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Summary: Balthazar/OC Elli/John/Angela. After Chas' death, the depressed and lonely John decides to take up a new apprentice; the average girl Cheryl Buckman, who learns the hard way that hell and heaven aren't just words from the Bible. Gothic.

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Part One: Our Father, Who Art In Heaven

Mom threw me an increduclous look from across the table, looking up at the add I had cut out. I folded my arms, trying to look dignified in her all-knowing gaze. "What?" I said, snippishly.

"Cherry," I winced. God, I hated it when she called me that. "You do know that this man... he deals with the occult and whatnot? Demons? Devils? Doesn't that bother you?"

"Mom. I am not marrying him. I am going to work for him. It says, right in the ad, that I will only have to drive him around. I'll be like a taxi driver. And I get good pay, too."

"I wonder what happened to his old driver..." Mom said, lighting a black cigarillo. I groaned and lit my own cigarette. "I do wish you wouldn't smoke. You'll get cancer."

"Mum! What's that in your hand?"

"I'm old, and you're young and beautiful. Listen, why don't you go work with Tim at the supermarket down the street?" Mom suggested, eyes brightening. "That way, you can still stay at home and be safe, not running around with some crackpot necromancer--"

"Jesus! Mom--"

"Don't say the Lord's name in vain."

I almost yelled at her, but I kept my mouth closed tightly.

"Listen, I'm nineteen, I've got my own license, I can stay at my friend's house--"

"Sarah! Hon, Cherry--"

"Stop calling me that!" I snapped. Mom went quiet, and I could tell from how her eyes were shining that she was getting overdramatic. "Shit." I said under my breath, rubbing my temple. Mom didn't say anything. "I'm going to move out by tomorrow morning. Send dad my love. I'll be starting work the day after tomorrow. I'll call you, okay?"

"Cheryl--"

"I'm going to pack. And I love you, mum. Seriously. And I'm going to be fine." Mom sighed hard, rubbing her aching eyes. "I mean, what can go wrong? I'm just driving him around!"