubt I'll make a sequel to this, here's the skinny on what happens after. Spark ends up being a very -very- important mortal to both factions, since she can serve as a go between with either side. Meaning, that instead of simply influence like demons and Angels do, they can directly ask her for favors.
Not that she plays favorites. She refuses to get involved in the politics of heaven and hell, but it doesn't mean others won't try to sway her anyway...

For those wondering, here's a little clarification. This story is written based off the JACK universe created by Dave Hopkins. Spark managed to "Wake" Ricochet up by 'opening his eyes' to his sin. In that, he realized why he went to hell. (Stealing) He'd forgotten his Sins, which was part of the process of his punishment, and forced to remain ignorant and reliving the same day over and over and over again- failing to save Serena, until Spark showed up and interrupted. Now that Ricochet's eyes are open to what he did wrong, he can begin the journey to try and redeem himself.", "writing": "She awoke to sight of a white, clean ceiling, and the curious scent of stale air filled her lungs. Leisurely did her senses reawaken, her consciousness flittered back to her, returning slowly, cautiously, like some frightened mouse, whom had been terrified from it's home by some suave predator. Her memories were second, filling her head with cinema like quality and sharpness. Memories of hell, suffering and torment, complete with ghastly images and grotesque monsters of nightmare. But it was mostly the great and inconceivable pain that danced in her ribs and twisted her stomach into small tight knots that she remembered the clearest. It was, however, pain she knew no longer. She was unsure how she came to be, but came to be she did, laying on her back in her room; her legs twisted underneath her, and her paws folded neatly across her belly, while her breathing came in slow, peaceful jaunts. It was if she'd simply taken an afternoon nap, dreaming terrible dreams, instead of a long torturous journey to boundaries beyond mortal comprehension. But she was certain it was no nap, and any dream, dreamt ; no matter how horrible or terrifying, would be sweet in measure to the true horrors of hell. Dreams, she was sure would come many and inexorably, cursing her sleep with souvenirs of tortures long lost. Still, her expression took joy in her surroundings, and she squeezed her arms about herself in a hug so fierce she feared she might crush her ribs once more; she was home.\n\nIt came as no small shock to Spark, that four long months had come and pass since she'd began her trip. In merely a week in a different realm, she'd lost nearly one hundred and fifty days. Reunions came both tearful and intense, riddle with questions and fraught with hugs. Her apartment had been cleaned out, her furniture removed and her goods placed to her family members sisters and brothers. Her bar: Beautiful Twilight, where she worked as owner and waitress, had taken new owner ship and she found herself doubled over and laughing when the bouncer had demanded ID from her. Mishaps and irritations were joyful to behold and things to hold dear, after her encounters in hell. The process to retrieve her personal belongings and her existence was treacherous as it was tedious, but eventually she was considered 'alive' again, her personals returned to her, apartment resumed in it's messy, dirty existence, and her life had officially returned to a semi state of normal.\n\nIn three weeks time, Sparkle Shadowpaw found herself alone in her bar, quietly washing out the inside of a glass mug with an old grey cloth. Glasses and booze caressed the racks on the wall behind her, and empty stools sat adjacent to the bar in front of her. But the glass just wouldn't get clean. She frowned, rubbing it again and again, and again, yet dirty smudges and spots remained. With a fitful sigh, she sat the glass down on the bartop, and watched, unmoving as the glass filled slowly to the top with a golden color of strong smelling beer and foamed at the top with a frosty mirth. Tilting her head to one side, she nearly laughed at the sight of a small waspish pixie climbing from underneath the bar, crawling up the side of the mug, and diving into the beer, as if it were a pool. Drained and swirled, the liquid spun about for a moment, further and further down into the cup, and soon, all that was left behind was a small bright blue butterfly.\n\nHer ears twitched, and those emerald eyes shifted for a moment under the spiking juts of ruby that jolted from her scalp. The butterfly glimmered a most spectacular rainbow of colors before it fluttered up and just out of view. Sparkle didn't let her eyes follow after it however. Instead she continued to stare into the bottom of the empty glass with an almost tearful expression twisted over her features.\n\n\"Once, did my ears scrape some small bit of advice.\" The wolf surmised softly, giving the golden rag under her fingertips a slow clockwise turn in the mouth of the glass. \"Pay attention to your dreams for God's angels often speak directly to our hearts when we are asleep.\" Quote some poet long now lost...Freeman...I believe.\" Spark whispered quietly. Her ears dared to turn towards the slow sound of a paw crashing into another, and her lips split into a gentle, gleaming smile when she took sight of Christopher and Ricochet sitting side by side at the other side of the bar.\n\nThere was little she could do to stop the smile that seized her features and forced her to clap her paws together with squeals of delight. Certain, she was dreaming, but even in dreams, reunions were wondrous to behold.\n\n\"How are you, Spark? Are you ok? Nightmares? I know as a mortal you-\" Christopher began, but was cut off when Sparkle shook her head, holding up a single paw.\n\n\"No. No nightmares, nothing like that. I slept like a baby, actually. I'm surprised too...that was a terrible experience but really...I dunno maybe it has something to do with the magic...maybe my dad actually prepared me for something horrible like that...I dunno....buuuuuut...