Simon's consciousness returned slowly; it faded in and out, giving him only the faintest idea of what was happening to him. The first sensation he'd registered was that of being dragged on his back, pulled by his ankle, across a gritty, molten ground. The next, was the pain that accompanied his cooking flesh. The third, however, was the firm, icy grip on his ankle, and how his captor pulled him along in short, jerky movements, as though they were using all their strength to haul him. In one lapse of consciousness, he struggled against his abductor, only to earn himself a swift kick in the head, which knocked him back out. When he awoke again, he was relieved to find himself out of the inferno, and lying on a cool obsidian floor. This momentary comfort was abruptly cut short by the horrifying realization of his surroundings – he was back in Pandaemonium, in the massive central chamber in which he'd had his first meeting with the Devil.

He stood as fast as he was able, but found that his legs were still weak, and Sahl'resh's healing touch had worn off, leaving him with a screaming pain resonating in his lower back. He staggered, wincing and clenching his jaw, and found support in one of the monolithic statues that lined the perimeter of the chamber. Glancing up at it, he wasn't completely sure of what it was meant to represent, but judging by its vicious snarl, and spiked mace, his guess was the Sin of Wrath. His attention was drawn from the statue by the sound of bare feet padding along the smooth floor. He looked, and his first instinct was to run; instead, he screamed, retreating until he was pressed flush up against the leg of the statue.

"Oh, I'll give you plenty of reasons to scream…just you wait!" Nefaria was approaching him. Her vacant eye sockets continued to radiate that same black hatred that Simon had seen in the spring. Despite having no eyes, he could feel her gaze boring into his Soul. Her pallid skin clung tightly to her emaciated frame, giving her a downright skeletal appearance. Tattered rags hung loosely about her body, making her seem as though she were more of a specter than a being of flesh and bone. She walked with a terrible limp, yet still with the strength of one who was driven by determination. When she stopped, she was perhaps only six feet away from him. She breathed heavily, like one who had just done a great amount of work; her shoulders rose and fell harder with each breath, and her glare turned more murderous with each passing second.

Simon found himself at a complete loss for words; he was torn between wanting to run away and not look back, and wanting to fall down and weep. In his heart, he knew that she'd locked him in a kill-or-be-killed situation, and he'd been given no choice for the sake of his survival. However, seeing her again, and in such a miserable state – and discovering she'd been condemned to Hell, no less – he couldn't deny the crushing grip of guilt which threatened to overtake him. Whether he was right to blame himself or not, he had put her where she was.

"Tell me, 'Simon,'" she snapped, causing him to jump. All the poisons and venoms in the world couldn't match her voice. "Are you familiar with 'Doctor Faustus' by Christopher Marlowe?"

"What? Y-yes?" This caught him by surprise. His heart had jumped into his throat, and almost felt as though it would pop out of his mouth at any given moment. "T-the play, right?"

"Oh, yes. And do you remember what happened at the end of the play?" The skin around her eye sockets tightened, giving him the impression that she was scrutinizing him. He shook his head, afraid of the answer. She barked a sardonic laugh at this. "You know? The part where Faustus was dragged down to Hell while still alive?!" She shrieked those last words, feigning a lunge towards him, making him scream again. He flinched hard, throwing his arms up in defense. When no attack came, he forced himself to look back at Nefaria, who was clenching and unclenching her fists. "Do you have any idea what you've done?! Any clue at all what sort of misery you've put me in?! Do you know how long an Earth-day is in Hell?! IT'S A FUCKING DECADE!" She closed the gap between them, clutching his twin beards and pulling him down to eye-level with her. "You're so much of a God damned failure, you couldn't even kill me properly! And while you got to have the tender care of Angels, I was brought down here!"

"You were dead!" Simon shouted back at her, refusing to believe what was happening. "You stopped breathing, your skull was shattered, I know you were dead!"

