It was a few days later by the time Molly came to in the hospital. She awoke to see Fi, her bruises fading nicely, standing over her with a worried look. "I told you not to go," Fi reminded her sternly as soon as Molly's eyes fluttered open, but she couldn't conceal the look of unabashed relief that washed over her face, and smiled. "I can't believe you went out there to act as bait for some mythical creature you probably don't even believe in."

"You'd be surprised," Molly said, realizing too late that speaking would be the source of excruciating pain. Fi saw her wince and rushed forward. Despite Molly's nonverbal protestations, Fi ran to find a nurse. Molly leaned back against her pillow in an attempt to rest, but couldn't help trying to feel her new wounds with her eyes closed; she was sure the sight would be unbearable. All she found were bandages. (And the sight would have been unbearable; to her doctor's utter puzzlement, there were four enormous crescent-shaped claw marks on the right and left sides of her torso, not to mention the heavy patches of bruising that darkened areas of her shoulders, back, and neck.)

She sighed and half-growled in frustration, annoyed that her pursuit of the monster had been derailed by their inability to consider eveything that would be necessary during the confrontation beforehand. If they had only found a definitive answer to how to kill it, instead of merely making it scamper away with a few generally inconsequential wounds, she could relax and recover naturally. But the knowledge that this thing was still out there, while she and now almost everyone in the world that she cared about had been essentially defeated by it, made her fidget constantly and push the doctor into signing for her release as soon as possible. It took five more days for her perceived captors to finally relent and set her free, let her back out on the streets.

This time, she would arm herself with a specific mission: not merely to discover and harm the monster, but to kill it.

But no matter how valiantly she tried to pretend that her wounds weren't really that bad, or that they didn't still send shockwaves of pain through her entire body every time she walked, spoke, or moved, it was fairly obvious to everyone that some sort of intervention needed to be staged to keep Molly from going right back out there and getting herself hurt again, or killed.

Ned remained in the hospital, as he was the only one of the monster's recent victims with actual broken bones; Irene stayed with him day and night now that Clu, Fi, Jack, Carey, and Molly had been released. Jack and Carey's stay had been the shortest of all--compared to the others, their damage was relatively inconsequential.

While Molly slaved away in the library, searching for any type of permanent demon death spell that might work, Jack and Clu sat in the car, waiting. Jack had offered to help, as he had done before, but she was evidently determined to fight the monster alone now, after almost losing Jack. Of course, the prospect of Molly succeeding and running off to the demon's lair or whatever to get herself killed wasn't exactly attractive to Jack either, but he figured he would let her do what she needed to do until the point at which it would inevitably become dangerous.

"So," Clu said. "Your mom's pretty serious about this, huh?"

"Yep."

"And we can't help her?"

"I think this is something she needs to do alone."

"Hm."

The silence between them now was intolerably awkward. Finally Clu spoke again: "I should probably explain what was going on that night."

"You don't have to explain anything," said Jack.

"Yeah, I do."

"No, you don't, and I'd rather that you didn't, if you don't mind."

"I don't care if you want to hear it, I want to tell you. Yes, we were on a date. Yes, some things were happening that a girl's brother should never hear about."

Jack bit his lip and looked toward the library, pleading with somebody to give him psychic powers to he could mentally order Molly to come outside right now. But he didn't actually believe in psychic powers, so Molly remained, stubbornly, inside and Jack remained very much in the same unenviable position he had never actually left. "Look, I understand," he offered as a method of making peace and ending the conversation, although he didn't actually understand and was in fact quite outraged by Clu's admission.

"No, you don't. I... I thought she'd be like you, only we'd have something that I didn't have to hide."

Jack rolled his eyes and began chanting in his head: Mom, come out. Come out, mom.

"She isn't like you. She's totally different. And it's great, what she is, she's really great. I love her."

Where's that goddamn monster now?

"But she isn't you."

Now Jack was confused, though he tried not to let on. Clu plowed on, burrowing deeper into his own hole, the bed he'd made for himself: "You're so different. I love you both. I can't possibly choose between you." He tried to catch Jack's eye and failed. "I don't know what to do now."

Jack opened and closed his mouth a few times, thinking of possible replies but sucking them back in at the last second. By the time he'd finally formulated one he almost felt confident enough to actually articulate, his prayer was finally answered a little too late. Molly knocked on the window, waving a stack of papers with unadulterated glee. He sighed and got out of the car to help her climb into the backseat. Clu didn't bother to acknowledge her or the discovery she was telling them about; he just stared out his own window, cursing the world.