\"She grins and pointed towards Ricochet happily.\n\n\"Ricochet, Ricochet, Ricochet. I have something for you!\" The wolf beamed proudly, and quickly bent down under the bar. When she reappeared, she was carrying a folder, packed with pictures and articles. Her tail fluttered back and forth like some happy pup whom just received it's first ball.\n\n\"Wiki cross referenced with the library. Your name is actually Clayton Smith, you were born July 7th, 1869, and were to be married to a saloon girl named Serena Carlson. So, according to this, Clayton, it says you were a cowboy, that learned how to shoot cause of your pappy, Nathan Smith, right. You were one of the best there was, but I think you were also a card shark! See, remember when we were playing poker, and I knew, I KNEW you were cheating. Ok, so I think, from what I can piece together, you were a card player. You feel in love with that girl, but you didn't have enough money to buy the saloon she worked at...she must have been held there for some reason by the previous owner, you fell for her, decided to buy the place and run off with her. You couldn't make up the money, so you started gambling and cheating. You were conning folks out of cash through poker games, and you conned these rats. They must have figured out you cheated, and took Serena hostage at some church like the one I ended up in. Now here's the tricky part- you said you only had twelve bullets to work with per day, right? I think that they had a group or something, some...cult that you messed with. You find out they kidnapped your girl out of revenge, and you head over there, guns blazing. You kill twelve out of thirteen and run out of bullets right?! So then, this thirteenth rat catches you by surprise and kills you. I found this article about this coyote girl who they found emancipated and stapled up on this cross at an old abandoned church. It all fits...Clayton! It all fits!\" Spark barked happily, tail wagging in place while Ricochet quietly closed his eyes and smiled.\n\n\"Aye...they called me...Clayton The Ricochet Smith. I had some really amazing gun skills, and I could bounce bullets around like weren't nobody's business. My god...Spark you got my memories back...clear as day...\" The coyote sniffled, looking up with the saddest brown puppy dog eyes Spark had ever seen.\n\n\"You're welcome...You can thank me by not forgetting again. I spent hours in the library trying to find you. \"She giggled quietly, before she shifted her weight to glare quietly at Christopher, who tilted his head quietly in confusion at the glaring wolf.\n\n\"I want an answer.\" She grumbled, her voice grave and heavy, and Christopher felt his ears and wings slump slightly under the weight of the question that was about to be thrust at him.\n\n\"Why me? Why me of all the people in the world. Why didn't God come to get me. Why did I have to suffer for so long...why does he hate me?\" The wolf spit, her voice riddled with venom and the hate in her gaze was hard to miss. Christopher looked away from that hurtful stare and brushed a set of fingers quietly through his hair.\n\n\"You...were pegged from the moment you were down there. You didn't have a choice. \" He said softly, the words tumbling from his lips before he could stop them. Spark's fingers had twisted so tightly into angry fists that her knuckles began to turn white and she shot the other wolf a glare of daggers so sharp it rocked the very foundation of his world.\n\n\"No. Fucking. Kidding.\" She hissed. Christopher shook his head again and took a deep breath. It was harder than he had originally thought to get though to her. And she was angrier then he had realized...or perhaps he'd just strayed from earth for far too long and his knowledge of mortal emotions had begun to atrophied. He closed his eyes, quietly pressing his fingertips together and rested his elbows on the bar across from her.\n\n\"That's not what I meant. I meant, you were the only person who could have managed it. Ricochet prayed to God...every day that he wanted out...that he wanted to save Serena...he begged her and she listened, and she answered. She decided to test him...help him open his eyes, and in order to do that, she sent you. You were the only on-\" He explained quietly and pinned his ears against his skull when she leaned forward and snarled- anger directed towards him now. She was pissed. Somewhere, he had to admit he wouldn't blame her, but it seemed so foreign to him...\n\n\"BULLSHIT! I'm NOT the only fucking witch in New York! I'm NOT! Why not send some marine, or some fighter or somebody with some fucking training! Anybody could have done it! I wasn't even fucking asked!!\" She barked, finger extended her index so close to Christopher's nose the tip of the claw pricked the cold wet pad, and that's when he reached up, and grabbed her wrist- gently but firmly guiding the offending digit away from his face. He felt something tingle inside of him. Something not quite divine...something familiar...some sense of...irritation? Was that the correct word? His glare danced with hers; a furious tango of anger and the cool steel sense of purpose before he finally sighed and released her from his grasp.\n\n\"There's some six billion people on the planet, and a LOT of them would say \"No\" to the question \"will you go into hell and rescue a stranger?\" So we cut those people off the list. Then we cut off the people who aren't magically inclined or have any knowledge of the occult. All that stuff that happened to you in the past prepared you...made you mentally strong enough for the horrors of hell. You said it yourself- no nightmares. Lets knock off all the people that didn't turn out to be some mass serial killer or jerk after something like that. Lets strip away all the people who don't know dark magic- dark magic that also served to make the transition easier from hell and back. Lets' look at who we have left. Maybe a pawful of people and I can think of only one with the determination, resourcefulness and focus to make it there and back. You only learned magic to protect your siblings from people who might hurt them...and you haven't ever used it to hurt anyone. If God asked you to help save Ricochet, you would have said yes. You would have mentally prepared yourself, and marched down there, found him, and marched out. Don't you see? You were the answer to a prayer. Ricochet said \"Please, God, send somebody to help me get out of here.