"Brooklyn, stop!" Angela cried, stumbling awkwardly out of the fountain, "You've already knocked her out." The piece of rod iron he'd used to strike her was raised above his head, as if to strike her again.

"She'll be up again in a half a moment and I want to be ready," Brooklyn told her.

"Was that really necessary?" she demanded.

"You said to jump in if you needed help. You looked like you needed help. Unless you just felt like it was a good time for a swim?" Angela shot him a glare as she knelt beside Demona and deposessed her of her weapon. It turned out to be a rifle, and she had it crushed and rendered useless, just as Demona began to regain consciousness. Brooklyn rushed forward and pulled her into a kneeling position before she could get to her feet, holding her arms behind her.

"Besides," he continued, "You were about to let her get away."

"What do you mean, 'let her get away,'" Angela cried indignantly.

"Well…she nearly got away, and…" He let his explanation trail off.

"And?" she urged, "If you have something to say, just say it."

"You were doing an awful lot of talking there."

"I was trying to stall her so-"

"And," he interrupted, "When things did get serious, it just didn't seem like you were…"

"Were what?" she demanded.

"You know…committed?"

Angela growled at the unspoken accusation.

"Did I not just get tossed into a fountain? You seriously think I would just let her escape on purpose after all that's happened?"

"Oh, come on, Angela," he protested with growing agitation, "No one blames you for how you must feel, but you've been rougher on me when we were training than you were just now. You aren't ready to face her yet. You're too reluctant to hurt her."

"Let me get this straight. Because I'm not exactly giddy to jump up and bash my mother's head in with a piece of scrap metal, I'm suddenly not ready to stand with my clan? It seems like there ought to be some sort of happy medium there!"

"Maybe in a perfect world there would be, but with her there's not! Angela, the things she's done… they're unforgivable! She has to pay for her crimes."

"I realize that!" Angela insisted.

"I know you realize it. But…are you ready to deal with it?"

"I'm going to have to be, aren't I?" she snarled in response.

"Brooklyn?," Demona interrupted in a surprisingly composed voice, given her spinning head, the uncomfortable position he held her in, and the loud argument going back and forth above her head. Brooklyn looked down at her contemptuously.

"What?" he snapped.

"I'm intrigued," she said, "If I'm to pay for my crimes, as you say, exactly what currency would you have me pay in?"

"What are you talking about?," he demanded in frustration, as he struggled to keep a grip on her. "What currency?" At last, she succeeded in getting a good foothold and, lunging backward into him, flipping him over her shoulder. His feet hit the ground and he maintained his grip on her arms.

"Go on, my young brother," she continued antagonistically, "I must know to what fate you would sentence me."

Now face to face, he gave her a fierce shake by the shoulders and shouted at her, "Come off it, Demona! You're lucky you're immortal, because as much of a monster you've become, no one would blame us if we skinned you alive and burned you on a stake! You've gotten off on that count!"

"Have I?" she growled in response, her eyes burning.

"But don't let yourself believe that because you can't be executed as you deserve, that gets you off completely!" he continued bitterly, "You will pay for everything you've done. I'll see to that!"

Demona twisted free from him at last and Brooklyn raised his talons to grab her again. She posed as if to attack but then slowly stepped back away from him.

"No!" Angela shouted, quickly moving to trap her between them. For a moment there was a heavy silence, save the ever-present noises of the city below them. Demona finally broke it with a voice that was cold and emotionless.

"With each and every sunrise, my entire body is ripped apart and refashioned into a human form that is both vulnerable and humiliating to me. And thanks to this… gift, I am deprived of even the ability to even have solace in sleep. I have lost all kin, and every friend I have ever loved. My mate can no longer tolerate the sight of me, and I hate to imagine what my child must think of me at this point. With each passing night, I have little choice but to endure crushing guilt, grief, and rage in complete isolation. The immortality, which you claim spares me the justice I owe, is an inescapable curse that more accurately fits the description of 'undeadness' than endless life."

"All of which you brought on yourself," Brooklyn snarled as he advanced.

"Perhaps. But that's beside the point. What I want to know is, what sort of suffering do you believe you have within your power to inflict upon me as retribution? What form of punishment would you sentence me to that is worse than the fate I already endure?"

Brooklyn paused. He had to admit that despite his firm resolution that she should and would be punished for her betrayal and all the lives she had subsequently destroyed, he had to admit that didn't really have an answer for how that justice might be carried out. It frustrated him to no end that the futility of his position was so obvious to her, and his mind raged as he tried to think of a reply that would silence her arrogance. He was relieved when Angela finally broke the silence.

"Look! The clan is nearly here." She turned to her mother and said, "You're not getting away this time, Demona."

"Don't worry, though" Brooklyn added darkly, "We'll come up with something."

Demona also glanced at the shadows quickly approaching, and for a moment her face was such a combination of madness and longing that Angela, thinking she might attempt to break away from them, prepared to tackle her again. But Brooklyn reached her first and restrained her. To his surprise, she didn't resist him at all. Rather, she relaxed so suddenly at his grasp that he stumbled a bit, nearly taking her down with him. Angela grabbed her other arm and steadied her and they were both shocked to hear her suddenly burst out in laughter. Angela gave Brooklyn a look of horrified confusion as Demona's laughter rose and grew more delirious, but Brooklyn had looked away. His eyes burned with anger. Even amidst the eeriness of the situation, the sound of her laughter was lovely. He recognized in it the memory of the sister he had once loved and respected and it enraged him.

"Stop it!" he bellowed, slapping her roughly on the side of the face. And she did, though the near-manic smile on her face remained as she looked at him.

"So be it then," she whispered, "I surrender to you, Brooklyn. You're Second-in-Command after all. I submit myself to your justice. To the clan's justice, that is." They all heard the sounds of the clan landing on the adjacent rooftop and Goliath's voice calling for them. She laughed again in a chilling tone.

"Come on then, young ones. You might as well take me. It's as good a plan as any and perhaps you might succeed in teaching me a lesson after all?"