Chest heaving, Claire staggered up on rubbery legs as Dean stepped back and, after making sure that it had indeed closed completely, pulled the door open.

"It's just I've got this sore foot," Fred began hurriedly. "And you know, the stairs are steep, and..."

Dean cut off the rest of the excuse by reaching in, grabbing the smaller man by the front of his jacket, and pulling him out into the hall.

"Pookie?" Faith's anxious voice drifted up from the second floor. "Is that you?"

"Yeah, Baby, it's me." Fred smiled, or twitched, nervously, eyes flicking from Dean to Claire and back to Dean. "She calls me Pookie."

"You must be the boyfriend," Claire hazarded.

"Yeah. I'm Fred."

She jerked her head toward the stairs. "Go on."

Fred sidled out of Dean's reach and limped quickly away.

Dean hadn't moved since he pulled Fred from the elevator. Worried, Claire took a step toward him. "Are you okay?"

He lifted horrified eyes to her face. "I hesitated."

"When?"

"When I heard the elevator go by. I heard a little voice say, he'll get what he deserves, and I..." He shook his head in disbelief. "... I hesitated."

About to rea.s.sure him that it was no big deal, Claire suddenly realized that for Dean, it was. For the first time in his life, he hadn't automatically done the right thing. If she couldn't convince him to let it go, irrational guilt would eat at him for the rest of his life. That's it, Claire, no pressure.

Wrapping her fingers around his forearm, she gave him a little shake. "You saved him. Dean. I couldn't have gotten here in time."

"You don't understand. I actually thought about letting Fred..." Unable to continue, he shook free of her grip and stumbled back away from her.

Claire sighed. How unfortunate that smacking some sense into him would probably scar his psyche forever. "Dean, listen to me. I know you think I'm lousy at people stuff but I'm older, I'm a Keeper, I know; people think unworthy thoughts all the time."

LIKE THE ONE WHERE HE'S ON HIS KNEES AND....

Shut up. "It doesn't count if you don't act on it."

"But I hesitated."

"And then you made up for lost time. Trust me, they cancel each other out."

Dean forced a smile. "I appreciate you trying to make me feel better, Boss, but nothing can cancel out what I've done." The smile slipped. "I should go see if Faith needs my help." Trailing misery behind him like streamers of smoke, he started for the stairs.

Which was when Claire realized... "Dean, did you say you actually heard a little voice?"

"Yeah."

"How did it sound?"

Two steps down, he stopped and leaned back out into the hall. "Sound?"

"Can you describe it?"

"I guess." He frowned, brows dipping down below the upper edge of his gla.s.ses. "It sort of sounded like it was talking in block caps."

Should she tell him? Would it help? No. If Dean knew he was hearing the voice of Radio Free h.e.l.l, he'd be more convinced than ever that his hesitation had d.a.m.ned him. "Dean, do me a favor. If you hear the voice again, please ignore it."

After a moment, he nodded. "Okay."

A sudden shriek of laughter from below had them both clamping their hands over abused ears. Side by side, they hurried downstairs.

The second floor hall was empty so they kept going.

Inhaling his clean, fabric softener scent, Claire wasn't thinking of either Fred or Faith. After nine months, she wondered, what had finally given h.e.l.l a way in?

In room six, directly across from the open elevator door, Aunt Sara licked her lips.

Baseball cap skewed, Fred pulled out of the clinch as Claire and Dean emerged from the stairwell. "You were so good to Faith, you oughta know; we're giving up our life of crime."

"Although it wasn't really a life of crime," Faith protested. "It was only two stores and we paid for them taco chips."

"I think you've made a wise decision," Claire told them, smiling. "What do you think, Dean."

He shrugged and looked miserable. "I'm not one to say."

Claire rolled her eyes. This I'm a horrible person stuff was going to get old, really fast. "But you're glad they've decided to go straight, aren't you?"

"Sure."

That was good enough for Fred. "Thanks. Truth be told, we weren't any good at it."

Faith's lower lip went out, making her look like a pouty angel. "We coulda practiced more, Pookie. Or got a gun."

"No guns. People get hurt when you got a gun." He patted her shoulder. "I'm takin' that job with my cousin Rick." Turning back to Claire and Dean, he added, "Rick's got a truck, eh, and he hauls stuff."

"You're not gonna call the cops, are you?" Faith asked, leaning past him and twisting a curl around her finger.

"No."

"See, Pookie, I told you they were good people."

Dean winced.

Claire resisted the urge to stamp on his foot and give him something to wince about. Instead, she herded their modern Bonnie and Clyde to the front door and waved them out toward the waiting world. "Go home. Go straight. Be happy."

At the bottom of the steps, Faith turned and smiled beatifically back in at Claire. "Thank you for letting me use the room and everything."

"You're welcome."