\" And suddenly, you're there. God had you pegged from the start, Spark. You're the type of person that would wander into Hell, and try to save a random stranger, because you could, not because you had to. She just skipped the part about asking you if you wanted to go- cause you would have said yes anyway...that's how well she knows you. And wouldja STOP saying she hates you?! That lady loves you like nobody else, or do you think it was coincidence that our mother, Danielle, A.K.A Dazzler, just HAPPENED to find you under a slide, in the bitter cold in a New York blizzard? Do you think MAYBE somebody nudged her in the right direction considering it's the OPPOSITE direction of her apartment? I mean, it's ALMOST like somebody prayed: Dear God, please let mom find somebody to help her through these hard times without us.\" Christopher growled, and delighted at the look of shock and puzzlement that warped his sister's pretty features.\n\n\"You...You mean...\"She stammered and Christopher leaned across the bar smugly, his tail flickering behind him in happy dancing jitters and he flashed her with the most charming grin her had.\n\n\"Yeah. I do. You were TWO prayers. And that's more than most people get in an entire lifetime. Me, personally, I'd be preeee-tty torqued if MY kid were walking around saying I don't love her after doing something like that- but I don't have the infinite patience thing going for me. That's between us.\" The wolf grinned, watching Spark's ears droop sheepishly.\n\n\"And she heard you call her out when you were upset. \"F-you this and F-you that. She understands. She's not thrilled about it, but she understands.\" The angel explained, as Spark's face paled slightly and the wolf just sighed.\n\n\"It's just...it's just it doesn't seem fair sometimes...\" She grumbled, shaking her head. Ricochet smiled gently and leaned over the bar, ruffling her head with his paws.\n\n\"Ain't nobody said life was supposeda be fair lil' miss. But seems ta me, ya'll turned out purdy ok. Ya'll Saved a soul in hell, gotcherself a nice family, and a trip through hell. Now I don't know what kinda circles ya'll run in upstairs, but I dun reckon firsthand knowledge of Hell, it's probably miiiiiighty rare among ya'll mortals. And with Ya'll bein' a witch? I reckon it's miiiiiiiighty useful.\" He smiled and Spark's ears perked up so fast they popped. He was right. She'd not thought about it until right then and there, but Ricochet was right. She had knowledge that very few if any people had...it was almost like a reward...\n\n\"By the way...\"The angel wolf said quietly, his voice starting to fade out as the dream turned hazy, his image blurring. Spark was already moving, pitching herself over the bar top and wrapping her arms around him in a crushing hug.\n\n\"Jack...\" Ricochet said slowly, while Spark turned and wrapped her arms around him, but the next thing she knew, it was dark, near pitch black, and the she was alone, standing by herself with a large green rabbit next to her.\n\n\"...What?\" She asked quietly, ears folding back in nervous tension. Jack simply looked at her for a long few seconds, as if coming to some gut wrenching decision and finally took what appeared to be a deep breath.\n\n\"Jonathan Hoss, 645 Ave. S age, 37 will commit suicide at 4:19 PM sharp.\" He growled and Sparkle tilted her head curiously.\n\n\"What do y-\" The alarm was buzzing with an irritated screech, demanding attention from somebody- anybody, like a child whom had scraped his knee. Sparkle groaned an reached over, slapping her palm across the snooze button, before her eyes widened and she glanced at the clock. The bright red digital read out displayed a 2: 26. She rolled over quietly and closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. Was she supposed to stop it? Of course. Could she even stop it? That was debatable. Did she even want to try? Sparkle opened her eyes, gazing quietly at her ceiling. Free Will was a choice...Her choice. Somewhere, in her head it dawned upon her, that it wasn't about making the choice at all. The most important thing, was if you were capable of living with the choice that you'd made. Rolling out of bed, the wolf quietly searched for a pair of pants before wandering over towards her computer. She figured she had about an hour to find directions to 645 Ave S.", "writing_bbcode_parsed": "She awoke to sight of a white, clean ceiling, and the curious scent of stale air filled her lungs. Leisurely did her senses reawaken, her consciousness flittered back to her, returning slowly, cautiously, like some frightened mouse, whom had been terrified from it's home by some suave predator. Her memories were second, filling her head with cinema like quality and sharpness. Memories of hell, suffering and torment, complete with ghastly images and grotesque monsters of nightmare. But it was mostly the great and inconceivable pain that danced in her ribs and twisted her stomach into small tight knots that she remembered the clearest. It was, however, pain she knew no longer. She was unsure how she came to be, but came to be she did, laying on her back in her room; her legs twisted underneath her, and her paws folded neatly across her belly, while her breathing came in slow, peaceful jaunts. It was if she'd simply taken an afternoon nap, dreaming terrible dreams, instead of a long torturous journey to boundaries beyond mortal comprehension. But she was certain it was no nap, and any dream, dreamt ; no matter how horrible or terrifying, would be sweet in measure to the true horrors of hell. Dreams, she was sure would come many and inexorably, cursing her sleep with souvenirs of tortures long lost. Still, her expression took joy in her surroundings, and she squeezed her arms about herself in a hug so fierce she feared she might crush her ribs once more; she was home.

