The darkness only lasted for a few seconds. Then it was replaced by blinding light.

He felt dizzy as he woke up. Dizzy and nauseous.

"He's awake!" a voice called out. Female, professional. "Where's the bucket? He's gonna need the bucket...oh, here it is." The bucket appeared in front of him, and not a moment too soon. He vomited into it, emptying his stomach of a lot more barely-digested food than he thought he'd had in him when...

"It's okay," said the woman as she rubbed his shoulders. "Everything's gonna be fine." She let go of him, then asked, "If you don't mind me asking, what species are you? Your chart says you're a demon, but those wings..."

He spluttered out the last of the vomit, then sat back, his chest heaving. He could barely speak, he still felt so sick. "I'm...I'm...I'm half-angel."

"Interesting." The woman made a note on a clipboard, blinking her pale blue eyes. "That's a real rarity. Can you tell me your name?"

He took a few deep breaths, trying to steady himself. "My name is...Gabe. Gabe Snow."

"Well, Gabe Snow," the woman said, "welcome to the Terminal. You'll be ready to move on to the Second Universe soon."

Gabe took a better look at the woman. She was clearly a doctor, judging from the white lab coat. "I shouldn't have gone for the gun," he groaned, looking up at the bright fluorescent lights in the ceiling. "Alex is so totally gonna hate me."

"Well...um..." The doctor hemmed and hawed, unsure of what to say. "Um, do you know anyone who's already died?"

"Yeah. I know a few people."

"Can you give me their names so I can have them come pick you up?"

Gabe did so, then asked, "What day is it?"

"It's Friday," the doctor said. "Friday, the fifth."

Gabe dropped onto his back. "Yeah, I've probably already been cremated by now."

"Probably," the doctor said. "You were out for three days. Head wounds are a bitch to fix, especially gunshot wounds. But we do have very good medical technology here, so..."

Gabe rolled over, almost squishing the IV line running into his arm. "Hold on, let me take you off the drip," the doctor said, holding his arm down so she could do so. "You're gonna be ready to go in an hour or two. I'll make sure Grace gets you some cookies and juice, too. Your blood sugar is pretty depleted."

Gabe sighed heavily. Yep, there was no doubt about it. He'd left his original body, which was now dead as a doornail. Wherever that expression came from.