Disclaimer: Nope, none of them are mine except for the surprise guest, who shall remain nameless at this time.

Unfinished Business by Gatekeeper

Zeke Stone faced down the 113th and final escapee from Hell.

"This won't be the end," she whispered to him, knowing even as she said it that her words wouldn't save her. No one ever won in Hell. "He won't let you live again, you know. You'll just get dragged back down with the rest of us."

Zeke closed his eyes. "I know," he said, his voice hoarse. "No one ever wins in Hell." He fired twice with unholy precision, taking out both her eyes before she slammed into the back wall and the flames of Hell. Zeke didn't even watch as the last tattoo faded from his body.

He heard clapping behind him. "Brilliant. Absolutely brilliant. I had no idea you'd actually pull it off." The Devil moved to stand in front of Zeke, polished in a suit and sardonic grin. Zeke payed no attention.

After a moment of silence, the Devil became concerned, or as close to it as he was capable of being. "What, aren't you going to demand your freedom from me, Ezekial?" he asked the still-unresponsive man before him. "Force me to keep my part of the bargain?" After all, it wouldn't be any fun if he didn't.

Zeke just shook his head. "I won't give you the satisfaction," he said quietly. "You aren't going to do it anyway."

The Devil seemed delighted at the reminder. "You're right!" He grinned cruelly. "So sorry, but ..."

"So sorry, but I am afraid that the Powers of Darkness are not the ones to decide this matter." The voice behind Zeke was soft and kind, and he whirled around at the shock of it. The Devil didn't look too pleased with the situation.

The woman before them both was dark, with eyes the same shade as the midnight sky. But she wasn't part of the darkness - Zeke knew that kind too well to think otherwise. She had no wings, but she was filled with a gentle glow that could only be described as heavenly.

So, Zeke thought grimly, the other team had finally decided to play.

"He has done penance," the angel said firmly, glaring at the Devil, "and is therefore out of Hell's jurisdiction."

"It was after he'd already died. That means he's still mine," the Devil argued, confident in his case.

"That only works with unnecessary penance, which helps no one and is brought about by situations you create in order to make someone suffer." She lifted an eyebrow. "Are you trying to tell me you're the one who released those souls from Hell?"

The Devil blanched. Saying that would let him keep Ezekial's soul, but it could also cause his own immortal hide some serious suffering if the other Powers that Be found out. They didn't like those who messed with the cosmos for their own amusement.

The angel saw saw his expression. "I see we understand each other. So you relinquish claim to this soul?" The Devil just glowered at her. "Good." She turned to Zeke. "Now for you."

Zeke didn't quite believe it. He had realized the hopelesness of the situation long ago - when was the last time the Devil kept a promise? But he had gotten to see Rosalyn again, though she hadn't known who he was, and that was something. He had kept hunting because there was nothing else he could do. He never thought he'd actually get a reprieve.

The angel's voice startled him out of his reverie. "It seems you're not bad enough for Hell anymore, Ezekial. Done too much good for the world in general since you were part of it last." She sounded contemplatative, as if she was trying to figure something out.

Whatever decision she came to, Zeke decided it didn't matter. Anything an angel could do to him would be better than where he was now.

"Personally, I'd vote you into heaven right now." She smiled. "You're cute, and Michael could use another avenging angel." The angel began pacing, and Zeke was amused despite himself. After all, a pacing angel wasn't a sight one saw every day, whether alive or dead. The Devil seemed singularly unimpressed.

She continued. "Some of the more conservative sects up there, however," her eyes darkened at a few in particular, "don't think you're ready. Not that whole business with the rapist, mind you. They're still debating whether that decision should have sent you to Hell in the first place. No, the problem now is ..." She paused a moment, trying to figure out how to phrase it. "Well, I guess the basic idea is that you're not finished yet."

The angel took him gently by the shoulders. "You still have things to do on Earth, Ezekial Stone, before you've truly wiped the slate clean. It's easy to seek revenge on one who has hurt you and yours, but ever so much harder to stay with the one that's been hurt and help her pick up the pieces, letting her heal secure in your love."

Zeke's eyes filled. "She doesn't need me for that," he said brokenly. "She's doing great on her own."

"Don't be selfish," the angel said fiercely. "Of course she needs you. Love helps anything heal faster and more completely." She forced his eyes to meet hers. "But she does not need guilt, or more pain, or someone who buries himself in his work because he cannot deal with his wife's heartache. She needs you to be all that you were before the rape and more, a bastion of love and acceptance. Can you do that?"

Mutely, Zeke nodded his head, too overcome to speak. They both ignored the Devil's squawk of protest.

"Good." The angel patted Zeke's cheek gently. "I'm sending you back to right after you died. You weren't killed this time, just put in the hospital with critical injuries. Are you ready?"

Zeke closed his eyes. Rosalyn ...

The angel kissed him on the cheek. "Don't come back soon."

Zeke woke up in a hospital bed, connected to dozens of wires and with every bone in his body aching. It was wonderful. Experimentally, he lifted his head to see if he could assess the damage, and his body screamed in protest. A small groan escaped him.

There was a gasp beside the bed, and Rosalyn was suddenly there beside him. "Zeke, you're alive," she whispered, crying and touching him as if to make sure he was real.

Zeke had never seen anything so beautiful. "Come here," he he told her, his voice hoarse with pain and emotion. When she did, he wrapped his arms around her and buried his face in her hair, paying no attenion to the ache or displaced wires. "I'm so sorry," he whispered, feeling tears start down his face again. "I love you."

Rosalyn cried harder. "Thank you," she whispered into Zeke's chest, then lifted her face to meet his. "I love you, too. It would have killed me to lose you."

Zeke smiled, though his face was as wet as hers. "I'm not going anywhere. Now kiss me."

Rosalyn happily obliged.