It came as no small shock to Spark, that four long months had come and pass since she'd began her trip. In merely a week in a different realm, she'd lost nearly one hundred and fifty days. Reunions came both tearful and intense, riddle with questions and fraught with hugs. Her apartment had been cleaned out, her furniture removed and her goods placed to her family members sisters and brothers. Her bar: Beautiful Twilight, where she worked as owner and waitress, had taken new owner ship and she found herself doubled over and laughing when the bouncer had demanded ID from her. Mishaps and irritations were joyful to behold and things to hold dear, after her encounters in hell. The process to retrieve her personal belongings and her existence was treacherous as it was tedious, but eventually she was considered 'alive' again, her personals returned to her, apartment resumed in it's messy, dirty existence, and her life had officially returned to a semi state of normal.

In three weeks time, Sparkle Shadowpaw found herself alone in her bar, quietly washing out the inside of a glass mug with an old grey cloth. Glasses and booze caressed the racks on the wall behind her, and empty stools sat adjacent to the bar in front of her. But the glass just wouldn't get clean. She frowned, rubbing it again and again, and again, yet dirty smudges and spots remained. With a fitful sigh, she sat the glass down on the bartop, and watched, unmoving as the glass filled slowly to the top with a golden color of strong smelling beer and foamed at the top with a frosty mirth. Tilting her head to one side, she nearly laughed at the sight of a small waspish pixie climbing from underneath the bar, crawling up the side of the mug, and diving into the beer, as if it were a pool. Drained and swirled, the liquid spun about for a moment, further and further down into the cup, and soon, all that was left behind was a small bright blue butterfly.