"WRONG!" She let go of his beards and shoved him back into the leg of the statue. This disturbed his injured vertebrae immensely, and he dropped to his knees, biting his lip hard to stop himself from wailing in pain. "I was grabbed at the last minute by Satan's lapdog, Erryll, and brought here to be revived," Nefaria continued, beginning to saunter away from him. "Imagine my surprise, 'Simon,' when I awoke to…this." She made a theatrical sweeping gesture with both arms. "Fully healed, except without my eyes. It's funny, though…down here, I don't need them to see." She spun around on her heel, facing him again. Her murderous glare became downright sinister; the corners of her lips twitched upwards, giving her a teeth-baring sneer. "And imagine my surprise when I got to watch you practically salivate like some starved dog over that thing that calls itself an Angel!"

"Leave Azraphael out of this!" Simon snapped his head back up to glare at the ghost of his counterpart. She delivered a savage kick to his chest, knocking the wind out of him, and silencing him once more.

"Ah, yes! That's the beast's name!" Nefaria cackled, beginning to pace back and forth in front of him. "Don't bother trying to explain yourself – Satan was gracious enough to tell, and show me everything. Not only do you disappoint me, 'Simon,' you downright disgust me." She knelt before him, snatching a fistful of his hair and forcing him to look at her. He let out a small, pathetic whine, giving her cause to smile at his pain. "It all makes sense, now…you could flirt and suggest and tease all you wanted, but could never bring yourself to follow through. And here I thought you were just being a gentleman. Ha!" She let go of him, but not without a violent thrust, making his forehead smack the floor. A small trickle of blood flowed down his face, staining the obsidian with its vibrant crimson hue. "You couldn't even bring yourself to use me as a proper rebound – albeit over a Love that was never yours to begin with – and I couldn't be more thankful for it. But still, I hate you all the more for leading me on."

"What do you want from me, Nefaria?!" Simon, finding his voice again, couldn't hide the guilt and shame welling up in his chest. "Do you want a confession?! Fine! Yes! It was always Azraphael, and it always will be!" His own words took him by surprise. He'd never imagined he'd speak his heart aloud to her, regardless of the circumstances.

"I don't give a shit." She waved a hand dismissively, turning away from him once more. Her shoulders slumped, and a long, low sigh escaped her. "You were never worth the trouble, anyway."

"Then why have you brought me here?" Mustering up all of his strength, he held onto the statue to help him stand again. "If not to interrogate me, to pump me for information, or to torment me with my own guilt, why?"

"Do you really have the capacity to feel guilty?" She glanced over her shoulder at him. Her expression was utterly unreadable. "Then allow me to enlighten you on something you should know about your darling 'Angel.' They had a choice as to which one of us they would save, and they chose you. They knew exactly what would happen to me, should they take you under their wing instead of myself, and allowed it to happen without a second thought." She paused, considering her next words. "They made an agreement with Satan – Archangel Michael was there to oversee the exchange – and they deliberately allowed me to fall victim to centuries of torment. At least, down here, it's been that long. On Earth, it's been roughly two weeks, right? Or has it been three? I've had such a terrible time keeping track of Time while I've undergone the tortures of Hell." Her voice cracked during that last sentence, and a note of desperation entered. "If you've ever Loved me, even the smallest bit, then kill me, and do it right this time! Leave no room for error!"

"I did Love you," Simon confessed, fighting back the tears welling up in the corners of his eyes. He thought of Azraphael in that moment, and had to bite back a surge of vicious rage. How could they let this happen? How could they, an Angel of Mercy, have allowed someone to suffer so terribly? He let go of the statue, and began moving towards his counterpart. "But you tried to kill me…"

"I was overcome with anger!" She cried, whirling around to face him fully, and sunk her fingers into her voluminous hair. Her expression had lost its hate entirely. Hot tears streamed down her face, giving her the look of a woman who was at her wit's end. "I blamed you for our loss, and acted entirely on a spur of the moment feeling!"

"Bravo, well done!" A new voice echoed throughout the massive chamber. Simon looked past Nefaria, and watched as Satan sauntered towards the two versions of the infamous Dr. N. Tropy. He was clapping slowly, a smug grin plastered on his pale, beautiful face. Nefaria gave a small yelp of despair, and staggered closer to Simon. Unconsciously, he took her in his arms, his heart squeezing itself painfully at the realization of her panic, and her total emaciation. A sour note touched his heart as he felt a twinge of just how much she'd been made to suffer. "And here I thought I'd not have the opportunity to shed further light upon the situation at hand."

