All the gravestone said, aside from her name and her birth and death years, was "Beloved daughter." She wasn't sure why that kept jumping out at her. Maybe it was because she hadn't been a daughter of any kind, let alone beloved, for so long. She could hardly remember that life, anyway. So the gravestone seemed fitting. The beloved daughter was, in fact, dead.

"I wonder who's actually in there," Susanne said quietly, almost to herself, but Roger knew he had been meant to hear. "And was it someone who was... well, lying around? Or did they find someone that they could fix up to look like me especially to send back here for burial?"

"It was a closed casket."

"But there was a body." Susanne let that hang in the air for almost a minute. "Who was it, Roger?"

"I have no idea."

"But there's protocol for such an event."

He paused. "Yes. There's protocol."

"I don't want to know, do I?"

"Do I need to say anything?"

"No... no, not a word." Susanne looked at the clouds whirling in the sky. "C'mon, let's get inside. That sky doesn't look good."

Roger nodded in agreement, and, arm still over her shoulders, led her back to the car. She slumped in the passenger seat and watched the fields rolling by outside as they went home, lost in thought. Roger decided not to disturb her, and his thoughts also wandered.

It was good to be back, that was for sure. As much as they both loved the city, there was a sense of security and safety out here among the cattle and corn. In Los Angeles, Susanne had been happy at first, but before long, she was edgy and nervous, constantly checking over her shoulder. They knew that Nyx, Celly, Mercy, and Remy were all in or near the city, and the strain of that knowledge had begun showing on Susanne.

Hell, as soon as they were back in Nebraska, Susanne had insisted on visiting her own gravesite. As far as Roger was concerned, that alone was grounds for calling in a psychologist. An immortal one, of course, or maybe a Watcher...

Of course, he knew that she'd never agree, but for now, at least, she seemed to be working on relaxing. They'd go back to their farm, and she'd sit and talk to her cats, dogs, horses, and whatever else wandered into the barnyard injured, malnourished, or just lonesome. Somehow, they all knew where to come. And, he added to his thoughts, if this brewing storm was bad enough, they were going to have a lot more friends within the next few days.

Susanne seemed to be watching the sky, and Roger wondered if she was thinking the same thing.

"Roger?"

"Hm?"

"How long has this "Game" been going on?"

Confused, he wrinkled his brow. "Well, the call happened shortly after you left for London-"

"No. I mean, not just us. How long have people we don't know and never will meet been deciding that innocent girls should fight for their amusement?"

Roger decided that the chances that she had been thinking about the storm bringing more animals into her care was very slim.

"I don't honestly know," he finally replied.

After a few minutes of silence, Susanne's voice became ice cold as she said softly, "It stops here."