Her ears twitched, and those emerald eyes shifted for a moment under the spiking juts of ruby that jolted from her scalp. The butterfly glimmered a most spectacular rainbow of colors before it fluttered up and just out of view. Sparkle didn't let her eyes follow after it however. Instead she continued to stare into the bottom of the empty glass with an almost tearful expression twisted over her features.

"Once, did my ears scrape some small bit of advice." The wolf surmised softly, giving the golden rag under her fingertips a slow clockwise turn in the mouth of the glass. "Pay attention to your dreams for God's angels often speak directly to our hearts when we are asleep." Quote some poet long now lost...Freeman...I believe." Spark whispered quietly. Her ears dared to turn towards the slow sound of a paw crashing into another, and her lips split into a gentle, gleaming smile when she took sight of Christopher and Ricochet sitting side by side at the other side of the bar.

There was little she could do to stop the smile that seized her features and forced her to clap her paws together with squeals of delight. Certain, she was dreaming, but even in dreams, reunions were wondrous to behold.

"How are you, Spark? Are you ok? Nightmares? I know as a mortal you-" Christopher began, but was cut off when Sparkle shook her head, holding up a single paw.

"No. No nightmares, nothing like that. I slept like a baby, actually. I'm surprised too...that was a terrible experience but really...I dunno maybe it has something to do with the magic...maybe my dad actually prepared me for something horrible like that...I dunno....buuuuuut..."She grins and pointed towards Ricochet happily.

"Ricochet, Ricochet, Ricochet. I have something for you!" The wolf beamed proudly, and quickly bent down under the bar. When she reappeared, she was carrying a folder, packed with pictures and articles. Her tail fluttered back and forth like some happy pup whom just received it's first ball.

"Wiki cross referenced with the library. Your name is actually Clayton Smith, you were born July 7th, 1869, and were to be married to a saloon girl named Serena Carlson. So, according to this, Clayton, it says you were a cowboy, that learned how to shoot cause of your pappy, Nathan Smith, right. You were one of the best there was, but I think you were also a card shark! See, remember when we were playing poker, and I knew, I KNEW you were cheating. Ok, so I think, from what I can piece together, you were a card player. You feel in love with that girl, but you didn't have enough money to buy the saloon she worked at...she must have been held there for some reason by the previous owner, you fell for her, decided to buy the place and run off with her. You couldn't make up the money, so you started gambling and cheating. You were conning folks out of cash through poker games, and you conned these rats. They must have figured out you cheated, and took Serena hostage at some church like the one I ended up in. Now here's the tricky part- you said you only had twelve bullets to work with per day, right? I think that they had a group or something, some...cult that you messed with. You find out they kidnapped your girl out of revenge, and you head over there, guns blazing. You kill twelve out of thirteen and run out of bullets right?! So then, this thirteenth rat catches you by surprise and kills you. I found this article about this coyote girl who they found emancipated and stapled up on this cross at an old abandoned church. It all fits...Clayton! It all fits!" Spark barked happily, tail wagging in place while Ricochet quietly closed his eyes and smiled.