"Let us go!" Simon shouted defiantly at the Devil, his arms tightening around Nefaria's scant shoulders. She sunk into him, reaching behind her to hold on to his torso. Her fear radiated from her like the heat of a fire. "She's not dead, and neither of us should be here!"

"Should you not?" Satan mused, his smile broadening. He stopped several feet away from the pair, and chuckled quietly. "Oh, my dear prodigy…you have no real idea of what is happening. I could enlighten you, you know?"

"Save it! And stop calling me your 'prodigy!'" Simon backed away, pulling Nefaria with him. She didn't refuse, but was breathing rapidly, becoming lost in a state of extreme panic. "Let us go!"

"No, I don't think I will. Not yet at least." The Devil laughed, his sheer malice breaking through his otherwise nonchalant visage. His honeyed voice, sweet and smooth, was enough to give Simon a pause to listen to his words. It didn't help that the glittering rubies of his eyes were so mesmerizing, they could break down even the strongest of mental barriers. "Come here, Nefaria," he commanded of Simon's counterpart. She, with no small amount of reluctance, released herself from his grip and moved towards Satan. He took her roughly in his arms, and wrenched her head back by the hair, forcing her to stare directly into his face. He then smashed his lips to hers, eliciting a cry of mixed terror and delight from her. Upon releasing her, he shoved her aside, letting her fall to her knees. "Such a pity," Satan said, feigning sadness. "Such a pity that one so full of vigor could be so easily broken. No matter…I will find a way to make her worthy!"

The King of Lies paced back and forth, carefully studying Simon's face. Simon was stuck in a whirlwind of confusion – he glanced back and forth between his counterpart and the Devil, unsure of what to make of the situation. The uncertainty was broken when Nefaria spoke up. "I've done what you asked! I've brought him here for your counsel! Now uphold your end of the bargain! EITHER KILL ME OR LET ME GO!" Simon stared at her incredulously, hardly able to make sense of what he was hearing.

"It is true," Satan said nonchalantly, "that I required both of you to be here at this moment. However, that doesn't mean I'm inclined to release either one of you."

"WE HAD A DEAL, YOU PIECE OF SHIT!" Nefaria was on her feet in an instant, and rounded on Satan with such hatred and determination as Simon had never seen in her before. "I BROUGHT HIM HERE! LET ME GO! SEND ME BACK TO EARTH!"

"No." Satan pressed a hand to Nefaria's forehead, and sent her sprawling backwards. After hitting the floor, she scooted herself back, until she was pressed against another one of the statues of the Seven Deadly Sins. It was of a woman, with unearthly beauty and scantily clad, and with a dagger gripped firmly in her left hand. "I'm going to make everything as plain and as clear as possible," the Devil said as he returned his focus to Simon. "As you surely remember from our last meeting, I'm not restricted from giving information."

"I don't want to hear it!" This was a bold-faced lie, and Simon knew it. His unnaturally long life spent as a scientist, and as a collector of knowledge, made him want to uncover as many secrets as he could.

"You're a terrible liar," Satan sighed, shaking his head morosely. "That's something I'll have to educate you on. But really…listen to me."

Simon's gaze moved rapidly between the Devil and Nefaria. The latter kept her head down, and was curled up in a pathetic ball, hugging her knees as close as she could. He couldn't deny how he felt a sense of betrayal emanating from her, or the sensation of his own black hatred welling up in his breast. His realization of her betrayal, and feigning of her emotions made him long to slide a knife across her treacherous throat. In the end, he glared at Satan, practically challenging him to continue. "What is it?" He finally said, his voice carrying a cold, hard edge to it, which he'd not heard since before his near-defeat at the hands of Nefaria. Against his better judgment, he was ready and willing to listen. "Speak up, or let me go."

"Oh, there's plenty to say." Satan chuckled, shaking his head. "I'll tell you whatever you want to know."