"Aye...they called me...Clayton The Ricochet Smith. I had some really amazing gun skills, and I could bounce bullets around like weren't nobody's business. My god...Spark you got my memories back...clear as day..." The coyote sniffled, looking up with the saddest brown puppy dog eyes Spark had ever seen.

"You're welcome...You can thank me by not forgetting again. I spent hours in the library trying to find you. "She giggled quietly, before she shifted her weight to glare quietly at Christopher, who tilted his head quietly in confusion at the glaring wolf.

"I want an answer." She grumbled, her voice grave and heavy, and Christopher felt his ears and wings slump slightly under the weight of the question that was about to be thrust at him.

"Why me? Why me of all the people in the world. Why didn't God come to get me. Why did I have to suffer for so long...why does he hate me?" The wolf spit, her voice riddled with venom and the hate in her gaze was hard to miss. Christopher looked away from that hurtful stare and brushed a set of fingers quietly through his hair.

"You...were pegged from the moment you were down there. You didn't have a choice. " He said softly, the words tumbling from his lips before he could stop them. Spark's fingers had twisted so tightly into angry fists that her knuckles began to turn white and she shot the other wolf a glare of daggers so sharp it rocked the very foundation of his world.

"No. Fucking. Kidding." She hissed. Christopher shook his head again and took a deep breath. It was harder than he had originally thought to get though to her. And she was angrier then he had realized...or perhaps he'd just strayed from earth for far too long and his knowledge of mortal emotions had begun to atrophied. He closed his eyes, quietly pressing his fingertips together and rested his elbows on the bar across from her.

"That's not what I meant. I meant, you were the only person who could have managed it. Ricochet prayed to God...every day that he wanted out...that he wanted to save Serena...he begged her and she listened, and she answered. She decided to test him...help him open his eyes, and in order to do that, she sent you. You were the only on-" He explained quietly and pinned his ears against his skull when she leaned forward and snarled- anger directed towards him now. She was pissed. Somewhere, he had to admit he wouldn't blame her, but it seemed so foreign to him...

"BULLSHIT! I'm NOT the only fucking witch in New York! I'm NOT! Why not send some marine, or some fighter or somebody with some fucking training! Anybody could have done it! I wasn't even fucking asked!!" She barked, finger extended her index so close to Christopher's nose the tip of the claw pricked the cold wet pad, and that's when he reached up, and grabbed her wrist- gently but firmly guiding the offending digit away from his face. He felt something tingle inside of him. Something not quite divine...something familiar...some sense of...irritation? Was that the correct word? His glare danced with hers; a furious tango of anger and the cool steel sense of purpose before he finally sighed and released her from his grasp.

"There's some six billion people on the planet, and a LOT of them would say "No" to the question "will you go into hell and rescue a stranger?" So we cut those people off the list. Then we cut off the people who aren't magically inclined or have any knowledge of the occult. All that stuff that happened to you in the past prepared you...made you mentally strong enough for the horrors of hell. You said it yourself- no nightmares. Lets knock off all the people that didn't turn out to be some mass serial killer or jerk after something like that. Lets strip away all the people who don't know dark magic- dark magic that also served to make the transition easier from hell and back. Lets' look at who we have left. Maybe a pawful of people and I can think of only one with the determination, resourcefulness and focus to make it there and back. You only learned magic to protect your siblings from people who might hurt them...and you haven't ever used it to hurt anyone. If God asked you to help save Ricochet, you would have said yes. You would have mentally prepared yourself, and marched down there, found him, and marched out. Don't you see? You were the answer to a prayer. Ricochet said "Please, God, send somebody to help me get out of here." And suddenly, you're there. God had you pegged from the start, Spark. You're the type of person that would wander into Hell, and try to save a random stranger, because you could, not because you had to. She just skipped the part about asking you if you wanted to go- cause you would have said yes anyway...that's how well she knows you. And wouldja STOP saying she hates you?! That lady loves you like nobody else, or do you think it was coincidence that our mother, Danielle, A.K.A Dazzler, just HAPPENED to find you under a slide, in the bitter cold in a New York blizzard? Do you think MAYBE somebody nudged her in the right direction considering it's the OPPOSITE direction of her apartment? I mean, it's ALMOST like somebody prayed: Dear God, please let mom find somebody to help her through these hard times without us." Christopher growled, and delighted at the look of shock and puzzlement that warped his sister's pretty features.

"You...You mean..."She stammered and Christopher leaned across the bar smugly, his tail flickering behind him in happy dancing jitters and he flashed her with the most charming grin her had.

"Yeah. I do. You were TWO prayers. And that's more than most people get in an entire lifetime. Me, personally, I'd be preeee-tty torqued if MY kid were walking around saying I don't love her after doing something like that- but I don't have the infinite patience thing going for me. That's between us." The wolf grinned, watching Spark's ears droop sheepishly.

"And she heard you call her out when you were upset. "F-you this and F-you that. She understands. She's not thrilled about it, but she understands." The angel explained, as Spark's face paled slightly and the wolf just sighed.

"It's just...it's just it doesn't seem fair sometimes..." She grumbled, shaking her head. Ricochet smiled gently and leaned over the bar, ruffling her head with his paws.

"Ain't nobody said life was supposeda be fair lil' miss. But seems ta me, ya'll turned out purdy ok. Ya'll Saved a soul in hell, gotcherself a nice family, and a trip through hell. Now I don't know what kinda circles ya'll run in upstairs, but I dun reckon firsthand knowledge of Hell, it's probably miiiiiighty rare among ya'll mortals. And with Ya'll bein' a witch? I reckon it's miiiiiiiighty useful." He smiled and Spark's ears perked up so fast they popped. He was right. She'd not thought about it until right then and there, but Ricochet was right. She had knowledge that very few if any people had...it was almost like a reward...

"By the way..."The angel wolf said quietly, his voice starting to fade out as the dream turned hazy, his image blurring. Spark was already moving, pitching herself over the bar top and wrapping her arms around him in a crushing hug.

"Jack..." Ricochet said slowly, while Spark turned and wrapped her arms around him, but the next thing she knew, it was dark, near pitch black, and the she was alone, standing by herself with a large green rabbit next to her.

"...What?" She asked quietly, ears folding back in nervous tension. Jack simply looked at her for a long few seconds, as if coming to some gut wrenching decision and finally took what appeared to be a deep breath.

"Jonathan Hoss, 645 Ave. S age, 37 will commit suicide at 4:19 PM sharp." He growled and Sparkle tilted her head curiously.

"What do y-" The alarm was buzzing with an irritated screech, demanding attention from somebody- anybody, like a child whom had scraped his knee. Sparkle groaned an reached over, slapping her palm across the snooze button, before her eyes widened and she glanced at the clock. The bright red digital read out displayed a 2: 26. She rolled over quietly and closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. Was she supposed to stop it? Of course. Could she even stop it? That was debatable. Did she even want to try? Sparkle opened her eyes, gazing quietly at her ceiling. Free Will was a choice...Her choice. Somewhere, in her head it dawned upon her, that it wasn't about making the choice at all. The most important thing, was if you were capable of living with the choice that you'd made. Rolling out of bed, the wolf quietly searched for a pair of pants before wandering over towards her computer. She figured she had about an hour to find directions to 645 Ave S.", "pools_count": 1, "title": "Sparky's Trip to Hell: Aftermath", "deleted": "f", "public": "t", "mimetype": "text/plain", "pagecount": "1", "rating_id": "1", "rating_name": "Mature", "ratings": [ { "content_tag_id": "2", "name": "Nudity", "description": "Nonsexual nudity exposing breasts or genitals (must not show arousal)", "rating_id": "1" }, { "content_tag_id": "3", "name": "Violence", "description": "Mild violence", "rating_id": "1" } ], "submission_type_id": "12", "type_name": "Writing - Document", "guest_block": "f", "friends_only": "f", "comments_count": "0", "views": "73" }